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Chapter Text

Tommy had always been fascinated by the concept of flight. Ever since he could walk, he'd make paper planes and send them off on a long glide either in class or in the playground in the rare days his father would have a free schedule, he'd sketch feathers and wings, always copying the shape of his father's charcoal black pair in the rare times he'd be home for longer than an hour and when he'd be bored, he'd watch the birds outside his window. He'd always enjoyed the idea of freedom; of no chains holding him prisoner to the ground, no adults to tell him what to do and what not to do because the air is the safest place he'd ever seen.

So, when he saw another avian flying in the sky through the window of his room, he latched onto the sill and pressed his cheek and palms against the cool glass. A grin reached his ears when he saw wings be flapped against the air and he watched until the person disappeared behind a few buildings up yonder. Red, blue and yellow feathers against darker cloathing. Needless to say, Tommy was hooked.

His father was an avian with huge, glimmering black wings, similar to those of a crow but bigger. He was proud of them, always holding them up with a certain air of confidence, showing them off when there was an opportunity and never ceased to impress. But he was too busy with work, barely having any free time in his hands and the days that he did have free time were few and far between. Because of the economy crisis wrecking the country, he had to work more to pay the bills, as well as to financially support his other two sons who were attending college in a neighboring city. Money was tight and Tommy more than understood their situation.

That is why, even though he wanted to do something in the department of airplanes and paragliding, he never asked for anything more of him. He'd made up his mind two years ago, when he was eleven (with the help of his brothers before they were to leave), that he'd get a job, work his ass off and get into the best flight school.

Out of his two brothers, only one had been blessed with wings: Wilbur. They were smaller -that's how Tommy remembered them- in comaprison to their father's and dark and light brown, spotted with white speckles like a barn owl's. Their father always paid extra attention to him but he wasn't the favorite. No, that spot was reserved for Techno, who was human but out of the three of them, he was the least prone to getting in trouble.

Dad had promised them all a big, long flight around the country once Tommy's brothers would finish college and Tommy would finish middle school.

That was a year away.

For the time being, he watched the strange avian from the window of his room. He imagined what it would be like if he had wings of his own, how they'd move and how he'd marvel at the pure sight of them. He liked to imagine their shape and color and when he closed his eyes where he'd be sitting at the window, he could see them on his back but they'd be blurry.

Tommy had noted the times at which the avian would soar over the house: when they'd come and when they'd go. He thought it was work the avian was flying to rather than walking or going by bus, as the times matched with the schedule of a regular worker. Sometimes, he wondered what it would feel like to be in the air with the avian, or imagined the long flight he'd go on with his family, and he was content.

It became a habit of his to watch the clock when the sun would invade his room and again when the shadow of the bookshelf was wide against the wall. He'd spring up from his desk, homework and books forgotten, and he'd put his face up against cool glass for the few moments it took for the avian to disappear.

That was until one day that the avian had landed in the backyard and approached his window. The backyard itself was small, filled with only some of Techno's potted plants which Tommy took care of in his brother's absence but the way the red, blue and yellow wings were outstretched made the little area shrink in on itself. Tommy was shocked to find that the wings belonged to a man who was the spitting image of his father: blond hair, cerulean eyes, only a little shorter and showing a preferance to the color red rather thatn green. The colorful pair of wings towered over the man's frame, making him look even shorter than he actually was and if Tommy didn't know how strong the muscles of the appendages could be, he'd have called the guy a fraud.

Why the man had landed there, Tommy didn't know. He could only guess that his wings had got tired, maybe he'd strained a muscle. The answer wasn't really neccessary. Tommy was quick to open the window, scrambling to hoist his upper body out with the excitement and awe of an 8-year-old.

"You have some cool ass wings, dude!"

It was supposed to be a compliment. The man's face, however, soured slightly but only for a moment. Maybe it was the curse word, though Tommy was busy asking questions to be concerned by that. Eventually, the man introduced himself as Grian.

"You shouldn't be talking to strangers. Where are your parents?", Grian asked at some point, conern drawn vividly on his face. Tommy's shoulders sagged, his lips formed a thin line. It only took a second for him to answer.

"My dad is at work"

"What about your mum?", Tommy shrugged.

"My brother says that she's on a long trip to the Elysian Fields to visit family. It's a very long trip"

The avian faltered, his face dropping to something sad. The reason was unclear to Tommy.

So they talked some more. Tommy asked questions -many questions- about the avian and how life was in the sky. Some questions not even Grian could answer, to which the man would shrug his shoulders with an awkward chuckle and hop to the next. Tommy's eyes were fixed on the other's wings for the longest time and when he was allowed to touch the beautiful feathers, he was ecstatic. Soft and thin but durable and airtight at the same time. The shape was different to that of his father's but they were still similar in texture.

The front door opened -Tommy heard the old thing creak- and then closed, light feet scraping the doormat and the sound of ruffling feathers accompanying it. He then heard his name be called from down the hall, officially announcing his father's return.

"That's my dad", Grian perked up.

"I should introduce myself to him"

Despite Tommy's protests, Grian walked around the house and knocked on the door. Tommy, nerves and anxiety radiating off his shoulders, approached the entrance to the living room and peeked around the corner. He could see his dad taking his shoes off by the door and he could hear him grumble in annoyance when he heard the knocks and shouted a "Coming!". When he opened the door, he froze at the sight of the stranger.

"Grian?"

"Phil?"

And they hugged and cried, wings flapping and feathers ruffling as they wrapped around each other's body. Tommy was rightfully confused.

"Tommy, come meet someone!", his father called but Tommy was already there.

That was how Tommy met his long-lost uncle, Grian. Who knew that a crow could be related to a parrot? Then again, Wilbur's wings were those of a barn owl's and Grian and his father had the same blond hair, the same blue eyes -though his father's shined a bit less because of life's troubles-, the same sharp jawline and they were both artistic.

*

From that day, Tommy received more visits from Grian, from his uncle. Holy mackerel, he had an uncle -he still couldn't believe that, even though it's been about a month since they met; since the two brothers reunited. The title of "uncle" is not to his liking, though. It's a word he had never used and it honestly sounded foreign to his ears. Uncle Grian; yeah, no, it just sounded wrong. So he stuck with the simple name, Grian.

One day, however…
One very fateful day; the day reality changed.

"Do you want to go on a flight with me, Toms?", Grian asked after he landed in their backyard. Tommy quirked a brow at him, looking the man from head to toe like he was insane.

"Would you even be able to carry me?"

Grian chuckled.

"I may not look it but I am strong. Plus, you're just skin and bone, I doubt I'll struggle"

And while Tommy wanted to throw a book at his uncle for that, he also wanted to go on that flight. Grian turned around so his back was facing the window and spread open his wings and that was all the prompting Tommy needed to jump on his uncle's back. He secured his seat by wrapping his arms around the man's neck and his legs around his abdomen, almost rendering Grian immobile but true to his word, he was strong and still standing.

It only took one good flap of the wings for them to be in the air and they reached the sky and flew through the clouds. Tommy dared to open his eyes when the rushing wind calmed and opened them to puffy cotton. He smiled, he laughed in exhilaration and his uncle laughed with him as he flew. Tommy let go of the man's neck in favor of feeling the clouds; it was a sensation he'd only dreamt of.

But there was a gunshot and then they were falling.

Tommy didn't realize when he started screaming, his hands returning to their deathgrip around his uncle's neck, nor did he realize when he was maneuvered to cling to Grian's chest. Grian himself was screaming, hissing, pained. They were plummeting to the ground, the ringing in Tommy's ears scaring him and allowing him no thought other than panic.

They fell on a tree that softened their fall, though Tommy's was softened further. Wrapped in his uncle's sturdy wings, when the twigs and branches and leaves let them go, he landed on the avian. Grian was breathing hard underneath him,  too fast, hissing, still pained and Tommy did not know what was the cause for it. Blue fell on blue and Tommy was alerted by the grimace on the man's face.

That was when Tommy felt a sickly warmth on the side of his head, where it was touching the other's wing. He smelled a mix of iron and copper; blood. It was blood. He shot up, straddling the man's legs, hand going straight to the blooded spot on his head as he turned to look at the wing. The wing folded in on itself, obstructing the view of the bloodied feathers but not quickly enough for Tommy to not see a hole in it. It was small, innocent and harmless-looking, but his father had explained to him that an unlucky strain could cause everlasting damage.

It was harmful, Tommy realized, and his heart was trying to burst out of his ribcage. Eyes wild, breathing quick and fast and ravenous as he looked at the blood on his hand. His hand was shaking, he saw double.

"Tommy-", Grian coughed.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard someone holler, dogs barking, someone whistled. What was happening?

"Grian, what's going on?", he asked in a yell. He was scared; they both were.

The man pushed himself up with another hiss and a huff of poorly-contained pain. Tommy looked at the street, where he could hear distant commotion and then back to his uncle so quick that he thought the world was spinning. People were running in the street and few on the pavement but their screaming fell on deaf ears.

"It's started-", another huff.

"Wha- What has started?!", he demanded to know.

"They're hunting down hybrids, Toms"

Tommy didn't know how Grian managed to stand on his feet -albeit a bit shaky- but he did despite having had taken the brunt of the fall. The wounded wing stayed limp on the ground, soaking the pavement with fat droplets of blood.

"They're doing what! Who?!"

Who would do such a thing? Who wanted to hurt them? Who shot them out of the sky?

"You need to run!", said Grian with urgency but to Tommy, that request wasn't as simple as it sounded.

"Run? Run where?! And what about you? Dad? Is he being hunted too- and Wilbur-"

"Thomas, listen to me and listen carefully", Grian cut him off, serious and alert. "I need you to go to a very good friend of mine, okay? Go down the road and turn left at the street light, he owns the computer shop, you can't miss it"

Tommy nodded his head, though hesitant, as he tried to withhold that information, as well as wrapping his head around their deadly situation.

"But what about you?", he insisted, hands gripping his uncle's red jumper like it was a lifeline.

"I'll find Phil and your brothers and I will bring them back", Tommy was unsure if he felt relief or not. Something in his got was screaming. "Tell my friend that Grian sent you, he'll take good care of you until I come back. I will come back, don't worry about me"

Despite his words, Grian sounded as unsure as he was injured, though he masked it for Tommy's sake. Tommy understood.

The hollers and the whistles and the barking grew louder; closer. The screams around them seemed nearer. Grian threw a glance over his shoulder. Sirens sounded, scary and loud and foreboding; omens of a bad thing. A black van entered the street, its tires screeching in a high pitch when it turned the corner. He pushed Tommy away.

"Go, Tommy! Run until your legs break, go!"

"But-"

"Go!"

And he ran.

Chapter Text

Tommy ran without looking back. He weaved through the crowd and pushed past people that got in his way; and he ran. Down the road, left at the upcoming streetlight. He heard gunshots, he heard people screaming around him and prayers of mercy slipping from trembling lips, the yowls and barks of the dogs that were chasing them; they were chasing them all but no one knew who their persuer was. A hybrid man fell to the ground with a gut-wrenching scream next to Tommy, fresh blood leaking from a fresh bullet wound. Tommy screamed.

Everyone was screaming, running and pushing. It was chaos. Tommy almost tripped and fell himself but he grabbed onto a protruding pipe and ran along. The man on the ground was trampled by the panicked crowd and if he wasn't destined to die, he sure was then, when the feet of a dozen people stepped on his head and crushed his skull. The small children in the horde met a similar fate, lost under the soles of the adults who were running for their lives, and those who were lucky enough to still be standing were caught by malicious dobbermen and German shephards.

On the turn, he saw a big sign hanging. The logo was a mustache framed by cartoonish doodles of cables and computers. Tommy didn't spend much time assessing the design as he dove into the building. Behind the glass door, the noise was quiter; muffled but not completely silenced. His ears were ringing, his heart trying to beat out of his chest and somewhat succeeding. His feet carried him few steps inside before his knees gave out from underneath him, his palms touching the cool, tile floor. He fell but that fall hurt less.

"Oh my gosh, mate!", he hears someone shout but the voice was distant, barely able to break through to Tommy. Tommy recognized the British accent but the words themselves fell on deaf ears. Then a hand was on his shoulder, squeezing with concern; there was a person kneeling in front of him.

Tommy recited the one thing he was told to say. He didn't look up, he didn't move; petrified and panting as he was on the floor, he spoke.

"G-Grian sent me", and the stutter in his voice coincided with a huge gulp of air. The ringing was starting to subside, just enough for him to listen better.

"You're his nephew?" -he nodded his affirmation- "Can you stand?"

He was unsure of how to respond to that one. He'd ran so much, witnessed too much in such a stort amount of time. As the adrenaline left his system, he realized that his legs hurt and his feet ached, knees feeling like wet noodles; he tried moving but it felt like dragging a chest of stones. So, he shook his head.

"Okay, come- come here"

The man helped him to his feet, strong arms managing to lift him up by the armpits. Tommy leaned his full weight on the stranger, his legs trembling and threatening to break. He was helped to the chair behind the register, where he slumped over and let his forehead touch the cold black marble of the countertop. One of his legs immediately twitched as it came in contact with the trashcan under the desk and he could feel the muscles spasm and wringle under the skin.

What was going on again? It was difficult to believe that what was happening outside was actually real.

Another gunshot was heard and Tommy screamed out of instinct. Another one had bitten the dust out in the street and Tommy could only guess that there would be more.

The man who helped him, the one Grian trusted enough to send his nephew to, ran to the door with a golden key in hand. Tommy looked up when he saw a blur of black in his peripheral and he saw the man crouched near the entrance, fiddling with the lock at the bottom of the door. Right, glass doors had weird locks. Then, the stranger went to a hanging cord of plastic beads and lowered the rollers, successfully isolating the shop and shrouding it in darkness. But Tommy didn't miss the splatter of blood on the shop window.

Tears rushed to his eyes and he let them run willingly. People were dying outside, Grian was out there, wounded and unable to fly away. His father was somewhere out there and his brothers were far away; God knew what had happened to them or if they'd been reached by the persuers already. He was so stressed and confused; why was his family being chased after? Why were people dying, for what cause? Was there any good reason for all that?

There was another gunshot. Another soul taken; reapped like a ripe tomato that's ready for the picking.

"W-What's going on?!", he managed to ask -no, to demand- through painful sobs and tear-stained, flushed cheeks.

The man quickly walked back to him but not before shooting a glare at the covered windows, like that would make the chaos outside stop. It didn't stop but that's not surprising.

"Mate, I know it's scary" -two hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him sternly, pitch black eyes looking straight into his own blue ones- "But you have to stop crying, please"

The man looked stressed himself, his eyebrow showing an obvious tick as it twitched.

"Grian is alone! Dad is alone too and Wilbur and Techno, fuck!", Tommy continued regardless of the other's plea. There was a stutter in the man's shaking and Tommy saw how his eyes shined with an emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I know but you have to calm down-"

"I am calm!", Tommy exclaimed, sudden anger invading his tone. He could feel it bubbling in his chest too. Right beside his heart, he could feel a stir of frustration and anger and it was growing the more he realized that his complains and questions were valid and unanswered.

The hands, calloused and rough from years of life and hard work, moved to his ears just in time to muffle a gunshot. Tommy only flinched that time, the man's touch telling him that no harm nor pain would reach him; at least for the time being. A moment passed before his ears were released. The ringing was completely gone and no static filtered through.

"Let's go to the back, it's safer there", the man said and he helped Tommy up and out of his seat, right through the door that read "EMPLOYEES ONLY". He was seated on a pile of folded cardboard boxes, which was weirdly soft but stiff enough for him to not fall over. There were some computers in the far back and drive disks stacked in their respective boxes up in the scaffolding shelf.

Tommy blinked his eyes; blinked away the blur effect of the left over tears. He wiped those away and looked up at the man, seeing him clearly for the first time after entering the shop. A man just a bit taller than him, with black, slicked back hair and a bushy mustache. The blur of black he had noticed was the black suit he was wearing, a white dress shirt showing behind the lapels and complimented nicely by a red and white striped tie.

"I'm Mumbo", what a weird name. Then again, Tommy knew plenty of people with weird names.

"...Tommy", he heaved a breath, "What's going on?"

The man, Mumbo, sighed, playing with his fingers as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"It's, uh, how do I explain this? Uhm, the government is chasing hybrids out of the city"

"What?", Tommy gaped. "They shot Grian, why did they shoot him- Why did they shoot them if they're just chasing them out of the city?"

He looked at Mumbo, staring with percistence. The man faltered just a bit.

"Well…", he paused for a second, nervously looking towards the closed door of the backroom. His hands balled into fists. "It's not just 'chasing'. They're taking them to concetration camps… to use them as lab rats"

And Tommy knew why the man was angry. He knew and he felt it too because he was angry as well. His family would be taken to the concetration camps the history teacher at school had told them about. They'd be tortured, maybe worked to the bone, and then they'd be experimented on. Tommy didn't want to imagine his family suffer but what could he do? What could they do? Because Grian was a friend of Mumbo's but the man in front of him, hands shaking and gritted teeth, could only stand there. He could only stand there and take care of Tommy, the one and only remnant he'd have of Grian… and Mumbo would be the one and only remnant Tommy would have of his uncle; a stranger but a friend as well.

But Grian would be taken for Tommy's sake, even though Tommy was human. Tommy didn't want to sit idly by and do nothing; he hated the very thought. He wanted to go outside and demand that his family be set free but what could a regular thirteen-year-old do?

"Your family will be safe, Tommy", Mumbo said, though there was doubt in his voice, disbelieving his own words. Tommy wanted to believe that; truly, he did. "Don't worry"

How could he not worry? With his family dispersed in the city, black vans driving down the streets, their persuers being the most powerful people in the world with vicious, battle-hardened soldiers, how could he stay calm? Weirdly enough, he was calm. His hands were trembling, fingers twitching but he was calm. The world slowed.

"How do you know that?", he asked, voice small; meek.

"Grian was… prepared for this. Your father and brother probably were ready to take action as well", Mumbo told him. "They know what to do. I trust Grian"

Tommy was not reassured for as much Grian was a troublemaker, he was a trouble-magnet. Though, the words did quell his anxiety and blanket his worry a bit, if only just a smidgen.

Then, loud knocks came from outside, shouts and barks accompanying them. Immediately, Mumbo tensed up, looking at the closed door of the room like a deer caught in headlights. That alone rang the alarm bells in Tommy's head and all he could see was red.

"Who is that?", he asked, a mere whisper in the loud, thick silence but Mumbo didn't answer.

"Did they see you?", he asked instead, his features becoming stoic and his thoughts unreadable. "Did they see you with Grian?"

"We were together when he-"

That seemed to be enough information because the man cut him off with a raised hand.

"Stay here and hide behind the crates, I'll deal with it"

With one final look, Mumbo went out of the room and Tommy was alone, sitting on the cardboard boxes. He tiptoed after the tall man, peeking his head through the crack of the door to see in the main area of the shop. Some of the rollers raised and imediately, Tommy's eyes zeroed in on the black uniforms and bullet proof vests of the men who flooded the area right as Mumbo opened the door. Gasping, he leapt away from the door and rushed to the darkest corner of the backroom.

They were looking for him; fuck, shit, he was done for! He couldn't be caught- he wouldn't be caught because Grian had risked his life for his and he wouldn't let that go to waste. Even if he was a human, what was stopping the soldiers from using him as bait? What if they hadn't reached his family yet and by being apprehended, they'd be led straight to dad and Wilbur?

So he hid behind the crates in the corner and held his breath as the men runsacked the room.

"Excuse me but you need a warrant!", he heard Mumbo tell the soldiers. Tommy could hear stuff being moved, stock being thrown around. A dog barked. Mumbo had gone ignored.

"We have a report about an avian's child hiding in here, sir", a foreign, monotonous voice said, probably one of the soldiers. That one sounded way closer than Tommy was comfortable with. "I am terribly sorry about the disturbance but this is a mandatory search"

Whoever that was did not sound sorry at all.

"I understand, sir, but I believe I would've noticed if a child had run in here-"

The door to the backroom was kicked open. The sound alone made Tommy jump back, almost hitting his head against a shelf. He did not dare move as he heard the soles of the intruder thud against the tile and faintly, he could see the shadow of a tall man against the wall. Hugging his legs tighter and feeling the slightest bit light-headed, he tried to sink further into the corner.

"That room is for employees only-"

There was a loud click of the fingers and a sharp yell of surprise reaped its way from Mumbo's throat. "If you have nothing to hide, there shouldn't be a problem with me having a look-see, hm?"

For the most part, it was quiet as the soldier looked through the other half of the room. Tommy was stuck in his corner and all he could do to not be found out was to hold his breath and pray to a god he did not believe in that everything would turn out alright. He had to get out of this; he had to.

But the soldier moved closer and Tommy's hopes were slowly deminishing the more the shuffling of items grew closer. He thought he heard Mumbo shout a few words outside of the room but his voice grew distant quickly.

The crate that covered him moved. It was lifted and shifted out of place, then set on the floor beside the rest. Tommy froze; he thought his heart had stopped yet his lungs were flaring. His eyes met the face of the soldier, half-covered by a heavy gasmask. Bright, alien eyes lookedd down at him, small, unkempt tufts of black hair falling over his forehead with an occassional strip of neon green. The smell of gunpowder invaded Tommy's nostrils, as annoying as the smoke of a cigarette but somehow bareable in his petrified state. What caught his attention were the floppy ears that flicked at the sight of him, one of which was mostly missing, the edges ragged and ugly, while the other only had a scabbed wound like an earing had been ripped out.

The soldier was a hybrid and Tommy's eyes grew wide with realization. Why was a hybrid with the... with the people who were chasing out hybrids? But that wasn't what mattered at the time.

"Please, don't hurt me…", he muttered, lowly enough so that the wish would be kept secret but the soldier's ear twitched. Green eyes softened just the tiniest bit, the cold barrier breaking.

The man stood up without uttering a single word and Tommy saw that he was much taller and muscular than his shadow had made him out to be. He grabbed something from atop a crate and the boy flinched when he realized it was a gun: a rifle, black and so big that it was longer than the soldier's forearm, made to incapacitate and kill. Despite Tommy's thoughts on the weapon, it was not pointed towards him; instead, it remained idle in the other's arm and Tommy could only question why he wasn't being hauled out of the room already.

"All clear", the soldier said once he exited the room. Tommy was dumbfounded and he remained in his corner as the rest of the unit filed out of the shop. There were a few words exchanged, he heard that much but the context was unclear.

What had just happened? He couldn't believe that the soldier… let him go? Had he actually let him go?

"Tommy?", he didn't hear Mumbo enter the room at first, "Mate, are you okay? What happened?"

"He… I don't know?", he said, pure disbelief in his tone but mostly in the events that had just transpired. "He left me"

Mumbo's eyebrows raised, genuinly confused and suspicious.

"I'm sorry, I tried to distract them but they were too… focused. Did he tell you anything?"

"No. He just left. Did they all leave?"

A nod was his answer and a weight lifted from his chest. They were safe again.

"He's a hybrid", Tommy continued, slumping back against the wall. His head hit a bit too hard but in comparison to what had just happened, that was a small issue. Mumbo sat on one of the crates with a sigh, leaning heavily on his knees.

"He is"

"Do you know him?"

"No"

"Why is a hybrid involved in all" -Tommy made a vague motion with his hand- "All this?"

Mumbo shook his head, thoughful.

"I don't know, Tommy. I know as much as you do"

And what they knew wasn't a lot. What they knew was little and what they knew provided zero answers to the thousants of questions. But one thing they did know was that they couldn't sit by and watch as Hell reaped through the city, claiming the lives of innocents just because one man had given the order.

"Mumbo, I want to look for them. Dad and Grian"

The man turned his head to look at him. He was silent for a second, eyebrows furrowed in concetration before giving a solid nod.

"Let's look for them. Together"

Mumbo stood. Tommy smiled.

Chapter Text

It'd been a week since the start of what people had started calling "The Hybrid Purge". It'd been a week since Tommy lost everything. He had lost everything and he had yet to accept that. His home, his friends, his family… everything had been pulled right out from under his feet without notice. Everything and everyone was gone; all except for Mumbo. Mumbo, the mechanic and the owner of the computer shop on Oxford St., always smiles and heartfelt laughter, the dictionary of old words Tommy did not know the meaning off, and most importantly, the only connection Tommy had to his previous life; his normal life. That normal life he had lost because of some stupid politician's wishes.

He lived with the man now, in the small two-bedroom house in a quiet and peaceful neighborhood, far away from the busy parts of town. He'd been shown around the humble home and the spare bedroom was made his.

Mumbo lived alone, he found out. He wasn't a married man and he had no romantic relationships or roommates; he was a simple man who lived a simple life with his fluffy dog, Kubo, as his only companion. The dog was a great comfort to Tommy and right when he'd first layed eyes on the medium-sized fellow, he'd wasted no time falling to his knees and hugging Kubo, sinking his fingers into his soft, light brown fur and staying in that position for a solid minute.

The house itself was a cozy space with vintage furniture, making it look old, crammed but warm at the same time, a few modern cushions strewn around the living room -they were pieces that had been left behind as a "gift" from the landlord. The kitchen was nothing special, though the granite counter was quite nice on the wooden bar. Kubo's food and water bowl were in the junction between the living room and the kitchen and Tommy had tripped over them more than three times on his first day in the house.

In Mumbo's bedroom, he had found all sorts of camera ecquipment -photography must've had been a hobby of the man's- and with his teenage genius, he'd managed to get into the camera roll of one of the older looking cameras. Even though he'd never admit it (mostly because he wasn't supposed to go in the master bedroom while Mumbo was out for groceries), Mumbo had done some crazy good work.

There were many pictures of landscapes, bike rides, old but tasteful, shiny cars and... Grian. The younger versions of Grian and Mumbo in their shenanigans, outside the entrance of Alton Towers, making cheeky faces and rabbit ears and smiling at the camera in the few selfies there were. Tommy had wiped his nose on his sleeve and left the camera where he'd found it before quickly leaving the room with clenched fists.

Tommy spent the majority of his time inside the house, be it when doing chores or was simply bored. He didn't venture outside, not even to walk Kubo when Mumbo had extra work to do in the shop or to get some fresh air. Not only could he not go outside because Mumbo had forbidden it but his face was plastered on every news article and TV screen in the city, appointed as the child of an avian who had escaped the "First Order" -whatever that was.

Mumbo had tried to explain it to him once while they were watching the news. He regarded it as some sort of specialized unit, like the reporter had described it just a minute before. Tommy didn't understand half the words but he got the gist of what it all meant. The First Order were the people responsible for this charade and apparently, it didn't consist only by humans but hybrids as well -like that soldier back at the store; the creeper who let him go! A curfew was also imposed by the government as a way to minimize the chaos: when the clock would hit 10PM, everyone had to be locked inside their houses.

They learnt quickly that humans could get away from the cops with only a scolding if they transgressed the law.

And he spent no more time thinking about that. Mumbo had told him that they had to wait, to remain hidden until more information was released to the public. Tommy didn't know why but the mustached man was extremely cautious, even as they planned their way to reaching Grian before he was caught and detained.

Grian was supposed to be getting the rest of his family. He was supposed to find Tommy's dad and Wilbur but it's been a week and Tommy didn't know what to think. Wilbur's college was far but not that far and Phil's workplace was downtown, maybe a thirty minute carride. He could only hope for the best and pray that his uncle wouldn't be caught.

He spent a night thinking about nothing as he stared out the window of his bedroom. Mumbo had already gone to sleep and Kubo was somewhere in the house, probably also sleeping. It was way past curfew and a random show was playing on mute on the small TV in the bedroom. It cast some light, just enough to light up the room but not enough to steal Tommy's attention. Instead, his attention was stlen by something -or rather, someone- outside the house. There was a kid outside on the opposite side of the street, walking with their back hunched and trying to hide behind the bushes. It wasn't out of the ordinary to see people out after 10PM, as there were plenty who would sneak out past curfew, be it hybrid or not. What intrigued Tommy to that one was that it was a kid, no taller and probabbly not much older than himself. In the darkness of the neighborhood, he couldn't distinguish any facial features, let alone hybrid features.

He watched the other intensely and as the kid walked, Tommy noticed a trail of something dark being left behind them. The way they were hunched over made it obvious as to what the trail consisted of and if he was right, then that kid was in serious danger. And while Tommy was no vigilante, he had a great sense of pride and justice and that kid was going to die if he didn't do something about it. If the trail was really blood, then the soldiers were closeby and the echoing sound of sirens proved him right. That was a hybrid out there, in the same boat as himself, wounded and scared and Tommy- Tommy had to do something.

Tommy didn't even register that he was running until he was swinging the front door of the house open.

"Hey!", he shouted across the street and the kid stilled, frozen in place. "Hey, come here!"

The kid stayed still for a second and then they were stumbling forth, their route changing from following the pavement to crossing the road. Tommy held the door open, doing fast motions with his free hand to urge the other to move faster. Red light approached the curve just down the street, the color muted at first but becoming brighter as the seconds passed.

The kid was going too slow. Too slow for Tommy's anxiety. So, with an incredibly loud curse, he bolted into the street as the sirens blurred louder and louder and the light brought with it nightmares. He hooked his arm under the armpit of the other, hoisting them up and helping them to the open door.

"Holy shit!", Tommy shouted as he scrambled to shut the door. The lights came and then disappeared. The engine of a van roared as the soldiers followed the straight line away from the neighborhood. They'd made it just in time.

Leaning back against the door, hands and head pressed against the wood,  Tommy let out a breath of relief. He'd just saved someone; a stranger covered from head to toe in blood- Holy Hell, why was there so much blood?!

Before he could panic about the boy hissing and gulping huge amounts of air, however, he heard a door opening down the hall. They'd awoken Mumbo, it seemed, which Tommy was thankful for because he really needed an adult to take a look at the other's wounds -whatever those wounds were. All of the boy's skin was covered by an oversized checkered jumper that was all red and stained. Tommy counted one bullet hole on his side and another right below his stomach -Oh, God, would the boy even make it through the night?

"Tommy?", Mumbo called from down the hall as he approached.

"Mumbo, help!", Tommy called back and he clearly heard the man stumble as he made haste to reach them.

"Tommy, what's wrong?", he asked before he noticed the boy bleeding out on the floor. "Oh my gosh!"

Mumbo did not hesitate in swooping the boy off the floor with careful hands and herding him to the kitchen, where he sat him in a chair. Tommy followed on shaky legs, holding onto the wall for support as the adrenaline left his system. The light switch was turned on and Tommy had never been so thankful that Mumbo had shutters on every window because no one would see that there was a hybrid in their house.

The boy had small, curved horns framing his face with ridges travelling up their length, the base hidden by chestnut brown, curly hair. He had ears similar to that of a goat's, only one was torn to near shreds and bleeding; it was a recent wound and the boy probably received it while he was escaping the soldiers and the black van. As Mumbo worked on getting the hoodie off the other to see the damage of the bullets, Tommy could see and hear the pain the hybrid was going through as he hissed and twitched at every small prod, and he could clearly see how hard he was trying to keep quiet as he bit his lip, eyes hidden behind too-long bangs.

"Tommy, get me a towel, quick", Mumbo said sternly and Tommy rushed to do just that. When he returned to Mumbo's side, who was crouched and pressing on the bloody wounds with his red hands. Kubo, who was in the living room, was at the kitchen entrance, tail wagging in agitation and watching his owner work. "What happened?", the man asked, clearly concerned and alarmed.

"He was being chased by the van", Tommy answered, much calmer than he should've been about the situation. "I saw him from my window and-"

Apparently, Mumbo didn't need the explanation about why there was a bleeding twelve-year-old in the house, as he made a dismissive gesture with his free hand, the other pressing the towel on the bullet holes.

"This needs stitches", the man said, a small drop of sweat on the edge of his brow.

"I'll grab the medkit"

---

Stitching the kid up and putting him to bed had been a lot harder than it seemed. Especially with the kid being awake, it was quite trickier and Tommy was glad he wasn't the one holding the curved needle. By the time that Mumbo was done with the stitches, the kid was panting, biting hard on the clean bundled towel Tommy had given him. And Tommy was frankly surprised that the boy had yet to pass out due to blood loss or shock or exhaustion. He was made of some tough stuff, he'd give him that much. He was also surprised at the fact that Mumbo even knew how to stitch up a person but the man dismissed his surprise when he explained that he'd taken first-aid classes. Maybe Tommy should consider learning some first aid.

When Mumbo laid him out on the couch (which he had told Tommy to cover with a cloth so no blood would stain it), all bandaged up and a lot calmer than he was in the chair, he started to look more lucid; like he was asleep before but awake now. Instead of sleeping like a patient who had gotten shot and roughed up should do, the boy was moving his head to look around the living room. At some point, he was almost met with Kubo's hot tongue on his face but Tommy held the dog back. Oh, and Tommy was going to be keeping watch, as he'd established by sitting on the floor beside the couch, shamelessly staring at the other with narrowed eyes, as if he'd be able to unravel the guy's history simply by glaring.

It didn't work but Tommy had expected that.

"Where am I?", the boy asked, and Tommy had to assume that he had his eyes narrowed or his eyebrows furrowed, simply because the boy's bangs were too long.

"In a house", he answered matter-of-factly. The sound of Tommy's voice must've had caught the boy by surprise because he all but almost jolted, only kept down thanks to the pain in his abdomen.

"What- who are you?", he sounded disoriented, confused and somewhat scared. Tommy decided that the boy was to become his friend whether said boy liked it or not. It had been a while since he'd met a teen his age so he thought it would be nice to have someone to bubble about teenager things to.

"I'm Tommy, the biggest and strongest man in town!"

His introduction was met with a scoff.

"Pfft, sure", Tommy almost gasped in shock and offense but he was cut off as Kubo made yet another attempt at licking the goat-hybrid's face. He held the dog back by the collar with one hand as he snaked the other around Kubo's waist.

"And this is Kubo. Good dog, innit?", Kubo looked up at Tommy in silent contemplation, as if wondering whether to prove Tommy right or wrong. But then Mumbo entered (he'd gone to hide away the medkit and bloody towels) and Kubo padded over to him for pets. The full-body flinch of the boy upon the adult's arrival did not go unnoticed, however.

"Hey, there, you should be resting", he started but the goat flinched again and almost sat up despite the pulling of his stitches. "Woah, calm down!", Mumbo was quick to switch to a more placating tone, so careful and soft that it made Tommy uncomfortable. To bothe of their surprise, the kid actually listened. Maybe it was the aching and exhaustion of bloodloss finally taking over.

"Yeah, you should sleep", Tommy supported the older man, beginning to stand up to leave and go back to his own bed and sleep for the rest of the fucking night but apparently, that was not destined to be. An arm shot out at him, successfully grabbing his wrist and pulling so hard, Tommy almost stumbled over his own feet. Mumbo let out a small exclaimation that went unheard.

"No!", the boy shouted like he had come to a wild realization, hand trembling and fingers sure to leave prints on Tommy's skin. Tommy was not particularly happy about that. "They're looking for me and" -he took a big breath- "And my brother is out there, worried sick -holy Hell, he might be injured or-"

"Calm down", Mumbo interrupted the boy, whose head snapped towards the mustached man. Tommy was only slightly unnerved. Was that how he looked like when he'd first met Mumbo? So distressed and shit? But that boy had a brother, apparently; an extra person to worry about -maybe even several people- just like Tommy had Grian and Phil and Wilbur- fuck.

"What's your name?", Mumbo asked. Tommy stayed quiet only because he was trying to not have a nervous breakdown himself.

"Um… Tubbo"

"Well, Tubbo, you are safe here. There are no bad people here to get you", the man continued, crouched beside the couch.

"But my brother, he's-"

"Does your brother have a phone?"

The boy, Tubbo, nodded. Hesitantly but he did.

"Do you remember his number?"

Another nod.

"We'll call him in the morning, when the world will be calmer. You should rest for now", he said as he stood up. Tubbo didn't seem too fond of the idea but he didn't argue either. Tommy noted that he looked tired. "Come on, Tommy, you should go to bed too"

Tommy, very reluctantly, followed the man's coaxing hands as he was helped up from off the floor. Tubbo tracked their movements leisurely, lips pursing like he had something to say but then decided against it, simply letting his head hit the pillow.

"I'm taking Kubo", Tommy announced, already herding the dog to the hallway. Mumbo chuckled.

"That's fine. I'll stay with Tubbo"

With that, the man grabbed a book from the hanging library on the opposite wall and moved to turn off the light. Tommy was deep into the hallway (Kubo padding behind him, staying loyal by his side and allowing himself to be kidnap by the blond), when he lost Mumbo from his sight. He heard the familiar sound of leather being sat on and Tommy guessed that Mumbo had sat at the end of the couch to keep Tubbo company.

Something twisted in Tommy's gut as he entered his room and it settled in a dark, humid pit when he lied on his bed. Kubo curled up on the floor beside the bed and Tommy turned so that he could see the adorable dog. It was probably nothing.

Chapter Text

Morning came sooner than Tommy had wanted or had hoped for. It came in the form of birds chirping happily outside and Kubo barking loudly at the window. That's what had woken him up: Kubo and his insistent barking. He couldn't even see the birds thanks to the shutters but the sound alone was apparently enough to havs the dog going insane.

"Kubooo", he whined, and hoping to get some more sleep, he turned on his side and pressed a pillow over his uncovered ear. Kubo, answering to his cry of protest, jumped up on the bed and proceeded to nose his face. "I don't want to get uuup! Stooop!"

Kubo did not stop for a moment. Instead, he continued prodding at Tommy's face with his wet nose and if Tommy didn't love the dog, he would've had pushed him away already. And then came the tongue. The wet, moist tongue that had Tommy rolling away and furiously wiping at the saliva on his cheek with the back of his hand in disgust. He fell off the bed, taking the covers with him, leading to a mess of human child and fabric and some dog on the floor.

Kubo walked off him, completely ignoring him despite accidentally stepping on Tommy's stomach and slightly knocking the breath out of him. Tommy decided to not curse as he groaned on his way up.

It was almost muscle memory to open the door and walk out the hall, turning to the right before taking a set number of steps to reach the entrance of the kitchen. He opened the fridge door, grabbed a carton of milk, turned to the counter, grabbed the first box of cereal, a bowl from the cabinet. The moves were almost sluggish, Kubo noisily crunching on his dog food by the chair Tommy dragged out.

Then he heard a groan from the living room and turning, he remembered: there was a stranger in the house who might've had bled out on the couch overnight. He leaned back in his chair, peeked his head in the room and spied the brown curls poking out from behind the couch pillows and the bumps of the curved horns. There was no Mumbo in the vicinity, leaving Tommy to wonder where the man was and swiftly noting the noise outside the front door; the man must've gone to collect the paper or something.

Abandoning his breakfast, Tommy crept to the living room, looming over the first couch and peering at the grimace on the boy's -Tubbo's- face. Tubbo looked like he was in pain and Tommy doubted that he'd feel better anytime soon with the bullet holes litering his body. At least, they got the bleeding to stop and he wasn't but a living corpse on their couch. That's a relief.

So, what's he supposed to do? He sat down next to the couch, resting his arm on the firm cushion and his cheek on his palm. Should he wake the boy up? He needed to eat too.

The front door opened, the charms hanging on the handle jingling. Tommy turned to find a sweaty Mumbo in casual clothing entering the house; it's such a weird sight to see the guy out of his tight dress pants and suit. The man held a bloody towel and a plastic bucket that looked heavy but the wait didn't have his tall body tilting.

"What were you doing outside?", Tommy asked curiously. Kubo patted his way over to his owner, sniffing his trousers. Mumbo did a plaquating motion with the hand holding the towel, though it was hard to distinguish it.

"Keep it down, Tommy, Tubbo is still asleep", he sighed. "I was cleaning up the blood outside, I didn't think you'd wake up so early"

Tommy looked at him, intrigued. "Early?"

"It's around 6, mate"

Oh. He had woken up early. The wall clock confirmed that it would soon be 6 o'clock.

"Kubo woke me up", he explained, only a tinge of complaint in his tone. Kubo was too cute to hold a grudge against.

"Ah", was all Mumbo said before receding to the bathroom, probably to empty the bucket in the toilet bowl.

Deciding that he should eat that cereal he'd left unattended, Tommy went to get up. He felt something fumble with the fabric of his pajamas, a heavy pressure. He turned to look, only to see Tubbo's hand slowly curling into the softness of his pajama pants and blue eyes peering up at him through messy, brown bangs.

"I'm awake", he croaked, sounding absolutely miserable. Tommy grinned conspiratorially.

"Hi 'awake', I'm Tommy"

Tubbo did not look impressed but Tommy was pleased with the horrible dad joke.

"Haha, very funny", the boy rolled his eyes, face grimacing in pain. He looked around the living room, almost confused about the fact that he was in a house. "Where is..."

Mumbo returned in his work clothes; that being his void-black suit and classic, red tie, nicely tucked underneath his suit jacket. Glittery gold buttons adorned the cuffs of it, with an emblem that Tommy couldn't be arsed to ask about and Mumbo told him that they were real in spire of how fake they looked.

"Oh, good morning", the man greeted Tubbo, who looked only slightly alarmed but also too exhausted to react. "How are you feeling?"

He didn't reply right away.

"Bad"

Mumbo nodded. It was the expected answer. He rounded the couch so he was in the hybrids line of sight.

"I'll get you some painkillers and then you could give me your brother's number so I can call him to come pick you up", the man informed them as he walked to the kitchen. "He must be worried sick- Tommy, your breakfast"

"Coming!", Tubbo winced at his volume but Tommy barely registered that. He got up, freeing himself from the other's grip and running to the kitchen table.

He grabbed the bowl of cereal and swept a spoonful of the floating bits, promptly shioving it in his mouth. He tailed Mumbo to the cabinet of medicine, watching him move small boxes with weird names around. In the end, he handed Tommy a box that said 'Depon' on the front and instructed him to get a small glass of water for Tubbo.

Begrudgingly, he left his bowl on the table and went to do that whilst Mumbo got his phone. Tommy watched from the entrance while he got the water from the fridge as the man sat down at Tubbo's feet. The man nodded along and typed in the numbers Tubbo was telling him, volume too low for Tommy to hear them.

"I'll call him now, alright?", Tommy guessed Tubbo either nodded or mouthed his answer. Mumbo put the phone to his ear. "What's his name?"

Tommy had to strain his ear to hear. "Dream"

And almost immediately, Tubbo's brother picked up.

"Hello, is this Dream?", a pause. "I understand, you must be busy but my nephew found your brother, Tubbo- no, I'm not trying to blackmail you!", Tommy had to put his hand over his mouth to not giggle but Tubbo only burst in laughter. So he followed the boy's example and laughed too. "Yes, that's him, perfectly alive and healthy, he's only beat up a little. I'll text you my address so you can come pick him up?", they both shut up and held their breaths as they waited for Tubbo's brother to respond.

"Sure! Do you want to speak to- Alright, goodbye"

The call ended there and Mumbo sighed. Tommy approached with the painkillers and water and set those on the coffee table beside the couch.

"He's running here and he didn't want to waste time", Mumbo explained. The man looked at Tubbo with a sort of pitying look. "Are the two of you alone?"

Before answering, Tubbo took the pill and chugged down the water, only so he could have some time to think of his answer. He nodded, making a face at the awful taste of the pill -apparently, he didn't down it first try-  and then talked -his voice sounded better, warmer.

"We were going to the-", he cut himself off, "to a safe place and we were caught by the soldiers. Dream distracted them so I could get away… I didn't think he'd pick up the phone, I'd assumed-", he gripped the edge of the couch tightly, and there was only a hint of a warble in the back of his throat.

Tommy could share the sentiment. Though, unlike Tubbo, he didn't know whether his own fucking family was alive and he wanted to cry so damn bad… But he didn't. He had to stay strong as steel -he could cry at the end of this.

Mumbo looked like he was going to say something else; maybe some comfort words, Tommy didn't know but he piped in anyway.

"My brothers are in college", he said, and Tubbo's head turned towards him with wide eyes.

"Mine dropped out when our mother died"

Mumbo had brought some cookies to the living room at some point during their delightful conversation.

---

It took approximately twenty minutes for the doorbell to ring. Kubo immediately went up to it, standing on his hind legs and pawing at the surface, claws lightly scratching. He wasn't barking, more so trying to see who was on the other side even though that was an impossible feat. Tommy and Tubbo stopped talking, simultaneously looking towards the front door and finding themselves petrified; glued on their respective seats of ground and couch, with half eaten cookies in their mouths.

"That must be your brother", Mumbo calls from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a random towel. Tommy adjusted his position, shifting his body so he could face the door.

Mumbo looked through the peephole before hesitantly putting his hand on the handle. The charms jingled when he pushed down on it- and the door slammed inwards, pushed by whoever was on the other side.

It was a man, almost as tall as Mumbo, wearing worn and torn denim jeans and a hoodie of a dark shade of green, hood up and hiding his face. He'd grabbed Mumbo, one hand on his neck, the other on the lapel of his suit, and he'd forced himself inside the house. Tubbo was already trying to get up but Tommy was scared.

"Where is he?!", the stranger shouted, kicking the door closed with his foot. The sound made Tommy jump to his feet, ignoring Tubbo's asking for help to stand, in order to separate the two.

"Hey, hey, let him go!", he shouted, grabbing the stranger and pushing him away. The stranger looked at him, and Tommy pulled an arm up to defend himself. The hustle stopped, Mumbo letting out a panicked 'Tommy!' and putting a hand out to push him back -protect him in a way.

The stranger let go of Mumbo's suit and neck, muttering. "The kid on the news…"

Tommy stood slightly in front of Mumbo, an unhappy and worried look on his face. He didn't like what he was refered to as: the kid on the news. Was that what people knew him as? Was he that recognizeable? Just a glance and boom, one Tommy Minecraft!

"Dream!", Tubbo yelled, stumbling his way over to the rest of them and promptly falling into Dream's arms. Holy shit, that's his brother?! Tommy thought, sighing out in relief. "Dream, you're alive!"

Dream laughed. He laughed like a man in a desert being given a bottle of water, and he hugged the younger tightly… or as tight as one could with a wounded shoulder. That was when Tommy saw the blood on the hoodie and on the jeans -blood that was obviously his- emitting from darkened holes in the fabric. Tommy made a face and took a step back, suddenly feeling sick.

It was weird, seeing as he'd been mostly fine the night before while he was helping Mumbo with the stitches and all the bloody work. Then again, it was a weird night, filled with adrenaline and an absence of knowing what was going on. 

It's only natural that Dream had more wounds than his brother since he was the one the van was chasing when Tommy was urging Tubbo faster. Speaking of Tubbo, he didn't make a sound even when Dream accidentally pressed a wound firmer against him; he was tanking the pain better than anyone Tommy had ever seen. It was something to look up to.

"Did they hurt you?", Dream asked, like Mumbo wasn't right there. Tubbo shook his head and Dream tucked him underneath his chin with a relieved sound. "Good… That's good"

He then turned to Mumbo, who straightened up when the attention was on him.

"Um, thank you for everything you did for him", Dream, quite awkwardly, said. Mumbo looked at him with narrowed eyebrows, and Tommy realized that at the angle he stood, that the man could see the other's face underneath the hood.

"You're welcome but are you okay? There's blood on your face", Mumbo asked like a concerned parent. It made both Tubbo and Tommy be more than a little alarmed. As much as Tubbo tried to pull away to have a look, Dream held him tight against his chest.

"It's not pretty", he muttered and his brother whined in worry.

"They can patch you up!", Tubbo offered on their behalf. He turned and stared at them both through covered eyes. "Like they did me! You can, can't you?"

Mumbo smiled.

"If you'll allow me to have a look", he regarded Dream with a handshake. "I'm Mumbo Jumbo"

---

It turned out that Dream's wounds were a lot worse than Tubbo's. Tommy wasn't let into the bathroom, so he had dragged Tubbo to his room to play some random board game he'd found in some corner of the house, but he could hear curses and yelps, bleats of pain instead of screams. It was bad. He didn't know if it was so painful because of the fact that Dream was concsious or just that his wounds were infected. After about six hours of being outside, trudging through God knows what, one could expect that outcome.

At least, Mumbo was quick with his work. The two of them came out about an hour later, Dream's torso adorned with so much gauze that it could be considered a shirt and his face looking… Not good. There is a scar running along his nose, cutting through an eyebrow with ragged, reddened and angry edges. It looked cool, at least, with his side-swept, blond hair; the big, curled horns that framed his head made it work, somehow. His eyes shone bright anyway, like he was feeling better despite the discomfort of the antiseptic.

"Tubbo?", they heard from the hall. Kubo, who was sitting with them, walked out of the room.

"Uh, here!", Tubbo shouted. Spooked out of his focus, Tommy laid his cards down on the covers of his bed. The door opened wider than the dog had left it and Dream peeked in.

"Get ready, we're leaving", was all he said. But Tubbo looked devastated that they were leaving and Tommy could feel it too because he didn't want Tubbo to leave so quickly. They'd become friends since last night and the board game had only made their bond stronger!

It was like back when he was small, when his brothers were still in normal school, back at home. When his friends from school would come over and would have to leave just as the fun was starting. It was always disheartening to him because he knew that good things only happened once; any fun they'd have had one day, they wouldn't have the next.

"I don't want to leave", Tubbo said his voice small. Dream turned back to him, curiosity and intrigue clear in the curve of his uncut brow. "Can't you talk to Mumbo? Maybe we can stay here for a day, it's safe enough!"

"Tubbo…", the blond sighed. "I know you want to play a bit more but we need to go. If someone saw you or me, I'm sorry but it's not safe"

"Come on, Dream! Just a day!", Tubbo persisted anyway. Tommy didn't interject; he didn't want to make things worse for his friend and ontop of that, he didn't know how Mumbo would react to such a change of plans. They hadn't discussed such boundaries, since Tommy wouldn't be seeing any old friends of his for a while. Phil rarely allowed visits, only because he wasn't home enough to look after hyperactive children that were dumped in his care for about three hours.

"If you decide to taste every cleaning spray in the cabinet while I'm gone, I'll have Hell to pay", was one of his honest excuses as to why Tommy couldn't have friends over often. He did go to other houses but he felt a little out of place. Every other kid's parent would get out of the car to greet the other parents and stick around for a few minutes, yet Phil was too busy for those formalities.

"If you get stabbed, stab 'em back", he had done the latter without the former many times… not that Phil ever learnt of that.

"You guys can stay a day", Mumbo announced, standing behind Dream. The blond walked a few steps into the room so the other could come in as well. "I don't mind and Tommy could use the company, really"

Dream shook his head, looking just the tiniest bit awkward. "No, you've been very kind but we do need to get going"

Tommy looked at Mumbo with a pleading look. Please, don't let them go, he wished with his eyes, not so soon!

"It's bright outside and I don't have any clothes that would fit you, mate, let alone cover your horns", the man said and Tommy resisted the urge to fistbump the air. "And the blood stains are pretty obvious with the holes, you'd be caught instantly"

Dream seemed to consider the man's words. Tommy thought that they had won the argument before the other brother responded.

"If we aren't a bother", he said and Mumbo smiled. "We're leaving when it gets dark outside though"

Tubbo stood up to hug Dream, and as much as the older of the tried to appear even older than his age, he gave a goofy smiled. Tommy couldn't help himself anymore and jumped up and down on the bed. Kubo returned and looked only a bit confused.

Chapter Text

Later that day, Mumbo went out for groceries as there was nowhere near enough food for four mouths in the fridge. Seeing as the government was on the hunt for hybrids amongst its people, it was a risky trip. If he got in trouble, there would be no way any of the three boys would be able to know until it was too late.

That being said, Dream took the role of babysitter whilst the man was out.  He didn't trust humans but Mumbo had saved Tubbo when he was bleeding out and he was also harboring the kid from the news broadcast; hell, Mumbo had even patched him up, when he didn't have to. Dream's wounds had stopped bleeding hours ago, before he'd arrived at the house. However, the possibility that he was simply waiting for the right opportunity to hand them all in was still there. The police force would give a nice amount of money for any tips on their tip line and even more for anyone who apprehended a hybrid.

At least, he could trust the dog. Kubo was a good boy, sniffing and licking at Dream's fingers in greeting before doing the same to Tubbo. His brother laughed when the dog jumped in his lap and sat on him.

"So, what's your relationship with Mumbo?" Dream asked Tommy, trying to keep his nervousness from showing in his voice. After Mumbo had left, they had situated themselves in the living room; the one room with multiple exits and an open view of the street. They could have a heads up if something was happening outside and that would give them time to leave unnoticed.

"Well- Uh, he's a friend of my uncle's." Tommy answered, dropping the conversation he and Tubbo were having. Dream didn't care about what they were discussing; there were greater matters at hand. He trusted Tubbo to not say too much.

"Your uncle?"

"Avian."

However, there were no avian traits showing on Tommy's body. No wings, no talons, no tail feathers, no dusting of down on his face. He didn't even have sharp teeth to indicate that he was a hybrid. By the age of four, he should have had grown one of those characteristics if not all of them. Perhaps, he was unlucky (or lucky) and the hybrid gene hadn't been passed on to him... or the government had it all wrong and he was completely human.

Dream grunted a response and moved to the other edge of the couch, closer to the window. Behind him, the two boys continued their conversation about... something; he wasn't paying attention. From his spot, he couldn't see much other than the facade of the opposite house and an old car that was parked in its driveway. Carefully, he stood up, grunting with the effort.

"Dream!" Tubbo shouted with worry and Dream pretended that his stitches weren't pulling at his skin as if to agree with his brother that he shouldn't be moving. Tommy also piped up.

"Come on, man, you shouldn't be moving like that-"

"You'll tear your stitches, idiot!"

Hands grabbed onto his forearm, pulling him away from the window. Dream didn't budge, only shooting Tubbo a warning glance to back off. His brother, being stubborn, only huffed and sent the glare right back at him.

"They won't tear if you stop jostling me."

"They will if you don't stop fucking moving!"

Regardless, Tubbo relented, flopping back on the couch with a sour frown on his face. Dream didn't pay it more mind than he had to, catching Tommy's lost gaze instead.

"So, where were you two going?" the boy asked, curious. Dream raised an eyebrow. "Tubbo mentioned you two were going somewhere safe. Where?"

That... could be a trap. Tommy, for all that he claimed to be –for what the higher ups claimed he was– he looked too human; too much of a threat. Words are as dangerous a weapon as a knife and, well, he couldn't give him such power. The least people that knew of their whereabouts, the better.

His beloved brother, however, thought otherwise or he didn't think at all. The times that he'd think before he'd spoken Dream could count on his fingers.

"We were going to the Sewer Cats." he said, too trusting and too dismissive of the obvious lack of avian. Dream's eyes narrowed in warning but Tubbo wasn't looking at him, his back facing Dream. The horns felt heavier on the sides of his head.

Tommy looked surprised. For someone who had supposedly lived with avians, his surprise was unexpected. It was common knowledge amongst the hybrids of the city that the Sewer Cats existed; it was a secret kept away from human ears.

"Sewer cats? Who are they?"

Tubbo opened his mouth to speak but Dream quickly cut him off.

"Tubbo, don't say a word."

They both looked at him; Tommy with an offended face and Tubbo with an expression that spoke of his inner realization that he had said too much already.

"Why not?" Tommy pushed. "Who are those sewer cats anyways? Hybrids, yeah?"

Dream considered him. He didn't like that he was considering answering that question but there was a detail to address about Tommy. Regardless of his lack of wings and feathers, he was still being hunted down. The media was full of wanted posters with his face plastered all over the city. He was suspected of being a hybrid, probably.

Tommy was as house-bound as Dream and Tubbo and that put them in the same boat, as much as doubt and anxiety ate away at Dream's mind. Distrust was clawing up his throat; he pushed it down.

"Fine." Tubbo looked surprised.

"Fine?" A nod and his brother beamed.

"Okay!" Tubbo exclaimed, unsettling Kubo, who jumped down after being spooked by the boy's excitement. Dream looked out the window.

"So, the Sewer Cats are protecting hybrids from the government and they have this super-secret hideout! That's where we're going."

A black van parked on the opposite side of the road.

"Woah! Could we come with you? Mumbo and I? Uh, Dream?"

Dream squinted his eyes at it, tried to see the nameplate. His senses were on high alert already and the alarms that set off in his mind at the sight of the van sent adrenaline flowing through his limbs. He straightened up to see better when armed officers in black vests filed out of the vehicle to approach the neighbor's door. One of them was carrying a ram.

"We need to go." Dream said. He stood up hurriedly, hissing at the pull of the stitches under the tons of bandages. Kubo wagged his tail at his feet but quickly got the message that the situation wasn't lighthearted.

Tommy and Tubbo stood up as well, his brother running towards him to steady his stumbling.

"We do– Why?" Dream shot a small glance at the window and the boys quickly caught on to what was happening.

"Why are they here?!" Tommy screeched at a low volume, which Dream was thankful for. The last thing they needed was to attract attention to the house before they could leave.

"They're searching for someone." Dream supplied the boy with an answer and Tubbo's eyes widened instantly.

"They're here for us– Shit, they're here for us–"

Dream didn't let Tubbo continue lest his brother fell into a spiral. He grabbed him by the arm and pulled his brother to his side, holding him steady. The armed men bashed the neighbor's door open and then there was shouting.

"Tommy is there a backdoor or something?"

The boy looked terrified. "What about Mumbo?"

"There is no time for Mumbo, we have to leave now!" he stressed his words with a frustrated hiss. "They'll check there and then they'll look here, Tommy." Tommy still seemed hesitant to leave the human man behind, despite how dire the circumstances were.

So, Dream grabbed him, too, and he pulled both boys into the hallway. Tommy's window– A gunshot sounded when they entered the room; shouting, chaos. All of it was silenced with another ear-piercing bang and they all stood still.

Tubbo pushed himself into Dream's side. Dream bit his tongue to keep from shouting as pain flared from his wounds. He could feel the bandages becoming sticky and wet with blood but he couldn't focus on that– not when he had to get his brother out of there–

A knock came from the door. Kubo ran towards it, standing on his hand legs to try and look at who it is. Panicked and shaking like a leaf, Tommy quickly called the dog to them.

"Is anyone home? We're just here for a few questions!"

And Dream knew that voice too well. Tommy, too, looked frantic. "Mumbo's room, Mumbo's room!" the boy urged, pushing harshly at them both. Kubo followed.

He didn't need to be told twice before he was shoving both of the boys into Mumbo's bedroom, closing and licking the door behind them. Kubo whined in worry and Dream almost thought twice about taking the dog as well.

"Tubbo, look for spare clothes." he ordered, moving to barricade the door with furniture; they couldn't walk around in blooded clothing in broad daylight. Tommy, looking both of them over once, ran to show Tubbo the clothes inside Mumbo's closet.

First were the nightstands, lifting them off the floor to move them so they didn't make any noise. That wouldn't be enough to hold back so many men, though, so he considered the desk. There were so many items and gadgets and knickknacks that it hurt his own heart to knock them off but it had to be done. The crash of so many metal objects and the ruffling and crumpling of paper as he misplaced everything that would fall off made him wince.

The barracade would hold, he thought. At least until the kids made it out of the room. Tubbo knew where to go, even if Dream didn't make it out in one piece – No, he scolded himself, now is not the time to think about that, be positive.

"Dream, here." Tubbo passed him a white button up and a black suit jacket. It wouldn't be the most discreet outfit but it was certainly better than the torn hoodie he was wearing. Not only was it ruined beyond repair but the soldiers had seen him in that, so it would also give him away.

"You two need to cover the horns too." Tommy reminded in a whisper. Tubbo pulled on a fresh, green button up and tucked it messily into the waistband of his trousers.

There was a bang that came from outside. The men were breaking down the door. Kubo barked at the sound, running at the closed bedroom door and pacing in front of it. Tommy tried to shush him as he looked through drawers.

A beanie was soon shoved onto each of their heads and Tommy tugged them over their horns fast before messing with his own. Dream herded them to the window and lastly, he picked up Kubo with a pained hiss. He had certainly not been cleared to lift any weight.

There was another bash and the front door had broken off its hinges. The wood banged loudly against the floor, followed by the same shouting and heavy footsteps. In the brash sound, Tommy growled.

"Do those fuckers even have a warrant?!"

Dream chose to humor him, "Probably not." –they've most likely planned to clean the whole neighborhood anyway. "Come on, climb out and I'll hand Kubo to you."

The kids started climbing out of the open window. The curtains flowed innocently with a draft of wind that rushed into the room.

"Go, go, go!" Dream silently urged. Tubbo was the first to climb out, having already done that a million times before. Goat genes had a way to make a person climb the steepest of hills.

Tommy, however, was hesitant. The drop wasn't that big since the window wasn't all that high off of the ground –by Dream and Tubbo's standards anyway. Apparently, Tommy didn't share the same opinion.

"Uhm–" but time wasn't on their side.

"Check the rooms!" the shout came from the hall. Almost immediately, something hit against the door.

Dream's heart dropped to his stomach.

"This one is locked!"

Kubo barked and Dream let him down.

"Tommy, move!" he hissed at the boy, moving to help him get out. Tubbo was waiting patiently at the bottom, face focused and arms outstretched. Tommy latched onto the window sill, muttering a handful of colorful words under his breath, whining. Another hit came at the door, causing the boy to yelp and let go suddenly, falling to the ground gracelessly.

Kubo barked at the third hit. There was something being said behind the door but Dream's ears were ringing. The wood around the handle cracked and another hit sent it flying to the floor with a loud bang. It left a hole behind it and through that hole, Dream could just barely make out the outline of someone there. He grabbed Kubo again and carefully gave him to Tubbo.

"You got him?" he asked.

Another bash and the hole widened. Dream was keenly aware of the blood soaking into his bandages from his aggravated wounds. A stitch must've had come undone through the whole ordeal and he was certain that it wouldn't be the last one.

"Yeah, yeah-"

Dream passed a leg over the window sill. He spared a glance at the doorway- he caught a glimpse of the door being pushed open, heard the wood splinter and break off in chunks. He hurried to get down, almost dropping like Tommy had when the desk and nightstands scraped against the floor.

"They're getting away!"

A gunshot sounded and a bullet whizzed past Dream's head. The guard hadn't made it into the room but through the hole, their gun was pointed at the window anyway. He dropped down and grabbed the boys by their arms. Kubo barked again and whined. Dream could match his sentiment.

"Circle the house, they can't have made it far!"

To the officers' displeasure, the four of them were gone by the time they'd circled the house. One of them stood where the window was, shoes grazing the hard pavement. The plants beneath it were pressed to the ground, some stems were broken at odd angles. A particularly thorny bush had snagged a piece of fabric from the escapees. If the others found it, they would have one of the bloodhounds track them down by scent.

Then again, there were plenty of clothes in the house. Hiding that piece wouldn't do much to help. So, the soldier left it there.

"Lieutenant! Your orders?" someone called from behind him. The others didn't appear to have taken anything from the house, which was no good. He gave one last look at the depressed greenery and sighed. The air came out distorted from the filter of his gas mask. He flicked a stray tuft of black and green hair out of his face.

Sam called back.

"Search the house!"

---

They took as many alleyways and backstreets as they could. Kubo followed them at a fast pace, not needing to be confined to a leash to know that he had to stay at their side. One was bleeding, the other had been injured at the knees and the last one was trying to help both.

Dream led the way, stumbling sometimes but mostly limping. He held Tubbo's arm so tight that it could bruise but his brother wasn't complaining. Thanks to the adrenaline, he didn't feel the excruciating pain of his stitches coming undone and the bandages managed to absorb all red that flowed between them. He saw black spots here and there but he was determined to get his brother to safety.

Right. Get Tubbo to safety first, pass out second, he thought as he clang to consciousness with every cell of his body. He wanted to laugh at the obsurdity of their situation. His own brother had been shot; Dream knew that he wasn't the only one paying Hell for the distance they were covering. Aside from Tommy's scraped knees, there weren't any other injuries present on the boys.

Kubo barked at something. They all tensed but when they looked, it appeared to be a cat sitting on one of the trashcans. The feline didn't appear bothered by the dog, licking a white paw elegantly instead of running away. It was too clean to be a stray and obviously well-fed. Its coat was fluffy, coloured grey and white. Its big, green round eyes flicked at them.

"It's that way." Dream pointed towards the alley the cat was in. Tubbo and Tommy nodded with equal relief. Dream could feel the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, leaving his fingertips numb and tingly. The cat hopped off the trashcan, tail raised and head up in a defiant way. Kubo got the hint and didn't bark again.

It led them to their destination and Dream, through the haze in his mind, couldn't help but find amusing that their guide to the Sewer Cats would be an actual cat. Silently, he matched the actions of the cat to those of a bouncer.

The little fellow sat near a moss-covered storm drain. The rusted, unused metal looked disgunting and unappealing but Dream could care less in the state they were all in. They had to get to a shelter and if that meant getting his hands dirty by moving the cover of a gutter, so be it.

Surprisingly, the cover was easy to move with his hands. Well, if it were the entrance to a hideout, it would be used frequently –even though it looked old and overall gross. There was nothing but the promise of dirt, grime and the slippery rungs that had been nuilt into the claustrophobic, concrete walls of the drain.

The cat jumped down and a splash echoed up the circular opening.

"...I don't like this." Tommy said. Tubbo agreed with him and Kubo backed away when Dream tried to pick him up.

"Neither do I but..." Dream sighed. "We need shelter and medical attention."

He placed Kubo on his back and the dog dug his claws into the fabric of the suit jacket. Dream heard it rip.

"I'll go first. I'll shout once I get down there, alright?"

With that said, Dream descended into the darkness.

Chapter Text

The patrol returned empty-handed to the police station. Sure, a lot of blood had been spilt but none of that blood was the kind they were looking for. Sam was there to watch his comrades kill an elderly couple in their own home, all because they were suspicioned harborers of the two hybrids that had escaped the soldiers the other day.

It was sick. It was a sight that would chill someone to the bone, make their stomach twist and churn or maybe even render them unconscious. Sam was unfazed, though. As uncommon as it was for the community to not witness such brutality and cruelty, for him it had been as simple as brushing his teeth in the morning. He could hold a gun, aim at someone's head and it would feel like opening an umbrella in rainy weather. That simple.

That didn't make murder any less horrible. He felt like a monster each time put his finger on the trigger but he'd learnt to detach himself from his feelings in those moments. It was horrible, it was cold, it was inhumane and above all, it was completely unneccesary. Perhaps that was the worst part; it didn't need to be done but Sam couldn't speak up.

One wrong word and he could wave his life goodbye. Being in the policeforce before the Hybrid Purge begun had its perks and one of them was not needing to hide like his kin. One of the downsides was that he couldn't help his own, lest he was considered a traitor to those who had the upper hand in the world: the humans and more specifically, the government. 

That time with the child in the electronics shop had been one of weakness, one that could've landed him in a lifetime of torture and pain had someone called him out on his bluff. It had been years of cooperation and team-building that got him out of that one and for the child, it had been luck that it was Sam who had decided to clear the backroom personally. Then, again, at the house of the escapees –the only people who had been prepared enough to leave through a window when the soldiers came knocking on the door– he'd been relieved to hear that no one in the block had seen them run away.

Some furniture had blood on it, though. In the bathroom trash there were bloody tissues and discarded sutures that had been collected for blood tests. Regardless of the results, Sam knew that whomever had been wounded was a hybrid.

"Hello, Commander Quackity." he greeted the captain of the department.

The commander was a stand up guy, kind and friendly with the ranks above and below him. With his natural charisma, he had plenty of connections outside of the police force, making him quite a valuable yet dangerous man to keep an eye on.

One such contact had been President J. Schlatt, who had been one of the first hybrids to be purged. His children hadn't been found in the Schlatt Manor, so they hadn't followed the same fate –not in Sam's knowledge, anyway.

Sam wouldn't say they were close enough to be friends; no, not quite. They'd known each other for a long time, though, and they respected each other. Plus, Quackity didn't look at him any differently than he did anyone else, as most humans in the building did.

"Lieutenant Dude, good afternoon!" Quackity acknowledged him with a sharp grin and equally sharp, dark eyes. "I heard you didn't find them."

"They left through a window before we could catch them." Sam simply responded, keeping his voice nice and even. "We searched the house and brought back some blood samples, though. "

Personally, Sam wasn't one for formal speech. He didn't care for it as much as the higher ranks did and while it was considered beast-like and risky, when it came to Quackity, it didn't really matter. As long as the job got done, the man didn't care how you spoke to him –it was another story if the words were an outright attack, though.

Quackity shrugged.

"We're still trying to track down the avians. Phil, Wilbur and Thomas Minecraft and that other one."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "The unregistered avian?"

"That one. Bastard took out half of my men and flew away." The commander's tone was decievingly calm, bringing a hand up to aggressively chew at his thumbnail.

Had it been any other hybrid, they would have been killed before they'd lied eyes on any of those soldiers. However, avians were a rarity and almost always, they were considered to be one big family. For whatever reason, the department had received orders to keep the exotic species of hybrids alive; avians, creepers, shulks, endermen. Sam dreaded to think of what would happen to him, as a creeper hybrid, when the Hybrid Purge would end.

He thought back to the kid in the electronics shop; What was his name again? Thomas? He had seen the fear in the boy's baby blue eyes that were plastered on every wall of the city and plagued every TV channel. The lack of wings on his back had confused Sam; why chase a human?

The answer was that he was born to an avian father. Or, that's half the answer. The other half would be that he had been sighted with an avian at the beginning of the purge.

"I'll look into the other reports," Quackity dismissed him quickly. "You go rest, yeah? The rest have yet to return, so I might need you later."

"Yessir." The Commander left with the same sharp grin and an underlying aura of anger and frustration. Sam didn't ponder on the man's feelings more than he had to.

As much as they knew each other, as much as they respected one another, Quackity was still dangerous with hundreds of cards up his sleeve. A good strategy was to keep him at arm's length.

---

The neighborhood had been flooded with blood and misery. The sun seemed to shine less, half-hidden by sorrowful clouds, the wind tasting metallic and stale. Dead leaves littered the ground, swirling in tiny cyclones around the ambulance parked by the neighbor's house.

Grocery bags dropped from Mumbo's hands.

Every house's door was broken down or pried open. The elderly lady who lived in the house was being transported on a stretcher, her clothes stained red due to bullet wounds. Her husband was nowhere to be seen but an ambulance siren could be heard in the distance. There were no officers around, even though there had been a murder.

"No..." Mumbo mumbled under his breath as he slowly connected the dots. A bunch of burgled houses, his neighbor hanging onto life by a thread. "No, no–" a breath steals his words.

The lack of police. The hurt children he welcomed into his home. The Hybrid Purge raging in the streets.

"No!"

He ran to his house, plastic bags forgotten at the side of the road. He saw the broken door before he climbed onto the porch. It had been bashed and pushed off of its hinges, the frame splintered beyond repair. The man stepped over it, entering his broken house.

"Tommy!" his call received no response. There was no pat-pat of Kubo's steps either. The living room had been turned upside down, furniture and decorations carelessly misplaced or tossed aside or broken. He proceeded to search the rest of the house for the children, panting with panic as he went from room to room.

The bathroom trash had been riffled through but nothing seemed to have had been taken. Tommy's room was untidy and books and clothes were strewn around the floor like a tornado had stirred up within the four walls. His room was far worse. The door, pushed to its limits, was missing a chunk of it along with the handle. The part of the wall that had part of the lock was broken, revealing grey concrete and ruined plasterboard. The nightstands and the desk were lying on their sides, a bunch of trinkets and his camera films were in a corner or somewhere else on the floor. The window was wide open, the curtains flowing with an innocent breeze.

Panting, panic clawing at his throat, Mumbo looked around the room. There were no signs of struggle that he could see; there was no blood despite Tubbo and Dream's injuries and the floor was clear of stains. The house had been searched, then. The kids had been smart enough to lock themselves in Mumbo's room but what happened after that? The panic subsided slowly as Mumbo thought the scenario over. Looking through the window, around at the shaded green area beneath the sill, he saw trampled plants.

He had never run so fast before, especially to take a closer look at a plant.

The greenery was heavily depressed like someone had fallen on it and then gave it a good kick for good measure. There's a piece of fabric hanging from one of the thorny stems that had been snagged from... Mumbo didn't know. The piece in his hands was white, the material fine and reminiscent of his dress shirts. Had the boys taken clothes from his wardrobe? And if they did; if they got a couple shirts and Kubo and then jumped out of the window to escape the soldiers, had they managed to get away? Had they been chased farther down the street? Maybe they didn't escape but they were detained somewhere farther away.

Mumbo didn't want to think of the implications of that scenario. He had made a promise to Grian and he was intending to keep it for his sake.

Backing away from the window, he returned to the pavement. There were other people around the neighborhood, standing at the side and staring with hollow eyes. The second ambulance sped to the aid of another house, sirens blaring loudly and wheels almost squeaking as the driver stepped on the brake. A stretcher was then unloaded and carried into the house in front of which a couple was standing gazing upon its broken door.

A little hesitantly, Mumbo approached the couple. What else was he to do? The police wasn't coming, he couldn't ask the soldiers for answers directly had they caught the hybrids hiding in his house and standing around doing nothing wouldn't give him any leads.

"Hello? Excuse me!"

The two people, both appearing human, turned to face him. Their faces were grief-ridden, their eyes not quite meeting his as they regard him with their sorrow.

"Do you-" Mumbo cuts himself off at the sight of them but shaking his head, he continued. "Do you know what happened here?"

A moment of silence, a shy glance at the door, and then the woman turned her attention to him. "The soldiers came and searched the whole neighborhood." she said, taking a deep breath before adding, "Apparently, they were on a hybrid's trail but they left after going through that house over there."

Neither of them had seen where Mumbo had come from and Mumbo wasn't very close to those two for either of them to recognize. He had trouble remembering when he'd last seen his neighbors in the past week even! He nodded at the woman's words and then looked at the man too.

"Did they catch them?"

The man shook his head, whilst the woman squeezed her forehead. A buble of stress evaporates off of Mumbo's shoulders, letting them relax if only by a little. There were tears and sobs and there were other people collapsing in the street. A sad sight for a sad day. Mumbo couldn''t begin to fathom where the kids had gone if they'd escaped. Tubbo had mentioned that they were heading to a safe space, somewhere in the city but he hadn't disclosed where such a place could be.

The first ambulance left, speeding down the road. The stretcher was being loaded into the second one with a pair of paramedics trailing it.

"Thank you." he said to the couple, bowing his head a little before withdrawing himself from their company. He had to find the kids; he had to find Tommy and keep his promise to Grian, who was flying somewhere or had been captured alongside the rest of his avian family. He was gone for the forseeable future regardless.

Walking to his house, Mumbo only reached for his bicycle, his wallet and his phone. He would find them even if it'd take him days to track them down. As he pulled his bike on the road, he swiped through the contacts of his phone. A little help would be nice, though he hoped that he wouldn't asking much in the apocalypse that was happening.

The phone rang once, twice... it went on for a long time until it went to voicemail.

Hello! This is Ren-diggity-dog! I'm not home right now but I can take a message!

The beep blared into Mumbo's ear and he stopped in his tracks. Ren wasn't responding and the earth below his feet was threatening to swallow him whole. This isn't good. He was alone in his mission and he was losing friends by the minute. 

Mounting his bike, he took a deep breath. Determination flooded his mind as he set his goal: he had to find Tommy and fast.

Chapter Text

The sewers were dark and claustrophobic. The constant sound of drip... drip... drip... bounced off the walls between intervals, the droplets of viscous liquid gathering at the middle of the tunnel in a black, thin stream. Various creepy crawlies came and went, making Tommy's skin crawl with apparitions of six-legged insects walking up his shins and forearms. It made goosebumps raise on his skin as he continuously swiped at the ghostly feeling. Maybe it was a bad idea: following a cat into a sewer didn't sound as bright anymore.

Dream and Tubbo appeared determined to see this through, however, and Tommy wasn't about to quit because of a few bugs and enclosed spaces. He had never been a fun of cages and that storm drain was eerily close in comparison but Phil had raised no quiter! The goat brothers couldn't see well in the dark, which they figured out right after they'd stepped foot on the decrepit ledge of the drain canal; the cons of being half herbivore, he guessed. Tommy had always had good nightvision, the one thing that kept his father and his siblings hopeful that one day he, too, would have grown wings of his own. It's funny when he would think back on it: how hopeful everyone was for something that would never happen  –weirdly reminiscent of their current situation, wasn't it? It's also funny how he ended up on TV even though he didn't have the complimentary pair of wings that should have gone with his eyesight.

He shook his head, ridding his mind of such depressing thoughts. Holding hands and walking in a neat line, he led them through the winding hallways, following a stray cat that could have been leading them to a sludge monster for all he knew but he disregarded the suspicion; there was no going back, they were in too deep. He didn't remember the way out to leave and that fact made him feel more trapped than the wet, low, dome ceiling did.

His legs shook and he pushed forth. Dream and Tubbo were more hurt than he was, stumbling and limping along with only Kubo to make sure that they weren't falling behind, grunting in discomfort and pain but never once protesting when they slipped or tripped on debris. They were relying on him to get them to their destination, wherever that was, and it was out of camaraderie, the planted seeds of friendship taking root and the instinct to stick together that he was helping them. Had they not been at the house, had Dream not sat at the window and watched the neighborhood like a hawk, perhaps Tommy wouldn't be there; perhaps a darker, scarier fate would have awaited him.

So, he pushed himself and put one leg in front of the other and he walked. The cat turned around at random to check that they were still following, that green, piercing gaze pinning Tommy in place for a second.

Mumbo wasn't with them and that was Tommy's first regret. Though, Mumbo wasn't human; he was safe. The only thing he'd have to deal with was a broken door and Grian's disappointment at best. They wouldn't pursue him, maybe, or they would because the three of them had been huddled inside his house. Hopefully, the man was smart enough to lie if it came down to it. Tommy ground his teeth as the thought begged to overtake his senses and the wave crashed over jagged rocks, roaring unhinged and wind howling in his ear–

His jaw relaxed, a sting in his cheek and a faint ache in the palm of his hand, stunned silence behind him. His blurry eyes focused on the grey and white form of the feline in front of him. Keep going. Keep going. He told himself to keep going, don't think, just do it. The faster they got help, the better for everyone. Mumbo needed help, Grian needed help, his whole ass family needed help but Tommy didn't know where any of them could be.

"Do you hear that?" Tubbo said all of a sudden, scaring both Dream and Tommy.

"Hear what?" Tommy questioned, not stopping in order to not lose the cat from his sight.

"The buzzing."

Silence followed. Silence and the weight of their steps as they traversed the stinky sewers. Then, something red glinted in the darkness. It blinked in and out of existence and if Tommy concentrated enough, he could make out some background noise that definitely could not have been produced by them.

"What is that?" Tommy asked no one in particular, pointing at the blinking light in the darkness of the tunnel. A moment later, he realised that his gesture couldn't be seen, so he lowered his hand. The light, however, was visible and very out of place.

"Maybe a camera?" Dream added to his question, his voice strained and breathless. The adrenaline must have died down, letting the first few nerves fire warning signals about his stitches opening. Red was starting to seep out of the bandages and onto his clothes, visible from the dark, wet splotches that Tommy could see when he looked back at them. They had to hurry; Dream was probably hanging onto consciousness by a thread and Tommy doubted that they could carry a body without a second casualty -Tubbo's wounds were bad too.

"It could be!" Tubbo exclaimed, something like hope filling his voice. "If this is the entrance to a secret base, then it makes sense to monitor it!"

"Is that so, cat?" Tommy asked the animal, who had turned to face them again, hope crawling and curling into his chest like a grapevine. The cat didn't do more than blink and then it was walking again. The next hallways they turned into was lightly illuminated by light that spilled from another corner farther down. Tommy couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips.

"Is that light or am I hallucinating?" Tubbo asked, stunned, eyes as wide as a deer's. Kubo barked, his paws patting againtst the hard cement as he trotted to the front of the line, matching the cat's pace. The cat appeared unbothered by the presence of the dog, which Tommy couldn't help but find weird. Usually cats bat and hiss at them and dogs usually chase them. Those two act like they're friends, like they belong to the same pack. He didn't pour more thought into it.

The sound of rushing water, of a wider stream, filled the torturous silence of the drain system, accompanying the light.

"It's light!" Tommy confirmed and his chest immediately felt lighter. Behind him, he heard Dream laugh, hopeful and relieved, his movements sluggish as he squeezed both his and his brother's hands. He felt it more than he saw Dream collapse, taking a step back to catch him. "Prime fucking damnit." he cursed as he slung one of the teen's arms over his shoulders. Tubbo came and took the other one, grunting in discomfort and pain.

They had made good distance, anyway. Silently, Tommy thought that Dream deserved to rest after all the wounds, the pain, protecting his younger brother and making sure that he was safe. Wilbur and Technoblade would have done the same thing, and if you gave them a choice, they'd choose to protect him time and time again. That thought and the promise of shelter overwhelmed his senses, his finger grew tingly, there was a pep in his step even with the extra weight he was carrying.

"We made it..." Tubbo murmured under his breath full of relief and emotion. "We fucking did it..." he sobbed, his whole body trembling with it.

"Hold it together, man," Tommy told him and then he reminded him. "We aren't safe yet."

He saw Tubbo nod, his wobbly smile and the tears in his eyes illuminated in a warm, orange hue. It's then that he realises that it's firelight that is spilling into the tunnel. There were really people down there.

The cat jumped over into the light, in a wide canal that had a wider stream of dark water, that seemed to be deeper than they could see. Tommy and Tubbo hauled Dream's limp body over, carefully walking along the ledge so that they wouldn't trip and fall into the murky water. Kubo tailed them once more, guarding their blind spots like the amazing dog that he was. There were glass and iron lanterns, lit and spread across the length of the canal, making the air warm and guiding them to a safe haven.

"Just a little farther..." Tommy whispered, though his voice echoed. Tubbo nodded his head, his expression twisting into determination, one single tear spilling over his cheek and drying as it travelled down his throat.

They took small breaks to catch their breath. They could both see in there, so they could afford that much. The third time, they stopped between two lanterns, leaning themselves against the wall. They didn't let Dream fall to the ground, supporting him even when they were trying to catch their breath; Tubbo's wounds could reopen if they sat him down and then hauled him upright again. There was flora in the stream beside them, stagnant even though the stream was moving. Small and big leaves that resembled those of ivy, moss covering the gaps between the gaps.

"Is that a ghillie suit?" Tommy pointed at it. Tubbo looked at it.

"Maybe... It looks like one, maybe it's caught on a rock or something."

"Think we could grab it?"

"Ew, I'm not touching that."

Right as he said that, the leaves and moss parted and two white, glowing eyes blinked up at them.

"What are you 'ew'ing at?!" a masculine voice shouted, making them scream and push themselves into the wall behind them. With Dream's arms over each of their shoulders, they were effectively trapped; Tubbo wouldn't leave his brother to die and Tommy wouldn't leave Tubbo to die protecting his brother. Kubo barked, tail wagging and teeth bared in threat.

A body rose out of the water, taking with it the moss and the ivy leaves, dragging them up to lean shoulders and spilling into the water like a cloak. They screeched when they saw the face of a person, a man, underneath the earthy garment, those glowing eyes staring at them, the skin tan and wet with murky water, a mouth twisted in ire, tufts of black, fluffy, dry hair that appears to defy the laws of physics stuck out from beneath the leaves.

"Huh?! My moss is perfect!"

At their stunned silence, the man's accusing glare fell on Tommy, then on Tubbo and finally on Dream. The sight of the unconcsious teenager made all ire melt away from his expression and he waded with urgency towards the edge of the concrete platform, the moss cloak dragging on the surface of the water.

"What happened to your friend?" the stranger questioned a lot quieter than before, sounding worried. He turned towards the cat, who had sat down next to a lantern, basking in the warmth it emitted and then his eyes found Tommy and Tubbo's own. "Were you following her?"

"Yeah..." Tommy said a little breathlessly, his heart thumping and his hands shaking with a rush of adrenaline. "We're looking for the Sewer Cats. Big man here is bleeding, he's been shot a lot, same thing with Tubbo–"

"Hmm..." the stranger regarded them with hesitancy. His eyes moved quickly as he analysed each of them, "Sit him down."

"What– Why?" Tubbo asked, looking at the man incredulously.

"Just do it."

As he told them, they set Dream on the ground as carefully as they can. The man continued to watch them, thoughtful. Kubo wasn't growling but he was watching the exchange from the sidelines, ready to pounce at the slightest act of violence.

"Jellie," the moss covered man regarded the cat, who looked bored as it blinked its sleepy eyes at him. "Stay with them," –he turned to them– "I'll go get the help squad!" he exclaimed –no... he declared, and then he stilled like he had forgotten something. "Ah, right! What are your names?"

"Tommy."

"Tubbo, and this is Dream."

The man asked then, "Are you three related?"

Tommy shook his head. "They're brothers. Tubbo and I are friends."

"Okay." the man nodded and then he turned to Tubbo. "I'll go get help for your brother, alright?"

Tubbo nodded. "Please hurry."

The man disappeared beneath the moss, the ivy leaves and the creeper twigs. None of ir followed as he submerged himself underwater, staying floating in place on the surface. Tommy wondered if the guy was still there, watching them and laughing at their misery. He couldn't tell if he had moved and the fact that he had submerged himself made him worry. The stranger was obviously some type of hybrid but he couldn't tell what it was. He knew all surface hybrids and the flying types but that one was new... or rare. Hiding in a sewer felt like something a rare hybrid would do; no one checked the sewer system for homeless people.

Tubbo leant against the wall, laid his head on his brother's shoulder and sighed. His eyelids were half-closed and he looked really tired. They had lost track of time down in the tunnels; how much time had passed? Minutes? Hours? Days? No, definitely not days; they would have had been signalled by their stomachs if it had been so long. The cat, Jellie, had lied down like a loaf of bread and Kubo sat down next to Tommy, who was crouched next to the other two.

Time passed and Tommy counted Kubo's heavy breaths like seconds in an hour. The poor dog was overheating and Tommy had to stop him from drinking from the stream. Tubbo had fallen asleep after a few minutes and Tommy didn't like that he was alone in the waking world, when anyone could turn the corner and find them–

No one would turn the corner. No one knew that they were there. Still, he couldn't halp but feel uneasy and exposed. He finally sat down, petting Kubo who was sitting guard and he waited. He waited for voices, for the moss and the ivy leaves to move. He waited for something to happen; for something to change. His eyes felt more and more tired by the second.

When he was half-asleep, it happened. Down to where the lanterns lead came the echoes of voices and the sounds of feet hitting the concrete, shadows of people dancing against the far wall. There were many of them and alertness shot through Tommy. He shot upright and hastily stood up. Kubo was already standing, facing the direction of the voices. The stranger from before resurfaced beside them, raising one hand up towards the ceiling to signal his company and pointing towards the three boys huddled against the wet and grimy wall.

"They're over here!" the stranger's voice carried far, and the walls helped get it father.

A group of people rounded the corner, holding lanterns and flashlights, as well as a few small briefcases that looked like first-aid kits. Tommy recognised none of them but he waved and hastened them towards the hybrid brothers, still asleep on the ground. There were two pairs with makeshift stretchers made up of wood poles and thick fabric. People crowded around Tubbo and Dream and they piled them into those stretchers.

"Are you hurt or injured, young man?" one of them asked; a woman with flowers in her brown hair. She didn't wait for a response, grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him left and right to inspect him. "No, good. We are taking your friends to the infarmary, so keep up, love!"

He kept up with the parade of people, his pace matching with the people who were carrying his friends. Kubo kept up and the cat had disappeared as soon as the people had started to move deeper into the sewers. The stranger from before was nowhere to be seen, though Tommy had made a mental note to return and thank the man for his help.

After a quarter of an hour as they told him, they arrived at their base. The sewer canals opened up into a ginormous cavern, so tall that the ceiling was difficult to distinguish. There were buildings burried underneath, cargo containers wading through green, stagnant water. There was a bridge system that flowed on the surface: huge chunks of rocks that were connected with rope or bolted together. Tommy looked at it all in awe; and was that a whole airplane over there?!

"Well, well!" a voice sounded in front of him, cheerful. There was a man standing there, and Tommy couldn't tell why but he seemed oddly familiar. Jellie the cat was sitting next to his feet, holding her chin up high like a queen silently judging her guest beside her king. "Hello there!"

Tommy narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the man before him. A fancy cane, accented with goldleaf and a fancy suit and top hat in the colour of ripe cherries. Brown, neat hair, swept to the side and leafy green eyes. The scar on his face was what made it click; for Tommy to realise who that man was. The one-sided smirk only made him more sure.

That was the previous mayor of the city, known for his diplomacy skills before he chose to walk the political branch.

Scar Goodtimes. That was Scar Goodtimes. The same man was tipping his hat at him, welcoming him to an underground operation, going directly against the wishes of the other politicians; whoever started that charade.

"Welcome to the Sewer Cats!"

Chapter Text

No sooner had Scar introduced himself than men and women dressed in white coats and button-ups had come to collect Dream and Tubbo. They put them on a different set of makeshift stretchers made of wood and faded fabric, carried by two people each over a cacophony of instructions and worry for the two wounded children that had just arrived at the shelter. Within the blink of an eye and a lot of noise, they rushed them away without giving Tommy a single look.

He tried to follow, to make sure that they were alright but he was told to stay put. Even if they didn't tell him to stay where he was, the glares they threw at him were enough to petrify him. So, he watched as they took away the only people he knew in that entire underground base, completely speechless.

"What's your name?" Scar asked, bringing him out of his stupor. Tommy shakes his head lightly, shuddering as goosebumps ran up the back of his neck.

"Tommy."

What was he supposed to do now? He escaped with the goat brothers, they brought him there: to a different world, to a shelter for hybrids. He was supposed to be out searching for his family, not stuck underground with the rest of the evacuees. Especially as a human, he should be the last person in there; the weird looks he received as he talked with Scar were enough to tell him the same. He felt awkward and out of place. The ex mayor did not glare at him, however. Instead, he opened an arm like a wing, like a makeshift shelter, and took him under it.

The arm around his shoulders guided him throughout the base as they talked and bit by bit, the hybrids that were hiding in there started to face him with indifference rather than hate. Scar talked and Tommy listened as his eyes roamed the entirety of the room and its residents. Even though he wasn't under the light of the sun, nor under the threat of gunfire but he was within a group of people that could threaten him just as much if he did something wrong. Wherever they walked there were still scathing looks thrown his way when Scar wasn't looking.

He was taken to a big red and blue, rusted container that floated in the green sludge beside an old waterwheel. The light of a still functioning lighthouse in nearby shined on the faded colours on the poor metal, revealing all the impurities that had gathered over its long stay in the unhealthy environment and the mould that darkened the corners. Scar opened one of the container doors and led Tommy through them.

Inside there were two men looking over some blueprints on a big, hardwood table under the light of the lantern that was set to the side of the wooden surface. One of the men was tall, dressed in a black shirt and a worn pair of jeans , while the other was short and Tommy immediately recognised the long coat of moss and ivy that covered him.

"That's the sewer guy!" he yelled. Both of the men flinch at his shout, the taller one looking at him like a deer caught in headlights and the moss man, who screeched at the top of his lungs like a banshee. The sound reverberated in the metal interior, causing sharp pain in Tommy's ears and he winced. Scar, on the other hand, showed no sign of being bothered by the scream. He's probably used to it, Tommy thought.

"That's the sewer kid!" the moss man shouted back, pointing an accusatory finger at Tommy.

"Let's calm down, everyone!" Scar said, knocking his cane into the metal floor. Their heads turned to him. "Alright, so, this is Tommy, the kid who was with the two lamb hybrids that are currently undergoing treatment in our clinic. Tommy, this is Impulse and Bdubs." the man introduced the two by pointing with his cane. Throughout the exchange, his other arm had remained over his shoulders, not letting Tommy steer away.

"Oh, it's nice to meet you, Tommy!" the taller one, Impulse as Scar named him, greeted. With his face revealed by the smooth, orange light of the lantern, Tommy saw a pair of golden horns growing out of the man's forehead. Behind him, a glistening tail with an arrrowhead tip swished, shadowed by the workbench.

"Yeah, nice to meet ya, human!" Bdubs said at incredibly high volume. Is he always this loud? Tommy couldn't help but think. His ears still hurt from his banshee scream before, he didn't need more noise to add to it! Then, the man turned his eyes on Scar. "How are the other two doing?"

"They just took them in, Bdubs. Patience." and then, Scar pointed with his cane once more. "Impulse and Bdubs are two of the founders of this hybrid shelter under Keralis City."

Tommy nodded. He could feel the politician's forearm at the base of his neck still and he couldn't tell if that was a comfort or some sort of silent warning. "Right."

Impulse looked at him for a second with a troubled expression. "Scar, I don't think we should talk about this..."

"Yeah, I don't think it's wise." Bdubs agreed.

Tommy couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. Scar, however, dispelled their worry with a simple wave of his cane and a nonchalant smirk.

"Nonsense! Tommy is going to be staying with us! I haven't assigned him to a house yet. I'm thinking of putting him with Cleo but I haven't asked her if she's okay with it; it's on my to-do list!"

The two men still looked unsure about Tommy remaining in the shelter. Who could blame them? Humans were currently hunting hybrids down as if they were wild animals. Tommy might have been a kid but to them he was a stranger who could be hiding cameras and microphones under his clothes. He could have been a spy for all they knew. Although... He brought two wounded hybrids with him. Until those two recovered, they wouldn't be able to know that Tommy's word was true.

"Scar, this is serious..." Bdubs said in a warning tone, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Tommy with suspicion and then he made a shooing motion with his hand. "Can he leave?"

Tommy tensed at his blunt request. He knew that he was unwanted in there but hearing it be stated was a shock to him. Scar was silent beside him.

"Tommy, can you wait outside of the container?" he asked him after a moment. His voice had lost its playful undertone, donning a serious one instead. "I need to sort this out."

"Uhm, yeah, sure. I'll just- yeah," he disentangled himself from Scar's hold, letting the man's arm fall to his side. He took one look as he exited the container but heard and saw silence and stillness and eyes boring into his soul until he dragged the door closed.

The world outside of the container hadn't changed much since he left. There were still people milling about with lanterns and flashlights, even under the old, flickering streetlights. Looking up, he could hardly see the ceiling because of the darkness. Am I stuck here? Scar had said that he would be staying for the unforseeable future… How long would that be? He had to resume his search for his family and his uncle. Mumbo, too; he had to get back to him. Kubo had disappeared as they were walking through the shelter; just a few sunken buildings and crates, Tommy could make out the dog playing with a couple of kids. Tommy smiled. At least one of us is having fun.

"You can't be serious, Scar!" the yell that Tommy easily connected to Bdubs called for his attention. He didn't even need to try to eavesrop and he had a feeling that if he tried to block his ears, Bdubs' loud volume would pierce right through the hand. So, he did the only sensible thing and leant his back against the door.

"I am very serious, Bdubs. There is nothing suspicious about a kid-"

"A kid is very suspicious! What if he's a spy, Scar? And you reveal our roles in this whole thing? Are you trying to get us all killed?"

The man sounded angry and he had every right to be.

"I am trying my hardest to run this place on Grian's stead, Bdubs-"

Grian? All the confusion and the awful feelings dissipated within the instant Tommy heard his uncle's name. His eyes widened in response to the surprise. Grian. He said 'Grian'. Tommy is certain that he heard that right. Those people know his uncle. Scar said he's running the shelter in his stead. Tommy rubbed at his temples, trying not to frick out over what he had just heard. Should he go in there and tell them?

He was one step away from opening the container door when he thought that his revelation could cause unwelcome consequences. What if they think that he overheard them talking about Grian and he decided to claim to be his nephew to save his own skin?

"I hate to admit, Scar but I share Bdubs' worries. Saving two hybrids is great but taking in the human as well? That's a bit of a stretch."

Tommy hesitated to touch the door. He had to go in. He had made up his mind thanks to Impulse's reluctance. The longer they talked, the more difficult pleading his case would become; he could tell that much. With a deep breath, he grabbed onto the handle and dragged open the door.

The arguement ceased immediately. Three heads turned towards him, three pairs of eyes locked on him: one of surprise, the other two of suspicion.

"Tommy-"

"Look," Tommy cut off Scar with a placating gesture. "The container isn't soundproof at all, so I suggest you never hold secret meetings in here." -the man chuckled good-naturedly at his sudden attitude (Impulse and Bdubs' demeanor did not change -if anything, they became even more guarded due to his words, which were supposed to be a joke)- "I heard something about a Grian and it just so happens that I am looking for a Grian."

"Huh?" Impulse's tail swished once, knocking into the leg of the workbench with a thud as he went stock-still.

"See? I told you, Scar! He's a spy!" Bdubs shouted, making Tommy wince as the sound almost pierced his eardrums. Yet, the boy stood his ground and retorted with a yell.

"I'm not a fucking spy! He's my fucking uncle!"

Silence. Absolute silence swallowed them whole. Scar took a step back, curiosity and awe painting his scarred face, whilst disbelief and confusion made two jaws hit the floor. The politician narrowed his eyes at Tommy like he was searching for something, holding his chin in his hand thoughtfully. He analysed him with sharp eyes, searching his soul, waiting for something to click.

Something clicked.

"...I can see the similarities." He said with a hum.

"What?"

Before they could make Tommy's situation even worse with theories and crimes he had never committed, the boy spoke up, turning everyone's heads towards him.

"At the start of the purge he saved me from a bunch of soldiers who gunned him down–"

"Oh my God, where is he? Do you know where he is?" Scar interrupted him, desperation and hope coating his voice. Impulse gave him a sorrowful look, putting a comforting hand on the man's shoulder.

"Scar, don't fall for it, dude, come on..." Tommy rolled his eyes at the other's advice.

"I am not baiting him!" He snapped and quickly continued his story before they could accuse him again. "They shot him and we fell out of the sky, he told me to go to some computer shop where I met Mumbo–"

"Wait, what? Mumbo?"

Bdubs was the one to cut him off that time, eyes wide and sparkling with recognition. Tommy felt a twinge of relief as the first leaf of calmness fell on the ground, disturbing the black pool of suspicion swirling between his feet. 

"Yeah, I have his dog with me, Kubo. Is that enough proof that I'm telling the truth?" He asked, letting his shoulders droop as they has hunched over somewhere in the argument. 

The moss-clad man put covered his mouth with his hands, clearly embarrassed. Impulse merely blinked, still trying to swallow the truth of Grian having a nephew.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Bdubs cried in a high pitched tone. Tommy gritted his teeth and pressed his palms over his ears.

"Stop shouting!"

The man did not stop shouting as he threw apology after apology at Tommy. 

Once Scar had regained control of the situation and Bdubs had managed to reign in his embarrassment, Tommy was led away from the container to another location of the underground shelter. Walking on old, rusty iron grates over green, toxic goo, he felt his heart leap with each noisy step he took, silently wondering when the metal web would finally break apart. For that reason, he walked on the edge where the metal was the most dense and sturdy enough to be reassuring, though it was difficult to walk straight when Scar kept pulling him to his side.

Looking behind him, over Scar's arm, which the man insisted to keep around the boy, Bdubs and Impulse were following them. The shorter man still refused to meet Tommy's gaze, while the other offered a sheepish smile. His eyes fell on the horns on Impulse's head and the arrow tail that swished languidly behind him as they walked. Tommy considered them for a moment and wondered what sort of hybrids he had just met.

His father was close friends with the owner of Muffin café, who shared the same hybrid traits (and more) as Impulse. Bad was his name, who Phil joked was more demon than human due to his pitch black skin, those circular glowing eyes and fanged mouth. Despite his honestly scary appearance, Bad had a heart of gold and a love for sweets. Tommy had visited frequently with his dad, always during the late afternoon. Tommy had wondered why they'd go at such a late hour; he finally learnt the reason: to avoid unnecessary attention. Had Phil known that there would be a hybrid Purge? He couldn't have known, otherwise he would have certainly said something before Grian had shown up.

Shaking his head, Tommy raised his gaze from the grates. He took in the scenery of many different cargo containers, heavy machinery and piles upon piles of coal and firewood with interest. That was where he would be living for the foreseeable future –he'd make sure that Tubbo and Dream would wake up and then he'd leave. He had to find Mumbo so they could look for Grian and Phil together.

"Scar, do you know what's going on in L'Manburg?" he asked, his mind filling with memories of his brothers; of his family, living happily in a house before they had to leave for their studies.

The man looked at him without stopping.

"I'm afraid I don't. Due to the purge going on, any communication with the other cities has been cut off. Why are you asking?"

Tommy looked away from those soul-searching eyes.

"Half of my family is there... I was planning to look for them with Mumbo but shit happened and now I'm here." He murmured. Eyes bore in his back with burning intensity. Lost in his own mind, he didn't acknowledge Bdubs' saddened eyes and Impulse's sombre expression.

"Oh." Scar looked at him skeptically. After a moment he smiled. "I'll see if I can send someone to check. How does that sound?"

Tommy's eyes sparkled with hope for a second as he looked at the man with awe.

"That would be great, thank you."

"Don't mention it." he winked playfully and that managed to lift Tommy's mood slightly. "Anything to help out a relative of Grian's."

Nothing was said until they entered an apartment block built out of containers, old bricks and fatberg. Frail metal, rotting pieces of wood and soft plastic made up stairs and paths, suspended with rope and thick cables, that led to various doors carved into the makeshift houses. Built in street lamps and oil lanterns hanging from hooks bathe the narrow, corroded pathways and the eroded, carbon-stained facades in orange light.

They ascended to the second level of metal cabins. Bits of rusty, sharp rods stuck out of the ironwork like needles hidden in a haystack; just waiting to tear flesh and infect a passerby with tetanus. Tommy smartly avoided them. He had had his tetanus shot last year but getting injured in that disgusting, atrocious environment was the last thing he needed. 

"Where are we going?" Tommy asked as he studied the stacks of houses on either side of the path, which were marked only by doors and windows on different elevations.

"Well, as I mentioned, I haven't assigned you to a house and since you are a minor, you are going to live with an adult until we can figure out this whole mess." Scar pointed to a house with his cane. "Cleo lives in that house over there. She is a– Hm... How should I put this? She is undead."

"What?" Tommy raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Undead? Like a zombie?"

"Yes!" Scar cheered, squeezing Tommy to his side. Tommy huffed as his breath was forced out of him. "She is a zombie. She is also the only teacher we have here at the shelter. We have a school for the hybrid children too, which is housed in the airplane."

"This place seems to be more an underground town than an underground shelter..." Tommy observed. First the clinic, then the neighbourhood block and finally the mention of a functional school? Truly, it was a small community living in harmony in an extremely hazardous environment. However, the fact that Scar talked as if Tommy would be stuck there for a while irked the boy. How long would he have to stay there? Could he leave on his own? What was he to do without his family? Without any familial guidance?

"And here we are!" Bdubs cheered as he took the lead. The man opened the house without any hesitation, throwing open the door and barging inside with an echo of "Hey, Cleo!".

Chuckling at the other's antics, Scar led Tommy inside. The interior wasn't as ugly and unhealthy as the outside, though the smell of mould and disease still lurked like perstistent fog. There were barely any furniture inside: just a few reed chairs and a bunch of boxes stacked in a corner to serve as a table and a pan balanced in the space between two of them and above a brick step that held pieces of coal. On the opposite side was a makeshift mattress made up of stained foam and frayed blankets. What looked to be a desk with a bunch of books had been pushed to the wall, a candle burning on the surface had spilled wax that had hardened into a stable pool on it.

The only wooden chair in the small house was in front of the desk and a woman with curly, ginger hair and a rotting shade of green skin sat on it. Bdubs was talking to hair cheerfully, standing so close that she couldn't stand up when she spied the rest of them.

"Bdubs, step back, please." her voice was accented similarly to Tommy's family. Tommy would have been lying if he'd said that he wasn't hit by a wave of nostalgia just then. Bdubs stepped back, careful of the naked flame near his flamable cloak. "And who is the new face?"

Scar took a step forth, followed by Impulse who took the man's place by Tommy's side, arms crossed.

"This is Tommy," Scar announced, opening his arms wide like a showman in a circus ring as he presented the boy. "He's Grian's nephew."

A fiery eyebrow raised as Cleo narrowed her eyes at Scar. She looked at Tommy, then returned her emerald gaze to the man. Tommy wondered for a moment what she was thinking; what made her look like she had just seen the most bizarre thing in the whole world.

"Grian has a nephew?" she questioned. Tommy didn't know how to respond but apparently, he didn't have to.

"Apparently so!" Bdubs loudly confirmed. "He turned up out of nowhere with two other severely injured hybrid kids."

"Ah, I see." the woman, Cleo, turned her head just enough for Tommy to distinguish a darker shade of green covering her cheek, black stitches running the border between it and the lighter tone. He tried not to grimace as she smiled at him. When she stood up and took a few steps towards him, Tommy focused his eyes on her face, far away from the dark hole in her stomach that was visible under her ripped, dark turquoise shirt, the shine of bone teasing his peripheral vision.

"I'm moving in with you." Tommy blurted out.

The woman halted. She blinked at Tommy with surprise and then her eyes shifted to Scar with a deadpan.

"What."

Chapter Text

Overnight, or Tommy assumed it was night, he and Cleo sat in the small house, around a spare lantern and they talked. Cleo asked him about a lot of stuff, such as how he happened upon those two injured hybrids and his life before that. She had no question that being Grian's nephew -and wasn't that something new? No one knew that Grian had a brother- was anything but an eventful life. Tommy didn't think it was very eventful. He had only recently discovered that he had an uncle, and they didn't pass much time together when he did find out.

The Hybrid Purge took him away. Somewhere. Or maybe they didn't, and Grian had managed to escape. There was no real way for him to know for sure of what had happened to him after the flight incident. And as he recounted the events, it became clearer to him that he had to return to Mumbo. The man must've been worried sick! Tommy couldn't even begin to imagine what the man had thought upon seeing his house broken into and a whole neighbourhood distraught. He had to return.

How could he return, though? His face was everywhere.

"I think you could stay here for a while." Cleo suggested, her voice calmer than Tommy's active mind. The sound brought a sense of calm with it, and he focused back on their conversation. He hadn't even noticed that he'd begun to rant. "From what I understand, you've been on the move for a bit. You were told to stick with Mumbo but that obviously isn't the case anymore. If you return to the surface, things might take an ugly turn, plus, your family must be looking for you as well and constantly moving would make it harder for them to find you."

Tommy raised his head and met the zombie woman's emerald eyes, so lifeless, they looked like forest fog. Lanternlight spilt on her dehydrated, rotting face, making old scars shine, ugly yet intriguing, and the stitches grew bolder with cast shadows. People usually stayed away from Undead hybrids. Tommy was a child, easily amused and easily intrigued by the unnatural. As scary as Cleo's appearance was, he found a strange sort of beauty in it. Besides, Cleo had been nothing short of polite to him; she only protested a little when Tommy proclaimed the only bed within the house as his own.

"But I could find them first!" he tried to argue. Yet, Cleo was wiser than him, and as much as he wanted to be stubborn and not listen, her words stuck.

"They're all hybrids, right?"

Tommy blinked.

"Erm, Only dad and Wilbur. They're both avian but Techno doesn't have any wings."

Her chapped, bloody red lips spread into a dimpled smile. "Perfect!" she cheered with graceful enthusiasm and straightened her back. "Then sooner or later, they'll turn up. This is a hybrid shelter after all, and we have people evacuating hybrid residents throughout the city."

Tommy thought about it. He could stay, not cause any problems for the Sewer Cats and wait for Mumbo, Grian or his whole family to show up in the sewers. It would be nice to stay but could he? Just hours prior, there were hybrid refugees giving him the stink eye. Everyone there was suspicious of him and his intentions, just like Impulse and Bdubs were. The thought definitely didn't make him feel comfortable but even if he wanted to leave, he didn't know the way out. He would have to ask someone, Bdubs probably, to lead him to the surface. But...

There were two boys in the shelter's infarmary that were his responsibility. He had to make sure they were alright before he made any move of his own. He liked that Tubbo kid, he'd like to play with him before he left.

"Do you think dad will be alright?"

Cleo tilted her head at his question. Tommy watched as the staples on her neck glinted and the skin stretched around them. Then she sighed, the smile fell from her lips, and she crossed her weathered arms.

"I'll give you one piece of advice, Tommy." she said with severity. Tommy leaned in, eager to hear what she had to say. "If you don't see a body, then the person is alive. Have you seen your dad's corpse?"

That... that was definitely unexpected. Tommy shook his head. "No! I haven't seen my dad's corpse!" he said absolutely confused and stupefied.

"Then your dad is alive and that is all that matters, alright?"

Tommy blinked twice and leaned back. He felt a weight melt off of his shoulders; he felt lighter upon hearing those words. They were meaningful words too, and Cleo seemed honest, too, whilst she spoke.

"...Alright."

(Tommy did not, in fact, sleep on the only mattress within the small house that night. He was promptly kicked off, pushed off and held away in his three separate attempts to reclaim the bed as his own.

"Nope! Go to your corner, shoo." Cleo told him the third time. Tommy huffed and stole the blanket before padding off to the hastily-put-together pillow nest in the corner. He ignored the woman's uncontrollable chuckles.)

The next day, Tommy spent most of his morning -he guessed it was morning- with Cleo and Bdubs. There wasn't much else he could do around in the shelter and exploring didn't seem like a good idea with so much rust and mould and diseases that were waiting for him around the corner. He was still weirded out that he hadn't caught anything within the one day he was there.

Cleo prompted him to give the public school a try to fill in his day. Seeing as he was going to stay for the unforeseeable future, she suggested that he at least try to find hobbies so as to not get bored "hanging around with the old people", as she put it. So, he did. The 'public school' was held in an old airbus, which had mysteriously been taken from the sky and squeesed into the massive space of the Sewer Cats through... somewhere. Somehow. Tommy's mind couldn't comprehend how the whole thing got in there. Supposedly, the founders of the Sewer Cats had taken it apart and transported every bit and bolt under the cover of night -and they were somehow not caught stealing a massive aircraft from the hangar.

He sat in one of the seats in the back after he introduced himself to the children who were already attending. They were nice and their curious yet doubtful eyes followed him as he walked down the isle. Tommy was as wary and nervous as they were -if not more. So, he sat down and quietly observed Cleo teach a simple science lesson with a piece of white chalk that was frequently tapped on the black surface of the black board.

Thirty minutes in, the lesson was interrupted as someone walked inside. Tommy, who had already lost interest in the lesson and had been mindlessly gazing out of the small, oval window, was the last to notice. The other students were half-out of their seats, attempting to look over the heads of those sat in front of them with little success, when he turned to look. Having no one sitting beside him, Tommy moved to the isle seat and popped his head out from behind the dirty blue canvas of the row. His eyes lit up as he caught sight of brown hair and curled horns with a familiar face. It was Tubbo, accompanied by a man with pointy, fluffy ears and a scraffy beard. A pair of sunglasses was hanging from the neckline of his red shirt.

"Hey, Cleo! Sorry for interrupting but Tubbo here wanted to have a taste of what you're teaching." the man said cheerfully. Tubbo was nervously looking around the airbus but from where he stood and with all the curious heads in the way, Tommy doubted he could see him.

"Oh, really? I'd be happy to have another curious mind in my class-"

So he interrupted Cleo mid-sentence.

"Oi, Tubbo!" Tommy yelled, jumping out of his seat and waving at him. The boy sheepishly smiled and waved back, though it was obvious he would've perfered to curle into a ball to garnering everyone's attention.

"Tommy." Cleo regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

However, she did not have the pleasure of scolding him for yelling in class because Tubbo's company spoke.

"Tommy is here? Awesome! That is two birds with one stone. Scar is looking for him." he said. Tommy deflated into his seat. The lesson would have been much more interesting with Tubbo. And what did Scar want? Maybe he had news on Grian or his family and that was why he wanted to talk?

His body inflated right back, at the same time as Cleo dismissed him from class. Some of the kids booed at him for being in trouble. Tommy was both offended and confused but he had enough reason to not spout every curse his father had unknowingly taught him as he exited the plane.

"So, who are you, bigman?" Tommy asked the man walking beside him. The same man who had accompanied Tubbo to the school had taken the initiative to lead him back to the founders' meeting place. It turned out that the ears atop his head were matched with a fluffy tail. He was some kind of canine hybrid.

"Oh, how could I forget! My name is Ren, I'm one of the founders of the Sewer Cats." Ren said, puffing up his chest with pride.

"You know my uncle then?"

"That I do."

"What does Scar want to talk to me about?"

A fluffy, brown ear twitched. His tail swished to fling away a buzzing fly. Ren hummed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know, he just said to bring you to him if any of us bumped into you."

Tommy crossed his arms. And then he remembered: Tubbo wasn't the only hybrid boy who was with him.

"How is Dream doing?"

"Dream?" Ren parrotted, raising an eyebrow in confusion and intrigue.

"Yeah, Tubbo's brother."

At that, something must have clicked, for the confusion dissipated as fast as it had appeared.

"Oh! I don't know, honestly. I haven't been at the clinic in a bit, though I haven't heard of anyone dying -and trust me, bad news travels fast. You can visit him later if you'd like."

That sounded like a good plan.

Scar was waiting inside the old containers with Impulse and Bdubs, when Ren arrived with Tommy at his side. The three men were bent over a table with a bunch of different papers. One of those papers was a wanted poster, and once Tommy was closer, he recognised his face on it. 'The kid on the news', that's what Dream had called him; it was the only reason he hadn't harmed Mumbo. It was also the only reason he had to hide with Mumbo, and later leave with Dream and Tubbo.

His family was the reason, although he didn't know why they were looking for him. He was human, his family was missing. Well, it didn't matter much, when he was safe under the protection of the Sewer Cats -his blood still boiled with rage at the thought, though.

"Oi! What's up, Big Dubs?"

Bdubs raised his head immediately and his neck almost snapped as he turned his head to face him and Ren. Tommy blinked and cringed as he took in the tired yet alert face that was revealed in the light of a lantern. Dry skin, a tout face, black circles rimming bags under two dimly glowing eyes and a messy cloak of withering leaves and petrified ivy.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Tommy asked reflexively.

Impulse didn't look his best but better than Bdubs by a long shot. His hair was messy, his black and yellow shirt had a hole in it, and when he looked up, Tommy noted that his face looked tired. Tommy couldn't see why. Scar, on the other hand, was as he'd met him: lively, baby-skinned with no eye bags or worry wrinkles on his forehead. Jelly was sitting at the edge of the table like a loaf of bread that couldnt be bothered with the triffles of mortal men.

So, Tommy rephrased his question.

"What the fuck happened to all of you?" he asked with a gaping mouth. "It's only been- what, twelve hours since I last saw you? Why do you look like that?"

That was what snapped everyone out of their stupor.

"Ah, I didn't tell you, did I?" Ren answered with an apologetic smile and gently pushed him towards the table. "Impulse led a small group to the surface during the night to see if he could locate Mumbo."

"Yeah, so I took over his duties in the shelter. I need a long, long soak in the water after this." Bdubs commented.

"What?" Tommy's eyes grew wide, completely ignoring Bdubs' complaint. "Did you find him?"

Impulse shook his head. His voice didn't have that lilt of elation that it had when they were first introduced. "Grian told you to find Mumbo, so I thought that maybe he had told Mumbo of some location or shelter he could've gone to but we returned empty-handed." Then, he looked Tommy in the eyes. His lips formed a line, as if deciding on something.

"You have more to say, spit it out!" the boy urged him with furrowed brows.

Scar breathed a sigh. "This is actually one of the two reasons I wanted to talk to you today. Impulse says they found his house ransacked. Do you know anything about that?"

Under the collective expectant stares he was receiving, Tommy calmed himself. 

"Yeah," he said. "The bad guys came and raided the whole neighbourhood. If Dream wasn't looking out the window the whole time, then we'd be dead."

"Dream? I don't understand- was Mumbo not with you?" Scar questioned, looking genuinly confused. Bdubs patted the man on the shoulder and looked wearily at Tommy.

"Stop, Scar. We have to take it from the top if we're going to make sense of everything that's happened."

Chapter Text

The first thing Dream saw when he opened his eyes was grey. The second thing he realised was that the gray was a tile ceiling and light was coming from somewhere out of his field of vision, dotted with black and blurry. The third was that his head was killing him and barely any thought could form due to the insistence of the headache. He could vaguely sense that he wasn't alone in the... room, he was in a room. Turning his head to the side, careful not to bump his curled horn on the soft bef he was lying on, he spied a white folding divider. The light he had noticed earlier was coming from somewhere beyond it.

Wait... He was in a bed... The material beneath his back was soft like a mattress, and when he spread his fingers, he fisted  thin, cold fabric. The air smelled like vinegar and alcohol; vaguely like vodka. He could recognise that smell anywhere, though there was a tinge of metal mixed with it.

The young man's eyes fluttered, clearing the blur and washing away the black stains. The grey tiles of the ceiling had a pattern of white dots and it looked smooth. The strange smell invaded his senses; it was too familiar. It was blood. Why was there blood? They- They had escaped. There was no way they were found.

He pulled his body up, wincing as pins and needles teased his stomach. He looked around but he had moved so fast that his vision swam, his ears rang and he keeled over. Something- Someone caught him by the shoulder, just in time to save him from an ugly fall to the floor. His hands immediately grasped onto the person, clawing and pushing, trying to get away from the complete stranger; the threat.

"Woah, the'a!" came a surprised, feminine voice and the grip on his shoulder became firmer as the woman tried to steady him. "You're a'right, luv. No one is goin' to hurt you..."

A windchime of crystals rang. A calm river washed over him. He felt like he was on the highest of mountains, in the most serene of sceneries, in the most peaceful world. Everything was right for a few seconds. His arms dropped, dragging on a white coat before hitting the soft bedding. A hand carded through his hair gently as if he were made of glass.

"There you go. See? There is nothin' bad around."

When he found the courage to look- to see the face of the woman who was treating him like a fragile leaf, the hand capped his cheek, and then moved to his forehead. The most pleasant of faces looked at him with care, a soft smile reassured him of those spoken words promising safety. Big, round eyes of rich chocolate were attentive and warm, framed by hair of treebark and a halo of pink and purple flowers crowned her head.

"Hm... You have a bit o' a fever, so you'll stay in bed fo' anotha day. It's a good thing that you woke up, though! You need to get some food in that belly o' yours." she said as she guided him to rest on the bed once more. His back hit the mattress and he felt like it swallowed him whole. After days of running and sleeping on trash bags and hard concrete with his little brother under his arm, that mattress was heaven.

"...Where am I?" he asked and immediately cringed at how his voice sounded from disuse. His throat felt dry. "Who are you?"

The woman folded the divider, allowing the light from beyond to blind him. A whole room was hidden behind it, consisting of another bed, a countertop and a fridge. It looked like a kitchen stripped of its furniture. Dream noted the plastic white coat she wore and deduced she was a doctor. "You are in the clinic of the Sewer Cats and I'm the heala' o' the shelter. My name is Stress Monster but you can call me Stress."

"So you're a doctor?"

The woman shrugged with a bright laugh of rainbows.

"I'm no doctor but I know how to nurse you back to health!" she said, retreating towards the counter and retrieving a glass. She opened the fridge and picked up a bottle of water and poured some into the glass. "We're goin' to take advantage of you bein' awake and get some food in you. You're all skin 'n' bones!"

Dream looked to the side, abashed. Heat rised the his cheeks, though he blamed it on the fever. His eyes fell on the other bed, which was made and unoccupied.

"Where is Tubbo?"

Stress returned to his bedside, pulling a stool from below the bed frame and setting the glass of water on it. "Oh, that's your brother, yeah?" She asked as she grabbed him with gentle hands and adjusted the pillows to support his back so he could sit upright. Then, she passed him the glass and made sure it wouldn't drop from his hands.

"Yeah, where is he?" he persisted, holding the glass in his hands, which he realised were covered in clean bandages. His torso, too, was covered in clean gauze and his hoodie was missing.

"He only had a few ripped stitches and bruises, so I patched 'im up and sent 'im on his way. He should be with Tommy right now, that human kid who brought you 'ere."

"That's... That's good." he muttered and finally raised the glass to his chapped lips and drank like a man in a desert.

"I'll get you somethin' to eat and then you can sleep, alright?"

Dream barely heard her, too busy savoring the last drops of water at the bottom. Stress refilled the glass after giving him a warm bowl of soup. It tasted bland but he scarfed it down all the same. He was asleep for two days, Stress told him. She chatted with him whilst he ate as there were no patients in the makeshift clinic that needed her attention. The emptied bowl was refilled too, though Dream was reluctant in taking it.

"You'll need the energy to heal those bullet 'oles." she assured him. Dream took the spoon in hand and showed the soup no mercy.

Within two days, Tommy had made friends with everyone. It wasn't easy, and it certainly felt weird at first, but with the school indirectly forcing contact and being aqcauintances with Tubbo made things flow naturally. A friend circle formed, though Tommy found himself hanging out with Tubbo the most. He didn't think they'd click but fate had its way to make the impossible possible. 

An example of that would be the relationship between Cleo and Tubbo. It turned out that Cleo had taught at his school for a few years before she quit for unknown reasons.

"We heard rumours that she became a director at "Zombie Inc."."

"You mean that big R&D organisation that designs prosthetics for crippled hybrids?"

Zombie Inc was founded recently with the goal to help those who were crippled by their own traits. Like Zombies, whose limbs were prone to rotting completely, or for Creepers, who accidentally blew themselves up in a moment of terror. Their cause was good and Tommy could say that he felt more respect for the aforementioned Zombie ex-teacher, then director.

"Yup!"

"That's so cool, man! I've seen some people with those custom-made, functional arms- they look like really cool cyborgs!"

"I know right?! And it's made with redstone of all things! It must be so tedious to compact the dust into such a small space like an arm or an eye or an ear..."

Tommy blinked, brain blank as Tubbo rambled on and on about redstone machinery and said words that Tommy didn't know the meaning of.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Big T, but sure."

"Miss Cleo taught us how to make nukes too."

Tommy blinked again, though that time it was out of pure surprise.

"Your teacher taught you what."

Tubbo waved him off, like that wasn't the most insane thing he'd done.

"I almost got expelled because I actually made one and brought it to 'show 'n' tell. Thankfully, my dad pulled some strings and..."

"Tommy! Tubbo!"

The both stopped dead in their tracks when their names were called. Ren was running towards them, waving his hand to get their attention. Tommy grew curious and slightly nervous. The last time Ren had come for him, he had to retell his story to a group of adults. Said adults were nothing short of supportive and nice to him through the whole thing, and they tried to not make it seem more of an interrogation than it already did.

They were worried about their friend, of course, they had to ask. Grian was one of the founders, the first one from what Scar later told him. He was the one to recruit the rest and who led the residents into stealing whole planes from the air to shove into a sewage pipe. And then he was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he had told no one about his family but everyone had to come from somewhere, as much as some like Grian would love to hide it.

So, Tommy had told them about Phil and Techno and Wil. He'd told them that his brothers were out of the city but on that terrible day when the hybrid purge had begun, he had been flying with Grian and therefore he couldn't know whether his father was dead or alive, looking for him after the smoke had cleared.

What could Ren possibly want now? Tommy didn't know.

"Hi, Ren!" Tubbo greeted the man with a big smile and a handshake. The man's tail swished happily as he grinned, showing off his sharp fangs. They seemed to be on friendly terms -not that Tommy wasn't on friendly terms with the man! He liked Ren but the guy was usually on the surface running errands and rescuing hybrids from the street to talk much.

"What's up, man?" Tommy said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"How are you boys doin'? Have you settled in?" the man asked, reaching out and ruffling both of the boys' hair. Tommy almost screeched as he tried to get out of range and Tubbo almost headbutted him. Ren laughed goodnaturedly. "I'll take that as a yes! Anyway, I came here to tell Tubbo something."

"What is it?" Tubbo asked as he fixed his hair. Tommy was doing the same, when his friend gasped and his hands flew outwards and Tommy him in the stomach. The wind was knocked out of him and he doubled over, though it wasn't as bad of a hit as he made it look. Ren, the poor guy, tried to approach him out of concern but Tubbo wouldn't let him.

"Is it about Dream? Tell me!"

Glancing at Tommy's melodrama one last time, Ren turned his attention to the worried lamb in front of him. In retaliation, Tommy theatrically fell to his side but then he remembered that tetanus existed and he swiftly picked himself up.

"Your brother woke up a few hours ago." the man confirmed Tubbo's suspicions. "Stress is taking care of him but-"

"Why is he stressed?" Tommy questioned.

The two looked at him owlishly. Ren barked a laugh. "Stress is the name of our healer, Toms!"

"Oh." Tommy managed. And then he laughed at how surreal that name was.

"Anyway, Dream is up to have visitors so if you'd like to see hi-"

Ren couldn't finish his sentence before Tubbo was running for one of the stolen building that housed the clinic.

Chapter Text

"Dream!" Tubbo yelled as he barged into the small clinic. Stress, who had been checking on the stock of medicine and herbs supplies in the pantry peaked her head out of the doorway. The moment she laid eyes on the little lamb, who was frantically looking around the entrance hall, she smiled, stepped back, closed the pantry door and locked it with a key, which she dropped into the pocket of her white coat.

" 'Ello, Tubbo!" she greeted him. Just a few days ago, the boy was in a similar state to that of his brother's, although less beat up, less bloody and with less bullet holes marking his body. Whilst he had been a patient at the clinic, he had told Stress that he had been given first-aid by Tommy's uncle's friend, Mumbo. She had recognised the name, of course -most, if not all, of the hybrids in the shelter knew of Grian's closest friend (aside from Scar). Thankfully, he had had enough energy to tell Stress what had happened, so she could be assured that she hadn't missed anything during her examination of both brothers. Tubbo couldn't provide any information on Dream's condition, seeing as they had separated the night they had acquired their wounds, but in the end, all was well and both boys were alive.

"Pipe down, will ya? Your brother may be awake but he is still restin'." she warned him with a sweet smile as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and walked him to the impromptu kitchen exam room.

"Ah, sorry. How is he?"

The woman hummed thoughtfully, though the smile on her face was reassuring enough for Tubbo to not be alarmed.

"He's fine. I changed his bandages a couple o' times and we managed to get his energy up, so he should be good t' go in a day o' so."

When they entered the room, Tubbo beelined to his brother's bedside. Stress closed the door and brought a stray stool over. Dream had been sleeping a few minutes ago, when she'd checked up on him, but apparently, he was awoken by Tubbo's shouting. He looked sleepy but as his eyes landed on Tubbo, he seemed to become more alert.

"Dream!" Tubbo screamed right into his face, throwing his arms around the young man's torso without holding back his enthusiasm. "You're awake! You lazy ass, you've been sleeping for half a week!"

"Tubbo!" Dream choked, sounding more distressed and surprised than happy to be hugged by his little brother. Stress quickly stepped in, gently pulling Tubbo's arms away from the bandages wrapped around his chest and closer to the neck. She would have removed him completely but he was holding on like a baby koala. Dream nodded thankfully at her, and she smiled knowingly before withdrawing herself from the picture. She would stand to the side and discreetly observe. Her patient was still recovering, and she had to make sure Tubbo wouldn't accidentally poke at the stitches in his excitement. "It's good to see you too, you little rat!"

Somehow, he managed to pull his arm out from beneath Tubbo to ruffle his hair playfully. 

"Hey, stop that!" Tubbo swatted at the hand, managing to slap it away like an annoyed cat. "You're so annoying."

The other chuckled and slowly sat up. Tubbo let go and adjusted the pillow behind him.

"Well, I'm awake now. How have you been? How is the shelter?"

"The shelter is alright. It smells like shit and radioactive waste but my nose has grown used to it now." Tubbo shrugged as he sat on the stool which he hadn't even seen appear behind him, hands idly gripping at the cushion. "Tommy is around too, and I've met Scar Goodtimes. Dad's polititian friend, remember him?"

Dream looked like someone had just slapped him across the face. "I- Stress mentioned a Scar but I didn't think it was that Scar." he admitted. "Of course I remember him. They're in different parties but I remember dad both curse and praise his name. We've never had any contact with him, though. You met him?"

"Yeah! He's a supervisor-slash-founder of the Sewer Cats. I sleep at his house for the time being. Oh! Oh! You have to meet the others too! Bdubs is a little grumpy but he's actually very kind when his moss isn't wilting, Impulse is this big, scary imp, his name is a pun if you think about it- but he's actually a huge teddy bear and..."

And he went on and on about every member of the Sewer Cats' main cast. Stress, who was looking through the list of stock for the fifth time during their conversation, looked up when she heard the doorbell be rang.

"Okay, boys, be good. I have a new arrival to take care of." with that, she left the room.

Stress was perhaps the only good thing to being bedridden, Dream had found. Whilst he was recovering, she would sit with him whenever she had time, tell him stories of how the Sewer Cats managed to steal each building from the city above them, and she had a small bag of jokes. He couldn't believe his ears when she told him how they disassembled a whole passenger plane in one night to carry it underground. Or how Impulse and Ren had done the same thing to an excavator only to use it in order to create sink holes to steal whole buildings (abandoned or not) in the middle of the night.

His time in the clinic was full of surprises, one could say. Stress' presence was a wonderful constant even when she was treating new arrivals in other rooms of the house. She was a pure ray of sunshine in the darkness that veiled the shelter. He had joked about them not stealing a few lamp posts. He had not expected that they had stolen a whole lighthouse.

"Alright, luv, you're bein' discharged!" Stress announced as she walked into the room. Tubbo burst into the room, throwing his arms in the air. It had become a routine for him to visit in the 'morning hours'. Only, that time was different because Stress had told him the news in advance.

"Finally." Dream said with a breath of relief. "Don't get me wrong, you're wonderful but staying in bed all day is boring."

"I know, sorry about that!" she did not look very sorry. "Tubbo is here to pick you up and- oh. Oh, I forgot. Scar wanted to meet you if you're up for it."

Even though unsure of what to expect of that interaction, Dream nodded. "Yeah, sure. I don't mind."

Stress exited the room.

A few minutes later, Stress returned with a familiar blond boy in toe. It was Tommy, who had come to see how his two friends were doing. Dream was calm and so was Tubbo, whose excitement level had visibly decreased to nervous fidgeting. Following Tommy was another man, tall, walking with a magnificently crafted cane and a ridiculously oversized top hat. Tubbo's eyes sparkled at the sight of him.

"Dream! Tubs! How are you two doing this fine morning, ey?" Tommy cheekily grinned at them, before he was pulled to the side by Stress, who gestured at him to hush.

"Hello, Dream!" the stranger greeted him with a happy grin as he approached the bed. "I am very happy to hear you're doing well. I'm Scar Goodtimes."

Dream hesitantly raised his hand, giving Scar a firm handshake. So, that was Scar Goodtimes, huh? It was an odd encounter. For so long, he had only heard of the man's name be thrown around a room. To finally meet him in the flesh and under such unique circumstances seemed surreal to him; almost like it wasn't happening at all. Yet the present didn't wait, and he quickly realised that he wasn't dreaming.

"It's nice to meet you, sir. Thank you for looking after Tubbo."

"Oh, you're welcome. Your brother is great company in these dark times." and then he leaned in, covered his mouth with a hand and whispered, "He's a bit of a handful at times."

"I'm right here, you know!" Tubbo batted at Scar. Dream's first instinct was to hold his brother back from making any physical contact with that man. Out of respect or out of fear of stranger-danger, he wasn't sure, but he felt like that action was putting them in danger. However, before he could act, Scar chuckled and stepped out of Tubbo's reach.

"Anyway, anyway," -he waved as if to clear the previous exchange- "I'm here to possibly deliver some news. I wanted to tell Tubbo but this conversation probably has an R rating, so I decided to wait until you were coherent."

"What is it?"

The man's smile fell and his face grew serious.

"Are you the children of Schlatt?"

Tommy's jaw almost hit the floor. And Dream would have had laughed if the question wasn't as significant as it was.

"I, uh, yeah. You know him, right? Dad talked about you a lot. He was the one who sent us here."

"Actually," Tubbo piped up with a finger raised. "He told us to find a grey cat with green eyes and follow it to the Sewer Cats."

Dream blinked owlishly at him. "Thanks, Tubbo."

"You're welcome, bro."

"Yes, I knew him. We had our fights over laws and other boring politics stuff but we were mostly on good terms." Scar said, a smile that looked sad creeping on his face.

"Wait." Dream cut him off, "'Knew'? 'Were'? What the hell happened?"

The man looked uneasy, almost like he wanted to leave. But he didn't. Instead, he remained and told them the cold, hard truth.

"Dream, Tubbo... Schlatt is dead."

"Still nothing?" Quackity asks when Sam returns from his patrol. The rest of his squad has already dispersed, gone home or stayed in the station. The man turns to the sound of his voice. "I thought you would have caught at least one of them by now."

"If they were in the streets, I would have caught them, Quackity. I have a team looking for Mumbo K. Jumbo too, since the blood samples came back hybrid-positive." Sam told him, sounding almost bored. There were no sightings of hybrids since the sweep operation, which was to be expected. Those who didn't die either crossed the border or fled to nearby settlements. The decrease in activity was nice for Sam, because no sightings meant no killing his own kind in exchange for his own life but at the same time, it increased his anxiety tenfold. It was like the calm before the storm.

There were three hybrids on the priority list. Two of them were the late governor's children, Dream Schlatt and Tubbo Schlatt, who had vanished on the night of the breaking-in of the Schlatt Manor. Rumour had it that they escaped through a hidden passage and later found shelter in the streets. Later, as Sam learnt (thanks to a civilian bystander who gave him the stink eye), the two had nestled in Mumbo K. Jumbo's house.

Then came the third one... Tommy Minecraft, a human suspected to be an avian. Sam had seen the kid once, back when that unregistered avian attacked his colleagues, hidden behind some boxes in the back room. He looked nothing like an avian nor a hybrid. For some reason, the higher-ups didn't seem to care so much about it. He was a child born to an avian man, who had another son with wings studying in a university in a neighbouring city.

It was a mess. A mess that made Sam panic about what would happen to him and so many other hybrids in the force once the cleansing was over. There was... a place he could go. A place that had been offered to him when the news of the purge had first been discussed within the confines of the station. A place that his cousin talked about frequently: a place where only creepers lived, far away from the dangers of human society.

The Perimetre, a giant hole in the middle of the earth. Doc said a lot about it but Sam didn't believe him. A giant hole in the earth with a diametre of a hundred square kilometres? Who would believe that such a place existed and was yet to be discovered by geologists? But the more things quieted in the city, the more the idea of fleeing to that fantastical place grew. Soon enough there he would be desposed of and if he stuck around, there would be nothing he could do but accept that unfair fate.

Maybe giving Doc a call wasn't a bad idea...

Chapter Text

The night everything started, Dream and Tubbo were in their beds. There was barely any noise outside, perhaps an owl hooting or a bat clicking but nothing out of the ordinary. The Schlatt Manor was absolutely quiet.

And then, Dream awoke to the sound of... nothing. His body was shaking and his first thought was that he was having a night terror but he could move and look and hear. Tubbo was sleeping in the room next to his. A twisted feeling had settled in his gut and it wouldn't go away no matter how much he tried to go back to sleep. So, he got up, went to his door and peeked into the hallway like a child who thought there was a monster hiding in the darkness.

Yet, the lights were on and there were no monsters. The servants were flitting about despite the late hour. No one spoke to him, though a maid who saw him step out of his room quickly ushered him to return to bed. Dream wordlessly closed the door, waited for a few moments and then walked back out, curious as to what was going on. He was utterly confused. At this hour, everyone was sleeping -servants included. Unless... Unless they were preparing for some special event for the next day but that was highly unlikely.

He ignored the next few maids and butlers who advised him to return to his room as he walked down the hall. No one answered when he asked what they were up to. They were nervous, full of anxiety, so much so that they acted like sheep in a pen. Until he reached his father's room, he was completely in the dark because the moment he opened the door, the loud sound of sirens and wheels squeaking to a halt came from outside. His father was missing from his quarters, where he should have been asleep in bed. That ugly feeling worsened and he ran out into the hallway. If his father wasn't in his bedroom, he would be in his study, in the other wing of the manor.

There was shouting coming from the lobby, incomprehensible yelling; the kind of noise that preluded fights. Immediately, he changed course. He wanted to see what was going on; he had to make sure that everthing was okay. Right before he could open the next door that would take him closer to the source of the shouting, his father appeared. Big, round horns of a ram, red eyes of a wolf, black hair and a neat beard. Schlatt was dressed in his vest and dress pants, just one jacket and tie away from completing his politician outfit. His appearance made Dream nervous: why was his father awake and dressed as if he was about to go on a stroll?

"Ah, Dream, you're awake," he observed.

"Dad, why are you-"

Schlatt cut him off with a tone so grave, Dream felt like danger was right around the corner.

"Take Tubbo and head to my study, exit the manor through the secret passage behind the bookshelf and run, okay?"

Dream was so terribly scared, confounded. The shouts grew louder and then there was a bang. Gunshots.

"What is happening, dad?!"

His father didn't give him an explanation. He grabbed him by the shoulders and leveled him with an intense gaze.

"Take Tubbo and run. There are people after us, run away from the black vans and find a grey cat with green eyes. It'll take you to the Sewer Cats."

Another gunshot. People were screaming, a servant ran past them with blood splattered on her gown. his father brought his focus back to him.

"I'll join you once I settle this, alright?"

As the big brother, he had to protect his younger brother, and he did so by following their father's orders. He rushed to Tubbo's room, ignoring the gunshots and the iron thudding and the barked orders. He felt that if he looked over his shoulder, there would be someone standing behind him with a gun aimed at his head. Tubbo was as confused and scared as he was, if not more, when he kidnapped his brother from his bed and dragged him to their father's study. 

They spent days in the streets looking for that damned grey cat. There were so many refugees running through the alleyways, and sometimes the two of them would have dinner with more people than they would have liked. They replaced their night clothes with junk they found in dumpsters where they scavenged for both food and clothes.

Finally, one night, the soldiers in black found them and chased them down in a black van, hunting them like animals. Thankfully, the vehicle was too big to fit in alleys and thin roads and whilst they weaved through the streets, Dream told Tubbo to go the other way. They had already suffered some wounds but sticking together when there was only one hunter diminished their chances of survival. Splitting seemed like a safer choice, as Dream led the van away whilst Tubbo ran. Of course, they lost him later, as Dream had hid behind a garbage can to lick his wounds, praying that his little brother would be alright.

And that's what happened before they found Mumbo and Tommy.

"Take me with you."

"Tommy, I already told you it's dangerous for a child to come along." Ren sighed for the millionth time. It had been an hour since Tommy decided that he wanted to return to the surface. That was something that couldn't be done for obvious reasons. Tommy was a child whose face was plastered on every wall in the city and over the course of the two weeks that had passed, the division in charge of the Purge had issued a handsome reward.

"I'm not a child, take me with you." Tommy continued unfazed, arms crossed and the best angry glare he could muster. He wanted to go up there, look for Mumbo, look for his dad, his uncle -his brothers, maybe. "I can help with whatever you're going to do up there just-"

"Tommy, this is a serious matter," Scar stated firmly, an apology written on his expression. "I can't allow you to go with Ren, you'll be arrested or worse the moment you walk into the street."

"Ren walks the streets and he comes back just fine!" he protested, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"That's because Ren and his team are very careful when they go upstairs. That way, Mumbo is also safe and trust me, Grian knows how to get back to our base," Scar tried to assure, "He'll return once he's found your family, believe in him."

Tommy deflated. "You can't know that."

"Yes, I can." Scar smiled. 

He huffs, a thousand unpleasant phrases running through his mind. Ren chuckles, standing a little awkwardly to the side.

"I promise, Toms, this is boring adult stuff–" the poor man tried to be deceptive but ultimately failed.

"No, it isn't boring; you're literally doing top secret spying stuff."

Even Scar had to agree. "He's got a point."

"So I'm coming with you to show you." with that, Tommy turned to leave, a triumphant grin on his face as the two adults were stunned by his genius. Truly, Cleo's lessons had paid off. It took the two a moment to react.

"Hey, that's not what I meant, Tommy!"

He ran off before they could get within his notional hearing range.

No matter what he said or did, Tommy wasn't allowed to go up to the sunlight. It's irritating and very unfair but for his and everyone else's safety, it's imperative that he stayed put. Only an irrational leader would allow a teenage boy to be involved in such a dangerous operation. Ren and his group had planned to rescue as many hybrids as he could from the alleyways and also note the police's activity and patrol routes. Supposedly, their patrol schedules changed quite frequently and they had made it their routine to record every change.

However, Tommy was not one to give up so easily. A simple 'no' didn't disable him from sneaking behind the pack of hybrids that made its way through the sewer system. They were none the wiser to him tailing them through the awful odor of the sewers that clogged up their sensitive noses and thankfully Bdubs wasn't patrolling that side, so he was able to go with them to the surface. Only Tubbo knew of his plan and he had promised to cover for him if someone suspected anything, like Scar or Impulse.

He was the last one out of the sewer grate. The person who hoisted him out looked at him funny, surely measuring his height and whatnot but ultimately didn't raise the alarm. It turned out that the hoodie, the mask, and a pair of tinted goggles he found were enough to disguise him. He wouldn't be recognised, especially at nighttime. See, Scar? I can be sneaky too! And he'd show Ren as well, who doubted his sneakiness and his bravery and his ability to keep up with them.

"Alright everyone, you know the plan," Ren explained in a whisper. The alleyway was doused in shadows and Tommy stands behind some tall men so as not to stand out. "We'll gather any hybrid we can find here," -two people were already setting up a makeshift waiting area- "and we'll leave at first light."

While Ren proceeded to brief a section of the group about spying on the police and the black vans, Tommy looked up and down the alleyway. Where had they ended up? Which part of the city was that? He couldn't make out any landmarks from his spot, so he discreetly moved away, towards the exit of the alley. No one noticed. There was a wide street, a few blinking lamps, the random car or pedestrian passing by; nothing out of the ordinary. Then, he noticed the walls of his school and he knew where they were. From that point, he could navigate at least a few squares of the city without getting lost, and then a few more streets he knew. Easy peasy! He needed to find Mumbo first, then sneak back outside with Ren to find his uncle and his father.

Next stop, Mumbo's! He'd pass by his shop first since it was closest. As the hybrids rolled out, Tommy tagged along with two of them. They walked through the streets for a while, disguised as humans with their ears covered by hats and their tails tucked smartly inside their baggy trousers. He slipped away when they weren't paying attention and ran down the street. A few lefts, a few rights and he finally found himself in front of the man's computer shop.

It was closed. The sign on the door said so, and the lights on the display were shut off... but what made his heart sink and his gut twist in on itself was the red graffitti and the broken glass, the broken screens and ruined machine parts that were at the window. The shop had been savagely defaced with hate words and threats, and there was even a pickaxe stuck in the glass.

It was everything Tommy didn't want to see. He took several steps back, cold sweat running down his temple. What had happened? Who had done that? Did Scar and Ren know of it?

"Hey, kid," someone called to him. It was a stranger, a shady character whose voice sounded like he smoked a lot. "What are you looking at that shop for?"

Tommy was too shocked to respond immediately. "What happened to it?"

The man shrugged his shoulders.

"The owner was harbouring some hybrids, the people didn't take it very well." he hummed. "I guess he got what he deserved."

The man walked away, and was lost in the night, in the blinking street lamps and the harsh shadows. And Tommy was alone, facing a lovely shop that was all Mumbo was and he sobbed.

Chapter Text

Hello! Long time no see, huh? Unfortunately, this is not an update but it has been weighing on me for a long time and it's about time to share this with you. I will post this note here because I have no idea if you can even see my activity anymore on Quotev and since this story is my most viewed of the ongoing, I'll start from here and possibly expand on the rest.

So, where have I been? I have not been dead. On the contrary, I have been alive on Ao3! I haven't touched Quotev for months, especially not after the horrific updates they have done. I haven't been on Wattpad either. So, what happened? Why did I disappear?

Recently, I have fallen in love with this game called "Arcane Odyssey". I've been so inspired that I'm writing a long fic based on it on ao3, named "Mary on a Cross". Simultaneously, I have not been feeling inspired to write any of my MC fanfics, as all of my attention has fallen on my new work. Everything that has been happening in the MC community the past few years has effected me somewhat but not to the point of stepping away from it entirely. Let's just say that writing Wilbur has felt a little weird in this fic.

Now, I am aware that everyone here loves my content and writing, so I am not discontinuing anything -I dislike leaving things unfinished and this story has reached its midway point anyway. However, I will put all my works on Hiatus. I do not know for how long, so I will present you with the option to vote for the release of either my notes or the unfinished-but-looks-finished chapter I have stored!

For anyone who loves my writing and wants to give something outside of MC a try, as well as support me, please give my new fanfic a try! Leave comments, kudos, even just reading is fine! Here is the link:

Mary on a Cross

I appreciate your patience and understanding! Stay safe out there!