Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy glanced to his left, watching the group of heroes, their eyes far more dangerous than they looked on television.

He looked right, and saw the masked villains, bathed an aura of death so strong he could almost see it surrounding them.

And he looked down, frowning at the tiny stone in his hand. It was a yellowish-sort of gold, a glow from within it pulsing slightly, like it had a heartbeat of its own. It was smooth and ovular, around the size of a coin. It didn’t look all that important— just expensive. He hadn’t thought stealing it would be of any consequence.

Obviously, he had been mistaken. After a moment, he looked up again.

Her smiled, lifted his mask, and popped the stone into his waiting mouth, swallowing it in one gulp.

Salty.

“You fucking idiot!” One of the heroes screamed. Sapnap, the fire one, Tommy remembered. The hero’s hands sparked, itching to burst into flames.

Tommy took a small bow, glanced back at the river below, and let himself slowly tip backwards off the edge of the building, his arms outstretched.

A touch dramatic, sure.

But Tommy bet he looked badass as fuck.

— a year (ish) later —

Another pang of pain shot through his head, and Tommy winced, bringing his hand up to brush against his forehead.

He quickly pushed away his discomfort, busying his hands with an order. He had already slid the order slip back to the kitchen, and was fixing the sugary drink a woman had just ordered.

Tommy was the coffee man. He came up with the name himself, and was very insistent everyone called him it. Nobody did.

“Order for,” Tommy glanced down at the name he’s scribbled on the cup. “Elois?”

A woman, probably Elois, glanced up from her computer, standing to grab her drink.

She was one of the only people in the cafè, seeing as it was a Friday evening. Most people had better things to do on Friday evenings than sit in a café sipping admittedly delicious coffee.

His shift dragged on, and by the end of it the cafè was empty. He had told taken the closing shift alone— he usually did. Hr enjoyed quietly sweeping the floors, watching people pass by through the broad windows at the front of the café and listening to the quiet music drifting through the speaker behind the counter.

Just as he glanced at the clock, preparing to switch on the ‘closed’ sign, the door bell jingled.

Tommy held in a groan, instead plastering a small smile onto his face.

“How can I help you today?” Tommy asked. He was aware of how dull his voice sounded, he just didn’t care enough to try and force some cheer into it. It was ten-fifty five. They closed at eleven.

“Er, tea, please.” The man who had just walked in told him. He was awkwardly tall, his curly brown hair crushed down by a beanie and circular glasses. His sweater was most certainly too hot for the warm summer night. He looked like he worked in a library. Or perhaps at an elementary school.

“What kind of tea?” Tommy sighed quietly.

“Hibiscus tea.”

“I’m sorry, we don’t offer that here.” He was going to burst a fucking blood vessel. The menu was right behind him. “We have camomile, black tea, earl grey…”

“Oh. How about Black Tea, then.”

“Anything else.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Uh, no.” The man pushed up his glasses.

“That’ll be two-ninety nine, and a name for the order?”

“Wilbur.”

Tommy nodded. The guy oddly suited that name. Wilbur. “Right.”

Tommy bustled around, getting the drink ready. He was just about to slide it onto the counter when there was a low, loud rumble outside.

Wilbur looked startled, and there was a moment of utter silence, before the steady, deafening sound of rain filled Tommy’s ears. He sighed heavily. He was not walking home in that.

“Hey, Wilbur, your drink’s ready.” He called.

“Oh, right.” Wilbur glanced outside. “Uh, mind if I wait in here for the rain to settle down…?”

Tommy glanced up toward the sky, but nodded. “Sure. I’ve got to wait it out as well.”

“Thanks! So what’s your name?” Wilbur asked cheerfully. Far too cheerfully for Tommy’s liking.

“Tommy Danger Krakin Innit.” Tommy told him blankly, then, catching sight of Wilbur’s confounded expression, added, “That’s not my real name, dumbass. It’s just Tommy.”

Wilbur didn’t stir at the insult. “Huh. No last name…?”

“Oh yeah, sure, it’s kinda my hobby to give my full name out to random strangers that come into my cafè and order a tea we don’t even sell five minutes before closing.” Tommy rolled his eyes.

“I misread the menu!” Wilbur shot back defensively.

“More like didn’t read it at all.” Tommy said instantly. “What about your last name? Wait— no, let me guess. Wilbur Wonka?”

“Wonka— no! What? Why would you even—?”

“I think it suits you. Wilbur Wonka.” Tommy decided. “Wilbur Wonka and his hibiscus tea.”

Wilbur huffed. “My last name is much cooler than that. You tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine, how about that?”

“No.” Tommy told him. “I really don’t care about your last name.”

“Fine.” Wilbur snapped.

“Fine!” Tommy replied. Unfortunately, he was now rather curious. “…You tell me first.”

Wilbur side-eyed him. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t!”

“Mm.” Wilbur grinned. “We’ll say them at the same time.”

Tommy finished wiping the last table and turned, arms crossed. “On the count of three.”

Wilbur nodded. “Three, two…” Tommy joined him, and they both shouted, “one!”

“Soot.” Wilbur told him, then gasped with betrayal. “You said on the count of three!”

Tommy shrugged. “Get played, loser.”

Wilbur shook his head. “I’m putting this in my Yelp review.”

Somehow, the pair talked for almost an hour. Somewhere along the way, Tommy slipped up.

“—It’s not like I remember where I used to live, so how would I know—“ He paused, realizing his mistake.

Wilbur laughed. “You don’t remember? What, are you some sort of amnesiac?” He joked, glancing over at Tommy, who was looking up at him, expression resigned. “No fucking way.”

“Yeah. Woke up near some lake with no memories other than my name.” Tommy shook his head. “Fucking sucked.”

“I didn’t know stuff like that actually happened.” Wilbur told him, then obviously sensed his tactlessness. “I mean! It’s awful that happened—“

“Stuff it.” Tommy grinned. “I’m not touchy about it. Got my life together just fine, now.”
Wilbur nodded, then frowned. “Wait, so you don’t know how old you are?”

“Nope! I just tell everyone I’m eighteen.”

“You do not look eighteen.”

“At least I don’t look thirty-five.”

Wilbur went red. “I do not look—“

Tommy glanced outside. “Weather looks better.”

Wilbur sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ll see you around?” Tommy asked, flicking off the lights.”

“Yeah. See you, Toms.”

Tommy bristled at the nickname. “Then, I’ll see you, Wil.”

Wilbur batted at his head, and Tommy dodged. It was a nice night.

Wilbur became Tommy’s favorite regular.

Chapter Text

It was a normal evening. Tommy had taken a morning shift, so he had been free the rest of the day. He hadn’t noticed how dark it had become, and was headed home.

The air smelled faintly salty, and Tommy licked his lips. It was sort of quiet—

“Make a sound and I’ll slice your throat.” A voice hissed into his ear.

Tommy froze, going still as a statue. “Who are you…?”

“Don’t speak.” The blade was pressed against his throat further. “Take out your wallet. And give me any valuables.”

Tommy had to hold in a snort. He quite literally only had a crumpled up five dollar bill in his pocket— which he took out, but still.

“Are you kidding me?” The voice pressed the blade down angrily. “You’ve gotta have more!”

“This is all I’ve got.” Tommy managed a shrug. “Sorry, don’t know what you were expecting.”

He had just gotten the words out when a weight slammed into his back and the he fell to the ground, concrete scraping his hands.

A foot met his stomach, and Tommy saw his attacker lifting their foot to kick him again.

He wasn’t sure what happened next. It was like a switch clicked in his head, something sliding into place like a puzzle piece.

He was crouching, his hand clutching his attackers ankle. He gave it a sturdy tug, and sent his opponent crashing to the ground.

Then he heard something crack.

At first he thought it was something falling from his pocket— but then he saw the pool of red forming around the the dark hooded head of his attacker.

He stumbled back, eyes wide. The guy started to sit up, and Tommy bolted.

-

“Holy fuck.” He whispered. “Holy fuck. Fuck.”

He was scrubbing his hands in his bathroom sink. He had been for a solid few minutes, and they were red from the scrubbing.

He hadn’t killed the guy. He’d seem him standing up, before Tommy had run. It wasn’t even the fear that the mugger would come back for revenge— it was what he’d done.

He could write it off as instinct and be done, but there was something it the assuredness of his own movement, the confidence of someone who had done it a thousand times before.

It made him think about something he tried not to— his life before.

It was a strangely terrifying thing, losing your memories. There was no trace of him, no one recognized him, no one was looking for him. What did that mean? Was he running from something?

What if he had been a horrible person before?

It scared him.

It wasn’t the only weird thing he found he could do.

He was fluent in both the local languages, which wasn’t too strange. His reflexes were oddly good, he found himself catching drinks that were about to fall on instinct alone. The main thing was how silent he was.

It wasn’t the kind of thing you notice until you are. His footsteps were silent, and even when he was alone he found himself softening his breathing. It clashed horribly with his loud tone of speaking— and it tended to catch people off guard.

“Stop it.” He sighed. He couldn’t think about it. Not his weird instincts, not the random headaches.

He slept strangely soundly that night.

-

“You guys have gotta meet him.” Wilbur told them, for the fifth night in a row, grabbing a slice of pizza. “Phil, you’ll definitely like him.”

“Take me with you on one of your little outings, then.” Phil replied, pulling at one of his feathers that had become rumpled.

“No! Meet him on your own, or it won’t be the same.” Wilbur insisted. “Techno, you too.”

“If I have time to visit random kids in cafès, I have time to be tracking down the stone.” Techno grunted.

Wilbur and Phil shared a look.

“…Right. If you get a chance, though.”

“Sure.” Techno nodded.

They ate in a comfortable silence, until Techno stood.

“I’m going out to search.”

Phil looked concerned. “Mate, you’ve been going out every night a lot lately, are you sleeping—?“

“I need to find it, Phil.” Techno turned. “Not like I can get any sleep anyways. Fucking voices.”

Phil flinched at the reminder. “I’m sorry, Techno.”

“Not your fault.” Techno headed to the window. “You two get some sleep.”

“Bye, Tech.” Wilbur called. When his brother was gone, he turned to Phil. “I think it’s getting worse.”

“I agree.” Phil massaged him temples. “He usually only acts like that when they’re especially loud, but he hasn’t been normal in a few days now.”

“I wanna find that kid and—“

“He didn’t know, Wil. Probably saw all the security and thought it was a diamond or something.”

“You’re right. Misdirected anger. I’ll blame the bitchass heroes instead. The reasons we’re all like this in the first place!”

Phil offered up a smile at that, and they focused more on the movie they were watching.

-

Techno felt like there was a waterfall that had been compressed and shoved into his head. The voices were deafeningly loud, a million different whispering tones taking up all his thoughts.

It was pretty late, and he was jumping around rooftops. It was mostly just aimless wandering in his villain costume, hoping he bumped into a hero to fight, giving him that momentary, clear sense of purpose, when the voices quieted and rose together in a single demand for blood.

He stumbled onto a roof, and the voices roared. He dropped to his knees, hand pressed against his head.

He needed silence. He needed to fight, he needed to quiet them, he needed silence— even a moment of it.

“Hey, you alright dude?” A voice asked, and Techno snapped his head up to see a boy, blonde ruffled hair and eyes a blue exactly like Phil’s. Reaching toward him.

“Stay away.” Techno whispered, and it came out so quietly even he couldn’t hear it. “I’ll hurt you, please stay away.”

It was pointless. He was basically silent.

The boy would touch him, and he’d explode, and—

A hand grabbed his wrist.

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, it was silent.

Silent as the dead.

He raised his eyes to meet the questioning gaze of the boy.

“Nice mask.”

Chapter Text

Tommy tilted his head questioningly to the side. “You okay? Want me to grab some water?”

He made to pull his hand away from the man, but a large hand came up and grabbed his wrist tightly. The guy was still silent.

Tommy blinked. This guy was a little weird, but whatever. He dropped adjusted his hand so his fingers were threaded with the other guys. Maybe he’d been having a nightmare. The mask was weird, but Tommy saw all types at this time of night.

This one seemed harmless enough, Tommy decided, as he looked him up and down. He did have a sword, but other than that.

He turned and started back into the building, and the pig guy followed quickly behind. Sort of like a puppy.

“I’m Tommy. I couldn’t sleep either. Does the pig mask help? Like, is that some sort of fancy sleep mask?” Tommy slipped down the stairs to his apartment. “My place is sort of small, but it’ll do for a while, right?”

Techno managed a grunt.

“You gonna tell me your name?” Tommy asked with a grin. “I mean, you’re in my house. Might as well?”

“Techno.” Techno mumbled.

“What was that? ‘Tech’? Sorry, you were kinda quiet, dude.” Tommy loosened his grip of Techno’s hand, but Techno held him in place.

“Technoblade,” Techno repeated louder.

“Oh, Technoblade! That’s a pretty cool name. So, Techno, do you want some water? I’ve got a filter, so I promise it’s clean.

Techno was quiet. “…No water.”

“Okayyyy,” Tommy grinned. “Lemonade?”

Techno considered for a moment. He was sort of parched, he tended to forget things like hunger and thirst, he couldn’t hear his own thoughts over the voices. But if he release Tommy, they might come back.

“If I can come with you.” He decided.

Tommy’s apartment wasn’t large, and Techno very much was. He had to duck under the doorways, and struggled to keep up and Tommy expertly weaved through the kitchen, preparing the drink for him.

“I love lemonade. They place I work at offers it as a drink, but we always have a bunch of extra, so I get to take it home.” Tommy handed him a glass. “It’s really good, not to sweet, not too sour. It’s ruined all other lemonade for me! Anyways, Techno— sorry, I didn’t ask, can I call you that? Is it too soon for nicknames?”

“It’s fine.”

“Cool— so Techno, what brought you to my humble rooftop?” Tommy leaned on the counter, sipping his drink.

Techno noted he was being a good sport about the whole hand-holding thing. He was just sort of limp in Techno’s grasp.

“I have nightmares.” Techno explained. “Really bad ones. It clears my head.”

Tommy smiled quietly. “I get it. Nightmares fuckin’ suck. Are you gonna head home? Because if not you can totally crash here. I’ll give you the bed.”

“You don’t have to—“

“No, seriously, I don’t think you’ll fit on the couch,” Tommy joked. “And I can sleep anywhere. Well, I’m actually a bit of an insomniac. But when I do sleep, nothing can wake me up.”

He turned toward the couch, and before Techno could stop him, Tommy tugged his hand loose.

A strangled gasp escaped his mouth, and Techno stiffened, bracing for the flood of voices to fill his head again.

But instead, they returned in a steady trickle. A few, soft echoes in the back of his head. Like at the beginning of the curse, when the voices were bearable, simply a small annoyance. As Tommy moved further away, however, they grew louder, so he moved closer to him.

Laying on the bed, he thought. Did the boy have an ability? Why did he nullify the curse? Could he help Wilbur and Phil, too?

He didn’t really wanna kidnap this random child, mostly because he was being so nice. He seemed like he would probably shrug and let himself be taken. It would make him feel guilty. He just needed an excuse to stick with this kid without looking like a weirdo. Perfectly doable.

Oh, and also make sure the kid didn’t discover he was a super villain.

Techno drifted off before he could worry anymore.

-

“He’s still not back.” Wilbur stressed. “Did something happen? Phil, did he have his mask? Can we track him?”

“Wil, your brother deserves his privacy. And you should sleep, your curse—“

“—Is nothing compared to Techno! What if he fainted or something?” Wilbur started pacing. “Phil! What if, hear me out, his hair got snagged on something! It’s so fucking long, and just,” Wilbur gestured wildly around his head. “Hanging out! What if he caught it on something and is stuck.”

“Wil, mate, I don’t think…” Phil sighed. “You need to sleep.”

“I do not!” Wilbur announced, his words slurring. “Ghostbur can fuck off!”

“I’ll go check on him, okay? You stay here and rest.”

“I’m comin’ with you…” Wilbur muttered, before his eyes rolled back and he fell. Phil dashed forward and caught him, laying him down in the ground and watching as the blue, transparent version of him emerged.

“Hello, Phil!”

“Hello, Ghostbur.” Phil sighed.

“Hello, Phil!” Ghostbur repeated.

“Yes, yes, hello.” Phil stood. “I’ll be right back, alright? Don’t do anything too crazy.”

“Okay!” Ghostbur floated towards Techno’s room, and Phil turned out the window. He admittedly was concerned about Techno. His curse had been growing steadily worse, and when he wasn’t fighting, he tended to stumble and bump into things. Something really might have happened to him.

He followed the small red dot on the map to Techno’s location. He was a little worried when he saw the dot wasn’t moving. Maybe Wilbur was right, and his hair really had gotten snagged on something.

He arrived on the rooftop where Techno should be and scanned it for the hard to miss form of Techno.

Other than some laundry hung out to dry and a few empty cans, along with the usual piping, the roof was empty concrete.

He sighed and tip-toed toward the stairs, slipping inside. Luckily it was unlocked, and he was able to find the door he suspected led to Techno.

He paused.

Put his ear to the door and listened intently.

He tested the handle, and to his surprise, it opened. It was dark inside, but he could see clearly from the moonlight filtering in through the window.

He left the door slightly ajar, and silently crept into the apartment.

It was messy, but not extremely so. It was obviously the apartment of someone who was not expecting company. It was small, with one large room acting as both the living room and kitchen, and a door which Phil assumed led to a bedroom and bathroom.

His eyes slid over the room in search of Techno, and he didn’t find him. He did, however, find kid snoozing on the couch. He looked too young to be living by himself and his skin glowed in the moonlight.

Phil smiled briefly down at him, before creeping towards the door and slowly pushing it open.

The room had no windows, but he could see in the dim light, covers pulled up to his chin, hair slayed out around his head, mouth hanging slightly open, Techno, sleeping.

Genuinely sleeping.

No tossing and turning, no furrowed brow. He looked peaceful.

It made something in Phil’s chest ache.

He turned away, pushing down the urge to snap a picture. He could figure out why Techno was sleeping in some random kid’s house later, for now he didn’t want to risk waking his son up.

He went home and slept quite well, all things considered.

Chapter Text

“Good morning sleepyhead!” Tommy opened the door with a flourish, grinning down at Techno, who’s mask had slipped off in his sleep.

Tommy yanked off his covers and Techno groaned, curling in on himself and muttering something Tommy couldn’t hear.

“C’mon! Up, up, up! I’ve got work.” Tommy grabbed a hand and pulled him up.

Techno sat up, staring blankly forward with hooded eyes.

Tommy dragged him to his feet, and Techno followed him drunkenly into the kitchen. He’d forgotten what waking up felt like, it had been so long since he had slept properly.

Tommy poured him a glass of water and some cereal. “So. Are you gonna head home, or…?”

Techno considered for a moment. Phil and Wilbur were probably worried. He also shouldn’t be hanging around a random civilian who had seen him in his mask, even though he was sure Tommy didn’t recognize him. Which was strange, because even though there weren’t many pictures of the Blade, he was pretty well known. Infamous, Techno would say.

“Nah,” Techno replied before he could think about it.

Tommy snorted. “Guess you’re coming to the cafè with me then! You can meet my friend. I think you guys will get along, even though he’s a bit of a bitch some of the time. A lot of the time. It grows on you.”

Techno blinked and realized Tommy was wearing a button up and black pants, and that his hair looked less wild than it had the night before.

Phil and Wilbur could wait. Techno stood, shrugged, and slipped off his cape and top. He had a hoodie on underneath.

“You look almost normal.” Tommy observed. “Your hair is messy as fuck, by the way.” He tousled Techno’s hair.

Techno blinked slowly and reached up to try and feel how bad it was. Tommy laughed at his efforts.

Techno took his time observing the apartment and surrounding street. It was a rough neighborhood, but Tommy waved to almost everyone as they walked, greeting them by name. He seemed pretty well-known, so people would probably notice if he were to hypothetically be kidnapped. Techno took mental note of this.

“Here it is! The owner is super awesome, she’s my favorite person ever. I don’t know if she’ll be here but if she is you better be nice.” Tommy stopped in front of a squat building with a cheery bakery sign and glass windows showing a clean, comfortable looking cafè.

He led Techno inside, sat him down, and instructed him to wait. Techno watched with interest as Tommy bustled around, greeting coworkers and making sure the night shift had swept, before finally flipping the sign to announce that the store was open. He had a lot of energy for someone who had been up with Techno so late.

A few stranglers came in, took their coffee, and left, but for the most part it was empty. Tommy gave Techno a pastry, and chatted to him mindlessly. Techno didn’t mind. It was the quietest conversation he’d had in months.

The bell jingled, and Techno and Tommy both looked up.

Tommy grinned.

Techno choked on his pastry.

“Wil!” Tommy stood up and bounced over to him. “I have someone I want you to meet!”

“Oh? Another friend? You aren’t replacing me, are you?” Wilbur peered around Tommy and his smile fell. “Ah,”

“What?” Tommy glanced back, then lowered his voice. “I know the hair’s a little odd, but at least be polite, y’know?”

Wilbur blinked, and smiled again. “You’re right Tommy! Hello, I’m Wilbur.” He slid into the booth across from Techno. “Nice. To. Meet. You.”

Techno attempted a smile as well, to questionable success. “I’m Techno. Er, hello, Wilbur. Good to see— to meet you.”

Another customer came in, and Tommy hurried away to serve them.

Wilbur’s smile dropped. “Let’s hear it.”

Techno sighed. “I should have texted.”

“No shit!” Wilbur whisper screamed. “You can’t just fuck off to wherever whenever you feel like it! If Phil didn’t track you—“

“Phil what?”

“Tracked you. Don’t look so surprised, you pull shit like this all the time.” Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Why are you with Tommy?”

Techno shrugged helplessly. “He makes the voices go away.”

“Real funny. Why are you really with him?”

Techno held eye contact with Wilbur. “I’m being serious. I don’t know why, but whenever I touch him they just—“ Techno mimed an explosion with his hands. “—Vanish.”

Wilbur’s expression morphed into one of consideration, his brows drawn together. “You’re not kidding, huh?”

Techno shook his head adamantly. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Okay. Let’s figure this out later.”

Tommy was walking towards them, depositing a drink on the table and leaning against Wilbur’s chair.

“How are you getting along?” Tommy grinned. “You’re both weird. That means you probably get along great, eh?”

“Oh, we’re weird? Okay, Mr. Amnesiac.” Wilbur snorted.

Tommy stuck out his tongue and stole a sip of Wilbur’s drink.

“Mr what?” Techno asked blankly.

Tommy sucked in a breath. “Oh yeah, you don’t know. Forgot about that.”

Wilbur shared a look with him, before they both turned back to Techno.

“I have amnesia. No memories of anything before this year.” Tommy shrugged. “It sucked in the begging, but I’m basically fine now.”

“We like to theorize about his life before,” Wilbur explained. “My running theory is that he’s an AI created by the government! There’s a bunch of labs near the top of the river, and I think he either escaped or was thrown out.”

“I think that theory is stupid because I would have run out of battery by now.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “My theory is that I was a super high class government agent—“

“Yeah, obviously, a thirteen year old government agent—“

“Put a sock in it, Wilbur. I’m at least eighteen. Anyways, government agent. Codename: Wife Haver. I find out about a conspiracy, and instead of killing me they wipe my memories!” Tommy tapped his temple. “Smart, right?”

“Eh, my theory is better.”

“It’s not! You like mine, right Techno?”

Wilbur and Tommy both turned toward Techno for approval.

“I feel like it was probably just an ability gone wrong. Or maybe you hit your head.” Techno glanced skeptically at Wilbur. “But if I had to choose, Tommy’s makes more sense.”

“What! Techno, be reasonable here. A government agent? He’s like twelve!” Wilbur cried, outraged.

“Fuck you, Wil. This is why Techno’s my favorite.”

Wilbur gasped dramatically. “Tommy! Wait, so how did you guys even meet?”

“He was on my roof.” Tommy told Wilbur cheerfully.

“—Collapsed, on the roof, actually.” Techno nodded.

“And you just?” Wilbur struggled to find the words. “Invited him to a slumber party?”

“Look at that face!” Tommy grabbed one of Techno’s cheeks and gave it a squeeze. “How could I have left him out all alone?”

“Tommy, my love, you can’t just let people into your house.” Wilbur flicked him on the forehead.

“I’m a good judge of character.” Tommy assured him. “Like, the minute I met you I knew you were an annoying little shit.”

Wilbur flicked him again. “I think you lost, like, half your brain cells along with your memories.”

“And I’m still a fucking genius. Only a government spy could be this smart.”

Wilbur reached over and wrestled Tommy into a headlock, mussing his hair and yelling about AI’s.

Tommy grinned. He’d gained another regular. A pink-haired, clingy regular.

Chapter Text

“Damn it, Tubbo, give me something here,” Tommy hissed, clinging desperately to the metal pipe stretching across the length of the ceiling.

“I’m trying,” came the scratchy voice through his ear piece, along with the sound of flurried typing. “Okay, I’ve got one exit for you. But you aren’t gonna like it.”

“As long as I don’t end up with about a dozen bullets in my head? You won’t catch me complaining.” Tommy fired back. “Directions?”

A pained sigh. “Remember I’m saving your ass right now.”

“—Saving my ass from a situation you got me into in the first place? Sure, just tell me how to get out of here.” Tommy caught himself raising his voice, and glanced nervously beneath him at the guards, who were searching beneath the king sized bed, shifting aside satin blankets.

“Ok, swing over into the bedroom. The other one, with the pink blankets.” Tubbo told him, and Tommy dropped silently to the ground, slipping behind a probably priceless vase. He had considered it for one of his hiding spots, but the top was a little too narrow.

From there, he rolled behind the coffee table. It wasn’t pure gold, but that ugly little statue sitting on it certainly was.

He considered snagging it, but he had what he needed. Better not to risk it.

“You there?” Tubbo asked apprehensively.

“Yeah, I made it.” Tommy confirmed, nestling behind a bookshelf “Now what?”

“See the north wall? It’s to the left of the big window.” Tubbo told him.

“Yeah, I see it. Rich people are weird, I swear, this book has diamonds inlaid on the jacket. What’s even the point?” Tommy scoffed.

“Agreed. If I was rich—“

“Off topic, off topic! We can talk about what we’re gonna do when we’re rich later.” Tommy shifted the bag of goods on his back. “So what do I do?”

“Ever heard of a laundry chute?”

“…” Tommy was silent.

“North wall, near the floor. You’ll fit.”

“I think I’d rather take my chances with the guards out there.” Tommy decided, spotting the small door near the bed.

“Cmon, it’s not even a straight drop down!” Tubbo urged. “And there’ll be piles of clothes to cushion you’re fall!”

“What floor so they do laundry on?” Tommy asked suspiciously.

“…The basement.” Tubbo mumbled. “It’s actually such a poor design, all the rooms on this side feed into the same tube, it misses most of the other rooms, and mixes the clothes, they must have a system in place or something…”

Tommy glared at the chute like it was his mortal enemy, and sighed.

“If it turns out they incinerate dirty laundry or something and I die, I’m going to haunt the shit out of you.”

“Duly noted.”

Tommy lifted the trap door, gazing down square metal tube. It definitely looked like a straight drop.

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon,” Tubbo urged. “Have I ever led you astray before.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow and let the silence speak for itself.

“…Okay fair. But this one I’m sure about! Down the chute, slip out through the back, easy as that!” Tubbo said enthusiastically.

Tommy groaned. “Right. Wish me luck then.”

He tossed his backpack down, then slid his feet in, stuck his arms to his sides, and closed his eyes.

It was definitely a straight drop. Tommy yelled something about checking those blueprints for himself when he got back, before he dropped into a bin of laundry. After puking his dinner onto a dress that was definitely designer (it was fine, they were already dirty) he grabbed his back and peeked inside. Everything was still intact.

He looked around the room, finding it blissfully empty. It was noisy, lots of big machines and pipes, along with a few rows of washing machines and dryers.

“You make it down alright?”

“Yup. I leave out the door near the back, right?” Tommy guessed, pulling himself out of the large hamper.

“Home stretch.” Tubbo said happily, and Tommy opened the door slowly, peeking out. It was also blissfully empty, and he made his way over to a fire escape on the neighboring buildings.

He and Tubbo had a system— Tubbo made the plan, Tommy put it into action, and when they were done with whatever they were doing, Tommy strapped the stolen goods, or weapons, or spray paint, onto one of the drones, and then strolled casually out of the alley.

When he reached the roof, the drone was already waiting.

“These things are brilliant,” Tommy admired. Tubbo was smart on his own, but when it came to tech he was a certifiable genius.

“Why, thank you!” He heard Tubbo type something, and a light on the drone blinked, and Tommy chuckled.

He turned away and pulled his mask down to breathe freely for a second. He didn’t look too suspicious, masks were pretty common in the streets, be it due to the illnesses running rampant or the smoke that clogged up the air. His hair was pushed back, and his hood was pulled over his face. Just some kid lurking around, nobody would question it.

He dropped down into the alley and was about to make his way toward the street when someone turned into the alley.

He darted behind the dumpster, pressing himself behind a few overflowing trash bags.

“Shit, we can’t keep it here now.” One of the men was saying, clear panic in his tone.

“You don’t think it was really them who broke in here? I hear it was some rookie.” A calmer reply came.

Tommy frowned. Who was he calling a rookie?

“Yeah well, if he could get in, this place can’t be too secure, can it?” The panicked voice shot back.

Tommy fumed behind the trash. It was extremely secure, thank you very much! He was just that good. Also, his gender was a secret so that asshole had fully assumed! Assumed correctly, but still!

“I say we just take it back the headquarters.” A third voice joined the mix, sounding more tired than anything.

“Are you dumb? That’s the first place they’ll look— and if they see us going in there, they’ll follow, and then hero HQ’s gonna be destroyed!” Panicked guy shouted.

Tommy frowned. Were these guys heroes? He peeked out from behind the trash and saw three figures.

He ducked away immediately. The Dream Team? Shitty name aside, these guys were the real deal. Whatever this ‘it’ was, it had to be important, and whoever was chasing them had to be pretty intimidating for some of the top heroes to be trembling in their boots at the mention of them.

“Lay off him.” The calm one— Dream, Tommy recognized him, said to Sapnap, who Tommy also knew. He wasn’t sure about the other one, but he’d seen him before. “But he’s right, George, we have to find another place for it.”

George? That didn’t sound like a hero name. Was it the third guy’s real name?

He wanted to update Tubbo, but his whispering would certainly be heard.

He risked another peek, and this time saw Dream was holding something. It was minuscule, and glowing a faint gold-ish hue, pulsing like a heart.

He bet someone somewhere would pay a shit ton of money for it.

Tommy pulled back again, weighing his options. Wait it out, hide behind the trash until they leave, or nab the stone and figure it out from there.

The choice was pretty obvious.

Stealing the stone would be dangerous, and there was no way he could take on three heroes, not to mention whoever was chasing them.

Waiting it out would be safer.

“Dream.” A fourth voice growled, and Tommy blinked, once again looking into the alley.

Three more people had joined them in the alley. Tommy also recognized these figures. That mask, the wings, strong enough to scare, or at the very least stress out the top heroes. The Syndicate! Some of it, anyway.

Dream stayed silent, holding the stone behind his back.

“Return it.” Siren demanded, taking a threatening step forward, and Tommy sensed the words were laced with power.

George stepped forward, and Tommy couldn’t tell what he did, but it seemed to nullify Siren’s affect.

Not fully, though, because Dream grunted and took a small step forward. The stone fell to the ground and started rolling.

Sapnap let out a roar and threw himself at the villains, and Dream followed.

Tommy’s eyes stayed glued to the stone, though. It was round, round enough to be a marble.

No one pursued it, too focused on the combat. It came to a stop right it front of Tommy.

“Okay universe,” he grumbled. “I get the message.”

He snatched it up and darted for the fire escape. He made it a good ways up, to, before someone— or maybe multiple someones— took notice.

“He has the stone!”

“Get him!”

Tommy ran, sprinted, faster than he ever had before. Leaping across the rooftops, dodging around clothes lines, ignoring the shouts from behind him.

Of course, then he came to the river, and he was presented with a choice. Hand the stone over to the heroes, or the villains.

He chose swallowing it and jumping to his death, which in retrospect probably wasn’t the smartest.

Who could blame him, though? If he gave it to the heroes, he’d be arrested for sure, and who knows if they’d connect him to his numerous other crimes. If he gave it to the villains, he might be spared from their wraith, but he’d also become an accomplice.

-

Tommy woke up and assumed he’d almost drowned.

He didn’t realize immediately, that his memories were gone. First he stood up and stumbled over to a bench to sit down.

Then, he wondered if he’d parents were worried. Then he realized he didn’t have parents. Or maybe he did— there was an empty gap in his mind where a childhood should be.

People, names, everything that might have helped him remember who he was stood just beyond his reach.

It took some getting used to. Especially the intense de ja vù that he got all the time, but he got used to it.

He had a new life. Hopefully nothing from his past one came back to haunt him.