Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy had been called a great many things in his life.

A fool, a coward, a dramatic immature person who couldn’t see what was in front of him.

(A hero, a martyr, a decisive active leader who only wanted what was best.)

Never once had he been called a pushover.

And he wasn’t going to start because some fucking Karen couldn’t seem to let the expired coffee coupon go so she could spend the measly two dollars on some extra over-the-top nail polish.

“Miss, this coupon is still expired. I can’t accept an expired coupon,” he repeated, barely keeping on the plastic smile so the lady, now mentally dubbed Karen, couldn’t rage more. In the background, some news report of another hero vs villain fight droned on as the various machines all clattered and gurgled in the comforting symphony of a coffee shop. Well, comforting until Karen walked in and started making a fuss but you know.

Out of the corner of his eye, the detail of somebody recording this debacle registered. Good, he could claim disruption of peace if his manager disliked his way of dealing with Karen. “So you won’t honor your company’s coupons?” she said, her voice shrill and grating as she gave him a disappointed and ‘mightier than thou’ look. Painted nails clicked against the cardboard of the coupon card, over-extenuating the gaudy feature that did nothing to help her horrific attempt at being neat and professional.

Yes, Tommy was mentally insulting the Karen. No, he would not take criticism for mentally insulting the woman who had been sitting at his register for five minutes between choosing her drink and now debating over a coupon, in the process holding up the line. “I would usually do so, ma’am, but the coupon you have is unfortunately expired, as I’ve said before,” he said, internally screaming behind his perfect poker face that held a plastic customer service smile.

Sharpening her look, Karen gave him existential dread as she found another thing to pick at. “Are you talking down to me?” she asked, her free hand reaching for her phone.

Barely even glancing at it, too dead inside to care about any potential ‘blackmail’ she was plotting, Tommy simply kept up the ‘polite barista’ act. “No, miss. I’m just saying that it has been made clear that the coupon is expired and I would like to continue on with both of our days,” he said, his voice even despite his rapidly dwindling patience.

“You are!” she accused, raising her voice to gain nothing but the physical discomfort of some of Tommy’s other customers. That marked her on the wrong side of his books instantaneously, his look sharpening slightly as she continued with no regard to her surroundings. “Listen, young man, I have walked this earth for 48 years and I do not take kindly to this disrespect!”

Dramatic, over the top, not quite what the role was looking for. “Listen, ma’am, I have walked this earth for 19 years and I do not believe that changes the dates on the coupon for either of us,” he said, turning her words back on her and almost grinning when he heard snickers from the other customers. “Once again, I cannot change what the coupon’s expiration date is and cannot accept it because it is expired. I don’t believe that one expired coupon will be much more than a minor inconvenience and I apologize if it’s more than that. Either way, I cannot change the pricing or the circumstance.”

Once again, that all flew over Karen’s head as she pulled out her phone. “Do you wish to repeat that on video? Do you?” she shrilled, shoving the device in his face.

Doing nothing more than leaning back, he couldn’t help the bite in his next words. “No because I am not your personal entertainment to get your power trip off of,” he said, pushing down his grin to nothing more than a twitch of his lips as the college students in the background ‘ooh’ed at his insult. Meanwhile, she scoffed and had the audacity to look offended as if she wasn’t practically objectifying him. “Ma’am, I’ll be blunt. You have thirty seconds to let this coupon go, pay the full price, and continue on with your day or I kick you out.”

Expectantly, she did not take that well. “Excuse me! I am the one who pays your paycheck and you are paid to make me happy!” Karen shouted, stomping her foot like a child in a tantrum. Then again, that would be an insult to children. (Sue him, Tommy was five seconds away from using his powers on her to make her get the fuck out , he can make jokes in her expense.)

“First off, I am paid to make your coffee when the full payment is given, nothing more nothing less. Second off, there are more customers in this establishment who are more than willing to pay. And, you are making them uncomfortable. Another reason why I am making the decision to ask you to get out,” he said, raising himself to his full height and leering down at the woman. While high heels did help (maybe he should wear some too, what a power move), it didn’t help that he was a lanky teenager that spent all his character points on height and not bulk. “Fifteen seconds.”

“You, You!” she started, seething and practically frothing at the mouth. “You absolute brute!”

If he had worse reaction time, her backhand would’ve connected with his face and left all sorts of scratches between her gaudy rings and sharp nails. Instead, it connected with the floating semi-transparent disk that he had summoned with the flick of the wrist. It connected rather spectacularly, sounding out a sharp crack as flesh met unyielding material.

And, acting as expected, Karen drew her hand close to herself and wailed like her hand had been cut off. “H-How dare you use your powers on me! That’s illegal! Someone call the police, he’s a criminal!” she wailed, gaining no sympathy as she wildly looked around. Some snickers even met her, horribly muffled behind hands and pursed lips that hid grins.

Sighing, he vaulted over the counter with ease and landed beside the woman who looked at him in terror and disgust. He kept her attention as he started to speak, redirecting it from the second disk. “As an act of self-defense, power use is not illegal. Considering that you almost physically assaulted an employee of an establishment, said employee reserves the right to remove you from the premises under the assumption you are hostile.

“Aka, get the fuck out of my coffee shop,” spitting the last part, he had no qualms of jump scaring the woman. One of his discs held the door open, the one previously used as a shield finding a place under her feet. Growing at a whim, that disc whisked her out towards the door as she yelped. Rather gently booted off of her new transport, he had no problems gatekeeping the door and lightly nudging her out.

“Have a nice day! Never come fucking back here!” he shouted as the door slammed shut, carrying his last words to her. Shaking his head, Tommy summoned back his discs as easily as breathing, shrunk them down to size and into his wrists, and vaulted back over the counter.

Wiping down the counter with a spare towel and disinfectant kept close to the register for various reasons, he barely registered the stunned silence. “Sorry for the wait, what would you like today?” he said to the next person in line who had yet to move, still cleaning the counter.

Then came the applause. Tommy paused, stunned into silence as the coffee shop clapped and cheered for him. Chuckling, he was quick to wave it off and ask people to return to their original business.

Distantly, his ears picked up the roaring of the crowd and his blood rushed to follow. Aching, throbbing, pounding, burning, and everything in between, points on his wrists, ankles, and phantom limbs made themselves known. Random stinging, singing in panic from bullets long since shot and whips long since cracked, picked its way across his body as he hid a grimace.

As the hype died down and his phantom pains faded, he shook himself off and returned to his usual customer mode self. “What would you like today?” he asked, smiling his plastic smile at the next person in line.

Dressed in a yellow sweater with a beanie, the man certainly fit the coffee shop aesthetic. Adjusting his backpack, he seemed almost mischievous with his curly brown hair curtaining his glinting brown eyes. “What? I don’t get any sass?” he teased, an easy-going smile on his face.

Now, you couldn’t blame Tommy’s immediate response, his ‘polite barista’ mask had a cool down. “Only if you ask for it,” the barista said, looking the other dead in the eye with a smirk. “Now, c’mon man, let’s not hold up the line anymore. What can I get you?”

Sputtering a laugh, the other did eventually order under the name of ‘Wilbur’. Feeling bold, Tommy went as far as to misspell it as ‘Wimblur’. That got another laugh from the man, much to Tommy’s relief. He couldn’t deal with more arguments and yelling right now, his hands were shaking as it was.

Luckily, nothing else that odd went on during his shift. Well, if you discounted the fact that the college students asked if they could upload the video. (He said yes, sue him, he wants the clout.) It wasn’t until closing that Tommy had to step out of the routine again.

Somehow, Wilbur had managed to fall asleep in a coffee shop despite drinking two straight black coffees. Deciding that the man needed sleep, Tommy delayed cleaning his table for last. When he did come around to the table, he sighed at Wilbur’s slumbering form.

Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, Tommy shook the guy. “Wilbur? Hey, Wilbur?” the teen called, snapping his hand back when the other started to stir. “C’mon, big man, it’s closing time.”

That startled him away, the man sitting up like a shot despite blurry eyes. “Shit, did I fall asleep? Sorry, Tommy, I’ll clean up,” he said, hurrying to help out. Clumsy as he was from just waking up, he managed to knock over his laptop.

Before the device could go tumbling to the ground, a disc supported it and righted it again. “It’s chill, man. I’m not the one who fucked up his sleep schedule,” Tommy joked, helping put the device away. In the meantime, his disc rounded up the empty cups and skillfully dumped them in the trash. “Besides, it’s not like my pay’ll get docked for closing two minutes late.”

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Wilbur said, his voice distant as he watched the disc fly back to the teen. “What all can you do with those discs? Besides telekinetically controlling them and their size?”

“I don’t really know. It’s not like I can practice with all of the rules around powers,” Tommy deflected. The man didn’t need to know all of the things he could do with the discs. Especially not one of those things that could screw up everything. “I mean, they can cut through concrete if I’m mad enough.”

Snorting, Wilbur picked up his backpack and took a step back. “Jesus man. At least you didn’t get mad enough to slice up that Karen,” he joked, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“I mean, I was getting close. But also that would be such a pain in the ass. The amount of paperwork that would give me? Not worth it, big man, not worth it at all,” he said, grinning when his joke got a laugh. Nodding to himself, he stepped behind the counter for a moment to put away the cleaning supplies. “Speaking of the Karen, Imma have to ask you to leave too. Closing time, after all.”

“Could I by chance get a ride?” Wilbur asked, his tone joking and not the slightest bit serious. That’s why Tommy took personal joy in putting discs under both of their feet and gave them a ride side by side. Yelping, Wilbur took a second before he was laughing and looking at Tommy in awe.

Laughing along and pretending that it didn’t make his skin crawl, Tommy got them out the door with the help of a third disc to open said door. Once they were outside, the discs quickly returned to their owner, out of sight. Locking the door, he turned to Wilbur with a grin.

“I’ll see you around, alright, Big Dubs?” Tommy said, his grin growing a bit wider at the surprise on the other’s face. “Don’t fuck up your sleep schedule too much, ay?”

Wilbur chuckled, shrugging as he thought about it. “I dunno, I’ll try. See ya ‘round, Toms,” he said, waving as he walked away.

Carefully waiting until Wilbur was out of sight, Tommy didn’t move towards home until then. From the location of the cafe, it was blatantly obvious where he was going. Pogtopia had a big reputation, after all.

And, around the corner, Wilbur gasped quietly at the revelation.

Chapter Text

Pogtopia was an odd place if you didn’t consider its history. An entire city, once a district, dug out from beneath the first, L’Manberg, that slowly expanded to be bigger than anyone had originally planned with dozens of off-branching tunnels that no one tried to explain. Several tunnels lead down there, mandated and not, to the maze and parkour course that made the layout of the ‘buildings’. People who lived down there were practically forced to be stronger and heartier than most, with the musty air, the atmosphere that asked for sicknesses, and the occasional cave-ins.

If you considered the history, the conditions of the people made so much more sense. As people steadily moved into the area, tempted by the dirt-cheap rent and mortgage, the main work down there was construction. All one had to do was create more buildings, which lowered property value as it grew more common, and they could comfortably live there.

When the governor clued in, he started creating mandates after mandates about things like the movement between above and below ground, how much a Pogtopian could buy from above, etc. While it deterred some, the population of Pogtopia continued to steadily increase as almost a middle finger to the man. Angered, restless, and drunk off his ass, Governor Schlatt started his warpath.

It started subtle, children allowed less passage than adults, the rations shared by the government lessening, the increase of police patrols in Pogtopia and at the entrances. Once the press calmed down about the varying and seemingly random mandates on what they could produce, Schlatt pulled out the hammer of injustice and pegged the last nail in the coffin.

By law, anyone above 18 was not allowed to stay in or go into Pogtopia. Anyone that was below had to stay in Pogtopia once they entered. So, separated from their families, 10, 563 children were placed into hell on earth.

Laws began to grow like weeds, tripping up the children every five seconds. Cruel and unusual punishments answered every mistake, from whippings to solitary confinement and every little thing in between. To make it worse, they were forced into labor the moment they could walk.

And no one heard a single thing. The press had a number of gag orders on them, no matter if they could get into Pogtopia. Every police officer in or patrolling the entrances of Pogtopia were on Schlatt’s payroll, paid too well to say a peep about the illegal activities. Anybody who aged out of Pogtopia was threatened within an inch of their life to keep quiet, moved to certain housing to keep an eye on them.

One year in, the famine started. Scraps were rare to come by, ration packs revered as the holy grail. It only made the labor worse, people fainting to be forced back up in an instant, skin and bones shakily lifting up pickaxes and shovels. Every scratch took longer to heal with the lack of energy, infections taking dozens by storm. That didn’t even start to consider the cave-ins and other death sentences around the place, the population dwindling bit by bit.

Two years in, the shows started. Everyone who broke a law was to be punished in front of an audience, that audience forced to clap and cheer for any measly scraps the police would throw out. It wasn’t uncommon for someone from the audience to offer themselves as tribute, the audience cheering loudly as an unspoken agreement to help the tribute.

Three years in, the legend of Pogtopia’s Angel started. One day, a cave-in happened that could’ve killed upwards of a hundred people. It should’ve had an avian hybrid not herded everyone out and used his wings to help drag out the stragglers. He earned a number of names from that, from Dove thanks to the color of his wings to Canary because of how he’d helped the miners.

He didn’t stop when he gained a name, if anything he increased his ventures to help out people. From stopping any unnecessary turf wars, strengthening the name of Dove, to helping with disasters such as more cave-ins and fires, the second earning the name of Phoenix, he became a staple in Pogtopian life. Every moment he could, he was there to lift someone’s spirits or health in any way he could, offering himself as tribute more times than anyone hoped to count.

Four years in, he started the Rebellion. At first, it was subtle things. Grafitti slandering Schlatt, the occasional stolen ration, and the uptick in tributes to name a few. It steadily grew to full-on marches and strikes, the police overwhelmed at the united force of starved and desperate people.

In the seventh year, the Dove was caught at the head of one of these marches. That day, the Canary was unfairly tried and convicted to the worst punishment that’d been held over the Pogtopians’ heads at the same level as a legit death sentence. So, for three days, the Angel was crucified in plain view of all of the city. For three days, the Phoenix hung there with his heart beating every moment it could.

On the third day, he managed to fake his death. After being thrown to the side, out of view of the police, he rose again with a plan in mind. Without hesitation, the rest of Pogtopia followed.

Marching out of the city with the entirety of it on his heels, the Dove led them straight to the governor’s office. Making his way through L’Manberg without pausing to look at the people gawking at him, the Canary barged into the building and took point of the riot. Marking the end of Schlatt’s reign, the Angel walked his way to confront the monster. Amassing an audience, the Phoenix dragged the man out onto the balcony to face the fury of the wronged.

Mastering the first half of the picture he wanted to create, Icarus unwillingly painted the second half in grief as a bullet to his heart made him fall. But how pretty he was, his white wings painted in blood that only helped to burn them in the sun. That blood spreading such flames as he hit the crowd who caught him, the people screaming their grief and fury to the sun.

The story of Pogtopia spread like wildfire, the press smashing through every single mandate to speak. Pogtopians screamed at the top of their lungs, damning Schlatt with every injustice he’d caused. The pro heroes themselves dragged the man into prison where he was condemned for life. Families were reunited, those who’d lost someone wept, and Pogtopians had every ounce of freedom that they’d shed blood, sweat, and tears for.

In his honor, the Icarus Initiative was created to stop anyone as corrupt as the Ram to do as they wished. Those who had suffered in the city returned to Pogtopia, ready to repaint the place’s story. Above and below ground, the Phoenix, Angel, Canary, Dove, Icarus gained shrines, graves, and memorials to immortalize the martyr.

That was three years ago. Three years of Tommy slowly healing mentally from everything that had happened. Three years of him living in Pogtopia once again. Three years of him looking over the city, all that’d happened, and reminiscing. Three years of him honoring and grieving his lost wings. Three years of seeing a man he once was immortalized as Icarus and revered or hated in turn.

Three years of him willingly keeping Icarus dead to help his city. Three years of no one recognizing him as the leader of the Pogtopia Revolution. Three years of hating and loving the secrecy of a dead identity.

Three years of him living with Tubbo and Ranboo, his best friends who he’d happily give his life for and vice versa. Three years of him living as Just Tommy.

Three years of letting himself be normal, usual, in the background, and selfish to gain back the seven where he couldn’t be.

Chapter Text

Pinching the bridge of his nose again, Ranboo sighed through his nose. A gentle tap against his bracelet gained a gentle buzz against his skin, making him smile and relax minutely. Only for him to look at the stack of papers in front of him and promptly let out an explosive sigh.

As a minimum-wage paid intern, the enderman hybrid got the wonderful job of sorting through the paperwork. Surprise surprise, a hero agency required a lot of paperwork between property damage, injuries, and the detainment of the criminal. What could’ve been exciting blood-pumping fights of superpowers got dumbed down and monotone in the reports the pro heroes were forced to write and Ranboo forced to read.

Cracking his knuckles, he prepared to absolutely own the paper in front of him. He was going to organize and digitize them like nobody’s business. It was going to be a breeze so help him or he would--

The creaking of the door made him yelp, his surroundings suddenly changing with a familiar pull in his chest. A now-far-away yelp echoed his own, making him pale from where he suddenly hid in the high shelves of the record room. Illegal use of powers was normally pretty okay if you got away with it and Ranboo was not going to get away with it in the middle of a hero agency .

All to hoping that this was what Tommy had been talking about when he’d mentioned an ‘off feeling’ that morning.

Chuckling nervously, Ranboo walked out of between the shelves with a wave to the newcomer. “Sorry, I’ve been really jumpy today and my powers tend to react to that. Hope I didn’t scare you too bad,” he apologized, internally screaming when he took his time speaking to give the other a once-over.

Of course, he managed to use his powers in front of Ignition . The guy wasn’t ranked that high on the leaderboards but what he lacked in detainment statistics he made up in a silver tongue and a sense of justice to help out the ‘little guy’ in his words. Not to mention the guy’s powers which were to make the stuff he touched goddamn explode. Considering the destructive potential of his power, it was a whole league of his own when his position as the #20 hero came into perspective.

Waving him off, Ignition gave Ranboo an easy smile. “It’s no problem, my powers can do that if I’m really stressed out so I get it,” he said, chuckling as if he didn’t say that he sometimes accidentally exploded things. “What’s got you jumpy? Hopefully nothing about the workplace.”

“Oh, no, this is the most calming and dull thing someone can do,” Ranboo said, his minor sass getting a huff of laughter. “My roommate just mentioned that he had an off feeling this morning and he tends to be pretty right,” he continued, the easy demeanor of the other loosening his tongue as he moved back to his desk with a chuckle. “I mean, last time he had it he had to have an ‘epic showdown with a Karen’ at his barista job. Epic showdown with a Karen is a direct quote too.”

He started going through the papers, organizing them by date absentmindedly. “Is your roommate’s name by chance Tommy? Blonde hair, blue eyes?” Ignition asked innocently, making Ranboo pause and tense nonetheless.

“Yeah, do you know him?” he said, barely keeping his warning tone out of his voice. It didn’t work that well if the look that Ignition gave him meant anything.

“Yeah, I was in the store during the showdown. He’s a pretty cool kid,” Ignition said with a small smile. That smile dropped when Ranboo did a horrible job of covering up a snort. “What?”

“Sorry, he just hates being called a kid. Hero or not, he’d scream your head off if he heard you call him one. I mean, he’s 19 so fair enough,” Ranboo said, easily shrugging off his friend’s reaction. All three of them lived in Pogtopia and were younger than they said but that didn’t change what they’d been through. Being called a ‘kid’ felt like an insult.

“I guess so,” Ignition said, something odd in his tone nonetheless. “How old are you?”

“20, I’m older than him by like five months,” the 18-year old said absentmindedly, too busy squinting at the chicken scratch on the paper he had. “Not to cut this conversation short but I do have work to do. I’m sure you didn’t come down here to talk about my roommate anyway.”

Clearing his throat awkwardly, the hero chuckled at his own dilly-dallying. “At least one of us is responsible, I kinda wanted to delay my work as long as possible,” he said. Dressed in his hero costume of a trench coat, a white shirt, cargo pants, and combat boots, the man was clearly on the clock despite not wearing a mask. He was one of the few heroes who didn’t, his relatively average curly brown hair and brown eyes seemed to help his whole ‘I’m just another man’ shtick that the hero had.

Before he could continue, both of them startled and stumbled from the distant sound of an explosion and a tremor shaking the building. Acting on instinct, Ranboo sent a quick message of ‘Danger’ and ‘Stay’ to Tommy through the disc on his bracelet and ran for the windows that lined the hall. On his tail, he could hear Ignition swear and follow him.

Gasping, Ranboo watched in abject horror as a dozen office workers fell with the shattered glass of the twenty-fifth floor’s windows. “Give me permission to use my power,” he demanded the hero, not thinking as he watched people fall to their possible doom.

“What?!”

“Now!” Ranboo shouted, making the other jump. The hybrid made a habit of keeping his head level but if Ignition didn’t give him permission to use his powers then he would just do it illegally. Damn Tommy’s warning, why did the blonde have to be right?

“F-Fine! I give you permission to use your powers and get those people out of trouble!”

The moment it processed, Ranboo teleported out of the window and into the open air. Squinting through the glittering glass, he grabbed the arm of the closest person and teleported. Having a passenger made it harder, especially if he didn’t have a clear image of his destination, but the agency’s lobby would have to do.

As he landed on the other side of the void, the person he’d been helping collapsed into the chair behind them with a yelp. Ignoring the eyes on him, Ranboo teleported into the previous location easily. Then he repeated the process.

Terrifying as it was to free fall, the split second of doing it felt almost familiar. Moving in and out of the void, in and out of the building, Ranboo gritted his teeth and kept going. Annoying as it was to transport a passenger on top of doing rapid teleports, he didn’t stop. He refused to let any of the people die, whether or not he was technically a hero.

The last person was barely five feet from the ground when Ranboo reached them. This time, he practically curled around them before he teleported. The momentum transferred, making him wheeze as they landed on top of him. Gently pushing them off of him, he panted and laid on the floor. Outside, the glass fell in a horrid cascade and barely clattered over the screams of the bystanders.

Chattering bounded around him, panicked as people tried to process what was happening. His blood ran cold when he heard the words of ‘bombs’ and ‘suicide bomber’. From how they were talking, the suicide bomber was still there.

“Shit,” Ranboo hissed, breaking his de-facto no swearing rule. He started to sit up, startled when someone helped him. “Oh, thanks,” he said, resolutely not jumping when he recognized the helper.

The #3 hero, the Blood Boar , nodded and stared at the teen through the eyes of his bone mask. Dressed absolutely royally, the man made the others look straight up poor by simply standing there. Rather, kneeling there since he was helping Ranboo get up.

Tommy and Tubbo were going to have field days with this.

“Who are you?” the hero asked, his voice monotone as he stood with Ranboo by his side.

“Ranboo Beloved, an intern here. Uh, Ignition gave me permission to use my powers to help them,” he said, adding the second half when Blood Boar tilted his head curiously. “Speaking of help, do you know where the bomber is?”

Once again, Ranboo had an absolutely stupid idea in his head but Tommy and Tubbo were bad enough influences. Speaking of, the message of ‘OK?’ made its way through the bracelet. Tapping and rubbing a certain pattern into the disc, Ranboo repeated his previous message much to Tommy’s probable irritation.

Too bad for him because one of the people who fell was fueling his idiotic idea. “Twenty-fifth floor, on the longer side of the room next to that weird half-wall that nobody can explain,” someone said, looking at him in some type of awe.

Covering up his wince with a mock salute, Ranboo went in before he could think about it. “Right, I’ll see what I can do,” he said, crouching to dodge Blood Boar’s grab--

“Kid--”

-- and teleporting with ease. Any irritation that he could’ve had towards Blood Boar’s use of ‘kid’ quickly scampered off as he heard voices. One high and desperate, the other low and soothing as one tried to convince another to “Don’t press that button.”

Sentinel, #2 hero for his skilled aerial take-downs, impeccable detainment statistics, and kind fatherly attitude towards everyone, tried something that got a harsh “Don’t get any closer!"

“Okay, okay, I won’t, mate.”

Realizing that he was in over his head but going through with it anyway, the true Pogtopian way, Ranboo stood up and stepped around the half wall. Thoroughly confused, Sentinel look at him and tilted his head like a curious bird, the image strengthened by his huge black wings behind him. Before Ranboo could internally fanboy over seeing the #2 hero in the flesh, the other person, someone with a bomb vest strapped over their very dapper button-up, noticed him too. “Hey! Don’t you fucking get closer!”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Ranboo said calmly, raising his hands in surrender.

Venomously, the bomber glared at both hybrids and spat “Damn heroes, coming out of the fucking woodworks!”

“I’m not a hero,” Ranboo said, getting confused looks from both parties.

Alas, the bomber didn’t believe him and coughed up a harsh laugh. “Yeah, right. Precisely why you came up here to stop me! Fuck off, man,” they said, their finger twitching over the trigger in their hand. Around them, Ranboo finally noticed the other civilians who were whimpering and shaking at the sight.

“I’m not. I’m just a guy trying to get his coworkers back home to their families tonight. I’m just a guy looking to get back to his family. I’m not a hero,” he said, glancing at the closest person and offering a timid smile. Surprised, they returned one of their own before Ranboo refocused again. “If I was one, I’d use my powers to get that bomb off of you. But I’m not and I don’t feel like going to jail.”

Glaring, the bomber didn’t buy it and said as much, “Yeah yeah, then what’s your angle here, bitch?”

“To talk to you like a person and not a threat,” the teen said, the glaring barely shifting. “Heroes have a tendency to do that and I don’t really feel like copying them. And if I’m being blunt and looking beyond that? Getting myself, my coworkers, and you out of being threatened by a bomb and not having my workplace blown to bits. I need the money, man.”

Clearly, the bomber didn’t believe that and scoffed. So, clearly telegraphing his movements, Ranboo sat down in a nearby chair and forced himself to relax. Time to follow through with what he was saying.

“So, where do you live? I live in Pogtopia, bit different from up here,” he said, casual and nonthreatening. Both of the main actors in this situation, although Sentinel was slowly being booted out to a background role, stiffened and looked at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was, slowly starting to spin in the chair that he realized was one of the fun ones. “Bro, my desk doesn’t have a spinny chair, scam.”

Confused and still irritated, the bomber gave a “What the fuck?” that snapped Ranboo out of his idle entertainment.

“Oh, sorry, ADHD brain. What were you saying?” he said, stopping his spinning to look at the other.

That didn’t help them, the bomber still confused as ever. “What the fuck are you doing?” they said, surprised enough to let some of the tension in their body go.

“Treating you like a person, not a threat. Can’t a man have a casual conversation with a stranger? Well, bomb notwithstanding,” Ranboo said, shrugging as he said the last bit. “Oh, wait, do I have my wallet? I better or I’ll never hear the end of it from them,” he mumbled, searching through his pockets to find it. “Ahah, got it.”

Once again, the bomber seemed to relax minutely at Ranboo’s antics. “What do you need your wallet for?” they said, the suspicion in their tone muted.

“Well, I wanted to show you something. Can I get closer, I can stay sitting, or would you prefer if I didn’t?” he said, raising his hands in surrender when his offer got a growl. “Fair enough, fair enough. Well, uh, here.” Carefully, he opened his wallet and showed the bomber a picture of Tommy and Tubbo playing in one of the parks in Pogtopia, the two of them grinning from ear to ear. “These are my roommates, Tommy and Tubbo. The blonde’s Tommy, brunette’s Tubbo.

“And I called them roommates but I think brothers is a better fit. The two of them drive me up the wall with the stupid little things they do but it’s worth it. Like, one time, Tubbo found out how to make a low-powered taser that more startled you than anything. When he realized that jumping me activated my powers, he started using the taser every time he could. I got back at him by hiding it on the top shelf since the guy’s pretty short but he just climbed up the other shelves to get it, knocking down everything and making a huge mess. It was pretty funny, looking back on it, but it was a pain to clean up.”

Although their finger was still on the trigger, the other looked more relaxed than they had the entire time. Relaxed was a relative term, of course, but it was something. “Why are you telling me all this?” they asked, giving him a confused look. One that made him confused with how their eyes started changing from red to brown and back again.

“I already told you, person not a threat. If me telling you about my brothers is what it takes for you to take off that vest and stop threatening lives, yours included, then I’ll gladly talk until I go hoarse,” he said, slowly standing and taking a step forward when he wasn’t deterred. “I can admire the grit that it takes to put on that vest, to believe so completely in something that you’re willing to sacrifice everything.

“But, I also think that doing something so extreme is reserved for doing something for people and not an ideal.” Again, Ranboo took a step forward and didn’t get turned back. “Sure, one could argue one and the same but I can argue that people and sides or ideals are very different.” Another step, a slight scowl but nothing major enough to force him to stop.

“And I don’t think you’re doing this for friends or family because going out like this, with a bomb strapped to you, is not something that anyone would like to remember someone by.” His advances still didn’t get any harsh reactions such as a threat to press the button, making him continue. “I don’t like that you’re doing this, trying to go out like this. Personally, I don’t really like people dying and you doing this is threatening both bystanders and yourself.”

Their lips quivered, their eyes flashing more rapidly between the two colors. “Why do you care?” they asked, their voice quiet and almost defeated. The latter heightened Ranboo’s heart rate, knowing what could happen if they gave up.

“Because I’m a Pogtopian and we have a little saying down there,” he said, smiling despite the disbelief that it caused. “We take care of our own. And yes, I don’t know if you’ve lived in Pogtopia but I know that by Prime you’re scared right now. Bravado can only get you so far and you’re shaking.” He paused when the other snarled, continuing when the act was dropped. “So, right now, I’m taking care of you because I’ve been as scared as you are right now and Pogtopians take care of our own.”

They seemed ready to stand down, ready to let Ranboo help them. Then, they were suddenly snarling and taking a step back, their actions punctuated by crunching glass and flashing red eyes. “Stop!” they shouted, making Ranboo whip his head around to Sentinel who looked like a dear in the headlights.

“Sentinel,” Ranboo said, addressing the hero as he held a placating hand to each person. “I’m going to have to ask you to take a step back.” The other opened their mouth, probably ready to spew some random stuff about being a hero. And as awe-inspiring as being a hero was, it didn’t change what Ranboo was doing right then. “Now.”

Another second and the bird hybrid followed his request, making Ranboo sigh in relief. Turning to the bomber, he smiled shakily as the other gave him a once-over. “You’re shaking,” they observed, slowly relaxing back to how they’d been before with remarkably more brown than red in their eyes.

“I know, that’s because I’m scared,” he said, preparing to take the last few steps towards the other. “I’m scared, you’re scared, this whole room is so so scared. And, right now, they all have people who are ready to calm them down and keep them safe. And, because Pogtopians take care of our own, all of our own, I’m going to help you.

“Because we’re all scared right now but we don’t have to be.” Finishing the last step, he smiled and opened his arms as if offering a hug. “Can you take off that vest and help us all not be quite so scared?”

Silently, they debated with themself as their eyes became a blur of red and brown. Ranboo could hear his heartbeat over the wind, shivering slightly under the breeze that the broken window let in. Distantly, he could’ve sworn he heard footsteps.

“... Yes,” they finally said, their eyes staying brown as they spoke and removed their fingers from the button.

“Can I hug you?” Ranboo asked, smiling a little wider when the other nodded. Embracing them, he held them close as his mind slowly registered that he had heard footsteps. The other heroes were coming and they weren’t going to understand what had happened here.

So, Ranboo kept his grip on the other even when the heroes barged in. “Put your hands in the air!” someone shouted, loud footsteps following their words. Turning his head ever so slightly, he paled at the sight of a multitude of heroes with their weapons pointed towards the duo.

“Don’t shoot!” he shouted in response, getting surprised murmurs as people started to process the scene.

The idiot repeated his request, his voice more confused than aggressive. But the teen didn’t listen, slowly rocking the whimpering bomber with quiet shushing sounds and ‘I got you’s. “Ranboo?” Ignition said, a familiar voice in the chaos.

“Ignition! Kindly tell these guys to not shoot, the situation has been defused,” Ranboo said, taking a split second to quietly repeat another ‘I got you’. “They aren’t going to pull the trigger.”

Silence for a moment before someone finally had enough sense to ask “Ignition? Do we trust him?”

“Well, yeah! He’s an employee here, he’s not with the bomber,” the hero in question said, sounding slightly offended in Ranboo’s honor.

Before the hybrid could go too far into his mental happy dance, another question was posed. “Sentinel, you’ve been here the whole time. Is the situation under control?”

“Yes, get a bomb squad up here already,” Sentinel said, sounding both tired and relieved. 

“Don’t worry about a bomb squad, I’ve got it,” Ignition said, his voice sounding closer and getting the bomber to tense up in fear. “Hey, Ranboo? Think you could let go of them a little so I can get it off of them?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, he’s a good hero,” Ranboo said, addressing the second bit to the person clinging to him. Nodding, they let go a little and allowed the enderman to give Ignition some room to work. Tense silence transpired while the vest was taken off bit by bit, the whole room finally breathing when it was off of the original owner and given to a random hero. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” the other countered, returning to the hug the moment they could. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?” they said, muffled into Ranboo’s shirt.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it, you are,” he said, wincing at the thought.

“Could… Could you visit me?” they asked, stunning him a little as they clung tighter. They stunned Ignition too if the noise of confusion was anything to go by. “I just…”

“I will, I’ll blackmail Ignition into giving me the details later. Pogtopians look after our own, right?” Ranboo declared, getting a muffled wet chuckle. “Try to keep your chin up, alright? I’m Ranboo, by the way.”

“Jeffrey,” the other said, slowly letting go to smile up at Ranboo. “I’ll see you around?”

“See you around, Jeffrey,” Ranboo said, patting them on the shoulder before they left to get handcuffed and led away.

“Nice job, mate,” Sentinel said, Ranboo turning his head to see the kind smile that the bird hybrid put on. Shyly, he returned it.

“Okay, what were you thinking?” Ignition said, stomping over to the two to give Ranboo a glare. “I’m running down the stairs ‘cause you didn’t return after teleporting those people and I meet Blood Boar halfway down. He suddenly tells me that some half-and-half ki-- dude is probably by the bomber. What the hell, man?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Ranboo said bluntly, getting an aborted snort from Sentinel. “Besides, they were bombing a hero agency, they weren’t going to listen to a hero. So, who else but a crazy enderman-something hybrid who doesn’t look like a hero and could teleport the bomb out of the way if it got set off? Somewhat of a good idea, honestly.”

“Ranboo--” Ignition started, groaning.

Suddenly, Blood Boar came with his trident in hand and interrupted anything that the other hero could say. “So, kid--”

“To be blunt, Blood Boar sir, if you call me kid I’ll stab you with your own trident,” Ranboo said, too tired to hide his irritation.

“Ranboo!” Ignition guffawed, barely stifling his laughter that Sentinel had no problem of showing. “Where’s the kind nervous polite guy I saw earlier?”

“Died of stress,” Ranboo deadpanned, getting more laughs from the two heroes and looks from the other heroes and civilians.

Even Blood Boar laughed at that one, quiet huffs and chuckles coming from the man. “So, what’s your name and what do you do here?” he said as the other two started to quiet down.

“Ranboo Beloved, I’m a paid intern and work in the records room a few floors up,” he said, frowning as he thought about something. “Ignition, didn’t you need something from there?”

“I think my case has been sidelined by this,” Ignition said, pointing to the very obvious hole in the window.

“True,” Ranboo mumbled, glaring at the window as if it were the problem. Cheerily, it reflected the sun back in his eyes and won the staring contest. “I should probably be heading back up, I had a decent pile on my desk before this all happened."

“Might want to wait for that one, mate. The police’ll need your statement,” Sentinel said, cheery and informative.

Informing Ranboo of his demise more like it. “Uh, any chance I could give my statement to one of you?” he said, digging his fingers into his shirt to hide his shaking. “I don’t really feel like dealing with the police right now.” No Pogtopian got within a five-meter radius of an officer if they could help it, not after what happened.

It took a moment for the others to realize it, wincing at their own lack of tact. “Sure, go ahead,” Blood Boar said, motioning Ranboo to start.

After a lengthy time of giving the heroes his statement, they looked about ready to go to sleep as he was. “Imma head back up,” Ranboo said, ‘fidgeting’ with his bracelet to send the message of ‘Safe’ to Tommy. Almost immediately, the disc demanded a call from the irritating imitation of buzzing it was doing against his skin. “I’ll see you guys around, I guess.”

“Definitely. Until then, Ranboo,” Blood Boar said, not in the slightest bit intimidating. Waving to the trio, Ranboo only slightly rushed to get back upstairs.

Once out of sight and hearing range, he sighed before accepting his doom. “Hey, Tommy--”

“WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?! THAT WAS FUCKING TORTURE, YOU DICKHEAD!”

What a long day for the enderman hybrid.

Chapter Text

Humming a merry little tune under his breath, Tubbo continued tinkering around with the device on his desk. Another tool clattered to join the rest in the toolbox, a different one getting pulled out not a second later. Something else got messed with before the chime of a bell paused the bee hybrid.

Considering the giant sign outside and the space made to accommodate customers in the crowded workshop, a new potential client had just walked through the door. “Hello! Welcome to Bee-Ngineer, what can I do for you?” he chimed cheerily, looking up from his current project to smile at the newcomer.

They probably smiled back, not that Tubbo could tell that well from the gas mask on their face. The device was clunky and looked a little painful to wear, making the bee hybrid itch to mess with it. He knew from personal experience what badly fitting gas masks did to your face and it wasn’t pretty.

Although, he couldn’t remove it from the other without causing some type of inconvenience. Between the green hair, the mottled green spots on their skin, and completely black eyes with white slightly glowing pupils, it was obvious the other was a hybrid. That didn’t even mention the centurion bottom half they had, the paws/feet screaming of a creeper hybrid.

“Hi, uh, I’m looking for the owner, they go under the name of Tubbo Underscore,” they said, nervously fiddling with the device in their hands. It looked like another gas mask, this one much sleeker than the one that they were wearing.

“Looking right at him, big man. What can I do for you?” Tubbo said, his friendly smile unmoved as ever.

“Oh, uh, I thought this place had multiple employees, sorry,” they said, sheepish as they scratched the back of their neck.

Quickly, he waved them off with a laugh. “No problem. I get that a lot with the number of projects I tend to pump out,” he said before motioning to the gas mask in their hands. “I assume that’s what you wanted me to look at.”

“Yeah. You’re pretty famous for your work helping hybrids and my primary gas mask started malfunctioning. I’d normally try to fix it myself but I don’t have the time to mess with it right now,” they said, carefully setting down the mask in the open space that Tubbo pointed to.

“Oh, you’re an engineer too?” he asked, trying to make idle conversation as he started screwing parts of the mask apart. “Did you make this yourself?”

“I did, actually. All of the other masks for creeper hybrids are too clunky for me. I made this a few years ago and it’s been doing pretty good but it started failing a few days ago,” they said, looking rather proud of their achievement.

“I get that, big man. I had to make my own pollen breather a few years ago because the one I usually used broke. Very annoying and painful but I managed,” Tubbo said, tapping at the device attached to his neck to point it out.

As a bee hybrid, he needed pollen or something similar in the air as often as possible to be healthy. All of the government made devices for hybrids, like bee hybrids, who needed subtle things to survive but more often than not the devices were barely functioning. That’s why Tubbo made Bee-Ngineer, trying to help people who had to have some type of device to help them live day-to-day life.

Before the other could continue the conversation, a scream from outside put it on hold. Tommy’s warning from this morning went through Tubbo’s head, sending the bee hybrid into overdrive. Cursing under his breath, he began sprinting for the door with the help of his wings. “If this is another dick trying to get a power trip, I swear to Prime,” he grumbled, slamming the door open.

It banged open, pausing the scuffle outside the door in the middle of the street. A man, one could guess he was in his later thirties, had been holding down a teenager but froze when he heard the bang. Taking the opportunity for what it was, the teen scrambled out of the man’s hold and disappeared into the crowd who quickly enveloped them for protection.

Not liking that, the attacker lunged for the teen again. “You--!” He missed by a mile, clearly disoriented by the lack of light in the underground. A newcomer then, not adjusted to the dark and unknowing of the basic courtesy of Pogtopia.

“Get away from them!” Tubbo shouted, stepping out of his shop with a scowl. Around them, the crowd that had gathered on various levels, on balconies and bridges, from the scream relaxed minutely. The bee hybrid had a reputation for various reasons, being a peacekeeper as one of them. Any scuffles on his lane of Deep Pogtopia got sorted out, no matter if it was on a high bridge or in a deeper tunnel. People flocked to this lane for that reason, gaining solace from the three roommates.

Obviously, the man didn’t know that from how he spun on the hybrid with a scowl. “Back off! This is between me and that bitch,” he growled, his disheveled appearance and crazed red eyes only adding to the aggressive image.

“Oh, you’re funny,” Tubbo said, his tone even and oh so innocent.

In return, the attacker started frothing at the mouth. “Fuck off, brat. No one likes a hero,” he spat with fever.

“You’re creative too, how splendid,” the hybrid said, walking forward and not even reacting to the other’s growls and twitchy hands. “Too bad you aren’t smart. You must be new around Pogtopia so I’ll give the only ground rules that the ‘lawless below’ follows. Number two, don’t cause trouble, something you’ve broken real fast.”

The attacker scoffed at that. “The bitch was asking for it.”

“Number three, don’t be entitled. Trust me, no one is going to believe you, especially when you keep calling the person a bitch. Age might also have a factor in it but you didn’t hear it from me,” he said, giving the older an unimpressed look.

That set him off again, the attacker scowling and curling his hands into fists. A fighter then, how annoying. “Someone must’ve taught you wrong, idiot, you forgot the first rule,” he said, laughing as if it was the funniest joke this side of the ground level.

Once again, Tubbo just gave him an unimpressed look. “I’m not idiotic, I’m dyslexic, get it right,” he sassed to get some snickers in the background. “And I was getting around to it, how impatient and irritated must you be?

“Anyway, number one is that Pogtopians take care of our own. Considering how you’ve been acting on top of the general age demographic of Pogtopia, you’re not Pogtopian. So, I’ll be nice. You have five seconds to start high-tailing it to the surface before everyone below harshly teaches you that growing up above-ground means nothing here,” he threatened, taking another step forward as the crowd tensed in preparation.

The man scowled, finally acting on his violent urges to charge at the bee hybrid. “Fuck you, you brat of a child!” the fool howled, instantly getting growls and glares from the crowd.

Falling silent with a hardened look, Tubbo didn’t deem that with a response. Instead, he ducked and punched the man in the stomach. Poison flooded the other’s system, making him fall limp with an aborted yelp.

“You call me or anyone in Pogtopia a child again, I’ll permanently paralyze you from the waist down. That’s a promise, you bastard,” Tubbo hissed, kicking the man in the side so he turned onto his back and could stare at the hybrid in absolute fear. “Someone get the Vanguard here. I want this man barred from coming down here for the rest of his life.”

Eyes flashing a bright crimson, the man couldn’t do anything but glare and twitch as Tubbo walked away. At the shop, the creeper hybrid had two of their feet out the door and switched between looking at Tubbo in awe and glaring at the fallen attacker. Chuckling at the reaction, the bee said nothing for a moment and waved the other inside.

“Sorry about that, some people get a little too cocky when they think that Pogtopia’s free game to fuck around,” he said, sitting down at his desk to mess around with the gas mask again. They got people like that way too often but few Pogtopians were hesitant to put those fools in their place.

“Oh, it’s fine. I thought I’d have to step in for a moment there, honestly,” they said, chuckling off the incident like it was nothing.

But something about the other’s wording stood out in Tubbo’s mind. Between the gas mask, the fact that the other was a creeper hybrid, and their willingness to fight against a ‘criminal’... “What’s your name and pronouns, big man?” he asked, not subtle in the slightest about his suspicions.

Shifting nervously, the other understood very quickly what Tubbo was fishing for. “Sam, he/him,” he said nonetheless.

“You already know but Tubbo, he/him.” A pause before “And you’re Awesamdude.”

Known for his inventions, Awesamdude, hero name ‘Inventor’, provided all of the pro heroes with their technology and hero suits. A number of his devices also ended up publically available, mainly geared towards helping out hybrids and self-defense. His work with renewable energy was revolutionary, his systems unhackable and efficient, and his accomplishments were renowned enough to be taught about in most public schools.

In response to meeting and helping such a famous person, all Tubbo said was “Pog” before continuing on with his work.

A long pause as Sam waited for the other shoe to drop. “You… aren’t freaking out?” he said, his statement turning into a question as he finally noticed that the proverbial other shoe had dropped with the first.

“Big man, you’re in Pogtopia. You really think that anyone cares about identities here?” Tubbo asked, not unkind as he snorted. After the Rebellion, everyone changed their names as a way to usher in a new era for the city. It had been hell for the unstable L’Manberg government but Pogtopians were petty and wanted to raise as many middle fingers as possible.

Sam remembered that too after a second, lightly snorting to echo Tubbo. “I guess you’re right,” the hero said, leaning against a rare open space on the wall to be more casual. “Are you a part of the… Vanguard was it?” he asked, his curiosity showing his inexperience in a flash.

“You’re really new around here, aren’t you?” Tubbo observed with a small huff of laughter.

“Yeah… I only really came down here to get some help with my mask. I didn’t really want to intrude,” Sam said, another partially muffled nervous chuckle making its way through his mask.

Once again, Tubbo huffed a laugh at Sam’s words. “Big man, I know that Pogtopia has a weird reputation but trust me, you aren’t intruding. Just don’t be a dick and you’ll fit in pretty quick. Some people are going to be a little weird around you but that’s because of your age, no hybrid features or occupations really considered. And, once you show that you aren’t a stuck-up ageist prick, you’ll be treated like any other Pogtopian,” he explained easily, shrugging off the other’s confusion.

“Good to know,” Sam said, nodding as he thought about it.

The age demographic of Pogtopia rarely exceeded 30, earning a reputation of older people being unwelcomed. But, unless there was some type of altercation, people were rarely barred from staying in Pogtopia. Tubbo personally knew several of the older citizens of the city, helping them with devices that allowed better transportation considering their old joints, and the 60 to 80-year-olds were never discriminated against in Pogtopia.

“Oh and to answer your question, I’m not part of the Vanguard. I’m just another peacekeeper who takes care of this street since my shop and home are here. Being a part of the Vanguard is too time-consuming and stressful for me to keep my shop and I like tech too much for that.”

The Vanguard was the new ‘government’ of Pogtopia. After being failed too long by the L’Manberg government, Pogtopia created its own. They did everything, from punishing criminals, maintaining the caverns, keeping track of legal records, tersely interacting with L’Manberg, and much more. To become a part of the Vanguard, one had to at least try their hand at everything and get judged by the public while doing so. Compared to the thousands in Pogtopia, only a couple hundred people made it into the Vanguard, making them the elite of the underground. Even after getting into the Vanguard, they were under constant supervision and had three strikes before they were put on probation or kicked out.

Yeah, no, none of the Beloved-Underscore-Innit household were trying their hand at that. Tubbo was too set on inventing and repairing technology. Ranboo’s anxiety instantly made the enderman hybrid balk at the idea. Tommy seemed physically sick if anyone suggested, always bravado-ing his way into inevitably saying that he didn’t like leadership.

“Give me a couple hours with your mask, I think I can get it working pretty easy. I have a flat fee of 60 but I doubt this will go past 200. It looks like it isn’t anything too complicated,” Tubbo announce, buzzing to himself with glee. Working with Sam’s technology always interested and excited the bee hybrid, inevitably sucking him into hyper-focusing on the project and getting it done much faster than usual.

Curiously, Sam didn’t make his way for the door once the bee announced the details of the job. Instead, he leaned a little closer to show his interest. “Could I stick around? I don’t really feel like going back to the agency right now. It’s been a while since I’ve had another engineer to talk to,” he said, his hand going to the back of his neck in a nervous tick.

“Of course,” Tubbo said, grinning as Sam relaxed from his misplaced nerves. “Do you want me to talk through my process? I tend to work a little better when I’m narrating, though my skills when it comes to it are a bit terrible.”

“That sounds great. So, what’s the plan, Tubbo?”

“I’m glad you asked!”

Although the bastard from earlier had soured Tubbo’s day a little, (the red eyes were a little worrying,) he couldn’t help his cheerful buzzing as he talked with Sam.

Ranboo and Tommy weren’t going to believe the day he had!

Chapter Text

Frazzled from Ranboo’s whole situation at work, Tommy felt about ready to snap at someone. Ranboo had been too close to danger, too close to burning , and he wanted nothing more than to run out of the coffee shop and straight to the other. Nonetheless, he kept up the polite barista act and didn’t bare his teeth like a wild animal.

Only Wilbur seemed to sense his off mood, the man coming into the coffee shop to order his two large black coffees like he had for the last couple of weeks but paused before doing so. “You good? You seem a bit… off,” he said, his brow furrowing as he gave Tommy a once over.

“Don’t worry about me, big man. My roommate just had some trouble at work and it’s been stressing me out a little,” the blonde said, waving off Wilbur’s worry. It didn’t do much, not with how tense his smile and stance were, but Tommy bulldozed past it anyway. “That’ll be $10.59.”

“I didn’t even--”

“You’ve been ordering the same thing for the last few weeks. It would be an insult to my barista talents to not recognize that that’s what you want whenever you come here.”

“... Right…”

“Just pay up.”

“Fine, fine, gremlin."

“Bitch.”

Least to say, Tommy’s mood did not improve when he registered that Wilbur was staring at him. It predictably plummeted when he didn’t stop . Every nerve in Tommy’s body lit up at the familiar feeling of being watched, making him tense and grind his teeth against memories that threatened to pop up.

When it was finally closing time, he moved at the speed of light to get everything clean and practically threw off his apron after he finished. Then, the feeling of being watched pricked at his skin and he groaned at the reminder of a certain brunette annoyance. “Closing time, bitch. Get out,” he said, a little too snappish but Tommy was so fucking tired that he didn’t register it.

But Wilbur did and did the annoying thing of giving a damn. “Toms, are you sure that you’re okay? You’ve been tense all day,” he said, frowning as he stepped closer to the blonde.

And, as caring and sweet as it was, Tommy had had it up to here with Wilbur. “Well, I’m stressed to hell about my roommate and it doesn’t fucking help when you stare at me like I’m some type of fucking attraction!”

Snarling, the blonde glared at Wilbur who took a frightened step back. The man wasn’t about to have the luxury of being frightened when he reminded Tommy every single moment since he got here about something that the teen would rather forget. Eyes on him, fright in every decent human beings’ face, pain radiating from six points as he was put there, placed as a horrific, bloody, and unholy reminder.

“Get out,” he spat, putting a halt to his thoughts before they could spiral. “Just get out.”

“Tommy,” the other started, still trying. He reached out, grabbing the blonde’s wrist who promptly yanked it away when it pulsed with phantom pain. In doing so, the teen knocked the coffee in Wilbur’s hands onto himself. “Shit!”

The pain didn’t register, he’d burned from much worse things , but the fact that he was wearing one of his only ‘publically acceptable’ white shirts did. Hard as it was to keep fabric white underground where mud and dirt literally made up the ceiling, stains were commonplace and annoying. So, barely even thinking about Wilbur, he sprinted over and behind the counter and put on the hot water in the sink reserved for cups and dishes.

Mentally promising to disinfect the sink to hell and gone, he practically ripped off his shirt and soaked the stained part. Pouring in some soap to help, he began lightly scrubbing at the stain. It wasn’t that bad, barely set in and salvageable, but it was still very annoying.

“Fuck you, man. I only have so many white shirts,” Tommy grouched, grumbling some more choice words under his breath as he walked into the back room. “Close the blinds on your way out.”

“Tommy--”

Petty as it was, he cut off the other by harshly yanking out the mop with a clatter. The rolling cart squealed slightly in protest, mixing with the rolling clatter of the blinds falling into place. Sighing, he began to mop up the mess of coffee while humming a tune.

“I’ve never heard that one before,” Wilbur said, his voice hesitant and quiet.

Turning on a dime, Tommy glared at the man who was still here. “I told you to get out,” he said instead of addressing what was said. If he did, he would think about what that tune was and he didn’t have the mental capacity for a PTSD attack right now.

“Right, sorry,” the other said, absentminded as he looked at Tommy in a peculiar way.

It took a moment for it to register and once it did Tommy was all scowls and bared teeth. “The fuck you looking at, bitch?” he growled, the other confirming his suspicions with a guilty flinch.

“The, uh, scars,” Wilbur mumbled, at least honest about it.

Tommy knew he had scars, he remembered the process of getting every single one. His chest was pickpocketed by a number of brands and burns, each one making its place from a policeman with a cruel smile, a fire poker of some sort, and fire crackling and cackling in the background. His back held dozens upon hundreds of paint strokes of a whip and dashes of a knife or a glancing bullet, each scar blindingly white to make him paler than the underground already made him. As a final refrain, a scar bursted through both sides of his torso, right over his heart.

In Pogtopia, scars were a badge of honor and respect, a way to say ‘you made it through that hell’. They weren’t spoken of, speaking for themselves and Pogtopians listened in quiet revere. At most, you got a nod, a Rebellion’s salute, or a mock salute to address them, a way to say ‘I see and I know’.

But that was in Pogtopia with other Pogtopians who understood the de facto rules. This was L’Manberg, the land of people too horrified or complacent to understand the basics of respect. If there was a list of reasons that explained the split and arguments between Pogtopia and L’Manberg, this would be near the top.

“What of them? I lived in Pogtopia during the Lockdown and I got the general treatment, whoop-di-do. Want to start the usual L’Manbergian ‘I’m sorry’ pity spiel?” Tommy spat, baring his teeth at the man who had already pissed him off today.

Raising his hands in surrender, Wilbur scrambled for something reasonable to say. “Um, no, I just…” he started, sighing when no words came to mind. “I’m still digging my grave here, aren’t I? Look, I’m sorry that I keep making you uncomfortable and keep pointing out things that aren’t my business. I’ll, I’ll just go.”

As Wilbur took his leave, Tommy sighed before shouting a “See you tomorrow!” at the closing door.

Looking back at the extra work he’d managed for himself, he sighed again and got to work. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could return home to Tubbo and Ranboo and put all of the past back into its mental box for another day.

Chapter Text

Ranboo liked to think that he was too chill and numb to be surprised anymore.

Tommy did a backflip off the tallest building in Pogtopia and landed without a scratch? A typical Tuesday. Tubbo found another way to make nukes and had a reasonable way to get the supplies under the government’s nose? Ah, that’s another Friday. One of the three heroes from the bomber incident visited the records room to sit and chat with Ranboo? Well, that’s this Sunday.

Smiling amicably to Blood Boar, Ranboo glanced up from one of the last reports that he had to file for that day. “Oh, hi, what case are you looking for?” he asked, going through the boring and easy task of putting the digitized version in the right folder. Then he stood up to do the same with the physical one. “I can help you out in a second, I just have to put this away.”

“No problem. How many more do you have to go through?” Blood Boar said, not at all heightening Ranboo’s blood pressure with his ominousness.

“Like, two more? What do you need me for?” Ranboo asked, his nervousness given away by his twitching ears.

“You’ll see.”

Ah, how enlightening and calming.

Filing away the last reports quickly with a speed that came from spending too much doing so, Ranboo remained tense throughout the process. Blood Boar leaned against the wall, completely relaxed and carefully watching the enderman hybrid. When the job was done, it was both relieving and fear-inducing.

“I don’t know if my manager will like that I’m leaving in the middle of my shift,” he mumbled, only slightly trying to get out of going with Blood Boar.

“I’ll take care of it.” Oh, yeah, Ranboo loved being an accomplice to murder. (That was a joke… mostly… He’s stressed, alright?) “Come on.”

Scrambling to keep pace with Blood Boar, Ranboo kept close on his tail. Soon enough, they were in an elevator and stressing the teen out even more. The new floor was floor 64, one of the personal hero floors and therefore one that he would rather jump off of the building than go to. Too bad Blood Boar was right there and wouldn’t fall for the crouch-teleport again.

When the doors opened, he jolted into movement after the hero did. Resolutely keeping his eyes on the floor where there was very expensive carpet that he felt bad for stepping on, Ranboo followed the Blood Boar to the mysterious destination. Stopping when he did, the teen looked up to take in the new location.

It was a training room, filled with mats, punching bags, and a couple of fancy devices that he didn’t pretend to understand. Slowing the punching bag that he’d been using, Sentinel gave Ranboo a smile that was as confused as the teen. Ignition looked up from his push-ups, promptly flopping to the floor in surprise at the new face.

“Techno, there you are. Why did you bring Ranboo?” Sentinel said, crassly revealing Blood Boar’s real name. Well, not really, not with the heroes’ names being public knowledge but Ranboo didn’t pay enough attention to pro heroes to know their names.

“To test something,” ‘Techno’ said, bringing Ranboo out of his nervous mental rambles. Only, the man decided to scare him half to death by punching him.

Before the blow could make contact, Ranboo was yelping and teleporting behind a punching bag as if it would save him. “Techno! What the hell?!” Ignition half-shouted, scrambling to his feet. “Don’t just punch the guy!”

“I was seeing his reflexes,” Techno said, casual as ever. “He’s pretty fast.”

Looking stunned enough for both himself and Ranboo, Ignition opened his mouth to provide some type of protest. “Techno, were you being serious yesterday?” Sentinel interrupted the other hero's protest, realizing something with a furrowed brow and ruffled feathers.

“Serious as I usually am, Phil,” Techno said. Sentinel, the number two hero, was named something as mundane as Phil . Prime, what was Ranboo’s life becoming? “I seriously think that with some training and enough guidance that Ranboo could become a great hero.”

To answer the previous question, it was becoming a soap opera, a superhero movie, and a fanfic that got tossed in a blender and the end result got denied by Satan.

“Huh?!” Ignition was also out of the loop, sputtering at the other two heroes in surprise. “What do you mean?! Since when was this in discussion?!”

“Since he saved a dozen people and talked down a suicide bomber that wouldn’t listen to Phil. That’s a pretty amazing feat, you gotta admit that, Wilbur,” Techno said. Mentally numb, Ranboo connected Ignition with the ‘Wilbur’ that had been decent friends with Tommy and recently got into a spat with the blonde. “So, Ranboo, you up for some hero training?”

Intelligently, he managed an “Uh…”

“You probably shouldn’t drop something like that on him,” Phil said, chuckling good-naturedly at Ranboo’s pause. “It’s alright if you don’t want to commit to becoming a full-on hero right now. We can do a couple of test training sessions to see if you want to continue.”

And because Ranboo had the epitome of common sense and intelligence, he said “Um, alright.”

And he instantly regretted it when Techno started cracking his knuckles. “Alright then. Just don’t get hit,” he said and suddenly they were face to face.

Yelping again, he teleported to the other side of the room in fright. With the Blood Boar’s powers consisting of anything ‘super’, Ranboo gave himself a generous two minutes before he failed. Even that sounded impossible so he gave himself 30 seconds.

“You get into fights? You have really good reaction time,” Techno said, stalking across the room as the other two heroes went to the sidelines.

Only the Blood Boar would have a casual conversation while terrorizing a teen (to him a young adult) in the name of training. “Nope! I run from the fight, thanks,” Ranboo said, saving himself last second from taking a hit and ending up behind a dummy. “Apparently I would make a good addition to the Vanguard if I wasn’t so skittish.”

“The Vanguard?” Techno said, his interest piqued.

“Yep,” the teen said, his voice pitching up when Techno was suddenly right there and reeling for a blow. “I’m sure you know them, being pro heroes and all.”

This time he ended up in the center of the room, nervously tracking Techno who started circling him like the predator the hero was. “We do. They’re pretty determined but I’d definitely call them Pogtopians. All of you seem to be a bit slippery in a conflict,” he said, lunging as he finished his sentence.

Copying his previous track record, Ranboo dropped to a crouch. “Well, that’s a bit racist, ain’t it?” he sassed. Teleporting above the hero’s shoulders, he kicked out with his long legs and made the other stumble. Using that momentum, he twisted to right himself. When the other turned around, he was hanging from the ceiling in an upside-down crouch by digging his claws into the drywall. “Sorry not sorry for the damage. No rules were specified.”

Instead of being anywhere close to annoyed like a normal person would, Techno seemed to grin at Ranboo’s tactics. “Good, using your surroundings with your abilities. You’re already a good fighter,” he complimented.

“Thanks,” Ranboo said, enacting a new plan when Techno lunged again. Digging his claws in deeper, he wrenched them out with a grunt. The drywall cracked and flaked apart, providing a smokescreen. When it cleared, Ranboo was sprinting around the perimeter of the room.

“Ruining visibility and other senses is a good tactic, nice. Back to the Vanguard, more of Pogtopia really, how did you survive?” Techno asked, phrasing it like any other part of their casual conversation. At least Ranboo didn’t have to fake tripping when an entire sword was thrown his way. Rolling under the projectile, he got to his feet and kept running. “I mean, you’re clearly an enderman hybrid and your captors had no qualms against using hybrid weaknesses. So, what? Did someone offer themselves as ‘tribute’ and get waterboarded?”

“Techno--”

And, as dim as Ranboo’s memories of Pogtopia were, he felt the anger burn under his skin. He’d seen Pogtopians get into full-on fistfights with L’Manbergians to defend the honor of tributes. He’d heard every insult thrown at them, masochists, sadists, wanna-be heroes, suicidal --

While he knew that anger, cheering with his peers against the slanderers, he had never personally dealt the blow. Now, he didn’t even try to hide the growl that rumbled in his throat and shook with the rage of thousands of wronged people. Stopping in his tracks, he turned on his heel to glare at the hero who froze under the instinctive terror of meeting an enderman’s eyes.

Not quite done, he dived between the other’s legs. To help deal the blow, he unraveled his tails from where he forced them to keep still under his shirt. Those tails wrapped around the other’s heels, pulling and making him stumble. Finally, he rose and spun to deliver a harsh spinning back kick to the other’s lower back.

Teleporting again, he planted his extended leg against the wall. Using it as leverage, he gripped the handle of the thrown sword and pulled . When it came loose, he teleported to the center of the room. Stumbling only slightly with the redistribution of weight, he got into a fighting stance and held the sword to point it at the other.

Although recently recovered from where he’d been forced to his knees, Techno clearly hadn’t expected Ranboo to wield the sword. Hesitating upon seeing it, he couldn’t react that well to Ranboo’s next teleport. All he could do was flinch when the sword was swung.

A pause where the room itself held its breath before... “Insult tributes again and I’ll cut out your tongue,” Ranboo hissed, barely reacting to the two falling apart punching bags that spilled their stuffing from the bisecting slice. If the enderman had not pulled off another teleport in the split second that Techno had been in the sword’s path, the man would be bleeding with the inanimate objects.

Teleporting when the hero dared to breathe, Ranboo settled into a stance in the middle of the room. Snarling with pinned back ears and lashing tails, he waited for the hero to try something. For now, he kept a grip on the dull ache on his head and in his bones. If anything was tried, however…

Someone else cleared their throat, snapping the enderman out of his haze. Right, he was in the heroes’ private training room, currently threatening one of them with his own sword. It wasn’t a fight… It was just training…

“Ranboo?” Wilbur said, his voice floating quietly in the tension.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Phil said, soft and authoritative. “Ranboo, Techno, are you two good?”

“Yeah,” Techno responded first, stepping towards Ranboo in a cautious and telegraphed way. Flicking his ears and slowing his tails, Ranboo slowly relaxed and nodded. Taking that as a cue to move forward, Techno cleared the distance easily and held a hand out for his sword. Offering it handle first, the other gave back the sword with a low hum.

Out of the blue, the hero flicked the other in the forehead. “That’s for stealing my sword and that also means you’ve failed the task,” Techno said, his voice amused when the teen pouted at him. “Not for a lack of trying, though. You really surprised me at the end.”

“Yeah yeah,” Ranboo mumbled, getting some chuckles from the rest of the room at his demeanor. “Hey, I was being serious,” he added, staring Techno dead in the eyes as he said it.

“I never doubted you,” Techno said, responding before the other two could say anything. “And, if you are open to it, I still think that you’d be a great hero, better than I thought before. You’re a good fighter, you have a level head on your shoulders, and you can get fired up when it’s important. All great aspects of a hero and I’d gladly mentor you to get your skills to the next level.”

“I’ll think about it,” Ranboo said, completely honest and foolish.

Prime, how was he going to tell Tubbo and Tommy?

Chapter Text

After last night’s discussion, Tubbo wasn’t surprised that Ranboo forgot something. He just wished it wasn’t the enderman’s lunch with something very vital in it. Honestly, between this and his lack of tact, the guy was going to get himself killed.

“So, you guys know about the Vanguard?” Ranboo started out of nowhere, the three of them merrily eating dinner at their slightly dingy dining table.

“Yes, Ranboo, we know about the Vanguard,” Tommy sassed.

To both of his roommates’ surprise, Ranboo full-on glared at Tommy for the comment. “Well, you know how we were talking about how it’s too dangerous and impossible for us to do it?” he continued as if nothing had happened.

“Yeah,” Tubbo answered this time, giving his full skepticism of the situation through his tone.

“Well, I got noticed after the suicide bomber incident.” Ah yes, the incident that made the other two smother the enderman in affection and worry the moment it was explained. “And now a couple of the heroes want to train me to be a hero.”

You could hear a pin drop.

“What?” Tubbo said, his tone making the other two wince. How could he not use that tone? His platonic husband just got offered to put his life on the line!

“And I kinda wanna do it,” Ranboo mumbled, so quiet and fast that the other two almost missed it.

Almost and instead they gave Ranboo surprised looks. “What?” Tubbo repeated, making the enderman shrink on himself.

“I mean, if you wanna do it,” Tommy said after a moment, shocking both of them. “What? If Ranboo wants to do it, is responsible with it, and keeps himself safe, I don’t see why not. But if you get hurt I’ll kill you myself.”

After hearing him out, Tubbo couldn’t help but facepalm. “The one time you’re mature and it’s about Boo getting into certain doom. Thank you, Tommy Innit, for lowering my expectations below Pogtopia.”

“OI!”

So, yeah, Tubbo wasn’t all too happy with it but he supported Ranboo’s decision. He might have to renounce that support if the enderman started doing stuff like this though. Forgetting his lunch and a certain item that might as well be prescribed medicine didn’t start this whole ‘hero’ thing on a good note.

Quickly, he wiped the scowl off of his face and smiled at the receptionist. “Hello, I’m just dropping something off for a friend of mine, they forgot it at home. Ranboo Beloved, he works on the 35th floor in the records room. Any chance I could go drop it off? Or that you could notify him that it’s down here?” he said, holding up the nondescript paper bag that only got a slightly suspicious look.

“I can’t let you drop it off, sorry. Security would have a fit. I’ll let him know that it’s down here, though,” they said, smiling politely back at the bee hybrid.

Before he could say his thanks and leave, a familiar voice paused him. “Tubbo?”

Turning on his heel, he grinned widely at Sam. “Sam! Hey! What are you doing here?” he greeted, waving with his free hand.

Chuckling, Sam waved back and closed the distance between them. “I mean, I do work here. What about you?” he said, motioning down to the layered armor he wore that got him more than a few looks. Between the heavy-duty armor, the mask, and the centurion legs, people edged away from the kind man despite him being a renowned hero.

“My roommate forgot their lunch at home and they’re a very picky eater sometimes. I was just going to leave it with the receptionist since I can’t go in the building,” Tubbo said instead of snapping at the pricks who were assuming stuff about Sam. Being too angry in the lobby of a hero agency wouldn’t do him any good, especially when he was standing next to a hero that his actions could badly affect.

“Oh, I could escort you in,” Sam said, giving a brief wave to the receptionist as a sort of ‘I’ve got it’. “I’m a hero so no one could argue about a safety risk.”

“Oh, uh, I wouldn’t want to bother you,” Tubbo tried to argue, his grin turning sheepish at the thought. Once again, being a hero, there was so much that Sam could be doing, especially as the resident engineer.

“Nonsense, I wouldn’t be offering if it was an issue,” the other said, starting to usher Tubbo along with a hand on his shoulder. “Besides, I’ve seen your workshop, I think it’d be fun if you could see mine. Obviously, I have government funding and all at my disposal so it’s a little bigger but I think you’d like it.”

He couldn’t help but snort at that. Being able to see the Inventor’s lab and get a private tour of the space? Every engineer’s dream. “Like it? Big man, I’d be surprised if I didn’t feel like living there. All of the tech you have is out of this world,” he complimented as they entered the elevator. As the doors closed, Sam mumbled something that the bee couldn’t quite catch. “Did you say something, Sam?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it. Just reciting some of the projects I wanted to work on today. What floor is your friend on?”

“35th and I better be able to help you with those projects. There’s no way I’m visiting your workshop and not messing with something in there.”

Another chuckle made its way past Sam’s mask as he patted the younger’s shoulder. “I’d like to hear some of your thoughts on a few of them anyway. The public ones could use a little extra touch up by a day-to-day citizen.”

“Now you’re just teasing me,” Tubbo joked, getting more laughter from the fellow engineer. As the doors opened, the teen refocused on what he’d come here for. “Ranboo works in the records room, any idea where that is?”

It took a moment for Sam to buffer, some part of the news somehow alarming and/or disarming. “Uh, yeah,” he said, barely making it out of the doors in time for them to shut. “Ranboo as in the guy who stopped the bomber? Or is Ranboo a common name I had no idea of?” Sam joked past the tension in his voice and arms.

“Nope, you’re thinking of the right guy. Tall, lanky, skittish, half and half, and way too kind for his own good,” Tubbo said, tension underlying the last part of his description of Ranboo. You couldn’t blame him, he was still very annoyed about the whole ‘training to be a hero’ thing.

For a few seconds, the two of them stewed in their thoughts. Before either could voice them, they made it to the room where Tubbo could see a glimpse of a certain enderman hybrid. Opening the door with no hesitation, he grinned at Ranboo’s surprised look. “Heya, Boo!”

“Bo!” Also not very hesitant, the enderman scooped up the bee to spin him around a few times. Laughing at the other’s use of height, Tubbo used the advantage to gently bump their foreheads together. Low rumbles and buzzes led them through the end of their spinning, the two hybrids very eager to see each other even though it’d only been a few hours.

“Bo, how did you get in here? Why are you here?” Ranboo asked, gently setting down the shorter after their over-the-top reunion that neither of them commented on.

“Well, considering you forgot this,” as he spoke and held up the paper bag, Tubbo found slight satisfaction in the other’s wince. “I kinda had to pop by. C’mon, Boo, you know how bad it is for you to not have this.”

Sighing in defeat, Ranboo nodded and took the offered bag. “I know, I know. I forgot after all the stress and excitement about the hero training,” he said, his pout relieved slightly by a pat on his arm.

Any words from Tubbo got put on hold as the other occupant of the room reminded the teens of his presence. “Hero training?” Sam asked, his brow furrowed as he stared at Ranboo.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you brought someone,” Ranboo said, chuckling awkwardly at the scrutiny the hero was putting on him.

“It’s the Inventor, I just call him Sam. He brought his mask down to the shop to get some help fixing it,” Tubbo said, cheery as ever while leaning against the enderman. The other supported the bee without any issue, barely shifting at the newfound weight. “So, now that you’ve been introduced to my hero friend, any chance I could know yours?”

Opening his mouth, Ranboo got ready to answer. But then the Sentinel walked in with all of his green-robed glory and acted very casually. “Hey, Sam, Ranboo,” he said, pausing when he saw a new face. “Oh, and who might you be?”

Not addressing the #2 hero for a moment, Tubbo deadpan stared at his awkwardly chuckling partner. “You’re training with the Sentinel? Are you kidding me?” he said, jokingly punching the other in the shoulder. “Next you’re gonna tell me that you’re friends with the Blood Boar.”

No response other than more awkward chuckling.

“Are you fucking--?”

“Phil,” Ranboo said, cutting off Tubbo with a hair ruffle that he sputtered at. “This is my roommate, Tubbo. Bo, this is Phil or the Sentinel, one of the heroes I’m training with.”

“Nice to meet you, mate,” Phil greeted, holding out his hand with no fear.

Schemes of what to do with that lack of fear, not that he would do it in the middle of a hero agency, got put on hold by gentle claws tapping at the back of his neck. It wasn’t a threat, never from Ranboo, but a warning not to do anything stupid. Sadly, he followed such a warning and shook the hero’s hand normally. “Nice to meet you too. So, if you and Blood Boar are teaching Ranboo, is there anyone else I should know of? I’d rather keep tabs on this whole ‘hero training thing’,” Tubbo said, going straight into business with a fury that made Ranboo sigh.

What? He was worried for his beloved, sue him.

“Ignition’s the only other one,” Phil said, something in his eyes showing amusement at Tubbo’s precautions.

“Isn’t that Wilbur? The regular at Tommy’s coffee shop?” Tubbo asked, glancing at Ranboo who nodded. “Oh, alright. Did you fuck him up?”

“Tubbo!”

“What? It’s a valid question. He legitimately pissed off Tommy and inadvertently disrespected Pogtopia, c’mon.”

“I know he did but that’s not a reason to beat the guy up,” Ranboo admonished with a flick to the back of the head. Glaring at the enderman, Tubbo managed to pull something else out of the guy’s eye contact avoidance. “I was against Blood Boar last time and he insulted tributes. At least I paid that back.”

“Pog.”

“Mhmm, sure.”

Both of the heroes looked somewhere between awed, horrified, and surprised. A ringtone went off before they could say anything, making the teens look at their phones. Each one of the BenchTrioTM had their custom ringtone for the group, Tommy’s being the “Jump in the Cadillac” part of a certain song on repeat.

Ranboo picked it up before it could go on too long. “Hey, Tommy,” he said, smiling at either something the blonde said or the brunette muttering about ‘speak of the devil and he shall appear’. “Yep, just the BeeDuo here. C’mon, it’s a BeeDuo moment, not a BenchTrio moment. Quit being so clingy.”

The last line, an inside joke between the three, got a snort from Tubbo. “Mmm, nah. I’m good, man,” Ranboo continued, getting a cackle from the bee as he inferred Tommy’s ‘Fuck you’ from a mile away.

“I don’t think repeating ‘Fuck you’ to me is going to make me change my mind,” he said, the bee cackling a little louder at the rare moment of Ranboo cursing. “And I love how the only moment you don’t curse is to comment on my cursing.” More cackling from the bee, the shorter hunching over slightly from the exertion.

“You’re the one who called me, man, so you’re being a bit contradicting.” Tubbo didn’t try to stop laughing, getting a fond look from Ranboo and confused looks from the other two. “I will sass whoever I like, thank you. I’m Sassboo to either you or Tubbo and I think Bo’s a bit too busy dying from laughter to properly sass him.”

“I mean, it’s more of joint murder really. I’m just replying to you and Bo’s only hearing half of the conversation so,” Ranboo let his unfinished sentence speak for itself as Tubbo continued cackling in the background. “You decided to spend your break time calling me, don’t blame me. Honestly, a bit of toxic simp behavior.”

Bursting with another laugh, this one catching Tubbo by surprise, he started wheezing and had to use the desk as support. “Ope, well Bo’s really dying now. Yep, wheezing like a dying cat over here. I will continue to make jokes, Bee’s tough enough to last through my hilarious sass.”

“Nope!” he coughed out, snorting at his own inability and falling back into a vicious cycle of wheezing.

“Wait, never mind. Just got confirmation from the man that he might be dying. I’ll talk to you later, Tommy, after me and Bo do all the fun stuff,” Ranboo ended, pulling away his phone to let the muted yelling permeate before hanging up.

“Oh my Prime, you’re killing me,” Tubbo wheezed, falling onto Ranboo who barely blinked at the extra weight. “Attempted murder in a hero agency, what will the news think?”

“I’ll just teleport you outside of the agency. No footage for those hounds,” the enderman joked, snickering when Tubbo coughed another laugh. Not out of malice, not when his tails wrapped around the other’s wrist. “You good? You not gonna die?”

“I dunno, your humor is pretty deadly,” he snickered.

“And yet some of my jokes get dead silence.” Tubbo chuckled at that, slowly calming down from his excitement. “Alright, I think Imma have to leave you with Sam now. I don’t know how patient Blood Boar is and I don’t feel like testing it.”

Pouting, the bee stole a quick forehead bump and buzzed in time with the other’s warble. “Fine fine, I’ll go with Sam and terrorize his lab,” Tubbo said, separating from his platonic husband with a wave. Although, before he left, he couldn’t help glaring at Phil. “By the way, hurt him and I’ll hurt you.”

“Tubbo.”

“I’m kidding! Mostly!” he said, getting a disbelieving yet fond look from his husband. “Right right, c’mon Sam, you promised that I could mess around in your workshop. See you at home, Boo!”

“See you soon, Bo.”

Grinning, Tubbo couldn’t help his excited buzzing as he led the creeper hybrid away. Thoroughly confused as he was, Sam still chuckled and went along with it.

Tubbo was going to make so many bombs, just you wait.

Chapter Text

The week was turning out tolerable at best and downright annoying at worst.

Tommy repeated that sentiment in his mind a few times as he deadpan stared at the next customer. Now, he would have no problem with a somewhat odd or slow customer, Karens not getting that pass, but the one he was looking at was a league of their own. Especially considering that they were staring at him like he was a ghost even after ordering their coffee.

Please, please no.

“Hey, you good?” he said, forcibly casual as he stared back at the blonde purple-eyed teen.

It took a moment more before they decided to ruin Tommy’s day. “Icarus?” they whispered, the reverence, awe, and surprise raising Tommy’s hackles and summoning a panicked look on the barista’s face. The Fates couldn’t be nice, huh?

“That’ll be $5.99, please pay and continue the line,” Tommy said, quickly smoothing over his expression. Hesitating, the other gave him another once over before paying for their coffee. He didn’t react to them, too busy writing something on their cup.

He had to do damage control, he had to .

Five minutes later, way too long, the line was clear and he could make the coffees. Acting completely casual despite the tension in his shoulders, he put the coffee on the bar and called for the “Purpled!” individual who somehow recognized him. When he was done with the other coffees and a lull in business started, he discreetly took out his phone and quirked up his lips at the ‘random’ text.

Unknown Number

Um, hi? This is Purpled.

Big Man

what are ur pronouns?

Violet

he/him

Big Man

Pog. im Tommy, he/him.

Violet

But you’re…

Big Man

I was. Make no mistake, that figure died that day. Now I’m Just Tommy.

Violet

oh

Big Man

how did you know about that? no one has figured it out

Violet

You volunteered for me a few times. My hybrid traits let me latch onto certain ppl and know when they’re close. So, after you helped me so much…

Big Man

Ah, i see.

hey, you up for a spar?

Violet

A spar?

Big Man

u seem like the fighter type and i know a few good spots. we could talk a bit more privately then

Violet

I’m down

Big Man

give me two hours for my shift to be done. see you soon, Purpled.

Violet

Until then… Tommy.

Tommy was going to kill someone and it wasn’t going to be a clean kill. He was pissed off and now Purpled, part of the source of his anger, was going to get beat into the ground. Probably not to death but, y’know, what happens happens.

Speaking of the devil, he walked out of the coffee shop and fell into step with Tommy easily. No words exchanged themselves, the two teens too high-strung to try such a thing. In fact, Purpled looked exhausted, stumbling over his own feet in a way that made Tommy worry for the other.

Then he remembered that he was supposed to be pissed at Purpled and promptly picked up the pace a little.

Entering a junkyard, Tommy finally broke the silence that had settled over the two. “So, Purpled, just fists? No going for serious injuries?” he said, rolling his shoulders in preparation for a fight. He led the other to a slightly cleared-up space, a circle of cleared dirt that held scuffs and drops of blood from other fights. If one squinted enough, they could see the makeshift seats that popped up from the garbage.

Right now, it was only the two of them and only one of them seemed ready for a fight. “Sure,” the other mumbled, settling into a relatively decent stance if he wasn’t slouched over.

Okay, Purpled definitely wasn’t up for a fight but Tommy didn’t feel like backing out.

“Right, what questions do you have?” Tommy asked, throwing a punch.

Sloppily blocking, the other took a second to throw a jab. “Where do I start?” he joked humorlessly, barely reacting when Tommy deflected his hit. “Why didn’t you come back?”

“I got shot, my body was burned, and Pogtopia was using Icarus as a martyr and a reason to be better. There was no reason to,” the first explained. As he spoke, he got a couple of hits in before the other started punching back.

“No reason? You could’ve been a leader,” Purpled spat, steel in his eyes as he continued to throw punches. “You could’ve led us to be so much better.”

“The Angel, Dove, and Canary died on that cross. Icarus died when he got shot. I’m not fit to be a leader,” he rebutted. In return, Purpled started growing stronger with his hits and ended up scowling at the other blonde.

Stumbling back from a hard punch that Tommy pulled from nowhere, Purpled growled and came back with more fever. “The hell you aren’t.”

“It’s better like this,” is all Tommy said in response to that.

“No, it isn’t!” More punches, frantic and uncoordinated.

Tommy blocked with ease, barely flinching. “What? Is the Vanguard bad at their job?”

“No, but--!”

“There’s nothing else to say then. If Icarus hadn’t fallen, the Vanguard wouldn’t have been made. Everyone would’ve followed me without a second thought and wouldn’t have questioned what I would say. Now, everyone is under heavy scrutiny and genuinely wants to help. That’s much better than any leadership I would’ve cooked up.”

To finish that speech, he easily swept the other off of his feet and pinned him. “Speaking of, is this you actually trying? Disappointing, honestly,” Tommy said, gently letting Purpled up and offering a hand. “It’s obvious that you’re exhausted. Why did you accept a spar?”

“I… I don’t know,” Purpled said, looking away as he accepted the hand. “I guess I wanted to try to do something.”

“You’ve done plenty, big man. Try to take care of yourself, eh? We fought so hard to get a chance to, take it,” Tommy said, keeping a grip on the other’s hand as he thought of something. One of his discs appeared, gently imprinting itself onto the back of his hand. Quiet enough that only the two heard it, Ward began to play. “Here, you’ll be a bit less tired for a little while. If you feel like being friends, definitely text me. You seem like a cool guy and I want to actually fight you.”

“Should I be concerned that you’re so violent?” Purpled found it in himself to joke, giving Tommy a playfully skeptical glare. “I like my limbs where they are, thanks.”

“Bah, it would be pog if you got mechanical ones though. Seriously, though, don’t put a ring ‘round your neck. Pogtopia has your back, you know that,” Tommy said, releasing the other’s hand to clap him on the shoulder. Meanwhile, the disk went back to its original placement. “See you around, Purpled.”

“See you, Tommy.”

So, slightly less pissed than before, Tommy gave Purpled a grin and saluted a full Rebellion salute. On each hand, three fingers, thumb, pointer, and middle, were raised as a start of it. His thumbs found places on his chest and forehead for a moment before moving to his shoulders. Rising above his head, his thumbs stayed beside each other and linked together as his hands created a star-like shape. Then, his hands collapsed together and fell to his throat.

Purpled mirrored him, smiling back before waving. Waving back, Tommy finally left the other be. All he wanted to do was lay down on his bed and sleep for a decade.

Fuck, he had work tomorrow.

Chapter Text

“So, how much can you teleport before you grow exhausted?” Techno asked, slowly circling Ranboo to correct his stance.

Gripping the handle of the wooden sword a little harder, Ranboo forced himself to relax again despite how much the question made him want to hurl. “If you include cargo, people, and minimal energy, about a thousand a day.” He had to be able to teleport that much, he’d been trained to. Teleportation was a rare ability, even amongst endermen, and it was irreplaceable in Lockdown.

“Alright,” Techno said, his tone slow and even as he took a position in front of Ranboo. Immediately, the two launched into a series of parries and blows. In between each, Techno would offer a piece of advice. “Do you know how much you can lift?”

“Same average as every other Pogtopian,” Ranboo said, his words choppy as he struggled to keep up.

“Ah yes, I know that number,” the other deadpanned before telling the enderman to bend his knees.

“150 to 200 pounds,” was given between clacks of wood against wood.

Techno nodded, swinging hard enough that the vibration went through the other’s bones. “Pretty good amount then. How’s your medical knowledge?”

“Decent. I was kinda a medic for the people ‘round my place,” he said, purposefully hitting a little harder on the next swing. Anything to forget the cries of children, the smell of blood, and the sight of an ugly infected wound.

“Would you consider yourself good in a crisis?” Techno said, something in his tone teasing as Ranboo merely scoffed.

“Gee, I wonder.”

“Any other skill I should know of?” the hero asked, hitting hard enough to make Ranboo stumble. In turn, the professional came at him a little faster. Instead of parrying the next blow, he bent over backwards. Entering a back handspring, he managed some distance between the two before he rushed back in. “Acrobatic, got it.”

Someone else entered the room, noted by a flick of Ranboo’s ear and nothing more as he focused on the fight. “I think he’s a bit more than acrobatic, mate,” Phil said, chuckling as he watched Ranboo get beat back bit by bit. “He’s decent with a sword though. Have you had previous weapons training?”

The clacking of wooden swords grew to the same noise as exchanging staffs. Loosening his tails subconsciously, he flicked one into Techno’s line of sight. And, taking the momentary distraction as it was, he sloppily disarmed the hero with a twist of the wrist meant for a staff. “Yes, not with swords though,” Ranboo said, panting as he pointed the sword at Techno’s chest.

“Good,” Techno said, nodding at where Ranboo’s tail once was. “You know how to use distractions to your advantage. If I was at this skill level, you’d do great.”

“Thanks,” Ranboo mumbled sarcastically as he lowered his sword.

Chuckling at the other’s poor mood, Techno walked away to grab the weapon on the ground. “What weapon do you know how to use?” he asked, idly twirling the sword as he faced Ranboo and Phil.

Before the teen could answer, Phil held up a hand to pause him. “How about we just show him the selection?” he said, a smirk coming on his face to copy Techno’s. Well, now Ranboo was just terrified. Taking a couple steps back, the elytrian hovered a hand over a button on the wall. “Take your pick.”

And, as the wall behind him shifted to show another room, Ranboo couldn’t help but grumble “Government funding is so stupid.”

“I know, I love it,” Techno said, the deadpan humor barely taking away from the new reveal. The size of the Beloved-Underscore-Innit apartment, the room covered itself wall to wall with weapons of various types and sizes. Ranging from a normal bo staff, a shield, a minigun, a manhole cover, glowing swords, and so on, the selection of weapons made Ranboo deadpan at the sheer size and ridiculousness of it. “Well, go on ahead.”

Nodding, mostly to himself, the enderman stepped forward as the heroes cleared the way. He could feel their eyes burrow into his back as he looked over the options. Sticking with the familiar sights, he picked up a long metal staff that seemed oversized to most. It fit perfectly, his other hand barely hesitating before grabbing a couple throwing knives. A familiar load-out, comforting despite the gunshots and screams that distantly echoed in his ears.

“Interesting choices,” Phil said, unintentionally snapping Ranboo out of spiraling into the past. Always on the move, he had a remote in his hand that he looked too happy to be holding. “Now, can you use them?”

The button was pressed, summoning the whirring of machines as a number of human-shaped dummies jolted into place. Kicking off his dress shoes that he’d kept on during the earlier spar for some reason, he flexed his feet and dug his claws into the mats. “Just like a raid,” he mumbled under his breath and out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of Blood Boar’s ears twitch.

Ignoring that, he rushed into the epicenter of the new ‘enemies’. Tossing his staff into the air as he ran, he entered a familiar combo. Throwing knives went into the air soon after the staff, coming down much sooner and getting caught by his tails. Turning on his heel, he flung the knives and caught the staff in the same second. He ‘juked out’ the dummy he had been aiming for, pushing to the side to slam the staff into a neighboring ‘skull’.

Three consecutive beeps sounded off, signaling who was down. Soon, his staff was used as a support. Jumping up, he kicked another dummy in the skull as he balanced for a split second. Momentum upset his balance, letting him roll and aim himself at more enemies at the other end of the circle. Easily enough, he jabbed one in the stomach, moved his wrist to knock the other in the jaw, and spun to give another a blow upside the head. To finish it off, he grabbed the knife in the shoulder of the next one and tossed it at the first.

Seven beeps in total, leaving him with three more. Taking back his knife again, he javelined his staff at one of the remaining enemies in the meantime. Two knives drove themselves into the shoulders of the last dummies. Catching his rebounding staff, he stayed alert even after the last three beeps sung their tune.

Only when the heroes began to clap did Ranboo dare to relax. Turning, he smiled at them for a moment before moving to grab the throwing knives again. “Wow, mate, I didn’t expect that,” Phil complimented, his wings puffed up as he stared at Ranboo with new eyes. “You have some really good combat experience. Where’d you learn that?”

“Pogtopia,” is all Ranboo had to say before they snapped into silence for a moment.

Surprisingly, Techno was the one to break it. “Is it because of the ‘raids’?” he asked, pointing to his ears when Ranboo gave him an incredulous look. “I overheard you mumbling to yourself.”

Phil gave the pinknette a harsh look that promptly flew over his head. Meanwhile, Ranboo couldn’t help his pinned back ears. “Well, I put a ring ‘round my own neck,” he scoffed, barreling on before the other two could question his lingo. “Yeah, we staged some raids on the overseers. Got us a lot of supplies, probably the only reason a lot of Pogtopia survived. Anyway, are we planning on doing anything else today?”

From a mile away, anyone could see the spiel that Phil was about to go into, the usual L’Manbergian pity and guilt coming through. Techno gave the other a look, making him shut his mouth before he said anything. “I wanted to test your agility, running and such but we’ll have to go into a different room to do it. You up for a little field trip where other heroes are probably going to be?” Techno asked in such a way that gave Ranboo little option.

He let his annoyance be known by a drawn-out sigh. “Alright, let’s go,” he said, speed-walking to put away the weapons. With little other fanfare, the three left the room and headed for the elevator. “Where exactly are we going?”

“It’s a parkour course for us to practice jumping between buildings during patrol. How good are you at parkour?” Techno said, motioning to the other’s bare feet as he continued. “Are you gonna keep your shoes off?” Oh, yeah, the enderman would have to blip into the training room to grab his shoes before he left.

“It’s easier,” Ranboo said, rocking back and forth as he hummed. As for the second question, considering a tradition in Pogtopia was ‘Monthly Marathon Monday’... “And I’d definitely say that I’m favored with running and parkour.”

Once again, Pogtopian lingo slipped out and earned him confused looks from the L’Manbergians. “Favored?” Phil repeated, his brows furrowing as he tried to piece it together.

“Ah, just means I’m good at it,” the other explained, carefully avoiding the questioning gazes. If another Pogtopian was in the elevator, they would’ve jabbed him in the side for explaining lingo. If you weren’t Pogtopian, confusion via lingo was par for the course when you hung out with a Pogtopian.

Alas, Ranboo had the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair.

Before they could pry more from his mouth, the elevator dinged with its saving grace. Only rushing out slightly, Ranboo took the extra second to watch the moving mechanisms of the new room. In front of him, a number of platforms and small pieces of the same material moved into a new configuration as a small group of people waited for them to finish. At the edge, a tall pillar with a flag stood proudly as the platforms created a tricky path or twenty to get to it.

“Techno! It’s been a minute!” one of the group shouted, probably grinning at the arrival. Their voice shook Ranboo out of his observation, nearly making him stumble as he recognized the Hunter. Dressed in a bright green hoodie with a number of miscellaneous armor pieces that were iconic to the figure, the #4 hero waved and covered up his likely grin with his iconic white porcelain mask etched with a smiley face. “Who’s your friend?”

Now then, Ranboo could deal with the Sentinel, Blood Boar, and Ignition at once. He could not deal with the Dream Team on top of the Sleepy Bois Inc. There was a limit to his anxiety meter.

Instead of giving the teen a break, Techno showed off some rare physical affection and clapped him on the shoulder. “This is Ranboo. He’s training to be a hero under Phil and I. I wanted to get a handle on his agility so I brought him here,” he said.

More attention appropriately gathered at that announcement, considering the #2 and #3 heroes were training one person. Volley, a pyromaniac dressed in his black, white, and flame-colored bodysuit and iconic white headband capture item, seemed to be sizing the enderman up in a second. Meanwhile, Sloth, a man dressed in some weird pajama-mage robe outfit and clout glasses, merely gave him an exhausted look that did little to hide his analyzing look.

Even the Hunter seemed curious, tilting his head slightly as the only visible show of emotion. “Really? Well, I’m up for racing him,” he said, somehow making Ranboo’s heart drop more.

Mm, yes, Ranboo wanted to race the #4 hero today. It was totally in the schedule.

Phil was no help, chuckling along and nudging the teen forward. “C’mon, Ranboo. It’s just for fun anyway,” he said, sensing the internal screaming of the other and doing little to help. “The heroes race each other a lot so it’s a normal friendly competition.”

“Right, right,” Ranboo mumbled, scurrying to the start line before he could think about it.

At least the Hunter had some heart, tilting his head again at the teen who looked about ready to jump off of the building. “You sure?” he asked, walking up to the start line as well. Nodding, the enderman barely returned the other’s head to the original angle. “Alright then… Nook, start a race between Hunter and… uh…”

“Shadow,” came out with little consideration. The raids were still on his mind, his position as a ‘Shade’ sticking too firmly to his psyche. Once a Shade, always a Shade, Ranboo supposed.

“Starting Shadow’s profile… Full name?” a robotic voice called from numerous speakers, labeling itself as Nook.

“Wait, he hasn’t even got a profile?” Hunter asked, turning to give the mentors an incredulous look.

Ranboo decided to focus on the robot instead of whatever response the other two could give. “Ranboo Beloved.”

“Ranboo Beloved, Pogtopian, age 20, defuser of suicide bombing situation, and direct savior of 12 civilians. Known powers: teleportation and enderian biology. New hero name: Shadow.”

Sloth woke up a little at that, lethargically noting the “Pogtopian?” of the description.

Meanwhile, Volley scoffed at another part of Nook’s words. “Teleportation? That’s broken.”

“The suicide bomber? 12 civilians? Phil, Techno, what the fuck?” Hunter accused, his voice rising slightly with his confusion.

Not bothering to help out the other two, instead mumbling something about how “Alright, creepy,” the AI’s words were, Ranboo settled into a runner’s lunge.

“Race between Hunter and Shadow starts in 3…”

Hunter pointed at the two with an ‘I’m watching you’ motion. “We’re talking about this later.”

“2…”

Amused as always, Phil chuckled and probably waved the other off. “Alright alright, now get racing.”

“1…”

A bang went off, sending the two into motion. Running on all fours for a moment, Ranboo easily leaped to the first platform. His way of running didn’t change for a pace, letting him leap once again. Catching the edge of the platform, he hauled himself up in the same second and kept running.

Underestimating the enderman, Hunter had taken his time for a second. When he saw how quickly the teen was moving, he picked up his pace with an amused huff.

Enderian biology came in handy, letting the teen drag a piece of concrete a little closer with the enderian mental reach. Once his foot touched it, it moved back into place and launched him forward. Although, not up, forcing him to wrap his tails around a floating pole. Grunting at the exertion, Ranboo swung himself like a monkey and dug his claws into the next platform.

Halfway to the objective already, he swung himself back into an odd adaption of a front handspring. Letting go halfway through the swing, he flew for a moment. One of his feet made it onto another platform, his claws digging into the material and giving him the leverage he needed to stay on. Two paces and he began to ping pong himself between the platforms, barely landing with a foot on one before he was pushing to the next. Three seconds later, he was reaching for a flagpole of sorts.

Twisting around, his feet landed onto the giving material with enough force to have it bend. Then, he catapulted forward and flew gracefully. To end it off, he went into a cartwheel and landed beside the flag.

Already there, Hunter gave the other an approving nod before grabbing the flag.

“Winner: Hunter. Race time total: 15 seconds.”

Nodding, the hero clapped the trainee on the shoulder. “Nice job, I actually had to try.”

At that, Ranboo couldn’t help but give the man an exasperated look. “Both you and Techno have the same backhanded compliments, I swear,” the teen sassed, shaking his head lightly as he thought about it.

He jumped when a laughing wheeze reminiscent of a tea kettle went through the air. “True, true,” the hero said, nodding as he continued to laugh. The wheezes went on for a few more seconds before they were forced into nothingness. “Speaking of Techno, did he ask you to not use your teleportation?”

“No, but if he wanted to test my teleportation abilities he would’ve given me a tracker and asked me to go to the other side of town,” Ranboo said, shrugging. Then, he thought of something else and offered a hand. “You want a quick way back down?”

“Why not?” Hunter said, taking Ranboo’s hand easily. Within the blink of an eye, they were back at the start line of the course. “Wow… Okay, you’re quick. How many teleports can you do in quick succession?”

“To my knowledge and with certain circumstances? Upwards of 100 on a bad day,” he said, barely blinking at the other’s surprised sputtering.

Phil took his attention before he could try to wave off Hunter’s surprise. “You’re definitely at hero levels of fitness, mate. You’re barely breathing heavy after racing Dream, that’s better than some of the heroes on the field,” he complimented, grinning at the teen.

Chuckling, Ranboo waved off the praise. “I think the Pogtopian level of fit is pretty close to hero level if you’re saying stuff like that. I’m just your day-to-day Pogtopian, after all,” he said with a shrug.

Furrowing his brows, Phil gave the cue of more than likely asking a slightly offensive question. Luckily, Techno barreled in with all the grace of a bull in a china shop or an officer to exhausted miners. “Take this, teleport as far as you can go, and come back. Nook will give us an estimate of your distance,” he said, offering a phone to the teen.

Taking an escape where he could find it, Ranboo mock-saluted and took the device from his mentor. Closing his eyes, he inhaled and exhaled with the idea of far and safe in mind. Familiar tugging in his chest turned to burning, strained as the cold of the void enveloped him. Too soon, he touched down in a random place with grass under his feet. Opening his eyes and simply breathing in the quiet clearing in the middle of an oak forest, he let his pearl rest for a moment. Then, he closed his eyes back and returned .

Stumbling only slightly, he opened his eyes and relinquished his death grip on the phone. Giving back the device, Ranboo sighed and rubbed at the center of his chest to lessen some of the ache. Techno stared at the choice of comfort but soon refocused on the results of the exercise.

“New teleportation distance record: 763 kilometers in 5 seconds. Recorded under subclass of ‘records’ in Shadow’s hero profile.”

He chose to not react to the surprised sputters and exclamations, instead humming at the information that he rolled around in his head. “Huh, I’ve never tried to go far before. Must transfer in some way,” he mumbled to himself, relaxing as the burning in his chest dulled to a minor ache.

“Let’s move to the amount of teleports you can do in five seconds,” Techno said, delaying any surprised reactions from himself by keeping the process moving. “There’s a 50-meter dash area that we can use."

The other heroes seemed ready to protest against such a thing. “Alright,” Ranboo said, interrupting before the others could try to do so. Nodding, Techno was quick to move towards the area, the enderman close on his tail. Down a few sections of various equipment that Ranboo didn’t feel like trying to figure out, several lanes in the ground monitored by turret-shaped cameras earned their name of a 50-meter dash zone. "So just teleport as much as possible between the start and the end when Nook starts the timer?”

“Techno--”

Without hesitation, Techno barreled over Phil’s worried warning. “Yep, he’ll also keep track of the count. Nook, think you could start us off?”

“Yes, timer will start in 3…”

Closing his eyes, he inhaled.

“2…”

Exhale.

“1…”

Tugging in his chest before…

“Start.”

To the outside eye, it looked like he hadn’t even flinched. In reality, he was moving between the two points with a mastery gained through force. Every teleport, every move through the void, he went as far as to enact a combo of kicks and punches.

“End.”

Sighing, he opened his eyes from where he’d closed them on his last teleport. All of the heroes looked dead confused, staring in something between deadpan and surprise. Groaning under his breath, he rubbed at his chest to hopefully dispel the burning of his pearl.

“New teleportation frequency record: 100 warps in 5 seconds. Recorded under subclass of ‘records’ in Shadow’s hero profile.”

“Rookie numbers,” Ranboo grumbled, rolling his shoulders as the heroes stared. “Any other tests I should go through? Actually, Nook, think you could run a 50-meter dash test real quick? Might as well do it while I’m here.”

And that’s how Ranboo went through the rest of the standard fitness tests without any warm-up. Whenever a hero tried to get him to stop, he waved them off and went through with the tests anyway. The list went through a 50-meter dash, grip strength, deadlift, standing long-jump, and more, all relatively simple and only slightly exhausting by the end. At the end, all of it made Lockdown look like a piece of cake.

That made Ranboo wonder, “Nook? Is there a ranking system when it comes to these scores?”

“Yes.”

“Could you give me a general overview of where I am?”

“You are in the upper percentile, ranked just above Ignition.”

Humming at the interesting information, he shrugged it off before turning to Techno and Phil. “Any chance I could head out for the day? It’s close to the end of my shift anyway,” Ranboo asked, purposely ignoring the Dream Team’s staring.

Not that the other two were much better but Techno snapped out his stupor quickly. “Uh, yeah, see you tomorrow,” he said, waving at the enderman. Waving back with a smile, Ranboo teleported away (and made sure to grab his shoes before he ended up on the streets of L’Manberg. People were weird when they thought someone was homeless).

A solid five seconds passed before the Dream Team exploded into questions. “Where the hell did you find him?”

“Dude, why is the stick of a man jacked?!”

“People train to get those types of scores, what?!”

Phil also expressed his confusion, shaking his head and pacing as he thought. “He said he was at average Pogtopian strength. Can all of them just beat us on purely physical attributes without even trying? The fuck?”

Nodding to himself, Techno came to his own conclusion. “I’m calling Sam, we’re getting him a suit tomorrow.”

“Huh?!”

“The man could already benchpress everyone in the building and made Dream try in a race! There’s no point to training him physically, he’s a good fighter, and he has a perfectly level head to make good decisions. We have a pre-made hero right here, there’s no point to keeping him in the agency.”

“Are, like, all Pogtopians already pre-made heroes?! The fuck?!” Volley screeched, making them all explode into more questions.

And the teen was completely unaware of the chaos he incited, humming a merry tune as he made his way home.

Chapter Text

“A new hero’s getting their suit made today? Who?” Tubbo asked, spinning around in one of Sam’s many chairs as the man fiddled around with holograms. Around them, different parts made homes on various desks, all yet no semblance of order maintained. Half-finished and finished projects laid next to each other, blueprints to one device on the other side of the room to its partner. All in all, a normal engineer’s workshop if one ignored the expensiveness of the projects and parts.

Oh and the hologram tables that displayed a manipulatable 3D render of any blueprint given.

“It’s Ranboo’s actually. Techno bumped up his debut time because of how well the guy performed on tests that were supposed to give Phil and Techno an idea of how to train him. Now, Blood Boar wants to give ‘Shadow’ a suit,” Sam explained only to startle when Tubbo slammed his hands on the table. “What?”

“Big man, you should’ve told me that ten minutes ago. Give me some type of port, I’m putting in my thumb drive,” he said, producing said device from his pocket with a maniacal grin.

All that earned him was an incredulous look. “Do you just keep that on you?”

“Along with the 20 others. Now, where am I putting it into the holograms?”

Wordlessly, Sam motioned to a slot in the table. Jumping to his feet, Tubbo didn’t hesitate to input the drive and kick the hero off of the keyboard. A couple seconds later and a full suit was being displayed in the light of the hologram.

“You just have a full suit--?”

Cut off by the door opening, Sam turned with Tubbo to watch the new arrivals of Phil, Techno, and the teen of the hour. And, upon seeing his beloved, Tubbo gave a delighted buzz and a grin. “Boo! Hey!” he greeted, waving at the enderman.

“Bo! What are you doing here?” Ranboo said, clearing the room in a couple of strides to put a hand on the other’s shoulder. “I would’ve thought you’d be at your shop.”

“I blackmailed Sam into bringing me to his workshop!” Tubbo said cheerily, making Ranboo chuckle and take Tubbo’s offered hand. “Now, come on! I already have your suit up on the hologram!”

“You still have those?” he asked, allowing Tubbo to lead him to the interactive holograms. In the background, the heroes shrugged at each other to communicate their united confusion.

“It was a dare and I never delete blueprints, you know this, Boo.”

“True true,” he said, smiling as the bee began to hover in excitement. “I don’t remember all the features though. Quick run down?”

Rolling his eyes, Tubbo playfully nudged Ranboo in the side. “Of course, you don’t, memory boy.” The nickname earned a light swat that the bee only laughed at. “Anyway, it’s a completely black bodysuit with some purple, white, red, and green accents. Features include being waterproof, fireproof, tearproof, knife proof, and bulletproof. It has nanotech for your transformations, a ventilator for smoke and stuff, and a full communicator with police and Vanguard alerts, vitals readings, and a map with coordinates. Faceplate opens to give your enderian features a way to be used while boots and gloves are built in a way that they sharpen your claws.

“What am I forgetting? Weapons! So, staff and throwing knives as you like, both have extra features. I also included a gun if you’re in a bad position. Your gauntlets will give you a variety of coatings to work with, like sedatives to cover your knife with so you can slow them down more. Extra medical supplies are in all of the pouches that you’re given and I think that’s about it.”

Humming, Ranboo rested his chin on Tubbo’s head with a low purr. “Always prepared, Bo,” he complimented, although something in his tone was knowingly fond.

“Always,” Tubbo repeated with the weight of a man who knew all too much and had only so much care left to give. Care that dedicated itself completely and wholly to only two people. “Better than you, anyway,” he said, quick to move on from the heavy subject. “Shadow? Really? So creative, Boo, so so creative.”

“I was stressed,” Ranboo whined, pouting through his voice. “The Hunter was right there and some omnipresent AI was setting up a race for us. I’m allowed to be stressed.

“The Hunter? Why the hell were you racing the Hunter?” he asked, frowning as he gently tugged Ranboo closer. Was he forced into the race? Did he get peer pressured?

A squeeze on his hand paired with gently traced patterns delayed any plans for murder for the moment. “Techno wanted to test my agility and the Dream Team were already there. Hunter suggested the race and I went along with it,” the enderman explained. Nodding hesitantly, Tubbo prompted the other to look for something to talk about. “What’s that for?”

“Booster. If your vitals hit certain levels, that will inject and I’ll get a ping,” Tubbo said, squeezing back gently. “Always prepared, Boo.”

Sighing, Ranboo nodded and nuzzled into the crown of his head. “Always,” he repeated, warbling low in his throat to get an answering buzz.

Clearing his throat, Sam reminded the two that there were, in fact, other people in the room. “Well, I’ll certainly get the information for your communicator before you go,” he said, his face scrunching in the way of a smile but it was tinged with confusion and worry.

Tubbo certainly didn’t help with that, snorting at the other’s absurd idea. “Oh no, big man, I’m sticking around for this. No way I’m letting Boo go into the field without personally making and/or vetting his tech. I trust you and all but never hurts to double-check,” he said, grinning as Ranboo fondly sighed.

“Well, I’ll have to stick around and make sure you don’t drive Sam too crazy, won’t I?” Ranboo teased, getting a swat that he laughed off. “We weren’t planning on doing much today, right?” he asked, directing his question to the equally confused and worried #2 and #3 heroes in the room.

They glanced at each other, trying to gather their words until one of them cleared their throat. “Uh, right,” Blood Boar, aka Techno, said, socially awkward in an almost painful way. “I need to fill out some mission reports anyway. Phil? Did you want to stick around?”

“I think Ignition was going to go to that coffee shop today. He’s been bugging us to join so I might as well sate him for a couple more days,” Phil said, smiling at the teens in a gentle and almost cautious way. “Have fun, mates, don’t cause too much destruction.”

The maniacal grin and the tired sigh that Tubbo and Ranboo gave respectively didn’t comfort the heroes in the slightest. Instead, Sam looked vaguely scared for his life. And instead of comforting them, Tubbo began dragging Ranboo to one of the more cleared work tables.

Silence for a few moments as the heroes struggled to do more than just stare. “I’ll look after them,” Sam said, sighing in a bone-tired way.

“Good luck, mate,” Phil said, chuckling in a pitying way while Techno huffed his condolences.

Meanwhile, Tubbo began to scheme on how to give Sam dozens more grey hairs.

Chapter Text

“What can I get for you today?” Tommy asked, going through his usual lines as he looked up from the register. In front of him, Wilbur awkwardly shuffled around as an older man with blonde hair and a green jacket gave the brunette a confused look. “Oh, hey, Wilbur. You want the usual?”

“Uh, yeah, and whatever Phil wants,” Wilbur said, so painfully awkward that Tommy had to deadpan at the man.

Then he flinched and the teen couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Wilbur, my man, buddy, friend, Wil, quit that. I’m not mad at you, I forgave you like last week. Just don’t be weird again and we’ll be chill,” he said, laying it out so bluntly that Wilbur flinched again.

“But we didn’t even fight last--”

“Pre-cise-ly,” punctuating each syllable, Tommy deadpanned for a moment more. Then he moved to talk to the person who had to actually order. “So, Phil, what can I get you on this dumbass’ credit card?”

Laughing in a way that seemed very common for him, Phil smiled at the barista before glancing at the menu. “I’ll have a chocolate mocha, large,” he said, nudging the bluescreening brunette to try to reboot him.

“Alright, that’ll be $15.99. Go ahead and wait at a table, we’ll get that out soon,” Tommy said, easily taking Wilbur’s card and charging the man.

When he got back the card, he hesitated before leaving the line. “We? Is there someone else here? You’re usually the only one here,” Wilbur asked, worry clear in the furrow of his brow.

“Yep. We got more popular after the whole stunt so they’re putting more people on shift. The other guy’s in the back right now, doing some inventory,” the teen explained, waving off the other’s worry. “Now get out of here. I’ll give you your damn coffee when you sit down.”

Gaining back some confidence, Wilbur began to tease the teen. “Do I get my coffee hand-delivered?” he teased, batting his eyelashes obnoxiously.

“I’ll hand-deliver it to your shitty face if you don’t get moving,” he snapped back, getting a pout from the brunette and a laugh from Phil.

“My face isn’t--”

“Big Dubs, fucking move.”

“Fine, fine.”

Just to entertain the man, Tommy did deliver the coffee. He used a disc to do so, pointedly looking away when it was delivered. Considering there was next to no reaction from the general public, he declared it as a success and minimized the disc before summoning it with a flick of the wrist.

As it flew, someone entered the store and speed-walked to the counter. Spinning to meet them, Tommy clicked a few things on the register to make sure it was ready for an order. “What can I get for you today?” he said, running through his usual lines with fake cheer.

In return, he got the click of a gun’s safety turning off.

“Hands up, now,” the wielder growled, nudging the cold metal to Tommy’s skull.

Rather than gasp like the customers or curse a storm like he was doing mentally, Tommy calmly raised his hands and looked the gun straight down the barrel. Crimson eyes watched him closely, trying to determine if he would get himself killed. “Alright, man, no need to get hasty,” he said, stalling for a moment as his disc continued to move. If one looked closely enough, one could see the slight glimmer of a disc attached to the end of the gun.

“Fuck off,” is all the other spat, their free hand glimmering with some type of power.

Well, ain’t that fucking swell? A gun plus an enhancement! “Listen, I’ve had a really shit week. Can we not do this?” Tommy asked, already knowing the answer. But he didn’t need the answer, he needed the distraction.

“Just get the fucking cash, kid.”

Now Tommy was done playing around. Without a word, he grabbed the guy’s wrist and wrenched it to the side. The gun went off, the bullet pinging pitifully against the disc. Still, he twisted the other’s wrist and disarmed the guy as they shouted in pain. Grabbing his hair, Tommy slammed their face into the counter once, twice, thrice as something snapped.

Sufficiently disorienting him, the teen shoved him back to have the man stumble. Vaulting over the counter, Tommy grinned when his feet connected to the other’s chest. Launched back a foot or so, the robber couldn’t catch himself from slamming their skull against the ground. Not trusting it, the barista forced the other onto their front and held down their wrists.

Not even panting, Tommy snarled down at the man. “Jack! Get the zip-ties! I got a live one!” he shouted, his grip turning bruising when the other started to struggle.

The door to the back room opened and closed just in time to catch Tommy slamming the guy’s face into the ground. “I don’t think he’s very live, Tommy,” Jack joked, huffing as he saw something. “There’s blood all over the counter too. You’re disinfecting that.”

“Just get the fucking zip-ties,” Tommy sassed, looking over his shoulder to glare at the man with a buzzcut and a scar around his neck. “Don’t put a ring ‘round our necks right now. Not very pog of you.”

“Yeah yeah, this is the third one this week, I know the drill,” Jack said, huffing as he opened the drawer underneath the register. It was very telling when one had zip-ties right there. “How’s the Vanguard going to react to this one?”

“Oh, turn of a dime before they start to dine,” Tommy said, catching the tossed plastic without blinking. Easily, he restrained the attacker and stood up.

And without blinking, Jack finished off the phrase, “Well, considering the times.”

“Jack?!” someone shouted, reminding the two of the bystanders. Wilbur seemed shocked beyond belief, partially on his feet as he took in the scene. “What the fuck?!”

Mock-saluting, Jack greeted the shocked brunette. “Ayup, Wil. Don’t mind it, this guy was just giving us a ringing time,” he said, successfully confusing Wilbur more.

It took no time before Tommy was rolling his eyes and giving Jack a particular hand signal. Consisting of his partially curled hand bending left and right like a metronome or clock, he instantly gained the other barista’s attention. “Oi, bell-head, we’re in L’Manberg, favor yourself, can the stupidity,” Tommy snarked, getting an eye-roll in return. Turning to address the other adult with words that he would actually understand, he deadpanned at the pure anxiety Wilbur was giving off. “Like Jack said, third time this week, nobody gives a damn at this point. Call up the Vanguard already.”

“He held a gun to your head!” Wilbur said, his voice slightly high and hysterical. Finally doing an action other than sitting in shock, Phil stood up to place a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder. That did little if the outstretched hand towards the teen said anything. “You, You--”

Continuing his deadpan, Tommy barely flinched at the reminder. After all, he… “Are a Pogtopian who got held at gunpoint on the regular. The only stressful part about this is the blood that I have to clean up since Jack’s an unhelpful bitch. Slowly, you are making me more stressed by not calling the Vanguard. But I’ll remedy that by calling myself,” he said, turning to repeat the earlier signal with a more uncurled hand.

Saluting a simple Pogtopian salute, no more than a thumb, pointer, and middle finger raised by his neck, Jack went into the back room. Meanwhile, Tommy got out his phone and dialed a number that he had on speed-dial for several reasons. One ring, two, before… “Tommy, stop getting in trouble.”

Chuckling at the other’s deadpan, he grinned. “Aw, and deprive you, great HBomb, of my presence? How rude would I be?” he joked, getting a sigh and chuckle in return. “Anyway, bell’s ring is for another guy with a gun. Red eyes again. Knocked them out by slamming their head into the counter.”

Paper rustled and HBomb sighed again. “Did you have to be so ringing?” he asked, grumbling under his breath as the paper rustling grew more frantic.

“Oi, they called me a kid and took a shot. Put the ring ‘round their own neck,” Tommy said, snarling at the mere thought. Before he could go on his emo arc, Jack tossed the rag at him and put the disinfectant and paper towels next to the splatter of blood. Nodding and decidedly ignoring Wilbur’s sputtering in the background, he got to work quickly. “Don’t take too long with the deployment, they’re powered and I don’t feel like testing the durability of zip-ties.”

“Can’t you just restrain them with your discs? Sneeg’s coming,” HBomb said, the first sentence more of a rhetorical question.

Nonetheless, Tommy scoffed at the concept. “It’s a pain in the ass and a literal pain. No way,” he said without hesitation.

“Duly noted. Two minutes.”

“Pog. Shall your day be singing, H.”

“Chorus to you, Tommy.”

His phone went into his pocket the moment it could, allowing both of his hands to work on cleaning up the blood and disinfecting the area. Jack hummed in the back of his throat, a low-pitched click of the tongue answering him. He nodded, rolling the mop out beside the unconscious person.

Half of the shop relaxed at the click, pointing out their residence in an instant. The other half had no such reassurance, the more vocal of that half quick to speak. “Are the Vanguard coming?” Wilbur asked, fidgeting anxiously.

“Yep, two minutes. So calm yourself,” Jack said, sounding as done with the brunette as Tommy was. The teen appreciated the concern, he really did, but there was a point that he wanted to deck Wilbur for being so overprotective.

Not appreciating the lack of patience, Wilbur glared half-heartedly at the two. Before the other could open his mouth and shriek his concerns, Phil took the lead. “So, Jack, I didn’t know that you were Pogtopian,” he said, clearly trying to make small talk.

Jack barely blinked, letting Tommy relax before he snapped the older man’s head off. “It never really affected my work and nobody ever asked. Guess it never came up,” he said, shrugging off the answer.

In the background, several things clicked in Tommy’s mind and he groaned. “I didn’t even realize that they were your coworkers,” the teen said, facepalming with his clean hand. How could he not notice Ignition and Sentinel in his shop? His coworker was literally Acheron, a hero in the top 20.

“Wait, seriously?” Jack blurted, making up for Wilbur and Phil’s stunned silence. “I thought you kept up with it.”

“You tell me all the gossip I need to know!”

“... Okay true,” he said, nodding as Wilbur started to look horrified. Wilbur, aka Ignition, who was dreading all of the accidental blackmail that Jack had given the teen.

Oh, he was so gonna use the sand-eating thing against the hero.

Before Tommy could tease the brunette, the door opened. Although most would be confused by the sight of no one walking in, the two Pogtopians snapped their gazes down and grinned at the inchling. “Ayup!” Sneeg greeted, making several jump as the voice came from ‘nowhere’.

“Ayup!” Jack repeated, saluting to the Vanguardian who easily returned it. Covered in blue armor and holding a trident, the blue and black moth-like hybrid grinned at the greeting. “How’s it been going, Sneeg?”

“It’s been way too busy, man. Too many of these crimson-eyed freaks, we’ve detained like three today alone,” Sneeg lamented, hunching over in defeat.

While the dramatic motion normally would’ve made Tommy laugh, he couldn’t help but frown. “Has the Vanguard started investigating it? There’s no way so many people with the same eye color suddenly decided to be dickheads,” he asked, putting down his cleaning supplies to walk closer.

“We’re definitely starting to. They’ve been showing up in patterns so we’re looking into that first. We’re singing for consequences but you know how likely ringing will be,” Sneeg said, scuffing the ground with his shoe in frustration. Snapping himself out of that funk, he pulled out something from his pocket. “Definitely let us know if you see anything odd. We want to keep this from collapsing.”

Barely blinking at the hovering stretcher-like and sized object that came from Sneeg’s device, the two Pogtopians nodded along. “Will do, big man. I’ll ask Tubbo and Ranboo to keep sharp,” Tommy said, walking slightly closer to the ‘stretcher’ that most were staring at in awe and fear. “Need a hand?”

“Cheers,” the Vanguardian said, grabbing the collar of the attacker before moving to Tommy. Using his leg as leverage, Sneeg bounded up with a few easy steps. Dragging the unconscious man with him, he easily laid the guy out on the stretcher and moved to leave. But, he hesitated and turned towards the teen. “Tommy, think about joining the Vanguard. Seriously, this time.”

“And, I’ll tell you seriously, that the answer is still no,” he said, shaking his head lightly and ignoring the two new stares on him. “It’s not a good choice for me or my roommates right now. We’ll help out like any Pogtopian but being an official Vanguardian is too much right now.”

“Wait, you’re a Vanguard candidate?” Wilbur blurted out, wincing at how bad that sounded once it was out. Instantly, sharp looks were on him and making him shrink in on himself more.

All of the Pogtopians could smell a L’Manbergian a mile away, some of the customers going as far as to glare at him. “He’s L’Manbergian, isn’t he? Prime, they’re so obvious,” Sneeg snarked, huffing at the obviousness.

Tired of the glares, Wilbur sighed and crossed his arms in a weak attempt to defend himself. “What? Is ‘disrespect’ really a L’Manbergian trait?” he asked, partially defensive but also curious.

He deflated when the three Pogtopians didn’t hesitate with their “Yes.”

“I already told you, Big Dubs, L’Manbergian spiel. I’ve already been on the receiving end of your hero complex and it’s painfully a L’Manbergian hero complex,” Tommy said, gaining another sharp look from Phil for Wilbur.

“I don’t have a hero complex,” he sputtered, his defense about as confident as cardboard.

“And I’m not a Pogtopian,” Tommy said, waving off anything else Wilbur could say. “Don’t mind it, Wil. And Sneeg, get the fuck out of here. I want that guy in the slammer.”

Saluting with a simple Pogtopian salute, Sneeg began to move the stretcher again. “Got it, boss! Singing days to you, gentlemen!” he shouted cheerfully.

“Chorus to you, Sneegsnag!” Jack and Tommy called back, also saluting.

The nice moment lasted five seconds after Sneeg left before Jack was shoving the mop in the teen’s hands. Grumbling good-naturedly at the enforced labor, Tommy glared at the other with no real heat. Before he went about his job, however… “Sorry for that, everyone! Please, go back to enjoying your drinks!” Tommy shouted to the rest of the shop, giving the cue to return to the coffee shop white noise.

Time passed peacefully, returning to a normal shift. Jack left an hour or so before closing time, saluting as he left for his hero patrol. Everything went along the usual schedule, including Wilbur staying last minute.

“We’re closing up, big men,” Tommy called out to Wilbur and Phil, cleaning up some of the last tables as he did so.

Both of them stood up, the blonde more readily than his younger companion. “Got it, let’s go, Wil. And thanks for the coffee, mate,” Phil said, smiling at the teen.

He smiled back, barely letting his lips twitch when Wilbur moved closer to Tommy, clearly looking to talk. “I’ll join you outside in a minute. I wanna talk to Tommy,” Wilbur said, getting a frown from Phil. A pleading look convinced the eldest to leave, not before sighing and giving Wilbur a look. Now that it was just Tommy and him, he immediately began to ramble, “Tommy, I’m really sorry about how I’ve been acting. I know that you guys look at it as a L’Manbergian trait to be disrespectful but as a hero, I shouldn’t be belittling or disrespecting you. I’ll be better and--”

“Big man, shut the fuck up.” Wilbur promptly shut his mouth and shrunk away under Tommy’s glare. “Don’t you dare start holding yourself to higher standards just because you’re a fucking hero.”

That shocked the brunette enough to have him sputter out “What?”

“Wil.” Silence again as Tommy continued to clean the tables, distracting from the heaviness of his next words. “Look, you messed up, reacted badly and whatever the fuck. Welcome to being human. We all mess up and your hero complex doesn’t do jack shit to prevent that.”

“... Toms…”

Quickly, the teen intervened before the other could sound guilty for another few seconds. “I called it the ‘L’Manbergian spiel’ before, I think ‘reaction’ is a better word. Most, if not all, of the time that a L’Manbergian hears about something, more than likely a Pogtopian thing, they react with disgust, pity, horror, or disrespect. Thing is, that reaction has become such an ingrained habit that it is basically a trait at this point and people don’t try to backtrack.

“That’s what makes it so I’m not literally spitting at your feet and damning you to hell whenever you react like that. You backtrack, you understand that it’s not a good reaction, and you try to help it. You may be L’Manbergian, yes, but you’re a much better L’Manbergian than any I’ve interacted with. Maybe that’s from you being a hero, maybe you’re just a good person, I don’t fucking know. I’m not going to put a label to it, Prime knows I hate that shit.”

He had looked up sometime during his speech, watching in vague horror as Wilbur processed what was said. “Toms…” Oh, great, now the man looked like he was on the verge of tears.

So Tommy did his usual and said something random, although no less serious, “Also, you hurt Ranboo, I’ll snap your neck. Relay that to your teammates or don’t, I don’t give a fuck. I’ll just come up with something more bloody.” A reactionary snort prompted the teen to shoo Wilbur out of the shop. “Now, Big Dubs, get the fuck out of here. I want to get home at a reasonable time.”

“Alright alright,” Wilbur said, raising his hands in surrender as he went for the door. “And… thank you for all that,” he said, smiling and resting his hand on the door handle. “You didn’t need to.”

“Define ‘need’, Wilbur Soot,” Tommy quipped, crossing his arms as the other stared blankly. “And you’re welcome and I’ll gladly snap you out of being a shithead anytime. Now get moving before I follow through with my threat.”

Chuckling absentmindedly, the man waved one last time before leaving. Waving back, the teen took a second before shrugging and going back to closing the shop.

Well, that went okay (if you didn’t count that Tommy now had no idea with the gun that had been forgotten behind the counter).

Chapter Text

“You ready, Shadow?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Blood Boar.”

For all the dramatics, the first patrol of Shadow's wasn’t difficult. Sure, Techno didn’t entirely enjoy Ranboo’s way of going around it…

(“You can’t just jump in there without a plan.”

“I had plenty of planning. Besides, I’m not going to let someone get mugged when I can do something.”)

… or that he gravitated towards the less rich sides of the city…

(“Bruh, why are we here?”

“Because.”

“Oh, now I get Sassboo, great.”)

… but that was fine! Considering Techno didn’t outright shut him down, Ranboo kept doing what he was doing. 

Which led him to react harshly when a hostage situation/robbery went down at the bank.

Techno walked with confidence through the scene of police barricades, Ranboo shadowing him, and went straight to the highest-ranking police officer. “What’s the situation?” Techno said, thankfully taking charge before the younger hero could make a fool of himself. Well, a fool or a danger, depending on how agitated the Pogtopian got being around police officers.

“Sir,” the officer said, saluting and making Ranbo relax slightly. If they actually respected people, more specifically heroes, then the officer couldn’t be worse than the mercenaries. “It’s a hostage situation. They threatened to shoot if anyone does anything. There’s five confirmed robbers but there could be more.”

Mustering his courage, Ranboo directly addressed the officer, “Do we have any idea on the number of hostages?”

Assessing him with a quick look that made his ears flatten for a moment, they nodded. “We have at least thirty, a mix of men, women, elderly, and children. We don’t know exacts though.”

Now, you see, Ranboo was high strung. Tommy had talked about the crimson eye crooks that kept disrupting his work and Tubbo added his story of another crimson-eyed occurrence. Then, through that conversation, the enderman had realized that Jeffrey, someone who had been willing to suicide bomb, also had crimson eyes.

If this next question got answered with a yes, he had half a mind to go to the tallest building in the city and scream. “Did the robbers have crimson eyes?”

“Uh… yeah, why?” they said, inadvertently making Ranboo internally scream.

Nonetheless, the teen had work to do. “I’m going in. I’m teleporting out all the hostages and I’ll notify Boar when I’m done. Then we’re taking these guys on and putting them in prison,” Ranboo said with absolute sureness.

The officer and any eavesdroppers were stunned but slowly nodded along. “Shadow, that’s not a good idea,” Techno hissed, grabbing the other’s shoulder before he could do anything. “You could be too slow to get everyone out before the robbers notice.”

He couldn’t help but snort at that. “I’ve transported 100 people, at least, out of a cave-in as it was happening. This is nothing,” Ranboo said, easily shrugging off the hand. “Besides, this is what I’ll mainly do during hero work. Might as well start early.” Then he was gone.

“Does… Do they do that a lot?”

An explosive sigh.

By teleporting rapidly between various vantage points in the bank, Ranboo gathered numbers without the residents of the bank blinking. 12 women, 9 men, 4 elderly, and 6 children sat on the floor of the bank in varying amounts of panic. Two more burly individuals with crimson eyes patrolled the lobby, cocking their guns at anyone who moved or talked too much. Neither had obvious powers, although occasional curls of smoke from one spelled of a fire-based power. In the vault, four more people, also crimson-eyed, were rapidly shoveling money into bags, more obvious powers like wolf ears/tails and sparking electricity barely getting in the way.

Then, after sitting in the void for an eternity of a second, Shadow made his move. Five seconds later, all of the hostages were behind the police barricade. As the hostages, officers, and bystanders looked on in surprise, Blood Boar rushed in after the tap to his arm.

Teleporting back, Ranboo smacked the fire-user over the head with his staff. Going down, they alerted their comrade to the danger. Cursing, the robber sprayed Ranboo with bullets. Another teleport got the teen out of the way, stunning them enough to slow their reaction time and get knocked out.

When Techno slammed the door open, the teen disappeared to the vault. Although alert from the gunshots, the other robbers squawked at Ranboo’s sudden appearance. Jabbing one in the stomach and disarming another, he jumped to the doorway. Electricity fell harmless to where he’d once been, acting as a pretty good distraction. Using that, he punted the group into the open with a few kicks and punches.

It took everything in him not to laugh at their fear when they spotted Techno. Instantly, they shrunk in on themselves and tried to seem like less of a threat. Not taking any of it, Techno barely blinked and charged.

One turned back towards the vault, getting knocked onto their back and out like a light by a silent Ranboo. The wolf and other one were smart and bolted to the left and right. Sparky did the stupid thing and tried to meet Techno halfway.

While Ranboo targeted the last unenhanced, Techno grabbed Sparky’s arm and didn’t even flinch at the arcing electricity. Sparky went down with a punch to the face, the unenhanced got their feet swept out from under them and the end of a staff to the temple. Now all that was left was the wolf hybrid.

That didn’t sit well with said hybrid, cackling manically from his side of the bank. “I guess this is what they meant,” they cried, putting the two heroes on edge. The syringe of bright red liquid from the robber’s pocket did not quell that caution. “Take me!” they declared, plunging the needle into their neck with no hesitation.

“Shit,” Techno mumbled and Ranboo couldn’t agree more.

Screaming as their bones audibly snapped and their flesh visibly tore, the robber started mutating. Growing bigger and more wolf-like, they went as far as to start having glowing bright red veins. Whatever drug or booster that was in the syringe, it made them into a genetically engineered werewolf on steroids.

“I didn’t like the Twilight series anyway,” Ranboo quipped, getting a muted huff.

No more banter could be exchanged between the heroes as the criminal charged. His teleport saved him from getting torn in half but now Ranboo had to watch as Techno caught the other’s hands. Claws dug into the back of Techno’s hands, a side note to the fact that the villain was moving Techno back.

Snarling, the teen barely took a second before rapidly teleporting. Each teleport meant a hit with the staff, aimed towards the face and sides. Some hits to the joints were taken as well, hindering the villain’s strength minutely.

Taking the chance, Techno turned on his heel and flipped the villain over his shoulder. Stunned for a second, the villain relinquished their grip and let Techno jump back. Teleporting in front of the man despite any protests, Ranboo quickly pressed a button on his mask. The top half moved away, exposing his eyes, aka an enderman’s biological weapon.

Switching his physical weapons from the staff to coated throwing knives, he waited for the villain to stand. They did, a growl building in the back of their throat that collapsed into a whimper. Not even the drug could stop the instinctive and, if intended, paralyzing fear of looking into an enderman’s eyes.

Stepping into the void, Ranboo wielded his knives expertly. Dozens of tiny cuts appeared on the villain’s skin in moments, slowly lengthening as they fought off the oppressive terror. When they could start moving again, the teen dropped to all fours behind them and gave Techno a look.

Clear as the move was, although more meant for light rough-housing, Techno didn’t take long before rushing forward. His movements were faster, stronger, and held a lot more force as the wolf got launched across the bank. Eyes glowing a soft red, the Blood Boar held out a hand to the bloodletter.

Ranboo stood with the assistance, grinning as his mask returned to normal. Both heroes turned to the villain who had skidded across the floor, the younger wincing at how the wolf got stuck in the wall. Not trusting it, Techno stood in front of the teen in a defensive stance.

Alas, the villain could barely twitch and stuck to vehemently glaring at them with toxic red eyes. “Were your knives coated?” Techno asked, barely shifting as he eyed the wolf hybrid suspiciously.

“Yep, special concoction from a certain friend of mine,” Ranboo said, only elaborating when Techno gave him a look. “It’s just normal tranquilizer mixed with bee hybrid venom. The guy’ll be out in a few seconds.”

“Bee hybrid venom paralyzes you?” Techno said, staring dubiously at the knives in the other’s hands. The nod given earned a “Bruh.”

“Permanently if intended,” Ranboo added cheerfully, getting a slightly fearful look from the other two in the room despite sheathing the blades. “Anyway, let’s get this guy in prison, yeah?”

Least to say, Techno gave a long sigh before going to the door and letting the police do their job. As police swarmed the wolf hybrid, the two heroes exchanged looks. Then they looked out at the crowd of observers and cringed a little. From inside the bank, Ranboo could count at least 30 cameras from both news crews and civilians. He could already see the headlines and felt like falling into the void and never coming back.

“... Could you teleport us back to the Tower? I think that’s enough for today.”

“My pleasure.”

So he grabbed his mentor’s arm and teleported, ignoring how that would definitely rile up the news even more.

Entering the Tower in a room where they usually suited up, they changed quickly and Techno left to shower. Since he literally couldn’t shower, Ranboo decided to relax in the living room filled with several chairs, a couch, a coffee table, and a way too expensive mounted TV. Going to the living room that he’d been reassured he could go into, he flopped face-first on the couch and groaned. Next to him, Phil chuckled at the dramatics.

“Big day today, mate?” Phil asked, patting the other on the shoulder sympathetically. “First patrols are always overwhelming.”

Answering with another groan, he let his tails unravel and twitch nervously. “I got on the news already. Save me, Phil,” he lamented, pouting into the forest green fabric.

“That’s great, mate. What did you--?”

Someone else answered him, the theater kid running into the room with a scramble for the remote. “Dude! Ranboo! What the fuck?! This is fucking cool!” Wilbur announced, giving no other explanation as he put on the news.

Accepting his fate, Ranboo turned his head to watch the reporter. They were standing outside of the bank that was still swarming with police and civilians. The first was obvious but why was the second group still there?

He tuned into “Hello! I’m Jordan Maron, he/him, and I’m reporting at the site of the L’Manberg General Bank robbery. Today, a hostage situation of 31 civilians and 5 criminals went down. The #3 hero Blood Boar, joined by a new hero who I’ve been told by the deputy on-site goes by ‘Shadow’, helped today.

“But, believe it or not, the new hero, Shadow, seemed to be the main actor in this.”

Oh joy, now he really wanted to hide in the void. Especially with the looks that Wilbur and Phil were giving him.

“One of their obvious powers is teleportation, as shown by a clip that a number of cameras got of Blood Boar and them disappearing once the job was done. Using this assumption, it’s obvious that they got the 31 hostages out on their lonesome in less than five seconds. Deputy, could you offer some insight?”

The officer that the heroes had been talking to did indeed tolerate having a mic near their face, much to Ranboo’s displeasure. He had been hoping for the officer to be camera shy, damn.

“Yes, I can. Once Blood Boar and Shadow came on-site, they started asking questions about the situation. Everyone does it but I’ve rarely heard anyone ask for specific hostage numbers. Shadow did, deciding soon after to go in alone. Five seconds later, using teleportation as they themselves called it, all of the hostages were behind our barrier and Blood Boar was charging in. Two-three minutes later, Blood Boar is opening the door again and showing us the knocked-out robbers. Shadow might be new to the field but I can say without a doubt that they’re one of the best that I’ve seen in a long time.”

Sir, ma’am, mix, why you gotta do Ranboo like that? Just why?

“Thank you, Deputy! Well, you’ve heard it from someone who works with heroes daily. Shadow, a new mysterious hero, might be one of the best around! We hope to see more of them in the near future, helping civilians without a doubt. Actually, why don’t we interview a civilian?”

Oh, this was just getting better and better.

“Excuse me? Are you open to a question or two? It won’t be long.”

It was, indeed, getting better and better as Jordan Maron chose a mother-child duo.

“Sure,” the mother said, although she kept her child close.

“What was it like getting teleported?”

“Disorienting but strangely comfortable. My son was in my arms the whole time so I knew where he was and that definitely helped out any anxiety. Traveling didn’t really let us see much, it was like staring at the night sky for a second as we switched locations. Really beautiful, actually,” the mother said, making Ranboo smile. Nobody called the void beautiful, at least not often, so it was a welcome change.

“It was cold!” the son piped up, grinning when Maron moved the mic closer to him. “Not like painful cold but like AC type of cold. I like the cold so that was good!”

“If I may add,” the mother said, the mic instantly shifting back. “I think that Shadow purposefully kept us together. We weren’t holding onto each other too tightly when we were teleported, enough to get broken apart in a second anyway. So I think that Shadow realized that keeping us together was good for our fear. They’re definitely one of my favorite heroes, no matter how small a factor that is.”

Warbling shakily, Ranboo pressed his ears down in embarrassment at the praise. He had seen the two clinging to each other, just the same as he had with any other pair or trio. Although more difficult to teleport quickly with, he purposely kept any groups together. He knew what it was like to get ripped away from loved ones when they were right there and he didn’t want anyone else to experience that. Prime, did it have to be noticed?

“A kindhearted hero, it seems! Thank you for answering our question, we’ll leave you be.”

Maron moved back to where he originally was, the camera expertly following. Then, as if Ranboo’s embarrassment couldn’t get worse, the news reporter began singing praises.

“A new hero on the scene, Shadow, has already made a place in the hearts of the people! A feat of what I’m sure is technical ingenuity of powers makes them a powerful opponent. I’m sure that with them around, these streets will feel even safer. Back to you in the studio!”

Blissfully, Wilbur turned off the TV. Not so blissfully, the heroes turned to give him grins and awed looks.

“Mate,” Phil started, his eyes turning soft when Ranboo warbled a shaky acknowledgment. “I haven’t heard of a hero getting that good of a reception in a long time. That’s an amazing accomplishment, Ranboo. You did really good.”

“What Phil said,” Wilbur added, sitting down on a nearby chair to lean towards the teen. “No hero gets that good or public of a debut, at least not often. You’re going to be talked about for weeks.”

Ranboo couldn’t help his recoil at that. “I should’ve asked Techno if I could be an underground hero,” he said, pouting as he sat up. “I’m not good with praise or the public.”

“More of a chance for you to go solo, at least,” Techno said, announcing himself barely a second before he sat on a chair. Two of the three residents of the room jumped, the eldest simply giving Techno a warm but somewhat warning smile. “You seem to be really good at executing plans without even talking about them.”

Pacifistic as Ranboo usually was, he could sense a jab from a mile away. He lived with Tommy, after all. “I talked about it,” the teen said evenly, meeting Techno’s glare without a flinch. “I told you exactly what I was going to do.”

“And you didn’t hear me when I said it was a bad idea and that you could’ve messed up,” Techno said, narrowing his eyes as they started to glow red.

“Then you didn’t hear me when I said that it was completely within my capabilities and that I’ve helped more people out in a worse situation,” the teen said, barely flinching at the oppressive aura that Techno’s powers began to exude. Both of them ignored the other two in the room even as they tried to say some placating words.

“Have you now? Even if you have, that does not change the fact that you could’ve messed up. This was your first outing as a hero, you had no business trying something so risky,” Techno said, his tone placating at best and demeaning at worse.

It instantly made Ranboo bristle. “I had every ounce of business doing so. My experience as a hero does not outweigh my previous experience or the fact that people are in danger. Besides, could’ve, should’ve, would’ve… Hypotheticals do nothing but hold one back when there is something to be done,” he said, carefully unpinning his ears as he kept his cold tone.

“Your previous experience? Your little raids? Those are nothing in a hostage situation. People could’ve gotten hurt,” Techno said, still not hearing Ranboo.

“You act like there weren’t hostage situations. Solitary confinement is a very common punishment, thank you,” he said, scowling as winces went around the room.

That didn’t deter Techno. “That does not change the fact that you have no business going through so many risks on your first day.”

“Define ‘risks’, Techno. You call that risk? What I did fifteen minutes ago? That’s nothing.” In the background, Wilbur flinched but neither paid him mind.

“Is it now? It was plenty something, especially to those hostages. That was risky, idiotic, and could’ve gotten people killed,” Techno said, his voice starting to rise.

Tensing in return, Ranboo couldn’t help his eye roll. “What is with you and the phrase ‘could’ve’? Look, I’m sorry that I’m not so caught up in hypotheticals and feel like doing something when the opportunity presents itself.”

“Then I’m sorry that you’re a reckless kid.”

Without hesitation, Ranboo rose to his feet with a snarl, all pretense of civility gone. “You wanna say that again?” he spat, glaring at the man who barely flinched.

“I said that you’re a reckless kid who doesn’t know what’s good for him.”

Oh and if that didn’t remind him of the words that the overseers spat on the daily.

Taking a couple of deliberate steps forward with the grimness of a murderer, the enderman finally prompted the other two into action. Wilbur went to Ranboo, gently grabbing the teen’s arm to halt him. Meanwhile, Phil got up and whacked Techno over the back of the head. “Mate, shut the fuck up. I don’t think either of you are hearing each other.”

“You guys really aren’t,” Wilbur so helpfully added, tugging Ranboo a couple more steps away from Techno.

“Well I would start listening if the kid wasn’t spouting bravado,” Techno said, getting another wack from Phil at the use of ‘kid’.

Ranboo guffawed and scoffed, quickly getting all eyes on him. Shaking his head, he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? I have gone through situations like this every day for seven years, sorry I could’ve done something about it and did it. That isn’t bravado, that’s the cold dead truth of a Pogtopian. We have gone through shit you can’t even imagine, no hero can imagine, no L’Manbergian can imagine, and you expect us to lay down when we can do something? Pfft, good luck doing that without going sixty feet under.”

Maybe it was the fact that he cursed, maybe it was because his words finally got through, but the three others in the room fell silent as he continued.

“Look, I went out of my supposed box, whoop-di-doo. Just because I’m a hero trainee doesn’t mean I’m some bright-eyed child. I’m not a child, first off, and any other implier of such will get a sucker punch. Second off, my experience as a hero trainee is easily supplemented by my ‘little raids’. So, basically, don’t even get started about ‘risks’ and ‘being new at this’.

“But, because I’m not new at this, I will say one thing,” Ranboo said, straightening up and leaving the room tensely waiting for a moment. “I’m sorry, Techno.”

“Heh?” Techno wasn’t the only one stunned, the other heroes doing a double-take.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t give you more of a plan and left you in the dark. I understand that as your trainee, you are responsible for me and my safety on top of the usual stressors of being in the field and it doesn’t help when I up and disappear. Now, I won’t say that I’ll never do it again, I’m not too good with authority, but I can say that I’ll try. That’s the best I can give you.”

The room fell into silence, making Ranboo tense and nervously flick his ears. Nevertheless, he never stopped his eye contact with Techno as the older man searched for something.

Seeming to find it, Techno nodded. “That’s all I can ask for,” he said, reaching out a hand. “So, even though I won’t apologize for calling you reckless because you are, are we cool?”

Without hesitation, the other reciprocated and took the olive branch of a handshake. “We’re cool,” he said, gripping a little harder for a moment. “I’ll still sucker punch you if you call me a kid.”

Chuckling a “Fair,” Techno gave Ranboo a once-over. “You don’t know how good of a hero you are, do you?”

“Huh?”

“No one in their right mind would accept to work with someone they just had a spat with. Nobody here does it, anyway. That’s the makings of a good hero, keep a hold of it,” he said, pulling the teen a little closer to clap him on the shoulder. Smiling at the older man, the enderman leaned into the warm contact for a moment.

“Welp, it’s just the cavern craziness,” Ranboo joked, getting a snort. The other two in the room slowly relaxed, sensing the lack of a brewing fight. Too bad the teen had to knot up their shoulders again. “Speaking of working together, you have any idea what that booster was?”

“Booster?” Phil and Wilbur echoed.

“Nope,” Techno said, his brow furrowing as he thought about it. “It’s dangerous, though. I don’t know if it wears off if the initial dose can mutate someone so much.”

Wilbur was quick to intervene. “Sorry, boosters? Initial dose? Mutations? Elaborate, please,” he said, gaining an explanation for the half of the room that had no clue.

Not wanting to use all of that breath, Ranboo came up with a brilliant solution. “Give me just a sec,” he said, returning the attention to himself in an instant. “Nook? Do you have access to my recordings?”

“I do.”

“Could you throw it onto the TV? Put it to about ten seconds before that wolf hybrid injects themself. I want a better look at the syringe anyway,” he said, humming as the image came on screen.

“Uh, what?” Techno said, frowning at the footage that clearly came from Ranboo’s perspective. “Since when did you have a camera in your suit?”

“Tubbo added it since I have memory problems. It’s easier to do it this way than for me to write out every single action that happens,” Ranboo said, giving the three a look when they returned blank ones. “Did you not know about my memory problems? I could’ve sworn it was in my file as a medical condition.”

Phil snapped out of it first, frowning slightly as he thought about it. “I thought it was amnesia about your time in Pogtopia, not constant. How do you get around it?” he asked, his worry clear as day.

“I mean, I got it in Pogtopia, so I mean… But I have a memory book, anything classified or dangerous goes into Tubbo’s records. And now the Tower’s,” the teen said, shrugging off the condition that got him concerned looks. “Anyway, can we move onto the footage? That booster was concerning.”

As per usual, Techno kept the other two moving along. “Yeah, go ahead and start it,” he said, crossing his arms as he turned to watch the TV. The other two copied, watching the TV carefully.

Nook took the cue and started the footage. Watching the transformation again didn’t unsettle Ranboo any less, the teen quick to pin back his ears and lash his tails. Horror easily found its way onto the first-time watchers’ faces, Techno watching with a scrunched-up nose and narrowed eyes.

Silence reigned for a moment as they processed. “Nook, go back to the first couple of frames. See if you can enhance the view of the booster. Maybe it has a name,” Ranboo said, trying to distract himself from any horror. Nook quickly did as told, revealing a couple of letters engraved into the syringe. “Cr… Crimson, the drug’s called Crimson.”

“And how do you know that?” Wilbur said, his sarcasm muted by the fear in his eyes.

“I’m going off of the color. Too many people have caused chaos lately with red eyes for there to not be a relation to color,” he said, avoiding the confused looks he got.

Wilbur wasn’t done, now more curious than sarcastic. “Riddle me this, then. What did the criminal mean when they said ‘this is what they meant’?”

“Probably something the seller said about danger. Something about how a thing or person would take care of the criminal if they got into danger. It has to be someone or something with a mind manipulation power or an aggression-based power. Once again, too many people with red eyes have been trying to cause chaos lately for there not to be a connection,” Ranboo said, shaking his head as he thought about it. “I’ll tell the Vanguard about the whole Crimson drug thing, they need to be on alert too. I can get my report in before I go do that.”

“You’re willingly doing paperwork? Are you insane?” Techno teased, speaking instead of dramatically staring at Ranboo as if he’d killed a puppy like Wilbur was doing.

“My whole job before the hero thing was paperwork. I’m not as averse to it as you are. Also, I’m stealing Techno’s office until I get my own,” Ranboo said, quick to speed walk towards the room.

Phil chuckled at the offended look that Techno had on his face. “I miss when you weren’t sassy,” Techno lamented in a monotone voice, getting Wilbur to snicker.

“You mean never?” the teen quipped as he disappeared, grinning at the laughter that followed him.

Then his grin promptly dropped when he remembered that Tubbo and Tommy had probably seen the broadcast, the prime teasing material. He was never going to hear the end of it, was he?

Chapter Text

“Alright, I should start heading back up. Puffy would kill me if I missed eating dinner again,” Sam said, leaning away from the project that the two had been lording over. The workshop of Bee-Ngineering housed the two engineers, their spare parts and tools scattered around in the trademark organized chaos of an engineer.

It barely took a second thought before Tubbo proposed an alternate option. “Would she be okay if you ate away from her watchful eyes?” he asked, his mind quickly finding a place with the apartment upstairs. Tommy did always say that the dinners were open to everyone.

“If I send her a picture of it, yeah. Why? What diabolical plan do you have up your sleeve?” Sam teased, his narrowed eyes hiding only a little bit of suspicion behind his mirth. Good, the man was learning to never trust Tubbo to not do something.

“Well, my roommate hosts this group dinner sort of thing every night. It’s open for everyone to join and we, more of him, make enough food for everyone to have their fill and more. So, you open to trying some local Pogtopian cuisine?” Tubbo said, smiling and offering a hand.

Hesitating, the older man slowly hovered towards the other’s hand. “Are you sure they’ll be okay with me being there?” he said, his face twitching in the subtle show of a slight frown. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“I said everyone, big man. Besides, Tommy wouldn’t turn you away if the others threatened him and he would promptly kick their asses if they tried anything. C’mon, I need to convert you to enjoying the finer things of Pogtopia,” Tubbo said, gently grabbing Sam’s hand with plenty of chance to turn him down.

Instead, the grip got returned with a shy smile. “Okay then, lead the way,” he said, chuckling when Tubbo jumped to his feet and started dragging the older.

“Oh, you won’t regret this, boss man. Tommy’s cooking is the only thing that made Lockdown worth the ringing,” Tubbo bragged for his friend. Easily leading the creeper hybrid up the stairs hidden to the storefront by a wall, he barely paused at the door. “I think you’ll fit right in, Sam.”

Then he opened the door to deranged screeching. The one who continued screeching their head off happened to be Sneeg, the inchling flying across the room and banging into the stone wall next to the door. Glaring with a righteous scoff, Tommy held up the spatula in a clear threat from his clear place as head of the kitchen.

“Try to get extra bits and I’ll send you through that wall. Can the enthusiasm, bitch,” Tommy threatened, his demeanor lightening up the moment he spotted Tubbo. “Hey, Big T! Welcome home!”

Home was a three-room apartment with a few windows and entrances. Next to the window looking out to the street in front of the house, a well-loved couch sat a chatting HBomb and Jack. Snickering from the giant kitchen table that had no business being so large and having so many chairs in such a small apartment, the fox hybrid Fundy made fun of Sneeg who simply grumbled from his perch on the wall. The two doors on the side stood undisturbed, a desk and computer stuffed and temporarily forgotten in the remaining space in the corner. Entrances/exits at almost every wall and even below stayed closed but noticed.

Buzzing happily, he grinned at Tommy. “Glad to be home, Bigger T!” the bee hybrid called back with equal excitement. Then he dragged a slightly shell-shocked Sam further into the apartment. “Sam’s joining us tonight, I’ve sung him into trying Pogtopian cuisine.”

All eyes turned to the man, making him tense as silent judgment passed. “Well then, big man, I’m honored that you favored me cooking for you. Dinner’s served in ten minutes, don’t be a fucking stranger,” Tommy said, calming the tense atmosphere instantly. Chatter started up once the de facto head of the household welcomed the newcomer.

Giving Sam an encouraging smile, Tubbo walked away as he overheard Sneeg asking for a ride. He quietly snickered at Sam’s stumbling “Uh, yeah.”

Stopping by Tommy’s side, the bee hybrid buzzed happily at the hand carefully placed between his wings. “Hey, welcome back,” Tommy murmured, gently nudging his forehead against his friend’s. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, Toms,” Tubbo mumbled back, a steady hand finding a place on the other’s shoulder. In the background, the rest of the room refrained from commenting on the gestures and continued their chatter. “Any clue how long Boo’s gonna be?”

“Entrance to Pogtopia, he’s walking over. Ten minutes away,” he said, making the older chuckle at the timing. “What? I can plan ahead, thank you.”

“I know, I know,” the other placated even though he did know. After all, half of the escape plans, contingencies, and hidden ways of communicating came from the blonde. “Anything good for dinner?”

Their murmurs soon raised to a normal volume as Tommy scoffed in offense. “Anything good for dinner? Who do you take me for? A ringing officer? I’m insulted, Tubs, absolutely insulted. You absolute bell head of bee, you sting me,” he ranted, jokingly shoving Tubbo away. “You’re exiled from the kitchen, heathen. Can the favor-less attitude or I’ll put hot sauce in your portion.”

Chuckles went around to give Tubbo more fuel and make him gasp dramatically. “Tommy, Toms, Tom, my treasured, how could you? You’d put such a ring ‘round my neck?” he lamented, backing away with an upturned palm on his forehead.

Without hesitation, Tommy said “Yes,” and shooed the bee hybrid further.

Maturely sticking out his tongue and having the gesture returned, he crossed his arms. Dramatically turning on his heel, he wandered back to Sam who still had Sneeg on his shoulder as the creeper comfortably conversed with Jack and Fundy about hero something rather. Slumping onto the man, the other barely shifted but glanced down to humor Tubbo. “Sam,” he whined, getting snickers from the other two heroes. “Sam, Tommy’s bullying me.”

Tommy instantly shouted, “I’m cooking, shithead!”

Not one to leave without the last word, Tubbo somewhat dropped the act to shout back, “Well I want attention, fuckwad!”

Although slightly hesitant, a warm hand settled between his antenna and made the teen melt. “I suppose I can help out a little,” Sam joked, startling slightly when Tubbo leaned more heavily on him. Nevertheless, the man experimented with a gentle scratch on the scalp and got a very loud buzz that almost sounded like a purr. Glancing at the rest of the room, he searched for some type of explanation.

Sensing the confusion, Jack laughed a little louder. “Oh, big man, you’re not getting out of this now. Once one of the Clingy Duo claims you, you’re stuck with them for life,” he said, flipping off Tubbo and Tommy the moment they did the same to him. “Welcome to the Beloved-Underscore-Innit household, you’ll never leave.”

“You are bound by contract to come to dinner at least once a month if you don’t want to get dragged here kicking and screaming,” Fundy added, snickering at the look that Sam gave him.

“You are also bound to give them cuddles whenever requested if you wish to keep your limbs,” Sneeg joked, the room snickering while Tommy and Tubbo pouted.

“You must give them attention if you want to keep your life,” HBomb said, continuing the joke to the point that the room erupted in laughter.

Pouting, Tubbo didn’t stop nudging his head into Sam’s hand for more scratches. “Rude,” he whined anyway, pointedly ignoring the looks between a melting bee hybrid and an anxious creeper hybrid. “We’re not that bad.”

“Tubbo, you are holding the man hostage to give you head scratches. That says it all,” Fundy said, his words sprouting a non-heated glare.

Suddenly, H grinned impishly, making Fundy start to back away from the cat hybrid in terror. “Master, I would give you head scratches, other scratches too,” the feline teased, his voice falling into a tone and pitch that summoned the fear of Prime in the fox hybrid.

“NOPE!” Fundy shouted, literally flinging himself away and over the table. The room exploded into laughter, Sam joining in despite not understanding the whole joke.

To make it better, Ranboo walked in at that moment to see Fundy using the table as a shield, HBomb giving a suggestive smirk towards the fox, and the rest of the room roaring with laugher. Watching in silence for a moment, he shook his head and said, “What else do I expect?”

His voice summoned Tubbo’s attention and the bee hybrid bolted across the room. “Boo!” he greeted, laughing when the enderman easily caught him.

Spinning around with the extra momentum, Ranboo laughed to chorus with his platonic husband. “Bo!” he said, nuzzling his forehead against the other’s. Warbling and buzzing in turn, the two slowly stopped their spinning but didn’t stop clinging to each other.

In two strides, Tommy joined the two with a hand intertwined with Ranboo’s and resting his head on Tubbo’s shoulder. “Welcome home, Ran,” he murmured, nuzzling back when the two pressed their foreheads against his.

For a long moment, it was just the three of them. Too soon, Tommy backed away and clapped his hands to announce “Dinner time, you hooligans! Sit the fuck down or I’ll ring your neck!”

Quick to follow orders for the food, everyone passed absentminded greetings to Ranboo as they clambered for a seat. Not that they had much to fight over, not with the monstrous size of the table and amount of chairs. One side of the table had, from left to right, Sneeg, Sam, Tubbo, and Ranboo while the other had HBomb, Fundy, Jack, and a place for Tommy. The blonde didn’t sit down for a moment, too busy using his hands and discs to serve out the food. The soup simmered wonderfully in a bowl, the other dish holding a burger with a patty that didn’t look like your usual store-bought meat.

Mouthwatering as it was, nobody dared to touch it, not even after Tommy sat down. Holding out his hands, the blonde started the circle of holding hands around the table. As confused as Sam was, he went with it and held Tubbo’s hand and lightly pinched Sneeg’s between two fingers.

Remembering their guest, the teen smiled at the creeper hybrid. “Sam, don’t feel obliged to join us. This is mostly a religious thing so it’s completely up to you if you want to. We’d sing if you’d join us, well, we’d be happy if you joined us,” Tommy said, graciously giving the man an out.

“I’m alright with joining in,” Sam said after a moment, smiling back. “I won’t entirely get it but I’m happy to try.”

Contagious as the smile was, the others soon echoed it. “Good man yourself,” Jack praised, the rest of the table nodding along and chorusing their own compliments.

“Alright then, if everyone would close your eyes,” Tommy started, everyone soon doing as told. “Tonight, we join together and share our bounty in the name of Prime. Shall they bless us with continued hymns of sated hunger, warm nights, and warmer friendships. As Savior Clara continues her pyre, shall the flames never die and forever spur us to action. Beneath the security of Prime and the light of Savior Clara, I declare today one of many more warm bright nights that have passed and that will arrive.”

A moment of silence before the teen cheerfully announced “Let’s eat!”

Ravenous, the Pogtopians eagerly tore into the burgers. Following them for a lack of instruction, Sam started with that part of the meal too. Before he could, he carefully removed the mask and began eating before anyone could comment. It didn’t take long before he also started scarfing down the burger.

Chuckling between his bites, Tommy addressed the newcomer warmly. “The food’s pog, huh? Glad you like it.”

“Big man, no one could not sing praises about your cooking,” Tubbo said, the rest of the room quick to nod along. But he snickered when he thought about something and gained fearful looks for it. “Can I tell him what’s in it?”

“After he’s tried everything, don’t want him to chicken out thanks to a label,” Jack suggested, not helping Sam’s new suspicious glances towards the food. “Go on, man. It’s all good.”

Sam took another second to scrutinize the soup before he shrugged and took a bite. Humming his approval, the creeper hybrid took another couple of bites. “I take it that you like it,” Sneeg joked when the other two couldn’t even get a word in before Sam continued eating.

Another hum of approval as some of the others chuckled. “Alright, now you can give him the oh-so horrifying details,” Fundy said, his tone taking a dramatic turn at the ‘oh so horrifying’ part.

“Don’t traumatize him too much,” Ranboo joked as HBomb just snickered at Sam’s new expression of exasperation.

“So,” Tubbo started, the deadpan look from Sam doing nothing to deter him. “the burger, first. That’s made of mashed-up cave bugs, bats, and rats.” The man paused, staring at the burger in vague horror. “Then the soup has cave lichen, moss, and fungi as the vegetables and the broth base. Bugs are in that one too, I’m pretty sure.”

Before Sam could keep the horrified look on his face for too long, Tommy intervened, “I mean, it tastes good, it’s nutritious, and nobody’s died from it. I don’t know why you’re looking at it like it fucking killed your firstborn. Other than the oddity of the ingredients, there’s nothing out of this world about it. It’s just a burger and some soup.”

Another moment of horror before Sam just shrugged it off and went back to eating. “Oh, I like you,” Sneeg declared at Sam’s nonchalance. “I might just have to say that you’re an honorary Pogtopian if you keep this up.”

“Same,” HBomb said, chuckling. “Looks like the Clingy Duo chose well once again.”

“I dunno,” Jack started, giving Fundy a once-over. “I think they messed up with a few people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, you bald bitch?”

“Means you need to get more ringing insults, furry.”

“I’m not a furry!”

Laughter went around the table at the banter, both noises easily rebounding as they continued to talk. Food disappeared quickly, a few of them getting up for seconds. As clean-up started, Tubbo managed to weasel his way into lazing at Sam’s side on the couch. Tommy and Ranboo went around the kitchen, cleaning up as the rest of the group chatted around the kitchen table.

For a few minutes, Tubbo stared at his roommates with a fond look on his face. The two easily navigated around each other, Ranboo’s tails acting as a warning system before they could bump into the other. Occasional and brief affectionate touches passed between the two, the bee seeing each one and smiling at his treasured and beloved.

Out of nowhere, Sam leaned closer and stared at Tubbo. “How much do you care for them?” Sam asked, getting an incredulous look. “How far would you go?”

Well, that was an easy answer. “If those two weren’t in it, the world would burn,” he said, speaking his devotion as easily as breathing. “And if any individual hurt them, hell would be paradise. Nobody hurts those two and gets out unscathed.”

“And if they hurt each other?”

“They wouldn’t,” he said, the declaration hesitant-less and unshakeable. But Sam had a reason for asking all this, didn’t he? “Why do you ask?”

“I have someone to protect too. I want to make sure anyone dangerous is on my radar for precaution. This is nothing against you nor do I wish to instigate a fight but I’m paranoid,” Sam said, getting a nod in return. “I just wanted to know if you were as determined as I am. You are.”

Then the two made eye contact and nodded in a silent understanding, almost a pact. “Well, if you ever need help, just ring,” Tubbo said, offering a hand to seal the deal.

“And I to you.”

They shook hands, their declaration unnoticed by the rest. Especially when Tubbo broke the serious aura by guiding Sam’s hand to his head. “Head scratches,” he demanded, getting a chuckle as the other followed through with the order. Melting into the creeper’s side, Tubbo sleepily buzzed a purr-like sound.

Until that deal came to fruition, Tubbo would gladly steal any and all of Sam’s affection. Until then, the two would stay as friends before they became friends and allies.

Chapter Text

Tommy had a stalker and he did not enjoy it.

They wore short sleeve shirts with varying shades of green, black combat pants, and brown steel-toed combat boots. An oversized bright green hoodie was tied around their waist, a white face mask covering the lower half of their face. Long blonde hair, alternating between being put up and not, and green eyes were the last identifying features of them.

Today, with a light green shirt and hair in a high ponytail, they took the same place that they had for the last week, close to the counter and with a clear view of the space. The view of behind counter combined with the fact that Tommy could feel their eyes on him for hours solidified the ‘stalker’ theory. And the fact that they left the moment Tommy clocked out and followed him to the entrance of Pogtopia before disappearing.

But, hey, maybe they could be friendly like Purpled. The other teen was coming to the community dinners, only threatening to leave sometimes when Tommy finished cleaning up to promptly started to train him. Purpled and Tubbo got along like a house on fire, hazardously and a danger to everyone in the vicinity, while Purpled and Ranboo could watch a bomb go off and shrug before going back to their conversation. All in all, Purpled was fitting in well despite the occasional day where he glared and ranted at Tommy about Icarus.

A slightly harder training session than usual happened those days and neither teen explained to the Bee Duo why Purpled had more bruises and Tommy had bloody knuckles.

Would the stalker want to spar? The combat boots could pack a punch… Maybe he shouldn’t contemplate the fighting prowess of a stalker, whether or not they wanted to spar.

Well, they definitely didn’t want to deal with the random ‘I’m so cool and live off of my parents’ money’ guy that just invited himself to sit next to them. “Hey, girl,” the guy said, his voice ‘sexy’, ‘sultry’, and failingly smooth. Pretty sure his voice cracked. “How are you doing today?”

Smartly, they didn’t answer, barely glancing at the other before pulling out their phone. “Not much of a talker, I get it,” he said, leaning closer and making Tommy gag for the stalker. “But, y’know, I have a phone too. Maybe we can chat later in a more private space.”

Once again, Tommy gagged behind his hand as the stalker barely blinked. “Playing hard to get, alright,” the guy said, his tone making Tommy ‘subtly’ grab the rag to go clean a table close to the two. “With such a pretty girl as yourself, I guess you’d get plenty of guys trying to chat you up. But I assure you, I’m leagues above those guys.” Then the guy tried to put a hand on their thigh and Tommy promptly lost his dwindling patience.

A flick of a hand and a disc stopped the other’s hand from making contact. Another flick and the guy’s hand was pinned on the table as his arm twisted. “What the fuck?” he spat, trying to move his hand.

“I was about to ask the same thing,” Tommy said, calmly leaning against the neighboring table with crossed arms as another disc hovered by his shoulder. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

All that got was an oh-so scary glare. “Fuck off, man. This isn’t your business,” the guy snarled, once again trying to move.

“I think it is,” Tommy said, putting more pressure with an overdramatic outstretched and lowered hand.

A hiss escaped the guy as the stalker stared in awe and curiosity. “What are you? Her boyfriend?” the guy spat with a glare.

“I don’t have to be to tell you that continuing to talk to someone after they’ve clearly expressed disinterest is disrespectful. Not to mention, as the barista and a worker of this establishment, I can tell you right now that my manager would not be happy with serving a pedophile. I’d advise cutting your losses and getting out before I kick you out,” Tommy said, once again being dramatic to showcase a loss of pressure.

But the guy didn’t take the chance and instead glared some more. “I’m not a pedophile,” the guy declared, earning an exasperated look from Tommy.

“Man, you’re like 21 and they’re a teenager. Voices are a tell and a half,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Clearly getting a little desperate, the guy went with more ‘scathing’ sarcasm. “What are you, a detective?”

“No, just someone the Vanguard wants in their ranks and someone who can easily call said Vanguardians to explain this ‘wonderful’ situation. So, once again, I’d prefer if you get out and never come back. In about 20 seconds or I’ll kick you out,” he said, his other disc spinning at the last phrase.

That caught the stalker’s attention, their eyes straying to that and studying the disc. “Fine,” the guy spat, the disc on his hand lifting instantly. He stood up, starting to walk away as he addressed the stalker again, “So, about--”

“10 seconds,” Tommy said, his second disc adding to the threat by resting the edge of it against the other’s neck. Scoffing, the guy glared one last time before finally walking out of the shop. “Sorry about him, people like that are ridiculous,” the teen said, his discs returning as he addressed the stalker.

“It’s alright,” they said, watching the discs return underneath his skin curiously.

“Tommy, he/him, you?” he said, deciding to finally put a name to a face.

“Drista, she/her. Nice to meet you,” she said, her eyes crinkling slightly in a smile. Then her green irises turned piercing as her voice dropped to a whisper. “Icarus.”

Oh, ain’t that just swell?

“If you could kindly keep that to yourself, that would be great,” Tommy said, trying to minimize his reaction to a shaky voice and hands. The latter kept under wraps by crossing his arms more tightly. “I’m not him anymore. Just call me Tommy.”

For a solid five seconds, she stared at him and rose his heart rate. Just as he was about to sprinkle his plea with some more threats, she put a halt to his spiraling thoughts with a simple “Okay, fair enough.”

He did not sigh in relief at that. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and nodded. “Thank you,” he said and she nodded back. Then, before he could think too hard, he started talking again. “So, you think you’re up for hanging out at some point? You know about me but I don’t know about you.”

“That sounds fun,” she said, leaning back in her seat to copy his relaxation. “You clock out at 4, right?”

“Okay, stalker,” he grumbled, a snort answering his ‘irritation’. “Yes, I do. You wanna go scavenging? I’m making dinner at my place and I’m happy to invite you.”

“Alright, just don’t be surprised when I get more than you,” she said, starting a competition in an instant.

“Oh, you’re on,” he said, grinning at her so ferally that she copied under the mask. “I’ll see you at 4, Ms. Drista.”

“Until then, Mr. Tommy.”

Chapter Text

The flag of Pogtopia wasn’t anything grandiose. Seven colors, one image, and a total of nine stripes. Top to bottom for the colors went brown, orange, red, black, white, black, blue, purple, then brown again. White wings hovered over the stripes, a word to the man who went through it all.

Brown spoke of the earth that suffocated them, the grounds that protected them. Orange meant the flames that burned them, the sun that greeted them. Red spelt of the blood split, the continued work when they could’ve stopped. Black spoke of the darkness that cloaked their suffering, the ink that immortalized their story. White meant the mourning and deaths of the tortured, the hope and devotion of the people. Black spelt of the whips and nails, the weapons and signs. Blue spoke of the drowning sadness, of the lifting loyalty. Purple meant the corruption that choked them out, the light that let them survive another day. Brown spelt how they were treated like dirt, how they are solidified in their worth.

And Ranboo couldn’t help the smile on his face when he spotted those colors on his fellows and the wings painted on their skin or clothes.

Tommy chuckled as another group joined the crowd, grinning at his fellow leader of the pack. Ranboo grinned back, his tails flicking against his friend’s arm as they continued jogging. Behind them, chatter went through the crowd as everyone ran with the two.

More people joined them as they went past the entrances to/from L’Manberg, a certain trio being a pleasant surprise. “You actually came,” Ranboo said, smiling at Wilbur, Techno, and Phil as they fell into step behind Tommy and him. Although he himself invited them, Ranboo didn’t expect them to join.

“Oh, I won’t be here tomorrow,” Ranboo said, his words absentminded as he continued his way through his report of patrol.

“Why’s that?” Phil prompted, his interest as clear as the others who had paused their work to look at Ranboo.

“It’s the Monday Marathon,” the teen said like it was obvious.

It clearly wasn’t considering Wilbur’s hum of confusion. “The Monday what?” he asked, his nose crinkling as he thought about it. “Why would you willingly run a marathon?”

“Monday Marathon,” Ranboo said again, continuing when he received blank looks, “It’s a tradition in Pogtopia, every Monday once a month there’s a marathon. As for the reason behind it, we just wanna run. There’s a deeper reason behind it but I’ll let you figure it out if you come along.”

“We can join in?” Techno said, tilting his head curiously.

“Yeah, it’s hosted by Pogtopia so anyone’s welcome. Feel free to join in, just be at the bottom of one of the entrances into Pogtopia at 5 AM and the rest will be self-explanatory.”

“I mean, you did invite us, mate,” Phil said, smiling back easily. “Um, were we supposed to put on face paint?”

All three of their gazes centered on the painted stripes on Tommy and Ranboo’s faces and backs. Covering their scars from the whips, each of them had the colors striped there while small wings were painted between their shoulders. Tommy had more to add to it, the face paint of the colors on both of their faces barely took away from the paint on his wrists and neck. Black, orange, and red circled his left wrist, brown and white circled his neck, and finally blue, purple, and black around his other wrist.

“No no, it’s alright. If you want some, we can grab some but it’s not required or anything,” Ranboo reassured with a chuckle. “You’ve already got some of it anyway.”

Phil looked on in confusion while Tommy snickered at Ranboo’s joke. “Big man, his wings are the wrong color,” Tommy joked, making said appendages fluff up defensively. “I mean, black’s a great color but white’s where it’s at.”

“Good to know,” Techno said dryly, giving Tommy a once-over as well as he could when they were all running. “And you are?”

“Oh, right, you’re the actually sane brother,” Tommy said, Wilbur squawking in protest. “Technoblade, right? I’m Tommy Innit, the other roommate of Ranboob. Also, one of the two who will rip you a new one if you hurt him.”

Now Ranboo had to give his protest, lightly whacking Tommy over the shoulder to add to it. “Tommy,” he scolded.

“What? I’m just telling the fucking truth,” Tommy defended against Ranboo’s fond and tired sigh. “Like you wouldn’t do the same.”

“I would,” Ranboo admitted, taking that exact moment to fix Wilbur with a glare that gained flinches. “Speaking of, if you hurt Tommy we’ll be having words.”

“Ranboo,” Tommy mocked, also whacking his friend over the shoulder. “You hypocrite.”

“Aren’t we all?” he said, getting a middle finger for it. “Anyway, did you guys want face paint or you good?” Addressing the trio with a much softer look and resolutely ignoring their visible caution, Ranboo gestured to the next corner that the entire group had to turn at. “We’ll be at the starting line soon and people always have extra.”

They all glanced at each other, waiting for someone to speak up first. Wilbur took the leap, shrugging to signal the end of his internal debate. “I’m up for putting a little on.”

That instantly put a grin on Tommy’s face, a slightly more subdued smile appearing on Ranboo’s. “Let’s fucking go, Big Dubs!” he cheered, pumping his fist and making Wilbur grin too. Meanwhile, Phil chuckled at the teen’s excitement as Techno cracked a smile.

And, around the corner, a couple of voices echoed Tommy’s cheer. Turning the corner, Ranboo copied the cheer to greet Purpled and Drista. The two of them dressed similarly to Ranboo, wearing only athletic shorts to show off the paint (Drista wore a white crop top and had her hair up in a ponytail). They both had the face paint too, Drista managing to expertly put it on with a whole palette in hand while jogging.

Purpled fell into step beside Ranboo, Drista beside Tommy. “What are we cheering for?” Purpled clarified despite his smile never fading. The teen looked much better than he had the first time that Tommy invited him to dinner. His eye bags almost completely faded from the canyons they were before, his slight gauntness leaving his face, and his movements now unshaken by exhaustion. For all the progress, Ranboo couldn’t help the fondness in his grin as he jogged beside the teen who had recovered far past the point of the marathon being impossible. In return, he got a half-hearted glare and a friendly shove.

“Wil just agreed to putting on some face paint,” Tommy explained, his grin blinding at the mere thought. “Think you could help him out, Drista?”

The girl hummed as she closed up the palette, her face paint impeccable even though she was jogging while doing it. “Sure, he’ll have to wait until we stop to do it. I don’t trust him to not flinch while I’m trying to do it,” she said, getting the trio behind them to tense up a little.

Purpled snorted at the girl’s implications. “We get it, we get it, men are weak and inferior,” he joked, releasing the defensiveness from the heroes after a moment. Ignoring them, he instead motioned ahead to the start line that was marked by a cavern and torches. “Least you’ll get it over soon.”

Chuckling at Drista’s huff, Ranboo kept the mirth and cheerfulness as he waved to those already gathered at the start line. They waved back, a number of them Rebellion saluting to the two in the front of the crowd. Slowing to a stop before the mouth of a large tunnel, the enderman hybrid glanced around at the participants who totaled about half of Pogtopia. As chatter came to a lull, the torches on either side of the tunnel lit up with orange flames.

Soon, an amplified voice echoed over the crowd from the speakers on the buildings and the makeshift stage on a nearby roof, “Welcome one and all to the 33rd Monday Marathon!” HBomb’s announcement got the cavern to explode into cheers, Ranboo almost chuckling at the jumps that got from the heroes. “Now now, let’s settle down.” By some miracle, the citizens did. Probably for their respect of HBomb, one of the heads of the Vanguard, but who could tell?

“I won’t linger long, this event needs little preamble. After all, we are simply exerting ourselves for ourselves, am I right?!” Another round of cheers that rivaled the first went around, celebrating the statement. And, enderman hybrid or not, Ranboo could sense the looks that the trio was giving him and barely spared them a glance. “But, before we start, let’s give a hand for the two who began this tradition! It’s the two, the only, Tommy Innit and Ranboo Beloved, people!”

The order of the names had nothing on the actual order of people who started the tradition. Ranboo had started it, getting out of the apartment at ungodly hours to just run until his legs gave out and he could cross a distance without the intention of transportation. Tommy had joined intermittently for a few days before eventually regulating their running to morning jogs. Every time, they went a little farther, got a little more attention, eventually running marathons as just the two of them before others started joining them. Then it went into this whole production and Ranboo wouldn’t have it any differently.

Across the distance, Ranboo saw the signal that HBomb gave them. Grabbing Tommy’s hand, he teleported the two beside HBomb on the stage in time to hear the applause from afar. Still hand in hand, the two waved and saluted to the cheering crowd. Even from this distance, Ranboo could pick out which gazes were from the five they had just left and made sure to wave for a moment longer in that direction. In the din, he swore he heard Drista’s shriek of support as the crowd that stretched the entirety of the street and further kept up the noise.

Eventually, Tommy let go of his hand, signaling the start of the usual routine to kick off the marathon. Together, they started the age-old rhythm of two stomps and one clap. Soon enough, the whole of Pogtopia started thumping with the rhythm as the people did it together. It only got better when Tommy dramatically stole the microphone from HBomb to start singing.

“Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise, playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday.” Dramatic as he had been and even with the emphasis on ‘big man’, it had nothing on how Tommy pointed at the face paint, the flag, for the last part. “You got mud on your face, you big disgrace. Kicking your can all over the place, singin'...”

Then he pointed to the crowd who easily picked up the song.

“We will, we will rock you. We will, we will rock you.” The power of the hundreds of voices shook the cavern, making Ranboo grin.

Then, as practiced, the enderman easily stole the mic away from the blonde to sing his part. “Buddy, you're a young man, hard man, shouting in the street, gonna take on the world someday. You got blood on your face, you big disgrace, waving your banner all over the place.” Picking up one of the flags standing on the edge of the stage at the perfect time, Ranboo had no qualms about waving it crazily and hyping up the crowd.

Energy from that went into the next call on the crowd. “We will, we will rock you. We will, we will rock you!”

In perfect sync, the two teens leaned into the mic and sang the last verse. “Buddy, you're an old man, poor man, pleading with your eyes, gonna get you some peace some day. You got mud on your face, big disgrace, somebody better put you back into your place, do it!” The last lines had them spinning so that their painted backs faced the crowd only to turn back around and get into a runner’s lunge.

Clear as the message was, it made the crowd start jumping and shaking out their limbs in preparation to run . “We will, we will rock you! We will, we will rock you!”

“Yeah, yeah, come on!” Tommy hyped them up first, leaning towards the mic that they had brought down with them and managed to not break.

“We will, we will rock you! We will, we will rock you!!!”

“Alright, louder!” Ranboo went next, his raised voice a rarity in and of itself.

So Pogtopia took his words to heart. “We will, we will rock you!!! WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU!!!”

“One more time!” Tommy and Ranboo shouted together, their hands finding each other soon after.

Then the two teleported directly into the roar of “WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU!!! WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU!!!”

No gunshot went off to start the races, instead it was Sneeg performing a guitar riff from his spot on HBomb’s shoulder and the torches beside the tunnel burning with purple flames. Tommy and Ranboo went off like a shot, cheering and whooping as they started moving. Behind them, the thunder of footsteps answered the leading lightning teens.

Maybe they were crazy to find running through a seemingly endless tunnel so freeing but they were gladly insane. Having your lungs burn, your limbs ache, because you chose to run was something that the two would never give up. Doing so in a place where you had been forced to be exhausted, to have no control, was cathartic. Little LEDs on the walls guided the path of the marathoners, giving them direction for their madness.

Not that Ranboo and Tommy needed them, the two did create the route and start the madness. So Ranboo had no qualms about shifting to a quad-pedal run and letting his tails free. Beside him, his best friend laughed and started wall-running for the hell of it. He went as far as to use the enderman’s back as a springboard to switch walls. Whenever he did, Ranboo just laughed and kept pace with the blonde.

Behind them, Purpled and Drista cackled through the process of their own stunts. A glance back revealed Drista crossing distance with back handsprings while Purpled matched her move for move. Slightly slower than the teens, the heroes watched in a mixture of deadpan (Techno), awe (Wilbur), and mirth (Phil). The rest of the marathoners followed close behind, a few of them joining in on the stunts as the others cheered the daredevils on.

As usual, the first stretch of the race seemed to last forever. Twisting tunnels with seemingly no meaning stretched on endlessly, the LEDs doing little to break up the monotony of stone. Echoes of beating feet and panting breaths twisted together to create a neverending rhythm to the songs that played through the mini speakers lining these tunnels. ‘I’m Born to Run’ by American Authors and like music giving the same message played on those nigh invisible speakers, motivating the runners to go a little longer.

Eventually, the tunnel opened up again to Deep Pogtopia. That is to say, not much. Buildings leaned towards and away from them, individual houses stacked on top of each other like Jenga blocks that turned into Legos which all got put together haphazardly by some child. This was Pogtopia, the lack of order, the chaos, the buildings that looked five seconds away from crumbling into nothing. In every nook and cranny, someone had put something to fill the space, making the area both cramped and open. Above them, bridges and ramps covered the view of the roof of Pogtopia and gave the impression of being in another cramped tunnel.

In every inch of spare space, someone was there and cheering on the runners. One crowd greeted another, the noise deafening and drowning over the music and any conversation. Were it not for his enhanced hearing, he wouldn’t have heard the heroes stunned gasps. Looking over his shoulder just to give a shit-eating grin that Techno saw and scoffed at, Ranboo snickered at their awed reverence of Deep Pogtopia.

Deep Pogtopia wasn’t like the Outskirts near the entrances of Pogtopia. The Outskirts had some semblance of order, cookie-cutter from architects who had only worked above ground. When architects realized what could happen below ground, that’s when it started getting interesting and distinctly Pogtopian.

Another thing distinctly Pogtopian was the archaic carved stone braziers that lit up with purple flames whenever the front runners of the marathon went past them. Each minder of a brazier went as far as to give a Rebellion salute when the two went past and they were given one in return. As the braziers grew more frequent, the crowd grew less rowdy, and the ‘roof’ grew farther away, the teens made sure to stay alert.

After all, they had to pay respect to the cross. Covered in fresh white and red flowers, spiraling stained glass and wires from certain points, and shed feathers of varying colors in the silhouette of wings, the cross gained the salutes of the two teens and many others. The honorers’ thumb went to their neck before showing off the Rebellion salute, a symbol of speaking out, risking one’s neck, etc.

(If Ranboo glanced out of the corner of his eye, he could see the invited trio going with a normal salute to respect the martyr.)

As the first two reached a certain point, they didn’t pause their salutes to the memorial despite having to activate another part of the race. From their pockets, balls of cave moss emerged to be thrown at the braziers waiting on each side. Those braziers lit up with purple flames, the fire racing up its predetermined path to line the edges of one of the biggest bridges in Pogtopia. On that bridge, confetti cannons filled with the flag colors and glittering gold went off in time with the chorus of ‘Golden’ by The Score.

And off of that bridge, Tubbo jumped with a maniacal grin and fluttering wings. Hitting the ground running, he easily kept up with his two other halves and cackled at their affection. Ranboo’s took the form of ‘scolding’ the bee with a smile on his face and Tommy’s consisted of whooping and slapping the shorter on the shoulder. Purpled and Drista joined them soon after, teasing the bee hybrid for not joining sooner.

Tubbo bit back at those two with equal fire, laughed at Tommy’s excitement, and gave Ranboo a dramatic apology that made them all laugh a little harder. Their mood turned somber as the buildings turned more purposefully constructed, slowly becoming shorter in a tiered effect that spelt of something horrid. A moment later and they were lapping the edge of the Pit.

The Pit, a dug-out arena in the ground where children were sent to fight. Never quite to the death, allowing the mercenaries to keep some semblance of their gilded moral code, but within an inch of it. Around the edges, the buildings’ roofs created a coliseum to watch the Pit fights during the dreaded time of the shows. Sometimes people with extreme advantages and disadvantages were sent in to see how the weaker fighter could entertain, sometimes it was friends who messed up together, and sometimes it was two tributes duking it out. Whatever the fight was, with or without provided weapons, it never left a happy audience despite how they were forced to cheer.

Ranboo remembered some of his fights down there vividly, others simply a blur of blood and gore, but he didn’t let the dark memories drag him down. Instead, with a comradic nod to Tommy who’s memories grimly played behind his eyes, the two Rebellion saluted towards the Pit with the opposite hand they did for the cross. Continuing around the dug-out clearing, the two allowed a small grin on their faces as they came close to running into those who had been behind them.

Although Tubbo continued that way, using his wings to jump over the other runners’ heads, Ranboo and Tommy split off. On each side, they got on top of the first row of buildings to jump to the next. And the next and the next as they parkoured in the same direction that Tubbo was running. Following them, Purpled and Drista did the parkour while the trio watched in awe from their places on the ground level.

Jumping with mixed-in rolls and flips, Ranboo glanced across the divide to watch Tommy complete a backflip tied with a back handspring. He whooped at the adrenaline, Ranboo quick to cheer with him. Then the blonde looked over to see Ranboo jump off of one of the roofs and land on a bridge. Also landing on that bridge, they fist-bumped before rebounding to their selective sides.

Too soon, the enderman spied the next tunnel leading down. Those watching moved to the side to make way for his dive towards the next bridge that they occupied, cheering when he kicked off the edge. That kick shot him forward both in axis and distance, his tails brushing over a string of lights. Luckily those lights were secure, taking his weight as his tails wrapped around the wire. One spin, two, and he shot forward at a downward angle.

Laughing in chorus to his soulmates’ cheer, he managed a peace sign to Tubbo who passed below him. Having used the same string of lights to zipline down, Tommy kicked off the nearby building and snagged a mid-air high five. After another moment, Ranboo laughed as the walls of the tunnel rose around him. His tails scraped the roof of the tunnel for a few seconds, the sloping of the tunnel matching with his falling. Then, after a few moments of free-falling and practically flying, he finally met with the ground and rolled to lose some of the momentum.

Not that that did much with the downward slope of the floor, the teen gaining momentum instead. Momentum that let him kick off the ground and cling to the next wall like a decrepit spider. Barely pausing to throw an irresistible “Slowpoke!” over his shoulder to Tommy, he pushed off and met the stone floor in a four-legged trot. He couldn’t help his snicker at Tommy’s indignant shout, glancing behind him to meet a playfully furious blonde’s eyes. Said blonde jumped off the wall, landing on his roommate’s back in a practiced motion that somehow didn’t overbalance the other and ruffling the other’s hair in revenge. Playfully nipping at the blonde’s hand, the enderman cackled when Tommy yelped and hurried to get off.

Matching each other step for step, they had the same train of thought as Tubbo turned the corner. “C’mon, Tubs! Pick up the pace!” Tommy teased.

“You got it, Bo!” Ranboo added, both of them snickering at the ‘venomous’ glare that their encouragements gained.

As expected, Tubbo fired back with a threat that the three behind him looked reasonably concerned by, “You lot better keep outta my pace or you’ll be getting a ringing round of venom!”

Taking the threat relatively seriously, the two shot an “Aye aye, Captian!” at the bee hybrid. They lost sight of him for a moment, the curve of the tunnel obscuring him, but he looked no less ‘furious’ when they spotted him again. Nodding at each other in mock seriousness, they picked up the pace a little with a laugh.

As the path slowly widened and the temperature rose, one of the walls beside them fell away. Revealing the glow of lava and the dug-out cylinder several stories deep, the absent wall offered no protection to the fall into the lava pit. Not even the number of pipes crawling up the walls, the railroad tracks along the edge of the path, or the rooms of various machines and tools could offer any reprieve to the heat of the Smeltery Tower.

To see such a thing still awed Pogtopians to a degree but a few of the others had only heard a whisper or two about the Smeltery. “Holy shit,” Wilbur mumbled, his voice echoing over the music still playing (‘Natural’ by Imagine Dragons) and the distant hissing gurgle of lava. “What the fuck?” Although silent with it, the question played out on the other two’s faces along with awe.

The Pogtopians, now including Purpled and Drista, couldn’t help their cackles. “Welcome to the Smeltery, big man!” Tubbo took the honor of introducing his second home. “The home to the majority of netherite production!” And one of the main reasons that Pogtopia was even made.

The last phrase went unsaid but a good chunk of them heard it. Nonetheless, they continued laughing and running. It took a while to even make it halfway down, a good number of people joining them on the spiral. And, when a certain hero joined them, he didn’t hesitate to make his presence known.

Whooping so loud to be heard over the speakers and rhythm of running feet, Jack easily grabbed the attention of the room. “AYUP!” he shouted, the people answering with cheers and their own ‘ayup’s. When they started to, he took a running leap off of the top-level and whooped. From his uncovered arms and sides, several blaze rods shot out and began their spiral. They did little to slow his freefall dive into the lava but they gained even louder cheers from the teenagers. Going as far as to do several flips, Jack dove into the lava with perfect form.

“What the fuck?” Phil said it this time, his accompanying chuckle disbelieving. “Jack’s a blaze-born?” None of the teens answered him, quickly deciding that that was a conversation between him and Jack.

To distract themselves, Tommy and Ranboo whooped and picked up the pace. They reached the bottom after a little while longer, making it at the same time that Jack dragged himself out of the lava. “C’mon, big man! Taking a swim ain’t a reason to can the energy!” Tommy teased the older who was taking a moment to regain his bearings.

“Oh, I’ll can you in just a second, you ringing rat,” Jack scoffed, shaking the lava off of him like a wet dog. The two were far away to not get hit but the older of the three began sprinting at Tommy. Shrieking in ‘fear’, Tommy began booking it with a cackling Ranboo on his tail. Also laughing at the dramatics, Jack kept close to them with his rods lazily spinning around him.

Following the path of the railroad tracks that continued away from the Smeltery, the runners continued their marathon. A little way down those tracks, the sides of the tunnel opened into more. Dozens upon dozens of off-shooting tracks and tunnels went off into the distance, meticulously searched over and over for the rare metal of netherite. Ignoring those off-shoots, the runners kept going. They went for quite a few minutes before the path began sloping up.

Even so, the slope wasn’t anything dramatic, leaving them to fight it for a dozen or so minutes. As it finally ended, cheers met them. Back in Pogtopia, in the section so lovingly named the Industrial District, the crowd gathered at the bottom of the small ramp to the entrance. Squeezed between the pipes and warehouses, they cheered for the runners who saluted back to them. Jogging over the railroads in the large avenue between/under warehouses nicknamed the Business Bay, the runners grinned through the last stretch of the race.

In the far distance, the finish line lay there in all its glory. Business Bay cut under the Prime Path, a highway/bridge circling the entirety of Pogtopia, leaving an arch that was decorated beyond sensibility with the colors of the flag. Giant braziers stood on both sides of the finish line, unlit for the time being. Grand staircases led up to the Prime Path, giving plenty of room for people and the purple-flamed torches lining them. At the top, held there by nothing more than a couple dozen screws, a gong sat there with a mallet on each side of it.

Putting on a burst of speed, the two leaders grinned at each other. Grabbing one of the torches from the start of the staircases, they each took a side. The first set of braziers lit up with a brilliant purple, the second left alone for now. Those torches were left in the middle of the arch, mantled to the wall. Turning on their heel once they left the shadow of the arch, they sprinted up the staircase of their respective side.

Meeting in the middle of the Prime Path, Ranboo and Tommy grabbed each other’s hand before reaching for a mallet. Then, in sync with Jack, Drista, and Purpled crossing under the arch, they hit the gong together. A low resonating note sang through the underground, summoning cheers from the distance.

Breathlessly chuckling at the enthusiasm, the two hung up the mallets. Separating for only a minute to grab the water bottles that Tubbo had set there, Tommy and Ranboo reunited to press their foreheads together. Both of them were panting hard enough to shake their frames, the sweat pouring from them somehow had not messed up the face paint, and the grins on their faces were splitting and beaming.

“35th Monday Marathon, dozens more to go,” Tommy said, his laugh fighting through the panting in sputtering wheezes. Rumbling and warbling his excitement, Ranboo nuzzled closer. “Shall we, Ran?”

“Only if you’ll have me,” Ranboo replied automatically, warbling and practically purring through the familiar phrase.

“If you’d keep me, bud,” the blonde continued, only partially chasing when Ranboo drew back a little.

“Then let’s go, my allium,” he finished, pressing a quick kiss to Tommy’s forehead that got a fond eye roll. The blonde gave a protest, completely for show, as he followed the enderman’s tugging with ease. Sitting on the edge of the bridge, the two linked their hands to keep contact. To add to it, Ranboo’s tails wrapped around Tommy’s waist as the blonde leaned his head on the other’s shoulder.

And then they spent the next few hours of their life cheering on the runners to make the final stretch. Most of it passed in a blur, only a few people standing out. Like Fundy with his transformation back to a human to wave at the two and return the middle finger from Tommy. Or like Benson, a duck hybrid with prosthetic legs personally designed by Tubbo, who finished his first marathon and got cheered into being red-faced and laughing from the duo.

When Tommy eventually said that the last few people were coming through, Ranboo nodded and got up in hand with the blonde. He didn’t question how the other knew the exact number, some things were better left alone. (Like how Tommy obsessively cooked dinner every night, how he hummed songs under his breath that got flinches later, or how he knew little facts and statistics about Pogtopia that nobody should.)

Picking up the mallets again, they waited and cheered for the last few runners. And, when those runners passed the finish line, they let the gong resonate with its low timbre through the underground. Loud cheers that bordered on screams of bloody murder answered it, the music switching to a blasted ‘We Are The Champions’ by Queen. Running down their respective flight of stairs, the two whooped and shouted as they passed through the finish for the last time and lit the last braziers.

Waving one last time to the public, Tommy led Ranboo through the crowd. Guided by the sureness of his power, the blonde led the duo straight to their friends. Purpled, Drista, and Tubbo were discussing something with a ferocity that amused the spectating Techno enough to prompt them at times. Also amused, Phil chuckled from his place where he was idly fanning a starfish Wilbur with his wings. Jack and Fundy sat off to the side, throwing in their quips and pieces into the discussion from their own.

Tubbo noticed them first. In doing so, he bolted from the conversation and into Tommy’s arms. Buzzing happily, the bee hybrid laughed with the blonde as the momentum spun them a couple of times. Ranboo joined in quickly, warbling and purring as he nuzzled Tubbo’s cheek and put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

They only remained unchaotic for point five seconds before Tubbo began squirming in Tommy’s hold. “Gross, you’re still sweaty,” he whined, half-heartedly struggling to escape.

Grinning evilly and tightening his grip (careful of the wings) to the point that a yelping laugh spooked out of the shorter, Tommy cackled. “You’re the one who wanted to go into my singing embrace, big man. You’re stuck here now, Tubs,” he monologued dramatically. “Never again shall you leave!”

Shrieking another laugh that Tommy chorused with, Tubbo desperately beseeched another for help. “Boo! You have to save me! Before he rings my death knell!” he said, his giggles undercutting the supposed horror.

“I don’t know,” Ranboo started, a grin sneaking through his neutral expression. “I think both of you need saving.”

Their heads snapped over with a united “Huh?”

Then he promptly picked them both up with a cackle. “From the Shade himself!” he announced over their yelps and laughter.

“Get canned!” Purpled added helpfully, getting two middle fingers in return.

Oh, and Tommy’s “Can yourself, basic bitch!”

Meanwhile, Drista cackled. “Need any help from a local Jinn?” she asked, watching in amusement as the three got closer, Ranboo barely struggling.

“Oo, I’ll definitely have to consider it,” Ranboo said, getting a spout of curses from the two in his arms that he ignored. Fundy and Jack cackled from the sidelines, the visiting trio watching the whole scene with smiles. Sitting down, he suddenly let Tommy go and snatched Tubbo for himself. “Go at it.”

Shrieking, Tommy barely got to breathe before Drista was pinning him down. “Oh, you son of a bitch, Boob boy! I’ll get my revenge! Just you wait!” he howled, barely trying to undo the pin as he scowled.

Ranboo just laughed and ruffled a giggling Tubbo’s hair in a way that made the bee hybrid slump against the taller. “I’m sure you will, Toms,” he teased, getting another scowl and string of cusses.

Sadly, the fun couldn’t last as Fundy and Jack stood up. “You’ll definitely have to update us on that revenge plot and its success later,” Jack joked, his words gaining attention instantly. “We gotta go, our patrol’s in like 15 and we need to suit up. Can’t leave L’Manberg without Acheron and Tengakai for too long.”

Taking a cue from them, Phil started nudging Wilbur to get moving. “We should go too. Having #2 and #3 off of patrol for too long will get suspicious,” the oldest said, getting groans from the other two but they stood up nonetheless. “Thank you for the invite, Ranboo. It was really fun.”

“No problem, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ranboo said, waving despite how Tubbo whined at the paused head scratches.

Pausing his dramatic struggles, Tommy also waved with his free hand. “See you at the coffee shop, Big Dubs,” he said. In return, Wilbur put a grin on his painted face and waved back as the trio walked away.

“See ya rats around!” Jack said, waving with Fundy on his tail.

“Bye, Jack! Bye, Furry!”

“Bruh!”

Soon enough, it was just the five teens laying there with the rest of Pogtopia milling around. Taking the chance as it was, Tommy suddenly twisted out of Drista’s pin. In seconds, the two began wrestling on the ground with the other three cheering them on. Most support went to Drista, much to Tommy’s faux fury.

Eventually, another one of them had to leave. Sighing, Tubbo reluctantly moved out of Ranboo’s embrace. “I should get going too. H asked if I could start a commission for the Vanguard and I have to go get the details,” he said.

Only Ranboo didn’t let him go and picked up the yelping bee hybrid. “I have to talk to Sneeg about some stuff so I’ll go with you,” he said, standing up with Tubbo in his arms. “Don’t kill each other while we’re gone, alright?”

Although teasing, Tommy took Ranboo’s words as a challenge. “I’ll just train them to death, don’t worry,” he said, his tone barely joking as he pinned Drista to the ground.

And Purpled groaned at the likely possibility. “But we just ran a marathon,” he complained over Drista’s curses and hissing.

“Exactly.”

As the two slumped over in defeat, Ranboo just chuckled and ruffled Tommy’s hair. “See you at home, Toms,” he said, smiling when the blonde leaned into his hand.

“See ya, Ran, Tubs,” he hummed, shivering only a little when tails brushed past his neck.

And as they walked away, Tubbo couldn’t resist throwing a “Good luck!” at the unfortunate souls from his perch held against Ranboo’s hip. That sprouted a chain reaction of Purpled flipping them off, Tommy then tackling the other blonde, and then the third blonde got up from her place on the ground to join the scuffle.

Getting away unscathed, the two hybrids laughed at their friends’ antics as they continued their way to Vanguard HQ.

Chapter Text

The Vanguard’s HQ wasn’t a grandiose building like the name or reputation would suggest. A small complex of interlocking buildings made up most of the place, the hallways and simple signage of ‘Vanguard’ on the front door being the most identifying features. Almost everyone had a personal office, those who didn’t simply make their area in places like the Archives or Movie Room. Each office automatically got the basics of a desk, a filing cabinet, and a computer, all other add-ons like bookshelves and whiteboards gained through request.

And, in HBomb’s office, he had the additional pieces of a corkboard, several armchairs, an additional table, and a window out to the mini courtyard between the interlocking buildings. Several knickknacks like mugs or a rug made the place a little homier, the wall of framed certificates as required by the Vanguard quailing that effect a little. But no matter how comfortable or formal the office was, it made no difference in the fact that business started to transpire.

“So, what did the Vanguard need from Bee-Ngineering? And who’s the new guy?” Tubbo asked, getting straight into business from his seat across from HBomb and some golden-skinned man with gills, literal emerald eyes, a smile of serrated teeth, and fidgeting hands.

H barely blinked, used to Tubbo’s quick way of going about a problem, but the other guy’s hands sped up from nerves. “This is Foolish Gamers, a lead architect of the L’Manbergian government. You might also know him as Baal,” H introduced, all too casual about the #5 hero sitting there.

Not that Tubbo really cared about it either, he was friends with Awesamdude / Inventor, Acheron, and Tengakai and was platonic husbands with Shadow, but the thought counted. “Nice to meet you, Foolish,” Tubbo said, holding a hand out to shake. “I’m Tubbo Underscore.”

His smile turned a little more genuine as Foolish took the handshake. “Nice to meet you too, Tubbo,” he said.

“And as for why we called for you, I think Foolish can explain that better than I can,” H said, leaning back in his seat as he passed off the proverbial mic.

Still smiling, Foolish also shifted his posture to showcase the shift in attention. “Well, I’m sure you know the basics behind Pogtopian infrastructure,” he started.

“I know how we are currently not being crushed under tons of rubble, yes,” Tubbo said, offering an olive branch when the other’s smile flickered, “Support beams, right?”

“Right,” Foolish said, gaining his momentum easily. “While these support beams do great, they can’t do everything. What the architects who started Pogtopia didn’t understand is that putting up a support beam doesn’t solve the problem. They are meant to support stationary weight, not moving weight.”

“So the support beams are failing. Do we need to put supports on them to help with the moving part?” Tubbo asked, his mind already going through making a prototype.

“Not quite,” the architect said, his smile widening a little at the question and engagement. “Since weight is constantly being transferred onto and off of the support beams at varying rates, maybe reinforcements would do some good. But the issue is with all of the cars, people, renovation, especially from hero fights, and other weight transfers are that they’re not staying out of the weaker parts that the support beams don’t reach.”

Lifting his hands, he interlaced his fingers and made a flat surface as a demonstration. “We’re already seeing the effects of putting stress on these weaker areas. Buckling sidewalks, small hills in a previously flat street, et cetera.” At each example, his hands moved to make a bigger and bigger dip. “Eventually, there will be a point, a point that we’ve calculated is soon, when the stress is too much and, well…” His hands suddenly broke apart, showcasing the case scenario of a cave-in.

“Then hundreds if not thousands of lives are in danger,” Tubbo finished, nodding to himself as he thought about it. “How soon do you need the prototype?”

The two older men glanced at each other in confusion before studying the youngest. “How long do you need?” HBomb asked instead.

That just won’t do. “Don’t ask me, tell me,” Tubbo quipped back instantly.

Almost imperceptibly, Foolish’s expression shifted at such wording but he held himself back from commenting. H didn’t even flinch. “Five days sounds good,” he said after a split second of consideration.

“I think three will do,” Tubbo said, his grin daring and near feral.

H snorted at the familiar sight. “Alright, alright, three days will get you a little extra payment but five is the original rate, deal?” he negotiated, offering his hand.

The bee hybrid took it without hesitation. “Deal. I’ll even add in some assistance with Pogtopia’s possible cave-in situation, we are above multiple cave systems after all,” he said, H giving him a fond look at the insistence.

“If you have the time,” the Vanguardian said.

“‘Course, it’s my job after all. So, do you guys have any numbers I can use? I’d rather have concrete evidence that my work will take care of everything,” Tubbo said as he started to stand.

Foolish stood with him, walking over to the desk in the corner to grab something. “Here’s all of the numbers from L’Manberg’s side,” he said, handing the manilla folder over. “Thank you for taking this job so soon, it’s a tall order.”

“Hey, you’re the guys who are hiring me so I should be thanking you. Well, rather the pockets of whoever’s paying. This is just another contract,” Tubbo said, waving off the much taller man’s gratitude easily. “I assume that all other information will be in the Archives?”

“Yep, should all be there. We’ll let you get to work,” H said, motioning to the door as he smiled. “I wish upon you Prime’s blessing, Tubbo. Shall your days be singing.”

“Wishes for Clara’s light and choruses to you, H. Until we meet again, Foolish, have a good day,” Tubbo said, smiling at them. He left the room quickly, eager to get to work and sit down. His legs were still aching and shaking from running the marathon.

A quick text assured that Ranboo was there when Tubbo arrived. The taller of the two supported the other quickly, warbling a small reassurance to gain a tired buzz. Nonetheless, the two entered the main office of the Archives, a relatively small space that had double doors leading to the actual papers and databases. Soon enough, the two left with a smile from the cat hybrid running the place, another manilla folder, and a flash drive in hand.

Before Tubbo could continue walking home from exiting the Vanguard HQ, Ranboo suddenly picked him up. “What the--?! Boo! I can walk on my own!”

“You’re shaking and can barely walk straight,” is all Ranboo had to say in response. Pouting, Tubbo relented only a little when a fond kiss was pressed to his forehead. “It’s alright, Tubbo, you can’t control biology. I’m so proud of you for lasting so long.”

That had Tubbo hiding his face in the other’s neck with a whine from him and a chuckle from his husband. “Thanks,” he mumbled, getting back at his husband by placing a chastise kiss to the other’s collar bone. He only smirked a little when Ranboo stumbled at the sudden affection, only a little.

Unfortunately, Ranboo was right. Biology didn’t let Tubbo run for long distances or do any type of endurance testing activities. Being part Shulker from somewhere in his family tree let him have the armor and extra-dimensional inventory space but it also reallocated the stamina needed to have either. Bee DNA helped minimally with it but that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t have the endurance that other people could.

Immediately upon returning home, he holed up in his workshop and cleared off one of the various cluttered workbenches. Ideas kept flowing to paper, calculations scribbled out with the help of the data given. None of the ideas seemed to work, making him groan and throw away those blueprints and scrap papers. Each failure motivated him to work faster, think more, and grow more engrossed in his work.

Eventually, the other soulmate of Tubbo walked down and announced his presence with a plate of food placed on the desk. “Hey, Tubs,” Tommy said, resting a hand between the shorter’s wings and pressing a quick kiss to the side of his head. “You missed dinner, I got worried.”

Then Tubbo actually looked at the clock on the wall and cursed at how time flew by. “Shit, sorry, I must’ve missed your texts,” he said, leaning back into the other’s hand with a tired groan. “I just can’t get this fucking shit right.”

“I’m sure you will, you’re the best and smartest engineer I know. If any shulk-bee hybrid and mastermind can work this out, it’s the fucking Tubster,” Tommy said with a fond chuckle and a gentle scratch to the back that made Tubbo melt instantly. “You can figure it out, just go step by step and build up some momentum.”

Something in those praises caught Tubbo’s attention beyond the usual fuzzy fondness and affection. “Repeat that.”

“What part?” Tommy said, tilting his head as the bee hybrid straightened up. “Best and smartest engineer? Shulk-bee mastermind?”

The second to last bit also stuck but it was something else. “After that, the last bit.”

“Build up some momentum?” he repeated, making Tubbo’s hand fly for a pencil and paper. “You’ve got it, I see.”

He couldn’t help his eager nod and rambling, “Yes! That’s what I have to do, build the force up. If I can just--”

“-- eat some fucking dinner after having your major breakthrough and then I’ll listen,” Tommy interrupted, snickering at Tubbo’s sheepish look. “But go on.”

“So, before you so rudely fucking interrupted me--”

“Oi.”

“-- I was saying that by putting the force and energy currently dragging the ground down back into that ground and making gravity do the work for us, we can reverse any buckling that’s happening. Then, if we use the concept of shulker armor and a bee swarm, we can be so much more concentrated and precise with our fix-up. All I have to do is create the swarm that’ll create the sections of armor that’ll make the ground go back to normal and there’ll be no cave in!”

“... Imma pretend I understood a word of that so you can eat your fucking food.”

“Tommy!”

“Nope, ain’t hearing you over the sound of you eating. How pog is that, you stuffing food in your face, canning the stomach growling, and singing praises like you usually do?”

“Fine fine…”

Chapter Text

Tommy loved the off feeling he got some mornings, absolutely adored it. It’s not like he wanted to enjoy his day or anything instead of stressing out about whatever bullshit the Fates had in store. Not to mention it also got his soulmates stressed because they noticed that he was stressed and then he stressed about them stressing and it was a whole cycle.

Drista and Purpled seemed to understand that Tommy wasn’t up for any ringing antics that day. Quick to dismiss himself, Purpled went to go help Tubbo with the new project for the Vanguard (more like distract the bee hybrid from overstressing but same difference). Wisely, Drista recommended an activity that usually got him to relax a little.

Foraging. Simple and relaxing to navigate the tunnels he knew like the back of his hand. Fulfilling to get supplies that could feed his soulmates and friends.

If only there weren’t some weird little red vines that definitely weren’t there a few weeks ago and definitely didn’t make Tommy feel like running for the hills. “Hey, Drista, let’s get out of here,” he said, dropping the moss that he had picked up before noticing the new foliage. “I don’t like those red vines.”

She nodded along quickly, backing away from the vines that seemed to be rustling together despite not moving. “Yeah, yeah, weren’t you talking about going to that supermarket anyway? Uh, Food Barrel?” she said, backing away more when the rustling started sounding like whispering.

Nope, no horror movie shit today. “Yeah, that’s it, let’s go,” he said, gently grabbing her hand and giving her plenty of room to move away. As he started leading her out, she crowded a little closer and kept her gaze away from the vines. It took way too long to get out of those caves and to a spot where they could relax a little. Noting to talk to Sneeg or HBomb about that later, Tommy smiled at Drista despite it all and continued leading the way.

Slowly, banter got back into full swing as they continued walking. Their hands remained linked, giving them both a small comfort from the horror movie bullshit that just happened. Even if they had to ignore any looks from people assuming stuff based on something as simple as holding hands.

The Food Barrel, a supermarket that had much better prices than any mainstream stores, had 24 shoppers in there, 28 including the cashiers and the teens. Two seemed like children, three being elderly, and there was a relatively equal distribution of males, females, and androgynous folks. If Tommy ever entered a store or building and didn’t have a pretty good estimation of the residents in 30 seconds, something was wrong. Most Pogtopians worth their favor could do something similar, although not as good as Tommy could.

Some tension had released from all the banter but that didn’t change the fact that something still felt off . Tommy’s behavior got Drista to notice, their banter becoming quieter and quieter throughout their shopping trip. Nothing came of their caution until they got to the counter.

“Get down!” Tommy shouted, quick to shield Drista as the large glass windows at the front shattered. Shrieks of terror went off, Drista’s reaction limited to a yelp as Tommy’s jacket hid her from the sight. That didn’t last long, the blondes separated by someone yanking Tommy’s collar.

He moved to struggle but froze when a gun’s safety clicked off and cold metal pressed to the side of his head. “Alright, listen up!” a deep booming voice went off next to his ear but Tommy kept his eye on Drista. “We’re gonna do this real simple! All of you, against the walls! My crew will direct you from there! Don’t be a hero, we can and will shoot!”

A mouthed ‘Don’t’ did little to stifle the fire in Drista’s eyes. Still, she relented as the two of them and any others in line were placed against the counter. Tommy was released to join them, the rough handling from the crimson-eyed criminals continuing as he was shoved into place. Grabbing Drista’s hand as a comfort to both of them, he resigned himself to waiting for the pro heroes and police to come onto the scene.

A slight twitch of the hand sent the message of ‘Danger’ and ‘Stay’ to Ranboo and Tubbo’s discs. Practically feeling the discontent from the two, he focused on leaning against Drista and smiling when she pressed her weight against him too. The warmth against his side let him tune out the whimpers of fear in the room and the demands of the cashiers next to them.

40 people were in the store right now. 12 were criminals, most of them armed with semi-autos and pistols but a couple simply armed themselves with their flashy powers. That meant that there were 28 civilians that the heroes had to get out when they had no clue of their locations, who exactly was guarding them, and at least four of the criminals patrolling the front. Nothing good was going to come of this.

Gently tapping out the morse code for ‘OK?’, he relaxed minutely when Drista gave him a ‘Yes’. Such relaxation couldn’t last long as the sound of sirens grew closer. Instead of looking frantic, the supposed leader, someone decked head to toe in black with sunglasses, a black baseball hat, and a neck warmer/gaiter to cover their identity, seemed to grin. Then they turned to Tommy and he quickly let go of Drista.

Good choice, considering that they grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. Eye contact with Drista prevented her from lunging after him but that broke as the criminal kept up his pace. After dragging the teen over the field of broken glass that made way for an unofficial doorway, they put a gun to his head and waited for a moment. The police who had set up a barricade lowered their guns a millimeter, the heroes behind that barricade tensing at the display of a hostage. The Dream Team, Volley, Sloth, and Hunter, all waited in silent anticipation.

“In one hour, I want 5 million dollars in cash delivered and tossed over the barricade! Every hour you don’t complete our demands, a hostage gets shot! And once we get that money, we’ll be taking this guy, or someone else if he gets shot, as a guarantee that you won’t chase us! If there is any use of powers, especially from Sloth, we will not hesitate to spray down every hostage! Your hour starts now!”

Then Tommy got dragged back inside as the threat was done with. Tossed back to his original space, literally tossed, he kept his back against the wall and his weight on Drista. Time for a very very long hour as the heroes and police attempted to figure something out.

Even as sobs began to pop up as the stress got to people, the two teens stayed quiet and at each other’s sides. Both flinched at the sound of metal hitting skin but made no sound. This was nothing compared to Lockdown, nothing.

But just like Lockdown, Tommy was chosen as the martyr. And just like Lockdown, the Pogtopians didn’t stay quiet. “Tommy!” Drista shouted, lunging as a grunt yanked him away.

“Drista, don’t!” he shouted back, his shout turning to a wheeze as that grunt slammed him into the ground. Pinned onto his front with shards of glass digging into his cheek and a gun to his head, he could do nothing but growl as Drista yelped in the background. “Drista!”

In response, the leader dragged her into view. Her mask had fallen off, showing off her scarred lower face littered with burns and a scowl. The ponytail she had worn that day was coming apart, becoming more frayed as she pulled away from the criminal and towards Tommy. “You wanna take his place, huh?” the leader mocked, nodding towards the lackey. All Tommy could do was grunt and groan when the butt of the gun cracked off the back of his head and pushed him deeper into the glass. “You wanna take his place?”

“Get the fuck off of me! Tommy!” was all she shrieked, taking the opportunity to jerk forward and headbutt the leader in the face. He couldn’t help his cackle as the leader howled in pain and something snapped. His mirth quickly died when the gun in the leader’s hand leveled at her forehead.

“You fucking bitch, time to get put down!”

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!”

Metal shrieked as it was torn in half. Time paused for a moment as the front end of the semi-auto clattered to the ground, the slice steaming and glowing from the momentum. Wheeling around without a care, the red-tinted disc slammed into the grunt’s chest and sent them flying off of Tommy. In an instant, he stood by Drista’s side and snarled at the stunned criminals.

Silent as a mouse, Drista whispered a shaky “Tommy?”

“Hey, spitfire,” he whispered back, bringing his wrists together as the criminals stumbled to wake up and pull out their guns. “Let’s fucking ring these guys down to hell,” he said and knocked his inner wrists together. Summoned and enlargened in an instant, the discs followed his outstretched arms with the audible whistle of air. Just in time, as the three criminals with working semi-autos open-fired.

For several long seconds, lead rained like hellfire. Bystanders screamed in terror and horror as Drista froze. Then the deafening echoes of gunshots faded as the guns clicked through the empty magazines. And not a scratch was on Drista or Tommy, the bullets littered around the edge of the disc’s perimeter.

Before Tommy could truly breathe, a presence appeared at his back with a familiar warble. “Civs?” Ranboo, currently Shadow, asked, clicking his tongue soon after.

Reconnecting with the disc in Ranboo’s bracelet, he quietly clicked back. “Twenty-six, twelve crooks,” the blonde said, also forgoing any greeting. By the shouts of alarm that followed Ranboo's disappearance, the job of evacuating the civilians was done in the blink of an eye. When his steady presence returned, Tommy gave the simple order of “Eyes.”

Following those orders by teleporting again, the hero gave Tommy the cue to concentrate on his powers. “Go!” the other shouted, the beacon of the disc he held giving more information. Inhaling, the discs he had control over started spinning before shooting out at the exhale. Metal soon screeched its protest, joining the cacophony of noise as the criminals shouted their surprise. Guns, none of them intact, clattered and skidded across the floor.

“Free for all!” Tommy shouted, quick to lunge at the closest criminal. Downed by a quick punch to the gut and knee to the head, that criminal was soon joined by another that Drista took care of. Using a couple of nearby discs, the teen tripped a charging criminal and block the kick of another. It didn’t take much to knock down the other, a yank of the kicking leg and a headbutt to the temple. The third criminal that got downed by Tommy was punched in the temple when they tried to rise up.

Turning around showed that Drista had also taken care of three of them, her knuckles bloodied from breaking one of the criminal’s noses. Ranboo appeared soon after, nodding when Tommy gave him a look. All of the criminals were down for the count, groaning and unconscious.

Giving a thumbs up and an outlined circle, Tommy calmed the enderman and promised a conversation later. The cue of a mock salute and returning the disc of Stal to its place on Ranboo’s wrist got the other to teleport away, not before mock saluting back of course. Then, gently guiding Drista to a place cleared of glass by his discs, he sat down and waited for the pro heroes and police to do their thing.

Determined to make a shaking Drista as calm as possible, he took off his jacket and rested it around her shoulders. Ignoring the commotion from the heroes and police coming in to arrest the criminals, he grinned at her exasperated look. Dramatically holding up a finger and making a face of mock realization, he rooted around in one of his jacket’s pockets for something. All of the discs surrounded them, providing a little more sanctuary for what was about to happen.

Finding the choker after a few seconds of her watching him in amusement and curiosity, he presented it to her. It wasn’t much, just a strip of black fabric unevenly broken up by two silver magnets. Then, one of the discs surrounding them, Far, came closer and shrank down so it perfectly fit between those magnets. “So, wanna take Far and keep close, spitfire?” Tommy asked, grinning a little wider and joking to hide his nerves.

Her jaw dropped, realizing the importance quickly. After all, only two other people held such a symbol of trust from Tommy. “Only if you’ll light my way, firefly,” Drista said, the two of them chuckling at the cheesiness of the line. “Help me?” she asked, pulling up her ponytail and shifting so he had access to put on the choker.

“Forevermore,” he said if only to snicker at the swat he got. After putting on the choker, he couldn’t help but smile at how it rested over her pulse. Understandably, it was faster than usual but it calmed as she leaned against him. Only, and only after he put an arm around her shoulders to hold her closer, did he drop the disc barrier and put most of them away.

The two of them waited for a little while longer, content to stay in each other’s space and affection. Eventually, someone did come to speak to them, that someone being Hunter, the #4 hero, of all people. “Are you two okay? You’re kinda bleeding,” he said as he crouched in front of them, the second part of that aimed at Tommy.

Because he still had cuts from when someone pressed him into the shattered glass that he might’ve forgotten about. “We’re alright, shaken but alright,” Tommy said, gently squeezing Drista’s shoulder and getting a nod from her.

That snapped the hero’s attention to her and he froze at what he saw. “... C-Clara?” he whispered, quiet enough that the words could’ve been blown away by a breeze.

They seemed to slap Drista upside the face with the force of a gale. “How the fuck do you know that name?” she hissed, wise enough to keep her voice from gaining the attention of outsiders. Outsiders like Tommy who couldn’t decide whether or not to go all Karen on the hero for raising Drista’s pulse to jackrabbit speeds.

“Um,” Hunter had the decency to look sheepish at the reaction it got. “I can’t… uh…”

When the hero’s hands twitched towards his mask, Tommy decided to save them all the trouble. “Here,” he said, getting their interest instantly. Ward began to play on the back of his hand, the hero tilting his head like a curious cat at the sound and the sight of a disc inside someone’s hand. “All attention should be off of us for a little while. You can take off your mask if you want.”

A cursory glance around showed his words to be true. No one, not even the reporters, was looking at the trio. So, very slowly, the hero took off his hood to get no reaction from the outside. Then, with a grounding inhale, he took off his mask and hesitantly smiled at Drista. “Hey, sis.”

Whether or not Hunter had said the last bit, Tommy would have to be blind to not notice the resemblance. Their blonde hair was the same shade, their eyes also having the same green. Facial structure from high cheekbones and sharp jaws was a give-away on its own. Although their skin wasn’t the same tone from various effects like being underground, scar placement, and different concentrations of freckles, they still looked all too like each other.

And, seeing that too, Drista couldn’t help but gasp and reach for the other. “Clay,” she said, her voice a cue to tackle the man in a hug. Laughing breathlessly and with tear-filled eyes, the man held his sister close. They stayed like that for a long few moments, just hugging each other and staying close.

Sadly, Tommy had to interrupt their reunion with a “Thirty seconds ‘till the disc ends.” He kept his voice soft, smiling at the pure joy and affection radiating from the two. Affection that continued as Clay moved back and cupped the side of Drista’s face. His thumb lightly traced over the closest scar with an expression that could only speak of a fond and grieving ‘I’m sorry.’

She just smiled at him and pressed a hand over his. After, and only after they pressed their foreheads together for a few long seconds, Clay moved back to put back on his hood and mask. “We can go to my place to talk more if you’re up for it,” he offered, his mask doing nothing to hide his nervous voice.

Drista put him at ease with a nod and smile. “Of course, but after Tommy gets looked at by a paramedic,” she said, grabbing the hand of the disc user as she spoke.

“Of course, he can come along if he wants,” Clay said, his excitement clear as day. Dear Prime, the man seemed like a golden retriever. “Oh, and nice to meet you, Tommy, call me Dream.”

Tommy barely kept from deadpanning at Drista for her name choice. “Nice to meet you too,” was what he said instead as the last few counts of Ward started to play.

“And, Tommy?” Dream started, putting a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Thank you.” And as Ward finally ended, all Tommy could do is smile back at the man.

The hero was quick to usher them towards the ambulances, Tommy kidnapped to have his face bandaged. Dream left for a moment, going to talk to his teammates while still having a clear view of the teenagers. Both of them seemed confused, their frowns clear on their maskless faces. In the end, they relented and nodded along to whatever Dream had said.

When Tommy finally got the go-ahead to leave, he barely paused before grabbing Drista’s hand and walking over to the heroes. “Hey, Hunter,” Tommy said, gaining the trio’s attention. “Should we just meet you at the Tower or do you guys get a company car we can all pile in?”

“Well, I hadn’t really gotten that far,” Dream admitted with a chuckle as the rest of his team gave him a look. “Uh, how about you play that disc of yours and I pick up her, Sapnap picks up you, and we parkour back to the Tower without dealing with the media?”

“How about I just give Drista and I a disc to coast on after you give me legal permission to use my powers?” Tommy said, softening Sapnap’s, aka Volley’s, look of betrayal.

After mentally deliberating for a moment, Dream nodded along. Without further adieu, Tommy began playing the disc and enlargened another for Drista and him to sit on. “Alright then, let’s go!” Dream cheered, finding a way to launch himself onto the roof of the Food Barrel with the rest of them following.

For a few moments, they parkoured along in silence. Then Sapnap took his final suspicious glance at the two before finally asking “Alright, who are these guys and why the fuck are we taking them to the Tower?”

“Well, that’s my long-lost sister and her friend and I wanna talk to them more,” Dream said with absolutely no tact.

Sloth full-on stopped at that while Sapnap fumbled his next jump. “What the fuck?” Sloth deadpanned as he slowly started jumping again.

“Well, ain’t this singing?” Tommy snarked, getting a swat from Drista for it. “What? I’m only being half sarcastic! It’s pog that you found your brother! Hey!”

Drista scoffed after her next swat. “You are the worst,” was all she said for an explanation.

“Oi! I’m the one giving you a ride, bitch!” he said, purposefully making the disc wobble to get no reaction. “The sarcasm is for Volley and Sloth’s sakes, woman! Prime above!” His screeching continued as Drista punched him on the shoulder.

“Is this normal?” Sapnap asked, most likely rhetorical as all the heroes watched them in amusement and confusion.

The two paused for a moment to give a completely honest “Yes,” before Drista punched Tommy again.

“By Prime! If we weren’t traveling at high-fucking-speeds mid-air and your brother wasn’t a fucking hero who could ring me into next century, I’d beat the shit out of you!” he screeched, getting concerned looks from the others.

But all Drista said in response was “Fucking do it, coward.”

Since she so nicely asked, Tommy did tackle her and pin her. Before the heroes could try to stop it, Drista shrieked with laughter and struggled half-heartedly. “Oh, fuck you!” he said, laughing as he got knocked over with a clever shifting of weight.

As the two continued to scuffle, the disc held steady, the heroes got the idea and started laughing along. “Violent, I see,” Sapnap commented, snickering as Tommy comically screeched at an easily blocked punch.

“We’re Pogtopians, big man! Define ‘violent’!” Tommy snarked, flipping Drista onto her back by yanking her over his head. Then he looked at where they were and sighed at the sight. “Damn it, we’re at the Tower, gotta act civil and shit.”

“Mm, nah,” Drista said, grabbing his arms and twisting them to pin him again.

The cussing and hissing of the teen were easily tuned out to pay attention to Dream. “C’mon, Cl-- Drista, let him go,” he chided, only stumbling slightly on the name.

“Fine, fine,” she said, letting him go and taking the swat with a scoff. “Let’s stop here and get on the streets, slightly less attention that way.”

So they did, making slightly less of a scene as the Dream Team and two random teenagers walked into the lobby of the Tower. Luckily, they got no questions from the receptionist and went into the elevator uninterrupted. The way up to floor 69 (yes, there were snickers at that, it was funny,) was silent and slightly tense.

When they got there, the teens got herded into the living room/kitchen area. Several couches, a coffee table, and a TV made up the living room but the kitchen made Tommy pause. Before he could fantasize too much about the amount of food that he could make with so much space and so many appliances, Drista dragged him away. “But Drista--”

“Nope, you’re not starting to cook, you don’t even know half of the shit in their fridge,” she said, dragging him to sit next to her on the couch. Taking the couch adjacent to the teens’, the Dream Team also sat down and took off parts of their hero costume to get more comfortable. “So, how has becoming the #4 hero been? You didn’t even want to become a hero, last I checked.”

Dream couldn’t help the somber chuckle at her word choice. “I didn’t but after Lockdown started and you got stuck, I threw myself into anything I could get my hands on. Fighting and parkouring got really fun, it got better when I started hearing about opportunities for heroes. I went into the training and five years later I’m the Hunter, #4 pro hero,” he said, his smile falling before it could start. “I would ask about how you’ve been but I think Lockdown’s a pretty big downside.”

“Yeah, life or death situations every other day, you know how it is,” she said, shrugging because Dream did know how it was, being a hero and all. “Part of the reason we reacted so calmly at the possibility of getting shot.”

Tommy couldn’t help but snort at her use of ‘calmly’. “Ah yes, says Miss ‘Headbutts the leader of the crooks in the face and breaks their nose’,” he snarked, getting a swat for his efforts.

“Oi, at least I didn’t straight up cut metal,” she snarked back, an eye roll answering her. In the background, the trio couldn’t decide how to react, glancing between the two locked into a verbal tennis match. “Then again, not the first time you’ve saved my life.”

Dream’s look of gratitude and appreciation made Tommy go a little red but he resolutely ignored it. “Alright, we ain’t starting the whole ‘saving your live’ shit. That’s a whole rabbit hole, Miss Tribute,” he said, getting her to scoff at the reminder. “Don’t scoff at me, Miss Clara.”

“Call me that again and I’ll take out your tongue,” she snarled, the other’s hands quickly raising in surrender.

“Take me on a date first,” he snarked without thinking. Snickers and a glare answered his bad joke. “Fine fine, at least we’re even, bitch.”

Sapnap decided to interrupt this time. “So, quick question, is Clara or Drista your name? Dream always called you Clara but now you’re being called Drista so…” he said, shrugging as he tried to clarify.

“Drista,” she said without a shadow of a doubt.

“You alright with me explaining the whole ‘Clara’ thing?” Tommy asked quietly, getting a glare along with a slow nod. Then he raised his voice to speak to the curious and confused heroes, “She changed it to Drista since Clara’s such a big name in our culture. Fair enough, getting swarmed for being a holy figure wouldn’t be fun.”

She snorted at that, giving Tommy a knowing look that he ignored. “Hold up, holy figure?” Dream asked, his brow furrowing with an additional frown. “What the fuck?”

Drista’s panicked look had Tommy speaking up again, “Well, are you guys aware of the basics behind most Pogtopians’ religion?”

“Yeah, Prime, god of prosperity and stability?” Sloth said, barely glancing when the other two heroes gave him stunned looks. “What? I got curious after Shadow’s profile read-out.”

“Prime is the main focus, yes,” Tommy said, holding up three fingers as he continued, “But there are three major figures in the religion. Icarus, for obvious reasons, Prime, as you’ve heard, and finally…” His last finger, as he’d been lowering them with each name, pointed at Drista. “Savoir Clara. She got a place in the religion by being the first-ever tribute, sparking the flames of hope, etc. Someone started saying that the whole title should be Savoir Clara instead of just Clara and everyone kinda went with it. Then, the wise woman she is, Clara switched to Drista to avoid getting swarmed and put on a pedestal by some of the extremely devout and kinda crazy believers.”

“Yeah, I got some of that during Lockdown and I must say, never again,” Drista said, shuddering at the mere thought.

“So, moving on from the whole holy figure thing, you two have fun talking, I’m raiding your kitchen,” Tommy said, vaulting over the couch before Drista could say anything.

“Tommy! Don’t raid the kitchen!”

“Drista! We have no fucking food in the house! Shut up before we get canned by a stressed and starved Tubbo!”

And with that, Tommy tactfully left the two to talk with the awkward bystanders of Sloth and Sapnap.

Chapter Text

Ranboo had rarely been lectured in his recollection. The few that had happened were from Tubbo after forgetting to grab chorus fruit or something along those lines. Let’s just say, a stressed-out Tubbo was a lot scarier than a stern Techno. Therefore, Techno was all too easy to tune out.

Even if the man had some reason for lecturing Ranboo.

The latest message of ‘Danger’ and ‘Stay’ had come through fifteen minutes ago and Ranboo was not having a good time. Techno had checked in with the teen several times over, his wonderful mood clear as day. Nothing came of the check-ins and it seemed as if nothing was going to be able to calm the enderman down.

Then their comms crackled into existence, “Unit F38, ETA to Food Barrel on Fifth Avenue?”

And Ranboo froze . Tommy was talking about going to the Food Barrel that afternoon and Drista was most likely wherever Tommy was. Add in the bad mood from this morning that spelled of Tommy’s very accurate ‘off-feeling’ and it wasn’t looking good.

Techno answered as Ranboo stared blankly, “We’re Unit H29, what’s going on?”

“Hostage situation, compensation demands of five million dollars to let them go, one death for every time the time limit’s reached.”

The heroes continued parkouring over the roofs, their route edging in the direction of Fifth Avenue. “Time limit?” Techno asked, giving Ranboo a look when he noticed the detour. Not reacting and instead following Techno’s adjustment of their route towards another issue they were called in to deal with, the teen barely kept his tails from lashing.

“One hour starting at 13:30.”

The display in Ranboo’s helmet read 14:29:15.

A different voice spoke into the channel they were supposed to be on, “Unit H29, we need you soon. They’re getting antsy.”

“Copy,” Blood Boar said, silencing both of the voices as the hero duo reached the roof a few away from the disturbance. Moving vines of ink and shadows created a dome, writhing and shifting in agitation. Inside, two crimson-eyed individuals plotted something that warranted the police barricades on either end of the road and the herded away citizens.

“Boar, I promised I wouldn’t do this but I’m getting desperate here,” Ranboo said, his comm remaining off as his claws started to grow. Snapping his gaze to the younger hero, Techno tried to summon some words to address the claim and claws. “I’m going in.”

Then he jumped off of the roof and went into the void. The dull ache in his bones turned to a raging pain for a moment or two, a snarl painting over his face as his claws grew to an alarming size and sharpness. Reappearing into reality for a moment, he didn’t stay long enough for many to take in his horns and his growth to 8 foot rather than 6’6. Instead, he began teleporting around so fast that it looked like there were multiple of him. All of him simultaneously took his claws to the vines with the veracity of a wild animal.

Those vines immediately curled away from the attack on multiple sides, their master shrieking in pain and stumbling at the sheer volume of anguish. Retreating vines offered no protection to the other person, sending them stumbling at the sudden appearance of the new upcoming hero Shadow being right there . They opened their mouth to let out a sonic screech, a powerful force that had sent several police cars flying down the street, but Ranboo simply met them. His faceplate fell away, the new space letting him unhinge his jaw and screech right back.

For once, fighting fire with fire worked as they stumbled back with bleeding ears. Not even five seconds later, they were knocked out and to the ground by the swing of a staff. Turning to the next criminal, Ranboo let his faceplate go up before charging at them.

Vines flew at him, directed from their place on the power-user. He didn’t use his teleportation, simply weaving between each with subtle use of his second power if needed. And yes, he had a second power but he didn’t use his umbrakinesis much in fear of losing control. But right now, with the clock showing 14:29:43, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Another somewhat extreme measure came into play when they said some dramatic line and pulled out a syringe of Crimson. Before it could get too close to any skin, the hand holding the booster got slashed by a throwing knife. Howling in pain, the criminal flung the Crimson with their flinch. And, grabbing the closest vine and digging in his claws, Ranboo yanked them forward, jabbed the staff into their stomach, and teleported. He readjusted his grip on his staff in the void, appearing behind them to whack them over the head and, with his tails that he disengaged from the magnets in the suit, caught his knife and the Crimson before it could hit the ground and shatter.

14:29:56

Teleporting back to where Techno hadn’t moved a muscle, he made sure to take care of everything in the void. So all Techno saw was Ranboo coming back without horns, claws, extra height, any weapons, or the Crimson. “Techno,” Ranboo said, interrupting anything that the other could try to say. “Tommy’s at the Food Barrel, I have to go.” Then he teleported again.

14:30:30

Only to appear beside a panting Tommy, a terrified Drista, and a perimeter of discs that were slightly steaming like the burning hot bullets littering the ground. Deciding to have a heart attack about having his allium and sister-figure shot at later, Ranboo refocused on the fact that this was a hostage situation. “Civs?” he asked, forgoing a greeting to ask for a number that he knew that Tommy knew. Any Pogtopian worth half their favor could give an estimate, it would be an insult to Tommy’s entire existence if he couldn’t give exacts.

An additional click of the tongue and its response made the disc resting under his suit stir to life as the suit’s technology adjusted to accommodate. “Twenty-six, twelve crooks,” Tommy said. Without hesitation, Ranboo teleported away and did his job as a hero. The criminals shouted in surprise, as did the cops, neither expecting the hostages to suddenly disappear from inside the store and appear next to the ambulances. “Eyes,” Tommy ordered the moment the other got back.

Nodding, even though the other wasn’t looking at him, he teleported again to the back of the store where Tommy had no chance of seeing the criminals. Perched on top of a shelving unit, Ranboo held his arm out as the disc around his wrist, Stal, disengaged from the bracelet’s magnets to become shield-sized. “Go!” he shouted, grinning as Stal shot out to deal with the crooks. Several others joined it, all of them easily sawing the guns in half.

Jumping down, he landed on top of a gawking criminal and one punch K.Oing another just as Tommy shouted “Free for all!” Ranboo grinned a little wider at that, stomping on the head of the first with a partially blood-thirsty grin on his face. None of the criminals could see his face but they all seemed just as terrified. Pulling out his staff, it was laughably easy to knock them out with quick blows to the head and kicks to the side.

Snarling at the unconscious bodies of the crimson-eyed criminals that ruined the other two’s day out, he didn’t spare them a second glance as he walked back to his friends. The sight of the two of them triumphantly standing over their opponents made him unreasonably happy. Not one to ruin the mood, he nodded when Tommy gave him a look to confirm that all of the criminals were down.

Some quick gestures from the blonde paused Ranboo from mother-henning them on the spot. Instead, he mock-saluted back and teleported away when Stal returned to its place on his bracelet. Well, after grabbing the groceries that the enderman could identify were Tommy’s by a glance, of course.

So, yeah, maybe the man had some reason for lecturing him. Theivery notwithstanding (not that Ranboo told him about that, he didn’t have too much of a death wish), he went back on his word, went in without a plan, and teleported to the other side of town without much warning.

The two high-stress situations back to back hadn’t escaped the notice of the media, the report on the TV giving more of an escape to the looks the whole trio was giving. Right, to make it better, the rest of the SBI was there to spectate the reprimand. Being an enderman hybrid plus the looks they were giving him only made him want to teleport to the other side of the city more but alas he hadn’t done so yet.

Oh, right, back to the TV and Jordan Maron who seemed determined to report on all of Shadow’s work.

“Breaking news from the site of the Food Barrel hostage situation! The new pro hero, Shadow, currently unranked, has made an appearance not only here but also over by Honeygrove Road! This footage that I’m about to show you is taken by various people on the site and is not the best but who needs the best when you can get the idea!”

Indeed, the footage was shaky and clearly taken by someone’s phone. The writhing mass of vines was soon dotted by several figures wearing his suit, the shriek of pain audible as the vines shrank away. Jostling brought the screech-off into view, the angle catching the back of him and the criminal who soon had bleeding ears. Horns plus the extra height made him look like some type of eldritch creature, the brutal whack over the criminal’s head not doing any favors. At least the run straight towards the other criminal looked kinda cool, the dodging almost emulating a dance.

When the syringe got pulled out, the camera could see it. It could also see the throwing knife and the damage it did, making Ranboo internally wince, and his teleport behind the criminal. As the crook crumpled, the brief view of his tails catching the knife and the Crimson made said appendages twitch. He didn’t like the focus that got put on them, especially when he disappeared from the scene soon after.

“And then, as you can see, it takes very little time for Shadow to appear at the other site.”

A timestamp was put over the frozen part of the first footage. Then it cut to the professional cameras at Food Barrel and their active clock in the corner. He couldn’t control how his ears pinned back at the sight of Tommy getting dragged up. Lashing tails did little to Drista getting dragged, her headbutting the guy (Ranboo smirked a little at that), and held at gunpoint. The disc cutting the gun in half, smacking the criminal off of Tommy, and Tommy going to Drista’s side did little to prepare him for the next scene. That scene consisted of Tommy’s discs barely appearing in time to block the lead rain.

Then Shadow appeared as the rain stopped and the footage paused again.

“Personally, I believe the courageous acts of these teens deserve their own segment. So, for now, I’ll gloss over them. But the appearance of Shadow so soon after dealing with another scene, and pulling out some transformation powers that seem short-lived but powerful, is amazing! And, just as last time, he gets the hostages out in no time flat, deals with the criminals, and continues with patrol.

“Some additional footage of Shadow working with these teens has also led many to believe that they know each other well outside of this incident. The teens might not be pro heroes and Shadow might be new to the scene but I call that an excellent way to deal with the situation! So, once again, I say that Shadow might be one of the best in the business even if they’re new to the scene! More on this on our website, along with the identities of these mysterious teenagers, at StarlightSpotlight.com, and back to you at the studio!”

Speaking of those teenagers, Ranboo should probably text them. It would be better to have an idea of their location before the lecturing made him teleport straight back home.

Ran

Yo, where r u?

Toms

Dream Team’s floor in the Towre

Now why in the ever-living Prime was Tommy at the Tower? And the Dream Team’s floor?

“Seriously?” Techno’s slightly raised tone got Ranboo’s attention as he remembered, ah yes, maybe he should pay attention to the man who could snap him like a twig. “You’re on your phone right now? Is your respect for me that low?”

“I respect what you do but I also want you to respect that I just saw my allium and my sister get shot at with three semi-automatic weapons,” he said, motioning to the TV where they were playing the clip again. “Yes, we are heroes, you are my superior, I’m the hero trainee, but above all of that, I’m a friend, brother, soulmate, and protector. Never ask me to be anything else because it won’t happen.”

Phil stepped between them despite Techno backing up a little. “Mate, we’re not asking you to not care about them, we’re asking you to be a bit more rational and not rush headfirst into things,” he said, smiling to add to his attempt.

“I can try but once any of them are involved, all bets are off,” Ranboo said, backing away. Taking a step to follow, Phil stopped and stared with the other two at the syringe of Crimson that Ranboo had put on the counter. “Bring this to the labs to be analyzed, I’m going to my allium. I’ll see you when I see you.” He speed-walked to the elevator, leaving them to their stunned silence. “Nook?”

“Yes, Shadow?”

“Could you take me to the Dream Team’s floor?”

“Got it.”

Brief as the journey up the few floors was, it still raised Ranboo’s anxiety. Despite not feeling like it, he walked out of the elevator calmly and followed where he heard the voices. The first thing he saw was Hunter, Dream sitting there without a mask and joking around with Drista on the couches.

“Hey, Ran!”

The second was a charging Tommy who he easily caught and spun around. Warbling and purring, he pressed his forehead against the blonde’s. “Hey, Toms,” Ranboo said, much calmer as he set Tommy down. In the background, he heard Drista’s chuckle at their actions and Dream’s not-so-silent ‘Huh?’ of confusion. “Why are you guys in the Tower? On the Dream Team’s floor too?”

“Well, Drista is Dream’s sister so,” Tommy said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, shrugging.

All Ranboo could do in response was give Drista a look and say an exasperated, “Really? That’s the most creative you got?”

“Oi, Tommy went from Thomas for his name and you don’t give him shit,” she snarked, only getting a confused look in response. “Wait, you didn’t know that?”

“Nope, I don’t know Ranboo or Tubbo’s old names and they don’t know mine,” Tommy said, his glare conveying more than just annoyance. Something that Ranboo ignored, it wasn’t his business after all. “Anyway, c’mon, I wanna raid more of the Dream Team’s fridge since our shopping trip was a bust.”

Dream laughed at that while Drista glared at him. “Feel free to, I don’t even know half of the stuff we have in there,” he said, waving Tommy on. Said teen looked like a child on Christmas morning as he bolted right back into the kitchen.

“Welp, you’re not getting any of that food back,” Ranboo joked, sitting down next to Drista as he chuckled. “All of that is going into the community dinner.”

“Community dinner?” Dream asked, tilting his head with a slightly furrowed brow. “What’s that for?”

Chuckling, Drista took up the explanation, “Well, since Tommy is a sentimental sap--”

“I heard that, bitch!”

“-- he cooks dinner for anyone who will come over every night. Kinda like a way to assure that no one goes hungry again.”

“That’s… really nice, actually,” Dream said, a glance over to the teen showing flushed ears and wide eyes. Considering most called Tommy an annoying brat, the compliment ranked itself even higher from being from a hero. “Is that how you guys met? Tommy cooking and you heard about it?”

“That’s how I met boob boy over here,” Drista said, getting a swat for the nickname that made her grin. “I met Tommy after he helped me out in the coffee shop he worked at. I was getting harassed by some guy and he scared ‘em off with a disc to the throat.”

Suddenly falling on the couch next to Ranboo, Tommy did little to stifle the grateful look that Dream was throwing him. “I was doing my civic duty. You were obviously a teenager, he was obviously a twenty-something-year-old shithead who lived off of his parent’s money. No fucking pedophiles in my shop, thank you very much,” he said, scoffing at the mere thought.

Something in that rant set off more than Dream’s heartfelt “Thank you, Tommy.” As the blonde mumbled something about it not being a problem, Dream scrutinized the three for a moment. “By the way, how old are you guys?”

“Seventeen.”

“Twenty.”

“Nineteen.”

All of the responses were said automatically, no hesitation, but Dream shook his head at them. “Okay, I know Drista’s is a lie and I have a feeling that neither of you are telling the truth either,” he said before motioning them to try again.

“Fine, fifteen.”

“Legally, I am twenty but biologically I’m eighteen.”

“Legally nineteen, actually seventeen.”

Although the previous answers were met with disbelief, these got almost double the treatment. “I can believe those but Ranboo? Eighteen? And you’re getting into situations like that?” Dream said, shaking his head a little at the thought. “I’m not doubting your ability but I was 20 when I went into the field the first time so 18 seems really young.”

All three of the Pogtopians couldn’t help their snickers at that. “We’re Pogtopians, big man, define ‘young’,” Tommy sassed to get the other to raise his hands in mock surrender. “And, Ran, how did the debriefing whatever-the-fuck with your hero friends go? I assume they’re not happy with the hero trainee going AWOL.”

“Oh my Prime, having Blood Boar lecture you while the rest of the SBI are just in the room sucks ,” Ranboo whined instantly, no hesitation in throwing the trio under the bus. The others in the room snickered and snorted at his misfortune. “He has nothing on Tubbo but dear Prime, Techno can get scary.”

Most of the blondes continued to chuckle at his misfortune but all mirth and color swiftly drained from Tommy’s face. “Fuck, I didn’t tell him that we’re okay,” he said, his hand twitching to send the message. Then his phone started ringing and he sighed before taking out the device that he treated like a bomb. “Wish me luck,” he lamented, the other teens quick to mock salute him as Dream watched on in confusion.

Holding the phone to his ear, his grimace told of the shouted scolding he was receiving. Enhanced hearing let Ranboo eavesdrop, the enderman wincing when he overheard what sounded like Pog Latin. Pog Latin as in a convoluted and fast-paced way of talking mixed with lingo that was supplemented with enough clicks, whistles, and other underlying noises that it sounded like its own language. It was rare to hear anyone speak it, reserved for dire situations, underground operations, and an easier way to speak of emotions, aka arguments. So few situations used it that L’Manbergians didn’t even know that it existed.

“How bad?” Drista stage-whispered to Ranboo.

Considering that Tubbo had been going for a good minute and a half… “He’s using Pog Latin and isn’t stopping,” was all Ranboo had to say for Drista to recoil as if struck. Dream didn’t quite get it, looking between the three teens in confusion that no one seemed ready to explain away.

Eventually, Tommy’s scolding ended as the blonde clicked out a few pitches of ‘ care-love-sorry ’ and ‘ home-food-warmth ’. “See you at home, Tubs,” he said, hanging up the phone to immediately flop onto Ranboo’s lap. “Raaaan,” he whined.

“Tooooms,” he copied, chuckling at Tommy’s pout.

“Tubs yelled at me,” Tommy lamented, his pitching of voice spelling out ‘ okay-love-safe ’ and ‘ understanding-care-okay ’.

“Bo scolded you for being dumb, as you usually are,” Ranboo teased, adding some clicks of ‘ happy-love-safe ’.

“Oh, you motherfucker, I’ll have you know I’m the smartest and biggest fucking man in this city,” Tommy said, his fire coming back as he swatted at Ranboo’s side.

“I know, I know,” the older placated, threading his hand through blonde locks to have Tommy immediately relax.

Leaning on Ranboo’s side, Drista added herself to the cuddle puddle. “Does Tubbo usually go into Pog Latin when he’s mad?” she asked, taking Ranboo’s free hand to idly mess with.

“Yep,” he said, letting her bend his fingers this way and that and inspect his claws. Meanwhile, he brushed through Tommy’s hair and scratched at the melting teen’s scalp. “Helps get the point across.”

“Tubbo? Pog Latin?” Dream said, his words quiet enough to be meant for only himself.

But Drista heard him and gladly filled her brother in, “Tubbo’s a bee hybrid who engineers stuff and will gladly kick your ass if he needs to, hero, criminal, whoever. And don’t worry about the Pog Latin.”

“Speaking of names and such,” Ranboo started, grimacing as he thought about the news report. “The news is real curious about you two, especially since our teamwork was so seamless that it’s obvious that we know each other. It’ll take a good half day to have them figure out names, probably less for Tommy. So have fun with that.”

Both of them groaned at the thought. “Oh, those fuckers’ll be even more damn curious thanks to Smiley over here,” Tommy added, gesturing over to the man who repeated the name in quiet amusement. “Both us and the Dream Team vanish immediately after we start talking to each other? They’ll sniff that out and make up some real fucked-up shit.”

“Won’t your disc negate that?” Dream asked, his brow furrowing. “I mean, it got the attention off of me removing my mask in public.”

“That’s in the moment that I negated Twitter breaking,” Tommy said, getting some snickers for it. Despite Hunter’s face being public, Twitter tended to have a heart attack and die whenever he showed it in hero work. It was frankly hilarious to watch. “But my discs have an area of effect, meaning the further we got away, the less it worked. So add in a bunch of newshounds and crazy fans reviewing the footage a dozen times and we’re fucked.”

“More like Drista and Dream are screwed over, honestly,” Ranboo said, continuing when the siblings gave him confused looks. “You two look a lot like each other. Someone’s going to make that connection, upload some kinda post with your faces side by side, and then it’ll blow up. Personally, I’d give it like two days before talking with your PR team and each other on what to do. Could just announce that you’re siblings and say the whole ‘Anybody touches Drista, they’re dead’ thing.”

Although slightly fiercer with her idle fidgeting with his hand, Drista nodded along. Meanwhile, Dream groaned a little at the prospect. “Must we talk with the Dream Team PR team? I think they’ll just push for us to say it no matter what we personally decide,” he said, frowning.

“I mean, the SBI PR team seems pretty chill. I haven’t personally had anything to discuss with them yet but they might be the better option,” Ranboo said with a shrug, the other humming in consideration.

“Well, whatever you choose, you’re welcome to come to dinner anytime,” Tommy said out of the blue, all gazes snapping to him at the offer. “With or without Drista, doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about you being a hero either, Awesamdude came over a couple weeks ago and Acheron and Tengakai come over almost every time.”

Drista’s face split into a grin, clearly giddy at the prospect. “Yeah, sure,” Dream said, his voice stunted with his surprise. Even if he didn’t realize the de facto rules of the Beloved-Underscore-Innnit household, the offer was significant enough to get a nervous smile.

“Chorus, big man,” Tommy said, standing up with little fanfare. “We better get going, I still need to cook. You chill with staying, Drista? I can blackmail Ranboo into picking you up later.”

The man in question snorted and stood beside Tommy nonetheless. “Yeah, I wanna talk to Dream more,” Drista said, grinning at her brother who eagerly grinned back. “Save some for me, firefly.”

“‘Course, spitfire,” Tommy said as one of his discs picked up the spoils from his raiding of the Dream Team’s kitchen. “Well then, singing days to you two!”

“And chorus to you two!” Drista said, waving as the two teleported back to Pogtopia.

Silence for a moment before, “So, spitfire and firefly?”

“Shut the fuck up, allium.”

“Shutting up.”

Chapter Text

“I didn’t expect you to meet the three-day mark, good work,” HBomb said as he and Foolish along with many other Vanguardians and L’Manberg architects stood in the courtyard of the Vanguard HQ. They all stood across from where Tubbo had set up his demonstration, watching patiently for the results.

Results of Tubbo’s sleepless nights and caffeine addiction but moving on.

“Well, you did contract with Bee-Ngineering,” he said, smiling his businessman smile. This was business after all, life-saving or not. “So, we’ll start with the basics, reinforcing the supports to keep them together despite the uneven weight placed upon them. Over here we have your usual old concrete pillar, something that I’ll use as a scaled-down example. An example of how my device, the Netherite Spool, will reinforce and repair these pillars.”

Then he took out his sledgehammer and crumbled part of the pillar into nothing. Ignoring their gasps and the occasional cheer, he picked up the normal-looking metal cylinder from the ground. A button on the top made the bottom sharpen into a drill, having it rest against the bottom of the pillar along with another button press made the cylinder drill itself into the pillar. One more button press and Tubbo stood back to watch the magic.

After some quiet whirring of the computer analyzing the pillar, it got to work. Metal wires of netherite snaked around the pillar, sometimes weaving in and out with the additional core of netherite digging through the middle of the pillar. It paused for a moment at the destroyed part of the pillar before continuing. Knotting into itself with some careful precision made with hours of research into the strongest way to weave something, it completely covered up the gap in seconds. It didn’t take much longer before the process was complete, giving a pillar covered from top to bottom in netherite.

“As you can see, the Spool is easy to use and even easier to see the results. Netherite wires and a netherite core have reinforced this pillar and have even repaired places where stray tools did some damage. Well, I guess you can’t see all the results right now but I can fix that.”

He did so by flying up with the sledgehammer in hand. Without mercy, he started hitting it and even going as far as to speak as he did so.

“As you can see, not a mark to be seen.” Hit. “This pillar isn’t even wobbling despite the varying places I’m putting stress on it.” Hit. “And--” Crack! “-- Well then, the hammer got ringed I guess.”

It did, the head of it falling to the side as Tubbo was left with the splintered handle.

“Quick question, HBomb.”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Where did you get this hammer and was there any previous tampering?”

“Home Depot and not to my knowledge.”

“Welp, Home Depot can’t stand up to netherite as we’ve now learned.”

Tubbo barely kept from smiling at Foolish’s snicker. Instead, he landed and leaned on the pillar to continue his sales pitch.

“Now then, some of you saw me struggling to move this pillar over here earlier and you know that there’s no cement sealing it to the ground. What kept it from wobbling during my demonstration? Why, more netherite of course! The program that I created analyzed three essential things, stability, durability, and immobility, and put resources towards ensuring each. Were there material atop the pillar, it also would’ve had netherite additions.

“This next feature is personally not something I would use that often. And, considering only a select few will gain authorization to do this, it won’t happen often. But if something goes wrong, say a villain attack over a pillar that manages to break through, multiple Spools can be deployed onto one pillar and some may have to be moved to help with that.”

He crouched down, pressing one of the buttons. Next came the whole identification process of his fingerprint on top of his voice saying his name on top of a retina scan. Finally, the Spool reversed the process and eventually deposited back into his hands.

“Now, this is behind five firewalls on top of asymmetric encryption and this ability will be given to three people in total, myself included. Therefore, no one can try to activate this forcefully without immediately getting caught by the Vanguard and the ping given by the tampered device. But, believe it or not, reversing the enforcement doesn’t endanger the stability of the pillar. A concrete mixture combined with the gathered rock that the wires had in them will return the pillar to normal, if not better.”

Reinjecting the Spool into the pillar, he let it do its job as he moved on to the next device. A slab of concrete put at the height of a coffee table stood on top of some cinder blocks. On that concrete table, an unassuming flat disk lay there with a keycard slot being the only accessible controls.

“Next up, we have the reinforcement for underneath our feet, mainly for Pogtopia and the cave systems underneath us but L’Manberg could use them too. This here device, the Netherite Carpet-- yes, it’s a bad name, all of my creativeness went into making it not the name--”

At least that got some chuckles.

“-- will do something similar to the Spool. Netherite wires which will keep it at an optimal level no matter how much weight is put on it or how many times someone gets yeeted into the ground.”

Taking out a key card, he slotted it into place. It didn’t take much more button pressing before the wires did what they were supposed to do. While it went through that, Tubbo grabbed another sledgehammer.

“To emulate said force, I have another sledgehammer from Home Depot. I’m not gonna lie, I think this one is going to break too but we’ll use it anyway.”

So he did smack the concrete a few times to have no damage come of it.

“Alright, so it can take a beating. Thing is, a lot of our surfaces are already quite broken. So, let’s see if it can do anything about that.”

He turned off the Carpet without as much fanfare as the Spool, just inserting the key card again. Then smacked the concrete twice with the sledgehammer to only have a couple of pieces of rock fall to the floor. Reactivating the Carpet, he let it have a moment as he addressed his audience again.

“Quick side note when it comes to the deactivation of the Carpet. Yes, it has just as much encryption and yes, it only takes a key card to undo it. We tend to mess with the ground below our feet, digging it out for foundations, sewage, renovations, et cetera. So, as long as someone with this key card, someone with permission to build and is therefore given the card, has it, they won’t have as much trouble and it won’t bog down the construction process.”

Jumping up on the slab of concrete, it held his weight with no holes in it. A couple more whacks of the sledgehammer sent half of it flying into the pillar where it fell rather pathetically.

“Well, that’s the answer to the durability of sledgehammers again. But, as you can see, no matter how many times the Carpet is deactivated and reactivated, the ground will hold. Hopefully, this helps the potholes from hero-villain fights.”

Foolish snorted at that, making it even harder for Tubbo to keep a straight face.

“Now then, next up we have what I was actually contracted for in the first place. I like to call this device the Rebound Rafters because alliteration is the only thing that made sense to me when I finally finished it. It also implies that multiple makes it better which is very true in this instance.”

More chuckles as Tubbo moved to the final setup. Placed several feet above most people’s heads, a bigger slab of concrete was held up by two pillars of stone. Dormant on the ground, the two domes with a flat face for the control panel sat there for the moment.

“Give me just a moment, I need to grab another sledgehammer. These Rafters are made with the intent to repair then reinforce, after all.”

Finding another sledgehammer from the small stack that he’d requested, he flew to land on top of the concrete. Whacking it hard enough to break some pieces off and to sag under his weight, he took his weight off of it before it could collapse. He didn’t feel like asking Foolish to grow and put another slab of concrete up there even if they had extras.

Picking up one Rafter in each hand, he didn’t even land as he went under the concrete slab. The two went on there easily enough, activating with a dull purple glow that held up the sagging concrete. He messed with other settings as he began to talk.

“These Rafters not only hold the material in place but they also push them back up to level with the right inputs.”

And as he drifted to fly beside the display, the concrete began moving up inch by inch.

“Afterwards, repairs via netherite wires will assure that there’s no chance for it to break apart again. This is made possible via the physics of trampolines demonstrated on plasma instead of solids. And thanks to this all being done on a plasma material, the energy that previously dragged the roof down is now being used to power the device. Something similar is done with the Carpet and Spool, using friction to keep it going. All it takes is the initial charge of a AA battery and all of these devices will go on for an eternity.

“Repairs are simple enough and even placing will be a breeze. Multiple displays will allow you to see where the stress is being put on these devices, where more are needed, et cetera. Best of all, all of these devices talk to each other so they can easily be used in tandem.”

To demonstrate that, he grabbed the other two devices and placed them where they needed to be. He did grab another Spool to help with the other pillar, soon watching in satisfaction as the devices adapted to each other.

“Now then, I’m offering a chance for you to test my devices yourself. Go at it, try to take it down, we have some spare sledgehammers if you want those. And, of course, please don’t hurt yourself.”

It took a moment before someone stepped forward. That someone was of course HBomb. The man even gave Tubbo a look to both taunt the younger and assure that this is what he wanted. The teen didn’t even flinch when the cat hybrid hefted up a sledgehammer and swung it. Three hits had the head of the hammer flying.

More and more people tried to topple it, Foolish going as far as using his powers to grow bigger and stronger, but nothing even shook it. When the people eventually grew tired, they stepped back and began a discussion with their peers. Foolish and HBomb eventually joined them, the hurried murmurs of discussion doing nothing to shake Tubbo’s nerves. He knew that he had the contract from the moment HBomb contacted him and he knew that his inventions would complete every need. Most importantly, he knew his clients and his ability to persuade.

After all, if you know your enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a thousand battles.

Ten minutes passed before the two men were approaching Tubbo. “Well done, Tubbo,” Foolish started, grinning at the teen. “Both cities have agreed to buy these wonderful inventions of yours.”

“We simply need to know the price,” HBomb finished before motioning in the direction of his office. “We can discuss it in my office.”

“No need, only three questions need to be answered,” Tubbo said, standing his ground where their conversation was audible to everyone. “Well, three on my side. One, will L’Manberg be buying the Carpet as well?”

“Yes,” Foolish said, a chuckle following. “You had us sold on the lack of potholes.”

“Fair enough,” Tubbo said, finally letting a chuckle through his businessman demeanor. “Two, will the payment be evenly split between the two cities?”

“Yes, the financials were decided the moment we contacted you,” HBomb said.

“Good, then three do either of you have a pen?” the teen said, waiting for a moment to let their confusion go past. Accepting the pen from HBomb, he walked away for a moment to retrieve his briefcase that he’d set at the side of the courtyard. Opening it, he took out a set of contracts to offer to the two when he returned. “Two million is the base price, I reserve the right to raise it if more products are sold. The two of you will sign for your cities since you are the two who contacted me. The second sheet is a copy for you guys.”

“Did you already have this prepared?” Foolish asked, squinting through his gemstone eyes as he read over the thorough contract. “What if the cities hadn’t agreed to pay equally?”

“I would’ve enforced it,” Tubbo said without hesitation, getting an eye roll from HBomb and a look from Foolish. “This is mutually beneficial, therefore it should be mutually financially costing.”

“Fair enough,” HBomb muttered, exchanging a nod with Foolish before signing in tandem with the other. “Here you go, Tubbo. The money will be deposited into your account by midnight.”

“And by midnight, I’ll have carted two crates filled with these devices straight to the HQ’s doors,” Tubbo said, holding out a hand for each to shake. “Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.”

Especially considering that neither read through the contract enough to find the fine print that definitely would’ve raised eyebrows. But one can never be too careful, especially not in the times they lived in.

Chapter Text

The moment his thoughts returned to a persistent route, Tommy groaned under his breath and scrubbed the measuring cup more harshly than necessary. There weren’t many people in the coffee shop, the only familiar face being Purpled. Someone who looked up when he overheard the other’s groan.

Dragging a chair over to the counter where he definitely wasn’t supposed to be, Purpled leaned forward and gently knocked on the countertop to gain the other’s attention. “What’s up? That’s the fifth time you’ve groaned in the last thirty minutes and I know that you don’t hate this job that much,” he said with a piercing gaze.

All Tommy could do was sigh at the other’s prying. “It’s nothing,” he tried to only get a ‘Really?’ look. “It’s just really fucking stupid shit, don’t worry about it.”

“Can’t be too stupid if it’s bothering you this much,” Purpled said, leaning back and motioning for the other to continue.

“It’s fucking stupid,” Tommy repeated, stepping away from the dishes to give Purpled his full attention. Purpled who didn’t stop staring. “Fine fine… you know the big ass commission that Tubbo just got? And the money that came from it?"

“Are you stressing about Tubbo stressing or are you stressing about what impulse buy he’s gonna do?” Purpled asked.

“Neither,” the other said with a breathless chuckle and a hand running through his hair, the answer piquing Purpled’s attention. “More of what impulse buy I wanna do. I… kinda wanna open a coffee shop.”

A few slow blinks before “What?”

Tommy ran his hand through his hair again, shaking his head. “I told you it was fucking stupid,” he said with a huff.

“It’s not stupid just surprising,” Purpled said, quick to backtrack from whatever spiral the other could throw himself into. “Why do you wanna open a coffee shop?”

Flashes of a woman long gone, laughter long since heard, and food more lavish than any five-star diner went through his head. “Pah, that’s like asking why I cook every night,” Tommy scoffed without thinking. Because his friends didn’t know why he cooked every night, they didn’t know the history behind it, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell them.

“You want to provide,” Purpled said out of the blue, his analyzing look meeting Tommy’s bewildered one. “At the base of your actions you want to provide.”

“I’ll give you base actions when I beat the shit outta you,” Tommy snarled, ignoring how his ears burned at the too true analysis. “Fuck off, man.”

Sensing a touchy subject, Purpled tactfully changed it with “Do you even know how to bake?”

“Well, I mean… I’ve never done it alone. You don’t exactly trust a six-year-old with an oven and you certainly didn’t get time to bake in Lockdown.” A lyrical voice drifted in and out of his ears, making him clutch the edge of the counter before he could feel the phantom of hands guiding his.

“Have you done it since Lockdown?” Purpled tried, a shake of the head answering him. “Dude, what the hell? Why not?”

“I just, haven’t.” Haven’t looked back on old memories where he wasn’t a shattered tapestry of what he once was. “I didn’t exactly think of baking or opening a coffee shop until we got this type of money. I mean, it’s fucking easy to get a space for less. All of the shit I can toss in there would be easy enough on my budget too.”

“You already know where you want it, don’t you?” Purpled half-teased, huffing when Tommy hesitated. “If you already know where you wanna put it and you have the money, why haven’t you done anything? It’s obvious that it’s ringing ‘round in your head, just let it sing, man.”

That got a quick veto. “No, canned, that’s Tubbo’s money to do shit with. He needs more parts for his commissions anyway. Besides, he shouldn’t waste his hard-earned cash on my bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit if you’ve seriously planned it out,” Purpled said, shaking his head at the other’s ridiculousness. “Tommy, answer me honestly. If there was no bad consequence to it and it didn’t affect Tubbo or Ranboo negatively, would you open a coffee shop?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he rethought the answer on his tongue. “No, because you and Drista aren’t included in the negative effect category. If you two were… yes, yes I would,” he said, carefully ignoring how Purpled physically paused at his words.

Any awkwardness and affection from his declaration of devotion got put on hold by Wilbur coming in like a hurricane. “Tommy, are you okay?!” he shrieked, rushing over to inspect the blonde’s injured face. “I saw the news and I--”

“I knew I forgot about something,” Tommy mumbled, keeping very still as Wilbur kept his uninjured cheek cupped in his hand.

“-- got so scared! Luckily Ranboo got to you guys but that was so fucking scary. I--”

‘I’m gonna go,’ Purpled mouthed as he stood up.

‘Traitor,’ Tommy ‘hissed’ as he got abandoned to Wilbur’s mother henning.

“-- was just laying on my couch and you were getting fucking shot at--”

“Big Dubs, I’m alright,” Tommy said, interrupting the man before he could spiral.

Instead, he just initiated extreme physical contact by bringing the teen closer and pressing their foreheads together. “I’m glad,” Wilbur mumbled, his voice sounding like a megaphone in the space he’d created. Soon enough, he realized that maybe he shouldn’t be so physically affectionate with the barista that he’d known for a month. “Ah, sorry, I’m touchy when I’m anxious,” he said, quick to distance himself.

Tommy had to mentally beat down the little voice that whined for Wilbur to come back (it didn’t work) before he could talk, “It’s, uh, alright, just more warning next time?” Why did he phrase it like a question? Why did he phrase it like a question?! “Let’s just get some coffee in you, yeah? Two black coffees like usual?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur said, only looking slightly like an excited puppy. Barely refraining from giving the brunette a look for that, he had fueled the other by being unsurely open about the physical touch after all, Tommy quickly typed out the order on the machine. “Say, Tommy? Who was that you were talking to?”

“Oh, that’s just Purpled. He’s a friend and a regular,” he said, holding out his hand for the other’s card. It only took a good fifteen seconds before he got the payment. “He comes around a lot, annoys the shit outta me outside of work hours too. If you want, we can hang out sometime, I can blackmail Ranboo into dropping me off at the Tower.”

Somehow, the brunette managed to look even more like a child on Christmas morning. “Uh, yeah! That’d be fun!” Wilbur agreed immediately, flushing a little when he realized how loud his excitement got. “Um, would tomorrow work?”

“I’m not doing anything, I can just call in sick or some shit anyway,” Tommy said, smiling at the skittish brunette. “I’ll probably come in when Ranboo comes in if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” Wilbur said, grinning and slowly backing away. “Um, see you then?”

“After you get your coffee, yeah,” the teen said, snickering a little when Wilbur flushed more at the reminder that he still hadn’t even gotten his coffee. After a little more teasing, Tommy left the brunette be. He did wave back when the other waved during his departure.

When he got back home, it should’ve been a normal day to simply collapse on his bed until dinner prep. It would’ve if Purpled wasn’t sitting by the counter with a grocery bag in front of him.

Upon coming in, Tommy didn’t even get a greeting before Purpled poured out the contents. The sight of baking supplies only gave him a little existential dread, just a bit. “What the fuck’s this?” he said, frowning as he started to figure it out.

“Supplies for the pastries you’re about to make,” Purpled stated, leaving no room for argument.

Tommy still tried. “Purpled, I can’t just…”

“You won’t but I’ll make you,” he said, getting up and walking over to grab Tommy’s hand. “C’mon, it’s not gonna kill you to try.”

As Tommy was led over to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but sigh. “You’re not gonna let me fucking go until I do this shit, are you?” he said, a nod answering him. “Oh, ring yourself to the can, big man.”

“Just get started, I declare the title of taste tester,” Purpled declared, sitting at the dining table and leaning back in his chair. “Well? Let’s go.”

With an extra “Fuck you,” for emphasis, Tommy sighed and turned back to the supplies given. A couple of rolls of sugar cookie dough, a packet of blueberries, two cans of frosting, a bag of flour, and a bag of sugar all sat there. An old recipe popped into his head, making him sigh again before starting.

It was muscle memory to get out the muffin tin and spray it down with cooking oil. Ripping open the packages of dough, he barely remembered to wipe down the counter and put flour on it before putting down the down. Rolling it out and very carefully ignoring the phantoms of laughter in his ears and hands guiding his, he laid it out over the muffin tin. Each slot got a covering of dough, each shell poked with a fork before the tin was set aside. Quickly preheating the oven to a number he knew by heart, he turned back to the other part of the desert.

First, he got out the extra supplies of milk, eggs, and a vial of powdered moss. Then he got out two extra bowls and set them down on the counter. One bowl got the beginnings of a custard filling, all of the previous supplies plus some sugar tossed in and stirred.

Leaving that aside for now, he moved to the next bowl. Popping a couple of blueberries in his mouth, he cringed at the contrast of ripeness and sweetness. Before he could mentally complain too much, the oven screamed with the notification of the preheating being done. Tossing the tin into the oven, he shut it and moved on to the jam.

Crushing the berries into the bowl with one hand, he managed to grab the pan needed and set it down. Sugar went into the bowl as the burner turned on. Soon enough, the fruit sugar mixture went into the pan with the addition of some lemon juice.

Left alone for a moment, he moved on to the final piece. A rather large mushroom came out of the pantry, light red with orange dots and a white stalk. Cutting it up and keeping a careful eye on the jam, he left the stalk to the side for later and kept the red/orange pieces for a covering.

Jam simmered and boiled while the oven hummed along. By the time he felt okay with the jam’s consistency and could set it to chill, the appliance was screaming again. The tin got pulled out with bare hands, callouses and scars keeping Tommy from feeling any pain. A cooking sheet usually reserved for pizza got pulled out, the shells placed on there once they were shimmied out of the tin.

Idle clean up let the jam chill and the pastry cool off. Soon enough, the custard filling got spooned into the shells to fill the first half of them. Jam got pulled out to fill up the rest, little slices of mushroom settling on top. Picking up the sheet and practically slamming it down in front of Purpled, he gave the other teen a look before moving to clean up some more. He didn’t need to taste test it, it already coated the back of his throat.

The mushroom was tangy, the blueberry/lemon jam sour, and the filling sweet, creating a combination that spelled of a home long gone.

“Holy shit,” was what Purpled reacted with, his eyes wide and his jaw dropping. A tart rested half-eaten in his hand, the jam spilling from being too hot despite chilling for a little while. “What the fuck? That’s good!”

“Can it,” Tommy snarked, scowling at the persistent teen. “You wanted it, now eat it in silence before I cut out your ringing tongue so you can’t enjoy fucking collapsing me or that damned pastry.”

Before Purpled could summon an equally scathing statement, Tubbo walked in and immediately bee-lined for the food. “Thank Prime, I could eat a cow,” he said, popping a tart in his mouth before either blonde could speak. Then his jaw dropped and he double-taked. “What the fuck? Since when could you bake? And bake good, my Prime!”

“I don’t,” Tommy grumbled, ignoring the fact that he was cleaning up from said baking.

Focusing on Tubbo, Purpled left it at a glare towards the other before getting revenge in another method. “Actually, this is perfect timing. Tubbo, do you think these could be sold at, say, a coffee shop?” he asked despite Tommy’s glare.

“Big man, Imma eat these before they reach the shelves,” Tubbo said, picking up another to go with his affirmative. Tommy’s ears did not burn, they did not . “Why? What’s up?”

“Well, Tommy here wants to open up a coffee shop,” Purpled said with absolutely no tact and no glance towards the blonde in question.

“Oh, fuck you,” Tommy spat, flinging a blueberry at the other’s head who took the projectile and ate it. “Why not just announce it to the world, huh, dickhead? Real singing of you, bitch.”

“Wait wait, you wanna open a coffee shop?” Tubbo said, his brow furrowing as the blonde shrunk in on himself a little. “Since when? I’ve never heard of this.”

Tommy couldn’t help his self-deprecating snort. “Well, not like there’s much use for a decade-old bullshit dream that I haven’t thought about in fucking forever. Never came up, anyway.”

“Decade? You wanted to do this before Lockdown?” Tubbo asked, frowning a little when Tommy nodded. “Big man, Tommy, Toms, fucking do it.”

He didn’t hear that right. “Huh?”

“Fuck the Lockdown, fuck whatever self-doubt it gave you, and fuck not wanting to pursue this. You motivated me to pursue my engineering dream when I thought it was bullshit, now I’ll do the same for you. You know what? I’ll even give you half of the money from my latest commission so you can do this shit.”

He definitely didn’t hear that right. “T-Tubbo, Tubs, you can’t just fucking--”

“Too late, transferring it to your personal account tonight, you can’t stop me!”

Purpled laughed at Tommy’s sputtering attempts of denial while Tubbo just stood his ground with a cheeky grin.

Prime, Tommy loved his friends.

Chapter Text

The lounge of the superheroes was weird .

Several objects had already been used as projectiles and nobody even flinched. According to Phil who chuckled throughout his explanation, the lounge was used as a place to both get out energy and to relax before important meetings. With the meeting about Crimson about to come up, the heroes seemed almost frantic.

“It’s affecting both cities and there’s too many reports of something relating to the Crimson for it to be a minor incident. Last major incident we had on this scale was Pogtopia,” Techno explained when another mug, newly emptied of coffee, got chucked and caught. Then he took another glance around and paused when he spotted who Wilbur was talking with. “Why is Ace still looking through files? His case doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“I can go talk to him, I’m not really up for chilling around either,” Ranboo said, leaving when Techno gave a hesitant nod. Before the whole hostage incident, he probably would’ve left either way but he was trying to follow Techno’s orders a little more. Even if that sometimes got him weird looks.

Wilbur noticed first, looking up from where he had been studying the files with Ace, Kaleidoscope, and Volley. “Oh, hey, Ranboo, what’s up?” he asked with a tilt of the head.

Ranboo kept the conversation going despite wanting to die a little at the attention given to him by all four heroes, “Hey, I was just curious about where you disappeared off to. And Techno mentioned Ace’s case so I got a little more curious.”

In response, Ace groaned and slammed his head on the table. Volley and Kaleidoscope pat the man on the shoulders in comfort. “This case is gonna kill me,” Ace whined without lifting his head.

“It can’t be that bad, Quackity,” Wilbur tried to only get a glare.

“This man is a fucking ghost! All of his loose ends are tied up, his associates have gags in their mouths, and I can’t get any good shit on him!” Quackity said, slamming his hand on the stack of papers with each complaint.

“What are you trying to get him with?” Ranboo asked, sitting down on a vacant chair.

Volley gave him a scrutinizing look while Kaleidoscope tilted his head curiously. Quackity was too furious to question the new guy. “Martin Somers, owner of a large part of the port. So he’s doing smuggling of all kinds, allowing trafficking of all kinds, evades some taxes, and even pays off the police,” he explained with a scowl.

The last one got Ranboo to straighten up and narrow his eyes, Wilbur wisely leaning away from his sudden intensity. “That so?” Ranboo asked, his tone so even and cold that the other three also looked at him. “You know what, if you’re open to working with another lawyer I have someone on hand.”

“You have someone who would drop everything to deal with a case out of the blue?” Volley asked, his suspicion clear as day.

“Well, we’re both Pogtopians and we don’t deal too well with bribery,” the teen said, getting everyone else to tense. But Ranboo just focused on Quackity. “If you want, I can get him on a call right now, speaker and everything.”

The ravenette hesitated, a look at a nodding Kaleidoscope getting him to nod too. “You better be right about this, Karl,” he murmured to only the brunette, Ranboo barely keeping his ears from twitching at what he heard. “Alright, get him on the line.”

“Got it,” Ranboo said, taking out his phone and calling someone under the contact name Bo. “Mr. Underscore.”

Instantly, Tubbo’s tone changed to fit the mood that Ranboo set. “Mr. Beloved, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m on speaker with Ace here,” he said, ignoring the looks that he got for deliberately saying the hero’s name. “And he would like some help on getting someone behind bars.”

Subtle as it was, Tubbo’s tone changed again as he went into Big Law mode. Ace was a lawyer himself, after all. “Oh? Any chance I could get a name? A list of the crimes too, of course.”

“Martin Somers, smuggler, trafficker, tax evader, and briber of the boys in blue,” Ranboo said. “He owns a large part of the port and has plenty of associates, see if you can look into either.”

Tubbo’s dark chuckle got the heroes to glance at each other in worry. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll deal with him. Three days and he’ll be behind bars, guaranteed.”

“I don’t expect anything less from Tubbo Underscore,” he said, the name gaining wide-eyed looks from Quackity and Wilbur for very different reasons. “See you when I see you, Mr. Underscore. Singing days to you.”

Keeping true to the part, Tubbo said, “See you then, Mr. Beloved, and chorus to you,” before hanging up.

It took a solid five seconds before Quackity managed to speak, “Tubbo Underscore? You know Tubbo Underscore? Put dozens of bribed cops into prison Tubbo Underscore?”

“Yep,” Ranboo said, his smile just barely straying away from being proud. Tubbo Underscore was a big name in the legal world, especially after the dozens of prosecutions he set up and took care of. Tubbo, his Tubbo, was all anyone could talk about for weeks and the name still caught plenty of attention. “And he’ll be putting Somers into prison in three days' time. Don’t worry too much about the case, it’ll be taken care of quickly.”

All of them scrambled for an answer but the call of “Meeting’s starting!” from Acheron, aka Jack, paused them. Without much more fanfare, everyone began funneling into the hall that led to the meeting room. Said room didn’t have much, just a large cylinder table with dozens of chairs, windows making up two of the walls, and a projector on the ceiling.

Slowly, heroes filtered into place. All of the top 10 were there, excluding #1 who had been missing from the scene for a while. Other heroes that Ranboo didn’t know found their seats beside the known ones, eventually leaving all of the chairs filled.

Standing up from his seat, Phil instantly garnered everyone’s attention. “Hello, everyone, I hope that you’ve had a good day so far,” he said, smiling at everyone with a fatherly aura. “To cut to the chase, we’re discussing the increase in criminal activity, the similarities between these new criminals, and a new drug that has hit the street.”

The projector turned on, showing a mugshot of Jeffery that made Ranboo’s heart twinge. “The most notable of these incidents is of course the bombing incident right here in the Tower. This is one of the first reports of these criminals, clearly coming in with a bang. The feature that this new surge of criminals and villains all have in common is crimson-colored eyes.”

… But Jeffery’s eyes weren’t constantly crimson…

“There’s no obvious pattern to these new criminals, never attacking the same area or even in the same class range. Most that we can see is there’s minimal activity of them in Pogtopia, although there’s some reports of assault. Recently, these attacks have had a new factor.”

A picture of the syringe of Crimson came up next. “This new drug, Crimson, seems to be a booster of sorts. Used when the criminals are in dire straits. But this isn’t the safest booster.” Next, the brief video of the wolf hybrid’s transformation came onto the screen.

Several people gagged or gasped at the sight. “Dangerous, extreme, and overall a hazard. From what we’ve seen, these effects are permanent. This criminal has not returned to their old form after a week of injection. Along with the transformation, those injected show increased aggression and cognition loss.

“Thanks to the efforts of Shadow a couple days ago, we were able to analyze this Crimson.” Any looks that he gained were ignored with a faux calm. “From what the lab was able to cook up, this booster is made entirely from plants. Most boosters have some type of chemical in them or biological material from an animal, this is an exception. Although from different types, this is made entirely from plants that have so far been undocumented.”

Volley spoke up, his frown mirrored on several other heroes, “So you’re telling us that this dangerous as hell booster is made from non-existent plants that shouldn’t even technically act as a booster? What is that supposed to help with? Finding a random place in some guy’s basement where he’s cooking up alien plants and volatile boosters?”

“I’m just telling you what the lab read-out said,” Phil said, doing little to placate the unease of the heroes. “Already, there are reports of trafficking this drug. So far, it’s stayed within the two cities but there’s always a chance that it goes beyond. We’re a port city, it’s easy enough to smuggle this outside of our limits and into a place that doesn’t know the dangers.

“So, what I’m asking for is ideas. What could be the source? How do we limit distribution? What do we do to slow the sudden increase of criminals, especially those with crimson eyes? Any ideas?”

“I might have a clue on the source,” Ranboo said, all eyes snapping to him. He limited his discomfort to a flick of his ears and focused on what HBomb had mentioned during dinner last night. “There’s been rumors going around Pogtopia about these red vines, some people are starting to call them Blood Vines. If you go deep enough into the tunnels, you’ll find these Blood Vines crawling up the walls. Once you do, either walk away or get brainwashed by their whispers. It starts with being sympathetic towards the vines, not wanting to hurt them and whatever, then you start getting aggressive towards those who would hurt them.

“Cutting the vines only makes whatever hive-mind they’re connected to mad. More outrageous rumors talk about an ‘Egg’ and how it’s coming to conquer the cities. If you want to believe those types of rumors then the surge of crimson-eyed criminals is their frontier, sowing seeds of chaos and disorder before the Egg comes in with the big guns. Then again, this is all based on rumors.”

“Where did you hear these rumors?” some guy who was at least 9 foot, had demon horns and slit glowing white eyes, asked.

Did their eyes flash red or was Ranboo being paranoid? “I mean, I live in Pogtopia so mostly around. I got a pretty good summary of them from a Vanguardian last night.”

“Is the Vanguard doing anything against them?” Sam asked, his demeanor twenty times more intimidating and serious when he was in hero mode. “If they know so much, surely they’re trying something.”

“Once again, this is all rumors. Anywhere that has these vines is currently quarantined and there’s more monitoring on who comes in and out but that’s all they can do. Several of those who have charges of assault aren’t allowed back into Pogtopia but I don’t know how effective that is to slowing the spread or lowering crime levels.”

“Could we put the whole of Pogtopia under some type of lockdown?” the demon-looking guy suggested to instantly join the collective wince. “Okay, maybe not actually.”

“Yeah, no, Pogtopians wouldn’t tolerate that for a second,” Techno said, pausing the glare of daggers that Ranboo was throwing at the other hero. “Would checking people coming in and out for crimson eyes cause much backlash?”

Oh, he was asking Ranboo for input. “You can suggest it to the Vanguard, they could implement it by the end of the week. It would cause some unrest and annoyance but that’s not the end of the world. The Vanguard is transparent with Pogtopian citizens so they would see the reason, even if they didn’t all like it. Basically, suggest it to the Vanguard and give them some good reasons to implement it.”

“When it comes to investigating the distribution of Crimson, we’ll try going through the usual circles,” Ace said, getting nods from the other heroes. “Since the effects aren’t broadcasted yet, we’ll try all classes. Rich guys tend to keep their hands off the dangerous stuff to save their own necks.”

“Increase patrols to help with the crime rates. Don’t use the usual routes either, we want to throw them off their game. The less chaos these Egg-obsessed criminals can do, the better,” Ignition spoke up next, getting more nods from the heroes.

Sentinel spoke up last, “And we’ll notify the Vanguard of any changes. This is affecting both cities after all. I believe that’s all unless anyone wants to add anything?” Glances around the room as they were left in momentary silence. “Alright then, meeting adjourned. Get patrolling.”

Conversation picked up instantly, even as people started leaving the room. Ranboo stayed as a silent shadow beside Techno as the man left. Overall, Ranboo would call his first hero meeting a success.

(Even if he could feel eyes burning into his back the whole way out of the meeting room and the lounge.)

Chapter Text

“Mr. Underscore! Mr. Underscore! A comment on your win against Martin Somers!”

“Mr. Underscore! Are you back on the legal scene?!”

“Mr. Underscore! Are you and Ace teaming up in the future?!”

“Mr. Underscore! What’s your relation with the pro hero Ace?!”

Keeping his head held high, Tubbo kept walking forward. Ace, aka Quackity, kept close on his tail, almost diving in after him when they reached the car. Closing the door, the pro hero bathed the two in blissful silence.

With a quiet chuckle, HBomb broke said silence with a teasing “How’s the media?”

The car’s engine quietly rumbled in time with Tubbo’s tired buzz and annoyed groan. “I forgot how much a ringing pain in the ass they are. Like Prime, can it!” he complained, not the least bit sad when the crowd of reporters got left behind by HBomb’s driving.

“Trust me, they don’t stop,” Quackity said, snorting as he thought about his own experiences. “Hero work is such a nightmare sometimes.”

“Least you get the big old fancy singing Tower,” Tubbo joked, loosening his tie so he could breathe . “Speaking of, set a course for the Tower, H. I’ll pester Ranboo into giving me a ride back home.”

“Got it, bossman,” HBomb said, smiling in the rearview mirror at the younger’s snort.

“How do you and Ranboo know each other anyway? There’s no way you know him from hero work, he’s too new on the scene,” Quackity asked, his working eye glistening with curiosity.

“Well, we’re roommates--”

To which HBomb said an “Oh my god, they were roommates” that earned him a kick to the back of the chair.

“-- and platonic husbands so we’ve known each other for about three years now, met after Lockdown.”

“Oh,” Quackity said, aptly losing his words for a moment. “I… didn’t expect that to be honest but I’m happy for you two.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Tubbo said, chuckling at the other’s awkwardness. “We’re polar opposites personality-wise so it makes sense why it’s unexpected.”

Without hesitation, HBomb quipped “Both of you are chaotic little shits” before pulling the car beside the sidewalk and to a stop. “Here’s your destination, good sirs. And Tubbo, don’t blow anything up unsupervised.”

“So I can blackmail Sam into letting me blow something up?”

“Get the fuck out of my car, you ringing rat.”

Both of them were laughing, Quackity chuckling in the background. Leaving with the Pogtopians exchanging the usual farewell, Tubbo and Quackity walked into the Tower. Comfortable silence fell between the two, walking side by side to the elevators. The receptionist didn’t stop them, spotting the hero between the two and already dealing with someone else at the desk.

Before they could leave, a shout of “Hold the doors, please!” made it to them. Quackity, being the courteous guy he was, held the doors before they could close. When Tubbo saw who it was, he wished Quackity was an asshole.

Right there was Jordan Maron, joined by a cameraman, and the sight of him made Tubbo want to flee to Pogtopia and never return. The usual dread of seeing a reporter barely made a dent into the pure unadulterated terror and unease sinking into his bones. Prime, the bee hybrid wanted to cover himself in armor plates and never come out.

“Thank you,” Jordan said, sighing in relief as he stepped into the elevator, the cameraman close behind. Once he saw who else was in the elevator, he made a double-take. “Oh, Ace and Tubbo Underscore, quite the sight! Don’t worry about having to make comments or anything, I’m sure you’ve had enough of the media today.”

By Savior Clara herself, why did the man have to be as kind as Tubbo remembered him?

“Thank you, honestly that’s a surprising courtesy,” Quackity said, picking up the conversation as Tubbo worked to untangle his tongue. “The media tends to be vicious.”

“True true,” Jordan said, chuckling at the fact. “We’re just doing our jobs, I’m sorry that they frequently interfere with yours.”

Tubbo was going to throw himself into the vents at this rate, hopefully suffocate in the process. “Thank you for the apology, that’s very kind of you,” he said, smiling as he slipped into the persona of the Tubbo Underscore instead of the Tubbo who was screaming into the void. “I can understand the pressure of a quota.”

Jordan smiled back, not at all helping Tubbo’s turmoil. “Pressure indeed,” he mumbled dejectedly, sighing before he moved back into chipper charisma. “So, would that by chance motivate you to give me a comment of your own violation?”

In sync, the two chuckled before stating “Not on your life.” Understanding that, the reporter chuckled along.

Prime smiled upon him for a moment, letting the doors open to the floor that the report was meant to be on. “Well, off I go, it was nice meeting you two,” he said, waving as he left.

The two of them waved back before the doors closed and Tubbo finally felt like he could breathe. “So, did you know him?” Quackity said, ever the observant one. “You seemed pretty out of it when he first came in.”

“Just looks like someone I used to know,” Tubbo said, leaving it at that. Nodding along, Quackity luckily didn’t push.

Thank Prime for small blessings, he couldn’t explain how seeing his biological dad for the first time since Lockdown made him want to spontaneously combust and die. He should be happy that he saw the man, right?

… Right?

Elevator doors opened before he could spiral too far down that path. “Well, I’ll see you around, Ace. Definitely call me up if you see another case like that,” Tubbo said, nodding towards the man as he stepped out. “Singing days to you.”

He nodded back, smiling in a way that pulled at the scar over his eye. Somehow, it didn’t feel off or uncomfortable. “Will do, I hope you do the same. And, uh, chorus to you?” Although the last part was hesitant, it made Tubbo grin in a way that Quackity returned before the doors closed.

“So…” Sam started, making Tubbo turn around and face the man who had turned away from his project. “Were you ever going to tell me that you’re a lawyer?”

“If it came up,” Tubbo said, shrugging. Stepping further into the familiar lab, he looked over what Sam was working on. “Medical equipment? I’m not gonna be too much help on this one, boss man.”

“And why would it come up?” Sam asked, turning back to fiddle with something. “Don’t worry about it, I’m mostly just messing with it since a friend asked.”

“If you ever went into a situation, with say the hero committee or some xenophobic motherfucker, I could pull some shit to get you out of it. Very few wish to mess with ‘the Tubbo Underscore’, after all,” Tubbo said, adding motioned quotation marks for fun. “Is it a friend I know? I don’t think Sentinel would have you mess with medical equipment.”

“And why would I have to worry about the hero committee?” Sam asked, frowning slightly at something that sparked up. “And you don’t know them, his name is Ponk and he’s, uh…”

“Why would I, a Pogtopian, ever trust a body of power? And they’re harsher towards hostile mob hybrids anyway,” Tubbo said before giving Sam a shit-eating grin. “Is Ponk that ‘someone’ who you would do anything for?”

“Fair and fair. Xenophobic is a very apt word, I guess,” Sam said, clearing his throat to try and clear his blush. “And maybe.”

“Don’t worry about power abuse, the Icarus Initiative is something I studied very closely, I can call out the committee in seconds if they try something,” Tubbo said, still grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “And aw, Sam, don’t be too embarrassed, I’m sure he’d love to hear your devotion.”

“Thank you and shut up,” Sam retorted, getting the other to cackle maniacally.

And in a moment of perfect timing, the elevator doors opened to show a man wearing a colorful ski mask and a doctor’s uniform. “Hey, Sammy Wammy,” he said, getting Tubbo to cackle louder as Sam swatted him. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope, Tubbo was just about to shut the hell up,” Sam hissed, legit hissed, as he swatted at the bee hybrid again. That didn’t help.

Instead, the doctor looked elated. “Oh, this is the famous Tubbo who’s been stressing out my Sammy all day and night?” he said, practically bounding over to give the younger a handshake. “Nice to meet you, I’m Ponk, Sam’s boyfriend. I love your chaotic antics.”

Tubbo accepted the handshake in seconds, grinning as he sealed a blushing creeper hybrid’s doom. “Well then, Ponk, I think we’ll get along great,” he said, chuckling with the man as Sam quietly groaned in the background.

Oh, this was going to be hilarious.

Chapter Text

Tommy couldn’t help how nervous his grin was. Walking into the Tower felt like a dream, much less going into it just to hang out with a friend. Ranboo and Drista stood by his side, lessening some of his nerves as they went to the elevator.

“You two have fun,” Drista said, smiling under her mask as the elevator slowed. “Don’t cause too much chaos.”

All Ranboo could do was snort, all of them knew the amount of stress that he caused the heroes on the daily. “Well, I fucking never,” Tommy said, scoffing as Drista snickered. “Don’t explode anything with Snapmap.”

“I dunno, sounds pretty singing,” she said, humming as she considered it.

Whacking the woman over the head, he escaped out of the elevator doors before she could retaliate. “Well, don’t drag me into it,” Tommy said with another scoff.

Stepping out, Ranboo chuckled at their antics. “Well, see you when we’re done, Drista. Singing days to you,” he said, waving as the other blonde joined in the background.

“Chorus to you!” made it out of the elevator before the doors closed.

The two teens walked into the living room soon after, two heroes in uniform waiting for them while the last one ‘relaxingly lounged’ on the couch. “See you after patrol, my allium,” Ranboo said, bending down to press his forehead against the other’s. Then he left, taking Phil and Techno with him.

Without any prompting, Tommy stepped around the couch’s back and flopped directly on top of Wilbur. “Hey, Will,” he said, grinning at the other’s sputtering. “Missed me?”

“Oh you absolute gremlin,” Wilbur ‘growled’, shoving Tommy off as the blonde yelped. “This means war.”

So the two of them spent the first twenty minutes together play-wrestling in the living room. No clear winner emerged, the two still grinning and laughing at the end. Eventually, they migrated to the brunette’s room.

A mess and a half, Tommy quickly claimed a spot to sit down on the other’s bed. Some clothes littered the ground, sheets of paper doing the same. On the blue walls, almost every inch was covered by posters from obscure bands, only the window safe from the onslaught. Wilbur soon joined him, looking rightfully sheepish at the bomb site that made his room.

“Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to clean up before you came,” he said, chuckling at his sloppiness.

“No problem, big man, it’s your room and shit,” Tommy said, quick to wave the other off. “At least you aren’t sharing one room with a bunch of teenage boys, now that’s a mess.”

“Do you, Tubbo, and Ranboo all share a room?” Wilbur asked, tilting his head like a curious dog.

“We do, only Tubbo’s stress cleans keep us from living too shittily,” Tommy said, chuckling at the thought. One massive mattress on the ground made up their bed, a couple of dressers keeping their clothes separate. Other than that, they had nothing to clean up even if Tubbo tried every once in a while. Distracting himself from that, he picked up one of the pieces of paper on the floor. “What are these, fucking poems?”

Wilbur snatched the paper out of his hands before he could read too much of it. “It’s nothing,” Wilbur said, his voice high-pitched in a lying lilt.

“Woah, alright, big man, I won’t mess with your shit,” Tommy said, holding his hands up in surrender. His hands only shook lightly at the sudden and aggressive moves of the older man.

It took a tense moment of silence before the brunette relaxed. “I… sorry,” he sighed out. “I just haven’t had anyone look at these before, other than Techno and Phil that is. And they’re not poems.”

The dots connected at a lightning pace. “Songs? You a musician or something? That’s singing, Big Dubs,” Tommy said, smiling at the sheepish brunette.

“I’m not, I just write songs,” Wilbur tried, a disbelieving look meeting him.

“Can the negativity, big man. Y’know what, if you’re up for it, I’d definitely want to hear your shit. I favor your music already,” the teen said, his happy tone hitching when Wilbur looked at him in even more disbelief. “You don’t have to or anything.”

“I, I think I’m up for it,” he said, standing up to grab his guitar that hid away in the corner. “Um, I call this ‘Since I Saw Vienna’.

“ The cute bomber jacket you’ve had since sixth form… ”

Tommy listened attentively to every lyric, grinning at the wonderful music.

When it finished, his pure excitement and enjoyment translated to a shouted “That’s so fucking pog!”

Chuckling at the teen’s antics, Wilbur let the guitar sit in his lap. “Thank you thank you, you’re too kind,” he said, taking as dramatic a bow as his seated position would let him.

“I’m serious, Wil, you could go on stage with that type of stuff! It’s literally singing!” Tommy said, grinning at the other who quickly flushed at such high praise.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Wilbur said, waving off the teen’s excitement. “It would be great but with hero work and everything that’s happening…”

“Oh, fuck hero work,” scoffed the teen without hesitation, getting an aborted snort from the hero. “If you want to do some shit, do it. Veni vidi vici, carpe fucking diem, and whatever other shit you can think of. Phil and Techno would support you all the way, Ranboo would, I would, I’m fucking sure I can convince Drista and therefore the Dream Team to, Fundy, Jack, you name ‘em. All you have to do is say, ‘Alright, time to be a musician!’”

“Toms…”

“Don’t ‘Toms’ me! I’m serious! Just get your PR person, Kristin whoever, to say yes then fucking go!” the teen insisted, too hyper to calm down at this point.

“Fine, fine, I’ll think about it,” Wilbur said, trying to placate the other.

An opportunity, no matter how ridiculous, was given by Tommy holding up his pinky finger. “Promise me.”

“Wha--?”

“Not fucking taking a no for an answer, Big Dubs.”

“Alright,” he said, sighing and submitting to the younger’s wishes. “I’ll talk with Kristin, Phil, and Techno about me going through with my dream of becoming a musician, promise.” Pumping his fist in victory, Tommy left the two of them in silence for a moment before the older’s curiosity shined through. “Tommy?”

“Mm?”

“Do you have some type of dream? Like if you weren’t a barista and could do anything? I think I’d be a musician if I wasn’t a hero,” Wilbur asked, tilting his head at the teen.

Tommy snorted at that, flopping back on the bed with a sigh. “It’s kinda fucking stupid,” he said, huffing as it came up again.

“I doubt it,” the other said, humming as he also leaned back to lay down.

“Alright, I want to own a coffee shop,” Tommy said, huffing as Wilbur hummed a note of confusion. “It’s weird, I know. I want to go from being a barista to owning a fucking coffee shop.”

“Not that weird,” he said, shrugging as he thought about it. “Just means that you like making coffee, giving it to people, and you want to do it your way. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I guess.”

They lapsed into another silence, comfortable from where they laid.

“Say, Tommy?”

“Yeah, big man?”

“You wanna stay over for dinner?”

That threw him off guard, obvious by the startled “Huh?” that escaped Tommy.

“Phil mentioned being happy to accommodate you and Ranboo if you want to stay that long,” Wilbur said, his nervousness clear in his voice. “It’s sudden but I’d like you to stay, if it isn’t too much trouble, of course.”

Sadly, Tommy had to crush the man’s hopes. “Sorry, Big Dubs, no can do. I cook dinner so I can’t really stay up here.”

“Oh,” and if that didn’t make Tommy want to stay, he didn’t know what would. “Cook dinner? As in you do every night? Why?”

That seemed to be the million-dollar question lately, why did he cook? Why did he want to open a coffee shop? Maybe he could say something this once…

“It’s kinda a long story if you’re up to listening to my shit,” Tommy said, an affirmative hum both soothing and fraying his nerves. Instead of trying to look at where Wilbur shifted to get a better look at him, he stared holes into the ceiling. “Well, before the Lockdown, my mother started up a little tradition. Every night, she would cook a community dinner of sorts. Open to anyone and everyone, even if sometimes only my family attended. She cooked it all and I eventually joined her, helping where I could.

“When Lockdown started and everything went to shit, I kept the tradition going. Through the fucking famine, I kept it going. Stopping now, after doing it for almost all of my life, just feels like fucking giving up, letting that damn Ram win.”

A soft sigh steeled him for looking at Wilbur. The man didn’t look pitying or disgusted, only understanding and sorrow on his face. “I can definitely get that,” he said, smiling at the uneasy teen. Even if he didn’t get it, didn’t get spiting the man who killed him and sent entire cities into grieving.  But at least Wilbur was trying and all the teen could do was smile back. “Hey, you wanna spar?”

“What?” spouted from his mouth before Tommy could control it.

“Spar. Ranboo was pretty good without any formal training, I’m sure you are too. So? Wanna beat the shit out of each other to control our anger a little?” Wilbur asked, his smile turning to a feral grin. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Tommy’s mouth twisted to match such ferocity. “Oh, you’re fucking on, bitch.”

And that’s how the three heroes on patrol came back to Tommy pinning Wilbur to the ground. Ranboo simply snickered, Techno and Phil lost for words as Wilbur struggled. Eventually, Ranboo dragged Tommy off of his opponent and teleported away before the feral teen could go after another hero.

And that’s how Drista ended up howling in laughter at Tommy and Ranboo rolling around on the ground in a fight, the Dream Team watching on in confusion.

What a wonderful way to cause chaos.

Chapter Text

Looking around the room again, Ranboo refrained his frown at the lack of action. Honestly, if they were going to pull a grand total of seven heroes into an undercover mission, a good chunk of them high ranking, then at least the committee could pick something entertaining. Instead, they were waiting around the lobby of the L’Manberg Conservatory about to host a ballet, Swan Lake, and trying to look for anything crime-like in the fancily decorated multi-story room.

Everyone had a floor, Acheron and Tengakai on the third, Shadow and Ignition on the second, Volley and Hunter on the ground, and Blood Boar wandered between the three. And ‘crime-like’ wasn’t a good description, more like they were looking for an assassin of some sort with crimson eyes who could be going after a number of the high-profile guests coming this evening. So much better.

Ranboo had a much more focused objective. After the court case, Tubbo had no qualms of showing him a list of Somers’ associates. Tie that in with the fact that they were given an entire repertoire of tonight's guests, staff, and dancers, and the young hero had found a few overlaps. So now Ranboo was also looking for a deal of Crimson that he had no qualms of crashing the entire night to stop.

Although he’d done the nice thing and warned Techno that he was going to go off the rails.

“Forewarning, I don’t tonight will be a ‘by the books’ night,” Ranboo commented as the three of them stepped out of their changing rooms on the SBI floor.

Wilbur had the lack of experience to merely snort while Techno deadpanned at him, “Really?”

“Really.”

A sigh but no reprimand, practically a go-ahead.

Now, all Ranboo had to do was find a good reason to go off the rails. Considering that Wilbur seemed skittish about being near him, maybe there was something there he could use. Eventually the idle chat they were having went to Tommy.

“Yeah, he mentioned the whole blackmailing you into bringing him along so we could hang out,” Wilbur said, chuckling as a nervous look crossed his face. Ah, so the man was nervous about getting discontent from Tommy’s friends. “Thanks for that.”

“It’s no problem, I was just bringing two people to work instead of one,” he said, careful to keep the word ‘Tower’ out of the conversation. A glance around revealed no one on their level, most still trying to get drinks at the bar on the ground level. His fancy glass of sparkling grape juice swirled around in his hands. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, by the way.”

“Oh?” Wilbur said, his nervous chuckle growing louder as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

A reason to go off the rails and talk to the man becoming friends with his allium all in one go, how wonderful.

“Now then, I try not to interfere with Tubbo and Tommy’s relationships but there’s something that I don’t quite get,” Ranboo said, scrutinizing the man who shrank away from his gaze. “He has called you on a number of occasions the best damn L’Manbergian he’s ever met. Even after meeting Sam and Dream, two very nice men who are open to our customs, he still places you at the top. He said it’s because you learn from your mistakes and you’re open to trying.”

Wilbur looked close to melting but held himself rigidly under inspection. “I can definitely respect that, I’ve done that quite a few times. As such, he’s compared me and you quite a few times. A compliment, honestly, with how charismatic and charming you can be.

“But I believe there’s a clear difference between you and me, between a L’Manbergian and a Pogtopian,” he said, pointing at them in turn. “I could give you every descriptor of L’Manbergians in the book but I know not what all is true. I’m not L’Manbergian after all. So I’ll give you a descriptor of Pogtopians where I think we differ.

“We are taught, we have learned how to sacrifice ourselves.” He started strong, making Wilbur give a half aborted wince before the man froze up again. “To give up every piece of ourselves and hope that someone can recognize the patchwork at the end. We were taught that our bodies are not our own, another’s to be used, and we taught ourselves that we are a catalyst to something greater.

“We are taught, we have learned how to know every piece of ourselves. Through the universal and ever-constant sensation of pain, we know ourselves. We know every piece where we could break, we know every piece that has broken, and we know where we are helpless. Then we taught ourselves how to get back up.

“We are taught, we have learned how to put on a show.” Again, Wilbur winced at the wording. “How to put every ounce of emotion into a performance until we barely know where the acting starts and where we end. How to make it so believable that the other actors have a hard time knowing where our masks stop. How to reconstruct ourselves, our morals, to be put into the roles demanded of us. In the end, we taught ourselves how to stay strong.”

Leaning in slightly with each comparison, he made Wilbur freeze as the enderman leered over him. Backing up, he gave the man a moment to breathe as he moved towards the railing made of glass. “Tommy is a good judge of character, so I won’t interfere with your friendship. I don’t think that you would make a good Pogtopian but you’re a damn good L’Manbergian and person. Keep a hold of that, don’t let it go. And don’t be anything less than human.”

Making an aborted move to talk, move, do something , Wilbur could barely do so before Ranboo threw his arms wide open. “For now, let the Pogtopians put on a show,” he said, turning away with a grin on his face and a mask in hand. Tubbo had made everything of his some type of nanotechnology, making putting on his hero mask a piece of cake. Not before pressing on the earpiece that they had been given for this mission and saying “Jack, Fundy, ready to put on a show?”

“You just had to ask.”

“About damn time.”

The others tried to figure out what they were doing but it was too late, Ranboo already at the railing and tapping his nails against his wineglass. Recognizing the call to attention, the crowd quieted to murmurs as they turned to the source. Then fell silent when they saw that a pro hero was the one calling them to attention.

“Welcome, one and all,” he said, his voice projecting with ease. He might be a Shade but speaking over a crowd of people came with the job description of being a Spirit, of being a rebel. “I hope you’re all having a wonderful night. And, as pretentious as this may sound, I am glad that I could make time in my busy schedule to come to this performance. With the rising crime rates and incidents in our streets, it is imperative that we keep ourselves calm and continue living despite these challenges. As such, I’ve decided to relax and enjoy tonight, I hope you will all join me in doing so.”

Entering at the perfect time, Jack, wearing his mask, stepped out of the elevator to join Ranboo at the railing. “I would love to, Shadow,” Acheron said, smiling at Ranboo who reciprocated under the mask. Rather than just having a faceplate of black with some highlights, his mask looked more like a ski mask. A tie-dye-like pattern of grays with his blue and red ski goggles covering his eyes. “After all, who would we be if we didn’t take breaks every once in a while?”

“Workaholics and heroes,” Ranboo quipped without missing a beat, getting chuckles from the crowd.

Jack got more when he waved the other off and said “Same difference.”

“I hope you aren’t having too much fun without me,” Fundy said, entering with his mask of an orange fox with red and white markings. His ears stood proud, perked and happy-looking despite the small twitches that came from being on guard. “It would be a shame if the most famous Pogtopian heroes didn’t spend a little more time together.”

Whispers started up, Ranboo grinning under his mask. Important as the realization of the crowd was, he had to finish up their little act. “How right you are, Tengakai,” he said, the crowd quieting instantly to hear them. Although murmurs did start when he stood upon the rail and spread his arms to the public again. “And how wonderful this time will be. Please, fellow enjoyers of the performance, have a wonderful time tonight. Who knows, maybe something unexpectedly great will happen. For now…”

Then he dropped his drink. Using his powers, Jack created a small ramp of ice for the drink to slide down. Jumping down, Fundy kicked the glass off of the ramp and into the small clearing on the ground. He landed in a flurry of light and fur, standing up triumphantly as the ramp burst into flames and evaporated. Lastly, Ranboo let himself fall forward and teleported in time to catch the glass.

Bowing, he ended the stunt with “Let’s enjoy the show,” as the doors opened to let people inside the theater.

Rounds of applause met this stunt, making him grin as he walked away. He didn’t walk for long, grabbing Fundy’s arm to teleport them both up to the second floor. Pausing for only a moment, he grabbed Jack before transporting the two up to the third floor. Lingering for only a moment to give the two a nod and a subtle Rebellion salute that was returned, he teleported back down to his original floor.

And snickered under his mask at the stunned jaw-dropped look that Wilbur gave him.

Sadly his mirth couldn’t stay long, angry voices crackling slightly with static as they stormed through his earpiece. “What the fuck was that?” whisper-hissed Volley, clearly in the crowd that was too happy for his rage to be easily hidden. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Just getting our little friend to show themself sooner,” Ranboo said, his voice calm as he slowly herded Wilbur into their seats.

For a brief moment, he was distracted by some people asking for a picture and he didn’t have enough backbone to deny them. “That’s a very stupid idea,” Dream said, his voice even despite the anger underneath its surface. “They’re going to be irrational and hard to predict.”

“Also rash and mistake-prone,” Fundy added with a joyful lilt, Ranboo could practically see his tail wagging.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing we can’t handle. We’re heroes, this is nothing,” Jack said, stating the facts clearly and simply.

Techno’s huff made it through the comm. “And when someone gets hurt because of it?”

Finally released from the fans, Ranboo found his seat next to Wilbur and refocused on the mission. “If, strong if, some civilians get hurt, we all have first aid training. And if anyone’s going to get hurt, it’ll be our friend,” he murmured, hyper-aware of the civilians sitting beside him. It didn’t take long for everyone to get settled, the lights dimming soon after. “Now hush, let’s enjoy at least some of the performance.”

He could feel the small huff of laughter from the man beside him and ignored it. Naive as it was, he did want to enjoy at least a little bit of the performance that was going to inevitably get derailed. Childish maybe but he reserved the right to be childish.

The conductor went to their place, the spotlight shining on them as the audience clapped. A flicker from the gap in the ceiling where the lights hung caught his attention, his narrowed eyes hidden behind the mask. It could just be workers but one could never be too careful, it was a good vantage point after all.

As the show progressed, Ranboo fell into an odd mindset. Physically, he was relaxed and showing the nearby civilians glancing at him that it was all okay even as his eyes darted all over the place. Mentally, although he did enjoy the performance a little, he was cataloging every single bit of suspicious behavior and deviance from the normal enjoyment from the performance.

By doing so, he spotted something going on in the box seats. Thanking the advantages of enderman eyes, he watched the ongoings carefully. Especially when he recognized one of Martin Somers’ associates sitting in those seats.

Subtle as they were, it didn’t change the exchange of briefcases under their seats. Nor the luminous flash of toxic crimson eyes from both parties. A deal then, dozens of doses of Crimson hiding in one of those cases. He had no qualms of taking each when the chaos inevitably began.

Speaking of flashes, a glint came from above as the lights changed to illuminate another dancer. A slight tilting up of the head went unnoticed by most, his partner looking at him in confusion. Ignoring the man for now, he let his eyes catch on the outline of a gun from the backwash of the lights. Nobody saw it, too busy watching the increasingly fast movements of the professionals as the orchestra crescendoed steadily.

“Get ready to start evacuating,” he mumbled, his words barely making it into the comm, much less to his neighbors, as the music slid into a cacophonous din. “I’ve got eyes on the sniper.”

Other heroes gave their affirmatives, some more hesitant than others. Ranboo didn’t pay much attention to them, too busy listening for the loudest point of the music. Where a gunshot would go the most unnoticed.

The conductor’s baton went down with a bang.

The bullet didn’t bite flesh, whizzing through open-air where someone once sat. They ended up across the street from the theater, gasping from the sudden change in scenery. “Sorry,” Shadow said, getting the sheep hybrid to gawk at him. “A disastrous end to your night, I’m very sorry about that. And, uh, it’s about to get a little crowded around here, forewarning. Until, well, if I see you again, I guess.”

Then he teleported again, getting the rest of the people in the box seats out in seconds. Chaos truly reigned in there, the heroes shouting at citizens and each other as they tried to organize an evacuation. After all, Ranboo could only do so much.

Even if he did manage to dump the briefcases into Techno’s office before continuing.

Returning after getting those in the box seats showed little change in the situation, another gunshot going off towards the box seats to add to the chaos. As difficult as it would be, he decided to not let that staccato gunshot turn into eighth notes. One inhale, one exhale, and he was off.

Instantly, the theater, the entire building, silenced from the panicked shouts of the people. All that was left was the panting heroes and the active shooter who started running. Left wheezing on the sidewalk, Shadow couldn’t help his comrades for a moment. With how his chest burned, he’d be surprised if he could teleport back inside without collapsing. Teleporting 300 people in the span of two seconds took a toll on anyone, no matter how experienced they were.

Unfortunately, such a feat left everyone staring at him, gawking at the display of power. He suppressed a groan, using that energy to instead stand on top of the nearest car and make an announcement to the people. Prime, he wanted to sleep already.

“Hello, everyone, I’m sorry to disturb your night,” he started, projecting across the hysterical crowd and gathering their attention quickly. “Until further notice, I will have to ask you all to stay out here. It’s dangerous for you to be inside right now and I don’t wish for any of you to be hurt. Someone please call the police and ask them to safely evacuate you further under the orders of the pro hero Shadow. Once this is resolved, myself, Acheron, or Tengakai will notify the police and they’ll calmly funnel you in to grab personal items.

“Once again, I apologize for disturbing your night but it will not take long for this to resolve. For now, please stay calm and follow the police’s directions.”

Briefly bowing to the group, he didn’t take long before teleporting just inside the lobby. Wheezing only slightly and straightening his buckling knees, he recentered on the scene in front of him. Volley, Hunter, and Blood Boar went up against a person dressed in all black who wielded a sniper rifle with enough expertise to fight in close range. The other three heroes kept close by, lingering around the lobby and different floors as they left the others to fight the attacker.

Not one to miss the action, Shadow ran in with his staff in hand. “So, what’d I miss?” he asked, whacking against a force field that got summoned in an instant. “Ah, that.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” Volley snarled, throwing fire haphazardly enough that Shadow had to jump away to avoid it. Fire wasn’t much more effective against the assassin’s shield.

“Evacuating people,” Shadow said, calm as ever. Only slightly out of spite, he teleported and shoved Volley. Then promptly got a sniper round to the gut. “And saving you,” he wheezed, doubling over as he started coughing. Thank Prime for Pogtopian grade kevlar and nano-technology or he would’ve been torn in half.

“Shadow!” Techno shouted, his surprise turning to rage as he started whaling against the sniper’s force field. Volley froze up, staring at the younger in surprise and worried fear. Joining Blood Boar’s side, Hunter ran in to also start beating up the force field. Another gunshot got them to back up.

To make it better, Tengakai’s angry voice made it through the comms, “There’s fucking bombs up here!”

“What?!” Ignition quickly calmed down, sending an order through instead of a question, “Tengakai, give me your location. I’m defusing them.”

While they started to bicker about Ignition’s ability to do so, Jack kneeled by Ranboo with worried eyes. “How ya feeling?” he asked, pressing a hand to the injured one’s side with a lack of blood covering his hands. “Oh, thank Prime.”

“Thank Tubbo,” the other snarked, chuckling breathlessly as he tried to breathe. “Wind knocked outta me, nothing more. Now let’s collapse this guy.”

“On it,” Jack said, his grin clear as day as he helped the other stand up. In the fight, the assassin pulled out a pistol from nowhere and forced the two still hovering close to back up quickly. Bullets littered the ground, the pistol soon joining them as Jack lobbed a shard of ice at the enemy’s hand. To contrast, Volley shot a fireball that got them to jump away.

Mid-jump, the assassin and Ranboo made eye contact. They looked terrified, some of the worry towards Ranboo making him freeze up a little. They looked as if they felt exactly like Jeffery did, crimson eyes and all.

And Ranboo made the brash decision of trying to save them as well. 

Even as they pulled out a remote control from their pocket that clearly connected to the bombs that Fundy and Wilbur were trying to defuse. Most of the heroes froze up, clearly trying to make a solution towards a peaceful situation. Too hotheaded and reactive to earlier actions to try, Volley threw a much hotter, bigger, and faster fireball at them.

So Ranboo did the equally stupid thing of teleporting in front of said fireball. It hit his back with enough force to make him stumble but no burns came of it with Tubbo’s amazing nano-technology and his suit doing its thing. Everyone froze, trying to figure out the next course of action.

Well, the two chattering in the comms didn’t even flinch and the enderman had no intention to make them stop their task. Now he had to buy them time in the worst-case scenario and give them less stress in the best-case scenario. “Heroes, stand down,” he ordered, holding his hands up in surrender towards the assassin.

“What?” Hunter blurted out, not the only one confused judging by the huffs and squawks from the others.

“Stand down,” he demanded again, the force in his tone accepted with grumbles of discontent. In the meantime, he lowered his mask and smiled at the palpable confusion of the person in front of him. “Hey, you up for a quick talk?” he said, overly casual in the middle of a battlefield.

They said nothing, tilting their head before slowly nodding. Nodding back, Ranboo slowly sat down despite the exclamations from behind him. Ignoring them, he tried to motion the other to sit but the sniper narrowed their eyes at the other heroes instead.

“Fair enough,” he said, chuckling as if this wasn’t a life or death situation. “How about this? If any of my friends try anything, I’ll personally teleport them out of this building and at least a block away. Are you okay with that?”

A glance towards him assessed his irritation, the assessment allowing them to shake their head after a moment of hesitation.

“I’d promise a few more blocks but my powers are honestly kinda shot. How about… you have full permission to take me hostage, I won’t struggle or anything. Most I’ll do is shout at the others for being stupid,” he said, smiling and keeping very open during their next inspection. He had no lying behavior to find, after all.

“Shadow!” Techno scolded, sounding scandalized and worried at such an offer.

“Don’t worry about it, Blood Boar, nothing’s going to happen,” Ranboo said, still smiling as the sniper nodded and finally sat down. “So, are you up for talking? It’s no problem if you aren’t, I know sign language.”

Hesitation to put down their weapons followed, even if they were placed in very accessible places once relinquished. Then they signed a simple “Why?”

“Why am I sitting here talking to you with words instead of weapons?” he asked, a nod answering such specification. “Well, as dumb and naive as it may sound, I don’t think you’re a bad person. Sure, sniping someone from the rafters when they were just trying to enjoy a night out isn’t exactly star citizen material but you had a reason for that. An incentive, whether that be for money or because you were ordered to.”

A flinch, no matter minute, answered the second incentive.

“And I want to tell you that you don’t have to do it.”

A consistent stream of eye contact, seeing as that was the only part of their expression the teen could analyze, caught the flicker of crimson eyes to hazel along with the narrowing. “The fuck are you talking about?” they signed, their movements growing a little more erratic.

“I’m talking about you making a different choice, right here, right now. All I ask is if this is for money or for orders,” he said, a hesitant two raised fingers answering him. “Alright then…”

Before he could make his offer, another figure cloaked in all black dropped from the ceiling. They somehow didn’t break every bone upon landing, using their sudden entrance to grab the first one’s shoulder. The first one, now mentally and creatively dubbed One, didn’t budge and Ranboo raised a hand to keep the other heroes back. Growls answered that but he was more focused on the two in front of him.

“Hello,” he said, too friendly for a hero talking to an assassin and an arsonist. “No need to run. I’ve already promised your partner here that if my friends try anything, you have full permission to take me hostage and possibly shoot me if the others are too dumb to stop.”

One of the heroes tried to protest, quickly hushed by the others before they could mess anything up. A glance to One from Two got a nod, Two slowly sitting down to join the others on the ground. It took another moment of the two crimson-eyed criminals having a silent seemingly telepathic conversation before One signed “Go on.”

“To catch you up to speed,” he started, nodding towards Two, “I just asked your partner over here why you guys are doing all this. I got the answer of both money and orders as incentives. I also asked for you guys to pick differently from what you’re doing right now. And now, I’ll give you the options that I’ve thought of.

“As for money, I might be a new hero but I’ve already gained quite a bit in my coffers from this job.” He leaned forward slightly, completely straight-faced as he made the ridiculous offer of “If you choose to stop what you’re doing, potentially even become heroes or officers way down the line, I’ll give you all of it.”

It didn’t take long for a shrieked “WHAT?!” from the heroes to echo the wide-eyed look on One and Two. Ranboo watched very carefully as their crimson eyes flickered to their true colors of hazel and amber.

“If the peanut gallery would shut up,” he snarked, only snickering a little when he overhead the speaker getting cuffed over the head. “As for the orders, I would personally make sure that you two are placed under protective custody. I won’t lie, you’ll get arrested for the other stuff you’ve done here today, but no one else following the orders of whoever would be able to get to you. I know a lawyer who will gladly fight for this in court, especially if it’ll protect people.”

More flickering of their eyes’ colors led up to Two’s signed “Why?”

“Why am I doing this? Willing to give up so much, my money, my reputation, to keep you guys out of whatever you’re in?” Nods answered his over-the-top clarification. “Because, as I said to the first person, I don’t believe that you’re bad people. Sure, firing off guns and setting up bombs won’t get you any awards, but I don’t think you’re doing this maliciously. Money and orders go a long way, after all. I mean, yes, you did aim to kill someone, but you didn’t try to shoot anyone else once your target got away.

“And, while I dislike bombs, you haven’t just blown this place to kingdom come. Many may say that you guys are just waiting for a cue from your partner but I don’t believe that. If you truly wanted to do damage, you would’ve blown up the bombs after telling the other to skedaddle. Besides, when I got shot, this one looked absolutely terrified and worried for me. Maybe someone could say that that’s naivety and pain talking but I honestly don’t think you meant to hurt anyone.

“You’re doing this for orders and money, very powerful incentives. You’re willing to sit down and talk with me. You, so far, have been completely open to trying a peaceful solution. Honestly, all of that’s enough for me.

“So, if you two are up for it, my offer stands. Just put that detonator in my hand and we’ll call it a deal,” he said, his hand outstretched for them to take the chance he was giving them.

Seconds ticked by for an eternity, the two of them having another silent conversation. Meanwhile, their eyes looked like a strobe light as they switched between the two colors. The settling onto a natural color rather than noxious crimson told leagues more than the simple nods that they gave each other.

Slowly, One set the detonator in his hand and all he did in return was smile at the two. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, smiling a small smile that got returned under their ski masks. “I’m Ranboo, by the way, I use he/him.”

One hesitated before saying “Pearl, she/her.”

Although sighing, Two was quick to follow. “Ches, they/them.”

“Nice to meet you two,” Ranboo said, smiling a little wider as he stood up. The two followed him, Pearl not picking up her sniper rifle despite her longing glance towards it. And the next course of action to be taken made the hero’s smile falter. The sight of the handcuffs once on his hero suit and now in his hands got their glares in an instant. “I’m sorry, I might be able to convince the others to not pounce on you but there’s no way I can let you go without these.”

“I get it,” Pearl sighed, relinquishing her glare first and nudging Ches to do the same. Both of them offered up their wrists without much more of a fight.

Just as Ranboo put the last handcuff on Ches and made sure it was comfortable, Fundy and Wilbur ran in with the energy of madmen. “All of the bombs are defused!” Fundy announced, his eyes manic from where his mask had shifted.

“Good on you, Ranboo just single-handedly captured the people responsible,” Jack said, his shit-eating grin plastered on his face as the other two stared at the teen.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Wilbur said, sighing as he recognized the situation. “Is this another Jeffrey situation?”

Techno snorted at the terminology, the other heroes staring on in confusion. Meanwhile, Ranboo just shrugged and agreed with the “Another Jeffrey situation.”

“Goddamn you, Ranboo, goddamn you,” Wilbur said with no heat, his shaking head doing little to hide his smile.

“I mean, I got you a souvenir?” Ranboo said, his offering of a detonator prompting a question even from himself. Wilbur looked dead at it, sighed, and took the potential weapon from the teen. “Let’s call in the police, I need to ask them to let civilians in later anyway.”

Too tired to even question him, the elder heroes got to it. The police got there eventually, two cars pulling up to take the criminals.

“You’ll keep your word?” Ches asked, staring through his soul as they spoke with conviction.

He matched them easily. “I’d rather cut off my tongue than lose it.” The two of them exchanged nods, a final goodbye as the officers took the two away.

Afterward, he did get the police dealing with the evacuation to let the people back in, giving a mock salute to the civilians who could see him before booking it via teleportation.

It wasn’t until they got to a small meeting room, the one that they’d been given the mission in and discussed the plan in, that someone snapped. Expected, seeing as they were all exhausted, impatient, and on their last nerves.

Also expected, it was Volley who blew up. “What the fuck was all that?” he growled, aiming the question at Ranboo. “That was a fucking shit show.”

“It worked,” was all Ranboo said in response.

It did nothing to help the situation. “Worked? Worked?!” Volley shrieked.

“Yes, the assassins are in jail, the target is safe, all of the civilians are uninjured, there’s minimal damage to the theatre, the deal was busted, and none of us are that hurt. I don’t see many downsides here,” Ranboo said, shrugging off the other’s irritation.

Three of the others caught onto the piece that he mentioned but none of the others had even heard of. Before they could say anything, Volley kept going, “You didn’t fucking communicate, you let them know we were there, and you probably created some type of PR scandal!”

“To be fair, it did work in the end. Yes, Ranboo could be a bit better with communication to people who don’t instantly get some keywords, but nothing bad happened. Anything that did happened to the man himself,” Jack said, nodding towards Ranboo’s grateful look.

“Sapnap, calm down. Communication would’ve been nice, not being rash would also be, but it did work out,” Dream said, trying to calm down his friend with a hand on his shoulder.

Volley, Sapnap snarled and scoffed. “So the ends justify the means?” he spat, his venomous words making Ranboo narrow his eyes. Ready for some type of remark that would barely even be offend--

“I’m sure that’s what Schlatt thought when he started Lockdown.”

--ing… Alright, outta left field, have fun.

Everyone froze at such a remark, the man himself taking a moment before doing the same. Almost half of the room began snarling and scowling, straightening up with burning glares. The other half stared in pure horror.

“Sapnap, what the fuck?” Dream spat, his horrified look turning to a glare. “What the fuck?”

“I-I didn’t--”

“But you did,” Ranboo said, his quiet voice pausing any spitting remarks the others could put out. “And now you’ll live with it. Say anything like that again and I’ll personally rip you a new one.”

A quick nod answered that threat, Sapnap falling silent before he could lash himself with his own tongue. “So, how are you feeling, Ranboo? You did get shot from what I saw,” Fundy said, his meaningful look towards Sapnap not at all friendly.

Shifting slightly brought a grimace as the adrenaline no longer dulled the pain of cracked ribs. “Thank Prime for Tubbo’s nanotech and Pogtopian kevlar. Normal kevlar wouldn’t have done anything,” Ranboo said, wincing as he rested a hand over the bruise under his shirt. Techno frowned as he looked at the teen, smoothing over his face when Ranboo and Wilbur shot him teasing looks.

“First off, Pogtopian kevlar?” Wilbur inquired, his brow furrowing as he looked at Ranboo. “Second off, speaking of not doing anything, why weren’t we informed about a deal happening? The commission would’ve told us if anything like that was happening.”

“Just means kevlar mixed in with bits of netherite,” he started, moving on before the curious looks from Techno, Dream, and Wilbur could get him to spill trade secrets. “As for the deal, I figured that out on my own. I was helping Tubbo with some of the investigations for the Martin Somers’ case, including looking into some of the guy’s associates. There was some overlap with the guest list that we were given and, well, now there’s two briefcases of stuff on Techno’s desk. One’s probably Crimson and the other’s the money.”

All Techno did in response to such an announcement was sigh, shake his head, and drawl out “Why are you like this? And why on my desk?”

“Because. And I had to put it somewhere,” got another sigh from the teen’s mentor.

Soon enough, the others were laughing at Techno’s misfortune and Ranboo couldn’t help but join in. Maybe, just maybe, this all wouldn’t blow up in his face too much.

Chapter Text

Looking at the contact name of the message, Tubbo couldn’t help but sigh at the accuracy.

Boo teh Beloved Idoit

Bo, help me! This is not going well!

He had tried to get Ranboo to stay home after all of the madness of the mission, considering the other’s cracked ribs . All of last night consisted of hugging the man, shoving ice packs on him, and shoving chorus fruit down the enderman’s throat. Tommy went as far as to entice the workaholic with pastries of chorus fruit, promising that they would taste so good that they would “force you to stay on your fucking diet for once, you dumbass bitch!”

(Tubbo couldn’t help his slight smile at the thought of Tommy’s pastries. The blonde had gotten more comfortable baking, going as far as to have dessert after dinner once or twice. Alas, with all of the paperwork for the coffee shop pending, Tommy had started stress baking and cooking at the same time. (Not that his roommates or common visitors were complaining, more food.))

But Ranboo, the beloved idiot he was, went into work anyway. PR and legal messes needed to be sorted out or something rather. Now Tubbo was being called in after a long time of the enderman spamming his phone for help.

Luckily, the receptionist didn’t delay him. They all knew him by now, letting him through without trouble. One less thing to worry about. The AI knew him too, making the question of “Hey, Nook, where’s Ranboo?” that much easier to ask.

“On the SBI’s floor. Would you like me to get you there?”

“Yes please,” Tubbo said, his tone pleasant as could be to the AI. Nook was an amazing piece of programming and the bee would rather have the other on his side when computers eventually revolted.

Before he could give his thanks to the AI, Ranboo burst through the opening elevator doors and hugged him like a lifeline. “Oh thank Prime, you’re here, Bo,” the teen said, sounding breathless.

“Imma have cracked ribs too in a minute here, boss man!” Tubbo wheezed, the air getting squeezed out of him. Reluctantly, Ranboo released the other and let him breathe a little. Still wheezing, the shorter of the two had no qualms about leaning against the first for support. “Savoir Clara, big man, I’m sure it’s not that ringing.”

The despairing look that the hero threw him said otherwise. Nevertheless, Tubbo rolled his eyes and started walking into the living room where voices drifted from. Close on his tail like the nervous shadow Ranboo was, the enderman made quite the funny image to the others as he hid behind the bee.

In the room, almost all of the chairs were occupied. Techno and Wilbur took up some spots on the couch, Phil taking up the chair next to them. Somewhat across from the heroes, a kind brunette woman with a smile on her face took the spot closest to Phil (Tubbo could just barely see a blush on the blonde’s face and barely kept from snickering at the man’s misfortune) and Jordan Maron (time to run, scream, and die, yay) took the chair next to her. Soon enough, Ranboo and Tubbo took the last places on the couch.

“Hello, are you Kristin Rosales?” Tubbo started, smiling back at the nodding woman. “Nice to meet you, I’m Tubbo Underscore. Now, if I’m not mistaken, the discussion was about Shadow’s potential PR stunts?”

“Nice to meet you too,” she said, her smile unwavering despite her widened eyes of surprise. She wasn’t alone in her surprise, Techno and Phil exchanging glances as they recognized the name.  “With the incident at the theater, the people are curious. Mr. Maron over here is here for opportunities that Starlight Spotlight, his company and the main one reporting on anything to do with Shadow, can provide and take part in.”

“Well, first off, once Shadow’s ribs heal, send him on more patrols,” Tubbo said, giving Ranboo a look of ‘I’ve got this’ before the other could protest. “Nothing over the top, of course, but something to show that he’s active. Big incidents, small incidents, whatever. I know he tends to go after your day-to-day crooks on top of the dramatic villains.”

That piqued Jordan’s interest in an instant. “Does he, now?”

All Tubbo could do was nudge Ranboo to stay silent and chuckle. “Hold onto your questions, Mr. Maron. If Shadow’s ever interested, you can talk about them more in an interview,” Tubbo said, a low hum at the back of his throat following his statement.

Both men beside him, Ranboo and Techno, flicked their ears at the quiet sound. “I’m up for that. If Maron wants to talk to Ms. Rosales and I later, we can set up a time,” Ranboo said, his smile a nervous mirror of Jordan’s full-out grin.

“That sounds great,” the news reporter said, his interest somehow straying from predatory. Nonetheless, Tubbo felt like a coiled spring, ready to book it whenever needed. Only Ranboo noticed, seeing past the bee’s professional act with a worried look directed towards the brunette.

“Perhaps we can add in a promotion for Shadow merch at the end,” Kristin suggested, a double-take from most of the room following that. But she wasn’t joking, a finger on her chin to show the amount of thought going into the idea. Of course, there were different reactions…

An “Already?” from Tubbo…

A squeaked “Merch?” from Ranboo…

A fondly exasperated “Really?” from Wilbur…

And a “Bruh, he’s speedrunning,” from Techno that shadowed Phil’s breathless chuckle.

(Along with a raging blush from the blonde elytrian when Kristin looked at him but that wasn’t all too relevant.)

Before Kristin could get too deep into the explanation of promoting a quickly rising hero, Tubbo’s phone went off with a call. Considering that his phone was on Do Not Disturb, he checked it and only frowned a little when he saw the contact name of H . “Sorry, I have to take this,” Tubbo said, flashing the screen at Ranboo and standing up. “I call a Shadow plushie, by the way.”

That left the enderman sputtering, the other heroes laughing, and the last two only somewhat jokingly debating if a plushie would be a good idea. Leaving them with a mischievous grin lingering on his face, Tubbo speed-walked down the hall to get some privacy. As he entered a training room of sorts, far from the others, he let his grin fall and his finger press the accept button.

“Hey, H, what’s up?” Tubbo greeted, barely keeping his tone upbeat. Something had to be happening if HBomb was randomly calling him on the day the second shipment of his devices went out.

“Hey, Tubbo, just wanted to update you on a few things,” H said, his tone drifting away from chipper throughout the sentence. “So, transport of the items went fine. All of the devices are intact and accounted for. By the end of the week, all of them should be deployed.”

“That’s great,” the teen said, looking through the facade in an instant. “But that’s not all you wanted to talk about, is it? If it was just all that, you would’ve texted me.”

A sigh confirmed his suspicions. “You’re too observant, Tubbo,” H joked, a small weak chuckle attempting to lighten his next words. “Well, while we were grabbing the second shipment, the warehouse housing the first batch was broken into. Nothing happened to the devices, only one crate opened and rifled through before Vanguard came in. Whoever did it got away, didn’t take or leave anything as far as I’m aware, we’re doing second and third checks now.

“They also left a message of sorts.” Humming his interest, the teen leaned against the wall with a growing frown. “Graffiti that just spelled out the words of ‘The Eggpire is coming’ in all caps. Don’t know what this Eggpire wanted with a bunch of reinforcement tech but it’s something to keep an eye on.

“There is a bunch of netherite in those, boss man,” Tubbo said absentmindedly, gathering a little more time for himself. Slowly, a theory began to make light of itself and he didn’t like what it spelled out. “Was this message written in bright red? One might even say crimson?”

HBomb took a sharp inhale, trying to delay that conclusion with “You think it’s connected to the uptick in crimson criminals?”

“I dunno about you, H, but empires tend to be controlling as all ringing get out. It’s better than ‘Egg Cult’ though and considering what Ranboo described of his first Crimson encounter, this thing is a cult. Whatever this Egg is, it’s looking to collapse someone and it looks like it wants more people singing its praises,” Tubbo said, huffing as he thought more about it. “All of my security on the tech is secure, don’t worry about that. As for other things that could be destroyed, that’s for the Vanguard to investigate and protect.”

“Got it, I’ll keep an eye out. And be safe, alright? I don’t want these guys targeting you just because you made this tech,” H said, a fondness and worry coloring the majority of his words.

“We will. Wishes for Prime’s blessing and singing days to you, H.”

“Wishes for Clara’s light and chorus to you, Tubbo.”

For a moment after he ended the call, he just let himself linger and sigh. Then he put it to the back of his mind, Ranboo’s current dilemma being more important than the somewhat distant threat of this Eggpire. He walked more leisurely this time, returning to the room at his own pace.

That pace just so happened to have him meet with a newcomer in the hallway. Exiting the elevator, the person’s eyes landed on his frozen form, a kind smile soon appearing on her face. Comforting as the gesture was, it didn’t change the identity of the woman in front of him.

Captain Puffy, a renowned author of mental health books, psychologist, pro hero, and a high-ranking officer of the Navy, stood in the hall. “Hello,” she said, her smile remaining unwavering despite his startled state. “I don’t mean to bother you but is Shadow here? Nook said that he was and that he was in a meeting, I don’t want to interrupt if that’s still ongoing.”

“Uh, yeah, he’s here, pretty sure he’s still in the meeting. What do you need him for?” Tubbo asked, letting his smile be awkward and nervous to keep some of the softness that Puffy had in her eyes.

To go along with the softness for children that the pirate-dressed hero had, some mirth and mischief gleaned through. “Just wanted to thank him for something,” she said, chuckling with her inside joke.

Only it wasn’t so private as Tubbo paled a little and connected the dots. Oh, Boo was going to have a field day with this. “Oh, alright. I’ll let him know, just come into the room when I call you, alright?” he said, trying to convey the confidence that the woman was suddenly lacking in him. “It won’t take too long.”

“Alright,” she said, nodding despite her lingering doubt.

He nodded back, only slightly speed-walking back into the room. “Quick note that I just thought of,” he started, putting all attention on him quickly. “Team him up with Acheron and Tengakai. All of them are publically Pogtopian heroes, it’ll help appearances if they work together. Sort of as like a ‘the cities don’t completely hate each other, we swear’ deal. Starlight Spotlight can have some exclusive interviews with the trio if the other two agree, too.”

The heroes stared at him blankly but the two PR experts nodded along with his sudden announcement. “It makes sense, that would make a good exclusive,” Jordan said, nodding and humming in such a way that made Tubbo’s heartache at the nostalgia. “I’ll leave that up to Ms. Rosales and the other PR departments, my email is always open.”

What a perfect segway. “Good because someone needs to talk to Shadow real quick. Unless there’s something else to discuss, I was going to grab him to go talk with them,” Tubbo said, barely reacting to Ranboo’s look of confusion and betrayal.

“I think I’ll be going, actually,” Jordan said, standing up with a smile. “My editorial team wanted to have a meeting today, might as well prepare a little early. We’ll keep in touch for another meeting.”

Kristin got up to meet him, holding her hand out for a handshake. “I look forward to it,” she said, smiling back at him.

Soon enough, the man went around for handshakes with everyone. The one with Tubbo was a little stiff, the smile the man gave the teen doing little to help his racing heart. In juxtaposition, Jordan then stopped the teen’s heart as he stepped out into the hall and greeted the person there with a joyful “Cara!”

Cara, Aunt Cara, oh Prime why did it have to be Aunt Cara?

“You good, Bo?” Ranboo said, frowning as he brushed his tails against the bee’s arm.

Time to stall! “Did he say Cara or Clara?” Not the best stall but it would do!

“That bad today, huh?” Ranboo asked instead, soon wrapping his tails around the other’s wrist in comfort. To be fair, Tubbo wasn’t entirely lying when he nodded, his tinnitus had been getting on his nerves.

Ever the nosy one, Wilbur butted in with a “Huh?” as the two in the hall continued talking.

“He’s just talking about my quite literally ringing hearing,” Tubbo said, unable to resist snickering at Ranboo’s deadpan groan.

“Tubboooo,” he groaned as the others looked slightly alarmed at the joke.

“I know I know, joke wasn’t funny in the first place, blah blah blah,” Tubbo said, waving off the other’s suffering. “I just like using the jokes until they collapse and then use them again. How else should I talk about my explosively pog tinnitus?”

All that got was a sigh from Ranboo even as the others began giving extremely concerned looks. “Not how you use pog,” Ranboo said, his huff of laughter soon going quiet. “Maybe you shouldn’t joke about a traumatic event like that.”

“Big man, jokes about trauma are the entirety of a Pogtopian’s personality, you know this,” Tubbo said, scoffing in disbelief as Ranboo merely sighed again. “Anyway… I’m calling in the person who wanted to talk to you. Have fun.”

Regrettably, Ranboo’s tails whisked away from Tubbo’s wrist and back under his shirt. At least his panicked “Tubbo, wait--” was slightly funny.

“Captain! You can come in!” Tubbo called, stilling any protests instantly from pure shock.

Then Captain Puffy walked in in all her glory, the adults giving her greetings as the teens stayed silent. She idly returned those greetings but soon focused on Ranboo. “Hello, are you Shadow?” she asked, smiling at a shakily nodding enderman. “Well then, I have to thank you for saving my life.”

Tubbo couldn’t help but intervene before Ranboo’s bad memory made a fool of the teen. “Congrats, Shadow, you saved Captain Puffy, the #6 hero, from getting sniped last night. Good on you, big man,” he said, patting the blue-screening enderman on the arm.

It took a quiet “Oh,” of realization before the other completely rebooted. “Well, I’m glad I could help out,” Ranboo said, smiling at the woman with only slight nerves. Somehow, no more emerged at the next question of “If you don’t mind me being rude, why were they going after you in the first place? If you have any idea why crimson-eyed criminals would be going after you, of course.”

Both Phil and Kristin turned to scold the teen, Techno and Wilbur watching on in stunned silence, before Puffy simply chuckled. “If you don’t mind me being rude back, I’m happy to answer,” she said, only continuing when Ranboo nodded. “I might’ve pissed them off by refusing to join their cause. Don’t know why they went after me in the first place, high-ranking hero or not, but they did and clearly didn’t know me well enough. Even if a friend was the one trying to convince me.”

Before the question could prod further into her darkened expression, Ranboo cut off the opportunity to answer with “Thank you for telling me. Now then, your turn.”

To which she asked the weirdest question of “How old are you?”

“Uh, 20, why?” he said, his brow furrowing at the out-of-the-blue question.

“You’re not twenty,” she stated, getting more odd looks for it. “Don’t worry, it won’t do anything to your work. No matter your age, you did transport upwards of 300 people out of a building in under ten seconds. So, I’ll ask again, off the books of course, how old are you?”

The two teens exchanged glances, Tubbo deciding with a slight nod. From what he knew, Hunter knew the age differences already. What’s a few more trustworthy heroes? “Well, on the books, I’m 20,” Ranboo started, the SBI and Kristin staring at him like he’d grown a new head. “Off the books, I’m 18.”

Wilbur let out a choked “What?” with Phil echoing him.

“Why didn’t we know this?” Techno asked, his voice slightly strained at the new information. Kristin just looked sad for some reason

“You never asked,” Ranboo said simply before tilting his head as he thought about it more. “Well, no, the better answer is that you didn’t ask when I trusted you. Wilbur asked when I barely knew him, meaning I gave him the general answer. And seeing as you only got any more information from him or my files, you didn’t get the actual answer. And, besides, when it comes to my files…”

Tubbo chimed in at the perfect time, “We don’t trust the government with shit! Trust issues with authority pog!”

“Basically, we, along with every other Pogtopian, screwed around a little when we got re-registered with paperwork and such. Names, birthdays, list of powers, et cetera. Next to everything that you can find on any file is either fake, skewed, or just barely true,” Ranboo said, shrugging when the others stared at him in horror.

“Not that that affects anything, honestly,” Tubbo said, shrugging as attention shifted to him. “Files are a waste of time anyway, they can be screwed with so easily. As a lawyer with my type of track record, I can confidently say that psycho-analysis is so much easier than dealing with dusty old papers.”

“You’re a lawyer?” Puffy asked, narrowing her eyes as she gave him a once-over. “You can’t be older than Shadow.”

“I’m not,” Tubbo said bluntly, taking a little joy in how the adults paled. “But I got all of the certificates two months after Lockdown ended. Then, well, Tubbo Underscore is a big name now with all of the mercenaries I collapsed.”

Most of the others stiffened at that reveal, Wilbur numbly nodding along with it. “You’re Tubbo Underscore, that lawyer?” Puffy asked, her tone turning impressed. “Well, I must say, I admire your work. You being 17 does nothing to change that.”

“I’m not 17, that’s Tommy. I’m 18, just a month or so younger than Ranboo,” Tubbo said, only glancing over when Wilbur gave a strangled noise. The brunette seemed to be blue-screening, the light shaking from Techno doing nothing. “Ranboo, I think I broke Wilbur.”

“Oh, I told him that Tommy’s 19. Give him a minute,” Ranboo said, shrugging off the other’s suffering.

“If he doesn’t wake up in a minute, can I dump water on him?”

“Tubbo, no.”

“Tubbo, yes.”

“Show him a video of Tommy being cute, that’s much more effective.”

“I like the way you think, Boo.”

The other adults started laughing at their debate, laughing harder when the method worked.

(Tubbo laughed along with them, blocking out the potential dangers as much as he could. And even as Ranboo laughed too, he saw right through the bee and gave a low hum and a couple of clicks through the laughter. They were going to have a long talk later, a long long talk.)

Chapter Text

Tommy hated his intuition sometimes. Because, surprise surprise, another off feeling decided to knock on the door. All he wanted to do was celebrate the fact that the papers to secure his coffee shop’s building went through, not deal with some paranoia.

So he did the unhealthy thing of using Ward to get the paranoia to go away. Did it make paranoia go away? Yes, he’d tested it on Ranboo a long time ago. Was it unhealthy? Yes. Was he having minor flashbacks from hearing the hauntingly familiar disc on loop? Yes, dear Prime, yes. Was he going to stop? Eh…

Maybe when he could finally relax. Foraging in the tunnels seemed like fun, weird red vines aside. To avoid those, he kept near the mouths of caves and tunnels, booking it the moment he saw red vines. Even a hint of the whispers made him run for the hills. But he still had to get something from the trip, they only had so much stored up supplies, Purpled’s unexplained packages only doing so much.

To get more, he had to go a little deeper into one of the caves that he knew had a lot of stuff. Doing so, he carefully inspected everything for any hint of noxious red before grabbing it. He didn’t feel like doing some knock-off Crimson because he didn’t check his food. Eventually, he fell into his peaceful quiet work with a comfortable mindset.

Then he acknowledged that it was too quiet. And that someone was in the cave with him. “Hey, big man, do you need--?” and that someone couldn’t even wait until he finished his sentence before knocking him out with some sort of power. Dickhead.

Powers he could deal with. Ward still played in the back of his unconscious mind, a beckoning eerie safety. And, swaddling himself in the creepingly familiar notes, all he could wish for was safety against influence. In these times, in these tunnels, it’s all he could think of that would protect him. He’d already heard the story of the Eggpire and Crimson from Tubbo and Ranboo, after all.

Unconsciousness stretched and snapped time like a rubber band, distorting the time between darkness and light. Before long, Tommy was willingly keeping himself in the dark instead of a power dragging his eyelids shut. The longer he had to observe, the better.

Well, first off, he was tied to a chair. Second off, the floor under his feet was fucking moving. Third off, people murmured something off in the distance. All in all, pretty stereotypical super-villain bullshit. (Vulgarity was necessary at this point, he just wanted one peaceful afternoon, one peaceful afternoon.)

Letting his eyes flutter open with a groan, Tommy tilted his head up to actually take in his surroundings. He froze soon after, staring at the scene with a paling face. This is not what he signed up for when he had an off-feeling, he wanted a refund. Terror and hysteria took turns, prompting him to decide between laughing like a maniac and freezing up like prey. So far, Terror was winning.

And by Prime, Terror had a reason to win. The cavern he was in, something the size of at least two warehouses smashed together, was absolutely covered in red vines. Floor (he was sitting on the vines, how lovely) to ceiling, wall to wall, the supernatural plants slithered around like decrypted snakes. One of the people here even sat on a vine, laughing with a sense of psychopathy as it enacted a swing-like movement.

But that wasn’t the worst part. No no no, that had to go to the giant egg in the center, so big and disgusting that it earned the capitalization. Two stories tall and a little obese for the egg shape it held, the Egg swirled with colors of red that looked a little too much like blood for comfort. Beneath it, a demon flower of sorts with jagged-looking teeth and oozing crimson liquid cradled it gently, like it was something to be adored and not disgustingly horrifying. (To be honest, calling it a demon flower was an insult to demons but it was the best he could come up with right now.)

Once again, Tommy would like a refund from this horror-movie bullshit.

Any possible demands he could make to the surrounding people promptly died on his tongue when one of them decided to approach him. Recognition turned to horror, a swift dagger to any hope that the teen could have. Because the person approaching him was a demon-hybrid wearing a well-known outfit to anyone who even glanced at heroes.

“Hello,” said Hellhound, the #10 hero, in the kindest tone possible despite the fact that he was drained of color, of emotion, of sanity -- “I hope we didn’t startle you too much.”

The teen’s tongue untwisted just enough to manage “I-It’s okay…” when it most definitely was not . Maybe he could cut the ropes with his discs and--

“Good, good,” Hellhound chirped, his tail swinging happily as Tommy managed a half-smile. “You see, we were just looking for more lost souls in our tunnels when we came across you.”

Torn between yelling ‘Lost souls?! What the fuck are you on?!’ and ‘Your tunnels?! Pogtopians made them, asshole!’, he decided on a stammered “Th-That’s good.”

And Hellhound smiled so wide that it dumped another bucket of reality on the teen. Because, oh shit, these guys actually believe that Tommy was a lost soul. That he was just someone looking for a home, a purpose, and this weird-ass bastard of an Egg thing would give him one. Mind-control powers of a fucking egg just made a cult, lovely.

“Very good!” Hellhound agreed, clapping his hands in such innocent glee that Tommy’s heart wrenched. “We’re always welcome to have more people in our home and you came along at a perfect time! You see, we were just about to give our thanks to the Egg!”

“Th-Thanks? E-Egg?” Tommy said instead of screeching at the other who could be ready to sacrifice him. In an attempt to make sure he could get the fuck out of there, he made sure that a certain disc, Otherside, floated over his free hand that wasn’t playing Ward. It moved under his fingerless gloves, a great choice of foresight that covered up the only thing making sure he wasn’t going insane.

“Yes! You see, this wonderful--” Tommy barely kept from gagging at someone calling that monstrosity wonderful. “-- beauty right here is the Egg. It’s given us all a home, plenty to eat, and the power to defend our home. It’s only right that we thank it and now you can too! After all, it did bring your lost soul here,” Hellhound said, grinning at the teen who barely kept from giving a horrified expression. Because, once again, these guys actually believed this bullshit.

Yeah, no, he wasn’t thanking that thing . “Oh, alright,” he said, giving a small smile to try and fit in with these maniacs. “I, I think I’d like that…” Any act he could give crumbled a little as he flinched.

“HELLO, LITTLE ONE.”

Ward kicked back in from a minor pause of restarting before that voice could berate him anymore. Keeping hold of himself by the slimmest margin, he didn’t shudder and revolt. He could practically feel the sliminess of that thing trying to get into his head and he wanted to physically scratch it off.

“Are you alright?” Hellhound asked, a frown on his face warring between worried and suspicious. Around them, another person wandered closer in response to something, probably from the Egg.

Shit , excuse, now! “Uh, yeah, I just moved in the ropes wrong,” Tommy said, his smile somehow staying unwavering. Underneath his gloves, Otherside nestled into his hand but didn’t start playing yet. If Hellhound had any of his previous kindness, he would untie the ropes and give Tommy a chance to book it.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hellhound said, his frown deciding on worried and fond. “Here, let me take those off. Skeppy, come help me!”

Then the person who’d wandered closer came to them with a purpose. And, just as with hero work, where Hellhound was, Shard wasn’t far behind. Even if this new version of Shard had red crystals growing out of his skin instead of blue diamond. “What’s up? Why are we untying him?” he asked, still doing it regardless.

The sound of the other’s voice made Tommy mentally shudder. Shard didn’t sound right , too emotionless and tired compared to his usual cheerfulness and mischief. Even his eyes looked dull, the same noxious red as Hellhound’s glowing eyes but somehow so much deader. Prime, what made the Egg give Shard the short end of the stick?

“Muffinhead managed to hurt himself,” Hellhound said, the hint of fond scolding only making the contrast between that much heavier. Finally, the ropes fell away as the two heroes stepped back. “There you go.”

Rubbing at his wrists a little to stall, Tommy let Otherside start playing. Standing up in time with the transformation, he managed to play a little bit of it off. Then the two were staring at him in awe and horror as he became an eight-foot eldritch terror that made Ranboo’s transformation look like a saint.

“Sorry, I do have to be going,” Tommy said, the two flinching away at his echoing grating voice. “I have people at home.” And he jumped onto the chair, not risking teleporting the entire Egg into his apartment, and saluted at the #10 and #9 heroes before teleported away. The last thing he saw was two enraged sets of crimson eyes glaring into his green and blue ones.

Then he ended up at home, taking no time at all to flop back onto the couch. Loud as he was, only some of it from hitting his head on the wall from the excess height and cursing up a storm, it would only take so long before Tubbo came up to investigate. For now, he laid there, sighing through fanged teeth, shifting uncomfortably in his too-tight clothes, and lashing his tail.

At least he got the bag of his foraged foods. Alas, he would have to burn it because no way in hell was he eating anything that came into close contact with that Egg. If its cult did that, there was a strong chance that doing so would brainwash him and anyone who ate it. Maybe he could just play Ward while cooking…

As Tommy tried thinking through the logistics of possibly using his bounty, Tubbo turned the corner. It took a long silent moment of the two staring at each other before Tubbo tried “Do I even want to know?”

And you couldn’t blame Tommy for laughing hysterically at the question. Because, holy shit , all of that felt like some horror-movie fever dream.

If only it was.

Chapter Text

Jogging beside Tommy in the reverse direction that they had a month ago, Ranboo glanced back towards the others. Drista and Purpled kept up with Wilbur falling into place behind them. And behind the hero, almost the whole of Pogtopia followed Ranboo and Tommy.

He grinned at the turn-out, exchanging with Tommy as the blonde also glanced over. Even with the slight eye-bags, Tommy looked alive and electric, his mind focused solely on running. Considering not only the other’s personal experiences but also the date, Ranboo warbled with pride at his allium’s resilience. The enderman only got a slight eye roll for the fond sappy action, any energy-using swats the blonde could give him saved for later.

Eventually, the crowd stopped at the usual starting point. Except this time, they were facing away from the usual cave that they used for the first stretch of the marathon. At least HBomb stood on the usual roof-turned-stage, giving a little more familiarity.

“Welcome one and all to the 34th Monday Marathon!” the Vanguardian started, cheers rising to meet him. They only died down when HBomb gave a click through the mic that gave the message of ‘ quiet-please ’. “Now, let’s get a few extra words out of the way! This marathon will not follow the normal route seeing as this is not a normal day. Instead, we’ll go above-ground and then go back underground after a little while. To finish off my little preamble of the event where we exert ourselves for ourselves, I’ll let those who started this tradition, the two amazing Tommy Innit and Ranboo Beloved, take the stage!”

In an instant, the two were up there and people were cheering for them. Rather than launch into song, Ranboo took the mic and started speaking, “How are we feeling this morning?!” Cheers greeted his over-the-top question and he grinned at it. “Now, I won’t be long, I know how annoying Tommy and I can be.”

A “Speak for yourself, bitch,” made it into the mic and only made the crowds’ laughter louder.

“We all know the date today, right? The start of Lockdown from 10 years ago?” A resounding boo made it through the cave. “Well, guess what? It’s been a decade! We fucking made it through a decade! We fucking did it!”

The cave boomed . Nonsensical cheers, deranged laughter, yelled declarations of “We fucking did it!”, and high whistles of ‘ done-accomplishment-joy ’ rebounded off of each other to create a cacophony of sound. It was beautiful, it was chaotic, it was sudden, it was a symphony of Pogtopia.

This lasted a good five minutes, those on the stage doing little to stop the crowd. Eventually, they died down as Tommy took the mic this time. “Hell fucking yes! We made it! And you wanna know what still hasn’t changed?” Humoring him, the runners gave a burst of questioning. “We’re still determined as shit, we’re still fucking here, and people still doubt us to which we say ‘Fuck off, we don’t give a shit!’”

Another burst of cheers barely quelled Tommy’s continued speech, “They look at us, they call us freaks to collapse us, and I just laugh in their shitty faces and say ‘I’m proud to be a freak, it’s fucking pog!’”

The crowd repeated this sentiment with cheers and laughs.

“Because I’m a Prime-damned Pogtopian, I’m stubborn, I’m here, I’m too pog for their bullshit, and I’m a fucking freak!”

Not quite to the level of the decade announcement, the people certainly tried as they hyped up Tommy.

All he did in response was grin, cackle, and set off the song that the two teens had debated for hours last night with “So let’s show them what type of freaks we are!”

Then the bass started up and the crowd went rabid.

It only got better when Tommy grabbed the mic and started rapping, “The bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war! Aah, the mighty trumpet brings the freaks out to the floor! The bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war! Aah, the mighty trumpet brings the freaks out to the floor!”

As Tommy managed the prolonged bass note, Ranboo leaned in and grinned as his voice pitched in a way that should be unnatural. Glory be to being an enderman hybrid, free autotune. “Tell me, tell me, where the freaks at? Tell me, tell me, where the freaks at? Freaks at? Freaks at? Freaks at? Freaks at? Fre-fre-fre-fre-fre-fre-fre-fre-fre…

“Tell me where the freaks at!” the two of them came together for that line, almost screaming it. The instrumental kicked in full blast, letting the two of them improvise some horrible dancing. Below them, the crowd jumped up and down in a city-sized mosh pit.

Tommy took the mic with a flourishing turn, grabbing it off of the stand. “We get the bass thumpin', people jumpin' all over the world. We got the speakers pumpin' Ranboo Trumpet, he’s the one with curves.” Ranboo couldn’t help his awful attempt at belly-dancing after swatting at Tommy, laughing as wolf-whistles came from the crowd. The blonde barely kept from laughing himself, wiggling his eyebrows in a horrid attempt to be sexy and almost killing Ranboo with laughter.

“Got that freak flow, freak show, welcome to the circus. Let the Leaders lead, Preachers preach, welcome to the service. Close the curtains on them if they’re actin' like they never heard us. See we do this for a purpose just to keep our fire burnin', and we don't need no water, let that motherfucker burn. Ranboo, play your trumpet, let the people go berserk.”

And, with the trumpet that H tossed at the teen and he caught, Ranboo went straight into the trumpet solo. The crowd went wild, torn between laughing at the irony and cheering him on. To make it even better, he added dramatic motions that made it look so much more dynamic than it was.

“The bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war! Aah, the mighty trumpet brings the freaks out to the floor! The bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war! Aah, the mighty trumpet brings the freaks out to the floor!” Tommy went through it again, subtly motioning over Sneeg on the edge of the stage as he did so.

Then, as the two teens went through holding out the notes, Sneeg stood proudly on Tommy’s hand and did his part, “Tell me, tell me, where the freaks at? Tell me, tell me, where the freaks at? Freaks at? Freaks at? Freaks at? Freaks at? Fre-fre-fre-fre-fre-fre-fre-fre-fre…”

All three of them unisoned on the “Tell me where the freaks at!”

Sneeg ran off, not without saluting the two, and Tommy went through the final verse. As he did so, the two teens motioned for the crowd to get more hyped up, both of them restricted to mentally cackling as the mosh pit got worse. “The bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war! Aah, the mighty trumpet brings the freaks out to the floor! The bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war! Aah, the mighty trumpet brings the freaks out to the floor!”

The song ended with little other fanfare, letting the teens teleport back into their spots at the front of the crowd (after yeeting the trumpet back to HBomb, of course). As they got into a runner’s lunge, a gunshot went off and the braziers on either side of the new route lit up. They didn’t need much more motivation to start running.

Starting out running as most people would, the two teens led those behind them with grins on their faces and whoops at the back of their throats. Laughing like maniacs, they went into their familiar acts of wall-running and running on all fours. Around them, the footfalls of hundreds of people shook the ground with a weight beyond any individual.

And they aimed to take that past the streets of Pogtopia, running towards one of the entrances that were predetermined. For now, Tommy and Ranboo went back into running like ‘normal’ people as the ground began to slope upwards. They could run like themselves after they gave the L’Manbergians a moment of ‘normalcy’.

Slowly, sunlight began to creep into the tunnel. Just before it enveloped the teens, they glanced at each other and nodded in comradery. Then they jogged out onto the streets of L’Manberg and kept running.

On either side of the asphalt, barricades separated them from the sidewalks and adjacent streets. L’Manbergians waited on the other side of the barricades, cheering at the sight of runners. Drinking in their stares on the paint on their backs and faces, the two Pogtopians held their heads up high with ‘Can You Hear Me Now’ by The Score acting as their anthem.

Before they could make it more than ten paces out of the cave, the two went back into their other modes of running. They simply laughed when the news crew on the scene focused on Ranboo’s loping four-legged gait and Tommy’s balancing act on the thin wooden barricades. If the news focused on how they were different, on how some people would call them freaks, who were they to interrupt?

It was different running above-ground. The sun beated down on them, the wind offered the occasional reprieve, and the asphalt was both smoother and rougher than the tunnel’s ground. Most would note the stares of the people, the cheers tinged with confusion and maybe even disgust at every turn. But they were exerting themselves for themselves, who cares about the people who have no right to judge them?

Eventually, someone with an amazing public image joined them. Diving down and covering the sun for a moment, Sentinel landed with the eyes of the teens tracking him. “Hey, mates,” Phil greeted, grinning at the two as he jogged beside them. “How’s the marathon so far?”

“Great! Wish you could’ve joined us for all of it,” Ranboo said, returning the other’s grin.

“Would’ve been so pog to be joined by the Philza Craft,” Tommy added, chuckling at his own dramatics. “Sadly, he gotta do cool hero things and can’t hang around us.”

Phil laughed at the act, tipping his hat at the two. “Well, I wish I could stick around but I still have cool hero patrol to do,” he said, playing into the act with a grin.

“Aw, Tommy, why’d you have to remind him?” Ranboo joked, getting more chuckles. Rising from his four-legged run for a moment, he raised his hand for a high-five. “See you around, Phil.”

“Don’t forget to pick up the dying Wilbur after,” Tommy said, also putting up a hand for a high-five.

Chuckling, Phil gave them their high-fives along with brief hair ruffles. “Will do, see ya!” with that and a final wave, the elytrian shot off into the sky in a flurry of green and black.

All the teens did after was laugh through wonderfully sore lungs and continue running. They ignored the murmurs they could hear from the spectators, too busy keeping themselves moving. Anything they could overhear was mentally drowned out by focusing on the lyrics of the song, ‘Can’t Hold Us’ by Macklemore & Ryan Lewis, on the somewhat garbage speakers that were set up last minute.

About halfway through the stretch above-ground, another hero dropped by for a quick greeting. Vaulting over the barricade, Captain Puffy didn’t take long to get into stride with the teens. “Heya, how’s it going?” she asked, smiling at the two.

“Doing pretty good, how about you?” Ranboo said, casual while Tommy struggled to get a word out. Oh, right, the blonde never learned about the whole ‘Shadow saved Captain Puffy from getting shot’ side of the mission a few nights ago.

At least Puffy looked somewhat amused at the other’s awe. “Great, I’m glad I could drop by. The route went right through my patrol area, I just had to see how everyone was doing. I’m honestly a bit amazed that you guys are doing this,” she said, chuckling a little at the last sentence. “Doing a marathon every month seems pretty tough.”

“Well, it’s a tradition at this point, ma’am. Can’t stop now,” Tommy said, his overly polite tone not quite fitting his panting voice.

All Puffy did in response to the teen’s awe and respect was chuckle. “True, true. And no need to call me ma’am, just Puffy’s fine. And you are?” she asked with a kind smile.

“Oh, I’m Tommy, nice to meet you,” he said, his sheepishness obvious in his smile.

She just smiled back. “Well then, Tommy and Ranboo, I wish you two luck in your marathon. Don’t exhaust yourselves too much, alright?” she said, drifting back towards the barricades.

“Thank you,” Ranboo said, managing a brief wave.

“Have fun and be safe on your patrol,” Tommy added with a wave. Leaving with a wave back, she vaulted back over the barricade and ran off to continue her patrol.

Another hero came by after a little while, Hunter dropping from a roof and rolling before he could break any bones. “Hey, any chance I could join in?” Dream asked, probably grinning under his mask as he kept pace with the two. One-third of the distance above ground was left, leaving a little over half of the marathon to go.

“You shitting me? Get in here,” Tommy said, grinning as he practically forced the other to stay with them. “Anyone’s welcome, big man.”

“Pog,” Dream said, the influence of his Pogtopian sister obvious as can be. “Any chance I could drag the rest of the Dream Team along? They hate running so it would be hilarious.”

“Of course, more the merrier,” Ranboo said, chuckling along with Dream’s evil cackling. Soon enough, Sapnap and George were running beside the two teens. It didn’t take long for them all to drop back, keeping pace with Drista and Purpled. They even made some jokes with Wilbur, their laughter heard for some distance.

The last hero to join them was Inventor, the creeper hybrid waiting beside the entrance to Pogtopian. “Hey, room for one more?” Sam joked, his four legs scuttling along to keep up.

“Of course! C’mon, big man!” Tommy shouted, making the other laugh. The others also noticed the man, calling out greetings and jokes that easily welcomed him in.

Soon enough, the two teens passed by the mouth of the entrance to Pogtopia, the braziers beside it lighting up with purple flames as their minders cheered them on. The lighting difference didn’t do much to those experienced with it, barely making them blink as the five who weren’t hissed and grumbled. Nevertheless, Tommy couldn’t help his cheer as he could finally fully wall-run again. And Ranboo laughed along as the blonde used him as a rebound board between the two sides.

The bottom of the tunnel was also lined with braziers, the cheers of the minders adding to the roar of the crowd waiting in Pogtopia. Pogtopians cheered them on, waving the flag proudly as the runners waved back. More and more people gathered at the sides, some of them lighting up the braziers that lined their path. Either way, the patriotism was at an all-time high as they moved into Deep Pogtopia.

It grew more silently as they passed the colorful cross, a Rebellion salute coming from the runners towards the sign of the martyr. Respecting Icarus once again did little to the two leaders’ ability to light the next couple of braziers. And when the cannons went off with the chorus of ‘Believer’ by Imagine Dragons, the confetti of the flag’s colors did little to obstruct their view of Tubbo.

Said bee hybrid landed beside the two, grinning and laughing with them as he kept pace. The trio stayed together for a good fifteen minutes, grinning at each other despite the slow-tiered effect of the buildings that struck dread in their hearts. It wasn’t until after their loop around the Pit that Tubbo dropped back to the other group.

While Ranboo and Tommy had their fun with the parkour, Tubbo hitched a ride with Sam. Literally, the bee hybrid jumped onto the other’s shoulders with a victorious cry, prompting laughter from everyone. Sam let him, simply laughing along and puttting a hand on the teen’s ankles to assure that the bee wouldn’t go flying. Then he picked up the pace, getting a peel of laughter from Tubbo and the crowd at the act.

Sailing over the crowds and through the air, Ranboo ended up beside Tommy as they went down the spiral. To copy the ones behind them, Tommy jumped onto the enderman’s back with a cackle. Simply huffing, Ranboo went with the trend and picked up the pace. Howling and laughing, the blonde kept his new place until the wall beside them fell away to reveal the Smeltery.

Just as before, the giant drop into a smoldering pool of lava gained audible awe and surprise from those who didn’t usually see it. “Woah,” Sam said eloquently, looking around at the machinery with a cackling Tubbo on his shoulders. “I’ve only heard about this…”

“Don’t worry about it, big man, just say the word and this won’t be the only time you’ll see it! I have complete access, after all,” Tubbo offered, cackling again when Sam gave him a wide-eyed look.

The other two teens snickered at the man’s awe, running beside each other. More runners funneled into the spiral walkway, filling the new echo chamber with sound. It didn’t take too long before a loud whoop brought the attention to a certain man.

Bellowing an “AYUP!” that could be heard over the ambiance of the marathon, Jack took his routine running leap/dive off of the walkway. The sight of blaze rods added more cheers and screams to the response of his call. They also prompted another person to copy the man.

Soon enough, a roared “LET’S GO!” brought attention to another hero. Sapnap also dived off of the walkway, the blaze rods shooting out his arms making his actions more of a mirror of Jack’s. The front couple groups of runners couldn’t help but laugh at their ridiculous friends, the leaders picked up the pace a little to meet the blaze-borns at the edge of the lava lake.

Ever the same, Tommy greeted the two coming out of the lava with a “How’s it going, blaze bitches?!”

Such a greeting paused them where they stood, the two blaze-borns looking at each other in dead silence. Then they turned to Tommy with matching grins and all the blonde could do was pale. The four of them stood in an old-western show-down before someone broke the ‘tension’. “Get the fuck over here, you ringing rat,” Jack howled, his laughter billowing under his ‘demand’.

Sticking true to the routine, Tommy started running off with a shriek. It looked about the same as last month, only there were four of the front runners chasing each other through the mineshaft. The two blaze-borns jokingly swiped at the teens, getting them to laugh and twist out of the way with retorts on their tongues. Somehow, none of them got twisted ankles from catching their feet in the railroads underfoot, prancing out of the way with practiced grace.

The tunnel gave way to the Business Bay, spectators lining the warehouses’ walls with cheers pushing through their throats. Using their peoples’ cheers to push themselves forward, Ranboo and Tommy put on a burst of speed. So close, the finish line stood the same as it had for the rest of the month, dark and waiting for its compatriots. Not ones to deny tradition set by Pogtopians, the trail-blazers didn’t hesitate to grab the torches meant for them.

Purple flames blazed high, shadowing the two as they turned on a dime. Racing up those steps to the Prime Path, they grabbed their chosen mallets. And, holding their free hands in their unity, they let the gong sing its low note through the cave as the blaze-borns passed through the arch.

Cheers rose elsewhere with the background of ‘Born for This’ by The Score but the teens were more focused on each other. Even separating for the moment to put up the mallet and grab the water bottles seemed like too long, both of them yanking the other closer when they could. Although slightly painful in the colliding of bone against bone, the two pressed their foreheads together and leaned on each other with shaking frames and sweating skin.

“36th Monday Marathon,” Tommy said, deeming this event enough to give a low hum of ‘ safe-accomplishment-pride ’. “We did it, Ran.”

“We did it,” Ranboo echoed, also copying the hum with an additional chitter of ‘ love-affection-care ’. “Three years, three whole years…”

Nuzzling a little closer, Tommy grinned through his smug “But we aren’t done yet,” with an additional click of ‘ determination ’.

“Not until we run ourselves asunder,” Ranboo agreed, clicking back a little stronger. “That is, if you’ll have me through all of it?”

“If you’d keep me, bud, until we grind ourselves to dust and beyond,” the blonde said, a small trill of tender ‘ devotion-love-determination ’ making it through at the end.

“Then let’s keep running, allium,” the enderman said, adding his own warble of that same ‘ devotion-love-determination ’.

With a couple more similar clicks, trills, and chitters passing between the two, they took their perches on the edge of the Prime Path. Cheering on the runners did little to deter them, continuing their little trades of affection under their breath whenever there was even the slightest lull of people.

And, as Ranboo curled his tails a little tighter around the other's waist and looked over at his joyous allium, he couldn’t help but smile. Nothing would take this event away from the two, nothing .

Even if they had to argue with their own people to get it.

“We’re thinking of canceling the Monday Marathon--”

HBomb couldn’t even get another word out before the two teens in the office countered with a blurted, yet no less decisive, “No!”

From his place on HBomb’s shoulder, Sneeg attempted to reason with them, “With what’s happening with the Egg and its followers, it would be safer if we didn’t run it. A good chunk of the route goes through areas where their influence has been reported. So many people do this every time, how are we gonna notice an extra two or three that go missing to join them? It’s too easy for this all to collapse”

“So don’t send them through where the influence is,” Tommy said, blunt and simple. “Reroute it.”

“And where would we ringing route it?” H asked, his voice all too tired for this discussion.

“The first half of the race, where we go through the tunnel where the vines are, make that above-ground,” Ranboo said, nodding to himself as he continued speaking, “It’ll be Lockdown anniversary anyway, it’s a statement if we choose to bring it above-ground rather than stay below. Plus, a lot of Pogtopians tend to stay out of the underground until nightfall on the anniversary anyway.”

A long moment of silence as the rest of the room considered it. Then, H groaned as it made sense. “Why do you have to be so smart and determined about stuff like this?” he asked, only partially rhetoric.

Tommy answered anyway, hand in hand with his soulmate, “Because we’ve been doing this for three fucking years and I don’t feel like having some ringing Eggpire ruin my day again.” The second half had Ranboo tugging the blonde closer, an attempt at protection, but it sang no less true.

“Alright, we’ll figure it out. And let H have all the fun with all the paperwork,” Sneeg said, making H groan at the decision. Such dramatics got the group laughing, a small reprieve from the heavy subject.

The event did make a difference, that much obvious by the number of heroes and civilians conversing and laughing. Pogtopians stood tall, proud of themselves, of their achievements, of making it so far. Egg be damned, Pogtopia would never bend to them. No matter who they threatened or tried to turn, even if that was an influential figure like Tommy.

Rumbling a little louder than usual, Ranboo pulled his allium even closer. He barely kept his lip from peeling back into a snarl as a protective surge went through him.

Nothing would ruin his time with his soulmates, nothing .

He would make sure of that until the day Lady Death took him.

And every day after, even if he had to fight the void for even an inch.

Anything for them, anything for them.

Chapter Text

The three soulmates had been through thick and thin, through a number of dangers, through a number of mental health issues, through almost everything.

Sadly, nightmares seemed to be a frequent occurrence. It made sense, with the Lockdown anniversary being not so far gone. As much as it had been turned into a celebration, the fact still stood that Lockdown had started today, hell had started today.

So, when Tubbo woke up to Tommy’s sobs being muffled into their shared mattress, there was no surprise. Instead, he simply held the other closer with gentle buzzes while Ranboo purred loud enough to shake the entire bed. Considering their sleeping arrangement usually ended up with Tubbo squished between the two, the bee felt the noise against his back and prompted his buzzes to synchronize with the purring.

Slowly, very slowly, Tommy lifted his face from the fabric to look at the two. Red-eyed with more tears edging his eyes, the blonde looked absolutely devastated. Not quite ready to address it, he gently rested his forehead against Ranboo’s and put his chin on the crown of Tubbo’s head.

A shuddering breath before a wrecked “Sorry,” made it through the blonde’s mouth.

United chirps of ‘ okay-worry-affection ’ came from the hybrids. “Wan-alk?” Tubbo asked, slipping into Pog Latin without hesitation.

“Mome,” Tommy said in response to the brunette’s offer to listen to him talk. So they waited in near-silence, quiet hums and clicks of ‘ affection-love-care ’ and ‘ okay-time-affection ’ slowly letting the other relax. “Youkay?”

An amused warble at the other’s question when they were worried about him vibrated against Tubbo’s back. “Canned sleep, stress-abou-us,” Ranboo said, supplementing his words with the underlying pitches of ‘ safety-protection-worry ’.

“Restleh-slee, same,” Tubbo said, echoing those pitches in his response.

‘ Okay-stress-affection ’ hummed the blonde, his jaw shifting into a frown. Tubbo’s returned ‘ too much-us-teasing ’ made him snort because Tommy was doing his usual thing of worrying about them instead of himself. At least he was aware of it.

Ranboo’s gentle nudging warble of ‘ ask-okay-affection ’ got the blonde talking, “Lockdown-mare, final ring ‘o newbors-in-I-hand. I cared-or ‘em ‘nd few-ade-it.” Pitches of ‘ grief-longing-regret ’ and ‘ worry-fear-grief ’ spelled of a bigger story, the hitches of breath adding to it.

Crooning of ‘ okay-sorry-affection ’ and ‘ understanding-affection-love ’ came from the other two, making Tommy’s chest hitch again. Before Tubbo could worry about the other having a heart attack, he pulled away with new tears down his face. Choking on another sob, Tommy kept himself from hurting Ranboo with his tears by distancing himself a little.

Not that Ranboo let that happen, reaching up to wipe away some tears despite the resulting hiss of skin burning away. “Ran!” Tommy yelped, yanking away the other’s hand before more damage could be done. “Bell-head, ringing bell-head, unfavored act, why?” came out in a rush, pitching into the territory of ‘ worry-terror-love ’.

All the other did in response was warble out a ‘ affection-love-devotion ’ as he intertwined his hand with the blonde’s. Whining out a note of pure unadulterated ‘ love ’, Tommy rubbed his thumb over the back of the other’s hand.

Still caught up on the noise of burning skin, Tubbo gently elbowed the side of the teen behind him. Clicking out something between ‘ affection ’ and ‘ scolding ’, the bee hybrid weaseled his way out of the cuddle puddle. For a moment, Ranboo just managed a shy warble of ‘ affection-sorry-sheepish ’ before noticing the other’s leaving from the trio’s bed.

Between the two still on the bed, they hummed and clicked for ‘ wait-warmth-question ’. Tubbo lifted his head up from rummaging through their bedroom first aid kit to give a pointed ‘ heal-hurt-affection ’ before returning to his scavenging. It didn’t take long before he was sitting on the edge of the bed with a bandage and burn cream in hand.

“Up,” he said, motioning towards Ranboo. The enderman tried to delay it by whining out a ‘ no-warmth-teasing ’ but Tubbo wasn’t above playing dirty. That meant lifting up the blanket to tickle the other’s toe beans. Yelping out a giggle, it didn’t take that much longer before Ranboo was sitting up and pouting at the other.

Tommy cackled at the other’s kicked puppy expression, earning himself a tackle once the grace period of Tubbo’s first-aid ended. Clicks, whistles, and chitters of ‘ help-mercy-teasing ’ and ‘ hurt-attack-teasing ’ were exchanged between the two as they took up wrestling on the mattress. Going the smart way, Tubbo waited until after he put away the medical supplies to make his move. At this point, they had partially tied themselves up into the blankets, giving him the opportunity to attack both of them at once.

So, with a war cry of ‘ attack-fight-teasing ’, he yanked the blanket. They both yelped, not expecting to be sent tumbling off of the mattress. For a moment, they stared at each other in a stand-still. Then, Tubbo started snickering and the other two burst out into laughter.

Fondness practically carved the smile onto the bee hybrid’s face, happy that his soulmates could fool around like this. No matter the hardships, the trauma, the tears and nightmares, they were still so uniquely them that it made it all worth it.

Even worth getting tackled by both of them to join into the playful scuffle that ended with them all laughing, sore, and with not enough sleep to function tomorrow.

It was all worth it.

Chapter Text

How do you mourn the man you once were? The man who got an urn, a grave, a memorial, even a holiday? The man who gave everything and, by all technical, received nothing?

That was the question that Tommy had to answer every year when these days came around. He still had no answer. He didn’t think he ever would.

So, as a safe bet, he just went along with everyone else. Even as some of it made his skin crawl. Because he was no god and he was no martyr, and he didn’t know how to strike the balance.

(If he talked to a psychologist, like say Puffy (biggest woman ever), they would probably diagnose him with some version of Dissociative Identity Disorder. But he didn’t want to deal with that so he never went to one. Besides, patient confidentiality or not, he didn’t trust them to not say anything or at least react to him being Icarus .)

Back to the celebrations of Icarus, they were extensive and lasted a total of three days. During them, no Pogtopian went into L’Manberg and no L’Manbergian went into Pogtopia. Well, until the third day, then Pogtopians gladly swarmed the streets of L’Manberg with enough vigor to make up for the lost time.

The first day started as an instant wake-up call, a concert playing at the area where punishments used to take place. Its purposes were to make noise, to wake everyone up, and to simulate the march that got Icarus caught. With the traditional ending of ‘Wings’ by Hurts, the cavern fell silent. For the rest of that day, people kept quiet, shared food, enacted some silent conversations, and gathered offerings. Some called it ‘The Last Day of the Dove and Canary’ because that was the last day that anyone got any peace or warning.

The second day was entirely about giving those offerings to Prime and Savoir Clara, praying for safety, reassurance, etc. Any altar you even glanced at was full, every temple having to seat people on the floor because there was no room in the seats. Some went as far as to give offerings to the Angel side of Icarus, claiming that that was the side of him that fell silent that day.

(Tommy understood Drista’s name change more than anyone should, he himself barely kept from shuddering when he overheard people praying to him .)

The third day was the most active. Although the first half mostly got dedicated to Phoenix, bonfires lit all along the Prime Path to honor that. For one hour, a break from honoring Phoenix’s fall, everyone gathered at the cross. Some would pray to it, others simply mourned, and a few sung low hymns.

That, single-handedly, was the second weirdest thing to experience on this day. Because people mourned his pain while he remembered every second of it. It wasn’t a story, it wasn’t a lesson, it was an experience that he went through because he had to. For his people, h e would do anything. It was just so weird to see people immortalizing that, downright creepy if he was being blunt.

After that, Pogtopians went to the site of his resurrection. Upon the wall in one of the more hidden corners of the Industrial District, only a few minutes’ walk away from Business Bay, a mural stood there. Brushed up by passing artists wishing to keep the amazing work from withering away, the first piece of graffiti from the Rebellion, from Icarus, stayed strong.

The bottom half of the painting had a background of black and dark royal purple, dark red spiraling across it like broken glass. On it, the horns of a certain Ram curled and dripped blood onto the vague outlines of dead bodies. The top half had a background of white and bright purple, dirt brown climbing across it to emulate rocks and crevasses. On that, a pair of hands held up the salute and shined light onto the roof of glowing crystals and fungi. Blue words titled it ‘Who is This?’ as gold and copper, gold for the top and copper for the bottom, spelled out attributes of each side. Naturally, several insults were said on the bottom and praises were sung at the top.

The Pogtopians surrounded the place where Icarus had laid, taking a moment more for silence. Then, HBomb stepped into the center and raised a war cry. Without hesitation, the people of Pogtopia sang and howled in harmony.

The mad scramble to grab flags and signs made Tommy cackle, those near him quick to echo. Organized chaos as always, the Pogtopians split up into their de facto groups. They flowed out of the underground with practiced ease, sure to raise their voices so they were heard upon entering L’Manberg.

Being a part of the mob was amazing. They moved as one, joking and apologizing when they jostled each other, and they kept walking. They ignored the spectators on the sides of the street, too busy with enjoying themselves. Those with the ability to went as far as to start flying around, daring dives and showy spins getting laughter from all Pogtopians.

(For a moment, he longed to join them, to truly fly for the first time and to be among h i s people. He nipped that idea in the bud, choosing to focus on how he could represent now as just Tommy.)

In little rush, the Pogtopians eventually converged on the governor’s building. After a moment of chaotic pause, the crowd began to part for the March of the Vanguard. Every single Vanguardian marched straight through the building, an homage to the March of the Spirits; those who had joined Icarus in storming the building on that fateful day were all Spirits, after all.

The March of the Vanguard was a lot more organized than a battle-frenzied charge. As such, those who had started the Vanguard, The Vanguardians, went through first. HBomb led them, marching proudly in his knight-like armor as his people cheered them on.

Even though it wasn’t entirely ceremonious armor, the stark contrast between Vangaurdians’ fancy armor and Pogtopians’ literal rags was obvious. Either way, the Pogtopians wore their rags like they were robes of royalty. The holes and rips simply became gleaming gems and golden embroidery as they stood proudly in the types of clothes they had worn for seven years. And, once the March of the Vanguard was over, the Vangaurdians would shed their armor in a split second to join the rest of the festivities as just Pogtopians.

On each suit of armor soon to be set aside, the crest was stamped in a smaller form of ones on the banners beared by some of the Vanguardians at the edge of the March. Edged with white wings, those crests took the form of a coat of arms on a shield. On them, crossed netherite swords stood in front of white and purple crystals, a blue Celtic knot, a triquetra, standing in front of that. In the very background, the coloring went, from outside to inside, from brown to orange, to red, to black. They all paired wonderfully with the various Pogtopian flags that people had grabbed while becoming a mob.

If one looked close enough, they could discern the additional color markings on the shoulders of the armor and the rankings/experience of each Vanguardian. No one really did that, limiting themselves to cheering a little louder when complete newbies or nigh veterans passed by. Eventually, the last Vanguardian went in and the doors closed.

It didn’t take long before HBomb stepped up on the balcony as the spokesman for The Vanguardians. Cheers went up the moment he was visible, making him laugh into the mic and call for silence. Something that was given within seconds.

“Welcome, one and all, to the third anniversary of our freedom!” Tommy didn’t hesitate to scream his throat hoarse with the rest of the crowd. “Today is a bittersweet day, just as it was three years ago. Today, we are free and able to speak. Today, three years ago, another allowed us to rise and has now fallen silent. We all know why we’re here at this building at this time on this day, for today we honor Icarus. Our hero and martyr.”

Tommy loved HBomb, he really did, but he couldn’t help but wince at that. As expected, that got someone to call him out. Unexpectedly, it was a man behind him, just beyond the edge of the mob, who spoke with his slight L’Manbergian accent as he asked “Hey, you okay?”

Turning his head, Tommy did a double-take when he saw Wilbur. But not Wilbur, seeing as the guy was in his Ignition hero costume. “Uh, yeah, what are you doing here?” the blonde asked, skipping over his answer easily.

“Heroes are ordered by the Commission to watch over the event, more of a precaution than anything. Something about the Vanguard being too grief-ridden to do its job,” Wilbur said, shrugging with a frown that Tommy mirrored. The Commission of Professional Heroes did not just insult Vanguardians or Tommy swore to Prime themself-- “And I don’t really believe that you’re okay, you winced when Icarus got called a hero. What, you don’t like the guy?”

Welp, shit, gotta make up some bullshit… “No, he’s an icon,” Tommy said, internally groaning when his throwaway answer only got a raised eyebrow. Maybe a white lie would do, just a little editing of the truth. “It’s just… I knew the guy personally and hearing him be called a hero and a martyr and all the other big nouns is a little weird to me. He was just… some guy who was a little too selfless and, before Lockdown, freaked out over a papercut. No heroism or over-the-top bravery, just your day-to-day guy.”

Y’know what, talking in a weird third person works well enough.

“Oh,” was all Wilbur could summon, scrutinizing the teen a little more with a squint.

Tommy ignored that in favor of tuning back into HBomb's speech, making sure to brace himself against more cringing, wincing, or flinching. “-- he was a man who gave everything to us at the cost of himself. He was selfless, brave, and driven. All of these are characteristics that I attempt to emulate in everyday life and that the Vanguard strives to have.”

He felt like dying a little, actually

“At the end of the day, we are here because of him, here at this balcony because of him, here above-ground because of him. But I do not believe that he would like us to mourn for much longer. We will still honor him, we will still thank him, but today is not a day of mourning. Today, we know what he has done and we celebrate it. We celebrate all of the accomplishments of a man who believed so wholly in us.

“But, as much as I would like to say that we know him, we don’t. So, instead, I call upon a man who knew Icarus personally. Purpled, please come up to the stage.”

What the fuck was that son of a bitch doing?

Purpled managed to scale the building in about thirty seconds, dropping beside HBomb to take the mic. Why did the teen have to send Tommy into a state of war between his pride in the other’s strength, his sinking feeling of misplaced paranoia, and his annoyance at the other? What was he planning?

Wait, was this what that choreography was for? Tommy thought that that was for the Prime Festival, by Clara--

“Hello, my fellow Pogtopians. Today, I’m here to tell you about a man who saved my life and sanity more times than I can count. I’m here to tell you about a hero who needed no cape or superpowers.”

Now the speaker was adding into the conflict with an overwhelming fondness and a flustered annoyance. Tommy was going to wipe the floor with the teen, for affection reasons of course. Purpled had no right to give Tommy this much internal conflict.

Tommy added to this with a grumbled and somewhat affectionate “That bastard,” that got him an odd, and ignored, look from Wilbur.

“He himself would probably tell you that he’s just a day-to-day guy, your average citizen. On top of all of his other admirable qualities, he was humble. And, as we all know very well, he’s inspirational. But most of all, he was hopeful and faithful.

“When I asked one day why he fought when it all seemed so hopeless, he gestured to the people limping their way back home and said ‘Them. They are the reason that I fight.’ I, then, had countered with a confused statement about how he didn’t know them. He had looked me dead in the eyes and said ‘I don’t need to know them to know that we’re all looking for an out. I have hope and faith in myself that I can do something towards getting that. If they need to place their faith in me to reach their potential then I’ll gladly be their light.’”

Tommy remembered that day, remembered how Purpled had stared at him like he had revealed the world. Even with blood covering the other’s hands from his tribute stay of 13 others, that was the most alive that Purpled had looked down there. A fond memory, no matter the previous physical pain from tributing for 13 people.

“A real heart-wrencher, I know. I teased him relentlessly about how soft he was and he punched me for it. Good times, good times... But all they do is remind me of something that he knew long before we had even considered just walking out of Pogtopia.

“He knew that we would get out, that we could come together for something greater, that we, as a people and as individuals, have the potential to do something beyond our wildest imaginations. He had faith in our potential and it worked out. Now, I can safely say that we all have faith in our potential. He sung to us and gave us all something that is so precious and invaluable that only the ignorant would scoff at. Hope, we were given hope.

“Because of that hope of what we could do, it turned to faith in ourselves and our abilities via experience. That faith turned to conviction, to the creation of our own government, rules, policies, customs, and even more. Icarus sparked something in us that will live on as long as the name of ‘Pogtopian’ means something.

“We are Pogtopians, he was Pogtopian, every person who truly and wholly believes in the potential of Pogtopia is Pogtopian. Although this was his final stand on this day, on this very balcony, three years ago, his finale, it lives on in all of us. So, let’s continue singing for what came before and after his finale.

That smoothly transitioned into the instrumental of ‘Finale (Can’t Wait To See What You Do Next)’ by AJR. A brief stint of laughter came from the crowd before they went on to sing the ensemble voices. Some of the people around him messed up the words, laughed about it, and rejoined into the mostly unison singing. Wilbur joined in too, much more quiet and more of humming but the sentiment was there.

Unsurprisingly, Purpled began to sing the rest of the song. He did so animatedly, dancing around on the balcony, even going as far as to jump up and walk/dance on the railing at the second half. When the bridge came up, Tommy only grinned with no small amount of emotion when he made distant eye contact with the teen. On stage, the purple-eyed teen grinned right back.

To add to the theatrics, the ending of the song brought another person onto stage. Assisted by a certain enderman who immediately vanished, Drista showed up to pull Purpled away from nose-diving into the crowd. As the auto-tuned “OK” ended off, she stole the mic from Purpled with a dramatic flourish and a responding pout-crossing arms-slumping over mixture that the crowd loved.

She managed to viscerally show off her grin under her mask as she said a simple “So, what would you little maniacs like to do first?” Drumbeats followed it, making the crowd go wild with that excellent introduction of ‘Good Grief’ by Bastille.

Now both of them were up on the balcony, dancing in some hybrid style of ballroom and hip-hop. They were grinning, only Drista having the opportunity to laugh after a particular move but Purpled got very close several times. Midway through, after Drista’s second line, Purpled managed to get both of them onto the railing after dipping the girl down for a moment. She took to it easily, prancing around on the banister with the confidence of a tightrope walker.

It took two lines after that, right through the apt lyrics of “So get drunk, call me a fool”, for Purpled to fall off of the railing. He didn’t scream, his voice didn’t even hitch, the singing continued, his nonchalance pausing anyone from trying to stop the stunt. A trust fall of the highest order that worked when Tommy bolted in with two discs under his feet, catching Purpled bridal-style with ease.

Super-sizing one of the discs as Tommy put Purpled down, he gave the other blonde plenty of room to move and dance around. Joining in with a cackle, Tommy danced with ease as the disc slowly spiraled back up to the balcony. The two sat down on the railing with the final line of “I miss you more.”

They paused for a moment, just grinning at each other while Drista stepped back and out of view. Then the guitar-plucked notes of the start of ‘I Lived’ by OneRepublic started and they had to catch the thrown headset mics. All the two did was grin a little wider.

Tommy took the first lines, grinning as he did so. “Hope when you take that jump.” Falling forward and into open air, he performed a quick flip to land on his feet on his disc. “You don't fear the fall.”

The disc swung to the side as he pranced to the edge. “Hope when the water rises.” With a move reminiscent of an earth bender from Avatar, he flung out his now-supersized discs into a wall in front of the balcony. “You built a wall.”

“Hope when the crowd screams out.” The discs fell away, giving the willing crowd a view of the subject. “It's screaming your name.”

Hopping between the discs with a purpose, he paused from his new place beside Purpled. “Hope if everybody runs, you choose to stay.” His offered hand was soon tugging the other blonde onto the disc, both of them grinning.

This time, Purpled took the lead. “Hope that you fall in love.” Spin and dip, the two grinned a little wider from their new position. “And it hurts so bad.”

Pulling him back up with force, Purpled practically flung the other across the surface of the disc. Tommy went willingly, adding in spins and leaps for some extra flair. “The only way you can know, you give it all you have.”

“And I hope that you don't suffer.” Tripping on the slight lip between the two discs, he dramatically flopped on the ground. He pulled himself up with just as much theatrics, spinning until he reached the other edge. “But take the pain.”

“Hope when the moment comes you'll say…” The two discs spun around, letting the two teens grin at each other for their unison part.

“I, I did it all.” Jumping onto the much smaller discs that Tommy had prepared, the two used them as hoverboards. They drove next to each other for a moment, long enough to repeat the previous line, before drifting apart. “I owned every second that this world could give.” Each of them went into their own series of flips, swerves, and spins, Tommy keeping up by sheer willpower.

“I saw so many places, the things that I did. Yeah, with every broken bone, I swear I lived.” They stumbled on their landing, drifting to the other side of the two-disc-platform from each other.

Tommy took on the next verse, adrenaline burning in his veins for the next stunts. “Hope that you spend your days.” Pulling one disc away from the other, he let it spin and act like a treadmill. “But they all add up.”

“And when that sun goes down.” Sliding with the new slope, he barely caught the edge of the disc. It flipped with a purpose, sending him flying towards another disc. “Hope you raise your cup.” Sitting down in the hole of the vertical disc, he raised his imaginary cup towards the teen he just flew past. “Oh…”

“Oh…” Purpled stole the next vocalization, grinning at his partner as he traveled around the edge of the disc. “I wish that I could witness all your joy.” One teen manipulated the other with his movements, making the one in the precarious position stand up on one foot with one hand being the only thing to hold him. “And all your pain.” One teen rolled, the other falling forward and twisting midair.

Jumping up, Purpled caught Tommy bridal style this time. Taking that momentum, one of them spun a couple of times before releasing the other to take a couple of momentum-fueled spins himself. “But until my moment comes, I'll say…” They paused, reaching towards each other from the opposite side of the one disc.

“I, I did it all.” Then they took that hand and used it to start a cartwheel. The second iteration of that line got them back handspringing into the center of the disc. “I owned every second that this world could give.” Landing on a new disc for each of them, they had no qualms about using them as hoverboards.

“I saw so many places, the things that I did. Yeah, with every broken bone, I swear I lived.” They went much lower than last time, reveling in the stunned and awed expressions that the crowd gave after a particularly hard or flashy move.

“Oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh.” As they went through the vocalizations, they drifted back together. It didn’t take long before they were dancing as partners again, creating some type of lyrical-ballroom style that barely worked with the space that they had. “Oh, whoa-oh-oh, oh, whoa-oh-oh.”

“With every broken bone,” Tommy sang, spinning Purpled as he did so.

Then Purpled sang “I swear I lived,” and spun Tommy around.

They went through that one more time before flinging apart, taking their disc with them as they escaped the other’s magnetic field. “I, I did it all.” As low as they were, they took every opportunity to give high fives and/or mess up someone’s hair. “I owned every second that this world could give.

“I saw so many places, the things that I did. Yeah, with every broken bone, I swear I lived.

“Oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh.” This time, they drifted back to the balcony.

Upon Purpled’s “I swear I lived,” they sat back down on the railing as they were before. Finishing up the vocalizations while leaning on each other, they grinned at the applause and cheers that went up at the end of the song.

But the show still had more to go, as shown by a keyboard getting teleported onto the discs. Rolling his eyes, Tommy went to sit down as Purpled backed up and escaped to where Drista had disappeared.

The first few notes of ‘Human’ by Christina Perri (covered by Austin & Kurt) got the crowd to war between cheering and staying silent to hear the music. Tommy ignored them all, too busy putting his heart and soul into the music. He could practically hear the sobbing in the crowd from the amount of emotion he infused into his singing and barely kept from joining himself.

Although not as dynamic or explosive as the other songs, he still got a roaring round of applause. The keyboard disappeared soon after, giving room for the next song. One that included Drista who jumped over the railing.

As the first notes of ‘Dynasty’ by Miia began to play, the two of them were transported back to the main platform of two discs. “Some days it's hard to see.” Drista stood at the edge of the disc, Tommy standing behind her, with her eyes covered with her hands. “If I was a fool…” She collapsed backward, bringing her closer to Tommy. “... or you a thief.” His arms went around her middle, pulling them together even more.

Picking her up and spinning around, he set her on her course. “Made it through the maze to find my one in a million.” Stumbling, turning, running, she took a curve around the middle of the disc. To show his disinterest, Tommy did none of that and kept his traveling simple to meet her 1/4 of the way there.

They met for a moment, colliding with each other with an outstretched hand. “And now you're just a page torn from the story I'm living.” Taking that hand, Tommy flung the girl away and onto the other disc.

Tumbling to a stop, she stood up and tried to reach for the other. “And all I gave you is gone.” Drista tried to reach for him, the teen in question collapsing his chest away. “Tumbled like it was stone.” She went down into a roll, trying to reach for him as she stood to no avail.

“Thought we built a dynasty that heaven couldn't shake.” To testify against it, the discs started shifting and the two dramatically stumbled.

“Thought we built a dynasty like nothing ever made.” Twisting, turning, pausing to sharply snap her limbs into place once or twice, she reached for the stationary man.

“Thought we built a dynasty forever couldn't break up.” They reached for each other, getting close to clasping hands. But Tommy moved away, Drista stumbling back like she’d been struck while the discs moved with them.

“The scar I can't reverse.” She turned away, curling into herself in jerky intervals with the slight vocal pauses. “And the more it heals, the worse it hurts.” Two steps forward, three steps back, those forward much more victorious and proud than the ones back.

“Gave you every piece of me, no wonder it's missing.” He reached forward, she pressed her hands into her chest before expanding them outwards. Each one of his steps got her arms to rise a little higher. “Don't know how to be so close to someone so distant.” His arms circled her, not touching her while her hands stuttered from resting on his arms.

“And all I gave you is gone.” Her hands finally touched his arms, only to fling them away. “Tumbled like it was stone.” Both of them stumbled from it, only Drista stood tall afterwards.

“Thought we built a dynasty that heaven couldn't shake.” Mirroring each other, they reached for the sky with jerky motions. Their walk towards the edge of the discs was much smoother but moved with a certain taste of desperation.

“Thought we built a dynasty like nothing ever made.” They continued the trend, snapping to face away from each other. Going with opposite motions for a second, Drista put her hands to her chest while Tommy reached out. Each of them dropped to a knee with a fist pressing into the disc. Last second, they both partially rose into the Atlas pose.

“Thought we built a dynasty forever couldn't break up.” Tommy stood up, leaving the weight to fall to Drista who dropped to kneel. In return, the discs moved away from each other with a much more noticeable shift.

She attempted to twist around and reach for him but his movement of ignoring her to reach towards the sky struck her back. “It all fell down, it all fell down.” Rolling, she sprawled onto the disc. Attempts to stand again went with every full reiteration of a similar line, the disc jerked into a bigger incline with each phrase to force her back onto the ground.

“It all fell down, it all fell down, it all fell down.” On the final iteration, she jumped from the vertical standing disc towards the other. With ease, she soared over Tommy and landed in front of him with no injuries. That got him to refocus on her with a few cautious steps backward.

“And all I gave you is gone.” Drista was fighting him now, roaring with her arms open wide. Holding his head in his hands, he shook his head to deny something. “Tumbled like it was stone.” They both rolled forward, meeting in the middle.

“Thought we built a dynasty that heaven couldn't shake.” Standing up, Tommy held onto Drista as she wrapped her legs around his middle. They shook and stumbled, the hold getting somewhat loose with the interference of the disc’s shaking.

“Thought we built a dynasty like nothing ever made.” Twisting around, they went into an odd adaptation of an ice-skating-type move. Tommy held onto the back of her bent knee, bending down slightly as he spun. Dragged along with him, she kicked out her free leg to drag along the ground as her arms arched away from the other teen.

“Thought we built a dynasty forever couldn't break up.” Letting her go to grab onto her upper arms, Tommy forced both of her feet onto the ground. She kicked off with those, bringing herself up to be upside down and vertical. Finding purchase on the other’s shoulders, she pushed off with her hands to go flying through the air.

She landed on one of the much smaller discs, somehow keeping her balance as it moved around. “It all fell, it all fell down, it all fell down, eeh.” Each time she sang it to be so, she dropped down to another disc through both graceful and not so graceful moves. Once or twice, she had to hitch a ride on a rising disc with one of her hands so she didn’t drop too far below the main disc.

She landed on the main disc with her last phrase of the previous verse, rolling to stand near the edge of the platform. Before she could simply run off, Tommy grabbed her hand and pulled her into one last spin. At the end, the two of them stood there, only one of her feet on the platform, their hands holding on tightly.

“Thought we built a dynasty forever couldn't break up.” Drista let go.

The fall wasn’t far, the other main disc swooping down to save her. Still, Tommy hung off of the side of the disc where he had almost dived off to ‘save’ her. Standing up, Drista didn’t reach for him as she stared at his predicament.

Then the first notes of ‘Let Her Go’ by Passenger started to play. One of the smaller discs flew by, letting him step onto it. Slowly, he began to descend through switching discs a few times, Drista watching him like a curious predator. The two wolves circled each other for a moment, letting the music guide them through their cautionary dance.

Eventually, they wandered their way back into a ballroom waltz. Tommy sang soon after, giving her a cheesy smile as he did so. “Well, you only need the light when it's burning low.” His free hand that didn’t support her in the dip covered his eyes, her hand soon resting on his. “Only miss the sun when it starts to snow.” Pulling her back up, he lifted her by the waist. Reaching up with the hand that had covered up her partner’s eyes, she stared at the clouds.

“Only know you love her when you let her go.” Feet returned to the ground, twirling around with another’s guidance. They pulled at their connected hands for a moment, freezing when nothing gave way.

He pulled her back in, holding strong when she struggled a little. “Only know you've been high when you're feeling low.” Drista was lifted again, this time she used her hands on the other’s shoulders to give her room to kick. They spun around for a moment, stuck in a high-speed 1-2-3. “Only hate the road when you're missing home.” Forcefully, the two magnets sprung apart, barely kept together by the hands resting on shoulders and waists.

Jerking his head around, he visibly softened at the other’s attempt. “Only know you love her when you let her go.” The hand around her waist pulled her back in, letting him grab her reaching hand. At the end of the next spin, she was pressed against his front by the hands holding onto her crossed ones.

“And you let her go.” Released, she wasted no time in simply moving, traveling. Meanwhile, he stepped back and kept his next movements to slow spins and searching reaches.

“Staring at the bottom of your glass.” A roll from Tommy followed those words, Drista going against it with a leaping spin. “Hoping one day you'll make a dream last.” Long languid arabesque from one teen, fast-paced breaking from the other.

The discs varied their antics, more than likely following the style closest to them as they circled. “But dreams come slow, and they go so fast.” He reached out for one of the slower discs, barely grabbing it before it sped off. “You see her when you close your eyes.” It came around to her side of it, the flying teen careful to keep his eyes closed and one hand over them.

“Maybe one day, you'll understand why.” As the disc came closer, Tommy released the blindfold as Drista slowed down her hip-hop improv. “Everything you touch surely dies.” An outreached hand caused one of the teens to collapse upon touching it, the other left to hang there.

Slowly, the disc moved away again, circling a little tighter at Tommy’s orders. “But you only need the light when it's burning low.” Said teen curled into himself, managing to pull himself up to kneel on the disc. “Only miss the sun when it starts to snow.” He reached up only to falter and swing back below the disc.

Instead of continuing to reach for that sun, he hit the ground running. “Only know you love her when you let her go.” His arms encapsulated her, pulling up her limp body.

“Only know you've been high when you're feeling low.” At first, she went along willingly with the waltz. Then, she remembered herself and started pulling away. “Only hate the road when you're missing home.” Jumping up, Drista forced him to catch her lest she fell to the ground. Her new position resembled a superhero pose, only with an open hand and no fluttering capes to speak of.

Twisting, she fell out of his grip while he tried to reach for her again. “Only know you love her when you let her go.” She just watched as he stumbled backwards and off of the disc.

“Staring at the ceiling in the dark.” No harm done, he laid there on the other still overly enlarged disc with a hand reaching upwards. Having the time of her life, she improved an overly energetic choreography to contrast his moodiness. “Same old empty feeling in your heart.” His outreached hand pulled him up like a fishing hook, another joining it from where it had briefly rested against his heart.

Below the two, the discs began to spin. “'Cause love comes slow, and it goes so fast.” They reached for each other, one with much more energy, albeit frantic, than the other. Just before they could touch, the discs whipped around and brought them apart.

“Well, you see her when you fall asleep.” Force followed his outstretched had, spinning him around to watch her again. Instantly, he began traveling with spins, runs, stumbles, rolls, and anything that could portray his frantic energy. “But never to touch and never to keep.” As he ran towards her, she moved away. Their styles contrasted heavily, lyrical from the boy and hip-hop from the girl, and it only added to the performance.

“'Cause you loved her too much, and you dived too deep.” Too in his own head, he didn’t slow for the edge of the disc. Tommy didn’t even seem to notice it until he was falling.

“Well, you only need the light when it's burning low.” Rising again, he kept the first few moments as a drop of the head to the chin as the disc slowly meandered in a circle. “Only miss the sun when it starts to snow.” Lifting his head, he reached for the sun as the disc drifted towards Drista. “Only know you love her when you let her go.” Out of the blue, he grabbed her outstretched hand from some improv.

Forced to rise with him, she barely kept her grip as they drifted higher above the platform. “Only know you've been high when you're feeling low.” She lifted herself for a moment before resolutely reaching back towards solid ground. “Only hate the road when you're missing home.” A gentle kick to his side got that message across, especially when she used it to reangle herself. “Only know you love her when you let her go.” Looking at her, he slumped a little as he recognized the same pose that she’d before she had jumped out of his arms.

So, in his sympathy, Tommy let her go.

“And you let her go.”

Alas, he couldn’t resist following her. “Oh, oh, mm, oh.” They rolled in sync, rising to continue their dance. Every set of words had him moving away, every vocalization bringing him closer. Nonparticipating as can be, Drista twisted and pushed her way out of the everlasting tango they’d found themselves in.

“'Cause you only need the light when it's burning low.” His hand covered her eyes for a moment only to be wrenched away. That momentum carried him away a few steps. “Only miss the sun when it starts to snow.” Said momentum also let him spin a few times, each rotation ending with reaching towards the retreating girl. “Only know you love her when you let her go.” His persistent hand from before faltered, the other surging forward to grab her forearm.

“Only know you've been high when you're feeling low.” Caught mid-leap, she got pulled back. Landing on the ground, her dance partner led her through a twisting skid. Then he pulled her up, leaving her no choice but to wrap her legs around his middle, the same position as at the start. “Only hate the road when you're missing home.” Struggling valiantly, Drista made him pause for a moment.

Then, by using his hand on her arm, he pulled her away from him. “Only know you love her when you let her go.” Twisting and rolling with the momentum, she didn’t look back as he released her. Instead, she kept up her energy and went back into her amazing hip-hop improv.

Meanwhile, he was left to wallow away. “'Cause you only need the light when it's burning low.” One-handed cartwheel into a teetering standing. “Only miss the sun when it starts to snow.” Both of his hands reached for her, pulling and clawing at empty air. “Only know you love her when you let her go.” His chest collapsed away, leaving him stumbling back.

Those few steps back brought Tommy onto another disc, one that traveled up and away from Drista. “Only know you've been high when you're feeling low.” Perfectly executing a pirouette, he landed in a one-knee kneel. “Only hate the road when you're missing home.” Holding up a flat palm to the sky and an open one to the disc, he straightened his propped-up knee. “Only know you love her when you let her go.” His first hand met his second in reaching for her in a wide arc but only for a second as he moved it back.

The hand towards Drista whipped around, pulling his whole body with it. Circling his straightened leg, he ended up facing away from her with his knees perpendicular to each other.

“And you let her go.”

Reaching towards the sky, he paused both of them. Drista standing, panting, her hands on her hips in a victorious pose. Tommy sat there contemplatively, staring at the sky just beyond his reach.

Without any warning, the instrumental to ‘Counting Stars’ by OneRepublic started up and he was thrown straight back into singing.

“Lately, I've been, I've been losing sleep, dreaming about the things that we could be.” Standing up, he threw his arms wide. “But baby, I've been, I've been praying hard.” They crossed in front of him, still giving him plenty of room to look up at the sky. “Said no more counting dollars, we'll be counting stars.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Purpled waiting on the balcony and couldn’t help his grin. “Yeah, we'll be counting stars.”

“I see this life, like a swinging vine.” A disc floated in front of him, giving him plenty of room to grab it and start building up momentum. “Swing my heart across the line.” Arcing into the air, he grinned at the feeling of the wind in his face. His hands caught the railing, letting him clear it and pause just past it. Purpled couldn’t help his fond huff that somehow didn’t make it into the mic at Tommy’s theatrics.

“And in my face is flashing signs.” The hands that stayed on the railing lessened, one taken to gesture at the world around them. “Seek it out and ye shall find.” The other rested on Purpled’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Old, but I'm not that old.” A nod towards Purpled implying something that he only rolled his eyes at.

“Young, but I'm not that bold.” Said teen took the next line, tugging back when Tommy began to lead him towards the railing. As if he hadn’t jumped off of said railing on a whim but, y’know…

Tommy took such complaints with an eye-roll and a more insistent tug to get over the railing. “And I don't think the world is sold.” They jumped over, landing on the awaiting disc. “On just doing what we're told.”

In a wonderful display of his powers, Tommy took the extra discs and put them through complicated patterns that stunned everyone. “I feel something so right, doing the wrong thing.” As they moved onto the free main disc, the other discs got dismissed as he shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched over. “And I feel something so wrong, doing the right thing.”

“I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie.” He reached for the other’s hand, grinning at the implications of “Everything that kills me makes me feel alive.”

And although Purpled rolled his eyes and almost scoffed loud enough for the mic to hear, he took Tommy’s hand with an identical grin. “Lately, I've been, I've been losing sleep, dreaming about the things that we could be.” They both sung and went into their usual ballroom/hip-hop hybrid style, trading the lead, going into moves that could be considered break-dancing, etc. By some miracle, they didn’t bursting out laughing at the pure amount of joy in them. “But baby, I've been, I've been praying hard. Said no more counting dollars, we'll be counting stars.”

They went through the chorus again, getting a little faster, a little more dynamic with their dancing. It all culminated to the last lyric of “We'll be, we'll be counting stars” where Purpled took a running jump at Tommy. With ease, one teen launched the other into the air where they went into a complicated spin-flip combo. And just as easily, one caught the other with barely breaking a sweat. “Yeah.”

“I feel your love and I feel it burn.” Purpled took the lead, jumping out of the other’s arms to dance. “Down this river, every turn.” Leaping spins and twists brought him to the edge of the disc where Tommy caught him before he could drop. “Hope is our four-letter word, make that money, watch it burn.” He grabbed Tommy’s hand, spinning both of them around so they were facing the crowd. “Old, but I'm not that old.”

Tommy took the jab of the other with hands on hips and a returned “Young, but I'm not that bold.”

“And I don't think the world is sold.” Dropping into a lunge, Purpled forced the other to prepare for the next stunt. “On just doing what we're told.” With a running leap, he pushed off of the offered hands and shoulder to go into another flip with an additional spin.

“And I feel something so wrong, doing the right thing.” He walked normally, barely hiding his fidgeting or exasperated expression. “I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie.” Without hesitation, each repeat got a back handspring. The last back handspring ended in a roll. “Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly.” Tommy picked him up easily, lifting the other teen above his head before launching him into the sky again.

The chorus came around again, letting them fall into old habits. Before long, the last line came up again. “We'll be, we'll be counting stars.” They barrel-rolled in unison with their hands linked, landing without a hitch onto the next disc. One of their hands raised up, pausing them in an overly showy pose.

From her place of idle spectation, Drista gave them crossed arms over her chest as they began to sing and dance around her. “Oh, take that money, watch it burn, sink in the river the lessons I've learned.” Prompting her into a partner move, giving her something to copy, and more happened throughout the repeats of the lines. Before long, she thawed out and participated to the bare minimum.

But Tommy’s solo line and offered hand got a bit more of a reaction. “Everything that kills me…” She took his hand, soon taking Purpled’s as well as they all grinned at each other. “... makes me feel alive.”

For the first time, a run-through of the chorus was solo. Drista took it with pride and zealous, grinning under her mask. The trading of roles, moves, and styles flowed so chaotically yet smoothly, only getting better when all three of them sang together. Stunts comprising of two people in the air started up in the second chorus, adding in more awe that barely took away from the simple yet powerful transitions.

“Take that money, watch it burn, sink in the river the lessons I've learned” barely changed their skill level. Their style did stray more towards hip-hop but the grins on their faces showed no pain with doing so. Slowly, they gathered closer and closer to the edge.

The last “sink in the river the lessons I’ve learned” prompted them to step off of the edge. Hand in hand, they came together into a brilliant ending pose. Tommy stood on two small discs, holding up the two with a hand each. Drista and Purpled hung slightly below him, meeting in the middle by pressing their feet together. With the additional hands outstretched from the two below, the diamond-like shape almost looked like a shield with wings.

Silence.

Before roaring applause.

The laughter of the people next to Tommy couldn’t be heard, drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Were it any other crowd, he would be concerned for their safety and sanity. With Pogtopians, there was no concern for something barely there.

Pulling back most of his discs, he resolutely ignored how his hands were definitely going to be shaking later. Instead, he just used his other two free discs for the convenience of Purpled and Drista to have their own transportation. He zipped ahead before they could even fully balance on the discs, making him cackle as he practically felt the middle fingers from them.

Soon enough, the three of them were leading the masses to the next part of the celebration. They did so well, even if they occasionally dive-bombed each other or the crowd. Any squawks of protest or fake shrieks of anger only added more laughter to the trio.

As they reached the border of the area, they calmed down. Everyone else did the same, simmering down into a more steady energy. There wasn’t much reason to be too out of hand around a nature reserve/park, after all.

Said park, better known as the Ancients Park, held most if not all above-ground Pogtopian events. The land previously used to make the housing units for those who had aged out of Pogtopia had been completely redone. Now, it was a park with plenty of open space to run around, enjoy the outside, and hold events like concerts.

No concert today, only a large brazier standing in the center gave a hint to the event. Those around them filed in, leaving the teens anonymous in the throngs of people. Making the most of it, they stood off to the side and waited for the others to show up.

Before that, Tommy turned to speak with Purpled. Not before punching the other on the shoulder, obviously. “You absolute prick. I thought that concert was at the Festival! So not pog, so not pog,” Tommy spat, getting a laugh from the other. Any irritation melted away at the sound of the other’s laugh, just leaving him with an annoyed sigh.

Such fondness in his look got a knowing one from Drista, the girl knowing exactly what he was planning. To give a little more privacy, she disappeared into the crowd to go find the others. So, now that Tommy was alone with Purpled, he pulled out Mall to hide it in his hand.

“I’m taking your hoodie now,” he said, grabbing said piece of clothing without giving the other a moment to react. When Purpled did, he was already being given it back with an extra accessory by the strings. His jaw dropped, clearly not expecting to see a disc take the place of a hoodie aglet. “What do you say, moon, think you’re up for taking the Mall?”

The phrase took a solid five seconds to process. When it did, the heartwarming smile was worth every moment of anxiety. “I think I’m up for anything as long as I’m with you, star,” Purpled said, returning the cheesy fondness.

“Well, I’m not leaving for another few dozen years,” Tommy joked, snickering when he got an eye roll.

“You’ll have to try to get me out of your orbit,” Purpled snarked back with a little too much fondness to be of any ‘harm’. Instead, the two initiated a hug for a few long moments, just being there with each other.

Coming in like a wrecking ball, Tubbo burst out of the crowd to initiate a group hug. As the two blondes tried to pry him off, Ranboo and Drista came in to thwart any attempts by joining as well. Thoroughly defeated, the two let it be and held the others a little closer with soft smiles on their faces.

(If anyone asked them later, they denied their softness with every ounce of willpower in their body. Too bad the others had a little bit more when it came to annoying/embarrassing their friends.)

Eventually, they got interrupted by the Vanguard supplying everyone with a cup. There wasn’t much in it, just a golden and red somewhat see-through liquid that barely covered the bottom. Recognizing the ever-popular and somewhat ceremonious (and maybe a little alcoholic) drink of Ichor, they clinked their glasses together as they waited for the brazier to light with the symbolic flames of Icarus.

“Hey,” Purpled said, quiet enough to only be heard by Tommy. “How’s the new year feeling?”

He couldn’t help but huff a little at that. “Not the best, I won’t lie, but I still have plenty more to go so what can I say?” he said, his chuckle humorless.

“Maybe someday, you can feel comfortable enough to reveal yourself,” Purpled said, ignoring the harsh look from Drista when she noticed Tommy’s reaction.

He flinched like he’d been struck. “Not happening,” he hissed, narrowing his eyes at the other. “They need their martyr.”

“They need a role model,” Purpled countered, his eyes alight with a fury never strayed.

All Tommy could do was sigh and give him a pointed look. “Leave it. Let’s just enjoy the celebration,” he said, getting a sigh back.

Not that Purpled could say much more with the bonfire roaring at its full capacity. White flames mixed with purple flared up, prompting the Pogtopians to raise their glasses. On a united beat, the last sun’s rays brushing past, all of them drank the Ichor.

What a wonderful 3rd year of being dead.

Chapter Text

Jack would be one to say that he wasn’t a good person. Sure, he was the pro hero Acheron, known for jumping onto the scene in a flurry of ice and fire that frequently calmed the chaos. Barriers for citizens and supports for damaged buildings always went up first, something that got commented on in every news report or interview.

But he wasn’t a good person.

Niki would argue on that fact, citing the multiple times that he’d protected her with no hesitation. He’d only give a half-smile and ignore the flashes of broken bone and spattered blood. Because he wasn’t a good person but he would gladly maul anyone who would hurt good people.

The fire that ran in his veins served as a constant reminder of this.

And, in some crooked sense of justice, he would use that fire to hurt villains and criminals who could be good or bad people. It didn’t matter, he frequently didn’t get a choice in the matter. The Commission only cared about detainment statistics, after all.

They only cared about patrols, leading Jack to where he was right now. Jumping around the city on a night that was supposed to be a holiday. On the Fall of Icarus, all he could do was parkour across some buildings, use ice or fire as a boost across a street, and keep an eye for anything suspicious. All he wanted to do was hang out with Niki but noooo, some hero had to be out and about to watch out for Crimson criminals. It also had to be a Pogtopian because what else would the Commission want?

Bitter as he was, at least this let him get out some energy. Even if he felt so tired.

Maybe Tommy would have some relaxation on the roof he was sitting on.

“Ayup,” Jack said as he landed a few steps away. Tommy jumped nonetheless, whipping his head around and relaxing only minutely when he recognized the other. “What are you doing on this fine night?”

An exhausted sigh prompted the blaze-born to sit beside the blonde. “Just… tired,” Tommy said, leaning back onto his hands to stare up at the stars. Offering no more than a hum, Jack did the same. The two stayed quiet for a few moments before the blonde broke it with another sigh. Then, he whispered, “Just… how do you do it?”

That prompted a very confused look from the hero, the teen keeping his eyes towards the night sky. It wasn’t until Tommy pointed at his own neck that Jack understood. Subconsciously, Jack let his fingers linger on the scar around his neck, the scar of his breaking point.

“I guess… I just accept it. Nothing’s going to bring me back, after all,” he said, shrugging as he brushed past where his pulse was supposed to be.

An even quieter question followed the first answer, “And if someone won’t accept that?”

“Then they can live with it. Time has run its course, all that matters is that I’m here now,” Jack said, turning towards Tommy with a frown on his face. “Is… everything alright?”

The fire in his veins leaped attention, eager to earn its right. Ice crept at his hands, equalizing the pressure. For now, all he could do was wait for Tommy’s answer. And if that just so happened to send him on a warpath? So be it.

Crooked and broken, a chuckle bubbled its way past Tommy’s lips with the morbidity of blood. “I don’t know,” he wheezed, folding in on himself with another slightly deranged chuckle. “I don’t fucking know .”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to know,” Jack said, a similar chuckle coming from him unbidden. Gently, he pulled the other closer to him. “You don’t have to know,” he repeated with solemn wisdom as the teen collapsed into him.

In a rare show of affection between the two, the older leaned down to press a kiss into blonde hair. That only made the sobs worse, even if they were soothed by gentle circles traced into his back. “And when you do know, I’ll be here either way,” Jack vowed, making the sobs hiccup as Tommy pulled him closer.

And Jack would keep his vow upon everything that made him a Revenant, title and otherwise.

Looking out towards the Ancients Park where the pyre still burned brightly, he pulled the teen a little closer to him. Distant purple and white glow shined with the stars, with bodies of light that could’ve been long since dead. A quiet huff escaped him as he caught himself into the morbidity of stars, a morbidity that compared to his situation a little too well.

What a wonderful 7th year of being undead.

Chapter Text

Glancing around at the set that held people scrambling to do their job, Ranboo couldn’t help his nervous warble. Luckily, Tommy and Tubbo were there to soothe him. Held hands gently squeezed, letting a minute amount of the tension leak from him.

“It’ll be fine, boss man, you’ve got Kristin on set to help you out,” Tubbo said, smiling at him.

Tommy went with a much more chaotic reassurance. “If anything not pog happens, I jump in to distract them. Who can resist the great Tommy Innit, after all?” he said, getting a swat from Tubbo for his bravado.

Despite himself, Ranboo chuckled at Tommy’s antics. “I’m sure you would,” he teased, nudging a huffing Tommy. “I think it’ll be okay… I’ve got Kristin and Jordan isn’t too pushy of a guy.”

Just as always, the mention of Jordan got Tubbo’s face to pinch almost imperceptibly. Before Ranboo or Tommy could ask questions about such a reaction, the warning for five minutes got shouted out. That sent Ranboo into a minor spiral of anxiety made apparent by the squeak from the teen.

“You got this,” Tubbo said with a chuckle towards the other’s reaction.

“It’ll be pog, big man. You’re Ranboo motherfucking Beloved, you’re Shadow, it’ll be singing,” Tommy said, hyping the other up with enough bravado for the both of them. “And remember, plan B is always available.”

That last line made Tubbo sigh and face palm. “Tommy, you can’t just photobomb an interview.”

“Fucking watch me, bitch--”

Kristin chose that moment to walk up to them, chuckling at the teens’ antics. “C’mon, Ranboo, it’s time to start,” she said, motioning towards the set. With a final squeeze from each of his soulmates’ hands, he let go to follow the woman. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrified,” he said bluntly, getting a chuckle from her. “But I think it’ll be okay.”

“Just signal to me if you want to stop it, I’m completely open to hard shutting down this whole thing. Your wellbeing is much more important than some interview,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder to add to the comfort.

Even if she couldn’t see it beyond his helmet, he smiled at the kind woman. “Thank you,” he said, pausing just before he got into view of the camera. “Could you say something along of the lines of getting this show on the road?”

Such a request seemed to put her through a speed-run of the stages of grief. “Let’s get this show on the road then, Shadow,” she said nonetheless, smiling a sad little smile at the teen.

“After you, m’lady,” he said, motioning her forward with a half bow. Theatrics as such only came out in the right mindset, one that he knew how to force himself into. Why did Kristin look so sad at something that worked?

She went along with it anyway, sitting down to smile at Jordan. He returned it easily, giving it to Ranboo as well. “We’re on in a minute, how are you two feeling?” he asked, kindness clear in his smile.

“Pretty good,” Ranboo said, smiling back under his helmet.

Muttering some type of agreement, Kristin gave the teen a skeptical look. “Good to hear,” Jordan said, carefully keeping his face neutral despite catching the glance. “Well, let’s get this rolling then.”

With a few motions towards the cameraman, the countdown started. When the hand keeping count closed into a fist, the red light on the side of the camera lit up.

“Welcome one and all to the Starlight Spotlight!” Jordan did his job seamlessly, grinning at the camera with practiced ease. “I’m your host, Jordan Maron, and today we’ll be interviewing Shadow,” Ranboo waved slightly at the camera to play into the show. “who is accompanied by the PR director of the SBI, Kristin Rosales.” She waved too, her smile eerily similar to Tommy’s customer service smile.

“That prompts the first question of the interview, I suppose,” Jordan said, turning slightly more towards Ranboo to address the question. “Who are you and who are you teamed up with?”

“Well, I’m Shadow, I’m a new hero, started out a month or so ago. As for the team up, I’m not officially a part of any hero teams but since I work with the SBI so much, Kristin offered to accompany me to my first interview,” Ranboo said, nodding towards the woman.

“Are there any hero teams that you would like to be considered towards?”

“SBI is obviously one of them, I’ve already worked with them a multitude of times. Besides, they’re the most used to my antics,” Ranboo said, the second statement getting a chuckle. “Another would be a team with Acheron and Tengakai.”

“They’re also Pogtopians, right? Is that why you would like to work with them?”

“To remove some of the mysterious shroud of myself,” Ranboo said, the teasing lilt in his voice getting a huff of laughter. “I know them personally, outside of hero work. We get along quite well and I’m certain that we would do great in the field.”

“From what I understand, you guys have already been on a mission of sorts together. If we look at the clip right over here…” Jordan trailed off, motioning to the screen behind them. Part of the blue-purple galaxy gif that had been playing was soon replaced by a video. Said video being of the stunt at the L’Manberg Conservatory.

A stunt that he’d been getting passive-aggressive emails from the Heroes’ Commission about for a few weeks. Collectively, all three involved agreed to send them onto a dozen red herrings that didn’t incriminate the other heroes on the mission. At some point, Fundy had even joked about activating the Icarus Initiative if they kept harassing the three. (Not much of a joke after Tubbo overheard but the thought was there.)

“... You guys worked quite well together, a good dynamic from what I can see. The Commission would be crazy to not put you three in a team together,” Jordan said as the clip ended. And by the glint in his eyes as he glanced at Ranboo and Kristin, he knew exactly what type of war he was threatening.

There had been multiple requests from Jack and Fundy both to become a hero duo. Instead, the two were sent on more solo missions that were tiring and dangerous to get them to shut up. Of course, the public didn’t know about that. All they knew was that the Commission was delaying the team-up of two very dynamic heroes for ‘undisclosed reasons’.

The two, although being high ranked and household names, weren’t all that focused on. Bring in the new hero on the block, a powerful one that had reportedly solved multiple incidents in the span of minutes, one that was already liked by the public, and, well…

With a sly grin hidden by his helmet, Ranboo had no problem forcing the Commission’s hand. “They were amazing in that mission. Tengakai assisted Ignition tremendously with the bomb situation while Acheron helped me immensely with deescalating the situation. All in all, I think that was the best, although no less difficult, mission I went on,” he said, adding the perfect amount of pride, awe, and respect in his voice to make Jordan, and anyone in the set he could see, absolutely melt. Even Kristin looked heart warmed, the well-hidden suspicion doing little to derail that.

Continuing on, as always, Jordan picked out the little bits that could make amazing stories. “I’m sorry, did you say bomb situation? I think I’d like to know a bit more about this mission in general. Anything that’s not classified, of course.”

“Of course,” Ranboo repeated, grinning again under Kristin’s scrutiny and Tubbo’s approving gaze. Just for this interview, all three teens had looked through every disclosure agreement that went with being a hero so that the Commission couldn’t call him out for some stupid slip-up. “Well, at the L’Manberg Conservatory, the heroes had several reasons to believe that there would be an assassination of one of the guests.”

A dramatic gasp from Jordan fit perfectly into the show and Ranboo continued on with an even bigger grin. “In a calculated moment of risk, I decided to announce the presence of some of the heroes on the mission. As such, Acheron, Tengakai, and I called the attention of the other guests of the performance with some heartfelt words. While the show went on, all of the heroes on-site paid close attention for any hints of danger.

“I personally reasoned that they would enact something during a crescendo or climax of the ballet. More noise to cover up the weapon’s charge. And they did, perched up in the ceiling to take the shot.

“I teleported in, grabbed the target, and teleported them out onto the street. After a few words to them, I went back in and teleported more people out from the box seats. Other actions to take care of suspicious behavior happened during this time and I teleported all of those guests out onto the street, the same location the initial target had been moved to.

“Coming back in, I recognized that none of my coworkers could apprehend the assassin with the understandable yet chaotic panic of the guests. So I teleported all 300 some-odd remaining civilians and workers in the Conservatory outside. As someone with confidence in my coworkers and with the need to take care of the innocent, I delayed coming back to my fellow heroes to give some comforting words and orders to those who needed it.”

“If I may interrupt,” Jordan said, smiling when Ranboo gave him a gracious signal to go on. “I believe we have a video of that as well that we can project onto the screen.”

They did and the teen quickly tuned out his past words. He still watched, frowning a little at the obvious signs of exhaustion in his stance. The video of him still radiated his comfort and confidence, he could see some of the civilians physically relax as he went on.

Jordan picked up on that too, turning to the teen after the video ended. “You are quite a strong man if you can remain so confident despite your obvious exhaustion,” he complimented.

“Thank you but I’m simply someone trying to do his best to help others,” Ranboo said, waving off the praise with a chuckle. “And anyone would be exhausted after teleporting upwards of 350 people out in the span of thirty seconds, strong or not.”

“True true… My next question, to put it bluntly, is quite crass and insensitive. It’s about your time in Pogtopia,” Jordan started, getting Kristin to stand to attention immediately. “Do not feel obligated to answer it but is your teleportation a trained ability from your time working in Lockdown?”

That set Kristin off with a carefully polite smile that reminded Ranboo a little too much of Tubbo after someone pissed him off in court. “Insensitive indeed, Lockdown is not a topic that needs to be discussed here,” she bit out.

The news reporter backed off immediately, raising his hands in surrender. “I know, it is completely fine to skip over this question--”

But Kristin wasn’t done, leaning forward with more teeth than necessary filling her smile. “The fact that you have the audacity to bring it up in the first place--”

“Enough,” Ranboo said bluntly, cutting them both off with a hand raised to each of them. Both adults looked a little sheepish at having to be mediated but the calm kindness of the hero had nothing on the burning glares of the other two teens hanging out in the set. “Kristin, thank you for wanting to protect me. And Jordan, thank you for giving me an option in answering this question. I believe I will, for the sake of a later explanation.”

“Completely up to you,” Jordan said, a curt nod from Kristin agreeing with that sentiment.

“Thank you,” the teen said, more calm and put together than either of the adults, either of the L’Manbergians. “Well, as many know, teleportation is a rare ability, even among endermen. When a Pogtopian with such an ability showed up on the overseers’ radar, they were immediately put to work. For fear of my own safety and from enforced practice, my teleportation has grown to be at a power level that feats like the evacuation of the Conservatory are possible. A story that I would like to continue, if there are no other questions at this time.”

The two of them motioned him on, Kristin giving Jordan a pointed look as she did so.

“So, after requesting second-hand that the police evacuate the people farther, I went back into the Conservatory. Several heroes were facing off directly with the assassin, a few staying high and out of any crossfire. Upon returning and being unable to get a hit in, one of the heroes who had not enjoyed my calculated risk of revealing ourselves was in the sights of the sniper’s weapon. Despite our previous disagreement, I moved him out of the way. In the process, I myself got shot.”

Cue another dramatic gasp that he chuckled at.

“The bullet never pierced my skin, the wonders of nano-technology and kevlar, am I right? The most I got was a few cracked ribs and a light ribbing from my mentor. And my roommates absolutely mother-henning me when I got home. Fair enough, I did get shot and collapsed onto the ground thanks to a lack of wind in my system.

“While I dealt with being shot at, Tengakai noticed some bombs on one of the higher floors. Ignition teamed up with him to deal with those, leaving the five heroes on the ground floor, me included, to deal with the sniper. After a little bit of fighting, Blood Boar, my mentor, being furious enough to force the sniper to back up despite their power of a force field, unintentionally showed me the assassin’s intentions.

“They were absolutely terrified.”

Hums of confusion, clear questions on the tip of Jordan’s tongue, but Ranboo just kept going.

“They were staring at me like they’d seen a ghost, clearly scared that I could’ve died. I think that they were initially aiming for the shoulder of my comrade but he was moving too unpredictably to get a good shot on. Instead, the bullet aimed for his heart and hit me in the stomach. A fatal wound from such a powerful sniper rifle so up close.

“And they were terrified of a fatality. Sure, hitting the target would’ve been a bit different, they were several stories apart and they’d been prepared to kill them. However, killing a hero? In close-quarters combat? They were terrified of that. They were terrified of deviating from orders or morals.

“I’ve been in that situation before, terrified to go against something under threat of being hurt. So I decided that they were as much worth saving as all of those civilians I just exhausted myself for. It took some deescalating, me getting caught in a few stray shots, Acheron scolding the other heroes for not listening, and a bit of convincing but eventually me and the assassin were talking. Just sitting on the floor, both of us in a vulnerable position, and talking like normal people.”

“You said that the other heroes weren’t entirely happy with this development, did that affect this negotiation at all?” Jordan asked, finally letting himself interject.

“Oh, it did, I just told them they could use me as a hostage if the others were being idiots,” Ranboo said so bluntly and crassly that the two adults couldn’t help their snorts. “Beyond that, it was a pretty reasonable discussion for the most part. I pried for a little bit of information about their motivation, that being orders and money, and didn’t get shot.”

“You said for the most part,” the news reporter said, his amusement clear as day. “Did you get punched instead?”

“Not quite. You see, there was an accomplice, the arsonist who set up the bombs. Said accomplice, understandably, freaked out a little about their partner having a tea party on the floor with a hero.” Another chuckle escaped Jordan at Ranboo’s humor. “I eventually got them to calm down enough that the three of us could talk it out.

“And, using what I’d gotten from the sniper, I gave them an offer. Number one, we continue the fight and people get hurt, the building gets blown up, et cetera. Or, number two, I would give them all of the money I’ve so far earned from hero work and I would contact a lawyer to get them into protective custody.”

Jaws dropped around the studio, the new information getting their heads to spin. “Well, I guess the choice is obvious, huh,” Jordan said, a surprised chuckle escaping him. “Wasn’t this offer detrimental to you? You’re going bankrupt and contacting a lawyer that could very well ask for your kidney in return.”

“Not quite. I had a job before I was a hero and I still have some money from that. My roommates are completely understanding and willing to use their earnings to pick up any slack. Lastly, I have a good relationship with a lawyer, enough so that I could ask for a favor that wouldn’t be the price of my liver,” Ranboo said, waving off the concern. “Even if I didn’t have all of these contingencies, I would gladly do everything in my power to help Pearl and Ches, the sniper and the arsonist, two very good people, get all the help they need.”

To add to the moment, Tommy chose to waltz into view of the camera and lean on Ranboo’s seat. To be honest, the enderman couldn’t even summon an exasperated sigh. “If I may interject, Shadow is a very good and selfless man. I have no doubt that he would do anything he could to help Pearl, Ches, and one other,” he said, his tone completely even and casual as the entire studio stared at him in confusion.

Well, Tubbo was alternating between facepalming and glaring at the blonde, but, y’know.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met,” Jordan said, standing up to offer a handshake. “I’m Jordan Maron.”

“Tommy Innit, it’s nice to meet you, sir,” the teen said, taking that handshake with a smile. “You might recognize me in a moment. Shadow, may I use my powers for a second?”

“A second,” Ranboo agreed, his tone too amused to be stern. Now Tubbo was glaring at him too, great.

“You’re one of the teens from the Food Barrel robbery and hostage situation,” Jordan realized, staring at the disc that Tommy had summoned to hover over his hand. “Well, it’s an honor to have you on the show, Tommy Innit. If I may ask, how do you know Shadow? Also, who is this ‘other’ you mentioned?”

“We know each other personally, met after Lockdown with our other roommate too, hit it off, and became roommates,” Tommy said, miraculously not swearing throughout it. “And the other is a man named Jeffery, the bomber at the Heroes’ Tower. Also the first one out of those Crimson-eyed freaks that he has encountered.”

“That begs the question, were this Pearl and Ches also affected by the Crimson-eyed craze going around?” Jordan asked, leaning slightly forward in his eagerness. “From what we’ve seen, these criminals are not easy to negotiate with. What’s so different about these three?”

“They were,” Ranboo said, moving on before Jordan could pick apart his wording. “I think what’s different is that people are trying to talk to them, trying to get them to change their mind. Now, obviously, I’m not encouraging any civilians to sit down and talk to them, they’re still dangerous, but there’s a difference between treating them as a threat or as a person.

“I don’t believe that all who are infected with this craze are inherently violent. I won’t deny that there are some nutcases out there, all crime surges have at least one, but not all of them want to fight or cause harm. At least, not until someone tries to talk to them. I offered these three a different option and they took it, they truly believed that I could give them an out and a shot at a new life.”

“Is that what being a hero is all about to you? I’ll pose the question to both of you. Do both of you, as the younger generation and as Pogtopians, have a concrete definition of being a hero?” Jordan said, tilting his head in his curiosity.

Tommy went first, humming as he thought about it. “I’d have to say that the most concrete thing I can give you is a hero is someone who fights for the betterment of the people. What is better can be debated to one’s dying breath but I think that trying at least gives you a shot at being defined as a hero. Whether you did a good or bad job of it is subjective, just as everyone’s personal definition of a hero is.”

Ranboo went next. “I believe that being a hero means that you fight for the people and for your morals. A strong moral compass is what I believe is the core of a hero, compassion being an important part of that. Being able to follow through with your word that you will help people, no matter their past or what they’ve done, is a very important part of that.”

“On that note, I believe we’ll end off the interview. Thank you three for coming on today,” Jordan said, grinning at the relatively energetic replies. “Well, you’ve heard it here folks! The definitions, the woes, and the accomplishments of heroes! No one quite needs a cape, all you need is the heart and the mind for it! This has been Starlight Spotlight with your host Jordan Maron and I hope the stars shine on you all tonight.”

They waited for a moment until the cameraman shouted out “Cut!”

Jordan stood up, exchanging another handshake with all three of them. “Thank you all for coming, seriously,” he said, smiling at the three with something so small yet so much more genuine than anything given on camera. “I know coming into an interview can be stressful, I don’t think I helped that much either.”

“It’s all good, just a bit more warning next time for loaded questions, eh?” Ranboo said, chuckling at the other’s unnecessary apology. “You still get an exclusive launch of the Shadow merch, don’t worry.”

Chuckling back, Jordan let the teens go to discuss something with Kristin. In doing so, he removed the barrier between them, more like Tommy, and Tubbo’s wrath.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Wait, Big T, waIT!”

All Ranboo could do was chuckle as Tubbo strangled Tommy for his lack of tact. Sighing, he mumbled a quick “Curtains closed,” to himself. Shaking off the cobwebs of the previous mindset, he summoned enough energy to negotiate for Tommy’s survival.

And honestly, despite the mentally draining and possibly damaging mindset that he’d been in for a little too long, Ranboo couldn’t be happier.

Chapter Text

“Boo, I have work to do,” Tubbo sighed, deliberately not looking at the enderman. He knew that the other was giving him puppy dog eyes and he would not give in. “I would love to hang out with the SBI but the L’Manberg government is very insistent on getting these in the next few days.”

“But Bo, you’ve been working at them all day,” Ranboo said, ruffling the other’s hair. It took everything in Tubbo to not immediately melt into the touch, he had work to do and that work would not be done if he was busy drifting off into affection Narnia. “Surely a few hours won’t collapse them?”

Another sigh. “Boo--”

“Bo, please. It would be fun to hang out with the SBI with all three of us,” Ranboo said, scratching gently at the bee’s scalp in a way that he knew would knock the other offline. Bastard was doing it on purpose.

“Three of us? Isn’t Tommy still at his shit job?” Tubbo said, trying to put a hole in the other’s argument. Going out was tempting but devices created by him that no one else had the blueprints to wouldn’t make themselves.

“He’s getting more time off with him putting in his two-week notice. We’re meeting him at a nearby cafe,” the enderman said, scratching the bee’s scalp again. “SBI and Bench Trio, best team up either side of the ground. C’mon, Bo.”

“Two-week notice, blah blah blah,” Tubbo said, getting a little more aggressive than necessary with his next go of the screwdriver. “Why didn’t he just quit? The coffee shop has been in the works for at least three weeks, surely he could’ve put in that ringing ‘two-week notice’ in earlier.”

“Bo,” Ranboo started, sighing when the other gave him a look. “Bo, how long did it take for you to start Bee-Ngineering?”

“You were there, I don’t know why you--”

“Bo.”

Rolling his eyes, Tubbo sighed and gave the answer of “Three months after Lockdown.”

“And what stopped you before?”

The obvious questions did little but get on his nerves, Tubbo conveying such with a glare. Ranboo didn’t even blink. “There were too many collapsing unknowns. We didn’t know what the L’Manberg government was doing, the Vanguard was figuring itself out, we were figuring ourselves out. There was too much uncertainty to take the risk of creating a freelance business while post-Lockdown clean up started.”

“And there’s your answer.” At Tubbo’s vocal and visual cues of confusion, the other elaborated, “Tommy’s going through the same stuff. We don’t know what the Eggpire’s doing, what the heroes are doing, what the Pogtopian and L’Manbergian governments are doing, et cetera. There’s something ringing new on the rise that we don’t know the exact intentions of and if there’s another situation the magnitude of Lockdown, what are we going to do? Slightly more stuff is certain which is why it only took him three weeks to start singing his dream.”

“Boo, we’ve been in peace for three years, I don’t know why he didn’t do it sooner,” Tubbo said, frowning and shaking his head despite the reasonable explanation. “There was ringing nothing stopping him from doing this a few months ago.”

“Nothing physical,” Ranboo corrected, getting another frown. “Just as there’s nothing physical stopping me from picking you up and kidnapping you to hang out with the SBI.”

Whipping his head around, the bee had no qualms about glaring at the other. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“But Bo,” Arms wrapped around his middle, making him yelp and drop the tool in hand. “I already did.” Before Tubbo could give a vocal protest, they were already in the void.

Left hanging in the other’s arms in the entirely new location, he grumbled at the switch. Ranboo let him go, grinning despite the glare thrown at him. Dusting himself off dramatically, Tubbo glanced around and paused when he saw all of the SBI in civilian clothes sitting on a park bench.

Still being traitorous, Ranboo waved at the three to get their attention. “Hey, guys!” he called, smiling when they waved back and stood up to greet him.

“Hey, mate,” Phil said, glancing over at an indignant Tubbo with a chuckle. “Did you kidnap Tubbo or something?”

Tubbo had no qualms of ratting out his husband. “He did. In the middle of my work too.”

“Ranboo, how dare you,” Wilbur said, his tone teasing enough that the bee still glared at the man.

“To be fair, he’s been working on his machines for almost a straight 12 hours,” Ranboo said, huffing at his partner’s theatrics.

Multiple things had to be addressed in that sentence and Tubbo did so with his hands on his hips. “Well, first off, I’m not straight so don’t even start.” An aborted snort came from Techno at the joke while the other two heroes froze up. “Second off, seeing as I am the sole distributor of a very very important machine that could--”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” the other teen said, cutting off the shorter one without hesitation. “Anyway--”

Recovering from his sputtering, Tubbo went with the most sarcastic route he could. “Yeah, anyway, what are we doing? Sounded singingly amazing with how you were trying to convince me to stop my work.” One could hear the crickets in the distance as Ranboo searched for an answer. “Are you ringing serious? You dragged me away from my work and you don’t even have a plan? Not even an inkling?”

Techno cleared his throat, distracting from the potential danger directed at his protege. “To be fair, us three don’t get out much. The most is when Wilbur and/or Phil go out to see Tommy or when we went to your marathon. You and Ranboo are really the only ones who know the city,” he said, shrugging while they all had the decency to look sheepish.

“Are you--” Tubbo cut himself off this time, clicking a harsh note of ‘ done-exasperated-okay ’ to do so. “Okay, okay, fine. Let’s just go down the list, what type of thing would you like to do that you think would be possible as we walk around?”

“Um, buying books of classics?” Techno blurted out when Tubbo suddenly pointed at him.

Already, the bee had to do a double-take of the trio’s weird hobbies. “Like Shakespeare or like mythology?” he asked.

“Mythology.”

Nodding, the teen pointed to the next of the three. “Looking at art or getting art supplies,” Phil said, much more put together even if his wings fluffed and flattened in nervous intervals.

Finally, Wilbur went with “Anything music related.”

“Alright, you liberal art fucks, we’re going to a bookstore. Where’s Kinoko?” Tubbo said, turning away from the amused heroes to Ranboo for the rhetorical question. Only to pause when Ranboo looked at him blankly, rebooting by pointing an accusing finger at the taller. “You’re eating so much chorus fruit when we get home. Anyway, to Kinoko we go!”

Leading the charge, Tubbo walked out of the park and down the streets he knew well. Forced to follow, the others kept themselves amused with banter passing between the four. Occasionally, the bee would add in a comment that sent Phil into a fit of laughter, Techno huffing under his breath, Wilbur cackling high and breathy, and Ranboo snorting and rolling his eyes fondly.

Before they got to their destination, Tubbo made sure to take a detour. Known fondly as the Musicians’ Corridor, a small street-like alley cut behind a block of restaurants and shops. Several alleys branched off of it, each of them set up with a make-shift yet beautiful stage. Various voices and styles echoed off of each other, the dissonance of electric versus acoustic instruments, folk music versus metal music, Germanic language versus Indic language, all came together to create perfectly cultivated chaos. Those singing and playing interacted with each other whenever possible, drifting from the usual lyrics and sheet music to continue a call-response with someone across from them, next to them, even on the polar opposite side from them.

Little details like those interactions made the Corridor come alive. Between each stage, a mural of some sort took its place on the walls. Each contrasted the next, taking from fairy tales, mythology, movies, current media, and more to differentiate each one. If one looked close enough, one could see the power cords running into the businesses on either side of the stage alleys. Or the food and drink set out by the owners and employees for the musicians.

Turning on his heel once he heard a gasp, Tubbo took pride in throwing his arms wide to encapsulate the beautiful community project behind him. “Welcome to the Musicians’ Corridor, the home of local music like never before seen!” he announced, grinning at the trio’s stunned expressions. “C’mon, let’s enjoy a bit of the local talent.”

Upon walking onto the pavement, the first notes of ‘Honey’ by a particular artist got him to grin. Spinning around, he gave Kat finger-guns that got grins. More music changed up to accommodate for the familiar Bee Duo as they continued walking, getting grins and waves from the teens. A few of the more daring went with the music they had made for the SBI, always getting stunned and confused looks when they did so.

Personally, Tubbo would highly uphold the memories of Techno staring with a dead look at the artist KiD Kozmic singing ‘The Blade’, Philza laughing with fluttering wings at the people memeing him with ‘Angel With A Shotgun’ by The Cab and Yuki who pulled out their original of ‘Bird of Passage (Philza’s Theme)’, and Wilbur looking slightly confused and concerned as Kat moved onto her song of ‘Why’.

It was all fun and games just reacting until a familiar voice started with “Man, if I’m gonna be honest, I…”

In an instant, Tubbo located a familiar stage and darted to it. Soon enough, the lyrics started and he very willingly sang “Dropped out of college, found myself a whole new realm of knowledge.” The flow of ‘Life By The Sea’ came naturally to him, letting him just enjoy the music as he danced around the stage. Those who had been listening to the artist began cheering and laughing at the familiar sight of Tubbo dropping in.

Too quickly, the song came to an end. Nonetheless, the bee left with his usual over-the-top bow and leap off of the stage. And, just like usual, Ranboo caught Tubbo and spun the bee around with the momentum of his wing-powered leap.

Laughing, the teen was set down after a moment. Eventually calming down enough to not have to slouch against Ranboo, he turned to smile at the stunned trio. “C’mon, let’s go to Kinoko, you can still hear everything over there,” he said, grinning as he started to lead the way again.

“Hold up, you can sing?” Wilbur said, having to jog to catch up when Tubbo didn’t stop. “What song was that, anyway? I’ve never heard it.”

“That’s because it’s my original song, big man,” the teen stated bluntly, shrugging off the sputtering of the man. “I’ve only performed here so it’s not a surprise you haven’t heard it. Pretty pog though, ay?”

Silence for a moment before Phil joked, “I think you broke him, mate.”

“I, I just--” Wilbur made an unintelligible noise, getting a snort and consoling pat on the shoulder from Techno.

Some things clicked together, making Tubbo hum and glance at Ranboo. The other wasn’t much help, only giving Tubbo a look that prompted his next words, “Oh, right, Tommy mentioned that you made your own songs. You can rent out spots here anytime, I can get you a flier and stuff. Just gotta pay a little for the stages, not that that’ll be an issue.”

“Oh, um, uh…”

“No need to get tongue-tied, it’s just a gig. You’ve surely done those before,” Tubbo said, only glancing back at the musician when Ranboo swatted his shoulder. Between the flushed face, the fidgeting hands, and the avoiding look… “You’ve never done a gig before.”

“Well, no, I kinda just… sang for my family…” Wilbur said, leaning into the feathered wing that side-hugged him. “I’ve never done it for a crowd.”

This time, Ranboo took up the reassurance part with a look towards the bee to shut him up from giving any tough love. “If you do it in the afternoon, there aren’t as many people. A test run before you start doing evening shows. I’m sure Tommy and us would love to attend,” he said, getting no more than an eye roll for volunteering Tubbo for another activity.

“Drista and Purpled would probably jump in too,” the bee added as he opened the door of a storefront labeled with a cursive Kinoko. “C’mon, big men, time for the singing bookstore.”

Inside of Kinoko, the bookshelves towered high enough to take over a second floor. Dark green and light purple carpet swirled across the floor, the occasional burst of white or black marking the start of a different genre. On those bookshelves, little carvings twisted and caved under the soft fairy lights.

At the counter, a man with the wings of an eagle and the ears and tail of a lion greeted them with a smile. “Hey, Tubbo, Ranboo, it’s been a while,” he said, waving with a clawed hand. “Everything been alright?”

“It’s been fucking pog, big man,” Tubbo said, grinning back at the man. “So, Karl, where would we go if we wanted to see those little models?”

“They haven’t moved, I assure you. It would be a honking nightmare to try,” the sphinx hybrid said, shuddering at the mere thought. “It would become a minefield of Lego-like pieces and I like not having to call the hospital for my customers.”

The final line summoned laughter from the group, Karl giggling at their mirth. “And where would we find the mythology section?” Tubbo asked, his laughter petering out.

“Right by the models, just move over a few shelves from the geography section,” Karl said, staring on in amusement at the reaction that the word ‘geography’ summoned. Wilbur looked ecstatic while the other two stared at him in a mix of amusement and deadpan.

Before Tubbo could thank the man for his time, Techno gathered enough courage to clear his throat and turn all attention on him. “Uh, do you have any books on the mythology of Prime?” he asked, his social anxiety clear as day.

Social anxiety or not, anyone would get a little nervous with the stunned expressions that the two Pogtopians were giving him. “Let me see…” Karl said, humming a little tune as he typed something into his computer. “Off the top of my head, I’d say probably not. The few books that have been made on the primary religion of Pogtopia are, well, mainly in Pogtopia. Besides, it’s a religion created with no known sacred texts to go off of, most practices are passed by word of mouth.”

A few more clicks before the sphinx gave a small ‘huh’ of surprise. “Well, call me a liar then, records. It looks like we do have something, came in the last shipment. It’s in the back, give me a second.” Karl turned around, disappearing into a door previously hidden by a curtain.

Disappearing and leaving the two Pogtopians to gently interrogate the man who had prompted said disappearance. “Techno, why aren’t you just going for a Greek mythology book?” Ranboo asked, much more tactful than whatever the blunt bee could come up with.

“Well, I don’t want to offend you guys over something like religion. I know a book probably won’t have all the ‘don’t’s but… it’s a start,” the man said, giving Ranboo a fond look while ignoring his brother’s soft chants of ‘Technosoft’. “I think I’ve been ignorant enough for long enough.”

Saving Techno from having to decipher flustered Ranboo’s warbles, Tubbo gave the man a sharp nod and a three-fingered salute. He got a nod back, something that put a smile on his face. Then, ignorant of the respect Tubbo had just gained for the man, Karl made the hero jump by slamming the book down on the table.

“The Basics of Pogtopia Culture by Sneegsang and HBomb, got released a couple weeks ago. Plenty of mentions of Prime in there, should get you a pretty good grasp of it all,” Karl said, sliding the novel across the table. “Anything confuses you, just talk to Tubbo or Ranboo.”

“Right, how much do I owe you?”

“Phil, Wilbur, wanna go see the models?” Tubbo asked, distracting the two from the transaction. Pausing for a moment to glance at Techno, they nodded along. He motioned for them to follow him, leaving Ranboo on his own to speak some semblance of words to his mentor. A glare of no heat was thrown his way because of it but Tubbo ignored it.

Leading the way through the walls of bookshelves, he passed by a much more open area that held bean bags and couches for relaxation. Past that area and an arched threshold, the room of models started. Ranging from the size of a book to an entire corner of the room, several miniature models of fictional places were scattered around the place. The Lost City of Mizu, the Wild West, and many more had their stories told in a more visual format.

Beyond that, the paintings of places like the Smeltery, the Musician’s Corridor, the Falls of Prime, and more caught Phil’s eye. The man couldn’t decide which ones to focus on, wandering around with an awed expression on his face. Wilbur also lingered on them for a moment before gravitating towards the geography books.

Smiling at the man’s reaction, Tubbo chuckled and asked Phil, “So, what do you think?” He stood by the man who had eventually settled on staring at the Lost City of Mizu.

“It’s just…” the elytrian trailed off, his hand hovering over the protective glass of the biggest display there was. “I just can’t believe that someone made all of this. It’s incredible.”

Something unspoken lingered there but Wilbur spoke up before it could grow stale, “Oh, you’re just being all self-doubtful, all about how your art could never be that good and blah blah blah.”

“You little hypocritical shit,” Phil ‘snarled’, a chuckle worming its way through to warm the statement.

Set on giving everyone a heart attack before they left the store, Karl spoke up out of nowhere and made the heroes jump, “Oh, you’re an artist? If you do any stuff like this, I’m open to having some of your art in my store. I occasionally get commissions thanks to my art being put up, it’s always fun to see what people can try to request.”

The elytrian turned to the other, his brow furrowing as he thought about it. “You made all of this?” he asked, his wings ruffling slightly in a show of his interest.

“Well, this is my store,” Karl said, chuckling with equally active and shifting wings. He walked further into the room, Techno and Ranboo entering just behind him to wander towards Wilbur. “If you give me a good sketch, you can display your work here. Free of charge and everything, since you’re friends with Tubbo and Ranboo.”

While Phil sputtered for an answer, Tubbo went to delay the elytrian’s brain breaking for a little while longer. “If it’s alright with you, boss man, I might just give him your email address later. Night to sleep on it and all. I wanted to show them to Charlie’s store before he closed, anyway.”

“Right right, that man always closes at the weirdest hours of the day,” Karl said, nodding along. “Feel free to use the connecting door, I know the outside one can be a little finicky.”

“Pog, singing days to you, big man!”

“Shall you have Prime’s blessing, Karl.”

“Chorus to you two! Bye, guys, don’t forget my offer and I hope you like the book!”

Next door, the calm of the bookstore gave way to the chaotic sound of the music store. Instruments were placed without any rhyme or reason, the books correlating barely any better, the little extras having no chance at being sensible. Still, it all had its charm with the energetic greeting that CG5 gave them.

The others wandered off to do their own thing but Tubbo dragged Wilbur over to the counter before the brunette could leave. “Hey, Charlie, need to talk to you real quick,” the teen said, smiling at the interested musician. “So, my friend right here wants to become a musician.”

“That’s cool,” Charlie added, smiling at the brunette in question. Nervously, Wilbur returned it while he tried to decipher what Tubbo was trying to do.

“The thing is, he’s pretty well known in the heroing world but hasn’t even touched the waters of doing anything with music. Any advice?”

“Well, to go into a little self-promo, the Corridor is an amazing place to start. Between that and Youtube, that’s how the name of CG5 got big,” Charlie said, chuckling when Wilbur did a double-take at the name. “As for the whole hero thing, what I would suggest is using a different mask. It would be a bit uncomfortable to wear but it keeps your anonymity. When you get a decent fan base, feel free to do a face reveal or whatever.”

Humming, Wilbur nodded along. “Makes sense…”

“Also, here,” the musician said, finding a piece of paper from the clutter under the counter and giving it to the other. “There’s a flier on how to get a slot in the Corridor. If you need anything extra, just send me an email through the address on the flier. For my sake later, if you do send me an email, what’s your name?”

“Wilbur Soot.”

“Ah, I can see why you’re worried about the hero side of things,” Charlie said, nodding knowingly while the hero frowned at the instant recognition. “Even better, you just need to wear a mask. No need to try to make it different when you don’t have one. Anyway, I wish you luck on your musical endeavor, Wilbur.”

With that and a few other farewells, the group left the stores behind to simply wander the streets. Any little gem was instantly pointed out to the heroes, letting them enjoy the random sculptures, murals, and more. They wandered in and out of the populated areas, all of them subconsciously grouping up a little closer when there were too many people around.

Still, some people knocked into them. In the busy streets, it was mostly passed off with a mumbled apology. But some people just looked for a conflict.

One of those people knocked into Phil, hitting both his shoulder and his wing. “Get the fuck out of the way, freak,” the guy scoffed, glaring at the elytrian with unnecessary vitriol.

“Sorry,” Phil said, being polite with a passive smile on his face.

That didn’t help, not with how the man stopped and turned to give a more forceful glare. “Oh, yeah yeah, sing all you want, fucking songbird. What, don’t have some bastard to keep you in line with a pretty little cage?” he spat, making the group freeze at the blatantly racist and xenophobic words. A few people around them slowed as well, giving the man wide-eyed stares.

“I think that’s enough,” Ranboo said, stepping in before Tubbo could try anything. The bee still glared at the other, recognizing the man from another time. That only prompted the enderman to physically step in front of Phil to shield the man.

Ever irrational, the man took that as a challenge. “Oh, what are you gonna do? Fucking stare at me until I keel over and die?” the aggressor taunted, settling into a more aggressive stance.

“No, I think I’m going to ask you to leave,” Ranboo said, not even flinching at the snarl that gained. “We go our way, you go your way, and we dismiss your blatant disrespect.”

The use of ‘blatant disrespect’ made the man puff out his chest in bravado. “Disrespect? What’s disrespectful is the way that you fucking freaks can just walk around like you own the place,” he spat, literally spitting at the teen’s feet.

“Seeing as you aren’t backing off, I’m going to have to do the same. You are going to apologize for your various comments here and I will leave you be. We can separate on neutral terms,” Ranboo said, still keeping a calm demeanor.

Another scoff. “Or fucking what? You beat the shit out of me? You roll over like the obedient little bitch you are?”

“If you make a violent move towards us, I will gladly,” Ranboo said, the ending of his statement flashing a hint of fangs. The man backed up at the sight, only an inch but it was enough. “‘Cause, you see, you’ve managed to piss me off. Not only do you continue this blatant behavior when I’ve tried to leave us on equal footing but you also started this in the first place. And, as the man I am, I cannot let that stand. Pogtopians take care of their own, after all.”

More people slowed, some of them coming to a stop to gather around the argument. “A fucking Pogtopian, huh? Goddamn coward and suicidal prick is more like it,” the man snarled, clearly not noticing the crowd that was gathering. Nor the instant tensing at the mere mention of an insult towards the tributes.

“And you’re a Prime-damn idiot,” Ranboo shot back without missing a beat, the spectators snickering at the burn. “Because you don’t quite seem to understand the scope of what you’re dealing with. All Pogtopians take care of their own, not just this little ‘goddamn coward and suicidal prick’.”

As the teen motioned to the gathering crowd, he took satisfaction in how the other paled at the new situation. “So now what, going to have all your little fuck-buddies beat me up?” the man growled, his bark losing a little more every time he glanced around at the circle of people.

“And be no better than you? No, we actually have respect for ourselves and others. Am I right?!” The last statement rose to the crowd and they lifted it higher with a unanimous agreement. “We respect the old, the young, the bold, the shy, am I right?!” Another round of shouted agreement.

“We respect our history, our rights, our future, am I right?!” Louder this time, the crowd agreed.

“We respect the history, rights, and future of others, am I right?!” More agreement, the crowd began to raise their fists with their voices.

“We take care of our own, right?!” This agreement shook everyone down to the bone with the volume and jumping.

“We take care of the old, the young, the weak, the strong, the desperate, the determined, right?!” Rivaling the previous magnitude, the people agreed.

“We take care of our homes, our families, our friends, our neighbors, right?!” Another shout rose, only getting louder than the ones before.

“We have something beyond any insults, degradation, or pain, am I right?!” Slightly stuttered through the laughs and choked out sobs, the agreement rose louder.

“We have something beyond any one person, any one home, any one group, am I right?!” Steadier, the agreement raised a few decibels.

“We know when we have had enough, when we will rise!” No verbal prompt was needed this time, a pointer finger filling in that word.

“We know when we need to step up, when we need to fight, when we need to protect!” A peace sign summoned the roar from the people.

“We know when we are over our heads, when we need to stand beside each other, when we need to hold our hand out for another, when we need to look for strength in something bigger than ourselves!” The Rebellion’s sign rose high, dozens joining it when the crowd roared another agreement.

“And you should’ve known when to stop,” Ranboo said, directing it at the man who had stood frozen throughout the call and response. Silence fell as everyone listened to his words, the weight of them exponentially heavier. “Before you take on Pogtopia, before you take on Pogtopians, always learn where the line is. We’re always ready to enforce it.”

“And as the Pogtopian who stopped you the first time,” Tubbo started, stepping out and grinning when the man stumbled away in fear. Bright crimson flashed in the other’s eyes but it was dulled by pure terror. “I suggest you start running. Who knows how long these freaks can keep this good old freak show contained? After all…” Considering the anticipation of the crowd, they knew exactly what was happening.

“Welcome to the circus, let the leaders lead, preachers preach, welcome to the service,” Tubbo rapped, stepping closer with every line. Meanwhile, he cracked his knuckles and sent the man scrambling away in fear of paralyzation.

Tubbo’s “Close the curtains on them if they’re actin’ like they never heard us” lined up perfectly with Ranboo’s sing-songed “I’d start running if I were you.” Before either could intimidate the man anymore, he ran off with his tail between his legs. The crowd parted, letting him run off without much trouble. Well, if you didn’t count occasionally tripping or growling at him.

But they fell silent as Ranboo stepped forward, allowing Tubbo to return to his side. “Thank you, my people. Whether or not you were born or raised in Pogtopia, today you all stand as one. For that, I give you my utmost respect.” He went as far as to give a half-bow, many people doing something similar to return that respect.

“Today, we stand as a paramount to a history never to be forgotten. Today, we stand as a united front against someone seeking conflict with our own. Today, we stand as a unit where there is no consideration towards race, status, citizenship, only consideration towards actions. On this day, I am proud to call you my peers, my friends, my family, my neighbors, for you are all a step towards a better society. A better world where we can stand as one without conflict, accusation, sides.

“For now, we continue with our day. We are day-to-day civilians, after all, even if we have the power to move nations and change worlds. Until we meet again, I wish you all the blessing of Prime, Clara, and any other deity or power that you believe in.”

To end off his speech, he went through a full Rebellion salute. On each hand, those three fingers rose again, the last appendage that had raised being the one to lead the salute. One thumb pressed on his forehead, the other pressuring his sternum. Circling to briefly land on his shoulders, his hands rose together above his head and his thumbs connected. That brilliant star-like shape formed for a moment before it collapsed to his throat.

Those around him copied, creating a synchronous movement that looked creepy to most but was so empowering. Adding a little extra flair, his hands bursted out and allowed him to give a full bow. There was laughter and applause as people noticed, some going as far as to copy his theatrics. One last nod, a quick gesture with three raised fingers, and the crowd was off to do their own thing.

Turning around, Ranboo grinned in the face of Tubbo’s fond exasperation and the other three’s shock. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to become so… much of a production,” he said, chuckling in the wake of said production.

Tubbo scoffed, shoulder-checking the unmoving teen. “As if, I saw you the moment the crowd gathered,” he teased, a chuckle answering him.

“To be fair, being dramatic is in the Pogtopian job description,” the teen joked, getting a snort from the other. “I just pity Kristin later, this is a bit of a PR nightmare.”

“If you consider this a PR nightmare, I question your standards,” Wilbur said, finally breaking the SBI’s silence. Shock turned to awe, making the teen shift uncomfortably. “Ranboo, that was amazing.”

“Very pog of you, one might say,” Tubbo added, snickering at the glare Ranboo threw at him.

Lightly cuffed over the head, the bee only laughed louder. “Yeah yeah, laugh it up at your own horrible humor.” And Tubbo did, getting a fond scoff before the enderman refocused onto the elytrian. “Hey, Phil, you good? What that guy said was ringing.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Phil said, smiling something so genuine and kind that it made the other blush a little. “Thank you, mate.”

“Of course,” Ranboo said, smiling back. Second nature as it was, he didn’t think before bowing and grabbing one of Phil’s hands to kiss the back of it. “After all…”

Copying the ingrained behavior of Pogtopians, Tubbo did the same with Phil’s other hand. “We take care of our own,” they intoned together, lifting their heads to smile at the elytrian. Seeing the other’s puffed-up feathers and blush, along with the whole trio’s shocked faces, made them laugh after a good five seconds of keeping it together.

Techno saved the eldest from trying to untie his tongue after a few more moments of the two laughing uncontrollably. “You guys didn’t just like… swear yourselves to be Phil’s knights or something, right?” he said, his serious yet hesitant question setting them off again.

Ranboo calmed down enough to speak, chuckles still slipping through while Tubbo lay incapacitated at his side, “No, no, if I were to Swear myself to anyone else, it would be to all of you.” Such a flippant yet weighted response got the three to wear identical blushes. “Besides, Swearing to someone is a lot longer than a few words and a hand kiss.”

“So… you’re saying that you guys do knightly oaths?” Wilbur said, more so asked, while he stared at them with wide eyes.

“Big man, our law enforcement is literally called the Vanguard,” Tubbo pointed out, falling back into giggles when the look of realization passed over the three.

“And we usually do them in Churches of Prime, not out on a random street,” Ranboo added, snickering under his breath when they looked at him with dropped jaws. “It’s a very important thing to Swear yourself to someone, not like marriage level but it’s still required to be within Prime’s holdings.”

After a moment, Techno lifted his book that he had gotten from Kinoko. “Is this going to be in here? The basics, at least,” he asked, getting the other two to stare at the book as if it were salvation.

“It should, it’s a pretty big thing. It’s like a Naming, it’s to do with your very life force” the enderman said, glancing at his bee for approval. Once given, Ranboo continued with a nod, “I mean, more often than not they have something along the lines of…

“‘I Swear myself to you, to who you are, were, and will be. Upon this day within these blessed walls, I Swear to everything I am, was, and will be that from this day forward I will not stop loving, protecting, and supporting thee. Even after I pass from this plane, I Swear to watch over you from Clara’s light and Prime’s stronghold and give my power to continue your days.’ And so on and so forth.”

“There’s no limit to how many times you can do it, some people even Swear themselves to the same person a dozen times over,” Tubbo added, filling in the space left by the trio’s stunned silence.

“It’s even better if they were a tribute, means that they’ve shown that they’re willing to give their life force to another,” Ranboo continued. “Of course, that’s not a deciding factor but it’s pretty important. They’re still Pogtopian, tribute or not.”

“Were… Were those hand movements a Pogtopian salute or something?” Techno asked, his curiosity getting him over his hesitation.

Tubbo entertained the man, chuckling at the question nonetheless, “Close, it’s a Rebellion salute. There is no Pogtopian salute, technically speaking.”

“Even if the mistake is made a lot,” Ranboo said, shrugging despite the guilty look that Techno soon adopted. “It’s alright, you didn’t know.”

“Could I know what all of it means? Surely there’s a meaning to each movement,” Techno asked, remaining (somewhat) bold in the face of Phil’s quiet chiding.

After glancing at each other, quietly weighing the decision, the pro hero of the Pogtopians shrugged and said, “I mean, there isn’t an exact definition but I can give you the basics. It’s the widely interpreted version of it, anyway.”

Quick to nod, Techno watched closely while the other two L’Manbergians gave into their curiosity and watched too.

So both of the Pogtopians went through it again, Ranboo vocalizing the meaning behind each movement. “With my mind and my core…” Thumbs went to the head and chest.

“... through the weight I carry…” Thumbs went to the shoulders.

“... I soar high with you…” Thumbs connected, raising high in the relative shape of a starfished human.

“... even if we are to crumble and fall to this ring around our necks.” Hands collapsed into fists, soon rearranging to wrap around one’s neck.

Silence fell, the three L’Manbergians wide-eyed as they processed the weight of such a statement.

Before the two Pogtopians could continue altering the others’ worldview, a tentative “Ranboo? Tubbo?” paused them.

Turning around, Tubbo was the first to give a welcoming grin to the cow hybrid before them. “Henry! Hey, big man, what’s up? You look like shit,” he said, still grinning at the skinny horned brunette.

“Tubbo,” Ranboo scolded, elbowing the bee.

The comment wasn’t entirely wrong, not with the greasy hair, eye bags the size of the Smeltery, and the sunken cheeks from starvation. Henry took it in stride, chuckling something tired and fragile with his tufted tail flicking anxiously. “It’s alright, Ranboo, I know I do. Sorry to bother you two, I was going to come over tonight but I saw what was happening and I just…” he trailed off, his hands wringing together nervously.

“It’s all good, big man, what’s up? Do you want us to grab Tommy?” Tubbo asked, much kinder than before as he softened his tone.

That added to the concoction of stress and more in Henry’s mind, causing tears to spill over. “Please,” he pleaded, a soft broken thing as he shuddered.

Tears sent Tubbo and Ranboo into overdrive, the heroes frowning at the sight of the cow hybrid freaking out. “Boo,” Tubbo said, stepping forward as he pulled out his phone.

“On it,” Ranboo said, understanding the words unspoken. Putting a gentle hand on the crying teen’s shoulder, he guided the other forward as Tubbo started to lead them somewhere. “It’s okay, Tommy’s on his way, we can figure this out.”

Placated only slightly, Henry still sobbed out a “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, we take care of our own, you know that.”

Meanwhile, Tubbo furiously texted as he led them to a much calmer place.

Like A Da Bee

Oi, hurry up and get to Niki’s

Henry’s here crying

Get here before I do war crimes without you

Chapter Text

Tommy sprinted down the street, barely weaving through people unscathed. But he didn’t care, Tubbo’s correctly written out texts taking the forefront of his mind. Because Henry was there and he was crying and if he was alone-- if he was alone--

Clementine.

Forcing the door open, he stumbled into the calm cozy atmosphere of Niki’s cafe. The kind pink-haired merling barely blinked at his entrance, just pointing over at some of the booths. He could barely give her a nod, too busy speed-walking to the booth.

All of them were squished onto the bench, even if it curved around the far end of the table to give more room. The three heroes were stuck on that far curve, Techno reading some book while Phil and Wilbur had some hushed conversation. Ranboo and Tubbo sat on opposite sides of the table, one of their hands holding the other’s anyway. And next to Ranboo, Henry sat with tear tracks marking his exhausted face.

“Tommy,” the teen breathed, something catching in his throat as he stared at Tommy.

Ignoring the stares from the others, the blonde sat across from the younger with a kind smile on his face. “Hi, big man,” he said, his tone kept even despite how much he wanted to scream . “What’s going on?”

The dam broke, sending Henry into another round of sobs. “I just--” he cut off with a choked-off sound, his ears pressed to his skull as he tried to get the words out.

“Henry, take your ti--”

“Clementine.” The sobbed-out name froze any comforting words Tommy could try to give. “They took Clementine. They took my little sister . That damn Egg--”

Henry cut off again, his sobs wrecking any more words. That didn’t matter because Tommy could infer enough. Fire and venom surged in his veins, making him bare his teeth at the mere thought of Hellhound hurting Clementine .

“We’ll get her back,” Tommy promised, all steel, hellfire, and brimstone. His discs stirred to life under his skin, sharpening ever so slightly at their owner’s command. “We’ll get her back, by Prime we’ll get her back.” What warrior spirit he had started to burn, putting a pyre under the retired martyr’s skin.

Just as fiery, the fellow Pogtopian, a Vanguardian at that, raised his head to look the hero in the eye. “Swear it,” Henry demanded, his snarl mirroring Tommy’s.

“Henry--”

“Thomas.” The name made Tommy pause, pulling himself up to his full height to stare the other down. Not budging, Henry did the same. “By Prime, Clara, the Fates, Icarus, Swear it .”

“Hardison.” Returning the favor only made the other more attentive. Pulling in a breath, Tommy set one hand with three fingers raised over his heart, the other hand cupping his throat. Then, without hesitation, he began Swearing, “Upon this day within these walls, I call upon the name of Prime. For within every Name I’ve been given and every Name I’ve earned, I hold power. With that power, I Swear to find, heal, and protect Clementine. As the tribute of such a soul, as her Tribute , I Swear upon my body of which I’ve protected her with that I will return Clementine home.”

Such an oath got concerned looks from the heroes, even Ranboo and Tubbo looked a little hesitant. Henry had none of that, only staring at the blonde with a hardened gaze. So Tommy kept going, ignoring the others who didn’t quite understand what it meant to be her Tribute .

“The power within my blood that I’ve shed for her rises to my call, for I Swear upon my powers that I will save Clementine. Shall Prime’s stronghold keep its doors open for me, no matter my faith, for I Swear upon my faith to Prime, Clara, Icarus, and every other deity that Clementine will come home.”

Inhale, exhale, ignore the worried gasps from the others.

“I Swear upon the Names of those past, the Name of Thomas Simons, that no matter the obstacle, no matter the battle, no matter the hardship, I will go through all brimstone and hellfire to hold Clementine safe and close.

“Upon this day within these walls, shall Prime’s stronghold and Clara’s light accept my Oath for I uphold it with every fiber of my being. Shall this blood I shed bind this promise within the iron of mortals and the gold of those above, I bind my diamond will and my ancient words. I call upon Prime to seal my Swear for every Oath is of theirs.”

Mellohi became the size of his palm, soon cutting into the right one to draw blood. He cared not for the others’ yelps and gasps, only passing the disc over to Henry so the other could complete the Oath.

“Upon this day within these walls, I call upon the name of Prime. For within the blood I share with Clementine is the power to accept this Oath. Shall this netherite promise be held strong by the bloodshed by those with power in the well-being of Clementine. I call upon Prime to seal this Swear for every Oath is of theirs.”

Also drawing blood on his right palm, Henry set down the disc on the table between them. Shaking hands to seal the deal, ignoring how unsanitary it was to have their blood mix into open wounds, the two men nodded at each other. One last shake splattered blood onto the disc, truly finishing the deal.

Sighing, Henry let go first. “Thank you, Tommy,” he said, bowing his head. “I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” Tommy said, scoffing at such a concept. “I’m doing this because I’m her Tribute and your friend, no favor in question.”

“I question both of you,” Tubbo said, breaking the moment with a scoff as he summoned disinfectant and bandages from his shulker storage. “A Blood Oath? Really?”

Looking at each other, they laughed sheepishly as Ranboo and Tubbo forced disinfect and bandages on their hands. Once it was done, Henry stood up and said his goodbyes.

“Thank you again, Owl,” Henry said, smiling as he tossed out a decade-old nickname.

Rolling his eyes, Tommy returned with a fond “Get the fuck out of here, Buck.”

As Henry finally left with a laugh and a wave, Tubbo stopped any awkward silence before it could start by clapping his hands together loudly. “Alright, time to run around the park and act like idiots,” he declared, shoving Tommy out of the seat with a returning squawk. “Let’s go, bird boy!”

“Oh, fuck you!”

Ranboo laughed along, following the bickering pair out as he waved at Niki. The heroes followed close behind, slowly moving beyond their shock. As Tommy always did, he instigated one of them into acting like normal.

“Oi, Big Dubs, what the fuck crawled up your ass and died?”

“Listen here, you little gremlin--”

“Oi!”

The tension eventually loosened up, letting the six of them joke around and talk without any awkwardness. Tommy and Wilbur kept up most of the volume, bantering and bickering without end. Tubbo jumped between joining in with their banter or the somewhat calm conversation that the other three managed to keep.

It only took so long before something went wrong.

Tommy noticed it first, his voice falling silent as his frown widened. Sure, they were on a busy street, but that didn’t warrant the sudden increase in people. Nor did it warrant their shifty behavior.

The group noticed Tommy falling silent, gently questioning the teen. Only Techno seemed to notice the possible danger, scowling at the newcomers. Everyone else noticed soon after but not soon enough to prepare for what happened next.

Boom went the explosion, shaking the street with its aftershocks. Screams answered it, civilians scrambling to run away while those who had been suspicious earlier crowed their laughter. In the middle of it, all Tommy could think was Are they okay?

He turned on his heel, taking in Wilbur’s hands twitching towards his beanie, Techno’s lowered stance, Phil’s flared wings, Ranboo’s low warbling growl, Tubbo’s buzzing and twitching hands. They had to get moving, they had to do something, Ranboo. Ranboo was a Shade, Shadow, he had to go--

“Shade,” Tommy barked, harsh, too harsh, but the explosions and laughs were grating and some little girl, like Clementine , screamed-- “Gall suit. Alley.”

A warble answered him, the certified heroes disappearing soon after. Meanwhile, Tommy pulled Tubbo into the nearest alley, soothing the far-away look in his eyes with a hummed ‘ okay-calm-affection ’ that sounded like the chorus of ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole. Out of sight from the explosions-- the cave-in, people screaming, echoed by the caves that trapped them --, Tommy waited for Tubbo and Ranboo to come back to him.

Tubbo managed a few notes before the other four came back, giving all of the ok that Tommy needed. “Shade, status?” he asked, ordered , without a glance towards the L’Manbergians.

“Three clusters, one here, one northwest, one northeast. Northeast most chaotic to date,” Ranboo said, a similar rigidity to Tommy and Tubbo’s in his posture, his hand twitching toward the west.

Back to Niki --

“Shadow, grab Tengakai and Acheron, you three on west,” Tommy ordered, getting a quick Rebellion salute before the enderman was gone. “Raiju,” Tubbo snapped to attention, his Spirit experience kicking in, “get Sentinel, you’re on east.” Another salute sent Tubbo on his way, Phil dragged along.

Now Tommy turned to the last two heroes, ignoring the looks they were giving him. “You two deal with the attackers, I’ll prioritize civilians. Let’s go,” he said, not hesitating before running out. Curses followed him along with footsteps but he was already moving again.

Knocking his inner wrists together, his discs flew out and fanned behind him. Then Mellohi was blocking gunfire, Cat was moving people out of the way, Pigstep was tripping up the assailants, Strad was-- Otherside-- Chirp-- 13-- 11-- Ward-- Blocks--

If he was a whirlwind of activity, the heroes were tornados. Drop a couple of attackers there, throw in a mini grenade, stop a few in their tracks with pure fear, rinse and repeat. Numbers were dwindling on both accounts, but there were still 57 civilians, 48 attackers, 2 heroes, himself, and a whole lot of explosions still going off.

For all his obsession with those numbers going down, his heart stopped when a certain number threatened to lose one. “Wilbur!” He was running, something was indenting into his hand, staticy notes faded in and out and--

Wilbur was staring up at him, wide-eyed while some blood dripped onto the edge of his trenchcoat. Panting, Tommy managed a half-smile as he lifted a hand to grace the graze of the bullet with a feather-light touch. His fingers came away a little bloody, the liquid not reflecting as he looked at the disc playing on the back of that hand. Blocks, that explained the subpar and blocky dome of concrete and asphalt around them.

A dome that was currently taking the beating of a spray of bullets before it could eat into them, into Wilbur --

Oh, they were going to pay .

“Hey, Big Dubs,” Tommy said, his tone falling a little flat of casual. “You gave me full permission to use my powers, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” the other said, his voice falling a little flat of sure.

The teen paid that no mind, too busy bracing himself for later. “Oh, I’m so gonna burn out,” he grumbled. Still, he offered a hand to Wilbur with a smile. “Be safe, alright? It’s about to get a little chaotic.” Like it wasn’t already, his discs were still fluttering about and Techno seemed to be going on a rampage.

Before Wilbur could offer much of a response, Tommy planted himself into a wide stance reminiscent of an earth-bender from Avatar. “Time to collapse these motherfucking bell-heads,” he growled, stomping once, twice, and flinging his hands out.

In an explosion of rubble, the dome burst apart. One slide of the foot, two rigid movements of the arms smoothing out into large sweeps, and the dome kept the shape of a set of blocky tentacles. Two assailants down, four, and a disc flew out of range of conflict with a small family on it.

53 civilians, 44 attackers, 2 heroes, and one pissed-off earth-bender.

Blocks of concrete flew with a series of jabs, the steps forward moving more discs towards civilians. Those steps let him push up into the air, doing several barrel rolls that brought up the ground beneath him as a minor shield for Wilbur for the next bout of bullets, moved civilians onto and away with the discs, and dodged the bullets. To end off the maneuver, his fingers dug into the asphalt and swiped his closest limb of rock out. It smacked into the attackers trying to charge Techno, the hero barely pausing before he vaulted over the new leverage.

46 civilians, 40 attackers, 2 heroes, and one earth-bender.

Hitting the ground rolling, he spryly bounced to his feet. Stomps brought up blocks of asphalt, each one in direct line with a charging group of attackers. Jumping up onto the extended limb of concrete, he stomped once more to go flying. That platform got abandoned, soon hitting the closest person in the face. The bailer swept his feet out, shifting the ground beneath one of the attackers and getting them to fall flat on their face. Those sweeps put one disc into a defensive position, another transporting some civilians out.

42 civilians, 38 attackers, 2 heroes, and one earth-bender.

The feather-light touches of Ignition made Tommy grin for a moment. Not even a second later, he was sending those explosive blocks flying and gliding away from the scene. A disc returned to its owner, imprinting onto his hand as he jumped off of the moving blocks. That concrete circled above a civilian and Techno, sending them staring as he braced himself against the falling building.

40 civilians, 30 attackers, 2 heroes, and one earth-bender with the bare hints of piglin.

Grunting and panting, he brought the previous weapons over to be used as supports. Techno had already herded the civilian over to some of the discs, barely blinking when two discs switched places. Tommy grabbed the new disc, gritting his teeth as he went through with a ridiculous plan. As he moved some of his discs away from the conflict, he switched one from one place of conflict to another. Through sheer willpower, Ward switched with Stal.

35 civilians, 28 attackers, 2 heroes, and one jazzy earth-bender.

Through a ducking spin, he rose again with an asphalt top hat in hand and another attacker sent skidding down the street. The top hat was used as a boomerang, two attackers sprawling onto the concrete when an asphalt top hat hit their chests. Hop, skip, complicated tap step he couldn’t remember the name of, and a jump, and the attackers were floored by his brilliant looks paired with the top hat. To make it one better, several discs had gone off with their own little routine of evacuating the civilians.

30 civilians, 22 attackers, 2 heroes, and one snazzy earth-bender.

Close-by, the whimpers of a child almost made him pause. Instead, he waltzed over while taking out several attackers. Wide-eyed and teary, the kid was held close by their parent who had a sprained ankle. “Hey, big man, think you could hold this for me?” Tommy said, grinning when he took the kid’s attention. Bending down a little, he tipped his head, the hat falling off, rolling on his arm, and ending up in the kid’s hands.

They looked absolutely awed, the look getting better when Tommy pulled a subpar clunky close umbrella out of the asphalt. He let Blocks play a little louder, blocking off the sound for the next few seconds for the two. It was needed, considering his newly opened and spinning umbrella was assaulted by bullets.

As the guns clicked through empty magazines, he decided to put on a little more of a show for the kid. “Well, ain’t this just grand?” he joked, ‘struggling’ to pull the umbrella closed. The giggles got louder when the head of the umbrella ‘broke’, went flying, and wrapped the two attackers up in a snug concrete hug. Then, ‘exasperatedly’ flinging out his hands at the event, the handle ‘slipped’ from his hands and hit another attacker in the stomach. “I truly am a clutz, aren’t I? By Prime!”

More giggles, fading slightly when Tommy turned. His wide grin brought them back with a vengeance. “Aren’t you just a gentleman?” he teased, taking the hat back as it was offered. “Now then, let’s get you two out of here, huh? Not quite that fun of a party, if I do say so myself.” His jokes did little to slow the process of sliding a disc under the two to whisk them off to safety.

“Wait!” the parent called, pausing Tommy from just sending them off. “My partner’s around here with his sister, can you get them? They both have brown hair, my partner has it half bleached. Please get them.”

“Of course,” the teen said, smiling at the adult. “Now, let’s get them something from this gentleman, huh?” Performing a magic trick, he snapped his fingers gently behind the kid’s ears and pulled them back into view with a blocky concrete and asphalt rose. “Well, where were you hiding this? No matter, I tip my hat to you two,” he said, doing so as the kid stared in awe.

With one final wave from him and a heartfelt “Thank you” from the adult, off the two went.

20 civilians, 16 attackers, 2 heroes, and one magician earth-bender on a mission.

A quick spin and slide, his feet carried him out of the path of a few bullets. His free hand caught a lamppost, the momentum letting him spin around, avoid more gunfire, and direct more discs to evacuate citizens. With the rose placed in his mouth, he flew off by letting go of the pole. He landed in a knee-raised lunge, the fist planting into the ground pulsing with power.

In a wave, the ground raised and swamped over the stumbling attackers. If one fell over, the asphalt rose to meet them in a restricting hold. Those that didn’t were unsteady, the heroes dispatching those near them easily.

10 civilians, 8 attackers, 2 heroes, and one theatrical magician earth-bender still looking for a few specific people.

The cry of a little girl, sounding like Clementine, snapped Tommy into action. Rising, he skated across the concrete with his rose in hand. Upon seeing the sight of two brunette civilians, one of them a little girl, another with half of their hair being blonde, being held at gunpoint by a desperate criminal, he threw the flower at the two’s feet.

From that flower, a thicket jungle of asphalt vines and flowers sprouted up. The bullets glanced off harmlessly, more vines growing in place of the damage. With their panicked firing, the attacker was soon clicking through an empty magazine.

Using the momentum of the frictionless skate across the street, it was too easy to send himself into a tornado kick. One step, a twist, a leap, and a quick adjustment of the ground underneath the attacker, his foot cracked across the other’s shoulder. Considering the mighty snap, the cry, and the fact that it sent the attacker skidding across the ground, the adjustment to bring the attacker higher saved them from a snapped neck.

The kick gave just enough momentum that he turned around. In time to see another attacker level the gun at him, he stomped his feet twice and roundhouse kicked. Following the earth-bender’s command, two blocks of concrete slammed the attacker away before anything could happen.

Wilbur and Techno looked over at him in shock from where they’d knocked down two more attackers, not expecting the martial arts prowess from the teen. He just gave them a grin while his discs moved around in the background.

2 civilians, 4 attackers, 2 heroes, and one martial artist earth-bender.

A stand-off occurred between the two sides for a moment, both waiting for the other to move. The criminals did first, all crying out something along the lines of “For the Egg!” before pulling out Crimson and stabbing it into themselves. With varying curses, the other three took a moment to fall into fighting stances.

One of them shuddered, convulsing as their skin ripped, their muscles expanded, and their bones cracked with the new weight. Becoming some kind of Hulk with visible muscle, they cackled and grinned at the pulsating glowing crimson in their veins.

Another held their head, their high-pitched whining turning into the pitching of high voltage. Clothes and weapons lay forgotten on the floor, unneeded when their previous owner turned into a crimson-colored knock-off Electro from the Spiderman movies.

Screeching, the third writhed in pain as the guns and metal on their person sunk into their skin. Soon enough, they were grinning and chuckling at the new guns for hands and metal plating for a face that the Cyborg look gave them.

The fourth hunched over, groaning as their hair took a metallic sheen and grew a few extra feet. Manipulating it, the evil Rapunzel gave a maniacal cackle as their bright crimson hair moved much more dexterously and dangerously than any human limb.

“Uh…” Tommy said, huffing as he took in their new array of opponents. Electro vanished for a moment, reappearing by some cars with a cackle. “Alright then, Boar, you get Hulk. Ignition, you take on Cyborg and Rapunzel. I’ll get Electro.”

“Got it,” Techno said, charging in without a second thought to meet Hulk halfway.

“And how are you going to take on living electricity?” Wilbur asked, pulling out the marbles from his pocket to throw at the two.

“Mellohi,” was all Tommy said before he ran off. Distantly, he heard Wilbur swear before some explosions went off.

Moving Stal to the same hand as Blocks, layering the two despite how it made his teeth grit, he brought in Mellohi. It made him slower, but by projecting it, Electro also moved slower. Slow enough that he could grab the other’s wrist and slam them into the ground.

Howling their anger, Electro tried to electrocute him. He didn’t budge, kicking them upside the head while electricity danced across his skin. As an anti-measure, purple energy met the crimson and pushed it back. The smell of ozone and the flash of electricity blasted his senses but he kept it up. After a few more hits to the head and the use of a car door that he molded by hand, Electro lay dormant on the concrete with a snug shell of metal around them.

2 civilians, 3 attackers, 2 heroes, and one electricity-proof earth-bender.

Flinging the disc of Mellohi as an unceremonious way to stop the disc, he ran after it. It grew in size, blocking the projectiles heading for Wilbur. In its stead, 13 took its place in his hand. Shuddering despite himself, he skidded onto the scene.

“I’ll take Rapunzel, you got Cyborg,” Tommy said, not waiting for an answer before he moved Rapunzel with the material under her feet. Wilbur still managed a nod in the teen’s general direction before he took out a handgun. Staying for a moment more, the blonde got to watch those bullets explode in the Cyborg’s face.

Jogging off, Tommy didn’t even flinch as a lock of metallic hair threatened to tear him in half. Instead, he stomped his feet and pulled up a large block of concrete. The hair sliced through it but Tommy used those pieces to throw them at the villain. To add to it, 13 gave him a moment to knock them over with a gust of wind. Clinking metal brought the bullets lying around to use, shredding at metallic hair. Leftover discs included themselves into the whirlwind, chopping at any reaching pieces of hair. Occasionally, a materialized arrow fired at any hair too close to leaving the whirlwind and a sliver of water did the same.

Locked into a tornado of vicious materials, all Rapunzel could do was howl and screech. The moment even the slightest gap came through, the villain took it. Rocketing towards the teen, the lock of hair got close to hitting him.

“Boom,” he mouthed before it could quite reach him, the disc echoing him. With that echo, it reverberated through the lock of hair and gave way to an explosion. Howling, the villain cried out in fury as the explosion reached close to their scalp, decimating any hair in the area.

Another explosion answered that one, making Tommy look over just in time to watch Ignition blow up one of the gun hands of Cyborg and punch the villain in the face. Crumpling despite the metal plating there, Cyborg dropped unconscious.

2 civilians, 2 attackers, 2 heroes, and one man using too many powers to count.

Several of Ignition’s bullets entered the fray, exploding a good chunk of the villain’s hair. Taking the hint as the hero charged, Tommy cleared the path and welded those materials to Rapunzel’s hair.

They barely got to cry out before Wilbur socked them in the face.

2 civilians, 1 attacker, 2 heroes, and one earth-bender.

Glancing over at Boar’s fight, Tommy winced as he saw the man cut a gash into Hulk’s arm. Then he guffawed as the wound healed over instantly with actively moving tissue.

Then he reached out a hand as Hulk made a move towards the thicket of concrete vines.

Skating across the distance with the speed of a man possessed, Tommy skidded to a stop in front of the fist going for the vines, the civilians. Reaching out a hand, he tapped the side of the other’s hand just as 13 hit the 1:30 mark. Such an act froze the villain entirely, going in time with the music.

It took little time to rotate the ground under both of them so the villain’s fist wasn’t heading for the dome of vines. As the 13 seconds of grace started to end, the teen hit them with a Pogtopian classic.

A throat chop paired with a knee hitting the side. While they keeled over from the sudden and hard-hitting blows in squishy areas, Tommy used his entire weight to unsteady one of their feet. Both of them fell with that, the Pogtopian throwing himself away by using his free arm as a momentum shift.

Rolling and jumping to his feet, the Pogtopian looked up to watch Blood Boar knock out the last villain with the pommel of his sword as Ignition stood on stand by with his handgun at the ready.

2 civilians, 0 attackers, 2 heroes, and one tired Pogtopian.

Crap, the civilians.

Rematerializing the top hat that had fallen off at some point, Tommy made a show of knocking on the vines. Crouching down as the vines moved away to make a doorway, he smiled as kindly as he could to the two terrified people in the shielding ball that he’d made. He must’ve looked a sight, a teenage boy with ruffled clothes, some blood on his arm, and his eyes changing colors as the purple-white of Mellohi lingered slightly, the gold of 13 began fading, and the black and red of Stal and Blocks stayed strong.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as the adult of the two loosened up a little. “All of the villains are gone now. Do you wanna come on out?”

Quick as a whip, the traumatized parent sniped out a “Well, it’s better than the closet” that got them to stiffen up again.

All Tommy did was snort at the joke, grinning as he tipped his hat slightly. “Well, I can definitely appreciate the humor, but I think your family wants to see you two. Can’t do that if you’re stuck in a ball of concrete,” he said, sweeping a hand out to the rubble-filled street. “I promise that it’s safe, all of the villains are out cold.”

Hesitant, the adult carried their daughter out. Mussed-up brown hair covered her face, sticking slightly with tear tracks that pulled at Tommy’s heartstrings. Once they were clear of the dome, he manipulated it back to its original form of a single rose. Picking it up, he turned back to offer it to the child. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice small despite the obvious curiosity in it. She stared at the flower, glancing at him when he smiled and gently put it by her ear.

“A rose from your brother. He was very nice and let me perform a magic trick so I could then give it to,” he said, taking off his hat to offer it to the two. “When you guys reunite, make sure to give that to him. Can’t have a gentleman walk around without a top hat.”

Chuckling, the adult took it with a smile. “Thank you,” they said, so earnest that it took Tommy back a little. “You saved us and now you’re reassuring the kids and giving them gifts. The least I can do is thank you, sir…?”

“Tommy, just Tommy,” he said, offering a normal name instead of the hero name they were looking for. They noticed, looking at him with wide eyes that held slivers of awe. He shuddered slightly, the slivers of awe reminding him too much of then .

Of course, just like that, they weren’t out of the woods just yet. An explosion, a crack, a scream of a small child--

A “Get down!”

A grunt as the teenager caught the piece of rubble with his bare hands, a gasp as the adult looked up to see the feat of holding a piece of rubble the size of a large car.

“Boar, Ignition, get them!” Tommy shouted, grunting as he had to adjust his flat hands supporting the rubble. Techno appeared, herding the civilians out as he frowned at the tinting of reddish-gold in the teen’s eyes. All the blonde could do was offer a smile while Wilbur verbally comforted the parent-child duo.

Something in his smile, perhaps the growing tusks or pinkening skin, made Techno’s jaw drop. To avoid any questions and any more strain, Tommy turned on his heel and threw the piece of rubble. In its path, the knock-off Electro didn’t move as the rock went straight through them.

“Ignition, find any more bombs that this guy could set off. Boar, protect them,” Tommy said, ordering them around as his hands twisted the rubble away from hitting the ground. That rubble spun around quickly, tossing their responses to the wind as he was launched skyward.

Finding the obvious plan, Electro just cackled and zipped out of the path. Keeping an eye on the obvious, they didn’t spot the change of discs that should’ve made them wary. Instead, they were left unaware as Otherside teleported the teen behind the villain.

With another switch between discs that prompted a sharp inhale, Tommy grabbed the wrist of the villain as Mellohi sparked around them. Purple met red, the smell of ozone and crackling of electricity sprouting from it. Slowly, they began to spiral to the ground as all power was put towards beating each other.

Hitting ground softly, the teen gasped as he let go of the other. Electricity arced over his skin, solar flares to contrast the cold clammy skin of the knocked-out villain. Shuddering, Tommy hugged himself and stepped away from the dull outline of the villain.

“Tommy?” Techno asked, placed in front of the two civilians as he reached a hand towards the teen.

Gasping quietly as a multitude of flares went off, Tommy stepped further away from the hero. “I, don’t, just, give me a minute,” he sputtered, his speech jittery and glitchy.

Spotting the outlet, he sprinted towards the building held up by his supports. Inhale, exhale, before he settled into a wide stance. Then, pressing both hands into the side of the leaning building, he let the purple electricity turn magenta as Mellohi powered Blocks.

Creaking and groaning, the concrete and other materials shifted back into place. Purple electricity rewelded metal, stitched up concrete, mended wood, as the little blocks of those materials crawled back into place. When it was finally done, the supports fell away to leave the building standing on its lonesome.

2 civilians, truly 0 attackers, 2 heroes, and one supercharged teen.

Falling with his supports, he flopped onto the concrete with a gasp. Jumping and jittering with the aftermath of such power, he let himself lay there for a moment.

Eventually, someone overshadowed his view of the sky. With a frown on his face and soot in his hair, Wilbur crouched by Tommy. “You okay there, Toms?” he asked, his fond voice doing little to hide his worry.

“Yeah,” the teen gasped out, holding a thumbs up with shaky hands. “Just coming down from the power high. Also, make sure that fucker gets put into some type of power-proof cuffs. I’m not chasing them again.”

“Got it,” Wilbur said, chuckling at the energy. Softening those chuckles, Wilbur cupped the side of the teen’s face to look more carefully into kaleidoscope eyes. “What am I going to do with you, you crazy gremlin? So reckless and selfless, and for what?”

“For you,” Tommy said without hesitation, smiling at the wide-eyed look and flush that got. “And for them.” Although jerky and small, the teen motioned towards the two who he had saved. Just beyond the bubble of the two, he could overhear the cries of joy from the other half of the family as the four reunited.

“A bit of a hero, aren’t you?” Techno said, crouching into view with a rueful quirk of his lips. “A bit reckless too.”

“I’m Pogtopian, big man, it’s a part of the job description,” Tommy snarked back, grinning when the swordsman huffed a laugh. “Also, any chance I could get you to go talk to those two for your job? Make sure they’re okay and stuff? And to tell them I’m sorry.”

Both heroes glanced at each other, confused frowns exchanged. “Apologize for what, Achilles?” Techno asked, his voice unusually soft.

“I broke my promise that it was safe and stuff,” the teen said, stating it in a tone of being obvious.

That got Techno to gently ruffle the other’s hair with a chuckle that held a multitude of layers. “Of course, Achilles, just get some rest,” the man said, smiling with a rare show of kindness before he left to go fill out the request.

“Oh, what am I gonna do with you?” Wilbur repeated, chuckling fondly as he leaned down to press his forehead against the teen’s. “You are a handful.”

“I’m Tommy Innit, Big Dubs, it comes with the job description.”

“Of course, how could I forget something like that?”

“Don’t know, maybe you’re getting old like Philza Craft.”

“Oi!”

Chapter Text

Shadow pulled himself to a stop, halting beside where Tengakai and Acheron had stopped seconds before.

“What’s the plan?” Tengakai asked, crouching on the edge of the building as his ears and tails twitched to and fro. Beneath them, the terrorists were pausing to gloat in the screams of the innocent.

“Ten, distraction. Ron, powerhouse. I’m evac,” Shadow said instantly, idly flexing his claws as he glared at the attackers from far away.

“So basically we’re taking our Spirit roles?” Acheron said, snorting at the thought while frost and sparks rose from each hand.

Chuckling out a “Yep” before he vanished, the Shade left the two be. Also laughing, the Myling launched himself into the center of the attackers in a flurry of light, sound, and fire. Keeping to no more than a smirk, the Revenant stepped off of the edge of the building to land in a whirlwind of ice and fire that took out a number of the disoriented criminals.

Ranboo kept to his job of evacuating the civilians, even if he did sucker-punch any of the attackers that were too close. Fundy flitted about the battlefield, using his shifting to add to the confusing, disorienting, and downright annoying display that he was putting on. Jack stormed through the attackers, a juggernaut against those who dared to approach him or try to escape.

Most if not all of the civilians were out when Jack took a sudden U-turn. Rushing the job to get the last few out of the danger zone, Ranboo soon joined by the man’s side. With a yip and a flash of fur, Fundy found his place in assisting Jack’s random warpath.

It wasn’t until the teen spotted a familiar light pink storefront, Niki’s storefront, that he understood Jack’s shift in priorities. And, with a growl and twirl of his staff, Ranboo took those priorities as his own. Attackers fell like dominos, facing the wrath of all three heroes at once.

More fell from the water and ice of a certain mer.

“Niki!” Jack called, jumping in to defend her from the aim of another attacker. They were frozen in an instant, barely distracting the hero from looking back at the civilian. “What are you doing? Get out of here!”

She didn’t budge, too busy blasting several criminals back with an arcing swipe of water. “No can do, they aren’t touching my cafe.”

“Niki--”

“Jack.” The woman stopped him before he could even start, the two Pogtopians sharing a look that spoke of a hundred words and a thousand promises. “I’ll be okay.”

That was all it took for the man to sigh and nod along. “Fine, I give you legal permission to use your powers and whatever,” he said, his sharp tone carrying no heat as a wave of fire knocked several criminals onto their backs.

With the combined power of her hydro-cryokinesis, his pyro-cryokinesis, Fundy’s flashy sonic booms of power use, and Ranboo’s teleport ambushes, they cleaned house.

Before long, only four criminals remained standing. And in their final stand, they roared a battle cry for the Egg, took out Crimson, and injected themselves with the booster.

One of them hunched over, growling and howling as their body bulged and contorted with the transformation. Lifting their head, the Wolf on steroids gave an eerie howl reminiscent of the first user of Crimson.

The next dropped to their knees, lowly groaning before crescendoing into a wordless bellow. Limp as the rip-off Magneto was, a crimson glow enveloped and lifted them along with several stray chunks of ice, concrete, and even a car.

Limbs snapped and buzzed with a supernatural speed, the cry of the villain rising in pitch with their velocity. Staying standing, the horror-movie Flash looked up to glare at their enemy with a body that couldn’t stay still.

Lastly, a roar of pain came from the one starting to glow with radiation, their hands molding to fit their powers. Laughing manically, the Nuke of a man fired off a warning shot into the concrete that melted it into nothingness.

“Alright, I’ve got the Nuke guy, Niki gets the Magneto rip-off, Ten gets the Wolf bitch, and Shad gets to keep up with mister Flash over there,” Jack said, taking a few steps forward to give more momentum to the ice wall he launched at his chosen enemy.

Niki said nothing, too busy using the water left on the ground to give her arms extra extensions. Fundy did little more than growl, charging at the Wolf with a much more beast-like appearance. Ranboo gave no preamble, going straight in with his staff mid-swing.

The speedster dodged it easily, coming back with a punch of their own. Despite the blow going at super-speed, the hero teleported out of the way easily. Then he returned with another swing of the staff.

This went on for a while, the fight kept contained as they ran circles around each other. Occasional blows hit heavy, the equity of the damage leaving the conflict even. Matched step for step, the speedster went with a different idea.

Running literal circles around the hero, the speedster had no issue dealing a dozen blows. Pain caused Ranboo to teleport into the air, coming down with a twist to add power to his staff’s swing. Concrete cracked under the blow, the Flash jumping out of the way with ease.

He turned, snarling with his pearl buzzing rapidly in his chest and--

“NIKI!”

The scene unfolded in slow motion. Fundy had shouted the warning, causing Jack to snap his head to follow the glowing ball of fluorescent crimson energy he'd just dodged. It headed straight for Niki, the woman glancing over in time to watch it near her chest. Ranboo moved to teleport-- a fist cracked against his jaw--

“NO!”

Ice crackled across the street-- fire flared up and roared--

Jack tackled Niki out of the way, left victim to the blow himself.

“JACK!”

It burned straight through the man’s side, leaving a large gaping hole behind. Burning flesh smelled pungent, an awfully familiar smell to the enderman. The blaze-born stumbled, leaning heavily against the mer with a scream.

Howls, roars, growls, screams went off and the heroes came back with a vengeance.

Fundy ripped into his enemy with claws, fire, and klaxons, Niki set off a mini hurricane, and Ranboo--

The moment of touch let him take Flash up into the sky with him. Left alone not a second later, they twisted their head towards the ground to figure out how to land. Heterochromic red and green met crimson, causing the owner of the former to freeze up.

Set off, the pearl in the hero’s chest sent out a flurry of motion. Tens of dozens if not hundreds of blows met the villain’s skin, too fast for them to dodge. Left battered, bruised, and unconscious, Flash hit the ground with a dull thump.

Before the bomb of a pearl could run out, he got a couple of extra hits on Magneto. Ending up standing by Niki’s side, Ranboo watched on in awe as the mer swamped Magneto with more than enough water to make them lose their concentration. Knocked out by the very debris they’d been set on using as a weapon, the villain was left to ungracefully flop to the floor.

A victorious roar brought attention to Fundy’s fight, the fox standing strong over the bloodied and burned body of the wolf. Then, with a nod towards the three, the fox charged directly at Nuke. Not one to be left out, the mer settled Jack against Ranboo before running into the fray.

Ice, fire, water, sonic pulses, and flashes of light went against pure energy, duking it out to see who would end up on top.

Shifting in the teen’s grip, Jack brought attention to himself. “G-Get me in there…” he insisted with a wheeze, the coughed-up blood adding so many points of confidence to that. “They won’t win without us.”

Considering how frantic the two were, that was sadly true.

“Fine,” Ranboo said, adjusting the other again as he let the burning in his bones take its course. Resolutely not throwing up at the feeling of so much gore on him, he prepared to teleport and use some umbrakinesis. “On 3… 1, 2--”

“-- 3!”

Dropped in, Acheron easily brought the villain to their knees with the use of his powers guided by only one hand, dear Prime--  Soon after, Shadow appeared with his staff adjusted into a hammer. The head of it was pure shadow, refraining it from melting apart when it made contact with the villain’s head.

Nuke slumped, defeated as the fluorescent crimson under their skin dimmed.

Also slumping, Jack gasped and groaned as his wounds returned to bite at him. All three of the others converged on him in an instant, worrying and fretting as they guided him to rest on the ground.

Just as much a restless spirit as his Spirit suggested, the blaze-born grabbed at the arm of the enderman with his only remaining hand. “Ran, I need you to do me a favor,” he said, turning his head to expose a certain scar on his neck. “It’s for the best.”

“Jack,” Niki scolded, paling at the prospect.

Huffing with a scowl, Fundy pulled out his claws instead. “Let me do it,” the fox said, gently shoving frozen Ranboo away. “I’ve had to do this before, anyway.”

“Sorry to do this to you again, old friend,” Jack said, grinning at the other despite the laboring of his breath. All Fundy did was scoff and put his claw over the circle-shaped scar of a dagger’s stab. “Hey, Niki,” the blaze-born said, taking the hand of the mer to refocus her on his eyes rather than his gory insides. “I’ll be okay, alright? I’ve got you.”

Laughing with something a bit too broken, she squeezed it with enough strength to make him wince. “You better or I’m coming in after you, my Tribute,” she declared with another sharp laugh escaping her.

“I’d never imagine leaving you, my siren,” he said, smiling at her before nodding slightly. Leaning down, Niki pressed her forehead against his as Fundy went through with the act and pierced the blaze-born’s jugular. After one last inhale, Jack fell still.

With him fell a silence. Niki lay there, a statue as she held Jack close. Staying silent for a moment, Fundy glanced over at the teen who was still frozen.

Moving closer, he tapped the shoulder of the other. “Hey, you alright?” the fox asked, gently rubbing circles into the material of the suit with enough pressure to be felt.

Ranboo opened his mouth to have a whine pitched in an enderman lilt, ‘ mourning-confusion-fear ’ escaping him without permission.

“I know, I know, he had no right to ask you to do that,” Fundy said, pressing the teen closer to him. “He’ll be okay, don’t worry. Just give him an hour and he’ll be okay.”

Gasping out another whine, Ranboo slumped against Fundy. Whispered reassurances were the only thing that broke the silence of the four, gentle circles in the lower back of the teen calming him down more.

When the paramedics and police finally arrived, the heroes attempted to hold each other closer before they had to go face the public.

Go face the public, the higher powers, and their peers.

Chapter Text

“Drop me,” Tubbo said without ceremony, glaring at the criminals down on the street.

Their smooth flying paused for a moment, Sentinel startling at such a request. “I’m sorry?” he said, his grip subconsciously tightening on the teen.

“I said drop me. I won’t take any damage from the fall, I can slow myself. Just fucking do it, boss man,” the bee said, mentally preparing to struggle out of the other’s hold.

“I-- fine, be careful,” Phil said, sighing before letting the bee hybrid fall. Whooping at the thrill of gravity, Tubbo wasted no time rolling up into a cannonball. The squawk of the elytrian made him hurry in bringing out his shulker shell, the purple material expanding much faster than any tech to envelop the teen.

He hit the ground with a bang and crack, several grunts outside of his shell bringing attention to his completed objective. Nonetheless, he stood up quickly and flung out the groupings of purple hexagons. Bullets sparked off of the strong material, a useless resistance against the battering rams aimed towards the attackers.

As naturally as breathing, he moved his shulker shell pieces into position to defend himself and others. Civilians were herded away by the teen, any attacker too close getting bashed away by a purple hexagon. In the background, he kept an eye on the swooping Sentinel who was taking out dozens in a single dive, ready to go help if the hero got caught off-guard.

A blaze of fire interrupted his view, several attackers getting blasted away by a bolt of flames. Jumping onto the scene with a laughing war cry, Volley landed and fired off several more shots. Quick to accompany his comrade, Hunter ran beside the other with a giant green steel axe in hand. Staying towards the back lines, Sloth guided civilians away with a calming aura.

Click from someone’s tongue, daggers flying, quick rearrangement of the closest hexagons, and Drista and Purpled got to use the daggers from Tubbo’s dimensional space to slash at some of the criminals. Mirroring each other, they rebounded off of the hexagons to get behind some of the attackers.

A few of them got tripped, more knocked over by the hoverboards that skidded across the ground. Lighting up green and purple respectively, the hoverboards of the bee’s design held up the other teens as they flew away from a blow from one of the attackers. Then those hoverboards each whacked a gun out of someone’s hand, stunning the attackers enough that the teens could sucker-punch them into unconsciousness.

“Nice to see you, Prediction, Precision,” Tubbo greeted jokingly, directing one hexagon to block some bullets for each of them.

“Prediction?” Drista said, scoffing as she ducked away from the butt of a gun. Both of them used their hoverboards to trip one of the attackers up.

“Precision?” Purpled repeated as he twisted towards the bee. Hoverboards angled just right, launching them both up and over the hexagons that protected Tubbo from attacks from the front and the back.

“That’s just lazy,” they both snarked, gripping the edge of the shulker shell pieces to reorient themselves. Then they stomped on the accelerator for the hoverboards, taking the shields with them so they could easily ram into a few attackers. Snorting, Tubbo flung the shields to the side so they could attack criminals to the left and right of where they had been. “Atom,” they added with snickers.

Rolling his eyes, Tubbo took no time in making his nickname a reality. In seconds, several of the guns in hand shattered apart because of the little pieces of shulker shell that had entered the barrel of it. To make their names true, the two threw the daggers in hand towards each other, hitting the shoulders of the attackers just barely behind the other.

They met back up in the middle, pressing the thrusters of the hoverboards against each other for a moment. The combined power sent them flying, both of them skidding across the ground to throw up sparks and unprepared attackers. Circling around, they stayed side by side as they went up a ramp of Tubbo’s making.

Soon used as bats, the hoverboards brought the teens high enough to meet with the thrown explosives that the heroes’ current targets had thrown. Thrown towards the ground, they were wrapped up in shulker shell before they could cause damage. The pieces of shell, still wrapped up in a ball-like shape, became wrecking balls on the nearby attackers.

Using the other side of his heritage for the first time since the fight had started, Tubbo flew up to catch the two. Not traditionally, seeing as he had grabbed their feet, but they were prepared for such a thing. Even when he spun in a rapid circle to fling the two into a couple of clusters of attackers.

They went in in a more unorthodox way than before, keeping a one-handed handstand to kick and slash at any nearby threats. Eventually finding their feet again, they took the hoverboard in hand and frisbee-d it towards the other teen. Caught in the middle so soon after landing, all Tubbo could do was jump up and barrel roll between the two projectiles.

Landing again, he flung out his hands to guide a couple of hexagons. Those hexagons bashed away attackers charging at the heroes while the hoverboards hit attackers surrounding Drista and Purpled over the head. The two used the hoverboards as shields, their daggers making suiting swords as they cleared out the last of the cluster around them.

Also improvising with his newfound hoverboard of shulker shell, Tubbo charged forward to bring up the makeshift hoverboard as a battering ram. Pushed off of his platform by the jolt of hitting a group of people at high speed, the nearby shell surrounded the human cannonball. With a strike of several attackers getting tossed to the ground, Tubbo rolled out of his ball to stand beside Drista and Purpled.

Three teens stood back to back, the heroes standing on guard against the few remaining attackers. All of the others were laying on the ground, knocked out and incapacitated. Those remaining didn’t hesitate before taking out syringes of Crimson and stabbing themselves with the booster.

One’s skin cracked apart and burned with a horrid smell, making them howl in pain. That howl turned into a rumble, the magma and rock making up their skin turning the grin of the Magma villain into something crooked and unnatural.

Next up, another’s skin gave way to sharp bone, a scream answering to the blood streaming down their skin. The blood didn’t stop pouring and their scream turned into cackles as the deranged steroid version of Wolverine got used to their powers.

More body horror happened, one of them falling to the ground with a cry as their legs snapped and contorted. Scales scattered over skin, the newfound Naga rising with slitted eyes and a mighty hiss.

Vines whipped through concrete, piercing their new host as they shrieked. Those red vines writhed under their skin, turning them more plant than human as the Ent glared at the opposite side of the fight.

The final one to turn shuddered, gasping explosively as their arms and legs were ripped apart. Whirlwinds gathered to them, letting the Cyclone rise with a deranged laugh that spiked through the air.

“I want the Naga,” Drista declared, glaring at the beast as she readjusted her grip on her weapons.

“Ent for me,” Purpled decided, scowling at the enemy as he did the same.

Tubbo took those decisions to heart, rolling his shoulders as he shouted to the heroes, “We’ve got the Ent and Naga, you guys get the rest!” Then, before the heroes could try to protest, they watched in awe as the little technologic hexagons he’d thrown at the other teens’ chests began to shift and grow.

Their suits were very similar to Shadow’s, a simple black bodysuit with several glowing highlights and technological gadgets. Purpled’s highlights were purple, of course, green, and gold, the face mask having no features other than a simple line of purple around where his eyes would be. Drista’s were light green, white, and had one light of purple around the neck, the face mask taking after her brother’s with the lit-up green smile and little dashes for eyes.

Both of them stood valiantly with one arm outstretched, the black nanotech covering their bodies quickly. The hoverboards turned into actual shields, much more sturdy with the engines still purring on the inside. The outstretched arm of each held their daggers, those daggers getting swarmed with nanotech to turn them into much more fitting weapons.

Twirling her new glaive, Drista’s mask tilted the eyes downward to show off her vicious expression. “Oh, let’s fuck these bell-heads up.”

Twisting his new katana to catch the light, Purpled’s mask narrowed the strip of light in a show of glaring. “Right behind you, time to collapse these ringing enforcers.”

Slapping on his own nanosuit, Tubbo settled into a low stance. Forest green, neon green, and yellow shined through the highlights on his suit, the faceplate showing his eyes as pinched off ovals that could be mistaken for alien eyes despite being those of a bee. No shield was needed, his shulker shell floating close by.

Taking his new gauntlets for a spin by lightly punching to get the satisfying cha-chunk of a reload, Tubbo’s mask tilted and narrowed the eyes to be extra. “Let’s get this victory singing.”

Then the teens charged in, beelining for their targets as the heroes scrambled to pick out theirs. Vines shot forward, soon cut apart by the two blade wielders. The last one took the route of firing off his weapon, the resulting explosion withering vines and sending him soaring.

Vines split up, half going for the two on the ground and the rest going for the one in the air. Another explosion veered his course, sending him more towards the Naga. He hit the ground with a roll, ducking under the swipe of a tail easily.

The Naga cried out, their tail spurting blood from where Tubbo had nicked it with his dagger-like blade of the gauntlets. Before they could turn on him to attack, Drista flew in to shield bash them in the stomach. She jumped away before they could retaliate, the two soon circling each other like a pair of predators.

Using the same thrusters that the other teen had to get her speed and power, the bee charged at the back of the Ent with rocket-powered steps. Sensing him easily, they divided their attention away from the quick Purpled to envelope him in vines. That ball of vines soon exploded thanks to the charges moving from his gauntlets to the rest of his suit.

Thoroughly distracted by the sudden loss, they couldn’t stop Purpled. Powered by the thrusters in his shoes, the teen jumped over the faltering wall of vines and slashed at them. Crying out, the Ent flinched away from the blade that carved a long thin line into their arm. Rather than blood, vines swarmed from the wound to catch the blade that had wounded their host.

Taking the role of support well, Tubbo fired two charges at each villain. The first broke apart the connection from Purpled to Ent, the second causing the villain to stumble and giving Purpled a chance to bludgeon them with his shield. On the other side of the fight, the first unsteadied Naga enough that Drista could get in a slash, the second pausing the tail swipe of retaliation.

Altitude gave Tubbo the chance to watch the fight, his wings buzzing under their protective coating to keep him hovering. Close to giving a blow to the downed villain, vines wrapped around his sword to pause Purpled. Those vines released their grip soon after, the wind from Tubbo’s charge blowing them away. Retracting the blade of one of his gauntlets, he used the other to blast away the vines reaching for Purpled’s back.

Past the once-wall of vines, Drista was jumping around with a barrel roll. Another charge landed below her, the teen taking one last rotation to angle her shield towards it. Then she soared through the air, her sudden acceleration throwing her out of the way of the Naga’s pounce.

Two weapons transformed as they flew through the air, returning to their original form of daggers. Those daggers hit the mark easily, thrown by the experts of ‘Prediction’ and ‘Precision’. Two villains fell, knocked out by the pommel of a normal dagger, caught unawares by the projectile coming from the other scuffle.

‘Atom’ nodded at them, jerking his head towards where Volley had decided to fight fire with fire. They picked up the nearby daggers, those weapons turning into their respective katana and glaive, before nodding and starting forward. The explosive teen got there first, his gauntlets glowing with power.

A charge startled Magma back, making them turn and growl. They tried to throw a punch, the other teens getting there first. Blasting off of the launch pads of shulker shell provided, both of them held their shields at the ready. Drista blocked the punch, Purpled taking that chance to smack the villain in the face.

Then they landed on their respective pads of shulker shell, taking the flick to the side from those purchases quite well. Skating from side to side on the concrete with the use of the suit’s mobility, they sufficiently confused the literal rock-head into stumbling away from them. The cross block Magma had put in front of their face due to the teens’ lunge proved ineffective, their arms soon used as launch pads for the two teens to return to the last teen’s side.

Said teen had no issue launching an explosive charge into Magma’s exposed face.

Leaving that villain alone for a moment, Tubbo glanced to the side at the sound of a crash. His hands hurriedly intertwined, the nanotech adjusting to create one large gauntlet out of the two. One that could launch a pure beam of plasma at Cyclone before they could do anything to the Sentinel who they had pinned to a building.

Twisting out of the way, they shouted in surprise as the end of the beam exploded on command. Attention diverted, Cyclone did everything they could to stop the two approaching teens. They faltered for a moment, the wind tossing them around, but the suits adjusted.

Mini thrusters emerged from various points on their suits, adjusting their course and fighting through the wind. To give the suits less of an issue, the two grabbed the other’s hand and pulled each other closer. Soon, they spun in a cyclone of their own, their shields held as the bulkhead of their missile.

Cyclone could barely blink before they got a face-full of nanotech. Stunned and more than likely concussed, the villain stuttered towards the ground as their wind faltered. Pushing themselves away with the thrusters on the shield, the two teens kept hold of each other as they searched for another cue.

Cued by the visible rod of shulker shell, they grabbed onto it with their linked hands. Redirected towards another fight, they let go at the apex of their swing and flipped together. One flung the other further down the line, both of them landing in front of heroes with milliseconds to spare.

Bone hit metal, the resounding crack sending most of the battlefield staring. From his place behind Purpled, Hunter stared wide-eyed at how the teens protected him and Sloth. More bone spurs joined the first few, some pieces of shulker shell supporting the expanding nanotech.

Shattering like glass, the weapons of Wolverine exploded into hundreds of shards. Cut by the beam of the explosive gauntlets, the villain shrieked at the loss. While they did so, the two teens took the moment to frisbee their shields at the villain and disorient them more.

The quick interventions of the teens did wonders. Villains fell to the concrete, unconscious and incapacitated.

So, like any other day, Tubbo asked the other two, “So, why are you two here?”

“Hanging out with the Dream Team before…” Drista said, waving at the destruction of the street as an appropriate explanation. “You?”

“Hanging out with the SBI with the other two, they went off to take care of the other concentrations of conflict,” Tubbo said, getting nods in response.

“Where did you get the suits?” Purpled asked, tilting his arm this way and that to admire the tech. “And why did you have it just in your pocket?”

“Sam lets me do a lot of random shit in his lab,” Tubbo said, the other two snorting at that. “And it was in my dimensional space because I’m paranoid. Also, Atom? Really?”

“Better than what you came up with. Prediction and Precision, seriously?” Drista teased, snickering at the names.

Choosing that moment to butt in, Dream wandered over to say “They aren’t bad names, to be fair.”

“You’re friends with Volley and Sloth, don’t even talk,” Purpled said, his joking tone getting a mock surrender from the hero.

“Hey, you guys okay? Unhurt?” Phil asked, landing with a flutter of wings. “You guys seemed to have it handled but I wanted to make sure.”

“Yeah but I can guarantee that Tommy got himself scratched up,” Tubbo said, huffing at such a thought. “He’s a reckless idiot sometimes.”

“Wouldn’t he just use Ward or whatever?” Dream said, shrugging off the possibility of the teen getting hurt. Then he paused when the teen in front of him just huffed again. “He would use Ward, right?”

“He tends to be a bit weird with using Ward,” Tubbo said, frowning. “He’s fine with using it towards stuff like attention or fear but when it comes to physical injury… He gets a bit iffy, probably some PTSD bullshit.”

“Ah yes, the universal kryptonite of Pogtopians,” Purpled deadpanned, getting exactly two snorts for the dark joke.

With ruffled wings, Phil spoke up, “Well, he can just get healed up at the Tower’s infirmary. I was going to invite you, Ranboo, and Tommy to stay the night before this all went down, anyway.”

Not one to be outdone, Dream shrugged before offering up something similar, “Purpled, Drista, you guys could stay on our floor if you want.”

Newly arrived, George deadpanned before Sapnap could speak, “Did you just invite them to our floor? Without asking?”

While the Dream Team went through some banter, the teens glanced at each other to try to determine an answer. “Won’t Tommy be all weird about it? Having to cook dinner and whatever?” Purpled said.

“I’ll hold him down to get healed,” Tubbo said without hesitation or change of expression. Such a statement got the two other Pogtopians to glance at each other in grim and fearful acceptance. “If he gets really ringing, he can just leave out some tupperware of food for people to grab when they visit.”

“Alright then,” Drista said, turning to the adults and catching their attention with a simple “we’ll stay the night, lead the way.”

The grins on them were infectious.

Chapter Text

The first time he had died, it was to protect his siren.

They had met not even a day before, talking with each other for hours after their shift was done. They had just clicked, laughing and joking together like they’d been friends for years.

So forgive him for worrying when she was taken away by two overseers for some ‘private punishment’. Forgive him for following them all to ensure her safety, especially when this was done outside of the shows. Forgive him for stepping in when they were about to taint his siren.

Prime forgive him.

Acts of violence against overseers were unforgivable, power use to do so even more so. He didn’t care about that, he cared about his siren.

So he froze the first one in a block of ice and the second one’s hand before they could touch her.

In return, in a place where their ‘righteous’ rules had no effect on lethal actions, the overseer used their power of wind manipulation to chop off his head.

He did it back, wasn’t that okay? Wasn’t that right?

He fell into the void to the sound of her screams.

Limbo was a very odd place. It wasn’t really a place, it was more of a sensation.

He screamed for hours about why couldn’t he live and the void had no answers for him.

Of cold cold cold to a spark of warmth.

Defeat defeat defeat to defiance.

Of pain pain pain to relief.

Struggle struggle struggle to triumph.

To relief to euphoria to pain to relief--

Triumph to hope to struggle to triumph--

-- to euphoria as he opened his eyes--

-- to hope as the warmth came back, as he saw the fated light--

Why was she still screaming? He was back, he was back--

Light turned to warmth to burning and he--

-- he heard her gasp and reigned in the pain in his skin so it wouldn’t infect her, it wouldn’t taint her, it wouldn’t hurt her--

-- and he heard her much softer breath of awe as the dancing light burned into his eyelids so he opened his eyes--

-- and saw his lovely siren in the light of fluorescents.

-- and saw his strong siren in the light of his fire.

“Hey,” he rasped, squeezing her hand back gently.

“Hey,” she said with a laugh that bordered on a sob. Then she leaned down and pressed her forehead against his like that fateful day. “Welcome back, my Tribute.”

“Always for you, my siren,” he said back, his rumbling voice getting her to shudder. Nuzzling her a little and pushing back into the pillows so he could kiss her forehead, he took the moment to process his surroundings. Sunlight from the windows, white white white walls, soft sheets, the Infirmary.

And beside his bed sat Fundy, the man with tiredness in his eyes and upsetness pressing back his ears. “Hey, dickhead,” he said, a crooked smile on his face.

Jack chuckled, smiling back as Niki moved to press her head against his chest. “Hey, motherfucker,” he said, absently threading his fingers through her hair. “How’s it going?”

“Grand,” Fundy deadpanned, getting another chuckle. Such mirth died out when the fox looked the other dead in the eyes and said “You’re really a ringing bastard, you know that?”

“Fair enough,” the blaze-born said, his next chuckle a lot softer and grimmer. Then he looked around the room once more, frowning as his tired mind began to pick up the pace. “Wait, where’s Ranboo?”

“Far away from you, idiot,” Fundy said, his tone a little too sharp to be joking. “He’s waiting for the others, I told him to step out and do so before he went into another panic attack.” Cringing at that, Jack hissed under his breath as he remembered…

Stunned wide eyes, shaking hands, absolute terror as one asked another to kill him.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. No wonder I’m calling you a bastard, my own hang-ups aside,” the fox said, huffing as he wrung his hands together. If one looked close enough, they could see the redness of skin rubbed raw. “You better apologize to him, I swear to Prime.”

“I will,” Jack said, shaking his head slightly with a huff. “Sorry for asking either of you to do it, I know it’s a bit traumatizing and grim.”

“Just a bit,” the other said with a scoff, glaring at the bedridden man with no heat.

A much younger fox shook with blood on his hands, tears falling onto the face of a still blaze-born and burning the latter. Hunching over the body of a comrade, the fox cried silently surrounded by bodies in an empty warehouse. After a little while, the one under him reached up to cup the side of his face.

“Why so glum, little flare? I’ll be okay…”

“And I wasn’t exactly thinking straight--”

Both of them knew where that led to, grinning like fools.

“You never do, you aroace bitch.”

“Now listen here, you trans motherfucker--”

A knock on the door paused their banter, their heads snapping over to see the newcomer. Flinching back at the sudden attention on him, Ranboo barely stayed in the door. “Um, am I interrupting something?” he asked quietly, his claws just barely flexing away from digging into the wood of the door.

“No, no, come on in,” Jack said, gently nudging Niki to get up so he could do the same. She did so easily, keeping a hold of one of his hands as she smiled gently at the teen. Ranboo did enter the room, twitchy and nervous the whole way towards the bed. “Ayup,” he said, offering a hand to the teen. “How are ya feeling?”

A tad too desperate, Ranboo grabbed the offering to keep the man close. “Sh-Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he joked, falling flat with the choked stutter and watering eyes. “You-You--”

“Ay ay ay, none of that,” Jack said, reaching up to wipe away an offending tear before it could do any damage to the other. “I’m okay, alright? I’m okay.”

“But you--” Any words fell off into a whine as Ranboo pressed the cold hand closer to his cheek and hunched over.

“I know, I know,” the dead man soothed, pulling the teen down to tuck him under his chin. Contorting himself into a ball of limbs, the teen managed to squeeze himself onto the bed and fit perfectly in the man’s embrace. “It’s alright, I’m here, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that, I’m sorry, I’m here now, I’m sorry…”

Whispered reassurances like this went on for a while. Eventually, the teen gathered himself enough to stop his crying and unhide his face from where he’d pressed it into Jack’s clothes. Nonetheless, the man kept Ranboo pressed against him and gently brushed through the other’s hair.

The four of them stayed in peaceful silence for a few long moments, just enjoying each other’s presence. Quiet conversation started up between Fundy and Niki, Jack adding in his remarks with the occasional hesitant two-cents from Ranboo. They all kept close to each other proximity-wise, whether that be from holding hands, hugging, putting a hand on a shoulder, etc.

“Jack!”

Such a thing is probably the only reason why Jack didn’t get bowled over by the sudden appearance of four extra teenagers. They tackle-hugged him, trapping Ranboo to his chest and forcing Fundy to keep them from tumbling off of the bed. “Ayup! Ay ay ay, watch the side, you ringing rats!” Jack said, gently shooing them off before they could set his nerves on fire anymore. Ranboo was the exception, held closer instead.

The teens hovered anxiously, leaving little room for when the SBI managed to squeeze in. “Are you okay?” Tommy asked, a few layers to that question.

“I don’t know about right now, I did just get tackled by a bunch of gremlins,” Jack said, mock-glaring at the somewhat sheepish teens. “But I’ll be okay, sore and achy for a while but that’s normal.”

“Good thing Charlie is so good at healing, huh?” Phil said, chuckling.

Jack wasn’t about to correct the man, the less who knew about everything the better (even if the lack of a heart monitor was a blatant indicator). But then Charlie walked in with a clipboard and his doctor’s coat. “Well, you’re very lucky, Jack. Were you another man, I would’ve had to write your time of death from the moment you got into the ambulance,” he said, not unkindly as he mussed with his brown hair that had the consistency of slime.

“Were I another man, you wouldn’t be able to tell me this,” Jack joked back, snickering at the snort that his bad joke got. Between the look that Charlie had and the quick signaling squeeze from Fundy on his shoulder, the man looked to stall for a moment. “And, no offense to you, big man, but where’s Ponk? Isn’t he the head doctor and whatever?”

“He is but he’s on a date with Sam right now on the other side of the city,” Charlie said, the other nodding in understanding. With a good-natured scowl, Charlie added, “And it’s Dr. Cicle to you.”

“Right right, sorry.”

Just when Dr. Cicle opened his mouth to ask a question, Fundy interrupted, “Sorry, doc, just before you ask your questions, Nook?”

“Yes, Tengakai?”

“Activate Protocol Icarus, password 17-Myling-3,” he said, a touch too sharp for normal commands towards the AI.

“Camera, including mic and clock, 43A of the Infirmary has been disabled. Have a nice day, gentlemen.”

The two Pogtopians snickered, amused by the added message that the fox hadn’t coded in. The others made noises on the confusion side of the spectrum, trying to figure out what just happened. “Protocol Icarus?” Tommy repeated, his expression indecipherable.

“After the Initiative,” Fundy explained, not clearing up the confusion in the slightest. “Let’s just say that the Commission is a bit… iffy and ignorant on a good day.”

“Murderous and racist on a bad day,” Jack said, snorting at the thought.

That did not help the worry in the room, Tubbo’s expression taking a dark turn. “Sam would’ve…”

“Oh, Sam didn’t program that protocol in,” Fundy said, getting the bee’s head, and everyone else’s, to snap to him. “I did and Nook has kept it ever since.”

“And because of it, we’ve been able to talk about shit the Commission would’ve gotten on our asses for,” Jack said, shrugging off the stunned looks the two were getting. “Because, as we said, they’re a bit iffy and murderous.”

“And Sam wouldn’t have had a reason to put it in anyway,” Fundy said, holding up his hands as a scale. “Sure, he’s an aggressive mob hybrid but he’s also a L’Manbergian. We’re Pogtopians and our mob roots don’t have the best reputation. I’m just a thief, after all.”

“And I’m just a hothead,” Jack added with an amused huff.

Frowning, Purpled looked at the enderman still in the blaze-born’s arms. “Would Ranboo have to deal with this?”

“Oh, no, he dodged a bullet there,” Jack said, holding the teen a little closer anyway. “We would fuck up the Commission if they tried. We have so much blackmail on them.”

“So much,” Fundy agreed, a grin on his face at the mere thought. “I still have every mission and patrol log saved in a computer at home so they can’t even try to BS their way out of any evidence.”

Jack couldn’t help his bark of laughter, turning his head slightly to give the other a sharp grin that got replicated. “And if we talk about a certain set of missions, they are dead in the water. More so than me, really.”

Lightly whacking the other’s shoulder for the terrible joke, Fundy leaned on the shoulder not a moment later. “After all, with Shadow’s public backing and the amount of public recognition we’ve been getting lately, our word would have to be taken. Even if they tried to attack us personally about a bunch of ‘Pogtopians are just looking for a conflict’ and whatever ringing excuses they can come up with,” he said with a dark chuckle.

“From what I’ve seen of the records, you guys haven’t gotten many missions,” Ranboo said, frowning as his tails started to thrash a little.

Techno backed up his apprentice’s confusion/questioning, also frowning, “Why would Ranboo’s backing and public recognition matter? Aren’t they just normal missions?”

Restraining himself to a low rumbly huff of bitter laughter that bordered on a growl, Jack rubbed comforting circles into Ranboo’s shoulder. Fundy had no such restraint, his bark of laughter coming out so animalistic that it made everyone jump. “Oh but the public’s opinion matters greatly when you activate the Initiative,” Jack said, getting startled looks at the thought of activating such a thing.

“And if we had said anything all the way back then, who would’ve believed us?” Fundy added, his sarcasm getting dramatic enough for a performance that Jack joined into. “After all, we were just attention-craving Pogtopians--

“-- who had recently gotten out of being unable to gain anything other than harmful recognition--”

“-- and were off on a high of being some of the quickest heroes to rise up--”

“-- through the rankings where L’Manbergians had been trying for years without any headway. And besides--”

“-- we’re just idiotic naive kids who think we have a grasp of the world--”

“-- because we got handed the short end of the stick and now--”

“-- we’re looking for any reason to beat down on authority. After all, there’s--”

“-- power in being a hero, who wouldn’t want that?” Fundy went in for the big reveal, his posture casual as he shrugged and said, “And who would be idiotic enough to label, or even file in the first place, the too-many missions for such low to mid-ranking heroes with the tagline of ‘Suicide Mission’?”

The drip drip drip of the IV served as a metronome to their stunned silence.

Ever the chatterbox, Wilbur managed to choke out a stacattoed “What?”

“Five missions in total, all with the difficulty that they were hesitant to send anyone in the top 50 to deal with it,” Fundy said, holding up a hand to give a count. “First three went pretty good, --”

Jack chuckled crookedly as he said “Fourth one, we got cocky, and the fifth, we cleaned house.”

“And on the fourth one, I learned very quickly how to kill someone,” Fundy said, giving the group whiplash. He ignored their stunned and fearful looks, unsheathing a claw to press it lightly at his jugular. “And on that mission, I learned very quickly that Jack couldn’t really die.”

“And on that mission, I taught someone else how to puncture my jugular for the best chance of a quick death,” Jack said, the rest of the room, minus Fundy, sharply inhaling at the implication. “And on that mission, I taught someone else about the fact that I’m undead.”

“Undead?” Charlie repeated, his brow furrowing as he tried to put the pieces together.

“Yep, the main reason why there’s not a heart monitor in here. I don’t feel like setting off whatever alarm it has 24/7,” Jack said, shrugging it off like it was nothing.

Curious as a doctor could be, Charlie asked the question “How does being undead work?”

“You tell me, doc,” the dead man joked, snickering and shrugging. “Niki, Fundy, and I have been trying to figure it out for 7 years now on how exactly it works. Nothing revolutionary there except for increased durability. As for why it happens, the most we got is some weird myth about blaze-borns being the origins of the myth of phoenixes.”

The soft sigh of presumed relief from the fox beside him got a mischievous grin. Fundy could barely glare and give a firm “No” before--

“Once I was seven years old, my mama told me--”

“I’m going to suplex you, hospital bed or not, Prime help me,” Fundy said, scowling with no heat at the bad ongoing joke.

“But I have a Ranboo, you wouldn’t do that to Ranboo, would you?” Jack said, trapping Ranboo in his embrace before the teen could try to weasel his way out of being a bargaining chip.

“I’m aboutta kick you into the next week if you don’t--”

“You said ‘taught someone else how to puncture my jugular for a quick death’,” Drista said, stilling the ‘conflict’ with the mood drop. “Does that mean that you do that yourself?”

The teen in his arms, and the whole room, tensed and all Jack could do was sigh. “With the blaze-born-phoenix myth whatnot, it means my body resets every time I ‘die’,” he said, purposefully adding in the air quotes. “Because I’m worried about what the Commission could, and would, do if they found out I’m basically undying, I reset myself before any presumed ‘life-threatening injuries’ can be noticed by paramedics. Now that this crap has happened though, that tactic is pretty much useless.”

“I’ve got everything ready, we can set off the Initiative whenever they get too pushy,” Fundy said, pulling out his phone with a small smile. “Any and all of the footage from the protocol can be regained at a whim by us, that should give us a good one-up in court. After all, if nothing’s wrong with how they operate, why would we be scared enough to code in such a protocol?”

“Good,” Jack said, pausing before nodding towards Tubbo. “If you don’t mind, Big Law, we might need some assistance.”

“Free of charge,” Tubbo declared, pulling out a quick Rebellion’s salute.

“And, after a quick check-up, you’re free to go home,” Charlie said, smiling at the blaze-born. “If your body does reset like you say it does, there’s no need for extensive testing.”

“Thank Prime, I need to sleep for a few years,” Jack said, smiling at the nods of agreement that went around. “I’ll probably just stay here so I won’t be down for dinner.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t be either,” Tubbo said, ignoring the pout that Tommy had on in the background. “Got offered a stay up in the SBI and Dream Team’s floors. Means we can annoy you guys at the ass-crack of dawn.”

Both of the heroes good-naturedly groaned, getting the teens to laugh at their misfortune. “Run off, you heathens. I make no promises on which type of ‘thermia you get when you startle me awake,” Jack hissed, waving them off. They left with their own goodbyes, Ranboo being the last to leave. The teen got an extra hug and hair ruffle from the trio by the bed, sending him off flustered.

“Alright then, let’s get this done so we can all grab some dinner.”

|\/|

The bedroom was quiet, the three of them peacefully laying on the bed. Niki laid on Jack’s chest, her ear pressed to where a heart should be beating, and Fundy, in full fox form, laid against the man’s side.

“Hey, Jack?”

“What’s up, little spark?”

A small rustle of fabric as the fox adjusted himself.

“... Are we good people?”

A pause as the dead man contemplated such a question.

“Where did this come from?”

“With how far we’re going with the Commission…”

“We’re defending ourselves and we’re defending Ranboo.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

A sigh, rustling of fabric, a small yip as a hand was placed on the fox’s head.

“I don’t know, Fundy, I’m no philosopher. We’re surviving, we’re fighting, and we’re taking care of our own, none of that constitutes being good people.”

A huff.

“So basically we’re being Pogtopians?”

A snort of laughter.

“By Prime, if we were anything else, then I’d start taking on moral dilemmas.”

“Ha ha…”

Silence for a moment.

“Look, Fundy, we may not be good people, but we’re the best we got. Least we can live with that, huh?”

“I guess…”

“Enough with this self-deprecation, we both know that it’s an art that we have long since mastered. No need to demonstrate it.”

“Right.”

Another huff of laughter before a lull.

“... Get some rest, little spark. Savoir Clara knows we need it.”

“Night, flare… Love you.”

“Heh, love you too.”

Chapter Text

For all his exhaustion, Tommy couldn’t sleep.

That led him to where he is now, sitting in front of a keyboard in the so-called ‘rec room’. (Government funding, am I right?) Evening light from the city served as a good replacement for any fluorescents, shadowing the teen from the window-turned-wall along the side of the room. Staring at it, he hesitated to hover a hand over the instrument.

Then his hands spasmed, his eyes burned, and the ringing in his ears picked up.

So he slowly started playing the first notes from ‘Village’ by Wrabel.

Only near the end of the starting instrumental did he start humming which turned to singing, “No, your mom don't get it and your dad don't get it, Uncle John don't get it.”

Tubbo and Ranboo, anyone else in his life…

“And you can't tell grandma 'cause her heart can't take it and she might not make it.”

Oh Prime, Wilbur .

“They say, ‘Don't dare, don't you even go there, cutting off your long hair. You do as you're told.’”

Pogtopia was still ignored, still pushed away, and for what?

“Tell you, ‘Wake up, go put on your makeup. This is just a phase you're gonna outgrow.’”

They told him to be a leader but he was just a martyr.

“There's something wrong in the village, in the village, oh.”

The start of Lockdown flashed by, the uncertainty, the fear, the want.

“They stare in the village, in the village, oh.”

Pogtopians, such an oddity just because of what they went through.

“There's nothing wrong with you. It's true, it's true.”

They weren’t wrong for surviving, they weren’t .

Right?

“There's something wrong with the village, with the village. There's something wrong with the village.”

Barely a moment of pause, of a break, before his burning hands moved to continue this symphony.

“Feel the rumors follow you from Monday all the way to Friday dinner.”

All of the rumors and chatter between cities because one couldn’t accept the other for who they are.

“You got one day of shelter then it's Sunday hell to pay, you young lost sinner.”

Because they still had to be ‘fixed’.

“Well, I've been there, sitting in that same chair whispering that same prayer half a million times.”

To be accepted , to be wanted , by society. By those who had never tried.

“It's a lie though, buried in disciples.”

But the city and its judgment above ground meant nothing if they didn’t make it mean anything.

“One page of the Bible isn't worth a life.”

His wrists, his ankles, his wings , burned as he slammed his fingers onto the keyboard and sang louder.

“There's something wrong in the village, in the village, oh.”

Criminals, police, heroes, villains, all fighting when the Vanguard could deal with it perfectly fine.

“They stare in the village, in the village, oh.”

Whispers of rumors and glares of distrust as the freaks made their way through the streets.

“There's nothing wrong with you. It's true, it's true.”

Pogtopians were Pogtopians, Tommy was Tommy.

“There's something wrong with the village, with the village.”

Prejudice, racism, xenophobia, to name a few.

“Something wrong with the village.”

He felt almost sick as he compared Purpled to L’Manberg for a moment.

So instead he began to abuse the keyboard, his throat tight as his fingers jarred across the keys. Inklings of everything from years of living through torture and pain of all kinds playing out in the open air. The piano sounded lonely without its usual accompaniment but that only made it that much more fitting.

“There's something wrong in the village, in the village, oh.”

Distrust and fear as criminals rose and the Egg gained more power.

“They stare in the village, in the village, oh.”

People were looking for a leader, someone to be a beacon in these times.

“There's nothing wrong with you. It's true, it's true.”

He was shaking, almost fumbling with the notes.

Why couldn’t he just be Tommy?

“There's something wrong with the village, with the village.”

Purpled was trying to get him to do it, Drista was trying to be a buffer and--

“Something wrong with the village.”

-- Tommy was trying to survive, to live .

The last few notes faded out, accompanied by his humming, and all he could do was breathe for a moment.

Looking ahead at the blank wall, he shuddered through his next cycle of oxygen. The pause only brought tears to his eyes and he couldn’t help his quiet huff of dry cynical mirth. Brought on by his dark humor, ‘-ERROR’ by niki (covered by JubyPhonic) started to play.

“Can you see my wretched tears?”

Nobody ever did and nobody ever could.

“Burning in these eyes now clear, all life’s vivid colors are blurring.”

Smeared by loss, grief, depression, and every other negative emotion in the book.

“Tell me exactly what you’re leaving behind.”

What were they leaving behind? Was it all worth it?

Who’s 'they'? What’s 'it'?

“I call your name as I fall from life.”

Falling falling falling, reaching reaching reaching--

“The blue and red and white all are blurring with the light and I shout within this world that is muted, tell me exactly what you are looking for.”

The L’Manberg flag wrapped around his throat, muting his cries and his pleas. Because it wasn’t what they wanted, it wasn’t what they needed, it wasn’t colorful and happy enough--

-- he wasn’t enough!

“I chase your shadow, collapsing more.”

The shadow of who he could’ve been, the alternate route of a bright-eyed child but instead…

Instead, he got to scrub these scars from his skin to even fit in with the ‘perfect’ society.

“Give me the end these tears have bore.”

What he’d fought for, what he’d wanted through his desperate scramble against the Ram.

“Tell me, am I breaking down?”

Because they’d know, they’d know best, they’d know him better than himself.

Did they? Did they really?

“All I am is broken now.”

Shattered, twisted, demented--

“Even so I want to keep on breathing, just breathing.”

Heaving air between each line was so freeing because he was the one breathing, he was the one still standing.

“Hey tell me if I just saw you, like the dreams I have in my solitude.”

Dreams and little ideals if maybe he hadn’t been born and raised in Pogtopia fluttered by, always out of reach.

Did he need them?

“My words now can’t even reach you.”

Words didn’t get through to them, didn’t make them understand .

“-ERROR.”

He cried it out, the piano chord coming out sharply as the ‘description’ of what he was flew through the air.

“On a distant day, empty tender light had shone warmly,”

Wilbur.

“Flooding all the sky with its color.”

So bright, so passionate, so damn innocent.

“Tell me exactly what is the choice you made.”

Love or hate? Acceptance or disgust?

“Tears fill my eyes as I lie in wait.”

For something he could never control, it hung everything on a fraying tightrope.

“The consciousness that floats on by slowly starts to leave and I blur away completely to nothing, tell me exactly what you’re comparing to.”

Standards sped by, knocking him every which way as he tried to put together their image, their ideal.

“It’s sad, but I can’t recall its hue.”

How could he when he’d never seen it?

“When will this life go cold and mute?”

To them, it already had.

“Tell me, am I still the same?”

Scarred, broken, scattered, did Thomas Simons exist? Or was he dead?

Dying on that cross and that balcony like Icarus…

“Nothing left of me remains.”

Nobody even knew his full old name or his previous life and it ached.

“Even so I want to keep on breathing, I’m breathing.”

But he was still here, he was still breathing and Prime-damn surviving.

“Hey tell me am I just dreaming?”

Dreaming of a time that could never have been, even if Wilbur tried so hard to normalize everything.

“Is this time the last we are meeting?”

Parallels, personas from Thomas-- the innocent child-- to Icarus-- the war-torn veteran and martyr-- to Tommy-- the civilian of a normal teenage life-- drifted across the realm, so close yet so far apart.

Why couldn’t people see that?

“My words are silent yet weeping-- ERROR.”

Stories, journeys, tales hid behind everything he said, sorrowful and war-torn, but nobody could fucking hear him .

As he went through the instrumental, he took that moment as a pause. Just a moment to be . No past, no future, just him sitting here, playing the piano. Just Tommy sitting here, playing the piano and looking out of the window to the glorious night sky.

Maybe the next chord came out a little too loud, a little too jarring, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care.

“Even if I give away,”

Dinners, pastries, jokes, pieces of himself --

Maybe then they’d need him--

“Even if I lose some day,”

Punishments, marches, prayers, his very life --

Maybe then they’d remember him--

“Even if my memories fade,”

Trauma, disassociation, his mind’s sanctity--

Maybe then they’d see him--

“I’d still wish the same.”

Freedom.

Peace.

“I continue restlessly, kill the error killing me.”

Trying to become a good friend, a good partner, a good brother, and move past all of his trauma.

“Laughing out so desperately--”

It escaped unbiddenly, choking its way through his next verse of--

“-ERROR.”

“Tell me, am I breaking down?”

He wasn’t, he wasn’t . By Pogtopia he wasn’t.

“Do you know what’s broken now?”

Pogtopia was a place of freedom, of care, of safety.

“Even so the tears I cry are hurting, I’m hurting.”

Then why couldn’t he just say something?

Finally falling, the tears spattered across his hands and the keyboard with his ragged declaration.

“Hey tell me did my words reach you?”

Did he reach his people? Did they take them to heart?

“That last song I sang in my solitude,”

The echoing tunes that he had sung on his crooked parapet still haunted the caves of Pogtopia, making him shudder under their weight.

“The colored words that I gave you are gone and are blurring my eyes are burning.”

Lines blurred, ideals shifted, and all he could do was stare upon what became of it with a crooked smile and red eyes.

“Tell me, am I breaking down?”

What definition was he calling to? Who was he trying to ask?

He didn’t know and maybe that was fine.

“All I am is broken now.”

Maybe he was, maybe all the trauma and pain made him some definition of broken--

“Even so I want to keep on breathing, just breathing.”

-- but he was still here and by Prime, Clara, and every other Singing Deity, he would stay .

“Hey tell me if I just saw you, like the dreams I have in my solitude.”

Some sleepless nights, he dreamed of a world with no Ram, no Lockdown, no pain , in the late hours of the night, trying to reach a version of perfect.

“My words now can’t even reach you…”

But it never worked and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“-ERROR...”

Still breathing heavy, with energy buzzing through his veins, his hands and ears still aching and burning, he didn’t hesitate to bang out the first chords to ‘I’m Still Standing’ by Elton John (covered by Taron Egerton).

“You could never know what it's like.”

Nobody but him could and was that such a blessing and a curse.

“Your blood, like winter, freezes just like ice.”

He froze up, he freaked out, he fractured and cracked.

“And there's a cold, lonely light that shines from you.”

But that’s what made him so imperfectly human. Better that than be like those bastards.

“You'll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use.”

So high and mighty because they picked on children who couldn’t do jack shit--

“And did you think this fool could never win?”

And he grinned and cackled at their fates.

“Well look at me, I'm a-coming back again.”

Because he was here and he wasn’t going away.

“I got a taste of love in a simple way.”

His friends, his brothers, his partners, all wonderful people.

“And if you need to know while I'm still standing, you just fade away.”

They weren’t here, they couldn’t hurt him, and he relished in it.

“Don't you know I'm still standing better than I ever did?”

Maybe his friends didn’t know everything but they were there and that was enough. He could stand and that was enough.

“Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid.”

Scarred and battered, those days he could just act like a kid, no matter how insulting it was to have another mention it, were gold.

“And I'm still standing after all this time.”

Years had gone by and he didn’t stop just being .

“Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind.”

His history was there, it still hurt some days, but it was Prime-damn his .

“I'm still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah…"

He laughed like a complete fool through some of his ‘yeah’s and he loved it. The second round through the verse was stronger, louder, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Once, I never coulda hoped to win.”

It was laughable for a Pogtopian to stand up against an overseer, for a child to stand up to an ‘adult’. Oh now who was laughing?

“You starting down the road, leaving me again.”

Trying to leave him behind, trying to leave him for dead…

“The threats you made were meant to cut me down.”

Every blow, every punishment, every hour of work put into it…

“And if our love was just a circus, you'd be a clown by now.”

And everything they had worked for was gone, repurposed by those who deserved to even touch their city, their own city.

“You know I'm still standing better than I ever did.”

After it all, Pogtopians still stood on their own two feet. He still stood despite the repeated acquaintances with Death.

“Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid.”

Icarus he may be, Phoenix also branded him. Reborn anew with this new city, these new moments, this new life, Tommy couldn’t ask for much more.

“And I'm still standing after all this time.”

From his triumphs, his tragedies, his tenacity, he stayed .

“Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind.”

Those bastards that weren’t here didn’t deserve his grief so he never gave them any of it.

“I'm still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

This run-through of the verses wasn’t quite as fun but it held power, it held volume, it held his anger and determination.

With no other instruments playing, the break wasn’t as loud as it should’ve been. He didn’t care for that, too busy trying to put indents into the floor via the force used on the piano. Because this was his symphony, his song, and he would play it, live it, how he wanted.

“Don't you know that I'm still standing better than I ever did?”

Physically standing up, he did not mourn the fall of the chair behind him. The fall of those overseers.

“Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid.”

Out of nowhere, the image of him plunking around on that little play-piano that his parents had gotten him for his birthday so long ago came to mind. Untarnished by the deeds of horrid men, the child him shared a strange parallel present him.

“And I'm still standing after all this time.”

But he did not care for the past, nor did he care for the possible future…

“Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind.”

All he cared about was right now, his ragged chest, his shaking legs, his aching arms, his ringing ears.

“I'm still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah!”

He held no regret for shouting out the last lyrics, no matter if that would wake anyone up. He just wanted to shout out his feelings, give some volume to his turmoil, and release some of his forever-pent-up tension.

The last chord came down with a bang, the teen pushing himself away from the instrument with flare. Panting permeated the air, filling the empty space. Shaking, Tommy stared blankly at the wobbling instrument that he’d just torn his heart out over.

Taking a couple more steps back, he slid down the empty wall with a breathless chuckle. Curling in on himself, he turned his head to stare out the window. The city remained unchanged, the emotional rollercoaster of a single boy doing nothing to change reality.

He cleared his throat, staring at the moon that stared back with a hooded gaze. “Prime,” Tommy started, licking his lips to pause the hoarse noise. “Prime, Clara, Nolus, Selene, Aurora, Madrigal, and any other of the Divine Choir that watch over me on this night, I ask for your guidance.

“I…” Another pause, he sighed as he tried to formulate something somewhat respectful. “I know of those who are to wander your halls and I ask if I shall join them as well as I may from my mortal grounds. There are questions as this plight grows, questions as to who should lead, who will guide us from this conflict. Those who are as aware as I who ask me to take that place.

“I… I don’t know if I should. Maybe that’s selfish, maybe that’s stupid, I don’t know. But after today, after so many I knew got hurt, after Jack almost graced Hades with his presence, I’m… I’m almost considering it.

“I know I can be a leader, heh, you lot know it, but… I still hesitate.

“Once again, selfish, stupid, actually being self-preserving for once, a dozen other labels can go to it. For that, I wish for a sign from you. Guidance for the betterment of myself, my friends, my family, my Sworn, my people, and so many more. Pogtopia is not the only city in this, L’Manberg, Elone, is affected by this as well. I owe nothing to them but the chance of people getting hurt still unsettles me.

“Before this collapses, before all of this starts to truly ring, I ask for guidance. Shall the Fates assist you in this determination of action and shall all of you give me the proper signs for me to interpret your will. I thank you in advance and upon all I hold, I devote myself to your wisdom. Thank you, Divine Choir.”

Sighing, he stood up and went for the door. Opening, he only paused from his mission to get some sleep when he met someone’s eyes. The brown eyes of a particular musician.

“Uh, Tommy,” Wilbur said, clearly frozen as he tried to make his mouth work through the shock of being discovered.

Tommy had no problem being brutally blunt. “How long have you been out here?” he asked, more so demanded, as he narrowed his eyes at the man. Maybe he should’ve toned it down with how the other winced but the teen was too tired to dull his ragged edges.

“Um, since the second or third line of the first song,” Wilbur admitted, fiddling with his hands to keep from bolting. To help with that, Tommy grabbed the collar of the man and dragged him into the rec room. Kicking the door closed behind them, the teen pressed the brunette against the wall. “Uh! Tommy!”

“What.” Between the scowl and the growl, Wilbur froze up like a spooked deer, had the look too. “The. Fuck.” Every statement accompanied an increase in pressure against the hero’s chest. “Were you thinking?”

“Uh, I know I shouldn’t have stayed for your prayer and whatever, I tuned that part out!” Wilbur babbled, trying to squirm his way into a more comfortable position.

“No no no, you shouldn’t have listened in the first place,” Tommy hissed, cutting off the other’s scrambling rambles. Sighing, he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Then he froze when the other flinched at the action. Releasing the man like he’d been burned, the teen stumbled back a couple of steps with a curse. “Shit, sorry, Wil, I overreacted. Fuck’s sake…”

Shrugging it off, the man watched as the teen buried his head in his hands and groaned. “It’s alright, a bit much but alright,” Wilbur said, hesitating before reaching out a hand to gently place it on the other’s shoulder. “Are… Are you alright, Tommy? Those were pretty heavy songs.”

He couldn’t help his snort. “No because I just realized that one of my best friends, practically my brother, eavesdropped on me pouring my heart and soul out on that keyboard and part of my prayer to my gods,” Tommy said, so even in tone that it got Wilbur to flinch. “Plus all that happened today, I just wanna sleep.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Wilbur said, growing confident enough to give the teen a half hug. “Get some rest, alright? If you need anything, my door’s always open.”

“Right, just take some lessons from Vundall, you dumbass,” Tommy said, hugging back for a moment before slipping away. “Vundall’s the god of honor, honesty, chivalry, all of that.” The explanation went out before the man could try to ask. “And I’m going to take advantage of Nolus’ night and get some sleep. See you in the morning, Wilby.”

The teen left, just barely hearing the repeated “Wilby?” before he closed the door.

Opening the door to the guest room, he jumped a little at the sight of luminescent eyes staring at him. Ranboo didn’t verbally respond to the shock, forgoing any mention of it by motioning for Tommy to come lay down. Chuckling under his breath, Tommy shook his head a little before laying back down with his soulmates. Quietly and sleepily, the three of them exchanged hums and warbles of ‘ love-devotion-night ’ before falling back asleep.

Not that that changed Tommy’s mood much, the teen still tired and not a star conversationalist. Everyone seemed about the same, even the added presence of the Dream Team, Drista, and Purpled on the SBI’s floor doing little to up the energy. At least all of the small talk was pleasant.

Eventually, more people came to join breakfast. With the extra, it shouldn’t have been a problem. It was only Sam and a couple of the man’s friends, after all.

But those friends stumbled to a stop upon spotting one of the teens at the island-turned-table. One of them simply fell silent, their jaw probably dropped under their red-black-yellow ski mask. And the other, grasping the golden chain around their neck to ground them, gasped out a hesitant “G-Grayson?”

Purpled froze up, staring wide-eyed at his food with a hundred-yard stare. That just seemed to confirm it for the two, the first one mumbling an “Oh my god” before trying to take a step closer.

“It is you, Grayson, we’ve been--”

“Don’t you say that fucking--”

A few things happened in rapid succession. Pulling out a throwing knife and turning to throw it at the two, Purpled growled out some phrase. Sam tensed up, stepping in front of the two with his armor coming to life. The other heroes also moved into defensive positions, the other teens cursing before turning to stop Purpled. More effective than the others, Tommy grabbed the teen’s wrist and slammed it against the table. Growling and snarling, he still struggled.

Akin to a gunshot, a click of ‘ stop ’ ricocheted through the room.

The Pogtopians stopped what they were doing, the heroes flinched back, and all eyes fell on the source. Tommy didn’t care, too busy snarling at the trigger-happy teen in front of him. “Are you canned?” he hissed, squeezing the wrist in his grasp. Huffing, Purpled limited himself to a glare before mechanically dropping his weapon, getting released soon after. “Alright then…”

“... What are your two’s names?” Tommy asked, turning on his barstool to give a somewhat amicable smile towards the newcomers.

“Uh, Ponk.”

“Punz.”

“Ponk, Punz,” the teen repeated, nodding to himself as he made the connection. “So, you’re Purpled’s brothers? Nice to meet you.”

“Purpled?” Punz questioned, frowning.

The answer was put bluntly, “It’s the name he wants to go by now, asshat.”

“Oh.”

Snorting, Tommy rolled his eyes at their shock, “Yeah, oh.” He ignored them for a moment, turning his head to Purpled. “Do you want to talk to them? If you don’t, I can blackmail Wilbur or Phil into getting them to leave,” he asked, his voice much softer than before. It took a moment before Purpled nodded, slowly rising from his place. “Alright, you lot can go to the rec room, it’s just down the hall.”

The teen left with some departing ‘ reassurance-okay-protective ’ hums from the Pogtopians. Once the three disappeared down the hall, the teens returned to their meal like nothing had ever happened. The heroes didn’t transition as seamlessly, glancing at each other for an answer before slowly returning to eating.

“You didn’t react to your old name like that,” Dream commented to his sister, breaking the silence with the grace of a bull in a china shop.

She just shrugged, waving off the observation. “Everyone has a different reason for changing their name and therefore reacts differently,” she said, the other Pogtopians nodding along.

Silence didn’t get to lapse again as Sapnap blurted out, “What was that sound? The click thing? Sounded like a fucking gunshot.”

“Kinda meant to be like that, boss man,” Tubbo said, shrugging. “Gets attention fast, don’t it?”

“Dream mentioned that you guys spoke another language, was that part of it?” George asked, perking up for the first time this morning.

“Yep, the elusive Pog Latin, it’ll be mentioned in your book,” Ranboo said, directing the last bit towards Techno who also perked up. “Another way of communicating among Pogtopians that tends to be easier than English in some cases. Mostly used for emotionally charged situations like fights, arguments, perilous something rather, et cetera.”

“What I said was basically just a very demanding ‘stop’,” Tommy said with a huff. “Dumbass would’ve escalated the ringing situation into collapsing.”

Wilbur nodded along with the rest of the group before he spoke up with a “What were you gonna blackmail me and Phil with, anyway?”

From the evil grin that went on Tommy’s face, Phil wisely shut down the teen with a simple chuckled “Mate, I don’t think you wanna know that. Besides, it would reveal his blackmail.”

“This is why you are the only man ever, Mr. Philza Craft.”

“Aw, but Toms, what about me?”

“And you are a bitch, Mr. Wilbur Soot.”

The room erupted into laughter, spurred on by the continued banter between the two.

Chapter Text

“Isn’t today a holiday, mate? You should be celebrating with Tommy and Tubbo,” Phil asked, vocalizing the visible confusion of the hero trio.

Continuing on without a care in the world, Ranboo secured the helmet onto his skull with a cheery hum. “It is, it’s the Prime Festival,” he said, smiling as the displays of his helmet turned on.

“That’s significant with you working today, how exactly?” Wilbur asked, frowning as he glanced up from his paperwork scattered across the counter. His gaze returned the moment Techno tried to mess with it, shooing the man away with complaints about organization.

“Well, what’s Prime the god of?” Ranboo asked, taking the moment to wait for Jack or Fundy’s message that they were ready for patrol.

Mindlessly, Techno said “Security, prosperity, et cetera.”

“Yep so Prime’s Festival is about securing the prosperity that you have on top of the celebration of your prosperity,” Ranboo said, taking the moment to mess around with the display on his wrist. He grinned as the highlights on his suit all changed to white and purple, more so the latter. Timed perfectly, the message with the coordinates of the other two Pogtopians came through. “Well, on that note, I’ll be off. Definitely come to the concert at the Ancient’s Park tonight if you have the time. It’ll be very pog!”

He teleported on that note, appearing in front of Fundy and Jack. Both of their hero suits faced festive changes like his. Jack’s grey tie-dye bodysuit, normally interrupted by blue-red coloring, held the rivers of purple and white lights going down his center and limbs. Fundy’s kimono-bodysuit hero suit had the highlights of orange, red, and yellow changed into purple and a little bit of black, the LGBTQ+ flag staying the same on its place around his collar.

They needed no words, simply laughing like maniacs before jumping off of their current roof to start patrol. Perfectly in sync with Fundy acting as the radar and clean-up, Ranboo the scout and evacuation, Jack the powerhouse and capturer, they went through the city on a mission. Even the most minor of incidents caught their interest, only increasing the activity of the team.

Throughout it all, the most that passed between them aloud was some banter. Anything relevant to the incident passed wordlessly, the experience of the Spirits serving well. The public noticed all of this, almost making the three laugh in their faces when they noticed the number of reporters and recording phones that appeared at/after every incidents’ resolution. They did laugh, just away from people so there wasn’t any backlash.

“So, Ranboo,” Jack started as they started free-running across the roofs. The sudden address caught the teen’s attention in an instant. “your crew is doing a performance at the concert tonight, right? Any chance you guys would be open to lighting it up a little?”

Catching the implication, Ranboo gave the other two a look. “I assume that you’re going to yourselves,” he said, his tone even and curious.

“We’re done hiding,” was all Jack had to say to get the teen to understand. Then he added, with a grin on his face, “And besides, this serves a few purposes.”

No matter the actual difficulty of the subject, Ranboo couldn’t help his huff of laughter. “Is this by any chance to mess with the Commission?”

Fundy answered this time with a high cackle, “Oh, you know it!”

“Then I’m definitely in,” Ranboo said, also laughing as the others joined in.

Eventually, that fun had to end. Patrol ended off with the three of them exchanging full Rebellion salutes and running off to change out of their costumes. After changing, they were to meet up at the Ancient’s Park to do a dress rehearsal.

Before the enderman teleported away to do so, he overheard familiar lyrics half-sung by a certain brunette, “And you said not to stare at the ground. But there’s a hole in my parachute as big as your heart and the gravity is pulling me down.”

Wandering in, Ranboo paused Wilbur before the man could get to the “Wrap your wings around my body” lyrics. He jumped, pausing the music on his phone and waving at the teen. “Hey, Ranboo, I thought you were going back home,” he said, chuckling nervously.

“I was, I overheard you. You’re a good singer, you capture that song really well,” Ranboo said, smiling at the self-conscious man.

“Oh, thank you… And, do you know it? The song, I mean,” Wilbur said, quick to change the subject from his skills.

Pausing at the question, Ranboo tilted his head at the man. “Do you not know? Hurts is a Pogtopian artist,” he said, getting Wilbur to hum in interest. Soon after, the man froze when the teen mentioned that “Wings is a song about Icarus, you know that right?”

“Oh… Oh! I’m sorry, if this was like, a sacred song or something--”

Chuckling, Ranboo paused the panicking man with a raised hand to calm him. “Wilbur, it’s fine. I’m glad you like the song. And it’s a public song, no sacredness involved, don’t worry,” he said, smiling warmly. “If you wanna see it performed live, definitely come to the concert. We always end or start a Pogtopian event with that song.”

“Right, right,” Wilbur said, sighing in relief.

“Oh, we’re performing too, by the way.”

“Wait, what?”

And the enderman was gone before the man could ask any more questions.

|\/|

The stage lit up in brilliant neon lights, flashing and shifting in a way that excited the crowd more. Those on the stage matched the energy of the mosh pit below, headbanging and jumping around like their lives depended on it.

The last line of the song, a screamed “Bet you didn’t think that I’d come back to life!” from ‘Stronger’ by The Score, got a bright flare of lights and fog that almost matched the roaring cheer of the crowd.

Lights blinked out, leaving them all in restless anticipation. Dim white lights illuminated the mist that skated on all levels of the tiered stage, adding to the mystery. Skirting away as the new performers took their places, the mist gave another hint towards the new song.

People went wild when they heard the first vocalization of ‘Seven Nation Army’ by White Stripes (covered by Skald), their join-in on the stomp shaking the whole park. The “Huh!” made it even better when the lights got bright enough to see the shadows of Vanguardians going through a step of a drill with weapons in hand.

The second one ended with the metronome of sticks against the edge of a drum, the lights on the main stage strengthening to show the shadow of the drummer surrounded by many more instruments. The bass kicked in soon after, its player getting illuminated a little to the side of the drummer. Each grunt from the background performers sent them into another step of the drill, the players below keeping their faces covered from the lights with hoods. The drummer seemed to have multiple arms, going as far as to start playing the background drone on a cello.

The drone started as the center lights started to brighten, illuminating the last figure. Unlike the other two, she lifted her hood so the big screen at the top of the stage could see her. And the sight of her had the crowd roaring.

Niki, oh so loveable mer Niki, had war paint on. It glowed in the dim lighting, the coloring, bioluminescent patterns, swoops, curves, and slashes of the paint holding so many messages. It had to do with her history, her clan’s history, her family’s history, her character traits, her promises, her faith, and more. Even the braid in her pink hair had little carved beads and such that extended her story beyond ‘simple’ paints

And it was all shown so proudly that her fellow Pogtopians had to scream themselves hoarse in support.

“ I'm gonna fight 'em off,” she sang, her alto timbre sending the crowd into their upper registers. “A seven nation army couldn't hold me back.”

She moved forward on the catwalk, her hands on her hips as she marched down it with grace and dignity. “They're gonna rip it off,” she almost growled the last word, her arms flying up to flex with her hands held in tight fists. More cheers followed. “Taking their time right behind my back.” Loosening the stiff position, she almost waved it off as her hands uncurled and settled downward.

Two extra spins brought her back to the start, in between the other two on the main stage. Hands on hips, she grinned towards the bass player who supplied the low notes of “And I'm talking to myself at night because I can't forget.”

Between the frankly impressive low growl of his voice and the fact that the light illuminated his now unhooded head, the crowd cheered at the same volume they did for Niki. Jack wore war paint as well, the story circling behind his skull with the lack of hair to impede it. Instead of beads in his hair, a half circlet provided the same purchase to the carved pieces of the story.

If one looked for longer than a moment, they could tell the similarities between the two’s decorations.

“Back and forth through my mind, behind a cigarette,” they sang, grinning as their powers of ice and fire provided a good scuffle across the catwalk.

A flash of light stopped both of them, the source of it grinning from his place by the drums. “And the message coming from my eyes says ‘Leave it alone,’” Fundy added his voice to it, the crowd celebrating the new addition.

His markings held one or two similarities to the others’, the paint a constant between the three. In an odd combo, his beads were both braided into his hair and hung from two chainmail-like hoods over his ears. Fox tails also held some beads, the lighting letting everyone see his odd mastery of playing the drums with 7 tails.

The lights dimmed on the three, refocusing on the Vanguardians above who never stopped their drills. They kept the background vocals going, providing more to the instruments that never stopped playing. Less structured for a moment, they went through it more smoothly and dramatically to get vocal approval from the crowd.

But they didn’t do the low rumble of “What they may use to, what they may tell you.” Jack and Fundy did, the lights recentering only a little on the extra vocals that very few could decipher. It got cheers anyway.

“Don't want to hear about it.” Lighting got recentered again, featuring Jack who hadn’t moved and Niki who stood at the end of the catwalk.

The snappy shake of her head added to her hands miming talking. Steps back went with her solo “Every single one's got a story to tell.”

“Everyone knows about it,” the two sang together again, the woman adding an exaggerated shrug.

A shrug that transferred into the miming of a crown above her head. It ended with her hands around her neck to finish off her solo “From the Queen of England to the hounds of hell.”

“And if I catch it coming back my way, I'm gonna serve it to you,” the two unisoned again, their powers firing up to add to the line.

“And that ain't what you want to hear but that's what I do.” Another exaggerated shrug that their powers followed, both of them grinning wickedly as the elements disappeared with an extra flare.

Fundy joined this one, all three of them managing a moment of a Rebellion salute to drive the crowd up the wall. “And the feeling coming from my bones says ‘Find a home.’”

Close to rivaling the volume soon, the crowd took a moment of watching the Vanguard’s less structured routine before a new element was added. That element so happened to be Niki’s voice, the Vanguard taking her contribution as an excuse to be more vicious with their hits. Fundy’s high nigh-vibrato prompted them to go faster.

“And the feeling coming from my bones says ‘Find a home.’” The whole of the Vanguard took this line, making it all the more powerful when they included a quick Rebellion salute.

The cheers from that almost drowned out Fundy and Jack’s underlying “Steal where you hunt, feel the stain boon you. What they may use to, what they may tell you” completely.

But that wasn’t the focus, the lights emulating that by blazing against Niki. “I'm going to Pogtopia,” she sang, gesturing to the crowd who grew louder at the mention.

“Far from this opera forevermore.” The indication towards L’Manberg got jeering agreements.

“I'm gonna work the straw.” She flexed again, getting a more teasing response this time. “Make the sweat drip out of every pore.” They laughed when she fake-kissed her muscles.

“And I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding.” Each iteration sung by Niki and Jack prompted one of the three to drop the hooded cloak around their shoulders. Underneath it, netherite armor with white patterns and black edging shone brightly in the stage lights. “Right before the Lord.”

“All the words are gonna bleed from me and I will think no more.” The lights vanished from the three, catching the crowd’s interest immediately.

“And the stains coming from my blood tell me ‘Go back home.’” They needed no lights to illuminate them all when they sung, the bioluminescence in their bodies doing that for them. It shined through the armor, the patterns of dots, swirls, waves, slashes, bands, circles, and more shining brightly. Each marking had a different shade, no matter how slight, making them all a rainbow of color.

At the show of a hidden Pogtopian trait, the city couldn’t help but bellow their support.

The vocals continued as usual, all of them going a bit more wild for a finale. Niki started doing flips up and down the catwalk, Jack started headbanging and shredding on his bass, and Fundy got up to transform into a fox and run around, the instruments still going as if nothing had happened. The Vanguardians weren’t any less chaotic, throwing weapons at each other to switch mid-movement, starting up spars, using their powers, et cetera.

The last shaking note stuttered them to a halt, the lights flickering with it before they turned off. But the crowd didn’t quiet with the lights’ decrescendo, too busy screaming their heads off for their fellow Pogtopians.

It took a few long moments for the crowd to quiet down, hyped up by the epic performance and showing off of a Pogtopian trait. When they did, they waited a tense moment for the performance to start. All of the bioluminescence had died down, leaving the public blind to where the performers were.

The low acapella instrumental of a single note precursored the first lyrics of ‘Hoist the Colors’ by Colm R McGuinness.

“The king and his men stole the queen from her bed,” Jack sang, the lights barely coming on so the crowd could see him at the start of the catwalk. His personal lighting flickered as he sang the next lyrics of “And bound her in her bones.”

The grounded grit of his voice steadied his glow. “The seas be ours beyond the powers.” His hand lifted high above his head, curled into a declarative fist. “Where we will, we'll roam.” His other hand curled over his heart. Blaze rods floated out from under the armor plating, slowly circling him to add to the lighting as the stage lights snuffed out.

A moment of silence stretched out, letting him take the time to reposition his arms. Now spread to the sides like a showman, they encompassed the darkened stage behind him. He started the chorus with a low swinging timbre, “Yo, ho, all hands…”

“Hoist the colors high,” more voices joined his, the Vanguardians waiting on the higher levels of the stage letting their own light shine through. “Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die.” Slowly, the freedom of showing off the natural bioluminescence of Pogtopians spread from the edges of the Vanguardian performers to the inside.

“Yo, ho, haul together…” Fundy joined this time, also accompanying Jack on his way towards the end of the catwalk as the rest of the Vanguardians took their chance to sing.

“Yo, ho, haul together…” The last repeat of the chorus got Niki to put in her part. She joined the other two, all of them nodding towards each other upon matching pace. “Hoist the colors high,” They walked quickly, getting to the end of the catwalk by the second line. By then, they motioned to the crowd, flickering their bioluminescence brighter to get the message across.

“Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die.” A sea of colors and light greater than any electric counterpart lit up, the collective voice of a generation shaking the stage, the ground, their bones, the buildings, resonating with everything.

They had no problem turning that singing into cheers when the song ended.

The current performers took a bow, grinning at the people in front of them. The trio jumped in to join them without further ado, the Vanguardians taking either the backstage way or the same way to leave. It didn’t take long for the next performers to take their places.

A guitar riff turned on the lights in a flash, the stage now housing the performers of ‘Colors’ by Jason Derulo.

Purpled stood somewhat to the back left, his fingers expertly plucking at the purple and white guitar. On the second level and much farther back, CG5, Derivakat, and several other artists prepared themselves at their instruments. Front and center, Tubbo fluttered excitedly with his mic hovering in front of his face.

“Oh, what a feeling, look what we've overcome,” sang Tubbo, flickering his bioluminescence brighter to make his point. And to make it better, he pulled a Pogtopian flag out of nowhere with the crowd answering louder than before. “Oh, I'm gonna wave-a-wave my flag.”

“And count all the reasons we are the champions.” The flag, now placed on its pedestal, waved as Tubbo did the age-old stomp-stomp-clap that echoed across the park. “There ain't no turning, turning back.” With a jump, a twist, he flung himself down the catwalk with fluttering wings.

“Saying ‘Oh, can't you taste the feeling, feeling.’” His head craned towards the sky, his arms open wide to receive the starry lighting. “Saying ‘Oh, we all together singing.’” He tilted his head back down, motioning towards the cheering crowd.

“Look how far we've come.” Another flicker of his bioluminescence, a somewhat cowering motion before standing tall with a comical flex. “Now, now, now, now, there's beauty in the unity we've found,” he sang brighter, motioning towards the flag as the stage lights shifted to make it brighter. “I'm ready, I'm ready.”

“Ready,” Purpled echoed in the background, his voice shifting unnaturally. Through his hair, many could spot the starts of purple horns starting to grow through to match the bone spurs on his arms and the glowing purple rock-like scales on his face.

“We still got a long way but look how far we've come.” Tubbo glided for a moment, reaching to the end of the stage as he motioned towards the area around them. The crowd cheered as he continued with the “Now, now, now, now.”

“Hands up for your colors.”

The vocalizations switched between Purpled and Tubbo, that small detail overlooked in favor of the crowd’s voices and hands raising to meet the Rebellion salute.

“Ready the people.” The bee hybrid motioned to them, the reacting volume unable to peak over the one for the salute. “A new day has just begun.” He reached up, undoing a knot around his neck to let the fabric around his back fall into more of a skirt. “And I wear my colors on my back.” The colors of the Pogtopian flag were illuminated by the bioluminescence under Tubbo’s skin, making it all the brighter.

“Celebrate, celebrate,” sang Purpled, doing something similar and spinning to get more of a reaction from the crowd. All of the musicians in the back also let the backs of their outfits fall away, riling up the crowd even more.

“We're created equal.” Tubbo pulled himself tall, grinning viciously for the next line. “One race, and that's human.” The crowd agreed wildly with the truth unimplemented for seven, no, ten years. “Can't wait til they all see, all see dat.”

“Saying ‘Oh, can't you taste the feeling, feeling.’” He flew up, grinning more kindly at the feeling of wind in his hair. “Saying ‘Oh, we all together singing.’” The bee hybrid spiraled down, landing next to Purpled on the catwalk.

“Look how far we've come,” sang Tubbo with a light hip bump against his comrade. Both of them showed off their hybrid traits, wings fluttering and bone spurs flexing, to the joy and mimic of the crowd. “Now, now, now, now.”

“There's beauty,” Purpled echoed, his purple horns shining brightly.

“There's beauty in the unity we've found,” Tubbo sang, putting his arm around the taller teen. Between the two hybrids’ differences, it only made the crowd louder with hints of laughter coming through when Purpled hip-checked his peer. “I'm ready, I'm ready.”

“Ready,” said teen sang again, grinning.

“We still got a long way.” The comical pout at Purpled’s treatment only made the crowd laugh. “But look how far we've come.” Tubbo motioned his hand towards the crowd, getting them to respond with an extremely vocal agreement. “Now, now, now, now…”

“Hands up for your colors.”

The vocalizations were nearly drowned out by the crowd responding to the Rebellion salute. They only got louder when Tubbo did the full Rebellion’s salute for “One hand, two hands for your colors.”

Lights onstage flared brilliantly with “Show your true colors.”

“Here we go, eh oh eh oh.” Stepping forward, Tubbo flew upwards with a slight motion towards the other musicians. They all started the “Hey now” while Purpled echoed the bee hybrid. “Let's put on a show, eh oh eh oh.”

Like the concert it was, Tubbo started headbanging and waving his salute around for the two iterations of “Let me see your hands up.” The crowd responded eagerly, making a number of moshpits that only added to the energy. “Here we go, eh oh eh oh.”

“Look how far we've come,” Tubbo came down to the catwalk, the slow energy rippling through the crowd in starts and spurts. “Now, now, now, now, there's beauty in the unity we've found.” Not a second later, he jumped up with a little boost to land on Purpled’s shoulders. The other teen took the weight easily, barely shifting. “I'm ready, I'm ready.”

The echo from the teen below him came again as Tubbo motioned widely to the crowd. “We still got a long way but look how far we've come.” Although quieter from contemplation, the response was no less excited. “Now, now, now, now, now…”

A weighted pause before…

“Hands up for your colors.”

Jumping down, Tubbo returned the chaotic energy easily. Between his main vocals and Purpled’s back-ups, they sang the chorus with such vigor that more moshpits started up.

“Here we go, eh oh eh oh,” and “Let's put on a show, eh oh eh oh,’ along with their echoes did little to lower the energy.

“Hands up for your colors.” Slightly quieter, Tubbo brought the energy to a somewhat calmer level. Both of them had backed up next to the flag, their hands resting on the pole for the next lyrics. “Represent your country, raise your flag, show your true colors.”

They raised the flag together, the crowd going mad for the show of unity and patriotism.

It was barely raised past the lyrics, the two of them slamming it back into place. In a flurry of particles, teleportation, and flight, Purpled threw his guitar at the two new people just before Tubbo carried him to the highest level of the stage. Another guitar, a bass this time, got tossed at the other newcomer in time for CG5 to bang out a rhythm on the drums.

Drista and Ranboo started their parts easily, her guitar and his bass adding to the intro of ‘Hero Too’ by Kyoka Jiro/Chrissy Costanza (covered by NateWantsToBattle).

Mics rose through the stage, stopping in front of the two in time for Ranboo’s “What am I to be, what is my calling.”

He grinned, the words resonating true. “I gave up giving up, I'm ready to go.” Limiting the dramatics to picking up the mic with his tails, he spun around when he couldn’t contain himself. “The futures left unseen, it all depends on me. Putting on the line to follow my dreams, yeah!” A quick jump let him slam the mic down with his shout.

“Tried all my life,” he sang, distancing himself by leaning back to slow the intensity. The crowd ate it up either way. “I tried to find… something that makes me hold on and never let go.”

“Ooooh!” Drista came in with a belting cry, riling up the crowd more. They couldn’t try to compare to her grin when she started up her next verse, “Hero too, I am a hero too.” Somewhere, a brother laughed and shed a tear. “My heart is set and I won't back down.”

She continued, her energy reflecting onto her playing as it grew a little louder, “Hero too, strength doesn't make a hero. True heroes stand up for what they believe… So wait and see.”

The crowd went wild, reflecting her Rebellion salute with vigor. “So wait and see” #2 only made them more hyper.

“What do they think of me, what do they think I'll be. I could not care less, I don't want to know.” Ranboo’s lines made that hype worth it, the enderman grinning at the crowd’s cheers. “Am I doing right? Am I satisfied?” He just shrugged because he didn’t care. That made the crowd laugh and cheer at the relatableness.

“I want to live my life like it's meant to be, yeah!” The shout and Rebellion’s salute made the crowd swell with cheers.“Tried all my life, I tried to find something that makes me hold on and never let go.” Although he had no hands to do so, the motion of his tails towards the crowd, the Pogtopians and more, got another pulse of sound.

They made it even better when the teens kicked the fake mics in front of them aside and took a running leap down the catwalk. Their united “Ooooh!” made the crowd scream.

“Hero too, I am a hero too,” Drista sang, taking her steps up the shifting stage. Stairs rose up from the catwalk, the two teens taking them at their own paces. “My heart is set and I won't back down.” She went a little faster with that line, taking her stance at the top with a grin.

“Hero too, strength doesn't make a hero.” A simple stomp rippled across the cheering crowd, making the performer grin. “True heroes stand up for what they believe, so wait and see.” Another Rebellion’s salute did nothing to calm the frantic and vigorous cheers of the crowd.

The slight difference in tempo only made the crowd more eager. They went wild again when Drista took off her mask for everyone to see. “People will judge for no reason at all,” she sang, grinning on a scarred face of burns and cuts that littered the lower half of her face. Her bioluminescence glimmered happily underneath the discolored and disfigured skin. “Yeah, they might try to say your dream's dumb. Don't listen.”

Louder the crowd went when Ranboo stepped into view. “They may look down on me and count me out.” His hunched-over figure only added more power when he proudly took his place beside Drista. “I'm going my own way. They may look down on me and count me out.” Once again, he dramatically shrugged off such judgment. For a moment, his hero mask went on as he held up the age-old salute. “I'm a hero, I've got music!”

“Hero too, I am a hero too.” They were pulled into another duet, drifting closer to each other with each line. “My heart is set and I won't back down.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder, grinning from where they were leaning on each other. “Hero too, strength doesn't make a hero. True heroes stand up for what they believe.” Together, they threw a linked salute into the air to the joy of the crowd.

It barely lasted a moment before Drista was jumping down on the main level with a roared “Yeah I'll be!” Ranboo jumped with her, the two landing to start dancing around on the catwalk. Throughout Drista’s final repeat of the chorus, they went through some back-and-forth choreography that made the crowd laugh. It also gave the people an excuse to start more moshpits.

“So wait and see…”

“I have met so many heroes in my life.” Her lyrics once again made some in the distance laugh, cry, good-naturedly scoff, and so on. “They gave me strength and courage to survive. Gave me the power to smile every day.”

She declared the rest of it on the end of the catwalk, Ranboo by her side. One last time, they pulled out a duet for “Now it's my turn… to be the one… to make you smile!”

The final bits of the instrumental gave the two teens and the band the excuse to start headbanging. Joining in with cheers and shouts, the crowd went between headbanging, forming moshpits, and jumping like madmen.

When it finally ended, the two didn’t get off the stage in a dramatic moment like Purpled and Tubbo. Instead, Ranboo found a working mic in a split second and handed it off to Drista. She started off with an overly cheerful and energetic “How we doing tonight?!

The crowd answered with vigor.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

Ranboo took the mic, grinning at her dramatic pout. “To make this quick, we dedicate this to all the heroes in our lives, big and small, pro and day-to-day,” he announced, another cheer from the crowd answering him.

Drista stole the mic back with a playful nudge towards the enderman. “And next up is a very big hero of both of ours…”

“TOMMY INNIT!”

United in their announcement, the two still couldn’t overpower the crowd’s roaring response to such a familiar and well-known name.

“But first…” Ranboo continued, grinning at Drista who grinned back.

And together they started the call and response of ‘I Believe’ by KB.

“I!” They started, pointing towards the crowd who jumped to echo them. “I believe!” Another echo as the two started jumping around to hype up the crowd.

“I believe that!” Above them, Purpled and Tubbo joined in on calling for the roaring crowd. “I believe that we will win!”

The lights cut out as the instrumental came on. Then the spotlights turned on to illuminate a lone Tommy at the start of the catwalk. He wore no shirt, all visible skin glowing with bioluminescence or glimmering paint. In the background, the Pogtopian flag waved valiantly for the teen.

“Let me take it there,” he rapped, spreading his arms open wide like he was inviting someone to do something. “Please brag on what you did, how you smashed your first week sales.” Then he waved them off with a scowl. “It ain't like your numbers make vaccines to heal weak cells. You brag when your money go somewhere besides yourself.”

Pogtopia went wild, cheering at the true statement. They got louder when he started strutting forward and motioning to the crowd. “I'm going with our voice.” Discs flew with the swell of noise. “Where they got them bullets flyin' like it's PowerPoint. And then I'm going down to the Bay, oh.

“With a chance of makin' it down to flocko.” The repeat of the age-old stomp-stomp-clap didn’t restrain the crowd from making moshpits. “I'm with the Southside kids 'til they reach age and then head for the Keys like spring break.” Two swings of an imaginary pickaxe went into a spin as he covered his mouth, the crowd cheering when they caught the reference.

“‘Cause I believe that we intervene when our need’s great.” More motioning to the crowd gave the excuse for more headbanging to the rap. “And go and be changed, then we talk about it.

“I get it poppin', pop it, you probably got a problem before they can stop me, gotta cut my power like I'm Amish.” He rose high and crumpled, the bioluminescence going with the theatrics.

“Hold the torch up high in the thick dark.” A simple Rebellion’s salute got the audience screaming.

“The dream works no matter how bad the pics are.” One fist pounded on his chest, the other tracing at his back as he spun. Scars were exaggerated with red paint, the sight getting the Pogtopians to emphasize with bloodthirsty shouts.

“Cause I see how bad the globe is.” Gesturing to the city beyond them and the ground below, Tommy stood at an angle with a grin on his face. “But they don't know how bad our hope is, they don't know how bad we want this, it ain't where we at boy it's where we're going!” A full Rebellion’s salute took up those lyrics, the end pose of hands wrapping around his neck for only a moment.

Before he raised it in a simple Rebellion’s salute and got the crowd hyped up again. “I believe that we will win,” he called to the crowd, jumping around the catwalk and waving his hands up towards the sky. Easily, they cried back the repeated phrase with vigor and increasing volume. Below, CG5 went mad on the DJ set-up.

“I!” started the call and repeat, the two sets of two on the top levels of the stage taking great pride in starting it up again. “I believe! I believe that! I believe that we will win!”

The repetition started again, Tommy continuing his way down the catwalk as he hyped up the crowd.

“They tell my young dudes that success is up to you but that's hard when you got ten years of wack cruel.” A dramatic shrug and scowl as he criticized L’Manberg, something that the Pogtopians agreed with easily. 

“So it's rap or it's racks, either way you get them bars.” Comically, he flexed his arms as his discs shot out. “When they give up, we get charged.” Arms relaxed only to sharpen into pumping hydraulics for his run straight off the edge of the stage.

“What's the system to our God?” Mellohi caught him, bringing him high above the ground to the approval of the crowd.

“We don't fight for the W but we fight from the double you.” Another comical flex transitioned into his hands over his heart. “Never said it wouldn't be trouble but, but they bring trouble to whatever troubles you.” It was a motion past the park towards L’Manberg and the crowd roared.

“As struggles do multiple valuable things that are wonderful. We suffer through, hustle through all the things they want to humble you.” This time he motioned to the crowd and high above, getting the mortals to cheer. “Humble you, take you and break you and make you into another you, take away any other truth, they’re the one that can comfort you.”

“Aight!” He paused his glide from each side of the stage, staying in the middle. Those on the higher levels of the stage breaking out into the rhythmic vocals.

Rising higher for “Wait on it, tomorrow We Live! They makin' all things new! Makin' all things new!”

A low sweep over the crowd as he pointed to each section in turn.

“Tell the paraplegic that they gon' dance.” Clearings opened up, the crowd taking that moment to start breakdancing.

“Tell breast cancer that she won't win.” People were thrown up into the air, those who could fly taking the chance to do crazy sweeps and dives.

“Tell racism that he gon' end.” Swing and ballroom dance broke out, different hybrids, genders, identities, and more mingling with cheers and laughs.

“What they don’t heal now, homie they gon' then. Let's go!”

“I believe that we will win! I believe that we will win!” The crowd didn’t need his cue, roaring out their truth the instant they could.

They still went along with the call and repeat, their excitement palpable when the four glided along on discs of their own. “I! I believe! I believe that! I believe that we will win!” The five reunited in the middle, each standing on a disc controlled by Tommy.

Then the vocalizations started up, their discs created a large platform for them. The cheers almost drowned out the music as they launched into a traditional Pogtopian dance.

They started low to the ground, gliding over the surface with a few paces. Clumped into a circle, they shot out one fist appropriate to the side they were on, the other staying by their side. The momentum brought them lower towards said direction, the enderman stuck at the back pushing out both fists as they simply brought him lower.

The outer leg went up, their fists touching the ground with the lowering pitches of the music. Each one behind the other grabbed an ankle with their free hand, connecting them all. The heightened pitch of the male voices got Ranboo to push away the limbs he had caught.

A chain reaction hit. Forced away, the outer two brought the inner two with them. Tommy and Purpled held hands, willingly letting the other two sweep them up and send them flying.

One barrel roll later and they landed hand in hand. Raising those hands high, bringing them wrist to wrist, they spun in a low circle once, twice, before disconnecting. Drista and Tubbo stayed where they were, a shuffle-step-stomp sequence along with jerky hands faced away from the audience being their momentary choreo. In the far background, Ranboo was popping and locking in an Atlas-type position.

Rising as one, they all held themselves taller than before as they took their respective hands into a raised position. Gently bringing it down from side to side with the music for a moment, they brought up their other hand to grab the elbow and jerk it down. Face brought away by the first hand, they stared down at the new fist placed against the ground.

Some pulled themselves, some pushed, and they all ended up in new positions. Most had switched, one had simply moved forward, and they were all still moving.

Hand previously used to push now raised, Tubbo and Drista took the guidance of Ranboo with ease. Brought bending over backward for a moment, they got pushed upward and spun around in the same movement. ‘Stumbling’ and pushed away, they were left searching for a new support.

Caught by Tommy and Purpled respectively, they were pushed back up. They brought the two with them, moving them with the harsh jerk of a shoulder. Moving and lowering the momentum, Tommy and Purpled stabilized themselves with their hands and brought up one leg. Now Tubbo and Drista stood with their backs to the crowd, one hand in Ranboo’s and the other catching one of the boys’ ankles. Ranboo’s brought his hands high, looking up at the two extra he had in his possession.

A beat as the music died out.

And the crowd freaked .

The teens didn’t notice, too busy laughing and patting each other on the shoulder. Discs went back to owners, Mellohi itself bringing them down to join the crowd.

As they were lowered to the ground, another rose through the steadily raising podium around the flag. The first notes to ‘Wings’ by Hurts got the crowd to roar , scream, and shred their voices for the anthem of Pogtopia.

Only when the lyrics kicked in did the lights on that podium do the same. Standing tall with red parrot wings, brown hair, blackish-purple eyes, baggy black pants, and an elaborate headdress of blown glass, sculpted metal, beads, and feathers, Grian sang his song with all his heart. “When you find me free-falling out of the sky… And you said not to stare at the ground…”

From his place among the crowd, Ranboo laughed and cheered with the rest of his people. Prime smiled down upon them, the Divine Choir brightened their stars, Savior Clara flared her flames, and Pogtopia stood as one.

And, looking at his family around him, Ranboo Beloved wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Text

His lack of stamina aside, Tubbo loved Pogtopian dances.

They were a conglomerate of ballroom dance, jazz, hip hop, hula, ballet, and any other style of dance you could think of, even a little bit of gymnastics. Going straight from graceful ballet to powerful pop and lock, nothing could quite give the same feeling. There was no choreography, just copying those beside you while adding your own flare to the community’s improv.

He watched from the sidelines as Purpled and Tommy jumped into the current dance in the middle of the street. They went from the low stance of hulla, taking steady steps and moving their arms in the correct poses. Then they jumped into a cartwheel or flip, then into a quick pirouette, then a sequence of pop and lock.

Stomping twice, they practically invited Tubbo to join in. Another few stomps before a clap and the bee hybrid started to break dance. Coin drop to a handstand to a bridge. Pull his chest up for a moment, freeze, and throw himself back onto one hand for a sequence of pop and lock. The gathered viewers cheered even louder when he contorted in on himself, stood, and went into a series of turns that took from ballet, jazz, hip hop, hula, and ballroom.

When it came to the ballroom turns, Ranboo joined him. In the background, he spotted Purpled and Drista taking each other as partners, Jack and Niki joining in, and a ‘disgruntled’ pair of Tommy and Fundy joining in last. Everyone went into a waltz, their bioluminescence shimmering and shifting in response to their partner’s instinctually.

When it came to the moment to dip their partner, people were instead flung across the mini circle they’d formed. Fundy dipped Jack, both of them laughing while doing so. Drista and Tommy made exaggerated faces at each other, the girl almost threatening to drop the other blonde several times. Tubbo grinned at Purpled, snickering at the unimpressed face below him. It was almost comical to see the short mer dip the tall skittish enderman and the two smiled at each other the whole time.

The new pairs of partners spun away from each other, pulled back in, and separated. In a new formation, they started up a low sweeping moment of hula dancing. Hands moved slow at first, taking their owners’ with them, until they started to pick up the pace.

Looking up towards the hands, they took a few paces in that direction. Hands moved the side they were on and the dancers followed again. They kept going, faster and faster, fiercer and fiercer--

Focused in front of them, they all took the next stomp into a roll. Those behind the first row got some air with another roll, their feet landing on the backs of their fellows for a moment. Pushing up and away, they flipped a couple of times to land.

Following suit, those in the front rolled back a couple of times. Standing, they placed their hands above their head. Then, with a few extra uses of human handholds, those in the back stood on the hands of those in the front.

On the outside, Ranboo took the hands of those on the inside and pulled himself up. Now the impromptu cheer pyramid had a handstanding enderman on it. Not one to miss out on the fun, Tubbo nudged Jack a little with his foot. It didn’t take long for the blaze-born to take the hint and boost the bee up. On top of the world, Tubbo stood tall with the brightest bioluminescence and a connected Rebellion’s salute.

After the applause hit a momentary lull, the shulk decided to get a little creative. As if diving off a board into a pool, Tubbo took a second to perfect his form. Then he dived off of the pyramid with a laugh.

Shulk pieces softened his fall. He uncurled from his protective ball just in time, catching Ranboo bridal style with a cackle. Tilting his head a little, he watched the others perform out of his peripheral.

Drista and Niki were held up into the air in bridges, the four boys below holding them steady. Those holding their feet let go, letting the girls pull themselves up and over. Ending up above and then behind those holding them, the two girls landed in crouches. Laughing, they seized the guys’ legs in front of them and hauled the two onto their shoulder.

Jack simply laughed, placing a hand on top of Niki’s head and using the other to pump his fist in celebration. Tommy accepted his fate with a series of curses and laughs, lightly swatting Drista on top of the head before holding on for dear life under her threats. Fundy laughed at the two in good nature, only to yelp when Tubbo practically teleported to do the same to the fox. Purpled stared Ranboo dead in the eye before turning around to demand that he got a bird's eye view from the enderman’s shoulder.

They melded back into the luminescent colored crowd, walking down the half-mile-wide Prime path shoulder to shoulder with their fellows. People were still pausing to break into dance without music, some of them making their own with their hands, feet, or by banging a metal pole off the ground while still dancing. Around them, Pogtopia’s luminescence came to life on the buildings, walls, roof, pillars, floor, everywhere. Summoned by the like effect on the people, Pogtopia glowed as brightly and warmly as a bonfire.

Luminescence and bioluminescence were common in Pogtopia, shown through bacteria on the walls, the walls themselves, the animals, the fungi/moss, and more. Like attracted like, meaning hotspots and blindspots with such an effect. As mobile vessels, the animals and people commonly spread it without meaning to.

When it came to gaining bioluminescence, there were various methods, the main one being eating Pogtopian-grown food. To personalize the patterns beyond what was naturally given, paints, oils, and tattoos often did the job. And, as Tubbo gazed at the patterns on his friends and family, he couldn’t help but grin when he spotted the little pieces that they often shared.

They determined your family, your clan, your allegiance, and your story to those who didn’t know you. But every Pogtopian had one in common, marking them as one of the Pogtopian people. After tonight, he didn’t know if anyone would want to hide any of it anymore.

Breaking him of his thought process, Drista suddenly shoved a piece of food into his hands from one of the stalls. Tubbo laughed at the sight, glancing up at a very content Tommy who was currently munching away at a shimmering golden apple with several more at the ready. They made him grow brighter, the sweet treat of an apple coated in honey, fungi, moss, pieces of rock, and powdered crystal empowering his bioluminescence tenfold.

Everyone began to eat the festival treat, uncaring of the potentially indigestible things in it. Hardy as Pogtopians were, rocks and crystals in the digestive system did little harm to them. Several scientists had even suggested that it had strengthened their bones and skin to allow a better survival rate.

“Guys, over there!” Purpled shouted over the din of the crowd, grinning and bouncing slightly from his perch on Ranboo. All of the movement actually made Ranboo sway a little with how Purpled had grown bigger without having to hide away his hybrid traits. Were it anyone else though, they would’ve already toppled without Ranboo’s increased gangliness and height, the enderman also unrestricting himself with glee.

The group looked over at where Purpled had pointed on one of the various levels of the city, all of them grinning at the sight. It was a simple game, ‘King of the Pillar’, where the first one to the top wins. With a group of heroes and fighters, it was doomed to get them invested in the name of a friendly competition.

Rough as it may have seemed to those unused to it, they were all laughing and having a good time. Getting pushed off of the pillar meant little more than a new vendetta, getting helped meant that there was plenty of time for someone to betray someone, being a chaotic little shit was the most fun of it all.

At the end of it, they were breathlessly laughing, shoving and swatting each other as revenge for what happened at the pillar. More little grudges popped up as they went through the games, any ‘hurt’ soothed by bribes of the various trinkets and food stalls around.

Slowly, Tubbo drifted the group closer and closer to a church. Tommy noticed right away, giving the bee a deadpanned look that barely hid the fondness in his glowing eyes. By the time the others had noticed, they were all relatively calm enough.

The marble and diorite building stood tall, loving engravings covering every inch of it. All of the glass was a bright purple, the glowing spots following the same color palette. Inside the wide-open doors, the pews couldn’t be seen with all of the people.

Nevertheless, the seven of them stayed together as they aimed for one of the less crowded podiums. On each podium, an array of colored tattoo paint waited to be used. The murals of the Divine Choir rested against the walls, the brightly and now glowingly colored paintings taking the attention of those praying to them.

For now, the group ignored those paintings and the altar at the front. Instead, they all focused on each other for the next step.

“Drista, Purpled,” Tommy started, getting the two to look at him with wide eyes. Ranboo and Tubbo offered them no words, just grinning at them.

Also grinning, Jack tapped Fundy’s arm and led the fox away. Niki followed behind the two men, smiling softly at a wide-eyed Fundy.

Paying more attention to his own, the patriarch of the Beloved-Underscore-Innit household offered a hand to each of them. “Are you open to becoming a part of our family?” he asked.

Silent tears fell down her face as Drista eagerly took the offer. “Of course,” she said, grinning as she unmasked herself.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Purpled joked, his watery grin pairing with his acceptance of the hand given to him. Tommy grinned back, nodding at his two fellows. Without hesitation, Tubbo went to Purpled’s side, Ranboo to Drista’s, and they all waited for Tommy to begin.

Before they could do so, they had to reposition themselves. Most of them stood facing the podium and the murals behind it, also facing Tommy from where he stood behind the podium. Other than that, Tommy let their hands go with a smile and a quick squeeze while Ranboo and Tubbo stayed at their posts beside the two’s sides.

“Today, we call upon the Divine Choir to hear us. Shall Hestullia bless this union and write it within the boughs of her great Tree of Unity. Shall Minoseth record it within his expansive libraries. And shall us together affirm it through every action and word,” Tommy started, spreading his arms open wide to invite the gods to himself. From where the others stood, the halo of the mural fit perfectly with the blonde’s image, crooked, just barely off-center, but there .

“Purpled Bedwars, Drista WasTaken Freeman, on this day, I offer you a place within our family. Upon us three, we promise you our best and wholehearted efforts for your health, your protection, your heart, your being. Upon our very Names, I Tommy Innit…”

“I Tubbo Underscore…”

“I Ranboo Beloved…”

Together, they intoned with soft smiles and vulnerable eyes “... Swear that you will forever more be loved.”

The other two gasped quietly, shaking and crying at the weight of the statement.

“Now we give you our markings to mark you as ours as you give yours to mark the same. Thesheta herself engraves this truth within our skin, linking our hearts to our flesh and to one another. Hestullia watches this union with her everloving eyes, one to last beyond these times. Let us begin.”

Purpled and Drista went first, stripping themselves down to their undergarments. Nobody even blinked, used to the blatant chastity. As the two were chosen at the start, Ranboo and Tubbo took the red, black, white, and forest green paints and started to leave markings on the two.

Meanwhile, Tommy continued to speak.

“No sight shall upend this, no scar shall undo this, every marking is forever recorded by Minoseth. The patron and matrons of us, the Fates themselves, know every marking at each stage. From here until the end, you are ours.”

They waited in silence for a moment, Ranboo and Tubbo busy with their jobs. When they finished, they stepped back.

“And now, you mark us as yours.”

Now the other three stripped, waiting patiently for Purpled and Drista to gather themselves enough to start painting themselves. With colors in hand, purple and light green respectively, they took to painting each of the three in turn.

First, Purpled spoke up, “My matron, Averralva, declares each of you one to shield and assist in turn. Through the colors of his lady, I mark each of you under the eyes of Hestullia, Theseta, Minoseth, Clara, and Prime as my own.”

Then went Drista, “My patron, Atherysos, empowers each of you with freedom beyond measure, beyond any strife, bind, or weight. Through the colors of the animal he so dearly loves, I mark each of you under the eyes of Hestullia, Theseta, Minoseth, Prime, and my distant moniker as my own.”

At the end, they were all covered in careful detailing of paint, the bioluminescence under it glimmering happily at the soon-to-be prospect.

Taking the lead again, Tommy offered his hands to those closest to him. Within seconds, they stood in an interconnected circle with grins and happy tears on their faces.

“By the power given to me through my voice, through Veritone’s truth, through the markings of our very hearts, through Theseta’s paintings, through the bonds of us, through Hestullia’s unity, through our own power, through our patrons, and through every one of the Divine Choir who has come to witness us today, I call upon one more of the deities to gift us their power.

“Netishapa, goddess of new beginnings, dawns, and the light itself, we call to you.”

Suddenly, they were laughing together in joy. The paint sunk into their skin, glowing and twisting the bioluminescence that was there before. Soon enough, they all had new markings to mark their vows and they couldn’t be happier.

“Divine Choir, until we meet again, we all thank you.”

A moment of silence before they were laughing and hugging each other with wild abandon. On the other side of the room, they overheard Fundy, Niki, and Jack doing the same.

They kept on like that for a while before Ranboo pulled away first. “Uh, I kinda wanted to go to Jack and Fundy and…” he said, all too nervous about a very obvious thing.

Both Drista and Tubbo told him so by pushing him and demanding that he “Get on with it then!” with teasing and kind tones. The enderman simply laughed and made his way over with his clothes in hand.

In the meantime, the others got dressed and moved to the main altar. An imposing piece of marble carved delicately with the myth of Prime themself, the background of several geodes of amethyst gave more color. A small chime sat atop the marble, each Pogtopian who wanted to pray gently tapping it before casting their intent.

The four were no different, moving back to sit in the pews with smiles toward each other. As they each found their own space to pray, they tuned out each other for a moment to focus on themselves.

“Decusis, my patron,” Tubbo started, pressing his hands to his temple. “Prime, Clara and any of the Divine Choir who will hear me, I ask for your strength. I intend to protect all of those who have been claimed by and have claimed me, no matter the cost. Vundall, no matter if you claim me foolish or brave, I ask for your blessing. Although this is of no honor or chivalry, I believe that you are one to call upon.

“Decusis, as you guide the paths of myself and my family, I ask for the best path for us all. I ask not for ease, I ask not for eternal happiness, I simply ask for any way to have us stay together with joy in each other’s company.

“Hestullia, I call upon you as well, as the goddess of family and bonds. Upon your Tree of Unity, I speak this from any branch I have been laid upon. I speak of a wish for us to stay whole and stay a family.

“Barelona, I call upon you for once in a blue moon. Goddess of eternity as you are, while I do not discredit your domain, I simply do not believe in it. But as much as I don’t believe in the future, I do wish for it. Perhaps you could grant me this at the very least, even as I choose to not quite believe in your entirety.

“Prime and Clara, as the major deities of this Divine Choir, I call upon you. Shall my hope for this security and prosperity never fade, for a lack of light allows dark thoughts to take their stubborn roots.

“For today, I rest my voice. I have spoken what needs to be spoken, I have called who I wish to call, and I have my ears open to your songs. Divine Choir, as individuals and as one, I thank you for hearing what I have to say.”

Then he simply sat there, studying the murals with a gentle smile on his face. The story of his people’s faith was shown on those walls. The story of finding themselves again.

Where Madrigal awakened from Icarus’ haunting song upon the cross, where Minoseth wrote the tales on every material available, where Hestullia had rooted herself within the walls of their home, where the Fates had wept upon their tapestries, where Vundall had knighted the first Vanguardians, and so on.

Sighing out a breath, he closed his eyes to enjoy the moment. The others had come over, marks and smiles on their skin, to do their own prayer. Together, they took in the church of their gods and rested.

Singing through every stone and bone, a gong played its note. Everyone recognized it, quick to stream out of the church and toward one of the walls. Quiet in respect, the masses congregated to their worship.

High above and against the wall, a ledge jutted out with several Vanguardians, including H, standing at the ready. In front of the crowd, Grian stood tall on a high pedestal with the notorious Hermits around him. And behind them, a giant amethyst geode the size of a small barn closed its walls to the curious eye.

“Friends, family, comrades, Pogtopians,” Grian started, the people quieting immediately. He spread his wings wide, his arms following soon after. The additional headdress of spun wire, blow glass, gemstones, and shed feathers only served to make him more regal.

“On this day, we gather to remember our faith. Our drive, our heart, our people, our culture, our society all push us to go farther. For ourselves and for others, we have pushed to reach this day and we continue to push beyond it.

“This day is one for ourselves, to celebrate all that we have done and to wish for more. We have gone through many a strife, many a wound, to make it here. And we carry each one of our scars with the pride of a people who refuse to lie down anymore.

“We chose this day to celebrate because it was the only day of reprieve so long ago. The overseers gave us this small mercy. Now, we take it for ourselves with no hesitation.

“We take this day and push it to the endless beyond. Every moment of joy and happiness on this day is simply a showcase of how far we’ve come and how far we can go. Today, we are free .”

That set the people off, getting them to roar their agreement. Above, the Vanguard took the pickaxes in hand and swung them. Flood gates broken, the water from above crashed down with glee.

Everyone was laughing, crying, hollering as the water filled the basin below. Overflowing, the water took to the streets and channels dug out. The people just laughed as it swamped over them at mid-calf height. They were jumping in at this point, splashing around the water with the vigor of children.

The geode cracked and crumbled under the pressure, revealing the beautiful gems inside bit by bit. Amethyst glowed, creating a kaleidoscope behind the waterfall. Upon seeing it, the people began to sing.

It wasn’t organized, it wasn’t perfect, the genre of music varied greatly, and it got everyone to join in on the fun. From songs like ‘Surface Pressure’ by Jessica Darrow, ‘We Will Rock You’ by Queen, ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ by Anne Hathway, and more, the city-wide karaoke got everyone to laugh and smile.

Eventually, the walls around the geode started to give way. Soon after, the people streamed into the corridors through various methods. Those with water-based abilities dove into the basin, adding some energetic acrobatics. Those with fire-based abilities took to the rivers of lava, surfing along the newly revealed channels with laughs and hollers. Those with flight or the ability to swing glided above the masses’ heads, going as far as to dive at and fake out their friends while cackling up a storm.

Tubbo waved the others on, grinning at the antics of a race starting off. Chuckling, he moved off to the side with some of the people aiming to do something similar to him. Patiently, he waited for the queue to move and for his turn to come up.

When it did, he made sure to smile at the man. “Hey there, what do ya need?” Scar asked, smiling kindly while his companion stared at Tubbo with a deadpan, clearly sensing the complexity of the request. Scar’s bioluminescence along with the creeper-hybrid Doc’s lined up in various regards, their similar white lab coat and purple ‘wizard’ cloak enhancing it.

“A bit of a collapsing ask, I’m afraid,” Tubbo said, laughing nervously while his wings fluttered. Scar sat there, unblinking, while Doc tensed up. The latter’s protectiveness rolled off of him in waves. “Two single dorms, under the names of Drista Freeman and Purpled Bedwars, need to be moved and attached to the sub-unit under the name Beloved-Underscore-Innit with all of their personal modifications. Then Fundy Fisher’s single dorm needs to be moved and attached to the double unit of Niki Nihachu and Jack Manifold. There also has to be a new sub-unit placed under the name of Manifold-Fisher-Beloved that connects to the single dorms of each individual.”

Doc’s growl was nearly inaudible, his slight puffing up combined with the prosthetic arm and robotic eye made for a scary image. That’s why Tubbo decided to focus on Scar who only clicked his tongue a couple times. “It’ll take a minute for us to do that,” he said, his eyes glowing with an otherwordly blue hue. “Just keep those with the single dorms out of them for about ten minutes and you should be singing.”

“Thank you,” Tubbo said, bowing slightly. “I wish upon you all Prime’s blessing and singing days.”

“And to you, Clara’s light and choruses,” Scar said, nodding back graciously while Doc afforded the younger a curt one.

With one last smile, he ran off. His bee wings soon brought him above the crowd, weaving between the other flyers with a laugh. Upon reaching a familiar opening along the side of the corridor, he dove and landed in the large cave with a number of glowing carvings, paintings, and writings on the walls and a large dinner table at the center.

Only to be snatched up by Ranboo, getting him to cackle and giggle as he ‘tried’ to escape the other’s grasp. Everyone else in the room laughed at their antics, Purpled and Drista making moves to join in. “Alright, alright, stop attacking the man. Didn’t you guys have news you wanted to hear?” H said, chuckling from his place at the table with Sneeg sitting on his shoulder.

Purpled and Drista reluctantly relented, dragging their feet back to stand with a snickering Tommy. Jack, Niki, and Fundy all looked on in fond amusement at the antics. “Right, right,” Tubbo said, going limp as Ranboo held him like a misbehaving cat. “They can do all the changes, just all of those getting affected should stay out of their individual rooms for the next ten minutes or so.”

“Easy enough,” Tommy said, waving the two forward. They, along with everyone else, sat down soon after. The table held an impressive spread of what could be considered traditional Pogtopian dishes, the cups holding ichor with plenty of pitchers to spare. Sitting at the head of the table, opposite to H, Tommy was the one that stood with a cup in hand. “Let’s get this toast over with, ay? Don’t wanna spend more time around you lot than I have to.”

Laughing along, everyone picked up their cups and turned to him for the toast.

“I’ll put it simply,” he started, grinning at them all. “These last few months have been a challenge. Traditions seem to be on the verge of being scrapped, various events of destruction are going down, and so on. Through each of these possibly collapsing and definitely ringing events, we’ve always had someone to lean on. We’ve found new people to lean on, new ways to live, work, and fight together, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“From now till eternity, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Together, unfavored or not, a ring around our necks or not, about to collapse or not, we’re always singing. No one will stop our symphony, nothing will, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Togever, we fl-igh!”

Additional trills of ‘unity-strength-safety’ and hoots of ‘victory-happy-safe’ rang out with the toast. Not a moment later, they were scarfing down the food and chatting amongst each other. Pog Latin and English filtered together, laughs and overdramatic cries of outrage taking turns.

After a while, the food was finally cleared from the table. Rather than keep quiet, they began singing a slow a cappella version of ‘Hey Brother’ by Avicii. During that, Tubbo watched with a grin as Drista and Purpled were invited to add their own pieces to the wall.

Eventually, they moved on to covering ‘Brother’ by Kodaline. Tubbo kept his eye on the two, his wings buzzing with ‘content-happy-fond’.

Their carvings were simple, going with the others on the walls. Drista’s had three eyes and a square under them to represent her mask. Purpled’s had a throwing knife and his horns.

Their painting was much more complex. The painting of the Bench Trio walking forward, leaning on each other with some visible injuries, ended up down and to the right of it. They were reaching towards Tommy, their hands close enough to touch. Purpled, skinny and bedraggled, carried balls and chains attached to various points on his body, his horns included. Drista, hunched over and cowering, was faceless and getting pulled back by various shadows.

Their inclusion to the main portrait made up for the tragedy. Purpled was holding Drista above his head, frozen in a dead sprint. From her open arms, it was clear she was about to get launched at Ranboo. With the chaotic and mischievous poses of the others, they fit right in.

As the marking of those two into their family ended, the groups began to make their way to their select units. H and Sneeg went to one side, waving to their chaotic friends. Niki eagerly grabbed Jack’s hand, getting the blaze-born to laugh as he snagged a yelping and cackling Fundy. The other five glanced at each other before breaking into a mad dash, laughing, shoving, and hooting the whole way down the tunnel.

Ranboo, the cheater, got there first with his teleportation. Accepting his fate, Tubbo just cackled and laughed at getting caught by his beloved. Squirreling him away onto the couch of moss, his beloved warbled a happy note and cuddled him closer. Buzzing back, Tubbo leaned back against his beloved with a hummed ‘affection-love-warmth’.

The other three, having taken the second option, all tumbled into the room with screeches and cackles. Tommy untangled himself from the mess of limbs first, quick to beeline for the couch. Jumping onto the couch at a well-practiced sprint, he landed and weaseled himself into a comfortable position in seconds.

Head on Tubbo’s shoulder, leaned back against Ranboo’s, and body completely plastered to their sides, Tommy hummed a quiet ‘content-fond-warm’. Ranboo’s arm snaked around his side, quick to wrap around the other’s waist. Humming, Tubbo nuzzled his treasured and interlaced their hands together for a moment.

The shuffling on the ground caught the trio’s attention, getting them to look at the two awkward blondes. Chuckling and sighing in fond exasperation, the three warbled, hummed, and buzzed ‘come-fond-affection’.

Hesitantly, the two stood and made their way over. In sync, bits of shulker shell and a disc prompted them to join the three. Guided to opposite sides, they only got more skittish.

Breaking the ice, Tommy rolled his eyes and grabbed Purpled’s wrist. With a yelp and laugh, the other blonde let himself get dragged onto the couch. Lost in a pile of limbs, he gladly rearranged himself into a more comfortable position. Back resting in Tommy’s lap, head ending up in Tubbo’s, he let himself relax with a lazy hum.

Drista flopped down on her own, leaning on Ranboo’s side. Her hand stole Tubbo’s from Ranboo’s with a grin, the girl giggling at the tails that wrapped around her waist. Soon, Tubbo joined her as little puffs of air tickled at his neck and her face nuzzled into his shoulder and neck.

As a large hand captured his waist and pulled him closer to the enderman behind him, Tubbo buzzed a happy ‘content-fond-warm’. His free hand laid on Purpled’s chest for a moment, getting him to smile at the low rumbles and groans that echoed his message. They only got louder when Tubbo started threading fingers through the other’s hair.

His shulker shell, with no conscious prompting, started to cover up the group’s exposed sides. That got more happy and content noises upon notice, everyone melting more onto each other with glee.

The wall around them, covered in vines, otherworldly stone, moss, and other plants/gems that all glowed, was ignored for the moment. Instead, they were absorbed into each other’s light, warmth, and closeness.

To echo that, Tubbo paused his petting of Purpled’s hair, much to his vocal disapproval despite Drista continuing, and grabbed Ranboo’s hand. “My beloved,” he crooned, gently tracing glowing veins, “what’s your happiest memory?” Because of the other’s occasional memory loss, he always had to ask.

“This is up there,” the teen said, squeezing Tubbo’s hand, Drista’s waist, and the conjoined hands of Purpled and Tommy. “But it has to be the day that Drista and Purpled slept over the first time.”

“Describe it for me,” Tubbo said, tracing up to the softly pulsing light over the other’s wrist.

The others’ noises quieted, paying close attention. “Everyone else had left for the night, taking their noise and craziness with them.” Some snickers went around, the man himself chuckling. “Dinner still left a mouth-watering aroma in the air, my allium grumpily putting leftovers away in the background, grumbles and all.

“Purpled tried to leave first, claiming something about having to work in the morning. Bo was having none of it, practically cornering him to berate him about his obvious exhaustion. Even as he was partially covered by a very angry bee, I could see the eye bags the size of a suitcase and the slump of his shoulders. So I left the guy to Bo’s mercy.” Purpled grumbled and ‘pouted’ at the enderman, quickly soothed by knuckles rubbing against his cheek.

“Next, Drista tried to sneak away while he provided a distraction. I put a stop to that quickly, draping myself over her while whining about how she couldn’t leave quite yet. I still remember how she tried to toss me off only to have me teleport right back to where I just was. And how she didn’t get the message and kept trying anyway.” With a scoff, she flicked him in the arm. He didn’t even blink.

“At some point, Toms had enough of the ruckus and shouted at them to accept their fate. That got through to them in an instant, leaving Drista to collapse under my weight while Purpled flopped onto Bo with a groan that would make full-grown wardens jealous. I, of course, picked up the rag doll under me and grabbed the one on top of Bo.

“He pulled out two air mattresses out of nowhere while my allium went into our room for blankets and such. It didn’t take long for the mattresses to blow up, letting me drop the limp bodies onto them. They looked about ready to just pass out and be done with it but then Toms showed up with all he’d grabbed.

“Blankets and pillows were there, but so were some of my hoodies.” The faux grouchy tone got chuckles and snickers. “Bo then started threatening my allium’s bodily wellbeing if any were from his stash, which, I mean, really?” More snickers from the one in question, getting a fond huff.

“And I remember feeling so warm and happy,” he said, a rumbling purr rattling his chest and the whole group. “Because you two were in my clothes, in our house, resting and recharging from your hectic days. By the time you two were asleep and the rest of us were in our shared room, I had to consciously not teleport back to you to start a cuddle pile.

“That was the day that Bo brought up you two being a part of the family. I nearly screamed my agreement.”

More purrs, buzzes, rumbles, and hums of ‘warm-fond-happy’ followed his story, picking back up the previous volume. It only got louder when he started with the nicknames and kisses.

“My armor,” went to Tubbo, a kiss landing on the crown of his head with a pleased hum to answer.

“My allium,” went to Tommy, the kiss on his nose getting a fond huff.

“My glaucium,” went to Drista, a kiss to the cheek getting a cheerful hum.

“My geode,” went to Purpled, the kiss finding its way to his forehead with a happy rumble in response.

For a moment, they quietly soaked in the noise, warmth, and presence of each other. “Well,” started Tubbo, the ambient fond happiness quieting but not lessening. “I should do mine, huh?

“My beloved,” went to Ranboo, a kiss planting itself on his jaw, a soft vwoop soon to follow.

“My treasured,” went to Tommy, the kiss on his cheek prompting a relaxed hum.

“My revered,” went to Drista, a kiss to her forehead barely rebooting her enough for the fond sigh.

“My sacred,” went to Purpled, the kiss falling smack dab on his nose, enough to get somewhat cheerfully shocked chuckles.

Between that and the gentle traces along one of the other’s horns, Purpled could barely keep his eyes open as his rumbles shook the room. “Before you send the man into comatose,” Tommy said, chuckles answering him. “I’ll go through mine.

“My bud,” went to Ranboo, a kiss on his cheekbone placed through only some shifting, a happy chirping warble gained from it.

“My steel,” went to Tubbo, the kiss on his temple received with a satisfied buzz.

“My spitfire,” went to Drista, a kiss on her hand earning fond giggles.

“My moon,” went to Purpled, the kiss to his jaw startling him, a drowsy cheerful creak came out in response.

For a moment, they just relaxed together. Eventually, Drista cleared her throat to hesitantly offer “I could go through mine.” A swell of affection and fondness tied into their general agreement. “Alright then…

“My albatross,” went to Ranboo, a kiss going to his temple with only a light struggle, his fondly amused warbles quick to respond.

“My badger,” went to Tubbo, the kiss to his nose getting chuckles and fond buzzes.

“My firefly,” went to Tommy, a kiss on his hand earning a pleased hum.

“My viper,” went to Purpled, the kiss to his cheek accompanying a brush of his hair to the side, all of it earned a content sigh.

He let all the affection soothe him for a moment more before gently batting their hands away from his head. “I’m going through mine before you lot sing away my conciseness,” Purpled said, getting amused chuckles. “Yeah yeah, laugh it up. Anyway…

“My nova,” went to Ranboo, a kiss to his hand lighting up his bioluminescence, a gleeful chirp to match.

“My exo,” went to Tubbo, the kiss to his jaw getting a soft fond sigh.

“My star,” went to Tommy, a kiss to his temple earning an affectionate hum.

“My gravity,” went to Drista, the kiss to her nose getting it to crinkle slightly, chuckles of fondness and slight shock soon to follow.

Letting themselves just be for a moment, they leaned together once again. Their symphony of affection rose again. Eyes drifted shut as they basked in the warmth and ambiance.

It was only Tubbo’s reluctant tap on Ranboo’s arm that earned much movement. Although the bee’s eyes were closed, he could see the other’s practiced motions. Hand raising above the enderman’s head, dislodging the vocally displeased girl who leaned further onto Tubbo, the previously ignored vines rustled against an invisible force.

Soon, small berries and fruits were passed around. Tubbo took his chorus fruit with joy, quick to bite into it with his beloved devouring his own fruit. His treasured started popping the glow berries into his mouth with gusto, his revered savoring them much more while his sacred sleepily went through his.

Several chorus fruits and bushels of glow berries disappeared from the branches above before Tubbo moved again. Pausing his petting of his sacred, much to Purpled's chargin, he slowly prompted the other to get up. It took some time, some effort, and a lot of coaxing with sweet nothings, but the warden hybrid did eventually stand.

The purple tint to his skin, slight hardening in some areas, and concentrated glow in his chest and eyes all told bits of Purpled's hybrid lineage. That's not even to mention his sudden height increase, almost challenging Ranboo in that department. Nonetheless, the bee shulk took his hands and dragged him out to the center of the room.

Twirling several times, getting Purpled to laugh at the attempt to twirl him with some necessary help of wings, Tubbo didn't try to stop his grin and giggles. Soon enough, he let go and zipped over to Ranboo and Tommy. Drista took Tubbo's place, laughing as the much larger teen easily spun her around in their new dance.

The three of them ended up in a convoluted version of a waltz. Trading roles, poses, and laughs with his beloved and his treasure made Tubbo buzz with absolute joy. Sometimes they fumbled, stumbled, and almost took each other out but that was the fun of it. The glowing moss-covered walls with various bits of outcropping stones and crystals blurred, unimportant compared to his partners.

Eventually, his treasured broke off to join his revered and his sacred. Leaving Tubbo with his beloved.

Trilling and croaking with vocal cords that definitely weren't from his bee hybridity, Tubbo grinned at how the enderman perked up. Slowly, as mental blocks relaxed and his skin cooled, hardening, he watched Ranboo do the same. Claws grew, so did the man himself, as horns twisted high and delicate. Tails flicked behind him, brushing the ground in tune with the rest of the sudden growth. Patches of moss climbed and latched onto the other’s skin, the various spots of more stone-like skin growing in to host similar plants, crystals, and fungi to the shulker’s.

They twisted and twirled, adjusting to their new bodies with grins on their faces and fond looks. As small purple particles began to form, most commonly where the two touched, Tubbo gave another trill that Ranboo echoed. Slowly, as they harmonized with chirps, trills, croaks, and quiet shrieks of ‘safety-love-family’, the shulker formulated the words in his head.

“ My pearl ,” he crooned, leaning up to nuzzle their foreheads together.

“ My shulk ,” his pearl returned, all scratchy and staticy as Voidspeak lent itself to be. With that and a long moment of eye contact, Ranboo teleported.

Laughing in the void that echoed his voice, Tubbo pulled his pearl into another spin. They landed with the shulker dipping the enderman, both of them laughing with the static calmly resting at the back of their throats. Not about to stop the fun, Ranboo teleported again.

And again, and again, and again.

They kept going, dancing around with cheerful disposition. As they pulled away for a moment, Tubbo grinned something feral as he pulled himself forward with force. It took a couple of spins before Ranboo lost his grip. But neither panicked, too busy grinning and laughing together.

Then, with a tug in his chest, a brighter glow to a certain bioluminescent mark, and static at the back of his throat, Tubbo teleported.

Meeting mid-air with his pearl , Tubbo laughed, spun, and separated again with a returned grin. And they kept teleporting, again, and again, and again. Sometimes meeting each other, sometimes ‘running away’, sometimes spooking the other, and so on.

After some time, such a concept stretching and twisting in the void, they ended their dance. Tubbo flying high above, grinning as his pearl started to dance with his sacred.

He stayed up in the air for a moment, watching fondly as Purpled let his features through with some encouragement. More height, just barely surpassing Ranboo, more bone plating, glowing features, purple skin, and, most importantly, the gateway at his core. Without hesitation, the two eldritch beings started their lumbering dance.

Leaving them be, Tubbo dived in to crash the dance of his treasured and his revered. Easily, they incorporated him and his current reluctance to touch the ground. It just meant that Tommy and Tubbo got to laugh at how they messed with Drista’s balance. Such treatment was returned with cheeky jabs to the side and sudden taking of the lead.

Eventually, all of their dances intertwined. Flowing in and out of each other, switching partners, and laughing when they stumbled, they just danced and moved together. Warm, fond, and happy, they loved.

Settling into a group hug, they exchanged their symphony of ‘love’. It took a little while before they separated. And, with some extra little goodbyes, they reluctantly moved to their individual caves.

Instantly, Tubbo moved over to his honeycombs. The moss, glow berries, spore blossoms, chorus fruits and flowers, occasional end rods, and amethyst were watching vigilantly from their places along the walls. After a brief check of their health, the shulk bee pulled jars out of his dimensional pocket and got to work.

|\/|

Just before he could finish preparing honey for next year, the room rumbled. After the third or so iteration, Tubbo stopped his work and got moving. As per protocol, he along with the other four ran up and to the main hall. Others soon joined them, quick to fall into a similar pace.

All except the Vanguard moved in a steady march towards one of the various exits to the surface. It took a glance of Sneeg and H running off to do their duty as Vanguardians for Tubbo to pull a tablet out of his dimensional pocket. It took a total of five seconds before he went off like a shot, dogging on the duo’s heels while more followed him.

More beeps and flashing error signs pushed Tubbo to go faster. The tablet, connected to the various devices keeping Pogtopia structurally sound, spoke briefly of the outright terrorist attack that was going on. And, with the suspicious misplacement of a number of Netherite Carpets, the devices neared an overload.

Bursting out of the tunnel into the open of smoke, dust, and explosions, Tubbo instantly started aiming skyward. He had extra devices in his dimensional pocket, paranoia paying off well, and now all he had to do was get high enough to start installing them. To do so, he ignored the projectiles, explosive and power-wise, thrown at him with careful positioning of his shulker shells and kept moving.

“Oi! Tubbo!” Glancing to the side, the bee spared the blaze a tilt of the head. “Plan?” In perfect time, an explosive hit a wall of ice summoned by Jack. Niki swooped in a second later, a wave of her arms sending the debris off to make someone scream.

“Press the button once you set it against the roof,” Tubbo said, quick to toss some Rafters at the three who followed him skyward. Rattling off the coordinates, he Rebellion-saluted back to Tommy, Niki, and Jack as they split off to do their tasks.

Below him, he could just barely make out Ranboo, Purpled, and Drista darting around to pick off the cloaked madmen who were throwing the explosives. Vanguardians were doing the same, some of them reprioritized to damage control if their abilities were adapted to doing so. Some of the damage control included glowing shields made of silver and gold plasma, ever-shifting globs of blue slime, and wisps of ice blue magic that encapsulated or rebounded the explosives before they could hit homes, the roof, pillars, bridges, etc.

Still, some explosives got through and hit their intended target of the roof. “Ringing bastards,” Tubbo hissed, quick to dive at one of the madmen. One punch to the back with his venom and they were down, their explosive rolling away with a clatter. In an instant, he scooped it up and flew a good distance up.

With no possible collateral damage if he screwed up, he set the explosive onto a makeshift shulker shell table. Tools pulled out of his dimensional space soon aimed at it, he took it apart. And pulled out a spare tablet, that he did in fact have for a similar purpose, to plug into the dangerous weapon. Then he started deactivating it.

The slow increase of the beeps’ tempo did nothing to fumble him. He just worked faster, scowling at the stubborn machine.

As it neared a constant tone, it suddenly went silent. Grinning at his genius, he pulled the now-inactive bomb into his dimensional pocket. Not a second later, both tablets were in use in tandem.

“Tubbo! Status!” someone shouted, getting said teen to glance over. There Sneeg hovered, his unhidden moth wings put to work as they blurred to keep him afloat.

“All deactive,” he responded easily, grinning something feral as he pressed the last few things on the tablets. Now, with the various devices previously used solely as support, the correct signal to deactivate all of the bombs radiated throughout all of Pogtopia. “Same ringing material though.”

“I’ll report,” Sneeg said, giving a quick mock salute before diving back into the fray. Cackling, the bee hybrid swooped in to assist with the detainment.

Very quickly, the terrorists realized how screwed they were. They attempted to flee, getting off of their high ledges with yelps and curses. It did nothing to help them, the skilled Vanguardians finding them nonetheless.

The only time Tubbo even hesitated to annihilate one of them was when another Pogtopian showed up. A piglin hybrid, maybe ten years old, body-slammed them from the side alley. All growls and grunts, the piglin didn’t hesitate to slam the enemy’s head into the ground with a solid stomp.

Another one showed up, shouting in outrage at the sight. Before the, admittedly agile, piglin could charge and take them down, Tubbo swooped in with a quick punch of venom. Landing briefly, he offered a Rebellion salute that was returned.

Then another terrorist showed up, already flinging a ball of fire at the two with a shriek. In the blink of an eye, shulker shells created a wall from building to building. By the time it went down, the attacker was already taken care of.

By a mighty individual, no matter how his chest heaved and his core flickered with barely restrained power. Purpled looked up, in all of his eldritch glory, and held Tubbo dear in his glowing black-white-purple eyes that ever shifted in color, glow, and fogginess. “This has to end ,” rattled out from his too big mouth, creaks, groans, and rumbles making the sentence a minefield of ‘scared-angry-protective-furious-decisive-terrified-knowing-confused’ and so much more that Tubbo couldn’t quite catch.

And he was gone, off to stalk and terrify the terrorists with the same terrifying brute force and power as his bloodline.

Blinking several times, trying to get rid of the shivers down his spine, Tubbo turned to the stunned piglin hybrid. “Hi there! I’m Tubbo, you are?”

Chapter Text

One of the last few days at his barista job and it weighed more heavily than a supposedly freeing time was supposed to.

Scrubbing the counter spotless, Tommy barely refrained from scowling at his own reflection. Closing time ticked by slowly, the tension rising higher with every grain of sand passing through the hourglass. It was only as the last civilian left that he raised his head and looked at the room.

Five people were sat around, one of them oblivious, two of them expectant, one of them tense, and the last one a livewire. Sighing, Tommy addressed the teen with “So, Purpled, you wanted to talk to us?”

Only then did Wilbur glance up and realize the minefield that was about to get trampled through. “Uh, I think I’ll head out, leave you all to your talk,” he said, not at all awkward as he started to speed-run his pack up. With all of the general tension around Pogtopia and its condition, it was fair that the L’Manbergian would want to leave them to their conversation.

“You should be here too,” Purpled said, standing up from his ‘laid back’ position in the booth. Instantly, the brunette froze. “You’re a hero with a lot of pull, well respected. Your help would be invaluable.”

Aptly, Wilbur managed an “Oh” as he lingered awkwardly by his seat.

“Invaluable to what, exactly?” Tubbo asked, a no-nonsense tone as he leaned forward in his seat. “We’re all aware of the recent attacks, something which I assume you want to address, but you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Right,” Purpled said, taking a few steps out so he was more in the center of the shop. “To put it simply, I think the Eggpire has to be stopped. They’ve gone too far, attacking a sacred event at a sacred time, and I don’t want to see what will happen if they go further. So we stop them now with all of our force.”

Nods went around, agreeing easily. “And how do you suggest we’ll can them? The heroes have been trying for a while now, same with the Vanguard, and we’ve gotten nowhere,” Ranboo said, his brow furrowing as his tails flicked in agitation. “There’s only so much you can do against ringing mind control.”

“The main issue,” Purpled agreed, continuing “After all, if we get in the general vicinity of the Egg and suddenly get brainwashed, how are we supposed to destroy it?” They all stewed in the depressing situation for a moment before he took a brief inhale and broke their reality with “And I think I have the solution.”

Everyone perked up, eager to hear his supposed solution. “A little while ago, I took a job that ended up close to the vines.” Eagerness turned to caution and bristling. “Once I realized that, I tried to focus on anything but the whispers. Which are very creepy and unsettling, by the way.

“Anyway, my mind went down a rabbit hole of Pogtopian history, ideals, and so on. By doing so, there weren’t any effects. I didn’t like the vines, I didn’t want to protect them, there was no red hue to my eyes, nothing.

“So I tried it again with the bigger vines.”

Interest, surprise, and intrigue were quickly swapped out for horror and a little bit of anger. “You bell-head! What the ringing fuck?!” Drista burst out, the others quick to agree with similar statements.

Somehow, Purpled stopped the slander against his questionable actions with a surrendering motion. “I know, I know, it was stupid.”

“Damn straight,” Wilbur grumbled, the others agreeing easily.

“But it worked.”

That caught attention, quiet gasps and indignant sputters going around. Too wired to let it rest for too long, Tommy prompted with a “That’s good, I’m glad you’re not Egg-ed and whatnot. Now then, what exactly are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that by focusing on a people and an ideal, I could overcome mind control. Now put that wide-scale with an army of people who can take on any of the misguided people under the Egg’s control. With that, we could ring the Egg’s death knell for good,” Purpled said, placing hands on hips with a self-assured nod. “Pogtopia came together as a unit under the guidance of a leader. For Pogtopia and L’Manberg to unite, another leader needs to rise up.”

Under Purpled’s piercing gaze, Tommy tensed up. He went nigh-rigid as everyone started nodding along. “That does make sense,” Ranboo said, the traitor. “But they have to be good enough to do so. Where are we gonna find someone singing enough to unite two diametrically opposed people?”

Hook, line, and sinker, Purpled stared the younger dead in the eyes and asked with a too-calm voice, “How about it? Ready to take up the mantle again?”

As everyone else looked on in confusion and Drista shook her head in silent disapproval, Tommy just snorted. “I’d rather not,” he said, leaning back against the counter with faux casualty. “As I’ve told you time and time again, it won’t work out.”

“Won’t it?” Purpled challenged, spreading his arms down and to the side. “You’re a legend to both sides, you know how to lead, and you have several powerful people ready to back you up. You are the best option.”

“Define ‘best’,” Tommy spat, getting flinches from all but Purpled. “I believe the opposite. As I have told you before, the people need their martyr.”

“And now they need a leader,” he said, firm and unyielding.

“And how do you expect me to be both?” Tommy said, flinging his arms to the side sporadically. “Despite what people say, I’m no god. I can’t be alive and dead, I can’t be a legend and an active leader. Bringing Icarus back will do more harm than good.”

Sputters and questions were overridden by the glares the two opponents were sending each other. “Then don’t be Icarus,” Purpled said, stating it with a mirrored exasperated fling of the arms. “That’ll remove your first advantage but it could still work out. Be Achilles, Perseus, whoever! Your skills, whether as Icarus or another, will speak for themselves and unite the people to fight this evil Egg.”

“And if I don’t want to?” Tommy stated, crossing his arms with a sneer. One countered by a truly venomous snarl. “I’m done with being the ‘almighty all-knowing leader’ who does everything. It barely worked out the first time, it won’t this time.”

“So you won’t even try?” Purpled challenged, stepping forward with balled-up fists. “You’re laying down and rolling over for what? Burn out? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Unmoving, Tommy still leered and snarled at the other. “I told you already,” he spat, all jagged teeth and torn lips. “I. Am. Done. Done being a god, done being a symbol, done being Atlas. Is it so hard to believe that I get to have a choice over my own life? The damn ringing thing that I risked over and over isn’t something I get agency over?! Just because some new threat rings out?! Do you even hear yourself?!”

“Do you hear yourself?” Purpled shot back, all vitriol and gasoline. “You’re giving up on the people for what? Yourself? Your own greed?! Selfishness?! What type of Pogtopian are you?!”

“So what? I take care of everyone’s problems and it’s all singing sunshine and rainbows? Are you fucking with me?!” Tommy ground out, gladly scoffing in the face of the other’s growl. “There is a cost there, Purpled, and maybe for Prime damn once I don’t want to pay it.”

“A cost? A ringing cost? Oh, can yourself!” he said, scoffing back with a scowl. “What about the cost to Pogtopia? L’Manberg? Innocents who have no place in this fight? Are you seriously going to collapse them?! For your own gain?! What in Clara’s unending light gives you the right to be selfish like that?!”

“MAYBE I WANT TO BE BECAUSE I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO FOR SEVEN YEARS!”

The roar, ripped from ragged lungs and tattered control, silenced the battlefield. Both combatants stood there with heaving chests, the exertion on par with participation in a physical one. Still, they glared with fire and lead.

Tick tock went the clock in the background, timing the stagnant hush.

A sputter from the sidelines, nor more than a quiet gasp, tipped them back into the dangerous valley. “Y-You…” came Wilbur’s voice, louder than a gunshot.

It ricocheted, dislodging the stifling anger in Tommy’s chest in favor of simmering aggression. “Were Icarus,” he confirmed, unflinching from his glaring contest with Purpled despite the gasps he summoned. “I was Icarus, once. Just as I was Dove, Canary, Angel, Phoenix, and any other moniker once. None of which I have been for three years. All of that, everything died on that fateful day. Every ounce the fool--”

Growling and snarling, Purpled stepped forward as Drista rose to her feet. “You are a hero,” he bit back, baring his teeth.

“-- the coward--”

“You are a fucking martyr.” Another step, a creaky growl accompanied it.

“-- the dramatic senseless idiotic child who couldn’t see the obvious things or keep his mouth shut!”

“The decisive golden-hearted ambitious leader who stood up for what he thought was right and didn’t stop for any nay-sayers!”

Pausing, lungs heaving for the limited oxygen left between the two, they let their shouts ring out for a moment.

Stacattoed, sharp, Tommy shattered it. “Is. Gone,” bit out the viper, low hissing poisonous gas.

“You’re wrong,” snapped the wolf, jagged cacophonous explosive charge.

Before the viper could try to bite out another retort, Drista stepped in. Softly, the crow placed a hand on their shoulders and pushed them apart, lessening the chance for hydrogen to light ablaze. Under her look, they unwired themselves ever so slightly from swift quips and jagged refrains.

Purpled place a hand over hers, gently imprinting a silent thanks into her skin. “If it weren’t for you, Drista and I would be leading very different lives,” he said, a wry smile pushing back his scowl. “She wouldn’t have found her brother, would probably be sulking around the deeper caves of Pogtopia and possibly getting mind-controlled. I wouldn’t even be here, would be taking on too many dangerous jobs in too short of a time frame and getting myself killed. That’s two lives you’ve saved, isn’t that enough?”

A brief flash of a family torn apart and put back together, a stone top hat and rose, came to mind. Carelessly, he brushed it away before it could sink him into the warmth of the memory and soften his current resolve. “For me? Yes,” Tommy said simply, his small smile getting them to smile back. Theirs faltered when his turned jagged and wry. “For the point you’re making? Maybe if you weren’t looking for a dead man.”

Unflinching, unlike the spectators, Drista squeezed his shoulder and directed his attention to her. “I won’t lie, we did come to you originally because you were Icarus,” she said, her other hand leaving Purpled as he nodded along. With that hand, she removed her ever-present mask to smile at the stunned blonde. “But we stayed because you’re so irresistibly ‘Tommy’. So brave and strong and you that it’s hard to turn away.” Then she grinned, chuckling something bright, mischievous, and Drista as she added “I mean, c’mon, what other guy is going to deflect bullets and rip apart metal to keep me safe?”

Underlying with that same fire with a smirk very Purpled, the other teen gladly added “And what guy is gonna entirely reteach me fighting just because he thinks I look like shit?” Unbidden, a snort came from Tommy at the true statement. “What we’re trying to say is that while you’re no longer Icarus, you are still every bit as able to inspire and protect. That’s what we needed to get our lives on track, that’s what everyone needs to get and stay safe.

“Look, I get that, by the Choir do I get that,” Tommy said, sighing and leaning back against the counter to support himself. Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head ever so slightly. “But I don’t think that I could do all of that again. I just want to take a break, live a life, raise a family.” He glanced over at Tubbo and Ranboo, making them melt at the implication. And Tommy’s heart ached. “I’m not going to be enough for this. Maybe someone else should do it, you two seem plenty able to give the speeches.”

A sigh echoed from Purpled, the other blonde looking as tired as the first felt. “I feel that, a whole ringing lot, but we have to do something,” he said, the emphasis getting Tommy to sag under the proverbial weight. “With all of this going on, you can’t, we can’t do anything that you’re talking about. That’d definitely be favored over this crap going on.” Huffing, the warden hybrid pulled himself tall and offered Tommy a hand to do the same. “So, how about it? One last fight, one last push, then we all take a break and just live?”

The human looked into the warden’s eyes, at the fire burning there, and hesitantly let something inside him spark. “And if I’m not strong enough to lead?” he asked, his nonchalance betrayed by how his raised hand shook under an invisible weight.

To the very notion, Purpled let out an offended scoff. “Star, I have been at a point in my life where I could count every single bone in your body. Then, I look away for five seconds and you’re handing out your hard-earned scraps. I have sat in the crowds watching as you insisted to take the lashes for ten others in a row. Then, I nap for an hour and you’re up teaching the scrawnier and weaker ones how to fight. I think you’re plenty strong for this, the strongest of us in all honesty. Even if not, even if you stumble and mess up, you’ve got the rest of us to watch your back.”

“No matter the ringing, with you I’ll always sing,” Drista declared, her free hand reaching out to join Purpled. “C’mon, firefly, you can do this. You started the heart of Pogtopia, we’ve been keeping it from collapsing, I think it’s about singing time that you got it beating.”

Despite the weight of it all, Tommy couldn’t help his snort. “Alright, alright, don’t use all of your speech favor on little ol’ me.” He grabbed their hands, pulling the two into a brief group hug. Before they could do much to reciprocate, he pulled back and set his hands on their shoulders. With a cocky grin, he gave a simple “So, where do we start?”

Cackling, Purpled clapped Tommy on the back with a whoop. “Pog!” he cheered, getting laughs from the other two. Clearing his throat, he tried and failed to act professionally with the crazy grin on his face. “And we start where anyone with a dim idea does, information gathering. So, Ignition, Shadow, what do the heroes know about the Egg?”

Finally addressed, the two jumped slightly. “Uh, not much more than the rumors,” Wilbur said, quick to wrack his brain for info. “Starts with hearing whispers when in general contact with the vines and if someone’s in contact for too long, they start becoming aggressive and obsessive over the ‘Egg’. Red eyes are an indicator that they’ve done so. Cutting the vines does little but make it mad, burning them deters it for a little, and we haven’t found any ways to snap the infected out of it. Oh, and the booster called Crimson enhances the mind control and the user’s powers, the latter to the point of permanently altering the user’s body.”

“Well, I think I might’ve found a way to snap people out of it,” Ranboo said, everyone’s attention snapping to him instantly. “I’ve done it three times in total. Once with the suicide bomber at the Tower, the other two times with the assassin and arsonist at the Conservatory. It mostly consists of talking with them and offering an alternate route to whatever’s happening. Being nice helps too.”

Dumbly, everyone just stared for a moment and blinked through their bluescreening. With a sigh, Tubbo summed up their confusion with “Only Boo could snap full-out mind control by being overly nice and social. Only Boo.” Ranboo opened his mouth, thought about it, and shut it again as he processed the true statement.

“What have people been burning the vines with?” Drista said, trying to get everything back on track. “If it was just normal fire, we could try with soul fire. I’m sure I could steal some soul sand from Dream’s extensive stash.”

Only for it to derail again with Tubbo’s feral demand of “What the fuck? Where did he get soul sand? It’s so ringing hard to get!” Ranboo and Tommy shook their heads in quiet amusement, well aware of the other’s want to experiment with soul sand for years.

“If you’re a hero with money, people don’t tend to question or restrict you,” Drista said, shrugging. “So I don’t know, man, maybe he has a private supplier or something.”

“Well, if it does work and you can nab quite a bit of it, I have another slightly volatile idea,” Tommy said, grinning as the inner arsonist in everyone perked up. “I mean, soul fire molotovs never hurt nobody so it’s fineeee.”

Snorts, cackles, and chuckles went around, vindictive of the potential victim. “I’m liking the new style,” Purpled said, clapping the other on the shoulder again. “What’s the new persona, anyway? It’d be good to give Drista an alibi if her brother does catch on.”

“Well now you gotta make me pick,” Tommy said, faux pouting at the others. They just laughed it off, used to his dramatics. Chuckling alongside them, he tapped his wrists against each other and flicked his hands to in front of him. At his beck and call, the ten discs flew out and hovered in front of him, ready for examination.

As the spectators watched on in curiosity, Tommy started to flick through the discs with little additional comments.

11 and 13 were moved aside with “I don’t feel like going insane.”

Strad was “More of a calming song, not really intended for combat.”

Blocks was “Manipulation of things, not people or appearances.”

Pigstep was simply “Nope.”

Ward was “More of for a specific moment or instance, not really continuous.” Ah, also “I don’t feel like getting PTSD attacks either so that’s a double no.”

Otherside was--

“Wait, PTSD attacks?” Purpled asked, nosy as ever. Drista tried to give him a scolding look but he was too focused on Tommy to register. “What do you mean by that?”

Exasperated, Tommy gave the other blonde a look. “You’re intent on pushing all of my buttons today, huh?” he asked, somewhere between amused and pissed. Purpled just shrugged. “Alright then, I mean that hearing it for three days straight while going through an excruciating experience tends to make it triggering.”

Eyes on him, eyes on the blood spilling from his body, eyes on the wounds that burned.

“When you were crucified?” Purpled continued, much to the scolding glares of everyone else. He stayed unblinking.

Gravity pulled on him, ripping him apart. Iron and wood stayed a constant, unbothered by the one being bled out by them. The one being punished, tortured, killed for a sick game.

“When I was crucified,” Tommy confirmed, gently rubbing at his wrists with a grimace. “Not the best experience, as you can imagine.”

“Yeah,” Purpled said, narrowing his eyes at the disc covered in venomous and unyielding green. “It’s called Ward, right? What exactly does it do? How did it save you from dying?”

“Does what it says, it wards from stuff,” Tommy said, only a little snippy. The look he got made him sigh. Plucking it from the air, Tommy inspected the cursed disc a little closer as he continued talking, “For example, attention…” he pointed the disc at Drista. “... fear…” Ranboo. “... anxiety…” Wilbur. “... injury…” Tubbo. “... exhaustion…” Purpled himself. “... and, if one is truly desperate and determined, death.” Finally, he pointed it at himself.

For a moment, a tensely contemplative silence reigned. Then Purpled broke it with a somewhat subdued “So if you hadn’t had that disc…”

“Icarus would have died long before his fated fall,” Tommy finished, flinches and winces going around at the blunt statement.

But curiosity wasn’t quite done dragging Purpled into asking an insensitive question. “Why didn’t you use it when you were shot?” he asked, a frown and dark look on his face.

For a split second, Tommy just gave the teen a wry smile that summoned a wide-eyed look. The implication was enough. “If a disc is pushed too far, it will shatter and give an adverse effect,” he said, tilting his head to another disc with said condition. “So either way, Icarus would have died. At least it was above ground in the sun while doing some good instead of suffering down in the dark decrepit parts of Pogtopia.” Again, he got flinches, winces, and a few sharp inhales.

Yet Purpled’s furrowed brow pushed the dead man to keep talking, “As for how I’m alive despite getting shot in the heart and having no further way to escape death? I couldn’t explain that if I tried. All I know is that I got shot, everything went dark for a while, and suddenly I’m waking up in a gutter about two days after my supposed death.”

“Seriously, a gutter?” Purpled repeated incredulously, the seriousness of the topic of conversation doing nothing to stop his snort.

Back into a more humorous mood, Tommy just shrugged and grinned. “Hey, it was a decent gutter, don’t ring it,” he said, lightly swatting the other.

“A great gutter, especially when you have open wounds,” Drista jabbed with a snort.

“My wounds were scarred over when I woke up, thank you. No infection for big man Tommy Innit, not that it could take on a big man such as myself,” he crowed, snickering when Drista wacked him with an eye roll. “Now then, going through my discs…”

Getting the message, the two stayed quiet when he pulled out Otherside. The disc was sadly put away because “As much as I love this disc, I don’t think that everyone is going to appreciate following an eldritch being against a horror movie cliche.”

Next was Chirp, one that was frowned at. “Yeah, no,” he said, moving to brush it off to the side. Only to pause and look over at Wilbur. “Y’know what, I think that I’ll use this disc in a different way.” Said man yelped when the disc was suddenly in front of his face, staring on in confusion when it shrunk and landed in his hand. “Put that in a piece of jewelry or article of clothing that touches your pulse. I’ll be able to sense it and therefore if you need help.”

“Wait, seriously?” Wilbur sputtered, cradling the disc carefully. “Are you sure? It’s one of your discs.”

“Yep, you’re joining the squad so you’ll need one,” Tommy said, motioning to the others in the room. Easily enough, Tubbo and Ranboo flashed their bracelets with their respective discs of Wait and Stal attached. Then came Purpled and Drista, both of them lightly tapping at where their discs of Mall and Far rested near their necks.

Wilbur managed a hesitant and overly soft “Oh” as he held the disc a bit closer.

“What disc was that, big man?” Tubbo asked, tilting his head curiously. “And the pinkish gold one?”

“Well, that one right there fits Big Dubs’ personality quite well, connotations of it aside,” Tommy started, shrugging as he dropped the bombshell of “That’s the one I used to get wings.” While they all sputtered and Wilbur looked somewhere between complimented and petrified, the blonde smoothly moved on with “And the gold one is called Pigstep and it transforms me into a piglin hybrid. I don’t want to use it for the same reason as being eldritch, all of the assumptions about ‘violent hybrids’ wouldn’t do well for whatever image we’re trying to make.”

While they all tried to process, Tommy kept moving. Although, he paused before continuing to decide. With a flick of the hand, several discs shot off to start pulling down the curtains. This was supposed to be a secret persona/identity, after all.

That left him with two discs, Mellohi and Cat. “So, what do you guys think is the best one?” Tommy asked, trying to pull them out of their stupor.

It ended up with him pulling them all into a debate. One entirely based upon the colors of the discs and not the possible abilities. Amused, he let them go through their chaotic antics for several moments.

While they did so, he looked at the two discs and seriously considered their abilities. It didn’t take long after for him to announce his decision. “Y’know what? Let’s use both,” he said, his voice rising over the din as the discs moved and the back of his right hand molded to fit the task.

Only two of the group were wise enough to protest, starting with “Wait--” and “Tommy, won’t that--?”

But he had already started his transformation with nothing to distract himself.

Everything suddenly felt too loud, too quiet, too much. His yelp, distant and underwater, did nothing to soothe the sensory overload. His eyes slammed shut, the action bleeding red from the blinding white. A dull ringing ricocheted around the room, amplifying with each heartbeat.

Blood rushed to his head, pain sensors fired off, and his throat strung out a whine. Slamming his hands over his ears, he got nothing more than a dull thud thump thump through his skull and raindrops rattling down his spine.

His knees cracked against the ground. Long drawn-out shudders started from that area, leaving him shaking. Clothes scraped irritably against skin, the shff shff shff of cloth scratching at his ears, and it was all too much.

Cold seeped in from the tiles, doing little against the scorch of his blood. But little by little, it did. And little by little, at the speed of an iceberg, the hyperfocused sensory overload faded.

“I--” he started, cringing as it cut off against the newfound stoniness of his tongue and sharpness of his teeth. “I hate full transformations.” Because he, the fool he was, didn’t try to dull the pain or distract himself from the fact that his very bone structure, flesh, and senses were getting changed. Normally adrenaline did the job but he wasn’t exactly in a fight at the moment.

Very slowly opening his eyes, hissing at the blinding jabbing fluorescents, he took in the scene in front of him. Everyone was hovering, trying their best to support him. Thankfully, none of them were trying to touch or hug him despite clearly wanting to, probably under the direction of Ranboo and Tubbo who had seen similar stupidity before.

“Cat eyes suck,” he blurted out, getting snorts and chuckles. Huffing, he put his hand on the counter, shivered at the cold, and pulled himself up. Several things happened at once.

One, everyone scrambled to both support him and not touch him, a bit of a hilarity. Two, his legs shuddered and his knees clacked together with the stability of a newborn fawn. Three, something under his hand cracked. Four, something on his head, a part of his head, flicked and moved. Five, his vision doubled and swayed.

It was only after he was certain that he wasn’t about to go tumbling that he lifted his hand. Then he groaned, that same thing along with its partner, cat ears as he’d come to realize, moving in tandem with the noise.

Because now there was a long snaking crack going straight through the middle of the stone.

“I’ll fix the fucking counter later,” he grumbled, flexing his hands with a frown. Another thing to worry about, if he could break stone with barely any effort thanks to how Mellohi flooded through his veins and amplified Cat. Too much power to not be cautious about, to say the least. For now, he focused on his new extremities that flicked and lashed through the air. “Prime, I forgot how shit full transformations are.”

The lack of a returned quip made him actually look around the room. All of the others stared, his ears flicking back in an uncomfortable response, blue-screening as they took in his new features. Putting hands on hips, he goaded them, “What? Never seen someone grow and mostly adapt to completely new hybrid features in the span of ten seconds?”

Chatty and sarcastic as ever, Purpled broke their collective silence with “Oh my fucking Prime. You’re a cat boy.”

“Oh, fuck off! Can yourself, you bell-head!” Tommy spat back, his ears flattening and tail lashing. “The green disc is literally called ‘Cat’, what else do you expect? Me to turn into another bird?”

Clearly in shock, Drista responded with a dumb “Oh my Prime, they move.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t notice. The hybrid features move,” he mocked, his tail bobbing along in time with his speech. The fine motor control just prompted more stares. His ears didn’t move from the pressed down position as he hissed out “Yes, they damn move! The wings did, why wouldn’t the ears and tail? Whole bunch of collapsed idiots, you lot are.”

“To be fair, the only full transformation any of us, aka two of us, have seen you undergo is the eldritch one,” Ranboo said, ever full of sass. “It’s a bit of a shock to see you grow new body parts.”

The enderman got a glare, about to get a retort if Tubbo hadn’t jumped in. “Big man, you look fucking cool. Pog, may I say,” the bee said, taking the heat off of the others as he pulled out his phone. “You gotta see this.” Rolling his eyes, Tommy said nothing and instead posed slightly with his tail in plain view, perked up ears, and a grin showing off his teeth. Upon taking a picture, the bee held out his phone, something that Tommy would not be touching. “Why aren’t you taking the phone?”

“Then break it and give you an excuse to defenestrate me? No thanks,” Tommy said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Even now, he could feel the slow thud thump thump of power in his veins. Something that he would have to very quickly master.

After a second, Tubbo nodded along. “Fair enough, you did just break that counter,” he said, unreactive in the face of Tommy’s visible despair. Instead, he just flipped the phone around so the blonde could see the picture.

Outside of the ears and tail, the discs had changed a number of little things, making him almost unrecognizable. His hair had lightened up to platinum blonde, the curved ears and fluffy tail changing it up a little by fading to a white at the tips. As always, his eyes had changed too, making him heterochromic with green and light purple irises, slitted pupils making the transformation more specific. In various places, his skin tinged towards one of the three colors, giving him the print of a jaguar. Bioluminescence, something that had yet to be turned off since the Prime Festival, had shifted to illuminate those markings while keeping a general but dim outline of previous patterns. Last but not least, his teeth had sharpened as one last homage to the feline transformation.

“Pog,” Tommy said, gently tapping at Tubbo’s phone to move it back into the camera, selfie mode. “Why a jaguar, though?” Tilting his head this way and that, he took in the other slight things, fluffier hair, a more angular face, smaller nose, thinner lips, darkened skin around the eyes that looked like fancy eyeliner, that would make it harder for him to be spotted. Anonymity was important for this job.

“Who knows,” Wilbur said, finally recovering from his shock. “Maybe your discs like symbolism.” Such a suggestion got snorts, even from the man himself, but curious Purpled pulled out his phone and started researching anyway.

While the other blonde got distracted by that, Drista leaned closer with a wicked grin on her face. “You think that he’ll purr?” she asked, her hand threatening the general vicinity of Tommy’s ears.

“Let’s not test that,” Tommy protested, leaning away with a frown. Vivid memories of cooing, preening, and wanderlust during quiet days of Lockdown told him very well of how instincts tended to transfer.

“Jaguars are big cats so he probably won’t,” Ranboo said, making Drista pout and give the newfound cat hybrid mercy.

With a small ‘Aha’, Purpled captured everyone’s attention. Dramatically clearing his throat, he got Tommy to groan and the others to laugh as he began to monologue “Some symbolism associated with jaguars includes, but is not limited to, leadership, agility, power, protection, and transformation.” A deft nod cut off his brief but excruciating read-out. “Looks like your discs are dramatic little fuckers,” Purpled joked, getting another groan and a ‘glare’ from the teen in question.

Chuckling along with the others at Tommy’s reaction, Tubbo shook his head slightly. “We should probably stop asking questions, albeit very important ones, about Tommy’s hybrid traits and get to important business,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly at the faux groans and sighs that his words summoned. “For example, what is the name of the new leader gonna be?”

Humming as he thought, Tommy closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, everyone was staring. “I think Theseus is the chosen name for this little adventure,” he said, grinning with only slightly false confidence.

While everyone else nodded along, giving small verbal agreements, Purpled had no qualms about expressing his horror. “What the fuck, man?” he asked, his expression more clearly showing his horror. “With Icarus, you fell and died in the sun. You just doomed yourself to another death via falling.”

Winces, flinches, and small gasps went around as everyone else realized the implications. Tommy just shrugged. “Good thing I’m a cat hybrid, ay? Nine lives, landing on my feet, yada yada” he half-joked, horribly nonchalant if one considered the topic of conversation. “Anyway, what about you guys? What are your names?”

Such a question summoned a unanimous “Huh?”

To which he chuckled. “C’mon, last time Icarus was alone, that’s sort of part of his legend. Now, Theseus will have partners in crime,” he said, grinning as understanding slowly dawned on the others.

He didn’t know if he wanted to be because of the subtext of don’t leave me alone, I can’t do this alone again, please please, or not.

“To start,” he said, quick to distract himself from the thought. “Purpled, how do you feel about Protesilaus? You did start this revolution, after all.”

Humming, Purpled crossed his arms with a smirk. “Oh, I’m liking it already.”

“Drista, I think Eris fits you pretty well. Goddess of discord and chaos seems like your thing.”

She cackled at that, her hands finding a place on her hips as she stood tall. “Chaos is gonna make that Egg thing wish it’d never been made.”

“Leave that to Tubbo. Speaking of the madman himself, how about Perses? Perses is the god of destruction.”

Now Tubbo was cackling, trading maniacal grins with Drista. “Oh, time for some arson, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Ran, how about Lethe, the river that erases one’s memories?”

Ranboo had to snort at the name but grinned nonetheless. “Bit on the nose but I’ll do what I can to make that thing so defaced that no one remembers what it looked like before.”

“Oh, we’re getting serious if Ranboo’s threatening the Egg. Anyway, how about it, Wilbur? You up for joining the crazy Pogtopians?”

The man smirked, his stance settling into something that screamed confidence and power. “What shall I be decreed with?”

“Hephaestus, god of fire and the forge.”

Chuckling, he raised a hand that sparked and crackled with mini-explosions. "Time to forge something to blow that thing to smithereens.”

“Glad to have everyone on board. Now, all we have to do is run a few tests, gather some attention, get the supplies, and burn that damned Eggpire to the fucking ground. Let’s get this done.”

Chapter Text

Exhaustion weighed on them all like a heavy blanket, dragging their feet and slouching their postures as everyone made to leave. With a brief wave and tired smile, one of the six split off to his home on the surface. The remaining five kept going, leaning on each other as they slowly made their underground.

Eventually, as they reached a certain point, two of the five had to go to their actual residencies. Reluctantly, with many over-the-top goodbyes, off they wandered to their too-cold houses.

When the three did finally get into their warm home, one of them broke down.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said, shaking and hugging himself. “I’m sorry, I-I just--” he cut himself off, a ragged sob making its way into open air.

“It’s alright, my allium,” Ranboo said, softly guiding the man to the couch. “It’s alright, let’s sit down and talk, mm?” Despite how his heart broke at the other’s sorrow, the enderman did well to keep his voice even and calm.

A puppet with his strings cut, Tommy flopped back onto the couch and curled into a ball. He continued to shake and stutter out sobs. As his soulmates sat beside him, he gladly leaned into their body heat. Ranboo put an arm around the other’s shoulders, vwooping quietly. “My treasured,” Tubbo said softly, putting a hand on the blonde’s knee. Teary blue eyes looked up. “We aren’t mad, okay? We could never be mad at you.”

“B-But I--”

“Didn’t talk about serious trauma that you thought would never show up again,” Tubbo said, his firm voice making no room for blubbered nonsense. “I don’t do that, Boo doesn’t do that, why would we blame you for not doing that? That would be stupid and hypocritical of us.”

“I will admit, finding out that you were Icarus is a bit out there,” Ranboo said, light joking getting Tubbo to chuckle alongside him. “But I don’t think that particularly matters to the now. You’re my allium and I’m your bud, that’s all I need to know. You’re still the same ol’ Tommy, even if we didn’t know that extra detail.”

“Yep,” Tubbo said, popping the ‘p’ with a smile. Ever so slightly, Tommy began to uncurl. “How about this, mm? We make it even.”

Understandably, both of the others gave a small “Huh?”

“We learned something integral to your past that we didn’t know before, now you get the same from us.”

Tommy opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Ranboo put a stop to that with a cheery “Trauma bonding, we love to see it.” He giggled, Tubbo returning it with an extra fond eye roll. “I can go first,” he said, humming for a moment as Tommy stared on in confusion and slight horror. “Let’s see…”

Forced cheers, vicious hollers, scared whimpers.

“I was the first fighter in the Pit, the one that got pitted against a feral hoglin.”

Dust, dirt, dark, a flash of a broken white tusk, a spray of red.

“When I eventually killed it, they cauterized my wounds with water.”

Iron, rotting meat, burning flesh, a horrid mixed odor.

“Least to say, I jumped onto the Spirit bandwagon quickly. I was the second Shade ever.”

Comradic pats on the back, cold weapons shoved into hands, warm smiles imprinted onto skin.

Nodding to himself, he tilted his head towards Tubbo. Quick to pull himself tall, the bee nodded and redirected Tommy’s still horrified look. “Mine’s not as extensive as that, honestly,” Tubbo said, shrugging. “But I guess it works out anyway. I was one of the people kidnapped into the Lockdown, stolen straight out of my own bed. After Lockdown, I thought I’d never see my blood family again. I’ve seen my father at least three times since, my aunt once, nothing from my sister though. My aunt is none other than Cara Maron, aka Captain Puffy, while my dad is Jordan Maron, aka the ever-elusive Captain Sparklez. My sister hasn’t done anything of prestige yet.”

Valiantly, Ranboo kept his surprised reaction to a series of fast blinks. Tommy had, understandably, no such control. “Wait a damn minute, your aunt and father are the #6 and #1 heroes? What the fuck, big man?” he sputtered.

“And you were a leader of an entire civilization. We’re all famous or related to famous people, we get it,” Tubbo said, only a little snappish.

Before Tommy could snap back or something of the sort, Ranboo eased over the tension with “Oh, the lives we live.” Then, he stood up, grabbing their hands and pulling them up with him. “Now, c’mon, we should get some rest. Busy days ahead and we don’t wanna be snapping each other’s heads off when the Egg will gladly do that for us.”

Huffing, the two relaxed ever so slightly and moved towards the room. Now, that wouldn’t do. So Ranboo pulled them forward and tossed them both over his shoulders in a fireman carry.

“Boo!”

“Ran! You bastard!”

And they were laughing, banishing their bad moods for a moment.

Ranboo laughed along with them, his duty as the mediator gladly fulfilled.

|\/|

Stepping into the concrete box that was only disrupted by a black one-way window, a metal table, some chairs, and a familiar man wearing handcuffs, Ranboo barely kept on the soft smile for the man’s benefit. Nevertheless, Jeffrey looked startled, somewhat happy, and a bit scared. Considering that the teen usually visited once a week, this time being the second, it was reasonable.

To keep some normalcy, Ranboo held up the deck of cards and offered “Uno?”

“Obviously, c’mon now. What was the score, 50 to 52? I gotta beat you, youngster,” Jeffrey said, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Ohohoho, try me, old man.” Now his smile was a grin, the teen quick to cross the distance and sit down. Pulling out the Uno cards, he started shuffling. “Prepare your senile game abilities to get absolutely destroyed,” he crowed, getting a chuckle.

“Prepare to have your infantile ones schooled,” Jeffrey sniped back, chuckling some more.

Hissing as if in pain, Ranboo kept up the theatrics as he dealt out the cards. “Oo, ouch, you hurt me, you really do. Pulling the big words out on me, I see. Although, let’s get the chit-chat out of the way. We have a game to play, after all, grandpa.”

“I suppose we do, sport,” Jeffrey said, picking up his cards to audibly hmm and ha over them. Then, he was grinning and staring Ranboo dead in the eye as he put down a +2. “Do try to keep up, huh?”

Ranboo just laughed as he picked up the cards. “Don’t stress yourself out, hm? I don’t wanna have to get your walker,” he shot back, getting a snort and chuckles in return. He laughed along with Jeffrey, eager to play the game.

Eager to delay what he came here for.

It took about four matches, tying the score, before Jeffrey paused in his shuffling. Sighing, he set the cards down and looked at Ranboo with tired eyes. “It’s not that I hate your company but what are you here for, Ranboo? You never visit twice in a week and you’ve been antsy this whole time,” he said, getting Ranboo to wince.

Echoing that sigh, Ranboo folded his hands together to fake some stability. “I did have something to talk about,” he started, inhaling briefly to prepare himself. “You know how I’m a hero? And a potential Vanguardian?”

“Yes. Is that what you’re here for? One of your superiors finally wants some answers?” Jeffrey said, sad and exhausted rather than vindictive.

“Not quite,” the teen said, catching the other’s attention. “What I’m trying to bring up is that I want to fight, to protect, to change something. A few others are with me in that aspect. With them, I think we could bring about something that can actually take care of the Egg. But first, we need info, we can’t go into this blind. So I came to you.”

Pursing his lips, Jeffrey took a moment. Then he quietly asked, “Think you could or know you could?”

The reasons came in flashes of images. Tubbo waving off any gratitude or payment for his prosthetics that let someone move and, in their own words, live. Purpled training to fight for, to protect anyone he could. Drista standing up against opposition, putting herself on the line for the things, ideas, and people she believed in. Wilbur expertly weaving his destructive powers in such a way that they helped, weaving his words and songs to help those he cared about. Tommy doing everything in his power to save people, no matter the cost.

All of that made the “I know” from Ranboo instantaneous.

“Alright then,” Jeffrey said, sighing as he met Ranboo’s steeled eyes. “what do you guys need to know?”

“Feel free to pause whenever you need,” Ranboo said, quick to preface that before he started with the hard questions. Once that was done, he hit with the worst question first, “What did it feel like when you were under its control?”

From the sharp inhale, such a question hit Jeffrey right in the chest. “Damn,” he mumbled, straightening up to scrub his hands over his face. “No holding back, I see.” Exhaling slowly, he started fidgeting with the cards.

It took another few steady inhales and exhales before Jeffrey started talking, “When I first ran into the vines, the whispers started. I didn’t think much of it, thought it was just the wind or something of the sort. Eventually, it grew so loud that I couldn’t even think. I blacked out at that point, everything just a haze of red.

“From there, I think I was with the Egg, in whatever lair it has. I remember feeling safe and worshipping that damn thing for how great and beautiful it was.” At that point, he was shaking and gritting his teeth. Not even a hand settled over his did anything to change it.