Chapter Text
Phil’s never been in this city before, but from the single motel room he’s seen of it, it’s pretty standard.
After getting off the train ride (most of which Phil slept through), the four of them had ended up in an only moderately shady motel, where Wilbur confused a discount out of the front desk in a way that made Phil once again wonder what he’s gotten himself into. In the day and a half since then, the only one who's left the room is Techno, and occasionally Wilbur to the motel vending machines.
Phil’s mostly been sitting very still, trying to let his body recover from his prison experience and get used to having a power, but Tommy’s getting antsy.
“So you can see all the electricity around you?” Tommy’s asking for maybe the tenth time.
“I… think so?” Phil answers. “I mean, if I can’t see something I have no way of knowing it’s there, so…”
“Can you see my brain?”
“I haven’t tried.” Phil had the unsettling thought that the human body runs on electricity yesterday, and he’d really rather not explore that.
“Well, try.”
“No.”
Wilbur looks up from where he’d been trying to throw a rubber ball he found somewhere against the wall. “Tommy, leave Phil be. He’s recovering.”
Tommy sticks his tongue out. “He’s fine. Aren’t you fine, Phil?”
“I’m pretty fine.”
Wilbur throws the ball again and fails to catch it on the rebound. Tommy holds up a hand, and the ball flies to him. Phil’s still trying to get used to that. “Do your zappy thing,” Tommy tells Phil. “Zap the ball.”
“I don’t know how.” Truth be told, Phil’s getting a little sick of the “zappy thing.” Every time he tries to call up his power to send out sparks, nothing happens, but no matter how hard he focuses he seems to shock everyone he touches. It’s becoming a problem.
Tommy sighs. “This sucks. My first powered friend, and you can’t even do anything fun.” He throws the ball back at Wilbur, whose hands are once again shaking too hard to catch it.
“You were a mess when you manifested, too,” Wilbur says, raising an eyebrow at Tommy. “It takes time.”
“I hate time,” Tommy mutters. “If he’d just practice, he’d figure it out.”
Wilbur rolls his eyes and picks the ball up off the floor. “Are you trying to get him powersick?”
Phil raises his own eyebrows at the words. “Wait, powersickness is a real thing?”
Tommy gives him a look like he’s missed something obvious. “Yeah? What did you think?”
Phil crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling defensive. “I thought it was just supposed to scare kids. Y’know— gotta have a suppressor and not use your power in the meantime because if you overuse it then you can’t stop and you get sick. It sounds made up, okay?”
Wilbur shakes his head at nothing. “The school system these days, I swear to god…”
Tommy just laughs a short, sharp laugh. “Not quite like that, but it’s definitely real. It’s just like… if you overextend your power, your brain forgets how to turn it off sometimes? It’s supposed to be really tiring and shit, but it goes away on its own.” He shrugs. “I don’t really know. Telekinetics being powersick just looks like being really tired. We don’t really go haywire or anything.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, I guess.”
Wilbur throws the ball. It hits the wall, then the floor, and then Wilbur actually manages to catch it.
The door swings open to show Techno outside, and Phil breathes a sigh of relief without meaning to.
“Techno,” he greets. “Just in time.”
“For what?” Techno steps inside and closes the door behind himself.
“Saving me from these two.”
“We’re not that bad,” Tommy protests.
Wilbur shrugs. “I’ll admit to my own intolerability.”
“Well, good news for you, then: I found us a place. And Phil, you’ve got a job interview in two days. Hope you like coffee.”
Phil blinks. “That was fast.”
“He’s got his methods,” Wilbur comments. He’s tucked the rubber ball into his pocket, giving Techno his full attention.
“I do,” Techno agrees. He smiles, flatly and with too many teeth, and Phil thinks that maybe he doesn’t want to know Techno’s methods right now.
“Okay,” Phil says slowly. “So we’re out of the motel?”
“Yep,” Tommy agrees, bouncing up from the floor where he’d been sitting. “It’s nice you’ve got an interview, too. And ID?” he adds, glancing at Techno.
Techno nods. “Phil’s was the first to come through, so he gets the job. Sorry, Phil.”
“I… don’t mind?”
“The first couple weeks are the hardest part,” Tommy stage-whispers to Phil. “You’ll see, it’ll get easier after this.”
“Anyway,” Wilbur interrupts, clapping his hands once. “Let’s get going, shall we?”
They walk a couple miles to a building that Techno points out as their apartment building. It’s large, with an industrial concrete front lined with small windows. It’s slightly further north here than Phil’s hometown, and what was crisp autumn there is the beginnings of a true winter chill here. Phil shivers in the jacket he’s been wearing for far too long now.
The lobby’s nearly empty, and the elevator puts Phil on edge. He’s learned since manifesting his power that pretty much everything is broken most of the time, and it’s not very comforting.
In their hallway, a young man who looks about Tommy’s age is unlocking a door and holding a tote bag of groceries. He looks up at them and waves with his free hand. “Hey! Are you guys new here?” He’s wearing a tank top and jeans for some reason, and as he waves Phil can see what might be a burn scar covering half of his collarbone and one shoulder before disappearing under the top.
“Yeah,” Wilbur answers hesitantly.
“Nice! Which unit?”
They all look briefly to Techno, who looks at the numbers of the doors and points to the one next to the young man’s. “That one, actually.”
The young man’s grin gets even wider somehow. “Well hey, new next-door neighbors. I’m Tubbo, who’re you?”
After half a second of silence, Phil answers, “I’m Phil, they’re Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno.” He gestures to each in turn.
“Aren’t you cold?” Tommy butts in, pointing to Tubbo’s tank top.
Tubbo glances down, then shrugs. “Nope. Cold doesn’t really bother me.”
“Huh.” Tommy’s quiet just a split second, then continues. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah man,” Tubbo agrees. “I’ll come by later with my phone number in case you need anything. Really just knock though, honestly, any time. I’m in IT so my sleep schedule’s shot anyway,” he laughs and slips away through the door.
Techno lets them into their apartment and they step inside. It’s larger than the one Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno had been living in before, Phil notes with relief, and it seems to have an actual separate bedroom. Other than that and the small kitchen area, though, it’s empty, windows along one wall casting watery evening light over the tan carpet.
Wilbur glances around and nods approvingly. “Nice find, Techno.”
Techno nods. “Yeah.” He looks at Phil. “Usually we start out with a bit more, but we were a bit, uh, rushed this move.”
Phil winces. “Sorry.” Techno nods curtly, and Phil wonders if he imagined the flash of guilt on Techno’s face.
When Techno looks back up and around at them, he’s got an almost grim smile on his face. “Hey. You wanted to be in on the Syndicate stuff, right?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wrinkled envelope with what Phil could swear is a real wax seal on it. “Who am I to deny the will of the people.”
Wilbur laughs, then quickly cuts himself off with a fake cough. “They’ve been sending you letters this whole time?”
Techno’s expression flickers to irritation. “It’s very secure if you’re careful. Do you wanna see it or not?”
“We wanna see it,” Tommy answers before Wilbur can.
The four of them end up settled on the floor, the letter in between them. It really does have a wax seal, imprinted with an ornate capital S design. It’s so small, and Phil doesn’t know why he’s so hesitant to reach for it.
Eventually, Techno just picks it up, peels off the seal, and takes out the paper inside. It’s standard printer paper, typed on one side, and Phil does a double take at the normality of it.
Before Techno can read it, it jerks itself out of his hands and Tommy grabs it from the air. “Thanks Tech.” Techno makes a frustrated sound, but doesn’t try to take it back. Tommy scans down the letter, then reads it aloud. “Kinoko Archive, South Birch Street. Destroy file 118-23. Do not steal, do not damage building.” He pauses. “There’s no signoff. That’s rude.”
Techno snorts. “What, you expected a signature?”
Tommy shrugs defensively. “I dunno. At least a ‘from, the Syndicate.’ Not just nothing.”
“They’re not gonna identify themselves,” Techno tells him with an eye roll. “I’ve got a phone number for emergencies, but I don’t even know who sends the letters.”
“I knew that,” Tommy mutters, crossing his arms.
Phil takes the letter from Tommy and looks at it. It’s simple, professional. Three sentences on three different lines.
This is Phil’s life now, he realizes. The unknown city, the empty apartment, the letter. Whatever probably-fake ID Techno and Tommy mentioned, whatever job interview he has. He’s not going to go home.
Wilbur looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly, as if the other two aren’t less than a meter away.
Phil meets his eyes. “I’ll be alright.”
Later that night, as they’re all trying to get used to the idea of having to sleep on the floor, Tommy complains, “It’s cold in here.” The rest of them mumble agreements. “Techno, are we paying for heat?”
“Nah, that’s included,” Techno answers.
Tommy nods, satisfied, and goes to poke at the thermostat on the wall. Phil watches idly as circuits fire in the box, then pauses. He stands off the floor, getting closer to the thermostat to check what he’s seeing. He traces the wires mentally, trying to follow them
.
Tommy looks at him. “Phil? You good?”
Phil nods, distracted. The electricity in the box is simple enough to follow, too simple. “Push the button again?” he asks Tommy.
Tommy gives him a confused glance, but complies, turning the temperature up and then back down. Phil watches the signals, and sure enough they don’t go anywhere except to change the display. He laughs, startled. “I don’t think it works.”
Wilbur glances up from his spot on the floor. “Hmm?”
Phil points to the thermostat, combing through it for something he might have missed. “It’s not sending anything out. It just changes the display.”
“You sure?” Techno asks. “It could be wireless.”
Phil shakes his head. “No, it’s not— it doesn’t have anything other than the display.”
Wilbur snickers. “Classic.”
Tommy just huffs and sits back down on the floor. “Of course.”
Thankfully, Phil ends up getting the job. It’s at a small coffee shop just fifteen minute’s walk from the apartment, and the managers don’t ask too many questions. Phil presents the ID Techno gave him— which keeps his first name because Techno claims he’s “not ready” to keep up with an entire name— and marks a box on the forms to get his pay as a check rather than deposited, and he’s in. It’s both very simple and all too complicated.
He shows up for his training shift, and has to knock on the locked door to be let in. The employee who opens it is a woman about his age, with long dark hair and a friendly smile. She’s already wearing a uniform shirt and apron, and Phil suddenly worries he’s late.
“Hi,” he says as he steps into the shop. “Am I late? I’m the new guy.”
The woman laughs. “You’re fine, I’m just early. So they finally found someone to staff my shift?”
“What?”
“I’ve been working a two-person shift alone for way too long. That’s why I’m early, to open alone. Ready to learn to make coffee?”
“I know how to make coffee,” Phil replies, vaguely confused.
The woman just laughs again. He likes her laugh, how it’s full and unafraid. “You think you know how to make coffee. Trust me, you’ll learn better soon. C’mon, come get an apron.”
“Okay.” Phil follows her through to the back of the store.
“Oh!” she continues. “I’m Kristin, by the way.”
“Oh. Hi.” Kristin’s a nice name, he thinks. “I’m Phil.”