Chapter Text
Theseus, the well known vigilante who patrols district 16, has been called many names in his short life. A hero, an idiot, a bitch.
All three at once by his roommate at one point. That really was a night of ups and downs now he thinks about it. Never again will he try and attempt to use a fireplace to light a tea light again.
It wasn’t even his fireplace. Or his house.
The memories.
He would like to think he was a pretty poggers guy if you were to ask him.
He was asked that once in an interview, obviously not wether or not he was “poggers” that would be strange. No they asked him what his self image was like.
This was rather difficult to put into sign language so he naturally made up a word on the spot, swiftly prompting translators to be placed on the scene.
He never really understood this, but oh well it’s best not to question some things.
The news went mad at his failed attempt at a sign, many articles being produced wondering wether he was was apart of some form of gang or trying to associate with the “roadmen and their gang signs”.
He gave up trying to contact them to clarify, they just flogged him down with more questions. Again, not worth it.
Sometimes he wished his whole motif wasn’t based around being voiceless, then again it does come in handy when protecting an identity and all that, especially when you apply for an internship… at your enemy’s workplace.
Which also happens to be hero HQ.
Why is this a problem I hear you ask, well as it stands heroes and vigilantes do not mix very well. Funny that really.
But hey a dudes got to do what a dudes got to do.
Especially when becoming a vigilante proves to be your only source of income.
Tommy Innit, the face behind the mask, a comedian according to some (he was the some), a definitely eighteen year old (he was sixteen and a half, but if you round it up you will eventually get to eighteen) did not see himself as a hero.
Heroes didn't live in an apartment the size of the average persons kitchen with two other people.
Heroes don't have to work five jobs between the three of them just to be able to afford rent and to eat.
Heroes don't have a cat piss stain under a stolen rug.
They don't own a cat.
They don't even know a cat hybrid.
That was another reason why they weren't heroes.
Heroes have to register their abilities, the government have no idea they have enchantments or hybrid qualities.
As far as anyone else knows they are Thomas smith, Ranboo Jones and Tubbo Bee.
In Tubbos defence he was only six when they made their fake names, and he was quite fixated on bees.
No one knows Tubbo is a ram hybrid.
No one knows Ranboo is an enderman hybrid. He didn’t really look like an enderman, except for his hair. That was black and white split in half, then again the other two just played it off like he was an edgy emo kid. Ranboo does not appreciate this.
And no one knows Tommy has manipulation of energy and telekinesis.
Nope. Those secrets were safe with him.
The busted hip was also a secret, and would Tubbo absolutely flip out when he found out Tommy had been going on patrol in the state he was in. Absolutely he would.
And would Tubbo also flip out when he found out Tommy went to the biggest interview of his life in this state. Definitely.
However, as Tommy walked into the entrance hall of the Hero HQ, these were the last things on his mind.
Fighting the urge to dive headfirst into the ball pit just for the sheer lols of it, he strolled as casually as he could with a fucked up hip, which overall wasn't very casually, to the front desk, where a woman with pink hair sat, stroking a cat that had clearly sat directly on her keyboard just for the sake of it.
Ok, Tommy thought. Don't fuck this up. Remember what Tubbo said.
"Hi, I'm Thomas, here for the interview with SBI" he said, muscles un-tensing slightly as the lady smiled up at him.
"Ahhh Thomas! Head up to the sixty ninth floor (Tommy had to pinch himself to hold in the laugh) and it's the first room on the right. They will call you in when they are ready for you!" She replied, giving up on trying to move the cat from her keyboard, opting to write his name down on a piece of paper next to her.
He nodded and walked towards the elevators, eyeing up the place as he pushed the button.
All in all he can confirm these people are rich as fuck.
He strolled inside the elevator and watched as the numbers above his head climb higher and higher as he neared his floor.
It hit 54 and he took a shaky intake of breath.
And huffed it out irritably when he stopped at 59, glaring at the doors and whoever dared to come through. This glaring was extremely short lived as none other than the Dream Team themselves walked inside.
Sorry. What the fuck.
"You good kid?" 404 said "you look quite red"
Oh my god. He was being spoken to by the Dream Team. Some of the best heroes in the whole of L'manburg, oh he needs autographs and- wait a second. Kid?
He is not a child.
The doors opened on the sixty ninth floor, and after quite a frank exchange with 404, in which he told him he was not a child, and he should go and identify some colours, Tommy knocked on the door in front of him.
"Come in" sounded out as he pushed open the door, entering a room full of windows,each one with a small picture in the middle.
Tommy looked away from the windows and the strangely placed photos and OH MY FUCKING GOD.
Philza Minecraft, the man, the myth, the legend, number one hero was sat infront of him, twirling a pen in his right hand and drinking iced coffee?
"I'm sorry but what, iced coffee, so basic hun. Could have mistaken you for a chav"
Well this was not in the plan.
Tommys face paled slightly as he slapped a hand over his mouth mid sentence. Shit. He just asked Philza, his number one hero, his idol, if he was a chav.
A rather tense silence was held for around thirty seconds, and all of those thirty seconds Tommy was contemplating grabbing one of his mini knives he kept in his sock and checking if he could actually cut through this tension.
Thankfully Phil erupted in cackles before Tommy could grab the knife.How no one had clocked the rather obvious security breech was something he would rather not think about for many reasons.
"Thomas mate take a seat" he sighed, wiping some tears away from his waterline.
"Huh. I really thought I would have been thrown out of that window any second for that one" Tommy thought as he sat on a very comfy spinning chair pretending he didn't just wince at the sharp pain that ran up his body.
Overall Tommy would say the interview went extremely well.
That was until no less than twenty minutes later from the chav incident Tommy would be being mother henned into the fanciest looking medbay of his life, with Philza Minecraft flapping both metaphorically and also in the sense he nearly knocked two people out with his wings.
"Oh hi Phil" The warden (Tommy nearly asked for his autograph for Tubbo. For some reason it didn't seem like the most appropriate time) smiled as he turned around, smile dropping as he saw Phils unimpressed look. "And hello other person... what can I do for you"
Tommy stuck his hand out in classic tommyinnit fashion, wincing at the wardens death grip "Thomas Smith. Nice to meet you. I'm fine-"
"Mate" Phil sighed "this child ("not a child") came to an interview with a busted hip and did not once think this was a bad idea"
Tommys protests were drowned out as Warden quite literally lifted him up and placed him on one of the beds.
"Thomas on a scale of one to ten, rate your pain for me" Warden asked as he prodded and poked Tommy. Tommy was not a big fan of the poking. Or the prodding for that matter.
"Pi. A minimal but never ending number" Tommy deadpanned.
"What the fuck" a new voice spoke out and if Tommy wasn't already fanboying, he was now. The one and only Phantom was stood there, displaying a face that could only be described to be shocked with a hint of impressed.
As much as Tommy was living for the attention, there were only one of two paths he could take right about now.
One- let the warden check him over and probably be forced to stay over and take unnecessary (in his eyes) medication.
Two- distract and run.
"Oh my gosh look at that thing over there"
——
"Your home early" Tubbo called from the kitchen as the front door creaked open.
"Cut the interview short" Tommy replied, sighing when the coatrack collapsed under the weight of his battered jacket with a loud clatter on the floor.
Tommy left the coats.
"What did you do" another voice called out, not even trying to hide the sigh of disappointment
Tommy only smirked as he walked into the bedroom to grab his suit.
Well. Suit was a bit of a stretch, it was more just jogging bottoms, and a red and white t-shirt, topped off with goggles and a face mask.
Shedding his smart clothes (a cleaner than others shirt and non dirty trousers) he laughed at the sign on the bathroom door.
"Bog still buggered"
The tap in the bathroom had broken weeks ago, Tubbo had got someone to come out and fix it.
Evidently they hadn’t done a very good job of it.
Tommy walked into the kitchen and opened a cupboard, grabbing a granola bar as he sighed mid mouthful at the pitiful sight of six instant noodles, four more granola bars and some strawberry’s that should probably not be fuzzy.
"We're running low again. When do you get paid?" Tommy murmured as he sat on the counter top, whining as Tubbo pushed him off.
"Four days. And I don't think that will be enough for rent and a lot of food" he grimaced as he tapped at his keyboard.
"Don't fret bossman. We will find a way to get by. We always do" Tommy sighed, a foot already out the window, fiddling with his ear piece that connected directly to both Tubbo and Ranboo incase shit hit the metaphorical fan.
"Be safe" Ranboo shouted from wherever the fuck he was.
Tommy could probably narrow down his location quite quickly, the flat was quite small.
"Always am Boo”