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Dark SBI ABC Challenge: Mine to Cherish Discord, Dark sbi fanfics (yay), Piglin Tommy to Rot the Brain
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Published:
2022-04-06
Updated:
2022-04-12
Words:
9,310
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2/3
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46
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1,204
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The Rains of Pompeii Tear Us Apart

Summary:

Techno's the top villain just trying to raise his baby brother.
Phil's the top hero just trying to keep his son happy.
Worlds collide.

 

Prompt: villains

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter Text

“TECHNO!” Tommy squealed, running over to his big brother. Techno squatted down, holding his arms open. The blonde threw himself, literally, onto his brother. Luckily, Techno kept his balance, and they didn’t go tumbling to the ground together.

“Hey, runt,” Techno greeted, petting the blonde’s hair.

“I missed you,” Tommy admitted, tightening his hold.

“I missed you too.”

Tommy stayed in his brother’s arms, listening to the comforting rumbles and chuffs from the older piglin hybrid.

Tommy unhooked his arms from Techno’s neck and took a step back. His big brother stood up and held out a hand, which Tommy happily latched onto. They began their walk home.

“How was school?” Techno asked like he always did.

“Good!” Tommy beamed. “Tubbo got in a fight today!”

“Oh? Did he?”

“Mhm! Someone was being mean to ‘Boo during recess.” 

Techno never got a call from the school, so he assumed Tommy wasn’t involved. He didn’t know how to feel about that.

“If I was there, I would’ve smashed their faces in!

Faces? Plural?

“How many kids were picking on Ranboo?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy sighed, sounding defeated. “Mrs. Puffy made me stay inside to work on my spelling.”

“Hm,” Techno grunted. “Is Tubbo okay?”

“Dunno,” Tommy shrugged. “His dad picked him up early. Boo said he’s missing his front tooth now.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, but that means we match now!” Tommy giggled, pointing to his gap-toothed grin. Techno chuckled, saying nothing. 

“Can we go check on him? Please?” Tommy asked, trying the puppy dog eyes. Techno was reluctant to admit they worked from time to time. But that wasn’t the case today.

The piglin looked up to the grey sky. “It looks like it’s going to rain soon. We can check on him tomorrow, okay?”

“But what if he needs help now!” Tommy tried. “I want to help him! You help people!”

“That’s-” Techno sighed, mentally facepalming. “That’s not the same.”

“I want to be like you when I’m older! I need practice helping people now!”

Techno wasn’t budging. He loved Tommy to the ends of the earth, don’t get him wrong, but he wasn’t getting caught in the rain to check on Tommy’s friend. He considered swinging by if he ended up going out on patrol, but he wasn’t going to get Tommy’s hopes up.

“How about we call him when we get home? Hm?”

“He doesn’t have a phone.”

“I have Schlatt’s number.”

Tommy gasped quietly, squeezing Techno’s hand. “Really?!”

“Mhm. Once we get home, I’ll see if he’ll let you talk to Tubbo.”

“Okay!” Tommy beamed, skipping alongside his brother. Techno smiled fondly at the young boy. 

The closer the pair got to their home, the darker the skies got. Techno tried to walk quicker, but Tommy’s short legs struggled to keep up. When Techno offered to carry him, the blonde shouted his denials. 

“I’m a big man! I don’t need help!” he had argued. Techno knew it wasn’t true, but he also knew he wouldn’t win that argument. Tommy was stubborn. It ran in the family.

Techno thought he would have a chance to win the argument when a loud crack of thunder boomed above them, causing Tommy to jump and cling onto Techno’s leg like a koala. 

“You’re okay,” Techno whispered. Tommy hated storms. Techno did too, but they didn’t affect him as badly. “We’ll be home soon.”

Tommy whined and hid his face in Techno’s pant leg. He couldn’t walk with his baby brother wrapped around him.

“Tommy? How about I carry you the rest of the way?”

“Uh-uh,” Tommy muttered. “I’ma big man.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a flash of lightning lit up the sky. Tommy whimpered, short nails digging into Techno’s leg.

“Yes, you are, but even the biggest men can accept help,” Techno tried.

“‘m fine,” Tommy huffed.

Techno internally groaned. 

“Come here,” Techno decided, reaching down to grab Tommy. Once his hands were under Tommy’s armpits, the kid loosened his hold. Techno hoisted the boy up onto his hip, bouncing slightly. Little arms wrapped around his neck, face buried in his shirt. “You’re okay.”

A few raindrops landed on Techno’s arm. He guessed they only had a few minutes before it started pouring. 

He hurried down the sidewalk, patting Tommy’s back as they walked. The kid flinched with every boom of thunder or flash of lightning. Despite Techno’s reassuring chuffs, the boy was shaking in his arms.

“We’re almost home,” Techno whispered, looking both ways before crossing the street. He knew a shortcut through the alleyways. It wasn’t the safest route, but Techno hoped the rain scared off most of the thugs. Worst-case scenario, he can deal with some petty criminals.

Techno ducked into a back alley, eyes alert for any type of threats. The place seemed desolate, thankfully.

That peace ended shortly later, after a few twists and turns.

Someone jumped out in front of Techno, holding a gun up. Two men stood behind him, with weapons of their own. 

Techno tightened his hold on Tommy, protectiveness flaring up while chat roared.

“Don’t make a scene,” the guy in the middle ordered, walking up to Techno. He stepped back. He wasn’t engaging with Tommy around. “Just give us your wallet and get out of here.”

Techno huffed, ready to tear the dudes to pieces.

Instead, he whispered to Tommy and set him on the ground. A tiny hand grabbed onto his pants and looked up reluctantly.

“Trust me, go,” Techno told his brother.

“Hey!” the thug shouted, pointing the gun at Tommy. Every instinct in Techno’s body screamed. Someone was threatening his baby brother. Techno’s job was to protect his shoat. “He’s not going anywhere.”

“He’s a kid,” Techno growled. “Keep him out of this.”

“Give us your wallet, and we’ll leave him alone!”

Techno stepped in front of Tommy, blocking him from view. “Go.”

“But-” Tommy tried. Techno shushed him.

“Tommy, this isn’t up for discussion,” Techno said in a low voice. 

Tommy’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go.

“Enough!” the criminal shouted, stepping forward to press the gun against Techno’s forehead. “Just give me your wallet already!”

“You don’t want to do this,” Techno said evenly. 

Tommy recognized that voice. That was his serious talk voice. Tommy had only heard it once when he didn’t tell Techno he was hanging out with Tubbo after school. Immediate cookies and hugs followed the lecture. Tommy didn’t think these guys were getting either of those things.

“Dude, come on! We’re just trying to make some money out here! Stop being difficult.”

Techno turned his head to look down at Tommy. He mouthed ‘go.’

Tommy didn’t want to leave his brother. It wasn’t for fear of his safety. No. Techno was the most wanted villain. He could handle himself. Tommy didn’t doubt that for a split second.

But Tommy didn’t want to be alone. It was raining and storming, and Tommy wanted to be home. Home was warm, and Techno always held Tommy close, and they would cuddle in front of the fireplace. The alley was dark and cold, and mean guys were trying to rob them.

Techno’s face dropped into something dark. He grunted a sound that made Tommy’s instincts go haywire.

Reluctantly, he let go of his brother and backed away. Techno nodded. 

“Hey!” the thug yelled. “Tell the kid to come back!”

Techno turned around the same time Tommy did. 

“GO GET THE KID!” one of the guys shouted. Footsteps ran in his direction, but they were quickly cut off by the sounds of bone cracking.

Tommy didn’t stay to find out what his brother was going to do to the men. He needed to run. 

It hurt to leave Techno. Everything in his mind screamed to go back to his only remaining family. The last time they got separated–

Tommy ran.

He stomped through puddles, soaking his shoes. Hopefully, Techno wouldn’t be upset. He didn’t like when Tommy got his clothes wet. He said it was bad for his health or something.

Protector?

Family?

Brother?

Go help!

Help brother!

Need brother!

Brother safe!

Not safe!

His instincts begged him to go back. Each step hurt, like he was getting pulled apart at the seams. Techno told him to go, so Tommy had to listen to his protector. Techno knew what was best for him.

He didn’t pay attention to where he was going. They were close to home, right? 

Tommy was a big man! He would figure out how to get home. The brothers walked to and from school every day. Walking home should’ve been muscle memory by that point.

But the more Tommy looked around, the less familiar things seemed. Techno never walked him home that way. Tommy wasn’t allowed to go in the alleys.

But he had to figure it out. Techno would be so proud if he got home all by himself!

He took random turns, hoping they were leading him somewhere.

The rain got worse with each step. It was uncomfortable and made Tommy squirm in the worst way possible.

But he was too close to the danger. That was what Techno said.

Tommy continued weaving through the maze of backstreets. 

He jumped when the thunder cracked. It sounded dangerously similar to a gunshot. What if–

Tommy ran.

Tommy’s hair and clothes stuck to his skin. There weren’t any tears on his face! No, those were just raindrops. Big men didn’t cry.

His legs hurt from all the running. His bookbag smacked against his back with each step. Oh, crap. His homework was going to be ruined! That was just the icing on the cake! What more could go wrong?

Apparently, a lot more.

Tommy ran until he found an escape from the alleyways. However, he didn’t recognize the street. The buildings were too tall and fancy. 

Tommy lived in a nice neighborhood with big yards. 

If he thought hard about it, he thought he saw similar architecture when watching Techno fight on the news. Techno refused to fight near their home. Tommy never understood why, but he wouldn’t complain. The heroes were destructive. He didn’t want his home destroyed.

But if he was where Techno fought the bad guys, that meant he must’ve gone the wrong way. 

He stared around for a few seconds until some thunder made him jump. He chose a random direction and hoped it’d lead home.

If anything, the opposite came true. The terrain became less and less familiar. 

Tommy was all but sobbing, choking down small squeaks. He wanted Techno.

But Techno was Prime knows where. As much as he tried, Tommy couldn’t keep the scary thoughts from seeping into the corners of his brain.

What if the bad guys hurt Techno?

What if Tommy would never see his brother again?

What if someone tried to hurt Tommy?

What if Techno never found Tommy?

What if Tommy lost his only remaining family?

Tommy’s knees buckled, and he went crashing to the pavement. His pants were without a doubt ripped at the knees, and his palms were cut open. 

The dam broke.

Tommy sobbed, laying in a puddle, hands and knees bleeding, crying for his family that wouldn’t come to his rescue. 

The sky laughed at his misery. The rain came down harder, making it near impossible to see more than a few feet in front of his face.

It hurt. Every droplet of rain felt like sandpaper being dragged across his skin. No matter how he squirmed, he couldn’t get away from the feeling. 

Tommy gave a small squeak, waiting for Techno to swoop in and make the pain go away.

 

He never came.







Wilbur giggled, jumping into a puddle. Water splashed up, soaking his pants and the tips of his wings.

“WILBUR!” Phil shouted from the porch. “COME INSIDE!”

Wilbur only laughed, running over to the next puddle.

“Wil! I’m not kidding! You’re going to get sick!”

Phil went ignored as Wilbur puddle hopped in the street. His wings were getting heavier from the rain, but he didn’t care. He was having fun. His wings could dry later. 

Then Phil would preen them! Wilbur loved when his wings got preened. The feeling made him all tingly and happy.

When Wilbur heard the front door shut, he turned to see Phil stomping through the rain.

Oh! Phil was coming to play too!

Wilbur shrieked, running down the street, making sure to step in every puddle. 

“You can’t catch me!” Wilbur turned around and taunted his father. The rainfall got heavier, making Wilbur’s hair stick to his forehead. His wings were soaked, probably twice their normal weight. A few times, he nearly fell backward, not used to the extra weight.

“Wil! This isn’t a game! I’m serious,” Phil hissed. 

Wilbur stared at him for a few moments. 

His dad was always so nice. He spoke in soft tones and held Wilbur close. Kisses were often pressed to his forehead or hair. They’d laugh and sing in the kitchen together. More than once, they got into flour fights. Sometimes eggs were involved too.

But rarely had Wilbur heard his dad angry. If he was upset, it was usually with someone on the phone. 

For once, that tone was directed at Wilbur. He didn’t like it. His stomach dropped like he swallowed an anvil.

Phil was closing the gap between them, all while Wilbur stood like a deer in headlights.

A splash broke him from his trance. His head whipped over to the source of the sound. A small boy crashed into a puddle on the sidewalk. He stayed perfectly still for a few moments. Then, a heart-wrenching sob came from the kid. 

Wilbur watched Phil on TV. He was a hero; he helped people. Wilbur wanted to be just like Phil, so he ran over to the kid. He looked like he needed help. Phil couldn’t be angry at Wilbur if he did something good!

“WILBUR! COME HERE!”

Maybe that logic was a tiny bit flawed.

Wilbur squatted down in front of the kid, unsure what to do.

“Hey,” he said, poking the boy’s shoulder. The kid only cried harder, squeaking occasionally.

“Wilbur,” Phil panted, getting closer. “You’re grounded once we–”

Phil gasped. When Wilbur looked up, his eyes were locked on the crying child.

“We have to help him,” Wilbur begged. His dad was Crow Father! He was like legally obligated to help hurt kids or something. Wilbur didn’t know how exactly it worked.

The boy made another one of his weird squeaks/oinks, and Phil’s pupils instantly dilated. He rushed forward, gently pushing Wilbur aside to scoop the boy up.

Phil chirped at the kid. The sound made Wilbur’s head go all fuzzy, but it also stopped the kid’s crying. His sobs slowed into occasional hiccups and anxious squeaks.

“You’re okay, mate. Let’s get you inside,” Phil whispered to the kid in his arms. “Wilbur? Can he borrow a set of your clothes?”

Wilbur gasped. He’d get to be a hero after all!

“Yes!”

“Thank you. He needs something extra warm, okay?”

“Okay!”







“Dad?” Wilbur nudged the door open, poking his head into the bedroom a few hours later. 

Phil was sitting in the middle of the bed with the child in his arms, patting his back. 

Wilbur’s eyes went wide when he noticed the thin pink tail with a puff of white fur. 

“He’s a hybrid,” Wilbur gasped, stepping into the room. Phil lifted a finger to his mouth, gesturing to the sleeping kid. He continued patting the boy’s back after that.

Wilbur climbed into the bed carefully, staring at the kid in awe. It should’ve been obvious he was a hybrid. His skin was a bit too pink, but Wilbur blamed the lighting. The scared oinks suddenly made sense too.

Wilbur watched the boy’s thin tail flick back and forth as he slept. 

It was weird seeing him calm. Wilbur had been listening to him screech for the past few hours while Phil tried to get him into the bath.

“Piglin,” Phil whispered. “He’s a piglin hybrid.”

Wilbur smiled, eyes crinkling as he looked up to his dad. “Can we keep him?”

“No,” Phil chuckled. “He probably got lost in the storm. Someone’s going to be looking for him.”

“They’re not a very good parent if they lost their kid in the rain,” Wilbur scoffed.

Phil huffed, glaring at Wilbur. As if the kid didn’t try running into the rain a few hours prior. With the heavy rainfall, even Phil would’ve struggled to keep an eye on his son. No one should’ve been out in that storm.

“Don’t say that, Wil,” Phil scolded. “You don’t know their story.”

Wilbur deflated, shoulders slumping. 

“What are you going to do then?”

“I’ll take him to the HQ tomorrow and see if we can find any records of him. We’ll have him back to his family in no time.”

That didn’t provide Wilbur with as much comfort as he thought it would.

“You get attached quickly, don’t you?” Phil laughed quietly. “Wonder where you got that from.”

Wilbur frowned and crossed his arms. It wasn’t funny. Wilbur wanted a little brother. And his parents sucked! They shouldn’t be allowed to have a kid if they let him run away. 

“I want to meet his Mom and Dad,” Wilbur declared with a huff. 

“Wil,” Phil warned softly. “I’ll make sure he’s in good hands, okay?”

Wilbur didn’t trust that. People lied! 

“Dadddddd,” Wilbur whined. “Please? Let me help!”

Phil smiled fondly. “You’re determined, huh?”

“Mhm!”

Phil sighed, thinking for a moment. “Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?”

That wasn’t a no.

Wilbur could work with that.

“Okay,” Wilbur agreed, crawling closer to Phil and the sleeping child. 

The boy was actually cute when his face wasn’t covered in tears and snot. He had the chubbiest cheeks that Wilbur wanted to reach out and pinch. A bright red hue dusted over his nose and cheeks, likely from the fever. Phil said the rain made piglins get really sick. 

His hair was the brightest golden color, and the little bird in Wilbur’s brain trilled happily at that.

It didn’t help that the boy was snuggled up in Wilbur’s clothes. They didn’t fit– Wilbur was probably five or so years older– but it made the kid even more adorable.

The bird brain got attached.

“Are you sure we can’t keep him?” Wilbur tried again. “Just for a day or two!”

“We can’t keep someone’s kid,” Phil frowned, shaking his head. “Imagine if someone found you, and I didn’t know where you were for days. How would you feel if you were in my position?”

Wilbur bowed his head, staring at his lap. “I’d be worried.”

“Exactly. I know you have his best interest in mind, but it’d be wrong to keep him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Wilbur sighed, falling into his dad’s side. A wing wrapped around him. Wilbur stared at the sleeping child on Phil’s other shoulder, sucking his thumb. 

Another wing wrapped around the boy, enclosing the three in a comforting darkness.

“Get some rest, mate.” Phil kissed the top of Wilbur’s head. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Okay,” Wilbur obliged, albeit reluctantly. His bird brain wanted to hold the baby piglin and keep him safe, but Phil said no. Stupid Phil. “Goodnight, dad.”

“Goodnight, Wil. I love you.”

“I love you too.”







“What do you mean they’re dead?” Phil exclaimed, leaning over the desk to look at the monitor. Bad rolled his chair to the side so he didn’t get crushed by Phil’s puffed-up wings.

“His parents died three years ago,” Bad explained. Phil read over the screen time and time again, hoping something would change.

But no.

Tommy Innit had no remaining family. His parents and older brother died in a house fire. Tommy was the only survivor, somehow.

“He’s enrolled in school,” Phil pointed to the screen like Bad hadn’t been the one to find Tommy’s file. “A six-year-old can’t enroll themselves in school, Bad.”

“I know that,” Bad replied evenly, putting his hands up placatingly. “Someone else probably took him in.”

“Who?!” Phil shouted, wings flaring half out.

Bad pushed his chair further away from Phil. “Hey, I need you to relax. We’ve dealt with bigger things than a kid. We’ll figure something out.”

“He’s not just a kid!”

Frankly, Phil didn’t know why he cared so much. He didn’t know the kid or owe him shit. Any other heroes would’ve looked at his file and handed him off to foster care. So why couldn’t Phil just let him go?

“Yes, I know, but I don’t think this is what we should be spending our resources on. I mean, vigilante sightings have been up ten percent from last month. And seventy percent of vigilantes end up in the villain category. We should be preventing crime.”

Before Phil could argue (because he couldn’t give two shits about vigilantes), his communicator started buzzing in his pocket. He shifted his glare away from Bad, pulling the device out of his pocket.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Phil groaned, rolling his eyes. “Blood God has shit timing. Can you watch the kid until I get back?”

“I’m a detective, not a babysitter,” Bad sputtered, seeming offended Phil would even consider such a thing.

Apparently, his answer went in one ear and right out the other.

“Awesome, thanks.” Phil forced a smile before walking to the kid playing with a Rubix cube on the floor. Tommy looked up at him with one red eye and one blue eye. “Hey, mate. I got to go take care of something real quick. You be good for Bad, okay?”

Tommy stared up at him stupidly. There wasn’t a thought behind those dual-toned eyes.

“Atta boy,” Phil praised, ruffling his hair before heading to the exit.

He spread his wings out wide and took to the sky, reading the news headline as he flew.

‘LIVE: The Blood God Ravages District 3. No Heroes on Scene.’

Phil internally groaned. None of the other heroes were able to keep up with The Blood God, except for Phil. Even then, Phil wouldn’t say they were evenly matched. He could barely keep up. More often than not, their fights ended with The Blood God walking away out of boredom. 

Phil would be left a panting, sweaty mess, while The Blood God hardly had a hair out of place.

He could keep up, but it always seemed like The Blood God was pulling his punches. Phil never understood why.

The Blood God was a fucking tank that just appeared one day. His name became well known, and his power and fame only grew from there. He was a living nightmare– one of the most mysterious, unsolved cases.

Phil flew closer to district 3. Smoke burned his lungs the closer he got. Luckily, his mask had enough of a filter that it didn’t bother him too much.

Phil caught a glimpse of red and gold and dove to the ground. 

Blood God was distracted by something else, so he didn’t see Phil swoop in. The winged hero tackled the villain; the pair went tumbling in a mess of limbs and feathers.

Blood God quickly recovered, shoving Phil off and growling.

Phil’s instincts shrunk at the sound, screaming to seek cover. But he had figured out how to suppress those feelings while he was fighting. Wilbur paid the price of extra cuddles and preening later in the day.

“Blood God,” Phil greeted, one hand hovering over the hilt of his blade. He wouldn’t draw his weapon yet. 

Instead of their normal face-off, Blood God groaned and walked away.

Phil froze for a moment.

What?

“Blood God!” Phil shouted, flying up and cutting the criminal off. He growled at Phil, drawing his blade.

“I don’t have time for this,” Blood God complained, blood-red eyes locking on Phil. Shivers ran down his spine. He’d never get used to that burning stare. “Get out of my way.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Phil replied. “You’re a wanted criminal.”

“You know you can’t win this fight, Crow Father.”

“You underestimate me.”

“Prime, you heroes are so full of yourselves,” Blood God grumbled. “Can we fight already so I can continue my search?”

Search? What the hell did The Blood God need? Nothing good if he couldn’t get a lackey to take care of it.

“What are you looking for?” If Phil knew, he could tell HQ to up security there. Could it be a nether star? Criminals always wanted to get their hands on those.

Blood God didn’t answer. Instead, he lunged forward, blade first.

Phil drew his weapon, blocking at the last minute. Metal clashed against metal loudly.

Phil quickly surveyed his surroundings. All the citizens had evacuated, thankfully. He didn’t have to worry about people getting caught in the crossfire.

Blood God drew back, attacking again. Phil blocked again. 

The pair sparred in a deadly sort of dance. Blood God attacked; Phil stayed on the defense. It was familiar.

After a few blows, Blood God seemed to get sick of their parrying. He took a few steps back, twirling the blade in his hand. Phil braced himself, considering going for an attack. He needed to be more offensive if he wanted to win.

Phil didn’t think for a moment longer. He pushed forward, flapping his wings to get more force behind his attack.

Blood God stayed in place, waiting for Phil to get closer.

Then, Blood God smirked.

Phil realized, too late, that he played into the villain’s hand. He tried to stop himself, but he had too much forward momentum.

Blood God jumped up at the last second, letting Phil attack the open air. A sudden weight slammed down onto his back, right between his wings. His balance was thrown off, and he went crashing onto the ground, skidding across the cement.

“Shit,” Phil hissed, ignoring the sting in his legs and arms. He needed to get a reinforced suit.

Before he could get up, a boot stepped onto his back, keeping him face down in the street.

“It was nice while it lasted, Crow Father,” Blood God taunted from above. Phil turned his head to see an axe in the villain’s hand instead of his usual sword. Fuck.

Phil flapped his wings and tried to get to his feet.

A second boot stomped down onto his left wing with a loud snap. Phil screamed as that wing fell limp and flared with white-hot pain.

Shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit.

No fucking way. Low goddamn blow.

Blood God lifted the axe, staring down at the hero with zero mercy.

“Wait!” Phil pleaded. His broken wing flexed by instinct and sent a new wave of agony through his back. Phil bit his lip hard to keep down the cry in his throat.

Blood God ignored Phil writhing in pain and desperation. He stared at Phil’s neck, ready to end things once and for all.

“Blood for the Blood God,” the villain murmured his catchphrase, bringing his weapon down.



“DAD!”

NO.

Phil watched as his son ran from wherever he was hiding, jumping between The Blood God and Phil. 

Where the hell did he come from? He should’ve been in school!

Blood God stopped his blow at the last second. His axe brushed too close to Wilbur’s face. Phil’s instincts and brain were uproarious. For once, the two worked in tandem, agreeing his son’s safety was the top priority.

Wilbur was NEVER supposed to be anywhere near the fights.

“Wil,” Phil puffed. “Go home.”

“NO!” Wilbur shouted, his small wings spreading out to hide Phil’s face from The Blood God. Somehow, that made things worse. He couldn’t see the predator threatening his boy.

“Dad?” Blood God said lowly. Phil didn’t like that tone. His heart rate and breathing picked up. His wings fluffed up, even the broken one.

“You can’t hurt my dad!” Wilbur shouted, sounding strong, but Phil knew better. 

“Wilbur, stop,” Phil begged. Losing his only son would be worse than losing his life. He couldn’t just lay there and let Wilbur play the hero. 

Because Wilbur wasn’t a hero.

Wilbur would never be a hero.

“No,” the boy said, his voice shaking. 

Fuck, Phil needed to comfort his boy and keep him safe. NOW. But with a broken wing and the heavy ass foot on his back, he couldn’t move.

Blood God laughed. Like… he fucking laughed. Phil never wanted to hear that damn sound ever again.

“Do you think you’re a hero, little one?” Blood God asked, taunting Wilbur. The kid didn’t know any better. He took the bait.

“Y-Yes!” Wilbur barked back. “Dad said anyone can be a hero!”

“Stop!” Phil pleaded, trying anything and everything to get up. “Leave him out of this!”

Phil’s struggles went ignored.

“Do you know what happens to heroes?”

“They win! They stop the bad guy!”

The Blood God laughed again. It was a blood-curdling, humorless, dreadful sound.

“You’re so naive,” Blood God commented.

“Leave him alone!” Phil shouted. 

Suddenly, the weight was off his back.

Phil scrambled to his feet, wobbling slightly with the broken wing dragging behind him. He ignored the pain, reaching for Wilbur to get him away from–

He was too slow.

The Blood God had pulled Wilbur to his chest, caging him in his burly arms. Wilbur looked on the verge of tears, but he smiled.

“Wilbur,” Phil gasped, fighting to catch his breath.

“You can have him back,” Blood God said simply.

“After I find who I’m looking for.”

God fucking dammit. 

Phil’s legs caved, and he fell to his knees. His son. Wilbur was clearly fucking terrified, shaking in the villain's arms. His uneasy smile fell into a nervous grimace.

“Dad?” Wilbur’s voice cracked.

Phil nearly burst into tears at that. He knew exactly what Wilbur was thinking.

The good guys always win! You’ll keep me safe, Dad! It’ll be okay.

“No, please,” Phil begged. He looked pathetic on his knees before The Blood God, one wing drooping uselessly, pleading with the villain. “Take me instead.”

“No,” Blood God denied easily, one hand trailing up to Wilbur’s throat. A claw traced around Wilbur’s jugular. “I think you need to know how it feels to lose a child.”

“NO!” Phil shrieked, forcing himself to stand. His body ached in ways he hadn’t experienced before. He was one small push away from crumbling to the ground, but he needed his son back.

He looked for his weapon. It was off to the side, close to the sidewalk.

“Don’t bother,” Blood God mocked. “I have what I want. Isn’t that right, little hero?”

“WAIT! WILBUR!”

Phil bolted forward, but The Blood God was too far away. He threw Wilbur over his shoulder and ran. Phil couldn’t keep up if he tried.

The last thing he heard was his son scream, “NO! DAD!”

Phil collapsed, staring at the spot his son was a few seconds earlier. 

Just like that, his world came crashing down. Everything he loved was gone. His son was in the hands of the top villain.

He failed.

Chapter 2

Summary:

They realize.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“It’s fine!” Phil growled, batting away the hands tending to his broken wing. 

Everything was just fucking great.

The Blood God had Phil’s only son.

Phil’s wing was broken, so he’d be out of action for an undetermined amount of time.

And just the cherry on top, the fucking kid Wilbur cared so much about had pneumonia, and Phil got put in charge of taking care of him.

The doctor said it’d be good for him. It’d give him something to focus on instead of worrying about Wilbur.

Well, Phil rightfully told the doctor where to shove it. 

Helping a sick orphan wasn’t going to magically bring Wilbur back. Phil didn’t know why he got told to babysit the kid. There were a million other people who would’ve been happy to take care of a sick piglin hybrid.

BUT NO.

Fucking Phil, of all people, got him.

Wonderful! Just great.

Could Phil’s day get any goddamn better?

“Crow Father, it’s not fine,” their resident doctor, Niki, huffed. “Your wing is broken, for crying out loud. Do you want it to heal improperly?”

“I’d rather it didn’t need to be healed at all!” Phil shot back. His wings puffed up, but he ignored the ache it left in his bones. He couldn’t control how his wings reacted.

“Stop!” Niki huffed when Phil yanked his wing away. “I am trying to help you. Stop being a brat.”

“I’m not being a brat!”

“Then let me see your wing!”

“NO!”

“Crow!”

“Fuck off!”

“Your wing isn’t going to heal right, and then you’ll never be able to fly again. Is that what you want? To have to retire because you were too selfish to accept help?”

Phil pouted, considering a comeback. Before he could, Niki jerked forward and grabbed onto his wing.

“LET GO!” Phil shouted, trying to pull it back. The doctor refused to let go, even as Phil yelped from the movement.

“You’re only worsening your injuries,” Niki snarled. “Sit still.”

“Go to hell,” Phil snapped.

“Trust me, it’d probably be better than dealing with you.”







Niki won. Phil ended up getting his wing bandaged and properly looked at. She said he’d be out of commission for around four weeks. 

Phil took that news poorly.

Eventually, Captain Puffy came to set Phil straight. He got sent home with a small blonde child and a direct order to stay home. She promised getting Wilbur back was a high priority, but Phil knew how the heroes worked. ‘High priority’ cases just got a fancy red stamp. It didn’t actually do shit.

Now, Phil was sitting in his living room with Tommy playing with Wilbur’s Legos.

The kid got some antibiotics to help with his pneumonia, and Phil got a long lecture on how to take care of him.

Raising a piglin was just a bit different than raising a bird, believe it or not.

“Tommy, hey! Don’t put that in your mouth,” Phil fretted, kneeling on the floor with the boy. He gently guided his hand away from his mouth. “Uh, do you want a different toy? I think we have some other things… let’s go look, okay?”

Tommy only stared. He didn’t say much. It was a harsh contrast to Wilbur, who never stopped talking. Instead, those red and blue eyes just bore into Phil’s soul, searching for the meaning of life.

Phil grabbed Tommy’s hand and pulled him towards his son’s room. He stopped outside the door, trying to breathe. Wilbur should’ve been there. But he wasn’t. His room was empty. 

Instead, Phil pushed the door open but kept his eyes on the hallway carpet.

“Go on,” Phil nudged Tommy into the room. “Find something to play with.”

Tommy slowly wandered out of Phil’s peripheral and deeper into Wilbur’s room.

Phil couldn’t bring himself to pay attention. His mind drifted.

Where was Wilbur? Was he even alive?

“I think you need to know how it feels to lose a child.”

Fucking villains. Phil’s hands curled into fists. 

Wilbur was never supposed to be anywhere near the fights. He was too important. 

And maybe Phil should’ve been blaming Blood God for stealing Wilbur, but Phil felt too responsible. He raised Wilbur and didn’t correct his hero complex. Hell, Phil thought it was cute! He fucked up. The blame resided firmly on his shoulders.

Phil heard a familiar click but didn’t react in time. A foam bullet bounced off his chest, and Tommy giggled.

Phil never heard the boy laugh. It was light and innocent. It reminded him too much of Wilbur.

When Tommy didn’t get a reaction, he reloaded the toy gun and shot Phil again. It hit the hero’s shoulder.

Phil looked up, meeting the young boy’s eyes. They were wrinkled from his wide smile. Another string of giggles slipped from his mouth.

Tommy had two toys picked out. One, obviously, being the blue and orange toy gun. The other was a stuffed raccoon (Wilbur had an excess of stuffed animals scattered across his room. Phil might’ve spoiled his son a bit).

Tommy looked the happiest Phil had seen him. Maybe he shouldn’t let a six-year-old be exposed to guns and violence, but oh well. It was better than dealing with a crying, sick child.

“Can we play heroes and villains?” Tommy asked so quietly that Phil almost missed it.

And oh. Phil couldn’t blame the kid. He didn’t know it was a sore spot at the moment. But he wasn’t going to be selfish. It was a children's game. Phil needed to pull himself.

“Sure, do you want to be the hero?” Most kids wanted to be the good guy.

“No!” Tommy shouted. “I want to be like The Blood God!”

Oh. Phil couldn’t catch a break, could he?

“Are you sure? Who’s your favorite hero? You can pick any of them! Captain is pretty cool.”

“Uh uh!” Tommy protested. “My brother says the villains have more fun.”

“Really?” Phil questioned, raising his eyebrows. So, Tommy did have a family?

“Mhm! He says the heroes have too many re-stric-ens.”

“Restrictions?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said!”

“Why does your brother think that?”

“Because he’s smart,” Tommy chuffed proudly. “He knows everything!”

“Does he?”

“Yup!” Tommy said, popping the ‘p.’

“Do you know where your brother is now?” Phil redirected.

Tommy’s proud demeanor fell; a sad look glossed over his eyes.

“No,” he admitted softly. “I miss him.”

Phil’s face dropped. He held out his arms. “We’ll find him, okay? Do you need a hug?”

Tommy nodded and crossed the room. Thankfully, he left the toy gun on the ground, but he held onto the stuffed animal. Phil pulled him into a hug, lifting the boy off the ground.

“What’s your brother's name? I can try and find him,” Phil whispered.

“Techno,” Tommy said, laying his head on Phil’s collarbone. “He’s the best big brother.”

Techno? Why did that sound so familiar?

“Techno,” Phil parroted. “Do you have any other family?”

“No,” Tommy sighed. “Techno said we don’t need anyone else.”

“Oh, kiddo,” Phil exhaled. That was a conversation for another time. “How old is your brother?”

“Um…” Tommy unhooked one hand from Phil’s neck and started counting his fingers. “What’s six plus nine?”

“Fifteen,” Phil answered easily. Please, for the love of God, a fifteen-year-old better not be taking care of Tommy.

“He’s seventeen!” Tommy smiled proudly.

Phil wasn’t even going to question that math. 

“Seventeen, wow,” Phil gasped in fake awe. “That’s a big number.” 

“Mhm! Techno says when I’m seventeen, he’ll teach me how to fight.”

Phil got less assured with each word Tommy spoke. Maybe Wilbur was right; he shouldn’t go back to his family.

“Does Techno know how to fight?”

“Oh!” Tommy gasped excitedly. “He’s the best at fighting!”

Oh no.

“Does he fight people a lot?”

Tommy nods. 

Right. Cool. Awesome. Just great. Phil needed to do some investigating on ‘Techno.’

“Do you still want to play heroes and villains?” Phil asked, changing the subject. Tommy seemed eager to talk about his brother. Phil could probably revisit the subject when he needed more details.

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” Tommy cheered, sitting up in Phil’s arms. “I’m going to be the best villain!”

Phil tried not to cringe. “Okay. Let’s go play in the living room.”



“Oh no! You got me,” Phil surrendered with a smile. “What am I going to do now?”

“Haha! Not so heroic now, Mr. Bird Man.”

Yeah, turns out Tommy wasn’t great at coming up with names on the spot. His villain name was Wife Haver 6000. 

Tommy pointed finger guns at Phil, who had a pair of plastic handcuffs around his wrists.

“What do you think, Clem?” Tommy asked the stuffed raccoon. “What do we do with our prisoner?” Black glass eyes stared blankly at the wall. “You’re right! We use him for handsome to get so much money!”

“Ransome,” Phil quietly corrected.

“Quiet, prisoner! I wasn’t talking to you,” Tommy hissed, his little pink tail wagging behind him. “Clem, you’re a genius. We’re going to be rich and get so many wives together!”

Phil quietly laughed to himself. The kid was cute, even if he did seem to know a bit too much about how to be a villain. Sometimes it seemed like he was just reciting something he’d heard. 

As much as Phil hated to admit it, it did get him to forget about Wilbur for a bit. Actually, no. Forget would be the wrong word. He couldn’t forget, but it wasn’t at the front of his mind anymore. He could focus on other things, like pretending to be Mr. Bird Man.

“And then I called the heroes and sold you back to them and became rich and ran away and lived happily ever after!” Tommy announced.

The heroes would never let that happen, but it was just roleplay. It didn’t need to be realistic.

“Okay,” Phil laughed. “You win. Good job, mate.”

Tommy beamed; his pink pig ears flicked forward. “I’m the best! I’ll overtake The Blood God in no time!”

“Sure you will,” Phil chuckled, loosening the plastic cuffs until they fell off.

Tommy grabbed Clem, crawled up onto the couch, and yawned. “I’m tired. Being the best is a lot of work.”

“You can take a nap after dinner,” Phil suggested. The kid perked up at the mention of food. “What do you like to eat?”

“Chicken!” Tommy instantly replied. His eyes fell to Phil’s wings, and his face dropped. “Wait, no. Just kidding! Cow– er, no, cows are cute. Um, I don’t know. Ice cream?”

“How about dino nuggets?”

“And fries?” Tommy asked with wide eyes.

“And fries, sure.”

“Yes!” Tommy gasped. 

“Okay, okay. How about you stay here and, uh, watch some TV while I get that ready?” Phil offered, turning the TV on and handing the remote to Tommy. “You can look at the Disney movies if you push that button.”

Tommy grinned, showing off the pointed teeth that looked like mini tusks. Eerily, it reminded Phil of The Blood God. Which made sense– they were both part piglin, so obviously they’d be similar.

Still, it caught Phil off guard. He quickly escaped to the kitchen, leaving the kid to mess with the TV.

Without the hyperactive child at his side, Phil’s mind wandered.

He was playing pretend with a kid, all while Wilbur was probably being tortured by The Blood God. The thought made him sick.

Did Phil just replace Wilbur?

No. He could never replace Wilbur.

Though it certainly felt like it. Tommy filled the quiet the house would have without Wilbur. He took Phil’s mind off the pressing issues, just like Wilbur would. Wilbur used to play heroes vs. villains all the time with Phil. 

No. Tommy wasn’t a replacement. Nothing could replace Wilbur.

Tommy was just a kid Phil was assigned to look after. All kids played heroes vs. villains. It wasn’t personal, and Phil needed to stop making it that way. 

Tommy was just another job he needed to complete.



Dinner didn’t take terribly long. Phil plated the dino nuggets and fries, carrying them out to Tommy. 

The boy was criss-cross applesauce in front of the TV, Clem held tightly against his chest, and eyes focused on the screen.

He was watching a recording of Phil’s most recent fight with The Blood God. They were in the middle of sparing, a bit before Phil started getting his ass seriously beat.

He set the plate down on the coffee table, grabbed the TV remote, and pressed pause.

“Hey!” Tommy shouted, whipping his head around. “I was watching that!”

“You’re a bit young to be watching things like that,” Phil said sternly. “Look, here’s your dinner. Let’s put-”

“NO!” Tommy screeched, pouncing at Phil. “I want to watch them fight!”

Phil let the boy ram into him, but he held the remote out of Tommy’s reach.

“Tommy, no. You shouldn’t be watching that. It’s not kid-friendly.”

“Techno lets me watch them!”

“He shouldn’t!”

“He’s so much better than you,” Tommy pouted, stepping back and crossing his arms. “You’re a meanie. This is why villains are better. You’re stupid.”

“Hey,” Phil scolded. “We do not say things like that. Apologize.”

“No! It’s true.”

“Tommy,” Phil warned. 

“I miss Techno,” Tommy whined. “I want Techno.”

“We’re going to find your brother, okay? I’m going to have a long talk with him when we do.”

“Are you going to be mean to him too?”

Phil sighed. He wasn’t ready for this conversation.

“Tommy, you shouldn’t be exposed to extreme violence. And you said Techno gets into fights a lot. I’m worried that you’re not safe with him.”

Tommy looked impossibly offended.

“I’m safer with Techno than anywhere else!”

“Then why were you alone when I found you? You weren’t safe then.”

“Because people were going to hurt me if I didn’t run!” Tommy admitted, tears bubbling in his eyes. 

And it was comments like that that made Phil worry about the kid. 

“Techno didn’t want me to be near the fight! He took care of the bad guys once he knew I was away! It was my fault! I got lost!”

“Tommy,” Phil groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t matter. Techno shouldn’t be getting into fights to begin with.”

“You’re wrong! You’re stupid, and mean, and wrong!”

“Tommy-”

“Just let me watch his fight,” Tommy murmured, voice wavering. “I miss him.”

“I can’t–” 

Wait, his fight? Phil refused to believe he heard Tommy right.

“Please,” Tommy whispered, putting on puppy dog eyes.

No fucking way.

Everything clicked into place.

Tommy’s brother getting into fights regularly– The Blood God looking for someone– I think you need to know how it feels to lose a child– Tommy wanting to play the villain– Tommy’s lines that sounded too familiar– both of them being piglin hybrids– Tommy’s family legally being dead.

Technoblade was the name of Tommy’s biological brother who died in the house fire, Phil remembered. That was why it sounded familiar.

“You’re joking,” Phil scoffed, staring at the blonde kid in a new light.

Phil swapped kids with The Blood God.

Also, that meant Phil got his ass beat by a TEENAGER.







“Kid, stop crying,” Techno pleaded. He knew how to deal with Tommy crying, and that was it. How the fuck did you take care of a bird child?

Wilbur was pressed into the corner of the room, wings fluffed up and wrapped around him. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to give you back to your dad,” Techno tried to reason. His promise fell on deaf ears. If anything, it made the kid cry harder. Maybe giving him time to cry it out would help? Would he listen better once he wasn’t running on pure adrenaline?

Techno had no clue. He hoped that’d work because he had no other ideas.

The Blood God– bested by a crying kid.

“I’m just gonna, uh, go? I’ll be back with like McDonald's or whatever you eat later. Sound good?” He only got sobs in response. “Cool, um, bye?”

Techno slipped out of the holding cell. It wasn’t an uncomfortable room by any means. It had a decent bed, a bathroom, and some books to read. It was well above a prison cell, just maybe not the same level as a guest bedroom.

Believe it or not, but Techno rarely got hostages involved. It made everything messy (more so if they were children).

Grabbing Wilbur was a spur-of-the-moment decision. He was lost in his hunt for Tommy, and chat was unbearably loud. They demanded it, and Techno obeyed.

But it wasn’t like he could just hand the kid back. His brand would be ruined!

What happened happened. 

Techno regretted it. He kidnapped the top hero’s kid in a blind rage, and now he’d have all the heroes on his ass. He would’ve preferred looking for Tommy without an extra bounty on his head.

Techno groaned and removed the skull mask. He shifted, strong piglin features washing away. A tail still whipped behind him, and his ears were pointed and pink, but he looked less recognizable. 

He looked like Tommy’s big brother. Not The Blood God.

Techno had looked up and down every street, desperate to find his runt. He should’ve killed those thugs quicker, then Tommy wouldn’t have gotten as far.

Why did he think six-year-old Tommy could navigate the alleys? It took Techno months to figure out.

Technoblade made a lot of shit decisions in the past 24 hours. He could at least acknowledge that. 

But he needed to find Tommy, no matter what it took. 

Techno let his feet guide him. He ended up in the base’s meeting hall. Six chairs sat around a circular blue table. Four of the seat had names engraved on the back. The other two existed purely to make the room symmetrical.

Techno dropped into his seat. The skull mask fell onto the table carelessly. What was The Blood God without Tommy?

What was Techno without Tommy?

Tommy was the whole reason Techno picked up the mask. The past six years of his life had been dedicated to taking care of his little brother. From early pickpocketing, to learning how to fight, to becoming a feared household name– it was always with Tommy in mind.

He wanted to make the world right since the heroes couldn’t. 

He wanted Tommy to grow up in a safe neighborhood.

But now? Tommy was missing. The Blood God lost sight of his motivation. Techno lost his pride and joy. 

As both a villain and a protector, he failed.

The voices were oddly quiet. There was a steady thrum of ‘find him,’ but it was easily ignored.

Techno’s head fell to the table with a thunk. His braid was falling apart, far from the neat strands Tommy adored.

His best option would be to change into civilian clothes and manually search for Tommy. Going out again as The Blood God would be asking for disaster. The Blood God needed to lay low for a few days.

He could get a map of the city and try to figure out where Tommy could’ve ended up. But the possibilities were endless. The backstreets were like sewers– they connected to every goddamn part of the city.

And a scared six-year-old wouldn’t know what to do other than run and take random turns.

Techno groaned. He was in over his head. They didn’t live in a nice city. Tommy could’ve ended up in the wrong hands without trying.

God, Techno was fucked.

Maybe he could make missing person flyers for Tommy. 

‘Lost Runt! Goes by Tommy, will most likely try to bite you. Maybe two feet tall, blonde, piglin hybrid. Can be a brat. Likes anything golden.’

Techno chuckled at the idea. 

Then reality settled back in, and that painful emptiness returned.

Techno didn’t even want to go back to their house. He couldn’t bear the thought of being there alone in the silence. The Syndicate base wasn’t much better, but at least reminders of Tommy weren’t scattered around. 

His life went to shit fast.

Techno, not The Blood God, needed to go search for Tommy. As much as he wanted to, sitting and moping wouldn’t do him any good.







After asking endless people, “have you seen this kid,” Techno gave up. The sun was setting, and there was no sign of Tommy.

He needed to feed the bird kid too.

News of The Blood God’s attack spread like wildfire. Turns out, Crow Father was taking a break for a few weeks. Techno wasn’t sure if it was for the injuries or losing his kid. 

If it was the latter, Techno understood that. When (not if) he got Tommy back, The Blood God was vanishing for a few weeks. Techno needed to smother that kid in gold, affection, and everything in between.

They wouldn’t be leaving Techno’s room for at least a week.

That thought alone kept Techno going. 

But he had to wait. Instead of a perky blonde kid, he got to deal with a flighty brunette.

Techno shifted back to his piglin form and put the mask on. He didn’t bother with the whole costume bit. 

“Kid, I got you food,” Techno said, holding out the brown McDonalds bag. “Aren’t you hungry?”

On the bright side, Wilbur wasn’t sobbing anymore. He just curled up in his corner and glared.

“I’m just going to leave this here.” Techno slowly crept over, placing the bag on the edge of the bed before stepping back. 

Wilbur’s eyes never left Techno.

“Look, kid, I don’t know what you want,” Techno sighed. “I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t even have any weapons on me.”

Unsurprisingly, Wilbur just stared.

“Well, there’s food if you want it. I haven’t touched it. Uh, do you need anything else?”

Silence.

“Right, okay. Uh,” Techno looked around. The books he left in there were probably a bit advanced for a kid. Maybe he needed some stimulation? “Do you want a coloring book or something?”

“Helpful,” Techno nodded then sighed. “I don’t know what you want. Do you need a nightlight? Stuffed animals? Uh, what do birds like? Do you want some shiny keys?”

Wilbur’s anger shifted to confusion for a split second.

“Well, you’re Crow Father’s kid, so I assumed your part crow too. Don’t crows like shiny things?” Techno quickly defended himself.

Wilbur rolled his eyes. That was the most the boy had reacted thus far.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Techno sharply inhaled. “No keys then.”

“I want… to go home,” Wilbur said oh so softly.

“You will soon, I promise,” Techno vowed. “I just– I need to find my little brother first.”

Wilbur perked up, eyes looking Techno up and down. There was something analytical in his face. 

“What?”

Wilbur shook his head, returning to his cold glare.

Techno was getting somewhere. He didn’t know where, but that was something.

“Do you have any siblings?”

Wilbur slowly shook his head.

“Oh,” Techno hummed. “Well, you love your dad, right?” Wilbur nodded. “Would you do anything for him?” Another nod. “Yeah, that’s what family does. I’d do anything for my little brother. He’s tiny– can’t even take care of himself. So, I’m really worried about him. I’m sure you’re worried about your dad.”

Wilbur gave Techno that knowing look again. 

“Your dad protects you, and I protect my brother. I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt my brother if they had him, so I’m not going to hurt you. I know how Crow Father feels right now. I just hope whoever had my brother thinks the same way.”

“When?” Wilbur asked hoarsely.

Techno burrowed his brows. “When… am I going to give you back? Once I–”

Wilbur shook his head furiously. “When did you lose him?”

Techno huffed. “Last night. In the storm.”

Wilbur chewed his bottom lip. “What’s he look like?”

Techno pulled out his phone from his sweatpants. He showed Wilbur the same picture he’d been showing people all day, asking if they’d seen him. 

All the blood drained from Wilbur’s face. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. The burning anger was gone, leaving a scared kid.

Techno watched, intrigued. 

“Do you know him?” Techno asked, pulling his phone back.

Wilbur nodded.

Techno’s world came to a halt. Techno knew all of Tommy’s friends. The kid never shut up. Techno heard every in-depth story about Tommy’s life. 

For one, they lived at the opposite end of the city as the heroes. Wilbur and Tommy never would’ve had a reason to cross paths.

“How?” Techno questioned eagerly. He tried not to scare the kid, but that was his only lead.

“Dad has him.”

Heh?!

Notes:

Phil and Techno: *growing grey hairs*

Wilbur and Tommy: get your head out of your ass and use your eyes, please.

Notes:

They swapped children. Dun dun dunnnnn

Pspspspsps you should join my discord (if you're 15+)