Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy pulled himself around the corner of the rooftop, combat boots barely touching the ground as he sprinted along the concrete. He felt his power run through him, and the feeling was almost enough to make him grin.

Until he heard the gunshots behind him and remembered just where he was.

He wasn’t a criminal if that’s what you’re thinking. Not by moral standards, anyways. But, in the eyes of L’manburg police, he was about as bad as it gets.

Tommy Innit was a vigilante, spending his nights fighting crime and his days working as many shifts as he could get at the local sandwich shop.

Now, if you asked him, he was the best person for the job. The vigilante one, not the sandwich shop. He was bad enough about listening to people telling him what to do, so putting himself in customer service? Cruel and unjust.

The shattering of concrete before him broke Tommy out of his daydream, and he skidded to a halt as a spray of gunfire cut through the rock like butter. He turned, looking for an escape route. As his mind turned, he stopped moving. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been on the run from police before, but when you’re trying to escape someone, you don’t stop. In his moment of indecision, he heard a click. He raised his head, frozen in disbelief.

“Game’s over Impulse. This is the end of the road. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” A cop stood with a handgun aimed directly at Tommy’s chest. Despite the serious situation, Tommy couldn’t help but laugh.

“Really? The easy way or the hard way? Otherwise known as the speech that every single cop movie has?” As he spoke, he still frantically scanned for his options. He put his hands up, spreading his fingers to show he had no weapons. He grinned beneath his black mask, knowing the officer wouldn’t see it. Just behind Tommy was a roof’s edge, and now that there was no gunfire, he could probably hop off and climb through a window. Lost in the thought process of his escape, he failed to hear the thumping of boots landing behind him.

He definitely noticed when he felt someone ram into his back, slamming him to the ground. His wrists were pulled behind him, quickly cuffed with what he assumed were power suppressors. His chest tightened and he began thrashing, but it was too late.

“The mighty Impulse, brought down because he hesitated. Wonder how the press will take this one, eh?” Tommy felt himself get hauled to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his body but with nowhere to go. He tried to fight, twisting and kicking out with his feet. But instead of engaging, the cop simply grabbed him by the collar and dragged him towards the stairs.

Eventually, Tommy stopped struggling. He let his heels bump along as he was pulled down the rickety stairs.

At least the cop had the decency to pull him to his feet again before they exited the building.

It was with no gentleness, however. It was merely for convenience to push through the hordes of press attempting to get a statement from the arresting officer or the vigilante himself.

“Officer Cain, how does it feel to be the one to finally take down the menace of the city?”

Flash, click

“Impulse, what do you have to say? Any apologies to the people you hurt?”

Flash, click, flash, click

“Is this it? Is the vigilante Impulse’s reign of terror finally over?”

Flash, flash, flash, click, click, click

As they pushed through the crowd, Tommy squeezed his eyes against the brightness of the cameras and floodlights. He lowered his head in shame, refusing to look anyone in the eyes. The officer shoving him along placed a hand on the back of his neck, and he froze.

Empty rooms. Needles. Hands, grabbing him, forcing him into worse and worse positions to test his limits. Cold liquid, dripping down his neck. Blood, dripping down his neck.

He began to twist and fight again, kicking out at anything he could reach. Distantly, he heard screams as his power sparked against the cuffs, but ultimately they held. Calls for backup were met with more hands on Tommy, pinning him down, restricting him. He began to hyperventilate, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He noticed vaguely that a circle had formed around him, more and more officers pouring in to restrict him.

“Hey, stop, stop, stop! You can’t fight this, Impulse.” The words reached his ears as if he was underwater. He felt himself getting lightheaded, unable to grab enough air through the fabric of his mask. A defect he’d promised he’d fix ages ago.

He had a lot of panic attacks in this mask.

He swung his legs out wildly and knocked the officers over, and slammed his head backwards, hearing a crunch as the hands around him fell away. He stood, arms cuffed behind his back, legs spread, chest heaving. If he had been handcuffed in the front, he could have reached his picks in the toolbelt around his waist.

The mask felt suffocating, the goggles too tight around his head. His suit, despite how loose it was for easier movement, felt like it was enclosing him.

He did the only thing he could do. He screamed.

“Someone grab him!”

“-kicked out of nowhere-”

“-broke my fucking nose-”

“He’s panicking, don’t you fools see that?” A voice came from the crowd. A man in a deep purple trenchcoat rushed forward, spreading his arms in front of Tommy in a placating gesture. “Hey, hey, pal, look at me. Look at me. I know you’re scared. I know it’s a lot. But you’re not safe here. These people are angry, Impulse.” He began to slowly step forward, hands still raised.

Tommy huffed through his mask, preparing himself to fight again. His eyes flared, and his shoulders were heaving with exertion. He was almost at his limit. He may have only had his legs, but damn if he couldn’t deliver a vicious kick.

Never skip leg day, eh?

“These people are angry. You live in their city, steal from them, this was always going to happen. But we can protect you.” He said, still approaching. He slowly pulled his trench coat aside, displaying his badge. “My name is Detective Karl Jacobs. I’m here to help you.”

Tommy felt himself weakening. The adrenaline could only last him so long, and he was beginning to feel every ache and pain from the chase. He had been running for over 3 hours, getting a few minutes here and there to rest and breathe before the cops burst through the door.

He collapsed to his knees. The lights were still flashing, but people were shouting, jeering now that he was weak. The cops were getting off of the floor, readying themselves for another fight despite the hunched form in front of them.

The man, Karl Jacobs, quickly walked behind Tommy and, much more gently than the other man, helped him to his feet. He began to shout to the other cops, demanding a path be cleared. Though begrudgingly, they did it, pushing the press back and making a way to the car. Karl walked them to it, careful to avoid touching Tommy’s neck. Before they could get in, a lone man stood in front of the doors.

The mayor had arrived.

“Hold on there, detective. You know what we have to do.” The man crossed his arms, brows furrowed as he stared down at Karl.

“Sir, with all due respect, not here. Not here, not now.”

“I made a promise when this vigilante first came on the streets, detective. The city deserves to see this coward's for who he really is.” The tone in the mayor's voice made it clear he wasn’t budging. Tommy looked back at Karl, trying his best to display panic through the goggles and mask. Karl looked down at him helplessly.

The mayor grabbed Tommy’s arm and spun him to face the crowd that had now consumed the former path.

“Almost exactly 3 years ago, I promised this city justice would be delivered. And now, we’ve finally got the vigilante that has been terrorizing our streets. Time to see this bastard’s face, eh?” He jeered, encouraging the crowd to get rowdy. They shouted and screamed at Tommy, and he began to feel that sense of the world closing in again. “No fun quips now? Aww, so sad.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as the mayor reached for his face.

He felt the fabric and goggles lift.

The crowd went silent.

Even the mayor was quiet.

“By God, he’s a kid.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw numerous reporters staring at him in shock. Many of them had dropped their microphones. He turned to Karl, looking at the detective with fear and shame. Karl stared back at him, jaw hanging open. He shut it and, with determination setting over his face, pulled Tommy from the mayor's grasp. He put Tommy into the passenger seat of the car and jumped over the hood to the front, settling into the seat and revving the engine. People quickly cleared out of the way, and Karl peeled out of the parking lot.

After a few minutes of driving, Tommy’s breathing had settled and he had begun to relax slightly into the seat.

“Seriously though, what the hell?” Karl glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes.

----------------------

They soon arrived at the station, and Karl quickly found an empty interrogation room. He’d admitted it wasn’t the best hospitality, but it was the best they had. He’d brought Tommy a bottle of water, still sealed, and cuffed his hands into the table to ease the ache on his shoulders. Pity he had removed Tommy’s toolbelt.

None of the officers were pleased with Karl’s quick departure or his peaceful settling of the fear-aggressive vigilante. But they were still in shock at Impulse being a child. By his face, he couldn’t be more than 15 or 16.

Tommy was left in the interrogation room for what felt like hours. He tried not to focus too much on the events that had brought him here.

When someone did finally come through the door, he was barely awake. The sound of the door handle roused him from sleep, but he was still bleary. A box of files and a bag of peanuts slammed on the table in front of him, and he sat up.

“All of that for me? Wow, I’m impressed. Thought I was my number one fan.” He managed to snap out a quip and looked up to the face of the new officer. A woman with brown and white curly hair sighed at him.

“Kid, I’m here to ask you some questions. If you want to get a trial as quickly as possible, it’s best if you cooperate.” She said. She sounded tired.

Tommy shrugged and gestured for her to go on.

“When did you start your illegal activities?”

“When I met your mom.”

Another sigh.

“When did you develop powers?”

“When I had sex with your mom.”

An even bigger sigh.

“Listen, kid, I’m trying to help you here. Let’s go easier. What’s your name? And if you respond with some variation of ‘your mom’, I’m leaving and taking the snacks with me.” She put her elbows on the table, leaning forward. “So what’ll it be?”

Tommy considered the proposition. He wasn’t the biggest fan of peanuts, but it was the first food he’d had available to him since the previous morning.

“Tommy.”

The woman allowed a small grin to cross her face and tossed him the packet. “I’ll get you better stuff if you cooperate with me. Now, how old are you really?”

Tommy didn’t answer the question for a second, struggling to open the packet. Eventually, he grunted in frustration and went after the edge with his teeth until it tore open, spilling some peanuts across the table.

“16.” He answered, voice slightly muffled by the wrapper still in his mouth. He spat it onto the table and began to pick the peanuts off the table to pop into his mouth. The cuffs gave him a limited range of motion, so he made it a game to see how far he could lean back and catch the peanut.

The woman in front of him blinked several times, taking in the figure before her. The young face didn’t match the serious red and black outfit.

“And you’ve been fighting crime for… 3 years? You started when you were 13?”

Tommy frowned for a second, counting on his fingers. “Yup.”

The woman let out a long breath. "I'm not qualified for this." She abruptly stood and exited the room, leaving Tommy slightly confused. He was quickly entertained, however, by tossing the peanuts into his mouth again.

He was left there all night.

He ran out of peanuts.

----------------------

The next morning, he awoke, sore from the uncomfortable position. For a second he didn’t remember the events of the night, but as he took in the concrete room it sank back in. The public saw his face The police got him. It was over.

At least someone had put a blanket over him through the night.

He heard the door handle twist again, and this time he was more awake. The lady returned with the man from last night. What was his name again? Karl?

“We have a proposal for you.”

Oh, good. A plea deal, he assumed. “Unfortunately, I’m a minor. You got 2 more years.” At the confused look on their face, Tommy sighed. His comedic genius wasn’t appreciated here. “You know, like a marriage? Oh, forget it. It’s not funny anymore. You ruined it.”

The two cops in front of him exchanged a glance before Karl stepped up. He placed a flyer in front of Tommy. “L’manburg Center for Troubled Youth. It’s for kids like you.”

Tommy looked over the paper, seeing a bunch of pictures of laughing and smiling kids. Immediately, his bullshit detectors went off. “People like me? Vigilantes?”

The lady winced. “Well, not exactly. But they’ve agreed to take you in.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold on here. I haven’t agreed to anything.” Tommy frowned, feigning a hurt look.

“That’s why we’re here, Impulse,” Karl said, sounding slightly exasperated. The lady leaned in and whispered into his ear and he nodded. “Sorry, Tommy. That’s why we’re here.
To offer you a choice.”

Tommy sat up more, the blanket falling over his hands. “I’m listening.”

Karl and the lady looked at each other again, seeming to debate who was going to say it. The lady eventually sighed and leaned her hands onto the table.

“You choose this school, you reform. Learn to control your powers better. Make some friends, maybe.”

“Or?”

“Or you go to trial, most likely televised, for murder, vigilantism, and any other charges they can bring against you.”

He sighed. “Yeah, that’s significantly worse.”

“So what’ll it be, kid?” Karl stepped forward.

Tommy thought. On one hand, that entire flyer looked like propaganda and probably was. That meant the “centre’” was probably more of a prison than anything else.

On the other hand, cameras, courtrooms, and jail for the rest of his life. Also not particularly thrilling.

After a little bit of thinking, and a little more extra time to put the cops on edge, he made eye contact with the both of them.

“I’ll go to your stupid reform centre. How bad could it be?”

Chapter Text

You know, when you’re handcuffed to a rusty old bus going approximately 2 kilometres per hour, you start thinking about the decisions in your life that led to this point.

Like the day Tommy decided to be a superhero.

It was the middle of summer, a heatwave oozing over the city like melted taffy. He’d opted to stay inside, watching as heroes all over the country fought criminals. Though they tried, the heroes were always outnumbered, and the rise of super-powered villains wasn’t making their jobs any easier. But the villains… sometimes Tommy wondered if they really were the bad guys.

As he watched, a villain escaped a firefight, leaping from building to building gracefully while a hero destroyed everything in his path on his way to catch the criminal. A few days later, the families who lived in the apartment buildings the heroes destroyed would stand there tearfully and recount how the villain terrorized them.

That’s why Tommy really became a hero.

Not because the people lied, but because the heroes lied. He didn’t want to sit back and watch the shitshow, not when he could help.

He was shaken back into reality by the surprisingly sudden stop of the bus. He hoped it was ok, it looked and sounded like it hadn’t done anything sudden or surprising in its life.

After a second, he heard the guards knock on the door, and he sighed, standing and shuffling into the aisle. He put his arms out, and the guards on the other side peeked through the tiny window before opening it. One guard strode forward, unlocking the chain that connected his wrists to the floor. The guard then uncuffed his ankles, and Tommy shook them out a little bit.

He was allowed a little bit of time to grab his bag before the guards grabbed his shoulders and walked him out of the bus.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Who runs this, some emo??” Tommy scoffed, making a face. In front of him was a dark church with spires that reached toward the sky. A pair of crows watched them from a porch. Tall stained-glass windows made strange swirling pictures, mostly red and grey. A creeping red vine curled around a pillar, and Tommy swore he saw it wiggle. “No. No, I’m not going in there mate. Props to you guys for making it this far but I’m out.”

The moment he turned to walk away, the guards pressed their guns to his back, and he relented. “Alright, but if a ghost comes out I’m gone,” he muttered.

They prodded him forward until they were standing on the porch, the crows still watching them. Tommy stared back at them, silently challenging them to a staring contest…

Which he immediately lost when the guards banged on the door hard enough to rattle the railings, causing him to blink and the crows to fly off.

After a bit of waiting, the door was opened by a tall figure. He had heterochromatic brown and green eyes, as well as hair that looked as though it was dyed in the dark. It looked like it was supposed to be split dyed between black and white, but looked more as though the teen had picked random chunks of hair and coloured them. He was wearing a white shirt and black suit vest for some reason, as well as black dress pants.

Just behind him was a set of stairs with a red carpet, and a hallway with dark wooden walls.

All of this Tommy noticed while analyzing the kid for threats. He didn’t seem powered, but the longer he kept looking at the tall teen, he noticed a strange fuzz around his silhouette like a person edited into a photograph. At first, he appeared as though he was normal but with more scrutiny, something wasn’t quite right. He noticed the other kid watching him as well, eyes wide.

A guard cleared his throat, and the tall kid snapped to attention. “Are you here to drop off Impulse?” He asked.

“Clearly, but we’re here to deliver him to Bad only.” The bad-tempered guard to his right spoke, his grip on Tommy’s shoulder tightening.

“Yes, yes, of course.” In the blink of an eye, the teen was gone, the fuzz behind him remaining for a second before disappearing. A few moments later, another person came down the stairs. They were almost regal, with the way they carried themself. Once they reached the bottom, they made eye contact with him. Pale white eyes stared out from a void, seemingly lacking any other facial features. They wore a black robe-like outfit, with white seams and a white sash. They reached the door and stopped. Holding out a hand to Tommy, they spoke.

“You must be our newest guest. I’m told you had quite the run before they got you.” Their voice was higher pitched, and steady.

Tommy hesitated before lifting his still cuffed hands, giving an awkward two-handed shake. He turned to look at the guards, certain he would be reprimanded for moving. But they seemed to have gone still, terror barely masked on their faces. Apparently, however cocky they felt, this new person shook them and Tommy couldn’t blame them.

“Impulse. Or, I was. Now I’m just Tommy.” He said, still wary but doing his best to keep that out of his voice.

“You may call me Halo, for now.” The figure said, before turning to the guards. “Cuffs? On a 16-year-old boy? I want them off before you leave,” they said, raising a finger to quell their protests. “I didn’t ask for your input.”

The officers, with some hesitation, stepped forward and uncuffed the restraints. Within an instant, Halo’s hand was on him, and he felt something sear into his skin. Tommy yanked away, cradling his right wrist to his chest as he glared at the tall figure.

“What the actual fuck?” He said as he glanced down, a red symbol now emblazoned on his skin. The shape was that of an oval, decorated with swirling vines and the occasional flower. It felt like someone had branded him with hot metal (an experience that he was uncomfortably familiar with).

Halo seemed to muffle a laugh, but without seeing their mouth he couldn’t tell. “Just making sure you don’t try anything, Tommy.”

He didn’t like the way Halo said his name. It gave him shivers, like a hundred sparks cascading down his back. He tried to activate his power, now that the cuffs were gone. One final escape attempt.

But nothing happened.

Tommy looked up, panicked. He could feel the energy building in him that usually came with his power, but it had no outlet. When he lost focus, he could feel it sizzle away, not quite gone but sitting there in the back of his mind, like a blaring warning.

With a flourish, Halo turned, beckoning for Tommy to follow. He didn’t see any other choice and stumbled into the doorway. With one final glance, he noted that the guards were hurrying back to the bus.

Fuckin cowards.

----------------------

Tommy was led up a ridiculous amount of stairs to what must’ve been the top of the middle spire. By the time he reached the top, Halo had already been standing there, tapping their foot impatiently. They checked an old-timey pocket watch (seriously, who the hell still has those?) and sighed at Tommy. After they had left the front door, the facade of a polite caretaker had immediately vanished. Now, they were acting as though Tommy was intentionally dragging things along.

“I have a meeting. This is your room,” they gestured to the cracked wooden door, “and you’ll be sharing it with Mark. Remember that this door and this room are a privilege, and if you are believed to be abusing that privilege, I will know.” For the first time, Tommy saw a sharp grin appear on Halo’s face. It was pure white and disappeared as quickly as it came.

With that, Halo turned and vanished back down the stairs. Tommy slung his bag from his shoulder and opened the door in front of him. Inside was the tall kid from earlier, still dressed in his fancy clothes. He jumped as Tommy walked through the door, and turned to face him, hiding something behind his back.

“Oh, you must be Theseus. I’m R- Mark. I’m Mark.” He quickly crossed the room, reaching out a hand to shake. Tommy took it, frowning slightly as he studied the room.

“Tommy. Just Tommy.” Two twin beds were pushed to either side of the room, and one (Mark’s, he assumed) had a dark purple comforter and numerous photos scattered over it. As he watched, Mark put them back on their shelves. For a moment he wondered if he imagined it, but Mark’s face gave a flicker of fear.

“No, you were Tommy out there. Now you’re Theseus.” Mark insisted, gripping Tommy’s hand tighter. Tommy tugged his hand away, scowling at the other. He seemed weirdly determined to get Tommy to understand.

“What do you mean, ‘out there’? I’m still Tommy, no matter what.” He began to back away, but Mark followed wherever he went in the room.

“You need to understand, if they hear you using that name they’ll-” He stopped himself, pausing in his footsteps. He stopped and began tapping his fingers together, counting quietly under his breath. “We don’t use outside names here. We can’t. B- Halo doesn’t like it. He’ll, he’ll hurt the little ones.”

Tommy, who was now standing by the beds, froze. “The little ones?” He took another look around the room. On the shelves behind Mark’s bed were picture frames, and he stepped closer to pick one up. He held a picture of Mark and a toddler, who was sitting on Mark’s shoulders reaching for something- no, someone up in the air. The toddler had bubblegum pink hair, and as he looked closer he could see the church behind them. “Here? But- this place is for- for troublemakers, like me. What could a toddler do?”

He turned to face Mark and saw almost instantly how scared he was. He had curled in on himself, his fingers clasped towards his chest. Stepping forward, he took the picture gently from Tommy’s hands. “That’s Michael.” He said, tapping his finger on the glass. “And above him, that’s Simon.” Instead of explaining, he just began talking. “Michael is 6. Simon is 4. They’re both too young to remember what his name used to be. We tell them we found them.”

As Tommy looked closer, he could see a small kid holding onto some kind of dark tendril. It was attached to the side of the house and seemed to be made of pure darkness. “And their real names?”

“We don’t know. Michael at least likes his name. Simon’s never enjoyed his. Thinks it should be cooler.” Mark sighed before setting the picture back down on the shelf, adjusting it so that it faced away from the room’s door. He sat on his bed, running his fingers over the sheets. “This place isn’t what they promised it would be.”

Tommy scoffed. “Yeah, I guessed that. But why are there kids here? Where are their parents?” He sat with a thump onto the opposite bed, setting his bag on the floor.

“We… we don’t know. Probably got given a bunch of money to give up their kids.” He stared down at his hands, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt “But at least they’re here and not somewhere else, right?” He tried at a smile.

“Yeah. Right.” Tommy let loose a sigh. “So what’s your story? How’d you get here?”

Mark laughed humorlessly. “Apparently, when you can’t afford public transportation, teleporting places is illegal. But most of us didn’t do anything. All we did was have a power they deemed dangerous.” He gestured to the photos again. “Michael was talking to animals and convincing them to steal food for him. Simon was making shelters for other kids.”

He stood, pushing his arm between the wall and the bed. He pulled out more pictures. Giving them to Tommy, he pointed out people on each of them. A teen with long brown hair and angry eyes, but smiling with his arms around Mark and some other brunet. “That’s Dave. He was using his power to save people from the wreckage heroes made. Next to him is William. He was helping people make peace with their dead family members.” Another photo. A girl this time, with shoulder-length blonde hair, cheering as a redheaded boy balanced on a rooftop. “Nicole. She used her bloodbending to keep her best friend’s heart beating until she could get him to the hospital. Floris. Used his shifting to entertain kids at a youth shelter.”

“This can’t be right. How come the government isn’t noticing?” Tommy said, hand over his mouth as he studied the pictures. “How come they’re not seeing these kids disappearing?”

Mark just looked at him sadly. “You don’t really believe that, do you? Don’t you remember what they did to you?” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Besides. Why do you think this was the first choice when it came to housing for powered kids?”

Tommy froze. He’d known there were problems with the heroes, maybe the police but… taking innocent kids? Just because they deemed their powers dangerous?

There were a lot more problems in this city than he thought.

He looked to Mark. “What can I do to help?”