Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Grief can be a burden, but also an anchor. You get used to the weight, how it holds you in place."

-Sarah Dessen

 

Tommy leaps from the edge of the skyscraper. Instead of hurtling downwards as the average person would, a richly red caustic light spreads across his body. The pattern continues to flow across his body as he moves through the air in an upward diagonal. His metal face mask that covers the bottom half of his face filters all the wild, freezing winds that brush painfully against the few patches of visible skin on his body. When he reaches a certain height in the air, he slams his palms together. The caustic light falls back to his hands, and he drops towards the ground like any other person would. As his hands slide away from one another, his right hand clicks a button on the cuff on his left forearm. A small back-pack contraption made from metal on his back springs out, revealing a bright red glider that allows him to ride the winds instead of plummeting to his death. Tommy lands on the cement ground with a slight bounce. He presses the same button on his left cuff, and the glider folds back into the metal contraption on his back. He keeps his arms out around him to guarantee that he doesn't tumble to the ground as he gets his bearings.

Tommy is currently out on important business as Vendetta, an A-class esper contracted to the Hero's Guild. As a guild member, he frequently takes up commissions placed on the guild's bounty board. His present commission is a rather large one that is due to take up a lot of time. He has been investigating the Red Army, an organized group of villains that have been spotted doing illegal activities in every borough of Essempei. Several rich people have put a bounty on the Red Army's head, and Tommy was more or less pressured into accepting the commission by the higher-ups in the guild. He would have completely refused if there wasn't a promising reward in store for him.

Tommy is about to launch back into the air when he hears a distressing noise. He frowns behind his mask, his attention being drawn to a nearby alleyway on instinct. Just a few steps away from the entrance of the alleyway, two men are standing in front of each other. They are standing in the shadows, but neither of them are wearing outfits that blend in well. One of the men is holding a gun towards the other, a glare shimmering across the surface of the gun as the sun above the cityscape is covered in slow-moving clouds. Tommy is pretty sure that his attention was grabbed by the click of the gun. It is one of the few sounds he's trained to pay special heed to. The man without the gun is holding his hands up in submission. Tommy would have thought there were enough heroes patrolling Prime Heights for something as basic as a mugging to never happen, but he knows that the borough is one of the largest ones in landmass. Tommy rolls his eyes at the ineptitude of the other heroes as he approaches the situation.

The man without the gun obviously sees him coming because he's facing the direction of the alley's entrance. He does eye Tommy for a brief second, but he doesn't make the fact that Tommy is approaching apparent to his would-be mugger. Tommy is thankful. While he can handle a straight-on fight with the mugger, he would rather things be simple instead of tiring. He pulls a metal baton from his belt. He twists the metal baton until it expands into a staff. Tommy positions the staff and his arm before he gets involved. He hits the gunner in the back of the knee with his staff and yanks his arm upward so the shot fired from fear flies over the other man's head. The bullet hits the stone wall of the alleyway. Tommy disarms the gunner as he pulls both the man's hands behind his back. Obviously, the man struggles, but Tommy manages to press his fingers against the man's tattooed wrist. The red caustic light spread across the man's body, and he flattened himself against the ground immediately. Tommy easily tied the man's wrists together.

Tommy turned his attention to the cuff on his right forearm. He tapped against the screen until it came to life. It pulsated with a red light before it revealed his home screen to him in white coloring. Tommy tapped away on the device. He sent a somewhat accurate report to the Moderator's Guild. While heroes completed commissions, Moderators dealt with any law-breakers who were not espers or involved with espers. Tommy has jurisdiction to take down anyone who breaks the law due to his ranking in the Hero's Guild, but he can't bring them to be imprisoned in Pandora's Vault- the facility specially designed to house espers, or super-powered individuals.

Tommy lifts back to his feet. He is about to leave the alleyway when he notices the other guy was still standing there. He dropped his arms, and he was looking right at Tommy. He would have thought the man would have bolted when given the opportunity. Tommy looks at him up and down. He understands immediately why someone would have tried to rob this guy. He's wearing an off-white button-up tucked into a pair of black pants and shoes that shine despite being the color of charcoal. While Tommy has never been familiar with brand name products, even his mind knows that he's looking at someone with money. The golden ear cuff with featherlight chains ending in small emeralds certainly broadcasts his wealth to everyone in the general vicinity like a loud siren. If Tommy were a lesser man or perhaps off-duty, he would attempt to swindle the man out of his belongings. Because he is the biggest of men, though, he instead roughly thrusts his hand forward in a way that he hopes isn't as awkward as he feels. "Hello, citizen, uh... shit, I don't remember what I'm supposed to say. Fuck, where are you going? I'll walk you there."

"Will that happen to me?" The man's dark muddy brown eyes flick down to the man lying on the ground. The red caustic light continues to splash across the man's body as if he's at the body of a pool during a sunny afternoon. Tommy nudges the man with his foot, and he's satisfied when the man mutters something about getting his revenge.

"Nope. I have perfect fucking control over my powers," Tommy explains to the pink-haired civilian. Tommy was an esper, and as an esper, he had superhuman gifts. Tommy has met espers with horrible, useless, or downright self-harming powers before. He feels pity for them, of course, but in a faraway sense because Tommy lucked out on some amazing powers. He couldn't completely manipulate gravity, but anything he touched either became weightless or it became twice as heavy. It was referred to as gravity manipulation on all his official paperwork. "Now, where are you heading, mate? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to have the Vendetta as your guide through the city."

"I'm heading to the G-Train," The man states, stepping over the gunner's body to get closer to Tommy. The hero realized belatedly that the man in front of him isn't just a rich man wandering through Prime Heights. He's a hybrid. Tommy doesn't have a problem with that. He frequently visits Empires borough, and that place has more hybrids than humans. But in a place like Prime Height, hybrids would face discrimination. Especially if they're a Piglin hybrid like the man standing in front of Tommy. Hybrids who are mixed with hostile mobs face the most discrimination of all hybrids. It's ironic because they're technically the most dangerous, but who is Tommy to tell the masses that their mass hysteria is pointless?

"Perfect! I know where that is!" Tommy tells the man, beckoning him forward. They walk out of the alleyway side by side. The man looks over his shoulder at the gunner, but Tommy doesn't pay any attention to him. A moderator will arrive before Tommy's power runs out due to the distance. Even if the moderator isn't there, Tommy has an excuse. He has to prioritize the safety of civilians. Although Tommy doesn't normally follow the rules, when they work in his favor, he makes sure that he knows them down to the letter.

Tommy delivers the man to the staircase on one side of the street that leads downward. There is a bright green sign above the staircase that alerts everyone nearby that this is the entrance and exit for the G-Train, an underground train system that connects all five boroughs of Essempei. Tommy gestures to the staircase. He smiles underneath his mask. The man won't be able to see the actual smile, but he'll be able to see the smile wrinkles around Tommy's eyes- beneath his tinted red futuristic glasses. If the man couldn't see it, Tommy wasn't bothered one way or another. He did what he was supposed to do. He told the man as much. "Here we are, king, just as I promised. Go down these steps, swing a right, and the G-Train should be there in... three minutes, I think? Have fun, and don't get mugged again. Bye!"

Tommy waved at the civilian. He waited until the man was halfway down the stairs before he turned away. He thought that some gratitude was in order, but he guessed that people were raising their children right these days. Not like Tommy would know anything about that. Tommy's smile dropped away as the memories came washing into his mind like a tide returning to the shore. He was so familiar with the pain that he felt lonely when it was gone. Well, he felt lonely when it was there, but sometimes consistency- even that of pain- was better than the emptiness.

Tommy takes a few steps away from the stairs before he presses his hand against his chest. Before he completely starts floating, he bends his knees to push off the ground. Without gravity pulling him down, he doesn't have as much friction to slow down his ascension. He will continue in the same direction for a good while before the wind starts to nudge him wherever it's going. In the beginning of his career, Tommy had struggled with controlling his momentum. Years of experience and hard work allowed him to go wherever he wanted. It was flying with a few extra steps, as evidenced by his gliders as his more zig-zag approach to getting somewhere.

Tommy soars over Prime Heights. Gradually, the air begins to get hotter and drier. Tommy is thankful for his mask's ability to adjust to different temperatures and humidities. Once he reaches the highest peak he's willing to go, he presses a hand to his chest and deploys his glider. His body jerks at the sudden motion, but he manages to remain upright as he starts descending. It doesn't take long before gravity reclaims what originally belongs to it. Tommy's body shifts as he lands on the sandy ground of the borough. Tommy huffs. Sandlands really does live up to its name.

"Vendetta?" A voice calls out. Tommy's attention snaps up, quickly identifying the source of the voice. He relaxes when he sees other members of the Hero's Guild. Watcher is an S-ranked esper for the guild. He was wearing a black jacket made from a thick material over a dark red shirt. He wears skin-tight black pants decorated with a pink pattern across the body. His avian wings are pressed against his back, a domino mask covers his face, and he has a crossbow held in his dominant hand. Although the crossbow looks deadly enough on its own, Tommy knows a simple truth that civilians and most villains do not. Watcher's superpower is molecular combustion. Anything he touches becomes charged with enough kinetic energy that it is seconds away from exploding. He usually uses it on the arrows shot from his crossbow. It basically had infinite explosives, and with his wings, he was a force to be reckoned with. Hence, his S-ranking.

"They didn't tell us that you would be here," Another voice mentions. Watcher's partner, Arid, is a B-ranked esper. Arid wears a dark red capelet over his shoulders. When he moves around, it reveals that he isn't wearing a shirt or any form of armor underneath it. He has a pair of black pants to go with it, matching his partner in color scheme, even if Tommy doesn't know why their partners in the first place. Their powers aren't even that compatible. Arid can manipulate sand. It's a cool power, and certainly dangerous in a borough literally called Sandlands, but it doesn't match the sheer destructive power that Watcher has going for him.

"The fuckers up top wanted me to check the bounty out. Tell me what we know, and I'll consider joining," Tommy states with a wave of his hand. Frankly, he didn't know that Arid and Watcher had accepted the bounty. He knew they handled things in Sandlands, but this bounty apparently spanned all over Essempei. Someone like Tommy, who worked in all the boroughs regularly, was much better suited to the job. And to add insult to injury, Tommy didn't understand why the guild thought someone like Watcher needed back up. Arid, perhaps, since he was B-rank, but Watcher was one of the rare S-ranks. He wouldn't need any help, even if it was from an A-rank.

"We believe it's a group of individuals. They're kidnapping hybrids in every borough. All of the kidnappings are strung together because of this image," Watcher explains, stepping towards one of the buildings made from sandstone. Out of all the boroughs, Sandlands was the least populated and least developed. The people kept to their one or two story homes. They kept a wide berth from each other, too. The only reason why this place was considered its own district is because it supplies the other districts with agriculture. Tommy felt pity for the buildings that were damaged because of some villain group simply because the buildings looked shittier for it. Watcher said nothing of that ilk out loud, though. He instead brushed his hand against the wall to wipe away the sand covering the details of the image.

It was a spray-painted picture of a heart cracked down the middle. It must have been done in bright red because it looked faded and worn out from the sun. Tommy has seen the image before in some of the reports, but he was glad to see it up close. As far as he could tell, the spray-painted images were all done by hand individually. They might have the same basic idea, but there were slight nuances in each version that implied it was being freshly done. The person was experienced, of course, but every line couldn't be the same. The spray-painted image was also done on the building that the hybrid had been kidnapped from, so Tommy suspected it was, at least, a two person job. One person did the kidnapping, and the other person handled the showmanship.

"Who was kidnapped this time?" Tommy asked, turning to Watcher and Arid after he assessed the picture on the wall. He didn't miss the way the two heroes looked at each other for a brief moment. Tommy huffs an annoyed breath. "Well, fucking tell me already. What the fuck are you waiting for? Who was kidnapped? Their name, maybe what kind of hybrid they are?"

"The Hero's Guild no longer has jurisdiction over this case. The Moderator's Guild does," Arid piped up after the long, awkward moment passed. Tommy blinked at them, completely misunderstanding.

Watcher swooped in with a better explanation. "Sandlands houses the Nether Portal. Since the Syndicate has taken control over the End portal, the government isn't taking any chances. They assigned this case to the Moderator's Guild immediately. We've had our access to the files withdrawn. We can't do anything."

Tommy feels his breath slow in his chest. Anger- another companion alongside the loneliness and pain- greets him with sharp eyes and a knowing smirk. He hates the Syndicate. He doesn't hate them because they're villains and he's a hero. He hates them on more than a professional level. He hates them for completely personal reasons. He hates them with a fiery passion that will find no end until he dies or he destroys the Syndicate. Everything he does- every bounty he takes, commission he accomplishes, rank he painstakingly achieves- is all in pursuit of his enemies.

"Well, fuck this then. If the hero's don't have jurisdiction, I sure as hell am not wasting my fucking time here," Tommy mutters, venom leaking into his voice. He cannot believe that the people who were supposed to be in charge of him and guide him down the right path would lead him somewhere where he can't do anything. There's not even a trace of the Syndicate in this place. They protect hybrids; they wouldn't kidnap them. This is some other villain group. The only other one Tommy would be involved would be the Hunters, but they also didn't match this MO. They would simply kill whoever stood in their way. Tommy didn't have anything to do with this case. He'd been sent on a fool's errand all for the promise of some information about where the Syndicate's abandoned bases would be. He would have been able to extract information from those abandoned places, but it seems he would never reach the carrot at the end of the stick as long as the Hero's Guildmaster was in charge.

Tommy leaves Sandlands the way he came. Watcher and Arid don't follow after him because they have no reason to. He's not friends with them, he's rarely been allies with them, and they have other business to take care of in Sandlands. It's true about the portals. The reason why Sandlands is so hot and dry despite it being near some moderate locations is because of the Nether portal leaking out environmental changes. The portals would have been destroyed a long time ago if it wasn't for some treaties signed between the Nertherborne and the Enderians with the Overworlders. They exchanged goods and services between each other, creating Nether City and Ender Isle on the other sides of the portals. Tommy has been across both once or twice, but it was always for purely business reasons.

Tommy lands on a building in Prime Heights. The frustration ebbs out of Tommy's body when he realizes that he's being followed. He turns around suddenly, one hand raised to exude his power while the other one reaches for his staff. He stops when he recognizes the person following him. Tommy drops all pretenses for violence, instead smiling underneath his mask.

Enderwalk is a vigilante now, but Tommy knew him before he decided to become a vigilante. The two of them knew each other from the days when Tommy went to the Hunters in order to seek revenge. Enderwalk had already been in the Hunters for a little while. Since they were close in age, they became friends. When bad things happened and they both fled from the Hunters, they remained good friends. Tommy went to the Hero's Guild, and Enderwalk went to the streets. Their relationship was slightly strained when Tommy discovered that Enderwalk started working with the Syndicate, but he couldn't be mad at his friend for long. As long as Enderwalk didn't officially join, Tommy would tolerate his existence because Enderwalk had his back when he was alone.

"Enderwalk! King, how have you been? I've been pog, thank you for asking. Where's Jolt? I don't see that little shit anywhere," Tommy proclaimed, walking up to Enderwalk. He looked around for Enderwalk's vigilante partner, Jolt. Unlike Arid and Watcher, Enderwalk and Jolt were the exact opposites of each other when it came to appearance. Enderwalk was long and lanky, a testament to his Endermen hybrid traits. He wore a half black-half white bodysuit with black pieces of armor highlighted in purple all over his uniform and a purple hooded cloak over his head. Enderwalk's mask was also split down the middle with black and white, and his eyes glowed purple. Jolt, on the other hand, was shorter and wore dark browns covered in blazing gold yellows. He had a nuclear motif running through his design, complemented by the gas mask over his face. Like his name implied, he has the power of electricity. Enderwalk, like everyone of the Enderian races, could teleport short distances, but his unique ability allowed him to place objects into a void that suspended them in space and time.

"Hey, Vendetta. Uh... Jolt... He... isn't here. I'm going to tell you some information he wouldn't approve of me telling you," Enderwalk awkwardly replied, a hand raised up to rub the back of his neck.

"Oh? Do tell. I'm always in the business of pissing Jolt off," Tommy replies, taking a few steps back to lean on the parapat of the building. Enderwalk also walks forward to stand in front of Tommy.

"You know the recent thing about hybrids being kidnapped? Yeah, the villain group responsible call themselves the Red Army. Their inner circle is called the Cult of Erythr. We don't know what they're after. We just know that they are hunting down hybrids seemingly at random, active in every borough, make themselves known by the broken heart symbol, and worship some deity. It has been proposed that they are sacrificing the hybrids to their deity," Enderwalk explains to Tommy. It isn't much information, but it's more than Tommy would have gotten on his own. He isn't part of the case anymore, but he can probably speak with the Guildmaster about getting some sort of alliance with the Moderator's Guild. Tommy is thinking about that when Enderwalk utters something that makes Tommy freeze instantly. "I would like to propose that you align yourself with the Syndicate in order to defeat the Red Army and stop the kidnappings."

"Absolutely fucking not-"

"It would be temporary," Enderwalk rushes in, hands in front of his chest with his palms facing Tommy. He's taken a step back, and it's for the best. Tommy feels seconds away from pummeling Enderwalk into the ground, ignoring their past friendship because obviously, Enderwalk has forgotten all about it. "It would be temporary, I swear. Afterwards, you can go back to completely hating the Syndicate. In fact, view this as an opportunity. You'll be getting firsthand knowledge about how the Syndicate works. You'll discover all their members, maybe a few of their habits. And... Come on, Vendetta, this is for the good of all the boroughs. The Red Army won't stop until someone stops them. You can't do it alone, and the Syndicate could use all the help it can get."

Tommy hesitates, thinking about the missing report files in his guild issued apartment. He can see the faces of those people- not the ones who were kidnapped but their families. All those people just want their loved ones to come home, and even more families are out there right now terrified that they won't ever see the people they care about again. Tommy has been in their shoes many times before. He knows what it's like to wish and pray with all your heart. No one answered his prayers, but maybe he can answer these people's hopes. He's not a hero- not in any meaningful sense- but he is someone who's experienced loss and knows how painful that is. Loneliness and anger might be his only companions, but it doesn't have to be anyone else's.

"If it's on my own terms, I'll fucking consider it. But don't for a second think that I need those assholes to defeat the Red Army. It would just be easier with them," Tommy threatens. He can swing this into his favor. Like Enderwalk said, it would be an opportunity to know his enemies better. Once the Red Army was defeated, the very second it was, he would take his revenge. He would live up to his hero name.

"I'll set up a negotiation right away," Enderwalk complies before he disappears into a flurry of purple sparkles. As the sparkles dissipate, Tommy breathes out a heavy breath. He looks down at the city around him. How big of a threat is the Red Army for him to consider working with the Syndicate?

... For him to consider working with Azrael and Inchling, his family's killers?

Chapter Text

“People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance.”

― Niccolo Machiavelli

The Hero’s Guildhouse, along with other important buildings with long and ultimately boring histories, is in Prime Heights. Despite the simple name, the guildhouse is actually a soaring skyscraper. It is used for a variety of purposes including publicity events, private meetings, and dorms for the weaker heroes who cannot afford their own apartments. It would look bad if heroes- even practically nameless ones- lived on the streets. Tommy took enough bounties that he could afford a high-rise apartment in Prime Heights, but he spent the majority of his money on upgrading his gear and investigating clues. He hardly spent a dime on himself, so he stayed in one of the guild’s many dormitories. He was, at least, allowed a private dorm, and he was the first to pick out what food packet he wanted for the week. Such were the luxuries for a high-ranking esper.

Prime Heights is home to many other important locations, though. The Moderator’s Guildhouse is also in Prime Heights. Prime Church, where the borough gots its name from, was obviously in Prime Heights, and that was the most common religion in Essempei. Twitch Analytics, Essempei’s largest stock market and business paradise, took up an entire city block. Prime Heights is, objectively, the safest borough of them all. It is the primary home of many rich, famous, or politically powerful people. The Hero’s Guildhouse fit in naturally with all the other businesses wrapping up their deals on the highest floors of their private towers.

Tommy noted each one of those buildings as he passed them in the air. They were a common sight for him, and his familiarity with them all never failed to startle him into grave reality. When he was younger, he never would have thought he’d be able to get an aerial view of the businessmen darting around Twitch Analytics because he jumped out of the Hero’s Guildhouse upper levels. But here he was, doing exactly that, and all without the threat of legal repercussions hanging over his head like a guillotine blade. The businessmen in the neighboring towers would have gotten used to him already. He suspects that the entirety of Prime Heights knows about the flying hero that zigzags through the air.

Tommy touches his wrist, letting his power roll back into his chest. His body starts to plummet, only slowing down when his glider reveals itself. He leans his shoulder forward, tilting his body towards a familiar rooftop. When he’s a few feet above it, the gliders pop back into his metal backpack. He lands on the rooftop, rolling to disperse any lingering energy. The metal container on his back digs into his shoulder blades, but he rolls his shoulders to ease the momentary pain. As he stands back onto his feet, the pressure has dissipated completely. He continues walking across the rooftop until he comes to the parapet. He swings his legs over the side of the parapet, kicking them over a near fifteen floor drop without a care in the world. He looks down at the street far below him, counting the cars that swerve by.

This building is the one where he meets Enderwalk every few days. When Enderwalk partnered with Jolt, it became the place the three of them mainly hung out at. But long before that, before Enderwalk even called himself that, before Tommy called himself Vendetta, this was the place they parted after running away from the Hunters. Tommy swore to Enderwalk that they would meet again at this rooftop to check up on one another. Enderwalk held Tommy to that promise, and he’s been doing that for years now.

A caw interrupts Tommy’s thoughts. He looks up on instinct, and a black dot slowly becomes more defined. A crow with ebony feathers lands on the parapet next to Tommy. The blonde smiles happily. A year after Tommy joined the guild, he was found by a startlingly intelligent crow. No matter where Tommy went, the crow was there to check on him almost every day. Tommy didn’t mind the company. In fact, he ended up naming the crow after the Crowfather, one of the most famous heroes that used to work for the guild before his mysterious disappearance. Tommy never personally met Crowfather, but the hero had left an impression on Tommy because of all of his good deeds. The crow responded to the name after Tommy mentioned calling him that, so it was cemented in the history books that Tommy had a friend crow named Crowfather.

A habit Crowfather picked up was bringing Tommy ziplock bags with a sandwich inside. Tommy didn’t accept the sandwiches at first, certain that the crow had stolen them. When Crowfather didn’t give up, Tommy decided to eat the sandwiches given to him. Crowfather was pleased and continued bringing them like he somehow knew that Tommy was hungry. Crowfather brought one today. While he usually brought peanut butter and jelly, he brought a ham and cheese sandwich today. Tommy broke the sandwich in half, setting one half beside him for Crowfather to nibble on. He started eating the other half with slow bites and a thoughtful expression.

“Crowfather, Big Crow, shit has gone down since we last talked,” Tommy started explaining through mouthfuls of sandwich. When Tommy realized that Crowfather was sticking around, he began to talk to the crow about his problems. It didn’t help that Crowfather seemed to understand him, his avian noises sounding like emotionally correct responses. Tommy long-since accepted the fact that Crowfather was intelligent, though, so he continued talking about his problems. “The heads of the Guild told me that I needed to prove my worth. I mean, what bullshit is that? I am an A-ranked hero. I take bounties all the fucking time. My worth has been proven. I could retire right fucking now, and I’ll bet I will have done more than anyone else in that Primedamn guild. They’re assholes, Crowfather… but they’re also my boss, so let’s stop shitting on them before they reveal they’ve bugged me or some shit. Fuck, what if they have bugged me?”

Crowfather squawks his form of a laugh, a hint of denial in the tone he uses. Tommy shrugs, deciding that if the guild bugged him, they’d have taken his ass to Pandora’s Vault long before he made it to the rooftop.

“So, yeah, they told me to do some shit for them. I said no. They said we have information. I said fucking start with that. Well, maybe not word-for-word but close enough. It was implied.” Tommy waves his hand to dismiss the finer details of the situation, ignoring Crowfather’s skeptical expression. “They told me about the Red Army. Yeah, as if we didn’t have enough fucking gangs in this city. The Red Army is weird, though. They’ve done a lot of shitty things, but no one knows anything about them. We have no motives, no members, nothing. They stuck me on the case. Probably because they know how fucking good I am at my job. They’re all shit.”

Crowfather caws his agreement. Tommy smiles slightly at him, unsure if Crowfather is agreeing that Tommy is good or that his bosses are shit. In either case, Tommy agrees with the crow. Even though the guildmaster and his assistants run an entire guild, Tommy feels like he does more work than them, and he only does work that furthers his own goals. Crowfather has technically gotten a biased version of the story, but Tommy liked to believe that his arguments had some worth beyond his own prejudices.

“Right! I accepted the mission- not because they asked me to. I am not a pussy or a pushover. I accepted because they offered to trade information. But when I show up to the last spotting of the Red Army, I find out that we don’t have fucking jurisdiction. Can you believe that bullshit, Crowfather? They told me to do their fucking job, and then I find out that it’s not even their job anymore. I was so pissed,” Tommy tells Crowfather, and he is still very upset about the whole thing. When he returned to the guildhouse, he didn’t even get an explanation.

Crowfather pressed his head against Tommy’s thigh, carefully avoiding the knife Tommy had strapped there. Tommy ran a finger along Crowfather’s head feathers. This certainly made him feel better even when the situation continued to paw angrily at his heart.

“As I was heading back, I got to see Enderwalk. I don’t think you’ve met him before. He’s a tall, lanky motherfucker. Annoying as hell but he’s my friend. Don’t do shit to him if you see him. He might be scared of birds. He seems like the type,” Tommy warned Crowfather. “Enderwalk told me about the Red Army. The Syndicate is getting involved. I might have agreed to a temporary alliance.”

Crowfather didn’t make a noise, but he did turn his head up to look at Tommy. The blonde looked away from his friend. “Look, I get it, it’s bullshit. Against everything I stand for. I should be joining the Red Army if the Syndicate wants them gone… but… I’ve read the fucking reports. The Red Army are crazy motherfuckers. They need to be stopped. The guild won’t help me, and I know I can’t do this alone. I need allies. I mean, who else am I supposed to fucking turn to? The Hunters? Reverie would have a riot if I came crawling back to him. I refuse to play into his hands.

“And, well, this is a good opportunity. It’s a blessing in the ugliest disguise I’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing. We take down the Red Army, good. I get information on the Syndicate, good. And seriously, as long as I’m not working with Azrael and Inchling, I’ll be fine. I hate everyone in the Syndicate, but especially those motherfuckers,” Tommy proclaims, his voice lowering with pure hatred. His hands close into fists. Crowfather pecks at one of the fists, and Tommy forces his fingers to unfurl. “Once this mission is over… I’m going to finally do it. I will fucking kill Azrael and Inchling- and anyone else who gets in my way.

The Syndicate has many members, and Tommy is willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals. If he has to kill the entire organization in order to get to their leader and his right hand man, Tommy is more than willing to get that blood on his hands. Despite his status as a hero, Tommy is little more than an esper abusing the system for his own benefit. His goal, since the beginning of his heroing career, has been to eliminate the Syndicate. He doesn’t care what he has to do or who he has to hurt to do that. The guild knows that, Tommy knows that, and he’s going to make sure that the Syndicate knows that.

Crowfather pecks at Tommy’s hand again, this time a lot harder. Tommy hisses in pain, drawing his hand to his chest. He glares down at the crow and his partially eaten sandwich. Crowfather seems unimpressed with Tommy’s object. Tommy flicks his fingers at the bird, watching it hop out of range. Tommy narrowed his eyes at the crow, reaching his hand out further to grab him. Crowfather flapped his wings, rising up into the air. Tommy rolled his eyes, deciding that it wasn’t worth it.

A familiar sound filled the air despite how inhuman it sounded. Tommy threw his legs over the side of the parapet to see Enderwalk standing on the rooftop. He is fiddling with his uniform. Enderwalk inclines his head towards Tommy. The blonde is left to imagine Enderwalk’s expression because of the mask covering the vigilante’s face. Fortunately, he knows what Enderwalk’s strained smile looks like. He’ll be slightly nauseous because of his powers, but he’s happy to see Tommy because he’s always happy to see Tommy. Even when they’re fighting, a rare occurrence but an inevitable one considering Tommy’s personality, Enderwalk will always be more than happy to meet Tommy on this rooftop that marked the beginning of his freedom.

“Vendetta… I’ve set up the meeting,” Enderwalk exclaims, walking towards Tommy with an unevenness to his gait. Tommy reaches out his hands on instinct. Enderwalk grabs his hands. Tommy looks around for Crowfather to introduce the crow to the vigilante, but his friend is gone. He didn’t even leave a crumb of the sandwich they had been sharing. Tommy frowns underneath his mask. He can’t believe Crowfather would leave him without a proper goodbye. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah… ready as I’ll ever be,” Tommy whispers, turning his attention back to Enderwalk. The vigilante’s grip tightens. Tommy winces as a faint humming echoes inside his head. His vision becomes spotted with blacks and deep purples until he can’t see anything except the throbbing void. His stomach twists like he’s on a rollercoaster. His head spins like a top. A shiver races down his spine as the temperature around him drops to freezing levels. For a brief moment, he can’t put any coherent thoughts together. His entire sense of self fades into obscurity as he tries to figure out where the nebulous pain in his body is coming from.

Just like a taut band being released, conscious thought slams into his body. He blinks away the remnants of unnatural color, shivering away the last dredges of the coldness in his bones. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. Tommy has experienced an Enderian’s teleportation a handful of times in his life, and it never gets easier. Someone from the Overworld is not meant to traverse the void. Tommy doesn’t even have a hybrid trait that can smooth over his lingering uneasiness. There is no pain, but he somehow feels wrong inside his own body- like parts of himself are missing.

“I need a trash can,” Enderwalk groans. He releases Tommy’s hands, rushing off to find what he said he needed. Tommy blinks at his absence, looking around. He’s in an unfamiliar building. It looks like the reception room to an office building with pale yellow walls, thin carpet, and flickering fluorescent lights. The brightness of the room hurts his eyes, so he focuses on a landscape painting on the wall above a row of chairs. He doesn’t recognize the landscape, but he’s never been out of the city. He’s never seen a waterfall overlooking a mirror-like lake surrounded by lush trees and foliage. Part of him would like to see it in person, but he doesn’t want to see it alone.

“Vendetta? Is that you?” Someone asks behind the hero. He turns around, meeting the mask of Warden. The villain is wearing yellow-gold armor including a chestplate and shoulder pads. Another set of armor made from a dark green material surrounds the yellow-gold pieces, covering much more of his body. The few places that aren’t armored are protected by a thick, lighter green fabric that could easily block bullets. Not like Warden needs help blocking bullets, his ability to manipulate metal with his mind made certain that no bullet ever got close to him. He mainly used his power to telekinetically manipulate his primary weapon, a trident, or to manipulate the metal arms that were strapped to his back. The extra pair of arms were enhanced with enough technology that they could move on their own, but sometimes Warden needed to move them around in a way that was a little more complex than his machinery allowed.

Tommy knew all of this not just because he intently studied every member of the Syndicate, but also because like Enderwalk, he has a past with Warden. When Tommy was part of the Hunters, Warden was, too. When Tommy left, Warden stayed behind for a few more months before completely defecting. Instead of becoming a hero like Tommy or a vigilante like Enderwalk, Warden was able to join the Syndicate. Because he was completely committed to joining, Warden and Tommy weren’t as close as Tommy and Enderwalk. Their relationship only extended to Warden and Tommy staying out of each other’s way no matter what their individual mission was and saying hello any time they got a chance.

“In the flesh, Big Man,” Tommy responds. Warden reaches a hand out to Tommy, and the hero reluctantly shakes Warden’s hand. At the end of the day, Tommy would rather have a good relationship with Warden than a bad one. Warden was powerful, intelligent, and ruthless in battle. Tommy is fairly certain he could beat Warden in a fight if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to. Despite the fact that Warden chose the Syndicate over literally any other organization, Tommy didn’t dislike him. They had been close once, and feelings like that lingered even after time.

“It’s good to see you well. I’m assuming that you’re here for that alliance Enderwalk proposed,” Warden said. Like any smart person, Warden wore a mask that distorted his voice. It was just to make sure that people couldn’t identify him out of the mask. Tommy did it, too. But Warden’s voice was more robotic than most. There were barely any traces of humanity at the edges of the distortion. It was definitely meant to be a fear tactic, but Tommy just found it annoying. He couldn’t tell what Warden was feeling without the visual cue of his face or the verbal cue of his tone. Tommy had to learn to read Warden’s body language, and Warden didn’t move around enough for it to be that effective. He could, however, figure out the broader emotions. Warden, right now, was worried, and it didn’t take Tommy any time at all to realize that Warden was worried about him. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Vendetta. Everyone knows you don’t like the Syndicate, and I know that you have a good reason. We can take care of the Red Army without you. You don’t need to do this.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy muttered instantly, ignoring the carefulness in Warden’s tone. No matter how concerned Warden was or how close the two of them could be with just the bare minimum of work, Warden was still a member of the Syndicate and Tommy was still a hero with the guild. “I know what I’m fucking doing. I’m a fucking child or some bullshit like that.”

“I’m not-”

“Vendetta!” Enderwalk called out, holding open one of the two doors in the room. He hesitated when he saw Warden and Tommy standing together with a tense atmosphere around them. He shuffled back a few paces, keeping the door open. He tilted his head towards the cream colored hallway that was visible from where Tommy was standing. “Serenade will see you now.”

“Good riddance. See you later, Warden,” Tommy proclaimed, waving goodbye to Warden as he followed Enderwalk. He knew that Warden had a lot more to say about the present situation, but Tommy wasn’t in the mood to listen to any of it. He wasn’t Warden’s responsibility, and Warden wasn’t any of Tommy’s concerns. At the end of the day, Tommy would fight Warden, too, if the villain decided that Azrael and Inchling’s lives were more important than Tommy.

As Tommy follows behind Enderalk, he reckons with the fact that he’s having a meeting with Serenade. It could be worse, of course. He could be meeting with Azrael or Inchling, both people he hated very much. He could be meeting with Ravager or Dyscardia, both people who hated him very much. But Serenade wasn’t exactly a best-case scenario. Anyone who could manipulate other people’s minds wasn’t a completely sane individual, and Serenade flaunted his instability like a badge of honor.

“He’ll be in there. You’re going to do great!” Enderwalk promised, pointing towards a door at the end of the hallway. Tommy nodded at Enderwalk before he pushed open the door. He stepped into a dimly lit room, closing the door behind him. This room was painted with maroon walls. There was a lamp turned on in the corner, but the overhead lights were off. There were a few potted plants in the corner, growing strong despite the obvious lack of light. They might get all their necessary light from the window hidden behind velvet red curtains. The focal point of the room was the black leather couch underneath the window, flanked by the potted plants.

The real focal point of the room, however, was the man sitting on the couch. Serenade sat with his arms lazily crossed over his chest. His legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He was wearing a pale blue trench coat with small bones where a zipper would be for any other jacket. He wore a yellow shirt underneath that along with black pants. He wore a dark blue veil tied to a silver circlet resting in his dark brown curls. His face was completely obscured by the veil, but Serenade has never shown any signs that he couldn’t see with it on.

“Good evening, friend! How are you? I hope you have been well,” Serenade calls out, the smile evident in his voice. Serenade and Tommy have met an infrequent number of times in both of their careers. They have fought just as many times. As evidenced by the fact that they were both standing there, neither of them have ever won those fights. Tommy has a higher tolerance for mind control than most people. Where Serenade could coax people into believing their lives were better off gone, Tommy’s stubbornness saved him. He couldn’t die, he couldn’t give up, he couldn’t stop until he completed his goals. The day Tommy was free from his self-imposed responsibilities, he suspected that his mind would be more malleable than most. But that day was not today, so Tommy was still free from Serenade’s control. “It is the most wonderful news to hear that you are joining the Syndicate. I, at least, am very pleased with your decision.”

“I can assure you, bitch, that I am not joining the fucking Syndicate. Get it through your thick fucking skull, I don’t like you or any of your people,” Tommy growls, ignoring the fact that he’s there on the Syndicate’s terms and not his own. He is probably way too confident in Enderwalk’s ability to teleport him out of any danger he purposefully gets himself into. “This is, and pay attention here, a temp-or-ary alliance.”

“Mere semantics. You are working with the Syndicate, no? It seems to me that you, Vendetta, are the one who has not gotten it through your thick skull that you hate the Syndicate,” Serenade points out, rising to his feet. He takes a few languid steps towards Tommy. The blonde refuses to flinch, peering up at Serenade from his red-tinted glasses. Serenade stops right in front of Tommy. “What would this alliance entail, little hero?”

“I’m not fucking little, you tall-ass bitch,” Tommy snapped. He pointed his finger at Serenade, bumping into the villain’s chest a few times for extra effect. Serenade’s hand snaps up to grab Tommy’s wrist. Serenade’s veil shifts, and Tommy knows that he’s tilting his head in curiosity. He’s waiting for Tommy to show fear, but Tommy isn’t afraid of anything- least of all Serenade. “Don’t fucking forget which one of our powers activates with touch.”

“I won’t. Now, tell me, what do you want from the organization you so clearly hate?” Serenade asks. He doesn’t move his hand away from Tommy’s wrist, but the blonde doesn’t care. Serenade could break his wrist for all Tommy cared. He would still win this fight.

“A truce until the Red Army is gone- jailed or dead or whatever the hell you want them to be. The Syndicate will share your resources with me. Any resource that I need,” Tommy bargains. The Syndicate is a powerful organization. They have a hand in every elicit activity. They hold the city’s underworld in a chokehold. Tommy would have access to a lot more things than he would with the Hero’s Guild. If he didn’t take the chance to abuse that, he was wasting this opportunity.

“And what would the Syndicate get in return?” Serenade asks, his veil tilting back. Tommy can physically feel Serenade’s stare. He doesn’t like it, but then again, he never has.

“The Syndicate would be getting a weapon. I can be used in a number of ways. I even have access to the guild. As an A-rank hero, I have a reputation that some powerful people can’t ignore,” Tommy shrugs. “Or would you rather the Red Army continue running around in your territory?”

“You’re telling the truth,” Serenade states, dragging down Tommy’s wrist with his hand. “But how am I supposed to trust you when you have an interest in destroying the Syndicate? That doesn’t make for a very good start to our friendship, now does it?”

“I don’t trust you either. This is just until the Red Army is gone. I can’t let more people get fucking kidnapped by these assholes,” Tommy replies, using every bit of the strength to not just tear his wrist from Serenade’s touch. “Plus, we’re allies with the same people, dipshit. Enderwalk and Jolt are my best friends. Warden and I are pretty civil. Croupier definitely likes me more than he will ever like you.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Serenade laughs. For as long as Tommy has been a hero, he’s always been in orbit with the Syndicate. He was there in response to their every action. When they made allies, he found out what it would cost for those allies to turn their backs on the Syndicate. When they made enemies, Tommy was there to offer a chance for revenge. Tommy didn’t think it was ironic if it was purposeful, but he wasn’t in the mood to debate with Serenade. “Fine. The Syndicate will accept this deal for as long as it’s beneficial for us. And we will have to add one more caveat. Someone must stay with you at all times, just to ensure that you don’t rat us out to that guild of yours.”

“As long as it isn’t Azrael or Inchling, I don’t care who I get to annoy,” Tommy says, but his heart does jerk at the thought of being with a Syndicate member at all times. He has to remind himself that this deal is beneficial for him, too.

“Why do you hate them so much?” Serenade asks. His voice warbles, and Tommy knows he’s activated his powers. Serenade is verbally asking, but the need to answer needles into Tommy’s mind. The hate he feels surges in response, and a memory is triggered of a destroyed building still smoking. Tommy looks away from Serenade, trying to push the memory down as far as it can go.

“They killed my family,” Tommy whispers. The first memory triggers even more. He can still see them- his family. There was Eret, steadfast and responsible, the one who taught Tommy about academic subjects and being respectful. There was Niki, kind-hearted and resolute, the one who held his hand and taught him how to sew. There was Jack, smart and headstrong, the one who taught Tommy about the streets and how to face his fears. There was Fundy, young and spirited, the one who showed Tommy how precious life was  and how to enjoy his youth. There was Tubbo, gentle and excitable, the one who hugged Tommy like there was nothing worth doing more in the world and shared everything with him.

And then there was Wilbur, dependable and loving, the one who held Tommy during the long, cold nights and never would have abandoned him. Never willingly, anyway.

“Oh? Did you have a mommy and daddy that-”

“No. Brothers and sisters. I’ve never had a mother or father,” Tommy explains. He doesn’t care about his parents. They abandoned Wilbur, so Tommy felt no remorse in abandoning them. Tommy’s true family were the people he and Wilbur found living in the streets, the little group they made that was so close they called each other my familial terms. His parents didn’t care about him, but his brothers and sisters did. They loved him, and now… now, they are dead.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Do you remember how exactly they died, or…?” An explosion. They died in an explosion. One set and rigged by Azrael and Inchling even before they created the Syndicate together. Tommy breathed in sharply.

“I’m not fucking talking about this, especially not with you,” Tommy hissed. He wasn’t going to think about them. He wasn’t going to think about that night. He wasn’t going to think about the last thing he told his family. All he was going to think about is how he would be getting justice for them soon enough. It was all falling into place.

“That’s unfortunate,” Serenade says, releasing Tommy’s wrist. He takes a few steps back, turning around to walk to his couch. Before he sits down, he looks over his shoulder at Tommy. “But that’s alright. We’ll be getting closer to each other, one or another since we’re about to be roommates.”

Chapter Text

“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”

― Anne Lamott

Although the Hero’s Guildhouse is a tall skyscraper, space management is a priority. No room is any bigger than it strictly needs to be, and this includes the apartments, generously called that. Each apartment is designed similarly to a hotel room. There is a large room that is somewhat divided into a living space with a bed with an adjoining dresser and a kitchenette filled with a portable stove and a minifridge. The second room is a small bathroom with a clothing rack in one of the corners. It possesses all the daily necessities and nothing more. The individual living in the room has to add the personal touches themselves.

Tommy’s guild-issued room is the standard version. Unlike everyone else, though, Tommy doesn’t have anything personal in his room. He has some clothes hung up in the bathroom, he has some grooming appliances, and his food packets are organized in his minifridge- but that was it. Everything else was the same as the day Tommy was given the keys to the room. He used the room to sleep and to store his food packets, but it wasn’t anything close to being his home. There were long stretches of time when he didn’t even come into the room, evidenced by the thin layer of dust coating everything. Tommy just didn’t have anything to mark the room as his own. He didn’t use his paycheck to buy useless items when he could be using it to gather information or strike deals with people. He didn’t spend his time browsing through stores when he could be investigating old safehouses that once belonged to the Syndicate. He didn’t have the heart to put random knick knacks around his room when he knew that they ultimately meant nothing.

The one thing in this whole room that Tommy would fight to protect is hidden away in a small compartment he carved into his floorboards. He lifts up the tile in the bathroom, setting it aside to look at his prized position. He runs his fingers along the glass surface of the picture frame, pulling it into his lap. It’s the only picture he has of his family. It was a candid picture taken for a newspaper article about the rising homeless population in L’Manberg, an old district that had been destroyed. The article was unflattering, but Tommy couldn’t part with the image. It had his entire family, after all. Niki and Jack were sitting on a bunch of crates in the upper right corner. Eret was holding Fundy in his arms and Tubbo’s hand in the middle left side. In the forefront of the image, Tommy had his back to the camera because he was looking at Wilbur, his smiling older brother who held both of Tommy’s hands, spinning him around because dancing was their favorite pastime.

Wilbur was Tommy’s north star. No matter how far Tommy ran, he would always return to Wilbur. No matter how loud Tommy yelled, he would always listen to Wilbur. No matter how far Tommy strayed, Wilbur was there to guide Tommy home. Even now, Tommy searches in every broken moment for his brother. He assumes that he’ll always feel the urge to find his brother, like a compass blindly swinging towards a lodestone. Tommy runs his fingers along the glass, right where Wilbur’s head is tilted down with the kindest smile Tommy knows he will ever see.

Tommy looks up, away from the picture. Tears burn in his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. It had been years since his family died, and he still gets choked up over the memories. It feels like a fresh wound, still warm with blood and pulsating with sharp pain that has not faded into a dull ache. But it’s worse than a wound, because wounds will heal with time. They can be alleviated with painkillers or bandages. They can be seen and felt and taken care of. The pain in Tommy’s heart won’t dissipate with material goods, and he can’t seem to find a spiritual remedy. The closest he’s gotten to finding a medication is revenge. He knows that once his family’s killers are dead, he will feel better. The pain won’t leave him until Azrael and Inchling are six feet under, buried in the rubble they caused with their ill-placed explosives.

Tommy wipes the unshed tears out of his eyes as he stands on his feet. He walks out of his bathroom, nudging the tile back into place. He takes the picture frame with him. He carefully places it on top of his clothing packed in the small traveling bag. He makes sure that it’s protected before he zips the traveling bag up. He lifts the traveling bag up by its handles, the worn leather pressed into the calluses on his hands. The traveling bag carries its own set of painful memories. It was something Reverie gifted him with after he joined the Hunters. Tommy rightfully hated Reverie, but he couldn’t bear throwing away one of the few gifts he had ever gotten from the cruel gang leader.

Tommy hears a familiar sound of something tapping against glass. As if that wasn’t revealing enough, he heard a squawk. Tommy carefully sat the traveling bag on the ground. As he was leaned over, he made sure that his mask and glasses were on correctly. He walks around the side of the bed to the window in his room. He pulls the window open. He sits on the windowsill, putting one foot on the sill in front of him while keeping his other leg inside his apartment. Crowfather lands on Tommy’s knee, picking at his wings before giving Tommy his undivided attention.

“Big news, Crowfather. I’m moving… temporarily. And this isn’t just me freeloading off Croupier’s couch or sleeping on a fucking park bench. The Syndicate- those fuckers- want me to move to a whole new location. They claim it’s to keep tabs on me, but we all know why they’re fucking doing it: they’re scared of me,” Tommy explains to Crowfather. The crow caws, dipping his head down. Tommy recognizes the laugh. He scowls at his companion. “Hey, I don’t need shit from you. I am plenty terrifying. When women aren’t throwing themselves at me, I am scaring the piss out of people. And I mean, everyone. Even the children. I am not above scaring a child… okay, I can see how that would get me canceled, but… sometimes you have to scare a child. It’s a fact of life.”

Crowfather lifts one of his wings up before letting it drop down against his body. He wants Tommy to get on with his story. “First of all, fucking rude. Second of all, I don’t take orders from anyone, especially not a fucking crow. Third- ow! Fuck!” Crowfather pecked his hand. Tommy glares at the crow. “Fine! I’ll finish my story. Damn. I’m just saying: the Syndicate thinks they’ll be keeping tabs on me… jokes on them, I’m fucking keeping tabs on them. That’s right. I am fixing to be a super spy. I’m going to steal Serenade’s credit card numbers and buy a shit ton of drugs. And gift cards. And women. Wait- I don’t mean- forget I said that one.”

Crowfather makes a noise from deep within his throat. Tommy is about to defend himself because he accidentally implies that he’s buying women when Crowfather makes another similar noise. It sounds more like he’s concerned, and Tommy realizes what he told Crowfather. “Yes, Serenade is a mind-controller- but, get this, it doesn’t work on me. Well, it does, but it’s shit. I’ve studied Serenade. His power isn’t technically mind-control. He’s just really fucking good at convincing people to do shit for him. He can even convince someone to fucking off themself. Totally not poggers. But that’s what it is: convincing. You just can’t be a pussy, and his powers won’t work on you. He can still make me do shit, but he’s limited. He can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do. You see? My inability to follow orders is a fucking godsend. Praise be Prime!”

Tommy isn’t actually religious, but most people are. He’s learned a lot about the different religions in an effort to relate to his targets. For no good reason, Essempei is filled with different religions. Tommy doesn’t really care about any of them, but if people want to throw their lives away in the pursuit of powerful deities that won’t do anything for them, Tommy won’t stop him. In fact, he’d encourage it because it’s easier to manipulate people with strong ideals. As long as they think what they’re doing is in the pursuit of their god, they’ll do just about anything. Tommy doesn’t frequently abuse this fact, but he does what he needs to in order to get his missions done. He’s never claimed to be a hero, after all. Just an esper for the Hero’s Guild. There was a big difference there.

Crowfather lifts both of his wings. He leaves them up for a solid few seconds before dropping them back down. Tommy isn’t exactly sure what Crowfather is doing, but he feels like he’s just been asked a question. “I’ll be going to Paradise Apartments. It’s on Empires borough’s coast, across from Las Nevadas. I’ve seen it before, but I’ve never been to a place that fucking fancy. I grew up in L’Manberg. Before it was blown to kingdom come, that was poverty central. After that, I ran with the Hunters. They mainly stayed in Greater Prime Heights. The name is fucking rip-off. Greater Prime Heights is where the shady rich people live. The Hunters didn’t do shit for anyone. Now, I’m with the Hero’s Guild. I live here. I stay with Croupier sometimes. And I sleep on a fucking park bench occasionally. I don’t need to visit Paradise Apartments. Until fucking now because Serenade needs only the finest things in life. Prime, I should have become a villain. I could have been fucking rich as balls. But nope. I’m stuck in this shithole.”

Crowfather shrieks. Tommy winces, leaning away from his companion. He pulls his leg back into his apartment. Crowfather flutters his wings as he settles on the windowsill in absence of Tommy’s knee. Tommy grabs his traveling bag. He clutches it in his fist as he walks back to the window. Tommy smiles at Crowfather despite knowing that the crow can’t see a smile beneath a metal mask. Or, truly, a crow wouldn’t know what a smile is. “Follow me, alright? I need my therapist to know where I’ll be staying for the next… I hope it’s fucking days. I hope I’m only staying there for a couple of days.”

Crowfather squawks his approval, though Tommy isn’t sure which statement he’s approving. Tommy swings both of his legs out of the window before he pushes off. His body hurdles to the ground until a red caustic light spills over his skin. He stops moving immediately, hanging in the air like a puppet on strings. Tommy shoves his body around until he’s upside down. He looks into the tinted windows of the Hero’s Guild’s lower floors. He waves at the people sitting in there as he presses the toe tips of his shoes against the glass. He pushes off with all his leg strength. His floating gains momentum, sending him forward. Crowfather flies circles around Tommy. When Tommy comes dangerously close to a rooftop, he just angles his feet. He runs about two steps before he’s pushing off the concrete. He starts to float upward, rising higher than most of the buildings. He grabs hold of a lightning rod, swinging around it before shooting off once more. Tommy doesn’t have many pleasant pastimes, but his pseudo-flying is definitely one of them.

Empires borough is decidedly different from Prime Heights. Where Prime Heights is the oldest district with many historical and political buildings, Empires is more modern and significantly poorer. It is the most culturally diverse borough, mainly because it has the highest population of hybrids. Because of the prejudice hybrids face, many different gangs have formed in Empires to protect the people. The gangs don’t exactly inspire regular humans to view hybrids as anything other than violent, but Tommy isn’t part of that group. He would like to think it’s because he’s a better person, but it’s mostly because Fundy had been a hybrid, and how was Tommy supposed to hate any aspect of his family? Tommy saw value in Fundy’s life which meant that every hybrid- just like humans- carried their own worth. Now, Tommy wouldn’t assume all hybrids were good, but he wasn’t going to deem them despicable because they joined a gang. He had joined a gang once. It didn’t work out for him, but he hopes that the hybrids have better luck.

Still, gangs aren’t exactly welcoming to humans or heroes, especially not both and especially not when they carry such a loaded name such as ‘Vendetta’. Tommy isn’t going to take his sweet time going through Empires. He would prefer to do that when he was out of uniform and could get into one of the many beautiful parks Empires had without locals looking at him weird. It was truly unfair that Empires had such gorgeous parks. Prime Heights was all concrete and glass, Badlands was too hot and underdeveloped, and Snowchester was too cold and all industrial. Las Nevadas did have some nice parks, but Tommy never went to the island borough for the parks. No one did except people who wanted a nice view for their elopement.

When Tommy sees the waves of Business Bay, he deactivates his powers. His glider pops out like routine, and Tommy starts following a decline. Crowfather gradually descends with him. It doesn’t take long for Tommy to hover over the thin beach. He lands in the sand with a lot more carefulness than he would usually use. He pulls his traveling bag to his chest, unzipping it to make sure that his picture frame is alright. When he confirms that there have been no cracks in the glass or tears in the paper, he sighs in relief. He zips the traveling bag back up. 

He looks up from where he’s standing to see that Crowfather had landed on a tree branch. He tilts his head towards a wooden building surrounded by several other buildings on the grassy area right behind the beach. Tommy recognizes it instantly, having done his research about the place when Enderwalk gave him a note about where he would be moving the day prior. Out of all the skills Tommy has mastered in his lifetime, research would probably be the one he has perfected the most. It is useful in almost every situation. Tommy is plenty powerful on his own, but he doesn’t refuse getting an edge over his opponents when he can.

Tommy walks into the front lobby of the apartment building. There is a collection of velvet red couches and chairs surrounding a coffee table covered in magazines in the corner, overlooked by a television playing the local news channel on mute. There is a wall of silver boxes in the wall with black numbers plates hammered on each tiny door for mail. There is a pair of silver elevator doors flanked by an exit and a stairwell door. The entire lobby is empty. It’s warm and brightly illuminated by golden light but completely empty.

The silence is broken by the elevator dinging. The doors slide open, and Serenade stands underneath the fluorescent lighting. He inclines his head towards Tommy, and the hero knows that the villain is smiling despite not being able to see his expression. Serenade steps off the elevator, placing a hand on the doors to keep them open. He gestures for Tommy to come closer. The blonde wants to refuse on principle, but he knows it’s in his best interest to be civil with his new roommate. Tommy walks over, ignoring the way his fist closes so tight that it shakes. Serenade tilts his head towards Tommy’s traveling bag. “Vendetta! How good of you to join me! Do you want me to take your bag?”

Fuck civility. Tommy practically growls as he brings his traveling bag behind him. He doesn’t care about the clothes inside. He doesn’t even care about the bag itself. It’s the picture inside the traveling bag that Tommy refuses to hand over. Despite the poor quality of the photograph, it’s the only one he has of his family. It is his most precious possession. He doesn’t want to listen to Serenade make fun of Tommy for some stupid picture of a bunch of homeless kids, and he won’t be able to control what he does if Serenade decides to break the picture. It is better for everyone if Tommy keeps what feels like his second heart close to his body, far away from Serenade.

“Why don’t you step inside the elevator? I’ll show you to our apartment,” Serenade says simply, entirely unbothered by Tommy’s defiance. Serenade steps onto the elevator, turning his back to Tommy for a brief moment. When Tommy walks on the elevator, he doesn’t let Serenade see his back. He knows that they’re currently working together to stop the Red Army, and he knows that Serenade isn’t known for stabbing people in the back. He just can’t make himself forget that Serenade is a dangerous villain. Tommy knows his list of crimes, from the petty ones to the gruesome ones.

The elevator doors shut behind them. Serenade presses the button for the top floor. Tommy shakes the claustrophobia that clings to him at the prospect of being locked in a tiny box. He thought he had gotten over his childhood fear, but it rears its ugly head, probably because being trapped with Serenade was a horrible possibility. Serenade is unfazed by the situation. “The Paradise Apartments are known for being discreet. They are used by a variety of people, including members of your guild. It would do you very little to tell your superiors about this place. I’m no betting man, but I would wager to say they’ve been here themselves.”

“I don’t give a fuck what they do,” Tommy informs Serenade the simple truth. The Guildmaster and his accomplices don’t take up any of Tommy’s time. They have their own lives running the guild and being rich and powerful. If Tommy can help it, he will only see his boss when it’s absolutely necessary. Tommy carries this same mentality in most facets of his life. He doesn’t hang around other heroes much, either. He’s closer to a few of them than others, but he keeps everyone at arm’s length. It could be a trauma response, but Tommy would rather believe that it’s because he’s so busy accomplishing his mission. He doesn’t need friends when he could have allies. He doesn’t need smalltalk when he could be discussing information. He doesn’t need to hang out with people when he has so much to do and so little time to do it.

“No, you don’t seem like the type who would care what other people do. Not unless it was beneficial to you, of course. That is just one way we’re similar. I wonder how many other similarities we can find,” Serenade laughs. Tommy looks away from Serenade as he scowls beneath his mask. He doesn’t like Serenade. His only consolation is that the situation could be much worse. He would rather Serenade pretend they were something like friends than staring daggers with any other member of the Syndicate or getting into a bloody fight with specific members.

The elevator dings as the doors slide open. Serenade walks into the carpeted hallway first. Tommy follows after him, keeping a fair distance away. Serenade stops at one of the doors at the end of the hallway. He uses a bronze key to open the door for Tommy. The blonde doesn’t move, eyeing Serenade until the villain huffs something like an annoyed laugh. Serenade enters the apartment first, and Tommy follows after him. Tommy tries to stay focused on Serenade, but his attention is diverted to the fancy apartment he’s just walked into. The kitchen- an actual one with a full-grown fridge and freezer- is divided from the living room by a bar with stools. There is a long couch with a love seat right beside it, neither of them with any noticeable stains. There is a large TV plastered on the wall above a wooden hutch decked out with a DVD player and a gaming console. There was a hallway off to the side that contained four doors. Tommy knew that it was going to be nice because Serenade is the posh type, but he never imagined that it would be like this. It even had an oceanview window.

“I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of decorating before you arrived. I decided that if I must be roommates with you, the least you could do is allow me complete control of the design,” Serenade explains with a satisfied tone in his voice. Tommy doesn’t reply to Serenade’s self-righteous words, so Serenade decides to continue talking, catching on to Tommy’s awed expression partially hidden by his mask but apparently not well enough. “Well, you must tell me if you like it. Surely, you have much experience with the trends amongst the rich and famous. Tell me, Vendetta, I want to hear your opinion. None of this can be shocking to someone of your stature, now can it? Please-”

“What is the fucking plan, you talkative bitch?” Tommy cuts Serenade off, staring at the villain where he would assume his eyes would be. Serenade does stop talking. He turns his attention to Tommy for a long second, seemingly containing his fake attentiveness and attempts to amuse himself at Tommy’s detriment.

“We have information on the Red Army. The Syndicate will be holding a meeting later tonight to discuss the details and come up with a plan,” Serenade explains, waving his hands like it’s inconsequential business.

“I have to be there,” Tommy demands immediately. He steps toward Serenade, intending to argue with the villain about a hero’s presence at the organization’s meeting. Tommy knows that the Syndicate doesn’t trust him, but he doesn’t trust them, either. Their relationship is built entirely on necessity, and so Tommy believes that he has a right to attend their meetings if it pertains to the Red Army. He won’t go as far as to demand to attend all meetings because he knows that simply won’t fly, but he can at least attend this one.

“No need to raise your voice. You are expected to be there,” Serenade says, lifting up both his hands placatingly. Tommy is quietly surprised that he isn’t going to have to argue with the villain about being at the meeting. He isn’t sure why, but he expected this partnership to be extremely difficult and one-sided. He thought he was going to have to fight for every opportunity that presented itself to contend with the Red Army. The Syndicate just… letting him help is unexpected.

“Good,” Tommy replies instead of voicing his confusion. He brushes past Serenade to walk down the hallway. He guesses that the open bedroom door belongs to him because there is nothing in it. If Serenade was going to decorate the apartment, it stands to reason that he would decorate his own room. He probably wanted to offend Tommy by leaving his room bare, but Tommy would prefer his room to be empty instead of having Serenade’s garbage taste surrounding him. He likes bare rooms; it won’t get any better than this.

Tommy closes the door behind him, setting the traveling bag beside his bed. He unzips it, hurriedly pulling out his framed photograph. He doesn’t have a secret hiding place for it yet, so he puts it in the bottom drawer of his nightstand in the far corner. He then kicks his traveling bag aside, happy that it lands right in front of his closed shudder closet. Tommy reaches his hand into his bag at the same time he pulls open the closet. Before he can start hanging up his clothes, he hears a pecking noise at his window. He turns around, smiling when he sees Crowfather has found him. Tommy vaults over the bed to pull open the window. He ends up having to use his powers because the window has been closed for so long. When the window does open, Crowfather lands on the windowsill, squawking a greeting. Tommy gestures to his new bedroom, sighing when he proclaims to his most trustworthy companion, “This is my life now.”

Chapter Text

“I guess we'll never know exactly what ... the reasons behind the losses we experience in this life. But being angry doesn't make them any less devastating.”

― Christene Houston

The first night with Serenade did not go as horribly as Tommy assumed it would. He had been expecting a fight to the death, or at least an argument. Instead, Serenade remained in his room for the entire night. Tommy mainly stayed in his room. He talked with Crowfather until the sunset, bidding his companion goodbye once the sunlight began to fade. He unpacked his bag, putting away all of his clothes in the closet. He sat in his room for a little while before migrating to the living room. Serenade still did not leave his room, so Tommy put the news on the television at a low volume with a stack of sticky notes and a pen in his lap. The news did not give him much information as it reiterated the same stories all night, but he did get a few snippets that might prove useful at a later date.

It wasn’t until the dawn painted the sky a bloody orange that Serenade stepped out of his bedroom. Tommy watched him from the couch as Serenade went to knock on Tommy’s door. Serenade tapped his foot impatiently, so Tommy made a coughing noise with a brief smile on his face. Serenade’s attention snapped towards him. He hesitated before walking down the hallway to the living room. Tommy laughed under his breath. Serenade and Tommy stared at each other for a long moment before Serenade stole the remote. He changed the channel off the news and onto some animated adult show. Tommy didn’t recognize or care about it, so he just went about organizing his sticky notes. They sat in silence for a long time. Serenade kept his eyes on the television show, and with nothing better to do, Tommy watched alongside him. When the evening bell tolled, Serenade and Tommy went downstairs to the lobby. There was a black, nondescript car in front of the building that Serenade herded Tommy into. Before Serenade got in on the driver’s side, he placed a blindfold over Tommy’s eyes to make sure he didn’t know where this meeting was at.

They had been driving for a little while now. Tommy is bored, and although he understands the purpose of the blindfold, it annoys him. He doesn’t like being unable to see. He has to rely on his other senses. He’s trained them all to the highest standard, of course, but it doesn’t mean he likes having a weakness thrusted upon him unnecessarily. In a situation where boredom and annoyance mix together, he decides to make it Serenade’s problem. There isn’t much to judge the villain for, so Tommy decides to start taking shots at his music. “What the hell are you playing? I thought you said you had lovely taste. That was bullshit. I know you’re a villain, but lying about something like that? You could have told me you have shit taste in music. I would have brought headphones. Or noise-canceling earplugs. Anything would be better than whatever the fuck you’re playing right now. What’s this song called, anyway? ‘Trash Taste’ by the Twats? ‘How To Murder Someone’s Eardrums’ by the Assholes? I’m close, aren’t I? Or is it some old, bullshit name like ‘flower power’ or some fucking- Hey!”

Serenade obviously turns the radio up louder. Tommy winces at the higher volume. Along with being blindfolded, having his sense of hearing stripped from him doesn’t do any favors for the uneasiness in his chest. If Serenade wasn’t driving, Tommy would have started hitting by now. He does reach his hand forward, blindly searching for the volume dial. He feels a sharp pain across his hand, and he assumes that Serenade has slapped him. Tommy scowls beneath his metal mask. He twitches his nose, hoping that he can dislodge his goggles and thereby dislodge the blindfold. He isn’t able to do either of those things. He just slumps against the passenger seat.

Not a moment too soon, the car stops. Serenade turns the radio down to complete silence. Tommy can hear the click of Serenade’s seatbelt, and then there’s the click of his seatbelt followed by the seatbelt slamming against his arm. Tommy unwraps his arms from it. He finds the door. He pulls down at first. When that proves ineffective, he pulls up. The door opens, and Tommy sets both of his feet down on the ground. He reaches up for the top of the door, using it to guide his movements. He reaches up to untie his blindfold. Before he can loosen the knot, a pair of hands grab his wrists. He tenses until he hears Serenade tell him to relax. Tommy doesn’t completely relax, but he does follow the command as much as he can given the situation. Serenade guides Tommy forward. Tommy doesn’t like trusting Serenade with his movements, but he hasn’t made any mistakes yet. Tommy hears the creaking of a door, and he steps into an area that is noticeably warmer than the area he was just in.

Serenade releases Tommy’s wrists, leaving him without any visual cues. Tommy remains stationary, waiting for further instructions. He feels someone start messing with the knot of his blindfold. Tommy closes his eyes before the blindfold falls away. Tommy squints his eyes open, slowly getting acquainted with the light level of the new room. It isn’t what he would expect a supervillain hide-out to look like, but he is certain that it’s a safehouse instead of their actual base. It’s a large room with a single step leading to an elevated area. The floor is made from concrete, but the walls are made from window planks. There are a few wooden pillars around the room. The room is decorated with photographs in wooden frames, a pool table, and what appears to be a fully functioning bar in the corner stocked with alcoholic beverages.

Serenade is not the one who removed Tommy’s blindfold. Tommy can’t see Serenade anywhere in the room. Instead, he meets the mask of Enderwalk. The vigilante is holding Tommy’s blindfold. Tommy is about to greet him when Enderwalk points to something behind Tommy. When the blonde turns around, he barely has enough time to register something running at him. When it does register, he already has someone in his arms. Tommy stumbles back with a cough, wrapping his arms around the person. As Tommy regains his balance, the person looks up at him with a cheeky look in his glass-covered eyes. “Vendetta!”

“Jolt!” Tommy responds in kind, just as excited. A few weeks after Tommy and Enderwalk parted on that rooftop, Enderwalk teleported in to introduce Tommy to his new vigilante partner, someone calling himself Jolt. In this era of his life, Tommy did not trust anyone nor did he like people very much. Jolt was the person who turned that all around. Jolt was bubbly, affectionate, and not above threatening people for what he wanted. When Jolt decided they were best friends simply because Enderwalk and Tommy had a type of relationship that bordered on trauma bonding, Tommy’s attempts to dissuade Jolt from liking him were ineffective. It didn’t matter what Tommy did; Jolt never wavered in his convictions. It was his stubbornness paired with Tommy’s loneliness that enabled Jolt to become Tommy’s best friend. It didn’t take long for Tommy and Enderwalk to actually develop a genuine friendship instead of feeling like they owed the other something.

“I have to admit, Big Man, I never expected you to work for the Syndicate,” Jolt explains. He pulls himself away from Tommy’s arms, but he doesn’t stray far. Tommy isn’t sure when the last time they saw each other was. It must have been some time if Jolt was acting this clingy. Then again, Jolt was always clingy.

“Slow your fucking roll, Big T. I am not working for the Syndicate. I am working with the Syndicate. Temporarily,” Tommy emphasizes the appropriate words. He does not want people getting the wrong impression. He doesn’t forgive the Syndicate for what it did to him. He doesn’t exactly approve of what they do to other people. The only thing they’re good for is keeping the underworld in check, and even then, Tommy knows they could do that just fine without their leader.

“I’m not sure that will hold up in a court case. But if you do have to go to court, you bet Big Man Law will make sure you win. I’ll blow up all the evidence,” Jolt assures Tommy. The blonde raises an eyebrow. Jolt claims to be a vigilante, but his methodology borders on villainy. He was like this even before he agreed to do a few favors for the Syndicate alongside Enderwalk. “Regardless, you have to admit that it’s pretty surprising.”

“Nothing about it. The Red Army is a fucking problem that I intend to solve. After that… I’m living up to my name,” Tommy tells Jolt and Enderwalk. The vigilantes share an indecipherable look. Tommy wants to demand answers. Jolt grabs his hand with smile wrinkles around his eyes. Tommy doesn’t know what he’s smiling about, but he starts dragging Tommy towards the door on the other side of the room. Enderwalk follows after them, quickly catching up because of his long legs. Beyond the door is a long, barely illuminated hallway. Jolt escorts Tommy to the second door on the left. He puts his hand on the door handle.

“You’re right, Big Man. Let’s solve this problem.” Jolt opens the door. The interior is brightly lit by warm orange-yellow lights. The ground is covered in thin, light brown carpet. There is a projector hanging from the ceiling, pointing at a white board on one of the room’s walls. Beneath the projector is a long, oval table surrounded by chairs. Mostly all of the chairs are filled with members of the Syndicate. Tommy swallows thickly, facing the enemies he’s had for most of his life.

Obviously, Serenade is there. He has the audacity to wave at Tommy. Ravager sits right beside Serenade. He wears a boar skull mask over his face, complimenting a golden crown resting on top of his pastel pink hair. He wears a tight obsidian cuirass over a long-sleeved black shirt. He has a red cape lined with white fur around his body, barely obscuring the numerous weapons that line his body. Out of everyone in the Syndicate, Ravager is probably the most dangerous. He excels in almost all forms of combat, and no one knows what his powers are. Tommy knows, but only from extensive studying. If he didn’t obsess over the Syndicate, he never would have figured it out.

Dyscardia sits beside Ravager. She wears a dark gray chestplate over a black shirt with hot pink sleeves. The chestplate bears the mark of a butterfly surrounded by olive branches. She wears a caplet over her body, held over her shoulders by a leather strand. Her face is covered by a dark gray mask that matches her chestplate. Her hair is a lighter shade of pink than her sleeves, but it’s a little darker than Ravager’s hair and much shorter, ending at her shoulder blades. Dyscardia was once a vigilante, but she later became the Syndicate’s assassin. If they wanted to eliminate a target discreetly, they sent Dyscardia in. It was mainly because she had the ability to manipulate people’s internal organs using specialized hand movements.

Thermoculus was Dyscardia’s partner when she was a vigilante, and he continues to be her partner now. He wears military green tactical gear like a bulletproof vest and cargo shorts underneath a blue-and-black striped boxing robe. To match with that theme, his hands are wrapped up in blue and red bandages. His main form of combat is a style of boxing, but his ability is hidden behind his glasses. The left side is tinted red and the right side is tinted blue, and they serve to block his ability. Whatever he looks at with his bare eyes is suddenly engulfed in flames, and if he looks a person in the eyes, they experience a sensation painful enough that it has driven professional heroes insane.

Warden is obviously there, and he’s the last in the line-up of full-fledged Syndicate members sitting down. Ankh sits across the table from Ravager. He is not part of the Syndicate. He is the Ace of Diamonds, a member of Croupier’s specialized unit. Ankh does not fight often, but anyone who does cross him does not live to tell the tale. This is evidenced by him wearing an Egyptian-style cloth around his waist and a flat mask with emerald eyes over his shark hood. He mainly stays at Las Nevadas as an architect, so Tommy doesn’t quite understand why he is here.

Tommy doesn’t understand why Red Dragon is here, either. He’s a B-ranked hero. He doesn’t take bounties often. If he did, he would easily be S-class. There is barely anyone who can win a fight against a man who can turn himself into a dragon, partly or entirely depending on what he believes is necessary for the situation. He wears a black overcoat on top of his white shirt. He hides his appearances with a pair of red-rimmed goggles. He doesn’t wear armor because his dragon scales are stronger than anything he could wear. He does have a bow and arrows slung over his back for emergencies, though, even if he could breath purple fire.

Argonaut stands at the front of the table in front of the whiteboard. She wears a red cape over her white-metal cuirass and black pants sewn with white-metal knee pads. She has a cutlass attached to her hip, and a red and gold mask over the upper portion of her face. Her large white curls are pushed down by a bright red tricorn hat on her head. She used to be a villain partnered with the infamous Minotaur. The two of them split away from each other. Before they could reconcile, Tommy was responsible for the Minotaur’s imprisonment. As far as he is aware, Argonaut doesn’t dislike him for doing that to her former partner. She found her way to the Syndicate, so it wasn’t a completely bad deal. Argonaut had the ability to heal people, but she also had the ability to heal herself. She was near-invincible with how powerful her healing factor was, and she’s brought many members back from the brink of death. She was definitely going to be a hindrance to Tommy’s plan, but he knew he could take care of it when the time came.

“Jolt, Enderwalk… and Vendetta, please join us,” Argonaut says, gesturing towards the remaining seats. There is one beside Serenade, one at the head of the table, and two on the side with Ankh, Warden, and Red Dragon across from the empty seat and Serenade. Jolt and Enderwalk settle into their seats beside Ankh. Tommy is left between sitting at the head of the table or sitting beside Serenade. He doesn’t feel comfortable with any of his options, so he drags the chair from the head of the table to the side with Enderwalk and Jolt. Enderwalk scoots over when he notices what Tommy’s doing.

“Where’s Azrael and Inchling?” Tommy whispers to Enderwalk, looking around the room. He would assume that at a meeting this important, the leader and his right-hand man would be there. Inchling could be there, out of sight because of his small size, but Tommy highly doubts that Azrael would be able to hide with his large, ebony wings that paint him as the Angel of Death everyone knows him as.

“Why would you want them here?” Jolt whispers, making an excellent point. Tommy knows that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself if Azrael and Inchling were within his sights. He’s filled with so much anger at the thought of them- their presence would send him off like a spark to gasoline.

“We don’t know where they are. They probably aren’t here for your benefit,” Enderwalk shrugs. Tommy freezes, leaning back. Again, it surprises him how accommodating the villains are. He won’t pretend that they’re being kind, but they’re obviously doing something for Tommy.

“With everyone here, we’ll start the meeting,” Argonaut calls out. The attention in the room floods onto her, but she doesn’t seem the least bit startled at having to speak in front of a crowd. “The Red Army appeared in the city two months ago. They started by kidnapping prominent members of the gangs in Empires. They moved onto other districts as recently as three weeks ago. We discovered the existence of the Cult of Erythr, the main members of the Red Army a few days ago. We do not know the purpose of the cult or the army, but we have identified four members of the cult. Their leader is referred to as the Red King. He appeared at the same time as the Red Army, so we assume this is their first debut. The Red King is helped by two people: Retro and Technician. As far as we are aware, the Red King can enchant items with mystical properties, Retro can rewind time a few seconds at a time, and Technician can manipulate technology with his mind. Along with these three members, we have evidence to believe that the former Hunter, Reaper, has joined the Cult of Erythr.”

“If Reaper has joined, Adamantine would have also joined,” Tommy inputs, raising his hand to get Argonaut’s attention. She looks at him for a long second before flicking her eyes towards Warden. The former Hunter nods. Reaper was one of the original members of the Hunters along with Warden. They were friends before Warden defected. Before that, though, Reaper had brought in a vigilante called Adamantine. Tommy wasn’t close to either of them, but it would take a fool to not realize how close the two of them were to each other.

“We’ll take that into consideration moving forward,” Argonaut confirms. The slideshow switches away from fuzzy pictures of the cult’s members to guild reports. Tommy eyes Red Dragon skeptically, not unsurprised that the Syndicate has access to such private materials. “The Cult of Erythr has committed the following crimes: kidnapping, theft, breaking and entering, and unlawful seizure of the Nether Portal.”

Tommy snorts, loud enough that everyone looks at him. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he laughed. It’s hard to think of the Cult’s unlawful seizure of the Nether Portal without thinking about the Syndicate’s unlawful seizure of the End Portal. The others don’t seem to appreciate his sense of humor, but he’s never cared about any of them. Well, that’s a lie, he cares about Enderwalk and Jolt. He considers Warden something like his friend, and he has a passing acquaintanceship with every member of the Aces. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to play nice with them anymore than he plays nice with the Syndicate. He doesn’t have friends, after all, only allies and responsibilities.

“The Syndicate will be working with the vigilantes Jolt and Enderwalk, Croupier’s Aces, and the heroes Red Dragon and Vendetta to take down the cult and the army,” Argonaut finishes out, unfazed by Tommy’s outburst.

“Okay, but what’s the actual fucking plan here?” Tommy asks, voicing what he hopes everyone is thinking. The information is definitely better than what he was working with before, but he didn’t hear anyone mention a plan of action in that entire presentation.

“Until we have all the information, we will hold off on making a plan,” Argonaut explains simply. She turns off the projector without giving him another glance.

“‘If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.’ from Sun Tzu,” Ravager quotes the Art of War, his red eyes pinning Tommy down. The blonde does not show a trace of fear on his face as he stares back at Ravager.

“Alliances are all well and good, but the fucking power of friendship isn’t going to do jack shit for us,” Tommy responds, ignoring the quote.

“You’re right. We won’t solve this just by allying ourselves, but Ravager isn’t entirely wrong. We cannot rush into this uninformed. We need to know all the members of the cult. We need to know what they want and what they’re willing to do to get that,” Argonaut tells him, finally paying attention to him again. Tommy knows the other Syndicate members and the invited guests are staring at him. 

The attention unsettles him, so he stands up from his spot. “I’ll do some investigating of my own, then. I’ll share with the class if I find anything.”

Tommy walks out of the room, ignoring the voices that start talking in his absence. He isn’t even sure if they’re talking to him. He just knows that he can’t stand being in that room. As he shuts the door behind him, he accidentally runs into someone. He is about to curse the person out when he notices that they aren’t wearing a mask. It’s an older man with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, wearing a dark gray and green robe and sandals. He’s an average man. And probably more surprisingly, he’s a human. He is entirely unexceptional, and he’s walking around the Syndicate’s base. Tommy blinks in surprise at him, and the man takes the opportunity to smile at Tommy with an outstretched hand. “Hello, mate! My name is Philza.”

“Who the hell are you? What the fuck are you doing here?” Tommy demands, ignoring the man’s hand in favor of finding answers.

“I’m just an average citizen employed by the Syndicate,” Philza says. He lowers his hand, entirely unbothered by the fact that Tommy wasn’t following social norms. Tommy never has followed such trivial civilities, but people are usually more upset by it. He guesses that working for supervillains can lower a person’s standards. Unless…

“I’m an A-ranked hero with the guild, Vendetta. If you need help- like if you were fucking kidnapped or some shit- you can tell me. I’ll help you,” Tommy promises. Even though he spends most of his time focused on his goal, he isn’t above helping civilians. He doesn’t go out of his way to do it since he’s self-aware enough to know that most people find him annoying at first. Most people come around eventually, but he doesn’t exactly have much time to be around civilians.

Philza laughs heartily like Tommy just told him the best joke he’s heard in his life. When Philza calms down, he wipes his eyes. He continues to smile as he looks up at Tommy. “I assure you, Vendetta, I’m here of my own volition. What about you? Are you here of your own free will?”

“Ugh. I fucking wish I didn’t have to be here,” Tommy confides in the civilian, bemoaning the situation he’s found himself in. He feels almost guilty being here. What would his family think if they knew he was allying himself with the people that killed them? Eret would be okay with it, but Eret’s opinion didn’t matter. Eret would choose the necessary evils without hesitation. They’ve done it before. Fundy would have been too young the time he died to have fully-formed opinions on the situation. Tubbo would call him an idiot. Niki would sigh sadly. Jack would be trying to convince Tommy to fight immediately, fists up and anger flaring. Wilbur… Tommy isn’t sure, actually, how anyone in his family would react. The last conversation he had with them filters into his head. He just can’t be sure of anything anymore.

“Why don’t you want to be here?” Philza asks, his voice drawing Tommy out of his memories.

“Pretty obvious, innit? I fucking despise the Syndicate,” Tommy explains, unaware that there were people in the city who didn’t know that simple fact. Philza’s eyebrows lift in confusion, and Tommy decides to ease the man’s confusion. “The Syndicate’s leader, Azrael, and his first partner, Inchling, killed my family. I want revenge, hence my hero name. Unfortunately, the guild is fucking forcing me to take down the Red Army. Easiest way is with my enemies.”

“Ahh… And you’ll be able to study your enemies up close,” Philza concedes with a nod of understanding.

“Fucking finally! Someone gets why I’m fucking do this bullshit!” Tommy cries out excitedly, deciding that he likes Philza- despite him working for the Syndicate. If Tommy ignores that fact, like he does for Enderwalk and Jolt, Philza is the best civilian Tommy has ever met. He hasn’t met many, so the ranking isn’t that difficult to top, but Tommy won’t get into that.

“Killing Azrael and Inchling will be near impossible,” Philza reminds Tommy.

“I know. But there isn’t anything someone who loves their family wouldn’t do for them,” Tommy explains quietly. He’s willing to face the most powerful villains in the entire city, all for the sake of his dead family. He has to believe that this is what his family wants. He has to believe that they’re proud of him right now, wherever they are.

“I have to agree. I love my family very much. I have two sons, you see, and… well, there’s this boy that I also consider my son,” Philza explains, a knowing look in his eyes as he stares at Tommy. The hero assumes that the knowing look is because Philza is agreeing with him, but something there makes Tommy think that Philza is referring to something more. 

Before Tommy can ask, the door swings open. Serenade steps into the hallway. He stops when he looks up. His veil swishes from side to side as he looks between Tommy and Philza. He makes a sound before shrugging his shoulders. He ties the blindfold around Tommy’s eyes without even asking Tommy if he’s okay with that. Tommy huffs as the darkness falls over him again. Tommy can hear Philza laugh as Serenade drags Tommy away. Tommy scowls beneath his mask.

Serenade blares his music the whole way to the apartment. 

Chapter Text

“There are those nights when the dark is so black and thick, you can't see yourself, and all you wish for is someone to hold on to. So you reach across those empty sheets of silence, groping and grasping, hoping you'll touch something, anything warm and alive. But once again you come up cold.”

― Felice Stevens

Tommy sits in front of a large pile of papers. A corkboard has been placed on the hutch, leaning against the television with different pieces of paper stuck to it because of a thumbtack. Tommy holds a black ink pen in one hand and a red colored marker in his other hand, both of them leaving a few marks against his skin when he forgets that they are clicked and open, respectively. Most of the papers have a few words scribbled across them with some symbols like arrows or circles. Others are printed copies of reports, either from the Hero’s Guild or the Moderator’s Guild. There are a few from government agencies and one from the Merchant’s Guild. The one thing all the papers have in common is that they are very clearly about the Red Army, either their wrongdoings, known locations, and members. Everything is loosely organized in just a way that Tommy can find what he’s looking for within a glance.

“What the hell is all of this?” Serenade asks as he steps out from the hallway into the main room. The moment they came to the apartment from the Syndicate’s meeting, Serenade went off into his room while Tommy set up everything around him in the living room. He would have done it in his room to avoid this very situation, but the living room had a lot more space than his room did. Plus, he wanted to monitor Serenade’s movements to make sure that the villain wasn’t doing anything unsavory in the apartment. “Does this even work?”

“Trust the process,” Tommy retorts, not even glancing up at Serenade. Tommy has completed many bounties in his life, and the trick for him was to throw all the information he knew at a wall and see what stood out to him. He’s been critiqued for this method several times, but barely any other hero has a higher success rate than he does.

“Do you have one of these for the Syndicate?” Serenade asks, standing in front of the corkboard with his hand disappearing up his veil as if he was holding his cheek or chin. His other hand reaches out to grab one of the papers. He doesn’t yank it off like Tommy expected him to do.

“Yes,” Tommy shrugs. He doesn’t keep it in his guild issued apartment, but he does have one. He has it in Las Nevadas, in Croupier’s back office. Croupier is held under oath not to mess with it, so Tommy always comes back to see it in perfect condition. That board is filled to the brim with overlapping pieces of paper tracing the Syndicate’s history from beginning to the current moment. It’s the reason why he knows what every member’s specific job is and what their powers and skills are. He is even confident that he knows more about the Syndicate than his superiors do, and he loves thinking about it every time those self-righteous idiots try to lecture Tommy about his unheroic methods to achieving a goal that isn’t saving the city.

“You are certainly a tenacious person,” Serenade notes with a laugh ringing throughout his words. He turns around slowly, peering at Tommy over his shoulder before his body has caught up with him. He picks up one of the pieces of paper at the edge of Tommy’s pile. He twists it around in his hand before pinning it to the board. Tommy glares at the action, realizing after the fact that he probably would have put the paper in that same spot. Tommy refuses to tell Serenade that, though.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy snaps, not sure if he’s more upset with Serenade’s backhanded compliment or Serenade messing with Tommy’s things. Serenade puts both of his hands up in mock innocence. Tommy rolls his eyes, letting them fall back to the paper in his hand. He’s been tracking the movements of the Hunters, vaguely, to compromise a timeline of when Reaper defected from their organization. He hasn’t been able to find a credible source of when Reaper’s last appearance was. He now knows that Reaper has been joining the Hunters rather infrequently on their missions, but Tommy can still trace movements. Until he finds a complete cut-off point, he won’t be able to tell if Reaper has defected from the Hunters. There is the possibility that Reaper had been sent to the Red Army as a spy, but Reaper has never been known for his espionage skills. Cait Sith would have been a better fit, even if he wasn’t part of the original Hunters like Reaper was. The Hunters had a whole seniority thing; it wasn’t worth thinking about too hard.

Serenade practically glides out of the living room, carrying himself with a self-assuredness that makes Tommy’s gut coil uncomfortably. Tommy thinks that Serenade is about to leave, but he turns to the kitchen at the last second, keeping a hand on the bar as he spins around it. As Tommy keeps looking through his papers, he hears Serenade opening and shutting the cupboards and refrigerator in the kitchen. Tommy has already checked through it all- he did so his first night at the apartment- but his tastes must be vastly different from what Serenade eats. For someone who spent so much on the decorations, he hardly touched the kitchen.

“There’s nothing here,” Serenade finally concludes. He presses himself up against the counter between the living room and kitchen that has a large window area. Serenade’s attention grasps at Tommy, and the blonde looks at Serenade from the corner of his eyes while keeping his main focus on that task at hand. “What do you want to eat for dinner, Vendetta?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you eat. I’ll be having a food packet,” Tommy shrugs, slightly pointing at the cardboard box on the bar. Serenade pushes off the counter, turning towards the cardboard box. He slides it open, picking out one of the packets Tommy was referring to. It was a gray rectangular packet, relatively flat, and filled with a powder. The words across the front were in a bold, standard font that just described the name of the food packet and that it was from the Hero’s Guild.

“This is not food,” Serenade practically hisses, tilting the packet towards Tommy as he leans back, his attention also going to Tommy. Serenade throws the packet back into its box.

“What the fuck are you talking about? It is literally called a ‘food packet’. I know reading and listening are hard for you, but you’ve got to eat your shitty act together,” Tommy glares at Serenade, upset by the rough treatment of his only food source. “And in case you haven’t noticed, you and I aren’t fucking friends. I can’t eat whatever shit you put in front of me. I’m not a fucking idiot, unlike you, prick.”

“If you’re worried about that, we can simply get take-out. What kind of food do you want?” Serenade offers. Tommy isn’t one to read into gestures, but he isn’t sure why Serenade cares what kind of food would prefer. He should just get whatever and let Tommy deal with it.

“We can’t get fucking take-out every night, Serenade. That is so unhealthy,” Tommy states instead of voicing his questions about Serenade offering to get whatever he wants from some strange restaurant. Really, Tommy just doesn’t know what he prefers. He literally ate trash when he lived on the streets, he ate whatever the Hunters gave him when he was with them, and he ate the food packets during his time with the guild. He doesn’t have food preferences. “I’ll stick with my food packets, the stuff that’s actually food.”

“I beg to differ. You cannot insist that these packets are food. It’s the most unhealthy thing I’ve seen in my life,” Serenade argues back. Serenade is known for picking fights with his victims, but he seems to be genuine in his reproach of Tommy’s eating habits.

“Food packets are literally the healthiest food in the whole fucking world. They are designed to provide all the necessary nutrients including proteins and vitamins,” Tommy tells Serenade sternly, not sure why he’s going so far to explain his decisions to a villain that he doesn’t even like. The food packets are a design of the Hero’s Guild. All young recruits are fed them in order to ensure that they don’t lose too much to the training program. Heroes can choose to continue eating it after they graduate. Most deny the continuation, but Tommy accepted it without hesitation. He doesn’t have time to worry about if he’s eating the right foods, if he’s getting the right nutrients. He doesn’t have time to cook, either, and even if he did have time, he would have to use it to learn how to cook first. Tommy probably would have, but cooking was far too close to baking, and he couldn’t think about baking without thinking about Niki. He would rather not start crying while cooking. It was much easier to just pour the gray powder into the water, mix it up, and eat it like soup with a spoon.

“Yeah, at the cost of fucking flavor,” Serenade retorts, pulling out a communicator. He starts tapping away at the screen, turning his back to Tommy. He’s probably calling for his take-out. Tommy ignores Serenade. He doesn’t have time to argue with a villain about the healthiness or lack thereof of food. Tommy will eat his food packets; Serenade will eat his take-out. They’ll see which one of them fares better at the end of their lives.

Tommy sees something move in his peripheral. He turns his attention to it immediately, searching the darkness of the night for a threat. Instead of seeing one, he finds Crowfather landing on the railing of their balcony. Crowfather has a sandwich bag in his bill. Tommy finds himself smiling as he draws himself up onto his feet. He walks over to the sliding doors. He pulls it open, reaching his arm out to his avian companion. Crowfather lifts up with a few wingbeats, landing on Tommy’s forearm. Tommy lifts his other hand up, and Crowfather drops the sandwich in Tommy’s awaiting palm. Tommy guesses that he was wrong earlier. He did have a preference. He likes eating the sandwiches Crowfather brings him, even if he’s pretty certain they’re stolen goods.

“Thank you, Crowfather. At least someone in this house knows what good fucking food is,” Tommy proclaims, carefully walking more into the room. He leans down onto his butt back in the spot where he had been sitting before he stood up. Crowfather lifts his wings to keep his balance steady, but he remains on Tommy’s arm. Most people would probably warn Tommy about bringing a wild animal into an indoor space, but those people don’t know Crowfather. The bird is literally the most well-behaved creature Tommy has ever met- even more than most people he’s met. Crowfather would never do anything to hurt Tommy. It was other people that needed to worry.

“Alright. I got take-out, but since you’re so dead set on your food packet, I didn’t order you anything,” Serenade turns back around to face Tommy as the blonde starts eating his peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a crow resting on his forearm, his mask only slightly askewed to allow better access to his sandwich. Serenade stops moving, staring at the scene in front of him. He walks around the bar of the kitchen, coming all the way to the edge of the couch to stare down at Tommy. He lifts his hand up, pointing at Crowfather. “Okay, so, you don’t trust the food I would give you, but you trust the food-”

Serenade says something, but he’s cut off by Crowfather squawking with puffed up wings. Tommy winces, letting his sandwich rest on the ziplock bag it came in. He fixes his mask quickly, not willing to risk it. He places two fingers on the top of Crowfather’s head to calm the crow down. Crowfather preens under the attention. When everyone is settled, Tommy turns to Serenade. “This is my friend, Crowfather. He’s good until you fuck with him. Crowfather is not afraid to claw your fucking eyes out. Or tear your intestines out. Or other bloody shit. Be nice to him, and he’ll be nice to you.”

Serenade lowers himself onto the couch. When he speaks, there is something awed in his voice. “Oh, I am so intrigued about this story. How did you meet?”

“Crowfather found me, actually, a few years back. He’s a fucking genius, Serenade. He knows a lot of shit in his tiny bird brain. He brings me sandwiches and listens to my problems. Not that I fucking have any. Don’t even ask,” Tommy explains with a shrug. Tommy looks at Crowfather with a smile spreading across his face. “I named him after the hero. Crowfather was a fucking legend. I would give anything for just a five minute conversation with him… but this Crowfather isn’t completely shit. I like hanging out with him, too.”

Serenade laughs. It isn’t a malicious laugh. It’s a humorous one. Serenade finds something so completely funny, and Tommy doesn’t understand what the joke is. Maybe it’s the fact that Tommy idolizes a hero when he and Serenade aren’t exactly heroic themselves? It could be his choice in hero, too. It could be Serenade’s way of processing that the A-rank hero he’s rooming with is close friends with a literal crow. Whatever the case, Serenade doesn’t explain why he laughed as he pets Crowfather’s head. Unlike other people, Crowfather doesn’t even try to peck Serenade’s fingers. “Hello, Crowfather, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Someone knocks on their door. Serenade puts a finger on his lips as he goes to the door. Tommy doesn’t pay attention as he returns to eating his sandwich and working on the corkboard. He thinks that Reaper joined the Red Army at most six weeks ago. Adamantine would have joined around the same time, a little after if not the same time. Cait Sith could also be there, but Tommy wasn’t going to assume that information without proof. The Hunters haven’t shown any hostility towards the Red Army which could imply that Reaper is a spy, but Tommy won’t pretend that he knows why the Hunters do anything that they do. Reverie, especially, was always more than a few steps ahead of everyone. Trying to figure out his plans was trying to beat a chessmaster at their favored game without any preparations or skills. There’s an equal chance that Reaper got fed up with Reverie as there is the idea that he’s a spy. There’s also the possibility that Reaper believes in the Red Army’s cause, but Tommy can’t confirm that fact until he knows what the army’s or cult’s goal is.

“Here, open your mouth.” Tommy follows instructions absentmindedly, still thinking about Reaper and the Hunters. Instead of another bite of his sandwich, he tastes something else on his tongue. He startles to attention, trying to figure out what it is. When he blinks in surprise, Serenade is leaning around his shoulder with a pair of chopsticks in his hands. He’s just fed Tommy some type of sushi. He covers his mouth instantly, fingers fumbling over his mask. He prays that Serenade hasn’t seen his identity.

Serenade doesn’t make any indication that he has seen Tommy’s real identity. He just leans back on the couch behind Tommy with his food in his lap. “That sushi must be better than your food packages.”

It is, but Tommy isn’t going to give Serenade the satisfaction of knowing that he was right. Tommy finally snaps his mask shut. He finishes eating the sushi. As Tommy focuses back on his work, Serenade starts talking as he finishes off his food. “You see, Crowfather, our little hero just needed some good food. It’s quite dreadful that he’s been conditioned into eating those packets. The Hero’s Guild is certainly something awful. They cannot get away with their false advertisement. It might not be the worst sin they’ve committed, but it does irk me that they would trick their unsuspecting guild members in such a way. I wonder how long it took them to convince the young recruits to give up their childhood dinners for whatever that shit in the kitchen is. They must have used the same argument they used on our dear Vendetta here.”

Serenade continues talking to Crowfather, and Tommy drowns them both out. He doesn’t fully understand why Serenade isn’t as concerned about this case as Tommy is. He previously suspected that Serenade wasn’t the Syndicate’s researcher or ideas guy, but he thought that everyone would be putting in effort to finish this case as quickly and efficiently as possible. This is probably why he was allowed to make a deal with the Syndicate. They were going to use him to do all their research. Something about knowing the enemy or whatever bullshit Ravager and Argonaut had spewed during the meeting earlier. Well, if they were going to play that game, Tommy wasn’t going to step away from the challenge. He was going to show them all that when he decided to focus on something, he learned everything there was about it. Everything, even about people.

“You should probably head home, Crowfather. I’m retiring for the night, and I’m sure this one is going to stay up all night again,” Serenade explains, taking his trash to the kitchen. Crowfather pecked Tommy’s wrist as a way of saying goodbye before flying off into the onyx night. Serenade closes the sliding doors behind Crowfather. As he passes Tommy, he tells the blonde, “Don’t stay up too late.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, knowing that he won’t take that advice. And not just because a villain is the one that offered it to him. He simply has too much to do. If he wants to end this partnership with the Syndicate as early as he can, he needs to know who the Red Army members are, what they want, and where they’re all going to meet up next. Once he’s done with that, he’s going to fight Azrael and Inchling. The thought makes him giddy. He’s spent so much of his life researching, planning, and training for this fight. He could be days away from it- weeks, at most. The accumulation of his entire life will be decided in one epic showdown. He would either win or he would die trying, but either way, he would finally make his family proud. He would do something that would make them forgive him.

He should have been there. He should have been buried in the rubble right beside them. But he had a fight with Wilbur and the others over something that was ultimately stupid and he ran. He came back a few hours later, but it was too late. The warehouse Tommy spent his entire life living in was nothing more than melted metal and flickering fires. The heroes said that no one survived the accident, carting bodies away on stretchers. Like all espers, Tommy’s powers activated with this traumatic memory. He dug through the rubble, each rock floating around him or sliding to the ground with increased weight. He dug and dug and dug, but he couldn’t find any scrap of his family. Their bodies were taken from him, and he couldn’t find a single memento. Reverie was the one to find him, and that was just the beginning of a lot of horrible decisions. 

But Tommy was going to make it all right. He hasn’t rested since the day he decided he would take revenge for his family, for their lives that were cut too short and their dreams that were dashed away. He would use the life that the universe mistakenly gave him to undo all the mistakes of his past. He should have been there that night, but he wasn’t. He will regret that every day of his life, but maybe the regret would disappear when he aligns all the broken stars to reform their perfect constellation.

He places his hand on his cheek as he works. He fights against his eyelids, prying them open every time they want to close. He lets them sink close for a few seconds, and…

And suddenly, his lungs are filling up with salty water. His body jerks. He coughs out what he can. He waves his arms around, clawing at the inky darkness around him. He drags himself towards the gray-tinted moonlight. When his body breaks the surface, he starts hacking and puking up the water in his lungs immediately. He fights to remain above the water as he swings his arms. Every part of him is sluggish and tired, but his slow-moving eventually brings him to a shallow enough part that his feet brush against the sand. He trips over himself, falling into the water. His body shivers at the temperature as his hands dig into the sand. He can’t see anything, and he’s unsure if his eyes are open or closed. He pushes off the sandy ground, regaining his foot to stumble his way across to the shore. He falls immediately, dragging his body with his arms onto the sand. He tears off his mask, gasping as more water falls out. He continues retching, all of his organs spasming one after another to eject all the water. The salt lingering on his tongue does nothing to help him calm down his dry-heaving. His body won’t stop, even as he rises back to his feet. He can barely keep his balance as the cold night wind punishes him for wearing wet clothes.

He’s shaking with fear and the temperature and a lack of balance, but he takes a single, shuddering step forward. He keeps taking steps, fighting between the urge to wrap his arms around his body for warmth or to keep them away from him to maintain balance. His brain is at no capacity to think, so his arms twitch helplessly a few feet away from him, not quite committing to either endeavor. His thoughts are just spinning around with fear. It eventually does a sound-check on all of Tommy’s body parts, and his body does not give him a moment of peace as each individual part screams out that something is wrong with it. He’s cold, drained, exhausted, shaking, and in so much Primedamn pain as he grasps at the door to the Paradise Apartments.

He enters the building, almost passing out at the drastic temperature difference. He falls to his knees, breathing heavily, but he doesn’t remain there for long. He starts crawling towards the elevator before the carpet burns become much worse than the strain on his legs when he’s standing. He grabs hold of the elevator doors to heave himself up, leaning pathetically at the wall as he presses one of the buttons. He starts to sink to the floor, but he doesn’t have a chance to actually reach it before the metal doors slide open. Tommy blinks blearily at the hallway, praying that it’s the right one. His vision is still a little blurry, either from the salt water or his own racing mind not paying attention to any visual cues. He presses himself right against the wall as he walks down the hallway. He reluctantly slips his mask back on his face as he pushes open what he opens to be his apartment.

As Tommy shuts the door, a noise fills the apartment. In a few seconds, Serenade is running down the hallway with his veil hastily thrown over a band t-shirt and sweatpants. Tommy blinks at him, leaning against the back of the door. Tommy wishes Serenade would leave because he really needs to puke again, but he holds back the rancid taste as Serenade flicks on the light and marches towards Tommy with purpose in his steps. “Why did you throw yourself in the fucking ocean?!”

“I didn’t throw myself in the fucking ocean,” Tommy tries to sounds threatening or angry, but it comes out completely faint and pathetic- even through his voice modulator. Tommy feels tears rise to his eyes as his words scratch against his aching throat. “I slept-walked.”

“Why the hell did you not tell me that you sleepwalk?! Why would you even walk into the ocean?” Serenade grumbles angrily as he walks down the hallway. Despite all logic, Tommy feels pain in his chest at seeing Serenade walk away. Tommy doesn’t want to be alone right now, even if his only other option is to be in the company of one of his enemies.

Surprisingly, Serenade returns a few seconds later with a towel in his hands. He’s muttering something about not wanting to deal with a sick man, but he’s very gentle when he places the towel on Tommy’s head. Serenade moves the towel across Tommy’s head, drying his hair. Tommy’s eyes fall close, tears spilling over his cheeks and sliding beneath his red-tinted goggles. When he can’t see anything, he can almost convince himself that Wilbur is the one drying him off. With the tender touch and the fear swirling in Tommy’s heart, it’s so easy to imagine Wilbur standing there with his dumb, happy smile and willingness to help Tommy no matter how much he grumbles about Tommy being stupid. He can’t push Serenade away when this is the closest he’ll get to having Wilbur back.

“You should change out of those clothes… or take a shower,” Serenade whispers, breaking Tommy’s immersion. The blonde sighs as Serenade does walk away for good this time. Tommy clutches the towel in his hands, falling to his knees in the mudroom of his new apartment. He continues crying and coughing, curling up on himself to get rid of the memories that burn just as much as they warm his heart. He just wants his family back. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

Chapter Text

“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”
― Fernando Pessoa

Years ago, a young blonde with blood covering his bruised body and revenge burning eternally in his eyes climbed the cement steps of the Hero’s Guild that seemed to stretch as far as today is from yesterday. Despite the Herculean effort it took to reach the glass doors, that child did not waver for a single second even when his body threatened to never let him move again. He was found on those steps by the heroes, and they rather reluctantly allowed him to bleed across the tile floor of the lobby. The secretary gave him a look torn between pity and disgust. The guildmaster himself came down to look at the boy that refused to leave until he was granted the chance to become a hero. Despite everyone trying to hide the disgusting stain from their boss, the guildmaster did not stop until his stormy eyes met those fierce bright blue eyes. Some sort of understanding passed between that young child and that old man that cemented the former’s fate as the guild’s greatest weapon.

Tommy feels exactly like he did that early morning now as he stands at the base of the stairs. He isn’t as bloodied or bruised nor is he completely alone anymore, but there is that odd mixture of fear and determination that constantly simmers in his body, not quite boiling over but always a single degree away from doing so. He had nowhere else to go that night, and he feels like he’s been stuck in that boat for his entire life. He knows that he could abandon this entire process, hide back in Serenade’s car where the villain will give him shit for wimping out but won’t force him to go back. He can’t do that. His pride won’t allow him to show weakness, especially not in front of Serenade, and his fragile sense of responsibility to the guild- the small scraps of loyalty the guild has somehow managed to gain the rights over- remind him that he is there for a reason.

Tommy sucks in one more breath before he propels his body forward. The stairs are just as obnoxious as they were when he was younger. He usually avoids the stairs by floating to his room using his power, but his business resides on the lower floors and none of those windows are open for fliers like him. He doesn’t want to go through the lobby filled with heroes coming back from their patrols or checking out the mission boards, but he doesn’t have much of an option.

Tommy pulls out his security card from the hidden pocket behind the hilt of his knife attached to his thigh. He flips the card over his fingers as he comes to the glass doors framed by metal beams. Tommy passes the card through the swipe, watching the clear light flash green in recognition. The door Tommy’s standing at makes a soft noise that tells Tommy the door has unlocked itself. Tommy pulls the door open, stepping into the warm entranceway to his guild’s clubhouse.

The lobby is probably the biggest room in the entire guild. It has the height of at least four floors, and since it’s at the base of the tower, it’s the widest floor, too. It’s covered in lightly shaded tiles that must form a pattern if looked at with a bird’s eye view, but Tommy has never attempted to figure out what it could be. The secretary’s desk sits in the very center of the room. It’s made from a circle of desks surrounding a large pillar covered in televisions constantly playing the news and safety instructional videos. At any given moment, there are about ten secretaries working all around the desk. Tommy doesn’t know any of them, not in appearance or name or anything that most heroes would know. Higher ranked heroes are allowed to take bounties at their discretion, so Tommy has never interacted with a secretary in his career.

Despite not knowing the secretaries, Tommy does recognize some of the heroes. Chronostasis, a zombie hybrid with bright orange hair, is talking to Major, a member of the Guardians hero group. Wavemaker and Gryph, other members of the Guardians, are standing around the bounty board, discussing some of the bounties. Arid and Watcher seem to be catching up with Sylph, a winged hero with raven wings covering her back. There are some others that Tommy could draw the name up of if he really thought about it, but he doesn’t usually associate himself with the other heroes at the guild.

“Vendetta!” A voice calls out before Tommy can walk to the elevators. He slows his step, looking over his shoulder to see a young woman with white hair and dark blue and gray clothes rushing towards him with a smile on her face. She stops when she is standing right beside Tommy. “I haven’t seen you in awhile! How are you?”

Another member of the Guardians, Tempestarius can seem like the weakest member at times because of her positive attitude and tendency to get flustered. Tommy knows that isn’t the case. Realistically, Tempestarius might be the strongest member of the Guardians, even more than Fire Striker or Major. Unlike the others, her ability to manipulate storms is nearly limitless. She can call down any number of life-threatening inflections from the sky above, some bypassing the roof or walls of a building with ease. Tempestarius keeps a swift control on her powers, and Tommy knows this because he’s pretty sure that Tempestarius was once the villain Mist who was taken in as a sidekick by Gryph before joining the Guardians. He hasn’t been able to confirm the truth of the matter, but he doesn’t need to.

“Hey, Temp. I’m doing so fucking well, and I hope you’re doing just as great. Do you know where Monarch is? I need to see them,” Tommy asks. Out of everyone in the entire guild, he’s probably closest with Tempestarius, and that’s only because she doesn’t seem to get that he’s purposefully distanced himself from everyone. She will always cheerfully greet him, no matter where they find themselves meeting. She will always attempt to get him to join her doing whatever activity she was previously doing. She has only ever been kind to him, and it feels wrong to kick a puppy. Even Tommy, whose status as a hero is purely occupational, doesn’t intentionally want to hurt her feelings even if he can tell that her fellow Guardians don’t particularly see the point of interacting with someone bound to run away.

“I haven’t seen them today, but I’m sure they’re in their office. We can walk to the elevators together!” Tempestarius tells him with a thoughtful frown appearing on her face before she excitedly pushes his shoulder forward to get them both walking. Tommy shrugs his shoulders to himself, following after the heroine. He’s going to the elevator, anyway, so it’s not like he can just ditch her without making himself look bad or feel bad. “The Guardians are going to be taking a new commission today. We’re going to damage control in Empires. If you haven’t heard, there’s been a lot of kidnapping lately. Several different gangs are blaming each other, and this isn’t helping the situation over there. It’s been a while since I’ve gone back to Empires. I wonder if anyone will recognize me.”

Well, there’s Tommy’s proof that Tempestarius was once Mist. The villainess primarily worked in Empires as part of the Shulker gang. As her name implied, Mist could summon a thick fog that rivaling gang members couldn’t see through. Mist and the rest of the Shulkers would take advantage of this fact. The Shulker’s territory was always covered in Mist’s fog to dissuade anyone from entering the area uninvited. One day, the fog completely disappeared and the Shulkers were never reported to use the fog again. A few months later, Gryph was presenting his new sidekick, Tempestarius.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. Even if they do recognize you, they can’t do shit to you without pissing off some pretty powerful people. In my experience, it’s not good to pick a fight you can’t win, no matter how tempting it is,” Tommy explains with a shrug as they come to the elevator. Tempestarius pushes the open button for them. Tommy looks up at the number counting down what floor the elevator is currently on.

“I’ve been there before! My sister was always bad about getting into fights she couldn’t finish. I love her to death, but she’s the reason I got into half the fights I did when I was younger,” Tempestarius admits softly with a chuckle. Tommy tries to file away the fact that Tempestarius has a sister, but his thoughts are brought hurtling back to his own family. How many fights had he gotten into because someone pulled at Fundy’s fox features or because Jack wanted to punch someone and needed some help with the other goons? Wilbur and Niki would always scold Tommy and Jack for doing such things. Tubbo would cheer them on whenever the responsible ones weren’t looking at him. Eret… they would have cleaned up Tommy’s wounds while telling Tommy all about their violent past. Tommy never believed Eret because they were far too kind for that life, but Tommy supposes he never really knew Eret.

The elevator dings as it opens. Good Guy is standing in front of the doors, smiling widely at whoever was going to enter after them. Tommy keeps a neutral face while Tempestarius mirrors Good Guy’s expression. Tommy slides into the elevator, standing beside Good Guy as the hero starts a conversation with Tempestarius. Good Guy looks over his shoulder at Tommy to invite him into their conversation, but he just stares blankly at them with his finger hovering over the floor he needs to go to. Good Guy and Tempestarius share a ‘what-are-you-gonna-do?’ look before they part ways; Good Guy steps out of the elevator with his canary wings pressing tightly to his back to save him the awkwardness of maneuvering them around while Tempestarius practically hops onto the elevator.

“I’m going to the residential floors. I have to pick up some stuff before I head off to Empires,” Tempestarius tells him as he presses the button for his floor. He presses the floor she needs to go to out of the kindness in his heart. He does mentally question why she’s taking the elevator. Tempestarius is one of the few heroes who can fly, and she has a legit way to do it, unlike Tommy. The elevator really should be beneath her, and even if it’s not, who would rather the elevator to flying?

They come to Tommy’s floor before they get to Tempestarius’. Tommy waves at her slightly as the doors open for him. Tempestarius returns his wave a lot more enthusiastically. Tommy grimaces beneath his mask, knowing he doesn’t deserve that sort of easy friendliness from someone. He only hopes that Tempestarius will be fine in Empires. He knows that gang wars can be brutal, and it won’t help that she has a prior history with one of the most prominent gangs in the entire borough.

Tommy walks to the end of the hallway. He doesn’t attempt to knock before pushing the door open. He steps into the brightly lit office. Like Tempestarius said, Monarch is sitting at their desk. Monarch looks up from the paperwork they were writing. They’re confused expression melts away when Tommy closes the office door behind him. Monarch ends up smiling, and Tommy ignores the expression entirely. He has little love for the guildmaster and his assistants. Even though Monarch is one of the kinder faces that runs the guild, Tommy isn’t going to become buddies with them.

“Good morning, Vendetta. Have you been up to anything interesting recently?” Monarch asks, setting aside their pen. They fold both of their hands together before resting their chin on the interlocked fingers. Their sunglasses are so dark that they seem opaque, but Tommy knows that Monarch can see him perfectly well. Those glasses are simply to dampen Monarch’s powers. When Monarch looks at someone, they can manipulate their target’s own powers in any way they choose including negation, amplification, and activation. Tommy has never been on the receiving end, but when he was being taught by Red Dragon alongside Sleepy when he first joined the guild, Monarch showed off their powers to the young recruits by using them on Red Dragon.

“Nope. All boring shit. I went to Las Nevadas. Croupier still won’t let me drink. He says it’s because he doesn’t want a business partner of his to get fucked up at his establishment. I say that’s fucking bullshit. I will get fucked up wherever the hell I want. He’s a fucking bastard, and you can tell him I told you that to his face. I told him that to his face. Also! Less importantly, but my sleep-walking hasn’t gotten better. I ended up in the sea last night. The fucking ocean. Don’t ask me how the hell I ended up there. I couldn’t tell you,” Tommy explains, waving his hand around. Monarch’s face morphs into concern, and Tommy bristles. The only people in the whole world who knows about Tommy’s sleep-walking are the guildmaster, Monarch, Croupier, and Serenade. The latter two are completely incidental. When Tommy was telling the guildmaster about it, Monarch walked in at the wrong moment. Now, Monarch would ask questions about Tommy’s health every chance he got. Croupier was a situation just like Serenade; he was sleeping on Croupier’s couch in his personal hiding spot at the back of his casino when Tommy ended up in the ocean. Croupier demanded an explanation, and once Tommy told him, Tommy’s private spot got a lock on the door. “Which brings me to what I’m here for. I need some time off.”

“In all of your time with this guild, you have never taken time off even when you’ve been sick and needed to,” Monarch replies softly. Tommy shuffles where he’s standing. Tommy wants the record to be clear that he’s never gotten sick in his life (he’s a bigger man than that), but he has never taken time off. He’s never seen the point in doing so because he’s never had anything important to do. His life consisted around one thing, and there wasn’t any necessity to stray from that purpose. “Is this about the Syndicate?”

“No, this isn’t about the fucking Syndicate,” Tommy lies through his teeth. Everyone in the whole city might not know about his hatred for the Syndicate, but the administrative board of the guild definitely knows. Out of everyone, Monarch is the one that continuously tries to dissuade Tommy from going after the leaders. The guildmaster merely states that it would be a shame to lose a good member of the guild, and the other assistants don’t care one way or another. No one believes Tommy will win the fight. Tommy knows for a fact that he’ll win, but he doesn’t see any point convincing people that annoy him just as much as Serenade does that he’s going to win.

“Is this about the Hunters, then? Look, I know what it’s like, but it isn’t going to be worth it, Vendetta,” Monarch follows up, mentioning the other group of people that Tommy wishes he had enough time in his life to eliminate and so thoroughly destroy that there is no proof of the Hunter’s existence for future members of society.

“No, it- wait- wait a fucking minute. You were with the Hunters? What- why- how- what was it like for you?” Tommy asks, rushing forward. He puts both of his hands on Monarch’s desk, leaning close to the hero to try and find answers in the assistant’s face. A million questions rush through his head. Of course he knows that a small portion of the guild come from reformed villains or vigilantes who decided to join, but he didn’t think the guildmaster would keep one of those people so close. He also couldn’t imagine Monarch ever being part of the Hunters.

“It was a long time ago, Vendetta. If I’m doing my math right, I left a little while before you initially joined. At the time I joined, I thought it was the best option. I… My friends and I were in some deep trouble. I joined the Hunters. I tried to convince my friends to join, but they never did. In the end, my friends made the better decision. The Hunters are not a forgiving or benevolent group. I was lucky to get out when I did. And I know I’ve never said this, but I want you to know that I’m proud of you for getting out of the Hunters, too,” Monarch tells Tommy. The blonde sucks in a tired breath. His time with the Hunters was terrible. He joined because he was in the throes of grief with no hope for the future or way to survive on his own. His last argument with Wilbur and the others was because they wanted to join the Hunters and Tommy didn’t. His stubbornness shriveled up in the face of their death, and he turned to the group they initially wanted to join.

The truest reason why Tommy joined and the reason why the others wanted to was because Eret had joined the Hunters a few months prior, completely abandoning the group. Tommy hated Eret for leaving them and he hated the Hunters for taking Eret from them. Tommy joined the Hunters because the rest of his family was dead, and he still clung to the hope that Eret was alive with the Hunters. Not only did Reverie tell Tommy that Eret had gone to the warehouse the night of the explosion to bring the rest of Tommy’s family to the Hunter’s headquarters, thus meaning that Eret was dead alongside everyone else, the Hunters was not what Tommy expected it to be. Reverie took a special interest in Tommy, and the blonde was broken and beaten down until he had nothing left. It was only his bitter resolve to kill Azrael and Inchling that allowed him to persist long enough to gain the courage to leave with Enderwalk.

If nothing else was gained from his family’s death, at least they never had to experience the hardship of being with the Hunters. At least in death, Eret was able to escape the torturous experience.

Tommy wants to ask Monarch about Eret, but no matter what he gleans from this interaction, Eret will still be dead. Tommy already has conflicting emotions about Eret, anger and resentment and regret and love so overwhelming that Tommy can’t breathe sometimes; he doesn’t want another memory to weigh him down. The fragments of Eret he keeps in his heart will remain there, cutting into the organ’s muscles enough to make him bleed from the inside out for the rest of his life. He doesn’t want any more because he knows that he won’t be able to stand it. He won’t be able to talk about it. He won’t be able to listen to Monarch tell Tommy that Eret was a good member of the Hunters or an interesting person or any other half-hearted compliment that came from strangers or sorrowful tone that came from a friendship formed in a bad situation.

“Can I have the time off or not?” Tommy asks instead, burying down all of his emotions so deep inside himself that he doesn’t have to look at them. He doesn’t want to spend his time analyzing Eret’s actions or Reverie’s kindness or the rest of the Hunter’s abuse towards him.

“I’ll approve your time for however long you need it as long as you check in with the guild,” Monarch tells Tommy. With the answer he needs and enough emotions circulating through him that he feels sick, Tommy pushes off the desk. He turns around to walk out the door. Before the wooden door closes behind him, he hears Monarch call out, “Vendetta, if you need anything, you can come to me.”

As if. Tommy doesn’t have anyone except himself.

Chapter Text

“Respect was invented to cover the empty place where love should be.”

― Leo Tolstoy

Tommy sits in the passenger seat, leaning against the window glass with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyelids keep sliding over his eyes, but he’s able to snap himself awake before his exhaustion pulls at him. He hasn’t had much sleep in the past few days, and what little sleep he did get wasn’t restful considering he woke back up in the ocean. His little talk with Monarch did very little to rejuvenate him. Thinking about his family always made him depressed, and thinking about his time with the Hunters sapped away what little energy he managed to store away inside his chest. A combination of the two simply doesn’t settle well with his mind, and now he’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay awake when the car keeps humming and rocking him gently. 

Serenade thrums his fingers across the steering wheel, occasionally humming along to a song that is playing inside his head. He will look over at Tommy when the hero jolts. He, surprisingly, does not comment on it. Tommy is grateful for his silence. He is just a little concerned about the fact that he has so thoroughly relaxed around Serenade that he’s chasing away sleep. He should be tense as a taut rubber band right now. He should constantly be on edge for a surprise attack.

“When did you start sleepwalking?” Serenade asks, his voice a breathy whisper. Tommy looks over at him from his peripheral vision. He wishes, not for the first time, that Serenade’s mask was not a veil that covered his entire face. It isn’t so much that he wants to find out Serenade’s identity, but that he would rather have some sort of basis of what Serenade is feeling beside his voice.

“A long time ago,” Tommy shrugs. The first anniversary of his family’s departure from this world, Tommy found himself standing in the center of Reishi’s personal garden. This was suicidal for two reasons. The first is that Reishi only cultivates plants that can be used for poisons. Sure, some can be used for medicine, but none of them were grown with that intention. All of them are meant to inhibit opponents in some way or another. The other reason is because Reishi’s personal garden was the very definition of personal. Reverie built it for Reishi, so it was a gift that either of them would have willingly killed Tommy over. He was lucky enough to walk out of that room before anyone found out he was there. He, unfortunately, became deathly sick. Reverie convinced Reishi to cure Tommy. The only reason Reishi didn’t kill Tommy for being there was because he was impressed that Tommy had managed to survive. Once he was healed, Tommy practically begged Reverie to throw him in a cell instead of a proper bedroom. He was given the middle ground of a room with a bolted iron door. He hated every second of it, but at least he didn’t sleepwalk into areas he definitely wasn’t allowed in again.

“Do you always end up in the ocean?” Serenade continues. He doesn’t sound malicious. Tommy lets his eyes close, wondering how much is too much when analyzing someone’s voice. With most heroes and villains, it would be pointless because of all the inflection lost by the voice changer. Serenade is difficult, but it isn’t useless to try.

“No,” Tommy answers plainly. The few times he slept at the tower, he would find himself standing on the rooftop, precariously balancing on the parapet. He would always wake up to the wind brushing his hair, his face strangely cold without his mask or glasses. He would stare out across the city under the astronomical twilight sky. The city was awake during that time- it never sleeps- but everything was subdued. There weren’t many people. There weren’t many vehicles. There weren’t as many lights as there would be during the night. It was a peaceful time, and Tommy was never too surprised that his feet led him to the edge.

“Do you always end up somewhere… dangerous?” Serenade asks, his hesitation making it abundantly clear what he’s actually asking. There is no curiosity in his tone, but Tommy can’t find a trace of concern, either. He genuinely doesn’t know why Serenade is asking.

“Often,” Tommy replies, though the truest answer is almost always. Every single time except once, really. No, that one time, Tommy wandered all the way to L’Manberg, a former residential area in Prime Heights. It was once a beautiful place, but now it is caged by iron fences and warnings that gunpowder still lingers in the air. The place that had once been Tommy’s home was little more than a shallow pit in the ground. Tommy wasn’t close to the hole, though. He was at the edges. It was a place where a warehouse once stood but was now crumpled sheets of metal folded in on each other. Tommy stood at the very edge, his feet stuck in the ashes. He was crying even before he opened his eyes to see a brilliant sunrise climbing across the symbolic graveyard.

“Do you think there’s something there?” Serenade asks plainly. Tommy doesn’t know. He never allows himself to think about it. He hasn’t seen any type of doctor about it. He hasn’t told anyone unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then, no one knows to what extent. No one but him and now Serenade knows that he always ends up in a location that is hazardous for his health. Reishi’s garden, the ocean between Empires and Las Nevadas, the top of the guildhouse, and near the heart of a location infamously known to kill even when the dust has settled.

“Are we there yet?” Tommy asks instead of answering. He leans up a little in his seat, blinking away the blurriness in his eyes. They’re on the Great Bridge- the large bridge that connects Empires to Las Nevadas. Since they are almost across it, Tommy knows that they are getting close to their destination. Tommy smiles softly, something familiar about it all that eases his dreary heart and weary bones.

“Almost,” Serenade replies despite seeing that Tommy knows where they are. Tommy rolls his eyes. He remains upright but quiet the last few miles. Serenade is not near as tense, but he does not utter another word. Whatever their conversation had been, it was over. Tommy only answered because he wasn’t in the right state of mind, and clearly, Serenade was having an off day, too, if he was asking Tommy questions without a hint of malice in his tone.

Serenade parks in the main plaza of Las Nevadas with the others. Their nondescript car matches well with the other vehicles. Everyone in Las Nevadas either wants no one to know that they’re there or they want everyone to know. There is no in between, and that is made clear by the wide assortment of cars surrounding the black one Serenade drives. There are other nondescript vehicles, and then there are what Tommy will generously call floats because of how extravagantly they are decorated. The one right beside Serenade is covered in neon tubing writing out a lot of unsavory phrases that Tommy will definitely tell Enderwalk and Jolt about later.

“Croupier is not going to be happy that Vendetta showed up with Serenade,” A voice calls out to them as Tommy slams the door shut. He looks up from the tinted windows to see a figure standing on the car parked in front of them. Ultraviolet wears a black bodysuit with tactical gear. Over that, he wears a purple jacket tied loosely together with a black string that could be a professional tie if Ultraviolet were to properly tie it. His face is physically unmasked, but with the moving galaxy pattern surrounding his eyes makes for a better mask than anything Tommy has ever seen before. Even with all his training and intentions, he can’t look away from the ‘mask’ long enough to piece together Ultraviolet’s physical characteristics beyond glowing purple eyes with black sclera and light brown or dark blonde hair- Tommy isn’t sure.

“I don’t give a fuck what Croupier thinks,” Tommy notes even though he completely agrees with Ultraviolet’s assessment. The one reason Tommy is allied with Croupier despite the fact that he’s trying to assassinate some of Croupier’s business partners is because Croupier does not care for Serenade or Ravager. He’s fairly neutral about everyone else- oddly kind to Jolt but he’s never explained that. Croupier likes Tommy well enough, but they both understand why the other one is helping them.

“A good mentality to have, honestly. Croupier is a bitch,” Ultraviolet agrees as he slides off the car. Tommy raises a suspicious eyebrow at Ultraviolet. It is never a good sign when Croupier’s Ace of Spades is criticizing his boss, but Ultraviolet has never minced his words before. He’s mainly there for the money and the thrill, not so much because he’s loyal to the cause. As long as he’s getting paid, Ultraviolet will complete his job as head of security with a scary proficiency. If not, he’ll leave. Really, all of the aces are the same way. The Ace of Diamonds is there because Croupier funds his architecture projects, and the Ace of Clubs is there because he doesn’t have anywhere else to be. Only the Ace of Hearts is there because of loyalty and want.

“Agreed. Now, take us to this bitch. We both know what I’ll do without an escort,” Tommy explains, flicking his hand to summon Ultraviolet to his side as he passes the car the ace had been sitting on. Serenade starts to follow after him, the jerkiness in his moments conveying surprise. Ultraviolet rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t walk away from Tommy and Serenade. He knows what Tommy will do without someone guiding him straight to Croupier’s office. He’ll start by hitting up the casinos, flirting with anyone that will look at him and freaking out should they choose to flirt back. He’ll definitely visit the Needle, stealing all of the gapple juices he can from the vending machine. He’ll sip away at the top until Croupier finds him and drags him to his office, threatening to make Tommy pay for damages- including psychological. Tommy has never paid a cent even though he’s done that act at least five times already.

“Have you been sleeping?” Ultraviolet asks, tilting his head over to Tommy while keeping a careful eye on Serenade lagging behind them. Tommy breathes out slowly, determining what lie will work on Ultraviolet. It’s rather easy to lie to Ultraviolet because even though Ultraviolet knows a lie from the truth the moment he hears it, he’s willing to brush aside the smaller lies if they’re believable enough. At least, he does when Tommy tells them. Ultraviolet and Tommy are a strange pair where they don’t meet the qualifications of any term: not friends, not enemies, not acquaintances, not coworkers, not anything remotely close yet not too far away. Tommy doesn’t have a word to call them, and he knows that Ultraviolet does not care about those social norms enough to find a word for himself.

“I sleep as much as anyone in Las Nevadas does,” Tommy settles on, deciding that’s close enough to the truth. No one in Las Nevadas sleeps unless they’ve drunk thrice the legal amount or slipped a drug. The hotel is for staying the night, but the night does not have to be spent sleeping. Tommy, when he stays, stares out of the window in his room to watch the city light up like the stars have gathered to the ground. Except stars are sacred, and nothing about this collection of sinhouses is.

“If you need me to, I can arrest Serenade for being here. You can take a nap while we fight,” Ultraviolet offers with a cheeky grin on his face. Although his offer is predominantly because he wants an excuse to fight Serenade that Croupier will be okay with, Tommy feels some warmth in chest because the smallest part of Ultraviolet is offering because he’s concerned for Tommy’s wellbeing. Like Tommy mentioned before, he has an odd relationship with the Ace of Spades. He failed to mention that he doesn’t mind it too much. Less responsibility than the average relationship, and more comfort than none at all.

“Nope. I showed up with him for a fucking reason. You know me, I wouldn’t do this bullshit for no reason. It’s hard enough putting up with him when we’re at odds; why would I willing get in a car with him if not for an important fucking reason?” Tommy shakes his head in refusal. He did not utter a single lie, but he does think about how his car ride with Serenade wasn’t all that awful. He was a little too out of it to be certain, but he thinks he had a civil conversation with the villain.

“Whatever you say, man. My offer stands. I’ll pummel that guy in a heartbeat,” Ultraviolet says with a wicked smile, hooking a thumb towards Serenade. The villain’s body language shifts to show his anger, and Tommy finds himself laughing beneath his breath.

Tommy, Ultraviolet, and Serenade enter the casino at the end of the main street. Tommy switches a flip on his mask to turn off the smelling function. Ever since he first came to Las Nevadas, he asked the designers at the guild to make a switch that will stop scents from traveling to his nose. Tommy despises the scent of alcohol. He has no other reason except for the fact that Tubbo always hated the smell of it. The older kids in their group would sometimes drink a little on holidays, and Tommy and Tubbo would hide away on the torn mattresses shoved together that they all slept on. Since Tubbo hated it, Tommy learned to hate it. Now, it only brought up painful memories of his brother and the man he fought when he first got his hero license to earn the A-rank.

Instead of delving further into the casino, Ultraviolet and Tommy turn to the side. Serenade nearly misses them, but he manages to turn to follow them behind a pillar. Ultraviolet presses his fingerless gloved hand against the spade-shaped stone in the wall’s design. The spade glows faintly with a purple light before a door slides open. Ultraviolet enters first, Tommy and Serenade following one after another. They travel down the dimly lit service tunnel with red velvet carpet and gold-leafed pillars attached to the walls. Tommy runs his fingers against the cream-colored wallpaper, the soft texture soothing his fears as best as it can. Before the narrow space becomes too much, Ultraviolet opens another door at the end of the hallway. He holds it open for Tommy but lets it swing close for Serenade. The villain manages to push the door open before it completely shuts, and Tommy just knows that Serenade is glaring. He doesn’t utter a word about it.

The next hallway they enter is much bigger, though it is decorated in much the same way. The walls are covered in paintings of beautiful landscapes from all over the world- even beyond the boroughs of the city. Tommy has laid in these halls several times, staring up at the pictures. In each one, he takes one of his siblings to a new place. Tubbo would love the snowy landscape dotted with tall evergreens. Niki would sit with him on the shore as the waves lap lazily at their feet. Jack and Tommy would climb to the peak of the volcanoes, marveling at the plant life that manages to furnish the ground. Tommy would chase Fundy around the greenery of the forest, laughing alongside his brother’s giggles. Eret would tell Tommy stories about the dilapidated, overgrown ruins from a time long ago. And while Wilbur would go anywhere with Tommy, the blonde would want to stand at the top of the world with his brother, staring up at the thousands of stars that line a sky that isn’t polluted by light. His brother would wrap Tommy up in a hug, whispering the secrets the stars try to keep tucked away in the darkness between each twinkling wink.

Tommy smiles sadly as he passes the very last picture in Croupier’s hallway. Ultraviolet doesn’t give any of the pictures his attention as he opens Croupier’s office doors, but Tommy finds that Serenade has lingered behind to look at the very painting of the stars that Wilbur and Tommy would go to. Tommy watches Serenade, wondering what the villain could be thinking right now.

“Vendetta, my dear friend,” Croupier calls from inside the office. Tommy shuffles away from Serenade, deciding that it’s time to face the music. Serenade trails after Tommy, and the blonde misses his chance to ask about the painting. The doors shut behind Tommy and Serenade as Ultraviolet leaves. Croupier is leaning against his desk. He is wearing a casual outfit right now, a pale shirt with dark blue suspenders holding up his business pants and showing off his buttery yellow duck wings. His dark hair is held down by a beanie matching his suspenders in color, and his face is covered by a blue and white painted mask that resembles the manic face of a theater mask. Despite the smile on his mask’s face, Croupier is not the least bit happy. “You do know that you are my friend, don’t you? Of course you do. Only friends exchange favors as easily as we do. So, with the necessary information self-evident… I don’t understand what the hell you’re doing here with… that.”

“An alliance is unfortunately fucking necessary, but Big C, I’m friends with you, not that shitty thing,” Tommy assures Croupier, degrading Serenade just as Croupier did to gain some brownie points. And also because he doesn’t like Serenade. “As my friend, you would hate to see me in a shitty situation. So, you just tell us what we want to know, and I can get out of this toxic relationship with the Syndicate.”

“I reckon I can,” Croupier hums in agreement without actually providing anything substantial to the conversation. Tommy and Serenade came all the way from the guildhouse to Croupier’s office to get information on the Cult of Erythr and the Red Army for the Syndicate. Tommy can guess why he was assigned this mission, but he doesn’t have a clue why the Syndicate would send Serenade when Croupier has a horrible relationship with him. Simply another reason why the Syndicate are inferior.

“We wish to know more about the Cult of Erythr, and their more commonly known alias, the Red Army. The Syndicate is willing to pay a substantial amount of money for this information; although, we are not above negotiating other payments,” Serenade explains smoothly, stepping forward with an ease in his gait.

“The Syndicate already pays me a lot for gossip, for potions, for safehouses across the city, and many more things. I have more than enough money from the Syndicate. Why should I bargain for more?” Croupier asks, his eyes narrowing as he glances over at Serenade. Tommy freezes when he sees the glow illuminating the edges of Croupier’s mask from his eyes. Serenade is not as aware or intelligent because he takes a step forward. He instantly slips, floundering in the air before he’s collapsed on the ground. He huffs angrily, trying to rise to his feet. As he grabs the back of the couch surrounding the fake fireplace to the side of Croupier’s office, the throw blanket flutters to the ground, causing Serenade to fall on his face once more.

“You want to stop now, Croupier, because you know this will not turn out in your favor,” Serenade demands, using his powers on Croupier. The moment the flowery word is spoken, Croupier’s eyes fade back to darkness. Tommy knows both of their powers, so he is more amused than confused about the situation. Croupier can manipulate probability. He can’t change it too much without negative consequences, but increasing the likelihood that Serenade trips is something he’s willing to pay the price for. Serenade, on the other hand, can use a special inflection in his voice to convince people to do things. Like Tommy, Croupier usually isn’t affected by Serenade’s power, but sometimes, the silver-tongued villain can string together the right words to get what he wants.

“Although I don’t mind seeing you beg on your knees, it is highly unnecessary, Serenade,” Croupier mentions with a smugness in his voice.

“Oh, you would like seeing me on my knees, now wouldn’t you?” Serenade shoots back. Tommy, who had been laughing before, finds his nose wrinkling up in disgust.

“You’re helpless; why wouldn’t I enjoy this view?” Croupier mentions, and he’s started moving towards Serenade. Tommy shuffles a few steps back as Croupier reaches for Serenade’s face. Tommy can only assume that Croupier has grabbed Serenade’s chin or cheek with the way his fingers disappear beneath the veil.

“Is this your way of telling me that you’ll trade information with the Syndicate if this is your payment?” Serenade’s voice is snarky- he doesn’t mean it. But it’s disgusting to Tommy, and he really doesn’t like the position the two of them are in.

“Excuse me, I’ll leave you two to your flirting while I go fucking barf outside,” Tommy hisses at both of them. He marches out of that room, ignoring whatever else the two of them say as he pushes the office door open and back shut. He idly glances at the potted plants outside the office. They’re much closer than the nearest bathroom. Tommy grabs the edges of his masks, ready to lift it up to puke- or at least spit- in the plant. Before he can, however, he hears something in the hall. He tenses up, looking around rapidly as he looks around. He reaches for the metal baton attached to his waist. Instead of an enemy, though, the Ace of Clubs, Reynard, blinks into existence.

Reynard wears a white bodysuit with an orange overcoat. He wears black gloves and boots. To complete the look, he has a fox mask over his face. His entire costume is in service to his hybrid traits. He has two tails, fox ears, and vulpes eyes. He has the ability to turn invisible at will, including anything he’s touching including clothes and objects. To the public, he works with Croupier as a secretary. To anyone in the know, including Tommy, Reynard is Croupier’s best spy, so good that he earned himself a place as one of Croupier’s aces.

“Vendetta,” Reynard greets with a nod of acknowledgement. Reynard and Tommy are not friends, but there is a mutual respect that exists between them that basically makes up for the fact that they barely like each other. “The last known location of the Red Army’s inner circle, the Cult of Erythr, was in an abandoned G-train tunnel in Sandland. You can find it by entering any of the abandoned tunnels out there, but here’s the specific one that I discovered.”

Reynard passes Tommy a folded piece of paper clearly marked with Reynard’s signature paw print stamp. This is authentic information from one of the greatest informants in the city. Tommy flips the paper around in his fingers before looking up at Reynard. “Why are you telling me instead of Croupier getting off his ass and telling both Serenade and I?”

Reynard chuckles, gesturing towards the door. Tommy can’t make out any of the words, but he can tell that Croupier and Serenade are no longer flirting and are now arguing. “Croupier doesn’t even like Serenade. Why would he trust him?”

“And you think Croupier fucking trusts me?” Tommy takes his turn to laugh. Despite his close relationship with the Jester of Las Nevadas, Tommy will not trick himself into believing that Croupier trusts him. Croupier was the one that taught Tommy and the Ace of Hearts not to trust anyone. That was one of his numbered rules that he instilled in the naive faces that looked up to him. If it benefited him in the long run, Croupier would sell Tommy out in a heartbeat. A sad thought, but not untrue. And it becomes decreasingly sad when Tommy knows that he would do the same. The Ace of Hearts might not have accepted Croupier’s lessons, but Tommy adopted Croupier’s rules as his own personal code. Every human is out for themselves; Tommy cannot be afraid to selfishly take what he wants because everyone else will do the same.

“He trusts that you’ll get the job done,” Reynard amends thoughtfully, and that sounds a lot more like Croupier. In order to get information on the Syndicate, Tommy has done his fair share of chores for the Dealer of the Aces. It comes with a territory. Tommy completes his responsibilities; Croupier tells Tommy what he wants to hear. A symbiotic relationship at its finest. “Goodbye, Vendetta.”

Reynard disappears from view as the office door slams open. Serenade marches out of the room. Tommy slips the piece of paper in his pocket behind his knife’s hilt. He sees Croupier wink at him before the door fully shuts. Tommy rolls his eyes, turning his attention to a fuming Serenade. The villain grumbles something before he finally notices Tommy. He places a comforting hand on Tommy’s shoulder, and the blonde just barely suppresses a flinch. Serenade reassures Tommy, “We’ll take down the Red Army, with or without Croupier’s help.”

Tommy will definitely be taking down the Red Army.

Chapter Text

“Sleep, those little slices of death — how I loathe them.”

― Edgar Allan Poe

Serenade pulls into a parking spot alongside a series of buildings in the eastern part of Empires, near the coast. Serenade does not utter a word as he steps out of the vehicle, practically slamming the door closed with a restless sense of anger bristling along the edges of his body. Tommy scrambles to follow after him, nearly slipping when his feet touch onto the sidewalk due to his exhaustion over the long day. Tommy regains his balance as he watches Serenade walk into an alleyway without checking to make sure that it isn’t part of some gang’s territory. Tommy frowns at his carelessness as Tommy rushes after him. Unlike Serenade, Tommy makes certain to study the graffiti on the wall. He isn’t sure which gang it is until he sees the golden star. This is the Sheriff’s territory. The Sheriff is an old grouchy man who is classified as a vigilante but is more akin to a veteran unable to distinguish the streets from the warzones they used to run around. Tommy has spoken with the Sheriff a handful of times, and all those conversations were concise enough that Tommy still isn’t sure what the Sheriff stands for.

“Vendetta, come on,” Serenade proclaims, standing at a brightly red painted metal door. Tommy glares at the villain, slowly climbing the three cement stairs. His legs burn from the effort, and he realizes belatedly that he’s definitely going to crash soon if he doesn’t do anything. Tommy’s frown deepens as that thought circulates through his mind. He doesn’t voice it as he follows Serenade into the dark hallway. Serenade doesn’t flick the lights on, but Tommy’s goggles can quickly adjust to low-light situations. Most people in the business worth their salt know to carry around some means of seeing in the darkness.

“I have some business I need to take care of. Stay here until I come back,” Serenade informs Tommy as they enter into a dimly lit room. It is a small room with a barely used couch against one wall and a television directly facing it. Besides that, the room is barren save for some doors along the walls. Serenade turns away from Tommy, going back down the hallway they came from. Before he leaves, he turns on a light switch. Something in the walls groans from disuse. The overhead lights sputter to life like the beginning sparks of a fire. It fills the room with just enough light that Tommy can tell the walls are yellow, but not enough light that he knows the exact shade. All he can see are patterns bending and weaving across the surface like tangling vines. Tommy traces his fingers across one of the blobs of color that mimics a flower as the red metal door slams shut with a heavy thud.

Although the couch tempts him like a seductress, Tommy immediately begins pushing open the doors along the walls. The first one leads him to a dark supply closet that he makes a mental note of and moves on. The next door is much better for him. It’s a half-bath with a tiny sink and toilet paper rolls still wrapped in plastic. The room is covered in a thick layer of dust, and Tommy has no clue what this place is supposed to be used for. When he first saw it, he thought it would be a safehouse, but nothing screams safety or practicality. He objectively knows that safehouses aren’t supposed to look like their namesake, but Tommy knows this place carries no precautions.

Tommy decides it isn’t worth his consideration as he closes the bathroom door behind him. He instinctively locks it, knowing that he’s about to have a necessary but horrible time. He could decide to leave the lights off, but he needs to be able to see what he’s doing for this. He barely notices the way his hands tremble as he finds the light switch. Another groan fills the air, but the bathroom lights are, unfortunately, much brighter than the main room’s lights. The mirror above the sink shows him his appearance with perfect clarity, not a single smudge against the glass. His hands continue to shake as Tommy takes his goggles off, folding the temples to the lenses. Tommy looks back at the mirror, and he completely hesitates.

His eyes have always been a brilliant blue. Ever since the day he was born, they were so painfully bright that even his parents admired them for the first few days of his life. They were like the sky of a gloriously clear day, like the ocean in the shallower parts, like the lapis lazuli stones that the guild collects for their various projects. No matter how beautiful they are, Tommy hates them. They remind him too much of his past. He knows a little boy who had eyes just like this, and that child… Tommy hates that child more than anything else in the world. He hates that child more than he hates Reverie, more than he hates the Syndicate’s leaders. He hates that child for being stupid and foolish and naive and not realizing the worth of what he had when he had it.

The next part is trickier than removing his goggles. His hands are no longer trembling, but his very soul is. He reaches up to unclasp the back of his mask. The wires come undone beneath his meticulous fingers. Tommy’s hands travel further down, and he messes with the mechanism that keeps his mask attached as a precaution should a villain try to remove the straps. Tommy and the person who made his mask are the only people who know about the secondary mechanism, and Tommy hasn’t seen the guild’s tailors since he was first issued his costume. If his uniform tears, he fixes it himself, and he hasn’t allowed his mask or goggles to fall into disrepair. If he truly has a problem with them, he’ll get Ankh to fix it. Ankh doesn’t know about the secondary mechanism, though, because Tommy’s never explained it to him, even when the Ace of Diamonds prods about the guild’s technology.

Tommy hears a clicking noise, and his mask slowly presses off his face. A puff of air releases alongside it. Tommy brings both of his hands up to his mask before slowly pulling it off. There is a red line surrounding the outline of his mask. That pales in comparison to the small scars that form around his jawline. They are faded from years of letting them heal, but they won’t ever go away unless Tommy literally rips the skin off. Tommy presses his fingers against one of the longer ones, remembering the exact circumstances of this one. All of them came from Reverie, but there’s a different story behind each of them. Tommy knows them all because pain has a tendency of cementing lessons into his mind.

Tommy lets the mask drop into the sink with a dull thunk. He pushes air out of his chest. It’s rather dizzying to be breathing natural, cold air instead of the filtered, lukewarm air that his mask pushes through its multiple cylinders. Tommy grips the edges of the sink, looking down at his mask and goggles as they bring a splash of color to the ivory white porcelain. Tommy can feel his powers swim right underneath the surface. He could bring the sink crashing down into the ground, so heavy that it shatters the tile. Tommy doesn’t do that. He would like to believe that it’s because he doesn’t want to get hurt, but he’s long-since given up caring about his own well-being.

His first point of evidence to this claim is the packet he pulls out of a pocket attached to the side of his thigh. It is a nondescript white packet, similar to his food packets but much smaller. Tommy tears open the packet. He shakes the contents into his opposite palm. Two gray pills fall against his skin. Tommy hardly looks at them as he throws his head back, letting the pills drop against his tongue. He grimaces as he forces himself to swallow them dry. They go down like needles, scratching his throat muscles. Tommy lowers his forehead into his palm, waiting for the pills to take effect. It will only take a few moments, Tommy knows because those pills are practically his lifeline.

Every hero carries the pills with them. They’re meant to invigorate a hero if they are getting tired in a dangerous situation. It’s comparable to caffeine, but that isn’t a one-to-one. Tommy’s specialized pills are meant to bring him back to wakefulness. It’s a piss-poor remedy to his sleep-walking, but it’s one that the guildmaster approved of. He was the one that authorized Tommy to take those pills. The only problem with them is that Tommy was going to crash tomorrow. And when he did, this would be the first time he would be sleeping in the apartment with Serenade. Dread was the easiest word for what bubbled in his stomach at the thought. Tommy wishes he could just continue digesting the pills until sleep was a far-off memory. He can’t, though. They’re not a perfect substitute for actual sleep, just a small boost of energy to last him a little while longer.

Tommy throws the packet away, not really caring if someone sees it. With the pill starting to take effect, Tommy starts to put his mask back on. He clicks the second mechanism first before pushing the straps together. With his mask back in place, he picks up his goggles. He unfolds them and nestles the bridge along the nose. He looks up at his appearance. Because of the red tint, his eyes look more purple than blue. Because of his mask, no one can see the scars. He is no longer Tommy; he is Vendetta. The past and the present because there’s no future for someone who devotes themself to revenge.

Tommy leaves the bathroom before he gets any more flashes of his past. He shuts the door, moving on the next door in the line-up. He is met with a metal staircase spiraling downward. The weirdest part is the light and sound that come floating up as if someone is down there doing something. Tommy is curious, and he has his weapon and powers ready for whatever he might be faced with. Tommy even pulls his staff out, letting it expand as he takes the first steps down the staircase. The light becomes brighter and the sound sharper as Tommy descends to the final step. Instead of another barren and dark room, Tommy finds a large gym brightly illuminated with hundreds of training equipment devices littering around the mats.

That isn’t where the sound is coming from. Tommy walks alongside a wall of mirrors as he approaches another room with a door swung wide open. Tommy peers into the room cautiously, and that cautiousness is soon replaced with awe. He is in a large room, much larger than any gymnasium Tommy has ever seen. The walls are painted bright blue with white puffy clouds along the higher bits, and there are several rings and blocks in different colors and heights in the room. At the first ring, staring up at it, Phil stands with a clipboard in his hands. Phil notices motion from the corner of his eye. He whirls around to face the intruder, and he ends up smiling brightly when he notices that it isn’t an immediate threat. 

(Tommy will never believe himself not to be a threat. Not just because he has formal training and an extreme tolerance for pain, but because he knows he ruins most things that he touches. Every relationship he’s ever had was destroyed because of him, even the toxic ones. What should have made him happier only cemented the fact he was alone. Reverie might have hurt him, but at least Reverie didn’t hate him. Tommy doesn’t want to be hated, even when he’s a threat to anyone who spares him their kindness.)

“Vendetta! Good timing. I was just about finished with this. I’ve made you a training course. It’s mainly to augment your ability to fly using your gravity powers, but there are some weights in the other room if you wanted to test that,” Phil explains swiftly, walking over to Tommy. The hero puts his staff away, knowing that he could easily take Phil with his fists alone. He doesn’t want to threaten the poor man.

“What the fuck, man? We met like… fucking yesterday. How did you make all this shit in one day?” Tommy asks, eying Phil warily after he finishes assessing the room. Reverie could do something like that with his superspeed, but he would never make Tommy an entire, personalized training room. Reverie and Tommy would train in the main gym like everyone else, though the two of them were in there for way longer than anyone else. It was only until Inferno came to get them that they would leave.

“Well, I didn’t start this from scratch. I modified a training course for Azrael,” Phil says the name sheepishly, looking away from Tommy. At least someone respects Tommy’s hatred for the supervillains. But Tommy doesn’t want this conversation to end so swiftly. He likes Phil, the average person in the world of villains for reasons Tommy knows he won’t be able to hear in his lifetime. Tommy prefers Phil over the other members of the Syndicate, at least, except maybe Jolt and Enderwalk, but Tommy refuses to consider them members of the Syndicate for his own sanity.

“Is that your job? The training coordinator? You make this shit for the villains and they pay you by not killing you?” Tommy asks, gesturing towards the whole room. With how much he knows about the villain’s superheroes, he suspects that he could set-up their training courses himself.

“Something like that,” Phil partially agrees before tilting his head towards the first hoop. “Why don’t you give it a go?”

Tommy grins beneath his mask. He races towards the first hoop, his fingers interlocking to allow the red caustic light to spread over his body. He pushes his toes off the ground to launch himself into the air. He shoots through the first ring without any problems, but his momentum keeps him rising towards the roof. Tommy throws his head and shoulders forward with enough force that his body twists in the air. His feet touch against the roof, and he pushes off the blue paint with enough force to send him towards the ground like a bullet from a gun. He goes through another ring, and he turns his gravity back on. He lands on one of the blocks. He barely manages to catch his balance. He jumps off the block, going backwards to swing through the ring that he missed moments before. He nearly touches the ground, but he switches his gravity back off as he presses against one of the blocks. Using his shoulder and then arm and then fingers, Tommy is floating back at a diagonal to float over the ring. He continues rising in the air. He twirls around in the air, throwing his body weight around to gain momentum in various directions. He isn’t sure which ring to go through first, but that decision is made for him when one of the closer ones begins moving. Tommy takes it as a challenge as the ring swings back and forth like a pendulum. Tommy lifts his hands up before throwing them down, and he starts moving forward. When Tommy estimates he’s in the right position, he switches off his gravity. He passes through the ring. He touches his fingers together to let gravity reclaim him as the ground rushes towards him. He presses his hands to the top of the block as he rolls to stop.

As he settles, the caustic light spreads to the block underneath him. His balance abruptly shifts as the block begins to rise above the ground. Tommy makes a garbled noise as the block pitches forward, his weight knocking the block off course from an easy ascension. Tommy immediately snaps his glider open, letting himself land gracefully on the ground. He turns around to see the block hovering uselessly in the air. Phil rushes over to him immediately. The man barely glances at the floating block as he reaches Tommy. Without even thinking about it, Phil grabs Tommy’s arms, looking across the hero’s body for something. Tommy is confused until Phil utters a painfully unfamiliar phrase, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Tommy lets out, shifting uncomfortably beneath the attention bestowed upon him. Phil sighs in relief, another unfamiliar thing, as he looks up at the block. Instead of being upset that Tommy ruined his course or lamenting that Azrael would have his head for such a disturbance, Phil lets a smile spread across his face. “You can remove the gravity of much heavier objects than I first anticipated. I thought it was up to your body weight.”

“What? Fuck no. Weight means fucking nothing when I just cut the chains of gravity,” Tommy explains to Phil. He realizes as he’s talking that he’s never had an in-depth conversation about his powers with anyone, not even the guildmaster or Reverie. He didn’t get his powers until after his family was dead (obviously, since they were the catalyst to his awakening as an esper), so he didn’t get to tell them about it. “It’s the other way around that has limits. When I make things heavier, I can only make them twice as heavy as they already are. It’s fucking bullshit, but I can’t figure out how to do anything else.”

“Huh. I heard that you could make things heavier, but I didn’t quite believe it because I’ve never seen you use it,” Phil replies thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as he looks around the training room, probably thinking up ways to enhance that part of Tommy’s powers, too.

“I can imagine. I don’t really do that media shit. People have seen me flying around cause I’m fucking awesome, but… My fights are usually private. My most public fight was probably…” Tommy trails off despite knowing the answer. Minotaur was his most public fight. It was his first one, too. It was the reason he became A-rank in the first place. It was a big milestone that everyone congratulates Tommy for. Tommy doesn’t like thinking about that fight. “I don’t know what it was.”

Phil frowns, obviously catching the gap in Tommy’s words and the sullenness in which he utters the second phrase. Before any words of comfort can be shared, a voice calls out from the doorway. “Come on, Vendetta, it’s time to get back to the apartment.”

Tommy and Phil look up to see Serenade standing up there with his arms crossed. Tommy glowers, but Phil smiles rather lovingly. Tommy isn’t ready to unpack that, so he accepts Phil’s goodbye with a simple nod. He starts walking towards Serenade, already knowing that it was going to be a rough night.

Chapter Text

“There’s a sorrow and pain in everyone's life, but every now and then there's a ray of light that melts the loneliness in your heart and brings comfort like hot soup and a soft bed.”

― Hubert Selby Jr

The energy pills were originally created for another hero, a generation or two above Tommy himself. It was meant to last the average hero with their active lifestyle twelve hours, give or take a few minutes depending on the specifics of the individual hero’s anatomy. After the twelve hours were up, it was proven to be unhealthy to take even more. Even heroes needed to sleep, after all. The pills weren’t meant to make heroes into unstoppable machines; it was just to ensure that they had energy when the situation grew dire and escape seemed implausible or required too much effort. There was an entire team of researchers working on improving the pills.

Those same researchers were conscripted by the guildmaster to make Tommy’s specialized pills. The guildmaster and Tommy had discussed at lengths the pros and cons of having pills to guarantee that he didn’t fall asleep. The conversation began from a place of concern, but it quickly devolved into simple logistics. Tommy preferred the technical side rather than the guildmaster looking at Tommy like he was just another careless teenager who played around with their lives. Tommy was very protective of his life. He was taking the pills because of his self-preservation. The researchers took the guildmaster’s orders at face value without even attempting to explain the risks of such medication. Tommy already knew what he was risking, but he didn’t care when the other option was waking up every morning hanging from a thread.

That being said, Tommy’s pills weren’t completely foolproof. There were times when they didn’t react in his body the correct way, when his natural functions begged for sleep so fervently that his stomach dispelled the artificial compound. Tommy despises the process. He does not like crashing. It makes him feel cold even when sweat slides down his skin. His muscles are pulled towards the ground like he’s using his gravity manipulation on himself. He struggles with small breaths, so he forces himself to take deeper ones. Those deep breaths do little for his rising panic. All it manages to do is make him sleepier.

Tommy knows what to do in these situations, obviously, but he doesn’t like that option either. Tommy leans down in his closet. He pulls his traveling bag across the ground. When it stops sliding, Tommy unzips the top. Light pours into the darkness, and a metal glint shines back into Tommy’s eyes. Tommy places all his fingers against a chilling surface. A red caustic pattern washes over the object, glowing dimly in the bag. It reveals in more detail what Tommy has left behind. Metal chains begin to float into the air in front of Tommy. The blonde grabs the interlocked links and the key hidden underneath the chains. He drags the floating string alongside him. He runs the chain across one of his palms. His fingers snap shut as he reaches the end of the tether. He holds onto the thin cuff, tightening it to his bedpost. He sets the key onto the nightstand beside his bed. Tommy drops onto the bed. He lies flat on his back. He forces his muscle to relax as he reaches above his head to wrap the other end of the chain around his wrist. Because of the tank-top he’s wearing, he can clearly see the scars littering his arms. The worst ones are the ones directly around his wrists, and the metal cuff circles right around them.

Ironically, Reverie was the one to give Tommy this idea. When he begged Reverie to change his room into a cell, he realized that despite how painful and mentally undoing it was, containment was better than wandering off. When Tommy arrived at the guild, he couldn’t very well ask to live in one of their holding cells. It acquired the chain from some backstreet dealer with the shady promise that these chains could keep a Piglin brute from gold. Tommy wasn’t sure it could do that, but he’s never escaped from the chains while unconscious before. They are his best option, the only one that works.

Tommy hasn’t grown any more comfortable with them than he was when he first put them on. The chain itself was small on purpose, but that meant his arm was usually above his head with his shoulder pulled at an awkward angle. The cuff was too tight, evidenced by the scars. Any sudden moment usually resulted in the metal piercing into his soft flesh. He didn’t bleed often, but sometimes a particularly nasty cut will allow the blood to drip across his arms. The corner of his bedsheets are permanently stained with it since no amount of trips to the laundry rooms at the guild or YouTube videos at three in the morning will get the rusty brownish red out of the gray fabric. Tommy feels bad for the owners of the Paradise Apartments. Although he is certain they’ve had worse, he doesn’t like contributing.

It wouldn’t be like this all night. He would eventually try to move in the night. The chain would pull taut, and he would fall to his knees. He would wake up lying across the cold ground with his arm slightly elevated towards the bedpost. He was lucky that he didn’t break anything- his bones or the bedpost or the nightstand- when he tried moving and failed.

Tommy closes his eyes. As soon as the darkness invades, Tommy’s eyes fly right back open. He’s half-expecting to see Serenade standing over him with a knife to his throat or a poisonous whisper in his ear. A smaller part of him is sure that one of the other Syndicate members will be there. Their powers were just as deadly as Serenade’s vocal manipulation was. Dyscardia could manipulate internal organs, jumpstarting or- in Tommy’s case- stopping the beating of a heart, or causing blood to flow to his head to create dizziness, or crushing his lungs. All Dyscardia needed was her hands and line of sight, and Tommy would be done for. Her partner, Thermocolus, was almost worse. Whatever he looked at with his naked eyes would burst into flames, even nonflammable objects. When he met the eyes of an organic creature, the victim would feel as if they were burning alive- their blood feeling like gasoline and their skin like thin paper. Azrael would claw Tommy’s throat, Inchling would smush him in a giant fist, Argonaut would push her sword into his chest, and Ravager… Tommy shudders at the thought. The Syndicate could ruin him.

He closes his eyes again. A disturbing thought sends him reeling. Enderwalk could teleport him back into the ocean or at the rooftop. Enderwalk could even push Tommy into the void if he tried hard enough. Jolt would send a thousand volts through Tommy’s body, enough to fry him into a burning corpse. Warden could send the metal chain to whip onto Tommy’s chest or wrap around his throat until he couldn’t breath. These were people that Tommy trusted despite their status, but they could destroy him just as easily as the other members of the Syndicate could.

Tommy forces his eyes closed. He keeps them shut even as the anxiety churns softly in his gut. He blames his paranoia on the pills. It is never good to crash with them still lingering in his system. His body demands rest, the pills want him to stay awake, and his subconscious taunts him from below his ego, ready to drag him back into the freezing depths. He is not working with himself here, and that is going to kill him long before the villains get the chance to. Even Reverie, the fastest man alive, would be unable to destroy Tommy faster than his own body could destroy itself. A perturbing but comforting thought.

The fight between the chemicals and the mind gives his body time to unwind. All it takes is one slip before the claws of sleep are grabbing onto his limbs, digging in deep enough to scrape against his bones as they drag him down. Tommy hates falling asleep. He hates being powerless, especially because the biggest threat in this apartment is Tommy himself. He has to sleep, though. As tempting as the idea is, Tommy does not have the power to evade sleep without any consequences forever. He just needs to allow the beast to devour him, waiting to be puked out when the morning sun rises.

Tommy is right on the cusp of sleep when a loud noise startles him. His eyes fly open, his body jerking into an upward position. Pain already pierces his wrist before he remembers that he is currently wearing the chain. Tommy hisses, daring to look at the damage done. He sees the blood drip down the cuff before dropping onto the painfully white sheets of the apartment bed. Tommy grumbles, deciding he’ll deal with that superficial wound in the morning. Tommy picks his head up. It lolls to the side as he tries to identify the sound. It’s only loud because the apartment is otherwise silent. Tommy pinpoints the noise as music- some string instrument… a guitar? Maybe. While Tommy knows it’s an instrument, he knows that the ‘music’ isn’t much of a song. It starts and stops, repeating certain sections, and there is grumbling interspersed.

Tommy decides that he simply doesn’t care. Serenade can play music however loud he wants. It won’t affect Tommy…

… It does. The music doesn’t stop. Tommy can’t keep his eyes closed as the uneven notes enter into his ears. It’s painfully loud even when Tommy can only hear the muffled version. He grumbles beneath his breath, reaching for the key on his nightstand. He unlocks the cuff, letting it fall against the growing bloodstain. Tommy sets the key back on the nightstand, ignoring the scabs forming across his wrist. Tommy throws open one of his drawers. He pulls out a black cap. He throws it over his head and pulls it down low enough to cover his eyes. He can still see, but anyone who looks at him wouldn’t assume so. It was Tommy’s original mask design, but it was vetoed for looking too scary and impractical. Since then, Tommy has used it to sleep at Croupier’s or random park benches. It protects his identity as both Tommy and Vendetta.

Tommy throws his door open. He leaves it open, knowing that he doesn’t have anything to hide. He marches to the other side of the hallway. He doesn’t even attempt civility as he slams his fist at the door. He takes a step back, picking at the dried blood on his skin as he waits for Serenade. The music ceases, a light comes on, and there is obvious shuffling. After an eternity held hostage in a second, the door swings open to reveal Serenade.

Tommy’s very first thought is that he’s surprised Serenade has brown eyes. He thought they were green because Serenade’s eyes sometimes glow so bright they pierce through the veil. It is his surprise that leads Tommy into the more important thought. Serenade isn’t wearing his veil. He’s still wearing a mask, a 3-4th one that reveals part of his lips and his cheek. It also reveals his eyes. They are a shade of brown, like life-giving soil or sunlight through whiskey or warm hot chocolate that families share together on a cold day.

They are brown like Wilbur’s and Niki’s eyes were.

“What do you want, Vendetta?” Serenade asks, leaning against his door frame. With his face partially revealed, Tommy can see more of the emotions lingering on his face. Serenade is just as expressive as Tommy knew he would be. There is a half-smile on his face to convey ease and humor, but his eyes are illuminated by curiosity and annoyance. Tommy was always pretty good at reading people, but this seems like a new level for him. He feels like if he stares long enough, he’ll know every emotion that flashes across Serenade’s face.

“I want to fucking sleep, and you are being a bitch. Play your music during the day. And do not say it’s the artist’s hour or whatever bullshit you use to excuse your awful sleeping schedule,” Tommy gestures wildly, hoping to get his point across without this turning into some argument. He knows he’s a little hypocritical to be scorning Serenade’s sleep schedule when his is atrocious, but Tommy has a better excuse than ‘the muse has called upon me’ or whatever musicians say these days. Tommy doesn’t listen to music- he doesn’t have time and it brings back memories too bittersweet to dwell on.

“Aw, is the child having trouble going night-night? Well-” Serenade begins with a coo but cuts himself off. Tommy scowls at the villain, and he doesn’t realize until he feels Serenade’s freezing touch on his skin that Serenade has reached for him. Tommy tries pulling his wrist from Serenade’s grip. He’s unable to because of his own waning strength. Thankfully and strangely, Serenade holds his wrist gently. He runs his fingers along the scars before settling on the fresh scab. His lips downturn into an unpleasant frown. Something swims in his eyes that knocks the breath straight out of Tommy’s chest. He doesn’t name it because he would start crying if he did. “What are you doing?”

Serenade’s fingers trail up his arm. He runs his fingers along the scars along Tommy’s forearm. Serenade’s touch is a sharp contrast to the stories behind each scar. A few can be attributed to accidents, but most of them were because of the Hunters. Reverie’s training, Reishi’s experiments, Inferno’s temper, Wraith’s negligence, and even Tommy’s own torment. They aren’t pretty, and although the physical pain has faded, the mental associations cause Tommy’s stomach to drop and chest to constrict. Tommy finally yanks his arm away from Serenade. The villain allows the arm to be taken from him, but his eyes do not move away from the ugliest gash of them all.

“I… uh, not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I… I wear a chain… at night… to keep me in bed, not for any weird reasons. Don’t be disgusting,” Tommy explains as best as he can. He’s never had to explain to anyone before. The thought fills him with dread because he knows that it isn’t healthy. He knows that on some level, there are other options. He can see a doctor about it, or maybe a therapist. Not only would both of those options take too much of his time, he knows that won’t approve of anything he does in his life. He doesn’t want to argue with a physician or a shrink about what he should and shouldn’t be doing. Learning to forgive and forget in this society won’t do anything for him. Azrael and Inchling will still be in his face every time he watches the news. Their crimes will remind him of everything he’s lost. Tommy’s anger and hatred is so ingrained with who he is that he can’t imagine letting it go. It would kill him. He would be nothing without it. The thought isn’t healthy, and Tommy can’t help but think Serenade will tell him as much. Tommy won’t be able to stomach it. He can already feel the vomit rising in his body.

“That won’t do,” Serenade mutters to himself. Tommy is about to give his entire explanation for why it’s the best option. Serenade grabs Tommy’s wrist again before he can protest. Serenade drags Tommy forward. Tommy stumbles a little, completely thrown off his rhythm. He whirls around as Serenade shuts the door. He tenses for a fight, but Serenade’s touch remains comforting as he pushes Tommy a little at a time until Tommy’s knees hit the bedside. He feels a soft fabric tickle the back of his knees as Serenade pushes him one last time. Tommy falls back onto the bed. His face smushes against a soft pillow that Serenade must have brought from whatever hole he usually sleeps in. Tommy attempts to rise back to his feet when a heavy blanket is thrown across his shoulders. The overload of touch- both from Serenade and the comforting items around him- draws him into a relaxed state. He fights to keep his eyes open. When he finally grasps his conscious mind, holding it firmly in the present, Serenade is sitting on the bed right beside him with a guitar in his lap. Serenade is fiddling with the neck of the guitar. Tommy blinks blearily at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Tommy asks. He’s annoyed that his voice isn’t as clear as he wants it to be. He slurs around the edges like a drunk man in Las Nevadas. Tommy, personally, isn’t the biggest fan of alcohol, so he despises the way he sounds.

“I promise not to let you wander.” Serenade’s voice is soft. There isn’t the usual flair for dramatics or sinister edge that creeps in when Serenade wants. Tommy’s mind mistakes the tone for comforting, for some sort of protectiveness, but surely he’s just a little out of it. There is no way Serenade could care what happens to Tommy. People Tommy’s known for a lot longer than Serenade don’t care, so why would a supervillain affiliated with the group he’s sworn mutual destruction against speak with such empathy?

“I don’t trust you won’t just fucking kill me in my sleep,” Tommy points out, and that thought does send some energy into his body. He rises up to his elbows, but he doesn’t get much higher than that. He sinks back into the pillow, mostly because Serenade is gently pressing down on his chest with a flat palm but also because he doesn’t even know if he’s awake right now.

“If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you a long time ago. I don’t know who you’ve met before, Vendetta, but when I make a promise, I don’t break it. It’s one of my few rules. In my life, I’ve only ever broken one promise…” Serenade explains. Tommy recognizes the grief in Serenade’s voice, and it’s strange. It’s like finding out that your friend has other friends who they are just as close with as they are with you. Tommy objectively knew that he wasn’t the only person who has lost someone important to him, but it’s hard to imagine Serenade has ever had something taken from him. He stands at the top of the underworld. He should want for nothing. But it seems that even Serenade holds a wound that will never stop bleeding no matter how far along time marches on.

“And unmasking?” Tommy whispers, staring up at Serenade. Those brown eyes look at him. They carry the grief, like before, just as sharp and pained as the day the wound was inflicted, but his lips are smiling. Small, hesitant, but no less visible.

“Trust me, Vendetta, I know you don’t have a life outside of your hero job. It would bring me no benefit to know who you are beneath the mask,” Serenade explains idly with a shrug, a half-hearted joke. Tommy wants to argue against not having a life, an insult on his tongue, but Serenade drops his hand over Tommy’s eyes. Darkness surrounds him, but the comfort eases in to replace his fear. Serenade’s hands are cool as they drop down to touch his cheek. Tommy realizes then that he closed his own eyes. “Just go to sleep. I swear to you that I’m here. I’m doing this for you.”

If Tommy could complain, it would be drowned out by Serenade’s guitar. He plays a softer song, like a lullaby. Whatever it is, it’s easier on Tommy’s ears than the grating start-and-stop Serenade was playing before. Tommy isn’t sure what finally sends him to sleep- the warm blanket, the soft pillow, Serenade’s cooling presence, the lullaby, the pain no longer around his wrist- but something finally does. Even his self-preservation falls silent as Tommy sinks into the ethereal darkness.

—

Tommy wakes up slowly. Thoughts slip to the forefront of his mind like water leaking from a faucet. He doesn’t know what time it is. If he’s waking up on his own, Fundy and Tubbo are probably still asleep. If Fundy is still asleep, Eret will be asleep, too. Tubbo must have slept with Jack, star-fishing across his body. Niki would be over there with them, holding Jack’s hand and making sure Tubbo didn’t kick him. Tommy knows all of that because Tommy is lying on a comfortably cold chest. Wilbur is the coldest one there, and he always holds Tommy like this when they end up sleeping side-by-side. If Tommy was sleeping with Fundy and Eret, the kit would be between him and Eret. If he was sleeping with Tubbo, the boy would be half-lying on Tommy with his limbs in every other direction. Niki wraps her arms around him, sleeping sideways with him. Tommy uses Jack’s stomach as a pillow when they’re together. It’s Wilbur that Tommy lies on top of, ear to his chest until their hearts beat in unison.

Tommy smiles as he counts the beats. Their heartbeats are still in line even though Tommy is waking up and Wilbur is still asleep. Tommy pulls away, letting the smile rise even larger on his face. He’s rarely the first one awake, so he’s ready to jump on Tubbo in retaliation for everything he’s done to the blonde.

Tommy’s smile drops away immediately when he sees the face of the person he’s lying against. Serenade is flat on his back, one arm thrown underneath his head while the other lingers near where Tommy’s head was lying. His eyes are closed, body relaxed. Tommy feels red-hot embarrassment flash across his cheeks before he realizes the gravity of the situation. He forgot that his family was dead. He thought they were still with him. He thought that Serenade was Wilbur. Tommy feels like he’s betrayed his family. He can almost see the betrayal flashing in Wilbur’s eyes, Tommy’s last words to him dripping poison as the blonde turns to run away.

Tommy carefully peels himself away from Serenade. He sits at the edge of the bed, legs hanging off. He hunches his body inward as if protecting a stomach wound from more pain. The damage is done, though. For whatever reason, he completely forgot about his mission. He completely forgot about his oath. He dared to find comfort in a villain, and this was his punishment. He should have been stronger. Sleepiness is no excuse for allowing himself to fall underneath the whims of a villain. Serenade didn’t even have to use his powers to get Tommy to relax- hell, Tommy even sympathized with Serenade for one weak moment!

Tommy looks down at his wrist. There’s a bandage around it now, firm and secure. The dried blood had been cleaned away. Tommy runs his fingers along his clean skin. He hooks his thumb underneath the edge of the gauze. Maybe the scars are necessary to remind him that he is living his life in pursuit of one goal. He’s on borrowed time, and every second he wastes is a strike against him. Death continues to linger at his doorstep, holding the only picture he has of his family in a vice grip. Comfort is a luxury, and Tommy is undeserving of many things.

Tommy takes a quiet step off the bed. He foolishly misses lying against Serenade’s chest, and he isn’t sure if it’s because he liked the contentment or getting lost in the memory. His favorite part was probably syncing his heartbeat with someone again.

Tommy exits the room as silently as he can. He doesn’t want to wake Serenade up for many reasons- courtesy, convenience, avoidance- but it’s mainly because he has somewhere to be. He switches out his tank-top and shorts for his superhero uniform. He slips on his correct mask. He almost removes the gauze as he places the cuffs on his wrists, but he leaves it on for a reason he doesn’t want to disclose. Tommy, in his proper attire, sets out to find out the truth of Reynard’s lead.

Chapter Text

"But there is greater comfort in the substance of silence than in the answer to a question."

― Thomas Merton

The G-train system circulates all throughout the city, allowing a person to travel from one borough to the next. There are even a few underwater tunnels that allow people to get to Las Nevadas without driving on the bridge. The tunnels in Prime Heights are the busiest, the tunnels in Empires are the dirtiest, and there are more abandoned tunnels in Sandland than there are functioning ones. Tommy is pretty sure that there is only one good tunnel in that entire borough, and it's the tunnel that takes people out of Sandlands. There used to be an active effort to clean up the tunnels by the Hero's Guild, but Arid and Watcher had enough on their plate dealing with criminals running rampant. Tommy has never been bothered by the G-trains since he rarely takes them. He's extremely lucky that Reynard gave him a specific station number, otherwise Tommy would be stuck looking for a needle in a haystack.

The sign hanging above the descending staircase is covered in a thick layer of spray-paint. The number of the station is partially obscured. Tommy knows how the naming system works, though, so he understands that this is station E12. The 'E' means it's a station in Sandlands, and the 12 means that it's in the outskirts in the north. Tommy touches his fingers against the bottom line that makes up the partially visible '2'. He descends the stairs, his fingers falling away from the printed white numbers. His hand drops down to his side. Mirroring the knife on his right leg, Tommy has a flashlight on his left leg. While his goggles are built with night vision, it is always good to be prepared. Tommy mainly carries it to trick his opponents into thinking that he can't see in the dark. It should last him a fair amount of time as he clicks the flashlight on. The darkness encroaching from the bottom of the station suddenly skitters away like miscellaneous bugs because of the concentrated beam of light. 

Tommy moves the flashlight around. He isn't entirely sure what he's looking for. Reynard gave him this lead without much explanation. Tommy would have brought it up to the Syndicate, but he needed to confirm that this place was worth investigating before anyone was brought in. Tommy couldn't send the Syndicate on a wild goose chase because of a lead that was slipped to him with Serenade's knowledge. Tommy isn't entirely sure what will happen to him if he does since his main concern is simply not wasting anyone's time. If this station becomes a bust, only Tommy has to know that it wasn't worth the manpower. No sense worrying about something that isn't worth anything.

Among all of Tommy's mental inhibitors, claustrophobia is definitely one of them. Or maybe it's cleithrophobia, the fear of being trapped or unable to escape. Tommy just doesn't like the narrow walls that seem to creep towards him when he isn't looking at them. Details linger in the darkness; Schrödinger's monster is ready to attack him when his back is turned. Tommy takes in deep breaths to steady his racing heart. It doesn't matter. He can see perfectly well with his goggles and the flashlight working in tandem. What he can't see, he can hear and smell. His sense of touch is mainly obscured by his uniform, and he can't taste anything through his mask's filter, but he doesn't need all five senses working together- just his strongest three.

Tommy steps off the staircase into a large lobby. Ticket machines are powered off on one wall. A few overheard lights flicker on and off with a strange buzzing noise. The tiles are cracked with large patches stolen by other people navigating the abandoned system. Tommy keeps his eyes peeled for traces of the homeless population, but he doesn't notice anything specific like makeshift resting areas or cardboard signs asking for money. Tommy feels like he's stepped into a haunted house, the kenopsia rising alongside Tommy's dread. He is only saved from his emotions by the imagery on the outer walls of the lobby. In thick paint, someone has drawn interlocking vines. Each vine is a different shade of red with dark crimson leaves, and they all seem to be leading in the same direction.

Tommy presses his hand against the paint. The cement block is cold to the touch, and the paint is dry enough that Tommy is certain it has been there for a few days- if not weeks. Tommy keeps his hand against one of the vines as he walks forward. He takes the turn at the corner of the room, ending up at the edge of the platform. The rails are completely rusted. If a train did try to fly by, the rails would collapse to send the train scraping against the cement ground. Friction would slow the train down, but it wouldn't be enough to stop the metal beast from continuing for at least another mile, depending on how fast it was originally going. Tommy would be in hot water if that happened, but he doesn't have any other options when all the vines are leading in this direction. Tommy hops down, landing in a crouch with his flashlight pointed towards the abyssal tunnel ahead of him. Tommy braces for the worst as he takes a step underneath the domed roof.

As Tommy walks, he notices something strange. He slowly becomes aware of it, but once his attention notices it, it completely latches on. It's whispering. Tommy can't tell any information about the voice like gender or age, but he is vaguely certain that it is human. It's in the language he speaks, too, so when he concentrates, he understands each of the words. The words form together into sentences that Tommy comprehends. "You can have all you have ever wanted... you can have riches beyond your wildest dreams... you can have ceaseless adoration... you can have..."

The voice continues, getting louder and more defined as Tommy sees a light in the distance. He gets close enough to realize that the light is from another tunnel opening. As Tommy comes to the edge, the voice is no longer a whisper. It feels like someone is talking right beside Tommy. He whirls around to find that he's alone. "You can have beautiful lovers... you can have extravagant art... you can have unlimited happiness..."

Tommy scoffs. He turns back to the tunnel opening. He sets the flashlight down momentarily to heave his body onto the tiles. He could use his powers, but he wants to save them in case things go south. He drops his knees on the tiles, picking his flashlight back up. As he rises to his feet, the voice says something that makes him still. "You can have revenge..."

Tommy looks up sharply, searching once more for the voice's source. Whatever is speaking to him senses his growing attention because it switches gears from promising anything to promising revenge. "Yes, that's what you want, isn't it? Revenge against those who have wronged you. You can have vengeance if you desire it. You will have the strength and the opportunity. All you must do is give in. You can have it if you let me in."

Tommy only realizes that his hand is shaking because the beam of light isn't remaining on a fixed point. The voice continues reiterating the same phrase, but the damage has been done. Tommy presses his lips together. He's always been willing to do whatever it took in pursuit of his revenge. He's committed far worse crimes than a hero should legally be able to do, and he's ruined his mind and body for the end goal. If this voice can just give him what he wants, what reason does he have to refuse? Everything could be so much easier if he just gave in. Tommy couldn't think of how this could go wrong. He was getting his revenge; everything else was negligible.

Another noise fills the air, completely silencing the mysterious voice. Tommy blinks in surprise at his rampant thoughts. No, he was getting revenge on his own. He did not need or want some... random speaker's help. Tommy growls at how easily he would have been tricked. He reaches for the device that started blaring out some song he's never heard of about tearing up a dance floor and electric hearts. Tommy finds the device shoved in the shaft of his boots. He raises it all the way up, looking at the bright screen. Serenade called it a communicator, a way to stay in touch with the Syndicate like a burner phone but much safer. Tommy frowns when he sees the name tag above the answer or decline options. Tommy presses the green button, putting the communicator to his ear. "Hullo?"

"Vendetta!" Jolt's happy voice fills Tommy's ear. He winces slightly at how loud his friend is, pulling the communicator away from his ear a little to understand Jolt's words without wincing. "We should watch a movie together. Enderwalk will be there, obviously, but no one else. I know it might be a little... tense at the apartment with you and Serenade. He's actually a good guy. Well, not a good guy as in a hero, but he isn't as morally corrupt as you would think. I won't argue with you about it, though. Just come over to watch a movie with us."

"I'm a little preoccupied at the moment," Tommy mutters quietly. Even though he's talking to Jolt, he doesn't stop moving. He takes the opportunity to explore while the voice is graciously being silent. Like he suspected, the vines lead into this station. There's nothing particularly special about it, though. It's just as dirty as station E12, maybe a little less around the edges but barely noticeable.

"What if I promise to watch Up, hmm? Maybe even Moana?" Jolt compromises. Tommy frowns. In all the time they've known each other, Tommy, Enderwalk, and Jolt have done a movie night maybe five times. One of those times, Tommy was able to watch both Up and Moana. He liked both movies a reasonable amount, and he wouldn't stop liking them even when Jolt claims there are better movies. Tommy refuses to believe so. Jolt usually tries to play a different movie when they meet up, so it's strange that he would willingly offer to watch Up or Moana without even a little bartering.

"Nope. I got shit to do, Big Man," Tommy explains. He presses his back against the wall right beside the tunnel opening at the edge of the platform. He doesn't mean to be distracted, but he doesn't think he can investigate thoroughly when he's talking to Jolt. He thought the communicator was supposed to be used for emergencies only, so he's trying to figure out if Jolt is using a code of some sort. Is there trouble near the ocean or at the top of a skyscraper?

"What could you possibly be doing to refuse Up and Moana?" Jolt continues. Tommy doesn't think this is a code anymore. If it is, it's a horribly confusing one that the Syndicate needs to update immediately.

"I'm following up a lead on the cult," Tommy shrugs even though Jolt can't see him.

"Wait- what? Why would you go behind the Syndicate's back? I thought you wanted to be allies," Jolt sounds genuinely upset. Tommy blinks at the reaction. He hasn't done anything wrong.

"I'm not going to the fucking Syndicate with a location that might hold answers. Obviously, I'm investigating to see if there's anything worth raising the alarm for. So far, I've found jackshit," Tommy explains. He hesitates when the final word comes out. Actually, he has found something. The voice is definitely strange enough to warrant telling the Syndicate. He just needs to learn a little more about it before he brings it up in front of half a dozen villains who can ruin his life.

"That isn't how the Syndicate works," Jolt explains. Tommy rolls his eyes. How is he supposed to know how the Syndicate works? That's partially why he's doing this: to learn more about their procedures. He honestly thought they would approve of his method of gathering information and only informing them of anything necessary. Wasting time was for civilians; heroes and villains require every second of their days. "Send me your coordinates right now."

Tommy sighs, lowering his hand to check his coordinates. The fascinating part is that the Syndicate and their allies work with information on a grid system. Until Tommy does an extensive study, he uses the communicator to tell him his (x,y,z) coordinates. With the whisper message sent, Tommy lifts the communicator back to his ear. "I entered through station E12, but I'm in E11 right now. All I've seen so far are these shitty paintings on the walls of red vines. It's the same color as the cult's broken hearts, though, so there's that."

Tommy turns around, to look at the vines he's leaning on. The flashlight reveals them in all their strange beauty. Tommy wonders what the cult is doing to be associated with vines. He hasn't seen any signs that they are nature-focused or life-givers. He understands the red color, but the symbol of invasive growth and overabundance doesn't seem to correlate with anything previously known about the cult. Tommy thinks back on what they already know about the cult, trying to reconcile it with the vines and the voice. He doesn't see anything suspicious. None of the known cultists have nature powers, not even the suspected members.

Jolt ends the call after assuring Vendetta he would be there. Tommy puts his communicator back in his boot. He objectively knows that he should stay still so Jolt can find him more easily, but he is drawn to the center of the room where the vines are leading him by the slowly returning voice. He takes measured steps with his flashlight bouncing around every surface. He finds something added to the vines. There are other pictures hidden in the folds of each vine. A crown, the head of a wolf, a skull, an unrecognizable flower. Tommy doesn't understand what any of them mean or how they relate to one another, but he makes special note of every single one of them.

After a few moments, Tommy hears a noise coming from the stairwell down to station E11. Tommy pushes himself against the wall, reaching for his metal staff while turning his flashlight off. He waits as a shadow covers the ground at the bottom. Before Tommy can unleash his staff, the figure finally comes into view. Tommy relaxes even when Jolt's angry eyes land on him. Tommy raises his hand up to greet Jolt. "Ayup."

"I can't believe you, Vendetta. Look around. You should not be exploring a place like this on your own. It's dangerous. The Syndicate is here to help you," Jolt begins his lecturing, but Tommy puts a finger to his lips. Jolt's face flushes with anger, but in the moment he takes a deep breath, he hears what Tommy was silencing him for. The voice has returned. It continues to promise revenge for Tommy's benefit, but it throws in other promises to intrigue Jolt. The vigilante gives Tommy a questioning stare before the two of them are heading towards the back of the room.

All the vines meet somewhere behind a deep red, velvety banner. A table with metal chairs is at the foot of the banner with a genuine throne at the forefront. Jolt walks to the table. As his hands fall onto the table, the voice falls silent for Tommy. He looks around for the source when he hears a hiccuping noise. Tommy whirls around to see that Jolt is crying. Tommy opens his mouth, but all that escapes him is a wounded breath. He's never seen Jolt cry before. He's seen happiness and laughter and anger and annoyance, but never sadness. Never this bad. Tommy isn't built for comforting. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, especially not when Jolt falls to his knees, wrapping his arms around his thighs. He looks completely broken and defenseless. Tommy begins shaking, unsure what he's meant to do. With hesitant steps, he approaches Jolt. He slowly sinks down to his knees beside the vigilante. He wraps his arms around Jolt, waiting to be pushed away. Instead, Jolt presses his face to Tommy's collarbone, ignoring his gas mask and Tommy's armor.

"There, there," Tommy expresses his sympathy, realizing that tears are filling his eyes. He can't handle people crying. It makes him cry out of pity.

Jolt's body relaxes so quickly that Tommy pulls back to see Jolt's eyes have fallen shut. He's passed out. Tommy's panic returns as he attempts to shake Jolt awake. When that doesn't work, Tommy shifts Jolt in his arms. He lifts the vigilante up, ready to carry him back to one of the Syndicate's bases.

He finds that his exit is blocked. Reaper stands on the stairs, his pure white eyes glowing underneath the shadows of his hood. Cait Sith squats down on the bottom layer, his cat tail flickering in the brief silence. Tommy lowers Jolt down to the ground as he stares into the eyes of his opponents. "Hello, gentlemen, it is a pleasure to see you. A surprise, though. I thought these tunnels were abandoned. But if you have called dibs, I'll get out of your hair. Er... whatever you have, Reaper. I don't fucking know if you have hair. I've never seen your head. You're looking good, though. Fucking dapper or some word for that."

Tommy sets Jolt down. As steps over the vigilante's body with his staff rising out to collide with the blade of Reaper's scythe. The villain presses down. Tommy glares as he twists their positions. He sends Reaper's scythe to the ground beside Jolt's head, and uses the back end of his staff to hit Reaper's side. Reaper slides a little in the direction Tommy hit him. Tommy hunches over when a fist suddenly appears in front of his stomach. He tilts his expression to see Cait Sith reappear at the entrance of the stairway. The villain kicks up his leg, but his body dissolves into mist before it fully rises up. Tommy whirls around to lift his staff, and Cait Sith's leg slams against the metal. The leg dissipates before the body does. Tommy ducks to avoid the slashing attack from Reaper's scythe.

Reaper's power involves manipulating souls. He can conjure ghouls from the ground to attack for him, and he can form the leftover residue in the air into his shadow scythe. Cait Sith, on the other hand, is able to teleport, not dissimilar to Enderian creatures even though he's clearly a cat hybrid. One of them on their own is dangerous, but the fact that Tommy is facing both of them at the same time while having to protect Jolt's unconscious body is going to be a challenge. Tommy wishes he had spent time training with Reaper instead of Reverie all the time.

Tommy swings around with his staff posed to hit Reaper. The villain dodges by taking a step back, and Tommy shoves his entire body weight forward. The staff hits Reaper's stomach, shoving him against the wall beside the banner. Tommy attempts another hit when he feels a grip around his ankle. Cait Sith pulls, and Tommy falls forward. Before his head hits the ground, Tommy activates his power on his body. His legs fly up first, and Tommy shoves his shoulder forward to punch Cait Sith's black and light brown mask covering the area around his eyes. Cait Sith disappears before Tommy's fist makes contact. The force sends Tommy twirling even more. He sees Reaper raising his scythe to attack Jolt. Tommy's eyes widen, deactivating his power. He kicks his leg forward as he falls to the ground. The heels of his boots slam into the blade, sending the scythe to the ground. The chine scraps against the tiles with enough to shatter them even more. Tommy glares at Reaper, not even realizing that Cait Sith is behind him until he's being thrown to the ground. He crashes against the ground with a hiss of pain. His bleary eyes look up to see Cait Sith trying to hold up Jolt's body to make it more accessible for Reaper. The villain begins to reach a hand for Jolt's chest, summoning Jolt's soul for manipulation.

Tommy scrambles to his feet without acknowledging the pain that washes across his back. He uses his power on his staff, making it twice as heavy as it usually is when he throws it with all the strength in his arm. It hits Cait Sith in the side. The villain teleports in surprise. Unsupported, Jolt's body begins to fall. Tommy grabs Jolt's underarms, pulling him away from Reaper. Tommy's staff clatters against the ground with a harsh noise. The tiles beneath it fly up, and Tommy protects Jolt's body by taking the brunt of the shards in his arm.

Tommy pushes Jolt beneath the table, hoping that will help protect him while he deals with other business. Tommy jumps out of the way as Reaper's scythe flies at him, chine over shant and back again. It lands across the room. Tommy picks his staff back up. He ignores the way it pulls at the bloody wounds now in his arm. He lifts the staff up, swinging it around like a baseball bat. Reaper dodges out of the way, and Tommy realizes angrily that his attack is going to miss.

Except, it doesn't. For some reason, his staff is pulled forward enough that it strikes Reaper in the place Tommy had been aiming. Reaper falls to the ground. With Reaper out of the way, Tommy can see Warden standing at the staircase with his hand raised like he was the one that manipulated Tommy's metal weapon. Tommy smiles in gratitude. His relief lives a short life. Tommy feels a sudden pressure slam against his bruised back. Arms wrap around his throat, pulling tight enough that Tommy chokes immediately. He grabs the arms, tearing into the cloth of Cait Sith's bodysuit. He summons his power. Cait Sith grows light enough that Tommy lowers his upper body to throw Cait Sith over his shoulder. Cait Sith floats in the air for a moment, and Tommy reverses his power. He feels his entire body spasm as he shifts gears. Cait Sith, twice as heavy as he usually is, slams against the ground. More tile shards end up in Tommy's legs. He presses a knee to the space between Cait Sith's shoulder blades. He pulls the villain's hands behind his back. He holds Cait Sith down, wondering what he's supposed to do next.

"Cait Sith," A voice calls. The villain beneath Tommy suddenly disappears. Tommy's knees hit the broken ground with enough force that a tile shard stabs him. White dots sprinkle across Tommy's vision momentarily before he gets a grip on reality. He lifts back up to see Cait Sith standing beside Reaper at the doorway. Reaper's eyes meet Tommy's, and they stare at each other as Cait Sith teleports him and his partner to another location. 

Tommy feels the urge to go after them, but Warden rushes towards him to block his path. Warden puts his hands on Tommy's forearms, squeezing a little too tight for Tommy's liking. Tommy doesn't voice the pain, though, just looking in Warden's eyes. "Are you hurt?"

"Jolt," Tommy responds, completely missing the question. He turns to the vigilante hidden beneath the table. Warden follows his eyes to see. Warden reluctantly releases his hold on Tommy, but he rushes over to Jolt. Tommy follows him. The two of them lean beside the table. Warden pulls Jolt's body into his arms. He feels around Jolt's throat for a pulse. He deflates in relief when he finds out that Jolt's steadily moving chest isn't some sick joke.

"What do you think you were doing?" Warden snaps, looking up at Tommy.

The hero blinks, unfamiliar with this special brand of anger in Warden's eyes. "I thought I was following up a lead on the fucking cult. You know, the organization we're fucking fighting against right now! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"I was following Reaper to get some clues," Warden explains plainly.

"Yeah, I was doing the same godsdamn thing!" Tommy snaps, matching Warden's emotions.

Jolt groans in his sleep. Warden and Tommy fall silent as they look down at the vigilante. Warden lifts Jolt's body up, one hand beneath his knees and another around his shoulders. Warden looks at Tommy with a fading emotion in his eyes. Tommy returns the gaze with a sharp glare. Warden speaks softly, "Come on."

"Fuck no," Tommy responds, refusing all orders on principle. Despite his words, Tommy rises to his feet. He ignores the drops of blood against the tiles that came from his body. Warden doesn't ignore them. He stares right at them with a remorseful tension in his body. Tommy doesn't understand that. He's been hurt worse. Even if he hasn't, the wounds he's carrying now are superficial. They'll heal in a few days time, even less time if he steals some of the gauze Serenade used on his wrist. Tommy is going to be fine; Jolt is the one that needs immediate medical attention and Warden isn't taking him.

"I'm not mad, Vendetta. I'm just a little worried. We don't know what could have happened if I didn't show up in time. You could have gotten hurt far worse than you are now," Warden explains his anger. Tommy really doesn't understand that. No matter what sort of complicated relationship Warden and Tommy had, there was no way Warden should care how badly Tommy had gotten hurt. "I want you and Jolt to get checked out."

Tommy doesn't say anything, but he does walk to stand beside Warden. The villain's eyes brighten with happiness as he starts to carry Jolt out of the tunnels. Tommy reaches for Jolt's hand. He holds it as tightly as he dares as he follows Warden and Jolt into the hot sunlight.

Chapter Text

"If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."

― Sun Tzu

Tommy taps his foot incessantly against the ground. The wooden walls of the hallway around him seem to stretch infinitely in both directions as the worry claws at his stomach like a caged wild animal. He leans against one of the walls beside a dark blue door, and he doesn't feel the wood shifting beneath his shoulder blades even when he isn't sure that the floor is horizontally flat beneath his boots. His fingers reach for his wrist. His power brushes against his skin, ready to send him flying or towards the ground. Instead of releasing it, he grabs onto the scratchy fabric of the gauze that peeks out from beneath his metal cuff. He twiddles with it between his fingers. Between that and the foot-tapping, he manages to stay standing in that hallway instead of running away due to the restlessness in his body. He was never good at worrying about other people. He was never good at waiting to find out if they were okay.

Like Warden said, he took Jolt and Tommy to the Syndicate's safehouse in Prime Heights. Warden delivered Jolt to Argonaut and Dyscardia. Warden commanded Tommy to stay so that he could get checked out after Jolt. Tommy would have refused the order if Jolt wasn't still unconscious from whatever the mysterious voice did to him. Tommy wasn't there to be healed; he could handle his wounds by himself. He was there to find out if someone else he knew was dead or comatose. As much as Tommy fights against the care he has for Enderwalk and Jolt, it lingers in his body like a parasite, and it was raging against the idea that Jolt could be dead and that it was Tommy's fault. He never should have let Jolt come with him. He should have carried out that investigation on his own without anyone. He made a mistake, and he couldn't take it back. All he could do was wait to find out how bad of a mistake it was, and the wait really was going to kill him.

"Why were you so reckless?" A voice asks. On the opposite wall and the other side of the door, Ravager is there. Warden had to leave earlier to finish some business, so Ravager was forced to babysit Tommy to make sure the hero didn't leave before Argonaut and Dyscardia could check his health. Ravager sits in a plastic blue chair. It is barely big enough to hold him up, and the sight of Ravager touring over a chair Tommy can sit in normally has the intended effect of making him anxious. Tommy won't let that anxiousness weaken him, though. He was stronger than Ravager was getting him credit for.

"I wasn't being reckless, prick. I was being smart. There is no way in hell I could have walked up to the Syndicate with a lead from an organization that previously refused you. I'm sure we all know how much we hate each other. You would have taken me for a fucking liar, and I would have gone by myself, anyway," Tommy snaps, letting his restlessness and the tension in his body release in a burst of anger. He objectively knows that it isn't good to piss Ravager off, but he would rather get into a fight with the man than idly chat with awkward pressure threatening them in the hallway.

Ravager sighs, unimpressed. Tommy's hand clenches around the strip of gauze he's managed to pull loose from his metal cuff. Ravager's bright red eyes look at Tommy from the corner of his eye. "I didn't expect much from you, anyway."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Tommy snaps. He feels his body begin to shake under the pressure of his emotions. He wishes that literally anyone else was here with him right now. He would rather sit with Serenade than Ravager. Serenade isn't nicer than Ravager, but at least Serenade likes playing games that could distract Tommy from everything swirling in his head. At least, he probably would if Tommy couldn't get the memories from the morning out of his head. He still feels horrible about thinking Serenade was Wilbur, even for a brief moment.

"You are an idiot, Vendetta," Ravager does not mince his words as he stares completely at Tommy with a deadpan expression. He seems completely certain in his words, like he's telling a simple truth that everyone already knows.

The blonde flusters, his face turning bright red beneath his mask. It takes an extreme effort not to throw the first punch and even more self-control not to start yelling with all the ferocity in his chest. The thought that Jolt could be resting in the next room is the only thing that keeps him from even touching his metal staff. "You don't know shit about me."

"No, Vendetta, I know enough about you. I know that you joined the Hunters. You were with them for five years. You were regarded as Reverie's sidekick and successor until you set fire to Reishi's garden. You were exiled from the Hunters. You joined the heroes shortly after, and you have been with them for five years. You became an A-rank hero by defeating Minotaur in your first year of being a hero. You swore vengeance against the Syndicate, hence your accurate hero name," Ravager explains with a wave of his hand. Tommy feels his breath freeze in his throat. Ravager is so carelessly throwing around his past, like Tommy didn't go through hell losing his family, like he didn't lose his mind with the Hunters, like it didn't almost destroy him to take down Minotaur, like he hasn't spent every second since ten years ago attempting to right every wrong. Tommy's life was far more painful than Ravager's simple words, and Tommy hates how easily it can all be summed up with tidy dates and descriptions of who he was aligned with. "If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles."

Tommy laughs at Ravager's quote, deciding once and for all that the villain before him was nothing more than a nerd who knows how to go to the gym. Tommy decides that if Ravager wants to do that, he'll follow the villain's lead. "Ravager. You appeared on the scene six years ago under the banner of the Syndicate. You were regarded as powerful, strong, and most importantly, mysterious. You really fucking aren't. You, Ravager, are the successor of the Blood God, a vigilante that disappeared eleven years ago. You, like the Blood God's mentor and their mentor before them, have passed down your superpowers. As of right now, your superpower includes an enhanced physical state tied to bloodlust, a slow regeneration, fear inducement, heat resistance, minor blood manipulation, and weapon proficiency. Inconsequential powers on their own that can do a lot of fucking damage together. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."

"It seems you're a well-informed idiot," Ravager concedes, barely blinking an eye as Vendetta tells the man his powers. No one in the Hero's Guild knows Ravager's powers except for Tommy. The blonde knows because of his intensive research. He's tracked every single one of Ravager's fights. He's spoken with the few survivors. He knows what Ravager is capable of, and the thought comforts him more than it terrifies him. If he comes down to it, Tommy has a chance at beating Ravager, which is a lot more than anyone else who has ever fought the villain has ever had.

"I thought you were a fucking nerd. You should know that 'well-informed' and 'idiot' are opposites," Tommy points out the contradiction. He wishes Ravager had a better reaction to the information than this nonchalance, but Tommy knew better than to expect that Ravager would show any emotions.

"You're an idiot for thinking you could defeat Azrael and Inchling," Ravager amends his statement. Tommy sucks in a tight breath, his voice filter making a weird crackling noise. Every day since ten years ago, Tommy has been making and reworking his plan for bringing his enemies to their knees. He has never been able to make a foolproof plan, but he's a lot more prepared than anyone else who has ever tried. Tommy knows everything there is to know about the villains. He knows their patterns, habits, and fighting styles. He is gaining a little more information about the loyalty of the other Syndicate members, but it wasn't like Tommy didn't already know he was going to be killed even if he succeeded against Azrael and Inchling. Tommy was prepared. He wasn't an idiot for thinking he could win when he knows that he has a chance.

"Are you going to stop me?" Tommy prods with a glare. He's in unfamiliar territory. He's made contingency plans for fighting against Ravager, but he isn't certain about any of them right now.

"I don't have to. You aren't a threat," Ravager explains simply. If it wasn't for his red-tinted glasses, Tommy would have said he was seeing red. Anger, bright and flaring, rises in his chest. He is a threat. He's going to kill Azrael and Inchling, and Ravager is going to hate himself for being so stupid as to think that Tommy was nothing. He's going to blame himself for the rest of his life, wondering how things could have changed if treated Vendetta like the threat he was.

"Vendetta," A voice calls as the blue door swings open. Tommy faces Argonaut. She stands at the door with a tense expression beneath her mask. She looks between Tommy and Ravager before letting her eyes settle on Tommy. She gestures for him to enter the room, "Come on in. We'll check you for injuries and then you can go."

Tommy nods jerkily, following Argonaut into the room. He throws another glare over his shoulder. Ravager raises an eyebrow at Tommy, leaning back against his chair. The door falls shut before Tommy can yell at the villain. Tommy represses an angry noise as he looks back at Argonaut. She stands at a hospital bed. Dyscardia is on the other side of the bed, fiddling with one of the machines. On the other side of the room, Jolt is wrapped up in blankets on a similar bed. His face is hidden from Tommy, but the heart monitor right beside him confirms that Jolt is breathing like he should.

"You can sit here," Argonaut points to the bed. Tommy hops on it, keeping his eyes on Jolt's body. If Argonaut and Dyscardia aren't fretting over him, does that mean Jolt is fine? Well, he can't be fine, but does this mean that he's in the clear?

Someone grabs his arm. Tommy whirls his attention around to Argonaut standing in front of him. She gives him a gentle smile as she brings a tweezer to his arm. She goes through the holes already in his costume. Tommy squints his eyes when the tweezers enter into his skin. Argonaut begins picking out tile shards. She places each bloodied one on a metal pan beside her. Dyscardia stands in front of Tommy. She lifts both of her hands up. Each hand holds up two fingers pressed together, and Dyscardia pulls her hand away from each other, one going towards Tommy and the other towards her own chest. Tommy's heartbeat immediately begins to slow. Tommy's breaths follow the rhythm. Tommy remains rather calm as Argonaut takes the last few shards from his arm. She looks up at Tommy with worried eyes. "I'm going to heal your arm now. Do you think you could remove your sleeve somehow? It would make it easier for me."

Tommy huffs, but his annoyance feels fuzzy against the extreme relaxation through his body. Tommy unclips his metal cuff, dropping it on the bed beside him. His chestplate goes next. He unzips a little bit of the front part of his suit. With both of those removed, Tommy is able to pull his arm out of his sleeve. He raises his arm through the opening around his neck. He drops his vacant arm back down in Argonaut's hold. She smiles at him, but the smile drops away when she looks down at his arm. Her frown makes Tommy's heart stutter, and Dyscardia makes a noise as she attempts to slow his heartbeat once more. Argonaut rushes to put a smile on her face as she runs her fingers along the shallow cuts. Each one seals shut with such precision that not even a scar is left behind. Argonaut drops his arm gently into his lap, and Tommy lethargically goes to put his arm back into his sleeve.

"Are there any other wounds we should know about?" Argonaut asks. Tommy blinks blearily at her. At the guild, he goes in for a healing session every half year because it's mandatory to go at least twice in a year, especially for the higher ranking heroes. Even those healing sessions aren't much more than the doctors putting down his new height and weight down in the files. He doesn't even think his cuts were worth Argonaut using her power. Bandages would have been fine to use.

"There's blood on his knee," Dyscardia chimes in, gesturing towards his knee where the tile shard stabbed right through him. Tommy brings his knee closer to his face to examine the extent of the wound. It still trickles a little bit of blood, but it isn't anything Tommy isn't able to handle. Argonaut seems to disagree as she looks at the wound, pushing Tommy's head away. He frowns at her as Argonaut makes some sort of wounded noise. She presses her fingers against the wound, and it heals after a few seconds.

"Look, Vendetta, I heard what you told Ravager about why you went. I know it might seem hard to believe, but the Syndicate works together, even with our allies. No matter what personal grudges we may have with each other, we have to work together to take down the Red Army. And this also means that you have to come to me whenever you get hurt, no matter how little it is," Argonaut explains to him, leaning down to look up at him, like she's purposefully putting herself in a weaker position to make Tommy feel better. It works surprisingly well. Tommy feels almost safe around Argonaut, and he supposes that he would. He doesn't have any personal grudges against her, and he doesn't think she's a completely horrible person. She was partners with Minotaur a long time ago, so Tommy thought that she would hate him. She doesn't seem to, and her kindness scares him more than Dyscardia's apathetic gaze or Ravager's gross oversimplification of who he is.

"Fuck off," Tommy tells her and Dyscardia. He jumps off the bed, walking out of the room. Argonaut calls after him, but Dyscardia lets him go. His emotions are running far too high for any of this. He throws the door open, slamming it behind him. He expects Ravager to be sitting in the plastic blue chair. The chair is empty, and Phil is standing at the end of the hallway. Phil frowns sympathetically as he walks to Tommy. He reaches his hand out as if he was going to hold Tommy or something like that, but the blonde takes a measured step back. Even if Phil isn't a villain, he still works with the Syndicate. Tommy is, too, technically, but he's doing it out of necessity, not choice like Phil.

"Are you okay?" Philza asks as he lowers his hand back to his chest. He clasps both of his hands together.

"Fucking fine," Tommy snaps. Physically, he's fine. Argonaut literally just healed him when he would have been fine without it. Emotionally, he isn't doing the best, but he's going to figure it out. Tommy has been mentally unwell for so long that it's his new normal.

"What were you thinking, Vendetta?" Philza asks him, tilting his head to the side with concern in his eyes. Tommy never imagined that the Syndicate would be this hung up on teamwork. Tommy thought they would be research-focused like he was, but they clearly cared more about making sure everyone returned unscathed. It was an admirable ideology to follow, especially for villains, but Tommy wasn't part of that. He didn't have the time to be part of it. He had work to do; he couldn't come crawling back every time he had a boo-boo.

"I'm getting real fucking tired of people asking me that. Am I the only one that gives a damn about securing good information? Am I the only one that thinks it's better to do shit alone, especially when I can't trust anyone in this godsdamn building?!" Tommy snaps, a low hiss whirring alongside his voice because of his modifier. Tommy sighs, deflating his shoulders when he notices Philza's expression. "I'm sorry. Misplaced anger. I didn't mean to get upset with you. I just... I don't understand why the fuck everyone is concerned."

"We're concerned because we're allies right now, however temporary it may be," Someone calls from behind Tommy. He turns around, already knowing that Serenade will be there. Part of him misses the 3-4ths mask Serenade had been wearing before, but he's mostly glad that the villain is wearing his veil. Tommy doesn't know if he would be able to look at Serenade if he could see those painfully brown eyes. "Come on, Vendetta, we're going back to the apartment."

"Serenade, take care of him," Philza calls out as Tommy walks to Serenade. The villain nods at the words. Tommy wonders why a villain would listen to a personal trainer. He feels like Philza should be at least a little wary of Serenade, but the trainer sees fit to command the villain to take care of someone who the Syndicate are supposed to hate just as much as he hates Azrael and Inchling. 

Tommy doesn't question it, though, because he doesn't really care and he's too out of it. He wants to stay with Jolt, but he doesn't want to be anywhere near Dyscardia. He wants to fight Ravager, but he doesn't want Argonaut to heal him. He doesn't want anyone else to ask him what he was thinking because Tommy isn't sure he could ever explain to them. The Syndicate, for all intents and purposes, are a team. They have each other. Tommy has no one, and he's learned how to be okay with that. He isn't a group player and hasn't been one since he was a child with a family to teach him how to make decisions and help him clean up the messes when he failed. Tommy is alone now. He has no one to rely on but himself. He has no one to trust but himself. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to the Syndicate's insistence on teamwork.

Serenade does not play any music on the drive to the Paradise Apartment. He hums, but the noise is more soothing than annoying. Tommy relaxes in the passenger seat, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. He recognizes a few of the buildings, and he recognizes less and less as they drive into Empires. He knows the graffiti symbols on the walls, but he doesn't know the buildings that lie underneath. It's a sobering thought that makes Tommy's heart jerk in his chest. Tommy blames his emotions on the villains he was just riled over.

Serenade parks in front of the apartment complex. He opens his door, leaving it hanging there. Tommy gives him an odd look as he gets out of the car. When Tommy shuts the door, Serenade finally gets out of the car. Tommy moves towards the apartments first. Serenade follows. There's an understanding that Serenade wants Tommy to go first and Tommy doesn't trust Serenade behind him. They settle this argument by walking side by side. It gets a little awkward when they must enter the building, and Serenade relents in going before Tommy to appease the hero. Tommy feels a flash of victory, but it drowns in the slight fear that awakens when he steps into the elevator. He still does not like them. The only upside is that Serenade is not making idle chit-chat as they rise.

They walk side-by-side in the hallway. When they get to the door, Tommy allows himself to slide into the apartment first. The hairs on the back of his neck raise when Serenade closes the door behind them. Tommy doesn't make mention of it as he walks to the corkboard in their living room. He writes a brief account of what happened in the G-train tunnel. He pins it to the board, stepping back to help him see all the information in relation to each other.

"Vendetta," Serenade calls, holding up a bowl with a spoon in it. Tommy's eyebrows furrow together as Serenade sets the bowl down on the countertop. Tommy pulls it closer to himself, a little surprised that Serenade made him dinner. Serenade poured water and the gray powder into a bowl, creating the health mixture for Tommy. He unlatches his mask, letting it hang off the side of his face. He removes the spoon from the bowl. He lifts the bowl up to his lips. He lets the sludge slide into his mouth and down his throat. Fortunately, it doesn't taste like much of anything, more like wet cardboard than anything truly awful. When he's done, Tommy sets the bowl back on the counter. Serenade eats a sandwich behind the counter, finishing around the same time Tommy does.

"Thank you, Serenade," Tommy mutters, unsure about the words even as they come out of his mouth. He snaps his mask shut, and he walks over to the corkboard. Before he can get there, Serenade snatches Tommy's wrist. Tommy frowns as he looks at the villain. "What the fuck do you want?" 

"You're going to bed," Serenade tells Tommy like he's a toddler. Tommy isn't one, so he is willing to argue with Serenade. The villain doesn't let Tommy say anything as he nudges Tommy into the hallway. Tommy doesn't like being in front of the villain, but he doesn't like Serenade pushing him into his own room even more. Serenade follows him inside. Tommy scans the room, making sure he doesn't have anything compromising out. Even if he did, Serenade is drawn to the edge of the bed. He runs his fingers along the dried blood splatter on the sheets. His fingers continue towards the chain. Serenade sighs, attention coming back to Tommy. "Get changed into something comfortable."

Serenade leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Tommy rolls his eyes. He doesn't need to go to sleep. He shouldn't go to sleep with Serenade, either, not after what happened this morning. But, for some reason, Tommy does as he is told. He changes into another tank-top and sweatpants. He changes out his normal mask and glasses for the black cap that covers his eyes, nose, and forehead. He should wait for Serenade to come get him, but he goes to Serenade instead. The villain wears a comfortable outfit, too, including his own sleep mask. Tommy searches Serenade's eyes, searching for something familiar in the brown. The problem comes when Tommy notices way too many familiar things about those eyes. He knows them like he knows his own eyes, and it makes him want to cry.

"Come on," Serenade calls, lying on the bed with his arms open. Tommy stares at the villain for a very long moment. He could refuse. He could sleep on the floor. He could ask to sleep in a different position. He could do a lot of things other than fall into the arms like a leaf in the wind, but he doesn't do any of them. He lets Serenade hug him close, his ear against the man's chest. Serenade's heartbeat matches his own. Tommy smiles to himself, closing his eyes. Tommy ignores the tears building in his eyes, but Serenade's whispered promises means that he isn't ignoring it.

Tommy just lets himself fall asleep, too tired to really think about anything.

Chapter Text

"You see, you closed your eyes. That was the difference. Sometimes you cannot believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel. And if you are ever going to have other people trust you, you must feel that you can trust them, too--even when you're in the dark. Even when you're falling."

― Mitch Albom

Tommy's eyes flutter open. He breathes in deeply as his eyes scan the ceiling above his head. The mattress underneath his body seems to sink even further as his limbs twitch into action. His head slides off the pillow cushioning it, and he feels something get stuck in his throat as his head becomes even with the rest of his body. The blanket clings to his skin because of a thin layer of sweat. He feels some latent fear swirling in body from a nightmare he cannot remember. He reaches across the bed to find the soothing cold of Serenade, but his fingers only brush against the sheet. Tommy blinks the fuzziness out of his eyes, turning his attention to the empty bedside. He finds himself frowning. He washes that sombering emotion away. He much prefers Serenade to be gone than to wake up with him there. At least he didn't wake up in delusions. He knows his family is dead; he knows that Wilbur will never hold him again.

Tommy groans as he pushes his upper body with his hands. He swings his legs off the side of the bed, and the blanket falls to the ground beneath him. He leans his upper body forward. He places his hands against his knees, bracing his body to keep him from rolling off the bed. He takes another deep breath, trying to push away the fuzzy emotions racing around in his head. The nameless fear, the formless sadness, the thoughtless desperation. Even if his sleep hadn't been restful, he didn't start wandering during the midnight hours. He will take that victory, savoring it, and everything else will eventually fade away.

Tommy sinks onto the floor. He stands up straight when his balance stops wobbling. He stretches his limbs. He reaches down to grab the comforter. Tommy throws it back onto the bed. He has the inclination to make the bed up, but he isn't going to be doing any favors for a supervillain. Serenade was the one who forced Tommy to sleep in the bed, so it wasn't Tommy's responsibility. Tommy turns away from the messy bed, opening the door to walk out of Serenade's room. The hallway's light is off, but the living room light down the hall is turned on. Tommy turns into his room to switch out his mask. He considers wearing his uniform, but he figures it could use a wash. He leaves it on his bed, deciding to bring it to the laundry place he always uses later in the day. Tommy goes back into the hallway. He walks to the light at the end of the tunnel. He squints when he finally reaches it.

Tommy looks around the living room for Serenade. The supervillain isn't anywhere to be seen. Tommy glances at his corkboard, satisfied that all his notes are in order. He continues to the balcony attached to the living room. Tommy presses his face against the glass. Serenade isn't taking a relaxing break on the balcony, either. Tommy turns around, and he finally sees it. Someone is sitting on the island, but it isn't Serenade. Thermoculus is fiddling with something on his communicator, not even paying attention to the superhero who is now in the room with him. Tommy tilts his head at Thermocolus. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Babysitting your ass," Thermoculus explains, rolling his eyes behind his red and blue goggles.

"I am not a fucking baby, nor do I need anyone watching me like a godsdamn stalker," Tommy retorts with a burst of anger lighting in his stomach.

"Well, no shit you aren't a baby, but you are a child. At least, you have the mentality of one. Who in their right mind would go to a known villain location without help? Without even back-up?" Thermoculus prods, looking at Tommy up and down. He returns his attention back to his communicator.

"I don't understand how everyone in the Syndicate can be an idiot. It should be statistically impossible for you all to share one fucking braincell," Tommy retorts, walking around Thermoculus to step into the kitchen. Thermoculus makes some sort of a noise like he's about to argue, but Tommy cuts him off before his noise can become a word. "I got a location from Croupier's Ace of Clubs. The same Croupier who refused to do business with you guys. I went to the location to see if it was worth telling anyone about. It could have been a shitshow for me. I'm not going to be the boy who cried wolf. I'm going to get the information because that's what this fucking partnership is all about. Plus, do you honestly think I would be any fucking safer with one of you as my back-up? I barely tolerate half of you, let alone trust you to save me. I can take care of myself. I don't need back-up. I don't need a babysitter. I don't need a damn thing from the Syndicate."

"It seems Serenade didn't explain the deal well enough. The Syndicate, right now, has a truce with you. Unless you break the deal or until it ends, we aren't allowed to even think about hurting you," Thermoculus pipes up. Tommy takes his turn to roll his eyes. Thermoculus huffs, continuing. "Your distrust is fair but unwarranted. I thought you wanted the Red Army taken care of. That's why you partnered with us in the first place, isn't it? If you can't trust us, trust that our goals align and that we're all willing to help each other to the extent that is necessary."

Tommy finds that explanation a lot more likely than what the others have been telling him. Tommy hums in acknowledgement, a tone too high to be agreement, as he reaches into the cardboard box on the table. He throws a gray packet onto the counter by the cardboard box. He turns around to grab a bowl from one of the cabinets. He fills it with lukewarm water. He sets the bowl on the counter, noticing Thermoculus reading the back of his packet with narrowed eyes. Tommy pulls a bowl from a drawer. He rips the packet from Thermoculus hands. The villain blinks as Tommy tears the paper-like material. He pours the gray powder into the water. He uses the spoon to mix it all together. When it carries the consistency of oatmeal, Tommy sets the spoon down in the sink. He reaches for the bowl, but Thermoculus takes it before Tommy's hands can close around it. Thermoculus lifts to his nose, sniffing it. Tommy glares at the villain as Thermoculus sips a little bit of the protein soup. Thermoculus blanches. He stands up with the bowl in his hands. Before Tommy can stop him, he dumps the soup into the trash.

"What the fuck? That was my breakfast!" Tommy complains. He reaches for another packet. Thermoculus plucks it out of his hands. He drops the packet into the cardboard box before shoving the cardboard box off the counter. Tommy makes a wounded noise as he races around the island. The cardboard box is on its side, some packets fallen across the tiles. Tommy grumbles angrily as he pushes all his packets into the box. When he has them all safely tucked away, he sets the box back on the counter. "That was uncalled for."

Thermoculus sets a pan on the stove, flicking the burner on. He pulls open the fridge. He closes the fridge back with a carton of eggs in his hands. He sets the egg carton down by the stove, plucking out one of the eggs. Thermoculus calls over his shoulder, "Breakfast? That was the most disgusting thing I've ever had, and you call it 'breakfast'. I'm starting to realize why you're stupid. You're brainwashed. There can be no other explanation for why you eat garbage like that every morning."

"I will let you know that these packets are extremely healthy. They have all the necessary proteins, vitamins, nutrients, good shit like that. I eat it for all my meals," Tommy declares. It seems the Syndicate really does share a single brain cell. They all think Tommy is an idiot for going to the abandoned G-train station alone, and the few that know about the food packets hate them for their lack of taste. Tommy thought more people would see the genius innovation of the packets.

"That is sad," Thermoculus proclaims. There is something teasing in his tone, but his lips are pressed together tightly and his eyes are narrowed behind his goggles. "I'm making eggs for us both, and you're going to see what good food actually tastes like. You can get all the right proteins and nutrients from eating a variety of foods. You really don't need to limit yourself to those packets."

"They're easy to make. They're easy to eat and digest. The food packets are the definitive food," Tommy explains. Tommy's diet consists of the food packets and the sandwiches Crowfather would bring him. He doesn't need anything else, and even if he wanted to branch out to try new food, he didn't know how the food would interact with his energy pills. It could have a negative effect, either canceling each other out or combining into something deadly. Tommy didn't like taking chances when the safest option was a completely viable one. "And what if you poison my eggs?"

"Did you not just have an argument about the Syndicate not wishing you harm?" Thermoculus asks. He sighs after a moment, cracking eggs onto the side of the pan. "Why would I poison the eggs I'm going to eat, too?"

"You could only poison the half I eat. Or you could use a poison that you've been digesting since you were young. There's so many fucking ways to poison a person with food," Tommy retorts as Thermoculus turns around to grab a spoon from the drawer on the island. Tommy receives an oddly scrutinizing look as Thermoculus turns back to his pan on the stove.

"I'm not going to poison the eggs. You are watching me cook it, aren't you?" Thermoculus shuffles to the side so Tommy can see him stirring the yolks in the pan. Thermoculus keeps to the side even if it's uncomfortable, and Tommy wonders why Thermoculus would go this far to reassure Tommy. "Plus, I don't have any resistance to poisons."

"Jokes on you, I do. I'm pretty resistant to even the most damning of poisons. You could say I'm just built different," Tommy explains with a smile rising to his face behind his mask. The smile is only tainted by the knowledge of how he got to be this resistant. It was a training program sanctioned by Reverie. Reishi would feed Tommy different poisons until he built up a tolerance. Some of the memories are vivid, others have been blurred by the specific poison he took. It was a rough five years with the Hunters. Tommy was lucky to get out alive, and at least he knows how to continue persevering even when his body is dripping with more acid than sweat.

"It doesn't sound like there's a happy story behind that," Thermoculus mentions offhandedly as he pulls the pan off the hot stove and onto a cooler one. He turns the burner off. He looks through the cabinets for some plates. When he finds them, he sets two of them down. He uses his stirring spoon to scoop some eggs on each of the plates. He puts a fairly even amount on the plates, and he sets one of the plates in front of Tommy. The blonde blinks at the offering, especially when Thermoculus hands him a fork. Tommy takes the fork between his fingers. He looks down at the eggs. Thermoculus has already taken a bite. Tommy unclicks part of his mask, letting it hang off the side of his face. He scoops part of the eggs into his mouth. He feels his body deflate, relaxing as he eats something with genuine flavor. Thermoculus grins at Tommy. "You don't need to tell me it's better than your disgusting sludge, but I wouldn't mind hearing it."

"People like you don't deserve egos," Tommy smiles. Thermoculus rolls his eyes, but he returns Tommy's expression.

"Hey, Vendetta, did your resistance to poisons come from the same place those scars did?" Thermoculus asks, pointing at the hero's jawline with the end of his fork. Tommy lowers his fork onto his plate. During fights, if he was upset, Reverie would press his knife to Tommy's throat. After some lesson was taught about the value of life or being good enough, Reverie would flick the knife up to slash at his jaw instead of slitting his throat. It was a reminder. Tommy's life was in Reverie's hands. Tommy couldn't let anyone as close as he let Reverie. Tommy had to be prepared for anything. Tommy had to learn that betrayal could come from any direction. The scars became bittersweet when Tommy was the one to betray Reverie instead of the other way around. Tommy took Reverie's lessons to heart; it seems that Reverie did not.

"The Hunters are bitches," Tommy explains, bringing his hand up to trial against the largest scar of them all. He lets his hand drop away as he continues eating the eggs.

"If the Hunters did that to you, why haven't you tried taking them down? You're an A-rank hero. You could at least arrest their weaker members," Thermoculus asks. Tommy looks down at his eggs. His excuse is that he's been more focused on the Syndicate than the Hunters. The Syndicate caused his family pain while the Hunters hurt him specifically. It wasn't worth trying to get revenge for himself. It made him feel empty, and while chasing after Azrael and Inchling wasn't fulfilling, it didn't make feel hollow. But probably the biggest reason is the lingering attachment. The Hunters weren't good to him, but they were all he had when his family was gone. They hurt him, but they also held him. He would never return to them no matter how desperate he got. He was stronger than that. But he cared enough about them to leave them alone.

"What the fuck is this? Twenty questions?" Tommy glares at Thermoculus, unwilling to speak either reason out loud. He didn't want to look weak.

"I just want to know the kind of person we're working with. Everyone at the Syndicate has assumptions about you, but... you're nothing like what any of us thought. Well, Jolt, Enderwalk, and Warden don't count because they already knew you. A- Phil was probably the most accurate. I just want to see what he saw in you," Thermoculus explains with a shrug. "You can ask me something if you want."

"Why did you join the Syndicate?" Tommy asks slowly. For all his research, he doesn't know why anyone joined the Syndicate. Azrael and Inchling seem to only care about chaos. Ravager probably went with the villains that let him use his bloodlust. Everyone else was a mystery. Even Warden, Jolt, and Enderwalk haven't explained to Tommy why they went with the Syndicate.

"I lost my family in an accident. Dyscardia saved my life, and she became all I had left. We were vigilantes with each other for a long time until the Syndicate took Dyscardia. I chased after her, and I found out that the Syndicate had been providing her medical attention. They had an eye for us for a while. They offered us resources and help, and we eventually... just officially joined. They have violent means, but they want to make the world a better place. I can only hope that I'm making a word that my br- family would want to live in," Thermoculus explains softly. Tommy knew that Thermoculus and Dyscardia were vigilantes once, but everything else came as a surprise. Tommy smiles ruefully. Despite Thermoculus being the villain and Tommy being the hero, Thermoculus wants to make the world a place his family would have wanted to live in while Tommy constantly wants to murder his family's killers.

Before Tommy can ask about Thermoculus' family, he hears a cawing noise. Thermoculus straightens up. Tommy doesn't pay any attention to the villain as he races towards the balcony. He throws the sliding glass door open. Crowfather flies into the room landing on Tommy's bare arm. Tommy feels some concern, but Crowfather keeps his claws from digging into Tommy's already scarred flesh. Tommy smiles up at Thermoculus. "Come here! You get to meet Crowfather! This is going to be the best five minutes of your life! Crowfather is a busy bird, so come on!"

"Uh... Vendetta, I think you're a little confused. You do know that Crowfather is-" 

Crowfather caws disapprovingly. Tommy frowns at their interaction. He decides that Thermoculus is the one in the wrong. "What are you talking about, Thermoculus? Crowfather is Crowfather, the best bird in this whole shitshow we call a city. Quit wasting your time."

Thermoculus shakes his head with wide eyes. He walks over to the bird on Tommy's arm. The blonde smiles as Crowfather fluffs his feathers. Thermoculus raises his fingers, and Crowfather allows the villain to pet his head. Thermoculus wears a smile of disbelief. Tommy feels pride swell in his body at other people noticing how amazing his avian friend is.

Crowfather lifts his wings and flies out of the window. Thermoculus watches him go with a slight frown. Tommy grins to himself, reaching for Thermoculus' wrist. He pushes up the man's boxing robe to touch his wrist. As the two of them reach the balcony, Tommy activates his powers. A red caustic light expands across both of their bodies. Thermoculus makes a surprised noise as Tommy squats and jumps up. The two of them begin floating in the air in front of the Paradise Apartments. Thermoculus grabs Tommy's arm, holding it close as he stares at the parking lot beneath them. Crowfather caws as he flies around them, his fingers barely an inch from Tommy's face. The hero readjusts his mask as he looks down at Thermoculus. "Calm down! Isn't this what we talked about earlier? Trust and all that bullshit? Think of this as a test. Trust me, and I'll trust you. I'm not going to let you fall."

Thermoculus' wide eyes met Tommy's steady gaze. Thermoculus makes a disgruntled noise as he lets go of Tommy's arm. As Thermoculus floats away, Tommy grabs the villain's hand. Thermoculus squeezes it tightly, but Tommy doesn't let go. The blonde looks to the ocean in the distance. He sees the waves lapping against the shore. There are some people already out there, enjoying the day. Crowfather flies in front of his face, drawing his attention all the way back to Thermoculus. The villain is staring at the horizon with the same forlorn look Tommy usually wears when he's sightseeing. Tommy frowns. He kicks his legs up, hanging above Thermoculus' head. Their intertwined hands connect them, and Thermoculus looks up at Tommy. Although his smile is hidden, Tommy hopes Thermoculus will sense his reassuring expression. 

Thermoculus does seem to notice it. He pulls Tommy's hand down, and the two of them switch positions. Tommy laughs as he is thrown in circles. He manages to grab Thermoculus' other hand, and they spread out like sky-diver's making a ring. In a flash of black feathers, Crowfather nosedives between the hole the two flyers made. Tommy continues laughing as Crowfather rises back up. Thermoculus watches him with a half-smile on his face. "Your bird is a show-off."

"Crowfather is fucking awesome!" Tommy practically screeches. Part of him is jealous of the bird's abilities, but he's more impressed than anything else.

"What are you two doing?" Someone yells at them. Serenade stands on the balcony with one hand on his hip. He wears his 3-4th mask, staring up at Thermoculus and Tommy with an unreadable expression.

"We're flying!" Thermoculus calls with a bright smile on his face. As Tommy asked, the villain seems to trust him to start enjoying the experience.

"We're not," Tommy points out, knowing more than anyone else that his method of transportation is not actually flying. Tommy accents his point by turning their gravity back on. Thermoculus screams, his voice distorter blaring an ear-shattering static. Tommy turns their gravity back off and on again, creating a near endless cycle that has Thermoculus howling the entire time. When Tommy manages to grab the balcony railing, he turns Thermoculus' gravity back off. Serenade grabs Thermoculus' collar to help Tommy set him down on the ground. Thermoculus grumbles ugly words as he storms back into the apartment. Tommy giggles, pulling himself up to stand on the outside edge of the railing.

"It seems you two had fun," Serenade remarks, standing right in front of Tommy. They are close enough for Serenade to snap his neck or push him off. They are also close enough that Serenade could hug Tommy. Both of those thoughts are equally terrifying.

"Where the fuck were you?" Tommy asks.

"Aw, did you miss me, Vendetta?" Serenade asks, something warm lighting up his eyes and something teasing tugging at his lips. 

Tommy glares at the villain. "Of course not. Why the hell would I ever miss you? Now, tell me where you were."

"I was at a meeting, you nosy gremlin. You're going on a mission with Ravager soon," Serenade explains, his gaze softening as he debriefs Tommy about who he's going to be with.

"Fucking great, this will be fun," Tommy grumbles angrily.

"Ravager won't hurt you," Serenade promises with something sickeningly genuine in his eyes.

"Yeah, I fucking know this bullshit by now. We don't have to go through the same damn song and dance. No one will hurt me as long as I'm allies with the Syndicate," Tommy rolls his eyes. He doesn't want to hear this spiel anymore. It doesn't matter if it's true or not, Tommy can't bring himself to believe it. Even if Ravager resolves not to hurt Tommy, the blonde knows he won't resist starting a fight. He's not going to blame Ravager for fighting back, but he will finally know that the Syndicate is not as moral as they want Tommy to believe.

"No, Vendetta, he's not going to hurt you because... Well, he may be a gruff person, but he's actually-"

"What's my mission?" Thermoculus asks, finally over his fear. Serenade sends Tommy a pained expression as he fumbles for his words. Before he can think of any, he turns to Thermoculus to answer his question. Tommy climbs over the railing, sliding down to the ground. Crowfather lands on the railing above his head, looking down at him with eyes filled with too much understanding and concern than a bird should have. Tommy pets Crowfather's head as Serenade speaks to Thermoculus.

Chapter Text

"Let me be

Another invisible,

Used and forgotten and left

To whatever narrow miseries I make for myself

Without anybody asking

What's wrong? Concern for my soul offends me..."

― Jericho Brown

Tommy feels the cold wind blowing beneath his glider as he spreads his arms out to help steady his body. Gravity drags him down until his feet brush against the packed snow. His glider snaps back to his metal backpack. His body sinks deeper into the snow. Tommy's nose scrunches as he shifts his weight. His feet slide away from each other farther than he expected. Tommy locks his knees together to keep himself standing as he tries to navigate standing still on the snow. He takes a cautious step forward. He manages to stay above the snow instead of sinking to the dirt buried several inches down. Tommy grins in victory as he remains on the endless white blanket.

Like Serenade explained earlier that day, Tommy was on a mission with Ravager. The villain was taking them through Snowchester. The only reason he gave was that there was news in the underworld that cultist activity had spiked in the borough. Of course, the Syndicate would solve this issue even if it wasn't the Red Army involved. The Syndicate owned Snowchester. After laying siege on the Ender Portal, cutting off all trade between Ender Isle and Essempei, the Syndicate made Snowchester their main base of operations. It was already a quiet borough before the Syndicate invaded, but it was now completely free of any crime not sanctioned by the villain organization. Tommy has had more than a few missions in Snowchester, especially after the Syndicate claimed the area. He's probably the only hero who has been there in years, and now he was here with a Syndicate escort.

Ravager descends from the sky like a bomb. Unfortunately, when Ravager lands beside Tommy, the snow does not displace. Ravager doesn't sink. He remains on the top layer, a benefit of one of his many powers. Tommy can't find the hero's name, but a few generations back, there was a hero who enhanced his physical state, including having a supernatural balance and jumping power. That hero became part of the cycle of people who passed down their powers. Those powers eventually ended up in Ravager's hands. Now, Ravager gets the full benefits of being buff and agile. Not for the first time, Tommy was almost envious of Ravager. Why did the villain get a bunch of cool and useful powers? Why couldn't Ravager go through something traumatic like other espers to get a half-decent ability that needed a lot of training?

"You're a fucking rabbit," Tommy insults with a glare, though he knows it isn't his best work.

"And you are a raccoon," Ravager responds without a second in between their statements. Ravager even has the audacity to retain a neutral expression in his eyes.

"What the fuck, bitch? I am not a raccoon. Where the hell did you hear this fucking slander? I have never done anything a raccoon would do," Tommy yells at Ravager, reaching to punch the man in his muscled arm in anger. 

Ravager looks at Tommy before glancing down at where Tommy punched him. "Your punches need work, raccoon."

"Oh, fuck you! Not everyone has super strength. I bet your punches are just as fucking bad. You just don't realize because everyone you punch doesn't have the balls to tell you your form sucks when their arm has been fucking punched off!" Tommy rolls his eyes. He's never seen Ravager punch someone's arm off, but does know that Ravager is strong enough to break someone's arm simply by squeezing. The leap Tommy took isn't too large, and Tommy has drawn more drastic conclusions before. "If you're gonna call me something other than Vendetta, just keep calling me Theseus. That name might be weird as hell, but at least it isn't a fucking trash panda."

"Do you perhaps like that name more because it reminds you of your shining achievement?" Ravager asks slowly, tilting his head to the side. Ravager is, of course, referring to the capture of Minotaur. An S-ranked villain who caused thousands of dollars in destruction, who held Prime Height's poorest area, L'Manberg, in a vice grip. He was untouchable... until some upstart F-class hero dragged his bloody body up the steps of the guildhouse. It was the fastest a hero has ever climbed the ranks, and that hero continued to prove their position until they came to be A-ranked. The guildmaster wanted Tommy to take the test to become S-rank later that year. Tommy didn't know if he was going to make it that far.

"I didn't know that's why you called me that," Tommy murmurs. Tommy knew why Minotaur called himself that. It was from a legend passed down from the Ancient Cities, the civilization that existed before the modern era. Tommy doesn't really remember the story, but he knows that there was a hero called Theseus who slayed the half-man half-bull known as the Minotaur. The finer details were lost on Tommy because he deemed that story unnecessary. He read it once when Ravager called him Theseus, but he let the story fade to the back corners of his mind. "That fight with Minotaur isn't something I really remember. I was... too angry and too sad... the details fucking blur together."

"I don't recall you having a reason to hate Minotaur," Ravager mentions. After a month of training, Tommy was released on the streets. He was only supposed to patrol. He was supposed to call in the other heroes if he saw something. He wasn't supposed to accept any bounties. But he didn't, not really. He wasn't concerned with Minotaur's bounty. He remembers seeing Minotaur in an alleyway. The villain had been terrorizing some random no-name that fled the moment Tommy yelled at Minotaur. The next few days and nights were something Tommy couldn't remember even if he tried. Blood, rage, grief, and so much pain. He fought with Minotaur, blowing past every limit he had and nearly destroying himself so thoroughly that he spent weeks in the med bay. He surprised everyone when he brought Minotaur in, and he surprised them even more when he woke up instead of passing away.

"Are you stupid? Everything I do is for my family," Tommy explains. Every time he thinks about Minotaur, instead of the fight, he thinks about Tubbo. His brother. Tubbo was the last one that joined their homeless kids group, but that didn't make him any less part of the family. Tubbo never spoke about his past until one quiet, lazy summer day. His voice was never able to reach louder than a whisper as he told everyone who his father was. After that day, Tubbo would sometimes tell stories. Tommy saw all of Tubbo's scars, knew them better than he knew his own, so he knew that every story, no matter how gruesome or painful, was true. Tubbo, sweet and kind and hyper and so damn loyal, was the person Tommy thought about every time Minotaur told him to just give up and go home. He got revenge on Minotaur for Tubbo, and for a glorious moment, Tommy felt some lingering speck of happiness. The happiness didn't last, but it was addicting enough that Tommy would chase vengeance for the rest of his life.

Instead of words, a bark responds to Tommy's confession. The blonde startles, looking away from Ravager. A dog with dark gray fur stands in the snow with a tongue lolling out of their mouth. Tommy momentarily forgets whose presence he's in as he rushes over to the dog. The beautiful creature meets him halfway. Tommy leans down to the dog's level. He wraps his fingers into the dog's warm fur. The dog attempts to lick Tommy's face, but his mask makes that a little difficult. The dog finds a way, licking the space between his bottom mask and his goggles. Tommy giggles slightly, trying to push the dog's face back.

"He doesn't seem to have an owner," Ravager mentions lightly as he leans down beside Tommy and the dog. Ravager reaches up to run a hand along the creature's back, petting him with a lot more gentleness than Tommy thought the villain was capable of.

The blonde's grin does not dissipate even when he notices just how close Ravager is. Tommy doesn't even glance at Ravager's weapons, gleaming in the snowy sunlight. He instead turns his attention back to the dog. He pats down the dog's neck for some sign of a collar hidden in the fur. When he doesn't find anything, he wraps his arms around the dog's neck. The dog barks against his chest as Tommy looks at Ravager. "We have to name him!"

"Her."

"Even better! She needs a really fucking good name. We can't mess this up, Ravager! Let's see... I know lots of women's names. Clementine, Clara, Chivone, Linda, Duffle... wait, I don't think Duffle is a girl's name," Tommy lists off the few names that he knows. Honestly, he doesn't know much. His entire life revolves around the struggle between heroes and villains with rogues and vigilantes thrown in the mix. He doesn't think he knows anybody's real names. That depressing thought is placed on the backburner. Tommy looks up at Ravager. "Actually, she needs a warrior's name! I am giving you permission to tell me some nerdy story so we can give this dog the best godsdamn name out there!"

"A hero from the Ancient Cities, huh? She looks like... Atalanta. She was an archer who killed the Calydonian Boar," Ravager tells Tommy a name like the blonde knew he would. Ravager was mainly violence and bloodshed, but most survivors mentioned, like an offhanded thought, that Ravager spoke in references to classic literature and ancient myths. Tommy's nickname, Theseus, is proof, not that Tommy ever doubted the survivors.

"Atalanta... I mean, if she's my only option... yeah, you know what. I like that name. You have the Vendetta stamp of approval," Tommy says with a shrug, turning to the dog. He places his hands around the dog's face. The squishy face looks up at him with an ignorance that can only come from not knowing. Tommy wonders how dogs would look if they knew how cruel the world was, how unworthy of a dog's infinite love most people are. The same hands that hold this dog have killed people, and Ravager's hands are much dirtier. Tommy smiles. "Do you like that name? Atalanta... the Boar Killer, the hero of the Ancient Cities. You know, Ravager, I know another name for a female dog. Do you?"

"Puppy," Ravager answers. Tommy freezes for a single second. He stares at Ravager, but the villain remains distracted by petting Atalanta. Tommy shakes his head, and before he can grab hold of it, laughter spills out of his mouth. The sound is too clear for the voice modifier to change it into a grumble or sob. Tommy folds over his body, arms wrapping around his stomach to help him push out the laughter. He doesn't want to be laughing this hard, but he didn't expect Ravager to answer like that! He thought Ravager would say something like 'soldier' or 'shut up' or even the correct answer, 'bitch'. Instead, the Ravager, the mass murderer and the heir of dozens of superpowers, the literal weapon made from bulletproof skin and Herculean muscles, has the instinct to say 'puppy'.

When Tommy gets a hold of himself, he notices that Atalanta and Ravager are both looking at him. Ravager doesn't seem as annoyed as Tommy thought he would be. In fact, there is something very close to amusement in Ravager's blood red eyes. It's an outrageous thing to think, but Tommy can't tell what else it could be.

A howl sounds across the snowy plain. Tommy feels his entire body tense, an anxious energy in his chest making it hard for him to breathe. Atalanta rises to her feet with a whimper, racing away from the forest with all the might in her starved body. Tommy almost reaches for her to stop her, but Ravager grabs onto his wrist. Ravager is staring at the forest where the howl came from. It takes much more effort than it should for Tommy to turn his attention to the forest. This fear unsettles him, but he isn't sure it's entirely unfounded.

A giant wolf the size of a horse stands among the trees with gleaming white teeth and golden yellow eyes. As if the wolf really were a horse, a woman sits on the creature's back. She wears a bright red cloak, a pop of color in the otherwise neutral-toned forest surrounding her. The hood is pulled over her face, but even the darkness cannot hide the way her eyes glow the same ferocity of a blood red star. Underneath her cloak, she wears a silvery white cuirass and black military-grade pants. She does not carry a weapon on her body, but there seems to be a perfectly usable one acting as her mount. Her eyes move in the darkness, pinpricks that feel like lasers as they dart between Tommy and Ravager.

"What are you doing in my forest?" Her voice ripples across the air. She does not wear a changer, but she doesn't need one. Like Serenade, her voice naturally has some sort of obstruction to it. Tommy shivers as her words flutter from his ears down his spine. He can almost feel them wrapping around him, a specially designed noose. She's the executioner in this analogy, as apathetic as any person who vows to purge the world of evil by becoming part of the filth.

"This isn't your fucking forest!" Tommy snaps at her. He stands up from his crouched position to prove to her that he isn't scared. The forest she came from belongs to the Snowchester borough. It was going to be a public park before the Syndicate took over. Regardless of what villains habitate the area, Snowchester belongs to the people. This villainess does not own the forest.

"What is the Red Army planning?" Ravager asks, choosing to ignore the fact that this woman just claimed the Syndicate's territory. Tommy feels a little embarrassed about what he got hung up on, but his embarrassment fades when Ravager stands up. The villain remains beside Tommy. For once in his life, he feels some sort of appreciation for Ravager's presence.

"The Red Army wants liberation. We want to free all humans and hybrids," The woman explains to them.

"Does it seem like that to you?" Tommy asks Ravager, making sure he hasn't missed anything.

"No, it doesn't," Ravager agrees. The Red Army has done many things, but attempting to negotiate the freedom of the common people is not something they've ever done. Tommy doesn't even know what the Red Army wants to free humans and hybrids from.

"Well, I cannot say you're wrong. The Red Army is elusive. I can freely admit that I joined the Cult of Erythr to make my enemies suffer. I could care less what happens to humanity and their inhuman counterparts," The woman shrugs, adding in her own agreement. She swings her leg off the wolf. She lands in the snow with just as much grace as Ravager does. The wolf growls loudly as she walks in front of her mount. She does nothing to silence the beast as she continues speaking. "I am the Scarlet Demoness, and this is Fenrir. Pray that your gods welcome you with open arms even if a demon is the one to send you to them."

No other noise is made as the wolf- Fenrir- breaks out into a run. The comparison to a horse continues to be apt as Fenrir crosses the distance to Tommy and Ravager within seconds. Tommy is thrown back by Ravager. He rolls into the snow, looking up to see Ravager grappling with Fenrir. In the distance, a flash of red disappears in between the trees. Tommy crawls back to his feet. He races past Fenrir and Ravager, gliding across the snow more than he runs. When he finally reaches the treeline, he hears a cracking noise. He looks around to see that the branches above his head are coated in a thin red cloud. The branches fall to the ground. Tommy jumps forward, rolling away from the explosion of snow from the drop. He looks up to see the Scarlet Demoness. Her hand is covered in the same red mist as the branches that are now fallen logs behind. Her fingers flick upward. Tommy whirls around with his hand stretching out. His fingers brush against the bark of the wooden log. It flops to the ground with added weight. The Scarlet Demoness takes a step forward to keep herself balanced. Tommy brings his staff out, hitting her hand when she tries to do something with her powers again. She twists her grip, grabbing the end of the metal rod. She pushes it toward Tommy, aiming to hit him with his own weapon, but he lets go and cartwheels backwards. His hands touch against the wooden log, and his power retracts back into his body.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asks her. The Scarlet Demoness twists the staff in her hands. She throws it up into the air. Instead of falling back to her, it shoots across the woodland area like a bullet from a gun. It lands where Tommy was standing a few seconds ago. The red cloud covering it sinks against the snow like the morning fog, rolling across the snow that reflects back the bloody color. Tommy grabs the end of his staff, throwing his body into the air by using his staff as a pole vault stick. He keeps his legs in the air as the mist sinks into the snow. After a moment, the snow begins to explode. It doesn't hurt Tommy until the snow around his staff sends both Tommy and the metal flying into the air. Tommy lands in one of the tree branches without any trouble, his staff back in his hands.

"How did you know I would be here?" The Scarlet Demoness asks instead of answering Tommy's question. Truthfully, Tommy doesn't know how the Syndicate knew she was here. They didn't tell him, nor did he ask. But even if he did know, he wouldn't tell the villain in front of him.

The tree branch Tommy is squatting on begins to shake. Tommy uses his power and jumps off the branch before it lands on the ground. Tommy floats, looking down at the Scarlet Demoness. He can almost see part of her face as she stares up, but it is covered by an intricately designed mask. She reaches a hand towards him. The breastplate he wears begins to tighten as she slowly moves her fingers towards her palm. Tommy feels the edges of the metal cut into his skin, and his breath weakly stutters in his chest. Before she can completely kill him, he allows gravity to grab hold of him again. He falls to the ground, aiming his trajectory to tackle the Scarlet Demoness to the ground. She recovers before he does. He, unfortunately, landed on his stomach. She holds his hands behind his back, a knee pressing into his lower back. His struggle proves futile as she holds him with a strength that doesn't match her physique.

"What are you doing with a Syndicate member?" She asks, her voice nearly a whisper as she keeps his face to the freezing cold snow. He tries to shiver, but she presses her knee down harder. He's certain he's going to bruise. Tommy refuses to answer her question, and she huffs. "We won't get anywhere unless one of us starts answering some questions."

"Well, fine, bitch, let's play Twenty Questions. You ask, I answer. I ask, you answer. Simple enough for your small brain?" Tommy retorts. He knows that he could get out of this predicament, but that would just lead to more fighting. One of them would retreat, and nothing would get solved. If holding him down gave the Scarlet Demoness some confidence, Tommy was going to let her believe she was in control.

"We could simply lie to each other," She remarks. It's a fair assumption. Tommy has been led astray by people before when he's used this strategy. But he has gotten some pretty good breakthroughs by allowing it to play out.

"Then, we lie to each other and pretend this was a beneficial conversation. This isn't that fucking complicated," Tommy explains once more.

"Fine. I was here to meet the other members of the Cult of Erythr," the Scarlet Demoness answers. Tommy gauges that answer in his head. He doesn't believe that is all she came to do, but he doesn't think she's lying, either. She's probably decided that this Q&A could be as lucrative to her as it will be for him.

"Who are the other members?"

"Nuh-uh, little hero. You have to answer my question first," The Scarlet Demoness scolds him. 

Tommy frowns at the nickname, but he decides that he'll argue with her at a later date. He just thinks back to her last question, the one about how he knew she would be here. Tommy does his best to shrug when she's holding his arms like a steel trap. "I don't know. The Syndicate fucking told me."

"Answer my other question, then, if you truly don't know," She reprimands. Tommy supposes that's fair since he hasn't actually given her anything with that answer.

"It's a temporary alliance to defeat the Red Army," Tommy informs her.

"Now, why would you want to do something like that?" She asks with a quiet, disbelieving laugh. Tommy doesn't know if she's referring to why he would ally with the Syndicate or why he would want to defeat the Red Army. He can answer the second question easily. The former one is a little harder. Tommy, objectively, knows that he can't defeat the Red Army on his own. The Hero's Guild doesn't have jurisdiction, and the Moderator's Guild doesn't like him. He refuses to take sides in the gang wars of Empires, and while he does have some lasting relationship with Croupier and his Aces, he knows they won't be much help, either. Sadly, his only option is the Syndicate.

"What does the Red Army actually want?" Tommy asks instead of answering because it's his turn to ask questions.

The Scarlet Demoness hesitates for long enough that Tommy thought she didn't hear him. But then he hears a sigh, and he knows that she was thinking of an answer. "That question doesn't have an easy answer. We all want different things. For instance, I want revenge. I want the strength to make sure that no one abandons me again. We're partnered together because we can help each other. We're part of the cult because a person called Crimson united us."

A shadow passes over the duo. Before the Scarlet Demoness can ask her question, she flung off of Tommy's body. Tommy watches with widening eyes as she lands against Fenrir's body. She slides toward the ground, holding herself up by grabbing Fenrir's fur. She manages to pull herself onto her wolf's back. She glances down at Tommy, and he swears that he sees a smile on her face. "Thank you for the pleasant conversation, Vendetta."

Fenrir bounds away from Ravager and Tommy, taking the Scarlet Demoness with them. Ravager watches them go with narrowed ruby eyes. Tommy rises to his feet. He hits his hand against Ravager's arm. The villain glances over at Tommy without the tense emotions in his eyes disappearing. Frankly, Tommy is too angry to care. "What the fuck was that for?"

"Why would you risk your life like that?" Ravager demands to know. He isn't screaming like Tommy is, but his voice has grown firmer in his anger in a way that the voice modifier cannot change.

"What the hell do you mean? I was not risking my life. I was getting information. Excuse me for thinking that the guy who quotes the fucking Art of War would know a thing or two about getting information!" Tommy exclaims, throwing his hands around in some attempt to gain clarity. He could have gotten so much more out of the Scarlet Demoness. She was telling him the truth, he could tell, so he could have gotten a list of members, or maybe a couple of locations. He could have pressed. He could have finished this case sooner if Ravager hadn't interfered.

"You put yourself in a position where she could have easily taken your life. It doesn't matter what else you were doing, she could have killed you. Do you not want to kill Azrael and Inchling anymore?"

Tommy laughs, something resentful and broken and completely unlike his earlier laugh. He was not mirthful now like he was then. He was not bitter then like he was now. "I thought I was a fucking non-threat."

"You aren't, but usually people who stubbornly cling to their goals have more self-preservation. I thought I wouldn't need to worry about you after last time," Ravager answers, something flashing in his eyes when he listens to Tommy. He doesn't know if it's the words or the laughter that makes Ravager a tinge more wrathful.

"I don't want or need anyone in the damn Syndicate, especially not your sorry ass, to keep me safe. Our deal has nothing to do with it," Tommy threatens because he doesn't. He has spent the last ten years of his life without anyone to care about him, to check up on him or to worry about him. Tommy doesn't need anyone to. He can do everything that teammates do for each other by himself. He watches his own back, he rescues himself, he makes all the tough decisions. The Syndicate needs to take their 'friendship is magic' bullshit back to whatever hellhole each one of those killers and thieves crawled out of.

Ravager's eyes glow under the weight of his emotions, but his words are silenced by a caw in the air. Ravager and Tommy look up to see a black crow soaring around the cloudy sky and the falling snow. The crow lands on a tree branch near the arguing pair. The crow's marble eyes stare at them intently.

"We're-"

"Crowfather! Thank you for saving me from this miserable company!" Tommy cuts Ravager off. He takes the excuse to put distance between himself and the villain. He lifts his arm up. Crowfather takes the opportunity to land on Tommy's metal cuff.

"Wait. How do you know-"

Crowfather caws. Tommy frowns slightly. Crowfather has been interrupting a lot of people lately. Tommy doesn't really understand why, unless the crow is really getting into his role as Crowfather, the shining hero from a little under a decade ago. Ravager is less impressed as he says, "That has to stop happening."

"Don't be childish," Tommy reprimands. People get interrupted all the time in life; Ravager isn't special just because most people piss themselves instead of actually talking to him. "You should instead be counting yourself lucky. You get to meet Crowfather. Be nice. I'll kill you, and Crowfather will fucking peck your eyes out if you aren't."

"This is Crowfather?"

"Yes, I just said that. Fucking pay attention, bitch."

"Crowfather is a crow?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Crowfather is your...?"

"My friend. He's so fucking awesome. You won't believe it until you stop being an idiot and an asshole and talk to him."

"And there's nothing... strange about Crowfather?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? That is so fucking rude. Crowfather is not strange. That's demeaning. Crowfather is super smart, probably even smarter than your ugly ass," Tommy explains. Crowfather makes a noise in agreement, flapping his wings for emphasis. Tommy nods along. Ravager affixes them both with an unamused stare. Tommy rolls his eyes. "Look, Crowfather is fucking smart. If you ever need to send me a message, give it to Crowfather. I swear to the gods, this bird can find me no matter where the fuck I am, no matter the borough, alleyway, dumpster... don't ask. He's reliable. We could send secret messages back and forth like spies."

"I'll think about it. Now, you are going to see Dyscardia and Argonaut. You have been bleeding this entire time," Ravager motions to the puddle of blood that surrounds Tommy's feet. It isn't a large puddle, but the white snow makes it seem a lot more gruesome than it is. Tommy frowns, wondering where he's bleeding from as Ravager throws him over his shoulder. Tommy screams several cuss words as he adjusts to seeing Ravager's lower back upside down. Tommy complains the entire way as Ravager drags him to wherever those two are.

Chapter Text

"The problem with surviving was that you ended up with the ghosts of everyone you'd ever left behind riding on your shoulders."

― Paolo Bacigalupi

Tommy lies in a bed with white sheets saturated in the smell of medicine and herbal teas. He stares up at the ceiling, tracing the thin lines across the surface from one wall to the other. Argonaut remains at the edge of his peripheral vision. She seems to be talking to someone. Since Dyscardia is on a mission with Thermoculus, Argonaut must be speaking to Ravager outside the room. The intention to eavesdrop on them is there, but he can't seem to find the energy to decipher the garbled noises exchanged between them. He simply allows the sounds to wash over him like ocean waves cascading over the shore.

"It seems you've had an eventful day," Argonaut says as she comes closer to him. His eyes dart over to her as she settles down in a chair right beside his bed. She examines the minor abrasions over his torso from where Scarlet Demoness forced the metal into his skin. Argonaut reaches towards the side to pull a rag from a bucket of water. She dabs the cut gently, her eyes locking with Tommy. "Does that hurt?"

Tommy shakes his head. It doesn't hurt enough to be worth talking about. It's a little sharper than a dull ache, but Tommy knows that he could continue working even with it flaring up when he moves too suddenly. It would fade in a matter of days. The scars might be a little ugly, but they would hardly compare to the other scars littering Tommy's body from other, far more painful wounds. Tommy could clean off the dried blood himself, and he could dress the wounds if the others pressured him into doing it. Instead, Ravager manhandled him all the way to the infirmary in one of the Syndicate's safehouses, and Argonaut proclaimed her intention to heal him. His disagreement was silenced before he even got a sentence out. She made him change into a t-shirt and sweatpants. Luckily, he got to keep his mask. Now he was lying in the bed with Argonaut leaning over him with eyes far too concerned to belong to a villain.

"What about this? Does it hurt?" Argonaut asks, apparently moving on to a different bloodied fissure. Tommy glares at her as he shakes his head again. Argonaut frowns, looking back at his torso. "It's okay if it does, Vendetta. You have to tell me when you're in pain."

"I'm not," Tommy assures her verbally. Argonaut remains skeptical, but she eventually stops asking him if anything hurts as she cleans the rest of the wounds. Tommy returns his attention to the ceiling. Argonaut finally puts the rag back into the bucket with a wet splashing sound. She stands up from her chair, and she looks him right in the eye with a serious expression. "I'm going to start the healing process. You have to tell me if anything starts to hurt, okay? If it does, it means that something is wrong, and I don't want to stitch your body back together wrong. It would lead to a lot more trouble than just some abrasions."

Tommy nods. Argonaut raises her hands towards his stomach, hovering just above his skin. Twisting ribbons of soft blue light seem to trickle from her fingertips to his skin. The light slowly throbs, gently resting against his skin before nuzzling deeper into the wounds. The light doesn't hurt; instead, it heals his wounds. Tommy stares mainly to guarantee that Argonaut doesn't switch gears to make the cuts worse, but his vision seems to blur before his eyes. He lethargically raises his hand to grab Argonaut's wrist. She stops immediately, turning to him. With a great deal of effort, Tommy manages to lean his head back enough that he can look at her. "I feel... funny."

Argonaut tilts her head at him curiously. She brushes away his blonde hair to place the back of her fingers against his forehead. Her hand trails down to touch the parts of his face that can be felt. She frowns, looking to him for an explanation. "What's going on? What do you mean by 'funny'?"

Tommy smiles stupidly. He feels lighter than he did walking into the room. He can feel Argonaut's pulse from where he continues to hold her wrist. His hand slips off her skin to land on the bed beside him with a bounce. He watches as his limb settles before he understands what feels funny. "My head... warm and... and fuzzy."

Argonaut's frown deepens, as if that were possible. "Have you been to a healer before?"

It becomes Tommy's turn to frown. No one in his family were espers, so obviously none of them had the ability to heal. Supreme was the Hunter's healer, and when things got really bad, Reverie would allow Supreme to heal Tommy. Supreme left a few weeks before Tommy did. When Tommy joined the Hero's Guild, he was required to go to a healer at least twice a year, but he didn't actually get healed. He just had his records updated to account for new wounds, a few more inches of height, and a few less pounds of weight. As someone who frequently got into many dangerous battles, he didn't go to healers near enough. Normally, Tommy would lie about this, but he can't come up with anything other than the truth. "Not a lot... not in a long time. It's a waste of my fucking time, and it's too damn hard to find a healer willing to do it."

"A good healer won't need more than a few minutes, and the Hero's Guild should have some of the best healers in the city," Argonaut argues. There's something off about her tone and body language that would normally confuse Tommy. He's a little too out of it to recognize the oddity of the situation.

"I may be the Biggest Man in the whole fucking guild, but I'm not the most popular. I get respect for putting away the Minotaur. I don't have any friends. I choose not to have friends, don't get my words twisted," Tommy explains, blinking slowly. The closest person to him the guild is the guildmaster, and really, their relationship probably isn't what anyone else in the city would consider healthy. Tommy could say he's close to Monarch, but they really aren't. Tempestarius seems to care about him, but he can never return those feelings. He used to be close with Red Dragon and Sleepy. He hasn't seen them in years, and apparently, Red Dragon was working with the Syndicate. No matter how close he might be with these people, none of them have ever pressured him into getting healing.

Argonaut stares at Tommy, and he realizes belatedly that he mentioned Minotaur. Tommy still isn't sure what Argonaut's relationship with her old partner is. She doesn't seem to hold ill will, but she- like Tommy- could be temporarily setting aside her grudges for the sake of the city. Perhaps she's setting aside that grudge once again because she doesn't say a word about Minotaur when she speaks again. "You're close to Croupier, are you not? I'm sure he could find you a healer. I don't know how many he knows, but I heard that he has a partnership with Supreme."

Argonaut isn't wrong. After running from the Hunters, Supreme went to Las Nevadas. The Hunters were the ones that protected Supreme before because of his incredible healing ability, so Supreme needed someone else to protect him. Croupier offered in exchange for a few healing sessions for him and his Aces. Tommy has met Supreme a few times since they both left the Hunters. There's no friendship between them, but survivors tend to have respect for each other. Tommy is sure that if he asked Supreme to help him with a large wound, Supreme would do his best. Hell, Supreme had practical medical skills, so he wouldn't even need to use his powers.

Tommy closes his eyes. He doesn't know how to explain to Argonaut exactly why he doesn't hightail to Las Nevadas every time he gets in over his head. He sighs, opening his eyes again. He can't bear to look at Argonaut as he eventually mutters, "Healing just isn't worth the effort for my sake. The only reason I'm here now is that bitch Ravager."

"Why don't you feel like you're worth being healed?" Argonaut prods, getting deeper into Tommy's mind. Lies used to come so easily to him, but the fuzzy warmth that made everything seem lighter brought all of his walls crashing down. He can't think of a lie, and he can't find the reason why he would want to lie. It doesn't matter if Argonaut knows this or not. It isn't a weakness, exactly, just a sad truth that Tommy's never felt close to enough to anyone to tell. The person he's closest with reminds him every time they meet that trust is for fools. The person he trusts most will sacrifice anything for the sake of the city. The people he loves most are dead. And realistically, the next person in line is a supervillain who reminds him, sometimes, of faces he often wishes he could forget.

"You would be disappointed in me if I answered that question," Tommy says, and only after the words come out does he realize what he said. He shouldn't care what Argonaut thinks about him. He only cares about her opinion because he feels some sympathy for putting her partner in jail- not because she's one of the kindest people he's ever met even when she's a supervillain and their conversations have been short.

"I promise I won't be disappointed in you," Argonaut assures him. She sounds honest. She looks at Tommy with a patient smile and reassuring eyes. She leans against the bed, giving him her full attention.

"I... I feel guilty when I'm being healed... like I somehow deserve to be hurt," Tommy whispers, tears beginning to burn at the edges of his eyes. When Supreme healed him on Reverie's orders, Tommy felt like failure- like he couldn't withstand Reverie's lessons. In the Hero's Guild, when everything began settling, Tommy couldn't sit in that healer's room without being reminded of the dead bodies draped in white cloth, toted away by heroes with tired eyes. Tommy wasn't able to see his family's bodies, and this proves detrimental when his mind supplies him with horrible images of burned corpses and blood dripping from puddles into oceans on mattresses shoved together. The guilt eats at him worse when he feels his body returning to full health. He should have been the one to die that day ten years ago, but he wasn't. He was the one allowed to live. Every day feels like cheating death, and being healed feels like he's prolonging what should have been taken a long time ago.

"Is this about your family?" Argonaut whispers back, and she doesn't sound disappointed. When Tommy looks into her eyes, she doesn't look disappointed, either. She looks somber. In the light, she almost looks sad. Her frown makes Tommy's heart swell painfully, breaking through the fuzziness in his mind. Tommy wants to make her smile, but he hasn't made anyone genuinely smile in so long that he doesn't know if he knows how. He used to make people laugh as easily as they breathed. That was then, and this was now, and Tommy didn't know what to do to make everything better.

"Vendetta, I can't say I know your family. But I do know that if they loved you even a fraction of how much you love them, they wouldn't want you to be hurt. They would want you to live your life to the fullest," Argonaut says simply, but her words cut right into Tommy's soul. Ever since the day he completely accepted that his family was gone, he has been left with the question of what they would want for him. He doesn't know what they would want for him. He chose revenge, and he prays that when he meets them in the afterlife, they aren't upset with him.

Tommy doesn't say another word. Argonaut slowly returns her attention to his wounds. She wears a neutral expression as she heals the final ones. Tommy stares at the twisting blue lights. They remind him of ocean waves, and while he usually doesn't associate the ocean with positive emotions, he finds himself thinking about a warm sunny day at the beach. He will never have a peaceful day, but imagination is meant for fictional stories. He can enjoy the concept of a beach without having to worry about how his body easily sinks below the salty waves or how Niki adored swimming or how Fundy liked collecting seashells or...

Argonaut turns around to leave the room. Tommy's hand shoots out to grab the edge of her cape. It tugs against her shoulder, and she turns to unhook whatever her cape got stuck on. When she notices his fingers, she looks up at him with a curious hum. Tommy can't say anything. He just stares at Argonaut. She seems to understand the pleading in his eyes because she takes another step towards the bed. "Scoot over."

Tommy does as he is told. He gets to the very edge of the left side of the hospital bed. Argonaut sits on the bed before swinging her legs over. She lays back, shoulder to shoulder with Tommy. Her white hair cascades all around her, and Tommy has to shove some of it out of his face. Argonaut smiles, pulling her hair to rest on the right side of her head. She scooches around on the bed before finding a comfortable spot. She folds her arms over her stomach. Tommy's hands remain at his sides, and his fingers continue to clutch Argonaut's cape.

"What do you do for fun?" Argonaut asks him. The question is simple, but the answer is not. Tommy doesn't do anything for fun. He completes his bounties, and he meets with business associates. He could say that talking to the Ace of Hearts is fun, but he doesn't go out of his way to meet Slime. They just cross paths every once and awhile.

Argonaut's face darkens as she listens to silence. She breathes out deeply and begins talking to him. "In my spare time, when I'm not Argonaut, I run a restaurant with my foster brother. While it is quite a bit of work, we do it for fun. We do it so we can have something to do together. When I was younger, I did everything with my foster brother and my biological one. We all sort of... left each other, eventually. I can't reach my biological brother anymore, so I'm doing my best to maintain a good relationship with my foster brother."

Tommy has never been in foster care. Jack told him horror stories about it- families who didn't care and families who would hurt him. Eret rarely spoke about their past, but they agreed with Jack. Niki was an indentured servant when she ran away and Tubbo was raised by his villainous father, so they didn't know what foster was like. Fundy was a baby, so he couldn't remember what it was like when Sally- his older sister- took him and gave him to Wilbur before she died. Wilbur promised that he and Tommy would never end up in foster care. If they did, Wilbur wouldn't let anyone take Tommy from him.

"I also play video games with my nephew. My foster brother adopted my biological brother's son, if you can believe it. I didn't even know about him until a few years ago. We bonded over video games," Argonaut explains to him. She looks at him from the corner of her eyes. "Have you played video games before?"

"Nope," Tommy answers. He's never had the time or money for such activities. He knows what video games are in concept, but he couldn't name any specific franchises or consoles.

"Hmm," Argonaut hums. After a few seconds, she slides her legs off the bed. She stands up, reaching behind her to grab Tommy's hand. She tugs him forward, and Tommy stumbles out of the bed after her. Argonaut keeps their hands together as she drags him out of the infirmary room. Tommy doesn't have any say in the matter. The mixture between shock and the fading warmth from the healing keep him stuck in a silent stupor. The bare wooden walls of the hallway stretch on, interspersed doors breaking up the monotony. Argonaut stops at one of the doors, nudging it open with her foot. She releases Tommy's hands as she turns on the light. Tommy stands at the doorway as Argonaut goes deeper into the room. It looks like a storage room with cardboard boxes covering most of the walls. There was a dusty couch shoved in one corner. Argonaut pulls one of the boxes out from under a side table swamped in papers and smaller boxes. Argonaut pulls the lid of the box, and a triumphant smile spreads across her lips. "Come here, Vendetta."

At the order, Tommy wanders over to her. He leans into a squat right beside her as she pulls things out of the box. She shoves a few cases for video game discs into Tommy's arms. He looks across a few of them to find a wide variety of games. Before he can start reading the descriptions on the backs, Argonaut takes the cases from him to dump back in the box. She lifts up a metal object in her hands. It looks like a communicator if it was wider than it was long. There are controls along the sides of the black screen. Argonaut brings the device into her lap, clicking a button along the top. The screen flashes white, fades back to black, and then a logo glows across the screen. Argonaut stands up abruptly. Tommy nearly falls back, but he catches himself as Argonaut flops onto the dusty couch. Her nose scrunches together as the dust collects in her nostrils, but she keeps herself from sneezing as she waves Tommy over.

Tommy is thankful for his air filter as he sits beside Argonaut. She puts the gaming console in his lap as the screen flickers to life. She points at different things on the screen, walking him through making his own account. Tommy isn't sure what the purpose of this is, but Argonaut's smile feels worth it. Tommy just creates himself an account using the username 'Wife Haver'. Argonaut chuckled under her breath at that, and Tommy felt pride swell in his body.

"I don't know what types of games you would like, but I put an easy game in that most people seem to like," Argonaut says, gesturing towards the game loaded into the console. The game boots up after a few seconds. Argonaut informs him of the basic mechanics as she starts a new game. Tommy patiently waits to be brought to a cartoonish island with animal characters roaming around. Argonaut forces Tommy to put his new skills into action, testing him to see if he understood her explanations. Argonaut still had to help him out with a few mechanics, but he was steadily getting the hang of the gameplay. 

Tommy, at first, played the game with the intent of proving that he could. It was after he completed a few quests that he realized he likes playing it. The characters are adorable, and while he thought he would get annoyed by the noises they make when they speak, he finds himself enjoying the pleasant jingling. Tommy even finds himself smiling as he goes through the general motions of the story.

"Hey, Argonaut- oh, hello, Vendetta- uh, Argonaut, I'm going to need you to pick up some stuff from Ca- from the restaurant. A- Phil, Phil wants to have food at our next meeting for some reason. I made a list of things you should bring," Warden says as he enters the room. He hands a piece of paper to Argonaut. She accepts it with a smile. Warden looks down at what they are doing, and he tilts his head curiously when he sees Tommy's character wandering on the screen.

"You're like Tom Nook," Tommy compares Warden to the raccoon that put Tommy's character into debt. Like Warden, Tom Nook was demanding Tommy bring him money. The only reason Tommy was doing it was because he had a soft spot for raccoons and admired Tom Nook's incredible scam.

Argonaut laughs right beside him. Tommy slowly looks away from the screen to see her smiling face light up with amusement. Warden huffs out a disbelieving breath, but it tampers off with a chuckle. Tommy's cheeks burn in embarrassment. He hadn't even meant to make them laugh, but now that he heard it, he wasn't sure how to feel. It made him feel lighter, like he did something good, but it definitely brought back memories. Most things in his life brought back memories. Even if it wasn't his family haunting him from beyond the grave, Reverie's harsh hands would always linger a few inches from Tommy's throat, ready to claim his life.

"Don't worry. You can tell Phil that I'll bring all the stuff," Argonaut assures Warden as she stops laughing.

"You might be able to tell him yourself. He's been walking around the safehouse. I have to get going, though. Briar is waiting for me," Warden explains. Tommy blinks slowly. Briar is a vigilante. Although her ability to control the growth rate for flowers and her Faerie hybrid traits make her look innocent, she is one of the most brutal fighters out there. She shows no mercy to criminals and no respect for heroes. The only reason she doesn't aim to maim Vendetta when they cross paths is because Briar is close with Ultraviolet, and Tommy's relationship with the Ace of Spades- whatever it could be called- is enough for Briar to decide that he is worth keeping around. Tommy didn't know Warden and Briar had any sort of connection, but if they have a good one, that might be another reason why Briar hasn't gone for the throat. "Goodbye, Vendetta and Argonaut. I'll see you both another time, yeah?"

"See you," Argonaut responds. Tommy remains silent, giving a curt nod. Warden doesn't ask for anything more as he slips out the door. Tommy stares at the closing door for a long time. Argonaut taps against the screen, getting Tommy's attention. "What's that in the corner?"

"A flower, I think," Tommy guesses as he moves the character towards the colored dot in the corner to reveal what it is. "Ha, I was right, bitch."

"It's a pretty flower," Argonaut compliments instead of commenting on the fact that Tommy called her a 'bitch'. Tommy hums in agreement, continuing through the motions of the game. His mind, however, has been struck with a thought that somehow keeps coming back. He doesn't understand why Argonaut is going out of her way to be kind to him. He's the reason her old partner is in jail, and everyone who knows that much knows how badly injured Minotaur was when he was dragged into the guildhouse. Tommy doesn't understand how she can look at him without wanting revenge. All the documentation proves that Minotaur and Argonaut were close. Their relationship was more than business. Tommy would even dare say they acted like best friends or siblings. Tommy wants revenge for his family, so why doesn't Argonaut want revenge for hers?

"Oh, here you are, Argonaut," A voice calls, startling Tommy so badly that he nearly drops the console. He wraps his fingers around it when it settles back into his palms. He looks up to see Phil standing at the doorway. He tilts his head curiously at both of them. "What are you two doing?"

"Vendetta told me that he's never played video games. I brought out one of my old consoles to show him Animal Crossing. He's pretty good at it," Argonaut explains in Tommy's place. "I got the list you wanted me to have from Warden. He went to see Briar."

"He told me he needed to," Phil concedes. Tommy blinks warily. He still doesn't understand what Phil is. He can't be a simple personal trainer. Serenade, Warden, and Argonaut have all willingly listened to Phil about things that don't correlate with training. They were villainous espers, and as far as Tommy was aware, Phil was a civilian. Phil told him he was one, anyway, but Tommy was starting to believe he had been lied to. Phil must be something more. He probably wasn't a supervillain if he was revealing his identity to Tommy, but he must be a powerful esper. He could have some sort of relationship with one of the high-ranking members. He doesn't think Phil would be associated with Azrael or Inchling since Phil hasn't even attempted to persuade Tommy not to kill either of them. In fact, Tommy would go so far as to say Phil encouraged Tommy by agreeing with Tommy's claim that there is nothing one shouldn't do for their family. He could be close with Serenade. In fact, that's probably the most likely claim. Phil and Serenade have some sort of relationship. Tommy, right now, can't get more specific than that, but he'll figure it out eventually. It is, after all, one of the main reasons he came to the Syndicate- to gather information.

Phil sits on the couch on Tommy's other side. The blonde keeps his eyes pinned on the screen as both Argonaut and Phil look over his shoulder. Instead of falling silent, the two of them continue with their conversation. "He hasn't been able to see her in awhile. She must be pissed at him."

"Briar is not someone you want to upset," Phil responds with a completely accurate fact. Tommy has seen her victims before, and she's never angry when she hurts them. Tommy doesn't want to imagine what her rage looks like. "Warden will probably be fine. Briar has been busy lately, too."

"Oh, what's she been up to?" Argonaut asks. If Tommy wasn't in the middle of them, he would have assumed they forgot he was there.

"She's been looking into the Red Army, like us. I told Warden to ask her about what she's found, but there's no telling what information she's willing to give. She wants to deal with the cult herself," Phil continues.

"I can get Ultraviolet to ask her about it," Tommy pipes up as he goes to sell some items in his inventory.

"The Ace of Spades? I forgot you had a connection with them," Argonaut mutters.

"I'm grateful for the help, Vendetta, but I don't think that will be necessary. Briar will realize on her own that the Cult of Erythr isn't something she can take down on her own. We're all having to work together to ensure the safety of the city," Phil informs Tommy, not even flinching as Tommy name-drops the Ace of Spades, the deadliest card up Croupier's sleeve.

"Briar doesn't like working with the Syndicate," Argonaut reminds Phil.

"I don't like working with the fucking Syndicate, but here I am. Briar will get over it," Tommy rolls his eyes. Briar and Tommy have never once had a long conversation. All of their talks, generously called that, have been short sentences with a barely socially acceptable greeting and parting. Despite the lack of length, the two of them have come to some agreements and disagreements. They both dislike working with other people. Tommy is willing to work with others for the sake of his goal, and Briar doesn't make any compromises. Tommy despises the Syndicate, and Briar doesn't care about them. Although they want different things out of life, they are both extremely determined to accomplish their goals. It is this determination that lends itself to respect, allowing their mutual connection with Ultraviolet to become a flimsy association between the two of them. It isn't much, but Briar is only a little less willing to help Tommy than Ultraviolet is, and Tommy counts that as best friends in this economy.

"You're right," Argonaut softly mutters, and her eyes cut to Phil. She stares intently at him. Phil doesn't return her look, instead looking at the console's screen as if it held the secrets to the universe.

Tommy doesn't like whatever is going on between them, so he stands up. He turns around to look at them both, keeping the expression in his eyes merry and light. "I have to get going. Jolt asked me to hang out with him today, and he'll beat my ass I don't show. Or, he'll try to beat my ass. We want to save him the embarrassment of failing, don't we?"

Tommy twirls the console around, handing it to Argonaut. She stares at it for a long second before pushing it away from her and towards Tommy. "You can keep it."

"I ca-"

"If you don't keep it, it will just go back into that box to collect dust. In fact, you should take the whole box with you. Try out all the games and see which ones you like," Argonaut reminds Tommy, gesturing towards the cardboard box with all the gaming cases. Tommy brings the console to his chest, letting his warmth soak into his chestplate

"I'll just keep this," Tommy says. "Goodbye, Argonaut, thank you for the console... and for healing me. Bye, Philza. I'll see you another time."

Tommy waves over his shoulder as he leaves. He takes a deep breath as he exits the room, trying and failing to wipe the smile from his face.

Chapter Text

“Nobody likes being alone that much. I don't go out of my way to make friends, that's all. It just leads to disappointment.”

― Haruki Murakami

Tommy lands on a metal rooftop, the dulled metal glimmering beneath the lowering sun. Tommy slides across the surface, going so fast that he barely feels the heat radiating from it. When he reaches the end of the rooftop, he twists his body onto his stomach. He stretches his arm around, fingers gripping the edge with enough force to swing him around. He kicks his feet through an open window, landing on a wooden platform. The wooden boards creak beneath his weight as he settles. He takes two steps forward before leaping from the platform. He completely ignores the scaffolding and the ladder, using his superpower on himself at the last moment before he goes splat against the concrete ground. Tommy places his toes on the ground, maintaining balance as he allows gravity to return to him. He lowers his body weight onto the soles of his feet, rocking back and forth in anticipation.

“Jolt! I’m here!” Tommy calls out, bounding forward. He leaps over the back of a couch, landing on the stained cushions. His body bounces as Tommy reaches for the movie cases left precariously on the metal and wood coffee table.

“Hey, Vendetta, how are you?” Jolt asks, sitting at a large desk in the corner of the room. There is a main desk that takes up about as much space as a normal office desk does, but there are added tables and machines attached to the edges that nearly take up an entire wall. This is without mentioning the whiteboards and cork boards that are littered with blueprints and calculations. Jolt sits in the center of it all in a chair on wheels, ready to maneuver himself to any corner he needs to be in to get the job done.

“Ugh, fucking terrible. I went on my mission with Ravager this morning. He isn’t a complete asshole… still a fucking wanker, though. We ran into trouble. The Scarlet Demoness and her mangy bitch, Fenrir, attacked us. Worse yet, they scared off Atalanta, a dog I found and Ravager named. I fought the Scarlet Demoness, and we eventually struck a deal to answer each other’s questions. I got some pretty good information, and I would have gotten more if Ravager didn’t throw her off of me. I mean, who the hell does he think he is? Who does he think I am? I’m more competent than his sorry ass. I bet he doesn’t even know my power. I know his. I know all of his powers. We argued for a bit. He dragged me off to the infirmary. You could have told me that Argonaut’s healing powers would make my head fuzzy. I told her shit I haven’t told anyone. Trauma shit. I can’t afford for her to know my weaknesses. I don’t have them, by the way, but if I somehow did, she knows them now. It doesn’t matter that she gave me a gaming console or showed me how to play the best game ever. She’s still… ugh, what would you know?” Tommy rolls his eyes. As much as he likes talking to Jolt, he would much prefer to tell all of this to Crowfather. The bird is on Tommy’s side, not the Syndicate’s. Tommy can say whatever he wants about the Syndicate to Crowfather without worrying about pissing anyone off. Jolt won’t sell Tommy out, but he would try to defend his colleagues. They’ve had this argument before. It wasn’t pretty then, and it won’t be now.

“Well, if you’re all better, I’m sure it’s fine,” Jolt shrugs, not even turning away from what he’s working on to face Tommy.

The blonde huffs, annoyed but not entirely angry. He knows that Jolt doesn’t need to look away from what he’s working on to pay attention to Tommy. Most people cannot multitask, but Jolt can when one of the tasks is his machinery. Tommy won’t let Jolt get away without it, however, as he reaches for the best movie in the world. “Fine, bitch, we’re watching Up.”

“Okay,” Jolt shrugs again because Tommy rarely watches any movie other than Up. It’s one of the few he can tolerate, that doesn’t make him feel like he’s wasting precious time by the end of it.

Tommy jumps up from the touch to put the movie disc in the DVD player Jolt created using random scraps. The television isn’t the largest or thinnest, but it produces good quality images and sound. Tommy settles back on the couch as the DVD player registers what movie it is meant to be producing. Tommy looks over at Jolt’s back as the opening trailers play. “What are you working on?”

“This machine will shoot out metal conduits using pressurized air,” Jolt explains, waving his hand up for emphasis.

“And why the fuck would you want that?” Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Vendetta, I’m making an airsoft gun that shoots metal rods. This will let me use my electricity at longer distances with more precision,” Jolt explains, turning around in his chair to show Tommy the beginning of his creation. It looks like a gutted gun, but Tommy can see the mechanisms coming to life.

“That’s so fucking cool! When do I get to use it?” Tommy asks, leaping over the arm of the couch to get closer to the gun and Jolt.

Jolt spins around in his chair to put the gun back on the table. He brings a tiny screwdriver up to it to start installing a metal cylinder in the base. “Absolutely not. This is dangerous and completely untested.”

“I’ll be the test subject!” Tommy explains, leaning over the side of Jolt’s chair to put his chin on the vigilante’s shoulder. He stares at the airsoft gun with wide eyes, imagining himself wielding it. He isn’t allowed to have a gun until he reaches the age twenty-one. He probably won’t get to that age, so he’ll have to convince Jolt to let him use the airsoft gun. Or maybe he can buy a gun from one of the other villains he’s becoming acquainted with.

“Vendetta. At least let me finish the gun before we start arguing about it,” Jolt complains, rolling his shoulders to knock Tommy off of them. The blonde heaves a loud sigh directly in Jolt’s ear before pushing off the back of the chair. He continues walking backwards until his knees hit the arm of the couch. He flips back onto the couch, lying out with his knees hanging over the side. He turns his head to watch the movie, half happy and half disappointed that he missed the saddest opening segment.

Silence descends over the pair, the movie and the metals clanging together enough for them both to partially relax. Tommy is certain that they will spend the rest of their time in this comfortable silence, but he is proven wrong when he hears the chair creaking. The metalworking no longer fills the air as Tommy feels Jolt’s steady gaze boring into him. Tommy shuffles, wondering if he should sit up to meet Jolt’s eye contact. Before he can mask a decision, Jolt asks, “What do you think of the Syndicate?”

Tommy frowns behind his mask. He was not expecting their conversation to return to this, but frankly, he should have known that it would. Jolt has probably been waiting for the moment when they were alone and relaxed to ask the loaded question. He knew that he would have to do it now because he probably won’t get another chance. Tommy closes his eyes, temporarily ignoring the movie as he thinks. “They’re all wrong. They’re bastards and cheats and wankers and the most despicable people I’ve ever met in my entire life. But some of them… not all, just some… they aren’t as shit as I thought, y’know? Bad cause but not bad people.”

“You know that every member of the Syndicate is a villain. You know they’ve done terrible things,” Jolt expresses, stating the obvious for the sake of the conversation.

“You and I don’t have clean slates, either,” Tommy reminds Jolt. Vendetta is a hero, and Jolt is a vigilante. They are, by definition, supposed to be on the side of good, fighting for the light either within the parameters of the law or outside of it. In practice, neither of them have always made the right choices. Tommy, especially, has done some very villainous things for a goal that most would deem selfish even when Tommy has given up everything in pursuit of it. He’s taken lives, stolen, blackmailed, tortured, and done so much more despite the organization he works for. Jolt has blood on his hands, too, though Jolt’s was always spilled in self-defense, and Jolt has definitely stolen before. He’s broken guild property more times than Tommy has, which is illegal and risks hurting people in the long run since good heroes who do good use that property.

“You’re not wrong,” Jolt concedes, knowing that it would be pointless to argue about their supposed titles when their actions have spoken much louder. “You know… since you’re getting closer with the Syndicate, maybe we can hang out more.”

“We hang out plenty,” Tommy responds. Is Jolt trying to bring to the surface all their most infamous arguments?

“We meet up on a rooftop maybe once a week for a half hour. You’ve only come to this warehouse twice a year, at most,” Jolt exclaims, gesturing around to the warehouse. It used to produce nukes. Jolt broke in and claimed it for his own after the government abandoned it. Jolt does all of his best work here, and every villain in the area knows that they will be upsetting the Syndicate if they dare break in and steal something. Tommy only reluctantly came one time because Enderwalk got hurt badly in a fight, and this was the only appropriate place Tommy could bring him. Tommy continued to come by every once in a while to see what Jolt and Enderwalk were up to, mainly for movie nights. Jolt huffs from where he’s seated. “I want to go somewhere fun with my best friend.”

“Enderwalk is your best friend,” Tommy points out. Despite their history (or maybe because of it), Enderwalk is much closer to Jolt than Vendetta. Tommy isn’t too bothered by this since he already limits his friendship with both of them, but even he can acknowledge that he’s often a third-wheel. An awkward one, at that.

“Enderwalk is strictly my platonic partner. You are my best friend,” Jolt corrects Tommy. The hero keeps his eyes closed as he imagines what it would be like for him to confidently call Jolt his best friend. Tommy told himself not to have any attachments. Reverie taught him that they were only weaknesses. Tommy can only agree because losing his family brought him to his knees in grief, and he used Reverie’s attachment to him against the leader of the Hunters. Tommy knows the shattering power of attachments, and yet… and yet Jolt is his best friend, whatever that means to a hero who has made it his mission to kill the top villains in the city.

“We are good friends,” Tommy relinquishes out loud.

“Exactly! We are! And you know what good friends do? They hang out with each other in better locations than dingy rooftops and dangerous warehouses turned into workshops. Look, there’s this seafood restaurant that I really like called the Captain’s. We could go there together. I love that place, and I’ve always wanted to take you. I’m sure you’ll like it, too,” Jolt proposes.

“I’m busy,” Tommy states. He doesn’t need to know when Jolt wants to go; he already knows that he’ll be busy that day. He’s busy every day. He hasn’t had a day off since he joined the Hunters, nearly ten years ago.

“The next time you’re free, then?” Jolt sounds hopeful. His voice changer cannot mask the underlying emotion, and Tommy suddenly feels sick to his stomach.

“I’ll message you,” Tommy says.

“I’ll be holding you to that promise,” Jolt threatens, turning back to his metal gun resting on the table. He begins working on it again. Tommy opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. He knows that he won’t message Jolt. Even if he somehow did have a day away from his repetitive work, he wouldn’t use it to spend time with someone he shouldn’t have a connection with in the first place. Jolt was just another liability, someone to mourn and avenge when he inevitably perished against a hero or stronger villain who was stupid enough to piss off the Syndicate. For some reason, Tommy believes that Jolt knows that, too, regardless of the supposed promise. He must know because the silence between them as Jolt works and Tommy watches the movie is unbearable.

Tommy is tempted to leave early to avoid the tension. He begins sitting up when he hears a cawing noise. Tommy stills, and Jolt looks up from his work to watch Crowfather descend into the warehouse. The bird lands on the coffee table between Tommy and the movie. Tommy smiles at his avian friend, raising an arm up for Crowfather to settle on his forearm instead of the coffee table. “Well, hello, there.”

“What is Crowfather doing here, Vendetta?” Jolt asks, a strange edge to his voice as he stares at the bird. 

Tommy begins to pet Crowfather’s head as he mulls over his answer. Crowfather and Jolt have met before. Shortly after Tommy and Jolt met, Crowfather came to greet Tommy’s new friends. Jolt and Crowfahter got along famously in the beginning, but something must have happened along the way because Jolt is always anxious and secretive around Crowfather. It was for this reason that Crowfather has never come to the warehouse. This is the first time, so there must be a special reason. All Tommy can think of is this: “Aww, Crowfather, were you worried about me? You fucking sap. I’m all better now!”

“Why do I doubt that’s his intention?” Jolt mutters with an eye roll.

“What is your fucking problem, Jolt? What did Crowfather do to you to make you this… upset?” Tommy asks, looking at Jolt. Crowfather’s talons squeeze tighter in warning, but Tommy doesn’t allow this argument to go unfinished. If Jolt gets to prod Tommy about his opinions and time management skills, Tommy gets to know why Jolt is uncomfortable around Crowfather.

“I don’t understand why you trust that damned bird so much. You tell him literally everything, and Vendetta-” Crowather caws. Jolt’s eyes narrow beneath his goggles, and Tommy is almost certain that he’s scowling. Tommy hushes Crowfather, hoping that Jolt will continue despite the interruption. Jolt sighs heavily, tilting his head back. “Look, Vendetta, from one friend to another, I just want you to know that you can’t trust what you see. The world is far more complicated than you think it is. You’ve become so single minded that you don’t even realize what’s right in front of you.”

“Are you seriously lecturing me about trusting a fucking bird?” Tommy demands, standing up with enough force that Crowfather is flung from his arm. The bird flaps his wings as he lands on the coffee table. He caws once more to inform the two that he’s still present and would rather they not argue. Neither pays attention to the bird that is the front of their argument but perhaps not the underlying reason.

“A bird with no origin who can always find you and seemingly knows what you’re saying. You’re not a fucking Disney princess, Vendetta. Crowfather came from somewhere, and you’re a fool to be treating him as your fucking diary,” Jolt stands up as well, not quite rising as high as Tommy but filling up just as much of the room with his presence.

“I don’t give a fuck what Crowfather does with the information I tell him. He could sell it on the black market for all I fucking care. I don’t care enough about the Hero’s Guild to rat them out or protect their dirty laundry,” Tommy explains. Although Tommy does tell Crowfather a lot, he doesn’t actually spill any secrets from the guild. Crowfather doesn’t even know that much about Tommy himself- not anymore than anyone else. He’s only working on the principle, right now.

“Vendetta… Fine, do whatever you want. Trust whoever you like. I won’t stop you, just… just promise me that when everything blows up in your face, you’ll come to me- to me and Enderwalk. You’ll let us pick up the pieces instead of you…” Jolt trails off, but they both know where that train of thought will lead. Tommy doesn’t have many reactions or habits, but the ones that he does have are notoriously bad for him.

“Whatever. I’ll let you and Enderwalk ‘pick of the pieces’, whatever the fuck that means,” Tommy promises easily, wondering what exactly Jolt expects to blow up in Tommy’s face. “Look, king, I have to go. Serenade is expecting me. He’ll lose his shit if I’m not there in time.”

“Goodbye, Vendetta,” Jolt says softly, walking towards Tommy. The blonde expects a physical fight, but Jolt throws his arms around Tommy’s shoulders. He hugs Tommy tightly. Tommy doesn’t hug him back, but he doesn’t push him away, either. Jolt’s face shows smiling wrinkles as he leans back to look at Vendetta’s face. When they fully separate from each other, Tommy turns to leave. He throws a final look over his shoulder to see Crowfather on Jolt’s forearm, the two of them silently arguing, as the door closes behind Tommy. 

Chapter Text

“What's the deal? Why can't he look

into my eyes when I have words

of appreciation lined up for him.

Has he simply forgotten

how he feels?

all his emotions plunged into oblivion.

or he is so full to talk about it.

He won't confide in me

which I understand is his choice.

I really wish to but

I can barely get under his skin.But what I know about him is

he feels very sad and

he has honest eyes.

And every broken heart should

have a place in this world.”

― Tanya Gambhir

Tommy nudges the apartment door open. He steps inside, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel. When he sets down his pair of keys on the hook above their shoes and a box with his new gaming device on the small bench under that, Tommy notices the lights are on throughout the apartment. He frowns, peering into the apartment. Serenade is lounging on the couch with his comfortable mask and clothing, eyes trained on the television as some sort of game show played. If Tommy didn’t know who he was looking at, he would assume that Serenade was a simple person. He would even be warmed at the thought that someone was waiting up on him even though the night was stretching thinner. However, Tommy isn’t going to fool himself into thinking that he cares about Serenade or that the villain cares about him.

“What are you doing up?” Tommy calls out as he turns the corner into the kitchen. Serenade looks away from his television show to watch Tommy roaming around the dark kitchen. Tommy searches for his packets, hoping to get a meal in. When he doesn’t see the box, he decides that he’ll deal with that problem later. He can simply get another box from the guild and hide that one somewhere Serenade and Thermoculus won’t find it.

“My mission ran longer than we expected. I’m catching up on some shows I missed today,” Serenade shrugs, muting his television show. He shifts his body, twisting halfway as he puts his arms on the back of the couch facing away from the kitchen. Tommy walks out of the kitchen, coming to stand behind the back of the couch. “How was your mission, Vendetta?”

“Better than yours, I bet,” Tommy explains. He turns around to sit on the back of the couch. Before Serenade can move, Tommy allows his body to flop backwards. He lands rather painfully on Serenade’s legs. His own legs are thrown over the couch, his knees bending to give him enough space. Serenade makes a pained noise, and Tommy resists the urge to laugh at him. “As you might know, I went with Ravager to check out Snowchester. The Syndicate is shit at maintaining it, by the way. That place is fucking depressing. There are barely any people there. I mean, it was always pretty isolated, but damn, you guys let it get bad.”

Serenade huffs a disbelieving laugh, but he doesn’t say anything beyond that so Tommy continues, “Ravager and I talked about Minotaur for a little bit. Shit subject. You should teach him some small-talk.”

“I’ve been trying for a long time,” Serenade tells Tommy. The blonde’s eyes dart away from Serenade’s eyes, instead looking towards the roof.

“Just when I was about to teach Ravager a lesson in etiquette, I found a dog! A dog, Serenade. They are literally the second-best creatures in the universe, after cows, of course. Well, maybe third. I do like spiders a lot. And chickens. Damn, why are there so many good animals?” Tommy lists off, acting like he doesn’t love literally all animals. He just likes how different they are from humans, and he obviously likes looking at cute things.

“The world is full of amazing animals. And then there’s anteaters,” Serenade growls the name. Tommy splutters a laugh as he turns to look at Serenade again. The villain is glaring into the distance, probably imaging the horrid little creatures. Tommy thinks he’s seen an anteater before, but he doesn’t remember enough of it to share Serenade’s opinion or refute it. “The little shits deserve to die. If I wasn’t busy, I would make it my life’s mission to genocide those knock-off rats.”

“Very strong and interesting opinion, but we were talking about my day, so shut the fuck up,” Tommy silences the supervillain with a mock glare. Serenade rolls his eyes, but he returns his attention to Tommy, slotting his cheek against his hand to support his head. “Anyway! Ravager and I met a dog. A female dog. A bitch, if you will, but this one was no bitch. She was amazing. Ravager named her Atalanta. Some warrior woman from the stories of the Ancient Builders. I was playing with Atalanta when we heard a howling in the distance. Atalanta ran off because she’s smart and knows how to pick her battles. Ravager is an idiot, but he’s pretty strong, so I let him stay with me when we noticed the Scarlet Demoness and Fenrir.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Serenade comments. There’s concern in his tone, but Tommy doesn’t know who or what that emotion is meant for.

“Ravager fought Fenrir because he obviously knew I wouldn’t be able to fight a wolf. They’re just big dogs, you know. I fought the Scarlet Demoness. She’s the real bitch in this situation. I don’t know what her power is. It seemed like telekinesis, but it actually might be the ability to cause bad luck. Maybe a mix of both? I need to do some research on her, especially since she confirmed she’s part of the Red Army. She’s even part of the Cult of Erythr, the big-shots,” Tommy continues with his story without acknowledging Serenade’s emotions. He doesn’t have time for that, even when Serenade is blatantly staring at him.

“The Scarlet Demoness appeared a little while ago. At first, people thought she was a serial killer, but they later figured out that she was actively targeting small-time crooks and gangs. She was labeled a vigilante, but it seems she’s fully made the switch into villainy. I would say good for her, but she chose the Red Army instead of the Syndicate,” Serenade explains to Tommy. The blonde frowns. He really should be keeping up-to-date with vigilantes and villains. He’s been a little too narrow-minded, but he supposes that it won’t matter much if the end of this little mission with the Syndicate will end soon.

“I didn’t know you were recruiting.”

“Oh, dear Vendetta, we’re always recruiting. It’s always good to have allies. In fact, if you ask me nicely, I might consider letting you join,” Serenade informs Tommy. While his tone does sound joking, Tommy sees something serious in Serenade’s eyes.

Tommy laughs bitterly. “I knew you were batshit, but I didn’t think it was this bad. I’m not joining the Syndicate, not unless I’m spying on the leaders. And I don’t need to do that when I’ve learned so much about them already through this partnership.”

“I do wish you luck against Azrael and Inchling. I will miss you,” Serenade mocks Tommy.

“Ugh, shut up. Back to my story,” Tommy rolls his eyes. “I was fighting the Scarlet Demoness, but I decided that wasn’t enough. We didn’t know enough. I struck a deal with her. I let her hold me down so she would trust me. Or, at least, trust that she had the upper hand. We talked back and forth. I told her some shit; she told me some shit. I can’t confirm if she was telling the truth, but here’s what she told me: every member of the Red Army wants something different. She specifically wants to be strong enough that no one abandons her. Every member of the cult was found by someone called Crimson. We find out who this fucker Crimson is and what they want, we’ve cracked this whole case wide open.”

“Wait… you let her hold you down?” Serenade asks, tilting his head to the side curiously.

“Yes, I did, keep up. It wasn’t too bad. My pride takes a blow every fucking time, but sometimes you have to look weak in order to trick your enemies. She held me to the ground. I could have escaped if I wanted. I just didn’t want to,” Tommy rolls his eyes, getting the uncanny feeling that he’s had this conversation before. “Ravager, the fucker, pulled her off of me before I could get more information. He just threw her like she wasn’t exactly what we wanted. I argued with Ravager about why I would act recklessly. He eventually dragged me to Dyscardia and Captain to get my wounds checked out.”

“Wounds?”

“Serenade, you need to fucking listen. Yes, wounds. When we were fighting, she squeezed my chestplate. It cuts into my skin. Captain healed me, though. Dyscardia wasn’t there, but I really didn’t need either of them. I bandage would have done nicely instead of wasting Captain’s time,” Tommy explains, kicking his legs over the back of the couch. He swings all the way around so that he places his feet back on the ground and sits up. Serenade unconsciously shifts his legs to give Tommy more room as the blonde finally gets off of them. Tommy is able to Serenade’s face from a right-side up position, and he realizes just how worried the villain looks.

“Vendetta, you can’t risk your life like that. What if she tried something? What if Ravager wasn’t there to save you?” Serenade asks, and Tommy realizes this is going to be like his argument with Ravager. The only difference is that Serenade seems less angry and more upset than Ravager did. Tommy honestly would rather face a pissed off Serenade than whatever sentimental bullshit he was getting.

“Why the fuck do you care? For that matter, why does Ravager fucking care? I got vital information that will help us. I could have gotten more if not for Ravager’s inference, and instead of belittling him, you’re sitting here, lecturing me,” Tommy demands, lifting up his body to stand up. He was trying to get the edge on Serenade, but the higher ground doesn’t help ease the strange bundle in his gut.

“I don’t speak for Ravager. I could not tell you why he reacted the way he did,” Serenade corrects. Tommy frowns but allows Serenade to continue. “But I do speak for myself. You could have gotten killed.”

“I am too powerful for the Scarlet Demoness to kill. I would have destroyed her before the thought even crossed her mind,” Tommy disagrees.

“Vendetta, she has killed entire gangs all by herself without leaving a trace. She has massacred dozens of people in a single night, and you think she would have hesitated to take your life?” Serenade’s voice has grown sharper with his worry. Tommy has the sudden urge to vomit, but he refuses to let Serenade know that his visible concern is affecting Tommy. The blonde is stronger than his emotions.

“I have dealt with far worse than an esper with abandonment issues who can kill gangs filled with powerless people too drunk or high to know the difference between right and left. The Scarlet Demoness is not a threat. She’s a fucking nuisance,” Tommy argues. He has beaten people far more powerful than her and with a longer list of crimes under their belt, too.

“Are you seriously acting like that is a good thing?” Serenade snaps. Tommy realizes from the frustration in Serenade’s eyes that the comment has been a long-time coming. Serenade has been wanting to demand an answer to that particular question for probably as long as the two have known each other. Or maybe just to the point when Serenade figured out how fucked up Tommy was.

“It is the responsibility of a guild member,” Tommy proclaims. He took a set of vows when he first joined the Hero’s Guild, as did every other member. They all pledged to purge the world of evil, and while Tommy wouldn’t go so far as to call himself a paragon of good, he’s done his best to live up to that oath. His main goal has always been the Syndicate, but he has done other things before. Usually because he’s going to get something out of it, but no one said that guild members have to be pure of heart. They just need to be willing to fight the hard battles, and Tommy isn’t an A-ranked hero for nothing.

“How actually good is this guild you are supposedly so loyal to? I don’t think something that markets itself as the saviors of humanity would condone those shitty food packets. I also don’t think that the guild can be good if you are constantly sleep-walking into suicidal situations to the point that you have to chain yourself to your fucking bed!” Serenade proclaims, gesturing towards the hallway that leads into their rooms as he stands up. Unfortunately, Serenade is slightly taller than Tommy. The blonde doesn’t like the way Serenade looks down at him. It almost feels like Serenade… no, Tommy refuses to go down that dark path.

“That isn’t fair. I learned the chain trick from the Hunters, and I first started sleep-walking because of the Syndicate,” Tommy argues. The chain part was actually his idea, but the concept came from watching Reverie and the other Hunters.

“And there’s another problem. The Hunters are brutal. I don’t understand why you were there or why the guild doesn’t seem to care,” Serenade gestures vaguely with his hands like he can talk as much with them as he can with his words. It wouldn’t matter since his words were plenty enough. When Tommy first arrived at the guild, the master did question him about his time with the Hunters. His testimony was put on file. That was the end of the matter unless someone needed some consolation, but even then, they usually went to Tommy’s file before they went to him. He’s avoided the Hunters, and everyone in his life has let him.

Tommy sits down on the couch. Serenade’s face startles with surprise, but he quickly switches back to his passive aggressive concern. Tommy frowns, looking away. “Fuck off.”

Serenade freezes before sighing. He sits down on the couch beside Tommy. He opens his mouth once, but nothing comes out so he closes it and leaves it shut. Tommy stares up at the window. The night sky stretches above the world, dotted with twinkling stars. The ocean is below it, even though Tommy can’t see it. Tommy tries to keep his attention there, but Serenade has opened a box of memories Tommy can’t quite seem to lock.

He first met Reverie the night his family died. Less than 24 hours after losing everyone he ever cared about, Tommy met Reverie. Rather, Reverie found Tommy. The villain was coming to see if Wilbur and the others were going to join him like Eret did. Reverie was shocked to discover everyone was dead until he noticed that some objects were floating in the air. In the center of the wreckage, somehow hidden from all the heroes, Tommy was sobbing and begging. Reverie held out his hand to Tommy, a beacon of security and safety. Tommy latched onto Reverie because he didn’t have anything else. It didn’t matter that he hated and resented the Hunters a few days prior; he was willing to give up anything to have some semblance of family again.

The Hunters weren’t a family. Reverie, Reishi, and Inferno were close, but mostly the Hunters were a group of villains working together because of a mutual interest in chaos, not because they all liked each other. It was made abundantly clear when Wraith and Pan defected. Adamantine joined for Reaper’s sake, and Avenger later joined because of Reverie. Enderwalk- called Monochrome- came along two years after Tommy did without anyone on his side. Tommy was close with Monochrome, but that connection was born from a dark place. They both just needed someone who treated them better than Reverie did- not a high bar but definitely a difficult one in an environment run by the villain. Tommy was pretty close with Warden and Inferno, but it definitely wasn’t enough to call either of them his friend or confidante.

Tommy only escaped from the Hunters because he felt sympathy for Monochrome. He wasn’t made for the life of villainy, and while he had nothing material, Monochrome continued to have hope and dreams for the future. He was different from Tommy, who only stuck around because he didn’t have anywhere else to be. Tommy escaped with Monochrome, with some help from Warden, and they parted ways on a rooftop. Tommy would have stayed with the Hunters if not for Monochrome. Tommy would have died at the hands of the Hunters, and he probably wouldn’t have cared too much.

Something pitters against the window. Tommy refocuses on the present to see Crowfather on the railing of the balcony. Tommy smiles slightly at the distraction. He reaches for the balcony door, pulling it open. Crowfather caws a greeting as if he probably didn’t just get back from an argument with Jolt. Tommy huffs a laugh, reaching for the sandwich Crowfather must have brought him… except nothing is there. Instead, Crowfather is holding a piece of folded white paper in his beak. Crowfather sets the paper on the railing. Tommy eyes it curiously, picking it up. He unfolds the paper, reading the contents.

Dear Theseus, 

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I am writing this at your discretion. You swore to me that your bird would find you no matter where you went. I am merely testing this theory. It might prove useful to have a rather intelligent creature who can carry messages between us. For now, I suppose the bird will get used to sending letters between you and me.

I do not have much to inform you about. Not much has happened since I have seen you as that was earlier this day. I have spoken with the others about the information you gathered. They agree with me that your move was risky. Warden, Enderwalk, and Red Dragon in particular are against your actions. They have, however, assured me that you frequently make ploys like this. I hardly understand why. There must be easier ways to ascertain information, ones that do not include risking your life.

I have also been told that I should apologize to you. It is not my place to comment on your foolish actions no matter how idiotic they are. Regardless, I will not apologize. You must find better ways to get information, ones that do not risk your life or compromise your mission.

That is all I wish to tell you. You may send a letter back if you so desire. It will allow me to see if this bird of yours is truly capable of being our messenger.

Ravager

Tommy broke into a loud laugh. He didn’t expect Ravager to actually send him a letter even though Tommy called it a good idea earlier. Tommy should have expected that Ravager was the type to write letters. He has good handwriting, at least.

“Hold on, Crowfather,” Tommy commands the bird. Tommy enters back into the house. He searches around the corner Serenade shoved all his research into for a blank piece of paper. He finds a pen first before eventually getting to the paper. He smiles softly to himself as he steps back outside. He places the paper on the railing to start writing across it.

Dear Ravager,

I hope this letter finds you in poor health. I really hope you’re puking your guts out right now.

Unlike you, I have had a very exciting day, especially since you weren’t part of it. I went to Jolt’s warehouse to watch the greatest movie ever, Up. If you haven’t seen it, you’re a failure of a human being. Put this letter down and go watch it. Right now… good movie, right? Yes, I’m assuming that you haven’t seen it and just went to watch it. I will quiz you on the movie the next time we meet, so go watch it again and get back to me.

I also talked to Jolt about some Big Man stuff. You wouldn’t know. Jolt wasn’t concerned about my stunt with the Scarlet Demoness. Serenade was, though, which is stupid as shit. I don’t understand either of you. Does it matter what I do in the pursuit of information? Sure, I could have died, but that was extremely unlikely. I’m built different. She wouldn’t have hurt me. She literally couldn’t. Everything was under control before you got involved.

Regardless of what did or shouldn’t have happened, I accept your apology and will also not be issuing one. I did nothing wrong. Get on my level. You can tell Enderwalk and Warden to fuck off. Red Dragon gets one pass, but he’s on thin ice. Tell them all I said that. I dare you. I’ll tell them myself if you don’t.

We should keep sending letters. It will allow me to show you how fucking brilliant I am in comparison to you.

Vendetta (not Theseus or any other nickname)

Tommy smiles at his completed letter, ignoring the difference between his handwriting and Ravager’s. Tommy folds the paper up before the wind can carry it away. He raises it to Crowfather. The bird accepts the paper in his beak. Once it’s secure, Crowfather lifts up into the air, carrying it to wherever Ravager might be right now. Tommy smiles as he watches it go, holding Ravager’s letter to his chest. He almost starts laughing again at the absurdity of the situation.

“What was that about?” Serenade asks from his spot on the couch, looking at Tommy with a half-smile on his face. 

Tommy whirls around, answering Serenade’s question with another question, “When can I go to the black market?”

Chapter Text

“Like a deep sad note
played beneath the ocean
waving through the orb
the memories of you
the bittersweet echoes
infixed forever in my heart”
― Pawan Mishra

The borough called Empires is known for two main things: the first is the overwhelming amount of bloodshed between rivaling gangs. Everyone knows that Empires is held in a tight grasp by those gangs, each one vying for territory and power like kings wishing to build a legitimate empire. The other well-known fact about Empires is that it has one of the most well-rounded black markets. The really bad things are sold in Sandlands and Las Nevadas always has rare finds in their auctions, but the majority of goods can be found at cheap prices in the underground sections of Empires. It is known as the Trading Station, an innocuous name for a dirty and greedy place.

Tommy has been to the Trading Station multiple times in his life. When he was living on the streets, Wilbur took him once because no one was there to watch the toddler. While with the Hunters, Tommy went a few times with different members of that group- mostly with Reishi to get new, exotic plants or with Pan to see new animals brought in cages. His visits got less frequent when he officially partnered with Croupier, as the Jester did not like rival businesses to his auctions, but Tommy couldn’t help but return when he needed pertinent information. Some of the best informants in the entire city came to the Trading Station in order to get customers and sell secrets they already procured. Tommy’s entire business was in information and training his body, so the Trading Station was a good place to visit when Croupier was turned the other direction.

Tommy has been in a few weeks, and it certainly shows. He stares at the many new booths that have popped up around what the locals call the Treasury, a straightaway between the two main entrances of the Trading Station that people navigate from. The booths along the Treasury are always the best ones, operated by people who are more than willing to be patient for the buyers to come to them with more than the asking price. Tommy recognizes a few of the booths still up along the Treasury, but the new ones immediately grab his attention. He even thinks he sees a booth selling goods from End Isle. It was hard enough to get items from there before the Syndicate held Snowchester hostage, so this seller must have been hoarding these goods for a long time.

“Where is your informant?” A voice coaxes Tommy out of his trance. Dyscardia stands next to Tommy with a displeased expression barely hidden by her mask. This is accompanied by her cold tone, another item that cannot be warped by her voice modifier. Earlier that morning, Dyscardia came to Paradise Apartments to whisk Tommy away to a mission he demanded to be sent on. He would have gone alone, but the rest of the Syndicate insisted on everything being done one way. Dyscardia must have drawn the shortest straw because she did not look at all happy to be following Tommy through the Trading Station. She didn’t even care to glance at the booths for something that might have caught her fancy. She was singularly focused on finishing this mission as soon as possible. Tommy wasn’t quite sure if her qualm was with the Trading Station or with him specifically, but either way, she was not making pleasant company.

“Easy, Dyscardia. My informant wouldn’t be around the fucking Treasury. She prefers a sense of mystery around her. She’s a bitch like that. But she’s an honest bitch, and really, what else do you need in an informant?” Tommy shrugs. He reaches for Dyscardia’s hand. She glares at him as his fingers come to wrap around her wrist. He smiles sheepishly at her as he starts dragging her through the crowd. He keeps his tight grip, refusing to lose her in the bustling market.

While the main street was a fancy name, the disorganized grid system sectioning off the other booths are not as well addressed. To make matters worse, since the Trading Station was a 24 hour service, no one had specified booths. When people wanted to leave, they packed up all their stuff. The empty space would be given to whoever could get there first or whoever the former seller had a bargain with. Very few people were able to threaten the people around them to give them the same spot every day. Unfortunately, Tommy’s informant did no such things. She petitioned that it was because she liked popping up in random locations to mystify her customers, but Tommy doesn’t believe that blatant lie. Thankfully, Tommy seems to have an uncanny ability to find her. Really, he just trusts his feet to take him to wherever she goes. His informant tells him that it’s her doing, and he does believe that one.

Tommy stops in front of a red tent, the flaps lifted up to expose the interior to anyone who passes by. A table is set up inside the tent with three chairs- one behind the table, two in front. A sign sitting on an easel in front proclaims that the magical fortune teller, Passerine sits waiting to share the secrets of time with anyone who passes through her birdcage. Tommy grins at the tacky wording, staring at the person sitting in the one chair behind the table. “Quit scamming people, Passerine.”

The teenage girl startles, looking up to see Tommy and Dyscardia. She snarls immediately, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t scam anyone, you bampot! Stop telling people that shit.”

Tommy laughs to himself, plopping down in one of her chairs. Passerine lives up to her name. She wears a teal-green and brown bodysuit with clear avian symbols sewn across the surface. This compliments her brown wings with white splotches. Her dual-colored hair, one side inky black and the other straw blonde, is left to lie across her shoulders, barely obscuring her ear-feathers. Her bright emerald eyes are hidden behind a pair of aviator goggles. She doesn’t seem pleased to see Tommy or Dyscardia, but she never turns away his patronage.

“Let me guess, you aren’t here for a reading,” Passerine asks, lifting up a large deck of tarot cards. Passerine is an esper who uses objects like the tarot cards and crystal balls to focus her temporal visions. She can see into the future, the past, or the present in another location. Visions are tricky, however, so Passerine has to use her cards or other fantastical items to focus her ability. As an additional income, Passerine gathers information and secrets the old-fashioned way to sell. She only uses her esper ability for a select few people. 

“We’re here about the Cult of Erythr,” Tommy whispers, leaning in closer to avoid eavesdroppers. He trusts that Passerine has kept her booth from being bugged.

“Isn’t that fucking hilarious? The cult has been asking questions about you, Vendetta,” Passerine begins, shuffling her tarot cards with agile fingers.

“Why?” Dyscardia asks before Tommy can. The Syndicate’s assassin sits in the chair beside Tommy. She does not look at him as she asks, so Tommy decides not to read too much into it.

“I don’t know. Bastards didn’t ask me,” Passerine shrugs, baring her teeth at the thought of her competitors getting more deals than her. When Passerine calms down, she returns her attention to the matter at hand. “Look, here’s the shit I know: the Cult of Erythr are looking for two things right now, grunts to join the Red Army and specialized members to join the higher ranking positions. Other than building a secret fucking army, they are amassing every type of power in the books. They’ve corrupted politicians, taken over prominent companies, and stuck their noses in gang activity without being fucking killed. As I see it, the cult can either take over the government by force with the Red Army or a clandestine operation using their vast network to pull strings.”

“Why?” Tommy asks slowly. If the Cult of Erythr has been doing all of this, they have been doing it for a while. The Hero’s Guild didn’t get lucky learning about the cult’s existence, the cult wants to be known. Tommy doesn’t understand the timing. Why is the cult choosing to act now?

“Who wouldn’t want unlimited fucking power?” Passerine asks, tilting her head to the side. Tommy smiles bitterly. He doesn’t want that, and he also knows that Passerine doesn’t want that. Tommy wants his revenge. Passerine likes living luxuriously. Although their goals can be helped by unlimited power, that is not what either of them really want.

“I have a hard time believing that is the cult’s only motivation,” Dyscardia responds. Tommy glances at her from the corner of his eye. He wonders what Dyscardia wants. For as much research as he’s done, Tommy is still unsure what the goal of the Syndicate is. If she willingly became an assassin for the institution, she obviously believes in their cause.

“Maybe. Be that as it may, I don’t have more information on the subject,” Passerine agrees while shrugging her shoulders. She tilts her cards at them. “Care for a reading now?”

Dyscardia scoffs, a noise full of disbelief. Tommy finds himself reaching over to transfer some credits from his account into Passerine’s work account. She grins at him, sliding the cards out in an impressive display. She sits upright in her seat, grinning knowingly at him. “I will pull three cards. One for the past. One for the present. One for the future. Let the cards fall where they may.”

As Passerine runs her fingers along the cards, the intricate silver designs drawn across the black begin to glow. The color leaks out of her eyes until gray irises stare at the cards unflinchingly. Passerine stops on one of the cards. The glow is far more intense on this card than the others. Passerine picks the card up with a completely neutral expression. She flips it over, placing it on the table to Tommy’s left. A figure wearing a midnight blue cloak holds a golden lantern uplift in one hand and keeps himself steady with a staff as large as himself in the other hand. A dark green sky swirls behind him and a white ocean beneath him, highlighting his natural appearance with unnatural additions. The ink on the cards moves subtly, the waves moving and the lantern flickering. Unfortunately, the card is upside down to Tommy. Passerine’s voice carries no emotion as her ability speaks through her. “The past is guarded by the Hermit. He casts light upon your isolation. He remains a figure out of reach to a lonely soul. He hammers down the feeling of withdrawal with his mighty staff. Your past was cruel. It was dark and bothersome, but the light of the Hermit has guided you to the present.”

Passerine finds the next card in the glowing stack. She places it down in the center of the table. A knight wearing golden armor lies on an altar with his hands crossed over his chest. His flowing gold hair falls off the edge, glimmering as brightly as his armor because of a window half-shown along the upper left corner. On the wall beside the window, three plain swords are hung up, the points directed at the knight’s head and neck. A more intricate is placed on the altar right beside the knight, silver and cool gray in complexion. As Tommy stares at yet another upside down card, he sees red lines appearing across the knight’s jawline. It was reminiscent of Tommy’s own scars. “The present slumbers alongside the knight of the four swords. Although he rests, he is brought to this position by his profound exhaustion. He continues to wield his sword even when he feels his own soul disappearing due to burn-out. His heart stagnates and his mind contemplates. You are faced with a disastrous present threatening to come undone in your hands. Can the knight wake up to save you from the future, or shall the unknown beast kill you as you are tormented by memories?”

The final card flips over without Passerine needing to touch it. Like a well-mannered pet, it lines up with the others in a position at the right of the table in front of Dyscardia. A young man with a bandage around his head stands with a determined expression in front of a twilight sky. He carries a large stick in his hands, holding it firmly in his grasp while leaning against it. Behind him, eight other sticks of similar height grow from the light green grass. The ink creates the image of wind rippling across the world, and Tommy leans in closer to the card that is finally facing towards him. “The future has been cultivated by a peasant who prepares for the trials and tribulations the river of time presents. He is prepared with one weapon, and he has more to follow. He stares with resilience and courage even in the face of the unknown observer. His suspicions will be proven true. His faith will be tested. Are you prepared to stand alongside the peasant as the final stretch approaches?”

Passerine deflates in her seat after the final word. Color glows back in her eyes. The cards across the table flutter back into a stack. Tommy stands to his feet, watching as his past, present, and future return to Passerine’s stack. He smiles at the Scottish brat. “Thank you for your time. We’ll be leaving now. Stop scamming people!”

“Get your ugly arse out of here!” Passerine growls. Tommy laughs at her words as he and Dyscardia rejoin the area between Passerine’s booth and the neighboring ones.

“Do you think she was right?” Dyscardia asks as they start walking back to the entrance they went in when they arrived.

Tommy frowns. He knows that Passerine’s visions can be misleading, so he never really pays much attention to her readings. He notices in hindsight when she’s right. He assumes this time will be much the same- he’ll understand in time. “The past is right. I was lonely, isolated, and withdrawn. It was a fucking depressing time. The present… I guess. I do feel exhausted all the damn time. I haven’t been contemplating much lately. I just do, you know. My thoughts are reserved for hot women. The future, though, I hope it’s true. Everybody likes being proven right.”

“I wonder if I should get a reading,” Dyscardia questions with a much more lax expression on her face than she did when Passerine originally proposed a future reading.

“Hey! We can go back if you want-” Tommy stalls when he notices a familiar face in the crowd. The Scarlet Demoness stands among the people. She seems to be speaking to another person. Tommy tilts his head to see the side-profile of Retro, another member of the Cult of Erythr. “Fuck, Scarlet Demoness and Retro are over there. Are we to engage?”

“We have no reason to. It would only cause a panic. It doesn’t seem like they know we’re here, so we should leave before they find out,” Dyscardia orders. Tommy frowns, but he follows behind Dyscardia while keeping eyes on his target. Dyscardia’s powers work on two factors- her hand movements and her line of sight. In a crowded place such as this, Dyscardia will have trouble maintaining her power. Even worse, Tommy is probably going to be the only person in this fight who wants to keep civilian casualties to a minimal. There might be other heroes in the crowd willing to help him, but it’s just as likely there are vigilantes or villains willing to capitalize on two titans fighting. It would be better for everyone involved if no one fought, even when Tommy watches the two cultists enter Passerine’s tent.

“We should head back to the base,” Dyscardia proclaims, very explicitly using ‘we’. Tommy frowns at her back. He has no clue what happened for her to change her tune.

“Hate to break it to you, but we have one more stop,” Tommy tells her, remembering that there is one more informant in the area he needs to speak with before he brings any information back to the Syndicate. He’s really going to prove his worth, if Dyscardia doesn’t stop his heart before that point. “Cheer up, it’s in Empires.”

Tommy leads Dyscardia towards the bridge between Empires and Las Nevadas. He tries not to remember the last conversation he had with Serenade on that bridge as he turns into an alleyway. He runs his fingers along the walls, smearing some of the spraypaint as he goes. Dyscardia huffs angrily, probably reckoning with the fact that certain gangs will be upset with Vendetta. What Dyscardia probably doesn’t know is that most gangs hate Vendetta. The only reason he’s still alive and allowed to be in the area is because as a nuisance to everyone, the gangs keep him alive to annoy the other gangs. Tommy made certain his life was not subject to forfeit. He wants to go out on his own terms.

Tommy stops when his fingers wrap around the metal handle of a run-down diner. Tommy glances up, smiling at the name. Schlottzksy’s Family Diner. Niki washed dishes for this place sometimes in order to get some extra cash for the family of runaways. When birthdays came around, as Niki was the one to keep track of them, she would sneak that person into the diner to bake a cake with them. Tommy made certain this place didn’t shut down even with all its health violations simply because he likes getting cake every now and again. It will never be better than the kind he had with Niki, but it was close enough that it always brought tears to his eyes.

Tommy doesn’t share a word of this to Dyscardia as he pushes open the door. The jingling bell has conditioned him to smile, and he does so freely knowing his mask will hide it. He turns around to beckon Dyscardia in, but her eyes are staring up at the name of the diner like she’s reminiscing. Tommy supposes he isn’t the only one with heartfelt memories attached to this place. Tommy keeps the door open for as long as Dyscardia needs to step inside the building. She wistfully touches the walls, glancing around with what Tommy thinks are tears in her warm brown eyes.

“Vendetta from the Hero’s Guild! Dyscardia from the Syndicate! Hello, Brother Slime!” A voice cheerfully calls out. Tommy grins brightly as he looks at the only other customer in the diner right now. The Ace of Hearts, better known as Slime, sits at a booth. He wears a green outfit with white accents. His mask is hidden by a mask covering the entire top half of his face, decidedly not covering his hair. This is because a tiny slime creature is resting in the ace’s brown curls. The creature emotes as vibrant as Slime does. “How are you?”

“I am fan-fucking-tastic, Slime! Life has been treating me good!” Tommy practically hollers as he slides into the booth across from Slime.

Dyscardia blinks awkwardly at them both. “What was that? You were just telling me that you were-”

“Absolutely fine,” Tommy cuts her off with a sharp glare. She responds with a glare of her own, slowly sliding into the booth beside Tommy. The hero turns back to Slime. The Ace of Hearts has a curious expression on his face, but it snaps back to happiness when he notices how kindly Tommy is looking at him. Tommy asks, “What does Croupier have for me this time?”

Slime claps his hands together. He reaches beside him to put a folder on the table. He slides it over, but he doesn’t lift his fingers off of it until he says, “I got most of the information on my own this time!”

“That’s amazing, buddy. I’m so fucking proud of you,” Tommy promises Slime, reaching up to run a hand through the brunette’s hair. Slime giggles, and the creature stuck in his hair practically purrs at the positive reinforcement. Dyscardia takes the folder, leafing through it, obviously trying to ignore staring at Tommy and Slime’s interactions.

“Can I get you two something to drink? Perhaps something to eat?” A waitress asks, stepping up to the table with a nonchalant expression. Slime perks up, looking between Tommy and Dyscardia. The villain hardly notices. Tommy does, however, so he orders a burger with all the fixings and fries. 

Tommy nudges Dyscardia’s side with his elbow to prompt her into action. She glances at the waitress. “No, thank you.”

“She’ll take the same as me! Also, I want a coke. Thank you,” Tommy speaks louder than Dyscardia’s when he picks up on what she’s going to say before she finishes. The waitress nods absently, writing down the orders before walking away.

Dyscardia openly glares at Tommy. “Shouldn’t you be eating your gray powder?” 

“Shut up,” Tommy hisses, but he can tell from a glance that the damage is done. Slime’s happy expression is gone as he stares at Tommy, tilting his head to the side. His voice is drastically colder as he asks, “What gray powder?”

“Dyscardia is joking. She has a silly name for pepper. You remember pepper, don’t you? It’s the spice you put on foods. It can also make you sneeze, so you aren’t allowed to sniff it,” Tommy points at the pepper shaker sitting on their table. Slime continues to frown even as he glances at the shaker. Tommy taps his hand against the table. “I learned a new magic trick, Slime. I’ll show it if you’re good, okay?”

Slime’s uneasiness dissipates immediately. He leans closer to Tommy as the blonde picks up the pepper shaker he was talking about earlier. Tommy holds it to Slime’s face before running his fingers along it. When the shaker is hidden behind his palm, he switches what hand it is in. Slime doesn’t notice at all as Tommy removes his hand, revealing that the shaker has disappeared. Slime’s eyes widen as he laughs, poking the empty air. Tommy puts the shaker right back in a similar way, eliciting a laugh from Slime.

“Wha-”

“Here are your burgers,” The waitress interupts, setting the baskets on the table in front of Dyscardia and Tommy. She also places down Tommy’s coke. He grabs a handful of fries before sliding the basket over to Slime. The brunette’s eyes light up as he starts devouring the food set out before him with little grace. 

Dyscardia avoids looking at that to glance at Tommy. “Why did you give that to him?”

“Are you going to question my actions every fucking time?” Tommy answers with a question, hissing through his teeth in an attempt to keep Slime from understanding.

“Need I remind you that you’re the one that brought me here,” Dyscardia says like Tommy doesn’t already know. He thought Dyscardia would catch on quicker than this, but it seems he overestimated her sense of empathy or intelligence.

“The Syndicate told you to babysit me. I would have been fine on my fucking own,” Tommy reminds her. He is sick of being stuck with people on his missions.

Slime makes a saddened noise. Tommy wants to curse, but he knows that will only ruin the situation even further. He reaches to pat Slime’s head. “That’s my bad, buddy. I should be paying attention to you, not having a friendly conversation with my bestest friend, Dyscardia. Say, Dyscardia, I’m sorry I was mean to you. Do you forgive me?”

Despite his set-up, his voice is genuine when he apologizes. Dyscardia picks up on this even with his voice modifier shuffling his tone. She eyes him warily, even taking a turn to glance at Slime. She eventually sighs. “I forgive you, Vendetta. I’m sorry I was mean to you as well.”

“I forgive you. See, Slime, we’re cool again,” Tommy explains to the hybrid sitting across from him. Slime smiles as he stuffs his mouth with the burger. Tommy leans closer to Dyscardia, subtly raising his hand up to whisper to her. “Eat a little bit of your burger.”

She looks like she wants to question him, but for once, she does as she’s told. She takes a few bites of her burger. She’s barely made a dent in it when Slime takes the basket from her. She nearly chokes on her food as she drops the burger into the basket. Slime doesn’t seem to care about her sharp frown. Before this situation can escalate beyond Tommy’s control, he pushes Dyscardia out of the booth, following after her. “Goodbye, Slime. Have a good day. Make sure to wait for one of the others before wandering off. You remember how upset Croupier was last time, don’t you?”

“Okay,” Slime proclaims. Tommy waves goodbye, forcing Dyscardia to mimic him, and they leave the diner.

As expected, as soon as the door shuts, Dyscardia turns to look at Tommy. “What was that about?”

“Slime’s power fucks up his head. Croupier found me a few days after I went to him. Slime was a complete blank slate. He knew absolutely nothing about the world. Croupier has taught him a lot, but he’s still a fucking idiot. He’s childish but powerful. He’s so fucking powerful. It’s easier to play along and keep him happy than deal with the monster he becomes. This means you can’t be harsh around him. No fights, no arguments, no glaring, that sort of thing,” Tommy explains to her. He remembers seeing Slime wander into the casino. Croupier didn’t know what to do with him, so he was stuck in a room with Tommy. Slime- Charlie, as he called himself- liked to mimic Tommy. The two of them became close, so Tommy got to watch the way Charlie forced Croupier to grow a heart. Even if he’s employed as the Ace of Hearts, Charlie is as much Croupier’s child as he is the borough’s most powerful assassin and second-best information gatherer.

“What were the papers about?”

Dyscardia hands him the folder, but she starts talking before he reads. “It’s a complete rundown of the cultists. Every high ranking member and all that can be known about them. There’s even formulas for a compound that is being injected into the Red Army. I don’t know the purpose, but I’m sure Warden or Jolt will be able to tell us.”

“I guess we’ll need to bring all of this to the Syndicate,” Tommy says with a smug smile. All of this information they have was gained because of him.

“I guess so,” Dyscardia replies evenly.

Chapter Text

“Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.”

― Guy de Maupassant

 

Dyscardia walks down the sidewalk in Snowchester, holding her communicator against her chest. She stares down at it occasionally, trusting her feet to lead her down the concrete without slipping up. She probably uses muscle memory or her peripheral vision to navigate. If something does spring up in her path unexpectedly, Tommy will take care of it. He’s trailing behind her with maybe a foot between them. He lolls behind mainly because the sidewalk would be crowded if they walked side-by-side and she was the one that knew where to go. It was also because he was someone who enjoyed looking around when he walked. He didn’t get many breaks in his life, so he took a chance to smell the roses when it was presented to him. He never stopped, no, but the scent lingers in the air, flashes of fantastical lives all around him, enticing his mind for a moment before he passes on.

“Have you seen the movie Moana?” Tommy asks. Even though he predominantly watched Up when he was with Enderwalk and Jolt, he was also introduced to the world of a young wavefarer by his incessant movie companions. He would never admit it to those two, but Tommy enjoyed Moana almost as much as Up. He supposed he just liked movies that were bitterly sad at the beginning but lightened up into a happy ending.

“Yeah,” Dyscardia answers. Even through the voice modifier, Tommy can tell her that her voice is light. She’s distracted by her communicator. By the way she’s typing, she’s probably still messaging Thermoculus. She messaged him soon after they left the diner to inform him that they would be arriving at the safehouse soon. Tommy was allowed to know that Thermoculus and Jolt were expecting them. If Thermoculus said anything else, Tommy wouldn’t know.

“It was the shit, wasn’t it? I loved it. The music was amazing. The characters were badasses, especially Moana. I fucking hated that crab thing, but his song was a bop. And we have to mention the animation, don’t we? As Ravager would probably say, it was immaculate. That’s such an old person’s word. It’s fun to say, though. Imm-ac-u-late. That’s what the movie is. All of it. We should watch it again sometime. By ‘we’, I mean me, Jolt, and Enderwalk. No offense, but I would rather not watch a movie with someone who can fucking stop my heart from beating. And other shit. I know your power. Fucking terrifying. We could watch Moana if you wanted, though. Who am I to deny a woman? They are factually the best,” Tommy continues speaking, vaguely aware that Dyscardia probably isn’t paying attention. He doesn’t mind. The person he talks to most is Crowfather, and while the crow responds, he doesn’t talk back. Tommy can go on tangents about nearly any subject because of this fact.

It was also one of the few traits that carried over from his childhood. No one in his family was mute. Well, Fundy couldn’t actually talk, but he did babble and could say a few words at a time. In either case, Tommy wasn’t the only one who made noise. He was the loudest, however. He was always yelling, cheering, and kicking up a fuss with wild dance moves or active games. He laughed more than he cried. It was extremely difficult to get him to stay quiet. Even in his sleep, he would sometimes mutter words or roll around the shared mattresses. Fundy might have been a baby who squalled all the time, but his little lungs had nothing on Tommy.

The reason for his loud temperament was probably because out of everyone, he was the most excitable. Every memory he had was from the streets with Wilbur. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t really remember his abusers, if they could be called that. According to Wilbur, their parents didn’t actually hate Tommy. This was probably because Wilbur’s father ignored Tommy, too caught up in work to even recognize that this blonde-haired, blue-eyed child probably didn’t come from two brunettes with dark eyes. Wilbur and Tommy’s mother didn’t care about anything. She was depressed so much of the time that Wilbur wasn’t sure he ever saw her move more than a few feet at a time. Wilbur describes their former home as a sad, lonely place no better than the alleyways.

As far as Tommy was concerned, he simply didn’t care. He never knew his real father, or his fake father, or his mother. All he knew was Wilbur, and that was all he needed. Even on the cold nights without any food in their bellies or water down their throats, Wilbur would hold Tommy close to his chest, enough that their heartbeats synced, and would sing the prettiest songs to make Tommy’s eyes droop closed. Eret was Tommy’s first taste of another kind person, and it spiraled from there. Tommy didn’t need his parents or a proper home. He just needed his family.

Tommy breathes out harshly at the painful reminder. Two old friends called loneliness and regret wraps its arms around his throat, loose enough to be a threat instead of a punishment. Tommy looks at Dyscardia’s back, watching her cape sway around her midthighs. She wraps it around her tightly as the cold wind of the borough picks up.  “I would like to watch Moana with my family. I’m sure they would fucking love it. My older brother loved music, so he would learn all of the fucking songs. I had another brother who liked good fights. Maui would have been his favorite character. Especially after Maui’s backstory is revealed. He loved good mysteries, too. When I think of my youngest brother, I can only see a dumb, little toddler. I would like to assume he would still like the colors and movement. I would probably sit with another one of my brothers. He would lean his head against my shoulder because even though he’s older than me, that bitch was shorter. I think my sibling would love the theatrics of it. And my sister…”

Tommy finds his mouth falling closed. Niki is fresh on his mind because of the diner. He can almost feel her walking beside him. She would nudge his shoulder, pointing out things she wanted him to look at. She would smile at him, looking down because she was his older sister. They would come to a crosswalk. She would reach for his hand. She would hold it close to her to force him to stay by her side. They would cross the street together, and she would emote correctly as he told her all about the many thoughts in his mind. If she was here, listening to him talk about Moana, she would probably say… “I like Moana. It’s a fine movie. I saw it with Thermoculus and Serenade. Thermoculus was at the edge of his seat when Maui was fighting Te Kā. His favorite character was probably those coconut pirates. Serenade nearly got us kicked out of the theater because he was singing too loud.”

Tommy freezes. Dyscardia is standing on a gentle ramp that leads down into the street’s crosswalk. She had her communicator lowered, her full attention on him. She still has a hand on the button for the stoplight for the crosswalk. Tommy’s shoulders fall. Her eyes are just like Niki’s, he realizes. Not just in color, a chocolate brown like cookies pulled fresh from the oven or frosting lingering on fingertips, but in warmth. For a moment, Dyscardia was looking at him favorably, if not downright kindly. There was so much Niki in this one expression that Tommy felt tears rush to his eyes.

He refuses to let them fall as he joins Dyscardia at the crosswalk. As if he needed more reminding that Niki was dead, he forces himself to remember the moment one more time. He returns back from a childish temper tantrum to see smoke lifting above the warehouse that used to be the four walls of his entire world. The heroes are standing around stretchers with bodies, each one covered by a white sheet. Six in all, each one the appropriate size and shape for his family. The heroes are whispering to each other about Azrael and Inchling. Not a single one pays attention to the dirty blonde kid darting into the heart of the destruction to dig in the rubble. They don’t notice the floating cement blocks or feel a strange tension weighing them down. The heroes don’t find him; Reverie does. That’s where all the trouble begins. That was where his pain originated.

“Vendetta?” Dyscardia asks. Tommy opens his eyes, striding across the white lines without giving Dyscardia a glance. He no longer cares that she’s the one who knows where they’re going. He wants to put as much distance between them as possible. Dyscardia is not a dead girl. She is an assassin with the ability to manipulate internal organs. She despises Tommy, and he’s supposed to feel the same way towards her. He will not be tricked by a momentary expression of fondness. He always thought Serenade was the one who manipulated people in the Syndicate, but it seems Dyscardia knows exactly how to pull at the right heartstrings. He will not let her know that she’s discovered his weakness. Niki is dead. She can’t be his liability.

“Vendetta,” Dyscardia repeats, harsher. Tommy looks up. He plans to whirl around to face her for some dramatic argument, but something else catches his eyes before he commits to the plan. A man stands in the center of the street, unconcerned about the fact that a car could suddenly decimate him. He wears dark green military gear including a bulletproof vest over a black, thick bodysuit. The lower part of his face is obscured by a black neck gaiter, and his white hair is pushed up by a black headband with a metal engraving in the forefront. He crosses his arms over his chest, revealing a metal skeleton connected to the back of his body, powered by some sort of energy source the same color as his blood red eyes.

“Dyscardia, Vendetta,” Technician, a villain working for the Red Army, directly part of the Cult of Erythr, speaks as he nods at each of them. “I must admit, you are a difficult man to find, Vendetta.”

“Shit, king, if I knew a fan was looking for me, I would have allotted some time,” Tommy laughs. Dyscardia takes the remaining few steps to reach him. She stands at his side with tight fists. Tommy reaches down to his thigh. He undos the holster tied there, subtly passing it over to Dyscardia. She blinks when she accepts the weapon. Tommy wonders if Technician saw, if he even cares.

“I’m no fan, Vendetta, but the Red King wishes to have an audience with you. The fastest way is for you to come with me willingly right now. If not, I will have to start using force,” Technician informs the hero. Tommy frowns. Passerine did tell him that the cult was looking for him specifically, but he didn’t really acknowledge that fact until right now. What does it mean to be hunted down by a cult? What do they want with him specifically? He doesn’t have much to offer other than the few personal connections he’s managed to make in his lifetime. Those wouldn’t be worth it, however. Croupier wouldn’t risk his neck to save Tommy. The Hero’s Guild would frame his kidnapping and eventual death as something more light-hearted for their audiences. The Syndicate doesn’t care about him at all. The Hunters would enjoy seeing him hurt. Tommy really doesn’t have anything to offer.

“Vendetta isn’t going anywhere with the Red Army,” Dyscardia proclaims, unsheathing the knife to aim it at Technician. Although Tommy firmly believes he can speak for him, a small part of him is touched that Dyscardia would step up to defend him. He knows he has a deal going on with the Syndicate right now, but he wouldn’t blame Dyscardia if she sold him out to save herself. It was the optimal decision considering her position. The Syndicate might be upset that one of their own broke a deal, but they would much rather Dyscardia return to them than end up dying here with Tommy.

“I still don’t understand how the Syndicate can work with someone who so clearly stands for their destruction,” Technician shakes his head, unimpressed with Dyscardia’s defensive nature. Technician reaches for his pocket. He pulls out a cube the size of a baseball made from a copper like material and tubing. He throws the cube to the ground in front of him. Dyscardia and Tommy inch back, waiting for an explosion. Instead, steam exhales out of one of the pipes. A low whirring sound fills the air, not too dissimilar to Warden’s suit. The copper cube begins to unfold. As it moves, it stretches out, growing larger. Sparks of Enderian magic cut across the air like sword slashes tearing through reality itself. A robotic automaton the size of the nearby lampposts stands in the center of the street. Tommy’s eyes widen. That is a copper golem- not a hybrid but an actual golem.

Technician steps back, waiting for his summoned creature to do the work for him. Tommy brings out his metal baton. He clicks a button, and it expands out into his staff. He gets into position, and then he notices Dyscardia standing right beside him with his knife in her hand. He frowns at her actions. “Dyscardia, go get Technician. I’ll deal with the golem.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to split up,” Dyscardia tells him. Tommy curses. The Syndicate must be a fucking cult if they’ve indoctrinated every member into believing that stupid power of friendship bullshit. Tommy breathes out, calming his nerves. This is not the time or place to get upset. He has to focus.

“There are two enemies: the golem and Technician. We need to defeat them both. My power works on anything. Your power is limited to organic materials. You know what that means? I need you to go fuck that human being up. I’ll deal with this copper monstrosity,” Tommy orders her. She frowns at him. He backtracks, deciding not to take his anger out on her right now. “I’ll be fine, Dyscardia. I promise you that we’re going to make it out of this alive if we play to our strengths.”

“Fine,” Dyscardia grits out. She changes directions, running after Technician as the cultist runs into a nearby warehouse. Tommy twirls his staff in his hands as he feels the pressing weight of the golem’s camera on him. Tommy doesn’t know much about golems, let alone a copper one, but he knows enough about machines to know that beating them into submission usually works. It’s how he solves all of his problems regarding kitchen and laundry appliances. Why wouldn’t it work for him now?

Tommy dodges out of the way as the copper golem aims its arm at him. The metal plating around its palm spreads apart to reveal a black barrel. The barrel twists as the golem changes its positioning several times. It follows Tommy, and when it feels like it finally has a lock, it releases a quick beam of energy. Tommy’s power activates to lift him into the air, out of the way of the energy blast. It lands in the wall of a building leaving behind a scorching hole. The copper golem’s camera eyes follow Tommy as he pulls his power back to the center of his chest. His glider unfolds to help him navigate. He places one foot on the shoulder of the copper golem. He lifts his staff up, letting his power make it twice as heavy. He swings it back down with all the strength he can conjure. As it collides with the golem’s shoulder blade, a dent appears in the metal exterior. Before Tommy can continue, the golem allows something to lift from his shoulder, knocking Tommy off balance. He throws his staff up, landing on the street in a handstand. He kicks his legs back down to rise up, catching his staff as it lands. He stares at the golem to see that it is about to release a series of missiles.

“I thought you’re master wanted to fucking meet me,” Tommy screams, looking around for a place to hide that would be able to tank several missiles that are probably tracking him. He ends up racing across the street. He feels bad for ducking into the alleyway between the building Technician and Dyscardia went into, but he can’t find himself caring too much when he hears the missiles explode against the corner. Tommy slams his hands over his ears as the sound of metal tearing like paper fills his head. He feels a sharp pain skirt across his shoulder, and he realizes that some metal fragments from the warehouse are probably in his arm right now. He runs his hand along the pain, hissing when his fingers brush against warm blood. Tommy peeks around the corner at the copper golem. “Unless you kill your master, too, I’m not going to meet him, you metal bastard!”

The copper golem is oblivious of his threats. It just brings up the energy barrel again. Tommy rolls out of the way as the golem blasts. He keeps running when he realizes the golem is going for a prolonged blast instead of short bursts. Tommy pivots as he runs, ducking down to avoid the energy blast, thankful for the angle. The golem probably didn’t account for this, mainly because Tommy could still feel the jittering of energy all around him as he stopped sliding. He comes up to the golem, taking full advantage of its momentary miscalculation. He shoves his staff into the space between the golem’s metal plating, underneath its armpit. Tommy shoves his entire body against his staff. The metal creaks. The plate finally snaps. Tommy is flung behind the golem from underneath its armpit as its front breastplate drops to the ground. Tommy rolls across the ground. His vision turns white as he lands against his ruined arm, the metal pieces pressing in even further. He holds his breath as he reaches for his staff. The golem turns around, oblivious to its glaring weakness. Tommy’s power makes his staff heavier as he shoves it into the golem’s internal structure.

Tommy reaches forward to touch the golem’s arm, activating his superpower on that plate. The golem’s arm sinks to the ground, thrown off-kilter. This allows the staff to drag along more of the internal mechanisms. The gears struggle to continue turning with something clogging them, and the staff hits against a container of some red powder. The container cracks, leaking the scarlet dust. As it falls on Tommy’s staff, it sends a jolt of energy up his arm. It isn’t quite electricity or fire, but it feels like both as some of the metal pieces stuck in his arm are thrown out like exploding shrapnel. Tommy drops his arm, sinking to the floor alongside the golem. Ignoring his staff, Tommy reaches his hand up to slam the heel of his uninjured palm to the golem’s camera eyes. He slams down several times so hard that he bruises his skin, but the golem whirrs less aggressively as its visuals become unresponsive. Tommy sighs in satisfaction.

He rises to his feet, holding his injured arm with the other arm. He decides to leave his staff for now, unsure if the red energy is still pumping through it. Tommy almost walks away from the golem when he notices something strange on its face plating. He leans down, wiping away some of the smudge to get a better look. Tommy thought Technician was the one to make the golem, but that doesn’t make complete sense. Technician can manipulate technology, but that doesn’t technically extend to automatons. They work on mechanical parts, not electricity. More than that, it has never been recorded that he has access to Enderian magic, enough to store away mass in a small cube. It would make sense that there is a company logo on the plating. Tommy just doesn’t know who the company is. Or maybe it’s a single person? It’s a carving of a sparrow with that name running along the bottom. Tommy follows the path of the ‘s’ with his finger. Who or what is Sparrow, and why do they know how to make golems, specifically copper ones, and use Enderian magic?

Tommy stops looking when he hears another noise echo across the street. He doesn’t have time to worry about Sparrow right now. Dyscardia must still be fighting Technician. Tommy rises to his feet. He runs to the building Dyscardia and Technician went into, the one whose corner is destroyed in a small section. Tommy runs right into the building. He stops in the main room, straining to hear where the noises are coming from. As he twirls around, he notices that the room is not as barren as he would like. There are small backpack-like machines hugging the pillars. Tommy’s eyes widen, knowing what a bomb looks like. Technician has rigged the place to go up in smoke. Tommy’s breath stutters. He’s finally going to be able to watch a warehouse explode instead of seeing it afterwards. He’s going to die here. Technician probably has an escape plan. And Dyscardia…

Tommy starts running again, reaching the stairs to the second floor. He races up them, his boots slamming against each metal step. He practically launches himself onto the second landing. He rolls his body, ignoring all the pain flooding his system as he searches the damn place for Dyscardia. He notices more backpacks hidden in the shadows. He can almost hear the incessant beeping. It ticks louder and louder, thundering in his ears with a stagnant shrill. He feels his heart hammering in his chest, flooded with panic and adrenaline in unhealthy doses. If he stops moving, he probably will have a panic attack, so he continues to push through his fuzzy thoughts to find the large room Dyscardia and Technician are fighting in.

“Dyscardia!” Tommy yells at her. She visibly startles. She turns to face him, and Technician is no longer in her line of sight. He takes this opportunity to activate what Tommy assumes is an Enderpearl stasis chamber. Tommy doesn’t care either way as Technician disappears. He kicks up his knife discarded on the ground. As it lands in his palms, he immediately throws it at the window with all his strength. It easily breaks the glass, falling to the ground. Dyscardia flinches at the noise, but Tommy doesn’t stop to explain. Tommy grabs onto her arms, activating his powers. Dyscardia makes a noise as she floats off the ground. Tommy pushes out of the window, and she continues moving away without anything to stop her. She yells at him. Tommy jumps out of the window after her. His glider unravels to help guide him towards the ground.

As they float away, the explosion sounds. Tommy covers his head as he is flung forward. His glider helps him for the most part, but the force is enough to swat him towards the ground. He lands in the snowbank, face squished against the freezing cold mass. He lies there for a few moments. He slowly curls himself into a ball, watching the snow become red underneath the weight of his wounds. He reaches for the snow. It reminds him of Wilbur’s hugs. It reminds him of the alleyway setting of his first memories. He reminds him of the hot chocolate Niki would steal for everyone when the weather got really bad. He closes his eyes, allowing the cold to seep into his bones as he stays in the memory. He would like to stay there. He can almost feel Niki holding him close, pressing his face against her heart, whispering to him that it was okay to go, okay to move on, to…

“Vendetta!” Tommy’s eyes fly open. He breathes in deeply, his mask regulating the cold air. He flops over to his back, looking up at the sky. Dyscardia is holding onto the rooftop of another building, the one across the street from the explosion. The caustic red light of his powers washes over her body, and panic floods her eyes. For some reason, Tommy can’t tell if the panic is because she’s floating or because she thought Tommy wasn’t going to wake up. Tommy almost wishes it was the latter. It would be nice to have someone care about him again.

Pushing through the pain, Tommy lifts his body up, slowly but surely. He eventually balances on his feet, barely swaying. He reaches a hand out. Dyscardia extends her arms in order to send herself flying downward. When she gets close enough, she intertwines their fingers. The physical contact is enough for Tommy to withdraw his power. Dyscardia’s feet drop to the ground. Tommy envies her balance as his body pitches forward. Dyscardia catches him, cradling his body in her arms. She’s looking down at him. Her eyes really are just like Niki’s, Tommy thinks soberly as his vision begins blurring. He smiles, then winces as Dyscardia’s hands touch his back. Her eyes widen as she brings back her hands covered in blood. She starts using her powers, and he can feel her coaxing his heart to keep beating. “Stay awake, Vendetta.”

“I told you I would be fine,” Tommy laughs at her. His vision keeps blurring, and he feels really light, almost like he used his power on himself. He feels something warm drip on his face. He thinks Niki is crying. Tommy frowns. Why would Niki be crying? She’s holding him, isn’t she? He likes it when Niki holds him. Her touch is always so gentle, so protective. He wishes Niki were his mother instead of the woman Wilbur will sometimes mention when he gets sad like she apparently did. Tommy frowns. Where is Wilbur? Tommy feels sick right now, and Wilbur would never abandon Tommy when he was sick.

“Vendetta?” Oh… oh… This isn’t Niki. This is Dyscardia. Wilbur isn’t here, either. They’re both dead. Tommy feels more warmth flood down the sides of his face, but he thinks he’s crying. That first tear must have been from him, too. Why would Dyscardia ever cry over him?

Tommy reaches his hand out. His goal is to stop Dyscardia from using her powers, but he doesn’t mind who she interlocks their fingers again. It’s a nice gesture, one that gives Tommy the strength to lift onto his feet. He winces as pain floods his entire body, but he’s been through a lot worse. They’re already in Snowchester. The safehouse can’t be too far away. He tugs at Dyscardia’s hand. “Are we still going to see the others? Jolt will bitch if you skip, you know.”

Dyscardia jumps to her feet, wrapping her arms around Tommy’s shoulders. She pulls him close as they start walking towards this safehouse. 

Chapter Text

“Yet, all armor—from a lobster’s shell to a Navy SEAL’s flak jacket—ultimately reveals the same truth. All armor highlights vulnerability. It trumpets the fact that below that hard exterior lies an interior that is soft, fragile, and in need of protection.”

― J.K. Franko

Tommy sits on the edge of a cot at a slanted angle that presses his knees against each other. Dyscardia sits in a similar position the moments she’s on the cot, but she keeps standing up to reapply the healing ointment on her damp rag. When she returns, she presses the edge of the rag against his skin. It burns everywhere she touches, but once her hand retreats, some semblance of relief sweeps in to due away with the pain. Tommy knows it will return later. His older scars will grow agitated by the new companions. They’ll all learn to live in harmony eventually, deciding to punish him less over time.

That’s the thing with physical wounds. They hurt up until the point that they don’t. With time, they heal. There will be times when pain will flare up again, but at least he can fix whatever the problem is at the moment. It’s the mental wounds that continue to scrap against the edges of his mind no matter how many years he puts between him and that night everything went up in flames. Tommy really thought he was getting better. He’s been sleeping well thanks to Serenade, and nearly everyone in the Syndicate ensures he is eating food other than his packets. Perhaps it is because his end goal is within view, but Tommy even feels happier than he did in the past. More accurately, he is a lot more prone to emotion, which is distinctively different but close enough that Tommy focuses on positivity.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Jolt mutters, pressing a hand against Tommy’s forehead. Tommy blearily looks up at Jolt’s worried eyes. Tommy isn’t strong enough to pull away, so he tilts his head forward. Jolt doesn’t make any movements to remove his hand once Tommy has left gravity in Jolt’s control.

“So, you went to the Trading Station. You met with Vendetta’s informant, Passerine, to learn that the Red Army is recruiting for many positions and they’ve got their hands in almost every business, legal and not. Once you left, you went to some diner to meet with the Ace of Hearts. He gave you that folder. On your way here, you were attacked by Technician and some strange copper golem. He rigged the warehouse to blow after his escape. You two managed to get out in time and came here,” Thermoculus summarizes, gesturing towards the folder left on the stand beside the cot Tommy is sitting on. The moment Dyscardia dragged Tommy’s half-conscious body inside, the folder had all but been forgotten. Dyscardia was more focused on cleaning Tommy’s wounds, keeping his heart beating with her powers. Jolt joined in immediately when he saw, but he’s since taken on the duty of making sure Tommy doesn’t have a fever or has passed out. Thermoculus stood in the corner of the room. He was listening and watching, waiting for something to happen as he extracted information from Dyscardia. Even Tommy, at times, though the blonde was reluctant to speak. His voice felt as far away as the current situation did.

“The cult wants Vendetta. Passerine specifically stated the cult was looking for him. Before we fought Technician, he mentioned that it was the Red King who wanted to see Vendetta. Although, from the way Technician was talking, it seems like not everyone in the Cult of Erythr is on board with this,” Dyscardia mentions. Tommy’s heart slows down by a fractionally margin. He picks his head up from Jolt’s touch to look over his shoulder. Even though he told her not to, she continues to manipulate his heart. Not to kill him, strangely enough, but to ensure it is beating at a resting pace. Tommy told her not to, but she continues to do so with this weird expression on her face that Tommy refuses to name.

“I don’t fucking know why. I have connections, sure, but I don’t have any fucking allies. I wouldn’t be a bargaining chip. I wouldn’t be a spy. I couldn’t have caught their interest, either. I haven’t gotten more involved with them than anyone else has,” Tommy explains, tilting his head away from Dyscardia to look at his hands. He runs his fingers along the scars on his wrists, feeling exposed with his armor removed and his undershirt pulled up enough for Dyscardia to see his back and arm. He doesn’t wish to explain why he has these scars. Some of them have adventures behind them, hilarious stories meant to show off his foolishness or extreme skill. Most, however, are from times when he couldn’t even fight back. Wounds from the Hunters, from himself, too. Not self-inflicted, exactly, but they do look like that, don’t they? Tommy slowly lowers his hands into his lap. He will ignore it. If Serenade catches him messing with them, he’ll take both of Vendetta’s hands into his own, and it’s so nice that Tommy would rather Serenade punch him in the face.

“If you’re sure you don’t know why,” Dyscardia begins slowly, allowing Tommy to jump in. He doesn’t. He really has no clue. He might be an A-rank hero, but he wasn’t the only one. He might be part of the Hero’s Guild, but everyone knows that the guild doesn’t negotiate with terrorists. He might have a partnership with Croupier, but the Jester would never give anything up in exchange for Tommy’s life. Tommy has nothing to offer. He would just be bait for whatever trap the Red King wants to set. Dyscardia continues, “We’ll have to hold a meeting with the entire Syndicate.”

“I agree. We should also tell them about all the members the informants of Las Nevadas found,” Thermoculus proclaims, nodding to the folder.

“I hardly think this is worth everyone’s attention,” Tommy shakes his head. He really doesn’t want the entire Syndicate to come together for his sake. He already knows they’ll make a bigger deal out of it than it needs to be. Tommy just needs to be extra careful from now on. He also knows that the Red King probably wants him alive, so he can be a little looser in his plans with that sort of reassurance. Other than that, nothing really changes. He’s still giving it everything he’s got to stop the Red Army.

“We work as a team, Vendetta. If the Red King is after you, it’s our job to keep you safe,” Jolt argues. He puts both of his hands on the sides of Tommy’s face, his palms covering up Tommy’s filter. That isn’t what makes his breath hitch, though. It’s the determined expression in Jolt’s eyes, barely hidden by his colored goggles. Tommy feels like he’s looking in the mirror for the moment. He’s staring at someone who has lost something precious so they have resolved themselves to protect everything else they have. Tommy thought he had nothing left to protect, but Jolt’s assurances made Tommy wonder if he could have this.

That wouldn’t be fair. Tommy can’t expect to protect Jolt when he can’t even protect himself.

“Fine, bring all the bitches here,” Tommy mutters. He already knows that he doesn’t have a choice in the matter, but he likes the illusion of getting a say.

“I have to go get more supplies. Stay here, Vendetta,” Dyscardia orders as she stands up from the cot. She gathers her rag and the bowl of the healing ointment into her arms. She walks to the door on the other side of the room. Thermoculus opens the door for her. She nods at him, leaving the room. 

Before Thermoculus can fully shut the door, music plays in the room. Tommy looks around for the source, but he hears Jolt groan beside him. The vigilante fishes a communicator out of his pocket. He stares at the screen for a long moment. He keeps the communicator close to his chest as he starts walking away. He looks over his shoulder at Tommy when he opens the door.“I have to take this. I’ll be right back.” And the door shuts.

There was a moment of silence. Tommy goes back to rubbing his scars. Thermoculus stays in the corner. He nods his head, listening to something in the hallway. When the sound of Jolt speaking with someone becomes more silent than muffled, Thermoculus pushes off the wall. He hesitates beside the cot right beside the one Tommy is sitting on. He places his hands against the blanket, gathering up some of it in his fist. Tommy eyes him warily, expecting a lot of things to happen. Instead, Thermoculus sighs, bowing his head. “Thank you for saving Dyscardia’s life.”

Tommy chokes on his breath again, and his voice modifier releases a sputtering noise. He could say so many things in response to that, but nothing feels right. Nothing feels true. He doesn’t like how Thermoculus is staring at the bed, contemplative and dark, imagining a future where Tommy did nothing. Tommy tries to imagine that future, too. He isn’t close to Dyscardia. He isn’t sure he would exactly miss her if she was gone. But he can imagine how the others would feel. She had been with Thermoculus for at least nine years. They were vigilantes first and later became villains. Thermoculus even went to face the Syndicate alone when he thought Dyscardia had been kidnapped. Tommy relates to that, so instead of making a big deal out of this, he proclaims, “I’m getting better at this whole teamwork thing.”

Thermoculus laughs bitterly. Tommy’s smile drops away. Thermoculus looks up. It looks like there are tears in his eyes, but Tommy can’t be sure with the colored, frameless glasses Thermoculus wears. He sounds broken even through a voice modifier. “I’m grateful because you didn’t have to go in that building at all. You could have let Dyscardia deal with Technician on her own once you dealt with the golem. But you didn’t.”

“But I didn’t,” Tommy repeats softly. He meets Thermoculus’ eyes unflinchingly. He goes back to his earlier thoughts about how Thermoculus would have been affected if Dyscardia had died in that explosion. Tommy sighs. “I… when you came by that morning… The day before I went on my mission with Ravager, we talked in the kitchen. You told me that Dyscardia was your only family.”

Thermoculus completely deflates. He falls to his knees, resting his forehead on the white blanket of the cot. Tommy fears he’s going to sob, but Thermoculus picks himself up. He walks around the cot to sit across from Tommy, so close their knees brush together. Thermoculus looks up at Tommy, something searching in his eyes. “How close were you to your family to go to all these lengths?”

Tommy ends up mirroring Thermoculus' earlier reaction. An ugly, wretched laugh spills forth from his mouth even when tears rise up in his eyes. Of course it’s his longing for his family that allows him to understand a supervillain he should otherwise hate. Thermoculus has never done anything for Tommy. They’ve never been on the same side, and in the few times they have clashed in the past, it seemed like Thermoculus personally hated Vendetta, not the faraway disgust villains hold for heroes. Now, Tommy feels like he’s sharing a touching moment with Thermoculus. He almost feels like he can understand the villain.

“Thank you, Vendetta,” Thermoculus repeats softly, waiting for the laughter to reach a low point. 

Tommy heaves in a sharp breath. He stares down at his hands as he whispers, “You’re welcome.”

Thermoculus moves once again, coming to sit beside Tommy. The blonde is about to say something when Thermoculus takes Tommy’s hand, pulling his scarred wrist away from his prodding fingers. It reminds Tommy of what Serenade does when Tommy’s picking at wounds, but then he actually feels Thermoculus’ hands. They are hot like he’s been working with metal in the summer for a few moments. They are scarred like he’s been in a million fights without a healer at his side, knuckles broken and lines criss crossing his palm. These two distinct qualities bring tears to Tommy’s eyes because they remind him of Jack.

Jack became part of their group shortly after Niki did. She was actually the one to find them. Jack had been in the system for a long time because his entire family had died in a fire when he was a baby. He lacked people in his life to care about for a long time. Niki only brought him along because she felt that Jack would fit in with them. Tommy accepted Jack far more easily than Wilbur and Eret did, but he was a young child then, so it wasn’t a surprise. Jack taught Tommy how to fight. He showed Tommy how to play lots of fun games. He would tell the best ghost stories. He was always there for Tommy ever since the beginning. Jack would hold him in the winter, keeping him toasty as he promised that he would always love Tommy. The promise made him warmer than Jack’s naturally hot skin did, but Tommy wouldn’t trade the entire world for either. No matter how many people joined their group after that, Tommy never lost his deep companionship with Jack. Brothers in some ways, friends in others, but family all the same.

Tommy smiles bitterly behind his mask, squeezing the hand given to him. How many times is he going to get caught up in memories of the past? Jack is dead, just like everyone else. Thermoculus squeezes Tommy’s hand back, and Tommy wishes he was alone so he could sob.

The door practically slams open. Argonaut rushes inside even before the door is fully open. She marches down the aisle between the cots on the right and left sides of the room. She stops in front of Tommy. She doesn’t hesitate to put her hands on his face, twisting it around so she can see his eyes from all angles. She crawls onto the bed on the other side of Jack, pressing her glowing blue hands against the wound. The healing power crawls into his skin, nestling deep with enough strength to start cleaning up the minor burns and the tears from shrapnel. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine,” Tommy responds to her. Dyscardia is hesitating at the doorway. She stares inside the room with a frown present on her face.

“How do you really feel?” Argonaut asks again, unhappy with his initial answer. Tommy feels the heavy fuzz start to descend across his thoughts. They all get tangled up until he’s left with the simple truth and random details.

“The pain is negligible,” Tommy assures her. He could handle it even if he didn’t get any healing. He will admit that he’s starting to feel better physically, though, and that is a welcome change since his heart continues to burn with the pain of remembering the warm hearth that went by the name Jack Manifold.

“Vendetta,” Argonaut softly warns, still unhappy with his answer. Tommy doesn’t know what he’s supposed to tell her. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask again. She stands up, the glow falling away from her fingertips. Tommy feels well enough to start sitting up straight without wincing. Argonaut stands in front of him, a hand on her hip as she speaks to the entire room. “The rest of the Syndicate has gathered in the other room.”

Tommy wonders if he could stay behind. Even though part of the meeting will be about him, he really thinks it would be better if he didn’t arrive. He didn’t want to answer questions right now. If he tells Argonaut that he feels terrible or tired, she might let him rest in here. She seems to have some sway over the group considering she’s their healer. Tommy could definitely go through with that plan.

Thermoculus stands up to leave the room and follows Argonaut out. Tommy feels the hand in his leaving. He closes his fingers around tighter. Thermoculus stops, looking back at Tommy still sitting on the cot. Tommy and Thermoculus stare at each other for a long moment, each wondering when the other will give in. Instead of one of them letting go, Thermoculus tugs at Tommy’s hand, helping the hero onto his feet. He frowns once more as he follows behind Thermoculus. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine Jack dragging him along to witness something Jack deemed as cool. Tommy always agreed with Jack’s assessment even if he would never tell the other as much.

Tommy opens his eyes when he enters the meeting room. The conversation dies down when he shows his face. He shifts uncomfortably, double-checking that his shirt is pulled back down to cover his scars. As he does this, he feels a lanky pair of arms drop over his shoulders. Tommy looks up to see Enderwalk pressing him so close that Tommy can barely see over his bodysuit. Reluctantly, Tommy lets go of Thermoculus’ hand so he can wrap both of his arms around Enderwalk’s middle.

When Enderwalk pulls away, Warden is standing there. He places a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, partially hiding him from the room. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Tommy says loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Once he’s made that clear, he sits down in the chair between Jolt and Enderwalk. Everyone is here from Tommy’s first meeting except for Ankh. The Ace of Diamonds isn’t nowhere to be seen, but Red Dragon, a hero, is still at this meeting. Tommy wonders if he’s an actual member who just spies on the Hero’s Guild. He catches Serenade staring intently at him, but he can’t make any snide remarks as Argonaut begins the meeting.

“We have information about the members of the Cult of Erythr. The official members are Crimson, the Red King, Retro, Reaper, Adamantine, Cait Sith, Technician and the Scarlet Demoness. We know most of their powers,” Argonaut explains, pointing at the whiteboard behind her with a projected image displayed. There is a profile for every member of the cult. Crimson is known as the recruiter, the god of this faction. The Red King is the de facto leader with the ability to enhance the physical, mental, and Esper abilities of people. Retro could freeze time for a few seconds at a time. Reaper could manipulate souls, those of the living and the dead. Adamantine can transform parts or all of their body into a crystalline structure. Cait Sith could teleport short distances. Technician could manipulate technology. Scarlet Demoness had telekinesis and the ability to cause ‘hexes’ or bad luck.

There were dates underneath each of the members’ names, an estimated time of joining. It seems the cult has been around for a few months. The motives for most of the members are left blank. Only the Scarlet Demoness seems to have anything, and her motive doesn’t mean much when they don’t know the exact purpose of the entire cult. “They have no one of note in the Red Army. All important or powerful members are part of the Cult of Erythr.”

“Through my conversation with Technician, my meeting with Passerine, and some other inconsistencies, the cult is, among other things, after Vendetta,” Dyscardia states.

“Why is that?” Serenade asks, keeping his eyes on Tommy. The blonde shrugs, deciding not to go down this line of questions again.

“It could be about that time you went to the abandoned G-Train station,” Ravager points out.

“Warden and Jolt were at that, too,” Tommy argues.

“All three of you may be the target, then,” Argonaut remarks, rubbing her chin as she looks back at the board behind her. She taps the screen, and it shifts to bring up more information about Technician. Tommy is slightly surprised to see that she put something about Sparrow in the notes section of Technician’s profile. He likes it when people listen to him.

“We’ll have to protect Jolt, Warden, and Vendetta until we know better,” Red Dragon proclaims, looking at Warden then Jolt. When his eyes settle on Tommy, the blonde finds himself looking away. Red Dragon is one of the few people in Tommy’s whole life who seems genuinely kind for him for no reason greater than the fact Red Dragon was the one to show Tommy the ropes when he first joined the Hero’s Guild. Tommy would like to keep it that way.

“You can protect Warden and Jolt all you fucking want, but I am going to laze around like some dumbass. The sooner we defeat the cult, the sooner we don’t have to worry,” Tommy argues. He doesn’t like the sound of ‘protection’. It seems worse than ‘teamwork’ does.

“No one is going to make you stop,” Red Dragon swears. The other Syndicate members in the room startle. A few open their mouths to voice complaints, aborted words unable to finish because Tommy decides to take Red Dragon at his word and saying, “Thanks.”

Argonaut audibly sighs, but she gets on with assigning everyone’s missions. She glances at Tommy before looking back at Ravager and Dyscardia. “Vendetta, you will join Ravager and Dyscardia on their mission. Remember, teamwork.”

“Understood,” Tommy stands up to leave now that he’s gotten his mission. He exits the room before anyone else. 

He steps into the dim hallway, closing the door behind. Once he turns to walk, he feels a pair of arms around him. He startles, wondering what Enderwalk is doing. He blinks when he notices that the person is slightly shorter than him, by an inch or two. Tommy tilts his head down to see that it’s Phil. Tommy returns the hug slowly, wondering what he’s even doing. When Phil pulls away, he remains in Tommy’s personal bubble. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. The explosion hurt like a bitch, but it wasn’t that bad. Argonaut healed a lot of it, too, so I’m as good as new,” Tommy explains, finally admitting to someone how much the explosion hurt. Tommy hardly remembers it since he doesn’t like explosions, but he knows he lost enough blood that he hallucinated Niki holding him when it was Dyscardia that was trying to keep him alive. He must have been out of it for him to fancy that thought.

“Take it easy,” Phil reminds Tommy before walking into the room where most of the supervillains are still gathered. Tommy shrugs off the homely exchange to grab his armor. He wants to get back to the Paradise Apartment as soon as possible. He doesn’t like being at the Syndicate base, especially with his memories on the fritz and his loneliness rising to overtake his heart.

Tommy enters the medical room, but he notices someone standing in there. It’s a man with dark hair and a beard, his eyes staring directly at Tommy’s armor. He tilts it in his hands. When he notices Tommy standing at the edge of the cot, he smiles. “Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Sneeg.”

“What are you doing here?” Tommy asks hesitantly, taking the armor from Sneeg. He starts to put it back on, strapping it into place. He reaches for the nightstand where Dyscardia had left the knife he let her borrow. He looks at his reflection for a split second, wondering if he should get Dyscardia a knife like his.

Sneeg must misunderstand Tommy’s question as a general one because he doesn’t answer why he’s standing in the room, inspecting Tommy’s armor. Instead, he says, “I do the paperwork for the Syndicate. It isn’t a fun job, but it’s a necessary one. Pays pretty well, too.”

“I can understand that. Paperwork fucking sucks,” Tommy decides to let the conversation flow that way instead of trying to backtrack. Plus, Tommy really does understand. After completing a commission, the hero who undertook it had a lot of paperwork to do. Most high-ranking heroes could hire a secretary to do it, but Tommy prefers to keep his business secret. This means he has to do it by himself. It is never interesting, but it’s something to do with his time. He tries to stay on top of it.

Someone knocks on the door before they nudge it open. Red Dragon stands in the doorframe. He gestures towards Sneeg. “Phil is looking for you.”

“Of course he is,” Sneeg mutters to himself. He waves at Tommy as he leaves the room. Tommy almost goes after him, but he notices that Red Dragon has taken a step inside the room. Tommy tilts his head to the side questioningly. Red Dragon asks, “How are you?”

Tommy almost growls, tired of being asked that. Red Dragon shakes his head, rephrasing before Tommy answers, “How have you been since we last saw each other?”

Tommy frowns underneath his mask. He has found that it is nearly impossible to lie to Red Dragon. He can lie to literally everyone else in his life, but Red Dragon is one of those people that really makes him want to tell the ugly truth. Tommy doesn’t want Red Dragon to know the truth, though, so he instead says something that is technically true: “Busy.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” Red Dragon laughs. When his laugh pitters out, he takes a step toward Tommy. He puts his hands on the hero’s shoulders. He looks down with a serious look in his eyes. “Look, Vendetta, if you want out of this deal at any time, just go. I’ll support you no matter what choice you make.”

“I’m grateful, but that’s unnecessary,” Tommy informs his old mentor.

“The offer still stands. Think about it,” Red Dragon leaves the room, turning away. Tommy hesitates, wondering if he should back out now. He shakes that thought away, realizing that Serenade is probably waiting for him. He rushes for the door to the outside with a reluctant smile on his face.

Chapter Text

“Let me have a faithful account of all that concerns you; I would know everything, be it ever so unfortunate. Perhaps by mingling my sighs with yours I may make your sufferings less, for it is said that all sorrows divided are made lighter.”

― Héloïse d'Argenteuil

Vendetta sits on the floor in the living room. He is staring down at a paper in his lap, chewing on the end of his pen as he reads. He wears the thickly knit mask that covers his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He has pulled it down to allow his blonde hair to spill out across his cloth-covered forehead. There are more papers around him, not even mentioning the office supplies like a stapler, a yellow notepad, sticky notes, and thumbtacks. His corkboard is presented in front of him, covered in papers and strings of colored yarn. He seems intently focused given how his body barely moves, only shifting slightly when his limbs notice they’re not getting enough blood. He’s silent, too, something he only is when he’s preoccupied with research.

Wilbur stands at the doorframe of the apartment’s mudroom, staring at Vendetta through the tinted fabric of his veil. The moment they came home from the meeting, Vendetta got to work immediately to update his corkboard and review the information he learned from his mission with Dyscardia. He has his communicator open on some website about copper golems. His communicator will vibrate ever so often, and he will always sigh heavily after looking at it while he’s responding to whoever messaged him. Vendetta sets his communicator back down, getting back to the stacks of papers he’s been shuffling through for at least an hour already.

“Vendetta,” Wilbur calls, snapping the hero out of his concentration. Vendetta looks up sharply at the mention of his name. His lips are pressed together. He doesn’t seem annoyed that Wilbur interrupted him so much that he doesn’t look like he’s feeling anything at all. He reminds Wilbur of a robot, reading through lines of codes to act on their instructions. Wilbur frowns at the remarkably accurate comparison. He decides not to continue down that train of thought. Vendetta is already sad enough without Wilbur needing to tack on useless collations.

Wilbur tilts his head to the side slightly. Vendetta has always been strange to him. He was an esper that appeared a few years back without any prior history. He was an F-rank like most beginners, but he was able to take down Minotaur. It wasn’t without some bloody issues, Techno told Wilbur after his mission with Vendetta, but it was impressive. He boosted up in rank after that. He continued to climb the ranks. It wasn’t long until he became a beep on the Syndicate’s radar. The beeping grew more annoying when it was revealed that Vendetta’s only mission was to take down Azrael and Inchling. Not even the entire Syndicate, only its leaders. Wilbur thought he understood why from the beginning. He was peeved to learn he had pegged Vendetta wrong. His guild title- ‘Vendetta’- was accurate. He was hunting down the people who killed his family. It wasn’t like Wilbur didn’t understand that impulse. He would do anything for his own family, after all. There was only one person in Wilbur’s family that had died, and Wilbur knew that he would go to the same lengths Vendetta was going to kill whoever took Tommy away from him.

Maybe it was that inherent mutual understanding that allowed Wilbur to forge some sort of relationship with Vendetta. He shouldn’t have opened his heart to the hero, even for a moment, because it seems like the other esper had an unfortunate tendency to get himself into painful situations and possessed a past that Wilbur simply couldn’t ignore. He would never consider himself a moral person, but he felt it was his duty to help Vendetta. More than that, he just wanted to, responsibility or not.

“What?” Vendetta asks, tapping his pen against his calf as he waits for Wilbur to continue speaking to him. Wilbur shakes his head. This is not the time to be analyzing his relationship with Vendetta. He could do that in private at another time, probably when Vendetta was asleep.

“There’s a package here for you. It’s from Argonaut,” Wilbur explains, lifting the package in his arms higher. He grimaces as the weight shifts around inside the box, nearly throwing him off-balance. He curses. What the hell did Puffy pack in this box for the hero?

“Argonaut?” Vendetta whispers curiously. He rises to his feet, leaving the paper on top of his communicator. The pen slides down his leg, dropping to the floor with a muted sound. He takes the package from Wilbur’s hands. Unlike their first encounter as temporary allies, Vendetta no longer seems wary of Wilbur. There’s still a sense of distrust forged from hard battles throughout the years and their opposing positions, but Vendetta at least trusts that Wilbur isn’t actively out to get him. It’s step one in the assimilation process, honestly. Soon, Vendetta will see Wilbur as a genuine ally, not someone who’s only keeping his tendencies at bay for the sake of an agreement between the esper and the Syndicate.

Vendetta puts the package on the couch. He reaches for the knife holstered to his thigh. He pulls it out, smoothly gliding it through the tape on the cardboard. As Wilbur watches, purely to see what Puffy sent Vendetta, a thought strikes him. He can clearly see the scars littering Vendetta’s chin, jaw, and throat. Vendetta’s shirt, with three-fourths sleeves, shows more scars around his forearm and wrist, supposedly gotten from fights and the chains he wore to keep himself from wandering in his sleep. And when he does wander, he always goes to dangerous places, a fact admitted by Vendetta himself. With all of these thoughts lingering at the edges of Wilbur’s mind, he asks himself if Vendetta has ever harmed himself. More than a reckless decision, has Vendetta ever used the knife he’s now sliding back into his sheath to slice his own skin? 

The thought really shouldn’t bother him. He’s done worse, seen worse, too. He shouldn’t even care this much about Vendetta. What does it matter if Vendetta has a self-harming habit? As long as it didn’t affect Wilbur or the mission against the Red Army, it should be fine.

It should be, but it’s not. Wilbur feels sick to his stomach at the thought of Vendetta doing that. He already gets hurt so much, so frequently, that he would need to be in a horrible mindset for him to give the fleeting thought any attention. Wilbur frowns. He’s being delusional. He doesn’t even know if Vendetta has ever done it. He doesn’t even know if he’s thought about it. His worries are unfounded, but Wilbur is a worrier. He has been since he was a child, even before he met Eret, even before Tommy was born. Wilbur was just born full of anxious energy that clung to the object of his attention like overgrown vines. Wilbur shears away the current vines, hoping to release Vendetta from his fabrications. He’ll deal with Vendetta’s self-harming habits, if he even has them, when the time comes.

“Huh,” Vendetta mutters, lifting up something from the box. He tilts it around in his hands as if he doesn’t know what a gaming controller is. Well, Wilbur amends, he’s seen Vendetta’s infatuation with his handheld console. This probably is his first time. At least, it might be the first time he’s actually held one. Wilbur doesn’t want to think about the implications of that.

He turns into the hallway leading to their bedrooms and extra rooms. He starts to pull his jacket off, folding it over his forearm. He’s about to enter his room when he notices that Vendetta has left his bedroom ajar. He looks over his shoulder once. When he doesn’t see Vendetta rushing down the hall, he nudges the door open with his foot. He steps into the room.

Vendetta’s room is barren. His bed is made and his clothes are stored away in the closet. He doesn’t have any personal items lying around. Wilbur assumes this is because Vendetta doesn’t have any. He didn’t bring a huge bag when he arrived at the Paradise Apartment, certainly not a bag big enough for clothes and knick knacks. Wilbur wonders what sort of things Vendetta might like. He doesn’t seem like a person with many hobbies, but maybe that’s because he’s never tried to find one. They could get some books or sporting equipment. Maybe some theater stuff, he would probably like performing. Wilbur even wonders if Vendetta would like to play an instrument. Wilbur knew a great deal about music, and if Vendetta had an instrument he wanted to play that Wilbur didn’t know, Phil could get him a tutor. Phil was good about indulging his children’s interests, and for some reason, Phil already considered Vendetta his kid. Well, Wilbur knew why Phil thought like that. He was the type to adopt lost, abused children. Techno and Wilbur were prime examples of that.

Wilbur stops walking when his legs hit the side of the mattress. He looks down at the bed. He presses his hand down on the comforter. Does it matter what Wilbur gets for this room? Vendetta doesn’t use it, anyway. He spends most of his time on missions. His free time is spent researching in the living room. If he does sleep, which is becoming more frequent thanks to Wilbur’s pestering, he does it in Wilbur’s room. He really doesn’t use this room other than storage for his things. Or if he wants to cry. Wilbur heard him sobbing one night. He didn’t disturb Vendetta nor mention it the next day. It didn’t happen again, so Wilbur assumes it was a night of weakness.

Wilbur tugs the comforter, trying to give it a more lived-in look. This only reveals the dull red-brown stains discoloring the white sheets. Wilbur can even hear the clanging of metal falling, and he watches the chains hit the ground. The color across them makes Wilbur wince. Wilbur makes a mental note to wash the sheets. He wants to remove the chains, but he highly doubts Vendetta will let him do that. He can change where Vendetta sleeps, and he’s slowly fixing his eating habits, but he doesn’t think Vendetta will give up on the familiar discomfort of his chains.

Wilbur leaves the room. He doesn’t want to be there any more. He closes the door behind him before entering the door on the other side of the hall. His bedroom is a lot livelier. There are clothes strewn across the floor. There is a colorful collection of pillows on the bed. There’s an electronic device beside his bed that can set alarms, play music, or answer questions. His guitar rests in its case against the wall. Wilbur considers pulling out some sheet music and a stand to get some practice time in, but he decides against that as he starts picking up some of the clothes on the floor. He trades out his supervillain uniform as Serenade for a more casual outfit. He takes his veil off, hanging it on the head of a mannequin. He puts on his other mask, the one he used in the early days of his career as Serenade. He only used it that first time when Vendetta knocked on his door because it was easier to reach than his veil. After that, he continued to wear it while around the apartment because it clearly made Vendetta more at ease. Plus, Wilbur thought it was fair since Vendetta was wearing his casual mask.

Wilbur leaves his room when he’s finished. He walks back into the living room. Vendetta has cleared away his research materials, pushing the corkboard back into the corner Wilbur puts it in when he wants to watch the television. He pushed the coffee table out  of the way, between the balcony doors and the side of the couch. He’s left the box half open on the cushions. He’s holding a controller in one hand and his communicator in the other, glancing between the two screens. Vendetta looks up when he notices Wilbur. The esper wasn’t expecting to be greeted with a blinding smile. Vendetta rushes toward Wilbur. He pushes the controller he was holding onto Wilbur’s hand. “Come play with me! This is a two player game!”

Vendetta rushes back to the box to grab another controller. Wilbur raises an eyebrow as he looks at the screen. He stifles a laugh. Out of all the games he thought Vendetta would pick, a dancing game was not one of them. The game was designed around following the dancers on the screen. The controller picked up on how closely a person followed instructions to give points accordingly. It was a game that could be played trying to get a better personal high-score or beat another player. Wilbur played before. He’s played once with Techno, but his brother didn’t take too well to the game. He tried with his best friend, Niki, and she seemed to like it, but only as an activity to do in moderation. Wilbur would play with Puffy, but she gets competitive. Her nephew, Tubbo, is the same way. Wilbur doesn’t bother with either of them. He eyes Vendetta, already knowing that he’s going to be competitive.

“I don’t want to play,” Wilbur says, trying to hand the controller back. Vendetta looks up sharply. Wilbur hesitates. He can’t see Vendetta’s eyes, but he can very well tell when someone is staring at him with a heavy gaze.

“Come on, Serenade. Just a round or two, yeah?” Vendetta pleads. Wilbur wavers but remains firm in his conviction. Vendetta frowns, almost pouting which Wilbur did not find adorable and familiar, before he grins mischievously. “You could have just told me you were shit at the game. You’re right, it wouldn’t be fun for me to win so easily.”

“Alright, gremlin, you’re on,” Wilbur grins back. Vendetta cheers even though he’s been issued a challenge. Wilbur laughs as Vendetta drags them both into position in the center of the living room. Since Vendetta gave Wilbur the first controller he was using, Wilbur was player one. Vendetta grumbles loudly about that as Wilbur gets them started. Wilbur rolls his eyes. He was probably going to have to take control, anyway, since Vendetta wouldn’t know what to do.

Wilbur picks the first song without taking Vendetta’s requests into consideration. Vendetta grows silent when the song begins to pick up, though. He gets into position easily enough. His moves start off a little janky and rigid, but he quickly finds his groove. Wilbur refuses to be shown-up by a rookie. He doesn’t entirely remember all the moves to this song, but he vaguely remembers enough of them that he has the edge over Vendetta. Not to mention, Wilbur has a better grip on his controller. Vendetta keeps letting go of his controller. Wilbur is thankful that Vendetta put on a binding cord so that the controller wasn’t flung across the room.

Wilbur, obviously, beats Vendetta in the first round. Vendetta makes up some excuse as Wilbur laughs. Vendetta grabs Wilbur’s arm, forcing his actions into picking the next song. Because Wilbur is trying to pull out of Vendetta’s hold, they end up randomly picking some song that neither of them know. Wilbur wants to change it, but Vendetta calls him a ‘pussy’. Wilbur’s complaints fall silent as he starts following along with the instructor. Vendetta has a better grip on his controller, but he still loses by a whole star. Wilbur smirks triumphantly. Vendetta looks at him while squeezing his controller. “Put the next damn song on, bitch.”

“When did losers talk to winners like that?” Wilbur asks, petting Vendetta’s hair like the hero’s a dog.

Ironically, Vendetta starts growling. “Next damn song.”

Wilbur fulfills the command with another remark. He puts on a new song, and he gets into position. Although Wilbur does his best to keep his streak running, Vendetta manages to beat him by a few hundred points. Vendetta jumps up with a cheer, and Wilbur is once again glad for the soundproof walls. Perks of being a villain, he supposes. Vendetta points his controller at Wilbur threateningly. “I win, bitch!”

“Don’t get a big head. It’s still 2-1,” Wilbur reminds Vendetta before he’s dealing with a sore winner.

“Shut the fuck up. I will beat you, asshole,” Vendetta proclaims. Wilbur eyes him. Vendetta lowers his shoulder when he realizes he’s being stared at. “What? I will. Try me, bitch.”

“Let’s make this 3-1,” Wilbur mutters to himself, ducking down to avoid the hit Vendetta tries to hit on him. He picks the next song. The instructor appears on the screen, smiling brightly without realizing two espers are competing right in front of them. The beginning notes of the song start to play, echoing out from the speakers. Wilbur and Vendetta get into position, and they start swinging through the motions. They almost look like mirrors of each other with how hard they’re working at following the instructor. Their scores keep increasing, climbing the rankings to get more stars. Eventually, Vendetta throws his arms out wider than they need to be. He hits Wilbur in the nose. It startles Wilbur even if it doesn’t actually hurt. He turns to glare at Vendetta, but the hero is dancing with a smirk on his face. Wilbur gets back into the rhythm, and when he has an opportunity, he slides into Vendetta’s personal space. The hero backs up, losing the beat and flailing his arm the wrong way. Wilbur smiles humorously until he’s shoved back into place, thereby losing his spot. Wilbur strikes his leg out, aiming to trip Vendetta. He’s successful, but as the esper starts to go down, he grabs the back of Wilbur’s shirt. Wilbur attempts to keep his balance, but he falls right alongside Vendetta. They both land on their butts on the ground, shoulder to shoulder, backs to the couch. Wilbur groans as pain richots across his tailbone. He watches as the screen berates him and Vendetta for not following the instructor.

“You bitch,” Vendetta seethes. The next thing Wilbur knows, something hits the back of his head. He jerks forward. He looks at Vendetta to see the hero armed with a pillow. Vendetta raises the pillow up to swing it down on Wilbur. The villain slides out of the way. As Vendetta pushes the pillow into the ground where Wilbur once was, Wilbur grabs another pillow from the couch to slam it into the side of Vendetta’s head. The hero shuffles to the side as the hit lands. He stands up, placing his controller on the arm of the couch. He takes another pillow from the couch, holding them both up defensively. Wilbur reaches his hand back, fingers brushing against a blanket. He throws it at Vendetta to disorient the hero. The blanket catches on the pillows, and there is suddenly a curtain between the two pillow fighters. The curtain drops low, and Wilbur realizes after he’s swung his pillow that Vendetta has ducked down. Wilbur only fully notices when he’s being tackled to the ground. The blankets wrap around his legs, and Vendetta transitions one pillow behind Wilbur’s head before he completely drops. Vendetta leaves the pillow there as he uses the one to keep Wilbur’s chest against the ground. Vendetta has his knees on either side of Wilbur, holding down his upper arms. Wilbur tries to escape, but he finds himself getting even more tangled. He deflates, tapping his fingers against the ground, accepting defeat.

Vendetta smiles at Wilbur. He begins to laugh, throwing his head back. Wilbur suddenly feels like he can’t breathe, and it has little to do with how Vendetta is practically sitting on his chest. It’s only that Vendetta once again reminds him of Tommy, his little brother… his dead brother. He didn’t see it, at first, but it became clear when Vendetta slept with him. Vendetta slept on his chest just like Tommy did when they were younger, their heartbeats even with one another. It was something so startling familiar that Wilbur began to pick up on other similarities. His blonde hair, his laughter, his pouting expression and his smile, his boisterous personality, his ability to get along with almost anyone, his stubbornness. All of these facts should mean nothing, but perhaps to a man who will always grieve what he’s lost, it makes Wilbur see Tommy in Vendetta.

But Tommy is dead. Every informant in the city has told Wilbur the same thing no matter how many times he compels them with his power to tell the truth. Even if they all somehow found a way to avoid his power, Wilbur was given the body. His brother ran away the night of the explosion, and he was starved to death in the streets. It was a horrible way to go, and Wilbur has never truly forgiven himself for not finding Tommy in time. He failed his brother, something he swore never to do.

Unlike Tommy, Wilbur found himself a good life. He stumbled away from the explosion, barely conscious and bleeding profusely. His esper ability awakened, a response to intense trauma. He was able to coerce store owners to give him what he needed to survive. His early days were about healing and searching for his family, but he instead stumbled upon Techno. Because of his many inherited powers and hybrid instincts, he was lost in aggression and bloodshed. Only Wilbur’s voice could snap him out of it, and this formed an attachment between them. It was unhealthy, in some ways, since Techno was using Wilbur to stay sane while Wilbur was using Techno to fill his loneliness. Regardless, Phil found them soon enough, and they were suddenly adopted. Wilbur suddenly had a legal family…

… with villains, technically. Phil became his father and Sneeg was his uncle, but that didn’t stop the two of them from being bad people. They were villains long before Phil decided he wanted to be a father. Wilbur didn’t care, though. He didn’t want to be abandoned, so he forgave anything his family did. When Techno started using villainly as an outlet, Wilbur went with him because he refused to let anyone he cared about die. The four of them became the Syndicate. 

Techno and Phil kidnapped a vigilante once, and while she was being treated, Wilbur found someone he thought he had lost. When Niki woke up, she recognized Wilbur. The two of them caught up with one another, remaining together until Wilbur’s separation anxiety eased away. It only flared back up when Niki’s vigilante partner showed up to rescue her, introducing Wilbur to Jack. The three of them found Tubbo, currently the adopted son of Jordan Sparklez and the nephew of the villain Argonaut. When Tubbo showed loyalty to them, Argonaut became the Syndicate’s healer while Sparklez agreed to be a spy on the inside of the Hero’s Guildhouse.

Fundy was the next one they met. He was the Ace of Clubs at that point, so he didn’t want to leave his post. He acknowledged his connection with the three of them, but he was so young that he didn’t feel as close with them as they felt with him. They let him live his life, and he rewarded them by introducing them to Eret. They refused to tell anyone what their new job was, but they assured everyone they were safe. Wilbur had hope. He had so much hope that Tommy would be alive, too, that he was just out of reach.

Then, the body came, and Wilbur knew that he finally found everyone.

Vendetta wasn’t his brother. Vendetta isn’t even his friend. But damn it, if he doesn’t remind Wilbur of what he misses even to this day.

Vendetta’s laughter slows down, growing softer. He looks back down at Wilbur. His smile slowly grew reminiscent. Wilbur tilts his head curiously. Sometimes, Vendetta will wear this expression. It makes Wilbur’s heart hurt, and he doesn’t even know what this face means. Is it grief? Is it longing? Is it remembrance? Wilbur doesn’t know. It might be a blend of the three, or it might be an emotion entirely reserved for someone who’s gone through as much as Vendetta has.

Vendetta raises his hand slowly, hesitantly, even. He places it on Wilbur’s mask, right beside his eyes. Wilbur’s breath stills in his chest, but he doesn’t flinch away. He instinctively knows that Vendetta isn’t going to hurt him even if he doesn’t know what Vendetta is doing. It feels a little like Vendetta is studying Wilbur’s eyes. It doesn’t feel like he’s trying to figure out who Wilbur is underneath the mask so much as he’s found something that he can’t quite understand. His lips part slightly, and he speaks in a slow, even tone. “You know, you remind me of my brother… one of them, anyway. His name is- I mean, was-”

There’s a pecking on the window. Vendetta’s lips press shut once more. He looks away from Wilbur to the window. Wilbur wants to ask Vendetta to finish, desperately wanting to know the name Vendetta was going to say. It’s a hopeless wish, a despairing plea, but he feels like he’s going to find salvation in whatever Vendetta has to say. He wants to know that he isn’t the only crazy one seeing a dead man in a living soul.

Alas, Vendetta stands up to greet the dumb bird. Wilbur snarls at the creature. The bird dutifully delivers a letter to Vendetta, probably sent by Techno. Vendetta smiles at the paper. He starts to unfold it, reading even before he has the whole thing open. Wilbur is amused even if he despises the bird that took the letter to Vendetta. He wonders what Techno has sent Vendetta this time. The hero seems to enjoy the letters, a lot more than Techno initially thought he would. He hardly believed Wilbur when he told him that Vendetta loved the letters.

Vendetta slides the balcony doors closed. He sits on the railing, and Wilbur can see him talking to the bird. Wilbur turns away. He starts to pick up the pillows and blankets off the floor. He places them all back on the couch. He folds the blanket up, setting it in the corner. By the time he’s done, Vendetta is entering the apartment again. He presses the letter to his chest, walking over to his writing supplies to make a reply. Before he heads back out again, Vendetta hesitates, looking over his shoulder. “Hey… do you think you can watch over me tonight? I have that important mission with Dyscardia and Ravager tomorrow, you know.”

“Of course I will,” Wilbur tells Vendetta, avoiding eye contact by resetting the game. He was always willing to help Vendetta fix his sleeping schedule, and he was a little proud that Vendetta came to him to ask when he wanted it instead of waiting for Wilbur to drag him to bed. It was a step in the right direction, at least.

That right direction felt even further away when Vendetta was sitting on the balcony, speaking to the bird. Wilbur watches, wondering what it would take to understand Vendetta. He hopes that if understands, he might know why he cares so much about this boy. 

Chapter Text

“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.”
― James Baldwin

Tommy lands on the ground with a flourish. His weight sways for a moment as his gliders slide back into the metal container strapped to his back. He reaches his hands up to adjust the metal mask hanging on the lower portion of his face. The air filters hum slightly as they come back online, and the voice modifier activates as soon as he flips a switch. Fresh, clean air shoots down his throat. His breaths sound mechanical as he reaches up further to adjust his glasses. The tinted red glass stabilizes to present the world in front of him how it should be with distinct colors. As he confirms that his equipment is working correctly, he notices that he is not alone in the alleyway.

“Ravager, Dyscardia!” Tommy calls, rushing over to the two villains who were whispering near the entrance to the alley. Ravager and Dyscardia’s voices grow quiet. Tommy’s rushing slows down to approach them hesitantly. “What’s the situation? What are we doing?”

Tommy stands beside them, switching his eyes between them. Dyscardia shifts hesitantly. She turns away from him, staring out into the street. Ravager does not wear his discomfort like Dyscardia, but Tommy can see small snippets of what must be concern hidden in those blazing red eyes. Tommy frowns. “Seriously, what the fuck is the mission? What do you need me to do? Run point? Support? Interference? What’s going on?”

Dyscardia looks back at him, but her eyes don’t meet his eyes. Instead, she stares at his chest. More accurately, she’s staring through his chest at his back. Tommy can see the memories unfold in her eyes. She’s thinking back to the explosion. Tommy’s frown deepens. He doesn’t mean to downplay the traumatic experience of caring a dying, bloody body through a borough, but he didn’t think Dyscardia would be this hung up about it. Her worry must be infecting Ravager, explaining his reluctance to share details even when he preaches about information sharing. Tommy is perfectly healthy. His back was healed without even a scar left behind by Argonaut. Even if he didn’t get healed, Tommy would have been fine with some bedrest. He would have survived that encounter. And what did it matter to these villains if he did or didn’t?

“I’m fine, both of you. Cut this concerned bullshit out. We don’t have time for it. We have a mission to accomplish, and I would rather get it done in a timely fashion,” Tommy growls at them both, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to hide his back even more. Dyscardia stifles a sigh. Ravager’s eyes cut into Tommy’s soul with an unmatched intensity. Tommy swallows thickly, but he holds his head up. He refuses to look away. He wasn’t lying. It is fully his intention to help these two complete the mission asked of all three of them. Tommy is an efficient worker when he has information and a stubborn one when no one tells him anything.

“If you are certain,” Ravager utters. He looks at Dyscardia as he says it, so Tommy isn’t sure who he is talking to. Whatever the case may be, Ravager’s words free the group from whatever stand-off they were silently having. Ravager turns to walk out of the alleyway into the street. Dyscardia follows after him, and Tommy brings up the rear since it takes him a moment to realize anyone was moving.

Tommy stares up at the low-rise buildings and apartment complexes making up the outer area of Prime Heights, right at the border to the Sandlands. The warm wind blown from the Nether portal spins through the brick buildings. Tommy relaxes slowly, letting the temperature soak into his body. He loves Prime Heights because it is close enough to the Sandlands to get warm air like this without being unbearable. Tommy really doesn’t like the cold. It reminds him of too many lonely nights in alleys and cells.

“The Syndicate were divided into teams. Each team will be investigating a known safehouse of the Red Army. Best case scenario, we capture a few members. Worst case scenario, the cult has fewer safehouses at their disposal,” Ravager begins to explain. He gestures into the distance. Although a few buildings block the way, Tommy can see trees growing between the gaps. He frowns. The area directly around the boroughs are known to be dangerous. They are filled with monsters that are attracted to life but dispelled by light. Like the Moderator’s Guild and the Hero’s Guild, there is the Enforcer’s Guild. They are the ones who go into the forest to kill as many monsters as they can.

“We are going to be checking a safe house outside the city at the abandoned Eiffel Tower,” Ravager explains as his arm lowers back to his side. They start to cut through the buildings to reach the dark forest. Tommy brings out the flashlight attached to his suit. He clicks the light on as they step past the first of the roots. Dyscardia glances at him as the light beam falls across her body. Tommy shrugs his shoulders, moving on with the flashlight to guide his eyes instead of the other way around.

“Why the fuck would it be this far out at such a starsdamn cheesy location?” Tommy asks, looking towards the ground. In the midst of the underbrush and roots, Tommy can see exposed pieces of concrete. A long time ago, the land out here was another borough given the name El Rapid. It wasn’t a large borough. It was set to collapse because of a poorly managed economy, no natural exports, a population mainly composed of criminals, and a lack of federal support. In the end, a supervillain sped up the process of the borough’s demise. This was many years ago, so some of the plant life here is natural. A lot of it, however, was the result of that supervillain. Tommy doesn’t know enough to remember who the villain was, what their motive was, and if they ever got caught. He doesn’t know much about El Rapids, either. He thinks a lot of the people fled to another city. Anyone else must have been shoved into Empires.

“Cheesy?” Ravager questions. His monotone voice doesn’t give away his curiosity so much as him genuinely asking does.

“The Eiffel Tower was originally built by a man as a gift for his lover,” Dyscardia explains. Even though El Rapids has mainly faded into obscurity, the Eiffel Tower was one of the persisting stories. It was a marvel of engineering, and it truly was a romantic gift. The only reason it hasn’t become a tourist destination is because of the thick forest now surrounding it. No normal person would be able to survive coming out here, and no one would risk it just for a metal tower from a story. Most people were content to imagine the tower in their heads, pretending that it was completely lost like some sunken city from the past or a library that had been burned to the ground. Tommy is pretty sure Croupier wants to make a copy of the tower for Las Nevadas, but Tommy will have to ask him how that plan is going the next time they meet.

“Ah. I know a similar story from the Ancient Builders,” Ravager states, referencing the nation of people from centuries ago that provided future generations with a rich mythology.

“Nope. I’m not listening to this shit. Tell me why the Red Army chose the Eiffel Tower,” Tommy cuts Ravager off before the villain can begin telling whatever story came to mind when he first heard the romantic tale.

“Fine. The Eiffel Tower really is an optimal location for a safehouse. It is elevated enough to avoid most monsters. It is easily defendable from anyone else. The material the structure is made from ensures it cannot be brought down by fire or rust. It is far enough from the city that it is no longer under the city’s jurisdiction, but it’s close enough to get resources whenever the people are running low. Depending on how many people are hiding out at a time, it should be fairly spacious,” Ravager explains, gesturing towards the sky. Tommy peers through the canopy to see a structure beginning to reflect sunlight in the distance. He’s never thought about visiting the Eiffel Tower before, but he imagines it is a big deal to some people. He thinks Wilbur would have liked to see it. He was always fond of emotional stories.

“If it’s such a prime location, why doesn’t the Syndicate use it?” Tommy asks, looking down at where he was going when he almost trips over a root. He flashes the light on it, making certain it was a real root from a real tree. One could never be too sure around here.

“The Syndicate’s business is within the city. We must remain in our domain,” Dyscardia informs Tommy. He frowns. He still doesn’t know what the purpose of the Syndicate is. The people he has met so far don’t seem like they are in it for the chaos and bloodshed. Certainly, Enderwalk and Jolt would never help out if they thought it was only about that. Tommy would like to think Red Dragon would only help a good organization, too, but he’s learned that he doesn’t know anything about his old mentor. Dyscardia continues, “The cult is spreading everywhere.”

“Like a parasitic plant,” Ravager agrees, gesturing to the tower as they approach the clearing around it. Spray-painted vines run along the foundation of the tower all the way to the point on the top. Tommy follows the vines with his eyes. He stares up at the tower in awe. He cannot believe someone created this for their lover. The stories say that the man did it alone. He created this entire structure by himself with only an idea and an overwhelming amount of love.

A black dot appears beside the tower, stark against the blue sky. The dot becomes larger, growing distinctive as it plummets. Tommy grabs Ravager and Dyscardia’s wrists. He uses his power to make Ravager lighter. Ravager stumbles from his newfound weightlessness, and Dyscardia trips back in surprise at being dragged. Right where they were standing, the black dot becomes a person that lands on the ground. Two people, actually. The one in black clothing with a billowing cape lands on his toes, gracefully lowering onto his heel. The other one wears a white bodysuit over crystalline skin, and he lands with enough force to cause cracks in the ground.

“Ravager… Dyscardia… Vendetta,” Reaper whispers their names. The souls of the damned start to appear around his feet, blurry blobs of glowing pale colors. Reaper reaches his hand towards them, and a scythe appears in his hands. Adamantine stands right beside him. His body has already been transformed into a diamond-like structure. He wears an emotionless expression on his face, completely different to the small smirk that shines a brilliant white in the shadows of Reaper’s hood.

Adamantine doesn’t say a word as he launches forward. He grapples with Ravager immediately. Adamantine might be the only who does not completely crumble beneath Ravager’s overwhelming strength. He may even be able to match his raw strength if he needs to.

Dyscardia raises her hands to activate her powers. She is unable to do anything. Reaper’s form is hazy around the edges due to the spirits. Dyscardia needs eye contact, and the slight blurriness of Reaper’s contour makes it impossible for her to use her powers. Tommy has no such restrictions. He only needs to touch the villain.

Tommy tosses his knife near Dyscardia as he brings out his staff. He launches himself at Reaper, raising his staff above his head. It slams down against the scythe’s blade. Tommy grits his teeth as he keeps pushing against Reaper’s strength. When he feels like his arms are going to break, he jumps backward. Reaper twists immediately, avoiding the knife Dyscardia aimed at his side. She slid past him, turning back around at the last moment to strike his back. Tommy aims to slam his staff into Reaper’s stomach to distract the villain. A ghoul bursts from the ground to tank the stab wound, and Reaper hooks his scythe around Tommy’s staff. Reaper yanks, and Tommy’s staff hits the ground. Reaper raises a hand up to slam a fist into Tommy’s back. Dyscardia appears with the knife. The blade slides through Reaper’s wrist with ease, blood falling to the ground. Reaper backhands Dyscardia with the same hand she just stabbed. Dyscardia tumbles to the ground, yanking the knife out as she goes. Tommy positions his body. He kicks both of his legs up, knees tucked against his chest. His legs shoot out to hit Reaper’s stomach. Tommy uses the momentum to throw his legs over his body, landing on his feet a few feet away from Reaper without his staff. 

Reaper dodges Dyscardia’s next slashing attack by ducking down. He plucks Tommy’s staff off the ground. He swings his scythe around. Dyscardia ducks, putting herself in a position where Tommy’s staff slams into her shoulder. She gets thrown off-balance, rolling across the grass. Tommy rises to his feet. He reaches a hand towards Reaper’s unexposed back, his power fluttering at the end of his fingertips in the form of a red caustic light. He imagines unleashing it as he gets close to Reaper’s body. The villain doesn’t even look behind him. Tommy is almost there…

He feels a sharp breeze across the back of his neck… an unnatural breeze. He freezes, whirling around. He locks eyes with Inferno as a fireball is thrown in his general direction. Tommy dodges out of the way. The fireball lands against Reaper’s back. The villain howls in pain, the ghouls at his face rising up to defend their master. Tommy thinks he notices a hint of regret on Inferno’s face, but Tommy’s observations slide away from the Hunter in a hurry. Avenger is standing with Inferno with a gold chain around his throat and a sword with an Eye of Ender hilt in his hands. If those two are here…

Tommy turns around. A man stands there. He wears a green and silver bodysuit, lean and tight, made for aerodynamics. There is a faint sheen to the bodysuit. It glistens in the sunlight like water falling across a bathing suit. The figure wears a mask over his face. It is a glass-like mask, less breakable than porcelain but similar in appearance, white with a black smiling face painted across the surface. A simple smiling face. Two dots and a curve. A nightmare brought to the waking world, one that always existed in the waking world, a nightmare that pretended to be a daydream, that pretended to be…

Reverie. 

“Vendetta,” Reverie coos. His voice is modified by the mask. Tommy knows that voice well. He also knows the man’s natural voice, too. Tommy’s breath stutters. His mask begins making weird noises, trying to translate his broken whimpers into words. Tommy takes a slight step back, but Reverie matches him. Tommy has nowhere to run. He has nowhere to go. He’s going to go back into that dark, cold cell in the basement. He’s going to go back to that gym with mats turned red from his blood. He’s going to go back to that giant garden filled with overwhelming heat and poisonous plants of all varieties. Back to the chains. Back to the beatings. Back to the experiments. “My poor, little Vendetta. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

Tommy knows they haven’t. If there is one thing he does with his time more than pine for his family or risk everything for revenge, it is avoid the Hunters. Wherever they are, he isn’t. When he crosses paths with them, he hides like a coward. He hides until hours after they’re gone, too paranoid to even think about leaving his hiding place in fear that they’ll be waiting for his moment of weakness. But he makes certain he’s never in the same area as Reverie. Like a bird that knows where to fly for the winter, Tommy will always know where Reverie is. His brain is hard-wired for it. Either from fear or lingering attachment, Tommy can never decide. He doesn’t know if he wants to be near Reverie or as far as possible. He chooses as far as possible because it’s easier.

“You know, when I found out you had joined the Hero’s Guild, I did not think much of it. I knew this was just part of your plan for revenge. I admire your resolve. I decided to leave you alone, at least for the time being,” Reveries lies, but it sounds like the truth. Or maybe he’s telling the truth and it sounds like lying. Tommy doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything when it comes to Reverie. His entire world is flipped upside down. He can hardly breathe; how is he supposed to think? “But your alliance with the Syndicate. Now, that I find strange. I simply had to ask you in person what that was all about. I thought you wanted the Syndicate gone… so why do anything for them?”

“Wh-what are yo- the Hunters doing here?” Tommy asks. His voice modifier picks up the stuttering. It may mask his panic, but it can’t remove the imperfections in his speech. It cannot hide the way his pupils are dilating. It cannot hide his paling skin or sweaty palms. He feels sick. He feels too hot and too cold and like he’s going to vomit. He wishes he could vomit. He wishes he would pass out. But he can’t do either because Reverie is here. He’s standing in front of Tommy, ready to do something despicable to him. Tommy can’t stand it. He doesn’t know what to do. He has to remain standing, but he knows he’s trembling.

“I’m here to save you,” Reverie explains with such assuredness in his voice that Tommy almost believes him. Tommy does need saving right now. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He’s in a dangerous situation. Reverie is in front of him. Reaper and Adamnatine are here. Inferno and Avenger are here. Ravager and Dyscardia are here. There are so many people here that want Tommy dead. They’re all his enemies. He doesn’t have allies. He has no one to save him, so why can’t Reverie save him? But Reverie will hurt him. Can anything be worse than this? If Reverie is the one causing this, then yes, it can get worse with him. But Tommy doesn’t know if Reverie’s causing this. Yes, he does. Reverie hurt him, and he’s having a panic attack. Panic attack? Shouldn’t he be unable to breathe if that was the case? Why does his chest hurt?

Tommy sucks in a long breath, forcing his body into action. He continues breathing, but he can’t move more than that. He’s stuck standing in the grass. He stares at Reverie. The wind blows around him, but he can barely feel it. He narrows his eyes at Reverie. Angry. He’s supposed to be angry. Not afraid. He isn’t scared of Reverie. He’s angry at Reverie because the Hunter has hurt Tommy. He’s done horrible things to Tommy. He has the right to be upset. He needs to hold onto his anger. The moment he cowers, he’s going to be dragged back to the Hunters. Tommy doesn’t want to be hurt anymore.

“Fuck off, Reverie. You’re only here because you’re pissed someone else fucking left you,” Tommy snaps, clenching his hands into fists. A long time ago, Reverie taught Tommy not to have any attachments. Tommy became Reverie’s only attachment, and he left Reverie behind. Monochrome and Warden left him around the same time. That must have upset Reverie. Now, another few members of his team, Reaper and Adamantine, were leaving him. Reverie was losing control. He might have a competent team, but he was losing the original eight. It was driving him insane. That was the real reason Reverie was here. He probably didn’t even know Tommy would be here.

In less time than it takes to blink, Reverie is standing right in front of Tommy. The air swarms past Tommy’s face like the wind, causing his hair to be blown out of his eyes. He looks up at Reverie’s looming face. He swallows back his terror. Every wound he’s ever gotten from Reverie begins to burn. His whole body feels like it’s on fire. Reverie pulls his mask aside enough for a glowing green eye to pierce Tommy’s soul. “Reaper and Adamantine are momentary setbacks. The Red Army is a temporary problem. It is nothing I cannot handle.”

Reverie puts both his hands on Tommy’s shoulder. He squeezes tight enough that the metal sinks through the fabric of his suit to dig into his flesh. He wonders if he’s going to start bleeding. Reverie whispers to Tommy, and he swears he can see a cruel smile sliding onto his face. “You may have gotten away, Vendetta, but you will come crawling back.”

“I won’t,” Tommy swears, more to himself than Reverie. No matter how unbearable his fear is, he refuses to give into Reverie. The fear itself is a testament to how far away he should be getting from Reverie.

“The guild won’t sponsor you forever. Not with the way you act in the field, or how picky you are about your missions. The Syndicate won’t protect you. They won’t protect you now, so imagine what they will do to you when you fail to kill their leaders? Croupier and his aces will not risk their necks for your foolishness,” Reverie hisses the truth. Tommy whimpers again, knowing that he is going to end up alone. He had no one. He didn’t have a family. He didn’t have the guild. He didn’t have the dealers of Las Nevadas. He didn’t have the Syndicate. He is alone now, and he will continue to be alone. Reverie raises his hands to touch the sides of Tommy’s face. His gloved fingers dig into Tommy’s blonde hair. Reverie puts their faces so close together, Tommy’s eyes begin to adjust to pick out details of Reverie’s face behind the mask and underneath the hood. “I will be there to take back what is mine when everyone finally abandons you.”

Tommy should say something snarky, but he hears a cry of pain, loud and piercing. Reverie startles at the noise. Tommy takes the opportunity to pull away. He turns around to see something awful. Dyscardia has her hands around her stomach, the blade of Reaper’s scythe lodged there. Her eyes widen. Blood drips from her lips. The blade dissipates. Dyscardia falls to her knees. She lands on her side, staring out blankly at the moving people around her. A few feet away, Ravager is battling multiple people at once, and soon, he’s facing Reaper, too. He isn’t doing too well. He’s burning out. Tommy needs to help them- he needs to hold down Dyscardia wound and fight the people around Ravager and get help from the Syndicate and-

Reverie wraps his arms around Tommy’s shoulders. He squeezes tightly, placing his head on Tommy’s shoulder. He aligns their masks, leaning his body weight against Tommy. The blonde feels like he’s going to die. He feels like he’s been strangled and buried alive and submerged beneath the ocean and Reverie is whispering in his ear, “You will always belong to me, Vendetta.”

Reverie releases Tommy. The blonde crumples to his knees. Reverie laughs, and that is the last thing Tommy hears before an unnatural wind makes all the hairs on his body rise. Reverie is gone within a breath. The rest of the villains start to disperse, probably heading in the same direction as Reverie. They’ve done whatever they came here for. Tommy doesn’t know what the purpose could have been.

Tommy dry heaves into his mask. He tears it off, struggling to breathe. He feels light-headed, but he can’t let go now. He stumbles to his feet. He falls back down, half-crawling, half-walking towards Dyscardia and Ravager. He fumbles to a stop between them. He looks around. He is unable to steady his breath or his hands, but that doesn’t stop him from acting. He tears Dyscardia’s cape off her shoulder. He rolls it around her wound, pulling as tight as he can. It quickly becomes crimson. Tommy tries not to think about it as he assesses Ravager’s wounds. He has shallow wounds, so he must have been knocked unconscious by the small puncture wound in his neck. Tommy checks for a pulse, anyway. He feels a steady one in Ravager, but Dyscardia’s heart is slow and distant. Tommy presses his hands against her wound immediately, trying to stop the blood flow. He searches her face for signs that she’s waking up. Her face only gets ashier. Her hands look gray. Tommy feels sick again. He looks over his shoulder at Ravager… is he getting paler?

Tommy hears a cawing noise. It startles him out of his panic. He stops switching between both of the bodies to look at the surrounding forest. A crow lands on a tree branch. Tommy sighs in relief. He reaches a bloody hand towards Crowfather. “Please, get help. Anyone. Please help me. I don’t-”

Crowfather takes flight before Tommy can finish. The blonde watches his form disappear. Once Crowfather is completely gone, he looks back at Dyscardia. He presses one hand against her wound with all his strength. He reaches another hand towards Ravager. His heartbeat is getting slower and his skin is colder. Tommy uses one hand to pull Ravager’s cape around his body like a blanket.

A hand slides around Tommy’s face. He fights against it until he hears a voice whisper, “Shh… it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

Tommy’s entire body slumps against Serenade’s chest. He feels boneless as Serenade slides a hand underneath Tommy’s glasses. His hand is warm as it darkens Tommy’s vision. Tommy can hear the heavy beating of wings. A small burst of anger flashes in the depths of his gut, but he doesn’t have the energy to do anything. He just lets Serenade wrap another arm around his stomach, holding him close. Tommy keeps his eyes closed, descending into oblivion. Eventually, the wings beat again, growing fainter. Serenade’s hand slides away, but Tommy keeps his eyes closed. He soaks up the comfort Serenade is providing him and prays that Dyscardia and Ravager aren’t dead.

He doesn’t want to lose anyone else.

Chapter Text

“I see it all perfectly; there are two possible situations — one can either do this or that. My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it — you will regret both.”

― Soren Kierkegaard

Tommy reaches a hand up, placing it against the mirror. He strikes his hand down with the harshness of someone slashing with a knife. His hand wipes away the condensation on the mirror. Without the gray film, he can see his expression staring right back at him. His hair is wet with water. He wears a towel around his shoulders to collect the water that would otherwise fall on the shirt he borrowed from one of the dressers in the safehouse. His face is pale, accentuating the scars along his jaw and the puffiness around his eyes. The puffiness does little to hide how shockingly blue eyes staring back at him. The person in the mirror leans forward, and Tommy grabs the edges of the sink to keep himself from completely falling against the mirror.

Within a breath, Tommy catches sight of something green behind him in the mirror. He gasps, twirling around with enough force that his back slams painfully into the sink. He searches for Reverie in the background, but he finds himself looking at a coral green towel hanging on a metal bar, drying from being used earlier. Tommy runs his fingers against the fabric. It still feels damp under his fingertips. It was just a towel; he shouldn’t be afraid.

He frowns, pushing away the memories of Reverie. He narrows his eyes at the fabric. He closes his fingers around it until he’s gripping it into a fist. When the fear ebbs away, anger takes its place in his heart. He should have been stronger. Reverie has been gone for years now. Even if they met each other, Tommy should be over whatever happened to them. He should remember that he’s stronger now. Reverie can only hurt him if Tommy lets him, and unfortunately, Tommy keeps letting him. He should be smarter than this by now.

Tommy closes his eyes, unclenching his fist around the towel. It falls from his grasp, and he can’t help but compare it to a life. If Tommy had been braver, he wouldn’t be worried about Dyscardia and Ravager right now. He should have held tightly to their lives instead of letting it fall through his fingers. He should have made them his strength if he couldn’t find his own. But he didn’t. He let them down, and it was tearing Tommy apart.

Serenade drove Tommy to this safehouse, and he didn’t say a word during the drive. Tommy didn’t feel like talking, but he despised the silence. He would have even been okay if Serenade berated him for his actions. He would have been okay if Serenade kicked him out. Instead, he drove Tommy all the way here. When they arrived, Serenade shoved Tommy into a room with vague directions to get clean. At least, Tommy thinks he said that. He can’t actually hear much right now. Everything feels underwater, hazy and heavy, and it’s getting worse the longer he remains here in the silence with his thoughts.

Tommy exhales, opening his eyes. He faces the ceiling. Part of him reminds him that he shouldn’t care what happens to members of the Syndicate. He will admit that he’s gotten closer with Ravager and Dyscardia, but he is certain they still hate him. Of course, they probably hate him even more now. They have done awful things. Tommy has a record of it all, and he can trace some of the scars on his body from them. He has never had major fights with either, but they have hurt him as much as he has hurt them. There is something inherently wrong with him caring about them.

Tommy wants to blame his feelings on his preexisting guilt. They are in part about that, after all. He doesn’t want anyone else around him to die. It isn’t entirely his fault that his family died, but he does blame himself for being the only to survive. What if Dyscardia and Ravager die? He would be the only one left. It would completely crush him. He doesn’t want to be the only survivor again. He doesn’t want the memories of these people to be tainted by the fact that they are gone and it is his fault. He didn’t help them, after all, so why wouldn’t it be his fault?

It would also ruin his tentative relationship with some of the other Syndicate members. He hates having connections, but he desperately wants to keep a few of them. That’s the nature of a human being. While Tommy can try to forge himself into a weapon, he will always carry a heart that yearns to run away from the loneliness his mind is using like a shield. He wraps his arms around himself, tears rising to his eyes. He cannot let this break him. He’s come so far.

Tommy reaches for the mask he brought into the bathroom. It isn’t like his normal masks in the sense that it’s just a blindfold. When Tommy ties it around his eyes, he can see about as well as he can with his other masks. Tommy looks back at the mirror. With his eyes being hidden, he finally feels like he’s looking at himself again. He has no reason to wear a mask since he has no identity to protect, but he hates his eyes. He doesn’t want to look at them. He doesn’t want anyone to say anything about them. He is already on edge right now; he doesn’t need the memories to come back to him.

Tommy picks open his uniform. He keeps it with him as he pushes open the door to the communal bathroom. He steps into a long hallway. It smells even more like bleach in the hallway than it did in the bathroom. At least the bathroom has a vague floral scent to it. Tommy is half-tempted to return to the bathroom for that reason alone, but he simply moves on. He exits the hallway, stepping into a waiting room lined with chairs. He drops his uniform onto one of the chairs. He watches his glasses hang precariously on the edge while his metal mask completely tumbles to the tile floor. It remains there as Tommy deposits his body into the neighboring seat. He throws an arm over his face, leaning his head against the wall. He controls his breathing, attempting to do something without knowing what he wants to do.

He is consumed by worry, so his thoughts eventually go back to the two people at the center of it all. He can still feel Dyscardia’s slowing pulse beneath his fingertips. The warmth of her blood lingers against his skin even when he’s washed it all off. The echoes of her screams hammer through his thoughts. He recalls the smile she wore as they walked to the Eiffel Tower. He remembers talking to her in the Trading Station. He remembers bleeding out in her arms. She was cold to him, but she eventually warmed up to him, and wasn’t that warmth wonderful?

Ravager is supposed to be an imposing figure. He stands above everyone else as a one-man army. He was the hardest person for Tommy to study, and that eventually led to Tommy having a form of respect for the villain despite their opposing views. Tommy reaches his hand out, thinking about Ravager’s skin. It was cold, and it shouldn’t be that. As far as Tommy is aware, Ravager’s body temperature should run higher than the average person’s. The fact that it got that low is especially worrying. Tommy frowns, almost being able to feel the letters they send each other in his hands. The paper is smooth, and the ink is glossy, and the edges lightly tickle his palms, and he can read each word over and over again until something like happiness settles in his chest. He’s put every letter into a box, the same one he keeps the framed picture of his family in. He doesn’t care about Ravager, but he considers those letters his prized possessions. He doesn’t understand, but he supposes he doesn’t have to. 

His heart is burning at the lack of knowledge. He needs to know what’s happening. Even if they’re dead, he wants to know.

“Vendetta,” Someone calls. Tommy startles, lifting his arm away from his face. As he scans the room, he realizes his vision is blurry. It isn’t because of his mask. It’s because tears are slipping from his eyes, slow and cold. He blinks them away. He finally finds the person speaking to him. Phil is at the doorway, holding it open as he stares at Tommy. The hero can see Sneeg standing behind Phil, trying to peer over the man’s shoulders. Tommy opens his mouth to respond. When nothing comes out, he closes his mouth again. He still isn’t ready to talk it seems.

“Vendetta,” Phil repeats, rushing into the room. Tommy sits up, surprised when Phil grabs Tommy’s shoulders. Instead of throwing him around in anger, he brings Tommy against his chest. Tommy flinches worse than he would if Phil had just hit him. Phil doesn’t let him go even when Tommy’s body jerks. He holds him close. Tommy has a few inches on Phil, but the older man doesn’t let that become a problem. Tommy is still undetermined if he thinks that is a good thing. “What happened isn’t your fault.”

“Phil’s right. It was the fault of those bastards, the cultists and the Hunters. I can’t tell which group I hate more,” Sneeg hisses, shaking his head. Tommy laughs wetly, but he doesn’t agree. He can admit that he wasn’t the one to deal the blows that caused Dyscardia and Ravager pain, but he could have prevented it. Isn’t inaction the worst sin of them all? Tommy thinks he read that somewhere. Or maybe a villain quoted it at him during a fight. Some villains do get rather poetic or philosophical, but that doesn’t mean they’re wrong.

“Sneeg, stay here with Vendetta. I’m going to check on Ravager and Dyscardia. I will be right back with the news,” Phil proclaims, pulling back enough to look at Tommy’s face. Tommy meets his eyes. Phil has blue eyes, like Tommy, but Tommy doesn’t hate Phil’s eyes. The color isn’t ideal, but how can he hate the eyes that look at him with such care? It almost seems like Phil is just as worried about him as he is about the two who were critically wounded.

Phil walks back through the door he and Sneeg came from. Tommy flops down in the seat he was in before Phil dragged him to his feet. He stares at the door, hardly paying attention to Sneeg. The other man looks at the door, too, but then he seems to snap back to attention. He lowers himself into the seat beside Tommy, the one on the other side of his equipment. Tommy shifts his gaze to look at Sneeg from the corner of his eye. The civilian places a hand on the esper’s shoulder. Sneeg leans forward, to make sure that Tommy is looking at him as he squeezes Tommy’s shoulder. “We weren’t lying. I swear it isn’t your fault.”

Tommy exhales through his nose. The air brushes against the back of his hand. He looks down at his hands. He couldn’t find a shirt with longer sleeves, so his scars are on full display. The existence of the scars contradict Sneeg’s claims.

Sneeg’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion. His hand slides down from Tommy’s shoulder to his hand. Tommy blinks owlishly as Sneeg takes his hand. “Why do you think it’s your fault?”

Tommy wretches his hand away from Sneeg’s hold. He slams his hand against his chest, holding it with his other hand. He jumps up from his seat, whirling around to glare down at Sneeg. The civilian leans back, keeping his eyes on the angry esper in front of him. “Maybe because it is my fucking fault! If I wasn’t distracted by Reverie, I could have been there to help!”

“Or it could have turned into a situation where all three of you were badly hurt and no one would have been able to call for help. Your actions could have even hurt the others more,” Sneeg points out. Tommy throws his clenched fists down to his side. Sneeg is technically correct. Anything could have happened if Tommy had done something. He could have made the situation better or he could have made it worse. He’ll never know. Sneeg shifts, “In any case, Reverie was your abuser. No one expected you to be able to do anything under that sort of trauma.”

“Reverie is not my fucking abuser,” Tommy rebukes. He has to start changing his mindset. He needs to face Reverie. He needs to get over this. Of course, Tommy can make all these claims when Reverie isn’t in his presence. Tommy has observed that he has a spot in his heart reserved for Reverie. Anger fills it when Tommy is alone; fear fills it when Reverie is there. Tommy will have to find a way to lock the anger there. He doesn’t want to be afraid anymore.

“That’s fine,” Sneeg seems reluctant to let Tommy say that, but he does for some reason. Maybe because of the next words he says, “Does that mean you agree that what happened isn’t your fault?”

Tommy looks away, realizing that he didn’t refute that claim. He drops back into his seat with a sigh. Sneeg looks at Tommy with a smile. “You did your best. We’re all grateful for that. Now, we have to let Argonaut do what she does best.”

The door swings open. Tommy looks towards it immediately. Phil enters the room with a smile on his face. Sneeg stands up, going past him into the hallway. Phil takes the seat that Sneeg was in. Tommy follows him with his entire body. When Phil settles, he takes Tommy’s hand like Sneeg did. Tommy spends half a thought wondering if those two are related before he’s back to listening to Phil. “Ravager and Dyscardia are fine. They’re resting right now.”

Tommy exhales a breath that has been held in since the moment he heard Dyscardia scream. He slowly pulls his hand from Phil’s grasp. Instead of getting up in anger like he did for Sneeg, he curls up into a ball. He tucks his head between his knees. He closes his eyes with a harsh frown. Eventually, however, his breaths even out, and sleep overtakes him.

—

Niki lies in bed. She pulls the comforter all the way to her chin. She keeps her arms tight to her chest, trying to preserve all the warmth she’s keeping trapped beneath the fabric. She lies on her side, staring across the room. Techno sits up in the other bed. The comforter remains at his waist as he reads a book by the lamplight. He wears a neutral expression as he flips the page. If she asked, he would turn the lamp off so she could go to sleep. As it stands, she keeps her lips shut and allows him to read his book. She has been his friend for a few years now, and she knows how much he likes to read before bed. It helps soothe his mind. Niki would never begrudge him that, especially when the light doesn’t actually bother her. It is a soft, warm color that makes her relax even as it shines through her closed eyelids.

The door creaks open. Niki opens her eyes to see who is sneaking in at this late hour. She expects it would be Wilbur. Every time someone gets injured, Wilbur will usually stay with him. He’ll lose sleep like that, however, so Niki prepares to tell him to go back to his bed. She’s fine, and so is Techno. Puffy healed them of all their wounds. In Techno’s case, there isn’t even a scar left. Niki’s newest scar looks like she got it from tripping with how small it is. Wilbur has nothing to worry about, so he shouldn’t hurt his back trying to stay in here.

As Niki lifts up on her elbows, she notices that it isn’t Wilbur standing in the doorway. The lamplight reflects off of blonde hair. Wilbur has always been a brunette. The only person in the Syndicate with blonde hair is Phil, and even then, the figure is wrong. The figure at the door must be the only other blonde person that would know where the safehouse is.

“Damn it,” Niki hisses, reaching for her mask on the nightstand that stretches from her bed to Techno’s bed. She doesn’t even have her voice modifier on. How is she supposed to protect her identity if Vendetta walks into the room without knocking?

“He’s sleep-walking,” Techno says. Niki’s motions cease. She shifts back into her bed. She remembers Wilbur mentioning that. It was in one of his reports about Vendetta’s activities. Ever since that report, Wilbur has been putting off sending new ones. 

Vendetta remains at the doorway. The lamplight shines across his body. He is wearing a casual outfit. Niki has never seen him wearing something casual. Wilbur and Jack have, apparently, so Niki has only taken their word for it. The clothes he’s wearing right now are baggy, made for someone a little larger than him. The blindfold around his eyes does nothing to hide his damp hair. The golden strands are starting to coil like springs, and it somehow makes him look younger. Perhaps, though, the biggest sign of his youth is his expression. In his sleep, he is completely neutral. There is no pain, no regret, no guilt, no grief, no anger, nothing that matches Vendetta up with the image in Niki’s head.

Vendetta takes a step into the room. Niki sits up as Vendetta strolls into the room. His movements are languid, slow and earnest. He stops between both of their beds, staring down at the nightstand. His chest rises and falls as he stands there, motionlessly. Niki shares a look with Techno. The villain shrugs his shoulders, putting his finger in his spot as he closes his book. Niki reaches out from her bed. She manages to snag Vendetta’s hand. She wraps her fingers around his palm. His body shifts with the motion, and Niki brings the hand to her lap. Vendetta follows, sinking to the ground beside her bed. He puts his head on the comforter. Niki switches which of her hands is holding Vendetta’s hand so that she might comfortably put a hand in his hair. Vendetta does not react to either motion, so Niki starts to play with his hair. 

As she continues, she’s reminded of another lifetime. She had known a blonde little boy with hair as golden as Vendetta’s. That little boy loved having his hair played with. He would curl up in her lap, refusing to move until he was satisfied. She would sigh fondly and indulge the little boy. Niki smiles despite herself, tears rising to her eyes. She doesn’t reminisce about Tommy as much as she should. It always makes her heart burn, but she does find some happiness in the good times.

“He was probably trying to check up on us. I should have assumed he would feel guilty about this,” Techno whispers with a sigh. Niki casts a glance at him. Techno was the one who did the most research about Vendetta when Ranboo proposed forming an alliance with him. Of course, Vendetta was always on Techno’s radar, so Niki guessed that Techno would consider himself the most knowledgeable about the subject that is Vendetta.

Niki looks back at Vendetta. She doesn’t know him nearly as well, but she somehow knew that Vendetta would feel guilty about this, too. If he clung to guilt from ten years ago, he would harbor it from earlier that day. Not like Niki can criticize him for it. She still feels guilty for letting Tommy run away that day. She should have gone after him instead of letting her resentment blind her.

“I’m okay,” Niki whispers to Vendetta. As expected, he doesn’t respond to her. His heartbeat remains the same, so he doesn’t even relax at the claim. It makes Niki feel better saying it, however, as she continues running a hand through his hair.

Techno grunts as he slides his legs off the bed. He puts his weight on the floor. He walks across the room, and he picks Vendetta up off the floor. Vendetta’s hand is gently pulled out of Niki’s hand, and her hand falls away from his hair. She presses her lips together in a frown as Techno adjusts Vendetta’s weight in his arms. Something lurches in her stomach as Techno turns away from her. He walks towards the door, and the feeling grows worse. Niki knows that she’ll regret saying this, but she also knows that she will regret not saying anything.

“Wait,” She whisper-yells. Techno halts, looking over his shoulder at her. Niki shifts in the bed. She scoots over, making space right beside her. 

Techno raises an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure?”

Niki is being given an out. She should take it. She really shouldn’t be indulging in memories right now. She shouldn’t be trusting Vendetta, either. But the thought of him leaving right now when he came all this way because he was worried so much that he subconsciously came here makes Niki’s heart hurt. She feels like she’s watching Tommy run out of the warehouse again, the door slamming behind him. Wilbur sighed after Tommy left, completely distraught. He wanted to go after Tommy. Niki told him that Tommy would stop throwing a tantrum and come back to the warehouse within an hour. The warehouse blew up in that hour, and Tommy returned to them as a corpse.

“It will be fine. I don’t mind, and he’ll probably end up here again, anyway,” Niki rationalizes. Techno doesn’t respond as he places Vendetta down on the bed. Niki drops the comforter on him. She wraps her arms around his shoulders. Vendetta shifts in his sleep, turning on his side. Niki also lies on her side, so she’s facing him. Niki tucks Vendetta beneath her chin, holding him in her arms. She’s reminded of Tommy. She would always sleep with him like this.

After the explosion, it was just Niki and Jack. The trauma activated her power, turning her into an esper in time to keep Jack’s heart beating. They slept in the same bed in a dingy apartment as they became vigilantes and got proper jobs. After she was taken by the Syndicate, she slept alone. It was a distressing time in her life, and that probably led to her identity getting exposed. She was grateful for it, though. She thought everyone else was dead, so seeing Wilbur alive filled her with hope. They eventually got Jack back. During this time, the three of them slept together like old times. Niki was the first one to notice how healthy it was. She literally could not sleep without them. They slowly separated from each other, and now Niki sleeps just fine on her own. Sometimes, one of them would go find one of the others because they were anxious or stuck in the past or had a nightmare. Niki allowed it in moderation.

She hasn’t slept with someone like this, though. Jack slept beside her with a few feet between them. They would start out holding each other’s hands, but they would let go by morning. Wilbur held Niki against his chest, keeping his arms around her as if to protect her. It’s been a long time since she’s held someone like she was trying to protect them or let someone hear her heartbeat instead of the other way around. It was nice, in a way, if not for the memories that came to her. She misses Tommy. She always will, she thinks, but it seems stronger tonight for some reason. She doesn’t even know why Vendetta reminds her of Tommy. It can’t just be the hair, can it?

Niki doesn’t know, and she’s too tired to think. She just closes her eyes. Tears fall onto her pillow as she drifts off to sleep. Her dreams are surprisingly pleasant.

Chapter Text

"Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real."

― Cormac McCarthy

Tommy opens his eyes slowly. He doesn't feel the rough leather and plastic of the chair in the waiting room. He doesn't feel the wind whipping through his hair like angry snakes nor can he sense salty water slowly filling up his lungs as gravity drags him into the depths. He cannot smell thousands of plants placed too close together for individual scents to be identifiable nor can he smell the lingering particles of gunpowder floating in the air around him. Since he cannot sense any of that, he expects for a heavy, cold weight to be wrapped around his wrist. He expects to smell blood in the air, slowly drying as his body finally settles. His expectations are not met. He cannot feel even that. For some reason, he is warm. It smells vaguely of disinfectant or bleach but mostly of flowers. The air is still, and there is no water around him. He is lying in a bed, something that most people take for granted.

Tommy looks around for the source of his delusions. Instead, his eyes land on the person right beside him. Dyscardia is sitting up, leaning against the backboard. She holds a book in her hands, slowly flipping the pages in the pale yellow light of the sun filtering through a nearby window that overlooks the bed. Although she is wearing her mask, Tommy can tell she's wearing a white shirt. She's probably wearing pants or shorts vastly different from her uniform, too. She seems comfortable, at ease, even. Tommy doesn't move. He continues staring up at her in a daze.

Dyscardia shifts. Her eyes move to look at him. She smiles at him. Tommy figures he must still be out of it from actually getting sleep. He doesn't startle at her expression. Instead, he finds comfort in it. He likes her smile.

"How did you know?" Tommy whispers to her, referring to how she knew he was awake. He probably should have clarified that, but Dyscardia's smile doesn't fade. She doesn't show an expression of confusion. She must understand what he's talking about.

Dyscardia closes her book. She leaves it in her lap as she shifts her body, slanting herself to face Tommy at a diagonal. She reaches her hand out. Tommy doesn't stop her. She places her hand over his chest. He can feel his heartbeat as she presses down through the fabric of the shirt and his skin. Dyscardia keeps her hand there as she explains, "It was your heartbeat. A person's heartbeat is faster when they are awake compared to when they are asleep. Although I cannot manipulate your heart without activating the conditions of my power, I can sense your heartbeat."

"That's so cool," Tommy mutters, giving her a sleepy smile. This is a new fact for him. He didn't know the extent of Dyscardia's esper abilities. It should alarm him to know that there are more things he could potentially not know about his enemy's powers, but he really does think Dyscardia has a nifty power. He thinks it would be a cool ability to have, though he wouldn't trade his gravity manipulation for anything else.

Dyscardia's face tilts to the side as she registers Tommy's words. Dyscardia begins laughing. She laughs quietly, and it sounds like tiny bells ringing in succession. Tommy smiles at the sound, letting his eyes fall closed. When Dyscardia takes a breath, she says, "Yes, I think it's pretty cool, too."

Tommy brings his hand up from his side. He reaches for Dyscardia's hand. Like he didn't flinch away from her touch, she doesn't jerk her hand away as he takes it. He brings it up from his chest to his face. He presses the back of her fingers to his eyes and forehead. He begins to curl into a ball, whispering, "Are you okay?"

Dyscardia gently pulls her hand out of his grasp. He releases it immediately, letting his eyes flutter open to see what kind of expression she's wearing. He doesn't get to see much before she's cupping his cheek with one hand. She smiles at him, reassurance illuminating her brown eyes like a mug of hot chocolate sitting on the table, waiting for him. "I'm okay. Captain healed me all the way."

Tommy breathes out, unaware that he had been holding that breath inside of him. He slowly uncurls, trying to make himself look a little stronger. He stares up into those eyes, opening his mouth, and saying, "I'm-"

"Stop," Dycardia commends immediately. Although her words leave no room for argument, her tone is soaked in kindness. Her smile slowly slides off her face as she continues speaking in that commanding but kind voice. "What happened wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it is," Tommy begins. He doesn't want to argue with Dyscardia, but he wants her to be angry. She, of all people, cannot think what he did was anything close to okay. They trusted him on that mission. He didn't live up to their trust, and they got hurt because of it. Dyscardia might be okay now, but the attack still must have hurt her. It will probably linger in her dreams for a few more weeks, if not longer. And what if the others had been too late? Would Dyscardia still be willing to forgive him if Ravager had died? If she had been injured beyond saving? "I-"

Dyscardia's hand lowers. Instead of his cheek, her fingertips slowly move across his jawline. Her featherlight touches roam across the scars. Tommy sucks in a tight breath. He sometimes forgets that he has them. The lesson they were meant to teach him is embedded in his soul, but it seems that the scars sometimes evade his thoughts. They don't hurt as much as they used to, after all. Even if they did hurt, he usually has greater aches elsewhere in his body that require more attention. But Dycardia strokes them with a touch far more tender than even Tommy gives his own wounds. It's startingly and unfamiliar, enough to silence him.

"I promise that I don't blame you. No one does," Dyscardia swears, and Tommy wonders why Dyscardia knows that Reverie is the one who gave him these scars. It doesn't matter how she found out; it matters that she remembered. It seems like a useless fact, unnecessary and forgettable. If Tommy often forgets, why should someone like Dyscardia remember? Why should she care? It doesn't make sense, and Tommy hates when things don't make sense to him. He especially hates it when it seems like it makes perfect sense to the people around him.

Tommy turns onto his back, pulling his jaw away from Dyscardia's hands. He stares up at the ceiling for a long moment. He continues moving his eyes until they fall onto something across the room. There is another bed, similar in shape and color to the one Tommy is in now, a few feet from Dyscardia's bed. No one occupies this bed, but there is a book on the nightstand beside it and the comforter is pushed away as if someone got out of the bed but didn't make it. Tommy stares at it for a long moment. His mind slowly threads the clues together until he comes to a realization. He releases a disheartened sigh. "I wonder if Ravager blames me."

Dyscardia grabs Tommy's hands. She slides off the bed, and she drags him along with her. Tommy grumbles something as he forces his legs into action. He balances, and Dyscardia doesn't let go of his hands. He stares down at their intertwined hands. His gaze lingers on the scars adorning his wrists. He supposes he walked into another dangerous situation. He must have come to this room looking for punishment for his actions. He wonders if he got it. He wonders if one of the villains roughed him up in his sleep, and he's too tired to fully process that something in his body isn't reacting accordingly.

Dyscardia twists his hands, drawing his attention away from his senseless notions. He looks up at her face. She looks worried for him. How many times will people look at him like that? Is he truly someone worth worrying about? He's going to ruin their lives. Or he's going to leave them. He knows for a fact that he's going to die on them. They should take their concern and any affection that might be forming and destroy it before it is too late.

"Ravager doesn't blame you," Dyscardia assures him. Tommy hardly believes her. If anyone is going to be upset with him, it has to be Ravager. Serenade already seems plenty pissed at him if his silence was anything to go by. Tommy wonders what Ravager would be like when he's resentful. Tommy has never seen Ravager truly angry, only annoyed or impatient. "He's working on a few things right now. He was never one to stay in bed for long."

Dyscaria drops one of his hands, but she keeps the other one firmly held as she turns around. She walks toward the door, and with Tommy holding on tightly, he follows her. They enter into the hallway. Dyscardia doesn't hesitate, already knowing exactly where she wants to go. Tommy stares at the changing wallpaper as they go down the hallway. At last, Dyscardia turns into a different room. She releases Tommy's hand in order to push open the door. She holds it open for him. Tommy raises an eyebrow as he steps into a large dining room with a kitchen along one side.

"Oh, thank the gods you're awake to make breakfast, Dyscardia!" Sneeg exclaims from the bar. He sets down his communicator, swiveling his seat around to look at the two people entering the room.

"I'm only making breakfast for me and Vendetta," Dyscardia informs him as she steps foot into the kitchen. She starts to pull her pink hair up into a ponytail. She turns the faucet on to wash her hands as Tommy sits down in the seat beside Sneeg, folding his arms on the bar.

"Oh, come on! How is that fair? The new guy shouldn't get special treatment," Sneeg complains, hooking a thumb towards Tommy. "And you know my cooking is shit next to your food. Can't you make me a little something? Please? Just the leftovers?"

Dyscardia ignores Sneeg as she pulls out a few pans from one of the cabinets. Tommy looks away from Dyscardia. He stares at Sneeg for a moment. The civilian is still complaining. When he takes a moment to breathe, Tommy dares to start a conversation with the man. "Which gods were you referring to?"

"Huh?" Sneeg mutters, thrown out of his rhythm by the unexpected question. When he looks at Tommy, a wry smile rises to his face. He turns his chair to give Tommy his full attention, forgetting all about pestering Dyscardia. "Oh, I don't believe in any of the gods. I just say stuff like that sometimes. I guess it's because I've picked it up from Phil. He believes very fervently in the goddess of death. I still don't understand how we could have grown up together and yet ended up so different."

"Were you and Phil childhood friends or some shit?" Tommy asks. Although he knows Phil and Sneeg's personalities, he doesn't know anything of their past. He's curious about how they ended up working with the Syndicate, but he was waiting to naturally bring that particular question up. For now, it would be beneficial to know how the two are connected to one another.

"We were more like brothers. We found each other when we were really young, so it was natural that we became familiar enough with each other to call the other one 'brother.' I'm even considered the uncle of two of Phil's children. They call me uncle is what I mean," Sneeg explains with a cheeky smile on his face. 

Tommy frowns. He's pretty sure Phil told him that he had three kids, not two. "Why doesn't the third one consider you their uncle? Are you just a shit uncle and only the third one can see that?"

Sneeg laughs, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. Tommy finds himself smiling at how happy Sneeg looks as he finishes chuckling. "The third one just doesn't consider me his uncle. I'm sure he'll come around eventually. It's going to take some time, and I'm perfectly fine with that."

Tommy nods slowly, though he isn't sure he gets it too much. Sneeg's smile shifts as he stares at Tommy. "Back to the original question, do you believe in any gods?"

Tommy hums. Most people who live in Prime Heights believe in Prime, the goddess of the predominant church. The people of Empires believe in all sorts of gods, some even believing in whole pantheons. It was yet another reason for the constant infighting between gangs. The people of the End Isles have their dragon, and the Nether City believe in some god of war. Sandland and Snowchester don't have any predominant faiths. Tommy knows Croupier believes in a god, but he doesn't know if that religion is spread throughout a place known as the Island of Sin. Reverie believed in XD. Reishi probably did, too, but the other Hunters never proclaimed their faiths to Tommy.

"No, I've never been religious. Fuck the gods," Tommy shrugs. He has never stopped to appraise his faith. If someone was pressuring him, he would end up saying 'Prime' since he knew the most about her, but he didn't worship her. To some extent, he believed in the existence of all the gods in some capacity or another. He wasn't going to get down on his knees for any of them. What have they ever done for him? His life has been a world of hurt since the moment he was born. When he finds happiness, it gets taken from him. If the gods do exist, they are malevolent fuckers that love shitting on Tommy personally.

"I commend you for your independence from the gods. There aren't many nonbelievers like you and me left. Those religious fanatics are gobbling us all up," Sneeg points out. He starts to glare at the empty air as he says, "My brother included."

Dyscardia sets down a plate in front of Tommy. He blinks curiously as he realizes that there are pancakes on the plate. While Tommy is hungry, he isn't sure he should be eating this. He has an emergency food packet in his uniform for occasions such as this. It would be better for his body to eat that. Then, Dyscardia sets down a vial of syrup. Tommy supposes that he can have a cheat meal every once and awhile.

Despite telling him that she wasn't cooking for him, Dyscardia puts a plate of pancakes in front of Sneeg. The man smiles at Dyscardia, not a hint of fear on his face as he makes eye contact with the assassin of the Syndicate. Dyscardia smiles back at him, setting down her own plate on her side of the bar. She looks between them, "What were you talking about?"

"Our shared lack of religion," Sneeg informs her, pointing his fork up in the air as he speaks. He bites the pancakes on his fork, his face melting with happiness as he eats it. Tommy layers the syrup thick on his pancakes. He eats the sugary treat with a smile forming on his face. He doesn't know the last time he had pancakes. It must have been a long time at this point. He thinks Croupier would have the chefs make them for Tommy and Charlie back when they were both under Croupier's care. Tommy wonders if the smile on his face was from the delicious pancakes or the memories.

"I believe in the Mistress of the Hollow Ground," Dyscardia proclaims. Tommy looks up from his pancakes. Although he didn't peg Dyscardia as someone religious, it made sense that she would follow the goddess of death. Tommy was curious why Dyscardia used that particular epithet, though. For a goddess as powerful as death, she had many facets that could be encapsulated by her many epithets. Tommy's personal favorite was Mumza because everyone eventually ended up in death's arms. It was a wholesome way of looking at death, simply returning to a mother's embrace, and Tommy preferred that image to the afterlife his nightmares conjured.

"Why do you believe in her?" Tommy asks.

"Here we go again," Sneeg mutters underneath his breath.

Dyscardia ignores him as she stares at Tommy. It almost feels like she can see through his blindfold to look directly into his blue eyes. Thankfully, she can't, but her stare still unsettles him as she tells him a story. "Years ago, Phil and I were on a mission with this hero called Sonic. The mission went completely awry. We were trapped underground in an abandoned mineshaft that was going to collapse soon. We were going to die within minutes. Phil began praying. I was angry with him, at first, because he was wasting his last moments, but then something happened. I swore I heard the cawing of a raven. The darkness around began to move, growing around us like a pair of hands. From what I can see in the darkness, a woman was looking at us. For one brief second, I looked into her eyes. The next thing I knew, I was in the End Isles with Phil and Sonic. The hero stayed behind when Phil and I left. I can never forget that moment."

"You'll never let anyone else forget it, either," Sneeg points his fork at her again with a faux annoyed expression on his face. Dyscardia rolled his eyes at his antics. 

Tommy frowns, asking, "How the fuck did you know it was a fucking goddess? I could have been some unknown esper. I know a few people who can control shadows... and teleport... and do both. It isn't fucking special."

"Well... I've asked myself a similar question. I always come back to the same answer: I just knew. It was a gut feeling... no, it was more like a base instinct. The woman I saw... I knew from looking into her eyes that she possessed unspeakable power. She was far more powerful than any esper could hope to be," Dyscardia explains, setting her fork down to speak with her hands. Her fingers touched the air as if she could pluck the answers from the wind.

Tommy shakes his head, not quite sure he believes the story. He really does think it was just an esper. A goddess wouldn't care about the lives of three people. A goddess of death wouldn't keep someone from dying. But Tommy does trust Dyscardia. In the meantime, he'll assume that the woman in the darkness is the goddess of death. He won't be surprised if he gets evidence to the contrary, but it happened so long ago that he highly doubts he'll ever learn more about that incident.

The door swings open with a creaking noise. Everyone looks toward it. Thermoculus is wearing his uniform, looking at the three people in the room. His eyes glance at Tommy for a moment before he's looking at Dyscardia. Tommy opens his mouth to say something, but Thermoculus speaks before he can, "Phil wanted Vendetta tagging along with me on a reconnaissance mission."

"I hardly think Vendetta is cleared for that," Dyscardia responds.

"If Phil thinks it's for the best..." Sneeg reminds Dyscardia. She frowns as she looks at him. Sneeg shrugs, looking at Tommy instead. "It wouldn't be good to keep you cooped up here. You probably need someone to occupy yourself. But it is ultimately up to you. What do you say? Are you up for it?"

"Yeah," Tommy whispers, knowing that he would regret not accepting the mission later on. He does tend to get restless easily, especially when worries are consuming his thoughts. If he was still with the guild, he would just go to Croupier. He would do something for the villain, pretending it was for his greater purpose or to repay his debt to Croupier. It never was to Tommy, though it might have been exactly that for Croupier.

Tommy stares at Thermoculus' retreating form. Is it worth going on a mission, though?

Chapter Text

“Darkness... When everything that you know and love... is taken from you so harshly... all you can think about is anger, hatred, and even revenge... and no one can save you.”

― Orochimaru

Tommy follows behind Thermoculus like a faithful hound. They are walking through the grid-like alleyways in Empires. Thermoculus is holding a camera, taking pictures of anything that seems vaguely related to the Red Army. If Thermoculus sees something that is higher than he can reach, Tommy will use his powers to lift the man up. Although the task seems uniquely tailored to him, Tommy knows that Thermoculus would be able to get the pictures regardless if Tommy was there or not. It would take a little more skill and effort, but it wouldn’t be a worthless endeavor if it got more information for the analysts in the Syndicate. Tommy is only there because Phil ordered it to be so, and Thermoculus didn’t seem like he was willing to argue. Sneeg did mention that it was probably because of Tommy’s mental state, but Tommy can think of a million other things he could be doing to preoccupy himself other than trekking through Empires with the silent Thermoculus.

Fortunately, a city can never be silent. It will always be bustling with life, both from the people and the electronics. The wind, too, whistles as it flies through the narrow corridors. Empires specifically is constantly consumed by the voices of foreign languages and the clashing of weaponry. Tommy can even hear the calls of bird whistles, a system devised by the four most prominent gangs in Empires, each one named after a bird. Although he doesn’t know where they are, he remembers Tempestarius mentioning that the Guardians would be wrangling in Empires. He wonders if he will encounter them. He has to visit Monarch later, so he might see them there.

Thermoculus’ camera clicks. Tommy looks at him, stopping when he notices Thermoculus looking at the camera’s screen to verify the image. Most of the pictures have been of the graffiti on the walls. The Red Army is either trying to rile the gangs up, or they’re trying to recruit them. Tommy doesn’t know which is objectively worse. If the Red Army riles up the gangs, they could blame each other and perpetuate the turf wars, and war is an accurate term with how much blood is split. If the gangs realize they are being duped, they might individually try to fight the Red Army. Nothing would be solved if they kept getting in each other’s ways. If they did manage to unite against a common enemy, they would recklessly dive into conflict without thinking about the lives of the other boroughs. Empires protects itself, after all.

On the other hand, if the Red Army is recruiting, they would be getting what amounts to an additional army on their side. The gangs are uncoordinated, but they will follow the words of their leader to the exact letter. If the Red Army can convince the leaders to join their cause, a lot of bad things will happen: to Empires, to the gangs, and to anyone else caught in the crossfire. If the Red Army is unlucky, they’ll also be hurt, but Tommy has a sinking suspicion that the mastermind of all of this has ensured that the Cult of Erythr will survive. The Red Army is dangerous because of sheer numbers. The Cult of Erythr is terrifying because it is filled with highly skilled operatives.

Thermoculus’ eyes glance to the side, staring directly at Tommy for a moment. The blonde startles. He almost takes a step back, but he keeps himself steady as he looks away. Thermoculus turns his back to Tommy, taking his camera with him as he continues walking. Tommy tries to forget the apathy in Thermoculus’ eyes. He breathes in deeply. The city will never be silent, but the lack of noise between Thermoculus and Tommy is making him antsy. He cannot stand it. He is made from sound. If he didn’t get gravity manipulation, he would have gotten some esper ability involving sound. He knows that, so he knows that he cannot stand by idly while Thermoculus quietly hates him and Tommy has not even attempted to make amends.

Tommy swallows his pride, ignoring the way it burns all the way down. He stares ahead with all the intensity he can conjure, focusing on Thermoculus’ back as the villain starts walking away. Tommy calls out, “I’m sorry.”

Thermoculus stops. He remains frozen for a good minute. Tommy keeps watching his back, waiting for movement. He almost fears that Thermoculus will continue walking without acknowledging Tommy’s apology in any way. He doesn’t expect to be forgiven, of course, but he needs Thermoculus to know how sorry he is. He would rather suffer Thermoculus’ angry outburst than continue in this tense silence. “What for?”

Tommy blinks. He sucks in a deep breath. His hands fly up like he’s going to talk with them instead of his words. Once his thoughts circle back into his mind, he shakes his head. He’s floundering with his words, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t understand why Thermoculus is pretending like he doesn’t know what Tommy is talking about. “F-for what happened to Dyscardia! I let her get hurt!”

“Are you sorry for what happened to Ravager?” Thermoculus asks, tilting his head over his shoulder. He stares at Tommy from the corner of his eye. His gaze is completely neutral.

“Of course I’m fucking sorry about that!” Tommy hisses, growing upset that Thermoculus would ever consider for a moment that Tommy wasn’t sorry about that, either. When he writes another letter to Ravager, he’s going to make sure it is mainly an apology. He’s too much of a coward to actually face Ravager right now. “I don’t know why the hell I froze up like that. It’s been fucking years since since I’ve been around Reverie… and I didn’t want Dyscardia and Ravager to get hurt! I still don’t. I should have been able to act quicker, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry for that.”

Thermoculus places the camera down on a nearby dumpster covered in the red vines signature to the Red Army. He turns around to face Tommy, marching all the way there. Tommy sucks in a tight breath, preparing himself for an act of violence. He’ll preserve his life, but he won’t stop Thermoculus from hurting him in any non-lethal way. Thermoculus places his bandaged hands on Tommy’s shoulders, squeezing lightly. Tommy flinches despite telling himself he would accept whatever punishment Thermoculus would levy against him. Tommy closes his eyes, waiting for a hit. Instead, he feels a warm pressure against his forehead. He opens his eyes, startling when he notices how close Thermoculus is. He’s pressed their foreheads together in a gesture that is more comforting than it has any right to be.

“I’m not mad at you. I was never mad at you. All I have been is worried. I thought I was going to lose Dyscardia. I thought I was going to lose Ravager. But I also thought I was going to lose you. Dyscardia and Ravager could have died, and you could have been gone, too,” Thermoculus whispers. The voice modifier stifles the emotions in his voice, but enough of it leaks through that Tommy feels the closest to crying that he has in a long time.

“Why?” Tommy replies, unsure what he is referring to. Why was Thermoculus worried about him, too? Why wasn’t he angry? Why is he telling Tommy all of this? Why does he think Tommy could have been gone, and what does that mean exactly?

Thermoculus sighs, exhausted with what Tommy hopes isn’t fondness. “I have some idea what occurred between you and the Hunters. That’s enough for me to know that your reaction was expected. They created a darkness inside you, and we could have lost you to it. I don’t blame you, Vendetta. I can’t when even the smallest scraps of what I know Reverie did to you make me terrified that you could lose yourself at any moment.”

Tommy doesn’t know what Thermoculus means. The darkness inside of him was not created by the Hunters. He thinks it has been there since his birth. He was able to fill it with familial love, but without that, he has nothing to run off except revenge.

And what would Thermoculus know about what the Hunters did to Tommy? No one knows except for the Hunters, and even then, only Reverie knows every excruciating detail. Tommy doesn’t talk about the Hunters to anyone. He got by with giving the bare minimum to the guildmaster, and he made sure to write in his and Croupier’s contract that the topic couldn’t be breached. No one else cares enough about him to ask. Even if they did, Tommy has no idea what he would tell them. There are some secrets that weigh heavily on his heart, and he fears he will float away if he releases them.

A scream punctures through the air. Tommy’s eyes widen. He takes a step back, looking behind him to find the source of the noise. He frowns, frantically searching for where it could have come from. It seems far too close for his liking. He knows that he isn’t the poster child for the Hero’s Guild, but if he can save a life, he will.

“Vendetta, wait-” Thermoculus calls, reaching for Tommy’s wrist. The blonde darts away before contact can be made. He rushes out of the alleyway. He hears Thermoculus curse, but he doesn’t pay attention to it as he pulls his weapon out. The metal baton extends into a staff. He searches the empty sidestreet for the person who screamed. Instead of a single person, he finds himself standing in front of a townhouse. He stalls when an energy ripples through his body. He doesn’t believe in auras, but something is off about this house. It is enough that the warning bells start ringing in his mind like the golden bell at the top of Church Prime. This house is wrong, and the scream must have come from here.

Tommy rushes up the steps to the front door. He doesn’t even hesitate to slam his shoulder against the door and his staff against the doorknob. After two hits, the door swings open. Tommy hesitates at the threshold. He stands in a narrow mudroom with dark wood walls and a golden overhead light. The interior of the house is as grim as the exterior, and Tommy is intent on finding out what is going on here. He wonders if it’s an esper ability… or maybe it’s his esper ability that is reacting to the energy this house exudes.

“Vendetta,” Thermoculus chides, stepping into the house behind him. Tommy frowns. He’s allowed to break into the house because he’s an A-rank hero with reason to believe something is wrong here. Thermoculus will be charged with trespassing- maybe breaking and entering if the house owners want to pin that on someone. Tommy shakes his head. Thermoculus has done far worse than these crimes. In fact, he’s probably trespassed at much more guarded locations. Tommy is worried about a speck of dirt falling to a mud puddle. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing? What the fuck does it look like? That scream obviously came from here. This place has some bad shit around it,” Tommy explains, climbing up the stairs at the end of the mudroom. He steps onto the landing of the second floor. He looks around, sniffing the air. He doesn’t see anything suspicious nor does he smell any blood. All he can smell is something floral and the smoky scent surrounding Thermoculus.

“We have a mission to do,” Thermoculus tries telling Tommy. The blonde walks down the hallway of the second floor. He pushes the doors open with his staff, peeking inside each one for something amiss. All he finds are furniture covered in white sheets and dust. Tommy assumed this was a residential home, but it appears to be inactive at the moment.

“No, you have a mission to do. I wasn’t doing shit. I was just following you around because you and Phil believe there’s some darkness bullshit in my heart that I would retreat to when things got bad. It is bullshit, mind you. The fresh air wasn’t even that fresh. The only place worse than Empires in air quality is the Sandlands. Maybe the Nether City… I wouldn’t fucking know,” Tommy argues, finishing his sweep of the last room. It’s a bedroom, probably for a younger child considering the bright floral colors adorning the walls and the covered dollhouse. Tommy frowns. There are homeless people all over the city, and yet there are abandoned houses like this one. It sickens him.

“You’ve checked the entire house. Are you happy now? Can we go?” Thermoculus says from the doorway, crossing his arms. Tommy shakes his head. He was so certain the scream came from this house. It could have come from the basement or the attic, but Tommy would need to convince Thermoculus to let him check those areas. Tommy has the upperhand since it appears like Thermoculus isn’t leaving Tommy alone, but Tommy isn’t ready to test the limits of Thermoculus’ patience.

“I didn’t check the basement, dipshit,” Tommy tells him, going to the stairs again. When he’s on the final step, he realizes what the source of his initial discomfort was.

Reaper stands at the doorway, blocking the small window on the upper part of the door that would have let light in. Ominous shadows crawl across his clothes, stretching longer and thicker than they realistically should. Light blue-white bubbles ripple across the hardwood around his feet. Souls. All of those bubbles with sorrowful expressions glowing with an otherworldly light are souls of the deceased given form by Reaper’s esper ability.

“What the hell are you doing here, you creepy bastard?” Tommy demands, shifting his weight to put himself in a defensive position. Reaper tilts his head at Tommy, his glowing eyes going between Tommy and Thermoculus from beneath the cowl of his cloak. Reaper does not answer as he raises his palm towards the two intruders. The souls at Reaper’s feet fly into the air towards Tommy like bullets from a gun. The blonde raises his staff up, trying to whack the first spirits away. Instead, his staff goes right through the spirits. Tommy’s eyes widen as one of them reaches out their claws.

“Damnit,” Thermoculus mutters, pivoting on his feet to punch the spirit’s face. Instead of phasing through like Tommy’s weapon, the spirit feels the punch and flies through the neighboring wall. An iridescent purple sheen appears across the red and blue bandages Thermoculus wraps around his hands. Thermoculus continues sliding, standing in front of Tommy. He keeps light on his feet as he punches the spirits. He looks like a real boxer with his blue-and-black striped boxing robe complimenting his fighting style.

“I assumed the Syndicate would have netherite, but I never imagined they would put it into your gloves,” Reaper muses. Tommy takes a step back, keeping his staff up. Netherite is a very special ore exclusive to the Nether, hence the name. It is one of the reasons Essempei trades with the Nether City. Tommy has seen netherite a few times in his life. Reverie keeps a stash of it. Any black market netherite passes through Croupier’s doors. The Hero’s Guild even has some reserved for rainy days. He has visual proof the Syndicate has some. He has never seen it up close, though, and he never imagined it could be used to fight off spirits that could otherwise be incorporeal.

“You must not know much then,” Thermoculus notes. When he catches a break between spirits, he reaches a hand up to his face. Tommy barely gets a moment to close his eyes before Thermoculus is removing his glasses. Tommy hears Reaper howling with pain, and he flinches back. Thermoculus’ esper ability is to ignite any inorganic material he looks at. If it is organic, however, like a person, he causes them to feel immeasurable pain. It is often described as being burned alive, but the few victims Tommy has spoken to that have been burned say it is so much worse than that. Fortunately, it requires eye contact. Tommy is safe as long as he keeps his eyes closed.

With his eyes closed, Tommy is unable to see a spirit sneak up on him. He feels the pain across his cheek. A warm liquid slides down his cheek. Tommy grits his teeth. Even though it won’t do anything, Tommy raises his staff to bat the spirit away. Tommy opens his eyes to see if he was able to do anything.

Tommy is not in the townhouse when he opens his eyes. He’s staring up at a metal rooftop and catwalks that are about a dozen yards above him. Familiarity strikes his heart. He blinks, lifting his body up. He doesn’t know when he started lying down, but the dirty mattress underneath his clothes would not have been at that pristine townhouse. No, this mattress covered in stains shoved against other mattresses belongs in Tommy’s memories. He lifts his hands up. They are much smaller than they should be, and they aren’t covered in nearly as many scars. In fact, his wrists don’t have a single scar. They’re uncovered and dirty, though.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

Tommy stops breathing, tears rushing to his eyes. He slowly turns around. He’s terrified. He finds that he has the right to be when he sees Wilbur pushed up on his elbows. Wilbur, with his wavy brown hair and rich brown eyes shimmering with concern right now, looks at Tommy tiredly. Wilbur hums, waiting for Tommy to speak. Tommy is unable to, so he just dives forward. He knocks Wilbur back down on the mattress. Wilbur makes a startled noise, but he never hesitates in returning Tommy’s hug. He feels solid and cold underneath Tommy’s grasp. It makes Tommy cry harder.

A hand is suddenly in his hair. Tommy looks up from Wilbur’s chest to look at Niki. She smiles at him when they make eye contact. The smile makes the skin around her brown eyes crinkle. The blonde curtain bangs sway as she tilts her head at him, revealing the darker brown hair behind it.

“It must have been a pretty bad dream,” Jack notes, sitting up from the mattress at the foot of the one Tommy and Wilbur are on. His dual-colored eyes peer up at Tommy, the red fading into the blue in a way that tugs at Tommy’s memories. Tommy pushes it away as he gazes upon Jack’s half-smile.

“Are you okay?” Eret asks, sitting down on the opposite of Niki. They push back their dark hair. Fundy lays sleepily in Eret’s arms, barely awake, with a thin layer of bright orange hair starting to grow around his twitching fox ears. Even half-asleep, Fundy is staring at Tommy with concern.

“What can we do to make it better?” Tubbo asks, flopping down on the bed between Niki and Tommy. Tubbo grabs Tommy’s hand as he curls up in a ball. He holds Tommy’s hand against his chest. He keeps his eyes closed as he runs a thumb across Tommy’s fingers. It is a kind gesture that Tommy does every time Tubbo wakes up from a nightmare. Tommy has never been on the receiving end of it… and he never will.

Tommy’s tears don’t stop as he pushes against Wilbur. He yanks his hand away from Tubbo’s chest, and Niki’s hand slips from his hair. Tommy takes a few steps back, almost tripping as he gets off the mattress. His family continues to stare at him. They seem confused, and Tommy is just as confused as they are. Everything feels so distant right now. He doesn’t know where he is, but he knows that it isn’t here. It can’t be because the warehouse was destroyed… he can’t remember why but it was. And his family is dead. They have been for awhile even if he can’t figure out for how long. He just knows that they are, so all of this must be a trap.

“Go away,” Tommy whispers, his voice breaking. It hurts him. This hurts him. He wants to stay with his family. He wants to enjoy these quiet moments more than anything else. If his family is dead, he could have them here…

But they are dead. This is an illusion. It wouldn’t be right to stay trapped in the fantasy, no matter how tempting it would be. Plus, he thinks someone is waiting for him to save them. Someone important.

“Tommy?” Wilbur asks, confused, and Tommy’s resolve nearly breaks. No one has called him by his name in so long. He almost forgets it. He has lost so much of himself to Vendetta. Tommy only exists in these memories.

“Go away,” Tommy repeats, stronger, surer, though he doesn’t feel that way. His family startles. Wilbur begins crawling off the mattress, reaching a hand towards his brother. Tommy closes his eyes, bracing for the pain. He clasps his hands around his heart, and a shout breaks loose from his lips. “Leave me alone!”

Tommy opens his eyes. He is no longer in the warehouse. He is staring at the hallway of the townhouse. Tears continue streaming down his eyes. His memories return to him in soft waves, and the grief only becomes heavier. Part of him longs to return to the blissful recreation of what he ultimately wants, but he knows that it would all be fake. It would never be satisfying. It would never make him feel better because his family is dead. Those hollow shells forged from his memories would have no substance. Tommy tells himself he made the right choice as he stumbles onto his feet. He glares at Reaper, raising his staff up even as his vision blurs with tears.

“That should be impossible,” Reaper mutters. Tommy grits his teeth. He lunges at the demon. The tips of his fingers enter the shadow of Reaper’s cowl before he is swatted away by a group of spirits. Tommy collides with the wall. He tumbles to the floor, his staff clattering out of his hand. He begins crawling, keeping his eyes on Reaper. He doesn’t miss the moment when Reaper falls back. Instead of hitting the ground, he phases through the spirits. Like water down a drain, the souls disappear through the same spot Reaper did until no one is left. Tommy falls back to the ground, realizing Reaper is gone.

“Are you okay, Thermoculus?” Tommy calls out. When he doesn’t receive a response, he tilts his head to see Thermoculus on the ground. Tommy crawls over to him. He notices after a moment that the ceiling is on fire. He looks down at Thermoculus, and he makes eye contact for a brief second. That is enough to send pain rushing through his system. He spasms, crumpling to the floor as he tries to figure out where the pain ends and where he begins. He places a hand over his heart, feeling the beating, as he scrambles to put a hand over Thermoculus’ eyes. The darkness negates his ability, so Tommy is able to sit up again. He shakes, the last dredges of pain shooting through his body. He nudges Thermoculus’ body with his other hand, waiting for the villain to wake up. Tommy winces when he notices blood on Thermoculus’ face, but he soon discovers that’s from a wound on Tommy, not an injury on Thermoculus’.

After a few moments, Thermoculus groans. He places his hands around Tommy’s wrist. He slowly pulls the wrist up, his eyes firmly shut. With both of his hands, Tommy grabs onto Thermoculus’ glasses. He places them on. When they are firmly in place, Thermoculus opens his eyes. They widen when they see Tommy. He reaches a hand up immediately. He hesitates next to Tommy’s cheek. Tommy wonders if Thermoculus would touch him if his metal mask wasn’t firmly in place. Or maybe Thermoculus has finally realized he’s no longer in the illusion.

“What was that?” Thermoculus asks, letting his hand drop against his chest.

Tommy shakes his head. “I don’t know. Reaper has never been able to give hallucinations before… the Red Army is fucking stronger.”

Chapter Text

“We are all the pieces of what we remember. We hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.”
― Cassandra Clare

Jack runs a hand across his fingers, feeling the tiny strands prick at his skin. They smooth over as his hands descend over the back of his head. He stops with a hand lightly rubbing the tension out of his neck muscles. He peers up at the house. Without Reaper’s presence, it no longer carries an intimidating aura. It looks like an average house. Maybe a little cleaner than it should be for a location in Empires, but nothing seems out of the ordinary about it. Reaper really must have been the source of the disturbance to his esper abilities. Either that, or the spirits Reaper wields like marionette weaponry.

“We need to get back to the base to report what happened,” Jack says, turning around to see Vendetta approaching him. Vendetta had gone across the street to pick up the camera Jack left behind when he chased after Vendetta. The hero throws the camera at Jack as he stops at the sidewalk. Jack catches the camera, cradling it against his chest to check for damages. He doesn’t regret going after Vendetta, but he knows that it is never wise to leave behind anything valuable in Empires. Luckily, it seems like the camera hasn’t sustained any damages. It functions as it should, and none of the photographs have been deleted.

“Good luck with that shit,” Vendetta tells Jack, adjusting the mask on the lower half of his face. Jack frowns at the action. Practically everyone in the Syndicate knows what Vendetta looks like. The only thing they don’t know is Vendetta’s eye color. Even when out of the uniform, he wears a blindfold made from a mesh-like fabric that allows him to see without showing what his eyes look like. No one has asked him about it, though Ranboo and Sam agree that Vendetta hid his eyes even when he was part of the Hunters. Jordan adds that a hero called Sleepy is probably the only person who has ever seen Vendetta’s eyes. Like most things are with Vendetta, the reason behind why he hides his eyes is personal.

“You’re going to have to give your side of the report, too,” Jack reminds the hero, rolling his eyes. He isn’t going to let Vendetta get away with slacking off even if he does look a little more injured than Jack does. There is a shallow cut running across his cheek. Dried blood forms a crust on his mask. If Jack looks hard enough, he can notice other smaller cuts. None of them are especially worrying, but Puffy likes to heal any wound she comes across regardless of how bad it is. The reasoning she gives is that too many little wounds could result in more problems than it’s worth. Jack lets her keep that answer without questioning it too much.

“I’ll let you do that for me. We saw the same shit, didn’t we? The only difference is what illusion we saw… and Reaper said some strange shit when you were still on your ass… Fuck, I guess I will have to make a report. Ugh, I’ll do it later,” Vendetta answers, sighing heavily. The voice modifier he uses crinkles around the edges at the loud exhale. Jack winces at the staticky noise.

“You can just tell them now,” Jack shakes his head, pointing down the street where he needs to go.

Vendetta’s eyebrows narrow into a glare. He points in the opposite direction of where the base should be. Jack glances down the street. He doesn’t see anything of note right now, but he quickly understands that Vendetta is referring to the Hero’s Guild in Prime Heights. Vendetta lowers his arm. “I have a deal with Monarch. I have to see them every week for a check-up. Fucking bastard thinks they need to babysit me. They had the audacity to think I was going after the Hunters when I asked for some fucking vacation time. I wish I was on vacation. I wouldn’t have to deal with your sorry ass.”

“If anyone is dealing with a sorry ass, it’s me. You’re a pain. We’ll go to the guildhall and then the base,” Jack compromises. Vendetta shrugs, turning on his heel to walk down the street. Jack follows after him, roping the camera around his neck so it bumps against his chest. He reaches down for the ribbons on his boxing robe. He starts to tie them together as he walks down the street. He keeps an eye out for people in his peripheral area. He notices a few, but they don’t move away from their little huddles in the alleyways. A few scramble further into the darkness when they notice Vendetta and Thermoculus walking down the street. Jack looks over his shoulder to see someone looking around the edge of a building. They dart back into the alley before Jack can identify them, but at least he knows that some gang or another is keeping tabs on the two traveling espers.

“How the hell are we going to explain me rolling up with your bitchass?” Vendetta asks, folding his arms behind his back as he walks. His fingers brush against the metal of his baton, but he doesn’t make a move to pull it out or extend it into his staff. Vendetta must be as aware of their surroundings as Jack is.

“I won’t get all the way up to the guildhall. I’ll probably hang back a few blocks. We should split up soon, though. I don’t care if the gangs know we were walking together, but I would rather not let any heroes grow suspicious,” Jack answers. In the Hero’s Guild, the system is structured around bounties. Each villain has a bounty on their head, a combination of money from the government and donations from the people who were harmed by the villain in some way or another. Villains with low bounties are not given much priority, so there aren’t any rules about not working with them to catch other villains. Once a villain’s bounty reaches a certain threshold, they garner more of a priority. Each member of the Syndicate has a pretty high bounty, so Vendetta could get in a lot of trouble for working with them. He could also get in trouble for trying to take down the Red Army when it is under the Moderator Guild’s jurisdiction. Suffice to say, it would be bad if Vendetta got caught.

“I’m more worried about the gangs,” Vendetta whispers. Jack waits for him to explain, but nothing else comes from Vendetta. He falls uncharacteristically quiet, keeping his eyes peeled at the darkened corners of the borough. Jack tries to do the same, but his thoughts quickly spiral out of his grasp.

Something akin to foolishness and recklessness surges in Jack’s body, ushered forward by his curiosity and growing investment in Vendetta. As Jack’s mind brings him back to Reaper’s hallucinations, he wonders if Vendetta’s mind is doing the same thing. Jack asks, “What did you see in the hallucination? Was it… personal, too?”

“My family. What the fuck else?” Vendetta answers. Jack nods, frowning. He was under the assumption that the hallucinations for both of them were personal, but he wanted to make sure. Jack opens his mouth to reply, but Vendetta continues. “I was a kid again. A short, pudgy little thing. I was sitting… in my bed. I was staring at my hands in confusion when I heard my brother. He asked me if I had a nightmare. The others came, too, reaching out to hold me and ask what was wrong. I couldn’t fucking remember the outside world at all… But I remembered that my family was dead. I couldn’t let myself stay in the delusion. I told my family to leave me alone, and they did. I woke up in the hall in my own body again.”

Jack’s shoulders drop. He is intimately aware of what it feels like to lose a family. Vendetta looks back at Jack with apathetic eyes, “What did you see?”

“I saw an old friend of mine. He’s dead now, and he’s the reason I want to make the world a better place,” Jack replies. 

He remembers one of Reaper’s souls slashing through his palm. It hurt, but the pain vanished when he stepped into a dark room with a mirror-like floor. Jack stared down at his reflection, surprised to see a younger version of himself. He reached a hand towards it when he heard a childish laugh. Jack whipped around to see a blonde little boy standing there with a smile on his face. Jack teared up when he saw Tommy. The boy looked exactly like he did the last time Jack saw him alive, nothing like the corpse that was brought to the Syndicate. His face was full of color. His hair was shiny like gold. His blue eyes glowed in the darkness of the world around him. He was wearing a cleaner, less torn-up version of his favorite red-and-white t-shirt and cargo shorts. Tommy ran up to Jack, grabbing onto his hand. Despite Jack’s reflection in the floor, the hand Tommy grabbed was covered in scars and larger than Jack would have been as a child. Tommy asked him what he was doing, and Jack looked back down at their reflections to explain. 

That’s when he saw Tommy’s reflection. Instead of an even younger version of himself, the corpse was standing on his feet. As Tommy looked down, the corpse’s dull eyes shot an arrow into Jack’s heart. He collapsed on his knees, splashing the water momentarily. Tommy wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders, hugging him with a confused frown on his face. Jack held Tommy until he felt something cool against his cheek. He pulled back to find a thin red line across Tommy’s face. It was bleeding down his skin. Jack rushed to wipe the blood away, but the few drops that slipped past him landed in the mirror. The darkness morphed into rusty clouds dripping blood rain. Tommy wore a confused frown as he dropped into the mirror. Jack dove after him, and he awakened in the material world.

“We’re almost there. Get out of here before you ruin my street cred,” Vendetta drew Jack out of his memories. The blonde pointed a thumb at the rooftops. Jack nods, stepping into the alleyway to climb up a fire escape. As he starts ascending the rungs, he hears Vendetta call out to him. Jack stops, looking down at the hero. Vendetta stares up at him, the sunlight across his face obscuring his expression. “Whoever you lost… they would be proud.”

Vendetta walks away. Jack tries to call out, but Vendetta doesn’t turn back. Jack shakes his head, making a mental note to tell Vendetta that his family would be proud of him, too. If Vendetta was Jack’s family, he would be proud of the hero. He’s seen how much the esper’s sacrificed for his revenge plot. He’ll never be able to kill the leaders of the Syndicate, but Jack is a little excited to see him try. He can already see how that will turn out. If everything continues the way it is, Vendetta will probably get kidnapped and indoctrinated. Tubbo won’t let them live this down if they kill Vendetta. Jack can name a few other people who would also fight against an execution proposition. Jack would even go so far as to say he wouldn’t let Vendetta get killed. He doesn’t know yet, though, so Vendetta better do a few more favors for Jack.

Jack frowns as he reaches the rooftop. He lets that thought slide over him. He doesn’t know what he thinks about Vendetta anymore. When Jack was a vigilante called Blaze, he despised Vendetta. Of course, Vendetta wasn’t known as ‘Vendetta’ at this time. He didn’t have a name. What few appearances he did make, he wasn’t called anything by Reverie. Most people called him Reverie’s Dog, or bitch if they were feeling particularly rude. Jack hated everything about the Hunters, so he naturally came to hate all of its members, the bitch of Reverie included.

It didn’t get much better when Vendetta became a hero. At this point, Jack was the villain he is today. Heroes and villains are enemies even without considering the personal reasons. Vendetta got some points for being the one to put Minotaur in prison, but he lost those points when it became known to the entire city that Vendetta was going to kill Azrael and Inchling. The others in the Syndicate laughed at Vendetta’s resolve, but Jack knew more than they did what it felt like to want vengeance. He knew that Vendetta was serious. He knew that Vendetta was going to come after them. He might not win, but he would cause some damage. Jack couldn’t let his new family get hurt, so he made sure to paint a target on Vendetta’s back.

Jack comes to the last apartment rooftop near the guildhall. He sits down, folding one leg on the parapet and letting the other rest against the rooftop. He puts his chin in his palm, watching Vendetta enter the guildhall without even a glance over his shoulder. Jack narrows his eyes, his thoughts continuing.

Something changed. Jack doesn’t know when or what, but he knows that something is different. When he heard about what happened to Niki and Techno, he should have been angry at Vendetta. He should have hated even more than he has in the past. But instead, the first thought he had was if all three of them were okay. He wanted Niki and Techno to be healthy, but he felt scared that Vendetta would blame himself for what happened. Niki and Techno would heal from their wounds under Puffy’s gentle hands, but no one in the Syndicate, save maybe Ranboo or Jordan, would be able to pull Vendetta away from the darkness in his mind.

Jack believed, at first, that the reason he worried for Vendetta was because he was useful. The Red Army obviously wanted him for some reason. Vendetta was a powerful esper, both Reverie and Phil acknowledged that. Vendetta could be a vital component in their plans…

But Vendetta saved Niki’s life when he didn’t have to. He risked his life to get information for the Syndicate. He put aside his life-long feud in order to bring justice to the city. Jack now knows that Vendetta wasn’t a willing member of the Hunters, and Jack has seen the scars he’s gotten from them. Vendetta is someone Jack worries about, and it isn’t just because Vendetta could be useful. Jack is worried because he cares, and isn’t that a terrifying thought? No good will come from carrying about Vendetta. 

Especially when he adds in the fact that Vendetta sometimes reminds him of Tommy. Maybe that is where this caring feeling in his heart originated from. Regardless, Jack wanted to keep Vendetta alive. If he could go the extra mile, he wouldn’t mind seeing Vendetta smile and laugh. Gods know he hasn’t done that enough in his life. 

Jack pulls out his communicator to message the other members of the Syndicate. He shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts. He doesn’t need to be thinking about this right now. It would be better to have these sorts of thoughts in the safety of his apartment. It might even be better to have Niki with him since she can sparse through his thoughts better than he can.

Jack sees movement from the corner of his eye. He looks away from his communicator at the door of the guildhall. Vendetta steps onto the street. Jack rises to his feet to meet up with Vendetta, but he ducks back down when he notices someone walking behind Vendetta. A heroine stands beside Vendetta. She moves her hands as she speaks to him. She brushes her white hair off her shoulder. Vendetta nods, looking around the street. The heroine waves at Vendetta, and she doesn’t budge until Vendetta waves back at her. She leaves with a skip in her step. Vendetta looks both ways before crossing the street, not stopping until he is between two large buildings. Jack follows alongside him from on the roof. Vendetta stops behind the building at the fire escape. Jack slides down to greet him.

“Who was that?” Jack asks. He vaguely recognizes her. He thinks she’s part of some hero group, but he doesn’t know much more than that.

“That was Tempestarius. She’s a hero I’m acquainted with,” Vendetta shrugs. Jack nods slowly, trying to scramble together every memory he has associated with that name. He thinks she’s an esper with the ability to manipulate the weather. He really doesn’t know more than that even though he’s trying to remember. 

He did notice how amicable she was with Vendetta. It was the first time he saw anything like that. Vendetta was a loud, talkative person, but he didn’t seem very social. He didn’t seem close to anyone in the Hero’s Guild, either. He doesn’t worry about one of them coming to find him. He doesn’t try to communicate with them through his communicator. He doesn’t pay any special attention to the heroes. He’s on decent terms with Jordan, but their relationship became strained once Vendetta became a hero in his own right. “Is she your friend?”

Vendetta stares at Jack with a blank expression. Jack hesitates, eyebrows narrowing. He doesn’t think he said anything wrong, but Vendetta is looking at him like he spoke a different language. That is until Vendetta starts laughing. The voice modifier makes it sound like a heavy cough, but Jack knows the crinkles around Vendetta’s eyes. It’s how he can tell the hero is smiling when he is wearing his mask. Vendetta stops laughing to look back at Jack. “I don’t fucking have friends, Big Man.”

“What do you have if not friends?” Jack asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Tempestarius was very friendly with Vendetta. Tubbo and Ranboo consider the hero to be their best friend. Jack knows that Techno and him send letters to one another, and Wilbur has taken Vendetta to be his most recent fascination. There is even the matter of his relationship with Croupier and the Aces. As far as Jack is aware, Vendetta is close with those five, more than most people, at least. Although that relationship may not seem like friendship at first glance, Croupier doesn’t get close with anyone. Vendetta is an exception, so Croupier must consider Vendetta as someone a little more special than a simple ally or errand boy.

“Allies,” Vendetta answers immediately. Jack considers that. He can see some of Vendetta’s relationship in that light, but there is no way that what Tubbo, Ranboo, and Vendetta have is anything other than friendship. With how much Ranboo and Tubbo talk about Vendetta, the hero must know how much they care about him. Vendetta tilts his head to the side, adding to his original thought, “And people that think I’m better off alive than fucking dead… At least, for the time being.”

“Do you only ever spend your time searching for clues about the Syndicate?” Jack asks. He knew Vendetta was devoted to his mission, but he didn’t think it would be this terrible. He thought for certain that Vendetta would have some sort of life outside of all of this. He should have known that wasn’t the case since Vendetta didn’t seem keen on protecting his civilian identity. Jack slowly realizes the reason Vendetta continues to go by his hero name- he is disassociating himself from the situation, not protecting someone in his private life. Jack doesn’t know how he feels about that. Jack himself keeps his identity a secret because he owns a popular bar in Empires. He has friends at the bar that aren’t involved in the supervillainy. He has a life outside of this, one that he values and actively protects. He thinks it’s a little depressing that Vendetta doesn’t have this. Most heroes Jack knows have their own lives. For instance, Jordan runs a seafood restaurant with Puffy called Captain’s, and he’s a well-respected hero. 

“A lot of my fucking time is spent doing that, but you fuckers don’t dominate my every thought. If I think it’s interesting enough, I’ll take a bounty. There’s something a little satisfying in hunting down prey or finding a fucking awesome esper ability,” Vendetta answers with a shrug. Jack doesn’t really care about other esper abilities, but hunting down the enemies of the Syndicate does give him a sense of control that he couldn’t find anywhere else. “I’ve also done some favors for Croupier over the years. That bitch loves getting even, and I’ll admit that I have taken a lot of shit from him over the years. His favors take a few weeks, if not months. If I didn’t listen to him, I would have already completed my objective or…”

Vendetta trails off. Jack doesn’t want to know what the alternative was going to be, so he asks, “When was the last time you did anything for fun?”

“The training course Phil made for me was fun… oh, and Argonaut gave me this gaming device! I play Animal Crossing on it sometimes. I played a dancing game with Serenade once. I would have beaten his ass if he wasn’t a fucking cheater,” Vendetta answers. He stares up at the sky in thought before looking back down at Jack. He rolls his shoulders, exhaling softly. “But before that? I don’t really do fun shit. It takes up too much time.”

“We’re going to do something fun, then,” Jack informs Vendetta. His earlier thoughts flash into his mind about how he should hate Vendetta, but he pushes them down when he realizes how appealing the thought of hanging out with Vendetta is. If they aren’t in a serious situation, Jack could learn more about Vendetta. If he knows more about the hero standing in front of him, he might be able to settle on a firmer conviction. He will know for certain how he is supposed to feel about Vendetta.

“We have to report what happened with Reaper, remember? You were on my ass about that earlier,” Vendetta reminds Jack, placing a hand on his hip.

“I appreciate your turn towards the power of friendship,” Jack chuckles. Vendetta rolls his eyes as Jack’s attempt at humor. Jack pulls his communicator out of his pocket, shaking it slightly. “I messaged the team while you were with Monarch. They’re all still on their missions. They want to hold a meeting tomorrow. I was originally going to take you home, but I think we could spare some time to visit Las Nevadas. We’ll wait for Serenade to finish, and obviously, we’ll have to have some fun. It’s the Island of Sin, after all. Serenade will probably take a few more hours.”

Vendetta laughs. It sounds much lighter than the laugh he had earlier when he mentioned that he didn’t consider anyone to be his friend. It is also different from the bitter laughs Vendetta has shown Jack during past conversations. Jack definitely prefers this laugh. It reminds him of happier times. Vendetta talks, shattering the memory at the forefront of Jack’s mind, “I know all the best spots in Las Nevadas. I’ve broken into every building, after all.”

“Well, you can be my tour guide,” Jack nods with a smile spreading across his face. “Where should we go first, then?”

Chapter Text

“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”

― C.S. Lewis

Tommy fits his arms through the sleeves of a thin red jacket. He reaches down to zip the end of his jacket up to his collarbones. He puffs up the hood, allowing it to fold like a collar around his neck. He breathes in slowly, adjusting the hem of the jacket to fit him better. When he feels confident in his outfit, he opens the door of the changing room. It swings open, removing the mirror from his line of sight. Tommy double-checks the tinted glasses he took from the rotating stand of sunglasses. He does not wish for anyone to see his eyes, especially not the people of Las Nevadas. Tommy knows from spending a lot of time in this borough that the people can be increasingly cruel, especially when they discover a secret. Tommy doesn’t want to be the talk of the city, nor does he wish for someone to take advantage of him.

Tommy frowns at the thought that anyone in Las Nevadas would actually take advantage of him. There had been one business man who tried to once. He told Tommy that he was going to rat the esper out to the Hero’s Guild. Tommy wasn’t sure why, at first, but it seemed that people misconstrued the conflict between the guild and the borough. There was not much bad blood between the two so much an uneasy peace. Tommy was free to go between the two as long as he did not allow the favors he did for Croupier to interfere with his duties to the guild. The business man was not aware of this, so he came with threats and blackmail. Even before Tommy could take care of the matter himself, Croupier had the business man dispatched. Tommy still isn’t sure why Croupier would do such a thing for him. 

“I look good,” Thermoculus said, looking up from the small mirror he was staring into. Like Tommy, Thermoculus changed into a simpler outfit. Although everyone was welcome in Las Nevadas, very few people went as themselves. He wore a green military jacket over a dark blue shirt and a pair of jeans, an outfit eerily similar in color scheme to his villain uniform. He changed his fancy glasses for a pair of tinted sunglasses. A normal pair would not have been able to withstand his powers, but Tommy knew the store owners. Or, in better terms, the store owners knew him, and they knew the fancy card Tommy carries around that allows him to spend Croupier’s money. He was able to find a special kind lined with Netherite. 

Tommy was also in a new outfit. He wore a white t-shirt underneath a red racer’s jacket. He wore jeans. He even switched out his boots for a pair of tennis shoes, durable enough for running but not fighting. Tommy was in disguise to hide from Ultraviolet and his guards. He did not want an escort right now. He was hoping to show Thermoculus all of the best places in Las Nevadas, and rather inconveniently, Tommy was banned from most of those places.

“You look fucking stupid,” Tommy responds, idly looking at the shirts folded on the white painted stands. A few of them have the faces or symbols of to find a few shirts with the emblems of the Syndicate members. He ignores them, deciding not to inflate Thermoculus’ ego.

“Are there mirrors in those changing rooms? I don’t think you looked into one long enough,” Thermoculus states, gesturing to Tommy’s outfit. “I mean, seriously, what is this?”

“I think he looks nice,” A voice calls. Tommy snarls, rolling his eyes. He should have known this store wouldn’t be empty naturally. It should be filled with people, but there is only Tommy and Thermoculus. And Ultraviolet, apparently. “Oh, come on, Vendetta, you didn’t think you could step onto my island without me knowing, did you?”

“Croupier owns this island, dumbass,” Tommy responds, crossing his arms over his shoulder.

“Croupier can think whatever he wants if it helps him sleep at night,” Ultraviolet tells Tommy, stepping closer to the hero and villain pairing hanging around the dressing rooms in the back of the store. He walks languidly as if he does not consider Tommy or Thermoculus a threat. In some ways, they aren’t to him. Tommy would never do anything to jeopardize his alliance with Las Nevadas. Thermoculus could do some damage, but even if he cannot fight every member of the Ace of Spades’ security detail. In Las Nevadas, Ultraviolet is easily the second-most powerful person, barely behind Croupier himself. “Speaking of Croupier, I didn’t know you had a meeting with him today.”

“I don’t. I’m here with this fucker to have some fun,” Tommy explains, pointing his thumb at Thermoculus. The villain is tense, eyes darting between Tommy and Ultraviolet. Tommy looks away from. Thermoculus will come to learn what sort of relationship Tommy has with Ultraviolet eventually.

“Fun? The last time you had fun, I had to do paperwork for an entire week. There were so many people who filed complaints against you, and Croupier insists I follow up on every one,” Ultraviolet complains, running a hand over his face and temporarily obscuring part of the swirling galaxy that creates a domino mask around his eyes. His worries reveal the reason he is less powerful than Croupier. No matter how much Ultraviolet bolsters or criticizes authority, he will follow Croupier’s orders. It is mainly about the money, of course, but there is just something about Croupier that allows him to surround himself with powerful people without getting hurt himself. Charisma is one word for it. Tommy is inclined to believe it is something more supernatural.

“I’m here as a tour guide, not a fucking menace. Thermoculus will keep me out of trouble,” Tommy answers, hoping to ease Ultraviolet’s worries.

“Thermoculus won’t do shit,” Ultraviolet sighs. He looks the villain up and down. Thermoculus scowls, glaring right back at Ultraviolet. The Ace of Spades doesn’t comment on the nasty glare he’s receiving that would put him out of commission if Thermoculus wasn’t wearing the sunglasses. “Do what you want. My guards will know that you’re in the borough, however, and Croupier will get a full report about whatever you do.”

“Will you file the report yourself?” Tommy asks as Ultraviolet begins walking away. Ultraviolet flips Tommy off as the glass door of the store closes behind him. Tommy laughs.

“What was that about?” Thermoculus asks once Ultraviolet is no longer in view of the window.

“You can’t find all the best fucking places in Las Nevadas without breaking more than a few laws,” Tommy informs Thermoculus, shrugging his shoulder. He couldn’t explain his relationship with Ultraviolet even if he tried, and he dares not hazard a guess of what other people would call them. “Speaking of, let’s get this tour on a roll! We’re losing daylight!”

Tommy holds the door open for Thermoculus. The villain shakes his head as he files out of the boutique store. Tommy lets the door close behind him. He looks around the street. Although it looks crowded, Tommy knows how terrible it will be when night blankets the borough in darkness. Anyone can throw their inhibitions away in the safety of the moonlight. Only the daring or the foolish can let go of their reticence while the sun judges them. Tommy must admit that he’s done his fair share of dirty work with only the stars as his witness. He wonders if he’s any worse than these people, or if some of them harbor even darker secrets than he does.

“This street is actually an interesting location to start with. Although called the Island of Sin, there are some suburbs on one side of the island. People who retire or want to get away from their mainland lives will move out there. Rich people, especially, but Croupier doesn’t turn anyone away as long as they have something to make it worth the venture. He has a knack for giving people jobs,” Tommy explains, taking a liking to the idea of being a tour guide. “This street and a few neighboring ones are called the Middleground Streets. People from the residential areas and people visiting in the entertainment district come here to do most of their shopping. These few shops are for clothing. There’s a grocery store down the street.”

“But we’re not here for groceries,” Thermoculus proclaims, heading directly to the entertainment district. He takes the normal path, so Tommy nudges his shoulder to hurdle him to a side street. Thermoculus allows him, a little too trusting for Tommy’s liking. The blonde is left assuming that Thermoculus believes in his ability to guide him through Las Nevadas.

“Fuck off. You named me the tour guide, so shut the fuck up and listen to me tell you why this borough is better than you thought is it was,” Tommy defends himself and the island. L’Manberg was Tommy’s home, but it is up in flames now. Prime Heights is a poor imitation of it, and Tommy feels just as uncomfortable in the other boroughs. Las Nevadas is what Tommy names as his primary home these days. He feels safe in this borough, more than he does in the other ones. He doesn’t need to worry about the guild, the Hunters, or the Syndicate. This land is held by Croupier, and Tommy has a partnership with that man. Tommy can enjoy relative peace, as much as he can when his life’s goal is to kill the two people that murdered his family. So, as any normal person would, Tommy is going to defend his home.

“Tell me, then,” Thermoculus replies, making it sound like a challenge. Tommy hesitates. How did he not realize Thermoculus wasn’t using a voice modifier? Tommy didn’t know what he expected Thermoculus’ voice to sound like. It’s… familiar. Tommy doesn’t know where he’s heard it before.

“You’re on,” Tommy says, treating this like a challenge. “We’re entering the entertainment district, what this island is known for and its biggest source of income. We have casinos, fancy restaurants, shitty bathrooms, and a pretty decent fountain. The alcohol gets progressively worse, but you’re too fucked to realize. Safety is maintained by the Ace of Spades’ security force. The buildings are made and managed by the Ace of Diamonds. All secrets and rumors will eventually circulate back to the Ace of Clubs. And don’t fucking mess with the Ace of Hearts. If you encounter him, keep him happy at all costs. If the worst happens, get me or Croupier. We will handle it.”

Tommy and Thermoculus are deposited into the main plaza. The fountain Tommy was referring to earlier stands in front of the largest building in Las Nevadas, a white stone block with a dome. Tommy gestures to both, waiting for Thermoculus to look at them. “The fountain is your average water fixture, but there is a rumor about it. If you throw a coin in the fountain and make a wish, your wish will come true. Fucking crazy, I’ll tell you. If I found a coin, I wouldn’t throw it in a fucking well. I would get it checked out by a pawn shop owner to see what it’d be worth. Come on, let’s go look at the coins.”

Tommy places his hands on Thermoculus’ shoulders to guide him to the edge of the fountain. They peer down into the stone bowl filled with water. There are a few coins littering the bottom, sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. Tommy places his hand across the water’s surface. It feels incredibly cold, but Tommy doesn’t remove his hand. Thermoculus stands beside him, looking at the coins. “Imagine finding a real coin and just throwing it in a fountain.”

“I know, right? They must have some fucking important wishes they want to come true. What would you wish for?” Tommy notes, looking away from the water to glance at Thermoculus. He looks back at the water before he realizes what he just saw. He does a double-take. Thermoculus is giving Tommy a satisfied grin, holding up two silver coins.

“I hear that you shouldn’t reveal what your wish is or else it won’t come true,” Thermoculus says, tossing one of the coins to Tommy. The blonde scrambles to catch it. The coin hits his fingers, rolling down to his palm. He cups his hands, watching the coin fall between his two hands. It reflects the light of the sun, shimmering in Tommy’s hands like real silver. It’s lighter than he thought it would be. Colder, too, but it quickly warms against his skin. He closes his fingers around the coin. It’s so small. He wonders how these didn’t get lost all the time. Tommy opens his hand back up, and the coin is still there.

“Where the fuck did you find these?” Tommy whispers rather reverently. Coins are a symbol of another time, back when espers were hunted down for their powers indiscriminately. This was even before the creation of the guilds.

“Does it matter? You should make a wish,” Thermoculus says. He closes his eyes and tosses the coin into the fountain. Tommy watches it fall into the water, sinking all the way to the bottom of the bowl. Thermoculus wears a smile as he watches, his wish being lowered into the waters alongside everyone else’s.

“I don’t have a wish,” Tommy whispers. He doesn’t have a wish worthy of throwing a coin in the fountain, in any case. There are a few things he wants right now, but this is an artifact from another era being placed into one of the most popular locations in Las Nevadas. He needs to wish for something special. He needs to wish for something that only a miracle could grant.

“That can’t be true. You could wish for victory over Azrael and Inchling. You could wish for peace of mind or happiness. You could wish to not sleepwalk anymore,” Thermoculus lists off. Tommy closes his fist around the coin. He could wish for that, but does he want to? Sleepwalking is a punishment, so he can’t wish that away without something else taking its place. He’s going to get peace of mind and happiness when he achieves his revenge, so he doesn’t need a miracle to give it to him. Victory over Azrael and Inchling means something different to him than it would for anyone else. Tommy has nothing that he wishes for that he cannot get with time and effort. His wish would be insignificant. “Don’t overthink it. There has to be something you want.”

Want. What does Tommy want? Tommy sighs. He closes his eyes, flicking the coin in the air. He hears a quiet splashing noise as the coin sinks under the moving water. Tommy opens his eyes, refusing to look down at the coin. His wish lies at the bottom of the fountain with the wishes of a few others, including Thermoculus. Time will tell if anything they wished for will come true.

“Where to next, mister tour guide?” Thermoculus asks, content to leave their wishes where they left them.

Tommy blinks. He takes a steadying breath before turning to Thermoculus with a smile on his face. “Next is the Needle!”

“The Needle?” Thermoculus questions. Tommy grabs his forearm, dragging him along with him to the opposite side of the plaza. Tommy glances up at the large building in the distance behind the fountain. Tommy wonders what Croupier is doing right now. He wonders how the Jester will react to finding out Tommy threw a coin in the fountain. Croupier once said, jokingly, that he was going to make all of Tommy’s wishes come true. He’s done his best to put Tommy on the right path, but there are some wishes that can’t be granted.

“The Needle is one of the landmarks of this borough. It was one of the first things the Ace of Diamonds built, right after the pyramid and the dragon statue. What a normal tour guide won’t tell you is that Ankh built the entire fucking Needle for me! During my first few months hanging around Las Nevadas, I pestered him for attention. I eventually presented him with the plans for a tower. He took that plan and fucking ran with it. Although the people call this place the Needle, if you ask Ankh about it, he won’t know what you’re talking about unless you call it the Tower,” Tommy explains with a smile rising to his face. 

In those days, much like these days, Ankh was constantly diving into new engineering projects. He treated Las Nevadas how a painter would treat a blank canvas. With Croupier as his personal wallet, Ankh brought all of his crazy ideas to life. Tommy wanted to get close to someone like that, but Ankh had a strange personality. He seemed entirely focused on his projects and wouldn’t let anyone get close to him. Tommy decided the only way to fix this was to attack Ankh with something he liked. Hence, the blueprints for the Tower were made. They were grossly amateur, but Ankh saw enough potential that he began work on the project with Tommy following him around like a lost puppy. Ankh even let him make a few aesthetic decisions. It was one of the funnest things Tommy had ever done. When the tower was completed, Ankh and Tommy sat on the top floor, staring out at the sunrise. Ankh and Tommy had a conversation about something other than building that day. Ankh admitted that Tommy was very different from what he thought he would be like. Tommy took that as a compliment, and Ankh laughed with him as they shared gapple juice.

“That’s…” Thermoculus whispers, cutting himself off when they stand in front of the tall tower. Tommy smiles at it, remembering that it is completely different from the plans he presented to Ankh all those years ago.

“Up we go,” Tommy proclaims, stepping into the water-powered elevator. This was something Ankh added, deciding that Tommy’s idea for a spiral staircase was too impractical for the size he wanted the tower to be. Tommy has no idea how water-powered elevators work, but he thinks the glass walls that allow him to see the borough through a thin layer of water is fascinating. The look on Thermoculus’ face tells Tommy that he agrees.

The glass elevator stops when they reach the top, the cables pulling it up and down clicking. Tommy takes a step onto the carpeted ground of the restaurant. There are a few people in their finest clothing sitting at the tables, laughing and talking with wine- or champagne-glasses in hand. The workers move around gracefully and quickly, delivering food and taking up dirty plates with nimble hands trained for this very task. The host looks up from their reservation book. Their gray eyes widen when they notice Tommy. He waves at them, watching an amused smile spring to their face. Another person well aware of Tommy’s history, it seems.

“I’m gonna show my friend the view. We’ll stay out of your way,” Tommy promises, leading Thermoculus to the wraparound balcony. Tommy jumps up to sit on the railing. He looks over the borough, even to the ocean beyond. This is one of the few things that remained when Ankh remade Tommy’s plans. Tommy wanted the tower to be for observation. He wanted it to have the best view in the borough, a place that anyone could access. Tommy is certain that simple detail is what grabbed Ankh’s attention.

“This is amazing,” Thermoculus whispers, a hand on his head. He leans his forearms against the railing. The wind blows through their clothing, and Tommy is grateful that he chose to wear a jacket. He loves this view, but damn, it gets cold up here.

“There’s the dragon I was telling you about,” Tommy says, pointing in the distance. On one of the smaller, rockier islands around Las Nevadas’ main island, a giant pillar jutted out of the ground. A metal dragon with a ferocious stare and giant maw coiled around the pillar as if it were preparing to take flight. No one was allowed on that island except for those given approval by Ankh. Tommy didn’t have approval by himself, but Ankh takes him to the dragon every once in a while if Tommy does a favor for him. Tommy thinks few things in life are cooler than that massive beast, especially when he learns Ankh mainly built it by himself. Ankh did use his esper abilities to help, but no one else interfered with his work. It was the dragon that really made Ankh the Ace of Diamonds.

“And over there is the pyramid,” Tommy says, pointing to something behind the domed casino Croupier uses as his main base. The pyramid dominates a section of the island, and for good reason because the inside of the pyramid is Ankh’s home. The other aces stay there, too, except for the Ace of Hearts, who stays in the main base with Croupier. Tommy has been there a few times as a guest, but his private quarters are inside the hotel adjacent to the main base. They are reserved for him, and he can access them whenever he wants. He hasn’t stayed in a while because the Syndicate wants to keep eyes on him at all times.

“Master Vendetta,” Someone calls. He looks away from the view to see a silver-haired waiter- the host from earlier- standing at the entrance of the balcony. He holds a platter in his gloved hand, balancing two tall glasses of a translucent gold liquid. Tommy smiles, gesturing for the host to come over. The host does, presenting the platter first to Tommy, who greedily accepts his gapple juice, and then to Thermoculus, who takes his glass more hesitantly. The host places the platter underneath their arm. He frowns at Tommy as the blonde is downing his gapple juice. “Forgive me, Master Vendetta, but I must remind you that Master Croupier does not like it when you sit on the railing like this.”

“Tell worrywart to fuck off,” Tommy mutters, but he slides off the railing. The host smiles, turning away to rejoin his coworkers. Tommy sighs, pressing his back to the railing and looking into the restaurant.

“What was that about?” Thermoculus asks, sipping his juice.

“I accidentally said some stupid shit around Croupier once, and he fucking blew up,” Tommy mutters, decidedly not telling Thermoculus what he told Croupier. He fears that Thermoculus would have a similar reaction. Tommy can still remember the day. It was barely a year ago. He had busted a potential smuggling ring that wanted to take root in Las Nevadas without Croupier’s permission. Croupier took him to dinner here, buying out the entire restaurant to give them privacy. Tommy enjoyed his time with Croupier, eating good food and drinking an unlimited supply of gapple juice. Tommy just had to ruin it when they went to the balcony for some stargazing… Well, ruin is a strong word. Croupier hugged Tommy that day, held him as close as he would hold Slime after the Ace of Hearts lost control of himself. Tommy wouldn’t mind Croupier thinking he was suicidal if the man would give him more hugs like that.

“What did you say?” Thermoculus asks. 

Tommy shakes his head. “I am not telling you. I can only deal with so many fuckers worrying about what they thought I meant. We should go somewhere else. There is one more place I want to show you.”

“Lead the way,” Thermoculus says, though he sounds a little more subdued than he did earlier. Tommy wonders what Thermoculus thinks he said that day. Probably something far worse than what he actually said.

Tommy waves at the workers and particularly the host as he steps back into the elevator. It brings him and Thermoculus down to the ground. Tommy stares out of the glass and water window, trying to search for something specific in the shifting crowds and evening sunlight. Tommy wonders what Ankh is doing right now. Maybe he’s working on a new project. Maybe he’s revisiting an old one.

When they hit the ground, Tommy takes Thermoculus’ hand. He refuses to admit how comfortable he is with the familiar touch. He leads Thermoculus through the thickening crowds, telling himself that they are only holding hands so that Tommy doesn’t lose Thermoculus. Holding his forearm or clothes wouldn’t be enough, Tommy tells himself. If he finds any comfort in it, that is secondary and not worth talking about.

“Here we are,” Tommy proclaims when they reach the white arch hanging over the entrance of the garden. Although Empires has the largest natural reserve, the beauty of Las Nevadas’ garden cannot be overstated. It is well-manicured by professionals on Croupier’s personal payroll. There are flowers here that will not bloom on the mainland. Although Tommy cannot prove it, he would be willing to bet that Briar did some work here. The beautiful roses blooming along the edges of the garden look like her handiwork with how full they are and the pink and red shades are exactly the kind that bloom along her body. Tommy would ask her if their relationship wasn’t built on both of their strange relationships with Ultraviolet.

“Oh, wow. I didn’t think a place like this would exist in Las Nevadas,” Thermoculus admits, placing his hand along a pillar supporting the pavilion that hangs over the small stream-like water feature and the bridge going over it. Tommy steps onto the bridge, placing a hand on the railing to look over at the water lilies blooming along the surface. They are a little small, but Tommy has little doubt that someone will sweep in here soon to cause them to flourish. They will bloom beautifully given a few more days, and the garden will be better for it.

“This venue is mainly used for shotgun weddings or professional photography,” Tommy answers, ready to explain the history of the garden when he notices something on the other end of the bridge. Reynard is discussing something with one of the Ace of Spades’ officers. The man seems emotionally charged, but Reynard waves off his concerns with a hand. The man storms away, brushing past Tommy and Thermoculus. Reynard’s hands disappear as he turns to follow the man. His body comes back into the light when he notices that he has company.

“Hello, Reynard,” Tommy says with a smile on his face. He waves at his ally.

“Hey, Vendetta,” Reynard says through a sigh, running a hand through his hair. His fox ears twitch, and his pupils lock onto Thermoculus. The two stare at each other for a very long moment in silence. Both of Reynard’s tails shoot up anxiously. “Hello, J- uh, Thermoculus.”

“Reynard,” Thermoculus nods without finishing the greeting.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Tommy comments on the awkward atmosphere now contaminating the garden.

“Noth-” Thermoculus starts. His communicator buzzes in his pocket. Thermoculus pulls it out enough to look at the screen. He shoves it back into his pocket with a strange look on his face. “Look, I have to go real quick. Stay here, Vendetta. I’ll… bye, Reynard.”

Thermoculus runs out of the garden, successfully dodging Tommy’s question. The blonde huffs, looking back at Reynard to get more answers from the Ace of Clubs. He finds Reynard coming up to stand beside him on the bridge. Reynard leans his arms on the railing, planting his chest against his forearms and fist. Tommy matches his body language, though he keeps his hands open. He looks down at the stream alongside the fox hybrid. He hums as he asks, “How have you been?”

“Fine,” Reynard answers, answer short and clipped. Tommy nods slowly, taking that answer for what it really is: Reynard doesn’t want to get into it.

“What have you been up to lately?” Tommy asks instead, hoping that Reynard will talk about anything interesting he’s seen or heard. Las Nevadas is a cesspool for rumors, and Reynard is often called the lord of them all.

“Nothing,” Reynard blatantly lies. No member of Croupier’s aces is ever not busy, and they always have at least one interesting story to tell Tommy, especially when he hasn’t been in Las Nevadas in a little while. The last time he was here, he didn’t really get to talk to anyone. All he got was information from Reynard. Croupier was too busy fighting (flirting) with Serenade to pay attention to him. He did have a decent chat with Ultraviolet, at least. He needs to visit Ankh soon.

“Well, you can either make smalltalk with me or tell me what the fuck is going on between you and Thermoculus,” Tommy says, putting his cheek in his palm, looking at Reynard. 

He hears the ace sigh, his ears flicking to show his discomfort. Reynard shrugs. “Thermoculus and I… we used to be like… well, like family. We had a falling out. We’re more like friends now, but even then, it’s hard to be alone with him. We’re close, but not as much as we used to be.”

“Ah, I see. I have a similar relationship with someone.”

“And who would that be? Ultraviolet? Croupier? Someone from the guild?” Reynard tries to guess. He suddenly shakes his head. “You better not say Slime. That guy loves you to death.”

“None of the above. I was talking about Reverie,” Tommy says, a half-smile on his face when he thinks about Slime. He doesn’t want to think about Reverie. The leader of the Hunters was all Tommy had for a long time. They weren’t family in a conventional sense, but they were close to each other. The falling out consisted of Tommy realizing that Reverie was going to hurt Monochrome. Tommy got out of that situation for Monochrome’s sake, and he stayed out when he realized that Reverie wasn’t good for him. But their relationship boiled down consists of them once being family until they had a falling out.

Reynard laughs, light and airy even with a voice modifier. He shakes his head when his laugh peters out, “I don’t think our situations are that similar. I still care about Thermoculus, after all.”

“Hey, I’m trying to be fucking empathetic to your cause here. Cut me some slack,” Tommy says, nudging his elbow into Reynard’s side. The fox hybrid shuffles back, laughing again at Tommy’s childishness. Tommy smiles brightly as well. He likes the quiet moments like these when he can pretend that he has a steady relationship with Reynard. They are normally cold with one another, business and duty coming first. Tommy doesn’t frequently get to see Reynard laugh, but sometimes, when the days become long and the others are gone, Reynard will find some sort of peace in Tommy and Tommy will find companionship in Reynard. It is gone within an hour, evaporated like a puddle in summer, but it can exist for a time if neither of them look too hard for the cracks.

“Fine, fine, thank you,” Reynard says, shaking his head at the same time as his ears. His tails wave in the air merrily as he takes his turn to ask, “How are you, Vendetta?”

“Decent. I’ve been super fucking busy lately. And I’ve just had a long day. A couple of long-ass days, actually,” Tommy admits. He wishes he could talk to Crowfather, but the crow only stops long enough to deliver Ravager’s letters and take Tommy’s to the villain. He can’t very well divulge his grievances to Reynard.

“Was the info I gave you good?” Reynard asks as if he doesn’t already know that he’s one of the best information brokers in the entire city.

“Yeah, it really helped me figure some shit out. Slime was decent, too,” Tommy compliments Reynard and Slime. Reynard seems pleased, so Tommy feels a little bit of regret bursting his bubble with his next words. “But it isn’t enough. We need a heavy-handed strike against the Red Army, and we’ll need to start aiming for the damn cult. We need a plan, but we don’t have enough information for that. We need goals, alliances, what they’ve infiltrated, that shit. I want to know more about this Crimson person, too. They’re the key to all of this, but no one knows anything about them.”

“Well-” Reynard starts, but cuts himself off. He looks at the entrance of the garden. Tommy follows his gaze to see Serenade entering the garden in civilian clothing and his three-fourths mask. Tommy frowns, looking back over at Reynard. The Ace of Clubs is gone. Or, he’s invisible, because Tommy can still feel his body heat next to him. Tommy frowns slightly.

“What are you doing?” Serenade asks, stopping on the path beside the bridge. Tommy looks between the invisible Reynard and Serenade one last time. He steps off the bridge to join Serenade.

“Nothing. Looking at the fishes. Try not to fuck any of them,” Tommy says, ignoring Serenade’s offended gasp. Tommy looks over his shoulder as he starts pushing Serenade out of the gardens. Reynard stands in shadows, his body partially obscured. He gives Tommy a grateful look before he’s completely gone again. 

Chapter Text

“Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the truth, maybe I didn't want things to turn abstract, but I felt I should say it, because this was the moment to say it, because it suddenly dawned on me that this was why I had come, to tell him 'You are the only person I'd like to say goodbye to when I die, because only then will this thing I call my life make any sense. And if I should hear that you died, my life as I know it, the me who is speaking with you now, will cease to exist.”
― André Aciman

The sun was hanging down behind the neon signs of Las Nevadas. While most boroughs were settling down, this one was just waking up. Dozens of people were running around, getting drunk and high and having the time of their lives. It was the island of entertainment, after all. People could enjoy themselves however they pleased while letting go of the past that undoubtedly dragged them down. The thing about Las Nevadas is that people who were truly happy with their lives never came. These streets were filled with people hoping to find that happiness that eluded them. They would probably find it for a moment as they got lost in booze and neon, and that need for happiness would turn into an obsession.

Tommy- still in civilian clothes but wearing his blindfold instead of those stupid sunglasses- watches the shifting crowd in his peripherals. It is a mixture of sparkly clothing, glistening sweat, and the light refracting off glasses of alcohol. Smoke from cigarettes and other drugs spin around in the air like dancing sylphs. Everyone’s body heat merges together, creating a mass of humidity that hangs off people’s skin like an expensive fur coat. As the crowd jostles, bumping into one another, hands splay out to touch whatever it can before their feet can guide them away. People laugh merrily, swatting away what grows closer with careless smiles. He can almost hear the disgusting undercurrent of their impure thoughts. It slides around him sludge, climbing into his ears to whisper his darkest desires to him. Unfortunately for the sickness in Las Nevadas, Tommy’s wants carry him far away from this slowly sinking island.

The center plaza pulsates with energy as Tommy stands beside the fountain. Even the cool spray from the water does little to chase away the fiery phantoms that grab at him like chains and nooses. Tommy places his hands on the side of the fountain’s bowl. He stares at his reflection on the water’s edge. He hasn’t looked healthy a day in his life, but he seems unusually sickly in the clear water. Tommy braces for a shock as he starts to lower his head into the water. Before his hair can touch the surface, Tommy feels a gentle hand on his back. He shoots up, his arms almost buckling under the new weight thrusted upon them. Tommy blinks owlishly at Serenade. The villain is frowning, and he seems to be saying something. Tommy has to strain to hear him over the booming music and roaring mass of voices.

“Are you okay?” Serenade seems to be asking. Tommy sighs, raising his hands to wrap around his upper arms. For as much time as he spends in Las Nevadas, he quickly forgets how much he hates it. He feels so unlike himself in this place, but it is never in the way he wants to. He doesn’t forget who he is so much as glances at himself in a new funny mirror. It distorts everything he knows and holds dear, and he cannot stand it. Everyone else gets to make a clean break from their past on these shores, so why does it feel like Tommy is dancing even closer to the hole in the ground waiting to become his grave?

“We should… Over here,” Tommy decides, grabbing Serenade’s hand. At the moment, touch makes his skin crawl. He looks around at the crowd, knowing that they will continue to bump into him and touch what they shouldn’t. He holds Serenade’s hands close, though. He should be just as terrified of this skin contact as he is with the crowd’s roaming fingers. In fact, he should probably be more terrified since he could defend himself against the mob, and Serenade would prove challenging to beat. He doesn’t. He makes certain Serenade cannot let go of his hand because it feels like an anchor in the crashing waves of light and smoke forming an ocean around him. He may be stranded, but at least he remains tethered to a fixed point that he can and will navigate himself back to should stormy weather approach.

“Oh, Master Vendetta!” The bouncer calls as Tommy and Serenade approach a building. Music falls from the open windows and constantly moving doorway, blaring and booming with heavy bass and a synth harmony. Despite this, Tommy knows this club is probably the least crowded place in all of Las Nevadas, other than Croupier’s private corridors. If he was alone, Tommy would have gone there, but he would prefer feeling uncomfortable than making Croupier and Serenade feel awkward around each other. “Are you okay?”

Tommy glances at the man. Tommy doesn’t know him personally, but most people working in Las Nevadas know of Tommy. Plus, this bouncer is wearing the spade insignia that marks him as property of Ultraviolet. The Ace of Spades did tell Tommy he was going to make sure all his men knew Tommy was coming around. It isn’t too surprising that this man would recognize Tommy. “Fucking better than okay, you know? I want to party, though. Are you gonna let us in or do I need to pull my card out?”

“No need for that. Boss told us to let you do what you want,” The bouncer answers, and Tommy has trouble believing Ultraviolet said that. He probably told his men to be on the lookout for any suspicious behavior Vendetta was exhibiting. This would definitely be out of the ordinary. Tommy has never gone into a club unless it was to meet an informant, and in those cases, no one knew it was him. To someone like this bouncer, this is Tommy’s first time. At least Tommy picked a reasonable club to start with. The central plaza is like Croupier’s personal courtyard. All these businesses are held to a higher standard, and they are pretty expensive. Only the most well-behaved criminals and deviants are allowed to enter these halls. Tommy won’t be pushed around here because everyone will know that he’s meant to be there.

The bouncer glances at Serenade skeptically. “Don’t cause any trouble.”

Tommy waves his hand. Tommy might not get any trouble for being here, but Serenade definitely will. Serenade is a man to be feared, even by other villains. He’s dangerous, powerful, and usually crazy. He is known for the games he plays, and that will set everyone on edge. Tension in a place like this is like sparks against firewood. It won’t be long before everything is up in blazes, and Serenade will be the last one standing. Tommy is going to make sure Serenade remains in check. “I swear that he’ll be on his best fucking behavior. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I believe you… though, the two of you probably shouldn’t be left alone together,” The bouncer laughs jovially, the sound unpleasant coming from a man with so many muscles and a terrifying glare. Tommy sighs because he knows the bouncer is probably right. Tommy has done his fair share of chaotic things on the island, and with Ultraviolet’s warning hanging over their heads, the bouncer has the right to be suspicious. Serenade by himself is something to pay close attention to, so it is natural to assume that if the two of them join forces, the island will probably lie on the bottom of the bay by morning.

Tommy gestures into the interior of the club. He can see people moving around on the dance floor. There are some groups sitting at tables along the edges of the main room, and Tommy can identify all the guards in Ultraviolet’s security force, whether they’re in uniform or not. “We won’t be alone. Now, piss off.”

The bouncer steps out of the way, letting Tommy and Serenade into the club. Tommy winces immediately. It is hotter inside the club than outside of it. The scent of alcohol is more concentrated, but the other drugs have basically faded away. The music is jarring, but there are no other identifiable sounds accompanying it like people talking or laughing. Tommy grimaces, pushing his way through the crowd, realizing as he walks that he never let go of Serenade’s hand. He didn’t even ask the villain if he wanted to come. He shouldn’t care what a villain wants, but the thought lingers even when reason tries to sweep it away. Tommy only brought him here because there was nowhere else on the island as protected yet relatively empty that would not spark discomfort. At least, Serenade shouldn’t be uncomfortable. The villain, as the rumors say, lives for parties like this. Tommy should be the only one who feels like a thousand bugs are crawling over his skin at the mere thought of all these people rubbing up against his scars. Tommy shudders. He wasted his wish earlier. He should have wished to care less.

Tommy plops down at an empty table in the far corner of the room, closer to the bar than the dance floor. Serenade takes off the dark blue-black jacket he wears over his black sweater, putting on the back of the chair he wants to sit on. He lifts his hand to push his brown hair back, showing off the intricacies of the three-fourths mask he’s wearing. Serenade sets himself in the high chair like a king settling onto their throne. His glowing green eyes sweep across the room, taking note of the changing atmosphere. Tommy leans his chin down on his forearm, closing his eyes to decrease the amount of stimuli running rampant in his mind. After a moment, Tommy feels something cool brush against his palm. He blinks his eyes open. Serenade seems to be doodling something on Tommy’s palm with his finger. When he notices Tommy’s gaze, he smiles. “Hello. Do you mind telling me what that was about with the bouncer?”

“Oh,” Tommy says dumbly, remembering that not everyone knows the infamous tales about him. “I used to do some crazy shit when I wanted Croupier’s attention. Still do, but at least the shit I do know doesn’t destroy public property. He would get pissed every time I pulled that sort of shit. He never did punish me, though, so I never fucking learned. I just kept doing it until Croupier made a better system. He’s good at shit like that… making systems, managing problems…”

“You two sound like you’re close. I thought you were just allies,” Serenade surmises, continuing to make random shapes across Tommy’s palm. It feels practiced, if not a little familiar. Tommy doesn’t remember doing something like this with anyone. He can guess that Serenade has done it before, but Tommy doesn’t know why he’s doing it now. It does help settle his mind, though. He prefers Serenade’s cool touch to the heat of the room even though he realistically knows one of those can kill him faster than the other.

A waitress comes over. She places two glasses on the table. Tommy recognizes his own glass as gapple juice, but he has no idea what she gave Serenade. Tommy doesn’t even know why they were given drinks. They didn’t order them. The establishment might know what Tommy likes, but how would they know what Serenade likes? From the way Serenade curiously sips it, it isn’t his beverage of choice. Tommy rolls his eyes. He doesn’t care. He drinks his juice, realizing belatedly that it tastes a little funny. He glances down at it again, sniffing cautiously. It’s spiked, he realizes, but he doesn’t stop drinking it. Perhaps getting drunk is the answer to his problems. Maybe that’s why everyone else can relax in these horrid conditions when Tommy feels moments away from panicking.

“So, what’s your relationship with Croupier like?” Serenade asks, reaching for Tommy’s hand again. Tommy lets Serenade draw all he wants since it doesn’t do anything to hurt him. In fact, it makes him feel better.

“After I joined the guild, I decided I wanted to do more shit. Make connections, you know? I went to Croupier for a deal. I was looking for anything. He let me do small jobs… meaningless shit, really. I was free labor, and all I wanted to be paid was information. I would have done anything for even the smallest scraps he gave me. Fuck, he told me next to nothing in those early days,” Tommy explains. He doesn’t really have anything to hide. What does it matter if Serenade knows how Croupier and Tommy met, how they became allies?

“What changed?” Serenade asks, tilting his head curiously. 

Tommy takes another sip of his drink. “I was one of the fastest heroes to go from an F-rank to a D-rank. I also went after Minotaur… Well, I fought him. Same difference to fuckers like Croupier. I was taken seriously by everyone when I did that. Croupier saw something in me. He saw potential, I guess. I don’t give a fuck what bullshit he spewed; I care that he started giving me more important jobs and giving me more information. After he found Slime, he decided to… fuck, the first word that came to my mind was raise us. Croupier didn’t fucking raise me. He raised Slime, but he was only my teacher. He was my…”

Tommy shakes his head. He is not friends with Croupier. A man like the Jester does not have friends, and even if he did, why would Tommy be one of them? He takes another sip and continues, “I had Croupier when I had no one else. He took me under his wing, and I became part of his… He called us his legacy. Me and Slime, I mean. I don’t know what the fuck he meant by that to this day, but he looked different when he said it. I guess that’s why I remember the cringy bullshit that came from his smartmouth.”

“Why do you stick with the guild if Croupier’s your ally?” Serenade continues to prod. Tommy frowns at him. He can forgive this question since the Syndicate hates the Hero’s Guild, but Tommy doesn’t understand why it matters that much. None of this is important. It won’t help Serenade subdue him or threaten him. It won’t make Tommy all that weaker just because Serenade knows. The entire Syndicate could know. Nothing would come of it. Serenade could be asking such smarter questions, but it feels like he wants to get to know Tommy personally. A stupid thought, gone before it takes root in his mind, but its existence means something is wrong here. Tommy takes a longer gulp of his drink.

“Croupier wants Las Nevadas to prosper. This is his real fucking legacy, not me and Slime. He wants it to exist long after he’s gone. Croupier also wants the power to control his life and secure his safety. He’s struggled with that in the past because of Minotaur’s bullshit. Croupier made this entire borough to fight for that kind of peace,” Tommy explains. He wonders if anyone else knows that. It isn’t exactly a secret, but most people don’t like thinking that Croupier- the Jester of Las Nevadas, the Dealer of the Aces, the Jack of All Trades, even more flattering nicknames- was infallible at one point. Tommy himself hates thinking like that. He prefers the strong, manipulative businessman who controls Las Nevadas both in the light and in the shadows. “Making an enemy of the Syndicate will ruin all of his fucking plans. Everything he’s worked for… he won’t risk that, not for me. I’m not his fucking friend or his godsdamn legacy. He isn’t going to save me when things go wrong.”

“Who will, then?” Serenade asks. Tommy blinks. He finishes off the rest of his alcoholic juice. He places the glass back on the table. He frowns at it, and the waitress soon appears with another glass. She takes his previous one. He tries to thank her, but his voice doesn’t come out. He can’t even lift his eyes away from the one spot on the floor. He sips at his drink absentmindedly. A heavy warmth settles in his stomach like a heated stone. It isn’t uncomfortable. It just makes it hard to focus on anything other than the feeling. He comes back in time to hear Serenade asking again, “Vendetta, who will save you if Croupier doesn’t?”

“No one. Fucking… no one. When shit hits the fan, I’ll be alone to handle the fallout,” Tommy hisses, feeling tears rise to his eyes. He knew this, though. He purposefully sets himself apart from everyone in his life. He refuses to carry attachments- a lesson taught to him by both Reverie and Croupier. When he does get his revenge or some version of it, he will be alone. Alone in the fight. Alone in the defeat or the victory. Alone afterwards, whatever happens to him. He’s alone now, and he’ll be alone then, just like how he was alone in the past.

“Vendetta, what are you going to do if you fail?” Serenade asks slowly, and they both know that he’s talking about Tommy’s revenge plot. “What will you do if you succeed?”

“Obvious, innit?” Tommy laughs, though it sounds a little wet and broken from his lips. He glances at his drink. Is the alcohol really making it better? It isn’t making it worse, per se.

“What are you talking about?” Serenade asks, tilting his head curiously. Tommy watches the action, feeling the urge to laugh again. He doesn’t understand how Serenade doesn’t understand what will happen to Tommy. It seems pretty obvious. He thought everyone knew.

“I like the music,” Tommy says, setting his arms back on the table. He leans forward, presenting Serenade with his winning smile. Tommy can’t remember the last time he smiled, but it feels okay to do so right now.

“I refuse to believe you just said that. This music is garish. It is loud and heartless, barely able to be called ‘music,’” Serenade says, leaning back in his seat. He’s smiling, though, and Tommy really feels like crying. He knows that smile. He knew it, at least, a long time ago, though he can’t quite place it.

“It’s better than your music,” Tommy jokes, completely lying. He loves Serenade’s music. The esper practices all the time in the apartment, so the music is shoved down Tommy’s throat. It’s catchy, though, so he doesn’t kick up too much of a fuss. He will admit that he prefers the lullabies Serenade will sometimes sing under his breath when he’s watching over Tommy.

“Oh, you are wrong when you are drunk,” Serenade mutters, eliciting a laugh from Tommy. Now that Serenade mentions it, Tommy does feel buzzed. Everything is a tad fuzzy, but it doesn’t worry him. It dulls anything sharp that tries to strike at him.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t alcohol make you more honest or some shit?” Tommy asks. Serenade glares at Tommy, but the green glow in his eyes doesn’t do anything to Tommy. He should feel some fear. He really should, but the giggles tumble out before he can stop them.

“I don’t know about that. You just seem to get sillier with alcohol,” Serenade laughs alongside Tommy. This makes Tommy smile. He decides he likes Serenade’s laugh.

“Silly, huh?” Tommy repeats, leaning back against his chair. He takes his glass with him. He continues sipping on it slowly, turning his attention to the dance floor. He doesn’t recognize a single person. All of their faces blur together with their movements and the strobing lights. He thinks he sees the waitress that brought them drinks, but whoever it is disappears before Tommy can confirm. He could have been completely wrong. It doesn’t matter if he was or wasn’t. He doesn’t know why he’s trying to find familiarity in the constantly changing scene. Honestly, it feels like a game of spotting the difference in between each illumination of the lights.

“Hey, Vendetta, can I talk to you about something?” Serenade asks. Tommy looks around from his game at Serenade. Tommy’s smile falls flat when he notices the intense look he’s giving the rim of his glass, twirling around the drink inside with some strange sort of fascination. Tommy nods his head, wondering what Serenade is going to ask. The villain sighs, setting the cup back on the table. “I want to know more about your family.”

“Oh…” Tommy murmurs. He puts his glass on the table across from Serenade’s drink. Tommy closes his eyes, grabbing the edges of his seat. “My family… I had brothers and sisters. We only had each other. The world fucking hated us, but we loved each other. But love doesn’t mean peace. We had a fight… No, no, I started a fucking that damn argument. I was angry about something so fucking stupid. I wish I could strangle my younger self and tell him that nothing matters more than staying with my family. But I ran. I ran like a fucking coward. By the time I came back, they were dead. All of them. Just bodies on fucking stretchers. Running saved my life, but…”

Tommy doesn’t finish. Serenade leans forward in his seat, something searching in his eyes. “What were they like? What were their names?”

“Huh? Well, my older brother’s name was-” Tommy starts, but Serenade tenses up. Tommy presses his lips together. Serenade pulls out his communicator from the pocket of the jacket hanging off his chair. The villain hisses something beneath his breath. He drops the communicator on the table with a harsh expression. He barely glances at Tommy as he marches out of the bar, leaving behind his communicator and jacket. Tommy assumes that means Serenade will be back soon. Tommy sips more of his drink, closing his eyes as he waits for Serenade.

Tommy feels the table vibrate. He opens his eyes. Serenade’s communicator is going off. The blonde frowns, reaching over the table to grab it. He looks at the screen, but the words merge together in front of him. He clicks the green button, putting the communicator against his ear. He burps quietly, answering, “Hullo?”

“Vendetta?” A monotone voice responds. The blonde blinks. He knows that gruff voice. It’s Ravager! Tommy smiles, listening to Ravager continue speaking, “Where is Serenade?”

Tommy’s smile drops away. He looks back at the chair across from him. Serenade is still gone along with Tommy’s drink. All that remains is the coat. Tommy waddles off his chair, stumbling over to the coat. He presses his fingers against the soft surface. He whispers softly to Ravager, “I think he left me.”

Ravager sighs, and Tommy can’t tell what emotions are encapsulated in that one exhale. Tommy reaches into the pockets of the coat. He fingers grab something leather, and he pulls out a wallet. Tommy runs his fingers along the side of the wallet. “I have his fucking wallet. I could steal all his fucking credits. I could even look at his ID if I wanted. I could hold it over his fucking head. I’d make him do shit for me, you know?”

Tommy places the wallet back in the pocket. He uses the card Croupier gave him to pay for the drinks, sliding the metal through the card scanner attached to the table. It flashes green, accepting Tommy’s payment. “I won’t. I just don’t fucking care enough. Serenade is an asshole, in and out of the mask. What does it matter to me what the fuck his momma calls him?”

“Where are you?” Ravager asks.

“A club. Las Nevadas. Trader Jack’s, maybe? I can’t fucking read right now. It’s the one in the central plaza,” Tommy answers, glancing around the room. He hears Ravager start to move on the other side of the line. Tommy frowns, wondering what Ravager is doing. He hasn’t ended the call, though, so Tommy starts talking. “You know, alcohol is called a depressant. I think that shit’s wild. People drink it to make them happy, you know? That’s what Croupier told me when I asked him, at least. I think that’s bullshit. Alcohol just makes me feel… I feel empty right now. But is that the alcohol? I felt happy earlier. Was that the alcohol? What the fuck does alcohol do, Ravager? I’m getting mixed signals. It’s like one of my many bitch wives. They frequently give me mixed signals. Or I gave them mixed signals because I’m so fucking awesome that I don’t have to make up my mind. You’d be surprised how hard it is for me to make up my mind. I’m stubborn as hell, but it takes me a fucking moment to realize what the hell I want to be stubborn about. Do you have that problem? You don’t seem like the type. You’re a… You’re fucking great. I mean, I hate you, but… you might be the coolest person I’ve ever met. Other than Phil. And me, of course. And maybe Crowfather, but he’s a bird. I miss him. He hasn’t come to see in a fucking while.”

Tommy grabs Serenade’s coat. He puts his arms through the sleeves. The coat obviously doesn’t fit him since Serenade is taller than him but wearing it brings Tommy immeasurable comfort. Tommy leans more on the communicator. “What was I talking about? I don’t really remember. Something important, I bet. I remember what I was talking to Serenade about. He asked me about my family. He wanted to know what they were like. It’s weird. I spend so much time trying to get revenge, but I don’t talk about my family often. No one to talk to, I guess. No one cares enough. We were fucking street kids. Dirty, ugly, illiterate, and destined to die young from sickness or some shit. But damn it if I didn’t love them. They were better than me, you know? Kinder, smarter, braver… all of that shit. Yet I’m the one who lived. I lived because I was a fucking coward. The last thing I told my brother was that I hated him. I don’t. I never fucking did, but he died thinking that I did. Or maybe he knew. Maybe he knew that I loved him. I can hope he did. I’ll ask him when I go to the afterlife.”

Tommy turns, heading outside of the club. He doesn’t know why he was staying there. His stomach hurts. His head is aching. His vision is as faulty as his wobbling steps. It’s so hot in the club, and Tommy would rather be somewhere that isn’t blaring with music and filled with sweaty people. Tommy steps into the street, wincing at the new crowd. “I fucking hate people. Bad shit happens when too many gather together. Villains like attacking crowds… You probably already knew that, you fucking villain. But even if no one gets killed, other bad shit goes down. It gets so fucking hot and sweaty. People just fucking touch you. I understand why people fucking stay home. This isn’t fucking worth it. I only came to this damn club because it was a place where the fewest people would be without Serenade and Croupier crossing paths. I looked out for that fucking bastard, and what do I get? He fucking abandoned me. Left his shit, too, so I guess I can’t feel too bad.”

Tommy stumbles through the street, and he finds himself pressed up against the gate of the garden. Tommy scrambles against the wall until he finds the gate. The park is locked up for the night, but Tommy drunkenly puts in the code for the padlock. It swings open. Tommy stumbles inside, hoping none of Ultraviolet’s guards saw him. He closes the gate, darting between the bushes of the garden until he comes to a soft place to sit down. He titters side to side, but he remains upright. “I like nature. My brother liked nature. He loved bees, specifically. They were his favorite animal… bug… whatever. He liked them. He really fucking liked them.”

Tommy stops talking, listening to the steady humming noise coming from Ravager’s side of the call. Tommy closes his eyes as he listens until he’s suddenly met with silence. His eyes open wide, and he lowers the communicator into lap. Ravager hung up on him. Tommy frowns. He should have expected that, so why do the tears in his eyes start to fall?

“There you are,” Tommy hears. He looks up, and he recognizes the person approaching him vaguely. A few weeks ago, when he first started investigating the Red Army, he saved a piglin hybrid from getting mugged. This looks an awful lot like the piglin from that time, but this one is wearing a strange mask around his face to obscure some of the details. After a moment, Tommy realizes that he’s wrong. This is Ravager, not the piglin from that time. Tommy blames the alcohol in his system and tears in his eyes for the confusion. He’s never seen Ravager in civilian clothes, either. It was a common mistake. “Come here.”

Ravager lifts Tommy up. He places Tommy on his back, holding the underside of Tommy’s knees while Tommy’s arms fold around his neck. The blonde would complain, but the jostling sensation makes him feel sick. He buries his face in Ravager’s shoulder, fighting off the nausea as Ravager starts to move. Tommy peeks up after a moment, watching the garden get farther away. He frowns slightly, and he turns to look up at Ravager. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Ravager asks, raising an eyebrow as he keeps his attention on the crowd around them. If anyone gets too close, Ravager glares at them until the crowd parts for him, giving a wide berth. The people are too out of it to really understand the gravity of the situation, but few things can completely dull instincts, especially when those instincts are saving people from facing the wrath of the one-man army Ravager.

“I couldn’t help you and Dyscardia. I was a coward… again,” Tommy whispers, feeling the tears rise into his eyes again.

Ravager sighs. “Go to sleep, Vendetta.”

“Fuck no. Tell me you’re angry at me right this minute,” Tommy says, trying to sit up. He grimaces, feeling ready to pass out. He holds onto consciousness with his stubbornness, though, because he needs to know. He stares intently into Ravager’s eyes. He needs someone to be angry with him. He thought for sure Thermoculus was going to be, but since he wasn’t, Tommy will simply have to go to the scariest person in this situation for validation.

Ravager sighs. “I am angry, Vendetta, but that is not all I am. I understand why you reacted the way you did. Therefore, I can learn to part with my anger and forgive. I don’t like getting hurt. I don’t like seeing the people I care about hurt, either.”

Tommy accepts this answer. It hurts, but this pain is far more familiar than everyone’s unconditional forgiveness. Tommy likes being held accountable, though this situation would probably hit closer to home if someone would actually hit him. He supposes that won’t happen. Despite being known as the worst villains, the Syndicate doesn’t seem keen on corporal punishment.

“Vendetta, I did not like seeing your panic-stricken face. It made me feel-” Ravager tries to say, but Tommy starts laughing at his joke. Why would someone as powerful as Ravager care about Tommy?

Tommy rests his head against Ravager’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, murmuring something about Ravager’s sense of humor before sleep takes him.

Chapter Text

"It's hard to be done a favor by a man you hate. It's hard to hate him so much afterwards. Losing an enemy can be worse than losing a friend, if you've had him for long enough."

― Joe Abercrombie

Techno plops down on the couch, releasing a breath as the furniture starts supporting his weight. He moves his shoulders, kneading a place for himself on the cushion. He tilts his head up, staring at the ceiling. The dull light flickers as his eyes pass over it, but it springs back to full brightness when he focuses on the intersecting lines. He grabs a pillow from the back of the couch, lifting his head up enough to put the pillow beneath his hair. He lies down, letting his eyes drift shut slowly. He continues to maneuver his body around until he finds a suitable position. It isn't that he's uncomfortable; it's that he's too comfortable. He needs to be ready to jump to alertness the moment he hears an unusual sound. He cannot risk falling too deeply into sleep.

Although Techno knew exactly where Wilbur and Vendetta would be staying, this was his first time visiting. The interior immediately reminded him of his brother. After a rough childhood, Wilbur gravitated towards simple comforts. He wanted what he was never allowed to have. Techno was fine in whatever circumstances he found himself in as long as Phil and Wilbur were there, but he wasn't going to begrudge his brother for his luxuriousness, especially when he concedes that the couch is tantalizingly comfortable. When Wilbur returns, Techno is going to force him to keep watch while Techno gets some well-deserved deep sleep.

For now, however, Techno will keep watch. Vendetta is asleep in the other room, and with the potency of the alcoholic smell coming off of him, he should be pretty deep under.

Techno was forced to clean up Wilbur's mess. He left Vendetta alone in Las Nevadas with his jacket, communicator, and wallet because he had some problems he needed to deal with that couldn't wait. Vendetta was kind enough not to mess with Wilbur's stuff, but Techno knows just how valuable that sort of information would be to anyone else. Even worse, Vendetta was fairly drunk when Techno found him. He was ranting about random things, and he looked to be crying when Techno finally found him down the street from where he was supposed to be in some garden. Techno knows how terrible Vendetta's mental state is. With recent events and the inclusion of alcohol, Techno felt pangs of worry course through him when he entered into an empty club. If Techno didn't unleash his inherited powers on some waitress, Techno fears he wouldn't have found Vendetta at all.

Techno is slowly learning that Vendetta has no idea what his true worth is. He is one of the few people who survived the bombing of L'Manberg. He is the only known person to ever garner an intense reaction from Reverie, a villain notorious for being completely apathetic. He was made a hero on the recommendation of the Hero Guild's master. He defeated Minotaur in a fight, dragging down the so-called President of Manberg to Pandora's Vault. He forged a stable connection with Croupier, and Jack's mission report shows that he has an enviable relationship with even the coldest and least corruptible Aces. Jack's report also implies that Vendetta has some sort of quasi-friendship with Tempestarius, and Techno finds it difficult to admit she isn't a good acquaintance to have. To top it all off, Vendetta has a rather powerful esper ability and a tenacity unmatched by anyone Techno has ever met. If someone got their hands on Vendetta- convinced him they were his ticket to getting revenge- Techno knows that Vendetta will become a difficult opponent to face. He could beat Vendetta in a fight, yes, but Techno has seen Vendetta beat enemies much stronger than him. Techno doesn't like uncertainties, and Vendetta is the very variable Techno is trying his damnedest to solve.

Techno groans, running a hand over his face. His fingers catch on his mask, and he lets hand fall to his side. The people Techno is subconsciously worrying about is the Red Army. The Cult of Erythr, specifically, the specialized unit that has been somehow convinced by a figure called Crimson that they have their best interests at heart. If Crimson is as good as it seems, it won't take too much conversation to bring Vendetta over to his side. With Reaper part of the Cult of Erythr, Crimson needs only to have him summon Vendetta's dead family to do the convincing for him. Maybe Reaper could conjure an illusion of them to say exactly what Crimson wants them to say.

Techno shakes his head. It will do him little good to worry about this. Vendetta has a deal with the Syndicate right now. He won't go back on that. Even if this arrangement isn't providing him with the information he wants, it is too valuable to Vendetta to be entirely discarded.

Techno folds his hands over his stomach. What he needs is sleep, not more contemplation. He can think about all of this in the morning, not the dead of night. This is all because Wilbur can't plan his outings more accordingly.

—

Whispering. A thousand hushed whispers snake through his ears, wrapping around his mind as if it were prey. Light is shrouded in thick blackness, darkness crawling over one another to reach him. Techno opens his eyes a tiny bit, enough to notice the unstable forms of shadows reaching out for him. Techno shifts, knowing that the shadows are warning him of something. They woke him up, and although they cannot directly tell him what for, they seem increasingly urgent.

Techno feels a cold wind ripple across his body. His eyes snap open, and he sits up on the couch. He looks around for the intruder. Since he feels wind, he looks immediately towards the balcony. He reaches for his knife, but his fingers hesitate inches from the hilt. The shadows pool back into the one behind him, content that he finally understands what they woke him up for. They weren't trying to save his life. They were trying to save Vendetta's. The hero is standing on the railing of the balcony. His body is slumped, content and apathetic, while his head is held up so he can see the rising sun over the cerulean waves.

Techno practically falls off the couch as he gracelessly scrambles forward. He reaches his arms out, eyes widening when Vendetta's body begins to tip forward. Techno grabs Vendetta's waist, yanking back immediately. Vendetta's body falls weightlessly on his chest. His knees buckle together, but Techno holds him upright. Techno breathes heavily, taking a few steps backward to help him get his bearings. He crosses the threshold of the apartment, landing back in the conditioned air of the apartment. The cold wind nips at him occasionally, carrying the scent of salt and not of blood.

"Why the hell-" Techno demands, but Vendetta continues to show no reaction. Techno reaches a hand up to Vendetta's throat. He finds a heartbeat, but it is too slow for Vendetta to be conscious. Techno brings them both to the ground, keeping Vendetta against his chest and in his lap. Vendetta's head lolls back against Techno's shoulder. Techno calms down slowly, pushing away his tumultuous instincts.

Wilbur mentioned Vendetta was a sleep-walker. Techno witnessed him sleep-walking two nights ago. There was nothing more to it. Techno didn't believe for a second that there would be anything more to it. Why would Vendetta sleep-walk to the railing? Why would he tip over? Is this a new thing? No, it can't be. But if it isn't, why didn't Wilbur mention this in any of his reports? Did Wilbur know? He must have if they were living so close together. Unless Vendetta doesn't sleep often... Techno already knows the kind of stuff he eats. It wouldn't surprise Techno that Vendetta cheated his way out of other healthy functions.

Vendetta murmurs in his sleep, his body twisting more into Techno's hold. The hybrid exhales heavily. He lifts Vendetta up, placing him on the couch where Techno had been dozing. Vendetta turns onto his side, facing Techno with parted lips and quiet breaths. Techno sits on his knees beside Vendetta. He stares at the golden hair as his mind spirals. Either Vendetta sleep-walks into dangerous or suicidal situations. If Techno works by that fact, it makes Vendetta's visit to him and Niki a lot more sinister. Techno knew Vendetta would harbor guilt, but would it be bad enough that he subconsciously thought Techno and Niki were going to kill him? Did he want that?

Techno sighs into his hands. He didn't think Vendetta could get more complex than he already was. It seems that the cost for power and importance is a heavy burden to bear. Techno frowns. Why do the other Syndicate members have to pick the most unstable person to grow attached to? As Techno's shadow peers over his shoulder, he realizes that he's made the same mistake they all did.

Techno hears a groan. He lifts his head up from his hands. Vendetta's face shifts as awareness begins to overtake him. He falls onto his back, lifting a hand up to his face. He pinches the place between his eyes through the blindfold he had been wearing when Techno picked him up from Las Nevadas. Techno looks at the hero unimpressed. "Are you hungover?"

Vendetta groans louder instead of verbally answering. Techno huffs something not dissimilar to a laugh. Techno glances at the kitchen, speaking slowly. "I'll make you something for your hangover if you tell me why you were on the railing."

"The fuck? Railing?" Vendetta mutters with a groggy voice, lifting his hand away from his face. He searches the room for an explanation, and his eyes land on the balcony. Vendetta lets his head fall back on the pillow. Vendetta frowns at Techno, "Did you put the chain on?"

"Chain?" Techno asks, immediately whipping his head back to Vendetta.

"And here I thought Serenade couldn't keep his damn mouth shut. I guess he didn't spill these beans even if these beans don't fucking matter," Vendetta laughs slowly. He lifts up his hand, pulling down his sleeve to show the faded scars running along the skin. Techno can tell that some are older than others, but they all seem to have been caused by the same weapon. Vendetta also stares at his wrist as he explains, "I sleep-walk into dangerous situations. I usually wake up before I fucking kill myself. If I need sleep, which isn't fucking often, I chain myself to the bed to make sure I don't finally jump of the roof this time... or drown in the ocean... or breath in the smog. It's fucking depressing. Serenade has taken to watching over me while I sleep these days so I guess... Well, I suppose I freaked you out, didn't I? Serenade was just as spooked when I told him."

Techno has seen those scars on Vendetta before. He thought they came from the Hunters, like the scars on his jaw did. Techno didn't stop to think further into the matter. The idea that they were self-inflicted never crossed his mind, not even as a shapeless worry he couldn't quite name. Techno looks down, wondering what else he doesn't know about Vendetta. "You fulfilled your side of the bargain."

Techno walks into the kitchen. He begins pulling out ingredients to make a home-made remedy for hangovers. It isn't foolproof, but Jack and Wilbur have assured Techno that it alleviates the worst of their symptoms. Jack was even tempted to start selling it as his bar, but Techno refuses to hand over the recipe. Techno only knows this remedy because one of the previous owners of his powers was a drunkard that hated the morning headache. They tried everything to make this remedy, though Techno refuses to access their memories of the trial-and-error process. He only pays attention to the end results.

Techno frowns as he works, letting his thoughts rise back to the surface. Before working with him, Techno had an image of Vendetta in his mind. He researched the necessary facts about the hero- his connections and powers. Techno thought that was all he needed to know. Since knowing Vendetta, however, Techno is learning a lot more crucial details. He never knew how close Vendetta was with the Deck of Las Nevadas. He never knew about Vendetta's strained relationship with the guild. He never knew what emotions were pounding in Vendetta's heart when he took down Minotaur. He never knew how terrible Vendetta's mental state was. This information isn't important to defeating Vendetta, but it does paint a more complete image of Vendetta in Techno's mind.

When Techno was younger, he didn't have anyone. He was a Piglin hybrid who illegally wandered from the Nether to the Overworld. He was despised by everyone until he stumbled upon another Piglin hybrid bleeding in an alleyway. Techno was given that man's powers, inheriting them merely because he was the only person around. Techno lost a lot of time trying to reclaim his identity and sanity in the madness that is dozens of people's powers consolidating together.

Fortunately, Techno stumbled upon another boy with tears constantly in his eyes. Techno would have killed that boy if he didn't use his esper abilities to control Techno. Under the esper's command, Techno found his personality again. Techno swore to protect Wilbur if he would keep Techno in control. Over time, Techno learned to control his new powers without Wilbur's help, but Techno couldn't abandon Wilbur- not when his instincts latched onto the esper. The only other person Techno's instincts latched onto was Phil. Despite his friendships with other Syndicate members, he would sacrifice anything to keep Phil and Wilbur safe.

Techno glances over at Vendetta. He frowns while looking away. His instincts have not latched onto the rude hero, even if they no longer acknowledge him as any sort of threat. Techno only fears that they will find some excuse to bring Vendetta close, and Techno cannot afford that weakness. Vendetta is, simply put, a problem. He is reckless, stubborn, and a danger to everyone around him- especially himself. Vendetta is irrational and chaotic, everything Techno despises. Techno has no obligation to the hero. He should hate him because of how often he says he will kill Azrael. The fact that he doesn't hate Vendetta doesn't bode well for the future.

"Will you please make me some breakfast, Ravager? There's some gray packets on the counter in a box," Vendetta asks, drawing Techno away from his worrisome thoughts. Techno waves his hand, thankful for something to do even if he doesn't like doing favors for Vendetta. He supposes he is just feeling nice because Vendetta could have been a bloody pile on the sidewalk if Techno had not intervened. Techno shudders at the thought, already hearing Ranboo's screams in his ears. Surprisingly, Techno knows that more members of the Syndicate will grieve... Techno wonders what kind of reaction he would have if he had been even a second too late.

Techno lifts a packet from the box. He frowns at it, flipping it over to read the instructions. He was meant to pour the powder into a bowl of lukewarm water, stirring until it condensed into a porridge-like consistency. Techno's eyes trail down to the ingredients. He throws the packet back into the box, ignoring Vendetta's wounded noise. "No one is eating that today."

Techno searches the kitchen for ingredients. Although he isn't as good as Niki, Techno is one of the few members of the Syndicate that knows how to cook. His speciality is potatoes. He especially likes using the ones from his personal garden. Alas, the others do not share his love for the simple but delicious vegetable. Techno decides to make his best potato breakfast dish. If he sways Vendetta, he might be able to get Wilbur on his side. Even if Wilbur doesn't fall, having someone else in the potato corner will make it easier to get approved when he wants to bring potato-based dishes to Syndicate gatherings.

Vendetta turns on the television. He turns the volume down immediately, but one of Techno's abilities is enhanced senses. He can hear the television easily. Vendetta is watching the news. It's a popular channel, so turning down the volume must be for the sake of his hangover and not because he has something to hide from Techno. The pinkette starts cutting up a potato, glancing up at the news segment Vendetta is watching. Techno hums curiously as the anchors start talking about an upcoming event in the city. It's a yearly festival celebrating what makes Essempei a great city. Although it is catered towards the rich, everyone in the city seems to enjoy the festival. People usually go in costumes, spending most of the day at booths before joining together on the main street in Prime Heights to watch a parade that takes up most of the afternoon.

"You know, Ravager, I always wanted to go to the festival," Vendetta says, his voice unusually quiet as he clutches the remote between both of his hands. He wears a frown on his face.

"Why don't you?" Techno asks, moving to put the diced potatoes in the awaiting skillet. The oil sizzles and pops as it accepts the potatoes as one of its own. Techno reaches for a spatula to help him move the chunks around. He needs them to cook evenly and thoroughly. He's trying to convince Vendetta to love potatoes, after all.

Vendetta startles, an aborted word falling from his lips. Techno watches from the corner of his eye as Vendetta shifts on the couch uncomfortably. Techno frowns. Did Vendetta not expect him to ask about it? Vendetta was the one who called his name, was he not expecting a conversation to follow?

Vendetta stares at the television again, ignoring Techno's silent stare. "It's a fucking waste of time, innit? Everyone is dressed up in costumes so it's difficult as shit to recognize anyone. You can blend into the crowd that way. The parade is also so fucking long. Rather unnecessary, too. Some of the floats are fucking epic, but most are just heroes standing on a trailer and waving. Monarch asked me if I wanted to ride a float this year. I told him to fuck off, obviously. I am not a fucking spectacle. I don't do shit for the public image of the Hero's Guild. They wouldn't want me as a poster boy, anyway."

Vendetta sighs heavily. The television switches to show people shopping for costumes together, and Techno can hear laughter in the background as he sprinkles spices into the skillet. "Plus, I don't have anyone to go with. I'm not wandering the city for fucking hours by myself."

"You could always come with the Syndicate. Since we all wear new costumes, we wouldn't see each other's identities," Techno says. The festival was something Wilbur got them in the habit of doing, actually. Wilbur dragged Phil, Sneeg, and Techno to it. Jack and Niki were forced to come along when they joined the Syndicate. Puffy thought it was a magnificent idea, so she brought her nephew, Tubbo, with her along with Tubbo's adopted father and her foster brother, Jordan. It was because of these festivals that Jordan became an ally of the Syndicate, and it was one of the first times Techno met Ranboo.

"I don't want to ruin the festival for you guys," Vendetta explains with a faint smile on his lips. Techno folds a paper towel on top of a plastic plate. He starts to move the potatoes from the skillet to the paper towel, mindful of the oil. Techno sets the skillet back on the stove, telling himself that he'll wash it later.

"You won't. We could have fun together," Techno admits. He turns his attention to the hangover remedy that he made for Vendetta. It has some of the ingredients required to make a potion, so it is basically a watered down version of one of those. It should work well, though.

"We could," Vendetta laughs slightly without agreeing. Techno doesn't comment on this as he makes a plate for both himself and Vendetta. He balances the plates on his arm, using his other hand to hold the glass of remedy. Nothing tips over as he walks from the kitchen to the living room. He sets the glass down on the coffee table first, and then he places the plate belonging to Vendetta down. He drops the fork on top of the cooked potatoes. Techno leans back to sit on the shorter part of the couch. Vendetta sits up, no longer lying down. He sips it, staring back at the television.

There's a new segment on right now. Apparently, the Guardians- a hero group Techno is aware of- is waging war against the gangs of Empires. They have been able to dismantle most of the smaller gangs, but the four major ones are still running around. It will take some time to topple the Kites, Kestrels, Nightingales, and Herons since they have been around since the creation of the city. Rumor has it that each gang was originally a band of pirates that tried claiming Prime Heights' predecessor for themselves. They settled down, adapting with the rest of the city until they became gangs vying for control and power in Empires. Techno doesn't like heroes, but he does appreciate the work the Guardians are putting in for him. He really doesn't want to deal with Empires' gangs.

"This isn't the gray powder," Vendetta remarks, moving his fork out of the way to look at the plate. He moves the potatoes around as if he would find his gray powder underneath them.

"No, it isn't," Techno confirms. Vendetta stares at him for a long moment before sighing. He picks the fork up, bringing the plate into his lap. He leans back against the couch. Techno approves when Vendetta starts eating the potatoes without making another comment. They watch the news in silence. Techno wonders what the festival will be like this year with Vendetta with them. He smiles softly. He knows it will be interesting, and he dares say it will be a lot of fun.

Chapter Text

“It is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning. For every one of us, living in this world means waiting for our end. Let whoever can win glory before death. When a warrior is gone, that will be his best and only bulwark.”
― Seamus Heaney

Tommy wanders the shelves of the party store in his casual clothes and blindfold. He runs his fingers along the price tags taped to the front of the metal slats, staring up at the assortment of multi-colored paper dishware. He grows wistful looking at them, reminded of another time- another life. When he was younger, he would have given anything to have a birthday party with actual plates. He wanted balloons, streamers, and confetti all in his favorite shades of red. He would have worn the party hat the entire day, probably into the night and over the course of the next few days. He wouldn’t have even cared if it was his birthday. He would take going to someone’s party to celebrate them all day if it meant feeling like he was a normal kid with simple problems.

It was a fleeting fancy. Tommy never clung to it because he knew even as a child that dreams would get him nowhere. That sort of hope would only turn into resentment. He could aspire to have a birthday party when he was old enough to get an actual job, but while he was living in that warehouse, he wouldn’t spend a moment considering what it would be like to blow out as many candles as the year he was turning and naively believe that whatever wish he whispered to the dissipating smoke would come true. Tommy was simply grateful for the cake Niki would bake with him, and how he got to share it with all his family members. Looking back on it, Tommy envies the little boy that got to sit among his family with a face full of cake even when he was surrounded by dust and darkness that was slowly killing him.

Tommy has enough money to buy party stuff. He has enough time to decorate. He has a few people that he could reasonably invite. It wouldn’t be much of a party, but if Tommy allowed himself to, he knows he would enjoy it. He might even laugh like he used to. But the afterparty all by himself will remind him how alone he actually is. He would stare at the bright colors surrounding him, realizing that while he’s turning a year older, his family will forever be stuck at the ages they died. They could never have a party for themselves, not like Tommy knew if they even wanted to. Tommy realized after the explosion that he was an incredibly selfish child.

“The costumes are over here, Vendetta,” Phil calls, snapping Tommy out of his thoughts. He looks away from the price tags. Phil is standing at the end of the aisle, pointing towards something over his shoulder. He smiles unabashedly at the hero. He turns around, going to the location he indicated. Tommy pushes off the shelf. He walks down the end of the aisle, turning around the corner. There are a few shelves framing a small walkway that leads to the front of the store. Tommy walks down the middle of the aisle, eyes bouncing back and forth. He spots Sneeg’s dark blue hoodie disappearing around the opposing end of the aisle. Tommy continues moving a few steps, and when he passes the next shelving unit, he finds Phil and Sneeg standing at the end of the aisle underneath the hanging sign that explains what can be found in this aisle. Tommy looks along the shelves. As Phil explained, there are dozens of costumes in plastic packages hanging on hooks or stacked on the knee-high shelves.

The festival is in a few days. Tommy’s first idea was to go in his hero uniform, but Serenade chided him for assuming that Tommy could opt out of tradition. If he was going with the Syndicate, he needed to follow their customs. Their rules were the same ones most festival-goers agreed to: wearing costumes and doing all the things they’ve always wanted to do underneath the mask of being someone else. Tommy didn’t have a costume, so he was taken on a shopping trip with Phil and Sneeg to pick out a costume for himself. The other two explained that they go every year to get costumes for the entire Syndicate. They’ll have to get more costumes this year anyway since Jolt and Enderwalk want to come with them- and where Jolt goes, Argonaut and Red Dragon will follow. Tommy doesn’t understand what they mean by that, but he doesn’t care about the interpersonal relationships of the Syndicate.

Tommy looks at the costumes. His first concern is finding a design that he would be comfortable in. The size will come secondary since he could probably thrift what pieces don’t fit. Phil and Sneeg explained that they had to do that a lot considering the various sizes and body types in the Syndicate. These one-size-fits-all costumes were a sham, apparently. Tommy wouldn’t know. He doesn’t even shop in grocery stores, much less party stores in Prime Heights.

There’s a pirate. That would be cool, but Argonaut would probably make fun of him since that is her aesthetic. The green dragon costume is definitely vetoed. Tommy is not wearing a devil costume, and he looks away from a particular group of costumes that seem to be tailored towards horny adults. Tommy scrunches his nose, hoping that no one buys those costumes since so many children participate in the festival. Tommy moves on after that, considering a cow costume momentarily.

As he pushes the cow costume aside to find a version more suited for his height, he startles back. The costume behind the cow falls from its hook, landing on top of the knee-lenght shelf. Tommy blinks at the picture across the surface. He hesitantly lifts his hand to touch the plastic. It is from a line of costumes from the Ancient Builders’ stories. The one Tommy saw first was apparently inspired by Io, whoever that was. The one Tommy is now holding in his hands is inspired by a half-bull half-man creature. The person on the front looks oddly similar to the villain himself. Tommy traces the name, Minotaur, with his finger. As he crosses the t, he sees blood being spread across the plastic, dripping in slow rivulets towards the pool of blood underneath his feet. Tommy shakes his head, looking back at the costume. The blood is gone, but that terrible name remains on the paper.

Tommy drops the costume into the pile. He moves through the costumes again. He catches the flashing images of other mythical monsters. Harpy, nymph, cyclops, hydra, and more that he knows nothing about. When he’s done looking through those costumes, he moves to the next hook. These are costumes from the same line, but they have heroes in the frame. Tommy pulls them all forward until his eyes snag on one of the names. Tommy pulls it off the hook, untangling it from the others as he presses it against his chest. The man in the picture is wearing a sleeveless red dress-like thing with leather sandals. He has a bronze breastplate with the image of a bull’s head carved into the surface. He has a helmet on his head, and there’s golden strings wrapped around his arms and waist. He is holding a shortsword in his hands. Theseus, the name states, a nickname from Ravager. Tommy gives a half-smile. This would be ironic…

As Tommy presses the costume to his chest, a thought passes through his mind. He reaches back into the costumes for monsters. He finds the one he was looking for. He was a little worried that there would only be one for women, but as Tommy searches, he finds a copy for men. Tommy smirks at the humor. He holds both costumes in his arms, bounding over to the end of the aisle where Phil and Sneeg are still arguing over costumes. When Sneeg notices Tommy, Phil looks over his shoulder. Tommy holds up the other costume he picked out. “Hear me out… This would be fucking perfect for Serenade.”

Sneeg laughs, loud and boisterous. Phil remains silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the costume. Tommy keeps a hopeful smile on his face, wearing down Phil’s defenses and hesitance. Eventually, as Sneeg stops laughing so hard, Phil sighs. He lowers his forehead into his hands. He grabs the costume from Tommy, tossing it into the cart. The costume falls in such a way that Tommy can see the face of the model wearing a siren costume staring up at him. Tommy cannot wait to see Serenade wearing that.

“What costume did you get?” Phil asks, gesturing to the one pressed against Tommy’s chest. He lowers it slowly, flipping it over. Phil looks over the costume, and a soft smile spreads across his lips. Tommy feels some embarrassment rise to his cheeks in the form of a warm blush. He got the costume to be ironic, not because he particularly likes Ravager’s nickname for him. It’s a lot better than most of the nicknames Tommy’s gotten in his life, but he refuses to consider it one of the favorable ones. “Put it in the cart, mate, we’re almost done here.”

“I can pay for it myself,” Tommy assures Phil. He slowly pulls out his communicator. Although it belongs to the Syndicate, Tommy was able to store some credits on it for practical use. He didn’t put too much in case the Syndicate plans to steal his funds, but he did put enough that he wasn’t going to be a charity case. Tommy wanted to go to this festival, so he’s going to pay for his own costume.

“Don’t be like that. It’s really fine. I don’t mind paying,” Phil shakes his head, reaching for the costume. Tommy takes a step back out of Phil’s reach. He glares immediately, and Phil seems more amused by Tommy’s intolerance rather than annoyed. It is a surprising reaction to get, but Tommy doesn’t particularly care what Phil thinks about him. He keeps moving out of the way as Phil gets more serious in his attempts to grab the costume. “Mate.”

“Oh, leave it be. If he wants to pay for it, let him. That’s his money after all,” Sneeg reprimands Phil. Sneeg lifts up the costume he picked out. Tommy’s mouth gapes as he realizes Sneeg picked out a sexy witch costume. “Are you sure I can’t get this?”

“Absolutely not. I am not spending the day of the festival with you if you’re wearing this shit. Plus, we already have a costume for you,” Phil glares at his brother. Sneeg rolls his eyes, muttering something about Phil being a stick in the mud under his breath. Sneeg searches through the costumes with a low hum. Phil stares at his back. “You better be looking for a costume for J- Red Dragon. He’s the only person we have left.”

“He could wear the witch costume,” Sneeg calls out in a sing-songy tone. Phil sighs, glancing over at the other wall of costumes. Tommy joins in the search, though he’s not sure what he’s looking for. It’s been a long since he’s hung out with Red Dragon on a personal level. It hasn’t been since Sleepy abandoned the Hero’s Guild to join the Herons gang in Empires that they hung out together. Tommy’s hand falls to his side. For some reason, he feels a wave of sadness wash through him at the thought of his former peers.

“Make him wear this,” Tommy hears Sneeg say, and Phil doesn’t verbally argue. Tommy looks up from his reminiscing to see Sneeg drop the final costume in the cart. Sneeg wipes his hands together as if just getting done with strenuous work. He smiles over at Tommy. “That should be it, don’t you agree, Vendetta?”

“If you got everyone,” Tommy shrugs. He got a costume for himself, and he got a costume for Serenade. Phil said Sneeg already had a costume, and he assumes Red Dragon now has a costume. Tommy doesn’t know if anyone else has a costume, but if Sneeg and Phil are sure, he’ll believe them.

Phil pushes the cart forward, leading it through the twisting paths to the check-out lines. The cashier barely looks up at their customers, murmuring some vague greeting as they start moving the costumes through the reader. The machine beeps each time, a number on the screen steadily increasing. The cashier puts most of the costumes in plastic bags. Sneeg delivers the plastic bags into the cart. When all the costumes are slid through, Phil passes his communicator underneath a scanner. The machine releases a low pitched noise. The cashier gives Phil a receipt, thanking him for shopping and telling him to return soon with a tired, almost friendly smile.

Tommy’s transaction goes by much quicker because he’s only paying for one item. Regardless, the cashier treats him much the same way as Phil. Tommy wonders what it would be like to work retail. Would he have been working here if L’Manberg had never been destroyed? Tommy doesn’t know. It’s a possibility, but he’s never had the personality for customer service. If Wilbur was breathing down his neck, he would probably pick up on it eventually. Tommy doesn’t know. It doesn’t serve any purpose to speculate.

“Should we get lunch?” Phil asks, picking the bags out of the cart. He shoves one in Sneeg’s hand as they walk out of the store into one of the streets of Prime Heights. They join the crowd traveling down the sidewalk. Tommy holds his costume behind his back as he follows them through the bustling crowd.

“If you’re paying,” Sneeg agrees with a smirk on his face.

“Since I’m offering, I’ll pay,” Phil explains, and he looks over his shoulder at Tommy. The blonde shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t particularly care. He could really go for a sandwich from Crowfather, but that damn bird only comes by to deliver a letter from Ravager. He doesn’t stick around for conversation, and he doesn’t bring sandwiches anymore. Tommy is about to lock that bird in a cage until he starts singing like a canary.

“Then, it’s decided! Where should we go? Is anyone carving anything?” Phil asks, but he keeps his focus on Sneeg instead of trying to get Tommy’s input. The esper listens to the two brothers argue about where they should go eat. Tommy looks at the people of the crowd until a large break happens beside him. Tommy’s vision catches on a group of people across the street in an alleyway. It looks like most of them are kneeling at an altar. The scene is made weirder by the fact that on off-shoot of the main church to Prime is the one they’ve put their altar up against.

“What the fuck are they doing?” Tommy mutters to himself, straining his neck for more details about what’s happening.

“What are you… Oh, them! They are praying to the goddess of death. Even people who mainly worship Prime will pray to the goddess of death for the safety and happiness of their deceased loved ones. Prime is an impressive god, but she holds no dominion over death,” Phil explains. Tommy huffs. He’s glad that the people of Church Prime haven’t destroyed the small altar. Villains and gangs are already hard enough to deal with; the city doesn’t need a holy war.

“What is the purpose of doing that?” Tommy asks, stopping to continue watching the praying people. They are wasting precious daylight hours sitting in a dirty, dark alleyway. It seems unsanitary, especially if multiple people populate the area on a daily basis.

“The goddess can hear every prayer directed to her. If she so desires, she can protect the people in the underworld on behalf of the people praying to her,” Phil continues to explain with a satisfied smile on his face as he talks about the goddess. Tommy recalls that Sneeg mentioned how Phil was a zealous believer in the goddess. Tommy can see the signs. It isn’t Phil’s words so much as his tone, the light in his eyes, and the way that he carries himself when he talks about the goddess that makes Tommy realize how much Phil holds this goddess in his heart.

“Even though those people don’t worship her?” Tommy asks softly.

“The goddess of death doesn’t want worshippers as much as she wants believers. She wants recognition. No matter who people worship in their lives, they will all end up in her domain eventually. As long as they hold a healthy amount of fear and reverence for her, she does not require them to pray all day or sing hymns to her. She does have a church for those who do wish to worship, but she doesn’t show too much favoritism towards her believers,” Phil continues to explain. Tommy feels like he could be stuck there listening to Phil for a long time. 

Partly to silence Phil, partly because he feels like he has to now, Tommy looks both ways and crosses the street. He doesn’t look back to see if Phil followed him. He just keeps walking until he’s among the small group. No one pays him any attention as he kneels to the side of their altar, placing his Theseus costume in his lap. It is a few layers tall with each layer holding different items like painted skulls and golden candles. There is a lot of raven and crow memorabilia. There’s an obsidian carving of a bird on the shelf closest to Tommy, and as the candlelight refracts inside the smooth material, Tommy thinks about Crowfather. Could his uniquely intelligent bird be a familiar of the goddess? Tommy doubts it, but he doesn’t discount the idea. He’ll ask Crowfather later.

On the wall behind the altar, someone has spray-painted the image of a woman. She seems to be in a sitting position, wearing a black dress with warm purple accents. She wears a long-brimmed hat with a dark purple mesh material hanging from the edges to obscure her face, reminding Tommy of Serenade’s villainous mask. Like Serenade, the gemstones she uses for eyes seem to glow through the mesh. She has her hands folded in her lap, and he imagines that she is quite serene. She seems fairly relaxed, too.

Dyscardia told Tommy that this woman appeared in front of her, Phil, and another hero to lead them to safety. Phil holds so much faith and admiration for her. Serenade probably based his mask off of her. All these people around Tommy are praying so reverently, their faces twisted up in anguish as they pour their hearts out to a goddess they cannot see. As Tommy glances back down to the obsidian crow perched between two candles, he can almost feel the essence of death hanging around him like twisting ribbons dancing in the breeze. Death has always felt like a wolf yipping at his heels or a noose tightening around his neck, but it feels more like a blanket falling over him at this moment.

Tommy keeps his eyes open, though no one would know since he’s wearing a blindfold. He does not fold his hands or lower them into his lap. He keeps staring at the spray-painted image of the goddess as he sends the goddess a message. It doesn’t feel like praying when he does it, but he suspects that the goddess will hear him anyway. She listens to people who recognize her, Phil said, not people who worship her.

I’m sure you know who I am. I’ve danced with you for so fucking long that you must know my name by heart. If you don’t, then I am Tommy. I have no last name, but I did have a family. You fucking took my family about ten years ago. Wilbur, Niki, Jack, Tubbo, Fundy, and Eret. Those were their names. They should still be together. We were a family, after all. We loved each other. I should have died with them, but due to my own shitty arrogance, I missed your visit. Since you took my family, you have to take care of them. They’re your responsibility now. If you don’t want to do it, give them back to me. I’ll take care of them. I’d do anything for them. If they ask about me, tell them that I’m fine. I’ll get revenge for them soon. I’ll make them happy. Just tell them to give me a little more time.

Nothing changes. He doesn’t hear the cawing of birds or feel the wind brush against his shoulders. His message has been sent to the goddess, and Tommy guesses he’ll have to wait to see it was delivered when he finally meets her in the endless night.

Tommy stands up. He backs away from the altar, giving the people doing real prayers a chance to get closer to the altar. Tommy doesn’t know if being close does anything, but he did steal what could be considered as a prime spot. He’s proven right when someone immediately takes his place, shuffling forward to get as close to the obsidian crow as they can without actually touching it. If Tommy has a free moment later, he’ll research how important the crow is to the goddess of death. He knew they were birds associated with death, but there must be some story behind it.

“Did you tell her everything you needed to?” Phil asks. He was standing on the sidewalk beside the altar. He smiles kindly at the worshippers, but he does not join them. A few people seem to recognize him as they wave, and while he waves back, he does not call out to them. He had been waiting on Tommy the entire time, and now he’s giving the esper all of his attention.

“Yeah, I think so. I hope she’ll pass the message along to my family. I’m going to get my revenge soon,” Tommy declares, closing his fist with determination.

Something shifts in Phil’s expression. The previous serenity he wore seems to crinkle around the edges. He lifts his hand up tentatively, and Tommy doesn’t flinch away when Phil puts his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. He squeezes the fabric of Tommy’s sweatshirt as he whispers a question with such heaviness in his voice that Tommy wonders how long Phil has been holding it in. “Would your family want you to get revenge?”

“They would,” Tommy answers immediately. He has thought about that question for a long time. He’s held it in his heart. He’s rolled it around in his mind. He weighs it against his soul and principles. He lined up every memory of his family that he has. Sometimes, Tommy thinks about giving up on the pursuit. He thinks about giving in and moving on. When these thoughts cross his mind, he remembers what his family meant to him. He realizes that he will never be able to move on. “Their lives were cut short by two fucking evil villains. I’m the only one alive to get revenge for them. I should have been dead, and I would have been if I didn’t get into a stupid fucking fight with my brother.”

“Do you think you should be dead now?” Phil asks almost immediately, and there’s this strange sense of panic in his eyes that Tommy hasn’t seen in a long time. The last time he saw it… was it when Dyscardia was holding his body after they escaped the warehouse? He doesn’t remember. He kept confusing Dyscardia for Niki, so he wouldn’t know if he was imagining that or not.

Tommy looks away from Phil. He makes a slow circle, letting his eyes take in the details of the world around him. The imposing form of the church. The crowds move across the sidewalk with purpose in their gaits. The metal and glass buildings glisten in the noon sunlight. Cars drive on the street. He can hear people talking, laughing, singing, screaming, and so much more. He smells oil, manure, and perfume in the air with the occasional tinge of flowers or alcohol. The sun is warm against his body, and the wind ripples across his clothes. When Tommy turns back to Phil, the man looks confused. The esper merely smiles. “I fucking love this city. For all its flaws, I just love this shitshow. I want to protect it from the Red Army because I know everything I love about this city will disappear, leaving the shitty parts behind. But after that, I’m getting my revenge. Azrael and Inchling will fucking die for their crimes, for taking my family from me, and I will no longer carry the burden of survival on my shoulders.”

Phil opens his mouth to respond, but from down the street and steadily approaching, Sneeg yells out, “The host says our table is ready.”

When Sneeg gets to them, Tommy smiles at him. “What restaurant did you guys pick? I’m fucking starving.”

Sneeg leads the way to the restaurant, and Tommy follows behind them. Sneeg answers his question, and they start joking about who has the worst food taste. Tommy doesn’t even look back at Phil, pushing their conversation to the back of his mind. He hopes Phil does the same.

Chapter Text

"It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace."

― Chuck Palahniuk

Tommy dresses in his costume. He is used to the weight of armor across his shoulders, but the airiness of his skirt-like fustanella (as Ravager called it) reminds him that he is in a costume. He starts winding the golden thread around his arms, wondering if it will agitate his scars. He decides to wear them, anyway, since a big element of Theseus' story is the golden thread given to him by the princess, Ariadne. Tommy continues wrapping the string around him in accordance to the picture on the bag of the costume. When he's finished, he slides a dagger into a holster around his thigh. He grabs hold of the blindfold he left on the nightstand. He ties it tightly and places Theseus' helmet over his golden hair. His field of vision is slightly obscured with the helmet, but Tommy reminds himself he isn't going out to fight.

Tommy steps into the field of his mirror's reflection. He turns around in slow circles, keeping his eyes on the figure looking back at him through the interwoven black cloth. Tommy finally stops spinning. He attempts a heroic pose, but his eyes are only drawn to the ugly red lines on his forearms, particularly around his wrists. He looks down at his skin, flexing his fingers as he turns his arms around. Everyone is going to be able to see them. Not just the Syndicate members, but other festival goers, too. No one will know why he has them, but he can imagine the sort of thoughts that would cross their minds. Since Serenade apparently didn't tell anyone about the chains, he wonders what the other members of the Syndicate will think.

Tommy glances back up at the mirror. Although hidden in shadow, the scars along his jaw will also be viewable if he were to stand in the light. Tommy frowns, tilting his face to make the light enter through the 'T' shaped opening. The scars along his jaw are not as angrily red as his arms, and they appear to have been made by someone other than Tommy. The blonde huffs, playing with the golden thread around his upper arm. He pulls at it slightly like someone picking at their wounds, mainly because pulling one side makes the other sides restrict painfully. The flesh between each spiral turns bright red as Tommy subconsciously cuts off the circulation until he sighs, releasing the golden thread. It falls loosely, and Tommy is forced to redo the whole thing to make it all tight enough to stay on.

Tommy turns his attention to his nightstand instead of thinking about his pain. He lowers himself onto his knees, tugging at the bottom drawer. There is a white box inside the drawer with a lovely blue ribbon. The box was a gift from Serenade since Tommy was unable to buy one while going through the underground market with Dyscardia. Tommy accepted the gift, realizing that it has been a long time since he's been given a proper gift without having to beg for it first. He just mentioned he wanted to get a box, and Serenade noticed by himself that Tommy didn't get one. It was a kind gesture entirely unexpected and unprompted. Looking at the box brings Tommy immeasurable happiness, though he refuses to let the villain know that.

Tommy unties the blue ribbon. He lifts the lid up, setting it beside him with careful hands. The interior of the box holds Tommy's prized possessions, the few things he would risk his life in order to save. The top is loaded with all the letters from Ravager that Crowfather brought him. Tommy tucks each one away as soon as he finishes reading it. He wants to preserve their quality. He can't risk anything spilling across the paper, and he really doesn't want Serenade to get ammunition from reading through Ravager's private musings. Tommy knows that Ravager isn't telling him anything special, but it feels... Tommy doesn't know. He just keeps the letters in the box.

Tommy pushes the letters aside to grab the item that he really would sacrifice anything to keep. A newspaper article's main picture framed. Tommy runs his fingers along the glass, his fingerprints creating smudges. He wipes the picture off with the end of his fustanella. When he's done, he sets the picture down in his lap. His family, perpetually trapped in poverty and happiness, forever together in this single capturable moment. Tommy wonders if they would like the festival. Eret and Wilbur would love dressing up. Tubbo and Jack would play at the game booths set up for people to win prizes the entire time. Niki would love the food, and Fundy would enjoy the parade. If this was when Tommy was younger, he would enjoy watching the fireworks. Now, Tommy would just want to spend the day with his family.

Tommy hears someone knocking on his door. He hurriedly shoves the picture into the white box. He puts the lid on, hastily tying the ribbon. He tells himself that he will tie it better later when he gets back from the festival. For now, he pushes the drawer shut. He scrambles to his feet. He opens the door a little quickly for it to be natural, but his excuse dies on his lips when he meets Serenade's eyes. Tommy's entire expression shifts as he takes in Serenade's costume, the one Tommy picked out.

Serenade wears a tight pair of iridescent blue pants with gray fin-like pieces of cloth hanging from the sides. This leads into his crop-top similarly made from blue and gray material. There are painted scales on his stomach, forearm, and cheeks. He wears a masquerade mask over his face. Instead of brown eyes like normal, his eyes are a glowing green with tinted sclera. Around his ears, there are little flaps that Tommy recognizes as being from phantom hybrids. It adds to the costume, but it presents Tommy with the knowledge that Serenade is a hybrid. Tommy didn't know that previously, but then again, most hybrids hide their animalistic traits on purpose, especially with the Red Army hunting hybrids right now.

Even though he's learned some vital information, Tommy breaks down laughing. He wraps his arms around his stomach, trying to keep himself from collapsing with how much he's laughing. Tommy wipes the tears from his eyes, looking into Serenade's green eyes. Tommy smiles even wider when he notices how unimpressed Serenade is. Tommy reaches a hand to touch the villain's upper arm. "You look so fucking stupid, Serenade."

"Must I remind you that I am not Serenade? Today, I am Siren and you are Theseus," The esper states, barely glancing at Tommy's casual touch. Tommy draws his hand back slowly. He doesn't know why he did that, so he instead focuses on the villain's words. Of course, he would be someone who got really into these things.

"Alright, Siren, we need to get a move on or we're going to be late," Tommy tells the villain, pushing past him to enter into the hallway. He starts heading towards the door, and he can hear Serenade's footsteps behind him.

"Ravager told me this was your first time going to the festival," Serenade comments as they step into the elevator.

"Fucking good for Ravager," Tommy shrugs, not knowing where that particular conversation was supposed to go. "You didn't tell Ravager about my sleep-walking."

"I didn't think it was my place to tell anyone," Serenade admits, surprisingly genuine as the elevator doors slide open. Tommy and Serenade step into the lobby, as empty as it was the first day Tommy came. The blonde is starting to doubt that they have neighbors. If they do, they are very silent and elusive people.

"I don't give a fuck who you tell. Ravager was scared shitless when he found me standing on the balcony railing," Tommy tells Serenade. He's grateful that Ravager saved him in time. Tommy usually wakes up right before he dies, but apparently, that time, that moment, he really was going to fall. Tommy wonders if he's grown too comfortable with having someone watch over him while he sleeps. He doesn't really want to go back to sleeping with the chain, though, and honestly, he doubts Serenade will let him only sleep when he needs to.

"I didn't think it was going to become an issue. The only Syndicate member you ever sleep around is me," Serenade explains softly as if excusing his behavior. There is nothing to excuse, though. Tommy isn't upset about Serenade not telling anyone or for not thinking that maybe Tommy would sleep around other members. There was that time with Dyscardia, but since she was in the bed with him, she probably kept him from walking away. Plus, who would have ever thought he would sleep in the same apartment as Ravager? Despite their letters, Tommy still thinks Ravager will slaughter him in his sleep one of these days.

"You fucking left me in Ravager's care, mind you. You should have fucking told him when you learned who I was with," Tommy says. Tommy remembers a little bit of what happened while he was drunk. It gets a little fuzzy around the edges. He can't remember the words he said, but he remembers what he was talking about. He remembers Serenade leaving without an explanation, leaving behind most of his stuff and a mess for Ravager to clean up. Tommy doesn't get why Ravager did anything. Someone from Las Nevadas would have eventually called Ultraviolet to come pick him up. If he was unlucky, they would go straight to Croupier. Tommy would get collected by someone from the security force, and he would deal with lecturing while nursing a hangover. It would not have been fun, but it would have been an issue Ravager didn't need to personally involve himself in.

"I'm sorry about that. Something came up. I didn't think I would take long, but it sort of got blown out of proportion. By the time we were done, I was too exhausted to even think that something bad would happen," Serenade apologizes again. Another fascinating development, all things considered. Serenade's reputation precedes him, and he is not an esper of apols.

"I already told you I don't fucking care. Do whatever shit you need to do for the Syndicate," Tommy tells him. "I'm sick of talking about this. Tell me about that shitty song you were singing last night at the top of your fucking lungs."

"Hey!" Serenade calls before launching into an explanation about how his song was not 'shitty' and Tommy has 'uncultured' ears. Tommy's helmet hides his smile as he keeps goading Serenade into the argument. Their debate and laughter makes short work of the walk from Paradise Apartments to the bus stop. Although everyone on the bus is wearing a costume, they do a double-take upon seeing Serenade. Even without his usual get-up, most people seem able to recognize the danger this esper exudes naturally. No one gives a cursory glance to Tommy, which is probably for the best. He can't afford anyone recognizing him- though, he understands that they probably won't. He's saved a few lives before, but he isn't the most popular hero. He doubts most people know who Vendetta is.

Their conversation continues until they are deposited on the main street of Prime Heights. The festival is already in full-swing. The street is bustling with a thick crowd. There are booths along the sides and spilling out from the alleyways. Tommy notices a few heroes intermittently in the crowd. They are signing autographs and posing for photos, but Tommy knows most of them are on duty right now. The guild pays a fair bit of money for anyone willing to take up guard duty. Other than the heroes, members from the Moderator's Guild, Enforcer's Guild, and... are those members of the Mercenary's Guild? They are an unofficial guild, built around making a mockery of the other guilds. Tommy has spoken to Saffrie, the head of the guild, once, though he hasn't done anything for the guild. They don't like mixing with other guilds, after all.

"Theseus!" Someone calls out. Tommy blinks in surprise, noticing that someone other than Ravager is calling him by that name. Instead, a short boy wearing a bee costume bounds towards Tommy with a bright smile on their face. Tommy smiles back. Jolt wears a pair of tinted yellow glasses- similar to the ones Vendetta wears- but he isn't wearing his gas mask. Tommy is able to actually see Jolt's smile for the first time instead of just guessing that Jolt was smiling because of the wrinkles around his eyes. The experience is jarring, and Tommy's heart begins to ache for some reason. The smile is familiar, he supposes, though he can't tell where he's seen it before.

"You look so cool!" Enderwalk says, joining Jolt and Tommy. The esper thought Jolt and Enderwalk would go in matching costumes, but instead of dressing up like honey or maybe a bear, Enderwalk wears a bright red suit. There is a flame-like mask around his eyes.

"And you look hot," Tommy responds, and then he realizes what he just said. His face flushes bright red as he waves his arms around. "Hot like red-hot, like fire, like... fuck."

Jolt bursts into laughter as Tommy rushes to correct himself. As Tommy continues sputtering, Serenade and Enderwalk join into the laughter. Tommy's face is entirely scarlet as he rushes off, refusing to be around those three anymore. He tries to calm himself down, breathing in heavily as he joins the rest of the group. Argonaut- he assumes- is dressed up as a pirate with a black overcoat and a red sash tied around her waist. Half her hair is white and the other half is brown, all of it as curly as springs. It is easy to see her red eyes with how her sunglasses are situated low on her bridge.

Thermoculus and Dyscardia are wearing matching outfits. Thermoculus wears white pants, and Dyscardia wears a white skirt. They both wear white shirts marked with a red letter 'R' with long black gloves. Dyscardia has her gloves over the white sleeves of her shirt, up to her elbows, but Thermoculus is wearing his sleeves over the gloves. They have turtle-neck collars. Dyscardia wears her hair back. They both have masks on. Thermoculus covers the upper half of his face, and Dyscardia's mask covers the lower half. There are lenses put into Thermoculus' mask to stop his powers from activating.

Although his outfit doesn't seem to match in any particular way, Sneeg wears a costume like a calico cat with dark ears and light brown boots. He even wears a collar with the red 'R' on Thermoculus and Dyscardia's outfits.

Red Dragon is wearing a sparkly red-black overcoat over a black shirt and pants. There is a golden sash tied around his waist, matching the golden crown situated on his dark hair. He wears iridescent red and black boots with pink and white sparkles slowly moving across the surface. With how brightly his eyes are shining behind his glasses, Tommy assumes he's dressed like a starborne. He has a similar shifting pattern around his face that Ultraviolet has, and he's a hybrid of the night. Tommy even wonders if Red Dragon is a starborne. No one said that transformative esper abilities had to fall in accordance with hybrid traits.

Phil seems to be dressed as an emperor of some sort wearing regal blue and white clothing. There is even a fuzzy lining to his cloak. He does not wear a mask like the others do, but he doesn't have an identity to hide.

The most interesting costume, however, is Ravager. Instead of some hulking beast or a creature from Ancient Builder mythology, Ravager is wearing denim overalls. An orange and green carrot is sewn across the front pocket. He wears a pink and white plaid button-up underneath, and there are fake pink bunny ears protruding from his hair. He wears a rabbit mask, completing the entire look. If he wasn't absolutely massive with more muscles in one arm than Tommy has in his entire body, Tommy would even dare to call Ravager cute. As it stands, though, Tommy does not like being in pain, so he isn't going to call Ravager 'cute' to his face. Or behind his back. Or in a fifty-mile radius of the esper.

Warden isn't there. He, apparently, is spending the festival with Briar. Tommy did not inquire as to what the relationship there was. Ankh won't be with them, either, though he was only at that first meeting because Croupier sent him. Tommy doubts any of the Aces or their Dealer will be at the festival. Even though the main festivities are held in Prime Heights, there are plenty of events all around the city. Croupier will be making sure everything goes smoothly at his version of this festival. Tommy knows because he's been in Croupier's office while the Jester was manually observing every report that hit his desk during the festival day. Croupier encouraged Tommy to join the festivities, but Tommy was content to play with children's toys with Slime. Although Tommy was too old for most of the toys, he never got to play with them when he was a child, so he used Slime as an excuse to get a small remnant of his childhood back.

"Do not believe any slanderous rumors you hear about me," Tommy announces his presence to the group, not caring that he's interrupting all of their conversations. They look over at him as he approaches, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "Whatever those three fuckers say simply isn't true. They are misunderstanding the situation like the dumbasses they are."

"I'll believe the libel instead," Ravager says.

Tommy narrows his eyes, putting his fists up. Ravager raises an eyebrow at Tommy, but he obliges the esper's antics by putting his own fists up.  "Alright, bunny boy, we can fucking go right now."

"No one is fighting anyone," Phil stops both of them with a stern look. Ravager puts his fists down easily enough, but Tommy points two of his fingers at his eyes and then at Ravager. The villain smiles, tilting his face so Tommy can see it despite the rabbit mask Ravager wears. "V- ah, Theseus, do you have anything you would like to do?"

"Nope. I just came to have fun," Tommy admits sheepishly. He barely knows what happens at these festivals other than a whole lot of problems that leave Croupier pulling his hair out.

"That can be arranged!" Thermoculus says. He grabs Tommy's arm without any hesitation, ignoring both the scars and the golden thread as he pulls Tommy through the crowd. Tommy goes with him, no hesitation in his steps as he chases after the villain, trying to keep his arm attached to his shoulder with how hard Thermoculus is pulling.

"Where are we going, Ther-"

"James! You have to call me James, Theseus," Thermoculus calls over his shoulder, interrupting Tommy's question. It isn't as if he needs to answer it, though, since they stop at the location a few seconds later. Tommy stares up at the dark, gothic style house with a line out the door. Tommy can hear groaning and growls from inside the front door, and there is occasionally a scream followed by laughter. Music meant to cause dread spills from the windows along with a thin fog.

"A... haunted house?" Tommy questions. He does not get an answer as Thermoculus shoves him through the door. Tommy turns around to glare at Thermoculus, but he stills when he notices a skeleton sitting in the mudroom. Tommy waits for the skeleton to move, and he turns away when he realizes that the skeleton is fake. As he turns to enter deep into the house, he notices something standing right behind him. Tommy squeaks as he makes eye contact with a monster, and his fist is up before he has time to remember that the monster is a person in disguise. Luckily, Thermoculus grabs Tommy's wrist before his knuckles can make contact. Thermoculus twists them around, keeping a firm grasp on Tommy's trigger fist.

The foyer is dark with more of the smoke. Tommy coughs slightly, waving a hand in front of him. As the mist disperses, he finds a mirror hanging on the wall. He glances at his face. As he stares, he notices something odd in the glass. He reaches a hand out to wipe the mirror, and a ghost as white as a sheet appears in front of him. The ghost flies through the reflection, and Tommy jumps back to avoid being attacked, memories flashing to Reaper's spirits. The ghost turns out to be nothing more than a hologram or an esper ability as it passes through Tommy. The blonde backs into someone, and he whirls around to find Thermoculus shakily laughing.

"Come on," Thermoculus says over the music. They walk through the mist and step into the brightly illuminated kitchen. There are people inside. There are two people wearing regular clothing and blood-stained aprons. They have blood around their mouths and a wild look in their eyes. There is a human body on the kitchen table. One of the people is standing over the body's open chest with a knife, and the other one is collecting the internal organs, bringing them over to a cutting board and a boiling point. There's another person tied to one of the kitchen chairs. The person tied up screams, begging for help and fighting their restraints. Tommy reaches a hand to help on instinct, but the chef with the butcher knife slams their weapon onto the table. Both of the chefs stop cooking to glare at Tommy and Thermoculus. The one holding a bloody heart in their hand. Tommy reaches for the dagger strapped to his thigh.

"We were just leaving!" Thermoculus states, grabbing Tommy's hand and leading him through the kitchen. Tommy continues to make eye contact with the person tied to the chair as the kitchen door closes behind them. Tommy swallows thickly, feeling helpless and upset for some reason. He feels Thermoculus squeeze his hand, and he looks up at the man. Thermoculus smiles at him. "It's all fake, Theseus. No one is actually getting hurt. You can relax."

Tommy hesitates, but he ultimately nods. He doesn't let go of Thermoculus' hand, mainly because it stops him from punching people or drawing out his dagger. The comfort it brings him is entirely secondary. Thermoculus and Tommy start to walk down the hallway, and a scream erupts from behind them. Tommy jerks to a stop, needing to remind himself that it's all fake. He ignores the pictures hanging on the wall around him that shift from normal portraits to freakish monsters. Those don't scare him as much as that scream unnerved him.

"Come on, we should-" Thermoculus says, tugging on Tommy's arm. He cuts himself off, looking somewhere behind Tommy. The blonde looks over his shoulder. The door at the end of the hall that leads into the kitchen is wide open. The person was tied to the chair on the floor, a pool of blood around them. One of the chefs stands at the door, their knife dripping with blood. Thermoculus eloquently says, "Shit, shit, shit!"

Thermoculus and Tommy break into a run down the hall. The chef follows after them. As they approach the end of the hall, hands shoot out from the walls. Thermoculus screams, pressing though even as the hands start to grab onto his clothes. Tommy dodges the hands as best as he can, but one of them grabs onto his ankle. Tommy trips forward, landing flat on his stomach and releasing Thermoculus' hand. He hisses in pain, looking over his shoulder to see the chef quickly approaching. Tommy struggles to find his dagger underneath his stupid skirt. He freaks out when he feels someone grab his shoulders, but they drag him out of the hallway through the threshold of the door. Thermoculus wraps an arm around Tommy's head. His other hand goes up to his mask, ready to remove the protective filter. Thankfully, the chef stops at the threshold. They turn back to the kitchens. Tommy notices that the blood puddle has been cleaned up, and the person who was tied to the chair is being tied back up. It was all fake, just like Thermoculus said it would be.

"Holy shit," Tommy murmurs, letting his head fall back. He realizes his head is lying on Thermoculus' knee. Realistically, he should be more scared of Thermoculus than the cannibal chef, but he finds himself relaxing. He is certain Thermoculus will protect him for some unfathomable reason. Tommy decides not to question it.

"That was crazy," Thermoculus notes, looking down at Tommy with a bright smile on his face despite the fact that his skin is still rather pale. Tommy laughs at Thermoculus' dumb expression. He sits up. Thermoculus rises off of his knees, helping Tommy to his feet. They finish the haunted house, but nothing was as terrifying as that encounter with the cannibal chefs.

They step onto the back porch where a woman is asking people how their experience was and promoting the real haunted house they run. She is busy talking to other people, so Thermoculus and Tommy walk past her. Tommy notices Argonaut and Dyscardia standing in the backyard. They are in the midst of conversation, but when they notice their friends, Argonaut lifts up some snacks she bought for them. Dyscardia's eyes crinkle with a smile, asking, "How was the haunted house?"

"Fucking shit," Tommy says. Tommy shakes his head, tearing off a piece of buttery bread Argonaut had been carrying around for him. "But it was pretty fucking fun. Thermoculus screamed like a little girl."

"And you squeaked like a dog toy," Thermoculus glares at Tommy, eating an ice cream sandwich. The vanilla ice cream melts across his fingers, and chocolate smears across his lips.

"I fucking did not. You are wrong," Tommy argues.

"I clearly heard you."

"No, you did not."

"Yes, I did."

"Both of you are brave boys. Can we find the others now?" Argonaut tells them, crossing her arms over her chest. Thermoculus and Tommy share a sheepish look before the four of them start moving back to the main street. Dyscardia hands Thermoculus a napkin, and he uses it to hold his ice cream sandwich instead of cleaning himself up.

"What am I supposed to call you guys?" Tommy asks, finishing with his roll. It seems that everyone in the group is going by some sort of alternate name. Tommy should have expected since the villains wouldn't want everyone knowing they were active at the festival. It would cause unnecessary fear and move the guild members into action. The entire festival would be ruined, and wouldn't it be Tommy's luck that the first festival he goes to is shut down because he went with the wrong people?

"You can call me Captain!" Argonaut chirps, tilting the tricorne hat she wears towards Tommy. She hands Tommy another piece of bread, and he eagerly eats it piece by piece.

Dyscardia and Thermoculus share a look. "Prepare for trouble!"

"Make it double!" Thermoculus calls after her, falling in step with her as they walk. Tommy stares at them strangely, eating his roll. Argonaut giggles under her breath.

"To protect the world from devastation!"

"To unite all the people within our nation!"

"To denounce the evils of truth and love!"

"To extend our reach to the stars above!"

"Jessie!"

"James!"

"Team Rocket blasts off at the speed of light!"

"Surrender now or prepare to fight!"

"And Sneeg would say, 'Meowth, that's right!' after that," Argonaut informs Tommy as soon as Dyscardia and Thermoculus- Jessie and James, apparently- are finished with their shared poem.

"How long did it take you guys to memorize that?" Tommy innocently asks.

Dyscardia sighs, and Thermoculus' eyebrows knit together in pain as he answers. "Too long. It took us way too long."

The four of them unite with the others. Jolt and Enderwalk are holding stuffed animals and plastic toys, and Red Dragon seems very pleased with himself as if he won all of them. Serenade is annoying Ravager about something on his communicator. Phil and Sneeg are nowhere to be seen, but he assumes that they are doing their own thing like Thermoculus and Tommy did. Tommy's assumption is proven right when Ravager explains, "Here they are. Let's go meet Emperor and Meowth for the parade."

Tommy guesses everyone is going by nicknames, even those that don't strictly need to. Tommy walks in the back of the group with his piece of bread. He should eat actual food more often. He's started to since being with the Syndicate, and he doesn't exactly regret it. Although he often sings the praises of the gray powder, he will be the first to admit that its lack of flavor is annoying. He just worries that eating too many good foods will worsen his guilt. Even though he's surrounded by the Syndicate, Tommy doesn't feel as guilty as he used to. It isn't gone. He can't even say that it has lessened. He just doesn't notice it as much these days. Tommy can't tell if that is a good thing or not.

Tommy hears a guitar strumming. He looks up, and he finds a group of performers sitting on the street corner with instruments. A crowd of people have surrounded the performers. They all get into position to start dancing with one another. Tommy has very little thoughts as he reaches for Serenade's hand. He jerks the villain to the side. Serenade makes a startled sound, but he follows Tommy all the way to the street performers. They join the crowd. Serenade laughs when he realizes what Tommy is trying to do. It isn't a malicious laugh, though. It is one of enjoyment, and Tommy finds himself joining in as he takes Serenade's other hand. They spin around a little more recklessly than the other dancers, but no one is having more fun than they are. Their quick movements encourage the street performers to play an upbeat song. Tommy smiles so largely that it hurts his face as he goes around and around in tight circles. By the time the street performers are done, he feels warm and sticky with sweat, but he can't wipe the smile off his face.

"I win!" Tommy informs Serenade, leaning against his shoulder as they peel off from the crowd to rejoin their group.

"I'm pretty sure I was the winner," Serenade argues as he squeezes Tommy's hand. Although neither of them know what the stipulations for winning were, they argue about who won the entire time they walk. No matter how much they go back-and-forth, though, Tommy can't stop smiling. He even wonders if Argonaut has any more bread. He'll have to ask where she bought it from. It might be nice to dip into his private funds to purchase it. Or he'll get Croupier to buy it for him. The Jester of Las Nevadas has always been on Tommy's case about eating proper food. He'll be more than willing to indulge Tommy if the blonde agrees to actually eat the bread. Croupier might not be happy if Tommy eats the bread with his gray powder, though, which is Tommy's plan.

The others are situated around the street curb. Phil, Sneeg, and Red Dragon have foldable chairs they are sitting in. Argonaut leans on the back of Red Dragon's chair. Thermoculus and Dyscardia are squished together on an overturned crate. Ravager stands behind them. Jolt and Enderwalk are sitting on the curb. Tommy releases Serenade's arm and hand to join his two friends. He sits on the curb beside Jolt, not looking back to see where Serenade ultimately ends up sitting.

"The parade is starting," Enderwalk says, pointing towards the end of the road. The first people to come through is a marching band. They are playing a loud song that seems to incorporate all sorts of instruments. Tommy watches the color guard members throwing their chromatic flags into the air. They always catch the flag, twisting them around as if the wind itself is compelling the movements of the fabric. Tommy rests his elbow on his knee, putting his chin in the palm of his hand.

When the marching band passes, the first float rolls across the street. It is designed like a giant robot crawling forward with the signature mustache of Mayor Mumbo Jumbo. The man is standing on the float, waving at people. There are heroes on the float on him, and Tommy recognizes Watcher and Arid. The latter looks at Tommy for a moment too long, but the smile on his face never wavers. Instead, he waves a little more enthusiastically. Tommy waves back, ignoring the fact that Watcher is now looking at him. Tommy looks away, dropping his hand. Thankfully, the float passes quickly. Tommy hopes Arid only recognizes Tommy. Preferably, though, he didn't know who Tommy was at all and just thought his costume was cool.

The next few floats are other important members of Mayor Jumbo's administration. Tommy doesn't know who any of them are. After those floats pass, there are floats representing the guilds. The Hero's Guild is a recreation of the tower, and some of the most popular heroes are standing on the terraces. Tommy knows vaguely who all of them are, and he finds himself waving when the float passes because Tempestarius is hanging off the back. His wave is tiny and his form is unassuming, so he doesn't understand how Tempestarius knows to look his way. When she does, she smiles and waves back. She doesn't seem to recognize him, and that's for the best. He doesn't want her getting any weird ideas about their relationship. They aren't friends, no matter what Thermoculus thinks.

Since their agents don't wear cool costumes or share their codenames, the float of the Moderator's Guild needed some sort of theme to resonate with the crowd. This year, they chose to do a circus. There are performers doing stunts and cool tricks around a smaller version of a big-top tent- though it is still plenty big.

The Enforcer's Guild is in much the same boat as the Moderator's Guild, but they go with the theme of hunters and mystical animals every year. Tommy's eyes widen when he notices that they even have a cage filled with Mobs at the certain of their float. Tommy has never seen a Mob up close, but he recognizes a few of the creatures the Enforcers brought with them: a Creeper, a skeleton without a bow, and a rotting zombie. There are two other cages on the upper part of the float. One of the cages has Nether-born Mobs like a Piglin and a sputtering Blaze. The other cage houses a singular Enderman.

"What the hell?" Jolt whispers to himself, reaching a hand to grab Enderwalk's hand. Tommy glances over to see Enderwalk's wide eyes pinned on the Enderman who stands listlessly in their cage. Since there are no attempts to teleport, Tommy thought the Enderian person agreed, but it is strange how despondent the Enderman seems.

Tommy looks over his shoulder at the others. Thermoculus seems uncomfortable, and Dyscardia is holding his shoulder and whispering to him. Ravager is gripping the back of Phil's chair with enough strength that he breaks it. Serenade reaches a hand up to direct Ravager's attention to him instead of the float. Tommy looks away, realizing that he really doesn't understand what's going on. Are they hybrids? That might explain it, but up there, only Piglins and Endermen have any form of sentience. Tommy didn't think there were any Piglin or Endermen hybrids in the Syndicate. Then again, he didn't know Serenade was a phantom hybrid, so maybe he's missing a lot of things.

Tommy looks back at the floats, noticing belatedly that Jolt took his hand, too. Tommy doesn't know why- he isn't as upset as the others. He doesn't let go, though. He closes his fingers around Jolt's hand, not looking at the costumed bee as the rest of the floats move by.

Each float has some sort of theme. Tommy understands each one, even if he doesn't know all the institutions making the floats or the people standing on them. He just enjoys the music playing softly from each moving piece and the colors swirling together. The people around them cheer, and while Tommy does enjoy the show, he doesn't make a sound. After a few more floats, Dyscardia comes by with meat skewers for the three sitting on the curb. Tommy reluctantly lets go of Jolt's hand to take his meat skewer, but he doesn't regret his choice. He enjoys his savory snack, deciding that he'll need to get some water or juice after the parade ends.

And it does end, despite how long it takes. When the last float moves to the next street, going on a route through Prime Heights, Tommy wipes his hands together, standing up. He glances at his friends as they come to their feet. He asks, "What sort of trouble can we get into?"

"There's going to be a firework show later! We could go find somewhere to watch from," Enderwalk exclaims happily. Tommy knows about the fireworks. It was the one part of the festival he was able to experience. He would sit at his window, watching the colorful bombs explode in the sky. The booming was unfortunate, but Tommy didn't mind it too much. The scent of gunpowder did put him on edge. It reminds him of the night he returned to the collapsed warehouse. It reminds him of the morning he woke up standing at the precipice of the crater. In both instances, he wasn't too far away from death.

"Or we could go mess with the fireworks," Jolt presents an alternative with an innocent smile on his face.

"I'm willing to be a terrorist," Tommy concedes, much to Enderwalk's visible displeasure. Tommy and Jolt work together to convince Enderalk to go with them to the fireworks, laughing at Enderwalk's exasperated expression as he huffs. He eventually ends up laughing. "I think-"

Tommy stops. There is a makeshift stage made just for the festival built near city hall. It will be where Mayor Jumbo will give a speech about the prosperity of the city later, but there is a pretty thick crowd starting to form around it earlier than usual. As Tommy approaches, he realizes that the guildmaster is standing on a makeshift stage. Tommy darts into the crowd, pushing his way near the front where he can see. Tommy stops when the guildmaster begins his speech into the microphone. "Citizens of Essempei, I am XD, the guildmaster of the Hero's Guild. Recently, a group of villains known as the Red Army has been kidnapping hybrids. Members of the Red Army have been causing mass panic, destroying public and private property, murdering, pillaging, and other heinous crowds that stand in opposition to the peace this city promises you. The responsibility of bringing in the Red Army was given to the Moderator's Guild. As they have made little leeway, the mayor's administration and the guildmasters have discussed better solutions. In the end, we have decided to put someone new in charge of this case. Their strength and determination will see that this case ends swiftly before more damage can be brought upon us. Before I introduce them, I want to reassure everyone that the leaders of the city have thought long and hard about what we should do, and we did not come to this decision lightly. We have weighed every option, and this will be the best for everyone."

XD shifts to the side, letting someone walk on stage. The crowd goes silent and rigid as they realize who is standing beside XD. The guildmaster continues. "For good behavior, we have allowed him to take this case as a sort of parole. Should he succeed within the time limit, he will be granted temporary freedoms and enlisted into the Hero's Guild to continue making up for all the wrong he has done to this city."

XD steps aside, letting the esper take the microphone. The crowd is a graveyard. The villain opens his mouth to start his speech, "Hello, Essempei. If you don't know me, I'm Minotaur. I would like to personally greet the survivors of Manberg, if there are any. I know there's at least one of you... But this isn't about that. This is about the Red Army. A lot of things are going to change around here now that I'm in charge of the case-"

That's all Tommy hears. The blood rushes through his head, making him feel like he's listening to a raging river. He stares down at his hands. He's shaking so much. Blood drips from his skin, thick and heavy, pouring from several cuts and tears and bruises and burns. He can't breathe, something is pressing against his chest. A foot, maybe, but he isn't on his back. He's standing up. At least, he thinks he is. He feels so off-balance. He can't tell which direction anything is. He closes his eyes tightly. See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil... isn't that it? If he doesn't see or hear Minotaur, he can't be there. He's still in prison. He sees no evil and he hears no evil and he...

"Tommy." The blonde's eyes fly open. Tubbo is standing several feet away from him. There's a grim expression on his face. As the crowd jostles, Tubbo is swallowed up by the masses.

There's a weight on Tommy's shoulder. He whirls around, using his arm to knock the other person's arm off of him. He jumps back when red eyes narrow at him. Is it anger or concern? Tommy doesn't know. He doesn't care to know. He darts away, letting the crowd swallow him like it did Tubbo. Tommy is looking for something, but he doesn't know what. Safety? An explanation? Tubbo?

Monarch. Tommy sees Monarch's red cape because of course the hero would be on duty during a festival involving Minotaur. Tommy reaches Monarch, grabbing hold of the cape and realizing that his vision is incredibly blurry. He forces himself to breathe, trying to make his vision steady. Tommy grabs Monarch's upper arms, forcing the hero to look at him. "What the fuck, Monarch? Why the hell is he here? What the fuck did you guys do? Why- I can't- this isn't- Monarch?!"

"Calm down, Vendetta. Take deep breaths," Monarch responds. They reach up to peel Tommy's hands off their upper arms. They take Tommy's hands into their own, squeezing gently and exaggerating their breathing to assist Tommy in calming down.

Tommy yanks his hands out of Monarch's hold as if he's been burned. He narrows his eyes at the hero. "I will not fucking calm down until you tell me what the hell Minotaur is doing here!"

Monarch sighs, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He explains slowly and gently like Tommy is a child. The blonde doesn't have the energy to take offense, not when he's getting answers. "Despite his drinking habits and excessive use of violence, Minotaur is highly strategic and powerful. He will deal with the Red Army, allowing the guilds to allocate our resources elsewhere. Since no one has been able to do much, we needed someone else to take up the charge."

"Why does it have to be fucking Minotaur?" Tommy says. There are so many other people that could continue the fight against the Red Army. Even if it had to be a villain, there were way better options. But it had to be Minotaur. Tommy reaches his hands up to hold his upper arms. He starts pulling on the golden thread again. The pain centers him. It brings him into this moment. Monarch's face twists with worry when they notice Tommy's self-destructive habit, but they are in position to tell Tommy what to do. They never were, but especially not now.

"It is like a form of parole. XD wasn't wrong. Minotaur has been surprisingly good while in prison," Monarch explains.

"Minotaur hasn't fucking changed. He is still an abusive asshole waiting to take power from anyone stupid enough not to dig their fucking claws into it. He just wants to be the leader of a borough again, and which one are we going to sacrifice? He let the fucking Syndicate blow L'Manberg up!" Tommy argues angrily. Minotaur was a corrupted politician who decided he would rather take his private assassinations onto the streets to prove how powerful he was. L'Manberg suffered under his control because he was more concerned with retaining power than helping the people. He only assisted those who could help him, and unfortunately, Tommy and his little homeless could do nothing for Minotaur. All they had to offer him was Tubbo, Minotaur's son, but none of them were willing to do that, especially not Tommy. Not after Tubbo told them what Minotaur did to him.

"Everything is going to be fine, Vendetta. I have to go, but if you're still upset, come find me later at the guildhouse," Monarch promises. They run away, having found something more worth their attention than arguing with Vendetta about something neither of them can change. Tommy remains where Monarch left him. He can't bring himself to move other than grabbing his knife for his protection. He wonders if Minotaur will try to get revenge on him. No, Tommy knows Minotaur will. The only question is how. Tommy suspects Minotaur will use a roundabout way. He will undermine Tommy's position with the guild. He'll find a way to sever Tommy's connections. He might even deliver Tommy to Reverie on a silver platter. He doesn't want Tommy to die- he wants Tommy to suffer. He must because that's Minotaur's way of doing things. Ever since he rose to power, that was how he worked. Five years in prison is a lot of time to think, to plan, to plot.

"There you are! Everyone was worried when you ran away. I saw what happened. I'm so sorry, Theseus. I don't know what the guild is thinking. I know Minotaur, and I know what he'll do once he's out," Argonaut calls from behind Tommy. He looks up, but he doesn't turn around. He's in an alleyway. He found Monarch in an alleyway. He's still in Prime Heights, not too far from the guildhouse. Argonaut continues, noticing his silence. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry," Tommy whispers, tilting his head around. Argonaut is close to him. She's reaching out for him. She would probably hug him, if he let her.

"What for? You didn't cause any of this to happen," Argonaut says slowly. She reaches her hand to touch one of the golden strings that came loose with all of Tommy's tugging. "Why are you sorry?"

Tommy whirls around, bringing his knife up. The blade slices through Argonaut's cheek. She jumps back immediately, landing in a defensive position. Her eyes widen in surprise. She reaches a hand up to wipe the bubbling blood from the cut away. Blue energy dances along the wound, sealing it before the blood can even spill over. Tommy brings his knife up in an offensive position. Argonaut's eyebrows knit together in confusion when she realizes what situation she's in. Tommy proclaims with glaring eyes, "The deal was that I don't the Syndicate and the Syndicate doesn't hurt him. The deal's off now."

"What...?" Tommy hears from behind Argonaut. The rest of the group is there. He doesn't know for how long, but they must have heard his proclamation.

"Vendetta-" Argonaut says, reaching a hand towards him. Before she can get closer, Red Dragon slides between her and Tommy. He looks over his shoulder, staring directly into Tommy's eyes. "Go!"

Look, Vendetta, if you want out of this deal at any time, just go. I'll support you no matter what choice you make.

Tommy takes the opportunity, not looking back as he races down the alleyway. His feet already know the destination, and his fingers clench tighter around his knife.

Chapter Text

“I don't like it, but my hands are tied. I just want you to know this: if I ever get the chance to betray you, I will. If the opportunity arises to pay you back, I'll take it. You'll never be able to trust me.”
― Darren Shan

Tommy enters through the lobby of the guildhall. One of the few secretaries still on duty on festival day looks up at him, but she quickly looks back down when she notices his expression. Tommy doesn’t pay attention to her as he marches through the large first floor. He enters the elevator, slamming his hand against the button that will take him to the highest floor. The doors slide shut, but it takes a few moments to scan and identify Tommy for the elevator to start lifting up. Tommy lifts the dagger up, placing the blade in his hand. He waits impatiently for the elevator to deposit him on the closest accessible floor. He twists the dagger, grazing his skin with the fine edge.

When the doors open, Tommy turns down the hall. He pushes open the door to the stairwell. He starts climbing the stairs, the only direction upward or back into the hall. He keeps his dagger firmly beside him. He logically knows that only XD and his assistants will be using this stairwell. He won’t find any threats that need to be taken care of but holding the dagger reassures him. If something were to happen, Tommy is far more prepared than his opponent would be. Tommy has to be. The chestplate and helmet he’s wearing aren’t real metal, and he doesn’t have any extra protective gear on. The dagger is his one offense and defense in these twisting halls.

Going up another time will lead Tommy to the roof, so he pushes through the door of the second-to-last landing. Tommy steps into a hallway designed with muted colors and portraits of famous heroes and administrative workers in the Hero’s Guild’s history. Tommy has glared at these people enough in his lifetime, so he ignores them all as he barrels through the hallway. The security cameras swivel at his movement. Whoever is watching them- if anyone is- will definitely be in for a sight. Tommy wonders how villainous he looks with his purposeful strides and dagger at his side. He has never looked like a hero, but he imagines it is far worse right now since no one will be able to identify him without his uniform.

Tommy nearly breaks down the door at the end of the hall. He thought it would be locked, and he’s proven wrong when he stumbles into XD’s reception room. As Tommy catches his bearings, he looks around the room. Not much has changed since the last time Tommy was here. There are four desks in each corner of the room, the immediate area decorated to accommodate whichever assistant works there. A waiting area with a couch and chairs is in the middle back of the room, each item facing the large window that makes up the entire far wall, some more directly than others. The window reveals the fading evening turning into approaching twilight. A handful of stars are dimly twinkling and the moon seems to be rising, but the sky is dominated by the light of the fireworks. They sound like gunshots in the distance even when the colors are so luminous they bathe the entire reception room into the responding color.

“Theseus,” A voice calls behind Tommy. The blonde whirls around, bringing his dagger up. The fireworks must have exploded into a red light because Minotaur is washed in a bloody color for a brief moment. It is enough to set off every alarm bell in his head. He wears a black metal chestplate with a low, v-neck, revealing a hairy chest. He doesn’t wear pants or shoes, letting his goat hooves tap against the ground. His yellow eyes with square pupils shine in the cut holes of the red ribbon around his face, the ends falling over the curved horns on his head. His signature whip is wrapped around his waist, but Tommy knows how quickly the whip can thrash an opponent.

Minotaur steps into the reception room. He uses his hoof to close the door behind him. The door slams shut with a booming noise that causes Tommy to become aware of how his hands were shaking. It was minute, but if Tommy noticed it, Minotaur surely did. He must have since his lips were turning up into a smile. A crooked, evil smile that makes Tommy feel like he’s in a cage. Or a labyrinth. 

“It’s Theseus, right? Your costume?” Minotaur continues, gesturing towards Tommy with his blackened claws. Tommy looks down at himself. He didn’t bother changing out of his costume. He didn’t think it was important. The light of the firework washes across the golden threads around his arms. “I’m familiar with the story. The great Theseus goes into Daedeleus’ labyrinth to slay the Minotaur and save his people. A moving story of heroics, isn’t it? The Ancient Builders knew how to tell a dramatic tale.”

“Stay back,” Tommy demands, lifting the dagger up more as a means of intimidating Minotaur. The villain doesn’t seem very intimidated. Instead of moving back, he takes a step forward and raises his hands as if that could placate Tommy.

“Relax. You have nothing to worry about. Theseus defeated the Minotaur in the story, didn’t he?” The esper says with an amused smile rising to his face. Tommy hesitates. Theseus defeated the Minotaur once. Vendetta was able to defeat Minotaur once. There was never a sequel because the Minotaur stayed dead for Theseus. Tommy has to deal with Minotaur brought back to life, and he wonders if Theseus would be as terrified as Tommy is. “In any case, there’s no need for threats. We’re on the same side.”

“I will never be on the same fucking side as you,” Tommy growls. He can only think about all of the horrible things Minotaur did. Even for a villain, Minotaur was particularly nasty. He killed his political opponents. He leveraged blackmail on anyone powerful in L’Manberg. He was single handedly responsible for the financial crisis and economic corruption. Everyone underneath him lived in fear, and not just of him, either. Minotaur didn’t allow heroes or Moderators to stick their nose too far into his business. Enforcers and members of the other guilds, like the Merchant’s Guild, weren’t even allowed in L’Manberg. He cut off the entire borough, uncaring that his people were suffering for it. All of this ended only when parts of L’Manberg had been blown sky-high, causing everyone to flee the few areas that remained intact. At least the bombing wasn’t Minotaur’s fault, but Tommy highly doubts Minotaur didn’t have a hand in it. He probably pissed Azrael and Inchling off, and Tommy suffered for it. Minotaur’s own son died because of it.

Minotaur hums contemplatively, bringing his hands back down to his side. He looks unbothered as he looks out the window. The light of the fireworks makes it seem like his yellow eyes are glowing in the dimness of the reception room. “That might be true. I have something personal to settle with you. And you are working with Croupier, someone I have an even bigger score to settle with.”

Tommy winces. Croupier doesn’t talk about his past often. He talks about it even less than Tommy talks about the happy memories surrounding his family. But ‘not often’ does not mean ‘never.’ The first time Tommy came to Las Nevadas after putting Minotaur in jail, Croupier officially signed a contract of allyship with Tommy. He gave Tommy harder missions, but he also let Tommy reap better rewards. A few months in, Croupier asked what it was like fighting Minotaur. After Tommy mentioned that he doesn’t really remember- it was just blood and fighting spirit and pain- Croupier started looking at Tommy differently. Just a few days later, they found Charlie, and Croupier treated them both very similarly as their teacher and something like… well, Tommy was reading too much into it. Tommy just does some odd jobs and then get information.

“Your business with Croupier has fuck-all to do with me,” Tommy answers. If Croupier asked him to, Tommy would join the task force against Minotaur, but that isn’t because Tommy cares about Croupier. It is purely because he wants to put Minotaur back in prison- any form of incarceration- and it would be better to do it with the Dealer and his Aces. Though, he suspects that Charlie will become upset when he realizes that the Minotaur from his bedtime stories is the same one they’re going to fight. Tommy will probably be stuck with babysitting duty to make sure Charlie doesn’t tear apart the island for the slight against his ‘family.’

“Of course it doesn’t,” Minotaur agrees with a sinister smile. He takes more steps forward until he isn’t that far away from Tommy. The blonde stiffens, preparing for a fight even though Minotaur looks completely relaxed. “We could never be on the same side because you’re a little spy for the Syndicate, and unlike you, I actually despise them.”

“Fuck off, Minotaur. I’m not a spy for the fucking Syndicate,” Tommy glares at the villain, deciding that it is better to feel angry that scared. He can be terrified when Minotaur isn’t in the room with him. He’s going to be angry right now. This is good practice for when he crosses paths with Reverie again.

Minotaur has the audacity to laugh. It is a pitched, cackling thing that feels like thousands of writhing bugs crawling over Tommy’s skin. “I already know all about your alliance with the villain group, so there is no need to waste your breath denying it.”

“I’m not a fucking spy,” Tommy reiterates. He may be temporarily working for the Syndicate, but he isn’t feeding them information about the guild. He would never do that. He may not be friends with anyone in the guild, but he doesn’t wish for them to die, especially not by the Syndicate’s clutches. His family was torn apart by that organization; he refuses to let any other family fall apart because of them.

“While that may be true, it doesn’t really matter, does it? The guild will believe you’re a spy no matter what evidence is or isn’t presented,” Minotaur concedes with a slow nod. “Everything you worked for will go down the fucking drain.”

“Why are you telling me any of this?” Tommy questions, shuffling back a half-step in blatant confusion. He doesn’t understand why Minotaur is revealing his hand.

“I need a servant, and I knew you wouldn’t work with me otherwise,” Minotaur states like a merchant droning on about business. It is unnerving but ultimately true. Minotaur continues, looking Tommy up and down with an appraising eye. “There is value in your determination and skill. You just need someone to cultivate that raw power. XD won’t do it. That bitch Croupier definitely won’t. You need someone like me.”

“I don’t want to be anyone’s fucking slave, least of all yours,” Tommy says, but he already knows the way this conversation is going to go. Tommy wasn’t careful enough. Someone found out he was working with the Syndicate, and Minotaur was able to buy that information. Tommy could find out which prison guard was a little too loose-lipped, but what would be the point? Minotaur already knows. Tommy is stuck in this situation until he can come up with an alibi or bring forth proof that absolves him. If he has something, anything, they will believe his word over Minotaur’s. They have to. Tommy has been a rather faithful hero for years, and Minotaur is a villain on parole.

“I’m not giving you a choice. You are going to help me defeat the Red Army. I’m sure you’ve already been working on it, so I’ll leave the brunt of the work to you. After that’s done, I’ll need you to do a few favors for me. Nothing too major, just helping me reclaim what belongs to me,” Minotaur explains. Tommy feels the shakiness begin again. He stares down at his reflection in the blade of his dagger. He’s glad he’s wearing a blindfold. He doesn’t want Minotaur seeing the expression in his eyes. “If you’re lucky, I might help you kill the Syndicate.”

“I only want to kill Azrael and Inchling.” The words are out before Tommy has really processed them. It has always been his goal to kill Azrael and Inchling. They are and have always been his targets. He used to think he would be fine with whatever collateral damage came from it. He is hesitant to say that now. He won’t say he cares about the Syndicate members, but… but he doesn’t wish to see them die. He doesn’t want to be the one to take their lives. He will if he has to, but he will carry the guilt with him instead of letting it die with the body.

“Stop thinking so damn small, Vendetta. With my assistance, you could wipe out the Syndicate. Hell, we can even take down the Hunters. I’m sure you want them gone,” Minotaur explains his grandiose plans.

“Why do you want these organizations gone?” Tommy dares to ask.

Minotaur smirks, looking Tommy right in the eyes. Tommy has to resist the urge to shudder. He breathes in steadily as those intense eyes seem to stare through the blindfold to the trembling blue underneath. “Since we’re going to be working together now, I’ll let you in on a secret. I’m going to gain power the legal way. I’m going to be the top-ranked hero, and the fastest way to do that is to get rid of these villain organizations. And when I’m on top, the world will be mine.”

“I don’t understand why anyone would want that much damn power,” Tommy whispers. He doesn’t know why the Syndicate wants power. He doesn’t know why the Hunters want power. He doesn’t even know why the gangs of Empires want power. Croupier told Tommy that people want power so that they can protect themselves and the people they care about, but Tommy highly doubts any of the examples he listed above want power for that reason. Is it to spread chaos? Live a life of luxury forevermore? A need to inspire fear in others? Tommy just wants the power to defeat his enemies, and then he will be done. He will relinquish all the power he’s acquired when his sacred mission is done.

“You are too used to thinking small,” Minotaur utters, rolling his eyes. He reaches a hand up, and he places his fingers around Tommy’s shoulders. He squeezes, heat radiating from his skin into Tommy’s muscles. Tommy stiffens, and he doesn’t dare breathe as Minotaur leans forward to really put him eye-to-eye with Tommy. The fireworks are red again. The tension is thick enough to cut with his dagger, but Tommy cannot move the weapon no matter how hard he tries. Minotaur smiles as if he knows Tommy cannot hurt him, as if he knows Tommy is too sane, too in control, to properly take down the threat in front of him. “I’ll have an assignment for you soon, Theseus. Finish it quickly.”

Minotaur gives Tommy’s shoulder one last squeeze, and Tommy winces as he feels his skin start to burn. Minotaur lifts his hand. He exits the room, whistling an unpleasant song. He shuts the door behind him, and the minute Tommy hears the click, his knees buckle. He falls to the ground. His dagger clatters against the ground as it falls from his grasp. Tommy stares down at the marble floor. There is blood all over it. Blood from Tommy. The lashes from his whip and the burns from his skin and the wounds from his horns. Tommy holds his breath, feeling the dirt and ashes falling into his eyes. He reaches his hands up to hug himself, feeling the golden thread underneath his skin.

Theseus had Ariadne. She gave him the golden thread. She told him how to use it. She had forethought and intelligence, but most importantly, she stood in Theseus’ corner. She wishes for his success even if it meant betraying her homeland.

Tommy doesn’t have anyone. He cut off his ties with the Syndicate, as he should have the moment he started to confuse Serenade for Wilbur, the moment he decided to risk his life to save Dyscardia, the moment he started enjoying the letters Ravager was sending him. He should have left a long time ago, but he only left today, only after he realized how good it felt to have someone in his corner.

Tommy doesn’t have anyone else, though. He will never go back to the Hunters, no matter how desperate he may be. He can’t trust anyone in the Hero’s Guild. Not only are they allowing Minotaur to wander their halls, but he can’t risk anyone else finding out about his involvement with the Syndicate. He can’t trust his informants since they were probably the ones to sell the information to Minotaur. Theseus had Ariadne, and all Tommy has is the memories of his family to push him forward.

Tommy looks up from the clean floors to the window. The fireworks continue to populate the skies. His conversation with Minotaur felt like eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, give or take a few seconds. The firework show has not yet ended. Tommy frowns. He was excited to watch the fireworks with Jolt and Enderwalk. He liked dressing up in a costume. He liked arguing with Ravager. He liked going through a haunted house with Thermoculus. He liked eating festival food with Dyscardia and Argonaut. He liked dancing in the street with Serenade. Today was supposed to be a good day.

But maybe this is for the best. The closer he gets to the Syndicate, the harder it will be later on. Tommy closes his eyes. He cannot let any of this shake his resolve. He doesn’t need anyone in his corner. He just needs to continue pushing towards his goal. Azrael and Inchling will die, no matter what Minotaur threatens him with or what he feels about the Syndicate. Leverage or not, conflicted feelings or not, Tommy will get revenge. Minotaur said he admired Tommy’s determination. Well, he’s about to see how stubborn Tommy really is.

Chapter Text

“Who fixes broken people? Is it only other broken people, ones who've already been ruined? And do we need to be fixed? It was the messiness and hurt in our pasts that drove us, and that same hurt connected us on a subdermal level, the kind of scars written so deeply in your cells that you can't even see them anymore, only recognize them in someone else.”

 -Leah Raeder

Tommy sits on the second floor of an open-aired bus. The cold night air blows across his hair, pushing the hair that falls across his forehead. His mask is able to warm the air he breathes up, but goosebumps begin to rise across the skin that falls between his mask and his goggles. He reaches back to pull up the hood on the jacket he’s wearing over his uniform. Although it is exceedingly cold, the few people on the second floor with him don’t seem to notice. They are already halfway to being drunk, and Tommy is certain they are shivering more from their alcohol consumption than the temperature drop.

Tommy huddles over a duffle bag in his lap, folding his arms over it and placing his chin on his forearm. The metal of his mask digs into the cloth, but the thick jacket and durable uniform sleeves keep his skin from being punctured. Tommy is careful not to press down too much of his weight. Not because he’s worried about his skin, but because his prized possession, the framed photograph of his family, was placed at the bottom of the duffle bag. It is protected by a few layers of clothes and toiletries, but Tommy will take every precaution he can.

Once Minotaur was done with him, Tommy rushed to Paradise Apartments. He snuck in, hoping to avoid Serenade. Luckily, it seemed like the villain wasn’t there. Tommy hurriedly grabbed all of his belongings. At least, he took the ones he thought were worth lugging around. He left the boxes of his gray powder since he had a plentiful stock in other locations. He left behind the box given to him by Serenade along with the letters from Ravager. A lesson in attachment, Reverie would call it, but then again, Reverie would have burned that box and everything inside of it if Tommy was still under him. Tommy even left behind his dagger. He hopes it finds its way to Dyscardia. She seemed to like using it.

Tommy reaches a hand up, running it through his hair beneath the hood. He feels something tighten on his shoulder. He glances to the side. Crowfather is perched on Tommy’s shoulder. His dark eyes are examining the half-drunk crowd around Tommy curiously. Tommy looks away from Crowfather. This is the longest they’ve been together in weeks. In any other situation, Tommy would be spilling his guts out about everything that has happened. He’s far too tired to do that right now. He just basks in Crowfather’s company. It reminds him of a happier past, one where Tommy’s biggest worries were just about getting his revenge and Minotaur was safely locked away in Pandora’s Vault.

The air shifts as the bus changes lanes. Tommy looks up, gazing outside of the barrier keeping people from falling off the bus. He looks through the cables of the Great Bridge, gazing down at the ocean below. The salty air hits him, and he pulls the duffle bag closer to his chest as a poor imitation of a hug. He hates the ocean, but he has to cross it every time he wants to get to Las Nevadas. He would normally glide over his powers, but he can’t risk attracting unwanted attention. Plus, if he’s too exhausted to talk, he doesn’t want to tax himself more by trying to use his powers. He could end up falling into the ocean in that case, and that’s exactly what Tommy doesn’t want.

Crowfather lifts his wings, getting balanced on Tommy’s shoulder. A person notices the bird. They coo drunkenly, reaching a hand out. Crowfather yips at their finger. The person winces in pain, bringing their hand back to their chest. They look at Tommy with anger in their eyes. Tommy stares back at them coolly from underneath his hood. The person’s face flashes with an almost fearful but mostly disgusted expression. They turn away from Tommy, rejoining their group. Tommy sighs, thankful that a conflict didn’t break out. It wouldn’t be his first time arguing with someone on a bus, and those arguments are always somehow messier than regular fights.

No one bothers Tommy or Crowfather for the rest of the ride. In fact, some people actually climb down to the first floor of the bus. The ones left behind are the ones a little too drunk or sleepy to move on their own. There are a few loners like Tommy, wearing hoods. Some are even listening to music through their headphones. Tommy gives them all cursory glances, but he moves on pretty quickly to stare at the aisle floor. He doesn’t find anything fascinating about it.

He keeps his eyes glued there until he hears an alarm from the bus. He looks up, noticing the large sign that marks the bus stop. The other people on the top floor start climbing down the stairs, getting ready to step off the bus. Tommy doesn’t wait for that. He adjusts his duffle bag to hang off his shoulder, making Crowfather fly away temporarily. He places one foot onto the railing. He pushes off of that foot to bring his entire body onto the railing. He jumps onto the overhang of the bus stop. The Plexiglas makes a creaking noise under his weight. It holds steady as he slides to the back. He drops to the sidewalk behind. Crowfather lands back on his shoulder once Tommy has settled firmly on his feet.

Tommy adjusts his hood and duffle bag. He starts walking towards the casino in the distance, darting between the crowd. The flashing lights make him squint. The great mass of bodies knocks him off-course several times. He can barely hear his thoughts over the blaring music and laughter. Luckily, his mask filters out the disgusting taste and scent of alcohol and perfume in the air. This allows Tommy to keep some clarity of mind as he finally reaches the steps of the grand casino, purposefully ignoring the sputtering of the fountain that should still contain both his and Thermoculus’ wishes.

Tommy reaches his hand up, knocking Crowfather off his shoulder. The bird makes an offended cawing noise. Tommy smiles grimly beneath his mask. “You have to stay out here. You’re a fucking bird, Crowfather. They’re not going to let you inside.”

Crowfather makes a low sound as he flies off into the sky. Tommy watches him go for half of a breath, but he moves inside the casino as he’s exhaling.

The casino is Croupier’s greatest achievement. All of Ankh’s best designs went into it, and Ultraviolet’s strongest operatives guard it. The main floor alone has several sections with different styles of bars, different ways to gamble, and plenty of locations to lounge around. The workers rush around with their completely white masks and uniform tuxedos, making them all look like faceless servants ready to comply with the wishes of anyone who has at least paid for one thing. These servants are all personally trained by Reynard in the ways of service and Ultraviolet’s guards gave them all a crash-course on self-defense. They are trained in the ways of efficiency and grace, and Croupier pays a more than fair amount for this level of professionalism. Of course, anyone who is not up to par will risk severe punishment, but that is the price anyone pays to work for the Jester of Las Nevadas.

Tommy does not bother with the crowd of elaborately dressed individuals with their champagne glasses and wealthy pockets. They don’t pay attention to Tommy. He does not wear the clothes of their ilk nor is he dressed like a servant. He expects the officers underneath the Ace of Spades might give him a second look, but they allow him to pass through the thin crowd without even checking what face lies underneath the hood. Tommy reaches a hand up to grip the handles of his duffle bag anxiously. He should have known that his appearance in Las Nevadas wouldn’t go unnoticed. Even if Ultraviolet doesn’t know Tommy is currently on the island, he would know that Tommy would end up here eventually. Where else would Tommy go in this situation?

Tommy ducks into a dimly lit hallway. He presses his hand against the wall, his fingers brushing against the cold wallpaper. When his fingers find a crevice in the wall, Tommy stops. He turns to face the metal frame of the servant’s elevator. He pulls out the card Croupier gave him years ago, sliding it into the port hooked up to the elevator. The light on top glows green with a quiet ding. Tommy can hear mechanical movement. Eventually, the golden doors slide away from each other. Tommy steps onto the elevator. The doors close almost immediately, and Tommy scans his card once again. The electronic panel lights up after he scans his card, and it presents a list of floors he’s allowed on. Tommy scrolls. He clicks one of the highest floors. Tommy takes a step back, letting the elevator pull him upward.

He feels a little anxious standing in the elevator. He has never been good with enclosed spaces, a fear created and exploited by Reverie. Tommy manages to push the irrational fear down mainly because of how brightly lit the elevator is. If the elevator was dark, Tommy would have taken the stairs, no matter how many he would have to climb to get to the point.

The doors slide open. An automated message appears on the electronic screen reminding him not to let anyone else ride with him and to enjoy his time in Las Nevadas. Tommy switches the electronic off. He steps off of the elevator. He takes a controlled breath. He heads directly to Croupier’s private office. It takes a little longer than if he had just used the service elevator, but Tommy refused to get his handprint into that system. It should only be for the Dealer and his Aces, Tommy argued. He still stands by that fact even as he has to remember which way Croupier’s office is.

Considering how many times Tommy has done this, it doesn’t take him long to get to the office. He raises his hand to knock, but he thinks better of it. He reaches for the door handle. He pushes it down. He opens the door just enough to slip through. He closes the door behind him. Tommy looks up. Croupier is sitting at his desk, surrounded by papers and keeping a communicator propped between his ear and shoulder. He is disheveled, down to his beanie being halfway on his hair and the feathers on his wings being out of place. Croupier looks increasingly angry and frustrated, but his expression freezes when he notices Tommy looking at him. The papers fall from Croupier’s fingers onto the wood. He slowly moves the communicator away from his ear, setting it down on the desk. Croupier places his hands on the desk, rising up from his chair.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Tommy shifts back, looking around the room instead of staring at Croupier approaching him. Tommy hopes that Croupier accepts his excuse. It’s the truth. Minotaur will eventually come to Las Nevadas, but he isn’t stupid enough to do it right now. He doesn’t have any power or backing, the guilds are watching him intently, and Croupier has amassed great power since the last time he worked with Minotaur. Tommy will be safe here for the time being, if Croupier lets him stay.

Croupier stands right in front of Tommy. The blonde tenses, but he completely deflates when he feels Croupier’s arms fold around his shoulders and back. Croupier pulls Tommy in close, setting his chin on Tommy’s shoulder. Croupier’s wings rise up to add to the warmth of the hug. Tommy stands still, completely stunned, but he is unable to stop himself from returning the hug. He places his forehead against Croupier’s shoulder. He exhales a long, sad breath. The last time Croupier hugged him like this… it was that evening on top of the Needle.

“Are you okay?” Croupier asks. His voice sounds thick, and Tommy realizes he isn’t wearing his voice modifier. He’s letting Tommy hear his real voice. This isn’t the first time, though. When Charlie was younger, he hated the automated voice. He proclaimed that it ruined storytime. Croupier would take the modifier off to read storybooks to Charlie, even when Tommy was staying over for a sleepover with Charlie. 

“I can’t say that I am, king, not with Minotaur roaming free,” Tommy answers honestly. He could lie to Croupier, but what would the point be? Croupier would see the lie from a mile away. Minotaur ruined them both. Croupier might not know the extent of Tommy’s trauma, but he knows how deeply Minotaur affected him.

“I guess none of us are sleeping well tonight,” Croupier sullenly agrees, pulling back but not letting go. He keeps his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. He squeezes gently, a reminder that Tommy is standing in Croupier’s office with the Jester himself. Tommy doesn’t need that particular reassurance right now, but he does soothe some part of him to know that Croupier wouldn’t let him stray into the past.

“I can’t stay with the guild with Minotaur hanging around here. I’ve already fucking seen him. He knows about my alliance with the Syndicate, so he’s making me do shit for him,” Tommy mutters, feeling Croupier’s grip tighten. Croupier’s eyes widen. His breath stutters, but he regains control. Croupier hates not being in control, especially when it concerns himself. Tommy continues once Croupier’s grip laxes, “I cut ties with the Syndicate. I need to work… independently from them for now. I can’t have their power of friendship bullshit getting in my way. I gathered the information I wanted from them, and I used their resources to my heart’s content. Now, they can fuck off and die. Saves me the trouble, at least.”

“You can stay in Las Nevadas as long as you like. You’ll always have your room at the hotel, but I can get you one in the pyramid with the Aces. You still have a room in the casino… But I would rather get you a new one,” Croupier explains, shaking his head. Tommy grimaces. The hotel room was given to him after he officially signed a contract with Croupier. He stayed there until there was some big scare on the island. Croupier wanted all of his people to stay in the casino under his watchful eyes. Tommy was included in that list, but he requested a room without windows to be on the safe side. Croupier allowed it. Tommy did as he’s always done: he wore his chain. This was fine until Charlie came into his room one morning to wake Tommy up. The blood freaked Charlie out, and that became a whole problem. Tommy thought Croupier would be mad at him for setting Charlie off, but he was more upset about the chain. Tommy has to explain the entire situation to him. Tommy can still remember the look Croupier pulled. Tommy hated it, and they had a huge argument about it. They never really resolved that fight; they just didn’t bring it up again.

Unwilling to revisit that argument right now, Tommy answers Croupier. “No, I’ll just stay at the hotel. I’m going to help you defeat the shitty Red Army. I need to deal their fucking asses as soon as possible. What do you know?”

“If you’re sure…” Croupier trials off, walking over to his desk. Tommy looks down at the papers. Some of them are about Minotaur, but he finds a few about the different members of the Cult of Erythr. They are updated versions of the information Slime and Reynard got. Croupier pulls a few files from the shelves lining the walls of his office. He sets them down, pulling more papers out. He takes all the ones about Minotaur, organizing them as Tommy looks through the papers about the Red Army in the meantime. He feels regret over not being able to bring his board of information with him, but at least he has a copy of one here in Las Nevadas. He’ll probably have to take down the information about the Syndicate, but he already knows everything he needs to know about them. He knows enough about Azrael and Inchling, in any case. Once the Red Army is dealt with, Tommy is gunning for the Syndicate leaders.

Tommy flips over one of the papers. He is about to put it away but finds himself hesitating. He pulls the paper closer to his face. It’s the Scarlet Demoness. It isn’t a particularly good image about her, but it is clear enough that Tommy notices a detail that he’s never really paid attention to. She looks familiar in this picture. He doesn’t know how, though. He doesn’t know any regular civilians, so that can’t be where the familiarity is from. Tommy reaches for the other papers about her. She became active nearly a year ago. She mainly targeted gangs, but she’s also taken out a few heroes, villains, or vigilantes. No one has been able to figure out when she strikes or why. The only people who might have known would have been vigilantes Hellhound and Chill, who she had a contract of neutrality with, but neither of them have been active since the Red Army appeared.

Tommy looks through the list of her victims. After a few moments, he notices a pattern. He can’t confirm that every group is like this, but the few groups that he does recognize on the list are anti-hero. They despise the guild to the point of issuing threats. No one takes the threats seriously, but Scarlet Demoness could have. Why would she care about that, though? She wasn’t a hero. Unless… 

She said the reason she joined the cult was because she didn’t want to be abandoned again. Tommy didn’t think too much about it, but it serves as further evidence to what he thinks is happening right now. 

Tommy looks back at the photo. He thinks he understands why it looks familiar. He doesn’t know how the Scarlet Demoness is under the mask, but he might know something even more damning. Tommy scrambles for Croupier’s communicator. Since it’s his public communicator, Tommy knows what the password is. He immediately searches up the name of the hero he’s thinking of. He looks through images for a long time until he finds it. He sets the communicator down beside the picture of the Scarlet Demoness. 

Tommy shakes his head, closing his eyes. He can understand why he’s never noticed it before, but it does feel a little surreal. There’s a chance he’s completely wrong, but Tommy has a bad feeling that he’s right. And if he’s right… Tommy looks up at Croupier. He calls out hesitantly, shifting slightly on his feet. “I have a few ideas on how to defeat the fucking Red Army, Croupier… You’re not going to like a single fucking one.” 

Chapter Text

“And what if---what are you if the people who are supposed to love you can leave you like you're nothing?”

― Elizabeth Scott

Tommy slides the communicator Minotaur gave him to keep tabs on him at all times into his pocket. He’s confirmed that this the next apartment on the list of safehouses Minotaur has scrambled together for his mission. Tommy doesn’t know if these are safehouses Minotaur used before he was put in prison or if they were all given to him as the head of the task force against the Red Army. Tommy doubts Minotaur would give him a straight answer if he were to ask, and honestly, Tommy despises talking to Minotaur any more than he has to. Even asking for the list of safehouses took a lot of prepping, and Tommy puked immediately afterward as a visceral reaction to his perceived betrayal. He hopes Tubbo will forgive him for getting Minotaur’s help.

Tommy shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts. He leans down onto his knee, bringing out the lockpicking tools he brought with him. He focuses intently on the metal doorknob attached to the wooden door. He continues fiddling until he hears a clicking noise. Tommy slides the lockpicking tools into the pocket that carries his sleeping pills. He gently presses down on the handle. The door swings open without making any noises. Tommy enters through the gap into an apartment room filled with furniture covered in translucent tarps. Tommy kicks the door closed with his heel, looking around the room for the person he came here to meet.

An arrow lands in the wooden door frame next to Tommy’s head. The blonde glances over at it. The shaft is a lightweight black metal, and the tailfeathers are made from a gossamer thin plastic-like substance. Tommy cannot see the arrowhead since it’s lodged into the wood, but he already knows that it is made from Netherite. He knows that because he knows who this arrow belongs to. This fact is proven by the broken rhombus glowing rotating around the shaft as if the arrow was the pupil of an eye.

“Why shouldn’t I make that arrow explode right now?” Watcher asks, glancing at Tommy from the corner of his eye- the same eye that has a glowing, broken rhombus slowly rotating around it. He stands at the window, holding the blinds open enough for him to see the street below. He continues to hold the crossbow up. There isn’t another arrow in the weapon, but Watcher wears the quiver across his shoulder. His wings are folded around it, but Tommy recognizes the strap around his chest.

“I’m here to help,” Tommy offers, remaining perfectly still. He is literally playing with fire right now. If Watcher makes the arrow explode, Tommy’s face will be the first thing that burns. His metal mask will be more of a hindrance than a help in that case. Tommy could potentially die, all by Watcher’s whims. Even if Tommy were to dart away, the explosion is much faster than he is. All Watcher has to do is think, and Tommy will be a victim of spontaneous combustion.

“With what?” Watcher continues. There is an obvious edge to his voice. He is usually friendly. He is usually a little mischievous. Unlike Tommy, Watcher is a prime example of a hero who does a lot of good for this city. He does not look much like that poster child right now. He is dangerously quiet and still, and the purple light surrounding his eyes casts harsh shadows across his face. Something is wrong, and Tommy has the growing feeling that he knows what it is.

“I know you and the Scarlet Demoness have a connection,” Tommy says softly, putting his hands up. When he saw that picture of the Scarlet Demoness, he realized what was so familiar about it. She was holding a purple ribbon with a white eye-shape sewn into the edge. It was the symbol of Watcher’s powers, and what his fans usually wear to distinguish themselves from the rest of the crowd. She must have been a fan that was killing any groups that go against heroes in order to protect Watcher. At least, that’s his working theory. He doesn’t understand why she would feel abandoned, or why she would assume that an S-rank hero couldn’t take care of themself. He could assume it was because she’s insane or stubborn, but it nags at his mind.

“Don’t call her that!” Watcher yells, his avian wings flaring out. He turns away from the window, meeting Tommy’s eyes. The purple rhombus around Watcher’s eyes and the arrow begin to spin faster. It was a sign that Watcher was angry. Watcher turns to Tommy, keeping the crossbow steady. He reaches for another arrow, holding it with one hand without putting it in his weapon. 

Tommy lifts his hands up in surrender. He allows the room to descend into silence. Watcher seems to realize what he had done. He takes a deep breath. Tension leaks out of his body, but he doesn’t put the arrow or the crossbow away. Tommy decides that he can’t wait for all of Watcher’s emotions to run their course. He starts speaking, hoping this is the right moment. “I don’t know what else to fucking call her.”

“Don’t call her the Scarlet Demoness… She is not a demon. She’s my sister. I hate that stupid name,” Watcher admits. Tommy startles. He was way off track. He thought she was just a fan. He never imagined it would run deeper than that, but he supposes it makes sense. Maybe it wasn’t just the ribbon that she held that made him think they were connected. Now that he thinks about it, they do have similar walks. They carry themselves the same way. In any case, Scar- she and Watcher being siblings makes Tommy’s plan more viable.

“I saw her about a week ago,” Tommy tells Watcher, daring to take a step deeper into the room. He keeps his eyes firmly on Watcher. He even opts to ignore the arrow. It isn’t like he could outrun it, so it’s better to keep tabs on the detonator, not the bomb.

Watcher slowly lowers his crossbow. His wings droop, the edges falling against the ground. His lips parts, but it takes several seconds for him to force the words he desperately wants to say out. “What happened?”

“I made a deal with her. I answered some questions for her, and she answered some questions for me,” Tommy explains, decidedly not mentioning that he was working with the Syndicate at the time. He doesn’t know how Watcher will fare with that bit of information, and honestly, Tommy feels a sharp pang of pain in his heart when he remembers talking in the snow with Ravager and the dog, Atalanta. He pushes the hurt down, focusing on the story that is currently keeping him from being killed. “I asked her why she joined the fucking Cult of Erythr. She told me it was because she wants revenge… she wants to be strong enough that no one abandons her again.”

“We didn’t want to abandon you,” Watcher murmurs underneath his breath, the edges filled with static from his voice modifier trying to change what it can hardly understand. Watcher looks down, a certain sadness enveloping his form. It’s enough that the purple rhombus around his eye dissipates. Tommy doesn’t check to see if the arrow lost it, too, but he assumes that it has. Watcher will have to touch the arrow again to put his power into it. Tommy is safe from dying from that bomb, but Watcher continues to hold his crossbow and an arrow despite his sadness.

“We have to fucking save her, Watcher,” Tommy presses onward. He makes note of what Watcher said, but he decides not to comment. He understands that it will be important later.

Watcher raises his crossbow again, and he loads the arrow. Tommy sucks in a tight breath as the Netherite arrowhead points at his chest. Watcher seems angrier than he was a moment ago, but he is in more control of his anger now. It feels like Watcher is using the anger to keep himself emotionless and neutral, but his voice carries a hint of rage even through the voice modifier. “I already know what game you’re playing, Vendetta. You don’t want to ‘save’ Pearl. You want to extract information from her and lock her away when you’re done.”

Watcher doesn’t think Tommy is getting out of this alive, not when he so blatantly tells Tommy who the Scarlet Demoness is underneath the mask. Tommy has to redouble his efforts. “That’s simply not fucking true. Yes, I want to ask a few questions and hopefully get some answers, but no one is getting locked up. I’m not that shitty. I want to free her.”

“And why do you care? None of this aligns with your goal of killing the Syndicate leaders,” Watcher points out, and four purple lines form around his eye. He’s charged something with his power. The arrow doesn’t have the rhombus, though, so Tommy has no idea what Watcher is going to make explode.

“Is it so hard to believe that I want to fucking save this city? I live here, you know. If the Red Army destroys it, I’m shit out of luck like the rest of you,” Tommy says. Watcher’s wings twitch, but he doesn’t seem any more upset now than he did a few moments ago. Tommy sighs, deciding to take a different approach. He’s going to be a little more honest with Watcher. It’s what the S-rank hero deserves since he’s already told Tommy that his sister is a villain… and currently the enemy of the task force Tommy and Watcher are on. Watcher also said her name. Tommy takes a deep breath, “And I… I understand.”

“Do not lie to me. You have no idea what I’m feeling right now,” Watcher practically growls, and the purple rhombus spins so fast that Tommy can barely tell it’s a rhombus anymore. He watches the purple afterlight that comes off of the edges. It’s a little mesmerizing, no doubt, and positively terrifying.

“You’re right. I don’t fucking understand you. I never have. You’re a great hero. You’ve done so much godsdamn good for this city, and you have the ability to laugh about it afterward. You can proudly stand in the fucking light,” Tommy continues, taking a step forward. He’s walking right into his doom… except the rhombus isn’t spinning so fast now. Tommy knew honesty was the best policy, even when it feels like he’s yanking out his own teeth by sharing his intimate thoughts with what amounts to a stranger. “But I understand Pearl.”

The rhombus halts like someone sticking their hand between the blades of a fan. It pulsates with light, throbbing some pattern across Watcher’s face that might be comforting to someone. It definitely looks like Watcher is trying to calm himself down with how his wings fold over his shoulders. Tommy continues speaking now that he’s caught Watcher’s undivided attention. “I know what it’s like to feel so fucking powerless and abandoned. I know what it’s like to make stupid decisions all for the sake of feeling better.”

Tommy thinks back to his past. He remembers the pain of Eret leaving them. He remembers the argument with Wilbur. He ran away with tears in his eyes and hate in his heart. He wanted someone to come after him. None of them did, and that stung. His pain only grew worse when he found the blown up remains of his childhood. Tommy made the worst decision in his life by agreeing to join Reverie and the other Hunters. Tommy only made the choice because he didn’t want to be alone. He forgot about all the reasons he hated the Hunters, and he was still suffering for that stupid decision.

Pearl was in a similar situation to him. Tommy doesn’t know the details, but he knows that it must have been easy for someone like Crimson to pretend that they were there to make Pearl feel better. The Scarlet Demoness is easily a strong person. She has a powerful esper ability and a terrifying resolve to her mission. But even strong people like her can become prey to people like Crimson, manipulators like Reverie.

“I will never be able to fucking understand you, Watcher, but I know more than anyone else in this damn city what tempted Pearl to make the decisions she did. It’s too fucking late for me. I’ve made my choices, and I will have to suffer with them… But it isn’t too late for Pearl. I can still help her. We can save her,” Tommy explains, taking another conclusive step towards Watcher. He’s close enough that Watcher could hit Tommy with his wing. He could shove the crossbow forward, and he wouldn’t even need to shoot to make the arrow stab into Tommy’s chest.

Watcher does neither of those things. He actually lowers his crossbow. He lets it drop so far that it points at the ground instead of at Tommy’s body. Watcher shifts, lifting his wings back up. Tommy wishes he knew a little more about avian body language. It would be very helpful in this situation. Watcher looks into Tommy’s eyes right as the rhombus dissipates. “How are we going to save her?”

Tommy smiles behind his mask. He almost exhales in relief. He knew it was a gamble seeking out Watcher’s help, but he is a big enough man to admit that he needs help. He won’t be able to handle the Scarlet Demoness and Fenrir on his own. The odds are, she will be with other cultists. Tommy is going to need some back-up if he wants to survive. Watcher was his best bet. He’s an S-rank hero for a reason, after all, and with Watcher, Tommy can probably count on Arid to assist. Watcher and Arid are partners, after all, and Minotaur said they were both part of the task force.

“There’s this fucker who calls themself Crimson. They were the one to recruit all the cultists. Probably some sort of leader, but I don’t know where that places the Red King in this hierarchy,” Tommy admits. No one has been able to find out much about Crimson. Passerine and Reynard were insightful, but they didn’t provide a whole lot of information for Tommy. He was stuck slotting the few details he did know together to form some coherent image of Crimson in his head. At least Passerine’s tarot reading made him feel like he wasn’t going to die any time soon. “If we take Crimson out, the cultists will… probably… return to their senses. As far as I can tell, Crimson is a mind-controller, like Serenade but… different from that fucker.”

“How do you plan to take them out?” Watcher asks.

Tommy winces. “Not without fucking help. That’s why I came to recruit your angry ass. We can’t tell the other task force people what we’re doing. They’ll report us to Minotaur, and I do not need that bastard interfering right now. He’ll sooner kill Pearl than detain her… or worse, make her into his servant. It’s not a fucking fun position to be in, take my word for it. My plan is just to detain her. We need to keep her the fuck away from Crimson. Once she’s stopped making shit decisions, we can figure out how to cure her.”

Watcher’s expression morphs back into light anger, but he doesn’t raise his crossbow. Tommy takes this to mean Watcher is angry at Minotaur instead of Tommy. The blonde esper is very okay with this fact. He wants as many people to hate Minotaur as possible. If both an S-rank and an A-rank hero hate Minotaur, they might get him booted to Pandora’s Vault sooner rather than later. Tommy wonders if he could bargain with XD. Tommy will become an S-rank hero if Minotaur is put in prison. Tommy is going to do Minotaur’s work for him, anyway, so Tommy might as well get the credit and the pay raise for it. He would even be fine with giving all that away if it meant that Minotaur didn’t get it.

“Is that how you knew where I was?” Watcher asks, snapping Tommy out of his thoughts.

“Uh… yeah. Minotaur sent me a list of the safehouses we’re using,” Tommy says, patting the pocket that has his communicator on it. He really doesn’t care if Watcher knows where it’s at. The communicator was bought with Minotaur’s money, so Tommy is hoping it gets lost, stolen, or broken somehow.

“I didn’t know who was on the team. I tried taking the bounty on the Red Army a few weeks after Pearl stopped answering her communicator. I did some undercover work when the Moderator’s Guild got the case. When we got it back, I didn’t really pay attention to much else except securing a spot on the team. I knew Minotaur was in charge of us, but I haven’t really talked to him yet,” Watcher explains. He sighs, leaning against the wall beside the window he was looking through when Tommy first got here. His wings fold over his shoulders, draping across his front like a blanket.

“Did you know Pearl had joined back then?” Tommy asks. He envies Watcher. He got to join the team without having to talk to Minotaur. Since Tommy likes keeping his lunch inside his stomach, he would rather never have to talk to Minotaur again.

“I… I knew she had gone missing at the same time the Red Army began kidnapping hybrids. I thought they had kidnapped her. Maybe they did. If this Crimson person has brainwashed her… But she’s been a… Pearl isn’t a villain. She’s…” Watcher hesitates, trying to understand what he wants to say. The fact of the matter is that Pearl has killed people. Lots of people, actually. They were all bad people- gangsters, criminals, corrupted heroes- but they are still people. The Hero’s Guild as a bounty on her head. The people on the streets are scared of her. Tommy knows for a fact that most of the gangs in Empires are wary of her. Some are even reverent, but she isn’t a hero. She never has been. Saying that she isn’t a villain is risky. If Watcher was talking to anyone else, an argument would start right here and now.

“I get it,” Tommy says, because he does understand. He wonders why he hadn’t done more research about the Scarlet Demoness before this case. The two of them seem to have a lot in common. Pearl is killing all of these evil people for the sake of her brother. Tommy is doing the same thing. They are technically on different sides, but Tommy has never been much of a hero. He’ll freely admit that. He’s killed people in pursuit of protecting the ghosts of his family. Pearl might be more heroic than he is since she was actually able to save her family.

“I guess you would,” Watcher says with a half-laugh. He sighs, looking out of the window. Watcher’s expression grows a little more serious. “I have to find her before anyone else does… I have to protect her this time.”

Tommy is curious about Watcher and Pearl’s past. He wonders if Watcher did abandon Pearl, or if she only perceived it that way. He wonders if Watcher wanted to, if he was forced or if it felt it was his only option. He wonders when they reunited. They have to be close enough for Watcher to realize that Pearl was missing because she wasn’t responding to messages on her communicator. Tommy shakes his head. It isn’t his business. Watcher has already told him enough by saying that Scarlet Demoness is named Pearl and his sister. Tommy doesn’t want any more of the truth. “We will, Watcher. I promise.”

Watcher glances back at Tommy. His wings tense against his back. Watcher nods slowly. “You said you needed help, right? We should find Good Guy.”

Tommy blinks. He was not expecting for Good Guy to be the person Watcher recommends. “Sure, fine… why? I don’t think Good Guy has shown interest in taking this bounty.”

“Good Guy is… he’s my younger brother. Pearl’s younger brother. He would want to help. He wouldn’t let me live it down if I didn’t let him,” Watcher explains. “And his powers are a decent counter for Pearl’s. He has a precognitive sense for danger. He’ll be able to help us maneuver around her telekinesis and hexes.”

Tommy is starting to doubt he’s going to come out of this alive if Watcher is going to keep giving him information like this. He already knew Good Guy’s power, and he’s read all the theories about Pearl’s powers. He’s glad to have confirmation from Watcher, but it really feels like Watcher is whispering all his secrets to a prisoner awaiting his execution. “Fuck it. I’ll talk to Good Guy.”

“He’s in Empires right now. He decided to do that commission with the Guardians of the Afterlife,” Watcher explains.

Tommy sighs. There are a few people he would rather avoid that are holding up in Empires right now, but he does need all the help he can get to detain Pearl. He’ll hope to avoid Serenade… and Sleepy… and he should probably steer clear of Tempestarius, too, but she’s honestly the least of his worries right now. Tommy endeavors to avoid his enemies as he turns towards the door, planning on leaving the way he came. “Stay sharp, Watcher.”

“You, too, Vendetta.”

Chapter Text

“For there is no friend like a sister

In calm or stormy weather;

To cheer one on the tedious way,

To fetch one if one goes astray,

To lift one if one totters down,

To strengthen whilst one stands”

― Christina Rossetti

Good Guy is not part of the task force going against the Red Army. As Watcher told Tommy, the hero had decided to temporarily work with the Guardians of the Afterlife in their pursuit to clean up Empires. The Guardians of the Afterlife are a powerful group in the Hero’s Association and thus are afforded a certain level of secrecy. Tommy could outright ask the secretary in charge of Good Guy or the one in charge of the Guardian of the Afterlife where they were at, but he knows that he will not get a real answer from them. Even if he pulls rank, the secretaries will remain sworn to confidentiality. Tommy will be unable to get anything out of them the normal way.

It is for this reason that Tommy has resorted to a different method. Instead of asking the secretaries, he decides to go right to the source. Or, more accurately, he decides to follow that source. Tommy went to Empires, found a member of the Guardians that was traveling alone, and he began following them. It isn’t a heroic way to get things done, but Tommy finds that it is the easiest way more often than not. He knows that the people he’s following would much prefer for him to follow them than corner them in an alleyway and threaten them into submission, especially because Tommy will follow through on his threats. Tommy gets what he wants by following his victims, and they don’t have to experience the terror and sometimes pain of being a fly caught in a spider’s web.

Tommy feels a little bad about following Tempestarius, though. She was simply the first person that Tommy saw that was affiliated with the Guardians. He pacifies his internal conflict by reminding himself that he’s only following her. He is not going to do anything to her. He knows that he would fight her if it came down to it, but he doesn’t want to fight his fellow heroes unnecessarily. Most of them are genuinely good people, or they have been redeemed, like Tempestarius was. Tommy really only wants to fight two people. He doesn’t wish to do any more than that if he can’t help it.

She hums a pleasant song as she ambles along the side streets of Empires. She is incredibly nonchalant for someone walking right through the territory of one of the gangs. This assuredness could come from self-confidence, but it also could be Tempestarius utilizing the reputation she left behind in Empires. Tommy does not know which it is. He thinks that regardless of what the truth might be, Tempestarius should still be careful. He knows that he’s following her. Who’s to say no one else is? Who’s to say that no one else won’t in the future? Her humming voice and unsoftened footsteps make her easy to identify even when her outfit is dark like storm clouds.

Tempastarius turns into an alleyway that Tommy knows is a shortcut to some of the more hospitable parts of Empires. Tommy peers around the alleyway. Tempestarius is nearly at the end, so Tommy rushes across the cracked concrete and dirt with light footsteps. As soon as he is halfway through the alleyway, Tempestarius stops moving. She turns to look at some of the graffiti on the brick wall right beside her. Tommy freezes, ducking behind a dumpster. He looks out the side of it, trying to wait for Tempestarius to move.

A wave of fog descends upon him before he can find Tempestarius. Tommy murmurs a few choice words. He grabs his baton from the slot on his back. The metal expands, and Tommy is thrown back by a harsh wind that churns the fog like a spoon in soup. A cold chill races down his spine from his throat. Tommy glances down to find two icicles, sharp as blades and cold as the stagnant air of the End, crossed around his neck. Tommy keeps his head held high, not daring to brush his skin against the icicle. The mist grows thicker, rising up to cover the entire alleyway. Tommy raises his staff to knock the icicles away from him, but he sees light sparkle across the surface. Tommy peers up. There is something in the fog, glowing so bright that it can penetrate through the swirling gray. Tommy’s eyes widen. Those are eyes. The source of the light is the eyes.

Tempestarius launches forward. Blue lightning ripples across her face from her eyes, the light covering up her irises, pupils, and scleras. The lightning allows for light and shadow to be cast across her face. It makes her look a lot more terrifying than the friendly hero that Tommy has come to know. This is a threat, someone who spent her entire life hunting and killing for one of the most notorious gangs of Empires. She was someone who was trained by high-ranking heroes. She is someone whose esper ability turned out to be the ability to manipulate weather, calling it down from the heavens and exploiting it how she saw fit.

Like a light switch, Tempestarius’ eyes clear until Tommy is staring into a pair of Tuscan yellow pupils. The fog rolls back to her body, dissipating as soon as it touches her skin. The icicles melt, releasing Tommy. This allows him to take in a deep breath. He presses a hand against his chest, steadying his heart. He really didn’t want to fight against Tempestarius. For as confident as he is in himself, he doesn’t entirely know if he would win that fight. There was a chance since like Tempestarius, he controls one of the fundamental forces of nature, but Tommy does not like chances. He much prefers certainties. And he really doesn’t like getting hurt. Tempestarius would definitely hurt him if she wasn’t holding back.

“Geez, Vendetta, you scared me! There’s no reason to be shy. If you wanted to hang out, you could have told me!” Tempestarius laughs, taking a step away from him. The air continues to tingle with electricity, but otherwise, it was as if she never felt her life was threatened and resorted to violent means to protect herself.

Tommy laughs with her sheepishly. He feels a little awkward over being caught, but Tempestarius seems just as embarrassed about her reaction to the situation. Tommy decides that he isn’t going to bring up what happened if Tempestarius doesn’t. “Sorry, Temp. I’m actually here for business. I needed to talk to Good Guy. You know that avian with the danger sense?”

“Yes, I know Good Guy. He’s been working with us on that case I mentioned to you the last time we met, the one about reforming Empires,” Tempestarius reminds him, as if Tommy wasn’t acutely aware of what Tempestarius was doing in Empires with her fellow Guardians. He really only filed away that information because he was hoping the Guardians would be able to save Sleepy from whatever fate they got themselves into. “If you wanted to meet Good Guy, you should have told me. I would have brought you to him without all of this stalking business.”

Tempestarius takes a few steps down the alleyway, looking over her shoulder and beckoning him to follow her with her hand. Tommy scrambles after her. He lets his staff slide back into a baton, placing the weapon in its assigned spot. Tommy blinks at her smiling face. “Why the hell would you do that? You should keep your location top fucking secret, lest one of the gangs blows up the building you’re staying in sky high.”

“You aren’t in a gang. You aren’t fond of explosions. You’re a hero who is allowed to join this mission, so there are ways for you to find out where we’re staying regardless of what I do now,” Tempestarius points out. Tommy pointedly frowns. It feels odd for Tempestarius to know these things about him. They aren’t secrets, per se, but most people don’t bother to know. Tempestarius continues smiling as she looks at Tommy from the corner of her eye. “Plus, we’re friends. This is a rather simple favor. I’m almost offended you didn’t just ask me.”

Tommy finds his eyebrows furrowing together as Tempestarius leads them to a side street. She continues walking down the street with confidence, and she seems a little more relaxed than when Tommy was following her. He doesn’t know if that’s because she sensed someone was following her before or if she feels safer with him at her side. Tommy fears what that would mean if the latter is true. Tommy finally sighs, letting his voice modifier hide the sheer confusion and tiny bits of loneliness in his tone as he finally demands to know the truth. “Why the fuck are you so insistent on this friendship bullshit? I don’t know if you haven’t noticed yet, but I fucking suck. I’m a pretty shit friend.”

“You can be annoying at times, yes,” Tempestarius agrees with a giggle. She reaches her elbow out, nudging him in the side when he doesn’t attempt to push her arm away. Tommy stares down at the spot where she made contact. He really doesn’t understand this woman. She gets even more confusing when she opens her mouth again, “Maybe you remind me of Empires, Vendetta. A bad reputation and unforgiving personality but a beautiful heart at the center. A wounded creature that is lashing out in pain and fear instead of maliciousness or anger.”

“That was a fucking shit answer,” Tommy informs Tempestarius. He is nothing like Empires. For one thing, he’s an esper and Empires is a borough in a city. Metaphorically, he doesn’t see where Tempestarius is coming from either. Tommy is not lashing out because of his emotions. He is specifically targeting one source because of his trauma. Anyone else he hurts is only because he naturally has a terrible personality, not because he has an unforgiving one. Empires doesn’t have an unforgiving personality, either. The people here look out for their own. They ignore slights within their own rankings and negotiate or fight out any miscommunications. Tommy doesn’t have a beautiful heart at his center. Neither does Empires. Empires has nothing inside of it, and Tommy’s heart is a frayed, worn out thing too pitiful to really be called his center.

“That is the only answer you’re going to get out of me,” Tempestarius proclaims, implying that she has more answers than that one. She must have several for how patient and understanding she has been with Tommy. He has given her the cold shoulder on multiple occasions, but she never seems discouraged. She continues to smile at him with her entire face, waving her arm above her head to get his attention when they are in the same vicinity. Tommy doesn’t deserve her kindness, but he’s too much of a coward to completely reject it. He lets this ugly thing fester between them like an infected wound Tempestarius is trying to heal and Tommy doesn’t want to let die.

Tempestarius stops in front of a building. Tommy glances up at the sign, depicting the name ‘Chroma’ in all the colors of the rainbow. The exterior of the building is decidedly less colorful with dark red brick walls and a roof that looks gray at a distance but might actually be a muted blue. Tempestarius pushes open the wooden door of the ‘tavern and inn’ as the sign describes the place. Tommy follows after her, letting the door shut underneath the weight of his palm.

The first floor of the building is exactly like a tavern with wooden walls, pillars, and flooring. There are lanterns hanging from the roof and the sides of the walls, but they are filled with electrical bulbs instead of candles. The warm light they produce does play into the illusion. The bar structure on one side of the wall beside a staircase that leads upward plays into the immersion as well. There is a tavern keeper serving customers who vividly talk with each other with exaggerated hand movements and slurred speech patterns. As Tempestarius passes the bar to go up the stairs, Tommy follows her, the esper meets the eyes of the bartender. The heterochromic orange and brown eyes of the bartender seem to seep into Tommy’s body until the wooden wall of the stairway protects him. Tommy shakes his head, deciding the bartender is the least of his worries right now.

Tempestarius takes Tommy to the second floor. There are several doors marked with numbers. Tempestarius turns to the right, and she stops in front of the third door. She lifts her fist up, tapping a pattern across the wood. Tommy takes note of the pattern, though his eyebrows do furrow together. Good Guy has one of the most intricate and accurate danger senses out of any esper who has a similar ability. Good Guy would know if someone with ill intentions was at the door long before they actually got there. The knock does nothing except distinguish that Tempestarius is the one knocking, given that Good Guy’s danger sense didn’t go off. Tommy supposes that would be something good to know, but he does tangle his thoughts unexpectedly.

The door opens. Good Guy wears a bright smile as he opens the door. He is wearing his saturated red-and-blue uniform with a blue mask around his eyes. He has removed his cuffs that hold his grappling hooks. Good Guy glances over at Tommy with deep brown eyes. Good Guy’s expression falters as Tommy meets his eyes, wings drooping to the ground in a way that reminds Tommy of Watcher. Now that Tommy knows Good Guy is related to Watcher and Scarlet Demoness, he can see the resemblance. They all have brown eyes remarkably close in shade, and Watcher’s hair is a mix between Pearl and Good Guy’s hair colors. All three of them, however, have the same smile. It is a little uncanny, and Tommy is a little jealous. These three look like each other. Tommy barely looks like Wilbur, probably because they’re only half-brothers, but still… Tommy would like a few details to remind himself of his brother. He would probably be far more okay with mirrors if he had brown eyes like Wilbur… like Pearl, Good Guy, and Watchter, too, he supposes.

“Good Guy! This is Vendetta! He wanted to see you about some important business,” Tempestarius explains. She takes a step away. Her movements are slow as she reaches for Tommy. When he doesn’t slap her hand away, she grabs onto his elbow with a soft but firm grip. She tugs him over to stand in front of the door, trading places with him. She begins taking steps backward toward the staircase. “Remember that you both are my friends. I am going to be upset if you two fight.”

Tempestarius turns around, taking the steps two at a time as she bounces down the staircase. Her humming peters out the farther she gets away from them, soon replaced by Good Guy’s awkward laughter as he rubs the back of his neck. “We aren’t going to fight, are we?”

Tommy pushes past Good Guy, stepping into the inn room. There is a single bed made for one occupant in the middle of the wall. It is guarded on both sides by a nightstand and a desk with a chair. There is a wooden chest at the foot of the bed. There is a small closet and bathroom space next to the door. There aren’t many personal touches in the room other than some scattered casual clothes and a towel on the ground. Tommy notices a downturned picture frame on the nightstand. Either Good Guy put it down because Tempestarius knocked on his door or the person in that picture was making Good Guy feel a certain way right now. Tommy supposes it could be both, turning to face Good Guy.

“My danger sense must be acting up if it doesn’t think you’re a threat,” Good Guy murmurs to himself, closing the door. His voice modifier does alter his voice, but Tommy notices that it isn’t perfect. He wouldn’t be able to recognize Good Guy out of uniform, obviously, but he can discern the emotions in Good Guy’s voice. The difference in the quality of equipment between ranks in the Hero’s Association continues to astound Tommy.

“I’m here to talk about Pearl,” Tommy states simply. He watches as the words register in Good Guy’s mind. His eyes widen, and his mouth parts even when nothing comes out. His wings raise up as a sign of an ensuing conflict. He seems ready to silence Tommy permanently, and Tommy finds that he respects the bond between these siblings more than he fears for his life. Well, Good Guy wouldn’t be able to do much damage against Tommy. The esper lifts his hands placatingly regardless. “Watcher already told me. We want to capture Pearl to keep her from committing more crimes, learn more about the Cult of Erythr, and find a cure for whatever the fuck she’s inflicted with.”

Good Guy’s wings slowly lower, but he keeps his hands balled up into fists at his sides. His eyes show his internal conflict. Tommy finds himself smiling at the sincerity. Watcher and Scarlet Demoness are both mysterious with blank eyes and lips drawn into straight lines. They are able to mask their true emotions easily enough. They are better at it than Good Guy is. His emotions are blatant on his face. It puts Tommy at ease, but it does plant a seed of worry. Villains will surely take advantage of Good Guy, if they haven’t already.

“With Pearl’s fucked up- I mean, chaotic mental state, your danger sense might be the only way we know what she’s going to do next,” Tommy explains, backtracking when he realizes that he probably shouldn’t upset the person he’s asking help from.

Good Guy sighs. He runs a gloved hand across the side of his face. He reaches for the chair at his desk. Tommy shuffles to his side as Good Guy drops onto the chair, sitting in it backwards so that he might look at Tommy. He is frowning, worry in his eyes. “Did Watcher tell you the full story?”

Tommy mutely shakes his head. Good Guy sighs again, placing his forehead against the back of the chair. When he looks up, Good Guy’s face carries a melancholic kind of regret. “You already know her name. From what Tempestarius says, you like doing your research. You’re going to find some information about Pearl, anyway, so… I just want you to know what you’re getting into. I want you to hear this from someone who cares about Pearl, not some idiot who wrote an insensitive news article.”

Tommy presses his lips together as Good Guy gets comfortable in his chair. Good Guy avoids Tommy’s eyes, staring at the wooden floorboards beneath their boots. “Watcher was right. He, Pearl, and I are siblings, but… well, Pearl is the oldest. Pearl was lonely. She didn’t have loving parents or friends at the school she went to. She was alone, and then Gr- Watcher was born. Pearl told me about it once, what it was like meeting Watcher for the first time. Instead of our parents, she was the one who took care of him. Every day when she got home from school, he was her priority. She says that it was nice to have someone who cared about her, who needed her. Then, one day, she came home and, as she told me, he was gone. The nursery was gone, replaced by a guest bedroom. Our parents told her she never had a younger brother, and her teachers at school thought she was hallucinating her baby doll as someone to keep her company. 

“Pearl never believed them, and when I was born, she became all the more determined to take care of me. She was terrified I would be taken, so she… she admits that she took drastic measures, but… she set her school’s science lab on fire. No one was hurt except for her, apparently, and they expelled her. Our parents were not happy, but Pearl said she didn’t mind because she got to stay with me and make sure I wasn’t erased. I have fuzzy memories of her. There was a lullaby she sang me every night that I can remember the melody of. Unfortunately, I was taken from her, too. I think I remember it. I remember watching her sob, yelling for something to be given back to her. I was crying, too, but I didn’t really understand what was going on.

“A lot of stuff happened, and the three of us were eventually reunited. Pearl helped me and G- Watcher get settled. She was upset when we decided to be heroes, but she told me that she just wanted me to be happy. Watcher promised her that we would come back, and we did as frequently as we could, but you know how hero work can be. This became coupled with the fact that she had a falling out with her friends around the same time. Watcher got her a therapy dog. She named the dog Tilly, and Pearl loved Tilly. Watcher and I went to visit Pearl together as a surprise a year after Pearl got Tilly, and…Pearl walked into the apartment holding Tilly’s corpse, covered in blood. Tilly had been hit by a truck, and she died in Pearl’s arms. I think this moment was Pearl’s awakening as an esper, though she never told us that she was an esper. It was probably this time that she started hiding things from us.

“I didn’t know Pearl was the Scarlet Demoness, but I did suspect it. I went to her apartment a few weeks after the incident with Tilly because some gang had threatened me. It scared me enough to send me into my instincts, so I went to flock… to Pearl. She held me, but when I woke up in the nest, she was gone. She came back with a weird smile on her face. She seemed lighter, happier than she had in weeks. My danger sense didn’t say anything, but I should have known when the news told me the group was brutally slaughtered. This trend continued. I would tell Pearl about these people threatening me, or the heroes, or even Watcher, and they would be taken care of. I didn’t stop Pearl because I didn’t want to face the reality that my sister had become… She did it out of love. She did it out of fear. She couldn’t stand the thought of being abandoned again, so she made sure that nothing could take me or Watcher from her again. Maybe that’s why I didn’t press. I knew, deep down, that she was doing this for me, and I didn’t want to have that blood on my hands.”

Good Guy finally looks up into Tommy’s eyes, and Tommy tries to hide the expression on his face. Tommy is sorry that this happened to them. He hates Pearl’s parents for taking her brothers from her and for making her feel like she was delusional. He doesn’t know what happened to Good Guy or Watcher, but he knows that it can’t be anything good. Part of him, though, empathizes with Pearl. He would do the same thing in her position. He is doing the same thing as her, in some ways, and if his family were suddenly revived, he knows that he would be tainted by the same sins Pearl is committing.

“I’m going to tell you what Pearl’s esper ability is. I’m only doing this because I really don’t want you researching anything about her,” Good Guy says, something ungrounded and bitter in his tone. Tommy feels his expression slacken. He swears that he won’t do research about Pearl, won’t try to figure out who Watcher and Good Guy are or what happened to them. He doesn’t say this out loud only because he knows Good Guy won’t believe him. Tempestarius was right earlier when she said Vendetta had a bad reputation. “The Scarlet Demoness was first reported to have telekinetic powers. Everyone thinks this is true. Watcher knows that she has telekinesis and something he calls hexing which is the name he has for probability manipulation. That isn’t her power. Croupier can manipulate probability, Pearl can warp reality. She can’t do anything major… At least, she couldn’t before she joined the Cult of Erythr. Her telekinesis and making bad things happen were an extension of this reality warping. I don’t know what the limits of her powers are now, but I should be able to identify when and where she’s going to warp reality. Since it’s Pearl, I might even be able to tell what she’s going to change. That dog she uses, Fenrir, is something she brought from another reality, I think, so it’s going to be a tough fight in and of itself.”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan,” Tommy says. He hesitates before he begins explaining the plan. “I’m fucking sorry about what happened to you guys. None of you deserved that shit. Thank you for telling me.”

“I like honesty, and I think if we’re going to stop Pearl, we need to start off the right foot,” Good Guy explains slowly, crossing his arms around his chest. He glances up at Tommy with a slight smile on his face. “So, what’s the plan, king?”

Tommy returns the smile even though Good Guy wouldn’t be able to see it. He opens his mouth, explaining what he has in mind.

Chapter Text

“Outlaws have to be poised, smart, and independent; they have to cultivate allies, assess risk, and keep their antennae fine-tuned to everyone and everything around them. Outlaws focus on what people can do.”

― Christopher McDougall

Tommy sits on the parapet of a building on the border of the Sandlands. He wipes the sweat off his brow, feeling the warm winds of the Nether portal swirling outward. He shifts his body, rocking it back and forth in anticipation. He has grown bored of intently studying the graffiti on the wall of the opposing building. There are a few crude sentences probably written by teenagers or adults with too much time on their hands. This is interwoven with the red vines of the Red Army. Tommy thought there was something important there, but he soon realized after staring for a long time that it was little more than a reminder to the people of the Sandlands. There weren’t any clues hidden in the twisting plant-like drawing, not unless there was some key Tommy was missing.

Tommy left a calling card in Las Nevadas’ main garden. He placed the small card with a printed script of information in the rose bushes, tucked deep within the thorns. A normal person would not be able to see the card, but someone who could sense plants would know that something strange was in their rose bush. Tommy couldn’t confirm that Briar was the one who cultivated the garden, but he was betting that was true. He was betting because now he was sitting here waiting for her.

His suspicions must have been true- or he was lucky that she visited the gardens on a whim- because he sees her approaching him. She wears a tight maroon long-sleeved shirt and lindworm green pants. She has a black chestplate, black metal boots, and black gloves with metal pieces sewn onto the surface. She has a hood tucked over her face, but there is nothing on her back to allow her bug-like wings to expand out around her. Unlike an avian, Briar’s wings only allow her to glide on the breeze, much like Tommy’s glider. Similar to an avian, her wings are made from sturdier stuff than flesh. They are made from Origin magic, a power distinct from esper abilities. When Briar lands on the parapet beside Tommy, she looks down at him with a half-smile on her face. The upper half of her face is covered in small rosebuds that obscure all but her green eyes, the inhuman shape setting Tommy on edge immediately.

“You are a hard person to find when you don’t want to be found,” Briar tells him with a bright chirp in her voice. Tommy avoids her eyes. Where most people try not to use their Origin magic, too afraid of discrimination, Briar does not make an attempt to do so. She uses any advantages she has to win. This means that she unnerves people with her Faerie appearance, utilizes her wings for gliding, or puts a glamor around her voice instead of using a voice modifier. This is one of the main reasons the people don’t like her, though her body count is another contributing factor. Although Briar flaunts her hybrid status, she only bloodies the name of her brethren even more than it already is. Tommy still holds her in high regard, though. He isn’t a hybrid, so he doesn’t know what it’s like, but he has done a few cases involving hybrids before. He can see how terrible they are treated. Briar is someone worthy of respect, especially considering the Red Army has been kidnapping hybrids recently.

“Why the fuck are you looking for me?” Tommy asks, standing on the parapet beside her instead of sitting down.

“Warden has been worried about you, Vendetta,” Briar answers. Tommy recalls that Warden does have some sort of relationship with Briar. If Tommy tried to, he could probably figure it out, but he frankly doesn’t care enough to do that. He has his hands full solving other mysteries. Briar hums thoughtfully to herself. “Ultraviolet is also pretty worried, though he would never admit it.”

Tommy frowns underneath his mask. He has been going to Las Nevadas to sleep, but he hasn’t seen the Deck of Las Nevadas in a little while. The last time he saw Ultraviolet was that day he went with Thermoculus to explore the island. Everything was so much different back then even though it was only a few days ago, at most. “I don’t know why the fuck he would be worried… or Warden, for that matter.”

“You are so obtuse. How can you not realize how much the people around you care about you?” Briar asks, reaching a gloved hand out to flick Tommy’s forehead. He startles back, reaching a hand up to his forehead to rub the sore spot. He glares at her. She doesn’t explain herself, flicking the redwood brown hair that was resting on her shoulder to behind her back in the hood.

“I don’t fucking appreciate the insult, bitch,” Tommy informs her. Briar’s smile only widens, revealing a row of sharp teeth. Tommy rolls his eyes. “But I didn’t come here to argue. I want your help capturing the Scarlet Demoness.”

“And you came to me because…?” Briar asks, her smile fading away and her eyes sharpening. Tommy wonders if Briar and Scarlet Demoness have a history. Briar is a vigilante who kills criminals exclusively, and Scarlet Demoness hurts anyone who threatens her siblings. While their victims don’t map onto one another, Tommy knows that they overlap. Briar and Scarlet Demoness could have hunted down a group of criminals together. Briar is the sort of person who respects determination and strength. Scarlet Demoness has both in spades.

“I can’t capture Scarlet on my own. I need as many allies as I can because the cultists are a fucking friendly bunch. Scarlet won’t be alone, and I’ll need your help bringing in the fuckers she’s hanging out with,” Tommy explains simply. The Red Army has proven to be criminals since they kidnap hybrids, blow up public buildings, and cause mass panic in the streets. They are the sort of people Briar would take on by herself, so Tommy thinks he could convince her to join his private task force temporarily.

Plus, Briar has no affiliations. She is semi-friends with Ultraviolet and she has something going on with Warden, but she is not allied with Las Nevadas or the Syndicate. She works on her own with no interference from anyone. She also isn’t associated with Minotaur in any way. Although he can’t prove she hates him, he knows that Minotaur would have been one of her targets if they had been active in the same area around the same time. Alas, Briar was a lot more small-scale back then. No less ruthless but less effective given her limited scope.

“Why do they need to be brought in alive?” Briar asks, tilting her head to the side. As Tommy said, Briar is known for her ruthlessness. When she decides on a target, she plans their execution.

“The members of the Cult of Erythr are being mind-controlled by this fucker called Crimson. At least, as far as I can tell, that’s what the fuck is going on. It’s a shitty situation, to be honest. We aren’t working with much intel,” Tommy explains to her. “If we bring in the Scarlet Demoness and her allies, we’ll be able to figure out the truth of what’s going on. If Crimson is mind-controlling them, we’ll find a way to counteract that.”

“That makes sense. I should have known that’s what was happening,” Briar murmurs to herself, raising a hand to thoughtfully rub her chin. She glances over at Tommy. For a moment, she is silent and contemplative. Then, a wicked grin spreads across her face. “Why did you choose me? You know, specifically?”

Tommy laughs bitterly, looking away from Briar’s cutthroat expression. “I’ve burned too many fucking bridges. More than I care to admit.”

“I can’t wait to hear that story,” Briar hums, tucking her hands behind her back. Her wings flare up to frame her upper body.

“I’m not-”

“I’ll help you! It’s going to be my first time capturing someone instead of killing them, but I do hate it when things are too easy. I’ve been itching for a challenge,” Briar tells him, a bloodthirsty smile rippling across her face. Her pupils sharpen, and she looks like a feral animal about to pounce and devour. Tommy tries to remember why people think roses are something wonderful.

“I have the basic outline of a plan, but I needed to know if you were going to help before I finalized the details,” Tommy tells her. She nods, her smile fading but her eyes remaining twisted. Tommy rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to explain his plan and get her strategic input. For as wild as she looks right now, Briar is one of the more methodical vigilantes.

Tommy hears a loud booming noise on the horizon. He glances upward to see smoke pluming towards the horizon. Tommy’s eyes widen. Briar turns around to see what he’s looking at. Her wings flare out as she starts running towards it. Tommy follows after her a second later. She jumps off the roof, her wings catching the wind. Tommy uses his powers on himself, pushing off the edge of the root to send himself skyward. When he’s reached a high enough distance, he glides to the source of the explosion.

Tommy lands on the ground. His mask starts making a sputtering noise as it filters the smoky air. Tommy waves his hand through the tainted air. It isn’t smoke from a fire or an explosion. There are large amounts of dust waiting to settle in the air. Tommy glances around, searching for the reason the dust was kicked up or civilians that need assistance. He hears his name, Vendetta, not Tommy, in the distance. He tries looking for the source, but the air is too opaque. He forces his way through, investigating the voice for himself.

A building appears in front of him. Tommy puts his hands against the warm metal. He runs his fingers along the edge as he walks around it. He eventually feels an opening. He ducks down, crawling through the crack in the wall into a large room with significantly clearer air. Tommy is able to see the entirety of the room with only a faint haze filtering his vision.

This building is obviously the source of the dust. The roof is cracked, allowing patches of sunlight to stream through. It must have been some sort of office space, but it is no longer capable of serving that purpose with how many broken supplies are littering the ground, some even coated in blood. Tommy steps over them, crunching broken glass underneath his boot. Tommy keeps his hand in front of him as he walks around the room. He hears movement and noise faintly from another room, so he carefully maneuvers his way to the broken door. He steps into the neighboring room. It is similarly large, but the roof has been completely caved in. There is nothing unique about the room that would explain what it was originally used for, but that does not mean it is empty.

There are civilians huddled together in one corner. They are covered in chalk-white and pale brown dust, their fearful eyes shining out from the haze around them. A couple of people wearing black outfits are lying on the ground. Every person who is prone on the ground is wearing a red armband, bright against the dull surroundings. Tommy can see the outline of the Red Army’s vines, however, so he knows exactly what these people stand for. The one who made them unconscious, Ravager, stands on some sort of raised platform opposite to the civilian group. He is breathing heavily, holding his battle axe in both of his hands. Ravager normally doesn’t hurt innocents. He does his best not to touch them. However, Tommy knows from intense research that there are a few side effects to his powers. One of these side effects is that Ravager can go into a rampage when he is being threatened or experiences significant damage. In these rampages, Ravager is unable to determine innocent from guilty, friend from foe.

“Vendetta,” Briar whispers. Tommy looks over his shoulder as she cautiously steps through the same door he came from. She examines the situation. He doesn’t know if she understands Ravager’s powers as well as he does, but she doesn’t have to in order to understand what is happening right now, what is going to happen if they don’t do something. Briar tilts her head to the civilians. Tommy nods at her.

Briar starts running towards the civilians. Tommy slides between Ravager and everyone else in the room, including the unconscious Red Army members. Tommy lifts his hands up placatingly. He can tell the exact moment Ravager looks at him. Tommy whimpers quietly despite trying to hold it back in. One of Ravager’s smaller powers is an aura of fear, making his targets deathly afraid of him. Tommy wrangles his breathing back under control. He is not afraid of Ravager. Well, he is, but not enough to stop slowly walking towards him. He debates pulling out his weapon. He ultimately decides that it wouldn’t be worth it. It would only rile Ravager up, and Tommy knows he can’t defeat a rampaging Ravager without terrain advantage and a solid trap. He just needs to distract Ravager until Briar gets the civilians out. Then, the two of them can fight Ravager… or run as far away from him as they can.

“Hey, Big Man. It’s alright. Nothing is wrong. You see all these guys on the ground? They were your enemies, and they’re fucked. They are out of commission. You did quite the number on them. But they’re done. They’re already unconscious. There is no else here that you need to beat up. You’re safe right now, I promise. So, just take a deep breath. A big deep breath. You know, breathing is the manliest thing you can do. It is so fucking pog, Big Man. Since I am the Biggest Man, you know I’m speaking the truth. You believe me, don’t you?” Tommy begins, scrambling for the appropriate words. Serenade is the only person who can talk Ravager down from his rampage. The other Syndicate members can mitigate damage. Tommy knows he probably won’t be able to do much, but Ravager isn’t trying to rip his limbs off right now.

Tommy looks over his shoulder. Briar is carrying a civilian out and a few more are stumbling after her. They are climbing up the fallen roof as if it were a ramp. Briar’s vines surround the ramp, keeping it steady as she takes the last people out. Tommy’s attention returns to Ravager when he hears a stomping noise. Ravager has jumped down from the stage, his glowing red eyes still pinned on Tommy. At least the fear aura has been dialed off. Tommy’s breathing is still shaky and his bladder will give out any second, but the fear is his own.

“We can talk about this, can’t we? I’m not here to fight you. And yes, I am planning on killing your leaders, but they’re bitches, anyway. We don’t have to talk about them. Don’t think about them, either. It’s just you and me, Ravager. You and me. Only us. Don’t think  about anything else. Not pain, not blood, not murder. Don’t even think about Vendetta. I’m Theseus, aren’t I? The legendary hero. The one who defeated the minotaur,” Tommy compromises, not mentioning that Theseus is also the hero who is killed cold and alone by the person he trusted the most. He doesn’t trust Ravager, he assures himself, but he figures this situation isn’t all that different. He’s going to die. Without taking revenge. Without seeing his friends one more time. Without seeing…

Ravager slams his battle axe down. Tommy flinches, unaware that Ravager had gotten so close. The ground beside his feet cracks from where the blade meets the concrete. Tommy keens quietly, a mourning song for himself because he knows no one else will sing. His teary eyes flashes to meet Ravager’s bloody red eyes. Tommy turns, wondering if he could flee. As soon as his back is to Ravager, the villain wraps his arms around Tommy’s shoulders. He thrashes, trying to keep his bones from breaking. He closes his eyes. He prepares for death. He’s falling down. He’s…

He’s sitting down. In Ravager’s lap, no less. Tommy opens his eyes as wide as they will go. Ravager tucks his arms underneath Tommy’s arms. He does not squeeze so tightly that Tommy’s ribs puncture his legs and crush his heart. He does not shove Tommy to the ground with enough force to make his head explode. Ravager is just holding Tommy, sitting on the ground, acting like Tommy is a stuffed animal.

“Uhh… Big Man? Ravager?” Tommy says, wondering what is going on. He feels Ravager press his head between Tommy’s shoulder blades. He growls, an entirely inhuman sound, but it isn’t filled with hunger or malicious intent. His grip tightens, but it doesn’t hurt. Tommy feels his heart fluttering in his chest. Ravager must feel it, too, but he doesn’t attempt to tear it out in order to eat it or whatever the fuck a rampaging Ravager does.

Tommy hears a cawing sound. He looks up. A crow flies into the building from the open roof. It lands in front of Tommy and Ravager. The crow tilts its head to the side, staring at Tommy with oddly intelligent eyes. Tommy’s expression sharpens into a glare as he recognizes Crowfather. The bird has been ignoring Tommy for over a few weeks now. Instead of being there to comfort Tommy, it shows up when he is in an embarrassing situation. Tommy snarls at the bird, “Is this fucking hilarious?”

Crowfather bobs its head as if to nod. It makes a weird squawking noise that Tommy has believed was the bird’s form of laughter. Tommy’s glare sharpens. He tries reaching for the bird to choke it. Ravager makes a displeased noise, pulling Tommy closer to his chest. Crowfather starts flapping its wings to accentuate the laughter. Tommy huffs a breath. When did his life become getting hugged by a vicious, bloodthirsty villain while his therapy crow is laughing at him?

Briar descends into the building. Crowfather flies off, barely missing her. She follows it with her eyes as she walks over to Tommy. When her attention comes back on him, he can see the moment she registers his predicament in her head. A large smile spreads across her face. She lifts her hand up to stifle her laugh. Tommy turns his anger to her since Crowfather decided it was too cool to hang out with Briar there.

“A little less laughter, a little more fucking helping me, bitch!” Tommy demands of her. She lowers her hand, having stopped laughing but not smiling. She raises an eyebrow at him. He huffs, pouting underneath his mask. “Will you please help me?”

“If you promise not to freak out,” She says, her smile shrinking as she reaches for something in her boot. She pulls out a vial of something, and pours a little bit of it into her hand. She uses the tilt of her head to tell Tommy to move out of the way. He leans forward as far as Ravager will allow him to. Briar takes a step forward. Ravager begins glaring as she blows the powder from her palm onto his face. Tommy’s eyes widen, and he feels Ravager’s grip slacken. The villain falls back, and Tommy stumbles out of his clutches. He continues stumbling, taking more steps away from Briar than from Ravager. There is only one sedative strong enough to knock a rampaging Ravager out. To knock Ravager out in general. “You said you wouldn’t freak out.”

“Why the fuck are you dealing with Reishi?” Tommy demands, staring at the powder in her hands. It came from a specific plant that Reishi grows in his garden of poison and death. Tommy feels his hands begin to shake. It hates it, the powder and the memories and that damned garden.

“It isn’t direct, Vendetta. I would never get involved with the Hunters, not after what they did,” Briar says, her tone sharpening. She speaks with as much vitriol as Tommy does when he talks about the Hunters, but her words don’t carry a tinge of fear. Tommy closes his fingers into a fist to keep them from shaking so much. Briar puts the powder back into her boot. “ Reishi sells poisons and sleeping draughts to this guy named Sparrow. I trade rare flowers for some of these goods. I don’t have to speak to Reishi during the transaction. In fact, Reishi probably doesn’t know who is buying his most potent tranquilizers.”

Tommy’s mouth snaps shut. Sparrow. That is the same name that was written on the copper golems that Technician used to distract Vendetta while he fought Dyscardia. Tommy has put the name on the backburner since that event, thinking he had far more important things to worry about. It might be good to start looking into this mysterious seller of precious goods. “I wonder if I could meet Sparrow.”

“It’s possible. Sparrow has taken an interest in you, and you can only meet with him if he wants to,” Briar explains, glancing over at Ravager’s sleeping form. The tranquilizer isn’t going to work for long.

As Tommy glances at the Red Army members, he wonders if Sparrow taking an interest in him is a good thing or not.

Chapter Text

“The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.”

― Ted Hughes

Tommy walks along the edges of the crowd in Las Nevadas. He flexes his fingers, closing them into a fist before reopening to let his palm feel the warm air whirling around the mass of people. He feels on edge, though that has less to do with his setting than it does what Briar told him. He’s glad that he was able to recruit her for his mission to save Pearl, but he doesn’t like knowing that there’s an underground dealer that he’s never heard of before. Tommy wouldn’t mind so much if that dealer wasn’t connected to both Reishi and Briar. If the dealer could make those sorts of connections, who else was this Sparrow character acquainted with? What kind of goods did he push through the system, buying and selling to keep his customers happy? Why was he interested in Vendetta now? What changed?

“Vendetta,” Someone calls out to him. He looks over his shoulder. Ultraviolet catches up to Tommy easily with his long, purposeful strides outmatching Tommy’s slow ambling. He matches Tommy’s speed when they are shoulder-to-shoulder, getting between Tommy and the crowd. The purple sparkles around his eyes shift, expanding slightly to cover more of his face. Tommy looks away, blinking rapidly. Ultraviolet is upset right now, and Tommy knows because he can’t look the starborne hybrid in the eye. This only happens when Ultraviolet is conflicted, an emotion that very rarely happens. “Why did you ask Briar for help?”

Tommy frowns underneath his mask. He didn’t expect Briar to keep their meeting a secret from Ultraviolet, but he definitely didn’t think information would spread this quickly. It has barely been an hour since he left Briar and Ravager. The only way Briar could have told Ultraviolet anything was if they had some sort of direct line of communication, a rarity in the esper world due to the lack of trust and privacy between everyone. But if Briar and Ultraviolet went through the effort of having this level of communication, why wouldn’t Briar tell Ultraviolet herself what Tommy wanted? She would have, at least, traded that secret for a story about Tommy, since she said as much when they were discussing her involvement.

“I need to get as many fucking people as I can to bring in Scarlet Demoness, and I don’t have many options,” Tommy explains, shaking his head. He was going to have to answer eventually. Croupier is going to want to know what Tommy’s affiliation with Briar is, if he doesn’t already know that Tommy left a note for her in the gardens. Tommy hopes Croupier isn’t upset about that.

“I’ll go,” Ultraviolet volunteers immediately. Tommy looks at him from the corner of his eye. The purple around his face has receded, so Tommy is able to actually look at him for a little while. Tommy is able to see that Ultraviolet is being completely genuine in his volunteering. Tommy smiles slightly. It’s nice to know that Ultraviolet is willing to help him, even if Tommy is pretty sure that Ultraviolet is only doing this because he wants to fight someone powerful. Well, Briar did say Ultraviolet cared about him more than Tommy thought he did.

“Fuck off,” Tommy tells the Ace of Spades, elbowing Ultraviolet in the side. Ultraviolet frowns at Tommy, swatting his arm away with more force than playfulness dictates is appropriate. Tommy rubs his pained arm, deciding Briar was high off some shrooms. “Las Nevadas cannot pick sides right now. You fucking know that. You also know that you can’t leave Las Nevadas undefended right now. Don’t pretend to be a fucking moron when we both know you aren’t.”

“I dare Minotaur to attack us. I’ve been itching for a fight,” Ultraviolet says, pounding one fist against the opposite hand’s palm. He cracks his knuckles, and the sparkles around his body begin to sizzle and pop like oil in a heated pan. His smile is downright villainous, but it makes Tommy feel a lot better about the situation at hand.

The two of them walk into the casino. Ultraviolet starts walking Tommy towards the private hallway used for the Aces. Ultraviolet starts putting his code into the hidden door.

“I wouldn’t mind going with you to put Minotaur in his fucking place right now,” Tommy agrees as they step into the open hallway. This time, he wants to remember beating up Minotaur. He wants to make sure that the villains suffer twice as much as he did the first time, though Tommy hopes that he doesn’t get as hurt. He doesn’t think the healing espers want to deal with him anymore, and the guild probably won’t give him any healing potions if he attempts to murder the leader of his task force. Alas, he can’t. “But not right now. Minotaur has some shit on me, so I’m stuck being his lackey for the time being.”

Ultraviolet’s hands fall to this side as they walk down the hallway. Tommy can feel Ultraviolet’s stare burning across the side of his face. His anger has softened, but his voice is filled with a bitterly cold, almost scarily apathetic, hostility. “I don’t like that.”

“Chill out, king. It’s all going to work out. I’ve been officially assigned by the guild to Minotaur’s team, meaning they won’t be on my fucking ass about my extended vacation,” Tommy explains, waving his hand. He barely had a couple of weeks of vacation, but they treated it like he was retiring. Tommy wishes he could retire. He is so done with the guild’s bullshit. “Right now, Minotaur has approved my plan to capture the Scarlet Demoness alive, though he doesn’t know about the saving her part. Minotaur is focused on capturing Crimson, anyway, so all I have to do is quickly get the brainwashed lackeys before Minotaur uses his fucking head for the first time in his life to see what I’m trying to do.”

Tommy and Ultraviolet step into Croupier’s office. Unexpectedly, Ankh and Reynard are standing around Croupier’s desk with the Jester himself. There are papers all over the desk. They seem to be discussing something intently. Ankh is holding up a piece of paper with a serious expression on his face. Reynard is leaning down to peer at multiple papers at once with his fox tails flickering anxiously behind him. Croupier has taken a step back, placing his chin in his fingers and letting his wings hang low to the ground.

Ankh looks up sharply. It takes a moment for recognition to gleam in his gemstone eyes. When it does, a smile spreads out across his face, his sharp teeth glittering like a vicious predator. He lets the paper fall to the desk, using his free hand to wave at Tommy and Ultraviolet. “It’s good to see you, Vendetta! And thank you for finally joining us, Spade.”

“Something really fucking important must have happened to get you away from the drawing board,” Tommy responds, lifting his fingers up to wave back. Ankh’s expression twists fitfully with Tommy’s words. His attention shifts back to the desk of papers.

Tommy reaches the desk with Ultraviolet still at his shoulder. Reynard’s tail straightens out, his ears flicking down on his head. He taps his fingers against the desk. “Minotaur will be taking an examination in the coming week. He’ll be recognized as a hero if he passes, and depending on how well he does, it’s possible he’ll get a high ranking.”

Tommy snatches the paper Reynard is looking at. He scrambles to read the contents even though his vision is starting to blur. As a high ranking hero himself, Tommy knows the kind of power that would give Minotaur. He’ll have access to resources like potions of all kinds and even Netherite if he pleads a good enough case for it. Minotaur would also be able to command the lower-ranking heroes. The commands are not supposed to be harsh or self-serving, and usually the lower-ranks can disagree if they are really opposed. Tommy had no doubt that Minotaur would disregard all of that. He will use fear to make the lower-ranks do what he wants them to, and no one will be able to stop him because he’ll argue he’s just exercising his rights.

“Why the hell would the public agree to this?” Tommy demands, looking up at Reynard. The Minotaur’s actions affected everyone in the city, not just L’Manberg. Even if they don’t necessarily hate his guts, they should have no reason to believe he would make a good hero.

“Vendetta, I hope I don’t need to remind you how little control the public has over matters relating to any of the guilds,” Croupier says, his voice cold and even distant. Tommy resists the urge to shudder. Even when he’s lecturing Tommy or Charlie, Croupier has never sounded like that. This anger- if that’s what it is called- is unfamiliar to Tommy. He’s never seen it before, and he’s especially never been on the receiving end of it.

“The mayor’s hands are also tied. All of the guildmasters agreed to this plan, and he doesn’t have the power to go against them directly. Even if he could, since you’ve been making progress against the Red Army, the people believe Minotaur is doing his job,” Reynard continues, and Tommy forces his eyes away from Croupier to meet the vulpine eyes of the Ace of Clubs. “The Red Army has everyone on edge. They want to believe that there is some force protecting them from being slaughtered or kidnapped, even if that force was the one doing the killing years ago.”

“Look at this, Vendetta. They blew up part of Empires’ grand park, the one most villains don’t even touch. The initial explosion killed ten people and severely injured three. The smoke in the air injured more, and some of the animals got so spooked they started attacking people,” Ankh explains, handing Tommy a newspaper. Tommy takes it, wincing at the pictures that line the front page. Ankh wasn’t exaggerating. There were ten confirmed deaths of innocent civilians, and many more people were injured in the aftermath.

“It was all a ploy to get the Enforcer’s away from the forest,” Reynard says, explaining the motive because the newspaper has no idea why the Red Army would do something like this. “They snuck Mobs into the city. We don’t know why or where they’re being stored.”

“They either got the Mobs for training for the new recruits, experimentation, or to be released at a later date,” Ultraviolet says, taking the newspaper from Tommy’s hands. It isn’t a smooth transition because Tommy has squeezed fist-shaped creases on the side of the page. He almost tore it from holding on so tight, but he let go the moment he heard the tearing. There is a small tear along the edge of the article, but Ultraviolet doesn’t pay attention to it as he scans the words.

“The problem is that we don’t know. We don’t know anything. The Red Army only knows the individual missions given to them by the Cult of Erythr. The cultists are too tight-lipped to be of any use,” Croupier explains, looking up from his pondering. Even though there are four of them, he seems to be meeting all of their eyes at once. Ankh’s eyes start faintly glowing. Reynard’s tails lash out like whips. The sparkles around Ultraviolet seem sharper around the edges. Tommy takes a deep breath. “This makes Vendetta’s plan all the more crucial. We have to find out what the Scarlet Demoness’ knows.”

Tommy is about to start explaining his plan when the doors are thrown open. Tommy whirls around, a hand going to his baton. He releases the breath he was holding when he sees Charlie standing at the doorway. Charlie takes a few steps into the room with a bright smile on his face, but he stops once he realizes that the other Aces, the Jester, and Vendetta are around the table. He frowns at them, crossing his arms over his chest. “Hey, that’s not fair! Why is everyone having a party without me?”

“No, buddy, we’re just talking about some boring business stuff,” Croupier assures Charlie with an uncharacteristically bright smile appearing on his face. Croupier gestures toward Tommy. “Look who’s here, Slime. Vendetta is going to be staying with us for a while.”

Charlie’s displeasure slides away. A merry smile stretches across his face. He races across the room, ignoring Croupier’s order to be careful. Ankh and Reynard start picking up the papers, and Ultraviolet leans against the desk with a carefree expression. Charlie doesn’t pay attention to anyone else as he grabs Tommy’s arms, squeezing tightly in both of his arms. Charlie disregards the idea of personal space to shove his face near Tommy’s, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Come on, come on, come on! I want to play a game! Please, pretty please! I haven’t seen you in so long! That’s not fair. You have to play a game with me.”

Tommy lifts his free arm up to pat Charlie’s hair, pushing down on his curls and avoiding the slime creature hanging off the side of Charlie’s head with the emoting expression. Charlie closes his eyes, his grin widening as he soaks up the affection. “Of course, bud. I love playing games with you. But Slime, I need you to listen to me. We can’t have a sleepover tonight. I have to sleep tonight because I have something important to do.”

Tommy learned his lesson the last time Charlie caught him sleeping with the chain on. Charlie probably doesn’t remember that time, however, because his smile drops down in a frown. “But-”

“Slime, how about we go to the game room? We can start setting up. Vendetta will join us once he gets done doing his business with Croupier,” Ultraviolet cuts in, reaching a hand out. Charlie looks between Tommy’s eyes and Ultraviolet’s hand. The slime creature on his head shows a conflicted expression. Tommy nods at Charlie. This is enough for the slime hybrid as he releases Tommy’s arm to grab onto Ultraviolet’s hand. As Ultraviolet leads Charlie out of the room, he throws Tommy a hand symbol that Tommy has learned means ‘you owe me.’ Tommy scoffs. Like Ultraviolet wouldn’t have cut in, anyway. No one likes when Charlie is upset, especially Ultraviolet. He hates cleaning up messes.

“You can stay at the pyramid,” Ankh offers, leaning to the side to look into Tommy’s eyes without having to move his feet. Tommy turns his head to look down at Ankh.

“I haven’t stayed in that shitty pyramid before, and I won’t start doing it now,” Tommy says, pushing Ankh’s head away from him. Although Tommy would never admit it, he does want to try staying in the pyramid one day. The exterior itself is beautiful to look at, and the interior must be more so considering Ultraviolet and Reynard all stay there without complaining. Ankh even refrains from trying to rebuild the pyramid from scratch every few weeks, a trait not commonly shared among all his builds.

“You are not sleeping in the hotel. That place is not protected enough,” Croupier states as if the hotel isn’t one of the most protected places on the island. The only better places are the casino, particularly the upper levels, and the pyramid. Tommy supposes the dragon would also be a safe place to stay, but that is only if Ankh is there, too. Ankh’s esper ability allows him to animate anything he has created. It becomes increasingly dangerous when Ankh is standing on top of the dragon he built himself. Tommy wishes he could see the dragon come to life at least once before he dies, but he doubts there will ever be a threat big enough to awaken that sleeping giant.

“Fuck. Can I sleep in my old room?” Tommy asks, looking over his shoulder at Croupier.

“It hasn’t changed since the last time you used it,” Croupier answers, his eyes narrowing underneath his mask and something frigid creeping across his tone. When he says nothing’s changed, he means that no one has touched the room since the last time Tommy closed the door.

“That’s fine. I’m a Big Man, and Big Men know how to do everything, even clean,” Tommy tells Croupier with a shrug. The last time he was in that room, the sleep-walking got terrible. There was so much blood by the time Tommy became conscious enough to stop aggravating the wound. Tommy removed the chain, stumbling out of the room without looking back. He wandered the halls of the casino, dripping blood everywhere. He must have blacked out because Croupier appeared within the time it took Tommy to blink. Croupier already knew about the chain at this point, but he still made Tommy explain the whole story one more time as he personally patched Tommy up. It was a hazy time of blood loss, so Tommy doesn’t remember what he said. He just remembers Croupier’s heavy look. He wears it a lot when Tommy’s around.

“Just stay in the pyramid for a few days while Ankh builds you a better room,” Reynard says, sitting on the desk. Croupier gives him a look, but Reynard doesn’t get off. He just slides over to be beside Tommy. He nudges the blonde’s shoulder in some bid to be comforting. It is, surprisingly, just that, but it astonishes Tommy that Reynard would do this for him.

“Oh, that would be so much fun! I don’t normally use a lot of red in my builds, but you’re definitely a red kind of person. You also seem like a… cobblestone person. Oh, that would look great with a castle theme! Or maybe I could use white to go with an Ancient Builder’s theme,” Ankh says. He reaches into the folds of his wrap-around skirt. He pulls out his upward flipping notepad and emergency pencil. He starts jotting down different things like keywords and a rough sketch. He taps the pencil against the edge of his mask, making a clinking noise. “I should get started right away.”

“Absolutely fucking not. Cut it out, both of you. There’s no fucking point. I’m not staying in Las Nevadas for long,” Tommy explains, stepping away from the desk to look at them both. There’s a harsh frown on his face, but they would be unable to see it considering the mask Tommy is wearing.

“Let me have a moment alone with Vendetta,” Croupier commands. Reynard looks toward Ankh, and the Ace of Diamonds glances up from his notepad momentarily to meet the Ace of Club’s eyes. Ankh shrugs, heading for the door. Reynard steps off the desk, turning invisible as he passes Tommy. The door shuts behind them, leaving Croupier and Tommy alone in the former’s office.

Croupier walks around his desk. He leans against the front of it, looking at Tommy with a thoughtful gaze. Tommy shuffles awkwardly, waiting for the verdict. He hates being alone with Croupier like this. He much prefers when Charlie is there to distract Croupier and make Tommy laugh. When Slime is gone, Croupier focuses on Tommy and the blonde feels no real need to suppress his negative emotions. They usually get along fine, but there are moments like this one where Tommy remembers that all of the bad disagreements Croupier and Tommy have had over the years.

“Are you really going to sleep tonight?” Croupier asks, his voice quiet but not soft. Tommy sighs, letting his voice modifier interpret that noise incorrectly. Tommy drags his feet as he approaches the desk. Croupier keeps his eyes on Tommy like a creepy painting, but Tommy feels a lot more relaxed under Croupier’s gaze than some stupid woman in a picture frame.

“I don’t have a fucking choice. I mean, tomorrow is important, so I should want to sleep through it, but… Minotaur has limited the amount of pills I’m allowed,” Tommy explains softly, sitting on the desk beside Croupier. He feels better like this. He enjoys the close proximity without the unnerving eye contact.

“Shit,” Croupier murmurs, his voice modifier just barely catching the word and modifying it correctly. Tommy lets out a breathy chuckle. Croupier turns his head to look at Tommy, and suddenly the reason why Tommy came over here is rendered false. Croupier lifts a hand, putting the back of his fingers against Tommy’s forehead to feel his temperature. “Are you experiencing any symptoms?”

“Nothing debilitating. I just have trouble falling asleep and staying that way. It’s getting better. It really could have been a lot fucking worse. I guess it’s because I’ve been weaning off the pills for some time now,” Tommy explains. Since Serenade has been watching over him while he sleeps, Tommy was able to stop taking the pills every single day. He still took them, much to Serenade’s dissatisfaction, but he wasn’t taking them as much as he used to. That probably saved him. Not only was he getting ample rest, but he was also preparing his body for the time when the pills would be cut off. One more reason to miss someone he isn’t supposed to care about at all.

“If anything changes-” Croupier starts.

“I’ll tell you,” Tommy promises. At least, he’ll tell Croupier while he’s still in Las Nevadas. Croupier has dealt with people experiencing withdrawals before. He would know what to do more than Tommy would. The most Tommy has seen from addiction is Reishi’s victims, and those people are never allowed to recover. Tommy shudders, trying not to remember the withdrawn, ghastly expressions on those people’s faces.

“Vendetta…” Croupier starts, then his voice falls silent. He lifts his hands up, searching the air for something. He lets his hands fall back to his side. He closes his eyes. He wraps his wing around Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Tommy allows this to happen. He feels safe tucked in Croupier’s wings, probably a side effect from being in them every time Croupier comforts him. Tommy has started associating feeling better with being in the darkness of these buttery gold wings. Croupier continues, “Remember that you’re part of my legacy. There’s the Aces and this casino and Charlie, but there is also you. My legacy.”

Tommy leans his head on Croupier’s shoulder, letting his eyes fall shut. Tommy isn’t a good legacy to leave behind, but Croupier speaks with such assurance that Tommy, even momentarily, believes him.

Chapter Text

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”

― Henri Nouwen

Tommy walks through Empires in his standard uniform. He taps his staff anxiously. He planned a joint meeting between him, Watcher, Good Guy, and Briar in order to coordinate their attack against the Scarlet Demoness and whoever she would be with. Tommy has a date and location in mind, hoping to optimize all of their abilities. He does have some other information in case one of his temporary teammates decide to tell him that their esper powers don’t work in a specific environment. There are always drawbacks to an esper’s gifts, after all. Tommy knows his limits, and he hopes that the others know theirs, too. He can’t afford for this mission to go awry, not when Minotaur sought Vendetta out specifically to tell him that failure was not an option.

Tommy hesitates. He feels the subtle pressure of someone staring at him. He looks around cautiously. His eyes land on a person standing on the other end of the alleyway. They are leaning against the graffitied wall, arms crossed over their chest. The man is looking at Tommy through a pair of leather and glass goggles, not even trying to mask their attention. Tommy stops, his grip tightening on his staff. The person pushes off the wall with their foot. As they stand to attention, a cubical drone-like device hovers around their shoulder. The person smiles affably as they wave at Tommy. They walk down the alleyway, venturing to get closer. 

Fortunately, they stop a safe distance away from Tommy. The blonde keeps his hand on his staff as he takes in the full appearance of the figure. They have pale, off-white hair messily strewn across their head. They wear a pair of dark green cargo pants and a yellow-orange shirt. They wear a brown leather aviator jacket over the shirt, the fluffy white interior almost the same shade as their hair. The drone beside them is made from a copper material with an antenna rising up from the side and white pinpricks in the eyeholes. This contrasts the figure’s dark brown eyes streaked with a teal blue-green color like moss growing across coarse dirt. There is a blackness reaching in from the edge of the sclera to the irises but not quite there yet. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Tommy snaps. He doesn’t look dangerous, but the copper drone floating around him makes Tommy anxious. This man is either rich or he has connections. In either case, people like that don’t roam around Empires without a dozen hidden bodyguards. If they don’t have the bodyguards, they don’t need them, and there is little more danger than that. The drone might be the man’s bodyguards, honestly.

“No need for hostilities. I’m not here to pick a fight. If I wanted to do that, I would have gone to an underground fighting ring. At least there, I’m assured a little bit of money for winning,” The man responds with an amused smile, waving his hand like Tommy just told a funny joke. The man’s unnatural eyes peer at Tommy. His smile does not change, but he looks noticeably less friendly and more analytical. “I have a few titles, but I prefer the name Sparrow. It is the one I gave myself, after all. The truest names are often the ones we give ourselves.”

Tommy blinks in surprise. He recognizes the name. This was the person who manufactured and sold the copper golems to Technician. This was also the broker who bought and sold sleeping draughts from Reishi and rare flowers from Briar. She did say that Sparrow had taken an interest in Tommy, but he didn’t think their fated encounter would happen in a back alley of Empires while he was on his way to coordinate a mission against a group that Sparrow has done business with before.

Tommy forces his hand away from his staff. His fingers twitch, his power waiting underneath the surface, but he doesn’t make any moves to attack Sparrow. “I’m-”

“I know who you are, Vendetta. I wouldn’t have tried getting your attention if I didn’t,” Sparrow cuts Tommy off. The blonde grits his teeth. He feels an angry shout claw at his throat, but Sparrow is unbothered by his shifting emotions. Sparrow’s smile grows wider. “We actually have a lot of mutual informants. Also, why wouldn’t I know the name of the person that was able to defeat one of my copper golems? Those things are notorious for being difficult to defeat. They aren’t as proficient as iron golems, but who can get an iron golem working in this day and age? Seriously, if you know someone, I wouldn’t mind getting in touch with them. I do need to replace those copper golems.”

“If you’re pissed about that, it was in fucking self-defense. I can demonstrate right now if you want me to,” Tommy growls, narrowing his eyes at Sparrow. He doesn’t know anyone who can use golems. The Syndicate might be able to afford buying one, but there is a special art to making golems that barely anyone knows anymore. There might eventually be an esper who can create golems with any of the lost arts. Tommy knows that an esper who can do that would be as valuable as an esper that could heal.

Sparrow laughs, placing a hand on his stomach. The drone twirls in the air like it is dancing to Sparrow’s merriment. When Sparrow is done laughing, he meets Tommy’s expression without flinching. “Don’t worry. I assure you that I’m not upset about that. I had already sold the copper golem to Technician. If he wanted to destroy it, that was his business, not mine. I don’t normally keep tabs on things that I’ve already sold, you know?”

“Why the fuck are you here, then, if not for revenge?” Tommy asks, crossing his arms. All of this is confirming to Tommy that Sparrow is the type of person that only cares about money, but that truth doesn’t explain why Sparrow is here right now. Time is money, and Tommy knows he is a lucrative venture for a businessman like Sparrow.

Sparrow chuckles. His eyes burn with amusement and curiosity. He takes a step forward. Tommy shuffles back, but Sparrow doesn’t move any closer. He leans forward, peering up at Tommy’s eyes with a thousand questions swirling inside the multi-colored irises. Sparrow leans back up, brushing the back of his fingers against the drone. “It’s fascinating to me. Everything you do is about revenge. I mean, obviously, right? You named yourself Vendetta. Out of all the names that could apply to your disposition or skill set, you chose to name yourself after your mission. It does play into the sentence structure of it all, though. I could say Azrael and Inchling were killed by Vendetta, or I could say they were killed by a vendetta. They were killed by Vendetta who had a vendetta. Hilarious, isn’t it?”

Tommy swallows thickly. No one mentioned that Sparrow was borderline insane. Tommy shakes his head. Sparrow isn’t insane. He’s just entertaining himself with semantics. Tommy thinks it is weird as shit, but to each their own, he supposes.

Sparrow continues talking after noticing Tommy shake his head. “I guess revenge isn’t that funny. I’ll admit that I’ve done a thing or two in the past in the name of revenge, and I never found it particularly humorous. It was simply what needed to be done. I think you still feel that way. Me, on the other hand, I’ve moved on. I’m mostly in it for the financial gain and connections now. Money is what makes the world go round, so I like having a lot of it. And the thing about helping people is that they are more inclined to help you. I have protection when I desperately need it because, and let’s be honest, being in the business of making money is also the business of making enemies.”

“I’m not here to fucking fight or protect your shitass,” Tommy snaps. He tucks Sparrow’s words inside a folder in his mind. He needs to figure out everyone Sparrow has some sort of connection to. Sparrow seems to be a neutral party, so Tommy doesn’t feel bad about dragging him into the blonde’s fight against the Syndicate’s leaders.

“Thankfully, I’m not in the mood to fight or be protected, either. I wouldn’t mind doing business with you, though. I’m sure you could get your hands on some high quality goods, and I’m very willing to match prices with other buyers,” Sparrow notes, putting his chin into his hands as he thinks about the situation. Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. Sparrow startles, coming back into himself. He laughs sheepishly, waving his hand. “Ah, but that can come later. I’m here to do you a favor.”

“I don’t want to be in anyone’s fucking debt,” Tommy snaps. Tommy is only concerned with a blood debt. He doesn’t like owing anyone else anything. It is why when he severs his connections with people, he does so drastically and decisively. Tommy has learned from Reverie what it means to be in someone’s debt.

Sparrow’s eyes widen at Tommy’s proclamation. He takes in a sharp breath. His smile softens, and his eyes crinkle with a somber emotion. “Fine. You will be doing me a favor. Briar came by a couple days ago in order to buy some new weapons. She informs me that she along with a select few will be hunting down the Red Army.”

“Do you want the Red Army fucking gone, then?” Tommy asks skeptically. If Sparrow wanted the Red Army gone, he wouldn’t have sold Technician the copper golem. There might be a reason for the sale, but Tommy thinks that is the norm. Whatever is going on right now is the exception.

“If I can be frank, I really don’t care. I’ve done enough business with the Red Army that my life is more or less assured in the fallout of civilization. Oh, don’t worry, though, I’m not here to stop you and your friends, either. If you want them gone, by all means, take them out like the dogs they are,” Sparrow says pleasantly. His eyes crinkle as he smiles. The lighting of the alleyway shifts, putting Sparrow in darkness. He suddenly looks dangerous, and Tommy gets a small inkling of why several villains have chosen to leave Sparrow alive instead of demanding he hand over his goods.

“What the fuck do you want?” Tommy snaps, refusing to let this guy terrify him. Sparrow’s smile shrinks to allow his eyes to open wide. In the darkness, the teal streaks in his eyes seem to glow. In fact, they are pulsating with light. It is faint but noticeable.

“How should I put this? The Scarlet Demoness is… well, she’s like my friend, if I were to put a name to our relationship. It’s complicated, really, not worth explaining actually. Just know that we are close enough that I don’t want her to die. I would also not like her to be in pain or to be brainwashed if I can help it. Which, I can’t, not physically, anyway. I’m not much of a fighter. I am, however, a builder, and I’ve brought a few toys over that might make the process of capturing her alive and healthy a little smoother,” Sparrow answers. He raises his hand. His drone lowers down onto his palm. The top of the drone unlatches like a box. Sparrow digs his hand inside the drone, and Tommy realizes that some sort of spatial power must be put on it because too much of Sparrow’s arm is missing.

Sparrow pulls a few items, confirming Tommy’s suspicions. He already suspected Sparrow had access to Enderian magic considering how the copper golem came from a cube eerily similar to Sparrow’s drone, only less refined with more exposed innards. Tommy wonders what Sparrow traded to get access to ancient magic from the Ender Isles.

Sparrow leans down on the ground, placing each item down with a slightly disgusted look on his face. Tommy squats on his knees to get a closer look at the items. There are a few power suppressor bracelets meant to repress the abilities of an esper. Sparrow sets down a couple of vials. Tommy doesn’t know exactly what they are used for, but he assumes they are tranquilizers because of the device Sparrow puts down next. It is like an automatic, mechanical injector with the needle hidden by the plastic. Sparrow gestures to the goods, but the drone’s latch doesn’t slide shut. “The power suppressors are fine-tuned to the Scarlet Demoness’ powers. They will work on others, but they’re less effective unless they have esper abilities within her class. The tranquilizers, also, are perfectly harmless. They should knock her- or really, anyone- unconscious for about six hours, give or take a few minutes. You shouldn’t use too many of them on one person, so if it doesn’t work immediately, wait a few minutes. I promise it will.”

Sparrow turns back to his drone. He starts pulling out more items of a different type than the power suppressors and the tranquilizer vials. These are weapons. There is a crossbow made from black metal and purple wiring that glows with the iridescent shine of an enchantment. The next is a bracer with a groove that is filled with a grappling hook’s wire and hook. Two twin sickles are placed on the ground, the curving blade made from a dark pink metal and the handles wrapped up in a green-black ribbon. The last item is a baton with a hidden button that Tommy instinctively knows will make the baton into a staff. Sparrow runs his fingers along the weapons. 

“I started making these as soon as Briar told me who was on the team. The crossbow has an enchantment for infinite arrows and fire resistance. If Watcher is going to be blowing anything up, this crossbow should hold up fairly well against the barrage. The bracer is meant to replace Good Guy’s grappling hook. If it isn’t attached to him, it could get lost easily. Plus, the closer it is to his form, the less likely it is that the Scarlet Demoness will be able to manipulate it. The sickles don’t have much fanfare. It’s a more durable metal than the ones Briar has, but there isn’t anything fancy to it, just the way she likes,” Sparrow stalls, picking up the baton. He twists it around in his hand before setting it in Tommy’s palm. The closeness unnerves Tommy, but Sparrow pulls back before the blonde can grow upset. Sparrow nods toward the baton on Tommy’s back. “I gave you the works, though. Unbreaking enchantment, smoother process of switching its forms. I also made it out of Netherite. You’re part of the Hero’s Guild, aren’t you? Why isn’t your weapon already made out of Netherite?”

Tommy glances down at the enchanted baton weighing down in his hand. He can see the sheen of Netherite hidden in the reflective metal. Tommy finds a chance to meet his eyes. He’s thankful for his red-tinted glasses because he knows that his blue eyes will make him remember more clearly why he doesn’t have a Netherite weapon in the first place. He shakes his head, getting rid of the thoughts and memories.

“Thanks, I guess,” Tommy murmurs to Sparrow. He helps the broker put the tools and weapons back into the drone. Tommy stares into the dark, abyssal depths of the drone. He shakes his head, glancing at Sparrow from the corner of his eye. Enchanted weapons made from Netherite and the use of Enderian magic are all expensive, powerful stuff. “You must be pretty fucking close with the Scarlet Demoness to give us all this.”

“This is just a loan. I am fully expecting to get my money back somehow,” Sparrow says, but a faraway look crosses his eyes. Tommy stares, thinking about what Good Guy told him about the Scarlet Demoness and what Briar mentioned about Sparrow. The broker does seem like the type of person who could benefit from powers like hers. Maybe he backed her when she became a villainess in exchange for using her powers? Tommy thinks the answer is credible, but part of him isn’t sure that is the likely answer.

Sparrow looks up at Tommy, perhaps noticing Tommy’s stare or his curiosity. Sparrow gives Tommy a cheeky, distant smile. He is separating himself from the situation, Tommy realizes. Tommy lets him go. It doesn’t really matter to Tommy what sort of relationship Sparrow and the Scarlet Demoness have.

“I think I’ve started my relationship with you off on the right foot. We’ll do proper business soon, Vendetta,” Sparrow says. He stands up, looking down at Tommy’s squatting form. He takes a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. He leans down and presses it to Tommy’s hand. Sparrow forcibly closes Tommy’s fingers around the paper. Sparrow’s touch lingers there as his body transforms. Tommy’s eyes widen as Sparrow turns into a cloud of sparkles the same color as the streaks in his eyes. These sparkles collectively rise higher in the air until they are literally flying out of the alleyway. Sparrow is gone, leaving Tommy behind with the abandoned drone and the slip of paper in his hand.

Tommy tucks the drone underneath his arm. The pinpricks twist to look up at him. Tommy lifts his arm, and the drone floats up beside him. Tommy raises an eyebrow at the weird creature. He shakes his head, staring down at his closed fist. He lifts his fingers up, flipping the paper against his palm. Coordinates are inked across the white. Tommy doesn’t know where exactly the coordinates lead, but Sparrow’s handwriting along the bottom informs Tommy what the coordinates are for. He is meant to bring the Scarlet Demoness to a safehouse owned and protected by Sparrow.

Tommy tucks the paper away in his pocket. He continues to his meeting, the drone following behind like a dutiful servant. He’s going to have to capture Pearl first, then he’ll see what the safehouse is like. 

Chapter Text

“Once you hear the details of victory, it is hard to distinguish it from a defeat.”

― Jean-Paul Sartre

Tommy stands on the parapet of a small-time law firm. He leans down, keeping his body eerily still as he watches the parking garage across the street. The garage is packed full of cars, a few levels tall, meant for a majority of the businesses down this street. It is frequently used because of this reason, and as the afternoon light begins to permeate in the air, a few cars pass in and out of the one entrance and exit.

Briar stands on the rooftop, leaning against the parapet. She twirls one of her sickles in her hand. Underneath her graceful fingers, the curved blade looks like a solid circle made from rose-gold light. She stares at the roof with an intense expression, the flowers blooming around her eyes becoming a darker color.

Good Guy is on Tommy’s other side. He sits on the parapet, his legs hanging over the edge. His wings are pressed tightly against his back, twitching anxiously with each shift in the wind. Good Guy has his eyes closed, but that is only making him more aware of the world instead of less. He knows each strand of danger that is swirling around him, and his body is more inclined to getting out of the way than if he were intently staring at his target.

Watcher stood firmly on Good Guy’s other side. He was much better at keeping his emotions under control. His face is devoid of any expression, and his wings do not move in the slightest. He is holding his crossbow with one hand. His other arm hangs uselessly at his side, twitching as if he wants to draw an arrow.

Based on intel given to Tommy by Passerine and Reynard- his most trusted sources of information- Tommy knows that Pearl will show up any time now. She is meant to be completing some mission for the Cult of Erythr with another cultist. Neither of Tommy’s informants were able to figure out what the mission was or who Pearl would be doing it with, but that was unnecessary information. If they really wanted to know, they could ask Pearl why she was here after her capture. They will soon find out who she’s with. It would have been nice to figure out which plan they would have to go with, but Tommy did go over a plan for any members that would be with her, so it wasn’t completely hopeless. It was a waiting game at this point.

“She’s getting closer,” Good Guy murmurs. He has to really concentrate if he wants to track Pearl. His esper ability doesn’t register as a threat. Even with her murderous record, she has only ever killed in the name of keeping Good Guy safe. She would normally never harm a hair on his head. Good Guy was able to pick up a faint trace of her being when Tommy explained that she wasn’t happy with anyone right now. Tommy has little doubt that Crimson’s mind control has tainted her perception of the world, so it is likely that she will aim to maim when she sees her brothers despite their shared history.

“She’s here,” Good Guy whispers, his eyes opening. Tommy pulls out his baton. It extends into a staff. Briar stops twirling her sickle, letting the hilt slam against her palm. She pulls the other one out, holding them both in her hands. Watcher inhales sharply, raising his crossbow. The rotating purple rhombus circles around the tip of the arrow and his eye.

True to his words, Pearl appears along the bend of the parking garage. She gestures to the top of the garage, speaking in slow tones to her companion. Tommy hesitates, recognizing Technician walking right beside her. He gestures to something behind them when he responds to Pearl. The two of them walk into the parking garage, their forms disappearing into the shadows. Briar glances over at Good Guy, “Why didn’t you tell us Technician was with her?”

“He isn’t a threat,” Good Guy replies, confusion evident in his tone. Watcher’s eye twitches when he registers Good Guy’s words. The two brothers glance at each other, sharing a meaningful look. Tommy guesses that whoever Technician is underneath the mask, he must know Watcher and Good Guy personally. They must be close enough that Good Guy’s esper ability, the most powerful danger sense in the entire city, doesn’t believe Technician is a viable threat.

“It doesn’t matter. We were prepared for the whole fucking cult,” Tommy tells them, hoping that an argument does not start right now. He really cannot afford to mess up. He raises up on the parapet. His glider extends. He glances at his comrades. “Execute Plan C. Don’t stop until you’ve brought them in.”

Tommy leaps off the roof. His glider catches in the air. He starts lowering towards the entrance of the ground. He hears the sound of wings flapping, and he knows that Good Guy and Watcher are moving. Tommy lands on the ground at the entrance of the parking garage, his glider snapping closed. Good Guy and Watcher enter through one of the higher levels. Briar uses a vine to swing from the law firm to the entrance of the parking garage. She lands gracefully, her wings falling to her back as she gets balanced. The vine shrinks as it wraps around her forearm. She glances over at Tommy as the two of them walk into the garage. “Are you sure Good Guy and Watcher will be able to handle it?”

Tommy hesitates instead of answering. He really doesn’t know. He knows for a fact that he wouldn’t be able to fight his siblings, no matter what horrible decisions they were making. He can only hope that Good Guy and Watcher care enough about their sister not to let her become a monster. Tommy knows that he doesn’t personally have the strength for that.

Tommy opens his mouth to answer, but he’s cut off when the headlights of the parked cars on either side of them all miraculously turn on. Tommy puts his staff in front of him, glancing around the room. Technician is standing at the bottom of the ramp that leads up to the next level. The masked man tilts his head to the side, lifting his fingers up. He snaps his fingers. Tommy hears the engines of the cars revving. In the span of a second, all of them start hurtling towards Tommy and Briar. Tommy twists his body, facing one of the cars head on. He jumps onto the hood. He runs across the top of the car. He jumps onto the next one, ignoring the sound of metal screeching as it slams against even more metal. Tommy jumps off the trunk of the last trunk. He continues until he reaches the other side of the garage. He glances back to see the wreckage. A dozen cars are all slammed into each other like a bad traffic jam. Briar stands in the midst of it with her hand raised. She held back the cars that wanted to crash into her with a series of vines.

Technician throws something at Briar as Tommy rushes at the villain. Tommy’s power expands over the side of the staff in a red caustic light to make it stronger and heavier. Tommy swings his staff from over the side of his shoulder to Technician’s back. The villain turns, his bright red eyes glaring at Tommy. Technician grabs the staff before it can hit him. Tommy uses the force that climbs up his arms to kick his leg up. His foot slams into Technician’s face. The villain stumbles away, yanking Tommy’s staff with him. As he moves, all the cars begin screeching. Tommy yells, reaching his hands up to his ears to cover them. He begins to crumple. Technician rockets his body forward, and his fist collides with Tommy’s stomach with enough force to send him flying back. Tommy coughs in pain as he rolls across the cement. He doesn’t stop until he’s on the other side of the garage from Technician.

Briar screams. She pulls her hands away from ears for long enough to wave her hands around. Her vines shoot up from the cracked concrete. They puncture the engines of the cars, writhing around like an angry basket of snakes. Silence dominates the floor, and Briar seems a little more at peace now that she isn’t standing in the source of the obnoxious, mind-numbing sound. Tommy lifts himself up onto his arms, lifting his head up to stare at Technician.

He watches the villain throw a metal sphere in the air at Briar. It misses, landing in the cars. Briar’s eyes widen and her insectoid wings raise up fearfully, and she understands before Tommy does what the sphere is. In a pool of flammable oil, the sphere explodes. Tommy doesn’t hear Briar make a noise. He hears the explosion, though, and the wash of heat that seems to fry the small hairs along his arm. Tommy chokes on a breath, staring into the flames to try and find her.

Technician walks closer to the fire. Tommy grumbles, shuffling onto his feet. He pumps his arms, getting to Technician before he can step into the fire. Technician sees Tommy coming, so he lifts his arms up into a defensive position. Tommy slams his fist against Technician’s forearm. He leans back when Technician tries to kick Tommy. He gets close again with his fists raised. Technician uses his open palms to move Tommy’s punches away from his main body. He strikes Tommy in the gut with the flat of his palm. Tommy winces as Technician hits the bruise from when Tommy was punched across the room earlier. Technician uses the side of his hand to strike Tommy’s side. The blonde stumbles back. Technician’s eyes narrow as he approaches once more to hit Tommy. A sickle flies between the two of them, making Technician jump back. Both the hero and the villain glance to the side to see Briar stepping out of the flames. The ashes of a protective flower cling to her body, and blood pours out of her arms. Her wings are covered in soot, barely twitching as they hang limp against her legs. She coughs slightly, glaring at Technician with one sickle in her hand.

She joins in the fight. Briar slashes her sickle at Technician. He takes a step back, and Tommy- rather childishly- kicks Technician in the ankle. The villain almost teeters to the side, but he manages to catch himself in time. Technician faces them both. He takes a deep breath through his gas mask and puts his hands in front of him. He narrows his eyes in concentration. Briar tries to hit him again, but he does a backflip away from her. He lands higher up on the ramp, grabbing onto the hilt of her other sickle. The villain jumps at Briar. He presses a foot against the side of the wall, pushing himself to the other side in midair to avoid a series of vines that shoot up from to grab him. Technician lands near Tommy. He attempts to slash the blonde. He turns around immediately, the two sickles making a terrible noise as they slide off each other. Technician leans down, avoiding the punch Tommy was aiming at the back of his skull. Technician legs shoot out, and he attempts to knock the two others to the ground. Briar leaps over his leg, and Tommy takes a step back. Technician rocks forward, doing a handstand to lift himself back to his feet.

Technician attacks Tommy, the edge of his sickle cutting into Tommy’s arm. The blonde hisses, feeling blood spill out of the cut. Briar tries to attack Technician with his guard lowered, but the white-haired man knows she’s coming. He turns to her, slamming the side of his hand into her stomach. She leans forward to minimize the pain and tries to strike him with an upward slash of her sickle. He weaves out of the way, hitting Briar in the side. He twirls away from her as Tommy throws his body weight towards the main. Tommy rolls awkwardly to the side. Technician raises his boot to stomp on Tommy’s hand. The blonde cries out when he hears a noise that his hand should not be making. He grits his teeth, staring up at Technician. It is hard to see with all of their masks and the smoke, but he thinks he can see red cracks appearing across his face, particularly around his eyes. He remains deathly calm, though, even as he glances up right at Briar tries to get her twin sickle back.

Tommy glances around instead of immediately joining the fight. He scrambles to his feet, bringing his injured hand to his chest. He tries not to jostle it as he grabs his staff. He glances back at Briar and Technician fighting. His power spreads across the staff, illuminating the space in front of him in a red light. Tommy raises his staff to throw it at Technician, but the villain dodges out of the way. Tommy is able to keep a hold of his staff. He stares at the spot Technician would have been in. The cultist isn’t even looking at Tommy. How would he know where Tommy was aiming? How does he always know where Briar and Tommy are? Technician’s power should be technopathy, the ability to manipulate technology. He isn’t wearing a camera on his back, so-

Wait. A camera. Tommy glances around. Through the thick smoke, he can see the firelight reflecting off the cars. Even though most of them crashed, there might still be working cameras. Tommy shakes his head at their foolishness. Tommy decides to let Briar hold Technician off for a few more seconds. He dives into the mess of shattered vehicles to slam his staff against the cameras. His glasses keep a majority of the smoke out of his eyes, and he can hear his mask working double-time to purify the air. Tommy quickens his efforts despite this hurting his body as to not overtax his mask or test the limits of his glasses.

Tommy hears a pained noise. He glances up to see Briar stumbling away from Technician. She looks sick, pale and dazed. Technician raises his stolen sickle to hit her. Briar sways to the side, nearly falling to the ground. Tommy pulls his staff out of the truck he had just been slamming it into. He rushes toward Briar, realizing far too late that while he and Technician have gas masks, Briar does not. Tommy gets to her quickly. He scrambles to tear his mask off. When he does, he nearly pukes as smoke fills his lungs. He shoves his mask against Briar’s face. She heaves in purified air as Tommy tries to regulate his own breathing, holding back a series of nasty coughs.

Briar takes a step back in order to clear her mind. Tommy wants to vomit, but he feels coherent enough to start swinging his staff around. Perhaps because of his efforts in destroying the cameras but more likely because the smoke is growing really thick, Technician is not as quick with his counterattacks. This allows Tommy to grasp the upper hand for a moment, but Technician quickly earns it back when Tommy feels like he’s going to pass out from a lack of oxygen. Tommy stumbles around rather blindly, squinting to keep Technician in his sights. The villain hammers down a rain of blows against Tommy, and each one makes Tommy audibly groan. His voice cracks and grows rougher like he’s gotten a new voice modifier. Tommy glances to the side for Briar, but this moment of weakness allows Technician to knock Tommy to the ground. The blonde slips, falling flat on his back. He feels his glider cut into his skin. Warm blood pools around his fingertips. Technician pulls Tommy’s staff out of his hands. The villain raises the weapon up, ready to slam it back down with a sort of war cry coming from his mouth.

Briar comes up behind Technician. She forcibly pulls his gaiter down, revealing his mouth. She lifts an open vial of the tranquilizer to his mouth. She shoves it down his throat. She presses her hand over his mouth, keeping him from spitting up the tranquilizer. Technician’s irises turn into slits in the middle of his bloody red pupils. He drops the staff, reaching down into his pocket. Tommy coughs when he means to yell, trying to warn Briar as Technician shoves a syringe into her wrist. He pushes down, releasing a red liquid into her bloodstream. Briar screams, shoving Technician away from her. Having drunk the sedative, Technician crumples to the ground beside Tommy. The blonde tries sitting up, but his vision grows dizzy and he falls back down.

Briar tears the syringe out of her wrist with enough force to cause a deep cut that starts pouring out blood. She places her hands against the sides of her head. Tommy watches a red color spread across her eyes like a thin film over the entire ball. Red cracks appear along her wrist from where the syringe poured something into her veins, and the rest of her veins and arteries are glowing enough that Tommy can see some of them through her skin. He hears Briar muttering something, but it is muffled and distorted by Tommy’s mask.

Briar rips the mask from her face. She growls like an animal. Her wings suddenly rise up, making her look bigger than she actually is- a real tactic winged animals use. Her hands go to her hair, tearing at the strands underneath her hood. The color in her roses begin to drip away, falling to the ground in thick splotches like blood. They leave behind black roses that begin to wither away and disappear. Briar continues screaming, a terrible hissing noise building in the back of her throat. Tommy pukes a little in his mouth, trying to remain conscious as he watches the corruption spread throughout Briar’s body.

She stares down at the mask in her hands. She looks at Tommy with her bloodied eyes. She drops to the ground beside him like a puppet with their strings cut. She puts the mask against his face. She presses down harsher on it, and Tommy can see the instincts of a killer glowing in her eyes. He weakly reaches for her wrist. He is able to touch it, but he cannot hold onto it. Briar shoots away from him. She hisses at him, eyebrows narrowing. The noise cuts off suddenly, and Briar drops her head into her hands. She makes the movements of a sob, but no tears spring to her eyes nor does she make the noises. 

Briar glances back up at him, her attention darting between him and Technician. She is glaring at them. Tommy fears she will try to hurt them, but she just waves her hand. Sickly green-purple vines wrap around Tommy and Technician’s ankles. The vines drag them across the parking garage. Tommy tilts his head back, breathing heavily through his mask and staring at Briar. Her glare worsens the farther he and Technician get, but she doesn’t make the vines stop. She closes her hand into a fist. A scream spills out of her lips, the crack growing worse, deeper and longer. She drops both of her fists onto the ground, blood washing across her paling skin. Briar stares into the blood. Tommy reaches a hand toward her, but his body is too weak to move.

Over the cackling of the flames and the groaning of the building, Tommy can hear voices. Tommy looks around for them. Briar does, too, but her angle allows her to see them before Tommy does. Something flashes in her eyes. She glances at Tommy from the corner of her eye. Tommy can see the slightest semblance of the anti-hero he used to know. As one last of kindness, Briar waves her hand at him. Thick red vines that remind Tommy of the Red Army’s graffiti wrap around the cement walls and roof surrounding Tommy and Technician. The vines pull these components down in a way that the two are hidden instead of crushed. Briar looks away from Tommy, rising to her feet with both of her sickles in hand. The red vines lash at her feet, angry and ready to strike.

Black spots flood Tommy’s vision. He tries taking longer, deeper breaths to keep himself conscious, but even in the dark of their little cave, he can see the pool of blood spreading around him. Tommy’s hands fall weakly to his side, and he watches as Reaper easily subdues Briar, careful to not hurt her wings. Tommy thinks Reaper’s kindness is odd as the darkness fully consumes his vision. 

Chapter Text

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing

and rightdoing there is a field.

I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass

the world is too full to talk about.”

― Rumi

Warm air wraps around his body, lingering against his skin like a plush blanket. He opens his eyes slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the golden sunlight that descends into the large room through the glass high above his head, each pane separated by curving metal. Bright green vines and dripping dark pink flowers hang from the ceiling, absorbing nutrients from the lazy air currents around them and the sun tickling their backs. He lies against pale, chalky white stones pressed so tightly they create a rough path cutting through the patches of grass, bushes, and flowers. He can even see the tall peaks of trees with billowing leaves hanging from each branch in his peripheral vision. It is a cozy scene, packed tightly with the fresh scent of nature and the pure temperament of a sunny, Spring day.

Tommy stands up. If his surroundings were not an indication of where he was, then his body’s lack of pain confirms the truth for him. He remembers his last moments inside the parking garage, blood spilling out from under him and smoke being refined by his metallic mask. Fiery heat brushed against his skin, cutting deep and ready to devour the flesh underneath. Briar’s red eyes were the last sight he was able to retain before darkness climbed across his vision. This garden wasn’t anything like that hellscape, so Tommy knows exactly where he has found himself.

Tommy turns around. A figure stands on the path a few feet away from Tommy. They lean down to press their nose in the center of a blossoming flower. When they notice he’s awake, the figure’s dark brown eyes cut across the garden to meet his blue eyes. The figure wears a dark, muted blue scholar’s robe with a high collar. They wear golden necklaces to match the golden cuffs of their robes. The golden clasps holding the robe together are covered by a green fabric the same shade as the loose belts around their waist and the shawl hanging around their forearms and around their back. They have green-tinted brown hair hanging in a braid across their shoulder, the end tied with a golden band and the top covered with a green ribbon.

“I felt you in the area, so I brought your unconscious mind here to protect it,” Sleepy informs him. They look back at their cultivated plants, fingers brushing against the stem of a flower Tommy doesn’t recognize. After the first acknowledging look, Sleepy doesn’t pay him any more attention. The blonde huffs, rolling his eyes.

He keeps looking around. His eyes settle on a white stone fountain in the center of the greenhouse. Crystal clear water spurts from the hands of the nymph statues sitting on the fountain’s ledges. Tommy plops down on the edge of the fountain. He stares up at the serene face of the nearest statue with a thoughtful frown on his face. “Your mindscape is different.”

“I have gotten better at architecting dreams,” Sleepy responds with a half-shrug. The last time Tommy was in Sleepy’s mind, it had been a void with a white ground and black horizon. Colors would flash across the darkness, soft and hazy around the edges, whenever Sleepy’s emotional state would change. As the years progressed, Sleepy was slowly able to add more to the space of their dreams. It had never been this complex before. “This is my nook. A nook is a place where a person can disappear if they’re being tortured or mind-controlled.”

“Why the fuck am I here, then?” Tommy asks, sliding his arms behind him to hold up his upper body. He stretches his legs off the side of the fountain, breathing out slowly. He stares back up at the glass ceiling. Although sunlight is shimmering through the panes, he cannot get a grasp of what the sky looks like. There is no midday blue or touches of dawn’s red or evening’s purple. There isn’t even the inconsistency of night’s black. It is fathomless. His mind is unable to comprehend it, so his mind ignores it, favoring the comprehensible sunlight.

“You are not someone who can manipulate dreams. Even if you are, I didn’t show you the way to this place,” Sleepy answers, lifting up a watering can. Sleepy nudges some plants out of their way as they aim to water the roots. Sleepy continues doing this long past the point when the watering can should be refilled. The power of a mindscape, Tommy surmises.

“No, I was just fucking dragged here on a damn whim,” Tommy grits, narrowing his eyes at Sleepy’s moving form. Realistically, without the mask, this isn’t Sleepy, but instead Olive. But Tommy refuses to give them that name. It implies personability between Sleepy and Tommy, and their friendship had been burnt to a crisp several years ago. It was easier to put up the weak barrier of the fake names and masked faces, even when Sleepy wasn’t wearing a mask and Tommy’s warm face makes him certain he isn’t, either.

“I only brought you here to help you. There are espers with mind-altering abilities all over Empires. They could have snatched up your secrets if I had done nothing,” Sleepy argues, their brown eyes glancing at him. Sleepy looks back at their plants, but there is no shame across their face. They did not look away for their or Tommy’s benefit. It was for the plant’s, if nothing else.

“Do you want a thank-you?” Tommy asks, his stare hardening. He hates this situation. He feels out of place in Sleepy’s private nook surrounded by fresh, thriving greenery. The company is unsettling, bringing to life painful memories, and this is disregarding the reality he left behind. He feels a surge of guilt blow through his lungs, silencing his breath. As if he needs to breathe in this mental domain.

“From anyone else, it would be expected. From you, however… I know how we left things, so I will not ask for it,” Sleepy waves their hand towards Tommy, dismissing his words as easily as water falls from the pitcher in their hands.

“Congratulations, Sleepy, you are self-aware! Does it feel as fucking good as it sounds?” Tommy asks, dropping his chin into his palm as he stares at his old friend with mock pride. When Sleepy glances at Tommy, his expression shifts into an animalistic snarl.

Sleepy sighs, setting their watering can down on the ground. Sleepy crosses their arms over their chest. The wind prickles Tommy’s skin as it grows heavier, a tad more humid and oppressive. Like a fleeing bird, Tommy feels like a storm is coming. He half-heartedly wants it to come. He would rather face the turbulent winds and rain than deal with the situation in front of him. “You couldn’t have really expected me to stay with the guild.”

“Fine. You’re fucking right. Does that make you feel better, knowing you were fucking right this entire damn time?” Tommy snaps. Sleepy’s patient, neutral expression cracks around the edges. An emotion a knife’s edge away from being anger rising in their brown eyes like magma burbling against the surface, ready to become destructive lava. Tommy’s hands close into fists, “But did you have to join one of Empires’ gangs?”

Although there is a golden crab pinned on Sleepy’s chest, they belong to the Herons, one of the four main gangs of Empires. There should be a symbol of the Herons somewhere on their body if they didn’t use dream logic to hide it away, but Tommy doesn’t care enough to look or argue that Sleepy shouldn’t hide what they chose to be. They joined the gang shortly after leaving the guild in the middle of the night. Tommy can still remember the dreadful ache in his body when he realized from the very depth of his own mind that he was alone.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I needed someone to protect me from the guild. It was either Empires’ gangs or a villain organization,” Sleepy lectures Tommy as they try schooling their facial features back into their original state. Despite the neutrality on their face, the wind continues to swirl around Tommy’s body, prodding against his skin as if to warn him.

Tommy has never taken well to warnings. Sleepy should know as much since they were both in the same hero training class, studying under the great Red Dragon. “I doubt those were your only fucking options.”

“And how would you know that? You stuck with the guild!” Sleepy exclaims, their voice rising without truly yelling. Tommy blinks in surprise at the rising tension, but in the moment he was blinking, Sleepy takes a deep, steadying breath. They put one hand on their stomach as if to feel the breath cleansing their body. Sleepy opens their eyes, staring right into Tommy’s bright blue without a hint of remorse or guilt but plenty of despair. “I mainly do work documenting and taking care of the flora and fauna in Empires park. I get to do what I’ve always wanted to do, so I mainly stay out of the affairs of the gang. This has allowed me to be friendly with everyone and make a lot of friends.”

“That’s… great,” Tommy murmurs, the honesty cutting against his throat sharper than any dagger would ever be able to. Despite everything, Tommy is happy for Sleepy. Tommy is happy that they were able to fulfill the soft, quiet wish they’ve held in their heart since they were a small child, told to Tommy in the safety of their interconnected minds.

Sleepy starts walking. Tommy watches, his hands closing into fists on top of his thighs. He stares up at Sleepy. He waits for something- for pain- but he knows Sleepy even when he doesn’t want to admit it. Sleepy would never harm him, not even in an impermanent, fleeting dreamscape. Sleepy’s hands drop into his hair, playing with the strands. The touch is soothing, yes, but the real comfort comes from the familiarity of it. When Tommy first joined the guild, he had been terrified of so many things: his suicidal sleep-walking, the Hunters finding him, the other heroes looking down on him. Red Dragon had done a lot to help Tommy, but it was Sleepy who ran their fingers through Tommy’s hair until he slept, dragging his mind into their own to keep him from wandering. As two lonely souls from terrible backgrounds, they found friendship within each other. Sleepy asks, “What have you been up to lately?”

It is disgusting how easy it is to fall back into old habits. Tommy leans forward, placing his forehead against Sleepy’s stomach. He closes his eyes to keep himself from crying. “I’m trying to stop the Red Army.”

“Ugh, I hate the Red Army,” Sleepy hisses, their body tensing with emotion. Tommy chokes on a startled laugh. Sleepy had been trying so hard to keep their anger at bay when dealing with Tommy, but all guards were lowered when Tommy mentioned the minions of the Cult of Erythr. Sleepy continues playing with his hair, now for their comfort more than Tommy’s. “They blew up part of the park. I’ve been working pretty damn hard to fix what was destroyed. Not only did some plants get burnt to a crisp, but the animals were greatly disturbed, ruining more of the park. I don’t mind working with the plants or animals, but this isn’t fair. I prefer when they’re happy, not terrified and lashing out.”

Tommy lets the laugh he was holding back slip from his lips. He smiles softly, “Good luck with that.”

“And good luck to you. You’ll need it if you hope to take down the Red Army,” Sleepy informs him. Their voice quiets down to a trickling murmur like a distant brooke in the forest. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

Tommy sighs, his smile dropping into a deep frown. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do now. I think we got Technician and the Scarlet Demoness, but I can’t confirm that. All I can fucking confirm is that Briar was taken.”

“Don’t worry too much. Everything will work itself out,” Sleepy tells him, a strange airy quality to their voice. Tommy shakes his head, not as certain as Sleepy is about the situation. Sleepy’s hand slows down, resting on top of his head as they continue speaking, “I am sure because I know how efficiently you solve problems, and this time you have help.”

Sleepy leans down. They rest on one knee, keeping the other one bent in front of them. Sleepy lifts their hands up, grasping both of Tommy’s cheeks. Tommy’s eyes widen as he feels the warmth of callused hands rubbing against his skin. “You’re not alone. No matter how much you try to push people away there are some people who can see past this. They are waiting for you.”

“How in the fucking world do you know that?” Tommy snaps, his eyebrows furrowing together. He is, technically speaking, pushing some people away, but he hasn’t seen Sleepy in what must have been years. If he hasn’t seen Sleepy in years, how would they know how he was faring?

Sleepy laughs sheepishly, a faint embarrassed flush spreading across their cheeks. They tilt their head to the side at him, “Would you believe it’s an older sibling’s intuition?”

“We aren’t siblings, so your words are invalid,” Tommy tells Sleepy. They are Tommy’s good friend, probably his best one after Enderwalk (and maybe even Jolt), but Tommy doesn’t want to call Sleepy his sibling. That feels like asking the universe to kill Sleepy, and Tommy doesn’t want to test fate like that.

Sleepy pouts, but they don’t seem too disturbed by Tommy’s words. They move one hand away from Tommy’s cheek, waving it dismissively. “Fine, Red Dragon told me. He’s worried about you, so he came to me to ask if I’ve seen you.”

The rest of this chapter is missing. I am currently looking for a copy of it. I don’t remember exactly what they said to each other after this, but they made up 

Chapter Text

“Every blade has two edges; he who wounds with one wounds himself with the other.”

― Victor Hugo

Tommy scrambles forward, his hands desperately searching for something, though he doesn’t know what. There is a scream trapped in his throat, vibrating incessantly to make him completely unaware of how he isn’t inhaling. His eyes burst open. The light hurts his eyes, but he refuses to close his eyes again. He forces them to adjust as quickly as they can as he returns to the panicked state he fell unconscious experiencing. His agitation increases when he feels a light pressure against his palms. He tries pulling his hands away, but the gentle grip tightens, conforming in Tommy’s mind to the shape of hands. When he glances to the side, his vision fills out with a man in a purple mask. Tommy feels a heavy weight settle on his chest, tears forming in his eyes. He recognizes the hero, though. He does after a moment, and the man’s voice filters into his head, obscured slightly by a modifier but no less familiar.

“Vendetta, look at me, look at me,” Watcher calls, holding both of Tommy’s hands away from Tommy’s body. The blonde stops jerking his limbs around. Watcher meets his eyes, and a slow smile comes onto his face. He lowers their hands onto the bed sheet underneath Tommy’s body, but he doesn’t let go. He instead presses the tips of his fingers against Tommy’s wrist, searching for a pulse. Or, determining that it isn’t nearly as fast as it should be. Watcher gives Tommy a look, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Breathe, Vendetta. In and out. Follow me.”

Tommy follows the instructions given to him. He pushes down the swirling panic. The feeling is a tad irrational, and Tommy places a hand against the side of his face. He has a vague understanding of why he feels this way, but he can’t put the details together. Every time he tries to remember, he feels a warm wind against his back and green flowers growing at his feet. He stares up at Watcher. His voice croaks, and he realizes he isn’t wearing his mask, “What happened?”

“Here, drink some water,” Watcher says, reaching for a glass that had been left on a wood wraparound desk that stretches on every wooden wall, only taking breaks for the doors. There is a circulating fan overhead with lightbulbs that shake because of the force of the ceiling fan. Tommy is lying on a mattress with a sheet but no blanket or comforter. There is a singular pillow that has been dropped halfway to the floor by Tommy’s flailing.

“What the fuck happened?” Tommy demands again, glaring at Watcher instead of taking the water being offered to him. Watcher hesitates. Tommy’s stare hardens.

Watcher sighs. He sets the glass back on the wraparound desk, answering quietly, “We got Pearl and Technician… but Briar was kidnapped by the Red Army.”

Tommy’s stomach drops, and he pushes through the bizarre barrier keeping him from his memories. He closes his eyes, and her eyes are staring at him. Her hand splayed out to save him- protect his life- instead of her own. She was taken by the Red Army, but she made sure Tommy and Technician weren’t taken back. Tommy has no idea why she did that. He breathes out slowly, wrapping his arms around himself. He and Briar have never had a particularly good relationship. They respect each other. They were mutually… somethings… with Ultraviolet. They both had a decent relationship with Warden. They were never in each other’s spheres, but they were joined together by several strings. Not enough for Briar to be able to break through the mind control, even for a moment. She should have killed him. She found the strength not to.

Tommy pulls his hands out of Watcher’s- forgetting for a moment they were there- and pushes down on the bed sheet. He swings his legs off the side that Watcher is not on. Watcher grabs Tommy’s shoulders, his wings bristling. Tommy shakes Watcher’s hand off his shoulder. He glares at the hero as Tommy’s feet hit the ground. He stands on shaky legs, using the mattress to support some of his weight. He feels sick to his stomach, though he doesn’t know if that was due to smoke poisoning or guilt. It could even be dehydration, but he refuses to take the glass from Watcher. Tommy glances at Watcher, daring him to stop Tommy, “I have to get Briar back.”

“Her kidnapping wasn’t your fault,” Watcher responds. He follows after Tommy as the blonde walks toward the door on the same wall as the door. 

Tommy sets his hand on the doorknob, muttering, “Yes, it fucking is.”

Tommy steps through the door. He enters into a room eerily similar to the one he just left, except this one doesn’t have a bed. There is a space where one would have been- two, actually- because of the break in the wraparound desk, but they have been removed. In their place, there are chains attached to the wall. At the end of one chain, Technician lies unconscious on the floor in the corner of the room opposite to the one Tommy is entering from. The other chain, in front of Tommy, holds down a young woman with brown hair and blood red eyes. She wears a blue hoodie and jeans, but Tommy can recognize the Scarlet Demoness even without her cloak and man-eating wolf. Pearl smiles wickedly at him. “Hey, Vendetta. Good to see you awake.”

“How are you feeling?” Tommy asks neutrally, stepping into the room. He leaves the door open because he senses Watcher behind him, but the S-rank hero doesn’t step through the door.

Pearl laughs light-heartedly. She raises the hand that is bound in chains, and the metal makes a high-pitched tinkling noise. Pearl lowers her hand back into her lap, her legs stretched out in front of her. “Not so well, I’m afraid.”

Tommy tilts his head, daring to take another step towards her. The smile on her face sharpens. She is almost daring Tommy to step closer. The blonde grits his teeth. “Do you know why you’re chained up?”

Pearl laughs again, but it is far weightier and electrified like a live wire. When she stops, she smiles easily at Tommy. She speaks, and her tone makes it sound like she’s talking about the weather. Mundane, common facts. “Probably because when I woke up, I immediately tried murdering Watcher and Good Guy.”

“I- what?” Tommy blanches. Confusion ebbs in his mind. Of course, he knew that Pearl wouldn’t be happy with her brothers while under Crimson’s mind control, but wasn’t her entire motivation for being stronger to protect her brothers? Pearl is amused by his confusion, but he can’t make it fade away. “Why?”

Pearl’s smile drops away. Tommy can feel Watcher getting closer to his back. Pearl’s eyes narrow, and she practically hisses as Watcher tries stepping between Pearl and Tommy, “Because I despise him, that’s why. It would be better for everyone if he was dead.”

Watcher’s wings flare and his hands close into fists. Tommy reaches for his shoulder, but he draws his hand away when the door beside the one he and Watcher came through opens. Good Guy stands at the door, balancing a tray of food in one hand. He looks up at Watcher and Tommy. His eyes widen with surprise. A slow smile comes to his face. Pearl ruins this by calling out, “I hate his guts, too.”

Good Guy’s wings droop sadly. He lowers the tray he was holding on the ground beside Watcher’s feet. Good Guy walks away, closing the door behind him. Watcher shifts to speak to Good Guy, his hand raising up. Pearl scowls at the closed door, yelling to her younger brother, “You’re a coward! The same one you’ve always been!”

“Don’t say that,” Watcher tells her, his voice burning with anger. He throws the hand he was reaching out towards Good Guy down. He glares at his sister. His wings rise up, making himself look bigger. Tommy ducks underneath the wing, trying to keep eyes on Pearl.

She snarls at her brother, raising both of her hands up to wave them around. “And why is a great, shining hero telling me not to speak the truth?”

Tommy raises a hand to Watcher, hoping to stop the ensuing conflict before it can begin. He whispers to the S-rank hero, “It’s just the mind control, Watcher. This isn’t really her.”

Tommy looks back at Pearl. She radiates with anger. She grits her teeth, pulling at her chains. Tommy swallows, feeling like he’s the last morsel of food in front of a starving man. If the chains weren’t keeping her at bay, Pearl probably would have torn his throat out with her teeth. She hisses at him, far more angry at him than she was at Watcher or Good Guy. “Maybe Crimson did bring out this level of anger in me, but I have always resented my brothers. My entire life has always been about them, never me. The moment I found happiness outside of them and the shitty life they condemned me to, when I found peace with a group of people that wasn’t going to abandon me, I was taken against my will. Of course I would want them dead.”

“How can you fucking hate them when you’ve spent so long protecting them?” Tommy demands, taking a step forward. He feels it like a pit inside his chest, an all-consuming darkness that is spiraling away from his control. Mirror shards, sharper than daggers, cut into him, dragging against his insides and reflecting Pearl’s anger back at her. It hurts Tommy, but he can’t find a different approach to the situation, not when he feels like Pearl is so similar to himself. 

“I protected them because they were all I had. Now, I have so much more. I would much rather protect the Cult of Erythr than spend another useless moment wasting away helping about my brothers,” Pearl informs him. She takes a deep breath, her eyes closing for a moment. She sits back down on the ground. When she opens her eyes, she seems a lot calmer. “But I don’t hate you. I really don’t. I think… No, I know that I actually pity you, Vendetta. You remind me of the girl I used to be, the one that would have done anything- even throw away my own life- to protect what I had. You, like me, can’t find happiness in other things anymore because you’ve devoted yourself to loving what will never love you back, to saving what will abandon you time and time again.”

Watcher takes a half-step back, face pale like he’s been shot. Pearl doesn’t look at him. She instead raises her hand to Tommy, the chain shining in the warm light of the room. “Joining the cult would be in your best interest.”

“Fuck no,” Tommy tells her, shaking his head. The cult has done way too many wrong things for Tommy to willing consider joining them. They stand for the destruction of the city, not its survival. They have kidnapped hybrids and blown up parts of the Empires park, along with infiltrating the government and big businesses. They were a blight upon the land that Tommy was going to get rid of, not assist the spread of.

“I have to ask why. Don’t you understand what the cult can do for you? It could give you a new family to protect that can also protect themselves. It would give you the power to never be taken advantage of again. It would give you the strength to stand opposed to all that makes you cower. Is that not what you’ve been searching for every day, trying to fill the hole inside of you with the promise of revenge?” Pearl tells him, smiling kindly at him. Tommy’s breath hitches. For some reason, Pearl knows exactly what to offer him. She uses the right words, too, making Tommy remember that the cult has tried kidnapping him before. He does want a family again, but he wants his family. He does want to break away from Minotaur, but he would rather do that by himself while punching the villain’s face in. He wants to stand against Dream on his own two feet.

“She’s right,” Another voice calls. Technician turns, lying on his back. He pulls at the chain on his wrist, but he doesn’t seem too keen on escaping at the moment. He glances over at Tommy, something shining in his eyes. Tommy’s hands form into fists, his grip tightening the longer he stares into Technician’s eyes. “Crimson is able to give us all what we really want, no matter what it is. All we have to do in exchange is a few favors. He even gives up the right to refuse. Crimson wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. He just wants to know you’re happy.”

Watcher grabs Tommy’s wrist. He pulls Tommy, stepping over the tray Good Guy left behind. Tommy nearly trips over it, not prepared for someone to start tugging him along. Watcher slams the door shut. Tommy can still hear Pearl yelling at him to consider his options carefully. Watcher grabs Tommy’s shoulders, looking right into his eyes, “Do not believe a word those two say.”

Tommy pulls back. Watcher lowers his arms, but his stern expression doesn’t fade. His wings flutter uselessly at his sides like he wants to fly away. Tommy glares at the man, something incredulous lighting up his chest. “I will never willingly join the fucking Cult of Erythr. Don’t start that bullshit with me.”

Tommy marches down the dark hallway. He finds the door at the end of the hall. He shoves it open with his shoulder. He steps onto a cement porch. As he prepares to shut the door, he hears Watcher, “Briar’s kidnapping wasn’t your fault.”

Tommy looks over his shoulder, meeting Watcher’s eyes even though the hero is bathed in shadows. Tommy scowls at him, “Go fucking check on Good Guy.”

Tommy slams the door shut.

Chapter Text

“The dead don't desire revenge, but the happiness of the living. To dirty your small hands would bring joy to no one.”

― Watsuki Nobuhiro

Tubbo sits at his desk. He stares down at the mechanical device in his palms, twisting around a component with a small screwdriver. When he hears a satisfying click, he pushes away from the desk. His chair rolls away from the wood. When Tubbo jump-steps out of the chair, it slides across the warehouse floor to some abandoned corner. Tubbo will get it later, he decides, as he starts walking over to the makeshift shooting grounds he set up near the beginning of his project. 

A poster of a blacked out human with point markings sways against the brick from the window and loose tape. There are two parallel strips of colored tape on the ground between the poster and the range Tubbo is currently testing. He lifts the gun he holds in his hands, the mechanical pieces starting to move as Tubbo aims. He peers through his goggles and the scope to aim at the poster’s head. Tubbo pulls the trigger, and a metal dart with a blinking blue back shoots out from the barrel. It lands inside the shoulder of the person. 

Tubbo lowers the gun, bringing his other hand up. Electricity cackles unceremoniously around his fingers, doubling back to wrap around his wrist. Tubbo releases the tinted green, gold-white electricity from his body. Instead of circulating in the air and ground around him, a bolt of lightning strikes out of his palm, touching the blue end of the dart. Tubbo raises the voltage, and the dart handles the mass amounts of electricity and heat being funneled through it. The paper is not as graceful. The part around the dart begins to burn up, the orange flakes falling to the ground beneath the paper. In a matter of seconds, the paper is ash and Tubbo stops producing an electrical field.

Tubbo looks down at the modified gun in his hands. He worries about its duration in the field, but he reasons that it will be fine for the time being. He knows a few tricks he hasn’t implemented yet that will allow the gun to hold together several more shots and maybe even be safe from getting too close to Tubbo’s electricity. The gun has survived a few shots already, but, Tubbo laments, he doesn’t know how it will fare against a real target. He would normally test it out during his patrols, but with everything going on right now in the city, Philza has benched both Tubbo and Ranboo. His friend was complacent, but Tubbo fought against the claims. He could handle working in the same city as his father. He wouldn’t go after Schlatt, he swore. Jordan and Puffy were able to convince him by telling Tubbo they would protect him, but he is starting to think Schlatt isn’t at the top of everyone’s worries right now. He’s definitely up there, but he isn’t worrisome threat number one.

Tubbo walks away from his shooting grounds. He drags his chair back to his desk, dropping the gun onto the table. He glances at it as he settles in his seat. He could work on it some more, but he needs something new to freshen his mind. He glances towards the ceiling for inspiration about what to make next. Without asking him what he wants to think about, his brain helpfully supplies that he could make something for Vendetta. He’s made weapons for nearly everyone else in the Syndicate. Vendetta is the one box he hasn’t checked yet, and honestly, Tubbo should have thought about it a lot earlier considering how close he is with Vendetta and how much Vendetta loves Tubbo’s weapons- even when he doesn’t particularly like who they’re going to.

Tubbo runs a hand over his face. It wouldn’t matter if he had made something for Vendetta or not. The hero has been MIA for over a week now. He hasn’t contacted Ranboo. Niki went to Passerine, but the informant couldn’t point them in any direction other than assuring him that Vendetta was alive. Due to his excessive free time without a patrol to go on, Tubbo will sit on their rooftop for hours at a time. Ranboo will come by sometimes, but Tubbo has lost hours of his life sketching invitations in a chair he recently set up, waiting for a childish laugh and flash of purple eyes behind red-tinted goggles to appear. They never do, not even in his peripheral vision, but Tubbo doesn’t want to break another habit he has.

Tubbo glances back over at the gun on the desk. He should take it over to Sam. The villain is a proper, formally trained inventor. He would know where Tubbo is going wrong. He would give him some pointers on how he could improve.

Tubbo hears footsteps on the roof. He looks up warily, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. His finger slides into place against the trigger. His other hand reaches for a smoke bomb he always keeps on his person, especially when he’s in uniform with a gas mask that saves him from his own weaponry. Tubbo prepares both weapons, leveraging them at the door. Tubbo narrows his eyes, waiting. Whoever is on the other side has met their match, and maybe their doom depending on what their intentions are. Tubbo loathes to think that a hero or even a villain has found his workshop, but he will always prioritize his safety over his comfort.

The door opens, and someone steps across the threshold. The door falls shut behind them. Tubbo meets the purple eyes of his friend. Vendetta shuffles forward, stepping into the light pouring in from the dirty windows. Tubbo lowers the gun and releases his grip on his smoke bomb. His arms fall lamely to his sides as he takes in Vendetta’s appearance. There are bandages covering him in most of the places Tubbo can see. His suit has been briskly put on, and it has been recently- hastily- sewn back together in some parts. The work is sloppy, but it is distinctively Vendetta’s handiwork.

“What are you doing here?” Tubbo asks quietly. He debates with himself what the appropriate response in this situation should be. He wants to be angry, and while he is, he also knows that Vendetta is prone to running away. Vendetta came to him for a reason, and Tubbo wants to see to that before he demands to know why Vendetta thought his best course of action was running in the first place.

Vendetta rolls his shoulders. He seems uncomfortable. There is guilt in his eyes. Tubbo wants to think the emotions are because of him, that an apology is coming his way, but he knows his friend far too well to believe in such foolish delusions. “Briar’s disappearance is… it’s on me. I asked her to join my task force to capture the Scarlet Demoness alive. We were successful, but… the Red Army kidnapped Briar.”

Tubbo jaw clenches. Sam did seem more agitated recently, but they all thought Hannah had gone off on her own as she’s prone to do. She didn’t even tell anyone that she was working with Vendetta on some sort of project. Tubbo logically knows why she didn’t; Vendetta would have gotten more help than he bargained for. Emotionally, Tubbo doesn’t quite understand why Hannah didn’t, at least, tell everyone she was going on a potentially threatening  mission, one far more dangerous than anything she’s done before.

“I need to see Warden to tell him the truth,” Vendetta finishes, avoiding Tubbo’s eyes. 

Tubbo stares at Vendetta unflinchingly, scoffing lightly. “Why did you come to me?”

“I don’t know where the fuck Warden is. I thought you would have a much better chance at setting up a meeting than me,” Vendetta answers, his body turning slightly like he’s about to leave and only just thought of something to add.

Tubbo shakes his head. He feels a laugh bubble in his throat at the absurdity of it all. After a little over a week of silence, Vendetta shows up without no warning to ask Tubbo for a meeting with Sam. Tubbo knows the bare minimum about Sam and Vendetta’s relationship, but even he knows that a private meeting between the two is out of the norm. Vendetta must be pretty hung up on Briar’s kidnapping, and Tubbo thinks that is hilarious. Vendetta has always seemed like someone who doesn’t care enough about that sort of thing. He is single-minded. Tubbo accepted that fact when he decided on befriending the person Ranboo couldn’t seem to let go of despite that someone being a hero and being rather unfriendly. Tubbo shakes his head. No, Vendetta is exactly the type of person to care deeply about this sort of thing; he would just never go out of his way to verbally make amends. He would fix his mistake with his own two hands. Something must be tearing Vendetta up inside if he wants to apologize instead of going to get Hannah back himself.

“I’ll set up the damn meeting.”

“Thank you,” Vendetta says curtly, nodding slowly. He does actually turn this time. He takes a step forward, then another, and it becomes clear to Tubbo that Vendetta is actually walking away. He is leaving with the promise that a meeting will be set up and Vendetta can say whatever he needs to say to Warden to make his own heart feel better. Tubbo shakes his head, resentment rising in his stomach. He doesn’t want to, but his feelings come rushing out of his mouth. “Stop!”

Vendetta does stop. He turns in a half-circle, glancing at Tubbo with confusion in his eyes. Tubbo’s fists clench at his sides. He wishes he wasn’t wearing his mask so Vendetta could see the ugly expression on his face. “Is that all you came here for?”

Vendetta nods. Tubbo’s emotions- something he doesn’t often let control him- come rushing to the surface. Rationally, Tubbo says to himself that he’s only doing this because Vendetta won’t respond to logic. Vendetta is an emotional creature, and Tubbo needs to show his anger to make it clear how upset he is. These rationalizations do nothing to hide the genuine rage in his tone, stifled only by the voice modifier. “Why would you come here to demand a favor after abandoning me?”

Vendetta takes a half-step back, whirling around to fully face Tubbo. Vendetta’s eyes narrow into dark glares. He steps forward, his arms waving around to move Tubbo’s point about him being an emotional creature. “I am trying to stop the fucking Red Army, Jolt! I didn’t abandon you.”

“The entire Syndicate is trying to stop the Red Army, dumbass. You didn’t need to leave them,” Tubbo calls back, leaving out an ‘us’. Vendetta didn’t need to leave Tubbo, either.

“I did that because Minotaur is fucking blackmailing me,” Vendetta hisses, his eyes flashing with an anger much deeper than Tubbo will ever be on the receiving end of. Tubbo knows exactly what Schlatt did to him, but he often wonders what Schlatt did to Vendetta. It must have been something truly terrible for the hero whose whole life is devoted to taking down Philza and Sneeg to nearly destroy himself bringing Schlatt to his knees. Tubbo never pries because he’s grateful to Vendetta- a tad amazed sometimes- but the curiosity lingers like a cat waiting to pounce on a mouse.

“Then you could have kept working with me. I’m not part of the Syndicate. Minotaur would have no means to blackmail you,” Tubbo argues. He saves away the information that Vendetta is being blackmailed. It makes Tubbo feel slightly better about the situation overall, and it reinforces the loathing he carries in his heart for the man that was, unfortunately, his biological father. At least Tubbo’s foster father and aunt were a lot better to him.

Vendetta laughs. His tone- even through the voice modifier- is icy and resentful. Tubbo narrows his eyes, breathing out his nose. Vendetta points towards Tubbo, his voice remarkably near-silent, something that traditionally never happens when Vendetta is angry. “I wouldn’t have fucking known with how buddy-buddy you are with those motherfuckers.”

Tubbo scoffs, something ugly bristling in his throat. He strikes, wanting to make Vendetta hurt despite their supposed friendship. “Do I need to remind you how close you are with the Syndicate? You are good friends with Enderwalk, Warden, and Red Dragon. You confided in Argonaut. You saved Dyscardia’s life. You stayed with Thermoculus until he came out of his hallucinations. You lived with Serenade for who knows how long. We can’t forget about the letters you send back and forth with Ravager. This is all without even mentioning the fact that you are apparently best friends with fucking-”

“No matter how I fucking act,” Vendetta hisses, and Tubbo feels a cold pressure clamp around his throat from the look in Vendetta’s eyes alone. “I have always and will always despise the Syndicate, including anyone who chooses to associate with them. I will kill Azrael and Inchling.”

Vendetta turns to leave once more. There is a finality to his movements, as if he’s decided this will be the end of whatever is going on between him and Tubbo. The vigilante grits his teeth. He takes long strides forward. He isn’t able to close the distance in time, so when Vendetta puts his hand on the door handle, Tubbo asks, “What will you do when your mission is complete? What will you do if you succeed?”

Vendetta turns around, his eyes widening in surprise. Tubbo feels just as surprised, but he doesn’t let it show. He’s been waiting a long time to have this particular argument with Vendetta. It has troubled him since the beginning of their friendship, and it only grows more worrisome the more Tubbo finds himself caring about Vendetta. Vendetta acts on his confusion to ask, “What?”

“What will you do if you win? If you manage to kill Azrael and Inchling, what will you do next?” Tubbo repeats, and he’s finally standing in front of Vendetta. They are so close that Tubbo begins to get the funny feeling that Vendetta’s eyes aren’t actually purple. They seem a little more blue the closer he gets to Vendetta’s face.

“I don’t know,” Vendetta shakes his head, putting a hand back on the handle.

Tubbo glares at him, tears starting to form in his eyes despite him willing them away. “You do know! You’ll fucking kill yourself, won’t you?!”

The warehouse grows unsteadily silent. Vendetta stares down at the ground with an almost dazed expression. Tubbo stares at him with blistering anger in his heart and pathetically sad tears in his eyes. Vendetta finally sighs, glancing at Tubbo from the corner of his eyes with a horribly tired expression. “And if I do?”

He’s practically saying ‘yes’ with his resigned tone. Tubbo grabs Vendetta’s hand. “What about the people who care about you? We don’t want you to die. I know I’m not your family, but I really do care about you. But you don’t let yourself care about anyone because you’re scared they’re going to leave you.” Tubbo breathes out shakily, boring right into Vendetta’s eyes. “You’re a coward.”

Vendetta’s grip on Tubbo’s hand tightens. Something vulnerable tries to make itself known in his eyes. Vendetta hisses through clenched teeth. “Take that back.”

“No,” Tubbo tells him.

Tubbo watches that vulnerability snap into hostile intent. Tubbo doesn’t get any warning as Vendetta drags his hand out of Tubbo’s hold. Without much thought, Vendetta swings at Tubbo. The target dodges out of the way, nearly tripping over his own feet. Vendetta glares at him, raising a boot to kick Tubbo. He grabs Vendetta’s shoe, either trying to flip Vendetta or tear the boot off. Vendetta surges forward, and Tubbo winces as his hands bend the wrong way. Tubbo jumps out of the way, using the side of his hand to strike at Vendetta’s back. He hits the armor, and Vendetta whirls around to grab Tubbo’s shoulders. Tubbo struggles to stay balanced, and they eventually both go to the ground. Tubbo winces as he hits his head, but he stops emoting when he feels a pair of warm hands wrap around his throat. He stares up at Vendetta. There is a wild look in the hero’s eyes, one Tubbo has seen before but always more subdued. This is the first time it has been aimed at Tubbo with such potency.

Tubbo could use his powers to electrocute Vendetta. He could use a smoke bomb to get the upper hand. He could do a number of things to get himself out of this situation, but he doesn’t. Vendetta doesn’t squeeze; he just holds Tubbo’s neck. The look in his eyes doesn’t scream violence. It is a moment of thoughtful weakness Tubbo is able to experience. At this moment, Tubbo looks right into Vendetta’s eyes, daring in a quiet voice, “Do it. Kill me. Prove that you don’t care if I live or die. Prove you don’t care about me.”

The hands around his throat tighten slightly. It isn’t enough to choke him, but it does present the threat of being unable to breathe. Tubbo remains complacent. He waits unflinchingly, refusing to show any amount of weakness as Vendetta practically breaks on top of him. Tears start falling from his eyes, collecting on his glasses. Weird, jeering noises spill from his mask. He is trembling, trying to prove that he could take Tubbo’s life but being utterly unable to do so. Vendetta eventually succumbs, putting his head against Tubbo’s shoulder. His hands fall lax, and Tubbo breathes a little easier. Vendetta whispers, the mechanical tone of his voice modifier disgustingly insincere in Tubbo’s ears. “I care about you. I don’t want you to die. Are you happy, now?”

Not by any stretch. Tubbo stares up at the ceiling as he picks his arms up from his side. He doesn’t force the blonde to move, though. He instead brushes his fingers through Vendetta’s hair. He asks, knowing he doesn’t want the answer, “If I were to die, would you hunt down my killer?”

Vendetta hesitates. Tubbo allows the moment of thought. Right here and now, Vendetta has to decide if Tubbo is as important to him as his family is. Vendetta has to decide if taking out Tubbo’s potential killer is equally worthy of being pursued as killing Philza and Inchling. Vendetta sighs, muttering, “Yes.”

“Don’t,” Tubbo tells him. He feels Vendetta stiffen, but Tubbo presses onward, one hand in Vendetta’s hair and the other reaching for Vendetta’s hand. “If I ever die, I want you to live a happy life. I want you to be at peace knowing that I don’t blame you, that I don’t want you to throw away your life for the sake of revenge.”

“Shut the hell up,” Vendetta tells him, his glare burning into the side of Tubbo’s face. Tubbo closes his eyes. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Before Tubbo can respond, the door slams open. Tubbo tilts his head back to see an upside down Ranboo enter into the room. Ranboo doesn’t even allow a moment to be confused about Tubbo and Vendetta’s position- or Vendetta’s appearance- as he breathes out news that makes Tubbo want to vomit, “The Red Army has kidnapped Warden, Argonaut, Briar, Dyscardia, the Ace of Diamonds and Clubs, and Reishi… and Monarch.”

Chapter Text

“I am my heart’s undertaker. Daily I go and retrieve its tattered remains, place them delicately into its little coffin, and bury it in the depths of my memory, only to have to do it all again tomorrow.”

― Emilie Autumn

Tommy sits at the wraparound desk in Sparrow’s hideout cabin. He has a few papers spread out in front of him. There is a rack that holds a series of vials. Tommy plucks each vial off the rack one at a time when he’s done writing down information on the appropriate sticker. He wraps the sticker around the glass, making sure it is on firmly. He puts the vial back on the rack when he is done, moving onto the next one without a spare second between each of his actions. He prefers the flow of it, after all. It keeps distracted from other thoughts that could populate his mind.

“What’s wrong with your wrists?” One of those ‘other thoughts’ calls out to him. Tommy looks over his shoulder. Pearl is sitting on a furnished bed. She is still chained to the wall, but there is a layer of fluff between her wrist and the metal shackle. She has her blanket wrapped around her shoulders in a rather pathetic imitation of her cloak. She holds tightly onto the ends of her blanket. Her grips seem to whiten as she meets Tommy’s eyes unflinchingly.

Tommy looks away from her, returning to the task at hand. Ever since the news spread about the Red Army’s retaliatory kidnapping, Tommy has spent his days between Las Nevadas and this hideout. He doesn’t go anywhere else, paranoid that someone is waiting to get revenge on him. Croupier assures Tommy that what happened wasn’t his fault, but Tommy has trouble feeling that way when the halls of the casino are too quiet without Ankh and Reynard. Even Slime has noticed the difference, but Tommy can’t bring himself to help his friend. Tommy ignores both Croupier and Slime, letting them handle their emotions together and the situation alone. Tommy has his own worries to deal with.

Least of all these worries is the dried blood and slowly healing scars around his wrists. His sleeping walking has gotten a lot worse. The chains still keep him in place, but he’s starting to fight against them a lot harder than he used to. Tommy ignores the blood and the pain every morning. He sometimes cleans up his wrists, but he couldn’t be bothered to do it today. He’ll deal with the infection when it eventually comes.

Tommy picks up another vial, but he glances over at the other person in the room. Like Pearl, they have been upgraded to lying on a bed with a far more comfortable shackle than before. After staying in the cabin for a prolonged period, Tommy has discovered who Technician is underneath the mask. His real name is Etho, a former civil officer who fixed redstone issues within the guildhalls and government buildings. He was offered an official position by the mayor, but he disappeared before he could accept or decline. The mayor issued a missing person’s case on Etho, but even with the power of the police, no one was able to figure out where the redstone technician went.

Tommy looks back to his vials. He picks up one with a clear liquid inside of it. He scribbles a few key words on the sticker. He puts the sticker on the vial. He is about to put it away when he hears Pearl’s incredulous tone behind him, “Where the hell did you get my tears from?”

“You cry in your sleep,” Tommy murmurs. With how frequently he comes and goes, it would be inevitable that Pearl would be asleep during some portion of that. During one of these instances, Tommy went ahead and got the tears.

“That’s so creepy,” Pearl hisses. Tommy feels a surge of amusement, thinking about how creepy Pearl was when they first met as Vendetta and the Scarlet Demoness.

“It’s the only way,” Tommy tells her. He puts the vial of tears away, picking up one with her blood in it. Although all blood is red, there seems to be two different shades swirling around the vial, not mixing together and evening out into one color. Tommy swishes the vial around, watching in mute fascination. “It’s being sent to Sparrow.”

After the news of the kidnapping spread, Sparrow thought it would be a good idea to start work on a cure. Sparrow admitted it would be better to collect some fluids and skin samples from the two people they had who were infected by the Red Army’s drug and Crimson’s brainwashing. Tommy, at first, didn’t want to do it, but the longer people were in the Red Army’s possession, the more he caved. He eventually got vials of Pearl and Etho’s blood, sweat, and snot. He has a vial of Pearl’s tears, but he hasn’t seen Etho cry in all their time together. Tommy isn’t going to hurt Etho just for the sake of getting tears.

“Are you going to get a urine sample?” Etho asks with a faint note of mirth in his tone. In contrast to Etho, Pearl makes a disgusted noise. When Tommy looks at both of them, Pearl is scowling and Etho is smiling wryly with his eyes closed. 

“I really hope I don’t fucking have to,” Tommy shudders. At the moment, when Etho and Pearl need to use the restroom, someone else far stronger and less emotional than Tommy deals with it. Tommy doesn’t know the bodyguard personally, but Sparrow recommended him to take care of all the issues that come with keeping two people captive that Tommy didn’t consider at first. Tommy is grateful to the bodyguard, but that man’s apathetic stare makes Tommy ill at ease.

Tommy turns his chair to look back at his desk. He shuffles the papers together into a stack. He stands up, pushing his chair in. He starts sorting the vials into a bag. He prays none of the vials unexpectedly open. He doesn’t want to collect more from the two former cultists. He also doesn’t want to clean up his bag, but that concern is secondary to the other one.

“Where is Grian and Jimmy?” Pearl asks. Tommy flinches, surprise choking him for a moment. Pearl has no qualms about calling her brothers by their real names. Tommy would prefer to keep some level of business between him and the other two heroes, but Pearl doesn’t care about his preferences. In fact, it would be safe to say that Pearl despises the hero names her brothers have. The red in her eyes deepen when she hears it, and she refuses to answer any questions about them if Tommy says their hero name instead of their real name. She hardly answers his question when he does use their real names, but at least she says something.

“Fuck if I know. I’m not their damn babysitter,” Tommy informs her. Even though he uses their real names occasionally, he keeps as much distance as possible between him and them as possible. They barely notice Tommy when they are here at the same time as him. Tommy doesn’t blame them when he knows their attention is solely focused on their sister’s harsh glares and venomous words.

“You do know,” Pearl tells him, leaning forward. Even without her powers, she has an uncanny set of eyes that seem to peer through Tommy into the depths of his soul. She can tell when he’s lying, and Tommy doesn’t know how. Half the time, he can’t even tell when he’s lying.

“Are you trying to get me fucking killed?” Tommy asks, squinting his eyes. Watcher- Grian- is an S-rank hero. He is at the top of the bracket, and he has rescued many lives. For some reason, though, Watcher seems to be a little less heroic these days. While he’s increasingly comforting to Good Guy, he’s distant all the other times. He treats Tommy cordially, but there’s always a flare in his eyes that Tommy understands. Tommy, technically, has no reason to really keep Pearl and Etho alive and protected. The two of them certainly don’t make it easy to take care of them. Grian is waiting for Tommy- for Vendetta, the villainous hero- to snap. He’s waiting for Tommy to prove that he only has one goal in life: revenge. Tommy wonders when his breaking point will be, too.

Pearl laughs. Tommy scowls at her. He can even hear Etho chuckling from his bed. Tommy narrows his eyes at both of them, unimpressed with their method of getting entertainment. When Pearl is finished howling to a moon that might be glowing outside, she repeats her original question, “Where are Grian and Jimmy?”

“You are actively trying to fucking murder them, Pearl. That makes them sad,” Tommy informs her as if she doesn’t know. The two heroes can’t be in the room with their sister for long. Jimmy devolves into hysterics, crying and demanding that Pearl recognize him. Pearl and Grian argue with so much vitriol in their voices. Eventually, Jimmy is too dejected to enter the room and Grian is too tired. They watch from afar. Tommy has seen Grian holding his sister’s cheeks when she was asleep, a mournful expression on his face. Tommy doesn’t say anything. He pretends he doesn’t see any of it, pretends he isn’t the one with the best relationship with Pearl at the moment despite having no connection to her. Nothing substantial, anyway, just mirror-like reflections of each other.

“That’s the part I don’t get. Why do they care? Why does this make them upset?” Pearl whispers. Her voice sounds detached. Her expression screams that she truly doesn’t understand. While her eyes accentuate both facts, they also tell about a profound melancholy that has probably been growing since her lonesome youth. There is, in the depths of those eyes, the Pearl that Grian and Jimmy came to love when they finally reunited.

“Anyone would be sad if someone they love is trying to kill them,” Tommy says softly. He closes his eyes, looking away from Pearl. Without something to do, Tommy thinks back to his argument with Jolt in the latter’s hideout. Jolt didn’t seem scared when his life was in Tommy’s hands, but then again, he must have known that Tommy wouldn’t have been able to do it. Tommy’s hands tremble as he remembers the warmth underneath his palms, the fluttery heartbeat pounding against his fingers. Tommy shakes his hand, moving his hands to grab his bag. He doesn’t need to think about this right now. He has other things to worry about.

“Have a good night,” Tommy says to Pearl and Etho. They do not respond to him, but at least they don’t shout profanity at him. Although two of them aren’t particularly kind to Tommy, they seem to hold some amount of respect for him. They make fun of him, but their words are never too harsh. Tommy dishes back what he can, murmuring insults as he works through the papers he has about their physical wellbeing, habits, and attitudes.

Tommy trades out nightwatch with the guard that handles Pearl and Etho’s business. Tommy nods at the guard, but they don’t exchange any words. Tommy is fairly certain the bodyguard can’t even talk. Tommy doesn’t judge. He just walks away. He opens the door to the hideout, stepping outside. As he suspected earlier, the moon is above his head. It is pale, tonight, and he believes it is waning.

Tommy walks down the sidewalk. He adjusts the bag on his shoulder as he walks. The night air is cold, ghosting across his skin. His bloody wrists sting when the wind starts picking up. He rubs his hands together to warm them up. He sways on his feet for a moment. He takes a deep breath, listening to the whirring noise of his mask. He brings his hands up to rub his forehead.He glances back up at the moon. He has a fleeting thought to float to Las Nevadas, but he can’t seem to conjure up his power. He hasn’t been floating much these days. He prefers feeling grounded. When his feet are solidly on the ground, he feels a lot more present in his body. The physical exertion and time-consuming nature of walking strains his body in a way that he really needs right now.

Tommy regrets his decision when he feels an arm wrap around his waist. His surprise allows Tommy to be dragged back. He nearly trips over his own feet, but he regains his footing. He slides his elbow back, hitting his attacker. Tommy squirms out of their hold. He hits their arm as he leaps away from them. He turns around sharply, one hand on his baton and the other raised up into a defensive stance. He prepares for a fight, but he discovers how unnecessary that is when he sees a veil swaying in the night air. Tommy shuffles, releasing his baton but not lowering his arm. “What drugs are you fucking on, Serenade? You can’t just kidnap someone off the damn street!”

Serenade’s arms lower to his sides. Tommy can feel his stare even when those brown eyes are hidden behind the thick veil. His eyes aren’t glowing, Tommy notes the useless detail. Serenade doesn’t deign Tommy’s question a response, instead skipping over to why he would pull such a maneuver. “The Syndicate is planning a raid on the Cult of Erythr to get our members back. Croupier and the Aces are welcome to join in order to get Ankh and Reynard.”

“Why the fuck did you come to me, then? Shouldn’t you have gone to… I don’t know, Croupier? Hell, Ultraviolet would have been fucking better,” Tommy huffs. He is affiliated with Croupier, yes, but he isn’t part of Croupier’s Deck.

“Why didn’t I go to Croupier?” Serenade responds sullenly. He does not answer Tommy’s question or his own rendition of it. He shrugs, “I don’t know. I just didn’t, I guess.”

Tommy sighs. He shifts his foot, ready to leave the alleyway. He doesn’t move more than that, though. He continues staring at Serenade. Tommy should leave, he knows, but he can’t make his body move more than it already has. Serenade is dangerous. He is a villain with a body-count and the ability to manipulate other people’s minds. He is part of the organization that killed Tommy’s family.

But Serenade is familiar. Comfortable, even, in a way Tommy hasn’t experienced in a long time. Serenade hasn’t hurt him personally, and even when they were enemies, their fights were never anything more than petty squabbles. Tommy has come to know Serenade in a new way. Maybe it’s because Serenade reminds Tommy of Wilbur, but Tommy regretfully, shamefully considers Serenade a source of solace. It actually hurts him to say as much. He can barely think it with how his chest tightens. But Tommy has learned a long time ago that the truth is a spiteful creature that prefers tearing him apart than it does giving him ‘justice’ or ‘closure.’ 

“Where are you headed?” Serenade asks, stuck in the same predicament of being unable to leave as Tommy is. At least, Tommy hopes that’s the case. He doesn’t know what he would do with himself if Serenade was sticking around because he genuinely didn’t want to leave, like the thought never crossed his mind. Tommy prays his reading too much into the situation, and the fact that he’s praying makes Tommy ache something awful. He has been pushing down his emotions too much lately. He feels seconds away from crying, and Serenade hasn’t even done anything!

“Las Nevadas,” Tommy responds, his voice shaky even through the voice modifier. Serenade’s body language shows that he doesn’t notice enough to care, but Tommy can’t know for certain. Serenade is probably the smartest person Tommy knows since he wears a veil over his eyes. “I’m heading in for the night.”

“How do you sleep in Las Nevadas?” Serenade asks, and now he shows signs of concern. Tommy winces. He fears he’s going to start reading into the situation too much. His argument with Jolt echoes unpleasantly in his mind. Maybe Tommy has become attached to these villains. He swore to Grian that he would never stray from his mission, and Tommy knows that he won’t, but he feels weak in the knees at the thought of having to hurt Serenade in the process. Having to hurt any of the people in the Syndicate he foolishly became close to.

“The regular method,” Tommy answers, grabbing his wrist subconsciously. His fingers trail along a prominent scar. Tommy knows Serenade is looking there, too. Tommy should have cleaned up the wound and bandaged it. He doesn’t want Serenade to see him like this. Tommy wishes that was because he didn’t want to appear weak, but honestly, he didn’t want Serenade to worry. For some unfathomable reason, Serenade would be concerned, and Tommy is far too weak to say no, to walk away, to keep himself from reaching for that comfort.

“The raid will be in a few days. You need to be at peak health if you want to join,” Serenade tells Tommy. He steps forward slowly like he’s trying to ease Tommy into something. It almost feels like Serenade is using his powers, but there isn’t the telltale static swirling around at the edges of Tommy’s mind.

“Yeah, well, what the fuck do you propose I do? Magically cure my sleepwalking?” Tommy hisses sarcastically, knowing damn well where this conversation is going but unwilling to face it until Serenade voices it.

“I could watch over you again,” Serenade offers. Tommy winces, closing his eyes. He could ignore the entire situation. He could walk away. He knows that Serenade would let him. The situation right now is too precarious; the tension around them is too fragile. If they break it, they break themselves, and Tommy can’t afford to be broken right now. Serenade can’t, either.

“I can’t get involved with the fucking Syndicate right now,” Tommy says quietly, looking around like Minotaur will be waiting in the shadows. Tommy wishes he wasn’t under the thumb of that villain-turned-hero, but he’s stuck there for the time being. He has too much on his plate to worry about Minotaur specifically, though Tommy is ready to pick a fight at a moment’s notice.

“Then, don’t. This will be a deal between you and me only. No one else will be involved,” Serenade confirms, taking another step forward. He’s close to Tommy right now. Tommy should back away. He should keep his hand away from Serenade’s. He doesn’t step away, and he doesn’t pull his hand from Serenade’s when the villain intertwines their fingers.

“What do you want in exchange?” Tommy murmurs softly.

“It would make me feel better if someone who will be helping me on a raid had proper sleep,” Serenade shrugs, his excuse making sense but his voice implying there’s so much more to the situation.

Tommy tilts his head, staring at their intertwined fingers. He squeezes, and Serenade responds with a gentle tug. It is painfully familiar, Tommy thinks. The act of holding hands. He has done it with members of the Syndicate before. He’s definitely done it with Serenade at some point or another. He occasionally does it with Slime, and there are people who grab his hand, if not continue to hold it. But this brings Tommy back to the depths of his past. He feels that if he closes his eyes, he can pretend that his brother is here again, waiting for Tommy to open his eyes so they can share a smile together.

“As long as I can still stay in Las Nevadas,” Tommy adds another condition to their deal as if that would make it more businesslike and less personal.

“Deal,” Serenade agrees with a soft whisper. Serenade moves their hands like they are shaking hands, but he doesn’t let go when they are finished. He keeps Tommy’s hand in his as they start heading to Las Nevadas.

Chapter Text

“I've got a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts - you know, when you lie in bed awake and replay all those things you didn't do right? Because, as we all know, nothing solves insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret, depression and self-loathing.”

― D.D. Barant

Wilbur sits in a room on one of the lower floors of Croupier’s casino. Wilbur has been to this level a handful of times, but he has never spent much time in any of the rooms down the twisting halls. Croupier implied they were for people he liked. It was a jab at Wilbur, obviously, because the relationship between Croupier and Wilbur was nebulous at best. They didn’t particularly like each other, but their hate seemed too much on the cusp of sexual tension to actually call it that. Regardless of whatever title best suits Croupier and Wilbur, the latter has simply never been in one of these rooms. Never had the desire to, either, which is the only reason why the fact remains true- not because Croupier doesn’t want Wilbur here because why would Wilbur do anything Croupier wants him to do?

Vendetta is the one who brought Wilbur to this room. He opened the door, leaving it open behind him as he wandered deeper into the room. Vendetta flitted around the room, shoving a few things aside as he tries to clean it up the best he can. Wilbur wandered in slowly to give Vendetta enough time to get his room presentable. Wilbur froze when his eyes did a preliminary sweep across the room. Vendetta didn’t say anything as he rubbed the back of his neck. He muttered something about cleaning it up better once he returned from speaking to Croupier, probably about the raid that would be happening in a few days. He mentioned that there were clothes Wilbur could wear in the dresser, though Wilbur wasn’t even looking at the piece of furniture. Vendetta dismissed himself, shutting the door behind him. He left Wilbur alone.

The brunette glances back around the room again. He tries to resist looking at the dried blood on the floor, but the reddish brown flakes are stark against the thin carpet. Wilbur nudges it with the toes of his boot. As his eyes follow the flakes to their source, he finds what he was expecting but didn’t want to see. A chain tethered to the wall glints in the low lighting of the room. It is covered in more dried blood. Wilbur recognizes it as being made from the same person as the one who made the one Vendetta had in the room at Paradise Apartments. Wilbur wants to know if the person who made those chains knows what they are for. If they didn’t already know, would they agree to make the chains if they knew?

Wilbur shakes his head. He looks around the room, decidedly anywhere except for the chain and the bloodstain. There is a bed right beside the chain. It is shoved into the corner of the room. A single mattress sits on a metal frame, and the sheets and singular pillow are dark black without a comforter. At the end of the bed, a window allows pale light to filter into the room. The translucent white curtains sway, revealing that the window is partially open. Before Wilbur can continue his assessment of the room, he sees something drop onto the windowsill.

A black crow places their talons on the edge of the windowsill. They grip the edge, pulling themselves further onto the windowsill. Their wings fluctuate in quick movements before snapping back to the crow’s sides. The crow tilts its head at Wilbur. The beady black eyes stare at Wilbur with far more intelligence and awareness than any better should reasonably have. Wilbur huffs a breath, refusing to let a smile spread across his face even though he has the veil to cover his expression. He walks over to the window. He puts his forearms on the windowsill. He leans down. He crosses one leg behind the other, staring out at the main street of Las Nevadas. This island didn’t exist when Wilbur was a child. When he was younger, when he looked out across Business Bay, he only saw a floating rock. He sometimes fantasized about bringing his siblings over there. They could live off the land, far away from prying eyes and harsh governments. At the time, Wilbur didn’t think it would be much different from how they were living then. At least the island would provide far more beautiful sights than the dirty streets of L’Manberg.

Wilbur looks down at the fountain. Croupier claimed the island before Wilbur could, if Wilbur’s silly delusions could be considered anything substantial. Croupier built this island into what it is today- the entertainment capital of the world. Wilbur prefers what Croupier has done with the island to what he would have done years ago. He doesn’t think that his family would have actually been happy away from society. They are all sociable people, including Wilbur. They enjoy spending time with people. Plus, Wilbur wouldn’t have made anything nearly as beautiful as Ankh did once Croupier offered him more money than any normal person could ever hope to attain in their lifetime.

Crowfather caws. Wilbur looks at the bird, meeting the avian’s eyes. Wilbur lifts one of his arms up. He places his chin on the palm of his hand. His fingers curl against his cheek. He allows a half-smile to flash across his face, purposefully dimming his eyes. The bird doesn’t seem to care one way or another. Wilbur rolls his eyes. “Are you here to see Vendetta?”

The bird caws in response. Wilbur looks away from Crowfather after getting confirmation. He looks back at the city. There are people flooding the streets. They sway and throb like a live organism. Wilbur is too far away to pick out individual details, but he can feel their sleepless nights like a disease underneath his skin. Wilbur closes his eyes. Although Las Nevadas is pleasant to look at, a borough that never sleeps is not the safest place for a phantom hybrid to be. Wilbur won’t get sick from this. He’s experienced far worse, of course, and he’s been part of Las Nevadas’ crowd before without spilling the contents of his stomach onto the ground.

Wilbur opens his eyes. He stares up at the sky in the distance. As night descends upon the world, the waning moon rises steadily, attempting to reach its peak. There are a few stars scattered around, but the light pollution prevents them all from being visible. Wilbur knows his constellations. Techno enjoyed learning about them when they were younger, and he frequently talks about them. It is a perk of Techno having a vacation home outside of the city where he can actually see the stars. Wilbur isn’t as big of fan as his brother is. He enjoys the stories behind each constellation, but every time he sees one shining, he can only think about his little brother, his own shining star, the one that strayed too far away and now remains as far away as the actual stars.

“You should go. Vendetta is going to be sleeping tonight,” Wilbur tells Crowfather. He presses his fingers against the crow. Crowfather squawks at Wilbur, but he does not peck at the villain’s fingers. Crowfather flutters his wings. The bird becomes one with the night’s darkness. Wilbur shuts the window. The room suddenly feels a little warmer now that the wind isn’t blowing directly into the room. The curtains fall still.

Wilbur runs a hand across the side of his face. He takes his veil off as he does. He sets the contraption down on the ground at the foot of bed. He glances at the door, deciding that he really doesn’t care if Vendetta walks in right now. Vendetta doesn’t seem like the type to exploit someone’s personal identity unless it got him closer to his end goal. He wouldn’t unnecessarily sell it. As Wilbur finishes that thought, he is already putting on his comfortable mask that he uses when he wants to sneak out as neither Wilbur or Serenade. Wilbur relaxes minutely when his identity is hidden again. He moves to the dresser, taking out the clothes Vendetta mentioned. There are several different sizes in the dresser; a fact Wilbur finds strange as he shrugs on the clothes closest to his size. It is a little short considering how tall Wilbur is, but the brunette understands that he won’t be getting anything better.

As Wilbur is tossing his costume to the foot of the bed, he realizes there is something resting on top of the dresser. It is a picture frame, Wilbur notes, but it is face down. Wilbur frowns. He has never seen Vendetta with anything personal. Wilbur runs his fingers along the back of the picture frame. Vendetta obviously has it turned around for some reason, but Wilbur cannot help his curiosity. What would someone like Vendetta consider precious enough to put in a picture frame? The hero moves around so much that it must be very important. He cares about it, and Wilbur wants to know more about the hero that has done little and yet is residing inside Wilbur’s heart. Perhaps it is a picture of his family. Gods know that is the only thing Vendetta cares about.

Wilbur’s fingers brush against the edge of the picture frame. He lifts it slowly. Before he can get a glimpse at the photograph, the door opens. Wilbur sets the frame back down. He pretends he was closing a drawer, hoping Vendetta didn’t realize what Wilbur was doing. The hero will grossly misunderstand the situation. Wilbur came here to sleep and make sure Vendetta sleeps. He doesn’t want to fight right now.

Luckily, Vendetta doesn’t seem to have noticed. He gives the room a quick look, eyes settling on Wilbur. He looks calmer when he notices Wilbur. Wilbur has no idea if that is because he wants to know where a dangerous supervillain is at all times or if Wilbur’s presence actually does comfort Vendetta on some level. The most likely answer is the former, but there is something distinct about the way that Vendetta’s muscles untense. Wilbur wishes he could see Vendetta’s eyes, but the hero has them covered with a blindfold. There is something more to that blindfold than Wilbur suspects Vendetta will ever explain. The hero seems obsessed with keeping his eyes covered, but he doesn’t seem to care too much about his actual secret identity. Knowing Vendetta, his eyes probably carry a lot of trauma for him, as do a lot of other things. Maybe Reverie made Vendetta hate his eyes?

“Croupier and the Ace of Spades have agreed to join the raid. The Ace of Hearts wanted me to wish you luck,” Vendetta explains, his voice crystal clear with the voice modifier. Yes, hiding his identity was never the objective. He is even wearing casual clothing right now, a baggy shirt with short sleeves and pants that ended at his midthigh. He wears wool socks. Some of his scars, including the ones along his jaw and around his ankles, were on full display. At least, his wrists were covered in fresh bandages. Wilbur assumes Croupier either did someone do it, if he didn’t do it himself. Wilbur is incredibly curious about the extent of Croupier and Vendetta’s relationship.

“You know, I have never understood the Ace of Hearts,” Wilbur admits slowly. He gets Croupier. He is an esper who can control probability with a mind for business and diplomacy. The Ace of Diamonds, Ankh, is not only a very powerful esper, but his engineering skills are nothing to scoff at. Wilbur has seen the Ace of Spades, Ultraviolet, fight before, and based on how well security is run on the island, Ultraviolet definitely earns his keep. Fundy- the Ace of Clubs or Reynard- is a little soft-hearted, but he is dangerously determined to remain a vital member of the Jester’s Deck. Fundy is able to do this by whispering in everyone’s ears and listening for every response, fading from their minds as he steals their secrets right from their lips.

The Ace of Hearts, Slime, is completely different. He doesn’t actually do anything for the island other than take care of menial issues. There are very few rumors around him; he’s known as Las Nevadas’ most well-kept secret. Wilbur thought Slime was some sort of trump card until Niki gave a mission report about what Slime was like when she and Vendetta went to get information. Slime, apparently, got some of the information, but Fundy is the main informant of Las Nevadas. The Ace of Hearts has no apparent purpose, yet there is so much effort given to keeping him safe. And he is allowed to have the title ‘Ace of Hearts’ instead of giving it to someone much more qualified.

“No one fucking does,” Vendetta mutters with a laugh trickling out of his mouth. He tilts his head to the side, wearing a fondly exasperated expression. That is another tick in the box, Wilbur decides. For as useless as he is, Slime was able to convince both Croupier and Vendetta, notoriously reticent people, to lower their guards and weasel his way into their hearts. Wilbur wants to know Slime’s secrets because he’s been trying to get under Croupier’s skin for years now and he wouldn’t mind having a place in the soul of someone as recklessly loyal as Vendetta is.

“Dyscardia thought you and Slime were close,” Wilbur continues, watching carefully for any sort of special reaction. He has so many other things to be thinking about right now, but his attention has led him to picking apart this mysterious individual given the coveted title ‘Ace of Hearts.’ Wilbur knows several people that would literally kill for a title like that, a position next to Croupier, so it makes him wonder why they haven’t already. Slime doesn’t seem like a threat- not like the others are, in any case. A clever plan can get the assassin the life of the fun-loving hybrid.

Vendetta rubs his upper arm. He shifts from one foot to the other. He seems antsy, like he’s about to flee at a moment’s notice. He exhales out his nose. He finally rolls his shoulders, and Wilbur feels the hero’s attention thrust upon his shoulders. “We are… it’s just fucking complicated, you know? Slime is… well, he’s something else.”

Wilbur doesn’t know what that means. He will acknowledge that Slime is not a normal person. No one in the Jester’s Deck can be just by virtue of working with Croupier. Niki’s mission reports are also very thorough, so Wilbur knows all about how Slime acts a little childish. She mentioned that Vendetta vaguely told her that they needed to keep Slime happy. Wilbur really wanted to know why. This felt like the perfect opportunity to understand more.

Vendetta shakes his head, though, and Wilbur knows that he didn’t approach this conversation the right way. Wilbur should have known better. He needs to slowly coax answers out of Vendetta. Since the beginning, Wilbur has known that the way to Vendetta’s honesty is a series of sharp turns that feel more like a maze than a path. Wilbur has navigated the path once, but Vendetta was a little buzzed then, so it doesn’t really count. Wilbur wishes he knew how to find that path again.

“Let’s get some sleep. I’m fucking exhausted,” Vendetta says, gesturing towards the bed. He isn’t lying. Wilbur can feel the tiredness around Vendetta like a fuming cloud. It is upsetting Wilbur, so he doesn’t terribly mind getting to bed sooner rather than later. He does regret not being able to look at the picture or find out more about the Ace of Hearts, but he doesn’t need to sate his curiosity about the matter right now.

Wilbur lies down on the bed. He stretches out across it, trying to find the most comfortable position. In the morning, he is going to bring more pillows and a nice big blanket. For now, he will deal with the bareness of Vendetta’s sleeping spot.

Vendetta gets in the bed after a few seconds of contemplation. He lies on Wilbur’s chest, a norm that has been developed since the first time Wilbur told Vendetta he would watch over the hero, protecting him from his own sleep-walking habits. Vendetta lies his head on Wilbur’s chest. No matter how many times they do this, Wilbur’s thoughts will always go back to Tommy. When Tommy slept near Wilbur, they would always end up like this. It was a subconscious action that they never bothered to think too hard about despite Tommy being the only person who would sleep on Wilbur’s chest and Wilbur being the only one whose chest Tommy would sleep on. Their habits were only for each other. At least, it was. Now, Vendetta takes the spot that Tommy would have taken if he were still alive.

Wilbur closes his eyes, feeling the pricking of tears in the back of his eyes. He supposes that he will always miss his younger brother. He will search every face for those bright blue eyes and shimmering gold hair. He will always reach into the darkness, yearning to feel those tiny fingers wrapping around his palm. He will hold his grief so tightly against his heart that he is unsure he could breathe without it anymore.

Vendetta relaxes. Wilbur knows from his slowing breathing pattern and his general intuition about sleep that Vendetta is right on the cusp of it, waiting for a reason to come back to awareness but hoping that he can sink right into oblivion. Wilbur grants him mercy by running his fingers through Vendetta’s hair, something he did with Tommy when the little boy didn’t want to sleep. It feels disgusting, he notes, and he thinks there is some product in it like Vendetta tried to… maybe darken his hair color? 

Wilbur looks away, choosing ignorance. He can see the sky from this angle, through the glass. He sees the tips of the larger buildings blotting out the skyline. He still believes Las Nevadas is very beautiful.

Vendetta is asleep by now. He’s chosen to trust Wilbur not to murder him in his sleep. Wilbur looks back down at the slumbering face. Perhaps as a fleeting thought, he considers removing the blindfold. He doesn’t know if he’ll wake up before Vendetta does, but if he manages to, he might be able to catch a glimpse of Vendetta’s eyes.

Wilbur’s eyes trail down to the scars along his jaw. Wilbur winces, frowning deeply. He has hated the Hunters for a long time now, but the scars that Vendetta got from them upset him so profoundly that it makes him reevaluate just how much he cares about the hero currently lying on his chest.

Wilbur reaches down, grabbing Vendetta’s wrist. He pulls it up, away from the boy’s side. Vendetta remains asleep, and Wilbur is able to freely stare at the bandages. He remembers what the scars underneath look like. Those are of Vendetta’s own making, and yet they make Wilbur feel so much worse than the scars on his jaw do. Wilbur closes his eyes. He presses a kiss on the bandages like a mother trying to kiss away the scraps of her child. The bandages don’t disappear and neither do the scars, so Wilbur settles for putting his forehead against the edge. He does not know who is talking to- maybe Vendetta, maybe himself, maybe even Tommy- but Wilbur whispers into the lonesome night, “I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

“There is some comfort in killing that which has hurt you, but it is cold comfort. It'll destroy things inside of you that the original pain wouldn't have harmed. Sometimes it's not a question of whether a piece of your soul is going to go missing, only which piece it's going to be.”

― Laurell K. Hamilton

Due to an excessive amount of money, Tommy can barely feel the car moving even when he can see the passing city through the tinted windows. There is a faint feeling in his stomach that doesn’t allow him to completely forget, but he can’t do much about that. He can only appreciate that Croupier threw enough money into a vehicle to make sure the people riding don’t get car sick. Tommy chooses to focus on the other people riding in the car alongside him instead.

Serenade is sitting beside Tommy. Although the hero told himself to maintain distance, his head is resting against the villain’s shoulder. Serenade has graciously leaned back against the upholster of the backseat, barely moving his body as he argues with Croupier, who sits across from them in the limousine’s back. Tommy doesn’t know what they’re arguing about, but their tones imply that it isn’t so much an argument as it is trying to one-up each other. Ultraviolet is sitting beside Croupier, in front of Tommy. He is slouched down in the chair, his legs spread out so far that they tangle with Tommy’s legs. He is playing a game on his communicator. He mumbles directions and curses to himself as his body twitches with the communicator. While his concentration seems tight, he does occasionally pipe up to give his opinion on the argument between Croupier and Serenade, resulting in his master’s satisfaction or disappointment. Tommy laughs under his breath every time, enjoying seeing Croupier flustered and on the opposite side he’s usually on.

“Reiterating the same point does not make your argument more viable, Serenade,” Croupier hisses. Tommy blinks lazily, turning his attention away from the window to look at Croupier. The villain is leaning forward, one hand on his knee and the other one moving as he speaks.

“It does if the point I’m reiterating is factually correct and you continue to show signs of not understanding even the most simple of sentences,” Serenade responds. Tommy can see his hand move from his peripheral vision, but Serenade is careful not to jostle Tommy. The blonde finds himself smiling softly. He blames his happiness on the fuzziness rippling across his mind, a strange tranquility that also descends upon him before an important mission. This is the first time Tommy has been with anyone else while in this state, not unless they were seconds away from the beginning of the mission. He’s never rested on anyone’s shoulder, not since those training days with Sleepy and Red Dragon.

“Both of you can shut the fuck up. We’re here,” Ultraviolet chides them both with a scowl on his face. The galaxy paint on his face that forms his mask dims, the stars trapped inside the swirling ink dimming considerably. It almost allows Tommy to recognize the Ace of Spades’ personal features, but Tommy forces himself to look away before it’s too late. He really doesn’t want to know anyone’s secret identities. He has enough of those secrets hiding quietly in his mind.

“Finally. I thought I was going to be talking to this idiot for an eternity,” Croupier murmurs to himself. He forces his body to relax. A salesman’s smile spreads across his face as he reaches for his door. He pulls the handle, and a light wind breezes through the backseat. Tommy jolts as the chill climbs up his arm from his bare hands. Tommy feels a dozen cuss words resting on his tongue, eyes narrowing at the dealer who slips out of the limousine. Before Tommy’s anger can unfurl verbally, he feels a hand pat against his hood. Serenade tilts his head at Tommy, the veil covering his face but not his body language. Tommy scowls at him, but the words evaporate in his throat at the blatant display of comfort.

Serenade pulls away eventually (far too quickly). As he steps out of the limousine, Tommy can hear him insulting Croupier for ‘running away.’ Tommy shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the comfortable feeling mewling in his chest. As he shakes his head, his eyes land on Ultraviolet. The Ace of Spades’ mask has returned in full force, the stars twinkling as his dark eyes study Tommy. The hero shudders. He opens his mouth to explain that he isn’t switching sides and he actually really dislikes Serenade. His words are cut off when Ultraviolet inclines his head to the side, saying in a completely neutral tone, “Good.”

Tommy wants to ask what Ultraviolet means by that, but the Ace of Spades is climbing out of the limousine, his communicator forgotten on the seat between where he sat and where Croupier sat. Tommy stares at the black metal for a long moment like the machine could give Tommy the answers Ultraviolet probably won’t. Tommy raises his fist, resisting the urge to smash the communicator to vent his anger. Serenade has this unhelpful way of lulling Tommy into comfort before upsetting him so greatly Tommy wonders why he let himself be lulled in the first place.

Tommy decides those thoughts are best reserved for a later date when he can throttle Serenade while mulling them over. Tommy plants his boots down on the concrete sidewalk. He squints his eyes as he climbs onto a sparsely populated street. Tommy glances around, closing the door with the heel of his boot. As soon as the door is closed, Tommy hears it lock and Croupier’s chauffeur merges into oncoming traffic. Tommy watches the limousine continue down the street, and he catches the tailend of it as it passes onto a side street.

Tommy looks at the building he was deposited at. Judging by the advertisements on the marquee and the small booth attached to the front wall, this is a theater. The dirty establishment and the lack of people imply that it’s been abandoned. Tommy cranes his neck. He notices some construction tape practically glowing in the dark alley, and he sees a few stacks of bricks. It must have been abandoned after an accident, probably a hero and villain fight. Tommy doesn’t recognize more than that. He’s never been to this theater before, and he doesn’t know what heroes and villains have been fighting in the area lately. Though he has no proof, Tommy feels as if it is safe to assume that the Red Army purposefully decimated part of the building so that they might use it for their own nefarious purposes. Tommy rolls his shoulders. It’s no matter to him how the building got destroyed; only that the Cult of Erythr is hosting an important event here tonight.

Done with his observations, Tommy activates his power on himself. He pushes off the ground. He floats into the air. He continues moving until he is above the tops of the buildings. He quickly switches off his power, the red caustic light withdrawing to the pads of his fingers. He clicks a button to unfurl his gliders. The blood rushes in his ears as he navigates to a building near the theater. He lands on the roof. His glider returns to his small backpack. Tommy takes a couple steps forward to get rid of the excess energy clinging to his form.

Ravager is standing on the edge of the building, eyeing the partially destroyed area Tommy observed mere moments before. Beside Ravager, Crowfather sits on the parapet. Tommy finds a dull smile spreading across his face. He approaches swiftly. Ravager’s gaze lands on him almost immediately. There is a funny look in his eyes, but Tommy ignores it as he sidles up to Crowfather. He rubs his fingers along the crow’s head, watching the bird preen under the attention. “Crowfather! The fucking man! I haven’t seen you in awhile. That wasn’t cool, by the way. I should be fucking pissed at you right now, but I am a kind person so you get my forgiveness. Don’t pull that shit again, though.”

Crowfather squawks something similar to an agreement. Tommy rolls his eyes, knowing that his pet bird isn’t going to listen to Tommy if he doesn’t want to. Tommy turns his attention to someone else who definitely won’t do what Tommy wants him to do but is a lot more direct about it. Ravager’s funny look has disappeared. Right now, he just seems upset. Tommy’s eyebrows furrow together, an incredulous smile softening his features even when the smile itself is hidden behind his mask. “Ravager? Don’t tell me your fucking jealous? That’s so childish.”

“I am not jealous of a… bird,” Ravager replies, saying the name ‘bird’ as if it were the most disgusting thing he’s ever been made to say.

“You’ve always had this childish rivalry with Crowfather. Frankly, it’s a little disappointing. I thought you were so much fucking cooler than this,” Tommy replies, glancing down at the dark entrance into the side of the theater. He remembers the time he introduced Crowfather and Ravager to each other. They constantly cut each other off with their various noises. Ravager had even given Crowfather these odd looks the entire conversation, and he still sometimes carries that expression when the bird appears with Tommy. There’s something there, Tommy knows, but he can’t exactly tell what it is. What would Ravager- a one-man army with multiple powers, near unlimited access to deadly weapons and people, and a long reputation as a bloodthirsty warmonger- have any sort of beef with a bird named after an old hero?

“That is not the case,” Ravager says, looking away from both Tommy and Crowfather. The bird ruffles his feathers. Tommy glances down, and he finds himself looking directly into Crowfather’s beady eyes. The bird has an unnaturally knowing expression on its face. Tommy shudders, forcing himself to look away. He understands a tiny bit why Ravager might be uncomfortable around Crowfather. Despite being a bird, Crowfather knows a lot more than should be naturally possible. Tommy shakes his head. It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, Crowfather is just a bird and Ravager is being an idiot. At least, Tommy thinks so, as he takes a half-step away from Crowfather.

Tommy looks around. He can see some of the others getting into their positions. Thermoculus, Enderwalk, and Jolt are standing together on the roof of a nearby building. Although they are too far away for Tommy to hear them, Thermoculus is pointing to different spots around the theater, leaning towards the vigilantes with a serious look on his face. Serenade is sitting on the balcony of a building across the street. He is sitting casually without a care in the world showing in his languid position. On the ground level, Croupier and Ultraviolet are speaking in soft tones to one another, looking like they’re waiting for one of Croupier’s accomplices. Tommy even thinks he can see Red Dragon in a slow forming crowd down the street. The other Syndicate members are being held hostage inside the theater right now, if their intel is correct.

There are two people noticeably absent. Tommy’s fingers clench into a fist as he scans the skies. He double-checks the ground for a small flash of color. He feels anger rise in his chest, and he asks Ravager, “Where the hell are Azrael and Inchling?”

“They’re running support and back-up. They might show up if the situation goes awry,” Ravager explains softly, turning his attention to Tommy. Ravager’s gaze feels extremely heavy against Tommy’s shoulders. There is the faint undercurrent of their first real conversation with one another on Ravager’s face and in Tommy’s body language. Tommy narrows his eyes, refusing to meet Ravager’s eyes. “Are you going to be okay with that?”

A far too innocent question. Tommy is unable to hide his laughter. It bursts from his mouth like a knife stabbing through tissue paper. It is just as sharp, too, an ugly and foul thing that permeates in the air like a cold poison. Tommy looks around at the other buildings, watching the Syndicate members communicate seamlessly with one another, ready to hatch their ultimate plan. Tommy’s eyes land on Ravager, and he feels some sick satisfaction at seeing the way Ravager’s eyes recoil even when his body and face remain stoic. Tommy smiles, knowing Ravager cannot see it. “The real question is if everyone else is going to be okay when Azrael and Inchling do.”

Tommy had made it abundantly clear that he was going to try to kill Azrael and Inchling. He wouldn’t stop trying until they were dead or he was falling into his grave. What hasn’t been made clear is how far the others are willing to go for their leaders, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Ravager will probably dispatch Tommy before the blonde can get a few feet away from Azrael or Inchling. Would Ravager continue to wear that funny look as he chokes Tommy or stabs him with one of his many weapons?

Crowfather squawks, lifting his wings up. Ravager and Tommy’s attention snaps to the bird. Ravager looks around quickly. The others are all making signals. Ravager returns their gestures. He jumps onto the parapet beside Crowfather. Ravager glances over his shoulder at Tommy. There is something profound in his red eyes, but it fades as easily as it comes. Ravager hops into the air, landing gracefully onto the ground. Tommy plants his feet on the parapet, but he remains on the edge of the building as Ravager groups up with Croupier and Ultraviolet. Tommy watches as the three of them break into the theater, disappearing from his line of sight.

After much deliberation, the plan eventually became that those three would be the first wave. They would fight as many cultists as they could. Enderwalk would remain on standby, teleporting in and teleporting out with the rescued victims. Jolt, Thermoculus, Serenade, and Tommy were on interference. If someone wanted to enter the brawl to help or if someone thought retreating was their safest bet, it was their job to stop them. If Red Dragon was actually here, he would help with the interference. The looming threat of Azrael and Inchling joining to help out hangs over Tommy’s head.

They are putting the plan into action right now. Tommy stares down at the opening on his side of the theater. Crowfather waits with him, silent like a predator waiting for prey to scurry out from its home. Tommy ignores the way that makes his skin prickle. He has a job to do. He isn’t the best at waiting and focusing. Luckily for him, it didn’t take too long for a few soldiers from the Red Army to come spilling out of the hole in the wall. They are as loud as a creaky door after curfew, and they each leave a trail of blood, some thicker and redder than others. Tommy brings out his baton, letting it unfurl into a staff. He stands up, letting his shadow loom over the fleeing soldiers. A few of them glance up, and he can hear their curses on the wind. Tommy jumps down, using his power and someone’s body to soften his fall. He rolls forward immediately, ignoring the way his metal backpack digs into his skin. He pops up, moving his staff to trip people up. Unlike the cultists, the members of the Red Army are significantly weaker. They are grunts, no match for an A-rank hero.

Tommy whirls around to chase a few of the fleeing soldiers. His eyes catch on a hood disappearing behind a corner. Tommy races forward, sliding into the new alley. He gets a second to see Reaper’s body before the villain enters into the labyrinth that is the border between Empires and Snowchester. Tommy could go after the grunts, but one of the reasons for this raid was to capture members of the Cult of Erythr. Tommy decides that Reaper is a far more worthy target than a couple of bumbling idiots who joined with the wrong side of history.

Tommy chases after Reaper. He hears Crowfather flying after him. He is able to close the distance between them but only by a marginal amount. He keeps Reaper in his sights, unable to fully grab onto his hood. Tommy breathes in harshly, pumping his arms even more as he tries to increase his momentum. He nearly slams into every wooden wall surrounding the alleyways, but the pain is negligible. Reaper is getting closer. Tommy can almost grab onto his hood. He reaches his hand out, his powers swirling across his skin, ready to send Reaper to the ground. He can almost feel the cloth of the villain’s hood. He just needs to…

Reaper turns unexpectedly. Tommy tries stopping himself, but this trips him up. He rolls across the ground. He grits his teeth in pain. He forces himself back onto his feet. Crowfather makes a noise like he’s concerned. He takes in even breaths, walking back to the place where he lost Reaper. It seems the villain has darted into a warehouse of some sort. One of the dirty windows is cracked, enough space for someone to slip through if they wanted to. Tommy hopes that Reaper is far from the entrance into the warehouse as Tommy goes in after him. Crowfather makes a displeased noise, trying to get into the building but hitting the glass. Tommy waves the bird away, and Crowfather follows orders for once in his life.

Tommy looks around the warehouse. It is actually a factory, Tommy realizes, looking at the conveyor belts and the sorting machinery. Tommy grimaces at all the hiding places Reaper could be. He starts poking his head into each shaded area. He doesn’t find a trace of the villain, not even a lingering ghoul meant to watch Tommy’s movements. Tommy feels an angry sound bubble in his throat as he gets to the main floor. He stops, noticing Reaper standing in the middle of the machines. Reaper is calm, hands behind his back. He doesn’t carry a weapon. There are no spirits waiting to crawl out of the ground. Tommy brings out his staff, but Reaper’s unnerving stare doesn’t get even a hint of fear. Tommy realizes far too late that this had been a trap. Well, Tommy is like a vicious animal- he is liable to hurt the person who trapped him and escape.

“I have been trying to talk with you alone for many moons now. You are a very busy person, and you have far more people attached to you than I initially suspected. You were always so lonesome, but I guess you do have the uncanny ability of making people care about you. Even people who have sworn off attachments,” Reaper proclaims. Tommy winces. Reaper can’t be talking about anyone other than Reverie. Reaper waves his hand, clearly only using Reverie as an example and not actually caring what happened between the leader and a former member of the organization Reaper was once part of. “Do not misconstrue, Vendetta. I am not here to discuss the past. I am here to offer a potential future, the best one, in fact.”

Reaper takes a step forward. Tommy tenses, getting into a defensive possession. Reaper raises one of his hands to Tommy as if he’s offering something. There is nothing in Reaper’s palm, but there is a promise on his lips. “I am sure that you noticed last time we saw each other that I have gained a new… ability. It should not surprise you. Espers get their powers from trauma, and therefore, more trauma will enhance their power. That is what happened to the Scarlet Demoness, that girl you captured.”

Tommy tries to make his body move. He finds himself unable to. Part of him- a stupid part of him that has taken control of his motor skills- has convinced him to listen to Reaper. There’s nothing to lose except for time. Tommy has been living on stolen time for as long as he can remember, so he doesn’t care about losing it. He listens as Reaper continues. “I can see what my victims see in their hallucinations. I was finally able to see your family, the one you always talk about and the one you’ve devoted your life to. They had innocent faces, and they seemed to love you very much. I can see why you’ve given your life to pursuing their killers. It is a rather noble cause, I should think.

“But you are going to fail, Vendetta. You are not strong enough to fight Azrael and Inchling, especially not when the rest of the Syndicate protects them. You will be cut down as if you were nothing at all. What you need is strength. You need a boost of power that will allow you to reach the impossible. It is very difficult to acquire that kind of power, but you have a very easy way to do it, Vendetta. You can join the Cult of Erythr. We will offer you the elixir of the gods, providing you with the power to vanquish what has haunted you for ten years.”

Reaper tilts his head, the shadows across his face from his hood growing shallow. Tommy can almost see Reaper’s contemplative expression. “Frankly, though, more power is simply unnecessary. Revenge won’t make you happy. It will not calm your restless spirit. It will only drive you to madness and depression. You will realize that you’ve wasted your life trying to attain cold comfort, and now you will be without a purpose.”

“What the fuck-” Tommy begins, his fists clenching tighter around his staff.

Reaper snaps back to attention, closing his own hand into fist. There is a faint trace of determination in his voice as he cuts Tommy off, “The Cult of Erythr can do something better for you. We will give you a purpose. We will give you power. And when we achieve our goals, we will have the ability to bring your family back to. I will have the power to give you back that which you have lost. All I wish for in return is that you join our fight against the oppressors and warmongers. We shall liberate this city together. No one else shall suffer as you have, not with gangs or villains or the destruction of a family.”

Reaper’s speech is better than Pearl and Etho’s, Tommy thinks. It makes his steely determination waver temporarily. Reaper has the power to communicate with the dead. With enough of a power boost, it isn’t too out there to imagine he could give the dead passage to the land of the living as semi-permanent ghosts. Tommy is willing to commit a lot of sins in order to speak with his family just one more time. But destroying the city in the process of ‘liberating’ it is not one of the sins Tommy has the heart to do. He apologizes to his family for picking the city over them, but he imagines they would understand his point of view. It was the destruction of a part of the city that resulted in their death, after all.

“Fuck off,” Tommy growls. He rushes forward, lifting his staff above his head. He gets close enough to Reaper to slam it down. Before he can, Reaper takes a step back. His shadowy spirits cloud his body, allowing him to disappear. Tommy is left standing on his own. He whirls around, trying to find out where Reaper disappeared to. Unlike his partner, Cait Sith, Reaper cannot teleport far from his original position. Even if he could go far, he wouldn’t. He will continue to convince Tommy to join the Cult of Erythr or try to eliminate him here and now to put an end to a thorn in the cult’s side.

“Vendetta!” A voice snaps Tommy out of his searching. He turns. Serenade is standing at the factory doors. Serenade continues to get closer, stepping into the dim light that falls through the dirty windows of the factory. Tommy cannot see Serenade’s face, but his body language shows his displeasure very clearly. “This was only a rescue mission, Vendetta. We got everyone we wanted, so we need to leave now. You can’t just disappear like this.”

Tommy sighs. He lowers his staff. Reaper probably has disappeared now that Serenade is here. Tommy feels failure curl in his stomach. Tommy glances up, deciding that blaming Serenade is going to make him feel better and loudly complaining will make him feel a whole lot better.

Tommy takes one step forward, stopping when he feels a strange prickling sensation in his neck. Eyes widening in horror, Tommy looks over his shoulder. Reaper is standing right behind him, pressed so close Tommy can see the villain’s face beneath the mask. Reaper is frowning apologetically as his thumb slams down on the syringe, pushing a red liquid into Tommy’s bloodstream. Tommy chokes on a breath, barely hearing Reaper’s mournful words over the roaring in his ears. “It is unfortunate that we could not do this the easy way.”

Reaper steps away, taking the syringe with him. Tommy feels a tiny rivulet of warm blood fall down his neck. Reaper’s spirits take him away. Tommy stumbles away from the spot he was just standing. He feels weird. His breathing is heavy despite it feeling like someone is sitting on his chest and squeezing his heart in their fist. He feels sweat fall down his head, but he’s unnaturally cold. He shivers, glancing around the factory in a mind-numbing panic. He holds tight to that panic, but it slips from his grasp like a fragile leaf in the currents of a raging river. In the next moment, Tommy feels a surge of anger in his body. Pure, unadulterated hate spreads from his soul to his body. He trembles with excess energy, and he feels a sort of froth start to come from his lips. He clenches his teeth, unable to hold back a growl. He slams his hands on the sides of his head. He is incredibly upset, and he wants to lash out. He wants to make someone hurt. He-

“Vendetta?” Serenade asks quietly. Tommy looks up sharply. Serenade. Tommy feels a laugh climbing up his throat, but it sounds more like a howl when it falls alongside the froth. Tommy tears his mask off, throwing it at Serenade. He activated his power, so when the Serenade dodges and the mask hits the wall behind him, the wall cracks. Serenade flinches away from the impact. Tommy’s laugh-howl grows louder. He starts walking towards Serenade. Who else should he hurt but someone who works with the Syndicate? Who should he hurt but the person who is manipulating Tommy by pretending to be Wilbur? Who should he hurt but the idiot standing right in front of him? Tommy is going to hurt a lot of people, but he is going to start with Serenade.

As the thoughts consume Tommy, he manages to grab hold of the knife in the pocket along his thigh. He pulls the material out. He watches the metal glint in the dirty light. Tommy raises the knife up. When he slams it back down, he feels a sharp pain in his thigh. Tommy hisses, feeling tears spring into his eyes. His body bends, nearly crumpling forward. Tommy keeps the knife lodged in his thigh as he looks up. It takes him a heavy moment to growl out, “Get… away… now…”

Serenade does not follow the order Tommy is struggling to give. Tommy winces apologetically, but he feels the anger inside his body roar even louder at Serenade’s blatant refusal. Tommy is trying to help the villain. If Serenade doesn’t want help, Tommy shouldn’t give it to him. He should show Serenade what happens if he doesn’t listen. It is only fair, Tommy reasons. For these thoughts, Tommy twists the knife. He really does howl in pain this time. His knees lock together. He feels conflicted. Part of him wants to keep turning, part of him does not. He doesn’t want to hurt Serenade, but at the same time, he knows he will feel so much pleasure in doing so. He should go after every member of the Syndicate, then he should pick off the Hunters, and anyone else who gets in his way- even the people that Tommy knows he cares about and doesn’t want dead.

“Vendetta, listen to me, this isn’t you. You’re stronger than this. You were the one that chose to fight against the Cult of Erythr. You even put aside your revenge for this. You have to find that same strength right now. Do not let Reaper win,” Serenade is attempting to thrall Tommy using his power. Tommy feels sickened by this. Serenade’s thrall rarely works on Tommy because the blonde is a steadfast person that doesn’t normally fall for honeyed promises. But Serenade isn’t wrong. Tommy does hate the cult. He doesn’t want them to win, and he doesn’t want to be their puppet.

But he isn’t being their puppet. He may be using their power, but he’s doing what he wants. He is going to cut down Serenade because that’s what he wants to do. He is going to kill every member of the Syndicate because that’s what he wants to do. He is going to turn the Hunters into the hunted because that’s what he wants to do. Every action he’s taking is only something he wants to do. While the power might not be his, the anger and hatred definitely are. And really, Serenade using his voice just makes Tommy want to tear his larynx out.

“Serenade, Vendetta, what is-” A voice calls as two people enter the factory. Tommy’s eyes flash over to the two people entering. Thermoculus and Dyscardia. More members of the Syndicate, and two members that Tommy particularly hates right now. Tommy switches his focus from Serenade, and he aims at the closer of the two. Even with the knife in his thigh, Tommy is able to tackle Thermoculus to the ground. The villain makes a startled noise, but it quickly gets cut off by Tommy’s hands squeezing Thermoculus’ throat. The villain tries bucking Tommy off of him, but the blonde remains as still as stone. He spreads his power to make Thermoculus sit still, and the red caustic light on Thermoculus’ body illuminates the fear in the villain’s eyes. Tommy grins wickedly at it. He likes this. He likes being in power. He likes holding Thermoculus’ life in his hands. It feels a lot like revenge, and it’s so much better than Tommy thought it would be.

Tommy’s heart slows down. His smile disappears as he tries to breathe normally, but every movement makes his heart hurt. He looks to the side. Dyscardia is standing near him and Thermoculus. Serenade is right by her. Tommy’s grip loosens on Thermoculus as a result, and the villain is able to lift his hand up enough to push the knife in Tommy’s thigh deeper. Tommy tries to scream, but his exhale is airy. Finally, Dyscardia releases his heart, and Tommy feels the tiny organ start beating excessively. The chemical in his bloodstream continues to spread to the tips of his fingers and toes. He glares up at Dyscardia, preparing to attack her.

He feels a hand grab onto his chin. Tommy is forced to look at Thermoculus, and the villain has removed his glasses. Tommy screams again as the feeling of burning alive spreads across his body. He feels tears mingle with his sweat. His heart slows down again. He distantly hears Serenade chanting the word ‘sleep.’ Despite the anger in his body, Tommy finds himself agreeing with the idiot. Sleep sounds especially nice right now. It would keep him from looking into Thermoculus’ eyes or hearing Serenade’s voice. It would also naturally put his heart at the same speed Dyscardia is trying to force it to be. 

Yes, sleep is his best option, Tommy agrees as he falls unconsciously against Thermoculus’ shoulder. 

Chapter Text

“Anger ... it's a paralyzing emotion ... you can't get anything done. People sort of think it's an interesting, passionate, and igniting feeling — I don't think it's any of that — it's helpless ... it's absence of control — and I need all of my skills, all of the control, all of my powers ... and anger doesn't provide any of that — I have no use for it whatsoever.”

― Toni Morrison

The fluorescent lights hum lowly above his head. The door on the far side of the room remains closed. The rest of the cream-painted walls are bare, and there is nothing other than Techno. He stands with his arms crossed behind his back. He keeps his gaze straight ahead like a soldier in the presence of their commander. Instead of focusing on his commander’s words, however, Techno is staring through reinforced, transparent glass that takes up an entire wall. He keeps his gaze locked on the person moving around in the adjoining room. The other person barely acknowledges him even when Techno’s shadows begin infiltrating the edges of the room.

Supreme is working on Vendetta. The hero had his costume completely removed. He wears a white gown more akin to something a patient at a hospital would wear. The light clothing reveals the red cracks breaking up his skin. He also doesn’t wear his mask and glasses, so Techno can watch those dark eyes staring intently at Supreme.

Vendetta has woken up several moments ago. Techno expected for the hero to lash out, but he remained unnaturally calm. He remained lying down in the hospital bed for a few moments, doing nothing. Supreme- a neutral healer- only noticed because the heart monitor picked up in speed. Techno noticed because he could feel Vendetta’s heartbeat stutter. Supreme stayed perfectly still, watching the heart monitor. Techno was ready to move in, and he was about to when Vendetta sat up. He did it in one fluid motion like his body was completely recovered. He looked around absentmindedly with eyes as red as fresh blood. He gave a cursory glance at Techno through the glance before settling on Supreme. There was a moment of silence, and nothing else. Vendetta did not try pulling at his chains. He didn’t yell or snarl. He didn’t try to kill the person closest to him. He was eerily motionless, blinking slowly at Supreme. The healer, realizing there wasn’t a threat to his life, continued moving around. He was even able to put a blood pressure sleeve on Vendetta without the hero lashing out.

Techno remains at the ready in case the situation changes. No one knows too much about the chemical the Red Army is using, but all reports suggest it causes uncontrollable rage in the victims. Their violent impulses become compulsions, and they lose most of their rationality. The Red Army has ways of training their soldiers to control their bloodlust enough to carry out missions, but no one has been able to fully suppress their urge to maim. Not anyone in the streets or any of the soldiers the Syndicate in conjunction with the Aces were able to detain.

Vendetta is an anomaly- one Supreme is taking advantage of. Supreme sits at Vendetta’s bedside, getting closer with this patient than any of the others. Supreme says something, raising his hand to Vendetta. The hero glances at the offered hand, but he does nothing about it. Supreme frowns. He cautiously reaches a hand out. Techno tenses, waiting for Vendetta to lash out. Vendetta does nothing. He lets his arm get moved. He does nothing to help Supreme, yes, but he isn’t hindering the healer, either. He is, for lack of a better word, docile. Far more docile than he is even when he isn’t under the effects of a drug.

Supreme wipes down Vendetta’s arm with an alcohol wipe. He ties a piece of rubber around his upper arm. Supreme lifts a needle, and he finds the vein. Techno takes a half-step towards the glass. His shadows flicker restlessly. Vendetta allows Supreme to take his blood without any special attention being given to it. When they are finished, Supreme puts a bandaid over the spot and unties the rubber. 

He takes the syringe away to the other side of the room. Supreme has taken to doing a lot of his work in this room because Vendetta was the last person to wake up that was under the effects of the chemical. Even though Vendetta is now awake, Supreme doesn’t seem keen on leaving soon. He glances over his shoulder at Vendetta a few times as he prepares his belongings. He frowns to himself, looking back at his desk to write something down on his personal notebook.

While Supreme does that, Vendetta has taken to staring at the glass. He meets Techno’s eyes. He is completely apathetic. Techno narrows his eyes at Vendetta. He is tempted to use his fear presence to see if it will cause a reaction, but Supreme is still in the room. Techno’s supernatural presence power will subdue Supreme along with Vendetta, if it doesn’t set the hero off and make him fight against his restraints to hurt whatever the supposed threat is. At the moment, Vendetta has decided Techno and Supreme aren’t worth his time. Techno would like to know by what criterion Vendetta has made that choice. Supreme is a stranger, and Techno- Ravager- is one of Vendetta’s enemies. Techno wants to know what Vendetta is looking at right now. Is it Techno that he’s looking at, or has the chemical affected his vision?

Supreme steps away from his desk. Techno’s eyes remain on Vendetta, but the hero lazily looks away from Techno. He makes eye contact with Supreme. The healer says something, gesturing to the chains keeping Vendetta sitting in place. Vendetta lifts his hands up, staring at the chains around his wrists. Wilbur tried to argue that Vendetta needed some sort of plush, but they couldn’t custom-make the chains in time. Wilbur was upset about that, mentioning the scars Vendetta already has. The people in the room who knew couldn’t meet Wilbur’s eyes, but Techno did unflinchingly. He felt bad for putting Vendetta in chains, but it was necessary. No one had to like it; they just had to look at the facts and comply.

Vendetta doesn’t seem as bothered by the chains as he probably should be. He lowers his hands back into his lap, not a flicker of any emotion on his face. Supreme walks away, heading to the door in the corner of the room. Supreme disappears, and Vendetta’s eyes meet Techno’s stare. They stare at each other for a little while before Supreme enters into the room Techno is standing in. Techno tilts his body, splitting his attention between Vendetta and Supreme. His shadows will keep him well-informed.

“This is very odd,” Supreme starts, tapping his pen against the paper of his notepad. He steps up to the glass. Vendetta shifts his attention to meet Supreme’s eyes. The healer’s brows furrow and there is a contemplative frown on his face. “He is verbally unresponsive. This isn’t alarming as most of the others are the same way… but he doesn’t make any noises. His breathing is fairly silent. He doesn’t growl, hiss, or make other animalistic noises. Even when he moved his body, I couldn’t hear much other than the chains or his clothes.”

Supreme looks back down at his notepad. He runs his fingers along one of the lines. “He doesn’t appear to be physically enhanced. His muscle mass seems the same as it was before he was injected. His reaction time is about the same, as well. Of course, I cannot confirm any of this just by examining him. I will need to see him physically running or lifting.”

Supreme sighs, turning his body to directly face Techno. “The biggest oddity is one I am certain you already know about. Vendetta has not tried once since he woke up to break out of his chains or to harm me. He has not shown me any aggression with his facial movements. He is… different from the others. I can’t confirm until we get the lab reports back about his blood, but… You told me once that he is able to ignore orders issued to him by Serenade.”

It was not a question, but Techno treated it as such. “Yes. Serenade told me about it. I haven’t seen it before, but I trust my brother. Not many people can entirely ignore his orders. I can’t even ignore them.”

“I thought so. And there was that other incident in the subway station. Vendetta recounted that he heard a voice coaxing him forward until Jolt messaged him. The voice disappeared soon after, though Jolt was able to hear it and felt enough negative emotions that he was paralyzed,” Supreme says, rubbing his chin with his fingers. He glances sidelong at Techno. “I… have a few thoughts. But we should wait for the lab reports to come back. It is useless to draw baseless conclusions.”

“I agree. I believe we should operate under the assumption that whatever happened just now was an isolated anomaly. If anyone requests to visit, they would need the proper clearance, and you should be far more careful interacting with him moving forward,” Techno commands Supreme. Vendetta is staring at them. He is as apathetic as he was since he first woke up. Techno wonders what rage would look like painted across Vendetta’s face. He seems like a person made from it, who became one with it to hide from something.

“If you think that is best,” Supreme conceded. As a neutral healer, he was being contracted by the Syndicate right now. Supreme offered to take the case without any pay, but the Syndicate liked even exchanges. Supreme didn’t seem to care either way. He is now working in the Syndicate’s base with their resources.  He is also operating under their orders. “I think no one should be allowed-”

Supreme is unable to finish. The door opens. Techno looks over Supreme’s head to see Azrael stepping into the room. The villain is wearing his full regalia from his dark cloak to his large ebony wings. Supreme meets Azrael’s piercing blue eyes. Supreme steps forward, hands splaying out with his notebook acting like a shield. “Absolutely not. You need to get out of here. If there is anyone Vendetta is going to react to, it would be you and Inchling.”

Azrael’s stare is deadly and uncompromising. Supreme grits his teeth, undeterred. He continues to lecture the villain, but Techno knows the moment his father stops listening. Instead of leaving the room, Azrael stops at the window. His hands are at his sides. His expression under his crow mask is neutral. There is nothing particular threatening about his body language, but there is an aura his father naturally exudes. At the moment, it does nothing to Techno, but his father was to fully unleash it, even Techno would feel uneasy. Supreme should have shut up already, but the healer has a higher mental fortitude than Techno would have guessed.

There is a moment of stillness and silence as Vendetta’s stare starts from Azrael’s boots and goes upward. Techno is almost certain Vendetta will have no reaction. He is proven wrong. The exact second Vendetta meets Azrael’s eyes, the hero is jerking forward as far as his chains will allow him. All the easy complacency is gone. Vendetta growls and glares, spitting up fuzzy saliva like a rabid dog frothing at the mouth. Vendetta’s pupils are pinpricks in his bloody red irises, and the cracks grow even larger across his skin. Although Vendetta is acting like the others now, his reaction is far more extreme than anyone else’s. There is genuine hate building up in Vendetta’s heart, and the chemical is feeding it.

“Get out of here!” Supreme snaps, daring to touch Azrael’s arm to push the villain away. Azrael’s wing moves to knock Supreme away. Techno catches Supreme’s shoulders before the healer can fall. He watches his father with very careful eyes. He doesn’t know what game Azrael is playing right now. Is he trying to ascertain the depth of Vendetta’s hatred for him? Techno could have told his father that the hate was real and ran deeper than the soul in Vendetta.

Techno opens his mouth to ask his father when he hears a distinct snapping noise. Supreme stops yelling at Azrael, and the villain’s wing drops immediately. Vendetta stands at the foot of his bed. Blood pours from cuts on his wrist. The shackles are still on his wrists, but the chain attached to those shackles is noticeably snapped. The implications become a lot more terrifying when Techno remembers they used Netherite chains. Vendetta has broken through Netherite chains, something no one else has been able to do- not even the ones under Crimson’s mind-control instead of the chemical.

“Azrael,” Techno cuts out, a warning to his father. Vendetta bounds across the room in less time than it takes to Techno to utter that title. Vendetta slams his fists against the glass. Blood splatters across the surface. Vendetta’s eyes are wide, and Techno can hear words mixed in with his growling. He is gaining enough rationality to speak, but it isn’t enough to remind him that attacking Azrael here and now is not the best idea. Techno sicks his shadows on Vendetta. The shadows wrap around his legs, but they are unable to climb up his body because of the light glowing from the cracks along his skin. They hover around his skin, antsy and violent.

“You need to leave,” Supreme says once more, but his voice this time is as cold as a graveyard. There is a single fact echoing in all of their minds. Vendetta broke Netherite chains. The glass was reinforced with Netherite. It is only a matter of time before Vendetta breaks the glass, and if Azrael isn’t gone in time…

“Give- them- back… I’ll fucking kill you!” Vendetta hisses, unleashing a large swath of killing intent. All of it is directed at one man like a spotlight on the main performer. Azrael’s expression has not shifted, but he does turn away from Vendetta. This makes Vendetta even angrier. He shouts Azrael’s name several times like a mantra, his voice rising and falling in pitch and often breaking. Azrael doesn’t glance over his shoulder as he leaves the room.

His disappearance does not discourage Vendetta. It spurs him on. It makes his eyes wilder and the blood gush out like geysers along his wrist. Supreme runs out of the room, muttering something about a tranquilizer. Techno doubts anything could knock Vendetta out right now. He lets Supreme leave, however, because he knows the healer doesn’t stand a chance against Vendetta, especially not a version of the hero who is enhanced enough to break Netherite.

He is able to break Netherite glass, as well. Techno jumps back as the glass falls to the ground like a curtain. Some of the pieces cut into Vendetta as they fall. The hero doesn’t bother glancing at his freshly opened wounds. He jerks forward, but the shadows trip him up. He nearly falls flat on the ground. He manages to pick himself up in the time it takes Techno to react. The villain wraps his arms around Vendetta to hold him back. The hero is violent and crazed, but Techno’s firm is unyielding. He slowly descends onto his knees, bringing Vendetta down with him. The hero fights him at every turn. Despite this, Techno gets Vendetta to sit in his lap. He is completely surrounded by Techno without any room to escape. Techno considers waiting for Supreme to get back with the tranquilizer. Deciding that it will take too long, Techno moves his hand up to place it over Vendetta’s eyes. The hero seethes and tries biting Techno. The villain keeps his wrist out of Vendetta’s way. “Calm down, Theseus. Deep breathes. Everything is okay. It’s just you and me. No one else is here. You don’t have to be angry. There is no need to be violent. Focus on me, only me. Don’t think about anything else. Listen to my voice. I’m here… no one else is.”

Techno keeps repeating those phrases in Vendetta’s ear. He was beginning to doubt it would work, but all of a sudden, Vendetta deflates in Techno’s arms, completely boneless. Techno breathes a sigh of relief. He lifts his hand away from Vendetta’s eyes. He is surprised to see those bright red eyes wide open. He thought Vendetta had fallen unconscious. Vendetta glares at the roof. He begins trembling in Techno’s arms. He hisses, “I’m so fucking pissed. I’m angry.”

“Why are you angry?” Techno asks softly. For some reason, this situation reminds him of his early days with his father and brother. Techno would get angry a lot. Wilbur was able to command Techno to stop, and he would soothe Techno’s anger afterwards. Philza did not have that luxury. He would hold Techno, though. He would hold him no matter how much Techno fought against it. He would patiently ask where the anger came from. After years of this, Techno was able to control his anger. Techno uses the same tactics now.

“I don’t know,” Vendetta mutters. There is something other than rage in his tone. It is a very painful and frustrating confusion, like an amnesiac slamming their head against the wall to remember their past. Vendetta reaches a hand out, his fingers closing into a fist. “I think it was because I saw Azrael. I fucking hate that guy. But now I hate everything. I want to slaughter Supreme. I want to bash your head in.”

“Why don’t you?” Techno continues asking questions. Vendetta is docile in his arms. If he wants to hurt Techno, he can continue trying. But he has stopped for some reason. Techno wants to know the answer.

Vendetta laughs, bitter and sad, like he’s hiding a sob. “I know this isn’t me. My whole fucking brand is killing two people, not everyone else.” Vendetta makes a depressing noise, and he sinks down in Techno’s hold. “I want to calm down.”

The cracks around his body are glowing. His eyes are redder than the canyons of the Badlands. He is bleeding profusely, and Techno stifles a disgusted noise when the slobber touches his arm. But Vendetta is trying, so Techno asks, “What can I do to help?”

“This,” Vendetta murmurs, a touch too soft to be anything other than vulnerability. He grabs Techno’s arm, pulling it close like a child hugging a stuffed animal. “I’m not angry about this.”

Chapter Text

“Learn this from me. Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves.”

― Mitch Albom

Tommy sits in a medical bed. His pillow is shoved in the space between his lower back and the headboard. He is wearing a white shirt with a soft blue pattern along the edges and sweatpants. The sheets and thin blanket are cold despite him having been lying here for a significant amount of time. Both of his wrists are bound in chains, keeping him tethered to the bed frame below the thin mattress.  There are bandages around his hands and wrists from where he tore the chains and broke through glass earlier. Tommy no longer feels any pain, but he knows there is a risk of infection so he refrains from tearing off the bandages as his fingers itch to do.

Supreme is sitting on a stool brought to Tommy’s bedside. His attention is downcast as he cleans Tommy’s arm with an alcoholic wipe. Tommy stares at the top of Supreme’s head. All he can see are the swirling patterns of red, yellow, and black from Supreme’s balaclava. Tommy has seen Supreme around Las Nevadas before. Supreme markets himself as a neutral healer. He helps civilians out of the goodness in his heart, but he forces all villains, heroes, and vigilantes to pay up, either by monetary means or favors to be cashed in later. Croupier always held a lot of respect for Supreme as someone who didn’t take any shit from powerful people, and it was the reason Croupier freely gave Supreme a place to stay at Las Nevadas. Supreme would vacation out there or meet with particularly dangerous clientele. Tommy didn’t mess with Croupier’s guests, so he has never spoken with Supreme personally. Their one interaction was after the disaster involving Slime where Supreme healed Tommy’s wrists. It wasn’t exactly for free since it was to pacify the Ace of Hearts, so Tommy didn’t need to interact with Supreme again after that.

Tommy doesn’t dislike Supreme. He’s important to Croupier. He helps civilians. He charges villains when they want healing. With these few known facts, Tommy has kept a positive opinion of Supreme.

Supreme pushes a needle into Tommy’s forearm to draw out blood from his vein. Tommy grits his teeth. The pain is bearable, but it is extremely annoying. Tommy resists the urge to slap Supreme’s hands away. He wants to yank his arm away, stopping the mild irritation against his skin, but he recognizes the purpose behind Supreme’s actions. Tommy logically knows that Supreme is only doing this because he has to as a doctor and a healer. He isn’t trying to hurt Tommy or even annoy him, so it would be wrong of Tommy to take his aggression out on the neutral healer.

That being said, his ability to suppress his rough instincts uses up all the energy that would otherwise be used to make civil conversation. Supreme doesn’t look like he minds Tommy’s silence or his obvious intense staring (borderline glaring). Tommy hopes that is the truth. He can’t exactly see Supreme’s expression, and not just because of the healer’s mask. Tommy’s vision feels a little off for some reason. It is tinted red as if he were wearing his glasses, but he cannot feel the familiar weight of his glasses on the bridge of his nose. The odd coloring is fading slowly, but it still irks Tommy in the wrong way. A lot of things are annoying him, honestly.

Supreme pulls the needle out of Tommy’s arm. He is quick to clean the tiny pinprick of blood and rebandage it. Tommy watches with a bored expression. All of this is so irritatingly boring. Tommy wants to do something else, but that thought reminds him of the chains around his wrists. His frown deepens. He knows why he’s chained up. He doesn’t actually mind it as much as he minds getting his blood drawn or the cold sheets underneath his legs. The chains are familiar, and that sense of familiarity is welcome. Tommy’s mind does not feel like his own, so he needs something in the external world to make him feel better.

“How are you feeling, Vendetta?” Supreme asks. He stands up from his stool, walking over to his desk in the corner of the room. The tone Supreme uses implies he’s asking as a doctor, not as a stranger trying to make conversation. He expects an honest answer, and he will probably know if Tommy doesn’t cough up the truth.

“Hazy,” Tommy responds. He kind of feels like Argonaut has just healed him. His mind is fuzzy around the edges. His thoughts pulsate with some foreign energy. The one difference is that while Argonaut’s power relaxed Tommy to the point of being classified as a sedative, Tommy’s mind right now feels like someone turned on the alarm system. The red lights are glowing, and the sirens are screaming. “And so fucking annoyed.”

“Not angry?” Supreme asks, a note of surprise in his tone but acceptance in his eyes. He sets down the vial now containing Tommy’s blood. He picks up a clipboard from his desk. He sits back down in his stool. He pulls a pen out of his lab coat. He clicks the pen, making Tommy’s eye twitch. He hates that noise.

“Not extremely. Not enough to be fucking violent,” Tommy explains. He doesn’t have the urge to hurt anyone. He remembers when the drug was first administered to him. The control over him had been instant and nearly absolute. He was able to hold back himself by stabbing his own thigh, but he wasn’t strong enough to stop himself from choking Thermoculus. He wasn’t strong enough to stop himself from enjoying it. Tommy felt like he had all the power in the world at that moment. He was writing an entire list of people he wanted to destroy in his head. The list had been lengthy, and it included far more people than it should have.

When Tommy first woke up, he wasn’t angry or annoyed. He didn’t feel much of anything. He wasn’t thinking, merely observing. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t really want to know what was going on. He was content to sit there as Supreme and Ravager- who was watching through the glass- stared back at him. It was Azrael’s appearance that opened the floodgates. All the emotions Tommy didn’t know were still remaining locked behind a mental wall broke free from their prison to rip Tommy’s rationality to shreds. All he knew is that Azrael needed to die, and if no one else was going to do it, Tommy was.

He regained control because of Ravager. The way Ravager held him initially reminded him of his family, the ones he was getting angry for, so that got him to lie still. Ravager’s words, however, filtered into his mind, not the consolations of his family. The precious memories of his family held back the flood, but it was Ravager that pushed the waters back to their resting places. Staying together allowed Tommy to reconstruct the dam, or a crude version of it that would get stronger with time.

Now, he is sitting on his bed with Supreme. Some water continues to leak from the stone in the form of annoyance, but Tommy is in much better control over his thoughts and his body. He isn’t going to go berserk no matter who steps through that door.

“This is fascinating,” Supreme notes with bewilderment in his voice. He meets Tommy’s eyes, tapping his pen against his clipboard rhythmically. “While the drug that the Red Army used is still in your system, it is being suppressed and neutralized by your immune system instead of spreading. It won’t be long until you flush the drug out of your system completely.”

“Why the hell am I unaffected?” Tommy asks, glancing down at his bandaged hands. All of the research suggests that the drug the Red Army uses is all-consuming. It will completely take over the mind, forcing a state of bloodlust on the host body. Tommy has personally observed that it is different from Crimson’s mind control. The latter allows for some level of autonomy. The drug does not. Tommy should not be able to reign in his thoughts like he’s doing now. He should be fighting against his restraints like a wild dog, biting at Supreme should he come too close. Instead, Tommy let Supreme collect his blood because he was able to rationalize the situation, something the drug should make impossible.

“I’m afraid I do not have an answer for you. It could be because of your unique disposition. It could be that you were given a weaker, diluted version of the drug. It could even be your own resolve fighting the foreign power trying to muddle your mind,” Supreme hazards a guess with a shrug. Tommy supposes he’s never been easily swayed by mind control powers. The drug is not mind control in the traditional sense, but by all technicalities, it should qualify as such. “Whatever the case may be, you are very important right now.”

“What the fuck? Why?” Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Once your body has exterminated the drug, I will be taking another blood sample and start work on a cure,” Supreme explains. Tommy narrows his eyes. He knows it has to be done, but the thought of Supreme experimenting on his blood forces vitriol up his throat. Tommy holds it down as Supreme continues. “In order to make the cure, I’m going to need quite a bit of blood, so you’re going to need to stay with someone that can take the blood and will keep you well-fed and well-rested. Furthermore, the Cult of Erythr will not allow this to happen. They will be after you once they realize you’re immune, and they will kill you to prevent the antidote’s inception. For these reasons, the Syndicate has agreed that you will be staying in a safe-house outside the city.”

“Do I have a fucking choice?” Tommy barks out, his glare growing harsher. He tries to stop himself. He wants to save people. He wants to take down the Cult of Erythr and make their drug ineffective. He wants this antidote to be made even if they have to take some of his blood and move him outside the city. He needs to calm down.

“No,” Someone says as soon as they open the door. Tommy and Supreme look over to find Ravager walking inside the room. The villain is wearing casual clothing paired with a black and gold mask over his face. He carries a duffle bag on his shoulder. His eyes land on Tommy and stay there. “You don’t.”

Supreme cuts in, drawing Tommy’s away from Ravager. “You will be staying with Ravager in a cabin outside the city for the time being. I’ve explained and showed Ravager the appropriate process for taking blood several times, so you don’t need to worry about that. I’m also certain you don’t need me to tell you that Ravager will be strong enough to protect you.”

“When am I leaving?” Tommy asks, taking several deep breaths. He should be grateful right now, not annoyed. Supreme didn’t have to heal Tommy as best as he could or arrange these accommodations for him. Ravager didn’t have to hold Tommy down to keep him from making a stupid decision, and he doesn’t have to stay with Tommy right now. They are both doing what is best for him. It would be great for his mind to get on board with that idea.

“Right now,” Ravager tells him, lifting a key to Tommy’s shackles. He unlocks both of them, letting the metal fall against the sheets. Tommy carefully lifts his wrists up. He stares at his hands as Ravager unlocks the shackles around his ankles. Tommy bites the inside of his cheek. He’s free right now. He could attack Supreme if he wanted. He was able to break Netherite earlier, so he might be able to hurt Ravager, too. In any case, he could run. He could leave this entire situation and find someone else to hurt. And he could hurt them. He could draw a lot of blood. He could cause a lot of harm. Tommy’s bite grows harsher until he tastes iron inside his mouth. He pushes down the sickening urge to hurt the people closest to him as best he can.

Supreme places something in Tommy’s hand. The blonde blinks warily, surprised. He closes his fingers around the red ball in his hand. It squishes underneath the pressure of his tightening fingers, but it expands when he lifts his fingers. Tommy keeps at it, suddenly feeling a lot better. He can hurt this ball all he wants. No one will get hurt, and the ball will return to its original shape. Tommy’s eyes widen as he satisfies that urge inside of him, at least partially.

“Come on,” Ravager tells Tommy, standing in front of the blonde. He puts both of his arms out. Tommy grabs them as he tries getting out of the bed. His knees nearly crumple, but Ravager holds his weight up. Tommy’s embarrassment translates into a glare, but Ravager retains an apathetic expression. Even as Tommy clings to Ravager’s arm with the heaviest expression he can levy, Techno does not show a trace of an emotional response. Part of Tommy has enough sense to be grateful, but the rest of him wants to hurry up and stand on his own.

“Remember everything I told you,” Supreme’s voice chimes in as Ravager gets Tommy to the door. Tommy looks over his shoulder at Supreme, but the healer is staring at Ravager. The villain nods, either in agreement or acknowledgement. Tommy frowns. He wants to know what they are talking about. He honestly feels the urge to throw a tantrum about it, but he has enough rationality in his mind to stop himself from doing something that embarrassing. He is annoyed, not childish.

“This way,” Ravager informs Tommy as if the blonde is not currently hanging off his arm and therefore unable to go anywhere except where Ravager leads him. Tommy keeps any comments he would usually make to himself, fearing that his tone will not be as airy as he needs it to be. He just nods softly, moving his body alongside Ravager’s as the head toward a door at the end of the hallway.

Tommy expects to go through several more hallways, but the door leads him directly outside. His eyes widen as he glances toward the sky. The edges of his vision blur with red, but he can see the blue above him. Tommy stares at it for a long moment. When was the last time he looked at the sky? Really looked at it? He doesn’t remember. He just knows that at the moment, he feels a flicker of happiness in his soul. He has almost forgotten what it felt like, but he can identify the moment it bubbles to the surface.

“Vendetta?” Ravager asks. Tommy looks away from the sky to see Ravager standing at the bottom of the cement staircase. A motorcycle sits beside the sidewalk in the one-lane street between the clinic and whatever the neighboring building is meant to be. Tommy bounds down the stairs, landing with a flourish beside Ravager. The villain says nothing more on the matter as he grabs a jacket off the seat of his motorcycle. He puts it around Tommy’s shoulders. He allows Tommy to put the rest of the jacket on by himself. As Tommy is doing this, Ravager places a helmet on Tommy’s head. He helps the blonde put it on. Ravager taps the top of the helmet. He turns away to put on his own helmet. He swings his leg over the motorcycle, igniting it. Tommy follows his lead. He wraps his arms around Ravager’s waist as soon as the motorcycle starts moving. Despite both of their helmets and the wind, Tommy could have sworn he heard Ravager chuckle. Or maybe he just felt it underneath his arms.

Ravager and Tommy ride through the city. Tommy eventually closes his eyes, content to let the wind swirl around him. While darkness covers his vision, he begins the arduous process of regulating his emotions. He sifts through each one, searching for root causes and reasons for the extremity. Should he find nothing sufficient enough to warrant such an emotional response, Tommy does his best to throw facts at the face of the emotion in hopes that it will weaken or even go away. This hardly works, but it does consume the time and lets Tommy know what will not work in his pursuit of regaining control over his feelings.

Tommy opens his eyes when he feels Ravager moving. Tommy sits up, looking around. There is a whole forest’s worth of trees surrounding a clearing. There is a fairly large building that seems to be split into two cabins connected by a bridge in the distance with a nearby barn, pond, and some sort of pavilion. It must still be near the city. Probably near Snowchester and the End portal since it is snowing. Tommy shivers as he steps off the motorcycle. Ravager gets off immediately after. He helps Tommy take the helmet off. Tommy immediately winces as the cold air caresses his cheeks. He slams his cold hands against his cheeks. He glares at Ravager, unable to stop himself, “What the fuck? Are you trying to freeze me to death? I didn’t even choose to be here, and I get fucking stuck in the damn arctic!”

Ravager tilts his head at Tommy, wordless. Tommy grits his teeth. He takes a deep breath, and while he dislikes the cold, it does ease his rising anger. He calms down, opening his mouth to apologize. He doesn’t get a chance to as Ravager grabs Tommy’s wrist. Tommy prepares to lash out, but Ravager’s grip remains lax. He starts leading Tommy towards the cabin, not acknowledging Tommy’s words. Tommy is grateful. He didn’t mean them the way he said them.

As they approach the cabin, Tommy looks up at Ravager. “How long will I be staying here?”

“I don’t know,” Ravager admits, leading Tommy up the wooden stairs of the cabin to the left. He unlocks the front door with a thoughtful expression. “Until we get an antidote, at least. Or maybe until the Red Army and the Cult of Erythr are defeated.”

Tommy swore to kill Azrael and Inchling after the Cult of Erythr was defeated. So, he reasons, staying here with Ravager is sort of like a prisoner’s last meal.

Chapter Text

“It was never easy to say goodbye to a friend.

Even if that friend had been a monster.”

― Kayla Krantz

Tommy sits at a dinner table with several platters and pots. He picks at the food on his plate absentmindedly. He listens to the fire flickering across the room in the brick fireplace. He can hear a few soft howls of the dogs from the pavilion outside in the snow. The cold wind beats relentlessly against the window, muted somewhat by the special sound-proof quality of the glass. The cabin is exceedingly warm. That is as much because of the cold weather outside as it is the fact that Tommy is sitting across from a Piglin hybrid, a half-human half-piglin who originally came from the Nether, the land of lava and brimstone. Tommy doesn’t mind the extreme temperature or eating across from a Piglin hybrid, but he does find himself unable to meet the eyes of his eating companion.

“It doesn’t matter,” The Piglin reminds Tommy. In surprise, Tommy dares to look at the Piglin. He is met with a pair of muddy brown eyes instead of a set of blaring red eyes. Tommy continues to find it alarmingly strange that Ravager has discarded both his mask, and also his secret identity considering Tommy now knows his name. “I trust you won’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah,” Tommy murmurs, looking down at his plate. Right now, he knows the identities of Good Guy, Watcher, and the Scarlet Demoness. Tommy was hoping to keep it at that, but Ravager came down for breakfast one day without his mask on. Tommy averted his eyes as quickly as he could, but Ravager didn’t seem bothered by the removal of the barrier between their secret identities. He even went so far as to tell Tommy to call him ‘Techno.’ Tommy could not bring himself to do so. He didn’t want to know Ravager’s secret identity. He didn’t want to know anyone’s secret identities. It was too much pressure on his back, too many avoidable risks.

“Why are you still hung up on this? You don’t wear a mask, either,” Techno comments, lifting his fork up to point at Tommy’s face before picking up more potato slices off his plate. Tommy watches as Ravager- the Ravager with multiple powers and a bloodied history- eats a cooked potato slice. Tommy feels his life spiraling out of his control.

Techno is not wrong, however. Tommy is not wearing his gas mask, his glasses, or his blindfold. Originally, he didn’t wear them because Techno wanted to monitor the discoloration of his eyes. As the drug went through his system, his eyes went from red to purple and began lighting back up to blue. They were blue now, so by all accounts, he should have put his blindfold back on. Tommy just doesn’t put it on. He doesn’t entirely know why. It might be from laziness or the lack of mirrors in the cabin, but he hasn’t been able to find the strength to slide his masks back into place. This didn’t make Ravager’s refusal to wear a mask any less weird. 

Even weirder was that Ravager told Tommy his real name. Even Tommy hasn’t done that, and he has the least to lose by doing so.

Tommy shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about this any longer, so he changes the subject. He stares at Techno’s face- refusing to meet his eyes- and says, “You know, I saved your ass once.”

“I remember. Vendetta saving me was one of the reasons I let you partner with the Syndicate despite my reservations,” Techno recalls. When Tommy was first given the task to fight the Red Army by the higher-ups, he planned on heading out to the Sandlands to investigate the last known disappearance traced back to the Red Army. On his way, he saved a Piglin hybrid from an attempted mugging. He even walked that Piglin hybrid to the G-Train station. They parted ways, and Tommy didn’t think too much about it. He saves people all the time, so one hybrid among the many didn’t stand out. Tommy can’t believe the hybrid he saved as Ravager, though. Tommy wonders what would have become of the would-be mugger if Tommy hadn’t arrived on the scene.

“What were some of the other reasons?” Tommy asks. Ravager and Tommy did not like each other when they had their official first meeting, and they hated each other for a long time before that. Tommy can’t say with as much confidence now that he hates Ravager as he did back then. Through some shared experiences, Tommy was able to see a new side of Ravager. This doesn’t mean he likes Ravager, but Tommy is more okay with him than a lot of the other Syndicate members.

It could also be because Ravager doesn’t remind Tommy of any of his family members, but Tommy never wants to think about them for long.

“Despite your crude mouth and the fact you wanted my… leaders dead, I acknowledged your resilience and strength. These are some of the virtues of a warrior, and I will always hold respect for warriors even if I don’t agree with them,” Techno explains. He sounds like he’s going to start quoting Sun Tzu again, something he did during their first official meeting.

Tommy laughs rather bitterly. “I wasn’t strong enough to stop Reaper.”

“No, you weren’t,” Techno agrees with the facts of the matter with a coldness in his expression that rivals the growing storm outside. His eyes soften as he continues, “However, you were strong enough to break free of the drug, something no one else has done.”

“Yeah, and I still don’t understand that shit. I can get resisting in the beginning since even Briar was able to do that… but I conquered it,” Tommy murmurs, moving his fork through his green beans. The greens roll across each other, and Tommy watches them topple. “I want to know why the fuck I was able to do that.”

“It is not necessary to ponder the why. There are other people with the appropriate qualifications who are mulling this over. I am content with the knowledge that something about your disposition enabled this to happen, and that we are able to benefit from it,” Techno tells Tommy without missing the beat. Tommy wishes he could be as easy-going about this as Techno, but his curiosity nags at him. If he’s able to undo this drug’s possession, is it possible that he could free himself from Crimson should he come under the villain’s manipulation? If he were able to do that, would it be possible to extract his blood to make a new antidote specially tailored for the cultists?

Tommy shakes his head, letting his eyes fall to the wayside. Techno doesn’t seem keen on continuing this conversation thread, so Tommy chooses to change the subject again. If it weren’t for Tommy’s adept social skills, talking about anything with Techno would have devolved into a stalemate on their first day together in this cabin. “What are the others up to?”

“There are a few who are raiding Cult of Erythr safe houses and meeting spots, but the majority of them are testing Supreme’s prototype cures,” Techno answers.

“And the results?” Tommy prompts.

“Nothing noteworthy. I will tell you if that should change,” Techno explains as he picks up both of their plates, having finished his own food and realizing that Tommy wasn’t going to finish his. Techno walks over to the sink in the kitchen right beside the dining room table.

Tommy sighs in his chair. Tommy has been here for about a week. He doesn’t necessarily hate being cooped up in the cabin. He thought he would, but the moment of peace in his otherwise chaotic life does wonders for his soul. It’s nice not to worry about anything for a while. The only problem is that there are things Tommy needs to be worried about. Other people are working right now, and Tommy should join them. Minotaur gave Tommy time off after Tommy explained the situation with the drug, but Tommy knows that Minotaur will start asking questions soon if Tommy doesn’t start bringing in some results. Someone has to check on Pearl and Etho, and Tommy feels horrible about leaving that responsibility to Jimmy and Grian considering Pearl’s attitude towards them.

With those thoughts, Tommy is driven to his feet. Instead of heading out the door to start doing something productive, he flops down on the couch. He sets his forearm on the arm of the couch. He takes several deep breaths. When the faucet turns off in the kitchen, Techno appears with a chair from the dining room in his hands. He sets the chair down beside the couch. He picks up a box from off the coffee table. He opens the box, preparing Tommy’s arm for the blood removal. Tommy closes his eyes as the needle pricks him. The blood is coaxed out of his body, and Supreme suddenly has one more vial to experiment with.

Techno handles the clean up process. He bandages Tommy’s arm with gentle hands despite his status as a warmonger. Tommy watches Techno put the instruments back into the box and set the vial away to be sent out later. When he’s finished, he sits down on the couch beside Tommy. He has a book in his lap that he starts reading to himself. Tommy tilts his body until his cheek rests on Techno’s upper arm. Tommy closes his eyes, soaking up the excessive warmth exuding from Techno’s body.

Tommy thought he would hate the monotony of it all. Techno wakes up first, getting up to make breakfast. Since their first night when Techno found Tommy about to jump into the pond, they have slept on opposite sides of the same bed. Despite having their own blankets, Techno’s body heat expands across the entire room, so his absence and the subsequent colder air wakes Tommy up. He gets ready for the day and eats the breakfast Techno prepared. He helps Techno with the animals during the day, bundled up in borrowed jackets and cloaks. He will sometimes assist in making their lunch or dinner. At the end of the day, they will chat while eating and take a vial of Tommy’s blood. Tommy will usually fall asleep resting against Techno’s shoulder. It is a structured, scheduled life, something Tommy has never once had.

He likes it a lot more than he thought he would. He especially loves the whiteboard Techno set up on the back wall with a list of objectives Tommy wants to complete. While Techno does give Tommy an odd look any time Tommy puts down something ridiculous, he never erases any of Tommy’s goals. He even added his own, making Tommy inexplicably happy. They were falling into a rhythm together, and for some reason, having this rhythm with someone else to hold him accountable eases his heart. It makes him feel calmer- safer, even, despite the company. For the first time in his life, he feels like he’s moving on.

He still misses his family, though. He imagines they would love this cabin even more than he does. The kitchen is perfect for Niki’s baking. Tubbo would enjoy the snowy weather, and Jack would spend his time sitting at the fireplace. Eret and Fundy would enjoy being among the dogs and other animals. Wilbur would cradle Tommy close, warming each other up even as the snow poured outside. Tommy feels a sense of loss at the thought of them, but the pain is not as sharp as it could be… as it used to be.

Half-asleep, Tommy thinks he hears a knocking noise. He opens his eyes halfway, staring at the door. Another knock follows the first, and Tommy frowns. No one ever comes out here. Supreme and Techno assured Tommy no one would, so who was outside the cabin, especially this late at night in this weather?

Tommy glances up at Techno. The hybrid is frowning, head tilted down like he’s listening intently. The shadows around their feet curl around Tommy’s ankles, oddly protective. Tommy opens his mouth to ask Techno about the knock, but Techno practically leaps to his feet. He picks Tommy up with one hand. The other one comes to cover Tommy’s mouth, stopping the blonde from screaming as loudly as he can. Techno looks around, and he eventually shoves Tommy into a box that used to hold a couple of blankets and pillows before Tommy made Techno drag them out for him. Tommy makes a questioning noise as Techno closes the box. Tommy’s eyes widen in panic as the darkness curls around his body. His only solace is that the lid does not close all the way. There is a thin sliver of light that allows Tommy to see the inside of the box and the living room outside of it.

Techno rushes to put on pieces of his costume, including his mask. Tommy frowns, pressing his lips together to keep from making a noise. It must be someone important and not from the Syndicate if Techno is going this far.

Dressed as Ravager, Techno opens the door. Tommy slams a hand over his mouth to keep himself from making any noise. He stares with widening eyes as Reverie steps into the cabin. The speedster wipes the snow off his shoulders with a sheepish expression. A slow smile spreads across his face, and Tommy feels the urge to puke. “Sorry for showing up like this, Ravager. I was in the area and decided to say hello to an old friend.”

“You happened to be in the area?” Techno asks dryly, closing the door behind Reverie. Tommy feels the urge to sink into the darkness of the box, but he cannot take his eyes off of Reverie. He needs to watch this all.

“Okay, that was a lie. I just didn’t want to admit that I missed you,” Reverie replies, laughing. He sounds like a normal person. Tommy shudders, remembering the amount of crazy Reverie’s voice can carry when he isn’t acting.

“You missed me,” Techno deadpans, raising an eyebrow at his companion. Tommy wonders what the relationship between Reverie and Ravager is. Reverie makes it sound like they’re old friends and while Techno’s responses cast some doubt on this, Tommy doesn’t think it’s a complete lie. Ravager and Reverie have some history together. Tommy doesn’t know if this happened before, during, or after he was part of the Hunters. He remembers Reverie and Ravager having some sort of rivalry, but he thought that was a coy way of saying they were nemeses. He didn’t think it was more like they were old companions who were trying to achieve the same goal before the other one. If they did have a shared goal… Tommy swallows thickly, wondering what he’s missing.

“Is that so difficult to believe? You are quite the funny person when you aren’t even trying,” Reverie proclaims. He half-sits, half-leans against the arm of the couch. He has his back to Tommy and the box the blonde is in, but Tommy doesn’t feel any safer. He arguably feels worse. Reverie could whip around at any moment, noticing there are a pair of eyes on him. Would Ravager be able to talk him out of opening the box should the moment arrive? “And being your friend comes with certain benefits.”

“You need something,” Techno says knowingly. Tommy presses his hand closer to his face to muffle the sound of his breathing. He can hear his blood roaring in his ears, and his heart is thundering his chest. He feels like he’s going to burst. He feels like Reverie is breathing down his neck despite being across the room. He feels like this is his coffin, and Tommy almost wishes that it would be.

“Everyone needs something. The real trick is knowing where the something you need is,” Reverie answers, waving his hand. His upper body hunches forward, leaning towards Ravager like he has a conspiracy on his tongue. Despite this, Tommy can hear Reverie loud and clear. “There are a few interested parties who want to know where Vendetta disappeared to. The city, for instance, misses their hero. Monarch has been personally looking for him, and Minotaur has even been secretly looking into it. The heroes might not know this, but I know that you were working with Vendetta for a little while. I was wondering if you knew where he was.”

Tommy nearly vomits, but he holds back the bile. He doesn’t like this, not one fucking bit. Ravager tilts his head to the side, observing Reverie as he speaks, “Vendetta left us. I don’t know where he went. Las Nevadas last I checked.”

“He isn’t there,” Reverie mutters. Tommy nearly crumples. Is Las Nevadas not safe, either? Would Croupier sell Tommy out to Reverie of all people? “You know, Ravager, you owe me one.”

Tommy’s thoughts stutter to a stop. He isn’t able to process anything other than the words from Ravager’s mouth. “Yes, I do. Is it Vendetta that you want?”

Tommy’s hands slowly fall into his lap. His mouth gapes open. His eyes widen. His heart freezes as Reverie whispers, “What if it is?”

“Then, I would deliver Vendetta to you, wherever he may be,” Ravager shrugs like this is common knowledge, like he isn’t giving away Tommy’s life to one of his greatest abusers. Tommy hears his heart shattering in his chest. He nearly chokes on the breath he tries forcing inside his body. He can feel his sense of self slipping away, disassociating from the situation. He keeps himself present only because Reverie is still here.

Reverie laughs, and Tommy flinches back. He nearly slams his head against the back of the box. Reverie pushes off the arm of the couch to stand back up. “Don’t worry, Ravager, I have a few more avenues I want to explore before I cash in that favor. Thank you for your time and providing a place for me to warm up. I’ll see you around.”

Ravager hums his agreement. He opens the door, and Reverie steps outside. Ravager closes the door. He steps away to look out the window. Tommy presses a hand against his chest. He tries calming down his heart. In his attempts, he feels his anger surge to the surface. He pushes the lid of the box up, nearly falling out as he screams at Ravager, “What the fuck was that?”

Ravager looks away from the window, raising an eyebrow. Tommy marches across the room. “You were going to sell me out? To fucking Reverie? Do you not know what shit he put me through? Just look at my fucking jaw, Ravager.”

“Ravager…” The villain murmurs. He shakes his head, “A favor is a favor, Vendetta.”

With those words, Ravager walks up the stairs to the bedroom. Tommy feels tears rise to his eyes. Something cold and empty settles in his chest when he remembers that at the end of the day, Ravager is a villain. Ravager is a member of the Syndicate. Tommy is a hero who wants to kill the leaders of the Syndicate. They are not friends.

They never were.

Chapter Text

"Promises are only as strong as the person who gives them ..."

― Stephen Richards

The Church of Prime is very large and spacious, though that isn't a surprise considering the borough it is located in is named after the religion. Although there is an office space for members of the church and confessional booths for the congregation, a majority of the church is dedicated to the nave. Long pews form three separate sections. All the pews face the pulpit. There is a section hidden behind the pulpit with a bronze brazier, the flames carefully cultivated to honor the goddess. Her figure is inscribed both in a tall statue behind the pulpit and in the panes of colored glass allowing natural light to filter into the nave. Since it is so late, the other side of the glass is dark. The only source is the fire inside the brazier and other smaller candles kept lit by the priests hanging on the walls. There is an overhead chandelier, but it is also brought to life during special ceremonies that happen so infrequently Tommy doesn't believe he's ever been alive for one.

Tommy sits in one of the pews. He is in the right-most section of pews. He is a few pews away from the stairs leading up to the pulpit. He is slid near the aisle that separates the middle and right sections. His hands are folded in his lap and his legs are pressed together. His toes touch the ground, but his heels rise above the dark purple carpet. He does not bow his head in prayer or contemplation. He instead cranes his neck to stare at the face of the goddess. 

Because of where he is sitting, he's looking at her from an unflattering angle, but the statue doesn't look ugly even when Tommy's neck starts to hurt. The statue doesn't make the goddess look divine, though. She wears her hair in a low ponytail, and her eyes are closed. She wears flowing robes, a hood hanging over her head. She holds a sickle in one hand to represent the harvest and the bridle of a horse in the other to represent her favored animal.

He has never really understood people who worshiped the gods. Tommy knows people who can move faster than bullets, control other people's minds, and tear through solid Netherite. He knows of monsters outside the city that can explode when angered enough and animated skeletons strong enough to pull back a bowstring. The gods might have all these powers, too, but they don't do anything with them. Tommy has never experienced a miracle. He knows his luck is so terrible that he probably never will, but he's never witnessed one happening to another person, either. He only knows the secondhand account of Dyscardia, and Tommy isn't keen on completely trusting every word that comes out of her mouth, especially when she was in a dangerous situation at the time she believed the miracle happened to her.

Philza tried explaining it, but Tommy is still on the fence about the whole ordeal. Nevertheless, he sits in the church as someone who doesn't worship the goddess. He might start believing in her, though, because he can feel her stare upon him. At least, he thinks he feels the statue's stare. It could very well be a priest who has stopped their sacred duties to check in with the random man wearing clothes too big for him watching the statue. They haven't kicked him out yet. The church is generally kind, but he knows it is only a matter of time before he's booted from the premises. Until that moment comes, he will continue his staring contest with the goddess of hard work and perseverance.

The longer Tommy stares, the more he thinks she's familiar. The statue was probably based on a real person some hundred years ago, so Tommy could have seen a painting of the model. It could have been in one of the books Red Dragon and Sleepy tried to get him to read. 

Tommy reaches further back into his past, and he realizes with a start why he recognizes her. He's seen a miniature version of this statue before. It was on the dresser. It was standing next to a vase. Although the flowers changed in the vase, they were always purple to match the goddess. There was a crack at the bottom of her robes, supposedly from an argument about the merits of having faith. 

The person who owned the statue? 

Reverie. Even a notorious villain turned to religion, and Tommy almost laughs at that idea. The only reason he doesn't is because the thought of Reverie makes his blood boil. Tommy grits his teeth, forcing his eyes away from the goddess' face. He stares, instead, at the brazier behind the pulpit and in front of the statue. The warm colors of the flames dance inside their bronze cage. It is the church's duty to keep the flame burning until the end of time. Tommy doesn't care about religious significance when he compares the anger inside of him to the unceasing flame. He usually feels cold and stoney when he thinks about his revenge against Azrael and Inchling, but Tommy will always harbor a tumultuous storm of riptides and brimstone for Reverie and his goons.

The sound of footsteps fills the nave. Tommy glances over his shoulder, expecting to see a priest hesitantly approaching him to inform him that the church is about to close to the public. Instead, he is met with the unwelcome sight of Techno languidly walking between the pews. Techno stares straight ahead, not sparing a glance towards the person he is obviously walking towards. Tommy scowls. He faces forward again. He came to the church because he was sure Techno wouldn't. Tommy barks out, "Why haven't you been smited yet?"

Techno does not respond verbally. He instead turns into the pew right in front of Tommy. He moves in further than Tommy, sitting down. He is diagonal from Tommy. He shifts his body to lean toward Tommy without facing him. Techno instead faces the other side of the pulpit, eying the doorway mostly hidden behind the staircase leading up to the pastor's stage. Tommy's nose scrunches up in a mix of anger and annoyance. He turns back to the flame in the brazier. If he pretends that Techno isn't affecting him, the villain might give up and leave.

"You ran off," Techno reminds Tommy as if the blonde wasn't sure what he had been doing when he stole Techno's clothes and left the cabin. Tommy didn't steal anything else except a bone to throw to the dogs, keeping them silent as he walked up the road. It would have been a long walk, but Tommy used his powers to speed up the process. He managed to get to the closest bus stop in time to get on the bus. And by that, Tommy means he landed on the roof of the bus and preserved his energy as it drove into the city. Tommy laid on the bus, watching the height of the buildings lining the street rise and fall. When the bus stopped for the third time, Tommy got off and came to the church. He would have gone to one of his usual haunts, but he suspected Techno knew them all. He went somewhere new specifically to avoid the villain, and he chose a church because he knows that Techno inherited his powers from someone known as the Blood God. Tommy thought the god of whatever church he went to would smite Techno. He chose the Church of Prime specifically because he knew the priests here would have some strength and skill in order to protect their hallowed grounds. It was the perfect situation, but Tommy underestimated Techno. A mistake he hopes never to make again.

"I was sent away, remember?" Tommy replies. He notices Techno now staring at him. Tommy sets his jaw, avoiding those brown eyes. (Of course, Techno had to have brown eyes. Tommy forgets how common that eye color is, and he always ruins him.)

"I don't remember that," Techno says with a frown on his face.

"Don't tell me you've already fucking forgotten about your conversation with Reverie?" Tommy hisses. He turns his glare onto Techno. The villain doesn't flinch, and that pisses Tommy off even more. It doesn't matter what he does- Techno will never feel threatened. He will never back off. He will continue to push and push, and it will always be Tommy who breaks. Tommy wishes desperately for the kind of cool Techno has. He would love to be more in control of his emotions. But he isn't, so he deals with his emotions, usually not in the best way he can but in the only way he knows works, if inefficiently.

"I remember that conversation. It happened earlier," Techno points out. Tommy rolls his eyes. Techno waits until Tommy's eyes are back on him to continue. "I don't know how you inferred 'go away' from the conversation."

"Fucking shit, Techno, you were going to hand me off to Reverie!" Tommy says through gritted teeth, throwing his hands up to emphasize his point. He pushes his body forward, his heels pressing against the floor. He adjusts himself to face Techno, leveling him with a seething look.

Techno tilts his head to the side curiously, reminding Tommy, "I was only going to do that if Reverie called in a favor."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Tommy snaps, wondering not for the first time if Techno is literally, clinically insane.

"Theseus," Techno starts. Tommy flushes with heat at the nickname. He doesn't want Techno calling him that. Nicknames have always been a form of endearment for Tommy. His family would call him by nicknames. He allowed it with Ravager for purely selfish reasons because it made him feel closer to those old days. He liked it even more when he learned it was in some ways a symbol of respect. Ravager was acknowledging Tommy's hard-earned victory over Minotaur. Ravager's approval made Tommy feel strong. Now, it makes him feel patronized. It makes him feel like Techno believes they are closer than they are. He has half a mind to tell Techno to shut up, but the villain keeps plowing through. "Favors, often referred to as debts, have been in place for a very long time. They are one of the barriers between humanity and complete annihilation. If we can no longer put value to our words, we are failing as a society. I-"

"That is such fucking bullshit," Tommy mutters, interupting Techno. Tommy expects Techno to ignore him and keep on trucking, but the villain hesitates. He glances over at Tommy with a slight frown on his face. Tommy sneers at him, quickly shaking his jaw. Techno raises an eyebrow at Tommy's antics.

"The entire city came to be because of a favor-"

"I don't give a shit about old men from hundreds of years ago striking deals with one another," Tommy interrupts once again, putting his forearms on the pew in front of him. He starts leaning towards Techno. His stare remains narrow and rageful.

"One should never dismiss the academic pursuit of history," Techno enforces as if they are arguing about the value of getting an education. They aren't.

Tommy slams his hands against the pew's back. He stands up, trying to make himself bigger. Techno looks up at Tommy, but he doesn't look particularly little. Tommy's anger grows hotter, and his fingers close around the back of the pew as if he's going to break it. He just might, honestly. "Shut the fuck up! We are not talking about old men from the past or my damn education! We are talking about how you would have fucking handed me over to Reverie!"

Techno sighs, looking too unbothered for Tommy's liking. "I understand that you and Reverie have a bad history-"

"It was so much worse than that. You will never fucking understand the shit Reverie put me through," Tommy nearly screams. He feels so angry that tears are starting to build in his eyes. Or maybe they are forming because he's thinking about the things Reverie did to him. Either way, it makes Tommy feel weak. Techno isn't expressing any emotions, and Tommy is about to collapse underneath the weight of his.

"You're right. I will never be able to understand," Techno concedes placatingly. "But you escaped from him once, and now you have allies that are willing to rescue you, myself included."

"For a fucking favor, right?" Tommy asks, forcing a laugh out of his lips to hide the bubbling sob that is steadily climbing up his gullet. Tommy shakes his head, looking away. He takes a deep breath. It is an attempt to compose himself. The one breath does very little. Even a couple of them doesn't make Tommy feel much better. It does make the tightness in his chest ease up. When he turns back to Techno, he is able to restrain his voice. "If I go back to Reverie, I will never fucking leave. The only reason I left the first damn time is because of Monochrome- Enderwalk. Reverie... has a way of getting under people's skin, staying there and making them dependent."

Tommy releases his grip on the back of the pew. He walks down the end of his pew, turning into Techno's. The villain's body language shifts, but his expression is calculative and docile. Tommy stops right in front of Techno. Tommy reaches out for Techno, and he is offended that Techno doesn't even have the decency to lean away. Tommy is easily able to grab Techno's wrists. He pulls Techno's arms up. Tommy leans down. Eventually, the two meet. Tommy cups Techno's hands around his own neck. He presses tightly, forcing his life into Techno's hands. He stares right into Techno's warm brown eyes. "If you want to hand me over to Reverie, you should just kill me now and save everyone the trouble."

Finally, finally, Techno is showing emotion. His lips pull down into a frown. There isn't fear in his eyes, but there is worry and Tommy thinks that is a kind of fear. Techno is scared Tommy is going to do something to himself, or he doesn't like Tommy forcing his life into Techno's hands. Techno has probably never had someone give up so willingly and completely. There must also be surprise in his expression, though Tommy can't exactly pinpoint it. He can see other emotions, fleeting and light like butterfly wings dancing through the breeze. Tommy is the reason for these emotions. He caused this. He feels oddly validated.

Techno maintains eye contact. Tommy has gotten himself into another staring contest. Techno also doesn't pull his hands away. Surely, Techno could rip his hands away if he wants to, even with Tommy's hands folded on top of his. Instead of doing this, Techno squeezes. Tommy's hands drop away. He closes his eyes. He takes a shallow breath. He wonders if he will struggle. It won't matter. Techno is far stronger and more durable than Tommy. A hit from Tommy wouldn't do anything. But would reason dictate Tommy's actions? Or will his body's insistence of continuing his own existence defy logic? Tommy guesses he will find out in a few seconds.

"You have to stop," Techno whispers, and his voice carries so much more emotion than his face does. Tommy's eyes snap open. Techno looks downright distraught. Tommy's earlier validation fades away. Instead, he feels uncomfortable and upset. He was the one to cause this. He doesn't like that fact anymore.

"Stop what?" Tommy murmurs. Instead of answering, Techno pulls. Tommy trips forward. Techno releases his throat, wrapping his arms around Tommy's waist. Belatedly, Tommy realizes he's being hugged. Techno is hugging him. Ravager is hugging him. It is so unbelievable that an ugly sounding chuckle comes from Tommy. It doesn't end with that chuckle. Instead, it gets uglier until Tommy realizes he's crying. He would wipe his eyes, but Techno is pinning his arms to his side. Tommy tries pulling at his arms. Techno moves one arm. Before Tommy can get rid of his tears, Techno's hand is pressed against the back of his head. He pushes down, and Tommy's forehead falls against his shoulder. The simple gesture completely breaks Tommy. A sob escapes him, and his knees buckle. He would fall to the ground if Techno didn't catch him, keeping him in a half-standing, half-kneeling position. It is uncomfortable, but Tommy doesn't want to pull away from the hug just yet.

"I promise you that I will not let Reverie keep you even if I have to give you away," Techno promises. It isn't nearly as comforting as he wants it to be, but Tommy derives comfort from this. It is the assurance that Techno isn't going to abandon him. Tommy didn't know how much he wanted someone to swear not to leave him until now. He has lost everyone else important to him. Even if he's a villain, even if he's part of the organization Tommy hates, even if Techno will probably be the one to kill Tommy when he decides to enact his revenge, Tommy holds just as tightly onto the promise as he does Techno right now.

Tommy hears another pair of footsteps, louder and faster than Techno's earlier. Tommy peeks above Techno's shoulder to see a priest running towards them with all the strength in his body. He gets near their pews. He stops, leaning down on his knees with heavy breaths. The minute his voice isn't too raspy to be understood, he says, "There's some villains fighting the Red Army nearby. Some people were even saying the Syndicate was there."

The priest runs off to warn other people about a nearby battle so that they might evacuate before collateral damage strikes them. Tommy and Techno remain rooted in their spots. They share a look. Techno's gaze tells Tommy everything he was going to ask. There wasn't an operation going on tonight.

Something is wrong.

Chapter Text

“I will hurt you for this. I don't know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid.”

― George R.R. Martin

Tommy runs after Techno as the villain rushes out of the church. Techno races down the street, and Tommy struggles to maintain a fair distance between them. Techno is halfway down the sidewalk when he stops. Because of the distance between them, Tommy has enough time to stop without crashing into Techno’s arm. The villain pulls a bag off the side of his motorcycle. He unzips the bag as he darts into an alleyway. Tommy averts his eyes, but Techno grabs his forearm, dragging Tommy into the alleyway behind him. In the darkness, Techno throws something at Tommy. The blonde’s arms snap up to his chest to hold the item thrown at him. The texture pressing against his skin is familiar, and Tommy realizes he is holding his costume as Vendetta.

“Shit, you really do plan for everything,” Tommy murmurs to himself as he rushes to put his suit on. He pulls his hood over his blonde hair. He snaps his metal mask on. He slides his goggles up his nose. He holds his extended staff in one hand and flexes his other hand’s fingers, summoning his powers to the surface.

“Come on,” Ravager says, walking past Tommy and out of the alleyway. Tommy watches his back. He really shouldn’t associate with anyone from the Syndicate… but if the people of the Syndicate are part of this fight… if there are some heroes part of this fight… Tommy shakes his head. He is doing this for Red Dragon only. He doesn’t care about anyone else… Except Enderwalk, of course… and maybe Jolt, on his good days… but that’s it. That is all he will allow for.

Ravager steps onto the seat of his motorcycle. He uses this as a jumping off point, launching himself so far into the air that he lands on the roof of the church. Ravager grabs one of the spires to keep himself upright. His red eyes burn brightly in the dark night as he stares down at Tommy. The blonde grits his teeth while rolling his eyes. He uses his power on himself, also using Ravager’s motorcycle as a jumping off point. He floats into the air. Ravager jumps to another building across the street, and Tommy deactivates his power. His glider slides out. He rides the wind currents with his arms outstretched.

The priest pointed them in the general direction of the fight. Tommy realizes they wouldn’t need that direction. He can hear the fight happening since it’s so close, and the scent of smoke billows in the air. Ravager rolls across a building, stopping at the parapet. Tommy lands right beside him, perching like a bird. Tommy stares down at the conflict. The priest was right about more things than one. The Syndicate is there. There are members of the Cult of Erythr, if not the entire group. Tommy can even see some Hunters throwing their hat into the ring, but he can’t tell which side they’re fighting on. Inferno is specifically trying to stop Reaper, Reishi is fighting the Syndicate, and there’s someone Tommy vaguely recognizes fighting the Red Army.

“Are you going to be okay?” Ravager asks lightly, leaning down on his knees to survey the land. Tommy knows what he is referring to. If the Hunters are here, Reverie must be here as well.

“Fine,” Tommy grits out, looking around for Reverie. As he searches for the viridian speedster, Tommy finds himself looking at Azrael. The villain is in the midst of fighting Reaper alongside Inferno. His large black wings are spread out around him, glistening a soft purple color when an attack hits them. His glowing blue eyes shine through the eyeholes of his crow mask. On his shoulder, there is a small blue and gray figure that must be Inchling. The small-time fighter launches himself at Reaper, hitting the villain square in the forehead. He gets swatted away, but he lands on his feet.

Tommy sucks in a tight breath. His chest feels like it is going to explode. He feels his fingers twitch. Power lights up his palms, and memories play in his head. He can feel the ghosts of his family. They are grabbing at his body, nails digging deep into his flesh. They hiss angrily in his ears like malicious spirits. Tommy’s blood boils with so much ferocity that Tommy fears he is going to ignite. The people who killed his family and ruined his life are right there. They’re even distracted. It would be the perfect opportunity to attack them. Even if he doesn’t win, even when Azrael tears him apart limb from limb or Inchling attacks his internal organs directly, Tommy would be able to inflict some sort of pain on them. He would die knowing that he had done his best. He would-

“Vendetta, go to Sparrow’s safe house. Protect Scarlet Demoness and Technician from falling back under Crimson’s control,” Ravager commands, throwing an arm out in front of Tommy like he knows exactly what is going through Tommy’s mind. As observant as Ravager is, he must not be because he doesn’t sound particularly angry. Determined, sure. Unwavering, definitely. But not angry, and Tommy was expecting Ravager to pummel him into the concrete for even daring to think he could hit one of the two great leaders of the Syndicate.

Tommy feels something warm drip inside his palm. He doesn’t want to leave. He unfurls his fingers, finding blood sliding into his palm. He should probably leave.

Tommy glances back at the battlefield. He tears his eyes away from Azrael and Inchling. He is starting to see the neon streaks left behind by Reverie’s superspeed darting around the area. Tommy knows that he won’t be able to stand with all three of them there. He will cower before Reverie, especially after recent events, and he will crumple around Azrael and Inchling. He doesn’t need to bring his personal trauma into a large-scale conflict like this. He isn’t just playing with his life; he would be playing with other people’s lives.

If those three were bad enough, heroes are going to be arriving on the scene at any moment. Minotaur will inevitably be among them. Tommy doesn’t know if he will be able to handle all four sources of his trauma to show up. No, he knows he won’t be able to handle it.

“Stay safe,” Tommy tells Ravager as he jumps to the neighboring building in the direction of Sparrow’s cabin. Tommy’s feet hit the ground for a second, and then he’s launching himself into the air once more. He joins the stars. His mask whirs as it filters through the colder, thinner air. Tommy keeps finding places to push off of and openings in the buildings to glide through. He moves with all the strength and grace he’s perfect over the years. Despite this, it still takes Tommy way too long to get to the borough Sparrow’s safe house is at.

He manages to get there, however, and he lands on the ground with a running start. When he sees the safe house, he jumps over the concrete steps. He lands on the small porch. His hand scrambles for the door handle. He turns it a second before his shoulder makes contact with the wood and glass. Tommy stumbles into the safe house. He holds his staff at his side and lifts his hand up. The caustic pattern of his powers moves subtly across his skin, illuminating the hall in front of him in a hauntingly red light.

His power illuminates the face of a Red Army soldier. They turn around quickly, raising a gun at the hero. Tommy’s staff strikes forward, hitting the soldier in the knee. They stumble down. The gun goes off, but the bullet hits the ground. It richots, striking the side of Tommy’s calf. He ignores the pain as he raises his staff. He slams the end down on the soldier. They crumble face-down across the ground. Their gun slides out of their fingers. Tommy scoops the gun up. He lifts the cold metal up. Another soldier rushes the entrance of the hallway, probably having heard the gun go off. Tommy fires the gun. The soldier jumps to the side, eyes widening as they try to follow the path of the bullet. When they finally look back at Tommy, the blonde has his hand right in front of their face. He grabs it, pushing the soldier down onto his back. Tommy’s power spreads out across the soldier. Now weighing almost twice as much as they usually do, the soldier remains tuckered out on the ground. Tommy hits the soldier in the side of the head, ensuring they fall unconscious with minimal brain damage.

Tommy continues his journey through the hallway. He slides into the main room. There is a soldier standing in front of Pearl, undoing both her cuff and her power suppressor. It isn’t a cultist like Tommy expected, but he supposes they were all needed for the huge fight. Plus, Pearl and Etho are technically cultists in their own right. Once a soldier freed them, they would handle whatever resistance came to them. The soldier doesn’t even look up from their duty as the cuff finally snaps. Tommy curses. He takes a step forward. He stops when the soldier is thrown across the room. Tommy watches the soldier slam right into the wall right beside him. Tommy whirls around to see Pearl standing on her feet. She rubs her wrist with her other hand. A red mist coats her fingertips, obviously the reason why the soldier was launched across the room. Tommy eyes her warily, stepping between her and the soldier.

Pearl groans, lowering her forehead into her hands. The mist disappears. Etho stirs, getting as close as he can with a chain still binding him to the wall. Pearl’s eyes peek through her fingers. They are no longer red. They are a cobalt blue color. Her pupils dilate as she stumbles forward. Tommy instinctively reaches his hands out. This is unnecessary as Pearl stops herself. She lowers her hands in front of her cautiously. She takes a few deep breaths. “I’m good… I’m me, again. I mean, Crimson is still there… talking in my head… but I’m in control, not him.”

Pearl throws her hand over to Etho. The red mist darts away from her hand to cut through his chains. Etho leaves the cuff on as he moves across the room. He glances at the soldier. His eyes lift until he’s meeting Tommy’s eyes. “I’ve been ‘me’ since they gave us that drug.”

“I need to get you both the fuck away from here. Crimson knows where you are, after all, and he probably doesn’t like that you’re both free from his control,” Tommy admits. He steps over the bodies in the hallway. He closes his eyes when pain shoots up his leg. He forgot that a bullet grazed him. Tommy sighs, leaning down to touch the spot. Blood is seeping down his skin, but it isn’t so much that he’s worried. It was only a superficial wound. Tommy will get over it.

“I don’t know where,” Pearl says, following Tommy out of the safe house. Tommy looks around the street. There is a Red Army soldier turning around the corner of the house. Tommy prepares his staff. Pearl hits the soldier with a ball of glowing mist. The soldier tumbles to the ground. His eyes fall shut, but Tommy can see his chest moving. Etho says nothing as he jumps over the railing of the porch. He lands beside the soldier’s body. He does a lap around the house. Tommy listens for fighting or a sprung trap. Nothing sounds, and Etho comes around the corner of the house with a nod.

“I might have a place,” Tommy murmurs. He is about to take off flying with his powers, but a look thrown over his shoulder convinces him not to. He doesn’t know if Pearl can fly. He does know that Etho can’t. They need to travel on foot, as painful and time-consuming as that is for Tommy. “Follow me.”

Tommy starts jogging down the street. Pearl and Etho fall into line behind him. He has little doubt that they could run faster than his stilted jog right now, but since he’s the one leading the charge, they remain behind him. Tommy is grateful for that. He doesn’t want either of them to see his facial expression right now. He fears it is a little paler than it should be.

Tommy stops jogging when he gets to the entrance of the tavern and inn. Tommy hunches over his knees, putting the heels of his hands against his knees. He takes in heavy breaths. He feels a gentle hand brush against his back. Tommy lifts back up, forcing his spine to be ramrod straight. Pearl startles, taking a step away from him. Etho tilts his head to the side curiously. Tommy ignores them both as he steps into Chroma. He ignores the odd looks the patrons give him. He notices the bartender giving him and his companions an odd look, but there isn’t anything malicious in his eyes. Tommy ignores him in favor of climbing up the stairs.

Tommy moves down the hallway. He leaves no time to waste. He slams his fist against Good Guy’s door. If anyone is going to care about hiding fugitives, he has to be the guy whose sister is part of them. While Pearl and Jimmy are having relationship problems at the moment, Tommy hopes they can work out their issues while her and Etho stay there. At least, for the time being until the Syndicate can provide a different safe house. Plus, with Pearl and Etho with Jimmy, Grian will eventually arrive. Between those four people, the Cult of Erythr would have to send several members to recapture their former operatives. Tommy thinks it is the best situation for everyone… if Jimmy would open the damn door.

“Vendetta,” Pearl whispers. Tommy stares at her, then looks past her. Tempestarius is standing at her open door. She is frowning at Tommy, her eyes passing between him and his two companions. She narrows her eyes. He can sense the situation turning against his favor the more he dawdles here.

“Well? Get inside. Hurry up,” Tempestarius commands them. She shifts to the side. One hand points inside her room while the other makes an ushering motion. Pearl and Etho share a look. They both turn to Tommy. He knows Tempestarius. They probably don’t. Tommy doesn’t know if he trusts Tempestarius, but he doesn’t have many options right now with Jimmy not answering the door and other heroes dwelling inside the occupied rooms. He nods minutely. Pearl and Etho take the cue, ducking into Tempestarius’ room. She reaches for the door knob as Tommy approaches her, much slower than his other companions. She raises an eyebrow at him, tilting her head into the room.

“I can’t,” Tommy tells her unimpressed face. “Look, my little team and I captured the Scarlet Demoness and Technician a few weeks ago. We tried to rehabilitate them. We succeeded. They’re fine right now. I need to hide them from the Cult of Erythr. I-”

“I understand,” Tempestarius assures him, reaching a hand up to stop him from continuing his rambling. She looks him right in the eye with a half-smile on her face. “I promise to protect them from the Cult of Erythr.”

“Thank you,” Tommy smiles at her. As powerful as she is, Tommy has little doubt Tempestarius will be able to protect Pearl and Etho. He worries what would happen if Crimson were able to get inside her mind, though. He does not want to face off against a villainous Tempestarius.

“No problem. It’s what friends do,” Tempestarius tells him with a bright smile. Tommy winces. Tempestarius continues. “Are you staying with us, too?”

“I should. I really fucking should,” Tommy says. A lofty sigh exhales from his lips. He taps his mask with his fingers in contemplation. Tempestarius frowns at him. Tommy shakes his head, and this extends to his entire body. “I don’t feel fucking right leaving the others to fight alone.”

“You have a great sense of justice,” Tempestarius admires, sparkling in her eyes. Tommy doubts her. He doesn’t have a ‘great sense of justice,’ only a selfishness that wanes and waxes but never goes away. He isn’t doing this out of some sense of moral responsibility. He is doing this because something could happen to these people that he begrudgingly cares about. “Be careful, Vendetta.”

Tommy doesn’t respond as he heads toward the stairs. He nearly jumps down them. As Tommy steps back outside, it begins to pour rain onto his head. Tommy doesn’t remember clouds being in the sky earlier, so when he steps out onto the street, he glances up at the window of Tempestarius’ room. She is standing at it, her eyes shining as lightning strikes somewhere in the distance behind him. Tommy decides to treat the rain as a blessing instead of a curse, even though he isn’t able to glide in these stormy weather conditions.

Tommy races through the streets. His feet slam into water puddles, creating a cascade of water all across his body. He is absolutely soaked in a matter of minutes, but he refuses to acknowledge the cold water seeping into his bones. He continues running, only stopping when he hears the sound of a battle. The group has moved since the last time Tommy was there, but that is only better for Tommy since it is closer to Chroma. Tommy slides to a stop in the middle of a wide street. He lifts up the wet flap of his hood. He peers out across the battle.

The heroes have not arrived yet. The Syndicate and Cult of Erythr are still there. Tommy notices a few Hunters, but not as many as there were earlier. He doesn’t notice any other groups even though the gangs should be getting involved in a battle this close to Empires.

Tommy looks around for where he is needed most. His eyes land on Serenade. The villain is standing alone. He meets Tommy’s eyes. He starts moving his arms and hands as if he was giving some sort of nonverbal description. Tommy takes a step closer, not understanding anything Serenade is talking about.

There is suddenly a hand. It has gone through Serenade’s chest. Tommy’s eyes widen and his throat constricts. Tommy moves slower around him as he watches Reverie pull his bloodied arm out of Serenade’s back. Serenade crumbles against the ground. Blood pollutes the water puddles around Serenade’s body. Tommy draws his eyes away from Serenade to see Reverie staring right at him. Reverie smiles, bright and victorious, and a loud laugh comes from his body. Reverie drops his hand to his side, smearing Serenade’s blood onto his costume. Tommy looks away from him, staring back at Serenade with his mouth parted.

Tommy feels the loss right inside of his soul. It is the feeling he experienced when he stumbled upon the fiery remains of the warehouse that had been his childhood. It was the feeling he experienced when he watched the heroes tote away stretchers, one for each member of his family. It is the feeling that fills Tommy’s chest every time he stares at the only picture he has left of his family. It is the feeling that consumes him when he’s asleep. It is the source of the pain that drives him every step. It is the source of the vengeful feeling in his heart. It is the one who invites loneliness and anger into his life, letting them become acquainted with him. It is a searing, festering, shattering feeling of blood and agony and screams as loud as the heaven’s thunder that tears him apart.

And he’s going to lose someone else. He’s going to lose Serenade, the villain who has made Tommy laugh and cry. He’s going to lose Serenade, the friend who never judged him for his shortcomings. He’s going to lose Serenade, the closest thing he has to a brother that holds him every night to chase away the nightmares that force Tommy’s body into motion.

He is so terrified right now. He has never felt fear like this. At least, not in a very long time. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t know how to fix this. He doesn’t know how to save Serenade.

As a defensive measure, Tommy releases his powers. From his body, the caustic light floods the world around Tommy. It shoots across the streets and buildings, cracking the concrete and bending the metal. Glass shatters, falling to the ground with the intensity of a speeding bullet. The rain stops, floating in balls of water that reflect the red light of Tommy’s power. The combatants of the battle either start floating in the air, or they are brought down to their knees. Reverie lands on his knees, choking on something. Tommy doesn’t bother with him. He stares at the blood swirling around Serenade’s hovering body. There is so much blood… way too much. And Serenade’s eyes are closed. And Tommy is going to lose someone else. And he’s so damn scared of that. His own tears fall to the ground like pieces of hail.

“-detta! Vendetta!” Someone yells. Tommy wants to ignore them, but they are persistent. Tommy tears his eyes away from Serenade. He finds the source of the voice without needing to look far. Argonaut is lying on the ground. She is staring at him with watery eyes. Her skin is turning pale. She doesn’t look like she’s breathing evenly. Tommy realizes how badly he’s shaking as he watches Argonaut smile at him. “Hey, buddy, I can heal Serenade… you know I can… but you have to let me.”

Vendetta wraps his arms around himself. He shakes his head. A broken sob falls from his lips, and he hugs himself even tighter. Despite his tears blurring his vision, Tommy doesn’t look away from Argonaut. “I don’t know how.”

“Let go, Vendetta. Let someone else take control. Let me fix this,” Argonaut tells him. She sounds gentle and patient. She sounds kind. Tommy wants to believe her. He really does. He closes his eyes. He searches inside of himself. He tries to find the source of his powers. He can’t seem to find it. He’s always been able to control his powers, but his emotional instability is making it difficult for Tommy to do anything… but if he doesn’t figure this out, Serenade is going to die. He only activated his powers because he thought they would save Serenade. They aren’t. They are hurting Serenade, so Tommy needs to take the reins again. He cannot let someone else die.

Tommy feels something snap inside of him. Rain pelts his clothes once more. Tommy’s knees buckle. He falls to the ground, opening his eyes. The world is no longer lit up by a red light. The Hunters and Cultists- those who are still conscious- start retreating. Argonaut scrambles to reach Serenade’s side. Blood continues to mix with the rainwater, and Tommy sobs.

A pair of arms wrap around him. He startles, looking to see Dyscardia holding him. She pulls him close, tucking his head underneath her chin. He feels another hand touch his shoulder. Thermoculus is kneeling in front of him, preventing him from seeing Argonaut and Serenade. Thermoculus’ expression is as stormy as the weather, but he squeezes Tommy’s shoulder comfortingly. Dyscardia holds him tighter.

Tommy closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted. He feels safe with Dyscardia and Thermoculus there with him. Argonaut will heal Serenade, make him good as new. Ravager will definitely hunt down Reverie now. Everything will work out…

As darkness consumes Tommy’s vision, he thinks he hears a vaguely familiar voice praising his strength.

Chapter Text

“I have given my word that only death will take me from you.”

― Philippa Gregory

Tommy lies on a soft bed in a room the Dyscardia and Thermoculus put him in when everyone returned from the mission. He stares up at the ceiling. Though the lighting is dim, he’s able to see the pattern imprinted upon it by the plaster. His body aches, burned in the fires of exhaustion and overuse. His mind is consumed by a restlessness that will not cease even when he tries pressing his eyes closed. The darkness dances across the back of his eyelids. His breathing picks up until he opens his eyes again, finding solace in the light that seeps into the room from underneath the door.

He can hear voices from down the hall. He knows vaguely that the voices come from the members of the Syndicate. They are probably planning something. Tommy should pay attention to them, but he finds their voices floating away from his mind. He is too tired to even try to figure it out, so he simply doesn’t make an attempt. He doesn’t care what their next move is. He doesn’t want to know what they are planning. He doesn’t even care what they are going to do with him next, or who is all here.

Most of Tommy’s energy is spent looking at random objects floating with a red caustic light shining across them in his peripheral vision. Every time his eyes cut over to one, they drop to their resting place. Tommy tries reigning in his powers, but his body feels like a thousand volts of electricity has circulated through his nerves. The last time Tommy felt this way, he had only just gained his superpowers. He remembers Reverie putting a power suppressor around his wrist with a grim expression. Tommy was allowed to have the suppressor off for certain intervals where he spent his time training with them. It wasn’t until his second year with the Hunters that the cuff came off completely. Tommy suspects he will have to do something similar this time around, but he doesn’t think anyone is going to enforce this upon him. They might even discourage him from doing it. Tommy sighs. He doesn’t want to argue right now.

Tommy shakes his head. He lifts a hand up to run it down the side of his face. He isn’t wearing his mask right now. He isn’t wearing his uniform, either. He isn’t even wearing his blindfold. He is completely bare and vulnerable. He sits up, hunching over his thighs. He places his hands down beside him. Though the memories are hazy, he does recall Thermoculus helping Tommy change into clean and dry clothes. Thermoculus had been talking to him the entire time, but Tommy didn’t hear a word of it. Thermoculus left him alone when he saw how tired Tommy looked. Once the room was cleared out, Tommy took his blindfold off, holding it in his trembling fingers. He cried softly to himself, more out of relief than grief. When he was gone, he tied his blindfold around his wrist. He laid down to sleep, but he can’t get the dreams to come for him.

Tommy places a hesitant foot down on the ground. The floor is cold, sending a shiver all the way up his spine. Tommy hisses. The trembling exerted across his body makes the pain inside of him flare up. He wraps his arms around his upper body, feeling the bumps from scars and chicken skin reach up to meet his touch. Tommy squeezes his body tighter as he places his other foot on the ground. He stands solidly for a moment. He feels the urge to lock his knees. He will inevitably crumple. Tommy closes his eyes, taking a step forward. He almost slips onto the ground, but he manages to keep himself upright. He takes a few more steps. It takes him a long time, but he gets to the other side of the room. Tommy leans against the door, pressing his forehead to the cold wood. He opens his eyes. 

He reaches down for the door handle. The metal feels like it was frosted over as Tommy pushes it down. The hinges creak quietly as the door opens outward. Tommy grimaces as he steps into the hallway. He winces as the warm, yellow light enters his eyes. He squints as he shuffles further into the hallway. The carpet tickles the bottom of his feet, and he presses his shoulder against the door to shut it behind him. He hears the voice of the Syndicate grow clearer. If he had the energy, he could understand what they were saying. As it stands, all of Tommy’s energy is being used up to keep himself standing.

Tommy enters into the room opposite from the one he was laid to rest in. This room is as dark as the one he came from, and the carpet gives away to freezing cold tile. Tommy whimpers to himself, bringing his arms back up as if he could preserve his bodily heat. Tommy glances around the room. He can’t see many details, all of them blurred by the shadows, but he notices Argonaut’s red jacket hanging off the back of a chair pulled up to a bed. She isn’t here as far as Tommy can tell, but someone is because Tommy can hear slow, sleepy breathing. Tommy shuffles forward, peering into the darkness to find a person covered in blankets on top of the bed. Tommy continues moving towards the person. His foot catches on the chair with Argonaut’s jacket, and he falls forward. He catches himself on the side of the bed, but his knees clack together in a way that will surely bruise. 

Tommy doesn’t care about them. He reaches his hand forward, pulling back the blanket. While the finer details are lost on him, he knows that Serenade is the one lying in this bed. Tommy breathes out in relief. His face falls against the sheets, and he listens to Serenade’s breathing. Although it is steady, Tommy has the irrational fear that it will cease. He needs the fragile heart inside Serenade’s chest to keep beating. Tommy doesn’t know what he would do with himself if Serenade died, especially at Reverie’s hands.

Tommy hears a quiet muttering. He tilts his head up, keeping his cheek firmly squashed against the sheet. Tommy can feel Serenade moving in his blankets. After a moment, Serenade is taking Tommy’s hand. His skin is cool, not unlike a corpse, and Tommy reaches both of his hands out to clasp Serenade’s hand. With the lack of support, Tommy’s knees touch the ground below him. He squeezes Serenade’s hand, pressing his forehead against the edge of the bed. He says in a hushed tone, “You have to promise that you won’t die by anyone’s hand except my own.”

“I promise,” Serenade responds. There is more movement, and Tommy feels a grip on his chin. His face is tilted up. He can’t see Serenade’s eyes, but he somehow knows that he has locked onto them. He feels Serenade tugging him onto his feet. Tommy scrambles for purchase on the ground, and he ends up falling into the bed. Serenade releases Tommy’s cheek to wrap an arm around him, keeping Tommy close to him. Serenade presses his face into Tommy’s hair. His breath is far warmer than his body is as he continues, “As long as you promise the same thing.”

“I promise,” Tommy swears. He usually doesn’t make promises. He doesn’t like being bound to them, and he hates the feeling of not fulfilling them. But this, he promises. He does so because he feels like what he gets in return is of equal value. He can’t let Serenade die. He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t when, and doesn’t know how, but for one reason or some other, Tommy has grown attached to Serenade. This villain- because that’s what he should be to Tommy- is someone who has infected Tommy, finding a place inside the hero’s heart. It isn’t the same place as Tommy’s family. It isn’t even the same place as Enderwalk and Jolt, or Red Dragon and Sleepy. It is, however, a place that seems to be inhabited with Techno, as well. Maybe even Philza, the kind old man. Tommy will keep every fragment of his heart that continues to exist safe. 

If Serenade is going to die by anyone’s hand, it is going to be from Tommy’s. Tommy will be the witness to Serenade’s last words, last breath, last moment of life. He will watch the light flicker out in Serenade’s eyes. He will try his best to keep Serenade alive, but if push comes to shove, Tommy is going to take Serenade’s life before anyone else can.

It comforts him to know that Serenade will do the same.

Serenade nods sharply. He suddenly pulls Tommy even closer. He lifts the blanket up, wrapping it around Tommy. He holds the blonde as if the latter were some sort of doll. Tommy, frankly, doesn’t care. He nuzzles close to Serenade’s chest. He listens to the heart beating in his chest. He feels it against his skin. He holds so close to Serenade that he feels like he is physically being put in the spot the villain has for Tommy in his heart. Tommy wouldn’t mind being somewhere safe and secure like that.

Tommy closes his eyes, letting sleep wash over him and chase away the last dredges of pain and exhaustion. Even as he falls unconscious, he feels Serenade’s hand in his own.

—

Tommy wakes up alone. There is nobody’s presence around him. Serenade’s hand is no longer affixed to his. Tommy frowns, closing his fingers into a fist. He feels better than he did last night, but there is a residual ache that continues to fester in his bones. He needs a long rest and several days of relaxation. He is not able to get any of that, so he forces himself into an upright sitting position. He pulls the blanket up around his shoulders. He lowers his face into his bent legs. He breathes out slowly, and his warm breath soaks through the blanket to touch the skin of his knees.

Tommy tries collecting his thoughts. He assesses the situation from the previous day. Or, maybe it was earlier that morning. The past 24 hours have been horrible for Tommy. Reverie showed up at Techno’s cabin. Techno implied that he was going to give Vendetta away for a favor. Tommy ran out late into the night, ending up at a church for a goddess he had no association with. Techno found him, and although they had a nice moment after their argument, the priest ruined everything by telling them villains were fighting. Tommy was faced with Azrael, Inchling, Reverie, and the possibility of Minotaur. He ran himself ragged racing around the city. Thankfully, Pearl and Etho were of their right mind. He was able to get them to Tempestarius, but then he had to run in the rain. Then, Reverie… Serenade… Tommy’s powers upgraded. He was put in a safehouse by Dyscardia and Thermoculus. They took care of him, and Tommy owes them his gratitude. Maybe even an apology for being so out of it that he didn’t listen to a word they said to him.

Tommy takes a breath to steady his racing heart. He throws his legs over the side of his bed. He drops down onto the floor. He notices that Argonaut’s jacket is no longer hanging on the chair. Tommy suspects she got it early in the morning when she came to check up on Serenade. That didn’t explain where either of them went. Tommy feels a little peeved waking up all alone after promising not to let anyone kill him except Serenade. It seemed like the sort of promise people talk about afterwards when they’re both of a clearer mind. Tommy doesn’t regret his decision. He would make the promise again. He intends to fulfill…. But still, it’s the principle of the matter.

Tommy undoes the knot keeping his blindfold around his wrist. He ties it around his eyes, peering through the mesh-like fabric. He stands a little more resolutely than he did last night. Thankfully, someone turned the heat up in the room. The tile is a lot more bearable to walk across as Tommy leaves the blanket behind. He walks into the hallway. The overhead light is off, but there is plenty of light coming in from one end of the hallway. Tommy walks toward the light, hearing voices as he steps across the threshold.

Tommy comes into a living room area that branches off into a kitchen. Phil is moving around the kitchen. He is humming faintly to himself, an apron tied around his main body and a bowl underneath his arm. Serenade and Techno are both wearing comfortable clothes as they sit at the bar. They seem to be conversing quietly. Serenade is wearing a mask, and Tommy wonders if he was wearing one last night. He knows that he wasn’t. He doesn’t really care if Serenade sees his face or not. Techno has seen his face, after all. Tommy has no reason to hide his appearance, though he keeps the blindfold on for his own sanity.

Tommy walks across the room. Techno notices him first, his red eyes cutting over to Tommy. The blonde nods at Techno, but he sits right beside Serenade to reassure himself that Serenade is still alive. He fears that he will blink, and there will suddenly be another arm through Serenade’s chest. The villain might recognize Tommy’s fears because he reaches his hand out to take Tommy’s hand. He squeezes possessively, giving Tommy a reassuring smile. Tommy places his chin in his other palm. He stares at Serenade and Techno. He wonders if Serenade will have a name as stupid as Techno or Philza.

“Good morning, Vendetta. How are you feeling?” Phil asks, turning towards the stove. He starts to pour whatever is in the bowl into a pan. He sets the bowl down, looking over his shoulder at Tommy.

“Fine,” Tommy cuts out, coughing as the words cut the muscles inside his neck. Serenade quickly reaches across the bar to grab a bottle of water. It is already opened, but Tommy settles for waterfalling the bottle. The water hurts his throat until he’s had a few gulps of it.

“Yeah, ‘fine’ isn’t the word I’d use. Look around, Theseus,” Techno points out. Tommy glances around. There are random objects floating all around them with the red caustic light spilling across their surface. Tommy hisses, jerking to the side. He closes his eyes. He tries pulling his power back to his body. He hears a few objects drop to the ground, but he senses that his power is still being put to use. He tries to force his powers back once more. He doesn’t hear any results. He peeks an eye open, and there are a couple of objects that continue to float despite his efforts. Tommy closes his eyes again. He squeezes Serenade’s hand and makes his other hand into a fist. The pressure continues to build, but it never overflows, pops, or explodes. Tommy is stuck with the sensation of his powers being drawn away from his person.

“We’ll have to go through some training,” Phil adds, and Tommy can hear the searing of whatever he is making. Tommy turns away from his uncontrollable powers. He meets Phil’s eyes. The man is smiling softly as he flips the pancake. “Due to your recent, er, trauma, your powers have intensified. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence. I know a few people who had their powers mutated by further trauma. Argonaut, actually, went through a similar phenomenon. You should talk to her about it.”

Tommy grumbles. He knew he was going to have to go back to training, but it honestly makes him feel like a child. He should be stronger than this- better than this. He has spent enough of his life biding his time. He should be ready to take action. How is he supposed to consider winning against Azrael and Inchling if his powers aren’t even working properly? He’s vulnerable right now. Worse, he’s a liability to the people around him.

Phil puts the pancake onto a plate. He slides it over to Tommy. Techno places the syrup closer to him. Tommy looks at them both curiously. Tommy is hungry right now. He is used to eating like this since Techno didn’t stock up on the gray powder. He just feels a little guilty about it.

His guilt disappears when Phil puts a fork on Tommy’s plate. Without a second thought, Tommy is using his fork to cut up the pancake. As he eats, Tommy meets Phil’s eyes, “How did the planning go last night?”

“I wanted to tell you and Serenade together,” Phil explains. He leans against the other side of the bar. He looks between Tommy and Serenade cautiously. “Because of the recent attack, the Red Army is paying attention to us.”

“The raid and the creation of the antidote has given the Syndicate the opportunity to win. We are hoping to end everything in a climactic battle. We’re going to need both of your help to do that,” Techno continues.

“But this kind of battle needs preparation. Serenade, you need time to heal, and Vendetta, you need to train and master your powers. Serenade, we know where we’re going to put you for the time being,” Phil’s eyes cut over to Tommy. “We don’t know where to put you. It needs to be somewhere the Red Army either can’t reach or won’t think to.”

Tommy scowls as he eats another bite of his pancake. He doesn’t like being put on the sidelines. He can help the others plan for this battle. He can help them prepare their chosen battleground. But as the syrup bottle begins floating, Tommy relents that maybe he needs to take some time for himself.

He needs a place that not only follows the qualifications Phil gave him, but would also be a place that Minotaur wouldn’t grow upset over. He needs someone that is unaffiliated with villains and with Las Nevadas. It needs to be a hero or vigilante since they need to be strong enough to defend themselves from the Red Army. It would need to be someone willing to hide him. A name comes to mind. He nods at Phil. “I know a place. Tempestarius.”

“Hmm… is that so?” Serenade asks idly. He is looking at Tommy in a way that almost makes him uncomfortable. Or maybe it is more accurate to say it should make him uncomfortable. At the moment, Tommy finds a little bit of comfort in those dark eyes.

“Tempestarius is powerful. She’s a hero. She’ll protect me.” At least, I hope she will.

“If that’s settled,” Phil starts. “Come by the gym in Empires tomorrow. We’ll start your training program.”

“Understood,” Tommy says as he finishes his breakfast. Once he’s finished, he gets up, leaving without another word.

Chapter Text

“I'm lonely. And I'm lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be this lonely because it seems catastrophic.”

― Augusten Burroughs

Tommy wears casual clothes with a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder as he walks through Empires. Crowfather caws on Tommy’s shoulder, lifting its body up with a flap of its wings as soon as the hero enters into the Chromia tavern and inn. Tommy looks over his shoulder, watching Crowfather rise up into the air. The door shuts behind him. Tommy turns away, staring into the interior of the tavern. The downstairs bar seems to be closed as there is no one there, not even the bartender. Tommy frowns at the stillness, pursuing through it with an edge of hesitation taking over his steps.

He climbs the stairs, straining his ears to hear people moving around. He thinks he hears the faint beating of a song, but it isn’t loud enough for him to be certain his own mind isn’t conjuring it up to make him feel better. Tommy shakes his head, stepping into the second floor. He turns the corner. Light streams in through a window at the very end of the hall. Tommy can see the sun low on the horizon between a few streets of buildings. He averts his eyes, letting them land on one of the door knobs that reflect back the light of the city and sun, but not any lighting from the hallway. The overhead lights are off, and there aren’t any alternative sources like candles or lamps.

Tommy stands in front of the door he knows to be Tempestarius’ current lodging. He breathes in through the face mask that Serenade loaned him. He pulls it down with one hand as the other one raises up to knock on the door. 

Before his knuckles can make contact, the door opens. Tempestarius stands in the doorframe. She is wearing casual clothes including a dark blue crop top and high-waisted gray sweatpants. She has a mask around her eyes, and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes narrow at him and her lips press together firmly, a conflicted expression molding across her features. Tommy flinches as her eyes land on him. She takes in his face for a solid minute. She takes one step out of the room. Tommy takes a step back to accommodate her. His heart drops when he notices how she closes the door behind her. Tempestarius folds her arms over her chest, speaking softly as to not disturb the other patrons, “Are you okay?”

“I think so…” Tommy admits slowly with a half-smile on his face. He doesn’t have a good answer to that question. He’s physically fine, so that’s what he went with. Emotionally? Mentally? He thought a villain he cares about was going to die, so he panicked and gained a new ability. He is currently being hunted down by one of the most dangerous forces in the entire city. Is he supposed to tell Tempestarius all of that? Is he supposed to explain in depth how any of that came to be? He doesn’t know where to even start with that.

Tempestarius runs a hand across the side of her face. Her eyes close, and Tommy notices that the air around them is getting thicker with a faint sheen of mist and humidity. Tommy reaches a hesitant hand towards the dagger handle strapped to his waist by a sheath on his belt. He doesn’t like having to fight with his powers not quite in his control right now. He especially doesn’t want to fight Tempestarius specifically, but he will do it if she forces his hand. He cannot afford to die right now. He refuses to die by her hand.

Tempestarius opens her eyes. She scans his entire body from head to toe, and then comes back up to double check that he’s intact. Her lips pucker together as she searches for something. When she finds it or doesn’t, she meets his eyes. She takes a deep breath. She reaches forward, quick as lightning, to punch his shoulder. There’s enough force that Tommy continues to feel the pressure even as her hand comes back to her side, but it isn’t nearly as strong as it could be. Tommy doesn’t even feel much pain, and he knows that if Tempestarius was really angry, her fist would have been sparking with electricity or covered in an explosion of mist.

“What the hell was that for?” Tommy hisses, rubbing his shoulder. Tempestarius looks at him with a softer expression. She’s far more at ease now that she’s hit him once, and Tommy supposes he doesn’t mind that much now. He still wants answers, though, and he isn’t going to let her get a second hit in.

“I had to protect Pearl and Etho for the entire night. I didn’t get a wink of sleep because I was so paranoid that the Red Army was going to shut up. Even if I wasn’t worried, Good Guy and Watcher, of all people, came over in the middle of the night. They were crying with Pearl for hours. Etho and I sat in the corner because what are you supposed to do when people are crying together? It’s so awkward!” Tempestarius complains. Now that he’s looking for the signs, he does notice how tired she looks. She rubs the side of her forehead as if a headache were coming on. She stares up at him with wide, glossy eyes. “Etho turned the television on. The news anchors were talking about the battle that went on in the middle of the city. You were part of it. I was worried about you for the entire night on top of worrying for Pearl and Etho and listening to Pearl, Good Guy, and Watcher have an emotional moment.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to concern you,” Tommy tells her apologetically. He was so caught up in Serenade that he didn’t even think to message Tempestarius that he was okay. He didn’t even think to ask the Syndicate to send someone to visit her, making sure that she was alive and that Pearl and Etho weren’t back under Crimson’s control.

Tempestarius sighs. “My biggest concern right now is your powers. The news only said you released a shockwave of energy that brought everyone down. But I know that shockwave isn’t in the purview of your normal powers. You have either been holding back for years, or you went through a traumatic event that achieved the potential of your powers. I assumed it was the latter, and I was proven right when I overheard Minotaur talking to the higher ups. He said you were suspended until you could get your powers under control. Monarch tried to get jurisdiction over your training, but Minotaur said that as a member of his team, you were his responsibility. XD sided with Minotaur. He gave Minotaur a time limit to train you.”

“Shit. Did Minotaur talk to you?” Tommy asks, reaching out for Tempestarius hesitantly. In his mind, he can still see the scars across Tubbo’s body from Minotaur’s hands. Tommy feels nausea rise in his body at the thought of Minotaur doing anything to Tempestarius. He should have put that bull of a man into a morgue when he had the chance.

“... yes. It isn’t what you’re thinking. He caught me outside XD’s office. I told him that I was there to give XD a mission report. Minotaur didn’t seem to care about me eavesdropping. He only told me that if you were to come to me, it would be in my best interest to take care of you. He didn’t even ask me to tell him if you were to come here. He only said that I should handle you and left. Monarch came out next. They asked me the same thing you did, and they were as shocked as I was that Minotaur didn’t really threaten me. I mean, he did say ‘in my best interest,’ but that’s extremely tame considering what we’ve heard from him before,” Tempestarius explains, putting a hand on her chin as she thinks. Tommy counts this as another reason why Tempestarius stayed up nearly the entire night. Nothing good comes from Minotaur being uncharacteristic and mysterious.

“Well… at least it doesn’t sound like he’s going to come after me,” Tommy says with a confused lilt in his voice. Tommy shifts his body weight onto his other leg. Nothing good will come from overanalyzing what Minotaur does. Tommy is going to take what freedom he can get. Tommy meets Tempestarius’ eyes again. “He wasn’t wrong. I did have a breakthrough. I no longer need to touch an object to gain gravitational control over it. And he wasn’t wrong in saying that I need time to master it. I have someone who’s making a training course for me.”

“That’s good,” Tempestarius tells him. She gives him a smile. “As someone who has also had a power breakthrough and lost control, let me give you some advice. Your powers are still your own. They still obey your will. The only difference is that the more powerful the ability is, the more clear you need to be with your desires. Being an esper means being completely honest with yourself. I would even wager that’s why a lot of villains are extremely powerful: they are honest with their desires to the point that they feel very little shame. But that’s a conjecture for another day. Focus on yourself right now. Don’t worry about the Red Army, or Minotaur, or even me. Gravity is a force of nature. Control it or it will control you.”

“Thank you, Temp,” Tommy tells her in a soft voice with a grateful smile on his face. He supposes this is why Tempestarius went from creating mist to controlling weather itself. Tommy shakes his head. He isn’t about to cross reference Tempestarius’ trauma for proof that it relates to esper awakenings. Tommy’s smile drops from his face. “I need somewhere to stay for right now… off the radar, you know.”

“I hate when Minotaur’s right,” Tempestarius murmurs, rolling her eyes. She reaches a hand behind her. She pulls down the door handle. She kicks the door open with her heel. She tilts her head back. “All the good places to sleep are taken.”

“I’ll sleep on the fucking floor if I have to,” Tommy tells her as he steps inside. He tugs off his shoe in a small hallway that separates the entrance door to the main room. There is another door right beside Tommy that he assumes leads into the bathroom.

As Tommy is getting his first shoe off, he notices someone getting up from the couch to stand at the entrance of the short hallway. A shadow falls over him as the person stands there hesitantly. Tommy ends up making eye contact with a pair of blue eyes. Although they are a different shade than Jimmy and Grian, Tommy notices the same look in her eyes that was in theirs. Pearl looks as apologetic as Jimmy did when she was still under the influence of Crimson and yelling at him. She stands as resolutely as Grian did when Tommy explained a potential alliance between the two of them. The traces of the Scarlet Demoness have completely disappeared, but Tommy cannot forget what Pearl is capable of.

“I’m sorry,” Pearl says to him. Tempestarius darts around Tommy and Pearl. She goes deeper into the room, leaving Pearl and Tommy in the darkness of the small hallway to confess their sins to one another.

Tommy looks away from Pearl, pulling off his other shoe. He dismisses her,  “Stop talking nonsense.”

Pearl reaches forward. She grabs his wrist as he’s trying to set his shoes down by an alarming amount of other pairs. Pearl forces Tommy to look at her. “It isn’t nonsense. I wanted to hurt you, and I did. I’m sorry for the fight we had in Snowchester. I’m sorry for all the horrible things that I said to you when I wanted to convince you to side with the Cult of Erythr. I never should have done or said any of that, but I did, and I need to express my apologies to you, even if you cannot bring yourself to forgive me.”

“I didn’t listen to half the shit you said when Crimson was fucking up your mind. You can’t blame yourself for the fight, either. I knew what kind of gamble I was taking when I proposed our deal,” Tommy shakes his head. He drops both of his shoes. They aren’t straight as they land on the ground beside a pair of boots. Tommy rises up back up.

Pearl doesn’t let go of his wrist, her grip instead tightening. “If you won’t accept my remorse, will you accept my gratitude?”

“What the fuck would you be grateful to me for?” Tommy asks blankly. He blinks, searching his memories for a moment where he did something for Pearl.

Pearl laughs disbelievingly. She releases his wrist, taking a step back. Instead of framing her, the light now shines across half of Pearl’s face. This puts the other half of her face in darkness, but her eyes shine like two brilliant stones of the sky and sea. “Are you kidding? You saved my life instead of killing me. You made the antidote that freed me and so many others. Most importantly, you reunited me with my brothers.”

“And how is your relationship with them?” Tommy asks quietly, attempting to change the subject.

Pearl looks away from him. Her hands rise to her stomach, fingers interlocking nervously. “Never in my entire life have I ever wanted to kill or even hurt my brothers. But I was too foolish to see that part of me did resent them. I devoted my entire life to them, and they left me. I kept telling myself that it wasn’t fair for me to feel that way instead of trying to work through my emotions in a healthy way. Crimson exploited my festering resentments. He corrupted me using my pent-up emotions as a doorway. He turned my resentment into hatred and wrath. I couldn’t stop him. I know that it will take some time, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to rebuild my relationships. I promise that I won’t ignore the way I feel anymore. All it took was a mind-controlling villain to make me realize that.”

Pearl laughs with self-loathing and bitterness. Tommy reaches a hand out hesitantly, touching Pearl’s shoulder. She startles but doesn’t pull away. They lock eyes. Tommy tries not to sound envious as he wishes her, “Good luck.”

He probably doesn’t do a good enough job because Pearl looks at him mournfully. She reaches a hand up, placing it across the one he has on her shoulder. “You aren’t alone, you know?”

Tommy releases a breath, trying not to roll his eyes. He removes his hand from Pearl’s shoulder, stepping around her to walk into the room. He looks around the room. There is a television on a dresser on one wall. Across from it, the bed has been shoved into a corner of the room. The nightstand that should be on the bed has been shoved to the opposite corner by the desk. The cord of the lamp pulls taut as it struggles to spread light into the room. There are a few air mattresses covered in blankets and pillows on the ground beside the bed. In front of the air mattresses is a couch and a couple of foldable chairs.

There are people in the room. Grian is lying on one of the air mattresses, playing on his communicator with a pillow lifting up his head. Jimmy is lying against his brother’s stomach, turned so that he can see the television between a couch and a rolling desk chair. Tempestarius is sitting in the chair with her knees brought up to her chest. Etho is dozing off on the touch, his elbow on the arm to prop his head up. Surprisingly, Sparrow is sitting on the couch with Etho, watching the television with wide-awake eyes. Sparrow looks over at Tommy. Tommy’s mouth falls open in surprise. Tempestarius doesn’t look away from the television as she says, “He’s a friend of Fire Striker, apparently.”

“I am Fire Striker’s friend. I am also a friend of Pearl’s,” Sparrow confirms. Pearl hums, sitting on the couch between Sparrow and Etho. She tilts her body to put her legs in Sparrow’s lap. Sparrow levels Tommy with a large grin. “You left me with an abandoned safe house. I thought the Scarlet Demoness-” Pearl’s jaw sets “-and Technician-” Even half-asleep, Etho flinches “-had been kidnapped.”

Sparrow leans back. Tommy assumes that Sparrow simply didn’t see the way Pearl and Etho reacted because he’s facing Tommy, not them. Either way, he doesn’t feel comfortable with the way they reacted to their villain names. He makes a mental note not to mention them. Though, he already had that note for Pearl because of the way Grian reacted to her name.

“I came to check on my friend Fire Striker, to make sure he was still where I had last left them, when I found Tempestarius and her stowaways,” Sparrow explains, waving his hand at the scene around them. Tommy now fully understands why Tempestarius told him all the good spots were taken. She practically had an entire circus in one room.

“We aren’t stowaways,” Grian calls out from his place on the air mattress. Jimmy makes a funny look as his pillow moves underneath him. Tommy stifles a snort.

Sparrow shrugs, “Semantics, really. I prefer referring to you all collectively.”

“No fighting,” Tempestarius demands, her gaze cutting away from the television to glare at them both. Grian’s face falls into neutrality as he looks back down at his communicator. Sparrow carries a small smile on his face as he gets comfortable on the couch. Tempestarius’ mouth parts as she looks over at Tommy. Her eyes pin Tommy to the place he stands. “No one should be fighting.”

“Okay,” Etho murmurs sleepily at the same Jimmy calls out, “Will do!”

Pearl nods. Tommy follows her lead with his own nod, and he settles on the ground in front of the chair Tempestarius is in. He hears her declare to everyone, “That’s good. I think we’re all going to be stuck with each other for a while, so remember common courtesy. I’m not above throwing anyone out, even you two, Pearl and Etho.”

Chapter Text

“You don't need to justify your love, you don't need to explain your love, you just need to practice your love. Practice creates the master.”
― Don Miguel Ruiz

Tommy stands in the center of a large gymnasium. He stretches his body, pushing his arms above his head and kicking out his legs to work through any of the remaining kinks. When the tenseness starts easing away, he plants both of his feet on the ground, each foot even with one of his shoulders. His fists are level with his chest, but he purposefully flexes his fingers while leveling his arms on either side of him. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut. In the resounding darkness, he locates the energy inside of his body that correlates with his powers. He allows the energy to gyrate inside of his core, spreading out to the tips of each of his limbs. He opens his eyes, narrowing his vision at a small colored block that children play with. It is several yards away from him, but it begins to vibrate in place. Tommy directs his powers onto the box, slowly untethering each chain that holds it to the ground. There aren’t many chains for such a small object, so it doesn’t take long for the object to hover above the other blocks.

“Very good. Try lifting up the other blocks,” Philza calls out from where he stands halfway between Tommy and the blocks, out of Tommy’s direct line of sight. Tommy follows the directions given to him. He maintains that one block, but he starts to untether the other blocks. It takes a little longer, but soon another one joins the first one. A third follows soon after. Tommy focuses on a fourth block. It stubbornly refuses to be unbound. Tommy feels a headache start to form across the back of his eyelids. Tommy ignores the object’s blatant disregard for his powers and his own pain. He wants to be able to lift up all of the blocks. He isn’t satisfied with a measly three.

“Deep breaths, Vendetta. Focus. Center yourself,” Philza reminds Tommy. The blonde realizes that he’s been holding his breath. He releases the grit he has on his teeth. He makes sure to keep his hands from folding back into a fist. Tommy must keep a grasp on his own self. His powers won’t work unless he remembers clearly where they’re coming from. Tommy learned this the hard way.

“Remember, this is what you’ve been doing all along. There isn’t anything different from using your powers before to using them right now,” Philza instructs Tommy. His powers have always been relinquishing gravity’s control or increasing it twofold. It’s only now that Tommy realizes he doesn’t need direct contact with the object. He can untether gravitational chains or put a few additional ones on there without needing to be close to the object. He just needs to figure it out.

The fourth block starts to lift off the ground. It collides with the third block, sending them both in opposite directions. They would continue perpetually, but they soon get out of Tommy’s current range. They both drop to the ground, clattering against the mats. Philza says, “Don’t pay attention to them. Lift up the other blocks.”

Philza has been teaching Tommy control rather than range. It doesn’t matter how far Tommy’s abilities can reach if he can’t actually control them. Tommy sees the value in this, but it irks him that objects can be just out of his reach. What would happen if the out of reach object was a knife aimed at Serenade’s stomach? Tommy is the only one allowed to kill the villain, after all. That’s the only reason Tommy is concerned about that.

Another block lifts up off the ground. Tommy feels his heart thudding in his chest as he lifts up another one. Four blocks are in the air. Two of them are out of reach, but there are four more left to be lifted up. Tommy feels a tremor start to arc through his body as he senses the remaining chains holding the blocks down. Thin as wires, Tommy only manages to grasp one of them. His grip is slippery, but he finds a way to temporarily snap the wire. The block starts to float, joining their companions in the air.

The chains suddenly snap back into place. All five blocks drop to the ground. Tommy nearly crumples alongside them, but he settles for putting his hands on his bent knees. Tommy heaves a breath, feeling a trickle of sweat slide down his neck. Tommy shakes his head. If he was touching one block, it would be no trouble to keep it floating for a couple of days. As it stands, this activity is really siphoning Tommy’s strength. It isn’t just the fact that Tommy is doing this remotely at a distance. It’s also the fact that Tommy is doing it with multiple objects. He has never done more than two before, and even then, it strained his body.

“You’re doing great,” Philza praises. Tommy shakes his head, not believing his teacher for a single second. They have been at this for the better part of a week, and Tommy is barely making any progress. The first day, he hadn’t been able to lift a single thing that he wanted to lift; only miscellaneous objects bore the caustic light of his powers. Tommy will still sometimes do this, but he managed to gain control of his powers… most of the time, anyway. Now, it was about focusing on the objects he wanted to float. Tommy wasn’t progressing as quickly as he wanted to, even when Philza assured him that he was doing exemplary given their timeframe.

“Here,” Philza calls. Tommy looks up. Philza is holding a water bottle. Tommy takes the water. He uncaps it, gulping down most of it in one sitting. The water sits uneasily in his stomach. Tommy’s face crumples in pain. He puts a hand on his stomach, waiting for the liquid to settle. Philza raises an eyebrow at Tommy. “Are you dehydrating yourself?”

“Like my roommates would fucking let me,” Tommy grumbles. For the time being, Tommy, Pearl, Etho, Grian, and Jimmy are staying in Tempestarius’ room, along with Tempestarius herself and Sparrow occasionally joining them. It is rough to be with so many people, but Tommy finds that he loves it a little too much. It reminds him of his childhood- a bunch of runaways staying in a warehouse together and becoming each other’s family. Tommy doubts he could let anyone into his heart the same way, but it isn’t like the people he’s staying with are poor company. He finds himself becoming friends with them. 

In this new found friendship, they, like Serenade and the rest of the Syndicate, refuse to let Tommy hold onto poor habits. For one thing, he has to eat real food. The siblings- Pearl, Grian, and Jimmy- always make breakfast. Etho makes lunch. Sparrow will sometimes bring dinner, but if he doesn’t, Tempestarius teaches Tommy how to make different dishes. Tommy wonders if Niki would be proud of him.

They also prove to be a hindrance to his sleeping habits. Tommy had mostly forgotten all about it despite the scars on his wrist. He learned his lesson when he woke up to rain pelting his head. Tempestarius had been holding his arms, eyes blown wide with concern. Grian was on his communicator, muttering something about ‘finding him.’ Tommy doesn’t remember what he told them, but it must have been close enough to the truth that Etho made an alarm that went over the door and windows. They were always locked, leaving Tommy to sleep in the mudroom or trip onto the chair right beside the window, but on the off-chance that Tommy managed to get out, Etho’s alarm woke Tempestarius up. She would drag Tommy back to his place on an air mattress. Sometimes, Grian’s wing would fall on Tommy during the night, the heavy weight keeping him in place and earning him unflattering nicknames from Sparrow including ‘birdie’ and ‘fledgling.’ No one else called Tommy that, but they didn’t do anything to dissuade Sparrow. Tommy was left with taking his own disciplinary actions.

“That’s good. Training is useless if you aren’t eating healthily, drinking plenty of water, and getting restful sleep at night,” Philza nods. “Do you want to keep working on the blocks, or do you want to test out your powers on yourself?”

“Do I even need to fucking answer?” Tommy hands Philza the water bottle, a sparkle appearing in his eyes. Philza rolls his eyes fondly. He takes a step back, giving Tommy plenty of room to move.

Along with an increased range and his powers extending to multiple objects, Tommy’s control over the gravity on his body has gotten significantly better. Technically, Tommy still can’t fly the way hybrids do or espers with flight powers like the hero Sylph. What Tommy does have is such precision over the gravitational chains on his body that his flight mimicry is nearly indistinguishable from the real thing. Tommy is able to maneuver his body a lot better, and he doesn’t need his gliders anymore.

Maybe it’s Tommy’s enjoyment that allows him to excel so much at it. His feet rise above the ground, a red caustic light roaming across his skin. Tommy flips in the air. He can feel the chains of gravity snapping and reconnecting rapidly, keeping him airborne. Tommy uses his body weight to throw himself in different directions. He gains speed, and he kicks his legs in the air to twirl his body horizontally. Tommy tightens the grip of gravity temporarily to slow him into a stop. His body gets into an upright position. Tommy rises up slowly, and he stares down at Philza with a bright smile stretching across his face. Philza is smiling back at Tommy, a flicker of pride in his majestic blue eyes. Tommy laughs, strengthening the bonds of gravity to drop him back onto the ground. He blows with a flourish, peering up to see Philza openly laughing at his antics. Tommy jumps back into the air to rush over to Philza’s side. The trainer doesn’t flinch as Tommy tightens the gravitational strings at the last minute, stopping a few inches from Philza’s body with enough force to create a blast of wind across Philza’s body.

“How are the plans going?” Tommy asks, stepping back onto the ground. He walks with Philza over to the edge of the room where a row of benches prop against the wall. Philza picks up a towel, tossing it over his shoulder at Tommy. The blonde quickly wipes the sweat off his body. He feels like he’s just been working out for a couple of hours. He has been exerting his powers for that amount of time, so that’s probably why he smells the way he does.

“We’re almost done,” Philza assures Tommy, probably sensing how restless Tommy is becoming. Tommy loves the domesticity with the others at Chromia Tavern and Inn, and he does have a certain fondness for training with Philza, but Tommy is not built for this lifestyle. His dreams, as fleeting as they are, are filled with his family’s tortured screams. He needs to get revenge soon before he goes insane. “We have the idea to set a trap. We’re going to subtly hint at the whereabouts of a facility where the antidotes are being made. We’ll even have Supreme there giving treatments to Red Army soldiers. Crimson will need to send a team, and with how heavily guarded the facility is, there will be multiple cultists. We can capture them and use the antidote, just as we did with the Scarlet Demoness and Technician. We might not get all of them and we most likely won’t get Crimson himself, but this will be a decisive blow against the head of the monster.”

“When are we making the trap?” Tommy asks, ready to listen for any orders even if he is taking them from the Syndicate’s personal trainer.

“We won’t be part of it,” Philza smoothly replies. Tommy scowls at him, opening his mouth to spout insults. Philza raises an eyebrow, gesturing around them. Tommy looks, and sure enough, several of the weights including those children’s blocks are floating in the air. Tommy’s expression changes as he throws his hand down, forcibly trying to get the objects to drop back to the ground. A few of them do, but Tommy’s emotions are still too high-strung for the last of them to fall completely.

“Crowfather and Inchling will also be there,” Philza murmurs, staring at Tommy intently for any other reaction. The floating objects all drop to the ground. Not because Tommy has more control over his powers, but because they are all held down by thick chains that make them nearly three times as heavy as they should be. One of the children’s blocks explodes under the weight of gravity pressing down on it.

“I can fucking handle myself,” Tommy informs Philza, ignoring the blatant display right beside him about how he clearly can’t.

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I am saying that it isn’t worth it. The Syndicate will handle this just fine,” Philza gently adds, his eyes shining with nothing but honesty. “I promise we’ll get you for the final battle, no matter how far along you are with your powers.”

“If you promise…” Tommy trails off. He doesn’t like being benched, but at least he’s getting a spot on the team for the final game. At least, Tommy thinks that’s how that metaphor works. He doesn’t actually watch sports.

“There you are! How about you go shower and change? I’ll take you out for dinner,” Philza sounds pleased. Tommy rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. Tommy walks away from Philza. In the adjacent, smaller room, Tommy grabs onto a duffle bag that he always takes to the gym with him. He steps into the adjoining private bathroom. Tommy turns the shower on, waiting for the water to get lukewarm. Tommy starts to change out of his sweaty clothes. He removes his communicator from his pants pocket. He sends a quick message to Tempestarius to tell her that he’ll be going out for dinner with a friend.

Tommy steps into the showering. He goes through the motions quickly. He doesn’t have anything to clean his hair and body with, but the water chases away the sweaty feeling, so Tommy thinks the shower was well worth it. As he steps out, he reaches into his bag to pull a towel out. He starts to dry his body, shivering at the cold temperature. When he’s dry enough, he checks his communicator. Tempestarius asks about the existence of his friends. Tommy snorts, replying that he’s going with someone he knows.

Tommy changes into the extra clothes he brought with him. They were bought for him by Techno when the man realized how unprepared Tommy was for an overnight stay. Tommy likes the clothes. They are a little too big for him, but Techno thinks Tommy will grow into them once he bulks up. Tommy doubts he ever will, but he wears the clothes, anyway. The blindfold around his eyes is Tommy’s, however. It’s been with him for such a long time that Tommy doesn’t remember where he got it from… who gave it to him. 

Tommy packs his duffle bag back up. He throws it over his shoulder. He grabs his communicator, looking at the screen. Tempestarius asked him if this someone was a person he could trust. Tommy thinks it over as he walks to the entrance of the Syndicate’s private training quarters. He looks up at Philza, meeting the man’s smiling face. Enough, Tommy types and sends off. He shoves his communicator into his pocket, looking up to meet Philza’s eyes.

–

Since they’re in Empires and Tommy’s new living arrangements are there, too, Philza takes Tommy to a barbecue place in the borough. Tommy has never been there before, but he hardly goes to any restaurant except for the cafe Niki would sometimes work at and Charlie seemed to like a lot. In contrast, Philza must have been a regular with the way the lady behind the counter smiled at the man. Philza doesn’t even need to look at the menu, rattling off orders. Tommy opens his mouth to tell her what he wants, but Philza puts a finger to his lips with a wink. Tommy cringes at the action, losing his chance to tell the worker what he wants to eat. Tommy huffs, understanding that he’ll just have to eat whatever Philza ordered him.

The restaurant was rather empty, which made getting their orders surprisingly quick. The woman hands over their bags with a bright smile. She makes idle chit chat with Philza as the man swipes over some credits. She waves at both Philza and Tommy when the two of them exit the restaurant. Tommy frowns, eyeing the multiple booths they passed up. He thought all of them were perfectly acceptable, but Philza opens the door for Tommy. The blonde walks outside. He glances over his shoulder at Philza. The man’s smile is mysterious as he walks into the alleyway beside the restaurant. He stands near the dumpsters, and Tommy hopes that his food is in the bags he’s holding because he doesn’t trust Philza right now.

“Bring us to the roof,” Philza commands, but his voice is soft and amused. Tommy raises an eyebrow. Philza holds his hands out to Tommy, one of the bags hanging off his fingers. Tommy takes the request seriously even when he rolls his eyes. He uses the days of practice he’s been accumulating to lift the bags up into the air. He tries to lift them up higher, but he doesn’t have telekinesis. Tommy has to nudge the bags higher up with his hands. He starts flying after them. He can’t do any fun tricks since his concentration is divided, but he manages to get onto the roof easily. He sets the bags down beside him.

“Now, bring me up,” Philza yells up. Tommy blanches. He can barely do inanimate objects. There is no way Tommy is using his powers remotely on a human being. Tommy is about to fly down to get Philza, but the trainer shakes his head. “Come on, Vendetta. This is what we’ve been training for, isn’t it?”

Tommy bites the inside of his cheek skeptically. He breathes out slowly. He turns down all of his senses, focusing entirely on Philza. He hears a ‘woah!’ but he pushes the sound down. Tommy peeks an eye open to see Philza floating upward. Tommy cracks a tiny smile. An unfortunate mistake, because gravity snaps back together. Tommy rushes forward, grabbing Philza’s hand before the man can go splat against the ground. Tommy powers transfers manually, and he pulls Philza onto the parapet. Philza frowns at him, “That was cheating.”

“That was saving your fucking life,” Tommy hisses, glaring. As his trainer, Philza should have known Tommy wasn’t ready for lifting a human being.

Philza shakes his head. “You’re overthinking all of this, Vendetta. These powers are yours. They have obeyed you for… what, ten years now? They will continue to obey you as long as you prove that you are stronger than them.”

Tommy looks away. This feels like what Tempestarius told him. His powers are still his, only they’re stronger now. Tommy has to prove that his mind is still stronger than the will of gravity.

Tommy hears a noise behind him. He whirls around to see Ravager and Serenade- both in costume- landing on the roof, Serenade attached to Ravager’s side. Serenade peels away quickly, rushing over to Tommy and Philza. Serenade presses close to Tommy, nudging their shoulders together. Ravager takes his time. All the while, Tommy is staring at Philza. The man shrugs, “I messaged them about being hungry. Two birds, one stone.”

“Could you even kill two birds?” Serenade asks, raising an eyebrow. Tommy eyes him curiously. He doesn’t get the question, so there must be an inside joke Tommy isn’t privy to.

“You little shit,” Philza murmurs affectionately, shaking his head.

Tommy laughs. “Hey, just because he is one, we probably shouldn’t say that to his face with his fragile ego.”

Serenade gasps dramatically. “My ego is plenty strong.”

“And large,” Ravager adds, looking over at Philza. “Can we eat yet?”

Tommy breaks down into laughter. Serenade turns to hit Ravager’s arm. Philza is smiling as he starts distributing everyone’s food. Tommy is surprised that Philza managed to get his favorite sandwich. Tommy shrugs, supposing someone from the Syndicate told him.

Tommy and the others sit on the roof. They continue talking even as they eat. A warm, homely feeling fills Tommy’s chest. By the time they are done eating, Tommy is full of regret.

Chapter Text

“Your memory feels like home to me. So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds its way back to you.”

― Ranata Suzuki

“Shit-” Tommy hears someone grumble as they trip over his legs. He opens his eyes, feeling the twinging pain of crust breaking apart from some really good sleep. He sees the silhouette of the person who tripped over him scrambling back to their feet, rushing in the opposite direction without even an apology towards waking him up. Tommy pushes his upper body up onto his elbows, a low threat hanging in his throat. His words get stuck when he notices that everyone is awake in the inn room. They’re all rushing around, shoving each other each way. He notices Pearl in her Scarlet Demoness ensemble helping Grian get his wings through his Watcher uniform. Etho as Technician is helping package items into boxes with Sparrow in the corner, the former still looking half asleep as he fumbles around. Jimmy, the one that tripped over Tommy’s legs, grabs onto the communicator Tempestarius is holding. Her face is tense as Good Guy moves away from her, returning to his siblings’ side.

“What the fuck…” Tommy mutters. He pushes himself onto his feet. As Tommy gets off the air mattress, at least three different blankets fall off his body. Tommy moves them away, feeling the cool air of the room rushing in to brush against his sweaty skin. He knows for a fact that he went to sleep last night with a thin throw blanket that barely covers his entire body. These blankets are from the people who slept near him- the siblings- and since they’re over his body, they must have rushed when getting up this morning. Pearl is pretty good about getting up, but her brothers procrastinate. All three of them make sure to fold the blankets they use, vaguely explaining it away as instincts. If they threw their blankets on Tommy, something must be wrong.

Tommy already knew something was wrong when he noticed how they are all rushing around in their uniforms. Tommy rises to his feet, forcing his body into motion a second before he is ready. Tommy nearly falls to the side. Tempestarius grabs his arms, holding him upright. Tommy meets her eyes, feeling his blindfold start to slip away. Tempestarius lifts her hand, fixing the material. As she pulls the knot behind Tommy’s head, letting him settle his hands on her shoulders, Tempestarius looks slightly up. She’s avoiding eye contact with him. Tommy almost doesn’t want to ask her, but he voices his concerns regardless. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Crimson is attacking Sandland…” Tempestarius starts. She takes a deep breath, finally meeting his eyes. Lightning flashes around the edges, thunder rippling across her sclera. Tommy feels a slow tremble spread up from his fingertips to his shoulders. “And Minotaur is leading the charge against Las Nevadas.”

Tommy pulls away immediately. He rushes to the other side of the room. He dives into the closet, pulling out his uniform. He starts changing in the corner of the room with the closet door providing some protection as soon as the cloth brushes against his hands. He feels the slow thrum of his power rising in his chest. Philza told Tommy that he was getting better with his powers, but he still hadn’t achieved complete control. As Tommy shoves his hands through his sleeves, he notices a few objects beginning to float randomly in the room. He watches Good Guy’s communicator drop to the floor, shimmering with a red light. Tommy takes an evening breath, pulling his powers back to him. Good Guy scoops up the communicator as he speaks to his brother. Tommy overhears it because of the limited space in the room. “I’m going with you.”

“Vendetta,” Sparrow calls, walking over to the hero as Tommy turns his electronic cuffs on. It hooks up with the glider on his back, ready for Tommy to command the expansion and callback mechanisms. Tommy looks up at Sparrow. The man has a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder, metallic objects slamming against one another. “The Syndicate is fighting Crimson and the rest of the cultists in the Sandlands.”

“You should come with us,” Scarlet Demoness tells him instead of asking him. Tommy looks at her, meeting her glowing red eyes. His attention swivels around to see Watcher and Good Guy staring at him. Phil told Tommy that he was going to be there for reckoning day. Tommy himself has a promise that once Crimson is gone, Tommy will be enacting his revenge.

But Minotaur is attacking Las Nevadas. Tommy has little doubt that the Ace of Spades and his security force can handle the hero. He knows that the Ace of Hearts won’t be able to hold back, and Minotaur will be in for a terrifying twist. He knows that the Ace of Diamonds will protect his creations no matter what. He knows the Ace of Clubs will be vital in evacuating the people. He knows that the Jester can handle himself.

But that’s not just the Aces and their dealer. Ultraviolet will be there, and he never knows when to give up on a fight, even when he’s losing. Charlie will be there, and he’s so naive that this attack doesn’t seem fair to enact on a childish mind. Ankh won’t abandon his creations even when it will get him killed to hold on. Reynard isn’t the best fighter all things considered. While Tommy might not know the details, he knows Croupier has a history with Minotaur, just like Tommy. How can Tommy leave Croupier to face the source of his trauma alone? After everything Croupier has done for Tommy all these years, how can Tommy not give back even a fraction of that? How can he not protect the place that has become something like a home to him when his original one was blown sky high?

“Vendetta,” Tempestarius says on the other side of the room. Tommy hears rain slamming against the window. He hears the distant roar of thunder against the blighted sky. Tempestarius looks every bit the part of a powerful witch that commands the heavens’ fury. She nods at Tommy, determination evident in the way her jaw clenches. “I’ll take care of Minotaur with Technician and Sparrow. Las Nevadas will not fall today.”

Tommy tenses, but he finds a fragile flower blooming in his chest. In the midst of all his anger and loneliness, there is a small part of them that produces the slow-blooming bud known as trust. He believes Tempestarius. He trusts that she will follow through on her word. He is willing to put all of Las Nevadas into her hands. Not because he knows she won’t fail it but because he trusts that she won’t. It is a sickening feeling in his stomach, but it feels him with enough courage to nod his head at her.

He swears he sees Tempestarius smile for a moment, but it disappears the second Tommy rushes out of the door with the others heading towards the Sandlands. The tavern downstairs isn’t empty. Tommy passes them a single glance. He notices a group in the back that seems to be made up of Tempestarius’ teammates, the Guardians. Tommy makes eye contact with one of the members, a pink-haired girl he knows can control water, and her eyes widen in surprise. As Tommy is moving out of the door, he sees Tempestarius slide into position with her teammates, drawing all of their attention. Sparrow and Technician are at her heels, but Tommy isn’t able to see the Guardians’ reaction to the two new people.

Tommy steps into the rain. Watcher and Good Guy take off into the air using their wings. Scarlet Demoness twists her hands, summoning a spiraling red vortex. A large wolf steps out of the vortex. When Fenrir’s tail is completely out, Scarlet Demoness closes the vortex. She hops onto the back of her great beast. She leans down to pet Fenrir’s head, and it would be adorable if it wasn’t for the fact that Fenrir’s mouth pulls up to reveal rows of knife-like teeth. Fenrir starts running through the alleyways to get to Sandlands.

Tommy follows the path of Watcher and Good Guy. Though he doesn’t have wings, he’s airborne in a second. The threads of gravity snap and reform all across his body as he pushes himself to move faster. He keeps the others in his line of sight, unable to overtake any of them but able to keep himself even. Tommy feels the rain pelt against his skin as he moves, and the chilling temperature provides a stark contrast with the warm winds that start to blow in from Sandlands. The area resists rainy weather because of the Nether portal, but it seems Tempestarius’ powers have nullified that resistance. Tommy isn’t sure how grateful he should be for it when he notices a thick red mist spreading over the Sandlands. Tommy hesitates, and his companions fly straight into the mist. Tommy looks down, watching Fenrir disappear into the mist.

“Shit,” Tommy curses, dropping down onto the ground. He moves into the mist, bringing out his weapon. The baton spreads out into a staff. Tommy presses a hand to his thigh to determine if his dagger is waiting for him. His original should still be in the position of the Syndicate from that time he ran away, but Sparrow got him a new one for the final battle. Tommy supposes this is the final battle.

Tommy’s mask makes a whirring sound as he moves through the scarlet fog. Tommy can hear people fighting in the distance, but it’s difficult to see anything, especially when his glasses already tint the world red. Tommy reaches up to remove his glasses, but he only has his fingers on the edge when he feels a presence near him. Tommy moves in slow circles, searching the red for a silhouette. He eventually finds it. As if made from the mist itself, a man wearing black clothing with a red sash around his chest. It falls into an open-shirt that stretches out from a belt made with vines. The man’s gloves and boots seem to carry the same flora aesthetic. He wears a helmet over his head that seems to reflect a light that Tommy cannot see. The worst part is his glowing eyes that seem to piece through the mist.

Tommy lifts his staff up, preparing for the first strike. He doesn’t recognize this cultist, but he gets the sense he’s fighting someone powerful. Tommy is proven right when he hears a voice in his head without the man’s lips moving. “Ah, it’s you, Golden One. I was not sure you would arrive. After all, that bullish human decided to attack what appears to be your sacred lands. I would never forgive such a slight, but it seems you value my destruction over your land’s preservation.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Tommy asks, unsure if his thoughts filter into the man’s mind as well. Tommy hasn’t meant many espers with mind powers.

“You know who I am, Golden One. I am Crimson, the Corrupting Voice,” The man’s face contorts with an amused smile. Tommy shudders with disgust. He assumed as much since this man’s voice reminded him of the one he heard in the G-Train station. The twinge of laughter in his mental tone also reminds Tommy of the giggling he heard when he passed out after his power’s second awakening.

“What do you want?” Tommy asks. He doesn’t know if he’s asking what the Cult of Erythr wants overall or if he wants to know what Crimson wants right now. He is going to let Crimson decide how to answer best.

“My overall goal is world domination, but presently, I want to know what makes you resistant,” Crimson answers both of Tommy’s questions, making Tommy believe the telepathy is two-way. Tommy tries schooling his thoughts. He cannot let anything slip.

“Did you attack Sandlands just to draw me out?” Tommy thinks that is a little creepy, but what was he expecting from a supervillain?

“I knew the Syndicate would respond to my attacks, and this would inevitably provoke you. I did not foresee that bullish man’s attacks, but it is fortunate news that you have chosen me over him. I would have gone to that island myself if I discovered you were over there, and I understand you would act more rashly over there than here. This sandy domain is very poorly taken care of,” Crimson looks around, reaching a hand out. As he moves his fingers, the mist clears away. Crimson is able to press his fingers against the stone wall of a nearby building.

“Your cultists are going to get fucking bodied,” Tommy warns Crimson. If the entire Syndicate is here, the Cult of Erythr doesn’t stand a chance. This assumption is made without even considering that the Scarlet Demoness, Watcher, and Good Guy have joined the fight. With those three and the Syndicate, the antidote will be spread faster than the rain pelting Tommy’s hood. Crimson should have known that he wasn’t going to be able to protect all of his subordinates.

“I know… but this is a sacrifice I’m willing to make. They’re a liability, anyway, since the drug will free their minds from my control. They will spread the secrets of the cult to your allies. I would be safer cutting away bothersome ties, remaking my entire organization from the ground up. I am a very patient entity, after all. You need only ask your superior… XD, I believe he goes by these days,” Crimson explains, waving his hands around. Tommy tenses at XD’s name. Crimson smile turns cruel as he meets Tommy’s eyes. “Alas, you probably won’t be around much longer to ask him. I need to understand you, Golden One. I need to know why you can’t be controlled. If I know why, I can prevent this from ever happening again. I can become stronger. I can get what I want.”

In a single second, Crimson closes the distances between him and Tommy. The blonde flinches back, but he feels the cool press of fingers against his forehead. Crimson’s eyes burn brighter, expanding to fill up Tommy’s entire vision.

Tommy blinks, clearing his vision. He reaches his hands up to rub his eyes. When he pulls them back down, he notices that he isn’t wearing his uniform. He is wearing a sweater, one that is a little too big for him. Tommy frowns, blinking warily at his hands. He flexes his fingers. He starts looking around him. He’s sitting on a stool at a bar in an apartment… a familiar apartment. Tommy looks up, a breath being stolen from his lips.

Wilbur is standing in the kitchen with his back to Tommy. He is wearing a loose t-shirt with a pair of jeans. He is sliding around the area with socks on his feet. Tommy hears something on the stove sizzling, interrupted only by Wilbur’s humming. Tommy’s lips part, and his voice rushes up his throat after a second. “What are you doing?”

Tommy hears Wilbur laugh. The man turns around, putting a hand on his hip. He raises his eyebrows at Tommy, a funny smile spreading across his face. “Have you gone stupid with hunger? I’m cooking our breakfast.”

“Hey!” Tommy snaps, his hands balling up into fists. He leans forward, putting his chest against the bar. He narrows his eyes at his brother. “Shut up, bitch!”

Wilbur laughs again. He turns back to the stove. Tommy huffs, leaning back. He almost falls off the stool, so he grabs onto the bar to keep himself from plummeting back. He stares up at the ceiling. He feels… something feels off. Tommy can’t quite put his finger on it. The ceiling provides him no answers, nor does the song Wilbur continues to hum. Tommy shakes his head. He’s probably forgotten to do his homework or something. Maybe he owes Tubbo a favor? Tommy is sure he’ll think of it later. He pulls himself back up, standing on the rungs of the stool to lift off the stool a few inches. “What are you making?”

“I’m making your favorite,” Wilbur chirps happily. Tommy smiles. He loves it when Wilbur makes- Tommy’s smile shrinks. He can’t remember what his favorite dish is. Tommy doesn’t even know if he likes eating breakfast. But Wilbur wouldn’t lie to him. Tommy just needs to remember. Maybe that’s what felt off to him earlier. He can’t remember his favorite food, just like he can’t remember-

There’s a knock on the door. Tommy flinches, turning his head towards the door. A spike of anxiety fills his entire body. Tommy’s hands begin to shake. He looks down at them, willing them to stop. He hears metal slam against metal. Tommy looks up to find Wilbur looking at him expectantly. “Would you please go get that, Toms?”

Tommy slides off the stool. He walks down the hallway. It feels longer than it usually is, but Tommy doesn’t think much of that as he puts his hand on the doorknob. He hisses when a shock greets him. Tommy draws his hand back. His hand continues to buzz with a dull pain as he reaches for the doorknob again, using the oversized sleeves of his sweater to protect his hands. He twists the doorknob, opening the door.

A man stands on the other side. He wears a dark red dress shirt tucked into black pants. His shoes seem to shine as Tommy glances down at them. He looks back up to meet the man’s maroon irises. His red hair is pulled back into a ponytail that reminds Tommy of a river of blood. It also reminds Tommy of Tec-

“May I come in?” The man asks. Tommy shuffles back, opening the door further. He doesn’t know why he’s letting the man in; it just feels like the right thing to do. Tommy starts to close the door behind the man. He feels like he should look outside into the apartment’s hallway, but he can’t get his eyes to lift up off the floor. It feels… dangerous to look outside these apartment’s walls.

Tommy rushes to follow after the man. The hallway feels significantly shorter, but Tommy shakes that thought away. How can a hallway feel long one moment and short the next? Maybe Wilbur was right. Tommy is going stupid with hunger… but he isn’t hungry.

“Oh, hello!” Wilbur calls out with a joyful inflection to his words. He steps out of the kitchen for a moment to give the red-haired man a hug. The man reciprocates. When they’re done, Wilbur pulls away. He waves a hand to Tommy, looking at the blonde with the brightest smile Tommy has ever seen him wear. “Toms, this is Crimson. Crimson, this is Tommy, my brother.”

Tommy’s heart lurches at the title. Tears rise into his eyes. Tommy hesitantly lifts his hand up, hoping to wipe them away before Crimson or Wilbur can see them. He really doesn’t know how to explain himself or why he’s crying right now.

Wilbur steps back into the kitchen, and Crimon’s attention falls onto Tommy’s shoulders. He gestures over to the dining room table. Tommy hesitates. He has the fleeting thought to ask when they got a dining room table, but Tommy scoffs at the thought. Of course they have a dining room table. They’ve always had a dining room table. Tommy must be dizzy with hunger and whatever sadness is currently threatening to overcome him.

Crimson pulls Tommy’s chair for him, pushing him back under the table. Crimson sits at the head of the table beside Tommy. Crimson looks around the apartment with vague interest. He looks a lot more interested when he finally turns back to Tommy with a friendly smile that makes Tommy feel disgusted. Tommy shakes his head. This is Wilbur’s friend; Tommy needs to be nice.

“How are you, Tommy?” Crimson asks.

It’s a basic question. Tommy can answer this. He can carry out a civil conversation with someone. “I’m fine. How are you?”

“I’m also doing well. I can’t wait to try some of your brother’s cooking,” Crimson mentions, looking over to Wilbur. Tommy has to turn in his chair to look at Wilbur. It isn’t worth the look since Wilbur isn’t facing Crimson or Tommy. When Tommy turns away from his brother’s back, he notices Crimson is looking at him again. 

Ah, it’s Tommy’s turn to speak again. “Don’t tell him I said this, but his cooking isn’t shit. He’s actually making my- uh, well, he’s making my, um… er, my-”

“Your favorite?” Crimson tilts his head to the side as he fills in the blank Tommy left. Crimson doesn’t look bothered by this. He actually looks extremely friendly right now.

“Yeah,” Tommy murmurs sheepishly. He doesn’t know what came over him. He’s probably just upset that he can’t remember what his favorite is.

“Your brother must love you a lot to make your favorite,” Crimson notes with a hint of… reverence, maybe, in his tone.

Tommy shakes in his seat. He feels the tears rise back to his face. He loves Wilbur, and Wilbur loves him. That part isn’t what confuses him. That fact seems to be the one thing that doesn’t feel off right now. Tommy runs with that. “He does. I love him just as fucking much. He’s… well, he’s my north star. He’s everything I want to be, everything that I always run to. He’s just so damn amazing.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Crimson laughs. He lifts his hand up, using the sides of his fingers to wipe away Tommy’s tears. Tommy tries to hold them back, but they continue to spill down his cheeks. He feels like such an embarrassment. This is probably why Wilbur hasn’t introduced Tommy to Crimson yet. He knew that Tommy was going to do something pathetic like this in front of his friend. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s great that you love your brother so much. It would be pretty difficult to hate his guts when you two live together.”

“I could never hate Wilbur. No matter what I told him-” Tommy stops. Did he ever tell Wilbur that he hated him? It isn’t true, of course, but Tommy has the distinct feeling that he uttered those words at some point. Did he say them while he and Wilbur were fighting? He did… but what were they fighting about? Tommy can’t remember. It makes his head hurt and his heart ache. Tommy takes a deep breath, feeling the sickly feeling of tears in the back of his throat. “No, I could never fucking hate Wilbur. He’s so important to me.”

“Trust me, I know how important he is to you. He’s here, after all,” Crimson nods with understanding. Crimson pulls his hand away from Tommy’s cheek. He smiles kindly at Tommy. He looks around the apartment one last time. He eventually settles his attention back on Tommy, inspiring a full-body shudder from the blonde. “Do you mind if you take a look at your and Wilbur’s room? I really want the full tour, you know.”

Tommy opens his mouth to answer when he’s interrupted by a knock. Crimson’s face freezes, and it doesn’t look like he’s breathing anymore. Tommy slowly looks over at the door. The hallway seems very long again. The door is practically covered in shadows, but the doorknob reflects back a bright enough light that Tommy starts to get a headache from looking at it. Tommy hears Wilbur call from the kitchen, “We shouldn’t have any more guests.”

Tommy stands up from the table to answer the door, just like what he did for Crimson. He keeps his eyes pinned on the doorknob, unable to look away.

“Sit back down!” Wilbur snaps, slamming his hand down on the counter in front of him. His voice is so loud and grating that Tommy flinches, whirling around to look at his brother with wide eyes. Wilbur looks angrier than Tommy has ever seen him, all harsh edges and boiling vitriol. Tommy has never been scared of his brother before, but something about his brother’s expression causes Tommy’s chest to expand with apprehension.

Wilbur’s anger disappears, revealing a calmer smile. His entire body untenses, brown eyes pinning Tommy to the spot where he stands. “It is rude to leave a guest unattended, Tommy.”

Tommy swings his vision from Wilbur to Crimson, his heart beating in time with the knocking noise. He meets Crimson’s eyes. The man is smiling at Tommy. The blonde takes a step away from Crimson and the table, getting closer to the hallway with the door. Crimson’s eyes narrow, “You shouldn’t upset your brother.”

Tommy shifts his body, trying to look at both Crimson and Wilbur at the same time. The knocking is getting louder. It starts to thunder in Tommy’s ears until he can no longer hear his breathing. He is shaking, and dread pools in his gut. Something is wrong here, and the knocking makes it impossible for Tommy to think.

Against the wishes of both his brother and Crimson, Tommy bolts for the door. He hears chairs scraping behind him, and he knows Crimson is following him into the darkness of the hallway. Tommy winces. He should stop. He shouldn’t be doing this right now. The knocking will go away. The person will realize they’re an uninvited guest. Wilbur and Crimson won’t be angry with Tommy if he listens. Tommy just needs to stop running.

Tommy doesn’t stop running. He doesn’t listen. He continues until his fingers grasp the doorknob. Tommy throws the door open, feeling pain jolt up his arm from how harsh he is handling everything. He dares to look at whatever has been pounding against the door. Instead of a ferocious beast worthy of the trepidation inside his body, Sleepy is standing at the door frame with their greenhouse spread out behind them. Sleepy raises an eyebrow, “You sure took your sweet time.”

Tommy gapes, but Sleepy looks past him. Sleepy grabs his wrist, shoving Tommy behind them. They glare at Crimson, making sure to keep an arm up to stop Tommy from moving forward. “You need to get out. You don’t belong here.”

“I think I belong here as much as you do,” Crimson points out, stopping a few feet away from Sleepy and Tommy. Crimson continues to wear a smile, but it isn’t nearly as friendly as it was when he was sitting at the dining room table with Tommy.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for,” Sleepy continues, not refuting that they don’t belong. Tommy looks between Sleepy and Crimson. What is Crimson looking for? Why don’t Crimson and Sleepy belong here? What’s happening right now?

“I wager that I will,” Crimson concludes. He turns away from Tommy and Sleepy. He runs down the short hallway, turning beside the dining room table to enter into the hallway that leads to Tommy and Wilbur’s rooms. Crimson wanted to go there before the knocking interrupted his conversation with Tommy. Why does Crimson want to see their bedrooms?

“Oh no,” Sleepy mutters, racing after Crimson without turning to explain everything to Tommy. He is left behind as Sleepy turns into the hallway. Tommy shakes his head. He’s going to need to find answers for himself. He starts running down the hallway. 

Before he can get to the next hallway, Wilbur steps out of the kitchen to grab Tommy’s forearm. This stops Tommy in his tracks. He faces his brother. Wilbur meets Tommy’s eyes, something warm and loving in his brown eyes. Wilbur places a hand on Tommy’s cheek. Tommy leans into his touch with a soft smile of his own. Wilbur asks, “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course,” Tommy says, leaning against his brother’s chest. Wilbur circles his arms around Tommy’s shoulders. He holds his brother close. Tommy doesn’t need answers if he’s right here. Sleepy and Crimson can do whatever they want in Tommy and Wilbur’s rooms. Tommy will stay here for as long as his brother will let him.

“You know, I can see it in your eyes,” Wilbur says softly, his fingers coming up to play with the hair at the base of Tommy’s neck. Tommy hums, wondering what Wilbur is talking about. Wilbur chuckles lightly, but there’s nothing happy about his voice as he continues. “Your fear. Your loneliness. Your grief. It’s understandable, of course. You left us to die, after all.”

“What?” Tommy asks, eyes opening. He tries looking at Wilbur, but the brunette has a distant look in his eyes as he shoves Tommy’s face back into his shoulder.

“You left us to die, you damned brat. You went off to live a life you don’t deserve. You let the rest of us die, and for what reason? You couldn’t get over yourself and put your family first? Your selfishness let you live while the rest of us died. And that will haunt you for the rest of your pathetic life,” Wilbur continues. Tommy flinches, shoving Wilbur away from him. When he looks into Wilbur’s face, half of it is covered in bloody burns. Fire shines in Wilbur’s melting eyes. Tommy resists the urge to vomit as Wilbur’s flaming hand comes up to touch Tommy. “You are a fucking nuisance. You always were. I should have killed you when I had the chance. I should have left you with our mother and my father.  I should have been the one to leave you to die.”

Tommy’s face compresses his tears. His hands are covered in warm blood. Tommy shakes his head, unable to shake away Wilbur’s harsh words. The apartment around them blazes with fire, and Wilbur continues to meander like a walking corpse. Tommy closes his eyes, running away from both the fire and his brother. Wilbur lets him go, but he yells, “You can’t escape me!”

Tommy tries, anyway. He keeps running. His hands fly up to wipe his tears away, wishing he could scrub Wilbur’s words away, too. As Tommy goes down the corridor, the material of the walls begins to shift and expand away from. Tommy doesn’t notice until he’s in an entirely new place. Tommy stops. His movements slow down until he’s frozen in the middle of a warehouse. It’s the warehouse he grew up in. Tommy’s family- Niki, Jack, Tubbo, Eret, Fundy, and Wilbur- are all sitting along the edges of the warehouse. They are covered in shadows to the point that only their eyes are visible. There is absolutely nothing in their expressions, and Tommy has to wonder if they’re actually statues.

Sleepy has Crimson shoved against the ground, their knees pressed in between his shoulder blades. Crimson is wearing a wild, angry expression. Sleepy’s face tenses with exertion. They look up when they notice Tommy, yelling out, “You have to send us both away!”

Tommy shakes his head. He feels like he’s on the verge of his mind exploding. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Sleepy.”

“We’re in your mindscape, Tommy, so you need to take control and force Crimson out,” Sleepy demands. Tommy flinches at the use of his name, but the memories come swirling back to him like jagged shards of a mirror. He remembers Sleepy- Olive- slipping into his mind when they were both trainees underneath Red Dragon’s tutelage. They talked and played in Tommy’s dreams, becoming friends. Sleepy taught Tommy how to tell if he was in a dream. He feels disappointed in himself for not realizing that he’s been in one. “I’m doing my best to help you, Toms, but you’ve got to do this yourself.”

The scenery around Tommy fades away. His family and the warehouse disappear to present a white void. Tommy takes a steadying breath, summoning all of his mental energy to force Crimson out of his mind. Tommy feels pain ripple throughout his body- or whatever his form is right now- as he tries to get Crimson out. 

The supervillain is nothing if not tenacious. Red vines start to spread from his body throughout the white void, clinging to Tommy’s mind. The blonde screams in agony and hits his knees. His powers explode out of him, dismantling the vines. Crimson makes a choked noise as he is swept up in a vortex that spins near the center of this white space. Sleepy falls into it, as well. Tommy tries to call the vortex off to save his friend, but Sleepy is forcibly ejected, too.

It doesn’t stop there. Tommy is also dragged into the vortex. He closes his eyes as his body is twisted around. He is shoved from the mental world into the physical one.

Tommy opens his eyes, breathing heavily. He is lying down. He notes that he’s lying in someone’s lap. As Tommy peers into a pair of dangerously blue eyes hidden behind a bird-like mask, he knows he’s lying in Azrael’s lap. 

Chapter Text

“Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, "It might have been.”

― Kurt Vonnegut

Tommy kicks his feet up, shifting his body weight as quickly as he can. He lands on his toes. He continues, rolling forward. He puts some distance between him and Azrael. When he gets back to his feet, he twirls his body with enough force that he hears the soles of his boots cutting into the pavement of what seems to be a rooftop. Tommy angles his body, stomping his foot down on the edge of his baton. It flips in the air, landing in Tommy’s awaiting palm. Tommy shifts his touch, and it expands into a staff. Tommy holds the staff near his body, eyes narrowing at the villain in front of him.

Azrael rises to his feet with the grace of a timeless man. His wings stretch out behind him, and his eyes seem to glow with the power of a million haunted spirits. Azrael raises his hand, the discolored skin giving way to sharp claws. He looks like he’s pacifying a wild animal instead of coming into direct contact with the person who wants him to die the most. “Vendetta, I want you to take a deep breath and-”

Tommy launches himself at Azrael. His power spreads across his staff, increasing the weight of it tenfold. Tommy maneuvers his body so that the staff hits the ground without throwing out his shoulder. Azrael leaps out of the way, his wings flapping to give him extra distance. The place where he once stood crumples underneath the weight of Tommy’s assault. The roof cracks, part of it falling into the building it is meant to protect from the elements. Tommy releases the threads of gravity on his body as he jumps across the ravine. He lands haphazardly on the edge, aiming to swing his staff at Azrael once more.

“I need you to listen to me just for a moment-” Azrael begins. As Azrael dodges, Tommy’s entire body spins with the force of his swing. Tommy catches himself after one full rotation. He faces Azrael once more. The villain is staring at Tommy as if he’s a mere nuisance. Tommy’s blood boils inside his body at being so carelessly dismissed as a non-threat. Tommy throws his hand towards the hole in the roof. The crumpled pieces float into the air, bathed in a bloody light. Tommy uses his staff to knock them each large chunk towards Azrael. Some chunks crash together before they can make it to Azrael, but the ones that manage to get to the villain are easily tanked by his folded up wings.

This creates a powdery dust in the air that Tommy takes advantage of. Since Azrael cannot see him, Tommy throws his staff upward. He releases a downward arc towards the villain, falling out of the dust cloud. Azrael’s eyes widen in surprise. He lifts his hand up, catching the edge of Tommy’s staff. Tommy’s feet hit the ground, and he feels something sick laugh in his gut at the flush of pain in Azrael’s eyes. The villain looks back at Tommy. The hero notices the talons that aren’t occupied with holding the staff coming to strike Tommy in the stomach. Tommy expertly ducks under his staff. He throws his body up into the air, feet pointed towards the sky. He activates his power, making the staff and his body heavy. Azrael hits his knees underneath the weight. Tommy takes the opportunity to set both of his feet down on Azrael’s spine with as much force as he can.

Azrael does not take kindly to this. His large wings lift up to swat Tommy off his back with enough power that Tommy launches towards the next building over. Tommy hits the rooftop harshly, and he keeps rolling until his back slams against the parapet. Tommy lifts up to his feet with a cough shuttering through his entire body. Azrael is staring at Tommy with an apology in his eyes. Tommy feels his entire body begin to shake with rage. He cannot stand Azrael looking at him like that. The only thing Azrael should be sorry for is murdering Tommy’s family, not whatever pitying bullshit he’s concocting in his mind.

“Vendetta, you have to know what is going to happen if you keep trying,” Azrael yells from the other building. His wings shoot out as if to gesture towards the horizon. The red mist that once permeated over Sandlands is dissipating. Tommy can hear people moving around. He knows that everyone from the Syndicate is here. He knows how keenly they will defend their masters. He knows that in their minds, when his life is put on one scale and Azrael and Inchling’s lives are put on the other side, he will be ever closer to the heavens.

The problem with Azrael’s warning is that Tommy simply doesn’t care. He has a scale of his own: his family will always weigh more than the Syndicate in his heart. Tommy is going to get vengeance for them. This debt can only be paid for in blood, and the very source of all of Tommy’s anger, grief, and suffering is standing right in front of him. Tommy does not care whose lives he needs to take in order to get what he wants, what he’s been fighting to achieve for ten years.

Tommy is either going to kill Azrael right here and now, or he’s going to die trying. There are no alternatives. There is no backing down. It is now or it is never.

Tommy reaches down to his thigh. He pulls out his dagger. He holds it defensively in front of him. He hears Azrael’s sigh as he throws away Tommy’s staff. Tommy doesn’t watch the metal go as he lands against the sandy ground. Tommy races forward. He jumps off the edge of the roof, his powers lifting him high into the air. Tommy lands a second later. It is rough on his ankles, but the adrenaline drowns out all of the pain. Tommy tries slicing the air in front of him. Instead of merely dodging, Azrael grabs Tommy’s wrist to stop the dagger. Tommy drops the hilt, letting it fall in his other hand. He shoves the dagger forward. Instead of striking through flesh, it barely grazes Azrael’s side… 

But there is blood on the blade. Tommy relishes at the sight. Anything that can bleed is something that can die, and Tommy is certain he can do it. He will be the one to fell the Angel of Death. What absurd title will follow him after this monumental victory?

Tommy’s victory is short-lived. Azrael’s wing slams against Tommy’s hand. His grip is momentarily weakened by surprise, and Azrael uses the opportunity to pluck the dagger out of Tommy’s hand. Instead of killing Tommy with his own weapon, Azrael throws the dagger away from them.

Like his staff before it, Tommy doesn’t show that he cares. He switches his tactics immediately. He balls his hand up into a fist, launching it forward. It makes contact with Azrael’s mask. Azrael’s head snaps back into an upright position with mere annoyance flashing in his eyes. Azrael grabs Tommy’s wrist. With both of his hands occupied, Tommy pulls. He is able to lift his legs up, bending them against his chest. He pushes back out, his feet colliding with Azrael’s stomach. The villain grunts, releasing Tommy’s hands. Tommy drops back to the ground, adjusting his position. He attempts to knock Azrael off his feet, but the winged man steps over Tommy’s attempt. Tommy just keeps spinning across the ground, letting his other leg come up in a kick that slam against Azrael’s thighs.

Azrael quickly disengages, stepping away with his wings flaring. Tommy rises to his feet, ready to throw another punch. He expects Azrael to do the same, but the villain is somewhat insistent on talking. “Vendetta, listen to me. The Syndicate weren’t the ones to kill your family. Inchling and I were hardly active ten years ago. We only fought Moderators at the time, not even heroes.”

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Tommy practically sings. He launches another punch. Azrael bats it away. Tommy falls forward. As his body comes close to Azrael’s, he lifts his knee to hit the villain in the stomach. Azrael makes a quiet noise that is similar to pain, but he isn’t doing anything. He isn’t trying to fight back. He isn’t making too many attempts at holding Tommy down, either. He’s dodging where he can. He’s completely disarmed Tommy, just short of cutting his limbs off. Tommy feels his rage grow hotter at this observation. He needs Azrael to treat him like a treat. He wants Azrael to have some fear for his life, even briefly. Even if this kills Tommy, he wants to know that he caused Azrael a little bit of suffering.

“We were so small-time that we didn’t even have explosives at the time. We were just thieves, really. We were gathering information. We were trying to do something because I’m-” Azrael says as Tommy slams the heel of his boot against Azrael’s thigh. Traces of a footprint are left behind. Azrael huffs in distress. His wings move, and Tommy recognizes the way they work only because he has been around Jimmy and Grian too much. Azrael is frustrated and desperate. Tommy hesitates, not understanding why Azrael is trying to convince Tommy so much. The Azrael Tommy knows would have dealt with him by now. “What would you make you believe?!”

Tommy doesn’t respond. He only narrows his eyes. There is nothing that would make Tommy believe the words of his family’s killers.

Azrael sighs. He jumps back to put a fair bit of distance between him and Tommy. His wings begin to droop, and his talons come up to his face. Tommy is about to use his powers when Azrael grabs the edges of his mask. Tommy stops, eyes widening as Azrael pulls his mask off. He lets the mask dangle against his talons, dropping down to his sides. His bare face examines Tommy, searching for a reaction from the hero.

Philza is standing in front of Tommy where Azrael once stood, wearing the same outfit and bearing the same sable wings. Philza wears a pleading expression, generally disrupting Tommy’s train of thought. This was Philza… the same man who was training Tommy, the same man who ate dinner with him, the same man who explained religion to him, the same… Tommy feels something in him snap. He’s so angry that tears are starting to form on his eyes. Tommy feels stupid for having them, but he doesn’t do away with them as he launches himself at Azrael- Philza- whatever.

The flesh feels real when it collides with Tommy’s fist. Philza’s entire face flushes with pain, and Tommy’s fist leaves a mark against his skin. Tommy raises his other fist to strike Philza’s stomach. He clasps his hands together, trying to swing down. Philza’s hands lift up to grab Tommy’s wrists, holding them away. Before Tommy can swing a leg up, Philza’s wings drop down to protect his torso. He makes direct eye contact with Tommy, forcing the blonde to remain where he’s standing. “I’m also the hero, Crowfather. I faked my death to create the Syndicate after realizing how corrupt the hero system is. I was tired of not being able to save as many lives as I could have, so I made this group to force those results.”

Tommy doesn’t believe a word, and he knows that his expression makes that abundantly clear. Tommy activates his power on himself. Philza nearly crumples under the weight. He’s forced to let go of Tommy’s wrists to avoid being brought to ground. Tommy releases gravity’s tight hold on him as he takes a step forward to deal with Philza again.

Tommy stops in his tracks when something happens. Philza’s body starts to morph, molding into something much smaller than his current form. It absolutely disgusts Tommy to watch. Philza’s limbs seem to snap and reform into different shapes, but the end product is evidently clear even before the bird is resting on the parapet. Those knowing black eyes stare at Tommy with an emotion eerily similar to anticipation.

"Okay, so, you don't trust the food I would give you, but you trust the food-"

“A- Phil was probably the most accurate. I just want to see what he saw in you.”

"Uh... Vendetta, I think you're a little confused. You do know that Crowfather is-"

"Wait. How do you know-"

“Look, Vendetta, from one friend to another, I just want you to know that you can't trust what you see.”

All those interactions play in Tommy’s mind as he gazes at the face of his friend. Azrael is Crowfather, both the hero Tommy admired and the bird he confided in. Azrael is also Philza, someone who Tommy saw as something of a father when he’s never really had one. Azrael is also the person Tommy has been hunting for the better part of his life, but in all his other variations, Tommy thought of him as a good and honest… Well, not person, not in the bird’s case, but damn it if Tommy didn’t trust the bird.

Tommy shakes his head. As Crowfather’s body starts undergoing a reverse process, Tommy bolts. He runs away. He darts across the rooftops, unable to stop himself from colliding with nearly every surface. He is certain he’s broken something by the time his legs give out, depositing unceremoniously on a building on the outskirts of the Sandlands and Prime Heights. Tommy can almost see the guildhouse, but he doesn’t have the strength to hide himself within their walls. He is stuck at the edge of the roof, breathing so heavily he isn’t sure there will ever be enough air in the world for him.

Tommy has been trusting his enemy for upwards of four or five years. He’s been admiring his enemy. Tommy has been holding him aloft in some versions, held him close in other forms, and plotted the demise of him, too. He has multiple secret identities, and Tommy had a different relationship with each mirrored image. It makes Tommy feel sick to think that he’s had any sort of positive relationship with Azrael, but at the same time, he doesn’t think Crowfather and Philza are liars. What if he wasn’t lying? What if he and Inchling weren’t responsible for the death of Tommy’s family?

But if they weren’t the ones to plant and trigger the bombs, who did? Tommy can think of hundreds of people who had a grudge against Minotaur during the era of L’Manberg, but Tommy hasn’t spent nearly half his life tracking down those people. He doesn’t know who to go after if it wasn’t Azrael and Inchling.

Tommy throws his mask off, a scream spilling from his lips a moment after. It burns his throat, but the release of emotions is good for his mind. When the scream finally finishes, Tommy feels marginally better. He has so much he needs to process and work through right now. He has to start planning for a different enemy, right after he finds them.

But despite Tommy’s allegiance to his family, all of that is secondary. The betrayal is worse. It simmers in his body. It shreds through his insides like a prowling beast devouring his body. Tommy can’t figure out what he’s supposed to be feeling right now. He’s mad at himself for trusting the bird and Philza. He’s mad at Philza for having so many secret identities. He’s even mad at the hero Crowfather for letting everyone think he was dead, and he’s mad at Azrael for not being the person he was looking for. The rage, however, falls flat underneath the weight of his sheer sadness and guilt and grief. Tommy’s old companions, loneliness and pain, roar inside his body, threatening to tear down everything Tommy holds close.

Tommy hears something behind him. He whirls around, ready to yell at Azrael. Instead of Philza, Serenade is carefully taking small steps across the rooftop. Tommy’s eyes narrow at the hero. He takes his mask, throwing it at Serenade. The villain dodges out of the way, his veil swirling around to hide whatever expression he’s wearing. The green light of his eyes diminishes a little, and Tommy is able to bring forth another scream, “Leave me the fuck alone!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” Serenade whispers, concern very much evident in his tone. Tommy wonders if the villain knows that Tommy is now very much aware of how much of an idiot he’s been. Serenade must have known all along. Tommy really feels like an idiot right now. It wasn’t just Philza who betrayed Tommy- it was everyone. All of them. Every single one of them must have known that Azrael was Crowfather. Hell, they tried to tell him!

“I don’t want the company of a damn villain,” Tommy hisses, turning his back. He steps onto the parapet, ready to return to the guildhouse.

“Wilbur Soot.”

Tommy stops. His arms fall to his side. His breath is taken from his chest. He turns very slowly, looking at Serenade. His eye twitches. His entire body is shaking. He can barely breathe as he asks, “What?”

“Wilbur Soot… that’s my name,” Serenade says. He takes his veil off. His mask comes off next, revealing his bare face. Serenade runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been wanting to tell you since Techno revealed his identity, but I could never find the right moment. I think this is the right moment. You don’t want to hang out with a villain, that’s fine. But Wilbur Soot isn’t a villain, you know? So, just… stay with me right now.”

“Niki,” Tommy says slowly. He watches Serenade’s expression shift, surprise and terror filling every pore of his muscles. Tommy continues, “Jack… Eret… Fundy… Tubbo…”

If Serenade is Wilbur… the others… Dyscardia, Thermoculus… Jolt… Tommy doesn’t know where Eret and Fundy are. Maybe they didn’t survive, maybe they did. Either way, Wilbur is alive. Niki is alive. Jack is alive. Tubbo is alive. They have to be, or this is some cruel joke.

“How do you know those names?” Wilbur hisses, a threat evident in his eyes.

Tommy pulls down his hood. He takes his glasses off his face, slamming them onto the ground. He can identify the exact moment Wilbur recognizes him. Tommy’s blue eyes are a staple of who he is. They are the one trait he’s carried from childhood. Even his blonde hair took on a dirtier shading after time. It was his eyes that connected him to his younger self, and it is his eyes that prove who he is to Wilbur. “Because I’m Tommy, and you’re supposed to be fucking dead.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur breathes. Funny, because Tommy can’t seem to. He can only hiccup half-broken sobs. He is shaking where he stands, and Wilbur is as still as a statue. They are staring at each other. Tommy wipes his eyes when the tears come pouring, trying to keep his eyelids from sliding shut. He’s terrified that Wilbur will reveal that he’s an illusion or that he isn’t the same Wilbur Tommy grew up with despite the similarities that Tommy can see clearly without the mask.

A million thoughts rush into Tommy’s mind. A few in particular stand out, grabbing at his limbs like chains ready to hold him down. The second Wilbur takes a step forward, mouth parting, Tommy throws his hand up. A red light flashes across Wilbur’s body, and his brother crumples to the ground. Tommy takes a few steps backward. He keeps moving until he’s at the edge of the roof. There is desperation and tears in Wilbur’s brown eyes, and Tommy can’t stand to remain there for a second longer. He takes a step off the roof, using his power to lift him into the air. Tommy flies away, ignoring Wilbur’s plea for him to come back.

Tommy flies with no destination in mind. He flies as if he could actually outrun his trauma and the damning truth. 

Chapter Text

“Did you really want to die?"

"No one commits suicide because they want to die."

"Then why do they do it?"

"Because they want to stop the pain.”

― Tiffanie DeBartolo

Tommy drops down into the water. He sinks with a resounding splash. The water rushes into his clothes, filling his nose and ears. He claws against the inky darkness around him. He kicks his feet, scrambling for purchase. His toes eventually slam against sediment. He trips forward because the sand rolls underneath his feet, but he manages to press his feet solidly to the ground. He continues forward, one step after another. His head eventually breaks the surface of the water. A wave crashes over him immediately, helpfully dragging him forward a few steps and unhelpfully refilling his mouth and nose with saltwater. Tommy coughs, continuing to move even as the water trembles all around him.

Tommy collapses on the beach that he manages to crawl onto. He coughs up all the water remaining inside his legs, puking up whatever he can. When he’s finished, he flops down onto his back. He lies there, feeling the coarse sand cling to the back of his clothes. He stares up at the night sky. He can hardly see it because of light pollution, but he doesn’t need to see it right now. He just needs to feel the night air biting his clammy, cold skin, reminding him that he is capable of feeling.

As the adrenaline wears away and water trickles out of his ears, he starts to hear other noises. He cranes his neck, peering at the world behind him. Up on a small cliff face, Tommy can see the lights of Las Nevadas. He hears the soft noises of crowds moving around. There is faint music, too, but it isn’t anything like Tommy is used to. Las Nevadas is usually unbearably loud. It usually glows so bright, like a star descending into the muck of humanity. Right now, it is fainter and darker, and Tommy uses the curiosity he feels to push away the other emotions that ripple through his body.

Tommy manages to stand after a few pathetic attempts. He is wet, cold, and covered in sand that doesn’t give him enough purchase. Thankfully, no one is around to witness Tommy’s failures. The beaches of Las Nevadas are usually crowded even at hours such as the one Tommy is desperately living in. Tommy is honestly surprised to find it empty, but he’s grateful. 

Eventually, Tommy is upright. His breath trembles in his already shaking chest. His heart seems to skip every other beat. Tommy feels the dredges of sickness cling to his body, though he isn’t sure if he’s talking about a physical one or the mental one that seems to corrupt his thoughts.

Tommy’s shaking hands wrap around the railing for a staircase that leads up from the beach to the top of the cliff face. He climbs it using both his leg strength and his arms. He is basically throwing his weight around. Every time he feels his balance teeter in another direction, he drops forward. He clangs his knees against the wooden staircase. He notes that a bruise will surely form, but he doesn’t care as he brings himself onto the next landing.

Tommy looks up from the landing. The outskirts of Las Nevadas are devoid of people. If there are people inside of the beachhouses, they are asleep with the lights off. Tommy steps onto one of their lawns. He walks across their freshly cut grass, squeezing between their house and fence. This brings Tommy to a backyard that opens directly into the street. Tommy shambles along the road, getting closer to the main part of the city.

The crowd seems a lot more controlled when Tommy stands dumbly at the edges of it. There are dozens of security force members rushing around to manage everyone. Tommy’s swings around the area. Some of the buildings have been damaged. Above the alcohol and sweat, Tommy’s nose finds the faint trace of smoke. Tommy remembers that Tempestarius said Minotaur was assaulting Las Nevadas. This must be the aftermath of his attack. Tommy’s heart warms minutely as he realizes that one of his homes hasn’t been destroyed. Tommy won’t be completely satisfied until he finds out if the people he cares about are safe.

Tommy takes a step to join the crowd. He blinks slowly. He dodges out of people’s way by swaying, and he feels like a leaf along a river current. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel sick walking through Las Nevadas. That is probably because he can hardly feel anything. Perhaps due to the excessive amount of people or the nearby buildings, Tommy’s skin is warm. Or maybe he’s going into shock. Tommy has probably been in shock for a couple of hours now. He thinks, anyway, he isn’t sure.

Tommy suddenly realizes that he isn’t moving anymore. He blinks, looking around. He sees a pair of hands on his shoulder. When he turns his head, he finds another hand on his other shoulder. He follows the hands up to the body they’re connected to, bringing him all the way to the face. The night sky he had been searching for earlier is presently in front of him, Tommy notes as he looks at Ultraviolet’s face. Tommy finds it incredibly easy to look at Ultraviolet despite his powers being active. Tommy admires the beauty of the purple-tinted nebula, but he’s also able to look into his eyes. He has lovely eyes, Tommy thinks, and they are filled with a worry so potent Tommy has to wonder why he never realized they were friends.

Tommy is terrible at noticing things, apparently. Rather, he might be very good at denying and rejecting what he does notice because he doesn’t know what to do with it. How many times did he compare the members of the Syndicate to his family? Why couldn’t he have just asked, at least once, if they lived in L’Manberg? If they had a little brother? Why didn’t he ever mention the names of the people he had been fighting for? He never cared about his identity, so why didn’t he just tell them his name? How many times had Tommy been so close to mentioning these things only to get interrupted, only to cower away because he was… what? Embarrassed? Terrified? Doubtful?

“- I have a back-up one. I’ve always had a back-up one. You’re too forgetful for your own damn good,” Ultraviolet has been talking. Tommy doesn’t know how long for. He doesn’t even fully know what they’re talking about, not until he realizes that Ultraviolet is staring intently at Tommy’s face. Tommy realizes as a cold flush spreads across his cheeks that he isn’t wearing his mask, his glasses, or his blindfold. His face is bare for anyone to look at. This is even more damning when Tommy knows that he’s wearing Vendetta’s uniform. Anyone who looks at him for even a second will know his identity.

Tommy doesn’t care. Vendetta is dead. Tommy’s lips split into a smile. Vendetta is dead because the people Tommy thought were dead aren’t. Vendetta only gets to live if Tommy’s family is dead. But they aren’t, so Vendetta gets to die. Tommy’s smile turns into laughter. It trickles from his mouth, gaining intensity and volume as Tommy’s lungs burn. He finds the strange dictionary of his insides burning while his skin prickles with a sudden chill even more hilarious, and this adds into his crazed howling.

Tommy stops when he realizes that he’s laughing so hard that tears are falling down his cheeks. His laughter cuts off as rapidly as it started, but the tears continue to drip down his face. It isn’t funny anymore, Tommy realizes as he really thinks about the fact that Vendetta is dead and Tommy’s family isn’t.

Ultraviolet is staring at Tommy with an odd look. Tommy recognizes the concern, and it makes Tommy cry even harder. Ultraviolet startles into motion. He releases his grip on Tommy’s shoulder. He pulls off his jacket, putting it over Tommy’s body. He pulls the edges of the jacket tight. He lifts his hand up to touch Tommy’s forehead, the back of his fingers warm against Tommy’s skin. Ultraviolet’s mouth falls into a tight frown. He nods his head to himself, looking back into Tommy’s eyes. “Okay, I can work with this. You just slept-walked, right? We just have to get you back to your room… the one at the hotel because I don’t think you should be put in your chains right now. I-”

“The family I thought was dead isn’t,” Tommy forces out. Ultraviolet stops. His eyes jerk up to meet Tommy’s. His lips fall into an even deeper frown. The hand he uses to hold his jacket closed across Tommy’s chest tightens. The hand on Tommy’s forehead drops away very slowly, his fingers swiping Tommy’s nose. Ultraviolet opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He closes his mouth again. He looks around, but his eyes prove that he isn’t really seeing anything. Tommy waits patiently for the verdict, feeling like a guilty man in front of a judge. But Ultraviolet has always felt more like an executioner to Tommy. What does that say about Tommy if he’s willing to stand here and wait for whatever Ultraviolet decides to do?

Ultraviolet pulls Tommy behind him by holding onto the jacket he put around Tommy’s body. Tommy- cold, wet, tired, emotionally spent Tommy- follows behind Ultraviolet dutifully, tripping up a few times but always catching himself before he’s sprawled out across the ground. Ultraviolet forces Tommy to sit down in a chair that belongs to an outdoor cafe. There are a few other people sitting in the other chairs, but they scatter the moment Ultraviolet looks at them. With the immediate area vacated, Ultraviolet leans down onto his knees in front of Tommy. He pulls at the edges of the jacket again, and Tommy thinks it’s just something Ultraviolet can do with his hands instead of a way of keeping Tommy warm, though it does do that so Tommy doesn’t swat Ultraviolet’s hands away.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You are going to stay put. I am going to get Croupier. He’ll know what to say… he’ll know what to do,” Ultraviolet explains in an oddly soft voice, refusing to meet Tommy’s eyes. Ultraviolet stands up the next second. He pats Tommy’s shoulders reassuringly, then starts to walk away. Tommy watches his walk turn into a run, and in a matter of seconds, Ultraviolet is one with the crowd.

There is a part of Tommy that sees merit in Ultraviolet’s words. He wants Croupier to come here, to say all the right things and hug him and make everything feel better even though it very clearly isn’t. He wants to sit in Croupier’s warm office, waiting on his favorite foods to be delivered by Croupier’s private chef. He wants to play a game with Charlie, laughing alongside the childish slime hybrid. It would be easy to fall into old familiar habits that never failed to make him feel lighter by the end of the night.

But Croupier can’t fix this. Tommy isn’t feeling a little lonely, or a tad more grief-stricken, or torn apart by his anger. Tommy is stuck with the knowledge that the family he has been grieving for the past ten years and fighting to avenge for just as long isn’t dead. There is nothing that can be said to make this situation better. There isn’t any food that could wash the terrible taste off of Tommy’s tongue. There isn’t any way he can entertain Charlie when he can’t even remember what it feels like to be happy. Even though Tommy is arguably the closest he’s ever been to what he’s wanted, he feels so much more lonely than he’s ever been.

Tommy stands up. He selfishly slots his arms into the sleeves of Ultraviolet’s jacket. He starts to wander away from the cafe. He disappears into a dark alleyway, letting the relief effort from Minotaur’s earlier attack fade in his mind. He keeps walking until he comes to a familiar sight. Turns out, he doesn’t need to be asleep for his body to take him to dangerous locations.

Tommy steps into the empty lobby of the Needle. He pays little attention to the shadows that seem to stretch towards him. He steps into the elevator. He doesn’t have his card, but Ultraviolet left his card in the pocket of his jacket. Tommy slides the material through, and the elevator comes to life. Tommy presses the button for the top floor. The doors slide shut. Tommy stares at his wobbly, distorted reflection in the metal. It could be anyone staring back at him if it wasn’t for the blue eyes that seem to pierce Tommy’s very heart. Tommy has to wonder who his father was for him to have such deeply blue eyes.

The doors slide open after a few moments. A ding echoes through the dining area as Tommy steps into the moonlit room. Tommy passes by empty tables. He can almost hear the waiters darting between groups of lavishly dressed individuals. Tommy would often watch them with large, mesmerized eyes. Croupier would laugh at him, and Charlie would be busy trying to eat the crayons. The memory makes a pitiful laugh fall from his body. He hugs himself, waiting for the laughter to turn into tears. He doesn’t sob this time, but he doesn’t sniffle. Tommy feels pathetically weak, but he can’t muster up the strength. He can’t even think of a reason to pretend to be.

Tommy takes off Ultraviolet’s jacket. He folds it, putting it on the back of a chair. Once he’s certain the jacket won’t fall to the ground, Tommy steps outside onto the wraparound observatory. Tommy passes by the pay-to-see binoculars. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing at the railing. He turns, lifting himself onto the railing. He kicks one leg over and then the other. His fingers tighten around the railing, and he sits there. He looks up toward the sky. He can see it a little more clearly compared to the beach he crawled onto when his gravity powers switched off. The cold wind ripples across Tommy’s damp clothes. He is going to make himself sick, but it doesn’t really matter right now, does it?

Tommy’s attention falls from the sky to the ground below. He can barely see it, though that has more to do with the tears in his eyes than the fact that he’s so far away from it. Regardless, Tommy stares down at the street. He feels terrible for the person that will need to clean up the bloody mess he’s about to create, but the care he feels is dangerously distant. Most of his thoughts are just as far away. His anger, his grief, his guilt, they’ve all deserted him. It should make Tommy happy to no longer feel these emotions, but without them, he can’t feel anything at all. It is only loneliness that lays across his back, and even that familiar, uncomfortable touch is fuzzy.

Tommy has always manipulated gravity. It is only fair that he personally pays the consequences of his power.

“Vendetta,” Someone says with a voice that is only loud because the dining area is devoid of sound behind Tommy.

“Don’t fucking call me that!” Tommy yells, a flare of anger rising in his body like a rapidly dissipating red glow in the air. Tommy’s grip on the railing grows tighter. He feels his power trickle out. He wouldn’t be surprised if the chairs and tables were buckling under their own weight or floating in the air behind him due to his agitation. He doesn’t turn his attention to them. He instead focuses on that name… Vendetta. It has been Tommy’s shield for so long, letting him hide ‘Tommy’ deep inside of him. It is only now that he realizes just how much of a curse Vendetta has been. He can’t stand that name, not right now.

“I won’t,” The person confirms as if Tommy’s request is completely reasonable. Tommy supposes that it is. He’s just asking someone not to call him by the name he’s been called for five years now. It isn’t a big ask, surely, but Tommy can’t help feeling like he’s demanding the entire city be put in the palm of his hand. It feels so heavy and burdensome, but Tommy can’t stand to be known as a dead name anymore. “Can I call you ‘Tommy’?”

Tommy nods. He nods because he doesn’t know if that’s okay. He hasn’t been Tommy in so long. He’s terrified that he won’t even answer to the name. He’s terrified that the little boy Tommy was is so far gone that he shouldn’t be allowed to carry that name anymore. Wilbur is the person who gave Tommy his name. He never told Tommy where he got the name from, but he’s the one that gave it to Tommy. What is Tommy supposed to do if he can’t even use one of the gifts Wilbur gave him, expecting nothing in return?

Expecting that Tommy wouldn’t let their last words be “I hate you.”

Except now Tommy’s final words to his brother were “Because I’m Tommy and you’re supposed to be fucking dead.”

“What are you doing on the edge, Tommy?” He flinches at the sound of his name. He flinches so much that he’s able to see Techno walking towards him from the corner of his eye. Tommy doesn’t know how he should feel about Techno being the one to find him. Tommy has no idea what Techno’s prerogative is in this situation. Tommy knows where Techno’s loyalties lie- with the Syndicate, but what did that entail in this situation?

“I don’t know,” Tommy admits softly, realizing the truth the moment he’s forced to explain himself. He looks back up at the night sky. The stars twinkle so softly, but Tommy can’t see the north star. He can’t see his north star. “The family I thought was dead, isn’t. My family thought I was dead, but I’m clearly not. The enemy I thought I had is someone I actually care about too fucking much for my own good. I have no purpose. I have nowhere to go.”

Tommy’s shoulders collapse in on himself. He looks back to the ground. His grip loosens on the railing. He’s one step away. He could actually be dead, just the way his family thought he was. He thinks about them now. Jolt (Tubbo, because of course he’s Tubbo) has an adopted family now. Dyscardia (Niki, his dear, sweet sister) is happy. Thermoculus (sturdy, bright Jack) has a day job! And Serenade (his north star, Wilbur) has his own family, his own priorities, his own music that Tommy has never heard before and inside jokes that Tommy will never be part of and a home that Tommy will never belong in.

“I’m going to ruin the lives they’ve made for themselves. I can’t do that, so I have to… cut myself out of the equation,” Tommy whispers, realizing the heavy truth for himself. If he continues to exist, if he reaches out to his family to demand his spot back, he’s going to shatter the lives they’ve managed to make for themselves. They found happiness, purpose, and family. Tommy descended into madness and depravity. He’s made himself into a weapon, and he’s terrified that he’s going to hurt them. All he’s ever done was to make them proud of him, to make them happy wherever they may be. It doesn’t matter that they aren’t in the afterlife like Tommy thought. He still wants to make them happy. If this is what it takes, Tommy isn’t nearly as scared as he should be.

But he is scared, just a little. He wants nothing more than to run to Wilbur’s side, to apologize with every breath he has left and never let go of his hand again. He wants to bake with Niki. He wants to argue with Jack. He wants to hold Tubbo tightly on their mattress as if being near each other could chase away the darkness. He wants to find out if Fundy and Eret are alive, too. They must be.

“I don’t want that,” Techno says, his voice jerking Tommy’s attention away from the tears that continue to burn across his cheeks. Techno is getting closer. If Tommy wants to jump, he needs to do it now. Tommy remains perched on the edge, and Techno speaks with a conviction the blonde has always admired. “You might not know what you’re living for, but you do have somewhere you can go. Come with me to the cabin. We can find a new purpose for you. And as long as you’re with me, you won’t have to see anyone. Not… your family, or Phil, or… anyone. I won’t let anyone come.”

“That isn’t fair to you,” Tommy reminds Techno. Tommy’s family is technically Techno’s family, too. Techno told Tommy once that the Syndicate were like his family… he said that his brother, father, and uncle were in the Syndicate. Tommy thought nothing of it then. Now, it’s all he can think about. Tommy doesn’t want Techno to give up his family just because Tommy is worried about hurting them.

“Nothing about this situation is fair to you,” Techno counters. Tommy gives a half-smile at that. He suffered five years with Reverie and another five with the guild all for a family that was actually part of the organization he swore to destroy because he thought that organization is what killed his family. The irony would be hilarious if it wasn’t ripping Tommy to absolute shreds, pushing him to the brink of suicide just by becoming known to Tommy. “Theseus… Tommy. This is nothing. I don’t mind doing this. All you have to do is come with me.”

Techno is right beside Tommy now. There is some distance between them, probably so as to not scare Tommy. Techno puts his arm out, his back to the air Tommy wants to fling himself into. Tommy stares at the rough scars and hair on Techno’s arm. Techno’s voice is entirely too soft, almost taken away by the wind. “You don’t have to do anything. Just take my hand and let me take care of the rest.”

Tommy desperately wants to give his problems to someone else, let them tell him what to do. He wants someone to fix his life with a smile on their face as if to say ‘see? That was nothing.’ Tommy doesn’t think Croupier can do it. That man has a lot of responsibilities, and he can speak very eloquently. Tommy has little doubt that Croupier could fix the majority of the problems Tommy has unintentionally gotten himself into. He knows that Croupier will try his damndest, calling in so many favors and going against his very rule about not keeping people close.

Tommy doesn’t want to hurt Croupier, though. Tommy has always been a series of problems, but his plot for revenge was the container that kept his jagged parts from tearing into anyone else. That container is gone, and Tommy is a danger both to himself and everyone around him. 

Tommy doesn’t want to thrust this responsibility on Techno. While he’s known Croupier for longer, Techno is just as close to Tommy as anyone else is. Tommy would even dare say Techno is like his brother. Tommy doesn’t even want to go to his biological brother; why would he want to go to the one his feelings chose?

Tommy meets Techno’s eyes. Techno looks like he’s going to drag Tommy back to his cabin regardless of what decision Tommy makes. Techno looks like he’s going to forcibly fix this as best as he can. Tommy wants to blame it on the fact that Wilbur cares about Tommy (and maybe Philza cares about Tommy, too, but Tommy doesn’t want to think about that at all), but something in Techno’s eyes reminds Tommy that Techno holds familial affection for him. Techno cares about Tommy just as much as Tommy cares about him.

Tommy doesn’t say a word, but he lifts one of his hands up from the railing. His hand is shaking from the cold as he places his fingers against Techno’s palm. The moment Tommy’s skin brushes against Techno’s, the villain is tugging Tommy backwards off the railing. Tommy falls into Techno’s arms. Techno wraps him up tightly, tucking his chin on Tommy’s hair. He even starts maneuvering his cloak off his shoulders onto Tommy, completely swamping the blonde in warmth.

As soon as Techno makes some odd chuffing noise, Tommy collapses into sobs. He feels weak, nothing like the great hero Techno nicknamed him after, but Techno’s grip only tightens on Tommy. The blonde gives Techno everything he has right now- tears, sobs, his body weight- and Techno bears it all without any complaints. He only continues making his hybrid noises that Tommy doesn’t understand completely but at least gets the intentions behind them.

With all the comfort around him and the absolute day Tommy’s had, it isn’t a surprise that he passes out from exhaustion. 

Chapter Text

"I feel that it is necessary and ordained that I should be alone, a stranger and an exile in relation to every human circle, without exception."

― Simone Weil

Tommy lies on the wooden floorboards in sweatpants and a t-shirt far too large for him. His hands are crossed over his stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. A nearby window allows off-white sunlight to pour across his body. He stares up the ceiling, occasionally blinded by the sunlight. He squints during these moments, turning away slightly. When a cloud passes over the sun once more, Tommy returns to gazing up at the ceiling. He has the swirling pattern of wood mapped out by now, and he's started coming up with fictitious stories about the subtly humanoid or monstrous creatures that exist in the differing shades of brown. Tommy feels like an astrologer first writing down the stories of the constellations, but he isn't nearly as cool or influential as whoever that person is.

Tommy's daydreaming is accompanied by sounds coming from the kitchen. Tommy doesn't need to look away from the ceiling to know that Techno is the one making all those noises. He's cooking breakfast for both of them, just as he does every morning. He doesn't always make the same dishes. In fact, Tommy has seen Techno scrolling through websites where random people write down their family recipes. Tommy has also seen Techno get annoyed with the long anecdotes and the ads cluttering up the recipe. Tommy is certain a physical cookbook will find its way into the cabin sooner or later.

Although Techno cooks breakfast every morning (only because Tommy can't cook and Techno doesn't like it when Tommy skips meals), Tommy doesn't always lie on the bare floor in the nebulous territory that isn't quite part of the living room, dining area, or the kitchen. Sometimes, he'll lay on the couch like a reasonable person who cares for their spine. Other times, he won't even be able to drag himself out of Techno's bed, so he'll lie there. In the mornings, Tommy doesn't have much energy, so he'll crash wherever he reasonably can.

Honestly, Tommy doesn't have energy most days even when the sun is high up in the sky. He will remain lying down on whatever surface he finds. He might be able to switch the surface at some point during the day, but on his really bad days, it's difficult for him to even breathe, let alone move around.

On other days, Tommy does have energy. On these days, he'll help Techno with chores around the house. He might not know how to cook, but he does know how to use a broom and duster. He knows how to organize the books in Techno's study based on their colors, and he'll always go back to reorganize them alphabetically when Techno gets frustrated that he can't find anything. Tommy will make Techno's bed. Both sides, too, since the only reason he's there is because his sleeping walking has gotten significantly worse and far more deadly.

At least, Techno says it has. Tommy is asleep during all these moments, so he doesn't know. All Tommy knows is that Techno won't let him in the kitchen anymore, and the drawer holding the knives has a child lock on it. Tommy thought about asking, but he doesn't want to know. If he did want to know, he can put two and two together.

Back to daytime activities, Tommy sometimes even has energy to go outside. He helps Techno with the chores out there. He tries to, anyway, but sometimes he gets distracted. Techno lets him wander off under the promise that he doesn't go too far. Tommy wouldn't even need to make that promise. He usually ends up in the same place regardless of where he followed Techno to. The most extraneous activity Tommy does is playing with Atalanta, the dog he found with Ravager on the day they fought the Scarlet Demoness and Fenrir.

Atalanta stays with the other hounds. Tommy knows all of their names, and they seem to know him very well. They are always rowdy when he comes to their pen. He leaps over to join them. They are all warm and soft under his hands as he tries to pet them all. They will eventually get used to his presence, running off to tackle each other. Atalanta is the one that remains at his side. She watches over him, content to lay her head in his lap as he dozes off. If any of the other dogs get too rowdy, Atalanta lightly growls at them until they back off. Tommy hugs her close, rubbing his cheek against her ears. He doesn't remember the story the dog is named after, but he bets the Atalanta from Techno's story is just as kind and protective as this canine is.

These are only Tommy's good days, though. His good days come and go as good days are bound to do.

Today is a good day, Tommy thinks, feeling light waves of energy spool in his stomach.

Techno steps into the kitchen holding two plates in both of his hands. Tommy turns his attention away from the ceiling to trace Techno's movements through the dining room. Techno stares at the table. He wears a neutral expression, but Tommy can see emotions flash in Techno's eyes. Techno turns away from the table at the last second. He comes all the way to Tommy's side. Tommy expects Techno to set his plate down, but Techno brings his entire body down to the ground so that he's resting his weight on his knees and calves. He sets down Tommy's plate. He puts his plate in his lap.

Today has to be a good day for Techno, too, Tommy realizes. Techno is often indulgent of Tommy's whims. When Tommy doesn't have energy to do anything, Techno doesn't force him to get up or move. When Tommy can't bear to do any household chore, Techno does them all without any complaints. When Tommy does do a chore but doesn't do it right, Techno will only grumble a little as he cleans up after Tommy. When Tommy ditches Techno to play with the dogs, Techno only comes to collect him at every meal. That is the only thing Techno ever pushes Tommy on: meals, sleep, and personal hygiene. Techno makes Tommy do that, but everything else is extremely flexible.

Despite allowing Tommy to do what he wants, Techno rarely sinks down to Tommy's level. Techno still acts like a functioning, healthy individual. He wakes and gets up at an appropriate time. He goes through the motions of cleaning himself in the mornings. He trains his body in the early mornings, never slacking off. He makes all their meals diligently, and he eats all of those meals at the kitchen table. He does all the chores he needs to do, both inside and outside, with the utmost attention and grace. He even squeezes in time to read a book or play a word game on his communicator.

Techno only does this when he's emotionally prepared himself. Every time he gets down to Tommy's level, the blonde ends up hugging him every time without fail. Considering physical comfort is enough to make Tommy sob, it is highly appreciated that Techno is mentally stable.

Tommy sits up. He shifts his body, grabbing his plate as he moves. Tommy settles his head against Techno's arm. He stretches his legs out, but he has his plate in his lap like Techno. They both face the window, settled snuggly in the sunlight pouring through the window. Tommy takes the fork Techno hands him to start picking at the eggs. He chews them quietly, remaining close enough to Techno that the body next to him provides more warmth than the sun does. Tommy lets his eyes fall close, eating absentmindedly.

"You don't have to do anything," Techno reminds Tommy as they are eating. His voice startles Tommy, but the blonde quickly gets comfortable again. Although he had been expecting it to come after they've both eaten, he knew that Techno was going to bring this up, especially since he decided to sit on the ground to eat breakfast with Tommy. "We can take baby steps."

"I've been taking baby steps. It's time to grow up," Tommy counters easily, pointing his fork at Techno.

"That isn't the analogy I was going for," Techno amends, a sigh right next to his words. Tommy smiles despite himself. His smile drops when Techno continues talking, "If you aren't ready, you simply aren't. It isn't childish to put yourself first and hide from what will hurt you."

"It is fucking childish to hide from what scares me," Tommy argues. Only children hide under the covers to prevent the darkness from attacking them. Adults know that something as flimsy as a blanket isn't going to protect them from what is undoubtedly real and truly terrifying. Tommy has been holding the blanket over him for so long. He thinks it's time he slipped out from under the false protection of the metaphorical fabric. "I'm going. I promise to come home the minute I start feeling bad."

"If you start getting any thoughts," Techno starts. Tommy's confidence diminishes slightly. He hasn't really had any thoughts while in Techno's company. He doesn't have a reason to live, but he doesn't have the will to die, either. He is content to exist within the confines of this cabin. The only times he's ever been close to dying again was during his slumber. Tommy isn't sure that counts since he's always been like that. Or maybe it's more worrying that he's always been like that. Tommy shakes his head against Techno's chest, knowing that the pink-haired hybrid won't ask Tommy what's on his mind. "You should tell Puffy."

Tommy immediately goes from shaking his head to flinching. He pointedly doesn't meet Techno's eyes. For some reason, after learning the truth about who some of the Syndicate members are, everyone thought it would be perfectly fine for Tommy to know everyone's identities. Tommy was right on the money in figuring out Dyscardia is Niki, Thermoculus is Jack, and Jolt is Tubbo. Luckily (or maybe unluckily, Tommy isn't sure), Tommy doesn't personally know most of the other members of the Syndicate. He doesn't have a past with Puffy, Jordan, Sam, or Ranboo. He only knows their alternative identities, and Tommy arguably has the weakest relationship with Argonaut, with Puffy. He did find out that Sneeg was Inchling, which didn't surprise Tommy but it still upset him. 

"I promise to tell... Puffy if I start having thoughts," Tommy swears. Even if he doesn't actually know Puffy, her name still feels like poison on his tongue. She's a villainess, and Tommy was once a hero. He should be using her name to capture her and turn her into Pandora's Vault. But Tommy isn't a hero anymore. Puffy is still a villainess, but Tommy can't see her that way, not when she's been there for Tubbo for years now. Maybe her name is poison for that fact alone, not because of her alternative identity.

"Good," Techno praises, raising a hand up to pat Tommy's head. The affection comforts Tommy, so he allows it to happen without any objections.

Techno and Tommy finish eating their breakfast. Techno takes their plates. Tommy jumps up to wander after him. Techno washes the dishes, including the ones he used to cook. Tommy dries and puts them up, remembering where they go after spending so much time in the cabin. 

When they're finished, Techno nudges Tommy toward the stairs to the second floor. Tommy gives a salute as he climbs up the stairs. Tommy steps into the room he is temporarily sharing with Techno. There is a box in the corner packed with clothes that appropriately fit Tommy. At first, Tommy thought it was strange that Techno knew his size and style. After examining the clothes, Tommy found a tag that read 'Made in Las Nevadas.' Tommy feels a surge of sadness in his heart as he remembers Las Nevadas and the people there, but Tommy doesn't want to shove all his baggage on those guys, especially not after Minotaur tried to destroy the island. Techno also wouldn't let Tommy go, plainly stating it wouldn't be good for Tommy's mental state to be near the Needle. Tommy couldn't argue with that, so he left the conversation where it still lays today.

Tommy takes the clothes with him into the bathroom. He takes a quick shower. Techno often grumbles about Tommy taking up all the hot water, but he also seems concerned when Tommy takes too long. The last time Tommy took a long shower, Techno held Tommy's writs, staring intently at his arms. Tommy would have stood there for as long as Techno needed him to, but the hybrid muttered something about what Wilbur had said. Tommy's heart jerked so hard that his entire body stumbled back. Techno was apologetic, but Tommy didn't go near Techno again until they went to sleep that night. They didn't talk about the incident, and Techno has pointedly not mentioned anything regarding Tommy's brother.

Tommy wasn't ready for it, but he expected Techno to ask about Tommy's childhood. He thought he would need more proof than just knowing some names for Techno to be convinced that Vendetta was really the Tommy the others mourned. Techno hasn't mentioned the past, not even in passing. Tommy will sometimes find the urge to tell Techno something, but he always loses courage before the words can come out. He just lets the past haunt him.

Tommy finishes showering. He comes downstairs to find Techno still wiping down the kitchen counters. Techno glances up at Tommy, a frown quickly finding itself on his face. Tommy gives him a sheepish smile. Techno sighs, throwing away the wet wipe he was using. He steps past Tommy, climbing the stairs. Techno gets a brand new towel from the closet. He comes back downstairs to force Tommy to sit down on the ground in front of the couch. Techno sits on the couch behind Tommy. He sets the towel on Tommy's head, and he starts working through the hair with the towel. Techno is always meticulous about this since the colder weather invites sickness to fools who let their hair air-dry.

Tommy understands the intention behind Techno's actions, but it never fails to remind Tommy of his brother. It even reminds him of Serenade. Tommy remembers coming into the apartment soaking wet the first night they stayed together. Serenade had come out, and he put a towel on Tommy's head. He even wiped it a little. Tommy feels like an idiot because he distinctly remembers comparing Serenade and Wilbur. It wouldn't be the first time he did that. Tommy should have figured out that Serenade and Wilbur were the same person far earlier, but Tommy always averted his eyes. All he wanted was his family back, and he averted his eyes.

Tommy sighs, sinking into his crossed arms. Techno hums noncommittally. Tommy doesn't talk about it, and Techno doesn't ask.

Techno's communicator buzzes. Techno removes his hands from the towel, so the cloth falls off the side of Tommy's head. Tommy pushes his fingers into his hair. It is almost completely dry. Tommy looks over his shoulder to see what Techno is doing. Techno is staring at his communicator with a firm expression. He turns away from the screen to stare at Tommy once more. "If you have any thoughts, tell Puffy immediately. If you want to come back, you can. If you see someone you don't want to talk to, walk away. No one is going to blame you for putting your safety first."

"Understood, captain," Tommy confirms. Techno rises to his feet, nudging Tommy with his foot. Tommy gets up beside Techno. The pink-haired man walks toward the door. As he puts on his heavy, velvet red jacket, Tommy puts his shoes on. He throws a light blue jacket toward Tommy. The blonde puts it on, and Techno slides on his boots. When Techno is done, he comes over to make sure that Tommy has the jacket on correctly. Techno's actions remind Tommy of Ultraviolet, a fact Tommy pointedly ignores.

Techno opens the door, and Tommy steps outside first. Tommy rubs his hands together as he looks across the porch. There is a dark brown car pulled into the drive. A woman stands beside the driver's side's door. She is wearing a lighter red jacket than Techno with buttons that gleam golden in the sunlight along with a pair of jeans. Her dark brown hair is lying across one of her shoulders underneath a black baseball cap. She turns her attention when she notices movement in the corner of her eye. A wide smile spreads across her face as she pushes off her car. She waves at Tommy and Techno.

Techno squeezes Tommy's shoulder reassuringly. Tommy takes a deep breath, feeling the chill sting of the wind prickling his lungs. Tommy breathes out a thin gray mist. He takes a step forward, careful not to slip on the icy stairs. Tommy keeps walking, even more careful when he's walking across the snow. He keeps moving until he gets to Puffy's car. She is smiling at him, her eyes bright and a touch misty. Tommy looks away from her to gaze back at the porch. Techno waits diligently, ready to open the door back up and usher Tommy inside. Tommy shakes his head, knowing Techno probably can't see it. He raises his hand to wave, letting that serve as a kinder substitute.

Tommy eventually prepares himself enough to open the passenger's side's door. He steps into Puffy's car, ducking down to fit inside. He settles into the leather seat. He turns his head to watch Puffy get into the car right after him. She gives him another smile as she shuts the door. Her smile diminishes only slightly when she looks behind her. She starts pulling out of the cabin's driveway, realigning herself on the main road that leads back into the city. Tommy shivers as he watches the world outside the window change. Puffy misinterprets his shiver as she turns the heat on. Tommy doesn't mind. He focuses on the warmth brushing against his skin as they drive into Snowchester proper.

The car ride is reasonably lengthy, but neither of them talk through it. Puffy keeps her eyes on the road, her lips pressed into a concentrated line. Tommy keeps his attention on the world outside the window. Nothing major has changed, but it feels like everything has. He isn't alone, technically. The ghosts that have been haunting him for the past ten years aren't ghosts anymore. He doesn't really know who he is anymore, and if he can't identify himself, how can he identify anything else?

The view changes drastically when they pass into Empires borough from Snowchester. For one thing, there isn't any snow. For another, there is far more graffiti on the buildings. Tommy recognizes different pieces from the gangs. He even sees one that reminds him of Sleepy. He wonders how they're doing after saving Tommy from Crimson's influence in the battle inside his mind.

Puffy parks beside the sidewalk. She gets out to pay the parking meter. Tommy scrambles after her. Puffy walks to the back of her car, using her keys to open the trunk. She pulls a wicker basket out. Tommy stops moving when he notices the basket resting in the crux of her elbow. She smiles at him, closing the trunk with her other arm. She gestures for him to follow her, and Tommy does without thinking about it.

Puffy steps under the arch that creates the main entrance into Empires' famous park. Tommy stares at the arch for a long second. He was just thinking about Sleepy, and now he's at their workplace. He wonders if he'll get to see them as he looks back down. Puffy is turned to him, a patient smile on her face. Tommy hurriedly catches up with her, feeling bad about making her wait on him. Once Tommy is a few feet away, Puffy turns again to walk down the path that goes right through the center of the park. All the other paths converge onto this one, making it the busiest one. Tommy grabs onto the fabric of Puffy's jacket as she moves. Puffy slows down half-a-step to allow Tommy to keep up with her.

Puffy turns onto one of the side streets. Tommy follows her, carefully not to step on any of the branches and leaves littering the path. Puffy takes a step off the path, and Tommy looks up at her back to figure out where she's going. Puffy doesn't hesitate as she walks across the beautifully green grass. She only stops when they come to a large tree with a sandy material around the exposed roots. Puffy drops the wicker basket between two large roots. She opens the lid to bring out a blanket. She flaps the blanket in the air, letting it fall across the ground. She sits down on her knees to bring out different treats from the wicker basket. Tommy doesn't look at the food as he takes his jacket off. He drops it down on the blanket, lying down on both his jacket and the blanket. He folds his hands over his stomach, adopting the same position he used earlier that morning.

The sunlight that washes across him is a lot warmer, and it looks like diamonds as it weaves between the branches of the tree. Tommy closes his eyes, enjoying the pleasant breeze that seems to caress his cheeks. Tommy's eyes crack open when he feels a presence right beside him. Puffy lies down next to him, matching his pose. This reminds Tommy of the time after Argonaut healed him. They had talked about hobbies, and Argonaut even told Tommy a little bit about her past.

Tommy doesn't want to talk about his past. He finds a part of him wanting to know about it from someone else, though. The silence is suffocating enough. It has been for a while now, but Tommy doesn't want to unload anything on the emotionally repressed Techno. Puffy is different. Unless her attitude has been a facade, she seems kind and patient. Tommy wouldn't mind if Puffy filled the silence. That being said, Tommy only has the confidence to say his brother's name like a question, "Tubbo?"

Puffy's eyes widen a fraction, but she doesn't show any discomfort or resistance. She closes her eyes, reaching her hand out to intertwine her fingers with Tommy. He lets it happen easily enough, squeezing back. Puffy wears a soft smile, one Tommy almost envies but mainly derives comfort from. "I never knew my father. Schlatt and I lived with our mother for a few years. She disappeared, and we were brought in by another family. Jordan was part of this other family. Schlatt and I didn't become close with our foster parents, but Jordan was as much our sibling as we were to each other.

"When we were teenagers, Schlatt started getting into trouble. Jordan started training his body with the hopes of joining the Moderator's guild. I tried to help both of them, even when they started having conflicts with one another. Schlatt got into trouble with one of the gangs. He didn't seem to care, but I didn't want my brother to get hurt. I told Jordan, and the two of us together confronted Schlatt. During our argument, we were ambushed by the gang Schlatt pissed off. It was more of a beat-down than a fair fight, but it was in this tumultuous situation that we all had our esper awakening.

"We made it out with our lives, but lines were drawn in the sand. Jordan was going to become a hero, and Schlatt was going to become a villain. I didn't know what to do. I followed Schlatt because I thought he needed my help more than Jordan did. I thought I could stop Schlatt from becoming an irredeemable monster.

"I failed, obviously, and after our falling out, I stopped using my powers altogether. If I had known Schlatt had a kid, I wouldn't have been so hasty. Years later, I got back in touch with Jordan. He was upset with him. Rightfully so, but I didn't give up until we repaired our relationship. It was then that I discovered Tubbo. It ruined me to think that I had let this happen. If I had stuck around with Schlatt for just a little bit longer, I might have learned about Tubbo. I would have been able to save Tubbo before Schlatt hurt him, before he ended up on the streets.

"To make up for my absence, I tried being the best aunt I could. He was a good kid growing up. Once he got comfortable with Jordan and I, he was a little rascal. He loved to prank us. I eventually got good at pranks to connect with him. We also started playing games with each other. Board games, electronic ones, challenges, all sorts of things.

"I supported Tubbo when he became a vigilante, even though Jordan thought it was a horrible idea. I had my misgivings when Tubbo got in touch with the Syndicate. After doing my research and meeting with some of the members, I joined the Syndicate mainly to protect Tubbo. I eventually came to agree with the principles of the Syndicate and befriend the people within the rankings. They're good people, you know?"

Puffy falls silent as if she's asking a genuine question, as if Tommy would ever dare to say his family were bad people. As if Tommy could condemn Enderwalk, Warden, and Red Dragon.

"Is Tubbo happy?" Tommy asks, keeping his eyes closed and his grip on Puffy's hand firm.

He hears Puffy sigh. "He is, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to see you again, Tommy. Even to this day, Tubbo has mourned you, and now that is knows you're alive-"

"I don't want to know," Tommy cuts her off. He hears Puffy suck in a tight breath, and it makes Tommy feel bad, but he can't. He simply can't. "I don't know what to do, Puffy."

"About what?" Puffy asks genuinely.

"Tubbo has a family. He has a father and an aunt. He has a good family that takes care of him. I'm messing that up."

"You don't need to take care of Tubbo. Jordan and I will take care of Tubbo. That's our responsibility," Puffy reminds Tommy, squeezing his hand even tighter. "You need to be taken care of, too."

"I think Techno isn't doing a shitty job," Tommy says. Techno has done his best to make Tommy feel both welcome, sane, and loved. While the first two are always up in the air, Tommy has never not felt like Techno cares about him. In some ways, Techno has become as much of Tommy's brother as he is Wilbur's brother. Tommy thought at the beginning that Techno was only doing this because Tommy was Wilbur's brother, but there is a genuineness that is etched into each of his actions. Tommy can rest his weary soul in Techno's strange love. If Wilbur is Tommy's north star, guiding him towards the future, Techno is like Tommy's bedrock, holding him steady. Up in the sky; down in the deep earth. Freeing oneself of gravity and bringing it back down.

"Yes, Techno is doing a better job than I suspected," Puffy laughs sweetly, and Tommy's eyes are suddenly warm with tears. He likes that sound so much that warm water begins to trickle across his cheeks. Tommy hears Puffy shift beside him, and he feels a soft hand wiping away his tears. He peeks his eyes open to see Puffy smiling at him. "Since everyone's taking care of who they're supposed to, you can just be Tubbo's brother."

"I don't fucking know how! I've spent so long alone and shoving people away that I can't stand the thought of being part of a family again, even though they're my fucking family," Tommy tries to explain, but his voice is far too broken to reach the volume it needs to be at. It actually sounds even more pathetic as an attempt, so Tommy quiets down as he continues, "Even if I could get over myself, I don't want to ruin the stability and happiness Tubbo has now. I'm going to mess up Tubbo's life. I'm going to mess up everyone's lives."

"No, Tommy. You were, are, and will always be Tubbo's brother. You aren't going to mess anything up," Puffy disagrees, turning on her side to cup Tommy's cheeks with both of her hands. Her eyes are filled with a terrifying softness. Tommy is going to puke, so he pushes her hands away. He looks away from her, back at the sunlight that doesn't judge him any harsher than it does other people. It doesn't treat him as fragile, either. "How about we eat now?"

Tommy nods slowly. Puffy sits up, reaching back to grab some of the containers she brought with her. Tommy sits up, too. When Puffy sets one container in her lap, Tommy leans against her shoulder the same way he does with Techno when they eat side-by-side. Puffy doesn't push Tommy away, instead handing him a frosted cookie. Tommy starts nibbling at it. He enjoys the cookie, even though it reminds him of Niki.

"Puffy," Tommy calls her name. She hums in response, and Tommy asks softly, "Do you think you could get my gaming device for me? I used to play Animal Crossing when I was upset... and now I'm upset all the fucking time."

Puffy's hand lifts up to brush the hair out of his forehead. She hands him another cookie when he's finished with the one in his hands. "Of course, bud. I promise to get you whatever you want. You deserve it."

Tommy's laugh trickles out of his lips, slowly and softly and shortly. When he's finished, he says, "I only want the gaming device..."

He says that because what he really wants is to feel okay, and he knows Puffy could never get him that.

Chapter Text

“Why do people have to be this lonely? What's the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?”

― Haruki Murakami

Tommy sits on the wooden fencepost. His ankles hang over two of the lower rungs on either side of the post. He places both of his hands on the post in the space between his thighs, maintaining his balance. He watches Techno work on the fence a few feet away from him. A couple of rotten wooden planks are discarded into their own pile, contrasting the stack of fresh wood beside Techno. His toolbox is right in front of him. Techno holds a hammer in his hand, pulling out loose nails to get the last rotten plank unattached to the two posts it connects to.

Today is a good day for Tommy. He has enough energy to walk outside, though not enough to actually help with anything. He just followed Techno around, endeavoring to stay with the man instead of disappearing to the dog’s pen. Ironically, Techno had chores around the pen, so Tommy was going to end up here regardless of what his initial intentions were. Tommy doesn’t mind, turning his attention to look at the dogs playing with each other in the distance. Atalanta rests lazily at his feet, her eyes half-open to watch Techno.

As Tommy looks back at Techno, he feels something drop onto his forehead. He frowns, lifting a hand up. His gloves wipe away the cool wetness on his forehead, but he doesn’t understand where it came from. As Tommy stares at his glove for an answer, he feels even more watery drops splash across his hair. Tommy lifts his face to the sky, staring at the gathering clouds. More drops fall across his skin, making him think that it’s raining. Tommy would be satisfied with that conclusion if looking down didn’t reveal to him a snow-covered ground. His and Techno’s footprints are still making shallow indentations in the snow.

Techno drops the rotten plank into the pile. He stops, lifting up his bare hand. Tommy watches the raindrops start to collect against his palm. Techno frowns, looking up at the sky. Techno sighs. He looks back at the project at hand. “Go back inside, Theseus.”

“I didn’t know it rained in Snowchester,” Tommy murmurs, turning his attention back to the sky. The rain is a light pattering. The dogs don’t even realize it. Techno is continuing to work despite it, as if it were just snowflakes. Tommy is the one caught up in the reverie of the moment, but he doesn’t mind. Although he once didn’t care for the weather, sitting in the rain right now, Tommy knows that he loves it. He breathes out, feeling a few raindrops fall into his open mouth. They are freezing cold, but they soothe the burning inside Tommy’s body. He feels like a dangerous fire being put out by nature’s graceful hand.

Techno sets down his hammer, the metal and wooden tool making a loud noise as it falls amongst the other tools. Atalanta lifts her head in a jerking motion. Tommy’s head lolls to the side in a slower fashion. He watches as Techno lifts a hand out to Atalanta, letting her sniff his palm. When she lies back down, Techno looks up at Tommy, seconds away from doing the same thing to Tommy as if the blonde were a puppy. “Before the Ender portal opened, this land was as green and warm as the neighboring boroughs. Sometimes, the portal’s influence lessens, allowing rain to fall on the snowy land.”

“I like the rain,” Tommy admits out loud. He stares back up at the clouds. They are a light gray, as thin as mist and large as a blanket. The clouds sometimes break apart, revealing little pockets of a brilliantly glowing blue sky. Tommy takes both of his gloves off, letting the rain collect slowly in the palms of his hands. He holds the crystal clear water together, staring at the shallow pool as if he might glimpse the extraordinary. All Tommy finds is his own reflection staring back at him. His blue eyes seem to mimic the sky, and for the first time in his life, Tommy doesn’t tear his vision away from the picture in front of him. He meets his own eyes. He finds that he’s almost forgotten how blue they actually are. If only he had taken his blindfold off once, his family would have known immediately who he was.

“The rain doesn’t like you. You’re going to get sick,” Techno reminds Tommy, gesturing to the cabin in the distance. Tommy doesn’t bother looking over there. He pulls his hands away, letting the shallow pool of water he made fall to the snow below. It splashes, a few drops hitting Atalanta’s nose. She jerks up. She looks around, eventually lifting her eyes to stare unimpressed at Tommy. The blonde giggles, though he tries to look apologetic. Atalanta barks at him, and she drops her head back down on her front paws. Tommy wonders what he or Techno has to do for Atalanta to finally abandon them.

“I am sick,” Tommy absentmindedly answers Techno, keeping his attention on Atalanta. She closes her eyes, putting her trust back in the man that made a loud noise and the teenager that splashed cold water on her. Tommy is grateful for her. He decides to try not to do anything to upset her. At least, nothing the rest of the day. The next time Tommy has a good day, he can’t make any promises.

Techno stands up. His boots make a crunching noise as he walks over to Tommy. Techno stands beside Tommy and Atalanta. The dog has gotten used to the sound of boots on snow, so she doesn’t lift her head up. Tommy, on the other hand, meets Techno’s eyes, realizing belatedly what he said. While Tommy wasn’t lying, this is the first time he’s ever actually brought up how abnormal his behavior is. Most people don’t have an energy crisis on the daily that leaves them eating on the floor and sleeping most of the day away. Other people don’t need to separate their days between the good ones and the bad ones as analytically as Tommy does. Tommy can’t name his disease, but he knows that he is, on some level, sick. He’s probably been sick for a long time, and he’s suffering it all at once.

“You will get even more sick,” Techno amends. Tommy swallows thickly. He doesn’t know how he thought Techno was going to respond, but Techno actively agreeing with Tommy without bringing more focus to it is more emotionally perceptive than Tommy thought it was going to be.

“Would you take care of me if I got sick?” Tommy asks with a loose smile appearing on his face. Tommy doesn’t know the last time he’s been properly sick. He went through poison training with Reishi when he was a Hunter, but he always got the antidote in a timely fashion. He remembers getting sick once when he was a lot younger. The memories associated with that involve Niki’s lukewarm soup and Wilbur’s fingers pressing against his forehead to gauge his temperature. Tubbo had been lying on the mattress with him because the two of them got sick together. Jack stayed with Tubbo, telling some story Tommy couldn’t even hear through the fuzziness in his head. All he remembers hearing is Eret promising Tommy that he would be fine while they held Fundy on their hip. The memories around that time are too fuzzy for Tommy to bring to the forefront of his mind, so he simply chooses not to dig around too deeply. It doesn’t matter to him.

“I would, but I would also like to avoid that if we can. As such, go inside, Tommy,” Techno assures Tommy. Techno picks Tommy up from his armpits. His face shows no exertion as he sets Tommy down on the snow beside him. Atalanta watches this happen. Her lips move, ready to growl or bark for the others to help her. Techno eyes her with respect in his eyes. “So much loyalty, and you chose the brat to be loyal to.”

“Hey! Fuck off! Atalanta made the obviously correct decision!” Tommy shouts at Techno. Tommy leans down to rub Atalanta’s head. Her expression shifts immediately at the appeasement. Tommy moves to rub both of his hands across her fur. She turns over, showing her stomach to him. Tommy is quick to comfort her, easing away the rest of her worries about Techno hurting Tommy.

“Inside, Toms. You can play with Atalanta later,” Techno orders. Tommy rolls his eyes, huffing. He stands up. Atalanta stares at him as he removes his hands from her. She flops back onto her stomach, lifting up to her paws. She walks alongside Tommy as he ducks under the uppermost plank Techno left behind when he was removing the rotten pieces of each section. Atalanta follows Tommy, remaining at his side. Techno whistles for her to return, but she doesn’t even look at him, wagging her tail in his general direction. “You’re going to let the other dogs think they can get out.”

“Atalanta can keep me company while you work!” Tommy offers, spinning around in the snow and rain. Atalanta leaps around him, nearly tripping him up. Tommy devolves into a fit of giggling. Atalanta barks at him, almost as if she’s laughing alongside him.

Techno sighs, but it sounds more like amusement than annoyance. Techno waves his hand, giving Tommy and Atalanta permission. Tommy lifts his hand to Atalanta to high-five her. She stands on her hindlegs, putting her palm inside Tommy’s. It becomes a handshake instead of a high-five, but Tommy doesn’t mind. He smiles as Atalanta lands back on her paws. She runs around him, this time spinning him around.

Atalanta stops. She turns away from both Tommy and Techno. Tommy stops, and Techno looks up from where he’s putting new planks on the fence. Tommy leans down to rub Atalanta’s neck affectionately, but he notices what she’s growling at when a truck appears over the horizon. Tommy’s movements stall. He can’t breathe at all. He can’t seem to do anything at all as he watches the truck get even closer.

“It’s okay, Theseus. Nothing to worry about,” Techno promises, ducking underneath the fence like Tommy did. Techno starts walking toward the truck. He doesn’t look over his shoulder. He doesn’t ask Tommy to come with him. But he didn’t tell Tommy to stay away, either. Tommy swallows back his fear. He follows Techno, Atalanta at his side.

The truck stops in the driveway. The passenger’s side’s door opens first. A young woman hops out, landing on the snow. She closes the door behind her. She has rosewood brown hair with red highlights. She has light pink eyes, matching the color of her overcoat. She is wearing a pair of dark green-black leggings tucked into brown boots. She tucks her hands into the pockets of her overcoat, shivering as she steps to the backseat. She opens the door, getting a box out.

The driver’s side’s door opens a moment later. An older man with dark green hair and golden eyes wears a light green jacket with a pair of jeans. He runs a hand through his hair, one hand slipping into the pocket behind his seat. He pulls something out, pressing it against his chest. He walks around the side of the truck with the object. He stands beside the young woman as she brings a box over to Techno and Tommy. She wears a bright smile on her face, contrasting with the somber expression on her companion’s face.

“Techno! Tommy! Hello! How are both of you? I hope we didn’t interrupt you if you were doing something important,” The woman says, looking at Tommy with as much familiarity as she looks at Techno. Tommy shifts uncomfortably, reaching his hand down. Atalanta sniffs his palm, momentarily distracting him from his discomfort. The woman’s eyes widen, noticing Tommy’s reaction. “Oh! We haven’t introduced ourselves, have we? My name is Hannah, and this is my father, Sam. You might know us better as Briar and Warden.”

Tommy jerks back. He learned that Warden’s name was Sam, but he hasn’t met or seen the man. He also didn’t know that he was a father, or that his daughter was Briar. Or that Briar was a woman named Hannah. Tommy feels like he’s been let in on some huge secret that he really doesn’t want to be a part of. It’s bad enough he knows the identities of the Syndicate members, some of the former Cultists, and two popular heroes. He doesn’t want to know anyone else’s identities.

“Puffy sent us over with your gaming console. She also threw in some feel-good games that she thought would make you happy. She also put in some two-player games, muttering how it would help you and Techno bond,” Hannah explains. She gets close enough to hand the box over to Tommy, but Techno smoothly takes it from her hands. Techno holds the box with one hand, looking entirely unbothered by the weight when Hannah’s face is a smear red from exertion. Hannah raises an eyebrow at him, but Briar was never a physically strong vigilante. Her true strength lay in her incredible powers and agility.

“We brought something else,” Sam speaks up, looking down at the object in his hands. He steps toward Tommy, a sad smile on his face. He turns the object, letting Tommy see the surface. Tears instantly fill Tommy’s eyes as he takes the frame of the photograph. This was his prized possession. Tommy lifts a finger to run his fingers along the black-and-white image of his family when they were younger. Tommy can partially see his reflection as he stares at Wilbur’s smile, the way his hands are intertwined with Tommy’s, leading him forward. Niki and Jack look relaxed as they sit on the crates in the corner. Eret is as tired as Tommy remembers with Fundy’s head fallen on Eret’s shoulder. Tubbo is holding Eret’s hand, the other hand grabbing the hem of his shirt. Tommy can even see the back of his head as Wilbur spins him around. “The others wanted to keep it, but Wilbur thought you would want it.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy whispers, pushing the photograph against his chest. He hugs it closely as if he’s hugging the people in the photograph instead. A few tears slip down his cheek, and he’s struck with the pained loneliness that continues to plague him even though he knows his family isn’t dead anymore.

Techno lifts a hand up, wiping away Tommy’s tears. Tommy looks up. Techno is frowning so subtly Tommy suspects Hannah and Sam don’t even notice. Tommy tries to smile to ease Techno’s worries, but Techno isn’t looking at Tommy’s attempts. He meets Tommy’s eyes, “This is why you should get inside.”

“Actually, we wanted to see if Tommy wanted to come with us,” Hannah intervenes, cautiously looking up as she notices the light rain that is beginning to thin.

“We’re going to check on the Scarlet Demoness. She’s been wanting to talk to you… Tommy,” Sam says, adding on the name as an afterthought. Tommy doesn’t blame Sam. For the past ten years, Tommy has either been nameless or he’s been Vendetta. The name that was given to him by Wilbur was buried so deep inside of him. Tommy thought the only person who knew that name was Sleepy and Reverie, but they aren’t the only ones anymore. They’ve never been the only ones, but Tommy didn’t know that before.

Tommy looks up at Techno. The piglin hybrid lifts an eyebrow, reminding Tommy, “All of your decisions are your own as long as you aren’t going to hurt yourself. That includes pushing yourself too far.”

Tommy smiles at Techno, looking at Hannah and Sam. Hannah retains the smile she’s been wearing the entire time. Sam has a small smile on his face as if holding onto the photograph had been a heavy burden. Tommy supposes that it was. This photograph is very important to Tommy. Even though his family is alive, this photograph has been through a lot with Tommy. This frame has soaked up a lot of his tears. These faces frozen in time were his one buoy in a sea of suffering.

Tommy shakes his head, letting those thoughts fade away as quickly as they came. He holds the photograph close as he says, “I’ll go. I want to see how she’s doing, too.”

Techno nods softly. He shifts the box in his hand, ruffling Tommy’s hair. Tommy swats his hand away. Atalanta barks. Techno pointedly looks at her, and she lightens up to a growl. Tommy laughs, waving his hand at Atalanta. She stops completely. Tommy leaves the box with Techno, but Tommy takes the photograph with him as he gets in the backseat. Atalanta seems ready to come with him, but Techno whistles, and she races back to his side. Tommy closes the door, muffling the sound of Techno and Sam’s conversation.

Instead of getting back into the front seat, Hannah jumps into the backseat with Tommy. The middle spot leaves some space between them, which Tommy is grateful for as Hannah- as Briar- smiles at Tommy. They haven’t actually had a moment to talk since Tommy let her get caught by the Cult of Erythr. She sacrificed her sanity to protect both him and Etho, and Tommy hasn’t shown his gratitude. He was part of the raid to save her life, but he had gotten hit with the serum himself. A lot has happened since then, leaving no moment for him to breathe. Now, he has all the time in the world to breathe, but processing takes a lot out of him.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s up with the picture? Dad said the others were talking about it for a while before Wilbur ended the whole conversation,” Hannah asks, gesturing to the photograph Tommy is still holding in a vice-like grip.

“I went to a garage sale with Sleepy once. The seller used old newspapers to wrap the shit. I happened to see this one… it was from an article about the rising homeless population in L’Manberg. I took the newspaper and bought the picture frame from the seller. Ever since that moment, this was been the one thing I’ve kept no matter where the fuck I went. I kept it in a luggage bag Reverie gave me,” Tommy explains. He left that luggage bag in Las Nevadas. Tommy should go over there to get his bag back one of these days. Apologize to Ultraviolet, talk to the others, reassure Croupier and Charlie that he’s fine.

“I have to admire your dedication to your family,” Hannah says, placing her cheek against her closed fist, leaning forward. She keeps her eyes on Tommy, staring at him with all the sharpness of a rosethorn.

Sam opens the driver’s door. He gets into the truck, dropping into the seat. He looks in the backseat at the two of them. He raises an eyebrow at them. Hannah leans back, reaching for her seatbelt. Tommy does the same. Once Sam hears both of the clicks, he looks past them toward the rear. He starts backing up, turning in the road to drive towards the distant city.

Tommy considers apologizing or thanking Hannah, but it feels wrong to do what with Sam here. Tommy doesn’t want to remind the man that Tommy is partially responsible for the suffering Hannah went through. Plus, he wants to hear whatever response Hannah has for him unaffected by the surrounding company. Although Hannah doesn’t seem like the type to mince her words- Briar certainly wasn’t- but her own father might be an exception. Tommy doesn’t remember his father. He doesn’t remember Wilbur’s father, either. All he knows is that he was careful with his words when Wilbur was around. Not that much more careful than usual, but he did put in some effort. Tommy assumes Hannah will be the same way only because he doesn’t have proof in either direction. He’ll single Hannah out at a later date to officially apologize.

There are other people Tommy needs to talk to, as well. Tommy has to thank Sleepy for helping him out when Crimson tried infecting his mind. He has to thank Tempestarius for letting him stay with her when she had already been hosting five other people. He has to thank Pearl, Grian, and Jimmy for helping him fight the Cult of Erythr. He has to thank Ranboo for being a good friend to him despite his horrible personality. He has to thank Jordan for protecting him that one time during the festival. He has a lot of gratitude to present to the Aces, especially Ultraviolet for holding Tommy together when he came to Las Nevadas as a broken man. He has to apologize to Croupier for messing up his life. He wants to punch Reverie. He wants answers from Philza.

The silence builds around Tommy as the truck stops at a high-rise tower. Sam and Hannah get out of the truck, leaving behind their jackets. Tommy takes his jacket off, setting it on top of Hannah’s. He turns to look out the window. He lingers for a moment. He unbuckles his seat, putting a hand on the handle. He doesn’t pull it as he stares up at the roof of the building. He holds the photograph closer to him. He takes in a couple of breaths, hesitating indefinitely. He hasn’t been to the city in a little while. Even when Puffy brought him here, they went to a park devoid of people. Tommy closes his eyes as he pushes the door open. He steps onto the sidewalk, holding the photograph like a child would hold their favored stuffed toy.

When Tommy opens his eyes, Sam and Hannah are waiting patiently near the parking meter. Hannah is talking to her father, animatedly moving her arms around. Sam nods slowly, his expression minutely changes as her story rises and falls in stakes and believability. Tommy steps over to them. Sam shoots Tommy a grimacing smile. Hannah wraps her story up, a self-satisfied smile on her lips. She turns, approaching the building like a zealous adventurer following a treasure map. Sam and Tommy share a look, the former shrugging and following. Tommy exhales sharply, following behind Sam.

They are quiet in the elevator, listening to the faint music. Tommy stares at the rising number. The elevator stops, letting a new person in. The new person doesn’t glance at the others as they press the button for a higher floor than the one Tommy, Sam, and Hannah are going to. As such, they are delivered to their floor before the other person. Sam excuses the entire group. Hannah waves at the person as she exits. Tommy shoots them an awkward smile. The person raises an eyebrow at them, and the elevator doors slide shut.

Sam leads his two ducklings down the twisting hallways to the room at the very end. Sam lifts a fist to knock on the door. After a few seconds, the door swings open. Pearl stands there in casual clothing, one hand holding her hair up while the other one holds a rubber band. She gives Sam a courtesy smile, quickly looking between him and the inside of the room. Tommy leans into Hannah’s personal space to see that Grian and Jimmy are sitting on the floor around the coffee table, playing a game with a wooden tower. Sam sighs, fixing Pearl with a heavy stare. “You know you aren’t allowed to have guests over.”

“They aren’t-” Pearl stops when her eyes transition from Hannah to Tommy. Pearl drops her hair, letting both hands fall to her side. Tommy shifts under the weight of her attention. Pearl opens her mouth, but she closes tightly. She steps into the hallway, moving past Sam without another argument on her tongue. Pearl raises her hands up. Tommy stares for a long moment. His legs practically give out as he falls into Pearl’s hug. She holds him as tightly as he holds his photograph. Pearl doesn’t release him until Tommy starts pulling away. The moment he shows resistance, her arms are open, letting him free in a moment’s notice. Sam and Hannah have gone into the apartment, but Pearl remains there with Tommy. She gives him an incredibly soft and sad smile. “You’re one of the strongest and most resilient people I know. Remember what I said before… you aren’t alone. I know you’re staying with someone else, but… you always have a place here.”

“Thanks,” Tommy murmurs. Pearl shifts, letting Tommy step into the apartment. Sam is sitting in the chair in the living room. Hannah is kneeling on the ground, joining in the game with Grian and Jimmy. Pearl shuts the door behind her and Tommy. The blonde closes his eyes, listening to the laughter of the living room and an air conditioning unit in the distance. It isn’t that he doesn’t believe Pearl; it’s just that he’s realizing he’s not in the company he desperately wants to be in but is forcing himself away from.

Chapter Text

"Sleep my little baby-oh

Sleep until you waken

When you wake you'll see the world

If I'm not mistaken...

Kiss a lover

Dance a measure,

Find your name

And buried treasure...

Face your life

Its pain,

Its pleasure,

Leave no path untaken."

― Neil Gaiman

Tommy stands on the sidewalk outside of the high-rise building Pearl, and her brothers, apparently, are staying at. The sky had dimmed while he was inside the building, revealing a pleasantly dark blue and light purple evening. His attention is stuck on a sleek, black car that has pulled up to the side of the building in front of Sam's truck. There are dozens of expensive cars lining the streets by parking meters, so this one doesn't stand out. Sam and Hannah walk right past it without bothering to give it a second glance. They only stop walking to Sam's truck when they notice that Tommy has stopped. Sam turns to look at Tommy from in front of the truck, a few feet away from the back of the car Tommy is staring at. Hannah has her hand on the passenger's side's backseat door. Her attention flits between her father and Tommy, a strange expression on her face. 

"You two should go on ahead," Tommy tells them, looking away from the black car's backseat window where he knows another pair of eyes is looking at even through the tinted bulletproof glass. The feeling of the passenger's eyes lingers on Tommy, but he doesn't pay them any more attention than he did when he first noticed the car.

Sam steps away from his truck, getting back on the sidewalk. He stands in front of Tommy, probably unintentionally getting between the blonde and the black car. For a moment, Sam is only looking at Tommy's face, but then he zeroes in on Tommy's eyes. Sam has only ever talked to Tommy while he was wearing his red-tinted glasses or his blindfold. Sam isn't the first person who's had trouble meeting Tommy's eyes since this is the first time he's really let them be seen by other people. Sam is learning, however, and Tommy doesn't know if he necessarily wants that. Sam's eyes peering into his own makes Tommy feel off-kilter. It makes him feel seen in a way that he's never experienced before. It unnerves him, and Tommy has to force himself to continue looking at Sam's face.

"I promised Techno that I would bring you back," Sam tells Tommy with a serious expression. Sam's hands are twitching at his sides like he wants to grab Tommy. He wonders if Sam knows what Tommy's first instinct was when he discovered that his family weren't really dead. Is Sam as scared of that outcome as Techno seems to be?

"And Techno promised me that I could see whoever the fuck I wanted whenever the fuck I wanted to when I'm ready. Guess what? I'm ready," Tommy counters. Tommy knows that Techno didn't mean this when he told Tommy that, but Sam doesn't need to know the context for that particular promise. If Techno asks, Tommy will blatantly lie and say he must have misinterpreted what Techno met. He will do that later, though. Right now, Tommy has something to do that doesn't involve Sam or Hannah. "You should go back to explain to Techno what happened. I promise to be back by nightfall."

Sam lips press together in contemplation. His eyes are twisting with confliction, wanting to satisfy Tommy's wishes but also keep his promise to Techno. The urge to protect Tommy is what mixes with both sides of the fight. The problem is that Sam doesn't know which option will actually be better for Tommy. Protection comes in many forms, and preventing Tommy from being hurt or making his own decisions isn't the kind of protection Sam wants to provide Tommy.

"If you really want to," Hannah intervenes. She jumps onto the sidewalk. She walks over to the pairing with a skip in her step. When she gets close enough, she puts an arm between Sam and Tommy. She uses her arm to start nudging Sam away. He takes a half-step back before standing his ground against his daughter. Hannah gives him a cheeky smile, fully sliding between him and Tommy. Her smile is more genuine as she looks at Tommy, but the wink she throws in makes Tommy wonder what sincerity actually looks like on Hannah. "I'll make sure Techno understands, but if you really aren't back by nightfall, I will personally come drag your butt to the cabin for a serious grounding."

Hannah turns, gently pushes her father again. Sam sighs, walking away from his daughter's pushy hands. He throws a glance over his shoulder at Tommy as he turns around the edge of his truck. Hannah lingers in front of the truck. She gives Tommy a thumbs up as she heads over to the front seat of the passenger's side. She opens it, leaping into the truck. She closes the door a second later. Tommy can see Sam and Hannah's faces through the glass of the windshield. Hannah waves at him. Sam starts the truck, conflict still warring across his face. Sam gives Tommy a tentative smile as he starts to drive the truck onto the street. Hannah turns to her father with an uncharacteristically serious expression on her face, explaining something to him as they drive down the road.

Tommy looks away from the companions he came with. He stares back at the black car. Tommy runs a hand down the side of his face, pressing his photograph tightly against his chest with his other hand. He talked a lot of big game, but he feels anxiety grab onto his shoulders. He breathes in deeply, preparing himself for the situation he is willingly walking into.

Tommy steps to the car. He opens the backseat door smoothly.  The experience is familiar to Tommy. He slides onto the leather seats with his prized position landing face-down in his lap, looking around at the interior of the car. Surprisingly, this car isn't taking Tommy to Las Nevadas like it usually does. Instead, it brought a piece of Las Nevadas to Tommy. Croupier is on the seat across from Tommy in his usual costume, but his mask is settled on the seat right beside him. Tommy stares at the mask. It isn't the first time he's seen Croupier's face, of course. Just as Charlie hated the automated voice telling his stories, he hated falling asleep while staring at the mask. Croupier eventually indulged Charlie just as he always did. All those times, however, Croupier's face had still been shrouded in darkness. This is the first time Croupier's presented his face in complete light, even if the overhead lights in the car were a little dim.

Tommy's eyes wander up Croupier's body, eventually meeting his face. Croupier stares at Tommy without any emotion on his face. Opposingly, his eyes are overwhelmingly filled with emotions. Tommy can see the gears clicking and spinning inside Croupier's mind. He looks like he's trying to solve a problem. Tommy shivers in his chair. He's not a problem. He has problems, yes, but he isn't one in and of himself. He's processing. He's working. He's managing. He's doing his best. Croupier doesn't know any of that, though. Tommy cut off all contact with the outside world. Even though he's been getting out more under the watchful eyes of neutral parties, he hasn't sent so much as a letter to Las Nevadas. This is strange because Tommy often calls Las Nevadas his secondary home. 

The people there, too, are very important to Tommy. And he's important to them, or else Croupier wouldn't have personally shown up. He wouldn't have revealed his face so easily. Tommy didn't have to beg and cry like Charlie did to get his way. Croupier didn't even have confirmation that Tommy would step into the car. He didn't know if Tommy would get inside alone. Tommy could have easily brought Hannah or Sam or both with him for assurances. Croupier took that risk. He's taking a risk by showing up here. If Techno finds out who Tommy went to see, Croupier could be risking his tentative alliance with the Syndicate. Croupier is taking just as many risks as Tommy is by being here.

"I want to end our contract," Tommy murmurs. His voice is incredibly fragile even to his own ears. Tommy lifts his fist up to cough into it. The sensation burns against the inside of his throat. Tommy shakes his head. He meets Croupier's eyes again, trying to seem so much more sure of himself. He's pretending, and Croupier probably knows that he is after spending so much time around Tommy. Regardless, Tommy continues to pretend and he hopes that the Jester of Las Nevadas allows Tommy to hide behind his bluff. "I don't want to be a hero anymore."

In every way except actually going to the Hero's Guild and informing them of his decision, Tommy has quit being a hero. His entire reason for going to the guild was to protect himself from the Hunters while he prepared to get his revenge. He followed the directions of XD in exchange for getting to use the guild's resources. He strived to become an S-rank hero like XD wanted him to be, and he gained enough power and prestige to become an actual threat to the Syndicate. Tommy has no reason to do any of that anymore. There was no point in becoming an S-rank. He didn't want to go after the Syndicate. The Hunters were the least of his worries. Vendetta was as dead as the actual vendetta Tommy swore against the people who killed his family.

Croupier sighs, drawing Tommy away from his thoughts. Croupier leans down against his knees, losing the air of coolness and confidence that always seemed to surround him. He runs a hand across the side of his face. Tommy nearly flinches as he remembers he did the same thing earlier. Tommy equates most of his traits with his original family, but it seems he gained a few nervous habits from the man who was almost like a... Tommy closes his eyes. He really doesn't want to put a name on whatever relationship he has with Croupier. Tommy was only ever supposed to be a pawn. Tommy was only ever supposed to be using Croupier in the same way Croupier used him.

"Our contract has been invalid for years now," Croupier notes softly. Tommy opens eyes sharply. He stares right into Croupier's onyx irises with genuine surprise in his eyes. That contract is one of the few constants Tommy lived his life by, almost as important to him as the vendetta he swore against the Syndicate's leaders. Croupier gives Tommy a half-smile, pushing off his knee to sit back up. Croupier's back hits the leather, and he releases another breath that could be a sigh if Croupier put more effort into it. "One of the stipulations has been that neither of us could care for each other."

"The first rule," Tommy murmurs. Back when Croupier was tutoring Tommy and Charlie, he gave them a list of rules that were true not only on the island but for the entire city. The first rule was the most important, Croupier would say. Tommy and Charlie should only look out for themselves because everyone else was going to the same. If someone could gain from betraying Tommy or Charlie, they would in a heartbeat. Charlie was the one that struggled with that rule. Tommy was the one who knew it to be true. Tommy was the one that pushed down his own care for people, knowing it would only lead to his ruination. It would only lead to heartache.

"The first rule... Trust no one," Croupier repeats in simple terms. A soft and small smile comes onto Croupier's face. It isn't a smile of happiness, but it doesn't seem sad to Tommy. There's no regret or pain. Only a tiny creature of affection lingering around the edges. "You're my legacy, the exception to the rule."

Tommy sighs pitifully. Charlie was the one that took a long time to accept the first rule, but it appears Tommy was the one to break it. Over and over again, he kept caring about people. He told himself not to care about anyone, but even as he said those words like a matra, he let people wiggle into his heart. Tommy thought it would be fine, but he was burned by it. The people he thought he could trust betrayed him. Worse, they betrayed him with arguably good news. Tommy still can't bring himself to accept the flames back into his life even though they only ever warmed his cold, bitterly lonely heart.

Tommy feels tears rise to his face. He drops his head down into his hands. He doesn't know how to be anyone's legacy. He doesn't even know who he is. He doesn't know what he wants.

Tommy hears movement. He peeks through his fingers to see Croupier moving to the other side of the car. He settles down in the leather seat beside Tommy. He watches Croupier up until the moment Croupier puts an arm around Tommy's shoulders. Tommy's eyes widen, and Croupier pulls Tommy against his chest. Croupier moves his other arm, giving Tommy an awkward hug in the backseat of his expensive car. Tommy turns to bury his face into Croupier's chest. Tommy breathes out, feeling sick to his stomach but oddly comforted by the gesture. Croupier doesn't hug anyone often, and Tommy can only note two times Croupier has hugged him prior. Both of those times had been under dire circumstances, so maybe Croupier can see the truth. It would be odd for the Jester of Las Nevadas not to know everything that has happened on his island. Plus, as the Dealer of the Aces, Ultraviolet probably told Croupier where his missing jacket and keycard were, on the top floor of the Needle. 

"This might be hard to hear, but you don't have to... be anyone. You think that you've lost the person you once were. That isn't true. The boy who came to me with more stubbornness than anyone I've ever met still exists. The boy who runs around Las Nevadas like a headless chicken still exists. The boy who helped Ankh make the Needle, who gives Ultraviolet a reason to be paid, who has a rivalry with Reynard, who hangs out with Slime... he still exists. He's the same boy who is currently being held in my arms," Croupier offers. 

Tommy stifles a laugh at some of Croupier's claims. Tommy can still remember showing up at Las Nevadas with puberty still clinging to his growing form, ready to strike a deal with the owner of the island himself. Tommy remembers what it felt like to sign a proper contract with Croupier, high off the pain and pride of taking down Minotaur. Tommy remembers sitting with Ankh as the Ace of Diamonds worked, even going so far as to help him with one of his most famous projects. Tommy remembers with perfect clarity every pseudo-fight and low-stakes chase he's ever had with Ultraviolet, forming a relationship unlike both friendship and enemies with the Ace of Spades. Tommy remembers butting heads with Reynard, only recently accepting a cordial relationship with the Ace of Clubs. Tommy will always remember Slime, knowing how much time he's spent with the Ace of Hearts, pretending they were both children lost in delusions and fantasies. Tommy will remember his time at Las Nevadas fondly because it's his second home. He feels as comfortable there as he does in Sleepy's mindscape or Techno's cabin.

"You know who you are. You just don't know what you want," Croupier continues after giving Tommy time to process. Although he didn't say much, Croupier stops again to let Tommy parse through that statement. Tommy can confirm that he doesn't know what he wants, but he's never realized that he knows who he is. He's gathered enough strength to admit that he isn't Vendetta, but he believed that if he wasn't Vendetta then he wasn't anyone. But there has always been a person underneath Vendetta. No one called him Tommy, but he clung to that name because it was part of who he was. Just as he could never cast away his family (or the idea of them), he could never cast Tommy away, either.

"I'm willing to offer not only myself but all of the resources of Las Nevadas in order to help you figure out what it is you truly want," Croupier promises Tommy. "I know the other Aces are more than willing to help."

Tommy huffs. His heart somehow feels lighter. There is still a heaviness there, but it isn't as bad as it was when Tommy first sat down in the car.

"Huh, isn't this the photograph you carry around everywhere?" Croupier murmurs. Tommy feels Croupier shift around him. The jester picks up the photograph from Tommy's lap. Croupier lifts it up out of Tommy's grip. Tommy allows this to happen, tensing only slightly. Croupier stares at the surface of the picture. He lets out a slight laugh. "This whole thing really could have been avoided if I had just seen this photograph."

"What do you mean?" Tommy asks, pushing off Croupier's chest to really look at the man. Croupier's attention remains firmly on the photograph.

"Well, I know what both Serenade and Tubbo look like underneath his mask. The boys in this picture look remarkably like them. Even if I wasn't sure, I would have asked you if this was Wilbur and Tubbo. I know you well enough to know you would have gotten emotional when you heard those names if they really were your family. I could have brought you to Wilbur myself," Croupier explains, tapping against the smiling face of Tommy's older brother back when they were young kids living in L'Manberg. "I've also seen his baby pictures. I would have been able to tell you that-"

"Tell me what?" Tommy demands when Croupier suddenly cuts himself off. Tommy leans in closer, trying to read Croupier's eyes. The man is paying close attention to the corner of the picture. Tommy looks back at the photograph, but he can't tell what Croupier is looking at so intently. Tommy gives up, staring right back at Croupier. "You've seen Wilbur's baby pictures? I want to see them, too!"

"No, I haven't seen Wilbur's baby pictures. I wasn't talking about Wilbur. I was talking about-" Croupier cuts himself off again, his lips pressing together into a tight line. He lowers the picture down in his lap. Tommy almost wants to steal his prized possession back. Croupier levels Tommy with a stare that makes Tommy stop in his tracks. "Whose identities do you know?"

"I can't fucking tell you-"

"I already know everyone in the Syndicate. The reason I know Tubbo's identity is because he's... Er, I was involved with his father making him my... step-son, or at least, like my step-son. We can argue semantics later. Whose identities do you know?" Croupier shakes his head, waving away the fact that Croupier has been close to Tommy's family all this time.

"Serenade is Wilbur. Dyscardia is Niki. Thermoculus is Jack. Jolt is Tubbo," Tommy says with a weird edge in his voice as he admits out loud what he's known for some time now. He hasn't said any of this since he was standing on the rooftop after finding out Philza's multiple secret identities.

"What about the other two?" Croupier asks, running his fingers along the portion of the picture showing Eret and Fundy.

"I... I've been assuming they're alive, too... but they aren't part of the Syndicate," Tommy admits slowly.

Croupier sighs heavily, exhaustion evident in his voice. "I... I'm going to trust your caretaker on this one. All I'm going to tell you is that they're alive. I won't tell you who they are unless you ask me. If you choose to say nothing, that's a decision I respect."

Tommy hesitates, fingers wrapping around the frame of his prized possession. He remains still as he looks at Croupier. Eret and Fundy are alive. Tommy thought they were, but the confirmation is nice to hear. The option of knowing who and where they are is also nice, but Tommy keeps his mouth shut. Croupier mentioned trusting Tommy's caretakers. Techno is the one taking care of Tommy, and he trusts Techno. If Techno hasn't told Tommy who Fundy and Eret are or where they are, Tommy is okay with that. He's willing to accept that. He's willing to wait for the truth.

Tommy takes the photograph back into his lap, resting his head on Croupier's shoulder. Croupier hugs him again, muttering, "Okay... that's okay."

Chapter Text

"Don't lock yourself away from those who care about you because you think you'll hurt them or they'll hurt you. What point is there in being human if you don't let yourself feel anything?"

― Sabaa Tahir

The car stops so smoothly Tommy almost doesn't notice, but he does get the feeling that the machine underneath his body is no longer in motion. He blinks his eyes open. He lifts his head off Croupier's chest. He stretches his hands above his head. The photograph in his lap starts sliding off his lap to the floorboard, but Croupier swipes the edge before the frame can hit the ground. Croupier sets it back down in Tommy's hands. The blonde graciously accepts his prized possession, holding it against his chest.

Tommy looks out the window, putting a hand on the door handle. Instead of the populous and neon-colored Las Nevadas, Tommy is staring at a collection of snow-frosted trees. He keeps his hand on the handle as he turns to look at Croupier over his shoulder. The jester gives Tommy a half-smile. He waves away all of Tommy's unasked questions with his hand. "I'm not taking you to Las Nevadas. It isn't the place for you right now. You're always welcome, of course, but I think your current caretaker is doing an acceptable job."

"Oh," Tommy answers, looking back at the window. He is grateful that Croupier is taking him back to Techno instead of dropping him off at Las Nevadas. Tommy does miss the island and its inhabitants, but the alcoholic air and the boisterous sounds of people aren't good for his mental state. The somber and quiet cabin is much better for Tommy. Techno is also good for Tommy because other than his responsibilities to the land and caring for himself, Techno can devote a lot of time to keeping Tommy afloat. He watches out for Tommy with care. Tommy begrudgingly cares about Croupier, but he knows that he has duties other than Tommy. The blonde also cares about Charlie, and he knows more than anyone else how much attention needs to be devoted to keeping him calm. Techno's cabin is the best place for Tommy.

Tommy just knows that he's going to miss Croupier and the other Aces. Tommy wouldn't mind spending more time with them, but the sun is starting to fall between the trees. Tommy turns to look at Croupier. The jester reaches forward, putting a hand on Tommy's shoulder. He squeezes comfortingly. "You and Charlie are always going to be my legacy, no matter where you are. Las Nevadas will always be your home, no matter how long you are away from it. Get well soon, okay?"

"I'll do my best. I promise to come by Las Nevadas soon," Tommy promises. He smiles at Croupier, hoping his expression can convey everything he doesn't want to verbally say. Croupier returns the smile, a twinkling in his eyes. Tommy turns away, opening the door to the car. Tommy steps out onto the dirt road. He hears what he thinks is a rainstorm nearby, but he doesn't feel any drops on his body. Tommy shuts the door behind him. He steps away from the car. It starts heading down the road. Tommy doesn't know how close Croupier and Techno are, but it seems not close enough for Croupier to drop Tommy off directly at Techno's cabin.

Instead, Tommy is standing across the dirt road from a bus stop. Tommy thought he was going to have to ride the bus, but he realizes that isn't the reason Croupier dropped him off here. There are two people sitting inside the glass box that forms the bus stop, protecting the inhabitants from snow and the wind, possibly rain if Tommy's ears don't deceive him. One of the people has their back to Tommy, leaning against the side of the glass box from a standing position. The other person is facing Tommy, sitting down on the metal and wood bench. Since they are looking in Tommy's direction from inside a transparent construct, they notice Tommy first. They lift their hand to wave. The other person notices their companion doing this, turning around slightly to look at Tommy. When Tommy meets their eyes, the person gives him an enthusiastic wave.

Tommy steps into the box, the wind no longer against his skin. Tempestarius rushes to his side, throwing her arms over his shoulder. Tommy accepts the hug from the shorter woman. He leans down to accommodate her, ignoring the way the affection makes his heart warmer. Tempestarius pulls away from Tommy, keeping her hands on his shoulders. Her grip is firm as her eyes trail across his entire body. When she's done examining him with the eyes of a doctor, she meets his eyes once again. She sighs in relief, "I was expecting way worse."

"Me, too," Sparrow pipes up, leaning back against the bench he's sitting on. He puts his upper arm on the bench, bending his elbow to allow the side of his head to rest against his palm. He eyes Tommy with as much attention as Tempestarius, but Tommy doubts anyone could so blatantly worry about him as Tempestarius. "I was expecting you to have been starving yourself."

Tommy rolls his eyes. He steps away from Tempestarius. When he's free from her hand, he spins around in a slow circle with his hands outstretched. After making a complete circle, Tommy faces both of them head-on. He crosses his arms over his chest. "See? I'm fucking fine. You two don't have to... worry, if that's what you're doing."

As Tommy levels Sparrow with a suspicious look, Sparrow starts laughing. He leans forward, putting his hands on his knees to hold him up. Tommy puts a pin in that, turning to face Tempestarius. She is shaking her head, and Tommy hears the distant rumbling of thunder. Tempestarius looks up at Tommy, "We still need to worry. We've been active in Las Nevadas since Minotaur's attack and subsequent defeat. While there, I overheard the Aces talking about how the family Vendetta swore to avenge wasn't really dead. Considering how worried they were about you, I knew that I needed to be tenfold that."

"Don't fucking call me that," Tommy demands, eyes narrowing at her. Tempestarius puts her hand up innocently. Sparrow wipes his eyes from laughing so much, looking up at Tommy with a slightly surprised expression. Tommy closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to push down his anger. He shouldn't be blowing up at Tempestarius or Sparrow. Neither of them have anything to do with what Tommy's upset about. Even if they did play a major role in it, Tommy hasn't exactly been going around telling people that he wants to put the identity of Vendetta behind him. "My name is Tommy, and yes, my family is alive. I'm... dealing with that."

"Isn't that ironic?" Sparrow whistles, leaning back again. He puts both of his arms behind his head, getting comfortable. Tempestarius turns, leveling Sparrow with a glare. Sparrow logically can only see it through his peripheral vision, but he stops whistling immediately. He shifts his body language, turning away from Tempestarius and Tommy even more.

"It is, isn't it?" Tommy agrees despite Tempestarius' glare. She gives Tommy an apologetic look, but he doesn't pay attention to her as he drops down onto the bench right beside Sparrow. He sets his picture down beside him. He leans forward onto his knees, taut as a wire, creating a contrast with the relaxed Sparrow. Tommy shakes his head. "The family I've been fighting for is alive. They have their own lives, and I'm so fucking terrified of fucking it all up."

"How does your family feel about this?" Tempestarius asks. She steps closer to Tommy and Sparrow, positioning herself between them but in front of them still. She is looking at Tommy with compassion in her eyes. Tommy has no idea what he's done to get her on his side. She's told him several times that they're friends, but Tommy doubts he's been particularly friendly with her. She mentioned that he reminds her of Empires. Tommy still thinks that's a stupid answer. It doesn't matter how much he resembles the borough she grew up in; she has no reason to care about him as much as she does.

"I haven't asked them," Tommy tells her the truth. He doesn't see the point of lying. They came all this way to talk to Tommy, and it isn't like they hurt Tommy any more than he already is with this information.

"Why not?" Sparrow asks, reminding Tommy that he's still in the bus stop with him. Tommy stares at the man from the corner of his eye. Although Sparrow doesn't seem to be as concerned as Tempestarius, he still came all this way with her, apparently from Las Nevadas. He's actively getting involved in Tommy's conflict. Instead of interest or curiosity, there is a tiny bit of worry in his eyes. If Tommy has no idea why Tempestarius is worried for him, he has no idea why Sparrow is.

"I don't want to fuck it all up?" Tommy repeats, looking at Sparrow like it was obvious. It was since Tommy literally just said why he doesn't want to interact with his family.

Sparrow huffs, rolling his eyes. He was expecting more from Tommy, and Tommy doesn't get it. He thinks he has a good reason to be avoiding his family right now. He gets comfortable again, barely looking at Tommy as he speaks. "That's a stupid reason. People ruin people, that's the way the world works."

"Sparrow!" Tempestarius hisses, reprimanding the man. Sparrow jolts at the sound of his name said so harshly. He stares at Tempestarius incredulously. Tempestarius sighs, rolling her eyes this time. Tommy realizes they're going around in circles with that. Tempestarius leans down to look at Tommy with something softer in her eyes. She reaches for his hands, taking them. She meets his eyes with a gentle expression. "His wording isn't the best, but I hope you see where Sparrow is coming from. You shouldn't worry about hurting your family. Everyone at some time or another will hurt the people they love, but it is because they love each other that they stick together even through the pain. We don't stop being someone's friend because we hurt their feelings. We mean our apologies and prove that our love is stronger than our mistakes."

"If you love your family enough to devote yourself to revenge for their sake, I imagine they love you just as much. If that's the case, you're hurting them right now by staying away," Sparrow adds, leaning over the side of the metal arm of the bench that separates Tommy and Sparrow. There is something honest in Sparrow's eyes, reminding Tommy of the precious moments when Hannah understood where Tommy's pain was coming from.

"What if my family doesn't love the person I've become?" Tommy asks slowly, looking between the two of them. Tommy remembers what he was like as a kid. He was, for lack of a better word, childish. He wanted the attention to always be on him. He wanted to have fun all the time. He was chaotic, impatient, and oftentimes selfish. He was also trusting and generally kind-hearted, even if his kindness was brash and forceful. He was eager to lend a helping hand to his family. He was even more eager to soak up their praises. He liked hiding in their arms and the folds of their hearts.

Tommy isn't like that anymore. He's learned the value of patience. He's been through too much pain to be naive. He's given up his entire life for one goal. He hasn't really done anything fun since recently. He is legitimately violent now. His selfishness has completely consumed him, leaving very little room for the kindness he was often praised for as a child. The one quality he's retained is being an annoyance and running away from his problems. There are dozens of other minute changes that set him apart from the little boy who screamed 'I hate you' and left his home to be destroyed. Just as traumatic events can awaken espers, it can also change a person so fundamentally that when they see their family again, their family doesn't recognize them anymore even though a mask doesn't change a personality.

Tempestarius puts her hand on Tommy's cheek, drawing his attention entirely on her. She is smiling, shaking her head softly like she has an easy answer for Tommy. She even giggles a little as if it's entirely too obvious. Tempestarius asks, "How could they not?"

Tommy's lips part in surprise. He feels tears burn inside his eyes, so painful that he has to close his eyes. Tempestarius' expression lingers on the back of his eyelids, but it's her words that continue to echo inside his mind. Tommy hasn't looked at himself objectively in so long. He doesn't even know what good qualities he still possesses. He doesn't know why anyone cares about him when he doesn't love himself, when he's an asshole to pretty much everyone. In all the time he's spent around the Syndicate, he hasn't given any of them a reason to love him. The one thing he has going for him is that fact that he was once their little brother, but Tommy doesn't know if he's that anymore. He was family with Niki, Jack, and Tubbo because they were all homeless kids depending on each other. Wilbur doesn't consider his biological parents as family, so Tommy knows that blood isn't going to be enough to keep them together. 

"I think this conversation has been very insightful," Sparrow notes, breaking Tommy out of his sadness. Tommy opens his eyes to find Tempestarius glaring at Sparrow. She stops holding Tommy's cheek to slap Sparrow. The man releases a shrieking noise that makes Tommy think he's some sort of shulker hybrid. Sparrow slides away from Tempestarius' hands. She doesn't move away from Tommy, so Sparrow is still subjected to her glare but not her forceful hands.

"I don't know why I was ever surprised you were friends with Firestriker," Tempestarius murmurs, shaking her head. She looks down at Tommy and her intertwined hands. She takes his other one again, almost like she's trying to distract him from Sparrow's senseless ramblings.

Sparrow laughs, the noise soothing a part of Tommy that didn't like how heavy the atmosphere was. Sparrow adds, "That is absolutely why we're friends. Disregarding the fact that he terrifies. He sets whatever he wants on fire. He's threatened to set me on fire. I hate fire."

"I wouldn't even know where to start," Tommy tells Tempestarius, ignoring her mini-conversation with Sparrow. Despite the poor timing, Tommy is grateful because it gave him enough time to organize his thoughts and clear his voice.

"I have faith in you and the love you've held in your heart for this long. I can say from experience that a family doesn't give up on each other. They remain together even through the pain," Tempestarius reminds Tommy. She rises up to her feet, pulling gently at Tommy's hands like she wants him to get up with her. Tommy remains seated, and Tempestarius raises an eyebrow at him. "We should get you back to your caretaker before he throws a fit. No one wants to deal with that, least of all me and Sparrow."

"How the fuck do you know who I'm staying with?" Tommy startles. He assumes they came to the bus stop because they went to Croupier. It would explain why Croupier dropped him off here and why he didn't seem concerned with Tempestarius and Sparrow being here. Tommy didn't think they knew that he was staying in Snowchester with someone specific. He could have been staying all by himself, for all these two should know.

"Well, we assume it's someone in the Syndicate, and statistically, you're staying with a 'he' since there are more of those in the Syndicate than anything else," Sparrow offers an explanation. When Tommy gives him another surprised look, Sparrow makes an 'ah' face. He explains even further, "Minotaur went ahead with the blackmail information in order to lessen his sentence in Pandora's Vault. Everyone knows that you've been working with the Syndicate. Some people are calling you a fraud or a traitor. Other people are praising your ability to put aside your personal qualms to stop the Red Army. The tabloids are having a field day about this, I assure you. Probably the most coverage you've ever had, and you're not even getting paid for it."

"Ugh, I don't give a fuck," Tommy grumbles. He is absolutely done with both Minotaur and the media. He has way too much to worry about. He doesn't have a single thought to devote to them at the end of the day, especially when he sometimes doesn't even have enough thoughts to devote to doing daily necessities. "I'm not even a hero anymore."

"I thought as much. There's a bounty on your head right now issued by some rich people. I also think some members of the board had a hand in the bounty, but I can't prove that. All I can say is that most heroes are eager to find you," Tempestarius explains. A rather sinister smirk appears on her face as she gestures to the world outside the glass box. Tommy looks out there, but he doesn't see anything except distant storm clouds. "Anyone who is interested has recently found that the borders of Snowchester are far too stormy to enter. This is strange because the interior isn't storming as horrible."

"You're terrifying," Sparrow pipes up, shaking his head. Tommy looks Tempestarius right in the eyes. He nods, agreeing with Sparrow's claim. Tommy knew Tempestarius was terrifying from the moment she caught him following her, but this adds a whole other level on top of that original fear. Thinking back to the cityscape he nearly destroyed, Tommy wonders if he could be just as scary one day.

Tempestarius giggles, looking a lot softer in the fading light than the storm that is waiting to begin pouring. Behind her, a bus slows down to park beside the bus stop. Tommy stands up, realizing his hands are still in Tempestarius'. She squeezes gently, a smile playing on her lips. She drops his hands, sliding away from him. Tommy uses this moment to grab his photograph. Sparrow stands up, clapping a hand on Tommy's shoulder. He returns both of their gestures with a smile of his own. "Goodbye. Thank you for helping me. Thank you, Tempestarius, for helping me. You barely did shit, Sparrow."

"Rude," Sparrow laughs lightly, unoffended. "See ya, Tommy."

"I hope to see you in better spirits next time we meet," Tempestarius adds. Tommy waves at them both, stepping out of the bus stop after the bus has started pulling away. Tommy waits a few more minutes, activating his power. He flies across the sky for a few moments, dropping onto the top of the bus. The wind whips around his hair as he situates himself against the cold metal. Tommy wraps his arms around his prized possession, wishing he hadn't left his jacket in Sam's truck. Tommy shivers, looking up enough to see Tempestarius and Sparrow waving at him. Tommy waves back the moment a surprisingly warm wind brushes against his body. Tempestarius eyes are glowing so bright he can see them even from an increasing distance. She winks at him, grasping Sparrow's hand. The two of them turn into teal-green sparkles that fly away as the warm wind wraps around Tommy's form.

The bus meanders down the road even more. Tommy closes his eyes, reminded of the time he took the bus into Snowchester's main town in order to get away from Techno and the promise he had with Reverie. This brings Tommy to think about Reverie. For better or for worse, Reverie was a big part of Tommy's life. Tommy hates his guts, especially after realizing Reverie lied about Eret being dead, but Tommy can't help but wonder what Reverie is doing right now. Does he care where Tommy is? Did he know that Tommy's family was actually alive? Were the Hunters the ones responsible for the explosion since it wasn't the Syndicate?

The bus stops, turning around so that it might go back into the city. Tommy pushes off the bus, flying into the air. The warm wind follows him as he shoots away from the bus. He crosses over the tall trees, brushing his hand against the snow. It practically burns his fingers, but he doesn't mind so much as he sees the puff of smoke from the cabin's fireplace in the distance. He lands on the ground at the edge of Techno's main yard. He sinks into the snow. Luckily, he's wearing the appropriate shoes. He might have left his jacket in Sam's truck, but he didn't strip off all his clothes. The weather bothers him, but he isn't in critical condition yet.

Techno is sitting on the porch with a mug in his hands. Tommy's jacket is hung over his arm. He is staring up at the stars. When Tommy puts his hand on the wooden railing of the stairs, Techno looks down at Tommy with a stare hard enough to make Tommy stop. Tommy gives Techno a placating smile, innocently explaining himself, "Croupier wanted to talk to me. Then, Tempestarius and Sparrow wanted to talk. I talked to them."

"Did you come to any conclusions?" Techno asks, setting down his mug on the railing of the porch. Techno climbs down the steps to put Tommy's jacket around his shoulders. Tommy puts his arms through the sleeves. He follows Techno up the stairs. Techno grabs his mug, pushing the door open. Techno holds the door open for Tommy.

Tommy enters the cabin. He hugs his picture closer to him. He thinks about what Croupier told him and what Sparrow and Tempestarius said. He closes his eyes, shaking his head. "No... I haven't come to any decisions yet."

Chapter Text

"We all make mistakes, have struggles, and even regret things in our past. But you are not your mistakes, you are not your struggles, and you are here NOW with the power to shape your day and your future."

― Steve Marabol

Tommy walks down the staircase, a dull buzz accompanying each of his footfalls. He can hear Techno moving around in the kitchen, metal pots clattering together as they move from the stove to the sink. When he gets to the bottom step, he can see Techno's pink ponytail bouncing with each of his fluid movements. Tommy also notices another person sitting at the dining room table. Tommy stops, one hand on the bannister. Enderwalk- Ranboo, they told Tommy- is sitting with both of his hands clasped around a glass, one of the special ones that doesn't condensate. His tail flickers behind him nervously. Other than that one habit, Ranboo looks fine. He wears casual clothes, a jacket thrown over the back of the chair. He's even wearing gloves, and Tommy can see a new pair of boots standing next to Techno's and Tommy's boots near the front door.

Tommy continues moving once the novelty of the moment has registered in his mind. He hears Ranboo make a noise, somewhere between a breath and the beginning of a statement, but he falls into silence. Tommy lightly touches the glossy material of Ranboo's jacket when Tommy passes behind the chair. He stops when he gets to the patch of sunlight on the ground like an inverse shadow. Tommy flops down onto his butt, laying out in the warmth. He stretches his legs out but tucks his arms across his stomach. He stares up at the ceiling, reacquainting himself with the fantastical stories he's come to associate with the images above.

Ranboo slides off the chair he's sitting in. His knees hit the ground next to Tommy's head. He lowers the rest of his body weight onto his ankles. Tommy looks away from the ceiling, meeting Ranboo's eyes. As Enderwalk, both of his eyes are a glowing purple. As Ranboo, one of his eyes is red and the other one is green. His hair is similarly split down the middle between white and black. He ironically looks less like someone from the End in his civilian form, though Tommy understands the genius behind it. If Tommy were to see Ranboo on the street, he would never be able to make the connection between the civilian in front of him and the teleporting vigilante.

"Good morning," Tommy says after a silent moment has passed between the two of them. Tommy isn't exactly uncomfortable with it. He can recall many fond memories of the two of them sitting side-by-side on the parapet of their favored rooftop without a single word exchanged. Eventually, one of them would break the vow of silence to say goodbye and leave. Stretching even further back, Tommy and Ranboo, when they were Reverie's bitch and Monochrome, would stand in the same room with only the silence to comfort them. There was something special about being with someone without having to speak, as if the silence could speak for them.

Ranboo does not look comfortable in the silence right now. His eyes shine with so many emotions, and his lips part with half-formed words. Ranboo's eyes widen slightly at Tommy's simple greeting. A partial smile comes to his face that softens his features. "Good morning, Tommy."

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asks plainly.

Ranboo jolts back like he's been slapped, his smile completely disappearing. The noises from the kitchen continue like an assembly line, but Techno pipes up to reprimand the blonde. "Theseus-"

"No, it's fine, Techno. It's a valid question," Ranboo cuts Techno off. He looks up, probably meeting Techno's eyes. From this angle, Tommy can't see Techno. He can see Ranboo, however. He is smiling gently and his eyes shimmer with kindness. Tommy always saw that kindness as weakness. He blamed Ranboo's cowardice on his kindness. Tommy isn't sure what his opinion is anymore, especially when those soft eyes are directed back at him. "I have a cabin in the corner of Techno's property. I usually stay there. I've been away for a little while, but I came back recently."

Tommy knows the cabin Ranboo is talking about. He never knew who it belonged to, though. He thought about asking Techno, but he has come to learn the very important lesson that sometimes it's better to not know something. Ignorance is bliss is a common expression for a reason. Tommy would eventually ask, his curiosity getting the better of him, but he was willing to wait until whatever the information would be wouldn't crush him. Learning from Ranboo isn't bad. Tommy was expecting the cabin to belong to someone way worse. He was even speculating that it was a torture chamber for the Syndicate.

"I won't interfere with you or Techno. I'll stay as far away from you as you want me to," Ranboo continues, his head tilting up to look at Techno. Ranboo looks back at Tommy with a bittersweet expression. 

"I don't give a fuck what you do," Tommy replies, doing his best to shrug.

"Is that really okay?" Ranboo asks, his eyes filling up with worry as if Tommy was being forced to be okay with Ranboo's decisions. Like Ranboo could even make his own decisions.

"You're my friend, Ranboo," Tommy sighs. Ranboo's eyes widen at the declaration. Tommy hardly calls anyone his friend. At least, he didn't before. Now, Tommy could care less what titles he gives people. They don't mean much to him anymore. "You've been my friend since we escaped from the Hunters. I don't want to force you from your home just because I can't find the strength to return to mine."

"I'm your friend!" Ranboo cheers. The happiness in his eyes dwindles when the remaining portion of Tommy's comment registers in his mind. His smile depletes into a frown. Tommy forces himself to look away. He feels a hand grab onto his own. Ranboo whispers with a dampened softness in his voice. "Tubbo really misses you... both the friend he made in Vendetta and the brother he once had."

Tommy closes his eyes, deciding that's the best way to save himself from confronting the truth. Without the visual stimulus, Tommy realizes the noises from the kitchen have stopped. He instead hears the sound of approaching footsteps. Tommy opens his eyes. Techno is standing behind Ranboo with two plates in his hands. He looks at them both as he sets the plates down. When Tommy starts to sit up to get his plate, Techno looks decisively at Ranboo. The perceived looks away from Techno as he grabs his plate. Tommy sets the plate down his lap, watching Techno walk away to get his own plate. Tommy doesn't wait for Techno, instead leaning his body against Ranboo's side. Ranboo startles, and Tommy explains, "I always do this when someone eats with me. So, fucking deal with it or get up."

Tommy barely has the energy to eat so if he can get assistance leaning upright, he will take it. Tommy does not say that, however, knowing full well that Ranboo will only grow more worried for Tommy's safety and state of mind. "I don't mind."

Ranboo starts eating his breakfast without pushing Tommy away. Tommy begins nibbling on the food on his plate. Techno sits at the dining table in the chair across from the one Ranboo was originally seated in. He eyes them carefully as he eats, but his attention soon rises up out the window. He lifts his mug to drink. Tommy closes his eyes, absentmindedly eating what's on his plate. He listens to Ranboo's heartbeat as he does.

When Tommy doesn't feel anything on his plate, he opens his eyes. He ate his entire plate. It isn't surprising anymore, but Tommy still feels proud of himself. When he first came to the cabin, he could barely eat a quarter of the plate. Techno has slowly been building up Tommy's appetite and conditioning when Tommy should get hungry. On top of that, they've been exploring different flavors now that Tommy's stomach is strong enough for spices. Tommy has been consistently eating his entire plate now, but he continues to feel a certain amount of hard-earned pride.

Tommy stands up with his plate in one hand. He trades his plate for a napkin from Techno. The man takes his, Tommy's, and Ranboo's plate into the kitchen to wash them at the sink. Tommy wipes his hands and mouth off, looking over at Ranboo. The teenager is standing at the chair, his hands folded on top of the back and his jacket. Ranboo meets Tommy's eyes with a smile. Tommy gives a half-smile in reply. "Can I go see your house?"

Ranboo's smile drops in surprise. He looks past Tommy at Techno for permission. Tommy turns around to see Techno's expression. The man is standing at the sink, washing one of the plates. He looks up to glance between Tommy and Ranboo. After a moment, he shrugs his shoulders, looking back at the plate. "Remember to stay safe."

Tommy smiles, nodding. He heads up the stairs. He slides into Techno's room, reaching into the box for a pair of warm clothes. He pulls out what he believes is a matching pair. He changes into them, double-checking that he's torn off all the tags. Tommy exits the room when he's done. He holds tightly onto the railing as he jumps from one step to the next. When he gets to the bottom, he sees Ranboo and Techno standing near the doorway. Ranboo is wearing his jacket and his boots. Techno is pulling down the sleeves of his shirt since he's done washing dishes. Tommy walks over to them, about to reach for his own jacket. He overhears Ranboo saying, "I promise."

"You promise what?" Tommy asks. He watches Ranboo visibly flinch from surprise. Techno is less surprised. He probably knew Tommy was coming from the moment he started descending the stairs. Techno eyes Tommy's outfit passively. He nods his head in approval, stepping toward Tommy. He wraps his arms around Tommy's shoulder, hugging him. Tommy returns the hug instinctively. When Techno pulls back, he tosses Tommy's jacket at him.

"Be careful," Techno tells them both, opening the door. Ranboo steps outside, his gloved hands immediately going up to his mouth to cover the lower half of his face. Tommy waves at Techno as he passes. He realizes only after the door is shut that neither Techno nor Ranboo answered his question about what Ranboo was promising Techno. Tommy considers grilling Ranboo about it, knowing the boy will fold like a weak poker hand, but he doesn't really care. It either has nothing to do with him or it has to do with his safety.

Tommy follows Ranboo through the snow as they head toward the cabin in the very corner of the clearing, hidden behind snowdrifts. The snow begins moving, surprising Tommy. His surprise morphs into excitement when he realizes the 'moving snow' is actually Atalanta. The dog barks, leaping into Tommy's legs. She knocks him off balance and causes snow to fly up all around them. Ranboo makes an odd noise as he whirls around, but he either slips on the ice or trips on his own feet because he lands on his bottom. Tommy laughs, pushing away Atalanta's snout. She takes the hint, moving away from him. Tommy reaches a hand out, patting her head.

"I prefer cats," Ranboo complains, getting back onto his feet. He reaches a hand out to Tommy, pulling the blonde onto his feet. Tommy readjusts to standing on the snow, wiping it off his backside. Atalanta leaps up to yip at the falling snow. Tommy hurriedly steps away from her to avoid becoming a bowling pin again.

"I don't have a preference. I just like Atalanta," Tommy responds. He and Ranboo start their trek towards the cabin in the corner anew, this time with an additional traveler moving alongside them. Atalanta's rowdiness dips when she realizes they're going somewhere instead of being there to play. Tommy will definitely play with her once they get to the cabin, though.

"That's good! I have cats in the cabin. Two of them, actually: Enderpearl and Enderchest. I went with a naming theme, if you couldn't tell," Ranboo laughs. Tommy raises an eyebrow at his naming choices. And he thought Techno was bad at naming his pets. "I wouldn't want you getting freaked out by them."

"Hey! I'm scared of hurting the people I care about. I'm not scared of some pussies," Tommy declares, taking offense to the idea that he would get freaked out by some cats. Tommy could take a cat in a fight. He has powers, after all. As if to prove that, some of the snow around Tommy starts to lift into the air. Each one shines like a bloody crystal. It would be a little more terrifying if Atalanta wasn't leaping to catch the snow in her mouth. Tommy makes the snow drop, reaching down to wipe the snow off Atalanta's back.

"Sorry for assuming," Ranboo laughs awkwardly. When Tommy starts walking right beside him again, Ranboo throws him a look from the corner of his eye. He adds, almost like an afterthought but clearly with a lot of thought put into whether or not he should say this, "I don't get what you mean. You spend time with me and Techno, but you don't seem afraid to hurt us."

"It's obvious, innit? You knew me when I was Reverie's bitch. I can't come back from that in your mind. Techno didn't know me until all of this happened. Neither of you had to grieve 'Tommy.' You only recently learned he existed," Tommy does his best to explain, but he knows from the look on Ranboo's face that he did a poor job.

"I think I do know 'Tommy.' The person who saved me from the Hunters and who hung out with me on our special rooftop is the same Tommy walking right beside me now," Ranboo counters.

"Croupier thought something similar. He was saying that I've always been myself and I still am. I just don't know what the fuck I want," Tommy admits. He can still feel Croupier's arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tightly as he explains that the person he is now is the person he's always been. Tommy thought about what he said then. He thought about it more when he was interacting with Tempestarius and Sparrow. He continued to think about it over the past few days. It is brought to his attention once more by Ranboo, forcing Tommy to fully reconcile with the ramifications.

"Do you want to stay away from your family?" Ranboo asks simply. They are coming up to the cabin. There is a brown picket fence rising up around the yard. The cabin is a similar brown color, creating a stark contrast with the snow piling up on the slanted rooftop. The door is a muted reddish maroon color. There is a bucket of flowers hanging off each of the windows, and one of the windows reveals the nearly glowing eyes of a feline with black fur.

Tommy shakes his head. "All I want is to be with them... I just don't want to hurt them."

"It sounds to me like you do know what you want, just like you know who you are," Ranboo notes thoughtfully. He takes a few hurried steps forward, opening the door for Tommy. Atalanta darts into the cabin. Tommy rushes in after her, hoping she hasn't immediately attacked one of the cats. Atalanta sits near the fireplace, falling down into a heap of bones and white fur. Tommy pulls his boots and jacket off, setting them where Ranboo has kept his back-ups. Tommy heads over to her. He starts petting her fur, much to her pleasure, and staring into the fireplace. He pulls his hands away, reaching for a few pieces of wood. He throws them into the fireplace. He reaches for the lighter on top of the mantle. Tommy lights some kindling, placing it in the fireplace alongside the wooden logs. It doesn't take long for the fire to catch, spreading and warming the place.

Tommy turns around. Ranboo is petting one of his cats, his own tail matching the cat's. Tommy snorts, snapping Ranboo out of his comfortable reverie. Ranboo pulls away from the cat, heading to the kitchen. He wipes his hands off with some specialized wet wipes. He throws away the wet wipe, reaching his hands out to grab a pair of mugs from the kitchen. He starts making something. Tommy sits on a barstool, watching Ranboo work. After the cabin has been sufficiently warm and Atalanta begins playing a game with a grumpy cat, Ranboo sets a mug in front of Tommy. The blonde stares into the milky brown surface, a part of him remembering Niki's recipes.

"I think... you might be hurting your family more by staying away," Ranboo murmurs. Tommy's grip tightens on the mug. He swallows thickly, closing his eyes again. Ranboo might be right. Even if he isn't, Tommy really misses his family.

Chapter Text

"I wanted to tell her everything, maybe if I'd been able to, we could have lived differently, maybe I'd be there with you now instead of here. Maybe... if I'd said, 'I'm so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything,' maybe that would have made the impossible possible. Maybe, but I couldn't do it, I had buried too much too deeply inside me. And here I am, instead of there."

― Jonathan Safran Foer

 

Tommy lies on the guest bed, half-asleep. He shoves his face into one of the pillows, ignoring the way the embroidered surface digs into his cheek. He reaches down for the blanket, hiking it up even higher around his body. He is sleepy, but he can't seem to find a comfortable position. He used to have his chains to tether him to the bed, and more recently, he's had actual people there to share the space with him. Tommy cannot bring himself further down into the realm of sleep without the coolness of the metal or the warmth of the person. Despite this, he isn't willing to go to Ranboo's room to ask for a chain. He definitely isn't going to ask Ranboo to sleep with him. He refuses to act like a child after they've had a nightmare. Tommy would prefer nightmares to this pseudo-awake state he's unceremoniously put himself in.

Tommy turns in the bed. He pulls at the sheet, finding resistance from where it remains tucked in on the other side of the bed. Tommy's head falls between the pillows, right onto the mattress. It is surprisingly clear how rarely Ranboo has guests over. The guest bedroom feels more like set dressing than a comfortable place for an actual guest to unwind. Ranboo's entire house is one big guest room since he's staying on Techno's land, but this room in particular really took the brunt of the damage. It looks beautiful, but it's uncomfortable. Or maybe Tommy's too tired and cranky to see value in the place.

Tommy begins debating going back to Techno's house. The walk isn't long. Atalanta will probably meet him halfway there. He could leave a note for Ranboo. He'll eventually find the note, or he'll rush over to Techno's cabin in the morning to proclaim that he's lost Tommy to the terrifying villain. Techno has probably left the front door unlocked. If he hasn't, Tommy isn't afraid to bang on the door until Techno eventually gets up. Tommy could probably even use his powers to pick the lock. It will require some work, but he's willing to give it a couple of tries before throwing in the towel.

Tommy's half-hearted planning and exhausted ramblings are cut off at the head by a noise echoing throughout the quiet house. Tommy flips onto his back, pushing one of the pillows away to stare at the door. He doesn't see any lights turning on underneath the door frame. Tommy frowns. If Ranboo is going to be okay at this hour and make noises, he might as well do it in the light. He should, at least, be caring around a flashlight to make sure he doesn't bump into anything. What is Ranboo doing awake at this hour, anyway? Is he getting a snack? Is he going to come check on Tommy? Does this have anything to do with the promise he made with Techno?

The noise continues. Tommy realizes all of a sudden that it's coming from his room. It's coming from the side opposite to the door. It's coming from the window. Tommy picks his head up, looking over the pillows that continue to rest on the bed. The window has been pulled up nearly all the way. A shadowy silhouette is lifting up the window. When they've lifted it, they drop into the room. They roll to a stop, popping up with one knee lifted and the other one pressed against the carpet. They seem to scan the room.

Tommy leaps from his bed in a hurry. He almost trips on the blanket, but he manages to untangle his legs. He reaches onto the nightstand beside the bed, grabbing onto a picture frame of some random location that Tommy is pretty sure was in the frame when Ranboo bought it. Tommy doesn't complain about Ranboo's aesthetic choices as he lifts the picture frame up. He starts slamming it down on the silhouette's head. The figure lifts up their hands, "Wait! Stop!"

Tommy does as he's commanded. Not because it is commanded of him, but because he recognizes the voice. Tommy drops the picture frame beside him. The edge hits the carpet, and the entire thing falls face-down with a soft noise. Tommy drops down onto his knees between the legs of the intruder, meeting their eyes. He sucks in a tight breath. His entire body freezes up with fear. He recognizes those brown eyes. He recognizes them in the same way he recognizes his own blue eyes.

Tommy's hands slowly fall down. He hesitantly presses them against the cheeks of the intruder, of Wilbur, his brother and north star. Tommy traces Wilbur's features with his fingertips. Wilbur has always been colder than normal people, but he isn't as cold as a corpse. There is warmth pressing up against Tommy's fingertips from a man whose heart beats and blood pumps. Tommy feels warm tears rise up in his eyes, and he lets his hands settle on Wilbur's cheeks. Wilbur gives him a half-smile. He closes his eyes as he presses his head into Tommy's hands. His life is in Tommy's hands, but it's always been in Tommy's hands. Even before they promised not to be the only ones to kill each other, Tommy entrusted his safety to Wilbur and Wilbur would have given Tommy anything, even his own life.

"I'm sorry for sneaking in," Wilbur whispers. His eyelids flutter open like the wings of a butterfly. His eyes are as warm as the hot chocolate Tommy and Ranboo were drinking earlier, as brown as the evergreen trees that grow along the edges of Techno's property, and as alive as dancers at a neon party. "I want to give you as much time as possible, but I'm a weak man, Toms. I'll leave if you want me to. Just say the word, and I'm gone."

Tommy doesn't say anything. He keeps his lips shut, barely holding back the tears and the sobs that claw at his throat. For ten years, he's mourned the man in front of him. For ten years, he's lived in darkness and loneliness, clinging to the hope that they would one day reunite. The day is upon them. The day has been upon them, waiting for Tommy to embrace it. There are a million differences between Wilbur and Tommy, from their looks to their temperaments to even their fathers, but they have at least one similarity: they are both weak. Tommy could never refuse his brother, not when he feels so warm underneath Tommy's hands.

"What happened?" Tommy asks as quietly as Wilbur. The quietness is partially for Ranboo's sake, but it is mostly because Tommy can't shake off the feeling that both he and Wilbur are ghosts. They are meant to be silent. They make no noise, only meander between the realms of life and death without interacting with both.

Wilbur nods slowly. He takes a deep breath. Candor shines in his eyes as he answers Tommy, knowing exactly what Tommy meant despite the blonde not giving more specification. "Ten years ago, when you left, the others and I stayed in the warehouse. We thought you would eventually come back. We thought this was another one of your tantrums. When night began to fall, I wanted to go after you. The others didn't agree with me. They thought you needed to learn the consequences of running away. If you walk out, you have to be the one to walk back in. I would normally have agreed with them, but you're my brother. I couldn't leave you to walk the streets alone after dark. I went-"

"Why would you go far for someone who said they hated you?" Tommy asks, interrupting. Tommy remembers those words as clearly as the sun shines on a cloudless day. He remembers the sound of them against his tongue, the ugly way they contorted his lips. He remembers the expressions on his family's faces as they registered the words. He remembers the sound of the metal door slamming shut behind him. He remembers the sound of his rundown shoes slamming against the puddles in the damp alleyway. He remembers staring up at the night sky, the anger ebbing away and the regret taking its place. His stubbornness kept him away even when he wanted to go running back.

Wilbur laughs, drawing Tommy away from his memories. Wilbur's laugh is exactly how Tommy remembers it, though. It fills Tommy with so much joy just to hear it. Tommy would be happy only hearing this sound for the rest of his life. Wilbur's laughter comes to an end, but his eyes continue to twinkle with genuine amusement. His smile is worth more than a thousand masterpieces. He puts his hands on Tommy's hands, the ones still resting against his cheeks. "In our life together, you have told me 'I love you' as many times as there are stars in the sky. One 'I hate you' said in anger isn't going to convince me that you want nothing to do with me."

Tommy finds himself laughing, too, realizing how silly his thought process was. When he finishes laughing, the expression on Wilbur's face reminds Tommy of the feeling he had when he heard Wilbur's laughter.

Wilbur continues when both of them have finished laughing. "I left the warehouse. I looked all around L'Manberg. I wasn't able to find you, so I assumed you had gone back to the warehouse. I returned to find ruins. I couldn't find anyone else. I was all alone. You were gone, and the others... I could only assume the worst. Same as you did, apparently. I was displaced by the tragedy. I didn't have anywhere else to go. In my wandering, I discovered that I was an esper with the ability to mind-control others with my voice. I used my powers to survive, and Techno found me. I used my powers to grant him peace of mind. He was insane with bloodlust, but I could bring him back to himself. Philza found Techno and I. He adopted us. We became villains alongside our father because we wanted to.

"I found Niki first. The Syndicate had kidnapped her, and I discovered her identity. Jack came soon after. Apparently, the two of them had left soon after I went to look for both you and me. They told Tubbo to stay behind and watch out for Fundy. When they came back to the warehouse, it exploded. They were far enough away to where they didn't die, but they were hurt. Niki unlocked her abilities when she realized Jack's heart wasn't beating. Jack discovered his powers somewhere along the line, but he probably got them from the same traumatic incident. They started out as vigilantes, but they joined me in villainy.

"After realizing those two were alive, I started searching for the others. I found Tubbo, Fundy, and Eret. The night of the explosion, Eret came back, proclaiming that they were leaving the Hunters. When they only found Tubbo and Fundy, Eret stayed there with them. Tubbo kept complaining until Eret took him and Fundy outside to look for the rest of us. Eret and Fundy got separated from Tubbo. Eret heard about the explosion from the news. They stayed far away with Fundy, and Tubbo was found by the hero Red Dragon, who realized this was his foster brother's biological child. Red Dragon took Tubbo and Eret and Fundy stayed far away, hence why the rest of us didn't find them there."

"Are Eret and Fundy villains, too?" Tommy asks. As far as Tommy is aware, everyone in the Syndicate already has a civilian name. None of them can be Eret or Fundy.

"Not quite," Wilbur admits, wearing an expression Tommy thought he would never see again. It was the one Wilbur would wear when he wanted to explain something to Tommy in terms a toddler would understand. Tommy isn't a toddler, though, so he feels righteous outrage rise up in his chest. This expression of Wilbur's melts away, "I'll introduce you to them, soon. They'll be happy to meet you. I'm sure you'll be as surprised as they are."

Tommy shakes his head, his previous feelings disappearing underneath an ocean of melancholy. "I don't want to know. I don't want to see them."

"Why not?" Wilbur asks, genuine confusion rising in his eyes. Wilbur probably has no idea why Tommy has stayed so far away from him and the others. He respected Tommy's boundaries for as long as he could, but he probably has no idea why they were set in the first place. Maybe that's why he gave into his weakness so easily, but then again, Tommy knew the reasons and he gave in relatively quickly, too.

"Do you know how much shit I've done over the years to the Syndicate?" Tommy prompts. He has plotted the demise of the Syndicate's leaders. He was willing to kill every member he needed to in order to achieve that goal. He has fought against each member at least once. He's fought against Serenade more times than he has fingers on his hand. He's hurt his brother, and the unintentionality of it doesn't make it better.

"We've done just as much to you," Wilbur points out. Tommy has wounds from the Syndicate members. He has a few scars from them. He knows one that came from Serenade. Tommy doesn't want to think about them. He refuses to acknowledge that his family has hurt him in return when he was the one that prompted all of those fights.

"I used to be a Hunter and a hero," Tommy changes his tactics. In both positions, Tommy has caused a lot of harm, both to the Syndicate and to the city at large. He's hurt dozens. He's killed twice as many. He's stolen, blackmailed, and tortured for information and to get his missions done. He has taken orders from Reverie, one of the most dangerous people in the city, and from the guildmaster, someone the villains have a lot of turmoil with. If Philza is to be believed, the Syndicate was formed to oppose the corruption of the heroes, corruption Tommy willingly perpetuated in order to selfishly get what he wanted. And what he wanted was to kill two specific people.

"I don't fault you for anything," Wilbur claims. Serenade has committed a lot of heinous acts, too. He has done just as much as Tommy, probably more considering he didn't have a reputation of purity to uphold. His goals were morally better than Tommy's, but his means were no less dirty. 

"I'm broken," Tommy offers. Right before Wilbur broke in, Tommy was lamenting that he couldn't sleep without a chain or another person with him. Earlier today, Tommy was feeling proud that he was able to eat an entire plate of food. He can barely scrounge up the energy to do anything most days. He requires Techno to take care of him like Tommy is a child incapable of remembering to eat, sleep, or bathe. Before Techno, Tommy was stubbornly holding onto his goals, allowing himself to fall into depravity and seriously unhealthy habits. His first instinct when discovering his family was alive was to push them all away and become the dead man they all thought he was. If Tommy isn't broken, he wants to meet the person who is.

"I think everyone is broken. I know I am," Wilbur counters. There is a reason most people consider Serenade to be insane. He has moments of irrationality that would scare off the average person. Even his own family have told him to reel it back several times. He broke into his brother's room to see him. He agreed to promise his life to Vendetta before he knew that it was Tommy behind the mask, and he even went so far as to demand a mirrored promise from Vendetta.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you," Tommy finally whispers. The real heart of his reasons to stay away from his family is the simple fact that Tommy doesn't want to drag them down to his level. They have worked hard to reform their lives. They have grown even taller than anyone thought a group of homeless kids would get. They strived and found their ambitions. They grieved Tommy, and they left that little kid behind. Tommy is the one who clung to the memory of his family. Tommy is the one that joined the notorious Hunters, the group he swore he would never join. Tommy is the one that became a hero, the institution his family hated because they were never saved by heroes. Tommy is the one that can't figure out how to function properly or how to make friends.

Wilbur puts his hands on Tommy's cheeks. He pulls Tommy close, kissing his cheeks and wiping away all the tears. Wilbur finally presses a kiss to Tommy's forehead. When he pulls back, he gives Tommy the largest smile he's ever worn. His eyes, however, are crazier than Serenade's ever were. There is something dangerously possessive in them, something that really makes Tommy believe Wilbur's claim that he was broken. Wilbur looks like a man staring at the sun, declaring he shall conquer even the brightest celestial bodies. Although he doesn't use his powers, his voice carries across the room with power and firmness. "How glorious it would be for me to be ruined by you."

Tommy tears fall down harder. He dives into Wilbur's chest, wrapping his arms around Wilbur's midsection. He hears ugly noises come out of his mouth. His chest burns painfully hot. He grabs Wilbur's shirt, guaranteeing that Wilbur can't leave him again. "I've missed you. Every day, every night, every fucking moment and thought and breath."

"Oh, sunshine, you must know that I've missed you more. You were my little brother, my little sunbeam," Wilbur hugs Tommy. His voice sounds wet with tears, and Tommy has never known his older brother to cry. Tommy feels horrible for making Wilbur cry, but another part of him feels so happy knowing that he isn't making the wrong choice by giving in. Wilbur missed him, too. Wilbur wants him back in his life as much as Tommy wants to be there.

"And you were my north star," Tommy admits. He feels Wilbur's grip tighten. He hears his brother's soft sobs right against his ear. Tommy laughs through his misery. He pulls back slightly, looking at his brother's teary face. Tommy presses his forehead against Wilbur's, closing his eyes. "I'm tired of being away from my family. I'm so fucking tired of missing you all. I want you back."

"You never have to say goodbye again," Wilbur promises, gently petting Tommy's hair. Tommy feels like a little kid again, but he leans into that feeling instead of retching away from it. He will do whatever he can to remain in Wilbur's arms. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Never again," Tommy agrees. He's going to stay with his family. He's going to love them with everything inside his heart. If he hurts them, he's going to make up for it like Tempestarius told him to because that's what people who love each other do. He's going to figure out what he wants beyond reconciliation with his family. He's going to really discover who he is.

Right now, though, Tommy puts his head on Wilbur's shoulder. He closes his eyes, feeling all of his exhaustion catch up with him. "Promise to be here when I wake up?"

"I promise," Wilbur says without a second of hesitation. Tommy imagines that Wilbur would promise him anything, even the entire city. He already has Wilbur's life in his hands. But Tommy's life is in Wilbur's hands, too, so Tommy easily closes his eyes and falls asleep against his brother's chest, reminding him of what they would do when he was younger.

Chapter Text

“How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life. Told to others, but—mainly—to ourselves.”

― Julian Barnes

Tommy settles into a new routine now that he’s reconciled with Wilbur. The promise they made stands firmly as Wilbur moves into the cabin alongside Techno and Tommy. Techno only raised an eyebrow when he saw Wilbur, but the brunette waved away any concerns that might have been issued with that single action. Tommy vaguely explained that he had made up with Wilbur. That was enough for Techno to sigh, telling Wilbur he can sleep in ‘his’ room. Apparently, Wilbur’s room was in that weird building attached to the cabin from the side. Wilbur implied that someone else also stays there, and Tommy is smart enough to put two and two together. He doesn’t say anything about it, though. He blatantly marches into the side room whenever he feels like it. Even if he doesn’t, Wilbur will come into Techno’s half of the cabin without a care in his eyes.

Despite his brother being there, Tommy finds that he still has good and bad days, and a whole lot of in-between days. Thankfully, Wilbur does provide support in ways Techno can’t. Wilbur loves affection as much as Tommy does, so when there’s an itch in Tommy’s skin, he can lay across Wilbur’s chest, basking in his more childish side. Wilbur never complains, always wrapping his arms around Tommy and sometimes peppering his face with kisses until Tommy gets too embarrassed to stay. Wilbur will laugh as Tommy pulls away, and Tommy falls right back into Wilbur’s grasp just to hear that laughter a little longer. Tommy is so blatantly wrapped around Wilbur’s finger, and he can’t find it in himself to care.

There are days Tommy goes to Techno, though. Never for physical affection other than bumping shoulders or a shared smile, but usually for a distraction. Techno is remarkably good at grounding Tommy, keeping him aware in the moment. When Tommy tags along behind Techno, he’s always given a task to do that allows him to use his hands without really using his brain. The work is so easy that when Tommy inevitably gets distracted by something else, he can walk away without needing to worry. Techno picks up all the slack Tommy leaves, even though Tommy tries his hardest not to leave any. Techno never complains about that.

He has started complaining about making food for three people, Wilbur’s picky preferences, and someone never picking up after themselves. With his better state of mind, Tommy is able to laugh instead of tearing up and feeling like a failure. He joins in to make fun of his older brother. He dramatically gets upset when Wilbur dishes it back out, Techno sometimes cutting in. Wilbur and Tommy always burst into laughter at the end of it, and Techno often chuckles at their antics. Tommy really feels like he’s getting better.

So, when Techno declares that they’re out of honey, Tommy offers to ask Ranboo for more. The Enderian stationed at the edge of Techno’s land in a cabin surely has honey. Wilbur and Techno shared a look that didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy. The blonde huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at both of them until they relented. Techno told him there was no shame in fleeing from battles he knew he couldn’t win, and Wilbur made sure Tommy’s jacket was zipped up tightly. Tommy wanted to prove them both wrong, so even though the cold nipped at his neck and Atalanta was stuck in the pasture with the other dogs, he kept marching through the snow to Ranboo’s cabin in the distance.

Tommy stands in front of Ranboo’s cabin. He lifts his fist to knock on the wooden door. Tommy hesitates for a moment. Not because he’s going to turn back, but because he would prefer to scare Ranboo. He does ponder if Ranboo might be waltzing around his house in his birthday suit or wearing something embarrassing, but Tommy is willing to take his chances. Ranboo does have a fireplace, but Tommy thinks it would still be too cold to do anything like that even with a cackling flame. Tommy takes a deep breath, reaching down for the door knob. He counts in his head- one, two, three- and pushes the door open with all his strength. He tugs at the doorknob to keep it from getting away from him and slamming into the wall.

Tommy hears a startled noise coming from the kitchen. Tommy smiles in victory, and he rushes into the cabin to greet the Enderian in question. Ranboo’s cat looks up from their perch on the windowsill, lazily glaring at Tommy’s antics. Tommy winks at the cat, kicking the door closed with his heel. He slides into the cabin, grabbing onto the bar to slow himself. He glances up to see Ranboo’s expression.

He meets a pair of brown eyes, and he knows he didn’t surprise Ranboo.

Niki is standing in the middle of the kitchen. She has an apron over a t-shirt and jeans splashed with flour and egg yolk. She is holding a whisk over the kitchen sink, and Tommy can see some of the batter on the ground by her socked foot as if she dropped the whisk when she was surprised by Tommy’s entrance. Her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, allowing Tommy to see every detail of her familiar face. She is far older than she was the last time Tommy saw her. There are a few obvious worry lines on her face, and her eyes are not nearly as bright. She is also healthier with a rosy blush in her cheeks and arms that don’t reveal the bone but instead honed muscles. There is a dusting of sugar across her cheeks and the streak of frosting on her forehead. In spite of all these differences, Tommy knows his sister.

Tommy wonders how he looks to Niki. He was so young when they were forced apart. He must look completely different. He, like Niki, should also be healthier. His hair might have a little bit of the golden shine from Wilbur purchasing Tommy a separate shampoo and conditioner for blonde hair instead of Tommy continuing to use Techno’s two-in-one for dyed hair. His eyes are as blue as they were when Tommy was a baby. His clothes might not have holes in them now, but they’re definitely the same style Tommy always wore as a child, courtesy again of Wilbur knowing Tommy better than Tommy knows himself.

Niki drops the whisk in the sink. She steps over the batter on the ground. Tommy walks around the edge of the bar. With the two of them walking to each other, they end up right in front of each other. Tommy is a lot taller than he once was. Niki is, too, but she used to be so much taller than him. Tommy thought she was a giant back then. Now, he’s looking down at her. It almost makes Tommy laugh, but he pushes the sound down for fear it will turn into sobs alongside the tears in his eyes.

Niki reaches a hand up to touch his cheek. Her hand has dried batter on it. The texture is scratchy against Tommy’s skin, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t pull away as Niki lifts her other hand up, smearing icing against Tommy’s cheek. It reminds Tommy of his first reaction upon seeing Wilbur again, that feeling of needing to make sure the skin is warm and the body underneath is alive. He smiles at her. Her lips part as she notices his expression, and she eventually smiles back at him. Tommy finds himself laughing, putting his hands over hers, really feeling the cake mix hanging off her fingers. Niki’s head falls, pressing against his chest as she laughs, as melodic as a song and as warm as an oven. Tommy is struck in the heart with the familiarity of the situation. He closes his eyes, and he’s able to recall standing in the kitchen of Schlottzksy’s Family Diner. Niki is holding his hand, a finger pressed to her lips to silence his giggling. They bake a cake together, and Niki asks Tommy what his wish is. Tommy can’t remember any of the wishes he made, but he does remember Niki wrapping her arms around his torso, holding the cake in front of him so that he could blow out the candle.

“I was- The bar is going to be having a fundraiser. I’m making treats to sell. I’m using Ranboo’s kitchen because my oven stopped working and the landlord hasn’t gotten around to fixing it,” Niki explains, removing one of her hands to gesture around at the messy kitchen. Every counter is covered in mixing bowls, pans, measuring cups, and baked goods cooling off. Niki reaches up to wipe underneath her eyes with the heel of her hand. She shakes her head. “Do you- if you want, you can stay. I don’t mind the company.”

Tommy hasn’t baked since he was a kid, and even then, Niki was hovering over him to make sure he didn’t make a mistake. The cake they made back then was only for the family, too, so it didn’t matter if it sucked. These treats are going to be for a fundraiser at some bar. Tommy doesn’t know what bar Niki is referring to, but it must be important to her. Tommy decides not to step in to ruin whatever Niki is baking, but he does sit on one of the barstools. He swings his legs back and forth, watching Niki get back to work. She washes her hands and the whisk in the sink. She dries them off, immediately getting back to work. She moves around the kitchen like a hummingbird, quick to check on everything. She pulls dishes out of the oven in rotation, setting them down to cool on a metal rack. Tommy didn’t realize how much fun it would be to watch Niki bake.

“Tell me about your life. I want to know everything,” Niki tells him, looking over her shoulder at him for a split second before she looks back at the mixing bowl held underneath her arm. She whisks it with quick motions. It looks like her attention is completely on the bowl, but she adds, “I’m listening, I promise.”

Tommy hesitates. He doesn’t have much of a life, but Niki is given him a chance to speak. Tommy nods slowly to himself, putting his chin in the palm of his hand. “After I left, I just went around L’Manberg. I kicked a few signs, yelled ‘fuck them’ a lot, that sort of shit. When I came back, the warehouse was already destroyed. The heroes told me to stay away as they carted bodies away. I couldn’t handle it, so I didn’t do what they told me to do. I ran into the flames. My powers manifested then. I started lifting shit as if I would find you guys underneath the rumble.

“Reverie found me. He told me months later that Eret had come back to see you guys. He was there to find Eret, but he found me instead. He just took me with him. I spent five years with the Hunters. I probably would have stayed if it wasn’t for Monochrome. I got him the fuck out of there, and I just… I left, too. I went to the heroes. I trained under Red Dragon along with Sleepy. After our training, Sleepy went to join a gang and I stayed. I tried striking a deal with Croupier. That didn’t work out until I beat the shit out Minotaur. I did it for Tubbo. People started taking me seriously after I did that.

“I’ve been hunting the Syndicate, finding out more information about them. I’ve also done some missions for the guildmaster and his associates,” Tommy explains. He really doesn’t have an interesting life. If he divulges more details, he risks worrying Niki more than she probably already is knowing he had been with the Hunters. If he focuses on one specific part, he might break down again. He would rather not do that. “And you? What about your life?”

Niki hesitates. She swallows thickly, shaking her head. She wears a soft smile as she turns to put a pan into the oven. “I told him not to, but Wilbur went after you. I remember being so angry with you. I didn’t think joining the Hunters was the end of the world as you made it sound like, especially when it would have taken us off the streets. Jack was just as angry, but by seeing his anger, I realized how unfairly we were acting. You were a kid. All you knew about the Hunters is that they took Eret from us. I told Jack that we needed to find you and Wilbur. We told Tubbo to stay with Fundy when we left.

“Jack and I stayed together as we searched the city. After a while, Jack decided that you and Wilbur had probably gone back to the warehouse. I agreed only because I thought we had searched everywhere you could have gone. We weren’t too far away when the initial explosion went off. Jack was thrown off his feet. I still remember the heat that washed over my body. The smell was probably the worst part, and I could hardly see through the smoke. I did remember Jack, however. I grabbed his shoulders, dragging him into an alleyway that protected us from the heat and the smoke. Not the smell, but I couldn’t care when I realized that Jack wasn’t breathing. I searched for a pulse. Upon finding nothing, I realized that not only was Jack dead, but the others must have been, too. Even if you and Wilbur weren’t at the warehouse, I knew Tubbo and Fundy were. I was so upset at the world. I didn’t want to be alone. Those feelings activated my powers, and I forced Jack’s heart to beat again. He was asking questions as soon as he woke up, but I couldn’t answer him. I just heaved him onto his feet and dragged him away.

“We ended up in a building along the edge of L’Manberg. It was affected by the explosion, but it was still standing. We recuperated until I couldn’t get out of explaining that you all were probably dead. Jack was heartbroken. His power activated then. He told me it was because he felt like he could see his family in the flames. Since we were both espers, we decided to investigate the explosion… who was behind it. In order to get information, we did favors for people. The people thought we were vigilantes. Jack thought we were heroes, so he started trying to make the world a better place in earnest. I was only doing all of that for the information… for revenge, like you. I went so far for revenge that the Syndicate, one of the groups we suspected captured me.

“Serenade unmasked me. Upon recognizing me, he revealed himself to be Wilbur. Jack stormed the base looking for me, and we were able to reveal to him that Wilbur was alive. I became a villain to stay with my family. I think Jack saw a higher purpose in his actions, similar to the motivations of our leader, Azrael. I didn’t care what he thought we were doing as long as we stayed together.

“After realizing more of us survived than we thought, we went on a search for the others. We found Tubbo first. He became a vigilante to follow in our footsteps. We found Eret next, and by finding Eret, we found Fundy. The two of them had their own lives and loyalties, so while we keep in touch, we aren’t as close as we used to be. After finding everyone else, Wilbur was certain we would find you. He did everything he could. He paid off so many informants. He ruined so many lives. I can’t blame him since I helped him do all of that. At the end, though, all we found was your corpse. Someone brought it to us, claiming it was real. We believed him. That Sparrow guy told us it was a fake created by someone’s power. We’re trying to find out why someone would lie to us, would go so far to make us think you were gone.

“In the meantime, though, Jack opened a bar. I don’t officially work there, but I make food every time they hold some special event… which is like every Friday, but I like the work. I really like baking,” Niki finishes. Tommy stares down at his hands. He never questioned why his family didn’t try looking for him. The thought just never crossed his mind. Knowing that they had but were led astray makes Tommy feel a lot better. After all, Tommy never truly believed his family was alive despite the similarities between them and the Syndicate members because Tommy remembers the bodies being taken out of the warehouse by the heroes. His family made a similar mistake, helping Tommy feel a lot better about his own blunder.

“Did you ever suspect that the little boy you called brother was Vendetta?” Tommy asks softly.

“Yes, I did sometimes compare Vendetta to you. I just… I never let myself believe it. I didn’t want to set myself up for pain. What about you? Did Dyscardia remind you of me?” Niki answers, looking over her shoulder to show her raised eyebrow.

“I told you about Moana. I was thinking about what my siblings would have loved about the movie, and Dyscardia answered exactly how I thought you would. There was also later. When I was falling unconscious, I thought it was my sister holding me,” Tommy answers. Those are the two prominent times in his mind, anyway. He thought it was just the fear of death that made him think of his sister. Maybe with the darkness closing in, the part of his brain that overthinks and doubts shut off temporarily. He was left with the facts and the feeling of comfort Niki always seemed to bring him.

“You weren’t wrong,” Niki declares. Dyscardia was the one that held Tommy as he was falling unconscious. It was Niki that was holding him.

“No, I wasn’t,” Tommy agrees. He sighs, feeling the heart inside his chest stutter nervously. He looks up at Niki as she pulls out a pan from the oven. “What are we?”

Niki stops, nearly dropping the pan. She quickly puts it down on the rack. She takes a deep breath, staring at the goods she baked. Niki starts pushing some of them into a bag with a thoughtful expression on her face. When she sets the closed bag down on the counter, she looks at Tommy. There is a dangerously familiar look in her eyes as she smiles at him. “You were, you are, and you have always been someone who is important to me.”

Tommy laughs underneath his breath, looking down at his hands. Niki returns to her preparations. She stands at one of the farthest counters with a bowl in her hands. Her back is to Tommy. He stares at her ponytail as he whispers, “I never hated you.”

“I know.”

—

Tommy plops down onto the cracked concrete overgrown with small plants reaching for the sunlight. The faint smell of gunpowder continues to linger in the air after all these years, but that might be Tommy’s trauma rather than a true reflection of reality. Tommy drops his legs over the edge into the hole that marks the graveyard of his childhood. He can see faint traces of the little boy who died here racing around the edges, light-hearted memories dizzying Tommy’s vision until he can barely see the truth laid out before him: this hole was once L’Manberg, once the warehouse that was his entire world.

“I’m not giving you a drink,” Jack murmurs, his lips already pressed against the glass bottle. His voice is slurring, obviously a byproduct of an empty bottle or two around him. He is sitting at the edge with Tommy, his legs folded together in front of him instead of hanging down into the hole. His clothes are a little ruffled, and Tommy doesn’t know how long Jack has been here for. Long, he assumes, far too long. The living shouldn’t be in the place of the damned.

“I don’t want any of that shit,” Tommy laughs lightly. Tommy’s opinion of alcohol is understandably sour. Even when he does drink, he wouldn’t dare touch whatever is in the off-green bottles Jack is clutching to his chest.

Jack snorts, reaching a hand up to wipe his nose. “I have never met a teenager who didn’t try to sneak alcohol… Then again, when you run a bar, you’re practically asking for teenagers to try to swindle you.”

“Could I go to your bar?” Tommy asks. Niki mentioned it in her story about the past. It seems important to Jack. Tommy would love to know what Jack has been doing with his life other than terrorizing people as Thermoculus.

“Not today… but someday, yeah. I’ll take you,” Jack answers, twisting the bottle enough that the liquid inside sloshes with an ugly sound. Jack stops shaking the bottle, setting it down between him and Tommy. Jack looks into the hole as one might stare into the abyss. “I would take you anywhere.”

“I don’t need to go anywhere. I just want to stay here with you,” Tommy shakes his head. He once fancied taking his family on adventures to other places- like the paintings in Croupier’s hallway- but now that he has them, Tommy doesn’t mind if they laze around in one place for the rest of their lives. They don’t need to see the tops of mountains or the trenches of the ocean. They don’t need to see golden fields or viridian forests. As long as they’re together, Tommy would remain complacent anywhere.

“We aren’t in a happy place,” Jack reminds Tommy, gesturing with his hand to the hole. This was their home, and now it is a hole in the ground. The air was never particularly clean and definitely not good-smelling, but it was never tinged with gunpowder until now. The sun never shone on them back then, but now the sunlight pours in like a condolence from the heavens.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Tommy replies, pushing his shoulder against Jack’s. “I’m finding you in the place I left you.”

“I became a vigilante for you. To find you, to protect the world for you, to… find the light you always saw in the world. I became a villain for you, too, but we can ignore that part if it doesn’t make you feel better,” Jack says firmly, his voice taking on a surprisingly solemn tone despite how much his breath reeks of foul beverages.

“I became a hero for you,” Tommy admits, though Jack probably already knows that Vendetta was a hero trying to get revenge for their family. Jack is part of that family Vendetta was trying to preserve.

“You also became a Hunter for that reason,” Jack whispers, reaching a hand up to gently touch the scars along Tommy’s jaw with the back of his fingers. Jack looks so horribly sad as he stares at them. He sees in them something he could have prevented if I had tried just a little harder to find Tommy, had asked Vendetta just a few more questions.

“I wished for your happiness,” Tommy blurts out.

Jack startles, his hand pulling back as he blinks confusedly. “What?”

“That day we went to Las Nevadas… I wished that my family was happy wherever they were,” Tommy continues, following through.

The tears start to leak out of Jack’s eyes. “It was always about us, wasn’t it?”

Tommy feels tears rolling down his cheeks. He breathes out something between a cough and a laugh. When he finds his breath again, he nods. “Yeah, yeah, I guess it all fucking was.”

Jack laughs, putting his arms around Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy willingly puts up with the horrible smell in order to be close to his brother. Jack puts his chin on Tommy’s hair, whispering, “What would you wish for now?”

“I don’t know.”

—

A ringing bell christens Tommy’s entrance into a local seafood restaurant called the Captain’s. The world outside the place is slowing down and growing dark. Closing time is approaching the restaurant, evident by the sheer lack of customers. It is considered rude to drop into a restaurant a few minutes before closing time, but Tommy finds himself unable to follow normal conventions. He would rather the shop be empty, anyway.

Tommy walks right up to the register. The worker looks up with a tired smile on their face. The smile drops away when Jordan recognizes his former pupil. A contemplative frown comes onto his face as he examines Tommy’s full appearance. There is unmistakable relief in his eyes, and Tommy finds himself giving the man in uniform a half-smile. Jordan shakes his head, returning the half-smile. “Are you sure about this?”

Tommy opens his mouth to answer, but the door leading into the kitchen slams open with enough force to startle Jordan. Tommy remains unsurprised, suspecting that something like that would happen. Tubbo meets Tommy’s eyes as he slides all the way out of the kitchen into the reception room. Tubbo’s muscles lock up, making him go very still. Tommy turns to face Tubbo, but he doesn’t make more movements than that. The two of them stare at each other. There are a hundred words that could be said. There are probably thousands more that should be said. In the end, the first step they take is not a word but an action.

Tubbo runs across the restaurant. He leaps up, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s shoulder. The force is enough to knock Tommy backwards. Both Tommy and Tubbo plummet to the ground. Jordan makes a shocked noise, yelling for Puffy. Tommy ignores that as he stares into Tubbo’s face. Their position mirrors the time Jolt confronted Vendetta in his warehouse, when Vendetta held Jolt’s life in his hands and was unable to take it. This time, Tommy is putting his life in Tubbo’s hands, right where it belongs.

“Is my brother back?” Tubbo asks, his voice a whisper and his eyes blurry with tears. 

Tommy lifts a hand up, setting it on Tubbo’s cheek. “I think he is.”

Chapter Text

“Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on.

I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you.”

― jonathan safran foer

Although a few months have passed since he last stayed in the cabin, not much has changed about it. The only differences are the minor sort, the slight shifts as someone moves a curtain or brushes against the furniture that gently nudges them around. The same pictures hang on the walls. The same blanket hangs over the back of the couch. The television was left at the same angle, facing the reclining chair. All the dishes are kept in the same drawers and cupboards. Most are even left on the same shelf level and near the same type of dishes. It is eerie to find it the same way he left it, but he supposes it is better than the uncanny feeling that would strike him if it were to be different.

There is one difference, though, more noticeable than the rest. A blonde teenager sits across from him at the wood dining table. He doesn’t know many blondes, and he has never met one with eyes as brilliantly blue as the teenager’s eyes. There is an air of wistfulness around him. His eyes may be brilliant in color but they are not in appearance. It looks like the teenager is distracted by something far beyond the table they are sitting at. The teenager’s face is pointed down at his plate, using fingers to pick up the chips spread out across his plate beside his sandwich. Only a bite is missing from that sandwich, but the teenager doesn’t seem finished with it.

“Are you enjoying the food?” He asks. He hadn’t been planning to make a grand meal. He was only going to eat a quick lunch in order to stock up on some energy for the afternoon. While he had been throwing the ingredients on his plate in the vague shape of a meal, the teenager had walked into the cabin. He startled as the teenager sat down at the dining table. After a moment of tense silence, he asked if the teenager also wanted lunch. He received a nod with no words, so he ended up making two sandwiches with chips on the side. He used the ingredients in the cabin, so he didn’t know if the teenager liked it or not. The sandwich, obviously, he knew the teenager liked, but it was the chips he was wary about.

“Yeah,” The teenager responds, his voice absent around the edges like a bird mid-flight. The difference between the teenager and a bird is the lack of wanderlust in the former. Birds search when they fly, enjoying the journey and aiming for the destination. The teenager does not seem to have any of that free spirit in him. He seems like he would wander for decades, settling down only when it was the time to die.

“Are you feeling well?” He asks, picking up his sandwich. He takes a bite, carefully watching the teenager. There is something in his movements, a slowness that makes it look like he’s disconnected from reality. Everything is going so fast, and the teenager’s falling behind. He’s terrified that if keeps going at a rate like this, he will turn around to find the teenager gone, no more than a falling feather in the wind to mark that he was ever part of the race. It almost feels like he is spending time with a ghost, not sure when the teenager will pass on to what comes next.

“Yeah,” The teenager nods, responding in the same way as before. The teenager lacks any excitable sparks inside of him common of his age group and especially common in his usual self. It almost feels like the teenager is speaking to respond to the noise, not the words. He purses his lips, feeling his appetite slide away from him in slow, lapping waves. He continues to eat, if only for the sense of normalcy it brings him and the excuse to remain seated at the table.

“That’s good. I have been well, too, since our last encounter. Have you picked up any new hobbies? Or perhaps you are still playing your video games?” He continues. He is prodding for a conversation, and he doesn’t mind what the final topic will be. He’s even willing to talk about useless matters if it means getting more than a one-word response. He would talk all day if that’s what it took to keep the teenager across the table from disappearing.

“Gaming,” The teenager curtly responds. It is slightly better than another ‘yeah,’ but it is still a one-word answer. It does provide him another consolation. At least the teenager is doing something with his time. While there are more productive activities, he sees the potential in someone who plays a lot. He remembers the games the teenager once played. There was an energetic, interactive dancing one that even allows for multiplayer. There was also a management style game that looked aesthetically pleasing and emotionally soothing. If those are the games the teenager is playing, he approves. He wouldn’t even mind if the teenager picked up some violent games. It is one way for the teenager to get out any feelings he’s been harboring under the surface.

“That sounds exciting. I might have to pick up a few games for myself. I’m getting older, so retirement is just around the corner. When that comes, I’ll have a lot of time to get into the video games,” He offers, subtly implying that he could spend more time with the teenager. He knows it is going to be a long shot to secure that gaming session together, but the teenager came here of his violation. Of course, he could have been looking for the other person who lives in this section of the cabin. The teenager could have left, though. There was a moment when he hadn’t turned around, so the teenager could have fled before the door even fully opened. It would have been easy, but the teenager decided to stick around for some reason.

The teenager shrugs. He sighs under his breath, realizing they have gone backwards instead of forwards. His appetite has fully run away from him, and the sandwich in his hands is making him nauseous. He sets it down on the plate, ignoring the soft sound it makes as it settles. He pushes the plate away from him. He crosses his hands on the table. He stares up at the person across the table from him. The teenager hesitates, a chip halfway to their mouth. The teenager comes into the moment a little more to raise an eyebrow, curiosity flitting inside their eyes. With the anchor tucking them back into the room, he asks, “What are we doing here, Tommy?”

Tommy shoves the chip into his mouth. He eats it carefully, nudging his own plate away. While his companion doesn’t like this, Tommy doesn’t pull it back towards him. He takes a sip of water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Once he’s done, he leans back in the chair. He crosses his arms over his chest. He looks around the room, his eyes eventually finding their way back to the person speaking to him. Tommy sighs, lifting a hand to rub his forehead. Tommy’s actions are quick and flighty, but the energy that has returned to Tommy’s bones makes him happy to see, even if Tommy is prolonging the words he wants to say.

“Crowfather was important to me,” Tommy speaks up, using more words than he’s said this entire encounter. Tommy leans forward in his seat, meeting the other’s eyes. “The hero was my role model, and the bird was… He was good for me. Philza was kind to me, far more than he really should have been. I’ve recently discovered that I don’t have any problems with Azrael. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust you again, but fuck it, I just want that comfort back.”

Tommy sighs, dropping his head into his hands. He exhales slowly from his lips, the air deflating from his cheeks. He meets Philza’s eyes with a lost, heavy kind of sadness, one that Philza wants to smooth away with everything inside of him. He almost does reach forward to hold Tommy, but he’s given a terrible smile, one that isn’t technically forced but might as well be for how sad it actually is. “Even if I can’t get that comfort back, I want answers, Phil. I want to know why the fuck you did all of that frankly really confusing bullshit.”

“That’s something I can do,” Philza nods, intending for it to be an answer to Tommy wanting answers but also hoping it means Philza can go back to being a comfort for Tommy. He is going to try his best either way, starting with the easier one to answer. He is taking responsibility for his actions, all of them.

A long time ago now, at least a decade, Philza was born in a poor section of Empires. His father was gone even before he gained his sense of self. His mother was there, but in a distant way. She took care of him because he was a child, not because he was her child. Philza often wondered if he was her child. He knew that even if he came from her, she considered the gang she was affiliated with to be her family. He was not part of that family. He was a child that couldn’t do anything beneficial. She gave him food and water, a place to sleep at night, and occasionally clothing, but he knew not to expect attention or love beyond that. He was a chore- not a person.

Lucky for Philza, he was born with a strong spirit. He learned how to do things for himself. He let her do everything he couldn’t do by himself, but the moment he was strong enough, smart enough, tall enough, whatever threshold he needed to cross, he took that responsibility on for himself. He became independent earlier than any child should, but he wasn’t unique among the children of Empires. Everyone had terrible parents who either didn’t love them or couldn’t take care of them- oftentimes both.

While those other children chose gangs, Philza was more ambitious than his peers. He set his sights on the heroes. He thought of them as the strongest and richest people in the entire city. If he was a hero, he wouldn’t need to feel so powerless ever again. As a bonus, Philza could use his status and learned skills to bring reform to Empires. He could stop children from going into gangs just to feel loved. He could give them an opportunity to find their own paths, to find their own happiness.

Philza was lucky enough to experience an awakening. Unlike other espers, Philza’s awakening couldn’t be attributed to a single traumatic event. It was a few small moments that upset his psyche piling together until Philza’s greatest wish was to simply fly away from Empires like a bird. Then, he became a bird. He was a crow in appearance but not quite anatomy. Just as he was in better shape than his human peers, he was in better shape than his avian ones. With the strength to fly far and fly fast, Philza marched into the Hero’s Guild. He demanded to be taken seriously, and he was lucky enough to be spotted by a person that saw potential in him. The person was XD, the guildmaster himself. XD told Philza not to disappoint him, and Philza swore he wouldn’t. As someone who held tightly to promises, Philza outdid the other children gathered to get their licenses. Philza earned his place in a training program.

Philza was paired along with another boy who called himself Sneeg. The two of them were put under the same hero and put in the same room. They would have been close regardless of their initial impressions of each other, but for some reason, they really hit it off. They were both unloved kids from Empires. They had similar humor. Philza doesn’t know what Sneeg saw in him, but Philza can still remember the moment he realized that Sneeg was his brother. Sneeg was the only person Philza had ever been close to. He was the only person who knew how terribly lonely Philza had been growing up. Sneeg never laughed at Philza. He just ran a hand through Philza’s hair, a cheeky smile on his face as he declared Philza would never be lonely again. Neither of them would be if they stuck together.

Near the end of their training, Philza was forced to grapple with the truth of the Hero’s Guild. He knew of the corruption. He knew about the information that was kept from the public. He knew about the hero’s unwillingness to step in to help the economic decline in Sandlands, the gangs in Empires, or the political repression in L’Manberg. The heroes were meant to keep the balance, not the peace, not really. They could allow injustice to happen if it meant keeping the city in check. To make matters worse, Philza didn’t like the bounty system. A lot of villains were left to their own devices only because no one was willing to add enough money to the bounty for the heroes to take interest in it. Philza felt like they were more similar to mercenaries than heroes, and Philza couldn’t stand the thought of it.

Philza went through with becoming a hero. He tried to do his best in his position, but he really couldn’t stand the way the council acted. He even came to hate XD. The guildmaster was a big picture kind of person. He was willing to let the people suffer and heroes die in order to maintain the city. Philza understood this mentality once, but resentment blurred his rationality. He couldn’t see why people had to suffer unnecessarily. He didn’t see why people had to die for a prosperous future that wasn’t coming.

Philza’s anger boiled over until he started packing his bags, ready to leave. Sneeg caught him. Instead of trying to convince Philza to stay or snitching on him to the council, Sneeg declared that he had been waiting for Philza to get fed up for years now. Sneeg’s bags were already packed, and he ran away from the Hero’s Guild with Philza. They stuck together, and Philza remembered the promise Sneeg made to him about never being lonely again. Philza remembers smiling even as he descended back into the cold, dirty streets of his birthplace.

Philza and Sneeg started their campaign against the Hero’s Guild by stealing under the duo name: Syndicate. They snuck into warehouses, taking potions and weapons. They redistributed the potions to the people, but they sold the weapons to vigilantes who were trying to help the people in their own way. As runaways from the Hero’s Guild and thieves, Philza and Sneeg could never technically be vigilantes, but they were respected by that community. They were given lenience. They were even given help when the vigilantes could manage it. Philza felt like he was really making a difference.

Then, he met two kids in an alleyway. They were both tired, dirty, and distrustful. One of them was even covered in enough blood that Philza was surprised he wasn’t dead or caught by the Moderators. Philza to this day doesn’t know why he offered his hand to those children. He was just a thief fighting against the Hero’s Guild. He wasn’t a father; he was barely a son or a brother. Yet, Philza couldn’t stop himself from offering to take those boys home. Obviously, the two refused. They ran away. Philza should have let it go, accepting that some children didn’t want to be saved, especially not by a stranger. 

Philza should have, but he didn’t. He found those kids again. He gave them a healing potion. He gave them some sandwiches he had made for them to eat. He stayed motionless, watching over them until they ran away again. Philza kept coming back, compelled to help those kids even when it took him hours to actually find them. Eventually, they took the hand offered to them, and Philza got to hold his sons, Techno and Wilbur, for the first time. Sneeg called him soft, but Philza never felt stronger until he was responsible for two precious lives.

Not long after the adoption (though they didn’t have legal paperwork), Philza came into contact with something beyond the veil of the world. He met a woman in his dreams who felt far too real to simply be an illusion of his mind. He found her again in a temple, staring up at the statue of a great goddess who holds the secrets of life and death in the palm of her hands. Her laughter filled his head as he bowed for the first time, finding the love of his life and religion all in one day. Sneeg never believed him, but Wilbur and Techno truly did believe that this woman was their mother. Philza doesn’t know if they could see the truth in Philza’s eyes or if his lady gave herself away to their innocent hearts.

Philza didn’t push his sons to become villains even after discovering one was an esper and another had inherited the powers of a vigilante Philza once knew. They took the path of villainy for their own reasons. Philza didn’t want them to get hurt, so he allowed them to join the Syndicate. He would have rathered they do villainy with him instead of sneaking off to die in a random alleyway. Sneeg didn’t mind the help even if he complained about greenhorns. It took some time, but Techno and Wilbur found their way as villains and as members of the Syndicate.

The Syndicate wasn’t supposed to grow any bigger than that, but a vigilante stumbled into their lives. Techno and Philza took her captive. Philza never explained the reason why, especially after he found an unmasked Wilbur crying in the arms of the unmasked vigilante. She was part of the family Wilbur had been grieving since the moment Philza met him. The unmasked vigilante, Niki, revealed that her partner, another vigilante, was another member of this family. Jack came into their lives. Philza allowed them to stay because it made Wilbur happy. He let them join the Syndicate for the same reasons he let Techno and Wilbur join, though only slightly different. He originally only cared about Niki and Jack because they were important to Wilbur, and Philza would have done anything to prevent his son’s unhappiness. 

Philza did eventually come to care for them as their own people, respecting their contributions and enjoying their company. Not only were they good villains, but the bar Jack ran was a beneficial place to smuggle goods and meet with people who could help the Syndicate bring down the Hero’s Guild.

More than a few months later, perhaps even a year or two, a member of the Hunters came knocking on the Syndicate’s door. Philza did not trust Sam, not at first, but he saw value in keeping Sam as a trial member. The others reluctantly agreed. Sam proved his value as a villain, but it didn’t take many conversations for Sam to become one of Philza’s friends. They had a lot in common, including being fathers of headstrong children who often forget how much their parents love them. While she didn’t join the Syndicate, Philza genuinely respected Briar and didn’t mind speaking with her.

Sam’s appearance created the unique opportunity for Ranboo to appear on the Syndicate’s radar. Ranboo got close with the Syndicate, particularly Sam and Techno, without switching his position from a vigilante to a villain. Philza didn’t mind, so he let Ranboo do as he pleased. He didn’t even mind when Ranboo got his own place to stay in Snowchester at the edge of the property Philza legally bought to raise his sons on.

Through Ranboo’s connection with another vigilante, Niki, Jack, and Wilbur found Tubbo. The boy was eager to join the Syndicate with his family, but his caretakers weren’t so keen on doing that. Tubbo’s aunt, Puffy, revealed herself to be a healer. She agreed to work with the Syndicate at their exclusive healer if it meant protecting her nephew and getting back at the institution she partially blamed for her and her blood brother’s villainy. Seeing his foster sister and adopted son’s loyalty, Jordan became a spy on the inside for the Syndicate as Red Dragon. Philza became friends with them just like he did with Sam.

With that, the Syndicate was complete. They were full-fledged villains that were revered and feared. They were making strides in taking down the Hero’s Guild for good. They were succeeding, so Philza wasn’t too surprised when the rumors reached his ears about a hero who was gunning for the heads of the Syndicate. The others had mixed opinions about the rumors, especially after discovering they were true. Philza only wanted to see who wanted the Syndicate’s leaders gone so badly. He personally decided to investigate without telling anyone. He didn’t think it was a big deal as he watched Vendetta from a distance. He was only trying to determine the hero’s threat level. He was even assessing his potential, conforming they wouldn’t have a future headache.

Just like that night he found Wilbur and Techno, Philza found himself compelled by something beyond reason to reach out to Vendetta. The hero was far more accepting of the crow than the boys were of the man, but Vendetta maintained a level of distance at all times. Philza found himself doing the same thing he did for his sons. He brought Vendetta sandwiches, knowing about the weird soup the guild gives to its members. Vendetta was hesitant, at first, but his desire for food that tasted like something won out. As Vendetta grew accustomed to the crow’s appearance and the sandwiches, he started to open up. Philza didn’t need to do much to discover how powerful Vendetta was and what his motivations were. Once the information was his, Philza should have disappeared. He should have, but he found himself caring about Vendetta.

When Ranboo convinced Vendetta to ally with the Syndicate to fight the Red Army, Philza saw an opportunity to get close to Vendetta as a person. He knew that he would be hurting Vendetta eventually, but he also knew that he would hurt Vendetta by abandoning him. He knew Vendetta would have been on a much darker path if Philza had never gotten involved at all. Tommy needed someone, and Philza was willing to fill that position. Everything Philza did, everything he’s ever done, is because he cares. He cares about Empires, he cares about Sneeg, he cares about his sons, he cares about the people in the Syndicate, and now he cares about Tommy.

Philza tells Tommy all of this. He uses as many details as he can without really dwelling for too long. He uses Tommy’s facial movements to determine what he needs to touch on, what requires more information or what should be concluded. Tommy, at least, seems fascinated the entire time, hearing both about Philza’s history and his family. Philza even finds himself feeling lighter after contextualizing his past. It feels nice to share all those memories with someone who wasn’t involved in it yet still cares enough to retain all of the information.

When Philza concludes his story, Tommy sighs heavily. He leans back, tilting his head towards the ceiling. He watches the fan spin in slow circles. Philza waits, letting everything he just said sink into Tommy’s mind and heart. Eventually, Tommy turns his head. He continues leaning back, but he now looks to the side. He stares across the room, and Philza follows his line of sight to the pictures hanging along the wall. Philza smiles bitterly. If Tommy had come to this side of the cabin when he was staying with Techno while getting over the injection from the Red Army, Tommy would have learned the truth much sooner. Philza has a lot of pictures, especially of his family. They are all outside of the mask, so Philza can pick out Wilbur’s young, smiling face. Tommy seems to be able to do the same thing.

Tommy rolls his head forward. He looks like he’s seconds away from tears. He runs a hand along the side of his face. He looks at Philza’s chest. His voice is choppy like a lake underneath a strong wind. “I’m still fucking upset with you for tricking me. That doesn’t mean I don’t get it. Crowfather has saved my life so many times. Philza was someone I could rely on. Azrael kept me alive out of spite.”

Philza feels his skin prickle. He doesn’t like it when Tommy talks like this. He never liked it when Vendetta did, either. There seemed to be heaviness in his soul, a careless approach to life in his mind.

Tommy looks up with a smile that seems far happier than any smile he’s shown this entire lunch. “I’ve reunited with my family, if you didn’t know. I’m living for them. No, I’m actually living because i fucking want to. I know that I’m going to be mad at you for a long time, but I’m not angry enough to stay away from you anymore. Every persona you have has been important to me. I want you back in whatever capacity I can have you in. I’ll take whatever disguise you want to wear.”

“I think I’ll be myself this time,” Philza assures Tommy, a slow smile creeping on his lips. He doesn’t mind Tommy’s anger. He’ll take the full brunt of it if that means he can continue caring about Tommy. At least, Tommy can finally be angry at the truth, at the person Philza is at his very core. They can finally be honest with each other.

“Fuck yeah!” Tommy cheers, and his smile grows so bright. Philza never knew Tommy- that Vendetta- could smile like that. He thought the threat he was investigating all those years ago would never be able to rid himself of the darkness surrounding his very body, sticking as close as a second skin. This smile proves Philza wrong, but it isn’t like Philza minds being wrong about this. He is glad that Tommy can be so openly, so radiantly happy.

Tommy stands up. He walks around the side of the table. He plops down in the chair next to Philza. He scoots the chair over, creating an ugly noise as the legs scrap against the floor. Tommy doesn’t stop until he’s right next to Philza. Tommy leans his head on Philza’s shoulder. Philza takes in a single breath, exhaling in adoration as Tommy deposits his entire weight on Philza’s body. For the first time since Tommy wandered into the cabin, he is relaxed. “I’m glad we made up.”

“I’m glad, too,” Philza assures Tommy. He wraps his arm around Tommy, lifting his hand up to mess with the blonde’s hair. Tommy willingly leans into the touch, and Philza smiles at the teenager. It doesn’t matter to him how Tommy looks at him, how angry he’ll be on their deathbeds, Tommy is as much Philza’s son as Wilbur and Techno are. It isn’t only because Tommy is close with those two, but also Philze’s natural instincts. Or maybe, it was the meddling of his lady. Either way, Tommy is Philza’s. He’s Philza’s son, his littlest one, someone he needs to protect and love.

“You know, Niki got me a journal. She told me I’m supposed to write down everything I want in it,” Tommy mentions absentmindedly, his voice fuzzy around the edges with a restfulness that comes from peace. “It’s so fucking difficult at times, but I’ve been making a list.”

“Was making up with me on that list?” Philza asks, figuring that was the reason why Tommy brought it up.

“It was, yeah, but… well, there was something else on the list. I want a family picture. I have that one with my siblings, but it’s- it’s shit. It’s blurry. It’s fading from age. It’s in black-and-white. We all look like the homeless children that fucking article was talking about. I’m not even looking at the damn camera! I’ve carried that picture with me for so long. It’s my prized possession, but I- I want a new one. I want a real one, not a cut-out from a newspaper,” Tommy begins to explain, and Philza thinks Tommy is staring at the pictures on the wall again. It is true that none of them include Tommy. For as intelligent as he is in his crow form, Philza can’t use a camera with wings for hands. Even if he could, he wouldn’t have gotten a picture of Tommy and the others. Tommy sighs, tucking his face into Philza’s shoulder, murmuring, “I want you to be in it.”

“Aw, bud, I would love to be in it,” Philza agrees immediately. He’s touched that Tommy would consider him family, consider him as important as the siblings he devoted his life to.

“I wouldn’t mind if Sneeg’s bitchass is in it, either.”

Philza laughs coolly. “I think he would like that.”

Chapter Text

"You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life."

― Albert Camus

Tommy has been to Las Nevadas several times in the past few years. He has spent a near quarter of his life living here, give or take a couple of months. The Needle was made from his designs, and the balcony up there was the first time Tommy has received a hug in a long time. There is a nicely furnished room in the hotel that will always be left for his exclusive use. There are several rooms in the main casino, in Croupier's office, that Tommy has been to that no one else has. He knows almost all of the secrets hidden in the depths of these halls, aware how far every shadow stretches when the night descends upon the land and the neon light creates an artificial day again.

Tommy has never been to Las Nevadas with Wilbur. He has been twice with Serenade, but he has never been there with Wilbur. He has never been there with his north star walking right in front of him, their hands interlocked as if letting go would lead to one of them being lost forevermore. Tommy has never been as content as he is right now when he's gone to Las Nevadas, and surely Wilbur is responsible for that. His entire family is. Their warmth, their presence, in his life lifts a heavy weight off his chest, allowing him to breathe for the first time in a long time. Even the alcoholic smell in the air doesn't sour Tommy's mood as it usually does, and the smell is arguably stronger since Tommy isn't wearing his mask. Wilbur is here, and the rest of his family isn't far, and his new family continues to provide for him, and Tommy couldn't be happier.

Well, he could be a little happier. Tommy and Wilbur are sitting compliantly in Croupier's reception room. Their chairs are pushed so close together that Tommy is able to lean over the arms of both of their chairs to set his head against Wilbur's shoulder. Wilbur leans in close, too, settling a comforting hand on Tommy's hair. Wilbur is scrolling through his communicator, humming a song that he's played for Tommy at the cabin- at their new home. Tommy holds his prized possession right against his chest, running his fingers along the frame as he impatiently waits. He lets his eyes shut, hoping that time will tick a little faster.

Tommy has been trying to reconnect with his family, taking the advice he's been given to heart. He has also been trying to get his family together to get a new family portrait. For these reasons, Tommy has decided that it is time for him to face Fundy and Eret, the two people he hasn't encountered yet. Tommy brought it up during dinner. Techno, Wilbur, and Philza all shared a very particular look. They didn't talk further about it, but when Wilbur thought Tommy was asleep, Wilbur was on the communicator with Niki and Jack. They were talking late into the night. Tommy actually did fall asleep before they could come to a conclusion, but at breakfast, the others decided that if Tommy was sure, they would reach out to Fundy. Although Tommy was warned not to get his hopes up, both Fundy agreed to meet with Tommy. If this goes well, they'll find a way to contact Eret.

From what the others said, Fundy and Eret are excited and nervous to see Tommy again after so long. Tommy is plainly filled with anxiety. He wants to make a good first impression. He knows that he doesn't really have his life together, but he would at least like to present himself as having it all worked out. Even if he can't do that, Tommy doesn't want to ruin whatever relationship he could have with them. The last time Tommy saw Eret, the two of them were fighting over Eret's decision to join the Hunters. Fundy was a toddler at the time, so Tommy doesn't think he even remembers Tommy. With both of these unusual circumstances, Tommy feels like he really has to prove that he deserves to be in their lives, prove that he is a better person than he was before.

"You know, you're amazing, sunshine. You're so strong for even showing up today. I know Techno told you, but I'll say it again because it's true: if you want to leave, we will go. I'll take you. I'll make up some excuse for Fundy," Wilbur explains. Tommy didn't know this, but Eret and Fundy weren't together during the past five years. Eret brought Fundy to a place where they thought Fundy would be safe. They communicate more with each other than with the others, but even still, they have both made their own lives. Apparently, Fundy has made his life in Las Nevadas. Tommy wonders if they've met each other before.

"I'm staying, Wilbur," Tommy declares, reaching his elbow up to strike it into Wilbur's side. Instead of hurting Wilbur, his brother only laughs as if he were tickled. Tommy's nose scrunches up, but his heart instantly warms at the sound of such a beautiful song.

"So you are," Wilbur concedes. As Wilbur's laughter trickles to a stop, he takes a deep breath and releases it in the form of a sigh. His grip tightens imperceptibly. "Look, Toms, I should have mentioned this before, but... well, hybrids don't age the same way regular humans do. Most hybrids are pretty close with only a few years off one way or the other. Certain hybrids, however, are noticeably different. Fundy isn't the same kid you knew a long time ago."

"Fucking obvious, innit?" Tommy answers, opening his eyes. He shifts, lifting his head off Wilbur's shoulder and putting both of his forearms on the arm of the chair between him and Wilbur. Tommy leans forward a little, looking slightly back at Wilbur's face. Tommy wears a half-smile, and Wilbur releases an amused breath. Wilbur runs his fingers through Tommy's hair, pulling it down Tommy's neck and letting it rest between his shoulder blades. Wilbur rubs the spot gently, staring at Tommy with unending adoration in his eyes. Tommy's smile lifts up even higher. There is something special about being the container that holds Wilbur's love.

Wilbur's eyes flicker upward, looking over Tommy's head. Tommy hears the sound of a creaky door opening. Wilbur wears a conflicted expression, and Tommy wants to reach up to press away Wilbur's worry lines. Wilbur's hand drops away, no longer touching or comforting Tommy. This has the effect of setting Tommy on edge. As Tommy starts to turn around, he hears a clear voice declaring angrily, "I never wanted to see you again."

Tommy shifts in his seat. A twenty-something year old man is standing near the center of the room. The sclera of his eyes is a dirty yellow shade while the pupil stretches from the top to the bottom, pulling at the yellow color like a scruffed carpet. His strange eyes are complemented by the twitching pair of fox ears visible through a mop of bold orange resting on top of his head. He wears a dark black jacket with colored squares along the inside and a matching pair of black pants. He wears a pair of brown leather fingerless gloves, and they are both crossed over his chest as he glares unflinchingly at Wilbur.

"Fundy?" Tommy questions cautiously. Fundy was a fox hybrid. The man in front of him is a fox hybrid. Tommy was supposed to be meeting Fundy right now, and this man showed up. Fundy would have obviously known Wilbur, and the man in front of him knows Wilbur. Though, the man's opinion of Wilbur isn't what Tommy thought it would be. Fundy was quite fond of Wilbur, probably because Wilbur was the one to bring Fundy into their home after some woman Wilbur knew in passing- Sally, Tommy thinks her name was- died. 

After a moment, the fox hybrid's eyes transition to Tommy. The anger fades away completely, leaving behind unadulterated confusion and anticipation. The hybrid unwinds one of his arms from the other, lifting it towards Tommy as if he is afraid to touch the blonde. The hybrid lets out a breathy laugh, quiet and slow and gone like the wind. "Tommy?"

The response is enough of an answer for Tommy. The blonde shoots up onto his feet. Fundy startles forward a couple of steps, but Tommy crosses the distance in the matter of seconds. Tommy wraps his arms around Fundy. The fox hybrid's body tenses. His ears flicker, wavering. Fundy eventually makes the decision to return to hug, slowly lowering his chin onto Tommy's shoulder. Tommy squeezes Fundy tighter, taking a deep breath. Fundy feels so alive underneath Tommy's arms. The hybrid's heart is thundering in his chest, and Tommy feels like he's holding it directly in his palm. He wants to protect that heart at all costs. He wants to keep it in a place where he keeps all of his precious things- the box he was given by Serenade that holds Tommy's picture and Ravager's letters. He is keeping other things in that box now, like the journal Niki gave him and a business card from Jack's bar. He even has some of the inventions Jolt has made for Tommy over the years.

Tommy pulls back slowly, keeping his hands on Fundy's shoulder. He is close enough to Fundy's face that he starts noticing the similarities between the toddler he once knew and the man who looks older than Tommy yet is still a few inches shorter. The eyes are the same, both in color and the way they reflect Fundy's internal emotions. Fundy's hair has darkened a few shades, but it is still fairly vibrant. There isn't any baby fat against his cheeks. There is a collection of hairs starting to form a beard on Fundy's chin. Tommy carefully lifts his hand up, setting it against Fundy's cheek. He feels the way Fundy intakes a sharp breath, but Fundy doesn't pull away. He remains near Tommy. The blonde is left wondering if Fundy even remembers him that clearly. What is Fundy seeing when he looks upon Tommy now? Does he remember that golden-haired little boy that laughed and cried and yelled and loved louder than anyone else in the world, according to his family?

"What have you been up to, huh?" Tommy asks softly, his voice too loud to be a whisper but too soft to be spoken word. Tommy feels a surge of emotion wash against his chest, threatening to crack him open and spill out across the floor. Tommy pulls his hand off Fundy's shoulder, setting it against his own chest to feel his heartbeat underneath his clothing and skin. He feels it, faintly, and notices how quick it is. He is going to give himself a heart attack at this rate.

"My home blew up. Eret took me, but they left me on Las Nevadas with someone they used to know. I've been here for a little while. Puberty was hell. I grew at a faster rate than the people around me. I got a job on the island. It's actually a pretty important job, but I can't really tell you about it," Fundy starts explaining. He waves his hands around the small space between their bodies, trying very hard to express something more with his motions than with simply his words within the given area. Tommy doesn't catch whatever meaning Fundy is getting at, but he does notice something else when he watches those fingers curl around each other. Fundy continues to speak in Tommy's ear, and his voice borders on uncannily familiar when it shouldn't. Fundy's voice should have changed since he was a toddler, but Tommy realizes as he tunes back in that he doesn't know Fundy's voice because he heard it as a child. He knows it because he's heard a filtered version of it.

"Reynard?" Tommy says the name with the same inflection he used to say Fundy's name originally. Fundy stops talking, and his hands fall dangerously still. Tommy looks away from his hands, meeting his eyes. Fundy looks spooked, like he's seen a ghost even though he's been talking to one for the past few minutes. Tommy's hand presses closer to Fundy's cheek, searching for some similarity in the curvature even though he's never seen Reynard's face. "The Ace of Clubs?"

"How... do you know that? Wilbur doesn't even know that," Fundy hisses quietly, looking over Tommy's shoulder. Tommy does, too, realizing that Wilbur is sitting down, pointedly looking everywhere but Fundy and Tommy to give them a moment alone. Tommy does have to wonder if Wilbur knew the truth that Fundy has just proven is true to Tommy.

"I'm Vendetta, Fundy. You're part of the family I was trying to avenge, not knowing they were alive this entire fucking time," Tommy explains, reaching up to put both of his hands on Fundy's cheeks. He wants to keep the fox hybrid's attention on him for a few moments as they parse through what the truth means for them. Tommy has been within the vicinity of the Syndicate for years now, but he's been close to the Aces ever since he made his deal with Croupier. He has talked to Reynard- to Fundy- a lot. The conversations have never been long nor more than what was necessary, but they existed. Tommy should have figured out who Reynard was a lot sooner. Maybe he did figure it out, but trauma kept him from fully realizing it.

Fundy sputters. A laugh eventually surfaces in the midst of his comical panicking, but it sounds like Fundy is choking on the humor instead of indulging in it. There is disbelief blatantly in his eyes, shimmering like gemstones underneath a jeweler's flashlight. Fundy sets both of his hands on Tommy's shoulder, looking at him with a gruesome smile on his face, the frown he wants to wear retreating into the way he holds his body up. "I'm supposed to be Croupier's secretary and greatest informant."

"Don't blame yourself. I didn't fucking realize, either," Tommy explains, letting his hands slide down from Fundy's cheek to hold steadily onto his shoulders. As they literally hold each other at arm's length, Tommy feels like they are both drowning. They are holding onto each other so that they might survive, but Tommy isn't sure floating works like that. If it doesn't, they may be holding onto each other so that they don't drown alone.

"And we hated each other," Fundy continues, barely paying attention to Tommy's response. Fundy lifts one hand up, running it along the side of his face. He genuinely looks horrified and surprised, halfway between bolting and dragging Tommy to the ground. Tommy moves his arms, holding Fundy up from his underarms. Although Fundy doesn't fall, Tommy doesn't doubt he's a few seconds away from doing so.

"Hate is strong word-"

"I legitimately didn't like you at first," Fundy interrupts, meeting Tommy's eyes with grave seriousness. Tommy snorts. Vendetta wasn't a likable person. Tommy remembers being more than a little rude to Reynard. That disrespect went both ways. Fundy sighs in the present, probably remembering those little moments that created friction between Reynard and Vendetta. "We got better, but we've always been more neutral than positive."

"What about now? What's your opinion of me now?" Tommy asks with a smile, fragile and crooked, coming onto his face.

"My old feelings might linger... but you're my brother, Tommy. What few memories I do have of you are good," Fundy honestly replies, returning Tommy's smile with a cracked one of his own. The two of them stare at each other for a few more moments, not quite happy or content but as close to those emotions as they can be given the circumstances.

Tommy pulls away only to retrieve the photograph he left behind. He notices Wilbur glancing at him from the corner of his eye. Tommy winks at his brother, and he gets an affectionate eyeroll in response. Wilbur turns back to his communicator. Tommy brings the photograph to Fundy. The hybrid waits impatiently, rolling on the heels of his feet. Tommy flips the picture over to show Fundy. It takes a moment for Fundy to recognize the figures. He wears a small smile when he does, but it fades into an embarrassed blush as Fundy recognizes the infant version of himself resting in Eret's arms. Tommy chuckles faintly, wrapping both of his arms around the photograph. "I'm getting a new one made. I want you to be part of it."

Fundy looks up from the picture. His eyes start shining even before a smile pulls at his lips, revealing his sharp teeth. "Of course, I'll be part of it!"

Wilbur coughs in the corner. Fundy immediately glares at the man, and Tommy raises an eyebrow. Wilbur wears a placating smile as he puts his hands up innocently. "Fundy, we were hoping that you would get in contact with Eret to ask them if they wanted to join the pictures."

Fundy's glare sharpens. His ears flicker forward, and his lips pull back into a soundless growl. Fundy composes himself, glancing at Tommy from the corner of his eye. Fundy huffs, crossing his arms. He looks at Tommy, not sparing another second to entertain Wilbur. "You want all of your family there, don't you? Fine, I'll contact Eret for Tommy's sake and no one else's. I can't guarantee they'll show up, but I have a feeling they will. They've always felt guilty about... you know. They would be happy to know that you're alive."

— 

It was easy to get every member of the Syndicate along with affiliated people to come to one area. It was even easier to get someone to show up with a fancy camera and lighting poles, ready to photograph who they thought were ordinary people. 

The hard part was getting everyone to take a decent picture. While waiting for more people to arrive, the people who showed up first- including Tommy- did random pictures with different themes and groupings. It was fun until a whole lot of people showed up. Now, it was a hassle to get anything done. Tommy was laughing his ass off, obviously, but he could see how badly Philza wanted to drop Sneeg, the latter forcing Philza to hold him in a princess carry. Tubbo wanted to do something similar, but Ranboo was absolutely not prepared for that. As he went crashing down, he took half a dozen people with him. Puffy was now fluttering around, trying to subtly heal everyone without the photographer noticing. Sneeg was laughing at the epic failure, and Philza was trying to laugh without wearing himself out since he was holding a fully grown man in both arms.

As Tommy's laughter settles down, he wipes his eyes. A cold wind caresses him, wiping away the warmth that such an intriguing experience provides Tommy. He turns toward the wind, attempting to trace where it comes from. All he can see are buildings blocking the horizon. They are taking pictures on a rooftop, after all, one apparently owned by the Syndicate, though Fundy and the photographer don't know that. The latter is only because he refuses to listen to Syndicate affairs, the latter for more obvious reasons.

"It seems I have missed something hilarious," A cool voice travels alongside the wind. Tommy startles, looking over. A person is standing right beside Tommy, holding a gift underneath their arm. They were a long red coat with a white fur lining, the buttons a muted gold color. Their brown hair moves in soft waves because of the wind. They have a pair of sunglasses over their eyes, but as they lean forward, the sunglasses slide down their pale nose, revealing a set of warm brown eyes. The person smiles lightly, gently placing down the present they brought onto a nearby lawnchair. When they are done, they open their arms toward Tommy.

Either by instinct or because he recognizes some remnant of his sibling, Tommy launches himself into those arms. He soaks up the warmth of Eret's body. He feels emotions burn the back of his throat. He opens his mouth to let them out. The wind cools off the heat, but it also steals away whatever words Tommy was going to say. Eret takes the initiative, grinning so wide that Tommy feels like he's a golden prize Eret just won. "You don't know how happy I am to know that you're alive. I never thought I would be able to see you again."

Tommy feels exactly the same way, even down to the thick emotions layered on top of Eret's voice. Tommy's smile shifts, growing heavier on one side. Eret's smile falters. They look around, eyeing the other people who haven't noticed their presence yet. When Eret's eyes come back to Tommy, there is something crushing waiting for Tommy. Eret opens his mouth, and Tommy has to stop himself from slamming his hands over their mouth. He doesn't think he wants to know, but he decides that he probably needs to. Eret continues, unaware of Tommy's internal conflict, or perhaps very aware of it but deciding they need to say what they have opened their mouth to say. "Fundy told me about your secret identity as Vendetta. I'm touched that you would do so much for us, Toms, but I have to be honest with you. I'm Monarch."

Tommy's stomach drops. He feels tears burn in his eyes as painfully as the emotions clogging his throat, gunking up his airways, whittling away at the air inside his blood. He feels like someone has electrocuted him, the pinpricks against his brain almost laughable even if they are fatally tender. Monarch was Tommy's handler when he was part of the Hero's Guild. He was the person Tommy was assigned to after graduating from Red Dragon's class. Monarch has been taking care of Tommy for the five years he's been part of the guild, and although Tommy isn't often at the guild or Monarch's office, there has been enough moments where Tommy really feels the weight of this revelation like a metal bat slamming against the side of his head several times. "I fucking dropped the ball at figuring out who my siblings were, huh?"

Eret doesn't laugh at Tommy's attempt at humor- a broken, pitiful attempt that makes Tommy cry more than laugh. Eret takes both of Tommy's hands into their own, squeezing gently. "I think we were all terrible at it. Though, I must admit that the Hunters didn't make it easy for us. Nor did the person who gave us a fake corpse."

"I didn't know you knew about that," Tommy murmurs, lifting up his forearm to wipe his tears since his hands are preoccupied inside Eret's hands.

"I still cared about the people I grew up with even after I left. I kept tabs on all of you when I was part of the Hunters. Once I learned the others were alive, I did my best to look out for them. I didn't break any laws, but... well, the Syndicate might not have gotten away with as much if it wasn't for me," Eret explains with a wink. When the self-pride comes to a stop, Eret's expression grows somber once more. Tommy feels like a kid again, for some reason. He feels like Eret is quietly lecturing him, doing it in a way that makes Tommy feel like they're only having a regular conversation.

"I'm glad," Tommy honestly speaks. He would have been unhappy if he learned his family was in Pandora's Vault, especially with Minotaur there. Tommy would have broken several laws to find his way back to them, though, so Tommy doesn't think it would have been all bad. Tommy shakes his head. He doesn't need to think about that when his family is right here. Eret's hands are in Tommy's hands, and the others are on the other side of the rooftop, their laughter trickling into Tommy's ears even as he realizes how close he's been to his family this entire time. As Tommy focuses on that, he ends up asking, "Do we know who the fucker was? The one who faked my corpse? What about the explosion? Who the fuck did that shit?"

"I'm sure the Syndicate members have the alias of the person. They can cross-reference and all of that. They're even in contact with that Sparrow guy, so I'm sure everything will work itself out in that regard," Eret answers, waving their hand around as they speculate. Their face grows a little more somber as they answer the second question. "As for the explosion, you know everything the guild knows. While most people accepted the idea that the Syndicate were the ones responsible, there were a couple of other plausible theories. The second most common theory was that it was someone who worked for Minotaur, if not the villain himself, in an attempt to erase any of his wrongdoings and open up the area for new buildings. We're trying to get his testimony, but he refuses to speak to us after we put him back in prison. Unless we can find the person working for him, we'll never know if it was actually under his orders."

"I see," Tommy whispers. Minotaur has always been the hidden devil in Tommy's life. Not everything is the villain's fault, but round and round it goes until Minotaur's name appears in Tommy's mind once more. It unnerves the blonde, and it upsets him greatly. He wishes he could put an end to Minotaur, but he needs the man to suffer more. He needs the villain to regret his actions one day, just so that no one will give him the forgiveness he seeks.

"Enough of this. You wanted to get a family portrait, no? Since I'm here, we might as well get it over with before the others overwork Dame Puffy," Eret says with a slight touch of laughter in their voice. They release one of Tommy's hands, but keep the other one connecting the two of them. Tommy leans into Eret's arm as they join the others. They are accepted joyfully, the buzz of conversation accompanying the motions of the family arranging themselves. After a few seconds, everyone gets into position, and the camera snaps.

Despite the pain and surprise he's been through for the past few weeks, Tommy's smile is bright and genuine as a new family portrait is made for him to carry inside his little box.

Chapter Text

"If you want to be happy, do not dwell in the past, do not worry about the future, focus on living fully in the present."

― Roy T. Bennett

The photographer starts packing up his equipment, talking to Philza about when they could expect the photographs to be printed and sent out. Sneeg hangs off Philza's shoulder, poking the man's cheek as he tries to have a serious conversation. In the corner, Wilbur has brought out a deck of cards. He had been intending to play solitaire, but Tubbo and Ranboo hurried over to demand a game for more people. Once Wilbur started handing out cards, Puffy, Sam, and Hannah plopped down to join the game. Techno, Niki, and Jack were standing beside the edge of the roof, talking with rather serious expressions and gesturing to different parts of the city. Fundy is lying in Eret's lap in one of the pool chairs, letting the hero play with his hair and fox ears as he talks. Tommy watches them all from his corner with a soft smile on his face. All of these people are his family. Some were with him in the past and others he found along the way, but Tommy has little doubt that every single one of them is someone he will continue to hold precious in his heart.

There are other people Tommy considers part of his extended family. He has a kinship with Pearl that somehow ropes in her two brothers. Sparrow seemed unlikely, but his solid advice and willingness to help proved that he was someone Tommy could rely on. Tempestarius will always stand above them all as someone who believed in Tommy and saw good in him when Tommy thought he had killed it all. Croupier and the other Aces- besides Fundy- are part of Tommy's family, too. Croupier himself and Charlie most of all since they provided Tommy with love and warmth when he thought no one else would.

"Tommy? Do you mind talking with me in private for a moment?" Jordan asks, standing beside Tommy. Jordan leans closer, brushing his shoulder with Tommy's. As Tommy looks up, he sees a steady and soft smile on Jordan's face as he watches the people that he must also consider his family. Tommy has a feeling he's part of that family, too, and he has been since he was given to Red Dragon as an apprentice alongside the bright-eyed Sleepy. After the horrors of the Hunters, it was Jordan and Olive that prepared Tommy's heart for the playing cards of Las Nevadas and later the Syndicate. Tommy might have been angry with Red Dragon for being a spy and Sleepy for joining the Herons gang in Empires, but he could never stay angry at Jordan and Olive.

"Yeah, what's up, big man?" Tommy asks, giving Jordan his entire attention. Jordan turns away from Tommy, heading towards the door that leads to the level beneath the roof. Jordan opens the door without hesitation, slipping into the darkness inside. Tommy frowns slightly. When Jordan asked to talk in private, Tommy didn't think he meant in a completely different place from the others. Tommy squares his shoulders, preparing himself for what Jordan might have to say to him. Tommy looks out across his family one last time, making sure that none of them are missing him specifically. When he doesn't notice any eyes on him, Tommy follows Jordan into the building.

The door slamming shut echoes in the stairwell. Tommy's footsteps down the stairs also echo with a less metallic but no less heavy noise. Tommy gets down one flight of stairs. Jordan is waiting beside the door that leads to the higher floor of the building. Jordan wears a tense smile on his face, looking past Tommy at the door behind the blonde. Tommy passes a glance behind him, but all he can see are white-painted cinder blocks that make up the outer walls of the stairwell.

When Tommy stands in front of Jordan, the hero finally looks into Tommy's eyes. Unabashedly naked delight in his eyes. Jordan raises his hands, setting them both on Tommy's shoulders. He smiles brightly at Tommy, nothing but happiness expressed in his simple motions. "I'm so proud of you, Tommy. I've always been, of course, but you've acknowledged your past, started coming to terms with it, and are moving on in the healthiest way you can."

Tommy flounders, his cheeks bursting with a scarlet color. Red Dragon never skimped on the compliments when Tommy was an apprentice under him, but all of those compliments were for Vendetta and he usually developed those skills from his time with the Hunters. Tommy was able to brush off everything Red Dragon said back then. Tommy is unable to do that now because this is Jordan complimenting Tommy. The masks they used to protect themselves but also guard their hearts are down, and Tommy is faced with Jordan's pride head-on. Tommy doesn't know what to do with that, so he says, "That's a little much, big man-"

"No, it isn't," Jordan interrupts with a soft voice. His eyes grow a little more somber, and Tommy suddenly remembers how Jordan looked at both him and Sleepy when they would do something that wasn't quite mentally healthy. "You and Sleepy were part of the Hero's Guild for about a week before you were assigned to me. I got to see you both at the very beginning of your journey. I got to know you two at your start, and I have to be honest, you both terrified me. I was scared that one of you would break down in a way that I couldn't fix or go so far that I would never be able to find you again. You both seemed to get better, but I went back to square one when Sleepy left. I kept tabs on both of you for this reason. I watched you sink lower and lower into your misery without being able to do anything to stop it. All I wanted was for you and Olive, my first and only students, to be happy. Olive found their path, and I'm glad you were able to finally find yours."

"I'm proud of you, too," Another voice pops up. There is a dull echoing noise in the stairwell as lighter footsteps climb up the stairs, but Tommy didn't notice them while listening to Jordan's words. Now, he's turning over his shoulder to find Olive turning to stand on the stairwell's landing between this floor and the one underneath it. Olive continues climbing up the stairs to reach Tommy and Jordan, a polite smile on their face as they finish their march. Their cheeks flush with exertion, but they don't seem out of breath as they turn to Tommy, looking right into his eyes. "I'm serious. I'm really proud of you for coming this far."

"It's good to see you again," Tommy tells them with a quiet smile coming to his face. Olive always seems to appear in his life without him knowing why. They are a welcome addition, obviously, but Tommy sometimes wonders if Olive has a secondary power that allows them to know the weirdest but arguably most beneficial times to suddenly appear in Tommy's life. "I didn't expect you to compliment me, but hey, I have been warned that life was fucking weird."

"We really are proud of you," Jordan declares, his voice firm and his eyes glowing with a touch of guilt. Tommy looks between Jordan and Olive. The latter seems a touch uncomfortable. Jordan releases one of Tommy's shoulders but keeps his other hand attached to the other one, squeezing gently. "But we do have a small matter to attend to."

"While you were on your health retreat, the heroes have been working to capture Crimson. The other members of the Cult of Erythr were caught, administered the antidote, and released. Crimson is the last one they haven't caught," Olive describes, their words rehearsed enough that Tommy is certain they heard it from Jordan first. Tommy is the last one to know out of the three of them. Not that it matters, as Tommy reminds both of them that he isn't a hero anymore.

"I agree with your decisions on that front. I believe it is for the best that you stay unaffiliated with the heroes for the time being... other than me," Jordan nods, the pride returning to the forefront of his eyes.

Olive speaks immediately after Jordan finishes as if waiting for him to get finished. "Jordan and I believe that Crimson is inside your mind."

"What the fuck? How is that possible?" Tommy asks, putting his hands on the side of his head. He searches his brain for some trace of Crimson. He doesn't find anything. The villain's voice hasn't grated against Tommy's ears since the night he discovered that his family were alive and that Azrael was both Philza and Crowfather. Tommy put both Crimson and the Cult of Erythr behind him that night, too busy focusing on his own problems.

"The heroes found Crimson's body. While he is alive, there is absolutely no brain activity," Jordan describes in a hushed voice, looking around like there are people eavesdropping on a random set of three people in a stairwell.

"I am sure that Crimson left a part of himself in Tommy's mind. It did feel like you kicked us a little too easily," Olive describes, reaching forward to tap their index finger against Tommy's forehead. Tommy looks up, meeting Olive's eyes. Olive is referring to the moment Tommy was just thinking about. Crimson infiltrated his mind, and Tommy had to force him out. Sleepy was the one to save him that time, and it seems like Sleepy will save him again. "Crimson is hiding, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Everyone assumes that your resistance to mind control was due to your stubborn goals. Crimson is waiting for you to fully accept that your family doesn't need to be avenged. When you do, he will destroy everything you stand for and want to protect using your body to do it. That's why I'm here. I'm going to enter your mind, find Crimson, and defeat him once and for all."

"You have to let me help. I want this fucker out of my mind now," Tommy demands, pulling away from Jordan's hand to step towards Olive. Tommy has just gotten both his family and his happiness back. He doesn't want some red-obsessed freak to ruin everything for Tommy again. He is going to protect his family this time, no matter what it costs him.

"You're going to have to help me," Olive notes, a wry smile appearing on their face.

"I've agreed to watch over your bodies since I know all the signs about Olive's powers," Jordan adds, reintroducing himself into the harsh stare between Tommy and Olive. Since he was their instructor, Jordan knows almost everything about their powers. He doesn't know so much about Tommy's powers now that his powers have forcibly upgraded from additional trauma, but Olive's powers must have been the same as they once were. Even if they aren't, the signs should still be the same.

Jordan turns away from them. He opens the door to the floor. He steps through, holding the door open for Olive and Tommy. The two dart inside, but they wait for Jordan to lead them down the hall. Tommy looks around the wooden walls underneath warm lighting, a stark contrast to the white-and-gray stairwell under a pale yellow light. Tommy even notices a few homely landscape paintings hung on the walls. Tommy smiles at a painting of a waterfall as he hears a door opening. He looks away from the painting, seeing Jordan holding another door open. Olive is already through, so Tommy rushes over.

Jordan brought Olive and Tommy to what looks like a hotel room with a desk, a television mounted on the walls, a minifridge underneath a microwave, and a bed centered against one of the walls. Tommy jumps onto the bed, falling into a lying position as he rolls to the very edge. He kicks his shoes off as he shakes his shoulders, kneading his body into the soft mattress. He hears Jordan laugh at him, and Tommy finds himself matching Olive's amused grin. Tommy looks into their eyes, asking, "Do you remember how many times we've gone into my mind while we were apprentices?"

There were two reasons why they went into Tommy's head. The first was because of Tommy's nightmares. Not only were they keeping Tommy from reaching his full potential during the day, but they were also starting to affect Olive's sleep schedule. The other reason was to test out the dream-sharing aspect of Olive's powers. They didn't get to practice with that side in their daily training, so while they were resting at night, Olive would test out their abilities. Tommy was simply the easy person to do the practicing on, and it solved their other problem of Tommy's screams waking them both up at random periods in the night. It was how the two of them became so close, and why Olive's betrayal hurt so much.

"I do remember," Olive murmurs quietly, more to themselves than to Tommy. They sit on the bed beside Tommy. They kick their legs over, getting comfortable against one of the pillows. They lift a hand up, putting it over Tommy's eyes. Tommy manually closes his eyes, but the spell of sleep falls over him due to Olive's powers. Tommy is out in a matter of seconds, dragged all the way to REM sleep where his dreams come into fruition.

When Tommy opens his eyes, he's standing in the middle of a warehouse. The walls are dark gray metal. The catwalks above ahead drip water into puddles along the edge of the warehouse. Sunlight filters through dirty windows high above, creating a brown-yellow filter across everything. An assortment of dirty mattresses, some of them pulled apart to reveal the springs, are pushed together in one corner. A collection of torn books missing a few pages and broken along the spine are stacked on top of one another beside the mattresses. A couple of toys with chipped pieces and faded colors are huddled around a soggy cardboard box. It is the warehouse of Tommy's childhood, the one that no longer stands anymore. It was the backdrop of Reaper's hallucination and the heart of his mind when Crimson first came.

Tommy feels tears prick his eyes. He will never be able to come back here. This place is dirty and broken beyond repair. It is barely a shelter, and it definitely isn't any sort of stronghold. Despite this, Tommy was able to spend his nights with his family in this warehouse. It lacked everything except for love. Even on the coldest nights, there was a subtle warmth that filled the entire place as Tommy felt the affection of his family inside his very soul. This place is gone, and while Tommy does have new places that fill similar roles, nothing will ever quite capture the specialness of this place.

"This place hasn't changed," Olive declares. They stand in front of Tommy, their back towards him. They look around, attention entirely captured by the different elements of this place. Tommy wonders how Olive looks at this place. Without any of the associated memories, this place might look like a dump. Even Tommy calls it a dump, and he's looking through rose-tinted glasses.

"Why would it?" Tommy asks, reaching up to wipe away his tears before they fall across his cheeks. This definitely isn't the time to be getting nostalgic.

"You've had a shift in mental state recently. I was expecting your mind to reflect this," Olive describes with a shrug, gesturing around. They finally turn towards Tommy, and he suspects they were giving him a  moment to sort out his emotions without them watching. 

Tommy doesn't know much about the mind, and especially not about his own, but he decides against bringing this fact up. He doesn't want Olive to chew him out for not paying attention during their lessons back when they were apprentices. In fact, Tommy asks, "Where would Crimson be?" to steer the conversation away from how the mind works just in case.

"I don't know for sure. We should start looking around the warehouse. Even if we don't find Crimson, we might be able to find a trail leading right to him," Olive explains. They start walking over to the toys. Tommy goes in the opposite direction, stepping over the mattresses. His feet begin to sink, and Tommy remembers how realistic dreams become under the influence of Olive's power. He really feels like he's standing in his childhood home.

Tommy continues walking. He kicks at the blankets, trying to see if Crimson is hiding under them. Tommy gets to the other side of the mass of mattresses without finding him. Tommy steps off the last one, looking around at the walls. He follows the walls to a corner, and turns to go down the next wall. Tommy stops when he does find something between the wall and a stack of large boxes left behind by whoever owned the warehouse before Tommy's family moved in. Tommy takes a few more steps forward, but the figure doesn't have red hair like Crimson did. Instead, they have short brown hair. Tommy's eyes widen as he recognizes his older brother, Wilbur. Tommy asks, "Wilbur? What the fuck are you doing here?"

Wilbur looks over his shoulder at Tommy. He rises to his feet, turning around with a flourish of his hands. He is smiling ear-to-ear, but there is something sinister in his brown eyes that makes Tommy flinch back. Goosebumps appear down his arms. He has never been scared of his brother, not even in his nightmares, so why does Tommy have the urge to run as far away as he can?

Wilbur laughs with cruelty and irony braided together in his voice. "Do I really need to remind you, Tommy? You were the one to leave me behind even when you told me you were going to stay."

Tommy realizes what Wilbur's talking about after a moment of silence. When Crimson first came to Tommy's mind, there was a version of Wilbur there that was making Tommy's favorite food for breakfast. That Wilbur asked Tommy to stay with him, but after Tommy agreed to do that, Wilbur whispered cruel words in Tommy's ears. Tommy ran away from that Wilbur even though he did agree to stay.

"It doesn't matter. I told you that you wouldn't be able to escape me and look at us now," Wilbur declares, a touch of laughter around the edges of his voice. He stalks forward. Tommy has the instinct to run, but he remains frozen in place. Wilbur drops his hands onto Tommy's shoulders, squeezing tight enough that Tommy feels pain tremble down his arms. Wilbur's smile is a little too calm and mean for Tommy's liking as he stares directly into Tommy's eyes. He says with a completely neutral tone, "I'm going to be the one to kill you this time."

Those words are enough to get Tommy to start pulling away, remembering that he needs to get away. Wilbur's grip grows harsher, and he pulls Tommy closer. He is a few inches away from Tommy's face, glaring down into Tommy's eyes with an angry expression. "Why are you always running? Why won't you ever stay to face the consequences of your actions?"

"Shut up!" Olive shouts as they rush over from their side of the warehouse.

Wilbur scoffs, looking between Olive and Tommy with a harsher expression than before. "Why did you replace your family with this cheap, worthless imitation?"

"Hey-" Tommy starts, ready to defend Olive even when Wilbur's cold eyes stop Tommy's heart with a single look.

"I wouldn't," Wilbur cuts Tommy off with a warning tone in his voice. "The minute you acknowledge this imitation as your family, they'll die, too."

"The real Wilbur isn't dead," Olive clarifies, getting as close as they dare. If they get any closer, Wilbur is liable to become violent. He has his hands on Tommy's shoulders, and Wilbur's eyes show how volatile he is. At any moment, he could start hurting Tommy physically. Considering Tommy can't even run away from Wilbur, he would take every punch with little fanfare and even less grace. Despite not getting closer, though, Olive continues speaking, "The real Wilbur wouldn't say any of this, either."

"How would you know? We have never met each other," Wilbur glares at Olive. Tommy met Olive five years after Wilbur was presumed dead. Even now that Wilbur is alive again in Tommy's life, he hasn't interacted with Olive much. As far as Tommy is concerned, he didn't think Olive and Wilbur would ever meet regardless of how important they both are to Tommy.

"You're right. I have never met Wilbur. But I have met Tommy. I have gotten to know him. I've listened to Tommy talk about his family for years. I might now know Wilbur personally, but I know he isn't as cruel as Crimson is making him out to be," Olive declares, glaring at Wilbur. Their last comment is issued to Tommy, and their eyes grow softer when they look at Tommy, pleading with him to realize that the figure in front of him only looks like Wilbur.

Tommy is finally able to pull away from Wilbur's cruel grip, taking a few steps back. He keeps his eyes on Wilbur as he asks Olive, "Why does Crimson look like Wilbur?"

Sleepy shakes their head. "Crimson has attached his consciousness to your guilt and loneliness, Tommy. Wilbur is only the form your negative emotions have taken. You need to let off these emotions to banish Crimson from your mind."

"Why?" Wilbur asks, crossing his arms behind his back. He looks halfway to amusement as he stares between Olive and Tommy, landing on the latter. "Your actions have caused your family so much misery. Even now, you are ruining their lives. They moved on, but you clung like a fucking parasite. Your family is going to resent you. That resentment will turn into hate, and you will lose your family all over again. Are you really strong enough to face that?"

"You have to stand up for yourself," Olive tells Tommy, conviction in their voice. Despite this, Tommy doesn't know what to say. Wilbur is right. Tommy has caused his family a lot of misery, and he's only piling on more pain. If they do end up resenting and hating him, Tommy won't ever be able to recover.

Olive tackles Tommy to the ground. As the two of them roll across the concrete floor, a red vine rips through the earth to strike the place where Tommy was just standing. When they stop running, Olive jumps to their feet. Their clothes transform into the outfit Sleepy wears, complete with a mask and the bandages around their hands. Sleepy stands in front of Tommy, raising their palms in a defensive position to protect Tommy. Sleepy looks over their shoulder at Tommy, who continues to lie on the ground. "Think, Tommy. Would your family actually resent you?"

"They might already," Wilbur yells, red cracks starting to appear around his skin. He swings his hands around, and red vines begin to break through the concrete underneath his feet. The vines whip at the ground, creating new cracks for more vines to break through. "Vendetta has caused them so many problems, wasted so much of their time. If they dislike Vendetta that much, what would they think of you, Tommy, the weakest parts of Vendetta?"

Tommy sits up, but he isn't able to rise up any further than that. He can see Sleepy fighting the red vines, distracting their attention away from Tommy's body. Tommy knows that he should help Sleepy, but he can't bring himself to move. What if Wilbur is right? Tommy is arguably all the weakest parts of Vendetta since Vendetta was Tommy's shield against the world. When Vendetta is stripped away, Tommy is nothing but a weak, little boy struggling to find happiness. Even more than that, Wilbur has hit the nail on the head. Tommy's greatest fear is that his family will resent him. He has always been scared of this no matter who his 'family' at the time was. Even as a little kid, he was terrified that Wilbur would come to hate him because Wilbur was forced to take care of Tommy when he was a kid himself and then had to take a whiny brat with him when they ran away from their parents. Tommy can't stand the thought that his family will come to hate him. They will choose to abandon him then, an arguably worse fate than simply having them die since death is an actual barrier keeping them apart. If they abandon Tommy, that would be of their own violation. Tommy would be alone knowing they were out there, hating him when he still loved them more than he loves himself.

As Tommy's thoughts darken, he hears Wilbur's cruel laughter echoing throughout the entire warehouse. Tommy looks up, tracing the source of his amusement to Sleepy's body being held up by red vines around their waist and arms. One wraps around their throat, slowly getting tighter. Sleepy coughs, choking on their breath. Sleepy continues to fight against the red vines, but Tommy's emotions have given Wilbur the advantage. Sleepy isn't able to do anything. Sleepy ends up muttering, "Damnit, I need to leave."

While Tommy doesn't remember much from their lessons, he does remember what dying in a dream does. It will put Sleepy into a coma that could last weeks. Sleepy needs to leave now. Instead of immediately disappearing, however, Sleepy manages to pull their arms out of the vines. They put their hands against their lips, and blow something off their palm. They disappear as a purple pansy begins to fall through the air. Tommy lifts his hands up, catching the flower as the red vines slither back to the ground. They start to target Tommy, but he stares down at the flower in his palms. The purple petals are soft against his skin, and they remind him of a time when he was hanging out in Sleepy's mental gardens. They taught him about flowers- which he taught to Monochrome/Ranboo- and pansies mean remembrance and empathy. Sleepy also told Tommy to remember his family.

"Vendetta, I can't say I know your family. But I do know that if they loved you even a fraction of how much you love them, they wouldn't want you to be hurt. They would want you to live your life to the fullest,"Argonaut had told him once, lying side by side as they enjoyed each other's company. She would smile at Tommy and reach out a hand to him whenever he needed it. She held him close one day, reminding him, "No, Tommy. You were, are, and will always be Tubbo's brother. You aren't going to mess anything up,"

"Remember that you're part of my legacy. There's the Aces and this casino and Charlie, but there is also you. My legacy."Croupier was one of the first people to respect Tommy after he left the Hunters. He was someone who took care of Tommy and Charlie like they were little kids who needed someone to guide them. And maybe they were, maybe they still are. But nothing will stop Croupier from saying his form of 'I love you' and holding Tommy close to his chest even when his first rule is to trust no one. "You're my legacy, the exception to the rule."

"You're one of the strongest and most resilient people I know. Remember what I said before... you aren't alone." Pearl told him, a smile on her face and the laughter of her brother's behind her. She, like him, was obsessed with her family and them cruelly taken away from her. She found her way to her family even through the tribulations of becoming heroes and a mind-controlling villain destroying her spirit.

"You shouldn't worry about hurting your family. Everyone at some time or another will hurt the people they love, but it is because they love each other that they stick together even through the pain. We don't stop being someone's friend because we hurt their feelings. We mean our apologies and prove that our love is stronger than our mistakes.” Tempestarius told him that in a voice that was always kind to Tommy no matter how cruel he was in return. She never gave up on him, never stopped being his friend, and he will always be grateful. Even now, he hopes to actually become her friend.

"I think... you might be hurting your family more by staying away." Ranboo was Tommy's to protect for a short while. He was the person that convinced Tommy to leave the Hunters. He was one of the few people Tommy had truly cared for after all the bad things that had happened to him. He stuck with Ranboo even when the vigilante became affiliated with people Tommy hated. 

"You are so obtuse. How can you not realize how much the people around you care about you?" Briar laughed as she reminded him that Ultraviolet and Warden both cared about him. Even she cares about him in her own straightforward way, defending him and believing in his strength even when he didn't think he had it.

"You were, you are, and you have always been someone who is important to me."Niki promised him, her presence a soft warmth against the coldness of his soul.

"I became a vigilante for you. To find you, to protect the world for you, to... find the light you always saw in the world. I became a villain for you, too." Jack went so far for Tommy, always living by some moral code inspired by Tommy's memory. 

"If I ever die, I want you to live a happy life. I want you to be at peace knowing that I don't blame you, that I don't want you to throw away your life for the sake of revenge."Tubbo was looking out for Tommy even before their identities were revealed. They were so close that even with a mask hiding them and bad blood between them, the two of them- a hero and a vigilante- became close friends. A stroke of fate, perhaps, or just a sign that the two of them are brothers.

"I think I'll be myself this time." Crowfather took care of Tommy. He brought him sandwiches and listened to his trouble. Philza followed the same role. He comforted Tommy, and he continues to act like a fatherly figure.

"But you're my brother, Tommy. What few memories I do have of you are good." Even though he was young when they last met, Fundy held Tommy close and smiled at him in the way only Fundy ever could.

"You don't know how happy I am to know that you're alive. I never thought I would be able to see you again."As much as Tommy disliked Monarch, the hero took care of Tommy in the same way Red Dragon did. The two of them worked in Tommy's best interest, and when the reveal happened, Tommy was able to see them both in a clear, happy light.

"You don't have to do anything. Just take my hand and let me take care of the rest."Techno took care of Tommy. He protected Tommy, helped him get back on his feet, and set him on the right course. Since the moment they met as Ravager and Vendetta, Techno has been looking out for Tommy. 

"How glorious it would be for me to be ruined by you."Wilbur's words ring out louder than anyone else's. No matter what happens- what Tommy does or doesn't do, what he says or doesn't say- Wilbur is going to stand beside him. Wilbur is going to hold him and love him because that is what Wilbur has always done. Wilbur is his north star, his guiding light, the person Tommy would follow into hell itself. Wilbur is never going to let go of Tommy even when they leave each other as pathetic, broken messes, so Tommy doesn't need to worry about any of that. Not anymore. Not with Wilbur. Not with anyone in his family.

Tommy isn't alone. He's never been alone. He doesn't need to grieve anymore, and it was never his fault what happened.

"Listen to me!" Wilbur yells.

Tommy closes his fingers around the stem of the pansy, watching it transform into a long, thin dagger. Tommy struggles to his feet, but he manages to get there. He stares directly into Wilbur's- Crimson's eyes. "I am listening. I just don't believe a damn word out of your mouth!"

Tommy rushes toward Crimson. The warehouse begins breaking apart around Tommy as if he were using his gravity powers. Tommy ignores that, and he ignores the way the vines start stabbing into him. They cut relentlessly into his body, creating splatters of blood all across the breaking warehouse. Tommy whispers an apology to his brother, and he raises the blade high above his head. As a red vine shoots straight through his stomach, Tommy pushes the dagger into Crimson's chest, right through his heart. Crimson's eyes widen, and the red cracks all over his body grow so large that his entire body dissolves into red light. The pain in Tommy's body is real but so is the victory. Tommy laughs, blood splattering from his lips. The dagger falls from his hands, and the ground beneath him gives away. Tommy drops into oblivion underneath the warehouse.

When Tommy opens his eyes again, he's in a world of darkness. His one comfort is that he is laying his head in someone's lap. He looks up, noticing a woman staring down at him with glowing purple eyes. A wide-brimmed hat rests over her black hair, and it sways majestically in the night. She runs her fingers through his hair, her touch as cold as Wilbur's. She gives him a wane smile, laughing warmly, "Your entire existence you've always had one foot in my domain. Try living for real this time, Tommy." She leans forward, kissing his forehead. 

The moment her lips leave, Tommy jolts awake. Olive and Jordan are leaning over him with wide, surprised eyes. Tommy returns their smile, feeling tears prick in his eyes. "I want to live... I want to live with my whole family."

Olive and Jordan share a look. They turn back to Tommy and smother him in a hug.

Chapter Text

"There is no real ending. It's just the place where you stop the story."

― Frank Herbert

The morning is cool, caught between the stages of summer and autumn. The wind picks up into gentle breezes that childishly pull at Tommy's hoodie and the cuffs of his jeans. He reaches a hand up, pushing his fingers through his hair. His hood is knocked off by this motion, exposing his face to the bright but not quite warm sunlight. Tommy's attention shifts toward the light. He half-smiles at it like he's meeting an old friend for the first time in a long time, greeting the sun with a fair bit of nostalgia rolling around his veins. Tommy's happiness pours into him like a thick syrup, heavy and slow but surprisingly warm. Tommy closes his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose. He smells gasoline more than natural air, but Tommy doesn't care. He just smiles even wider, recognizing the natural musk of his city- his home. It's nothing like the cold, petrichor smell of the cabin, but Tommy's childhood was steeped in this particular smell.

"Good morning!" A voice chirps. Tommy opens his eyes. His smile doesn't wane as he glances over at one of the only people that can be this high-spirited in the morning. Sneeg is waving from the sunroof of his dark blue truck, leaning forward with a large smile underneath his dark teal eyes. Sneeg's voice sounds like he's always on the cusp of laughing, about to lose all of his words in formless chuckling, but he is able to rein in his words every time like unruly stallions underneath a competent rancher. "I heard you needed help with a prank."

Sneeg dips back into the truck. From what Tommy can see through the tinted windows, Sneeg crawls over the armrest into the passenger seat. He does so with such little agility that Tommy finds himself having a little bit of trouble reconciling the person in front of him with the infamous villain Inchling. Tommy has been so much of his life hating this man, and now he's holding back a series of cackling chortles as Sneeg nearly falls from the passenger seat onto the cracked sidewalk. Luckily, Sneeg's face smushes up against a patch of grass and dirt, though the early morning dew causes a rubbing of mud to appear on his cheek as he jumps back to his feet with a little more of the expected grace someone of his job position should have. Sneeg pats down his clothes in a cartoonish way, not actually getting any of the dirt off of him. 

Sneeg winks at Tommy, turning around to open the backseat door. Sneeg rummages through the trash in the floorboard and the odd boxes lined up on the seat, eventually pulling away with a sledgehammer in his hands. Sneeg holds it with both hands, rotating it around to show the carving of his name on the wooden handle.

"Not so much a prank as destruction of property," Tommy shrugs, the semantics losing meaning when Sneeg's brilliantly mischievous eyes raise up from the sledgehammer to look directly into Tommy's blue eyes. Sneeg puts the head against the sidewalk. He places both of his hands at the end of the handle, leaning it and himself forward a little. He raises an eyebrow curiously, waiting for Tommy to further explain. The only reason why Sneeg would come out this early in the morning was because Tommy proposed that the two of them do some bonding by destroying things. Sneeg was the one that offered the use of his sledgehammer, a tool he kept in his truck at all times just in case. Tommy didn't question it, and he told Sneeg he knew exactly what to use the sledgehammer on.

Tommy grabs the handle of the sledgehammer. His powers slide across it, making it entirely weightless in his hands. Tommy places the handles on his shoulders, looping his arms over each side to keep the sledgehammer from lifting into the air out of their reach. Tommy tilts his head, motioning for Sneeg to follow him. Tommy leads the way down the sidewalk, following a path laid out both by the street and a large wall covered thickly in overbearing vines. There are a few purple flowers blooming from the vines, and they remind Tommy of her eyes.

Tommy stops when the wall temporarily shifts into a black iron gate held together by thick chains and a large lock. Tommy places the sledgehammer through the iron poles, letting gravity return to it temporarily. The red light slides off the hammer, and the caustic power illuminates Tommy's body. He lifts off his feet, flying over the gate. He lands back on his feet, looking over his shoulder. Sneeg puts both hands on the poles, using it to keep him on his feet as he leans back and looks up and down the street. Sneeg suddenly pulls himself forward, and his body shifts in size. For a handful of seconds, enough for him to pass between the poles, Sneeg is no bigger than a bug. Once he's cleared the gate, Sneeg's original size returns to him. Sneeg bows to Tommy as if Tommy hasn't seen the villain use his power at least a million times.

Tommy shakes his head, picking up the sledgehammer again. He throws it over one shoulder, using his hand to balance the heavy head. Sneeg looks around the location the two of them are in. They are walking on a dirt path surrounded by a sea of richly green, finely cut grass. Like tiny islands, gray headstones, some more stone-like and others glossier, rise above the viridian ocean. Each one is carefully carved with a name, a date, and some adjective to describe the person buried six feet under. Tommy feels empathetic for the deceased and those who were left behind, but his current mission takes precedence over feeling sorry for people he doesn't know.

Tommy looks over the dates, eyebrows furrowing together as he looks for a particular gravestone. He finds the row it should be on. Tommy steps into the grass, half-surprised that nothing horrible happens. Tommy presses onward, glancing down at the headstones as he passes between two rows of them. Tommy stops when he gets to a very specific one. Tommy swings his leg around, facing down the headstone with a strange sound rising in pitch inside his ears. Tommy frowns deeply, taking a shuddering breath. He hears Sneeg grow strangely silent beside him, noticing what Tommy is staring at.

Here Lies Our Brother, Tommy

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, 

Love leaves a memory no one can steal

It is a relatively small gravestone. The stone is dark gray, a little rough around the edges but obviously cleaned regularly. There is a vase of flowers right beside the grave. The quote, too, resonates in Tommy's mind. It makes him smile a little, but the smile disappears when he fully realizes what he's staring at. Although Tommy never thought about it, his family had a grave made for him once they received the fake body. They had a funeral, too, Tommy thinks, but he doesn't think about that any more than he has to.

This grave means a lot to a lot of people, but Tommy is only concerned with what it means to him. This grave is nothing more than stone jutting out of the ground. It doesn't carry any power over the world. All it means is that when his family thought he was dead, they grieved him properly with a funeral and grave. Tommy, on the other hand, kept his family's ghosts around to give him strength and shred his sanity. Tommy shakes his head. This grave means something to Tommy. It, in some strange metaphorical way, is proof that Tommy is still dead. To someone, at least, Tommy is a boy who died, leaving a heartache that can't heal and a love that can't be forgotten.

Tommy shifts his hold on the sledgehammer. As he heaves it over his head, his power spreads across it again. It grows so heavy in Tommy's arms that he nearly falls forwards as he slams it down with every inch of strength nestled away in his deceptively skinny arms. The hammer hits the stone, creating cracks so large that the gravestone gives way almost immediately. The sledgehammer slides through the stone, turning it into powdery chunks of dust. Tommy closes his eyes and coughs, but he doesn't let go of the sledgehammer until it starts sinking into the wet earth around it. Opening his eyes, Tommy notes that the gravestone's edges are still intact, crumbling and ready to collapse. The part of the grave in the room might be cracked, but it will probably remain until someone digs it out to remove the entire thing.

Tommy releases a breath he didn't know he had been holding. It is a breath that he's been holding inside his chest since the moment he stumbled upon his childhood home in flames. It is a breath that has been smothered and disregarded, but now Tommy releases, saying goodbye to his loneliness and grief. Tears slip down Tommy's cheeks, and he lets them fall against the flowers that are now lying against the ground in the rubble. Tommy finds himself crumbling down onto his knees, putting both of his hands on top of the sledgehammer's handle. He sets his forehead against the back of his hands, and he heaves at something narrow and heavy in his chest, dislodging it and chunking it away.

"I'm alive," Tommy whispers, looking up at Sneeg. The man's mischief has ebbed away, and Tommy can see the glimmer of pride there. Sneeg takes a step forward, leaning down next to Tommy.

"You're alive," Sneeg agrees. He puts both of his hands on the handle of the sledgehammer, stopping Tommy from using it again but not exactly pulling it away from him.

"I'm not dead," Tommy says, louder and far more confident in that statement. "I'm not buried here."

Sneeg hums, agreeing but letting Tommy own those words. Tommy repeats all three statements in his head. I'm alive. I'm not dead. I'm not buried here...

"Come on. The others are making breakfast," Sneeg murmurs, standing up. He lifts the sledgehammer up, setting it on his shoulder. He looks out across the graveyard, looking beyond it towards something over the distant walls. Tommy looks up and around, too, unseeing what Sneeg is. Sneeg reaches a hand towards Tommy. Sneeg lifts Tommy back onto his feet, looking into the blonde's eyes with a smile. "Our family is making breakfast, kiddo."

"Wilbur is probably still asleep," Tommy guesses with a smile, a little hollow but nonetheless genuine, coming to his face. "But yeah, our family is making breakfast."

"We better go before they eat all the bacon," Sneeg declares, turning around. He starts heading towards the front gates. Tommy follows after him, repeating his mantra. I'm alive. I'm not dead. I'm not buried here.

He adds a new one, though. I want to live.