Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In a society where Heroes and Villains ruled the streets, nothing was safe, especially for the people of lower class. The Heroes were meant to save people, they were supposed to symbolize hope. However, they did a piss poor job of protecting the people that needed their protection the most. The citizens in places of higher class, like Kinoko City or Manburg, had little to worry about, their heroes would do whatever the fuck they wanted them to. A  robbery of the largest bank in the city? On it. A villain attack in Kinoko? They'll be there in no time at all. Is a little old lady begging her cat to come down from a tree in Manburg? Let 404 help you with that.

          In places of lower class, however, the Heroes couldn't even bother to bat an eye. Villains tended to fuck around in the richer districts just to piss the heroes off, but hell, even they came around the lower districts more often than the Heroes did. The last time Wilbur saw a hero in the streets of Snow Chester was at least eight months ago, and they were chasing Gambler , one of the most Elite vigilantes in the Gambling district. What exactly he was doing in Snow Chester was lost to Wilbur, yet here he was. Wilbur's theory was that heroes couldn't stand the thought of someone pointing out their shortcomings to the people by doing their job for them. Despite this, heroes only ever come around to take down the only people that actually helped in the lower districts. 

        There were 5 main districts in the land of Essempii. The first district Kinoko, the second Manburg, the third being Las Nevadas, also known as the 'Gambling district'. Lastly, the fourth and fifth being Snow Chester and Logstedshire respectively. The top two districts were 'hero districts'. These districts were patrolled 24/7 by Heroes working for the agency. The third district was a neutral zone, it was patrolled by heroes regularly, but crime ran rampant as it was left unchecked half of the time. Las Nevadas was the most dangerous district for vigilantes, not including Kinoko and Manburg, but they were unneeded in the highest districts. Vigilantes still patrolled regularly in the Gambling district to keep the crime in check , as what the heroes did for Las Nevadas was fairly minimal. 

     The final two districts had the worst crime rates of all the districts. Heroes almost never came by for a check-in, and when they did, they never stopped the actual crimes themselves, instead deciding to detain the people who actually did something for the less wealthy districts. Thankfully, this was infrequent, and only happened randomly every few months. This allowed for vigilantes to patrol in peace under most circumstances, but they were still weary of the possible consequences. 

       Wilbur had a love-hate relationship with Snow Chester. On one hand, he and his brother were safe from the anxiety that frequent hero patrols brought up in the careers of his brother and himself. But on the other hand, they were dead broke in an apartment without heating or air conditioning. The minimum wage in Snow Chester was shit, and so were the apartments. Money was sparse despite him working a full 8-10 hours a day six days of the week on top of his little brother working whatever hours he could get on top of school. Honestly, they were lucky to even have an apartment. Homelessness in Snow Chester was a huge issue, not nearly as horrendous as Logstedshire, where they had lived previously, but a very large issue nonetheless.

       His 'hobby' also caused some financial stress, vigilantes didn't exactly get healthcare, and going to a hospital was a massive no-no. As a phantom, he was technically already dead, but he was very much capable of dying again, it just took a lot more effort. He could handle the injuries, mostly. 

     Yet here he stands, at the entrance of the library he knew so well, five minutes late for his shift with a sharp pain in his chest that worsened with every breath he took. Despite this, Wilbur took a deep breath, wincing briefly as he did so, and pushed open the entrance door.

    " You're late, again," A bulky pink-haired man at the counter remarked as Wilbur walked through the door, hunched in on himself.

" Sorry, Techno. I'm afraid that I can't say I won't do it again, but I'll be sure to get here early tomorrow." Wilbur apologizes honestly, shifting his tattered, boney wings nervously.

"Are you alright? You look like you were hit by a bus on your way here. It also appears you've forgotten your brace." Technoblade observed, looking Wilbur up and down.

Oh, shit. That explained why his left side had been in more pain than usual, but in his defense, he woke up 15 minutes before his shift was meant to start, and he had forgotten to grab it. He had to get dressed and semi-presentable, and then he had to get Tallulah to school, the child had gotten herself dressed and ready for school while he was asleep. He was so proud of his little Sunshine. He glanced briefly at the half-limb as it hung limply at his side, taunting him with a sharp pain that ran its way down his spine. 

    He could never forget how it happened. It was terrible, the searing pain of his wing being destroyed. A phantom pain rippled through the half-missing limb, causing him to shiver. He could no longer soar across the night sky with his phantom brethren, feeling the cool night air on his face, grounded by his ruined wings. His wing was ripped off right at the wrist, the majority of the membrane having gone along with it. Now he could hardly lift it above his shoulder before being stopped by an invisible and painful barrier. 

     The brace helped keep the lame wing upright without straining it, it helped with the pain as well, holding it in place and out of the way. Before he got the brace, the now useless limb was much too easy to hit. It held the limb in a sling of sorts, holding it upright in a folded position to mirror the other limb. His other wing was mostly intact aside from the occasional rip in the membrane. This was incredibly common among phantom and bat hybrids alike, the thin webbing between phalanges was incredibly delicate, but healed fast if treated correctly. Unfortunately, he hadn’t treated the tears correctly, and they hadn’t healed.

"-lbir, Wilbur!" Technoblade exclaimed, snapping Wilbur out of his thoughts.

"Oh sorry, what were you saying again? I completely spaced the fuck out" Wilbur apologized 

"I asked if you were okay, which I'm assuming is a 'probably not' judging by your stance, you look half dead." Technoblade states bluntly.

"What's wrong with my stance?" Wilbur asks defensively.

"You're hunched in on yourself, and you're clutching your sides as If you've broken something. And knowing you, I wouldn't put it against you to come to work with busted ribs." Technoblade points out. 

"Oh shut it Techno! I can work!" Wilbur exclaims, straightening his stance with a poorly concealed grimace. 

"I know. However, I also know  you need the money, so I'll let you off the hook this time, but you're not restocking the returned books onto the shelves or doing anything too physical until Phil gives you the 'good to go.' does that sound like a deal?" Technoblade offers.

"Fine, fine. Is he going to be here today?" Wilbur asked, wringing his hands, dreading the inevitable mother-henning of the older man. 

"You've got approximately…" Techno glanced at the clock, "three or four hours, he said he'd be here around eleven-ish," Technoblade answered, before shooting Wilbur a smug grin. Techno knew how Phil got when one of his employees was injured, the asshole would probably enjoy seeing Wilbur suffer at the hands of Dadza.

Wilbur slumped dramatically in defeat, accepting his horrible, cruel fate. Subjected to Phil's mother-henning, the worst fate he could possibly imagine. Begrudgingly, he walked up to the front counter, and began sorting the books from the return box into the book cart.

    All too soon, the clock struck eleven, and the jingling of bells indicating someone had walked through the door rang throughout the library. Wilbur glanced up, and saw the one and only Philza Minecraft. Phil walked to the front counter, suppressing a sigh as he saw Wilbur practically gasping for breath. The last time Phil caught Wilbur injured, he wound up late to pick up Tallulah, and he had to pay for the after-school program, which he really couldn't afford.

"Wil, mate, you have got to be kidding me." Phil  spoke, words laced with worry. " Meet me in the break room in five minutes, you look like shit mate. Did you get hit by a minivan or something?"

Wilbur didn't grace him with an answer, he wasn't even going to try the old 'I fell down multiple flights of stairs' excuse,  he had long exhausted it. He had blamed about three too many injuries on the stairwell of his apartment building to not be suspicious. He also didn't really want to say, 'Oh yeah, I got hit in the side with a pipe! Oh? How did that happen? I was trying to stop a mugging as Wraith the other night! The mugger in question didn't appreciate that very much, hence the broken ribs!'   either. Saying that would get him fired on the spot and thrown into federal prison. It was a terrible, horrible idea to say that.

    With a sigh, Wilbur reluctantly headed over to the break room, dreading the prodding and mother-henning he was about to be subjected to. The door opened with a creak, causing the phantom to wince slightly. There was no chance he could just sneak by Phil out the backdoor now. 

Wilbur glanced at his boss, almost immediately regretting that decision as Phil began to speak, "Sit, sit! You aren't leaving this room until you've been properly checked over! Seriously mate! How do you come to work every month with another serious injury?!" Phil ordered sternly, his pupils blown wider than usual. Wilbur figured his bird brain had decided that his adopted fledgling needs to be checked over and coddled. The man has even made a pseudo nest on the loveseat, out of whatever blankets and throw pillows Techno had strewn about! Damn it, Technoblade knew exactly what he was doing getting Phil into bird mode. Wilbur wouldn’t be able to get home for hours now! He needed to pick Tallulah up from school the second he got off of his shift, he couldn't afford the after-school program.

“Phil, I’m fine . It’s fine, I’m not dying, I promise.” Wilbur protested, “I don’t need to go into the nest, please don’t put me in the nest.”

“No! Wil, mate, it's a couch! Not a nest! I need to check you over. No working at the front counter, you're going to scare the patrons, honestly, you look like you’re dying. Now onto the couch!” Phil squawked back, wings fluffing up in offense. Reluctantly, Wilbur dragged himself onto the couch. It was totally a nest. Wilbur knew a nest when he saw one

    As he suspected, the next hour was filled with Phil poking and prodding at his ribs, with various concerned hums and warbles. Judging by the look in Phil's eyes after the man had noticed the bruising littering Wilbur's torso, He wasn't leaving this room until the end of his shift, probably even later. After Phil was done fretting over Wilbur, he fished a large ice pack from his bag, and a brace that looked nearly identical to the one he had at home. Phil swears that his bag isn't magical, nor endless, but Wilbur watched Mary Poppins as a kid. He knows a magic bag when he sees one. Seriously, if the bag wasn’t magic, how was the ice pack still frozen?

    "Here mate," Phil said, handing Wilbur the brace "I had this made a while ago and forgot to give it to you, I’m fairly sure that it's to your measurements. Also, hold the ice pack to your ribs for twenty minutes, then take it off for another twenty, and repeat. You're not moving around with those injuries if I have anything to say about it. So, for the rest of your shift, you're going to sit here and binge-watch a series or something with me. It's risky to have you working with broken ribs, you could pierce a lung mate." Phil explained, inky wings fluttering nervously behind him. 

   As expected, Wilbur wound up stuck with Phil until the end of his shift, as the clock struck 3:30 Wilbur finally spoke up.

"Phil, I know you're not going to like this, but I need to go get Tallulah from school," Wilbur spoke sheepishly, knowing that Phil is going to try and fight him on it. 

"Can't she go to the after-school program again? I'll even pay for it if you need mate." Phil questions, silently begging Wilbur to stay.

 "They don't provide the after-school program on Wednesdays for whatever reason. I have to get her." Wilbur answered, shaking his head at Phil.

"At least let me drive you, I haven't met Tallulah yet.  You talk about her as if she was the embodiment of all things good.  I'd love to meet her. " Phil reasoned, trying to find a nice compromise.

"I can get behind that, I've been meaning to bring her here to meet you guys. " Wilbur agreed, he genuinely wouldn't mind Phil meeting Tallulah, she had been begging him to take her to his workplace, she'd always say something along the lines of: 'Working at the library is so cool papi!' or 'When will you take me to work with you?! I wanna meet the guy who kept you extra so you couldn't come and get me!' Tallulah didn't appreciate Phil keeping him longer, and was very adamant on giving him a piece of her mind.  

"C'mon mate, let's get to the car" Phil says after a moment, holding a hand out to Wilbur.

"I swear if you've got some ridiculously bougie sports car or some shit-" Wilbur started.

"It's not a sports car!! Let's get on the road, wouldn't want to be late to grab Tallulah you know!" Phil interrupts, hoisting Wilbur to his feet. As they make their way to the parking lot, Wilbur can't help but think 

  'It's totally a sports car, isn't it'

Chapter Text

As It turns out, Phil did not have a bougie sports car. He actually had a Cadillac DeVille that was made in the late 90's. Apparently, Phil collected cars from the early 90's through the early 2000s (Seriously, how rich was this guy?! He could afford enough automobiles for them to count as a collection!) This was made apparent by the fact that he was rambling about all of the old cars that he had picked up recently throughout the entire trip. Although Wilbur did not share this interest, and was, admittedly, very lost, he still found Phil's seemingly boundless knowledge about his vehicles interesting.

    Thankfully, before Wilbur could get even more lost, Phil's rambling was cut short by their arrival at Snowchester Elementary. Most of the schools in Snowchester were located in the richer area bordering Las Nevadas. This, however, didn't mean that they weren't incredibly dangerous at worst, and underfunded at best. Wilbur had tried his best to find a school that wasn't dangerous for Tallulah, but it was a tall task.

 "I'll be back in a minute, I've got to go check her out at the main office." Wilbur said as he exited the vehicle, leaning slightly on the door for support.

  "Are you sure you're going to make it all the way to the office, mate?" Phil asked from the driver's seat, concern evident in his voice.

  "Don't worry yourself too much, Phil, worry causes wrinkles you know." Wilbur assured matter-of-factly, a smug grin evident on his face.

  "Oi! I'm not that old you little shit! Go get Tallulah, and please, don't keel over on your way there." Phil scolded half-jokingly, laughing to himself as Wilbur pushed himself off the door and started to walk to the front doors of the school.

  A few minutes later, Wilbur arrived with a young child grasping his hand. The girl couldn't have been more than six years old, just barely reaching Wilbur's hip height wise. A yellow sweater hung loosely on her small frame, eerily similar to the one Wilbur wore almost every day. This was paired with a denim pinafore that came all the way down to the child's knees. It was strange how similar the two looked, despite not being blood related. They really did look like a father and daughter.

 Wilbur strolled up to the passenger seat with Tallulah so he could introduce her to Phil, completely expecting Tallulah to immediately start questioning the older man. 

  "Tallulah this is Philza. Phil, this is my daughter, Tallulah." Wilbur introduced.

  "So you're Tallulah! It's so wonderful to finally meet the person Wil talks about so much!" Philza says, grinning at the child.

  "So, Mr.Philza, are you the man who kept Papi late last time? I had to go to the after-school program, I don't like the program you know." Tallulah asked with a slight frown, before wrinkling her nose at the older man.

"Sunshine, why don't we interrogate Mr.Phil on the ride home? You'll have plenty of time to ask him all the questions you want to. Come on, let's get you in the back seat." Wilbur said before Phil had the chance to reply.

   Tallulah, as Wilbur expected, interrogated Phil the entire ride home. She was seemingly very determined to break the man with her endless supply of questions. Wilbur could practically see the gray hairs cropping up on the older man's head. After a few minutes, they finally arrived in front of their apartment building. Wilbur lifted himself out of the car once again, practically hearing his bones cry out as they shifted.

"Thanks for giving us a ride, Phil." Wilbur spoke, as he walked to the back seat, "Now Tallulah, what do we say to Phil for driving us home?"

"Thank you Mr. Philza" Tallulah said, a childlike grin spreading across her face.

  "You're very welcome Tallulah, it was so nice to meet you." Phil replied, smiling softly at Tallulah.

  "Come on Darling, let's get inside, we don't want to keep Tommy waiting too long now do we?" Wilbur asked, gesturing towards the stairs that led to the upper stories of the building.

 "Wil, isn't there an elevator you could take instead? Taking two flights of stairs is not going to do your ribs any good mate." Phil asked, concern lacing his words.

 "Technically there is, it's required by law, but it hasn't worked in years. They never bothered with repairing it after some malfunction with the cables holding the cab up." Wilbur replied with a sigh, an elevator would be really fucking nice to have.

 "Are you sure you're gonna be able to get to the third story without piercing a lung? You can avoid the hospital now, but if you pierce your lung, there's no way you're healing without medical treatment." Phil questioned, very concerned for the safety of his fledgling friend.

"I made it to work just fine, didn't I?'' Wilbur replied matter-of-factly.

  "Just be careful mate, I'll see you tomorrow at work. If you don't come in tomorrow, I will hunt you down and take you to the hospital myself." Phil advised after a moment, putting his car in gear while his foot remained on the brake pedal.

  "Okay, see you tomorrow, Da- Phil."

Phil hid a wide grin behind his hand as he backed out of the parking lot, 'he almost called me dad'

  The stairs, admittedly, were a bit of a struggle for Wilbur. He barely managed to hide a grimace from Tallulah, who seemed to be catching on to how injured Wilbur was.

"Papi, are you okay?" Tallulah asked as Wilbur struggled with the shitty lock.

 "I'm alright dear, just a bit sore, Papi just moved a few too many books at once." Wilbur lied as he finally got the lock to budge, leaning on the door for balance as he grimaced.

  It was obvious that Tallulah knew that Wilbur was lying, but she decided to leave it alone. 

 "Tommy! We're home!" Wilbur called out as he kicked his shoes off by the door. 

Tommy went to Chester High, and as much as it worried Wilbur, Tommy insisted that he handle his commute to and from school. The teen was fully capable of defending himself, he was a vigilante after all, despite Wilbur's protests. This didn't mean that Wilbur didn't worry for the boy's safety, the highschool had an enormous drug issue, as well as several reports of hate crimes, aggravated assault, and even homicide. Still, he eventually caved and let the teen handle his commute by himself. 

 "I'm in my room with Tubbo and Ranboo! Forgot to text you, sorry Wil!" Tommy yelled back

"HI WILBUR, HI TALLULAH!" Tubbo called out shortly after, peeking his head through the bedroom door.

"TOBY!!" Tallulah screeched excitedly, running over to the short teen.

  Their flat was a dingy two bedroom-one bathroom apartment, Tommy taking one bedroom and Tallulah taking over the other. Wilbur usually slept on the couch, but after bad patrols, Tommy generally insisted that he take his bed. Like last night for example, Tommy had practically begged Wilbur to let him take the couch that night, having seen the blow he took in person. 

  Wilbur wound up ordering a pizza with the mystery cash he found in his coat pocket (Phil totally slipped him some cash while they were watching Breaking Bad) 

Once everyone had finished eating, Tommy suggested a movie night, as it was Friday and only one of them had work tomorrow. Wilbur agreed, it felt like a good night for a movie. Tommy beamed as Ranboo pulled not one, not two, but three bags of microwave popcorn out of nowhere and went to the kitchen to make them. (Where did they even come from?? It's not like they had a Mary Poppins bag like Phil or anything.) Tubbo immediately started sifting through a small box full of CD cases with Tallulah, most of which either came from dumpster diving or the Goodwill across the street. They consisted mostly of Studio Ghibli, a few Disney movies, and the full set of Harry Potter movies that they found in near perfect condition in some dumpster in Kinoko. Tommy bet ten bucks that it was from some Catholic family that just couldn't stand the thought of witchcraft.

   Eventually, Tubbo and Tallulah decided upon Spirited Away, one of Tallulah's favorite movies. Ranboo entered the living room with two bags of popcorn as they put the disc in the old CD player that they had managed to obtain a few months ago. Tallulah happily bounced in her seat as the beginning of Spirited Away played on the old TV set they found while patrolling in Las Nevadas. It was sitting on the side of a road, and it didn't seem like anyone wanted it, so they just took it home. It might not be a very good TV, but it was functional, and that's what mattered.

  Tallulah wound up falling asleep halfway through the movie, a blanket draped over her small frame. 

"So, when should we head out for patrol?" Tommy asked as the last scene of the movie played out, it was only 7:30, and the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon.

"Mmmm, I'd say in around an hour and a half. Get yourselves something to drink and get ready, but you can take your time. No rush to get out there," Wilbur replied. As the oldest, Wilbur was the 'leader' of their little group in a sense. However, they tended to work things out together rather than have him plan everything. Tubbo was the self proclaimed 'Man in the Chair'. He made their gear, as his father, JSchlatt, had shit tons of expendable money he could just, 'borrow'.

   Ranboo was their Emergency Getaway End Hybrid™, as their teleportation ability was incredibly helpful for emergency escapes. They usually stayed on standby with Tubbo in case something happened, but sometimes they would join the duo on patrol if they felt like it. Wilbur and Tommy were the ones that did the actual patrolling, the duo stopped crimes from petty muggings to busting a full blown drug rings. 

  Their gear was brilliantly engineered by Tubbo, as his power was something pertaining to technological brilliance and proficiency. He could see the inner parts of any mechanism, and hack into any system with just his mind, and maybe his phone. With all of the money Schlatt had at his disposal (Most of it acquired from the all but shady business ventures he engaged in frequently) Tubbo was able to borrow some without much issue. 

   Once everyone was suited up, gear and all, it was already 8:30. Tommy wore a hoodie with cropped red sleeves and hood, alongside a black undershirt with a ski mask and ski goggles. He generally left his wings out for patrol, his flight feathers weren't fully grown yet, and they were still mostly downy feathers, but he could still glide, and perhaps gain a few extra feet of jumping altitude. They also served as a way to avoid going to Pandora's, no hero would lock up a child in one of the the world's worst conditioned and most secure prisons. 

  Wilbur kept his wings tucked away, as they served as a dead giveaway and a liability. It wasn't the best thing for them, especially with how bad a state they were in, but it was the most beneficial for his career. He wore a dark turtleneck alongside a tattered trench coat he found on the side of the road. He had hand sewn many patches into its fabric for sentimental reasons and for repairs. He wore a maroon beanie, a mesh blindfold, and a half mask that covered his jawline and mouth, but not his nose or scale-dusted cheekbones. The turtleneck and pants were waterproof. Because, as a phantom hybrid, Wilbur was technically a semi-aquatic creature, and he could use that to his advantage. 

   "Alrighty then! Are we all ready to head out?" Wilbur announced after a moment, looking around the room for confirmation. He got three nods of approval, but he also got three very concerned looks after a seemingly simultaneous realization had hit them. 

  "We're all ready to go, but…" Tubbo said wearily, knowing that Wilbur wasn't going to like what he was about to say. 

Thankfully, Ranboo continued for him,

 "...But we're worried about you. You took a really nasty hit last night and clearly have broken some ribs l-We don't want to have Tommy coming home with you even more injured.…Or worse, coming back with no Wilbur." Ranboo finished, voice wavering towards the end of their statement. Wilbur sighed in defeat, knowing that their worry was completely reasonable. In all honesty, he was scared too, he really didn't want to leave them alone because of his destructive mistakes. 

  "I know, your concerns are completely valid. I swear to you that I'll keep a low profile and keep it short tonight. I don't plan on leaving you guys, ever." Wilbur assured, sincerity lacing his every word. 

  "Alright, but notify us when things start getting sticky so I can send Ranboo to get you. Please avoid doing anything risky, please." Tubbo pleaded, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

 "I promise I will tell you on my com the instant things start getting risky. I am so, so sorry I scared you, please don't cry, my little Sunshines." Wilbur assured. The nickname nearly broke Tubbo then and there, Wilbur hadn't called them that in a long time. 

  "Thank you Wilbur, really." Tubbo said, voice wet and wavering. 

  Once Tubbo had gotten himself together, Tommy and Wilbur headed out through Tommy's bedroom window. This left the 'Bee Duo', as Tommy liked to call them, to their own devices. 

  The self proclaimed 'Crime Bois' gracefully leapt from rooftop to rooftop, following Tubbo's directions to a robbery happening at a pawn shop in Logstedshire. 

"Take a left at this next intersection, onto second street. Around four buildings down is the pawn shop. The police scanners reported two enhanced individuals wearing masks, they look like the one Dream wears. They're armed with crowbars and brass knuckles, and are very ready to beat the shit out of anyone who dares to cross them. Wilbur, be careful, it could be a nasty fight, the police don't know what enhancements they have." Tubbo says through their comms as they jump from rooftop to rooftop, following his directions to a T.

   Wilbur and Tommy, currently known as Wraith and Crimson Chaos respectively, arrived at the scene in very little time at all. Wilbur kept himself hidden using his ability that allowed him and anything that touched his skin to become completely intangible. His other phantom ability was used to influence people's thoughts, emotions and sometimes even actions. This did not mean that he could control them, however, he could nudge them in the 'right' direction. His abilities, of course, came with drawbacks, his energy was drained very quickly, meaning he had to eat quite a lot, and he couldn't really keep up with the 'phantom diet', leading to him becoming more than a little bit malnourished. Once Phil had realized what being a phantom entailed, he snuck him extra cash and snacks whenever possible. The man had even gotten the great Technoblade in on it as well! 

  Wilbur also couldn't handle being in direct sunlight, as his skin would burn to the third degree very, very quickly. This was not exactly ideal for someone expected to function like a normal human being, getting up in the morning instead of his preferred, and natural, nocturnal lifestyle. Thankfully, Snow Chester was generally overcast, meaning he was fairly safe most days.

  Wraith was definitely going to regret using both of his abilities simultaneously when he got home, but currently, that wasn't something he was concerned with. His only concern was neutralizing the threat and protecting Tommy.

The two criminals were exiting the building by the time the vigilantes got there, laughing about just how easy that job was. Wraith aptly decided to call them 'Asshole', and 'Dick' respectively. Asshole was a stocky guy, he looked like he could brute force his way through just about anything. Dick on the other hand, was a fairly lanky man, not near as tall as Ranboo, but still tall. Both were holding crowbars, menacingly brandishing them in a defensive manner. Well this should be fun.

"Shit! Wraith and his little sidekick are here!" Asshole cried at Dick.

"Wraith ain't 'ere! Only Crimson is!" Dick yelled back.

"Wherever Crimson is, Wraith is too dumbass! Shit, we gotta figure out where the fuck he is!" Asshole spun around, trying to pinpoint where Wraith was, but failing miserably. In all honesty, Wilbur was getting tired of the offender's banter, so he decided to fill the heads of the offenders with feelings of absolute and overwhelming panic. It didn't take very long for his influence to take over, the duo of criminals dropping what they were holding and clutching their heads. The thugs crumbled in on themselves, their eyes were glassy, seemingly staring somewhere off in the distance. They were both shaking to the point in which the ground beneath them seemed to shake.

  Crimson took this as an opportunity to kick their discarded weapons away, and to restrain the men with a steel cord he may or may not have stolen from the elevator shaft. It wasn't particularly thick, as it was either one of the wires or supporting cables, but it worked very nicely against people who could easily break through a simple zip tie reinforced with duct tape. Once restrained, he pulled a sticky note from one of his many pockets with a snicker. He decided to write a quick note with some… choice drawings on the forehead of one of the trembling, sobbing criminals (No, he did not draw low quality, assorted cocks on a man that was meant to go to the police, the great Crimson Chaos would never do something so immature! He totally did it, what?! It was funny!) 

   "Wraith! We're good, they're down! You can come out now!" Crimson called out into what was seemingly an empty pawn shop, aside from the clerk and trembling thugs of course.

  Wraith was a bit faint from using both of his abilities on zero sleep, as that was fairly important to retaining the required amount of energy to use his abilities. Regardless, he still managed to make himself tangible again when Tommy had asked him to. Once he became corporeal again, he quickly lost his balance, clutching a nearby shelf for support. His skin was clammy, and it was, somehow, even paler than usual. 

  "Wilby? You alright there mate? You don't look too hot." Tommy asked with concern etched into his voice, accidentally using the nickname he'd used for Wilbur as a child.

  "I'll be fine Toms, just… give me a second to gather my bearings, that took a lot out of me." Wilbur wheezed out. Sirens could be heard in the distance, the police would be there in no more than a few minutes.

  "I don't- I don't think we have time for that, the police are just a couple of blocks away, they’ll be here any minute now." Tommy insisted, grabbing Wilbur's arm and throwing it over his shoulder to help the taller man get away.

  "Oh, shit. Go to the bathroom in the back. They won' loook in the b'throom 'n the back, they 'ave no reason to." Wilbur slurred nervously, stumbling over his own two feet. 

    Tommy adjusted Wilbur so that he was holding the majority of the taller man's weight, and they started making their way to the bathroom

     The duo had miraculously managed to make it to the dingy, smelly bathroom before the police arrived on scene. Tommy quickly leaned Wilbur, who was barely conscious, against the wall as he locked the door, covering his mouth to prevent himself from making any noise. 

   He risked a glance at Wilbur, who was definitely worse for wear. Tommy couldn't see Wilbur's eyes through the mesh of his carefully crafted blindfold, it was made in such a way that Wilbur would be able to see through it while the people around him could not. His chest rose and fell in an irregular pattern due to his damaged ribs, suddenly hitching and pausing at random intervals. This worried Tommy, but there wasn't much he could do for his brother until the police cleared the premise. 

  He heard some muffled conversation, something about interrogating the clerk at the station and detaining the men responsible for this mess. Eventually, after what had felt like days, they had cleared the building. Tommy's wings shuffled nervously as he waited a few moments, making sure the officers really were gone, before pressing the 'emergency call' button on his com. 

Tubbo's voice came crackling over the com. "Tommy!! Are you guys doing alright? I heard the police arrived on scene to detain the guys you and Wilbur took care of."  

 "I am, but Wilbur isn't, he overdid his abilities on low energy, I don't think he's even conscious right now. Could you have Boo teleport us out of here? We're in the bathroom in the back." Tommy reported frantically, tapping his knees rapidly.

  "Oh fuck, I'll send ‘em over right now," Tubbo replied as he typed away on his key board. 

  The line went silent for a moment, before Tubbo's voice returned, "They should be arriving right about…'' Ranboo's masked figure suddenly appeared in a flurry of purple particles, making Tommy jump a little. "Now!" Tubbo finished. 

  “Just a little late this time Tubs, Ranboo nearly scared me outta my skin!” Tommy spoke through the com.

 “Sorry Big-T, but I couldn’t have been that far off though.” Tubbo laughed back. 

Tommy turned his attention to Ranboo, seeing the end hybrid look around the small, dingy bathroom. Their eyes met a likely unconscious Wilbur and a panicked Tommy, and they couldn’t help but let out a 'vwoop' of concern. Ranboo made the most interesting noises in high stress environments.

"Okay, alright. Tommy, would you- would you mind helping me carry Wilbur? He might be pretty heavy." Ranboo stuttered, gesturing to the very tall, and more-than-likely unconscious man slumped against the wall. 

"Oh- Oh yeah sure. I've got you." Tommy replied.

  Together, they hoisted the man upright. Ranboo slid an arm underneath the man's knees while the other rested on his back. With Tommy's support, they hoisted Wilbur up onto their back. As it turns out, Ranboo really only needed Tommy for balance and not the actual carrying bit, the older man was actually quite light, concerningly so. Once they were sure Wilbur was secure, they grabbed Tommy's hand, and with a 'vwoop' the dingy bathroom was empty of life once again.

  They appeared in Tommy's room in a flurry of purple particles. Ranboo gently set Wilbur down so he was leaning against the wall, being sure not to poke his ribs in the process. Tommy ripped off his face mask, discarding it at the foot of his bed, before kneeling in front of Wilbur, downy feathers puffing up in reaction to his nerves. 

  "Hey. Hey Wil, wake up, you need to eat something. Wil wake up, Wilbuurrr-" Tommy said, poking Wilbur's face in a gently. This worked, as the man jolted awake, gasping for air before wincing at the pain that shot through his chest. He quickly discarded his mask and blindfold, before letting out a sigh. 

 "Oh my god that sucked. I am so sorry for passing out on you, Toms." Wilbur apologized frantically, his head pounding from what was probably dehydration.

 "It's fine, just be more careful next time, you really worried me." Tommy replied, launching himself into Wilbur's arms. Wilbur let out a quiet 'oof' of surprise before returning the embrace, resting his chin in the boy's blonde, disheveled curls. 

  After a moment, they release the embrace. Tubbo shoved something in a plastic wrapper into Wilbur’s clawed hands, before speaking up,"Eat, then get some fucking sleep. I know your instincts have got you buzzing, but you need to sleep if you want to function at all tomorrow." Tubbo ordered, leaving little room for negotiation. Wilbur tore open the wrapper of what appeared to be a protein bar of some sort, and quickly scoffed it down.

 "You're taking my bed, Wil. I'll take the couch tonight. Get some sleep, it's supposed to be sunny out tomorrow, and if you want to make it to work alive you'll need energy." Tommy announced, grabbing the stuffed spider he'd affectionately named 'Shroud' from off the bed before leaving the room. 

 "I'm assuming you two are going to head home?" Wilbur asked the Bee-Duo.

"Go to sleep, Wilbur, we'll be gone by morning," Ranboo assured as they took Tubbo's hand and led him out of the room.

  Wilbur was left alone, and in all honesty, he was really fucking tired. He decided that perhaps he would get some sleep. Practically as soon as his head hit the cheap pillow on Tommy's mattress, the soft tendrils of sleep overtook him, allowing the exhausted hybrid a peaceful, and dreamless slumber.

Chapter Text

   Wilbur woke up to a burning sensation running its way up his right forearm. The sunlight hit the window in the bedroom in such a way that it burned the limb that just so happened to stick out from the blanket. Since the sunlight wasn't direct, just refracted, the burn wasn't severe. However, it would most likely blister, which would be an uncomfortable inconvenience.

   With a sigh, he quickly shut the blinds on the window and checked the time on his phone.  7:00, thirty minutes before his shift starts. Judging by the laughter echoing throughout the halls, Tallulah and Tommy were already awake. He quickly dug through the closet that he and Tommy shared, looking for his usual work clothes, before walking across the hall to wash his face and get out of his vigilante gear he oh so conveniently forgot to take off last night. 

   Once he had gotten himself ready, actually remembering his brace and nameplate this time, he had about twenty minutes until he needed to be at the library. He would have to walk today as the bus schedule was different on weekends, so he probably had to get going right about now.

   "I'm heading out. You two be good while I'm gone, no fires or serious crimes, I'll see you in a few hours." Wilbur said as he reached the doorway, quickly slipping his pre-tied shoes on in a rush. 

   "But Wilbuuurr- I want to commit war crimes and light the whole complex on fire!”  Tommy whined while rolling his eyes, before looking at Wilbur and speaking again, “Also, eat this. If you pass out and go corporeal in the middle of the street, I will personally revive you just to kill you again for being stupid."

   Tommy threw a breakfast bar at him, which didn’t hit him directly in the face, and he most definitely caught. 

   "Thanks, and Toms, I'm so sorry for scaring you last night, I'll be careful today." Wilbur replied as he slipped the bar into his jacket pocket. He quickly went incorporeal before exiting the apartment.

   “Don’t die today! Remember, if you die I’ll kill you!” Tommy yelled from the apartment as Wilbur was exiting.

     Wilbur wound up completely forgetting about the breakfast bar, as he was in a bit of a hurry so he wouldn’t turn up late. He got more than a few confused stares from the surrounding people, and it made sense, because from their perspective, he was just a floating khaki coat and beanie.

  Around halfway through his journey, he found that his limbs were starting to slow. It was as if he were walking through a sea of molasses, and in typical Wilbur fashion, he elected to ignore it rather than finding an overhang to quickly beneath to regain his composure.

  Despite this fatigue, Wilbur managed to make it to the library two whole minutes before his shift started. He may or may not have accidentally went corporeal a couple times, effectively burning his hands as they flew to the back of his neck to protect it. He kept his face down in order to avoid the burning the sun caused. Regardless, his forehead wound up getting burnt through his tangled fringe. 

   He had acquired countless burn scars from his 10 years of being undead, having died when he was around seven or eight years old. His death wasn't pretty either, it was a bloodbath at the hands of some culty freak who was probably taking various illegal substances regularly. He still freaks out when something glints in the light the wrong way, which can be a huge liability in some situations. About a year after he'd 'died', he and Tommy were taken away from that hell-hole by the authorities and chucked into another, significantly less cultish hell-hole.

 After a couple of years of jumping from group home to group home, They were fostered by a very religious couple who were convinced that Wilbur was possessed by a demon. They believed that they could 'fix' him via exorcism in the mid-summer sun. Once they were released from their 'care', Wilbur had severe third degree burns along his arms, hands, and back. He wound up running away with Tommy in tow not long after that, he wouldn't let anyone who was supposed to care for them hurt them ever again.

  Wilbur entered the building with a relieved sigh.

 "Hey, you're a whole two minutes early! I think there might be a miracle taking place! Lucky me, I get to witness it." Techno remarked with an eye roll.

 "You're hilarious, are you going to let me stock shelves today? Or are you going to throw me to Dadza again?" Wilbur asked, silently begging the pink haired man to let him do something.

 "I dunno, those burns on your hands don't look great," Techno mused.

"What burns?" Wilbur asks, looking down at his scarred hands "Oh, shit." He said dumbly.

"'Oh shit' indeed, there should be some burn cream in the break room, you can stock shelves after you attend to the burns." Technoblade said, gesturing towards the break room.

 Once Wilbur had slathered the aforementioned burn cream over his re-burnt hands, he took to stocking the shelves, electing to start with the mythology section first.

  He went down the line, putting each book carefully into its correct location. He winced as he lifted his arms to reach the higher shelves, his ribs screaming at him for every single movement he made. The lingering fatigue from the night before and that morning was gravely hindering his ability to focus on much of anything, leading to more than a few misplaced books. 

  Around halfway through the YA section he was stopped by a firm hand gripping his shoulder.

 "Mate, you're just making it worse, stop over exerting yourself." A familiar voice called out from behind him. 

"I'm- I'm fine, Phil, just a bit tired is all" Wilbur reassured half-heartedly, but the harsh wheeze he'd accidentally let slip proved otherwise.

"You look like you're going to collapse mate, if not that you're going to wind up piercing a lung, doing excessive reaching and lifting is the number one thing you want to avoid ." Phil retorted, worry evident in his tone.

 "I know Phil, but these books aren't going to sort themselves are they?" Wilbur said, gesturing to the half full cart of assorted books.

"Let Techno do it, he actually sent me to look for you, he wants you to swap places with him." Phil suggested

 "Fair enough, he's still at the front counter right?" Wilbur asked

"Yeah mate, leave this here" Phil said, gently tapping the cart, "now let's go free Techno, you and I both know how much he hates working up front." 

  They were greeted to the sight of a 30-something year old woman trying to make conversation with their pink haired friend.

"Heyyyy, is there any way I could get your number?" A bleach-blonde woman asked, leaning slightly on the Piglin Hybrid's desk.

"No." Techno said simply, huffing at the lady.

"Pleeeeease..?" she begged obnoxiously, her voice grating on Wilbur's ears. 

"No." Techno repeated before noticing Wilbur out of the corner of his eye and grinning, "Oh! Would you look at this, why don't you bother this nice, young fellow?" He said as Wilbur approached, putting a hand on the taller man's shoulder. Wilbur gave the woman a very forced smile, his sharp canines glinting in the overhead lights.

 The woman gave Wilbur a look of something in between disgust and horror before quickly shuffling through the front door, leaving the premises in the process. 

"Why was she scared of the lanky phantom and not the huge, muscular Piglin Hybrid who could probably crush a man's skull in-between his thighs?" Phil chuckled, shaking his head at the idiocracy that woman just displayed.

"To be fair, I do look like I just emerged from my grave." Wilbur replied, smiling more naturally than before.

"You would lose a fight to a mosquito, you're like a twig." Techno snorted at Wilbur, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Mosquitoes don't give a fuck about me, I don't have actual blood remember? Therefore, the mosquito probably won't even acknowledge my very existence." Wilbur defended playfully.

"You can still bleed, it's just not blood." Techno retorted, sending a pointed look to the tall brunet.

"I don't think the mosquito can actually drink it, and even if it could it would probably die afterwards. H enceforth, I would win a fight against a mosquito." Wilbur reasoned.

"Shut up, I was trying to make a point." Phil laughed lightheartedly, shoving the phantom hybrid in a playful manner.

 Wilbur snickered as he pulled the box of returned books from under the counter, suppressing a wince at the light strain it put on his ribs. Phil chatted with Techno as the taller man placed the  books on the shelves at a much quicker pace than Wilbur would have been able to muster. Wilbur sighed as he sat down, cracking his knuckles, he quickly got to work  scanning the barcodes on the books and marking them as returned and in stock. 

 The day went by surprisingly quickly, and before Wilbur knew it, it was already four in the afternoon. 

"Come on Wil, let's get going.Phil's going to drive you home because he doesn't want you burning yourself on your way back." Techno said from behind him, gently tapping Wilbur's shoulder.

"Alright Techno, also make sure to say 'hi' to the next bitchy white lady that starts yelling for the manager for me!" Wilbur replied as he stood up from his seat, bearly repressing a wince as he did so.

 He quickly found himself riding in the passenger seat of Phil's Cadillac just like the day before.

"Mate, is there any way you can avoid the sun altogether? You clearly aren't able to go intangible for very long." Phil asked, concern etched into his features.

"I should be able to go intangible for at least an hour before even breaking a sweat. I just haven't invested in energy drinks in a little while." Wilbur admitted , wringing his hands nervously

 "Have you tried sleeping Wil? It's this really cool basic function that you need to perform in order to, you know,  live" Phil replied with a fond eye roll and a smile.

"Very funny, I will have you know that I actually slept last night" Wilbur retorted matter-of-factly, although the bags under his eyes told a different story.

  Phil shuffled in his seat, he knew the reason Wilbur was so exhausted. He was well aware of Wilbur’s ‘ hobby’  by this point. Of course, it worried him to end, Wilbur was practically his son at this point, but the only thing he could do for now was keep an eye out for the Soot family. He had yet to interfere with any of the boys' patrols, he knew he would have to sooner rather than later, but not yet. He could let them keep patrolling for a while longer, they were doing good things for Snow Chester, and god knows this district needs it.

  It wasn't long before they pulled up into the familiar parking lot, cutting off Philza’s train of thought,

"Have a nice evening, Wil. Make sure to eat the proper amount of food and actually get some sleep. Remember, I will break into your apartment if I have to mate, don't test me." Phil half-jokingly threatened after putting his DeVille into park.

"I don’t doubt it Phil. I'm pretty sure my instincts are fucked at this point with the lack of sleep currently, so I think I will. Thank’s, Phil, for everything." Wilbur replied as he exited the vehicle and allowed the tingling feeling of intangibility overcome him.

 "No problem mate, I'll see you on Monday." Phil said as he put his car in gear. As the blonde man pulled up to the main road, he internally begged the taller man to give his ' hobby' a break for the night, and allow himself a full night of rest.

  Once again, Wilbur is met with the jammed door of his dingy two bedroom apartment. After several minutes of struggling with the lock, he gives up and resorts to pounding on the door and begging Tommy to let him in. 

  "ALRIGHT I'M COMING" he hears the boy yell from within the apartment, alongside numerous noises that sound like several things falling to the ground after being tripped over.

  "Wilbur!! This door is a real piece of shit 'innit? They really need to get the hinges replaced." Tommy exclaimed as he forced the door open, making sure to kick it for good measure. His wings puffed out with the excitement of seeing his dad brother home after a long nine hours of staying at home with his niece. Not that he minded, but there was only so much Tommy could do in the apartment. He wound up taking her to the park at some point. They hadn't stayed very long, however, because Wilbur didn't like the thought of them being outside and alone in Snow Chester, and Tommy had to respect that. He understood just how dangerous Snow Chester could be for two kids (not that Tommy was a kid, but Tallulah was young enough to count as two kids, right?)

 The evening went by in a blink. The next thing Wilbur knew, he was sitting at the base of Tallulah's bed essentially begging her to go to bed.

" How about this," Wilbur started, " if I play you a song of your choice, will you go to sleep?" 

 " Only if you play Dear Theodosia" Tallulah decided after a moment, crossing her arms across her chest.

" Deal" Wilbur replied with a smile.

A few minutes later, Tallulah was tucked under the covers, grinning excitedly at the guitar in her father's hands. Wilbur gave the strings an experimental strum, humming in delight at the discovery that it was still in tune. His nimble fingers danced across the fretboard as he strummed. He had sung this song once for Tallulah a couple of months ago, and the both of them had enjoyed every moment of it.

  'Dear Theodosia, what to say to you?

 You have my eyes, 

you have your mother's name. 

When you came into the world, you cried

and it broke my heart'  

He sang, a grin spreading across his face.

    The Angel of Death watched as the lanky brunette sang to his daughter, looking the happiest he's looked all week. The Angel didn't have many priorities as a high ranking 'villain' of Essempii, but taking care of his fledglings was right up there with taking down the government. Wilbur, or should he say, Wraith, was practically already his son. Blade often scolded him for his tendency to rush into adopting every unfortunate hybrid he saw on the streets. However, there was definitely something different about Wraith and his brother, they had this overwhelming connection to one another .  

   The Angel had been planning an introduction for months now, and it was almost time for his plan to get put into action. He had an ' anonymous tip' set up that would lure the two vigilantes to the meeting place he'd oh so carefully selected. The tip was completely made up of course, it was a 'drug deal' under one of the biggest drug rings in Essempii. The leader of this ring was an illusive individual. He went under the alias 'XD' and very little was known about their true identity. The vigilantes of the lower districts had been keeping tabs on XD for over a year, however, they had made little progress in taking down their organization.

  Wilbur was a mysterious character, and The Angel knew very little about his background. His IT guy, Fundy, had managed to get something about a cult that Wilbur had seemingly originated from, and though it was not directly from Wilbur, the information was still valuable. The cult was rumored to worship 'The Sky Gods' , and they relied upon special prophets to give and receive news and offerings from their Gods. 

   Phi- The Angel ' s attention was brought back to the window, which had now gone dark. He had a feeling that Wraith might actually take his advice and stay home, so it might be about time to head back to The Syndicate's base to prepare for their little intervention . 

  "It's alright my child, you will be brought home very soon. I will make sure of it." The winged man whispered into the night. Promptly, he spread his inky, feathered wings, and with a powerful flap, The Angel was soaring silently through the night sky. The only evidence remaining of his presence was a single black feather dancing gracefully down to the concrete below.

Chapter Text

   To Wilbur's utter dismay, he was forced to stay home Sunday night as well, Tommy had insisted that they both take the night off, and even threatened to call Quackity. In short, Wilbur was cornered, and eventually, although begrudgingly, he relented. He did not need to be subjected to the duck hybrid's insistence that Wilbur go to one of his healers. 

   It was going to happen eventually, as Quackity checked in on him fairly frequently, but Wilbur would try his best to postpone it as long as possible. Despite the fact that he was avoiding Quackity at the moment, the duck hybrid had saved his ass more times than he could count, leading to them growing close as partners in crime.

    It was now Monday night, and Wilbur was buzzing with energy. His instincts were making him feel like he chugged a monster, a shot of 5 Hour Energy, and an extra large espresso simultaneously. In short, he was ready to either fight a god or become one. 

    Tallulah had just fallen asleep, her chest gently rising and falling with every breath she took. It was reassuring to Wilbur, but he couldn't help but worry she may wake up in the middle of the night with him not there. 

   It was a worry that came to mind every time he went out, he constantly feared he might not make it home one night, leaving her alone. Gods be damned if that happened, he would come back to life again if he had to, he would not leave his daughter to fight in this world alone.

   With one final look at Tallulah's sleeping form, he left the room to get his gear together. Tommy was going to be home soon, he had decided to take a double shift and the cafe closed three minutes and twenty-nine seconds ago. Wilbur was keeping track, his anxiety was buzzing beneath his skin, causing his hands to shake and twitch.

   Tommy came through the door with a bag of leftover pastries as Wilbur was trying to get his wings bound in a way that it wouldn't show prominently through his trenchcoat, but also wouldn't hurt to an unbearable extent. 

  "Do you need help with that big man?" Tommy asked as he swiftly shut the door behind him. 

  "I'll be alright, Toms. Would you mind getting your gear on and sending Tubbo and Ranboo a text so they're on stand-by?" Wilbur replied as he secured the ace bandage he meticulously wrapped around his torso.

   "Sure thing! But I swear to prime if you wind up hurting yourself again I will sick Quackity on you." Tommy promised as he set the pastry bag down on the counter.

  "Don't worry, I'll be fine Tommy, we don't need to get Quackity involved" Wilbur said as he shrugged his trenchcoat over his shoulders.

  Once they had gotten confirmation the coast was clear from the bee duo, they swiftly made their way out the window and down the fire exit. 

   Tubbo's voice crackled through their earpieces, "Alright guys, I've just received an anonymous tip for a drug deal, it's down the alley on sixth street in Logstedshire with one of the dumpsters tagged to hell."

   "On it, got any idea on what they might be armed with? Maybe how many people there are?" Crimson asked as the duo took a sharp right turn down an alley.

   "Nope, sorry man. Just that there's a drug deal that should be happening there pretty soon" The goat hybrid replied from their earpiece.

   The location was what one might consider to be the classic sketchy alleyway for sketchy business, but something was off. There wasn't a single living being in sight, yet they still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. It was as if there were eyes from above burning into the backs of their skulls and watching their every move, like a hawk eyeing its next meal. 

   "OI! Where the fuck are you wanker, we can hear you!" Tommy called out suddenly.

  "Holy shit Crimson shut up! We're gonna get fucking stabbed!! Wait- can you actually hear them?" Wraith whisper-yelled as he covered Crimson's mouth, or where his mouth should be from behind his mask, with his gloved hand. In retaliation, the younger licked the aforementioned gloved hand. Despite the multiple layers fabric between Crimson's tongue and Wraith's hand, the brunette still recoiled before wiping his hand on the blonde's hoodie with a remark of disgust.

   "Of course not, I just wanna intimidate them with my far superior hearing abilities!" Crimson replied matter-of-factly. 

  "If we get stabbed because of your idiocracy so help me gods I will-" the older man threatened before getting cut off by the distinctive thump of someone landing on the hard concrete. At the sound, the brothers quickly spun around, only to be met by the top villains in all of Essempii, The Angel of Death and the Blade. 

   The Angel and the Blade's main goal was to dismantle the government, creating complete anarchy. They seemed to avoid killing people unless necessary, but when they did, they made sure to make an example of them. Their 'examples' were never killed unjustly, but the scene made of them was a gruesome painting of gore that gave a singular message 'Don't fuck with the Emerald Duo'. 

    The Blade first became well known after killing the previous vice president. The vice president had been doing a lot of sketchy business and was keen on putting some pretty shitty things into place. The Blade was rumored to be plagued by voices that demanded blood at every wake. However, there was no way to know if this was true or not, so it would remain just that, a rumor, a fabled tale. 

  The Angel of death had been raining as the number one villain of the Essempii for as long as anyone could remember. As long as corruption reigned over Essempii, the angel of death would come to challenge it. The Angel was rumored to have been given immortality by the goddess of death herself. This would explain his incredibly long reign over the Syndicate, which is said to have been founded nearly a century ago. 

   " HOLY SHImmphh" Crimson exclaimed before being muffled once again by Wraith's gloved hand.

  "There you are! We've been wishing to meet with the two of you for quite some time!" The Angel of death announced, his wings Rippling slightly.

  "What do you mean you've been 'wanting to meet with us for quite some time'? We've literally never met you in person, ever" Wraith asked as he instinctually pushed To- Crimson behind him in a protective manner.

   "That's some stalker ass shit right there, creepy as fuck man" Crimson whispered to Wraith, just loud enough for the Emerald duo to hear. 

   "If we wanted to hurt ya we would have done it already" The Blade said flatly. "The Angel has taken an… how should I put this… interest in your work, especially yours, Wraith, the assignments that you took up a couple years ago were very impressive." The piglin hybrid shifted his weight slightly to the side, leaning on the building's wall in a seemingly relaxed manner.

   Wraith's blood ran cold at that statement, Those jobs were something he took out of sheer desperation and foolishness. Although, he had to admit, he was fairly proud of how well he managed to execute his 'assignments' despite being around fifteen or sixteen at the time. However, that didn't mean he wasn't plagued with the soul crushing guilt that was associated with that industry. While yes, all the people he was assigned to take care of were abhorrent, vile people who were put in places of power and they deserved what happened to them and more, that didn't stop Wilbur from feeling eternally guilty for doing what he did.

    "And? What about it?" The phantom asked, feigning confidence despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

    "We wish to form an alliance of sorts, we'd provide suitable housing for you and those whom you reside with, and in exchange, you could help us get rid of the corruption in the Essempii." The Angel took a deep breath, adjusting his capelet As he did, "We could tear down the people and systems that have caused so much suffering for those of the lower districts, so that all the people, regardless of race, species, gender identity, sexuality, birthplace, and the lot of it can live without fear of those who are meant to protect them. We are not as we seem, Wraith, we are just like you. We want to fix our corrupt society and with you, and alongside the other vigilantes in the syndicate, we can achieve that." The Angel proclaimed.

  Wraith was taken aback by the villains mini-speech, and the offer was tempting. However, he was worried about Tallulah, The Angel mentioned providing housing for him and those he resided with, but he didn't want Angel to be able to use her against him, or worse, hurt or kill her while he was out on a job. Wraith didn't want the Angel knowing of her, he didn't trust him, he was a villain after all. Would they demand to know their identities? Would they spy on them through security cameras in the provided housing if they agreed?

  What if he already knew where they lived? They had given Bee that fake tip, so the possibility of them knowing where they lived wasn't far off of the table.

   Blade had mentioned his previous 'assignments' he had taken up for the people of the more… sketchy places. They had money and some unresolved shit with the rich assholes in power. Wraith had been willing to take up their jobs, he'd been introduced to them through Quackity, but he hadn't taken a job in almost a year now. If Blade was suggesting what Wraith thought he was suggesting, it wasn't going to end well. While Wraith would love to take out some scumbags out of power by force, he didn't want to bring Tommy or anyone else into this. 

   "Your offer is enticing, Angel, but I'm not sure if I can take it." Wraith voiced, carefully concealing his unease and slowly rising panic with false confidence. 

   "We expected as much. Meet us at midnight in this same location a week from now with your decision." Phil declared. 

   "If, and only if, we agree to join the Syndicate, I have some terms I'd like to negotiate with you, alone. Crimson, please wait for me on the roof, I'll be done speaking with them in a moment." Wilbur demanded, glancing back at his younger brother.

   "If your not up there in twenty minutes I will clart these fuckers" Crimson whispered to Wraith as he took off to the rooftops.

  "So, what are your terms?" Blade inquired, crossing his arms across his chest.

   "Hypothetically speaking, if I join the Syndicate, there are a few boundaries I must set" Wraith began, clearing his throat   

   "First of all, you will never, ever, make any form of contact with my daughter, nor will you lay a hand on my brother and acquaintances. However, if you do, I will gouge out your eyes, remove your tongues, and sever your hands before shoving them so far up your asses they will emerge through your fucking nose. I will pluck every feather, tusk, and claw from your forms, before using my abilities to remove every organ from your still living bodies individually, and yes, they will be sold at half price. Understood?" Wraith threatened, looking at the two villains for verbal confirmation. Blade remained stone faced as ever, but Angel on the other looked like he was on the brink of vomiting.

   "Fair enough" Blade said plainly as Angel gagged

   "Yup" Angel gagged, swallowing back any bile that threatened to come up at the gruesome picture wraith had painted.

   "Good, and secondly: our identities remain a secret indefinitely, we may reveal them one day if you manage to earn our trust. You and your associates will not attempt to figure it out yourself. In addition, Crimson can speak for himself, if he doesn't want to do something you may not force it upon him." Wraith bargained, looking to the duo for confirmation before continuing.

   "And lastly, Crimson will not be going on any maiming or killing assignments. And for that matter, any missions in which killing or maiming is the goal Crimson and our associates will be left out of it. If it happens unexpectedly and he winds up killing someone then so be it, but he will not face shit for it by the Syndicate. Have I made myself clear?" the vigilante concluded.

  "Crystal" the Blade replied, his face as stoic as ever.

  "Your terms will be taken into account, and your family will be safe from harm. I am afraid that I cannot promise you will always come back from the field unscathed, but we have an infirmary that is free for all members of the Syndicate. You are safe with us, I swear it." Angel promised with a nod.

   "Wil- Wraith!! Did you kick their asses!? Did you threaten them with acts of unspeakable violence?!" Crimson exclaimed as Wraith pulled himself over the edge of the rooftop with a wince at the strain it left on his damaged ribs. 

   After catching his breath he spoke up to clarify, "No Crimson, I bargained with them"

  "So… you threatened them with acts of unspeakable violence." the younger repeated with a poorly concealed laugh.

  "You could say that" Wraith responded, "I'm not sure whether or not we will take them up on their offer, but I will never allow them to lay a hand on you or Tallulah" 

  "Honestly, I think we should give it a chance, we would probably have more space, maybe everyone would have their own room. And living near the two most powerful villains in this city would have some big time scary dog privileges." Crimson suggested, shifting on his feet.

   "I know, but I'm not sure if we can trust them or not" The ghostly vigilante said before being interrupted by a voice crackling in through their earpieces.

   "If you two are done chatting would you kindly explain what in the ever loving FUCK that was!? Wi- Wraith did you just threaten the Emerald Duo without getting killed?! What were you thinking! In that situation you need to run not fucking threaten the internal organs of the mother fucking Emerald Duo you dense cabbages!!! We are going to fucking die, oh Prime, I cannot believe you fucking did that." 

  "To be fair, the threatening was all Wilbur, I am completely innocent." Crimson argued, wincing slightly at the volume of Bee's voice.

  "Oh my prime- you know what? I'll address this whole 'situation' later, you guys are in deep fucking shit by the way. In other news, there's an actual get together for XD's ring happening right now, ironically enough.. A couple suppliers from different parts of Essempii are discussing drugs or some shit, probably. Apparently there's a few big suppliers coming from outside of Essempii as well. They're all meeting in that abandoned bar down on fourth. That same one we ransacked for shit like- eight months ago." Bee explained through the crackly mic.

  "Hell yeah Bee! We actually get to join in on some action! So, what's the plan Wil? I've been itching to do something fun!" The avian exclaimed, his wings rippling with uncontained excitement.

  "Crimson, this is something that has to be handled delicately, we need to stay off of XD's radar, so we need to ensure we restrain all of them, we can't allow anyone to escape. You know that broken window we got into last time? I want you to wait outside that window. On my signal, you go in and restrain them. I'll go in with my intangibility to eavesdrop and possibly separate a few of them from the group. I can't influence more than three people at once" Wraith explained, pacing back and forth as he did so.

  "Sounds great! Let's go!" Crimson said quickly before leaping from the rooftop to go to the location they were given.

  "Oh and by the way, Hearth was spotted in logstedshire, be careful, and if you see him I swear to prime Tommy, do not engage." Bee added as Wraith made his way to the edge of the rooftop

  "Thanks Bee, I'll sedate Crimson if I have to. He is not going to get involved in a fight with Hearth if I have anything to say about it" the older assured as he leapt carefully across the rooftops, stopping for a moment at every other building to give his aching ribs a brief rest.

   Once the duo arrived at the abandoned bar, their plan was immediately sent into action. Wraith willed himself to go intangible, and he walked through the old walls of the abandoned building. The sound of multiple people discussing flooded his ears the instant he stepped through the other side. 

  "What do you suggest we do!? It's not like we can just– manifest more Blue! Blue requires time, resources, and delicacy. Without that, literally everything blow to smithereens." A woman farthest to the right exclaimed in a thick Russian accent.

  "I don't fucking care! The boss is going to kill us all if we don't have at least a dozen brimming cases! You should be fearing for your ass as well! XD is not one who should be trifled with." The man across from her yelled, fists clenched at his sides.

  "Tell your boss to go fuck himself then! If he want to die in an explosion while attempting to do what we do, he can go right ahead!" A person next to the woman bit back in a similar Russian accent.

  Wraith shifted his weight as he attempted to sort out how he would go about taking the people before him out without allowing anyone to escape. There were six people in the room, so if he were to say… create a mysterious crashing sound from another room, the chances that only two or three people would go to investigate were fairly high. If he and Crimson were to incapacitate them and simply wait a moment, their extended absence would likely not be left unnoticed by the rest of the group, therefore, they might go to investigate.

  However, Wraith needed to conserve his energy, and using his powers too much would lead to a repeat of Friday night. Therefore, some hand to hand combat would be required, which may bring the attention of the others to the kitchen before he was ready. Regardless, Wraith made his way to the dingy, and probably moldy kitchen before becoming tangible once more. Hopefully they would be able to fight off multiple people with the two of them working together. 

   Wraith looked around a moment before noticing a rusty metal bowl that would definitely make quite the ruckus if he knocked it over. In response to this discovery, Wraith knocked the bowl over with a grin in one swift movement. It landed with a loud clatter, the sound echoing through the nearly empty kitchen. 

  "What the fuck was that?" A feminine called from the other room. Wraith quickly nodded to the red hood which was peering up from the busted out window before disappearing with his ability. 

  Two people burst into the kitchen with confusion and perhaps the tiniest hint of fear etched into their features. Now, instead of latching into the fear as he normally would, Wraith decided to latch onto the confusion instead. He took that confusion, and in his mind's eye cranked the lever to the max. 

   The effects of this were immediately evident, the first person immediately lost their balance, their eyes looking glassy and very far off. The other person decided to speak up about his discovery in hopes that his comrades may hear, but found that his words wouldn't come to him, only mumbles and unfinished thoughts that failed to make their way past his lips. They stopped mumbling after a moment, their gaze snapping to what was seemingly nothing, but he didn't seem to think so. His gaze was flooded with terror at what he was seeing. Wraith signaled for Crimson to come through the window to properly incapacitate the duo. 

   Once the two were restrained, the first was still staring off into space With a glassy look despite no longer being under the vigilante's influence, and the talkative one having been knocked unconscious, courtesy of Crimson. Wraith let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Now all he had to do was wait, and he decided to take this as an opportunity to rest his abilities, as well as listen in on the ongoing conversation in the other room.

    However, his break was short-lived, as the people on the other side of the wall had come to a realization. 

   "Is it just me or have they been gone for a while?" A muffled, feminine voice spoke.

  "Should we check it out? For all we know we could have been busted" a second, masculine, voice replied. Wraith heard several hums of agreement coming from the other room, and decided that now was a good time to return to his intangibility. 

   In moments, all four people came bursting into the kitchen. The first Wilbur recognized from earlier, she wore black dress pants and a white blouse, and she was clearly armed and ready. Another was a scarred, bulky man in an off white tank top, he was most likely going to be a problem. He could definitely snap Wraith's spine with little effort. The woman next to him was a blonde woman with intricate tattoos that spanned the majority of the skin she has exposed. However, she held a pistol in her hands which was ready to shoot if anything was out of the ordinary. The last was a lean individual in a sweater vest who held a clipboard to their chest, who Wraith assumed to be the accountant.

   "Who did this?! Show yourself you coward!" The bulky man exclaimed, his eyes alight with fury. 

   From what Wraith could feel, fury was probably all he was going to be able to get his hands on. In theory, it was possible that it could blind the bulky man and cause him to turn on his accomplices, however, this wasn't the most likely scenario. Anger is a secondary emotion that stems from a different emotion, so if Wraith took that anger, he could theoretically also tweak the masked primary emotion in the process and bring it out. This could cause the bulky man to break down into a hysterical breakdown, therefore making him Disoriented and easier to restrain.

   Regardless of his anxieties, Wraith reached into the man's subconscious and brought out the fury within him. The man's eyes flicked through a few emotions, as if unable to determine what he was really feeling. First he screamed what can only be described as a furious battle cry, but quickly afterwards his knees buckled, his face contorted into a frown, and faster still, his eyes showed anguish and utter despair. The large man let out a guttural sob, collapsing to the ground and curling into himself. 

    The ghostly vigilante took this as his cue to reveal himself, allowing his intangibility to melt away, leaving him standing amidst the chaos.

   "What in the name of- who the fuck are you! Did you cause this?!" The well dressed woman exclaimed. 

  "That's none of your concern, ma'am. I'm just here to ensure nobody gets hurt." Wraith replied, a sly smile spreading across his face.

   Before the blonde beside her could shoot, as if on cue, Crimson came up behind the blonde and smacked her upside the head with his metal escrima staff, effectively knocking her off her feet and disorienting her. 

   In turn, Wilbur pulled the taser Tubbo had made for him from its place on his belt, before approaching the well dressed woman in a fairly casual manner.

   "You bastard! You wait until XD hears of this I swear to Prime!" She screamed at Crimson as she pulled something from behind her back.

  Before she was able to make a move, Wilbur swiftly put the taser to the back of her neck before activating it. The woman immediately began to seize as the many volts of electricity began to surge through her body. As he was doing this, Crimson was making quick work of restraining the blonde and the big guy, but Wraith couldn't help but notice that the person in the sweater vest was nowhere to be seen.

  "Shit- Fuck" Wraith swore as he released the woman he was tasing. She fell to the ground as she gasped for air

  "Don't fucking move" the phantom ordered, holding his stiletto knife to her throat. 

   "Alright, alright! You vigilantes are so harsh sometimes." She rasped out, raising her hands in surrender.

  "Crimson! Where is that person in the sweater vest?" Wilbur shouted in Crimson's direction as he zip tied the woman's hands to the broken oven next to him.

   "Oh shit, do you think they got away?" Tommy asked, resting a gloved hand over the top of his hoodie.

  "They must have– fuck! This isn't good." Wilbur concluded, his hand finding its way to his scalp before pulling the curly hair it was met with. 

  "Maybe they won't report us, from the looks of it, they were just the paperwork person. Maybe they were just afraid of us?" Crimson reasoned, gently guiding Wilbur's hands away from his scalp.

    "Maybe," Wraith admitted "But, we could also be completely and utterly fucked." 

   "Touché" Tommy responded, "but we can lay low for a while if we are, and we're still pretty low level vigilantes, it should blow right over." 

    "Your right, let's get the authorities up here and head out" Wraith agreed, his composure returning to him.

    Crimson used one of the phones belonging to one of the apprehended to call 999 in order to give the address and situation to the authorities, nothing more and nothing less. Once that was done the two vigilantes quickly left the scene, moving to the next building over for a short rest. Once they had made it to the roof, Crimson immediately flopped down onto the concrete with a dull thump.

  "You alright? That looked a bit painful" Wraith snickered as he sat down beside the boy.

  "Fuck you bitch" Crimson retorted, refusing to look up at him. 

  "Are you alright? That was a lot of action and your ribs are very much still healing" Crimson said after a moment, looking up at his brother.

  "I'm fine, just a bit sore and winded," Wraith assured, waving a hand in dismissal.

Their moment of tranquility was short lived, as they had realized that, apparently, Hearth had decided that he just had to help the police put already apprehended people in cars. 

  "Oh prime- we can't just stay here, he's probably here for us!" Crimson exclaimed, jumping to his feet. 

  "You're right, do you think roof-hopping will attract his attention?" Wraith agreed.

  " I don't know! Maybe? We can't stay here that's for sure." Crimson replied as he paced back and forth nervously.

  "Fuck it, let's see if we can't get void to teleport us out of here just in case" Wraith decided, "Hey, Bee, are you there?" Wraith spoke into the little microphone he kept attached to his jacket. He was met with nothing but radio static.

  "Big man, hello, we've got an H-E-R-O down below who is probably here to get us, we need to get out of here really fucking fast man." Crimson tried, only to be met with more static.

    "Fuck, we're just going to have to risk it. Come on, Crimson." The older decided, beckoning crimson over to the edge with him. Unbeknownst to the duo, Hearth was looking directly at them, and was simply waiting for the correct moment to strike.

The brothers hand made it about two rooftops over before they were stopped by a wall of flame.

   "Gods, why. Why must you do this to us" The ghostly vigilante swore under his breath, backing away, keeping Crimson behind his back.

  "Hello, Wraith, Crimson. Now while I do appreciate the work you do, I'm afraid I just can't let you go free" Hearth greeted with a painfully fake smile.

  "Go fuck yourself bitch!" Crimson exclaimed, throwing the fire hero a rude gesture as he did so.

  "Ah, I suppose we'll have to do this the painful way then, such a shame" Hearth retaliated, shaking his head in disapproval as he crouched down into a fighting stance.

  "Crimson, go." Wraith ordered, crouching down into a similar fighting stance.

  "What do you mean go? I'm not fucking leaving you!" Tommy insisted, crouching near Wraith despite the older man's protests.

  "I can't lose you, Chaos, get help if you're so worried, but I can't let you fight him. I'll keep him busy, go!" Wilbur hissed softly, pushing Tommy away from one of Hearth's fiery blasts.

   "But–" Crimson began before being cut off by his brother

   "Go, Please." Wraith begged, as he threw a kick at hearth, which he missed. 

Wordlessly, the blonde leapt from rooftop to rooftop, using his wings to allow him to leap further distances.

  "Hey you can't just–" Hearth's sentence is interrupted by Wraith stabbing his stiletto knife into the fire hero's shoulder, and twisting it before swiftly pulling it back out.

  "You stay the fuck away from him" Wraith bit before he spat at Hearth's feet.

  "You fucking– you stabbed me!" Hearth yelled as he clutched his bloody shoulder.

  "Oh really? I didn't notice," the brunette remarked sarcastically as he wiped his stiletto on a piece of fabric. Once he deemed the knife clean enough, he balled up the bloody fabric, and fired it at the actively bleeding man. The bloody fabric hit Hearth directly in the center of his forehead.

   "Bull's-eye!" Wraith exclaimed, celebrating his small, and possibly foolish victory.

   "Oh you little–"

   Meanwhile, Tommy was practically soaring over rooftops as he dialed the familiar number into his phone. The line rang three times before a familiar voice came through the receiver.

 "Tommy? Is everything alright?" Quackity asked, confused as to why the boy was calling so late.

  "Wil's fighting Hearth– he sent me off because he doesn't want me to fight him. There is no way he's going to win, he's got busted ribs and he's going to be burned to a crisp. What the fuck do I do!?" The blonde sputtered with tears in his eyes as he panicked. He had stopped a moment on the rooftop of what appeared to be a nearby apartment complex in order to call for backup without issue.

  "Woah woah! Calmarse, you're okay, I'll be there in no time, where are you and where is the fight happening?" The duck hybrid asked, Tommy could hear shuffling from the other side.

  "I'm on the rooftop of some random apartment complex, Wilbur's on top of a building right next to that abandoned bar in Snow Chester we used to hang out at." Tommy replied

  "Okay, I'm on my way and I've got Tethys with me, keep us on the line and get to a higher rooftop near the fight without being spotted by either Hearth or Wilbur, I have a plan, we'll be there in no time at all I promise." Quackity assured

   "Thank's Gambler, will do." Crimson replied as he made his way to the rooftop over, he wasn't able to see the fight yet. Tommy knew where it was, he just had to keep making his way from rooftop to rooftop so he could see what's going on. 

   As he was scaling the tall apartment complex that was right above the fight, Gambler's voice crackled in though his phone speaker, 

"We're about two blocks away, have you gotten to a good spot yet?"

  "Just about, have you seen them yet?" Crimson asked as he flopped onto the roof of the building.

   " Sort of, I can see the light of Hearth's flames, but their pattern is off, I think Wilbur might have shanked him." Gambler replied

  "Typical" Crimson chuckled fondly, and as he turned to face the fight, sure enough, Hearth was clutching his shoulder as if he had been stabbed. "I'm in position, what do you need me to do?" 

  "For now? Wait until my signal, when say 'now' I want you to glide in and hit Hearth in the head with that escrima staff of yours as hard as you possibly can, we need him either knocked out, concussed, or both." Gambler explained quickly.

"Got it, concuss the fire bitch." Crimson echoed

   "Ese es el espíritu! Concuss that fire bitch!" Gambler jested "I'm going to hang up now alright? Wait for my signal" The line went flat and Crimson pocketed his phone, awaiting Gambler's arrival.

    Gambler and Tethys were quick to make their way up to the roof Wilbur and Hearth were fighting on. In the time Crimson was gone Wilbur seemed to have managed on his own quite well all things considered, aside from the nasty burn on his side accompanied with the new burn hole in the man's favorite black turtleneck.

   However, Wilbur was definitely losing stamina, his dodges were getting sloppy, and his arm clutched his damaged side while the other was used as defense. Gambler made a hand gesture towards Tethys, and moved it across towards Hearth, and she nodded in understanding. Tethys took out a canister and poured what appeared to be water in the concrete In Front of her. She made an upwards gesture with her arm, and the water moved accordingly. With that, she quickly shot her arm out in Hearth's direction, and the water blasted the fire hero with an incredible force, knocking him down and soaking him thoroughly.

   "NOW!" Gambler called out, and Tommy immediately went into action. He stretched his crimson wings as far as they could and leapt from the ledge. His feathers caught the air and allowed him to swiftly glide down to where Hearth sat, damp and breathing heavily. He quickly brought out his staff and with one swift movement, hit the fire hero over the head with a loud, hollow 'thwank'. Hearth's body went stiff, before collapsing and hitting his head on the concrete. 

   "Wilbur, look! I concussed the fire bitch! Aren't you proud of me?" Crimson exclaimed in celebration 

   Wilbur looked up at him from where he was sat on the concrete as Quality fretted over him.

   "Of course Sunshine, you did marvelously," he complemented, wincing as the duck hybrid poked at his side. 

   "That doesn't look good, you're coming with me to Las Nevadas to see Hannah, and I refuse to take no as an answer" Quackity decided, pulling Wilbur to his feet.

   "Quackity I'm fine–" Wilbur protested before being interrupted by the shorter man.

   "No, you're not, come on now. Crimson you too. I've got a vehicle parked just below us." Quackity Gestured for Crimson to follow him as he slung Wilbur's arm over his shoulder.

The ride to Las Nevada's was fairly quick, but that was probably because Quackity was going at least 15 miles over the speed limit.

   They arrived at the back of the largest casino in Las Nevada's, and quite possibly all of Essempii. However, this wasn't just any casino, it was also a safe haven for vigilantes and the occasional villain. They had a medbay (for vigilantes only), a bar, a food court, and around two dozen spare rooms for vigilantes to seek refuge in.

Quackity quickly turned off the ignition before exiting the vehicle. He walked over to the passenger side to help Wilbur out of the vehicle as Tethys and Crimson waited for the two.

   "Quackity, I can walk on my own you kno–" the brunette was cut off by a coughing fit, which left a dark stain on the palm of his glove 

   "That doesn't look good, did you take another hit to the ribs during the fight?" Quackity fretted, wringing his hands together.

   "I don't think so, I think I just moved the wrong way while dodging or something, better than being a pile of ash though," Wilbur rasped as he wiped his hand on his coat.

   "Still not fucking good! For all we know you could have punctured a lung!" The duck hybrid scolded, lightly thwacking the taller man's shoulder.

  "Whatever, let's just–" Wilbur was cut off by a brief coughing fit " –get this shit over with." 

The two quickly hobbled their way to the elevator, Quackity pressed a couple of buttons and the elevator doors closed in front of them.

   "You're an idiot, you know that?" Quackity inquired, dragging his free hand down his face.

   "I suppose, but you still love me." Wilbur retorted with a grin as the elevator dinged to indicate that they had arrived on their floor. Quackity dragged Wilbur over to the nearest cot and sat him down.

   "Rose! We've got someone in need of some attention" Quackity called out.

   "Coming! Just a moment" a feminine voice called back.

   "Off with the dusty jacket" Quackity ordered

Wilbur shed the bulky, and very much not dusty trench coat (not a jacket Quackity), before folding it nearly and setting it beside him.

   "What's up– Oh hi Wraith" Rose greeted as she entered the room, claid in her signature rose printed scrubs.

   "This idiot is seriously injured. Definitely a broken rib or two, a nasty burn, and since a few minutes ago, coughing up blood" Quackity listed off before the brunette could say anything. 

   "That's definitely not good, but I'm going to need to take a quick look before I heal anything, sorry Wraith." Hannah replied with a sigh.

   "Off with the shirt, and the bandages" Quackity ordered.

   "At least invite me to dinner first," Wilbur teased. In return, the duck hybrid rolled his eyes

   "Do you want to get this over with or not?" Quackity inquired, shooting a pointed look at the injured man before him.

   "Okay fine, anything for you darling" Wilbur relented with a playful wink. 

   "You are insufferable" The duck hybrid muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Wilbur's slightly enhanced phantom hearing to catch.

   Wilbur quickly discarded his now tattered turtleneck, before carefully unwrapping the ace bandages which kept his wings in place. Once they were unfurled, Wilbur shook his wings out before allowing them to rest at his side. 

   Quackity couldn't help but drift his gaze towards the large burn that painted the brunette's side. The burn itself was a bright, painful red color with patches of papery white where the surface layer of skin was beginning to separate from the layers beneath it. The duck hybrid could see that yellowish blisters were already forming on the places in which skin wasn't separated from the layers below it and/or peeling.

   "Enjoying the show?" Wilbur teased with a flirtatious smirk.

   "Fuck off pretty boy" Quackity retorted quickly.

   "Aww you think I'm prett–" Wilbur was interrupted by a harsh wince as Rose gently touched the burn on his side. She quickly reeled her hand back before moving her attention to the dark bruise that stained the man's upper torso. She poked at it in a couple places, each earning a harsh wince from the injured brunette.

   "How much have you eaten today, Wraith?" Rose asked as she flipped through her clipboard.

   "Probably not enough to keep up with his abilities " Quackity interjected.

   "Rude" Wilbur remarked at the absurd (correct) suggestion.

   "Eat this" Rose ordered as she handed him a snack bar " it won't do much but it should keep you from passing out" 

   Wilbur ripped open the colorful packaging with his teeth before biting into the snack bar. It felt like ash in his mouth but he has definitely had worse. He quickly finished the snack bar before pocketing the wrapper.

   "Alright, I'm going to need you to lie back so I can heal you. You'll feel a warm tingling sensation before being overcome by exhaustion. I suggest staying in one of the spare rooms for tonight. Quackity, would you please get him a glass of water?" Rose advised. Wilbur obeyed and situated himself into a lying position, resting most of his weight on his elbows rather than his back so as to not crush his delicate wings. Rose shook out her hands before hovering them just above his torso. Her hands began to glow a warm yellow color, and Wilbur felt a tingling sensation where his wounds were as Rose said he would. 

   After around five or six minutes, Rose removed her hands, and Wilbur was overcome with an overwhelming exhaustion that seeped into his hollow bones. Quackity quickly handed him a glass of water, which he gratefully took.

   "You really should stay here for the night" Quackity suggested, giving Wilbur a pointed look.

   "I can't," Wilbur insisted "I would of I could, genuinely, but I need to get Tallulah to school and get to work on time" 

   "I could bring her here, it's only midnight so she should get plenty of sleep before school starts" Quackity bargained.

   Wilbur thought for a moment, he knew that Quackity had properly healed from Tilin's passing, and had babysat Tallulah many times since. Still, Wilbur couldn't help but worry that the duck hybrid would revert to his previous habits. However, the brunet trusted Quackity, and eventually relented.

   "That doesn't sound like a bad idea." Wilbur dug through his jacket before pulling out his house key, which hung on what looked to be a keychain made by a child in kindergarten, it had papi written on it in big sloppy letters.

  "Here's the key to the apartment, she has a spare booster seat in the corner of her room you can use." Wilbur informed, tossing the keys at the shorter man.

   "Noted," Quackity said before hesitating a moment. "And Wilbur, get some rest, please mi amor" Quackity knew that Wilbur couldn't resist the nickname Quackity gave him after trying to get back at Wilbur's relentless flirting.

   "I'll sleep when you get back with Tallulah, I promise." Wilbur assures the duck hybrid

   "I'm holding you to it, I hope you know that," Quackity declared as he made his way to the elevator.

   The duck hybrid watched as the elevator went from 6, to 5… to 4… and so on until it reached the ground level. He quickly flashed his lanyard at the lady at the front desk before quickly dashing to his vehicle. He put the keys in the ignition, backed out of the parking lot, and took off at only five miles faster than the speed limit.

   He arrived at the dingy parking lot of the familiar apartment complex. He quickly turned off the ignition before making his way to the apartment he knew so well. Once he made it to the door, he knocked thrice before waiting a moment, and knocking twice more before unlocking the door and making his way inside.

   "Hello? Who's there? I have a knife and I *yawn* will stabbed you…" a tired, yet familiar voice called. 

   "It's just me, mi patito, your papi sent me to come get you, I've got his keys to prove it," Quackity assured the child. Tallulah gasped at the discovery of who it was and quickly ran up to the duck hybrid.

   "TÍO QUACKITY!!" The little girl exclaimed as she tackled her uncle with a big hug.

   "Sí cariña, now where is that booster seat of yours? We're staying the rest of the night at the casino with your papi," Quackity explained, carding his fingers through the little girl's curly hair. 

   "But I don't wanna sit in el asiento de la fatalidad inminente" Tallulah whined, giving the duck hybrid the biggest puppy eyes she could possibly muster.

   "I've known your papi since before you were born, those don't work on me mi patito" Quackity informed the child with a soft smile.

   "Darn it! I guess I'll show you where it is" Tallulah pouted as she dragged the older man into her room, before pointing at the far corner where a pile of blankets laid.

   "It's under there" Tallulah clarified begrudgingly 

    "Thank you cariña, go wait by the door," Quackity thanked as he went to dig the 'el asiento de la fatalidad inminente' from its blanket jail.

   After some minor trial and error, Quackity managed to get Tallulah in her booster seat in the car so that he could get on the road. After a few moments of silence, Quackity heard soft sniffles coming from the backseat. Before he could say anything about it, Tallulah spoke up.

   "Tío, is papi okay? He got– he got hurt bad four whole yesterday's ago, and– and he won't get it fixed" Tallulah asked in a watery voice.

   "Oh don't cry patito, He's okay, I made him get all fixed up, he might be a bit sore and tired for a few days, but he'll be okay, I promise." Quackity assured the teary-eyed child in the seat behind him. The two sat in silence for the most part for the rest of the trip, aside from the occasional sniffles from Tallulah, and quiet reassurances from Quackity. 

   Once they arrived Quackity quickly turned off the ignition before letting himself and Tallulah out of the vehicle. Tallulah enthusiastically took Quackity's hand and the duck hybrid led the child to the front desk. He quickly pulled out his lanyard and presented it to the woman at the desk.

   "What room is Wraith situated in?" He asked politely

   "Who's this?" the lady asked, gesturing towards the child who was barely tall enough to look over the desk

   "His daughter." Quackity clarified, the lady quickly typed something into the computer in front of her before handing Quackity a key card. 

   "Room twelve, he's been nervously pacing around the casino since you left, Rose was about ready to sedate the poor guy. Though I do believe she managed to coax him into the room a few minutes ago" the lady informed him. 

   "Thank you, I appreciate it" Quackity thanked sincerely.

   "Can I press the button on the elevator? Pleeease!!" Tallulah requested enthusiastically.

   "Of course. Press the 'up' button on the outside, then when the doors open and we get in you can press the number three button. Alright cariña?" Quackity instructed. Tallulah gladly pressed the buttons to get to the floor Wilbur was on, and she definitely did not need to get a boost from her tío to reach the number three button.

   Once the elevator reached its destination and the doors opened, Tallulah was quick to release Quackity's hand in order to dash out of the elevator to find her papi. Quackity was quick to chase after her so she didn't bump into anyone she wasn't supposed to, but she wound up quickly finding room 12 without a hitch. 

  "Swipe the thing, Swipe the thing! Swipe. The. THING!" Tallulah chanted impatiently, hopping up and down to ensure that it was made clear that she wasn't going to wait any longer. 

   "Alright mi patito, calm down." Quality said as he knocked thrice on the door in quick succession, before relenting to Tallulah's request.

   "You have a visi-" Quality began before being interrupted by an incredibly impatient child.

   "PAPI" Talulah cried as soon as she locked her sights on the anxious man, who was wearing his tattered turtleneck from earlier.

Tallulah was quick to tackle her papi in a bone crushing hug.

   "Oof, hello darling" Wilbur grunted as his daughter tackled him.

   "Tío said that he made you come here to get better. So you're all okay now right?" Tallulah asked, looking up from where she had her head buried in her father's chest.

    "I'm fine, darling, I promise." Wilbur assured the young brunette

   "Pinky promise?" Tallulah asked, unwrapping one of her arms from her father's torso in order to offer her pinky as a form of unbreakable establishment.

    "Of course, pinky promise," Wilbur promised, crossing his pinky over Tallulah's.

   "Yay! Will you read me a story now papi?" Tallulah exclaimed excitedly, completely disregarding the topic which was being discussed moments ago.

   "Yeah Wilbur, read us a bedtime story" Quackity teased from the doorway, laughing at his own humor.

   "Tío Quackity! Sit on the seat right here" Tallulah insisted, patting the armchair next to the queen-sized bed in the center of the room. Quackity closed the door as made his way into the room with a shit-eating grin adorning his face. Gladly, he plopped himself down on the rather luxurious armchair, shooting a smug look at the brunette.

   "What are we reading?" Quackity asked, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

   "The girl who drank the moon!" Tallulah supplied cheerfully as she curled up into Wilbur's side. Wilbur quickly pulled up the kindle app on his phone, before tapping the familiar title and picking up where they left off at the very beginning of chapter thirteen. 

   Wilbur made it through around three chapters before he heard her breathing grow slower as she fell asleep. He looked down at his daughter with a fond smile, before removing his glasses and kissing the girl softly on the forehead. 

   "Thank you, Quackity, I really appreciate it." Wilbur said as he looked towards where the duck hybrid was sitting.

   "Anytime, get some sleep Wilbur, you need it." Quackity whispered as he stood. The duck hybrid quickly left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Wilbur set his phone and glasses on the bedside table, before genuinely allowing himself to relax. Within just a few moments, Wilbur drifted off into yet another dreamless slumber as he finally allowed the exhaustion to take over his aching body.

Chapter Text

To say it was a shock when a certain fiery hero came stumbling through the elevator to the med-bay of the hero tower would be a severe understatement. 404 had been chatting with one of the healers employed by the hero tower, when his bleeding coworker practically collapsed onto the cot behind him. 

         “Holy fucking shit! What did you do?! ” 404 exclaimed, still not entirely sure whether to be angry about the paperwork this would bring about, or to be concerned for his dear, very clearly concussed, and probably delirious from blood loss, friend.

         “I’m— reeaally , not sure, 4” Hearth slurred, not even bothering to hold his head up.

        “Do you at least remember who did this?” 404 inquired with a heavy sigh, mildly exasperated.

        “The you— young, gray one. Th-  the one with no eyess.” Hearth muttered, sounding simultaneously horrified and amazed by the fact that his attacker was allegedly without eyes. 

           “ What the fuck is that supposed to mean! You know what? It doesn’t even matter. Let’s just get you back on your feet, all healed up, and throw some fucking paperwork at you. That usually does the trick…” 404 said, mostly to himself, before calling out to one of the nurses, “Hey! We need some healers over here! This idiot’s gotten himself a concussion. He’s also bleeding from— somewhere”

           After making sure his idiot of a friend would receive the best care possible, he all but stormed out the healers bay. Thinking on the injuries Hearth had received, 404 had a couple of theories as to who could have left the fire hero in the state that he was in, and most of them pointed to a certain phantom hybrid in Snow Chester. 

_________________________________

A week is a fairly short period of time all things considered, seven days isn’t all that much time to make a life-changing decision. In other words, this means that Wilbur was now panicking at 4pm on a cloudy Monday afternoon, with only eight hours left to decide. Procrastinating making decisions may be a bitch, but it was Wilbur’s bitch, and currently, he was regretting it immensely . 

On one hand, joining the syndicate would not only imply that they were under the protection of the largest, most powerful villain organizations, as Tommy stated before, that had to have some scary dog privileges. If the Angel of Death was truthful, they would also be provided housing, probably miles above the quality of their current housing. However, on the other hand, the syndicate could not be trusted, he had no idea what these people were like, or how they behaved. If they did accept Tallulah could be put at risk, and he didn't like the idea of her being so close to the top villains in the city. Wilbur wanted to put his past behind him, and leave what 16 year-old Wilbur got into behind him. However, the Angel’s offer was almost too good to pass up, they would be housed in an apartment that was undoubtedly better than their current residence, and they would have access to an infirmary. 

To say Wilbur was conflicted would be an understatement, and he couldn't help but grumble and hide his face in his hands. Currently, he was sitting on the counter, as people do. Quackity had come earlier to check up on him and had yet to leave, much to Wilbur’s utter delight dismay. He had told the duck hybrid about the offer, and about his internal conflict concerning the decision. The duck hybrid offered some counseling, and initially, Wilbur rejected his offer. However, Quackity was persistent, and what could only be described as a caring, stubborn bastard. 

“Do you want my honest opinion, Wil?” Quackity inquired, leaning beside where Wilbur was sitting, “ You’re overthinking it ” 

“Me? Overthinking a decision that will alter the course of mine and my family’s lives ? No of course not” Wilbur chided with an eyeroll.

“I’m not saying you aren’t justified, Wilbur, I’m saying that you should take a step back, look at it from a different angle. I’ve worked with the syndicate countless times and they have been nothing short of wonderful. Think about it, you will have an apartment leagues better than this one, you can sleep in a room, on a bed that is yours, rather than on this moldy, probably rat infested loveseat you found in an alley. I can guarantee you that you and Toms will be paid for solo jobs, and not to mention, You’ll be under their protection as well as mine, if I have to kick someone's ass for you I will. I know that you know all of this, but it really doesn't hurt to take a leap of faith, Wil.” Quackity advised, resting a scarred hand on Wilbur’s, squeezing it reassuringly. 

“How do I know if I can trust them? What if by accepting this offer I’m putting Tommy and Tallulah in danger? It's a huge fucking ‘leap of faith’ .” Wilbur asked, looking down towards where their hands were conjoined. 

“ You don’t have to , but I’m sure Tallulah will be fine, you can be one scary motherfucker when need be, and from what you told me you probably scared the shit out of them. If they know what’s good for them Tallulah will remain left out of this.” Quackity reminded him, tracing circles over the top of the taller man’s calloused hand. 

              “You’re right, per usual, Quackity” Wilbur sighed defeatedly, running a hand through his unbrushed hair.

“Does that mean that you're going to accept the offer?” Quackity inquired, shuffling slightly closer to the brunette. Wilbur nodded wordlessly, before quickly hopping down from his uncomfortable perch. 

The rest of the evening went by quickly, Tallulah enjoyed her uncle’s company while Wilbur worried himself with the idea of having to confront the Angel. Quackity occupied himself with putting Tallulah to bed whilst Wilbur went through the tedious process of getting his gear together, going down a mental checklist for all the pieces, of which there were many. 

The black turtleneck, which had been previously damaged by the fire hero’s wrath, had been patched and adorned with intricate embroidery, courtesy of Tommy. The blonde embroidered a simplified version of the moon's phases, which depicted five phases rather than the full eight. The embroidery hid the patch, and the place where patch met the rest of the turtleneck was flawlessly done.

Wilbur could hear Tallulah giggling at the funny, animated voices Quackity made as he told her a story. Tallulah would often beg Wilbur to call the duck hybrid over the phone just so he could tell her a story. The answer to her ceaseless badgering was almost always no, but she would beg almost every night regardless.

Wilbur had just finished double checking to ensure that he had everything when Quackity knocked on the doorframe.

“Tommy asked me to tell you that he was staying here for the night, he says he has an exam tomorrow for school he has to study for,” Quackity informed him, flicking a speck of dust from Wilbur’s coat.

“He needs to take a break, the poor kid,” Wilbur commented, fidgeting with the mesh fabric of his blindfold between his fingers. “You’re such a hypocrite, Wil. I’ve got my gear in the backseat of my car, want me to come as back-up? Just to ease your mind a bit.” Quackity suggested, leaning against the doorway. 

“Good idea, I’ll meet you at the bottom of the fire escape in ten,” Wilbur replied as he swiftly lept from the window to the alleyway down below.

The duo spent the couple hours they had before Wraith had to agree to the Angel’s terms Goofing off kicking shitbags’ asses. However, their scheming had to come to an end when Gambler’s watch showed 11:30, and they had no choice but to make their way to the alleyway where Wraith first encountered the Angel the previous week. 

Whilst they were enacting their ass kicking, they had devised a plan for the encounter. Wraith would do the confronting as he promised, while Gambler would keep watch, with Wraith’s glock at the ready incase things went south. However, for safety, the Angel and Blade couldn’t know what the duo were planning. As a result, Gambler would have to not only remain dead silent, but he would also have to ensure he didn’t remain in one spot for more than sixty seconds. 

The duo arrived at the agreed location with three minutes and twenty-seven seconds to spare. Gambler was quick to get into position, armed with Wraith’s  glock alongside his usual attire. Wraith, despite being on the edge of having a full-blown panic attack, remained casual, even opting to very casually lean against a wall. 

The Angel of Death and The Blade arrived no sooner than, nor later than midnight. Wraith would swear up and down for the rest of his days that they just simply manifested the second the clock struck twelve.  

“I take it you have come to a decision?” the Angel inquired, his hands clasped behind his cloak. 

“I have. I choose to accept your offer, but only on the terms we agreed upon,” Wraith answered with a confidence he didn’t know he possessed. 

“I would expect nothing less. In the time that has passed, I’ve had my partner here,” Angel said, gesturing towards The Blade before continuing. “write up all of the terms we agreed upon on a contract. We can sign it in my office at our home base, as well as the paperwork for your new residency of course.” 

Wraith wasn’t expecting this, and was unable to prevent the fleeting look of shock that made itself known on his face. He had no intention of going to the main headquarters of the Syndicate tonight. In fact, he was  hoping to make this a rather brief interaction. However, it would likely be best for his conscience if he took care of everything all in one go, rather than waiting on it.

“Oh, and your little friend can join us as well, if you’d like,” Blade added, glancing towards where Gambler was stationed. “ The firearm has to go, I’m afraid. We don’t want any… incidents to occur.” 

Shit, Wraith thought, glancing upwards to where his companion was standing. Gambler appeared to share his ‘ Oh shit’ sentiment, judging by his stance and the look smeared across his masked face. It was strange how such a glacial mask could convey such emotion, despite being permanently splattered with an uncannily rigid smile. 

Electing to ditch the plan, Gambler quickly hopped down from his station, landing unceremoniously at Wraith’s feet. Wraith, completely unsurprised at his companion's failure to land in a stylish manner, applauded sarcastically. Gambler, who couldn't help but feel mildly irritated, was quick to reply with a sneer and a rude gesture.

“I have arranged for a Chevrolet Celebrity to transport us to head office in about-“ Angel informs them, quickly glancing down at his watch “Now.” he gestured to the once empty space behind the duo, which was now occupied by the car he had described, the motor running quietly. The windows were heavily tinted, probably illegally so, obscuring the driver from view. The Blade quickly opened the car door  for the vigilantes, gesturing with a flourish towards the open door, seemingly welcoming them into the vehicle.

Wraith wound up uncomfortably sandwiched between the Blade and Gambler in the back seat, which is separated from the front with a grate not unlike one that could be found in a police car. The windows in the backseat are blocked off from the inside, but Wraith could safely assume that this wasn’t the case for the front windows, next to where the Angel and the driver sat. This, to say the least, did not inspire confidence.

The drive was fairly short, all things considered. Blade was mercifully silent for the entire ride. The Angel, unlike his socially inept counterpart, insisted upon making conversation with the two vigilante’s in the back seat. He was, of course, met with answers that were nothing short of curt and vague. Regardless, these answers seemed to appease the corvid hybrid. 

When the vehicle came to a stop, Blade was quick to step out, holding the door for Gambler and Wraith, as he had done before. The building they were parked in front of seemed to be nothing more than an ordinary office building. It appeared to have around five stories, each lined with a long row of very expensive looking windows.

Instead of taking the two boys to the main entrance as Wraith had expected, the Angel led them around to the other side of the building. There, settled at the bottom of the building, was seemingly an entrance to a storm shelter. However, Wraith thought, a storm shelter was a rather odd thing to have in an office building. Seeing as, usually, offices were only populated during the day. 

The door appeared to be reinforced, and had a sleek, modern-looking keypad just to the left of it. The Angel quickly typed a code into the pad, faster than either of the vigilantes could follow. A small green light flicked on above the door, and with assorted mechanical sounds, the door swung open.

Once again, the boys were following The Angel like ducklings imprinted to the being that was unfortunate enough to be the first thing they saw. They were led down a maze of hallways, before arriving at a door with ‘The Angel of Death’ engraved in a gold plate, attached to the emerald colored wood of the door. The Angel took a key from where it was set upon a chain on his wrist and unlocked the door, before quickly opening it and inviting the aforementioned ducklings into his office.

The Angel’s office was anything but what the duo had initially envisioned. For one, it was absolutely massive , it had to be at least the size of a small sitting room. A large desk was set to the center of the back wall beside two large filing cabinets. Behind the desk, an expensive looking gaming chair sat. On the right side of the room sat a sleek yet comfy looking couch, near a modern looking coffee table. On the other side, sat a small kitchenette, complete with a whole coffee station that held anything one could wish to put in their brewed beverage. A mini fridge adorned with exotic magnets, a sleek and expensive looking microwave, and a toaster were also present. The kitchenette also had three cupboards mounted above the utilities, and a sink just adjacent to them. 

Gambler, contrary to Wraith’s hesitation, wasted no time on immediately plopping himself onto the fancy couch. Judging by the way the duck hybrid instantly melted into its cushions, Wraith had severely underestimated the sheer comfort of the piece of furniture. 

“Make yourself at home, boys. Help yourself to some tea, the tap water is fine to drink and the kettle is right next to the sink. There’s milk and creamer in the fridge and sugar cubes in the little bowl if you’d like,” Angel announced, making his way to the filing cabinets presumably to acquire the necessary paperwork.

“Te- Blade, would you please get me a cup of tea? You know how I prefer it.” Angel asked from where he was digging through several folders of various files.

Blade wordlessly joined the boys near the heating kettle, which was now filled three quarters of the way full with tap water. He quickly set a tea strainer up with some of the contents of a tupperware container that was labeled: ‘Angel’s tea, do NOT drink if you value your digestive system’ , before placing it inside a green mug painted with an intricate pattern of crows. 

Contrary to what the two men beside him were doing, Wraith simply grabbed a tea bag from whatever container he felt smelled the nicest, as he had no idea what any of the words printed on the labels meant. He quickly set his sweet smelling teabag of whatever-the-fuck in a paper cup, before pouring some of the now-boiling water over it. He elected to take advantage of the sugar cubes, and put no less than half a dozen in his tea. He also decided he would take the Angel up on the offer of milk, and most definitely did not pocket a monster for later while he was at it. 

It wasn’t long before the vigilantes were sat across from the strangely hospitalic villains with several papers set out in front of them. Wraith was reading over the pages of the contract for the third time, carefully analyzing every space, letter, and punctuation mark for any loopholes. The phantom hybrid had even handed it off to Gambler to analyze it two separate times , before eventually giving in and signing his alias on the dotted line.

“Nicely done. Now, this one here,” he said, tapping a clawed finger on a lengthy form “is for housing. There are civilians that live within the complex as well as the villains and vigilantes of the syndicate, so you don't need to worry about your identity. All you have to do is state the number of people that you will have with you, how many of those people are minors, alongside those below the age of twelve. You do not have to state the age of the children, but you will have to state whether or not they are in schooling. You will also need to list the number of employed individuals and an average overall income for legal reasons. Which I know, is strange considering this is a villain organization.” 

Wraith couldn’t argue the terms, and was pleased to see that he wouldn’t need to list any specific birth dates, ages, or legal names. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but hesitate. He took a long sip of his beverage, and another, before shakily taking the form and laying it on the clipboard that the Angel had provided him. He once again surrendered himself to over analyzing the wording of every line, before caving and shakily filling out the required information.

Wraith reluctantly handed the papers to the Angel, unable to shake the fear that he may have just signed a contract that left his daughter’s fate in the hands of Death’s beloved angel. The aforementioned Angel took the papers from the phantoms shaking hands, and scanned through them thoroughly. After a moment, he got up from where he was sitting and busied himself once more with ruffling through the filing cabinets.

“ It won’t hurt you to put a little bit of trust in a person you know.” Gambler spoke after a moment, nudging the brunette beside him gently before whispering “ He won’t let any harm come to your daughter. If he does, I’ll slit his throat myself. If there is anything left of him, that is”

If Blade hears the duck hybrids threat, he pretends not to. Wraith gives Gambler a look that speaks a million different words of thanks without making a single sound. Next to them, Blade cleared his throat rather loudly, interrupting their silent conversation to get the duo's attention.

“ Angel is, uh, looking through what places we have open that will suit your needs. You should be able to move in by tomorrow at the earliest.” He informed them, glancing to where The Angel was now rummaging through a compartment in the other filing cabinet. Wraith was half-convinced that he was just pretending to look for what he needed, and had simply given up on finding it as it was long lost to the disorganized black hole that was his storage. However, not long after the thought had crossed his mind, the blonde seemed to have found it.

The angel emerged from his desk holding a clipboard alongside a ring holding three identical keys and some form of label. 

“ Sorry for the delay, mate. However, I’ve got the form and keys for the flat. All it says is that you acknowledge that it is being provided to you as a member of the syndicate, with all utilities and the apartment being covered by us, as long as your partnership with us remains intact. This other one just has all of the information on the flat itself” He explained quickly, handing the form to the brunette. Wraith was quick to scan through the form before signing his name on the dotted line for what felt like the millionth time that day. He set the first form aside in order to quickly look through the features of the apartment.

The apartment had three bedrooms and two bathrooms, alongside a sitting room and kitchen. While Wilbur couldn't recall the exact square footage of his apartment, he could tell that the housing that the syndicate was providing him with was easily two or three times the size of it. Supposedly, he would also have heating, water and electricity all paid for by the syndicate.  

“Can I take a copy of this with me?” Wraith asks after a moment, holding up the informational page.

“Of course, Wraith, you can have that copy. I have the original lying around here somewhere” Angel replied, gesturing to the filing cabinets of doom. “Do you have a specific day we should be expecting you to move in? I still have to show you the actual complex you’ll be living in of course.”

Wraith pondered a moment before giving the Angel an answer. However, the Angel seemed pleased with him, despite how soon the time frame was, only around a week out. Gambler was quick to point out the fact that they only had a couple of hours before sunrise, as his watch had just gone off telling them that it was nearing 3am. 

The Blade was quick to escort the duo outside of the building, before giving them the address and a photo of the complex that Wraith would be residing in.

“It’s really not far from here, you’ll know it when you see it” he explained as he waved the chauffeur in their direction..

The drive back felt a thousand times longer than the one that had brought them here. Wraith found himself nodding off in the back seat, the car was surprisingly comfortable. Gambler was quick to shake him before he could really fall asleep, but regardless, the shorter man allowed the brunette to rest his head on his shoulder. 

The vehicle dropped them off at the exact place it had picked them up. The duo wordlessly exited the vehicle, and began the journey back to Wraith’s flat, with Gambler insisting that the brunette allow him to stay over despite how little space they had for him to sleep. Eventually, around six and a half hours after they had left the flat, the duo climbed through the window of the sitting room.

           Wilbur was quick to shed his outer gear and blindfold, before immediately collapsing on the dingy, probably rat infested couch. The consequences of sleeping with his wings bound were morning Wilbur’s problem, he could deal with it then.

Chapter Text

Despite common belief, death is not merely an inevitable event to end the life of most mortals. She is a gentle hand to guide the lost souls who's clocks have finally stopped ticking.  Generally speaking, an individual could only encounter her once, when their soul ascends from their mortal body and their time on the earth has been depleted. 

Wilbur, on the other hand, rejects this sentiment. He remembers the gentle touch of the palm of her cold hand against his cheek, pity, and grief showing in her gentle eyes at the sight of a child who had expired far before his time. He couldn't remember what she said to him as his soul was torn from the void and agonizingly forced back into his lifeless body, and a hazy memory was all that remained of Death’s hat flying off as she desperately reached to catch him, in a futile attempt to save him from the torment to come.

He clearly remembers the agony that followed his abrupt revival. He remembers the feeling of his hands changing shape, and the pain of his new wings erupting from the discolored skin of his back, only to be rendered unusable soon after by his former killer. He will forever be plagued with phantom pains, and he will be forever haunted with memories he would rather forget.

Medical professionals generally recommend avoiding sleeping whilst wearing something that compresses an individual’s ribcage and lungs. Medical professionals also don't recommend sleeping with a large, albeit mangled, pair of delicate wings tightly bound to your body. Wilbur, as an intellectual, slept while wearing something that simultaneously  bound his wings and compressed his ribs. In short, Present Wilbur was really hating sleep-deprived, 6 hours ago Wilbur.

Wilbur was abruptly awoken from a fleeting nightmare by a sharp, stabbing pain in his wings, and without the ability to draw a deep breath into his now spasming lungs. He clawed fruitlessly at the back of his shirt, desperately trying to rid himself of what was constricting him. At this point, Wilbur was hyperventilating.

Luckily, Quackity had slept on the floor beside him in a sleeping bag he’d gotten from gods only know where. Wilbur’s panicking had woken the duck hybrid, and he was quick to jump into action. 

“Hey, hey c’mon Wil, eyes on me,” He said, gently reaching to grasp the taller’s cold hands. “You’re going to be okay, I've got you”

It was after this that Quackity noticed the severe lack of wings protruding from his companion's back, and the strange, spasming lumps beneath his sweater. 

“ Ohhh… You left your wings bound didn’t you?” Quackity realized, fully intending to scold the brunette when he’d been adequately calmed down. 

The duck hybrid gently helped Wilbur unbind his aching wings, wincing in sympathy at the way they spasmed and how his friend choked on silent sobs of pain. The brunette eventually managed to gain control over his breathing, the newfound freedom of his ribcage helping greatly. Looking down at his friend’s watch, he saw that his alarm would start ringing in about five minutes. 

“Unless you can function relatively painlessly, you’re not going anywhere Wil.” Quackity informed him before the phantom hybrid could argue he was fine to go to work. The duck hybrid knew that the pre-existing damage to the brunette’s wings, which were delicate and sensitive regardless, would render him unable to work without severe pain. Even if he were to somehow manage to make it to the library, Techno would be quick to insist he take the day off with the state he was in. 

“I- That’s– fair I guess,” Wilbur conceded, concluding that he was in too much pain to argue. 

“How about this? The two of us take the kids to school in my car, and afterward, we’re going to Puffy’s for breakfast, on me of course, and we’re going to have a bit of a talk. ” Quackity offered, leaving little room for Wilbur to argue. Wilbur deflated a bit at the idea of having to sit through quality scolding him for the up-teenth time about his bad habits when it came to taking care of himself. Regardless, he ultimately conceded to the duck hybrid’s command.

—

The ride to Puffy's was– tense , to say the least. Wilbur had been banished to the backseat while Quackity drove (Talulah was very, very excited to sit shotgun with ti ó Quackity). Wilbur had also come to the conclusion that small talk was not something that should be attempted, (not that the concept of small talk was something he particularly enjoyed regardless). Quackity was also silent for the most part, aside from the standard occasional cursing at terrible drivers, which when driving in any district was a bit of a given. 

Although the ride was only about fifteen minutes long, seeing as Puffy’s was just across the street from Tallulah's school, it still felt like an eternity to Wilbur, stuck in the cramped backseat with little leg room. Once they pulled into the small parking lot, Quackity simply announced, “We are going in, ordering, and then coming back out to the car and eating. Once we get back here, we are going to have a talk, because your dumbass left your wings bound last night.”

So Wilbur did exactly that, following Quackity like a lost puppy, whilst definitely not half-hiding behind the duck hybrid to shield himself from the weird gazes he would inevitably receive. 

The cafe was, thankfully, not very busy at the moment, and the pair walked up to the barista. Quackity ordered an oat milk latte with a blueberry scone before glancing expectantly at the phantom hybrid behind him. 

Wilbur, quickly getting the message, looked up at the barista,  Jaiden A.   judging by their name tag, and asked what they would recommend. The barista gave him an odd look, very clearly judging him with some semblance of concern in their eyes. Wilbur assumed it was because he looked like utter dogshit, but for all he knew they could just simply be judging him for no other reason than to judge him.

Noticing Wilbur's visible discomfort, the barista elected not to pry.

 “I personally like the London fog, it pairs really well with a scone or, really, any other kind of pastry, however, if you’re looking for a good pick me up we do have a variety of energy drinks you can choose from on the menu up there.” They commented, gesturing to the chalkboard menu above their head.

Wilber would choose more caffeine over less any day, and elected to order the first thing he saw that he could actually pronounce, alongside a chocolate muffin, which had been eyeing him from the display case for a little while now. After the duo received their food and drinks, they made their way out to the car.

____________________________________

In the end, Quackity wound up staying with Wilbur for the day, only heading back to his place once Talulah and Tommy had returned from school. Talulah, predictably, was not happy with this arrangement, and forced Quackity to read her a story before he left. The rest of the week was fairly uneventful, and mostly filled with packing their belongings into cardboard boxes.

Thankfully, for the sake of Wilbur’s privacy, there were plenty of civilians residing in the Angel’s complex. This came with the bonus of anonymity , regardless, there was still a good chance of his identity being revealed to his fellow residents. Quackity had been gracious enough to assist him in moving everything, having a motorized vehicle that could easily transport everything in two trips was a godsend. 

It wasn’t long before they had finished moving their items. They hadn't bothered putting everything away yet, but that was future Wilbur’s problem. 

“Oh wait! Before I go, I have something I want to give you. Call it a housewarming gift if you want,” Quackity recalled as he pulled a package from his bag, wrapped with brown paper, and tied together with a generous amount of twine and packing tape. He checked it over once, twice, three times, and then continued, “I know you still don’t trust them, and they’ll probably provide you with plenty of extra gear, but I had my guy make these for you.” Quackity grinned, offering the brunette the package.

Gently taking it, Wilbur carefully turned the package over in his hands, before undoing its wrapping. This revealed a set of black stained sturdy leather arm guards. Experimentally turning them over, Wilbur revealed a small dagger nestled within a pocket on each of the guards, flush with the inner arm. The daggers were positioned in such a way so that they would be easy to quickly and discreetly access with no more than a flick of the wrist. 

“ Try them out, they are adjustable so they’ll fit even your scrawny ass” Quackity snickered as he gestured to the guards.

Electing not to say anything about the jab, Wilbur quickly fastened the guards over his forearms, knocking on the sturdy leather before electing to take a moment to mess with one of  the blades he had been provided. He twirled it around in his hand, unable to help growing mesmerized by the white glint of its metal in the dim evening light. 

Coming back to himself, Wilbur re-sheathed the blade before carefully unfastening the straps of the guards and placing them atop the box he knew held the rest of his gear. He turned to Quackity, and after a moment of grateful silence, pulled him into a tight embrace. 

_________________________

The sun had left the sky faster than Wilbur could have ever anticipated, and before he knew it, he and Tommy were donning their gear in a slightly more intentional manner than usual. Tonight was a special night. Tonight they were officially starting work with the Syndicate, and their alliance with them became more than just a title. 

Wilbur carefully strapped the guards that Quackity had given him over his forearms, ensuring that the blades were in their correct positions. He’d even done his eyeliner, just for the sake of having it, despite the fact that no one could see it.

“WIL! Hurry up or I’ll leave without you, bitch!” Crimson called, seemingly quite confident that he could not only blindly figure out which building the meeting was taking place within, but the meeting room itself. 

“And how do you plan on finding the meeting place? Which is in a location you have never been to or seen. You don't even have the address.” Wraith pointed out, digging through the box to gather the last couple bits of his small personal artillery

“Besides, I’m almost done, the meeting isn't until 9:30, we have 45 minutes and the meeting place is less than five minutes away.” 

“Still, I’m bored and I’m making it your problem now,” Crimson replied matter-of-factly, now draped dramatically over one of the couch’s armrests. 

Sighing, Wraith retrieved the firearm he’d acquired from someone he’d ‘dealt with’  a while back. This was the very weapon that had almost killed him, but was now a backdoor for emergency situations. He only had the bullets that had been in the gun at the time he took it, and the two spare cartridges he’d found in the front pocket of the still warm body of the victim target. 

The newest members of the syndicate were quick to clamber out the window and down the fire escape, crimson remaining less than a foot behind wraith the entire time. As Wraith had stated previously, the building was no more than a block away from the complex. They entered through the back door, and Wraith took a quick glance around the room. 

Wraith had been in this building once before, when he had finalized the deal he had made with The Angel. Despite this, the only thing he had to go off of was the room number, which read 000 . He had to assume that the first zero indicated that the meeting room was in the basement, or floor zero as some would call it. 

Before he could begin his journey of aimlessly walking until he was able to find a stairwell, a sharp thud sounded through the halls. In an instant, Wraith spun around with his switchblade in hand, only to find no one standing behind him. Strangely, instead of another person, he was met with a cream colored bobtail cat. Upon closer investigation, he noticed what seemed to be a rolled up piece of paper tucked into its collar. 

Wraith carefully tucked the switchblade back into his coat pocket, before crouching down to the cat's level. Carefully, he untucked the piece of paper from its collar before scratching its chin and unrolling the small paper. On the paper, written in handwriting eerily similar to that of Techno’s, read ‘ His name is Steve, Follow him’. Wraith gave the note to Crimson before glancing down at Steve, who was now giving the duo an expectant look. Once Steve had seen that he had both of the boys’ attention, he started down the hall, almost beaconing for them to follow him. 

Steve led the vigilantes down the maze of hallways, Wraith had quickly given up trying to memorize the rights and lefts they were taking.. Eventually, the cat had brought them to an elevator that was tucked away from the rest of the building. Before Wraith could press the button to call it, the cat bapped the down button with one of its front paws. The elevator doors opened before Wraith could even process what had just happened. He and Crimson shuffled into the elevator alongside Steve, who had already beat them to the button. 

The elevator dinged as the doors closed, before beginning its descent which seemed slightly faster than it should be. When the doors had opened once again, they were met with the sight of a door just across the hall with a small plaque that read 000, meeting room. Wraith stepped out first, gesturing for Crimson to follow. After a brief moment of hesitation, he pushed the door open. He was met with the sight of a sleek looking room, with a large oval shaped table in the center. Gathered around the table were many masked individuals, many of which he recognized, who he could only assume were the other syndicate members. 

The brothers took their respective spots at the table. This single second had the ability to change their lives forever. Vigilante's Wraith and Crimson Chaos were now official members of the Syndicate, and the only person who could take that away from them was Death herself.