Chapter Text
Most people thought he was dumb.
Most people thought he was stupid.
Most people thought he was oblivious.
Clueless.
He was not.
He was smart. He was vigilant. He was perceptive.
He knew everything. He knew everything that his family had been doing for decades.
He knew that his family had a lit bonfire once, then got curious with what would happen if they let it spread. So they did. They let it spread across their yard and engulf their house, but they didn’t mind. They reveled in the heat (the flames were slowly spreading beyond the confines of their house, but they loved to see their work grow).
He knew what went on behind closed doors; the screaming, scams, sabotages.
Of course, he understood why it has been hidden from his ears, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t figure it out himself.
He’s heard phone calls, stern words coming from his father while panicked sounds came from the other side of the phone. He’s seen his father’s office, though it was almost never left unlocked; papers strewn across the desk, some neat, others left to rot with plans that had been already executed.
He’s seen the hidden weapons littered around his home. One hidden in the couch under the seat where nobody sits. Another in the fruit bowl that never seems to empty. Some in the cabinet that nobody touches, yet is always pristine.
He’s witnessed how stiff everyone gets when he mentions even a single word that may imply danger. Whether it be a simple bully at school or a sketchy man that follows him on his way home. Whether it be him wanting to go out on his own or him sneaking out and them finding out soon after.
He’s heard, seen, witnessed everything that leads to the conclusion of a ‘family business’.
He figured it out when he was 14. He's 18 now.
He's smarter, stronger, sarcastic even.
He, Tommy Watson, knows.
He knows he was born into a house on fire. And he knows that those flames will never burn his skin. He knows they try to hide it behind walls of pure heat, but it never works, even if he convinces them it does (he knows that those flames burn others, char their skin, but he doesn't seem to mind it).
He knows that almost his entire world is on fire, not just his own house. He's been fueling his own wildfire, loving the bright colors as they dance across the trees. However, he hates the match that started the wildfire, a stray match that had been left to kindle in dry grass.
Although, a while ago, his own fire met another, and he let them merge into one. He doesn’t know why he did it, but he's glad he did. He's happy with the heat they let off that pinpricks his skin.
And he knows that, soon enough, his wildfire and his family’s house fire will meet, and swallow his world whole. He finds he doesn’t mind.
He's prepared for the burning sensation; he knows it will never truly hurt him.
So, he smiles to himself when he hears the not-so-hushed conversation coming from his fathers office.
They’ve found it.
“Dad,” a voice said. It sounded like a choir of red stained voices. “What the fuck is that?”
Tommy knew he was pointing to a picture on the desk.
A picture of an alleyway spray painted with bright colors.
A toxic green nuke symbol, the paint dripping down like toxic waste. An eye painted with an eye-catching purple, the iris painted in hypnotizing spirals. A bright red spider with large fangs, the paint imitating the venom as it dripped down.
“I don’t know, Will,” said an older voice. “It was left on our territory with a note. Want me to read it?”
“Yea,” said Wilbur. “Yea, do that.” He sounded tired and worried.
“Alright. So–
Hello Elysium Mob!
If you have found this, please send this to your leader, Boreas.
If you do not do that, don’t be surprised to wake up with a knife to your neck.
Now, hello Boreas, Kratos, and Dolos. Yes, I know it is all three of you. I know far more than you would like.
No, we are not a threat to you.
The three of us that have left you this gift are speaking on behalf of Valhalla. We hope you know who Valhalla is.
Who are we kidding, of course you do! We’re your enemy!
Hopefully not for long. As you can see, there has been a rise in all types of crime all over the city, and we happen to know the source of it.
We would like to meet and speak about future plans to get rid of the match that started the fire.
You can send us a flashy message like we did, or be boring and tell Erebus.
Again, we are not a threat. We do not plan to become a threat unless needed.
We know more than you do. I, who is writing this, know about you.
Lets hope you come to the right conclusion.
We hope to hear from you soon Phil, Techno, and Wilbur.
Sincerely,
Valhalla Mafia
(Tyr, Njord, and Hod)
–that's the end of it.”
There was silence.
And Tommy knew they had gotten into their heads.
“They know our names,” a gruff voice said. It was quiet, yet sounded like it could take down an army. “They know about us , yet they say they aren't a threat.”
“We should give them the benefit of the doubt,” Phil spoke. Tommy could tell by how quiet his voice was, he was thinking.
“Benefit of the doubt?” Wilbur asked, voice booming. “They know who we are! They know our names! They probably know where we live! They probably know about Tommy !”
Tommy could almost laugh at that sentence. It was funny how little they really knew.
“We should still set up a meeting. We need to figure out how to take care of this,” said the eldest, accompanied with the sound of rustling paper.
“I agree,” spoke Techno. “Will, start thinking of a way we can message them back.”
The man sighed before nodding and moving out of the office to his own room.
Tommy then leaned further away from the wall, grabbing his phone and dialing his friend's number.
It rang a few times before silence and a voice sounding into Tommys ear.
“Hey, boss man. What's up?”
“We got ‘em.”
Those three words confirmed everything.
A sound of faint clacks of a keyboard sounded through the speakers before Tubbo spoke once again. “I’ve let Dream know, told him to tell everybody else. How soon are we thinking?”
“Well, Techno just had Wilbur go to his room and think of a way to message back, so I’m thinking no later than tomorrow. The way Dad was talking sounded like he thought it was important.”
Tommy could hear the grin on Tubbos face. “Awesome. I’ll tell everybody to get ready for a meeting in the near future.”
“Perfect,” Tommy said as he looked out his window. “I need that fucking bastard dead .”
“Don’t we all,” Tubbo weakly laughed. “You’ll let Purp know? I would assume he’d want to be there.”
Tommy had already been thinking of ways to break the wonderful news to his purple clad brother (not in the blood flowing through their veins, but rather the shed blood of others). “Already on it, big T. See you tonight.”
“See you tonight.”
Once again the room was plunged into silence, only the sounds of Tommys own breathing and soft speaking coming from his father’s office.
He grinned to himself, moving towards his closet to prepare for the conversation he was about to have.
He knew as soon as the confirmation left his lips, Purpled would be out for blood.
And so would he.
Because both of them were either born or thrown into worlds crashing down, and gasoline was shoved into their arms and they were forced to fuel the raging fire that the bastard started (they were forced to become weapons, and soon enough, those weapons would become useful).
And he knew that, soon enough, the fires would burn his arms.
But he didn’t care.
He’s learned to love the pain.
—
He stood on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in Esempi.
He scowls as he remembers who owns it.
He knows what truly goes on behind large concrete walls and reflective glass windows. He knows that man's true thoughts, whether he's sober or his words are laced with cheap whiskey.
He can’t wait to burn that man's life to the ground.
His combat boots shuffle against the ground as he adjusts the red hood over his blonde hair. No mask was needed tonight, as who he was meeting knew him better than anybody else.
As if on queue, there was an almost silent noise of a thick door opening and closing, along with even quieter footsteps.
“Why did you call me here?” the person spoke. Their voice was muffled by the wind blowing and the gas mask that covered their face.
“We got help from Elysium,” Tommy said, not bothering to turn around and rather moving more towards the edge of the roof. “That's all we needed before we can go after him.”
“Him as in who, Tommy,” the man said, almost as if he needed confirmation.
“Him as in Schlatt , Purp,” Tommy responded, finally turning around to look at the person in front of him. He leaned back, his body hitting the concrete behind him and supporting his weight.
“You mean, we finally get to start messing with that fucker?”
Tommy grinned (he wondered what it would look like if his teeth were stained red). “Absolutely we do.”
The purple clad teen ripped off his mask, his own smile visible to the only other person on the rooftop.
“I can’t fucking wait to rip that stupid ass facial hair off of his face. It pisses me off,” Purpled moved towards the edge of the building, leaning against the concrete in the same fashion of Tommy.
“Valhalla and Elysium are gonna have a meeting soon, discuss plans ‘n shit,” Tommy said, fixing his hood once more. Before Purpled could say anything, Tommy spoke once more. “Yes, you can come. Just don't talk because Techno is a freak of nature and picks apart any detail of anything and might recognize you.”
Purpled laughed in response, letting out a light ‘alright’ before they were set into silence once more. It was quiet, peaceful.
They only wished it would stay that way.
They only wished that they could ignore the raging fires that have been burning for years (Tommy’s had merged into a large wildfire, but Purpled’s was different. His was concentrated into one area, letting stray embers fly away and set little flames ablaze somewhere else. It brings him joy, it brings him money, it brings him confidence).
But they couldn’t.
And they knew that.
The comfortable silence was broken by a sharp ping coming from Purpled’s watch.
He glanced down, his face now cold and serious. Tommy mimicked it.
“I gotta go. Some dude wants a job done by tonight, and it's paying really well, so I gotta get that shit done,” Purpled said, letting his arm fall down and grip his mask.
“Have fun, Myrkr,” Tommy said, his voice heavy.
“You too, Tyr,” Purpled responded.
With that, he was gone.
Only the sound of a thick metal door closing and the whistling of the wind in his place.
Tommy could almost smell the smoke.
He took a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs.
He loved it.
—
A summer camp that was never a summer camp.
Kids lined up, facing one man who paced back and forth, taking in every feature.
As he moved along, he took a look at some kids, pointed to them, and then with a flick of his wrist they were taken away.
Tommy never really knew where they were taken to, but he had his thoughts.
He stood next to another blonde boy, his face cold and knowing.
Tommy did his best to replicate it.
He gazed ahead, eyes fixated on a tree a ways in front of him. He kept his eyes locked onto the tree, even when the man squat down slightly in front of him, eyes darting around his features.
A slight smirk formed on his face, his cheek moving slightly upwards.
He did the same to the blond boy next to him, every movement repeated.
The next boy in line was taken away. There were screams that were quickly muffled, and they got quieter as they moved away.
Tommy did his best not to wince.
He thinks everybody else did too.
Everybody had quickly realized that this was not as it seemed. This was not a summer camp with canoeing and games out in the field.
It was a camp, but a camp next to a raging river that Tommy knew he would have to swim in. It was a camp, but a camp with a bare field with stray equipment (not for games) littered around the grass.
He just hoped he would be able to go home soon.
He didn’t care that it was trading one fire for another. He had figured it out a year ago, he had known that his house had been burned for years before that, but he didn’t care.
He just wanted to go home.
So, as the final boy was looked over and taken away, Tommy stood still.
Everyone left had caught on quick enough.
The man walked slowly up front, snapped his fingers to grab everybody's attention, and stood.
He stood and he stared, before he grabbed two boxes out of his pocket.
He slipped a cigarette out, holding it between two fingers, then he slipped out a singular match.
He held it up against the box, and struck.
The man held the cigarette up to his lips, holding the match up to the end until it was red hot.
He dropped the match onto dry grass, not bothering to stomp it out.
Tommy watched as the grass was set ablaze.
It was then that Tommy decided two things.
One; he hated the smell of cigarette smoke.
Two; he hated matches that were left to burn on the grass.
It was then, when he decided those two things, that his world came crashing down for the first time.