Chapter Text
Tommy was 8, when he watched his parents be brought out of the torch of a building, burned from unforgiving flames.
Tommy was 10, when his aunt and uncle decided he was ‘too much’ to take care of.
Tommy was 14, and had been in the foster system for three years (give or take a few months)
Tommy is 17, an orphan, a runaway, and has been a vigilante for six months. He also has a job at a local cafe(!)
Red Ferret is ‘21’, the quickest up-and-coming vigilante in the city of New L’manberg, and a fucking nuisance to society.
--
It was a regular morning. Tommy was greeted with the familiar, yet dreaded sunlight streaming through the windows. Seriously sun , what the fuck?
Tommy groaned and threw his blanket off of himself, perhaps a bit more aggressively than strictly necessary. He stood from his bed, which wasn’t much better than a pile of blankets on the floor. Probably because it was, funny how the world worked, huh?
Tommy was alone most of the time, and he had gotten plenty used to waking up alone, to an empty and cold apartment. Didn’t mean he enjoyed it, though.
Tommy walked to the fridge that had come with the small apartment, opening it to look for some form of energy- something to stop him from passing out, maybe. He was pretty successful, snatching what remained of his dinner last night - pizza he had gotten for free from the pizzeria across the street, because they apparently thought it would be funny to throw an entire uncooked pizza crust at the nearest teenager. Tommy’s pretty sure someone got fired.
After inhaling his food, Tommy had just enough time to jump in the shower before leaving for the coffee shop. No, the Big Man himself was not going to get coffee . He was going to work, because despite how amazing he was at being a vigilante, he wouldn’t be able to afford the apartment - no matter how rundown it was - if he didn’t have a job that paid .
Tommy managed to get to the coffee shop within a few minutes, being that he barely lived a couple streets from it.
The cashier smiled at him as he waved, walking behind the counter for an apron and notepad. He was on waiter duty. Fan-fucking-tastic. Now, it wasn’t that Tommy minded people, he just strongly disliked whenever one of them decided they just had to sit down at one of his freshly-cleaned tables to drink their coffee. No big deal.
It wasn’t Tommy’s favorite pastime, but it was currently the only way he was affording his apartment, and frankly, he wasn’t in the position to bail. Even when three dickheads entered the cafe and sat down.
“Hello,” He approached the far table in the corner, noting that the three sitting down were talking to each other, whispering as if they knew the government’s secrets. “Welcome to Coffee Curb,” - Couldn’t go with ‘corner’? - “May I take your order?” Tommy recited the words as he had nearly everyday for the past year and a half.
“Yeah, um,” A man with curly brown hair started, looking up at Tommy. The guy tilted his head, causing a few stray strands of hair to fall in front of his eyes. “How old are you?” The man blurted out. Tommy blinked, eyebrows furrowing slightly. The man was wearing a yellow sweater, underneath a brown trench coat. - bit extra, innit? It’s summer, dickhead.
Tommy stared at him, the other members at the table sighing, as if this guy asking invasive questions to waiters was a regular occurrence.
“Seventeen. May I take your order?” Tommy kept what some would describe as a ‘half-assed attempt at a smile’ on his face, mentally going over the ways he could poison someone’s coffee without getting arrested.
The man looked at him a moment longer, before leaning his right elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand. “Are you even allowed to work in a coffee shop?” He had a grin on his face, like he was fucking mocking Tommy or some shit.
“Well I work here, don' I?” Tommy said, his smile fading the slightest, before he decided full-on scowling might be a bit much. “Can I take your order, sir? Or do you need more time to think?”
“I’ll order!” A man with shoulder length blond hair spoke up. He looked older than the other two, with a striped green bucket hat on his head. “Could I have a black coffee, three sugars, please, mate?”
“Of course.” Tommy was almost thankful to be given an actual order. Then he realized what he was thinking and quickly shot that down.
Tommy scribbled the order down on the paper, slashing a line under it. “ And for you?” The teen purposely turned to the third person at the table, ignoring that the brown-haired bastard was trying to get his attention again.
“Uh, seven shots of espresso.” The third guy, a man with long, pink hair, said. His eyes were hazel, and despite looking bored out of his mind, his posture was alert, like he could be attacked at any moment.
“...Like, in a latte?” Tommy questioned, getting a snort from the brunette, and a barely concealed chuckle from the blond.
“Just that.” The man nodded once, and Tommy had to take a second to wrap his mind around the order. Was he gonna die? Would Tommy be blamed? Damn, he really didn’t want to get in trouble today. Especially after he had spilled like, three coffees on his manager a couple days before.
“...Alright.” Tommy sighed, writing down the order. He turned to the brown-haired bitch, who looked like he was having the time of his life. Tommy ignored him, “Anything else?”
The man made an offended squawking noise, sputtering something about; ‘Wha- me! I want to order’.
Tommy sighed, turning to the man that he had just decided was now his arch-nemesis “Right, of course. What would you like?” Tommy said, his expression turning more exasperated.
“I want a caramel mocha. Iced, please.” He spoke quickly, grinning up at Tommy as he eyed him suspiciously in return. Scribbling down the order, Tommy spoke up again, “Right. And will you be paying with cash or credit?”
“How do you know what credit is?” The brunette asked, and Tommy whipped his head around to face him, a glare on his face. His reaction caused the blond to cover his mouth with his spare hand - an attempt to hide his snickering.
“You know what, bitch-” Tommy began, before being rudely cut off by his manager,
“Tommy!” He heard a voice yell from behind him; Mr. Halo, or ‘Bad’ if you didn’t care about professionalism. Tommy didn’t. “Stop cussing out the customers! Also, language !”
Tommy suppressed a frown, clearing his throat at the half-laughing adults in front of him. “Excuse me.” Tommy turned and walked towards Bad. “I wasn’t cussing him out !-” The three men only heard the beginning of the conversation before the man - a guy with black hair, dark brown eyes, and a black apron over his red, gray and black polo shirt - whisper-shouted something in Tommy’s direction and the younger shut up. The teen handed the manager a slip of paper before turning back to the table.
Tommy grumbled, muttering curses and general Bad-upsetting words under his breath as he stopped in front of the table.
“Cash or credit?” He asked, not bothering to smile at the dickheads.
“Cash.” The blond said, a warm smile on his face, and Tommy decided that he hated him the least out of the three.
“Great.” Tommy said. “You can pay at the counter, your order will be done in like, three minutes, probably.” Tommy had given the order paper to Bad, who had probably given it to Ant and that blond-haired fellow: Punt, or something.
A few minutes of semi-relaxing order-taking from much better tables, and Tommy was being ushered over by Bad again, who had a drink carrier with three drinks placed in it.
“I’m giving you this to take to table five. I want you to apologize, and ask if they need anything else. Alright?” Tommy frowned, he knew what table that was, and who was sitting at it.
He did not want to go there.
“But, Bad -” Tommy started, but was cut off by the older man holding a hand up, lifting one finger to silence the teen.
“Please, Tommy.” Bad gave him a hopeful smile, and Tommy begrudgingly took the drinks to table five.
--
Wilbur was having a shit morning, to say the least.
First, his alarm hadn’t gone off. Something that, in and of itself, wasn’t the worst.
No matter, though, because the day seemed to get progressively more shit from there.
Then, of course, Phil had gone full spring-cleaning mode and had torn the kitchen apart, throwing away things that had been sitting in their fridge for the past three months, in turn leaving their counters a complete mess , and making it impossible to find anything.
Then, Techno had burned the coffee. How do you burn coffee? Wilbur has no fucking clue, but Techno managed to do it. So they had no coffee by 10am. Again, a lovely occurrence.
Oh, and to top it all off, Phil decked some creep that was bothering a group of teens walking home, in turn traumatizing a six-year-old who had wandered away from his mom- While in full civilian attire, no less.
Overall, it wasn’t the most relaxing morning.
But it would be a nice afternoon , because Wilbur was finally getting coffee. From a nice coffee shop that he had been to a couple times before.
And Techno and Phil had agreed to come with him! It wasn’t often that the three went out as a group, the possibility that they’d get recognized a bit too likely for their liking.
By the time they arrived at the coffee shop, there were only a few tables full, the smell of coffee and various baked goods a welcome change from the exhaust-filled streets. Wilbur happily led them to a table in the corner, plopping down in the nearest chair before either Phil or Techno could object.
When the waiter arrived, they looked to be fourteen, and utterly exhausted. Not by their expression, though - not entirely. No, they had a smile firmly plastered on their face, almost convincing. They looked exhausted by how they were slouched over ever-so-slightly, like they were trying really hard to have good posture. That, and the way their eyes were adorned with shadows not entirely normal for a child of their age.
Wilbur listens as the kid recites a welcome, waiting for them to place their orders. Wilbur would be lying if he had said he wasn’t curious on whether or not the teen was actually allowed to work in a coffee shop.
“How old are you?” He blurted out, and both Techno and Phil signed, Techno lifting up a menu to block his face. Dick.
“Seventeen.” The waiter answered simply. “May I take your order?” The teen asked again, and Wilbur almost wanted to take pity on him and move on. Almost.
“Are you even allowed to work at a coffee shop?” Wilbur continued to pester the kid, which inevitably led to the boy ignoring him in favor of taking the orders of his family members, before him.
When they were waiting for their coffee, the waiter - who looked significantly less like he was going to put up with Wilbur’s shit - walked over to them, placing a drink carrier with their drinks in front of the trio.
“I’d like to apologize for my behavior. It was unprofessional and rude.” The boy grumbled, glaring at nothing in particular, and Wilbur paused from where he was reaching for his mocha. That wasn’t exactly what he expected the kid to say. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“We’re good mate, thank yo-” Phil attempted to reassure, failing miserably when Wilbur interrupted him.
“Actually,” Wilbur started, he didn’t want to make the waiter too upset, just annoy him a little. Wilbur was finding it very amusing that the kid looked ready to poison his drink. “What’s your name?”
The teen took a few seconds to glare at Wilbur before responding, “Why does it matter?”
“Well, you’ve been such a good waiter, we want to put in a good word with your manager.” Wilbur grinned, resting his chin on his hands.
The kid glared at him, probably about ready to rip Wilbur’s throat out. “David Attenborough.” He deadpanned and Wilbur had to stop himself from bursting into a fit of laughter. He distantly heard Techno snort next to him.
“ David , really?” Wilbur grinned. “Cause I distinctly remember your manager - or, whoever that was - call you something else.” Tommy scowled at him, and Wilbur’s grin widened. “So, is it really ‘David’, Tommy?”
“Wilbur.” Phil warned, and Wilbur turned to face him. “Let him be, he’s just doing his job.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t know calling customers ‘bitch’ was in the job description-”
“Alright, you wanker-” The waiter started, but his words were cut off by someone else at the table speaking up.
“Alllright.” Techno interrupted, successfully making Wilbur’s grin fall. “You can go.” He said, looking at the kid, and Wilbur frowned.
“But Techno , I was just talking with him!” Wilbur whined, and Tommy looked genuinely confused by the whole thing.
“If by talking you mean annoying him and purposefully riling him up, then yeah, you were talking .” Techno deadpanned, and the kid snorted.
“Stay out of this.” Wilbur said, glaring at the kid, though it was more pouting than anything.
The kid laughed, “Sure.” And with that, he was gone, walking over to a group of customers that had just entered the shop.
It had been an interesting day so far.
Wilbur was maybe having a good day.
--
Tommy was having an awful fucking time.
Yeah, work had gone well, once the three old men left. But that didn’t excuse the night mishap.
Tommy was on patrol, doing what you do, y’know?
What was until that fucking police decided to be a bunch of wankers.
Tommy was doing his job, and had happened to stumble upon someone trying to hack into a car - Or, whatever it is you do to steal a car.
He was busy zip-tying his hands, absentmindedly listening to his earpiece, which he managed to - through a whole lot of trial and error - use to listen to the police radio.
“Vehicle four, we got a kid playing hero over here- red jacket, hood covering his face, from what I can see. Can you inform him about the rules we have with legal heroes, all that stuff? I’ve got a robbery I have to take care of- He’s on the crossing between 4th and 5th street.”
A crackle.
“Yep, on my way.”
-Wait.
Tommy was on the crossing between 4th and 5th. Tommy was the ‘kid playing hero’. Tommy had a cop coming his way . Fucking dammit.
He was quick to wrap-up the attempted car thief after that.
Tommy was quick in step, though it was more out of precaution than panic. That was until Whisper showed up.
Whisper was one of the more popular heroes, along with Philza and the Blade. His powers were kind of like being super charming- or really good at convincing whomever he spoke to in a voice to do whatever he wanted them to. The voice, to those it wasn’t directed to, sounded like a really tempting offer - like the person he was talking to had a choice .
The Blade’s power was enhanced speed, making him nearly impossible to escape on foot. That, and his signature axe he always had on hand.
Philza’s power was more like a physical advantage; wings. Massive, black, crow-like wings. It was impressive that he was able to fully hide them behind a cloak, during his regular day-to-day ‘civilian’ life. Maybe they could disappear?
Just as Tommy was trying to creep away from who he assumed was a cop, a figure appeared at the mouth of the alleyway he was crossing through. It wouldn’t normally be a problem to escape the police, but they had just recently developed these almost impossible to find tracking devices - Tommy learned that the hard way, when a police car was able to follow him three miles, before he found a little bug-looking device on his clothes - and Tommy really didn’t want to have to deal with that.
“Listen, officer-” Tommy sighed, turning around, but stopped himself when he saw who exactly was blocking his escape; Whisper.
“Officer? Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Red Ferret .” The fucking hero had a grin on his face, a hand resting over the sheathed sword on his hip.
“Whisper. To what do I owe this displeasure?” It was at this moment that Tommy was immensely grateful for the B-grade voice modifier that was stitched into his mask, because it covered up the slight shake to his words.
For the record, Tommy wasn’t scared of any hero, much less Whisper . But he had just recently discovered what Whisper’s powers felt like first-hand, and he wasn’t too eager to experience that again.
“Oh, y’know, just a pest that needs taking care of.” The hero’s grin only widened, and Tommy suppressed a scoff; he wasn’t a pest!
“Oh really? Should watch your back then, wouldn’t want to accidentally arrest yourself.” Whisper’s grin dropped, as Tommy’s own widened.
Whisper scoffed, “Let’s hurry this up, I’ve got better things to do.” Tommy had just enough time to react before a shimmering sword made contact with his chest, resulting in a nasty cut on the arm.
“Oh, you dick.” Tommy said, as he touched a hand to the wound, his face scrunching up at the sight of blood on his gloves. Great , his shirt was also ripped again. Heroes just assume that people can afford to sew up their suit every single patrol?
Whisper didn’t make a move to reply, just swinging the sword again, aiming for the vigilante’s middle.
If Tommy was being honest, when he saw Whisper, he was hoping he could just annoy the man with a few snarky remarks, and leave before they had to physically fight. Things never seemed to go his way, though.
After a few minutes of Whisper swinging his sword, and Red Ferret narrowly avoiding, the older looked just about done with the vigilante’s dodging, confirmed with how the hero swore at the vigilante.
“Just- let me turn you in! You gremlin!” Whisper eventually said, as he took a second to catch his breath.
“Gremlin?!” Red Ferret paused, distaste clear in his eyes - the bottom half of his face covered by his mask - “Listen here, bitch boy, I am no such thing-!” Tommy shouted back, tempted to lunge at the hero.
Although his train of thought was put to a halt when Whisper barked out a laugh, throwing his head back.
The Red Ferret blinked, before smirking. Rookie move, dickhead .
Red Ferret jumped at the hero, who let out a surprised noise. The Red Ferret elbowed Whisper in the chest, knocking him to the ground and kicking the sword out of his hand, roughly hitting the pavement a few feet away from them both.
“You-” Whisper's attempt at cursing out the vigilante was interrupted, when Red Ferret pulled out his knife, pressing it into the hero’s throat- not enough to cut, Tommy wasn’t that kind of vigilante, but enough to get the point across. The vigilante had a knee jabbed just under Whisper’s ribs, the other braced next to him on the pavement.
“Don’t. Say. Shit.” The Red Ferret spoke, pausing between each word, to get the man to understand that he was being hella serious. Well, mostly serious, seeing as it was implied that if the guy did say anything, Tommy would- y’know. But Tommy’s whole thing was not killing people. Whisper didn’t seem to know that, though.
Whisper stayed frighteningly still, eyes slightly widened and calculating.
Tommy look a breath, trying to steady his jumble of thoughts. His hand was still as it held the knife, though, from practice.
“Look,” The Red Ferret began, “I’m going to leave, and you’re going to wait at least three minutes before moving. Got it?” Whisper just furrowed his eyebrows, clearly waiting for a different option.
“Fine, two minutes.” Ferret said. When Whisper just raised an eyebrow, the Red Ferret grumbled, “Speak.”
“...I would catch you the second I could move.” Tommy almost laughed at the sheer amount of confidence the hero had. “And that’s if I even agree to your ‘deal’.”
“If you don’t, well ,” Ferret let the knife dig slightly closer to the hero’s artery. “Who's the one with the knife to the other’s throat?” Red Ferret smirked, false confidence lacing his words.
“Oh, my dear vigilante,” Whisper grinned and leaned closer, to which Tommy carefully pulled the knife away, purely out of worry he’d actually cut the man’s throat. “You never had the upper hand.”
Tommy’s brows furrowed, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could get the words out, a loud boom sounded out. The vigilante shot his head up, no longer focusing on the knife he had at the man’s throat.
Whisper cackled, and before Tommy could tell him to shut up , a figure appeared at the end of the alley, outline barely visible from where Tommy was sitting.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, mate.” Tommy trained his gaze on the blue eyes of the figure- a man with two jet black wings that stretched out to block the rest of the city from view. Shit fuck shit .
The Red Ferret turned back to the man he was partly kneeled on, the knife no longer seeming like enough of a threat to him.
Tommy quickly grabbed the front of the hero, forcing him to sit up, adjusting to have a foot over his legs. He kept the knife securely pressed to the hero’s throat, hoping that his teammate would perhaps fret over his safety.
Philza - or ‘Philza Minecraft’, as referred to on Reddit - tsked, staring daggers into the vigilante. “Don’t try anything, we’ve got you surrounded.” The Red Ferret heard the sound of feet hitting the ground behind them, blocking off the fire escape. He whipped his head around, seeing the Blade, his signature axe resting over his shoulder. It wasn’t going to be easy to escape all three of them , much to Tommy’s dismay.
“Me? Surrounded?” The Red Ferret forced a scoff that sounded confident. “Not bloody likely.” Tommy jumped up, sheathing the knife and booking it towards the entrance of the alley.
If Red Ferret just jumped at the right angle, he could duck under Philza’s wings, and make a run for it. Tommy had seen Philza fly more than a few times, and it would take about two seconds for him to be able to fold his wings back in, meaning that neither Whisper nor The Blade would be able to get past Philza until then. A few seconds would be long enough to get a yard or two away, especially with Tommy’s enhanced speed-
Before Tommy could react, he was being kicked over, and immediately pinned to the floor. His head hit the ground hard , and pain shot through his body.
Tommy could vaguely hear a conversation, straining to pick up the sound through his ringing ears. He didn’t have a concussion, probably. It was most likely just the force from his head hitting the ground that threw him off. Probably
“-him into the police.” Tommy finally heard a voice speak, the ringing starting to subside. The voice was almost melodic- Whisper then. When did the hero get up?
“We don’t even know if the police would be able to keep the guy from slitting their throats, he clearly had you cornered, Whisper .” This voice was deeper, more gruff. So the Blade.
“Hey! It’s not my fault that my voice wasn’t working: someone needed me to bail them out!” Ah, so that’s why Tommy wasn’t immediately forced to turn himself in. Funny.
Tommy heard the Blade take a breath, getting ready to speak.
“Boys, enough. You can argue after we handle this criminal.” Philza. Tommy heard Whisper grumble something under his breath, and the Blade cleared his throat.
Criminal? Why were they not going after the criminal, instead bothering the famous ‘Red Ferret’ himself?
Oh.
“Is um… is the kid alive?” Blade questioned, and suddenly there was silence. Said silence went on for just a few seconds too long to be calming. Tommy’s vision was still kind of blurry, and only then did he realize that he had opened his eyes a crack.
“I- huh, maybe?” Whisper said, and fuck him, he didn’t sound nearly concerned enough.
Then again, Tommy never did great with pity, of all things.
Philza sighed, “Wil, could you check his heartbeat, please?” Tommy always saw him as the leader, good for him for taking initiative.
Wait no, fuck him for being a bitch boy .
After a moment, the foot on Red Ferret’s stomach was removed, and a hand was reaching to touch his wrist.
The moment he could, Red launched himself into the air, his hood blown slightly ajar before he tugged in roughly back into place.
The Red Ferret slid past Philza, who Tommy noted now had his wings folded behind his back. In a matter of seconds, Tommy was booking it away from the heroes, breath quickening along with his heartbeat. It was almost like a rhythm. Maybe he would create a song to go along with it.
Now though, Tommy couldn’t rest until he was far away from the dickheads who had been about five seconds away from arresting him.
Tommy’s ears twitched from underneath his hoodie, and he could see a figure approaching from his left. He turned right.
Red Ferret spotted a fire escape a couple yards away from him. He could climb it to get some space between himself and the heroes on his tail. (Not literally of course, they were much too heavy to literally be on his tail)
The Ferret took a leap left, before retracting at the speed of sound and jumping right. He had hoped he had been able to set them off balance and earn himself an extra few seconds ahead of the trio.
His hands wrapped around the bars of the ladder the moment he reached it, and in another he was scrambling into the closest open window.
“There!” Whisper shouted, and Red Ferret sucked in a breath, allowing himself a glance back at the heroes to see the Blade quickly gaining on him.
Red Ferret swung open the door to a utility closet, running right past it. He hoped it would be a good obstacle if The Blade had to go around it.
As he ran in one direction, Tommy spotted a window at the end of a hall, sprinting towards it.
Even if he were to get cut with the glass, it would be better than getting thrown in jail for the rest of his measly existence.
The Red Ferret reached to grab his knife, fumbling a bit before slamming the handle into the glass, cringing at the way glass shards flew everywhere.
What Tommy did not prepare for, however, was for an alarm to sound out, blaring into his ears.
“Tech- Blade! Grab him!” Tommy realized that he had frozen, claws digging into the wood of the frame. The glass had already left marks on his skin, cutting the fabric, but he couldn’t feel it with the sound of the alarm filling his ears.
Red Ferret quickly ducked under the frame of the window, standing with his feet on the bottom of the wood. His right hand held on tightly to the outside of the building, claws barely scratching the surface.
“Hey- Fuck, the kids gonna fall.” Tommy could hear Philza say, and part of him registered that the three heroes were still after him, but all he could focus on was how beautiful the city looked at night, from how high he was. Maybe he should get a bit closer- touch the lights. It looked so peaceful -
“Well, get him down!” Someone shouted, and Tommy had to shake himself out of his thoughts. No need to go down that rabbit hole.
“Well, well, what’ll it be, fellas?” The Red Ferret questioned, and all three heads snapped towards him. He adjusted his footing to be able to look at them while still holding onto the window.
“You’ll turn yourself in, and forget this -” Whisper started, but Tommy recognized what the hero was trying to do, and he was not having it.
Red Ferret leaned his head into the hand gripping the wall, and dug his other hand roughly into its other side.
“La la fucking la! Can’t fucking hear you!” Red Ferret screamed, and judging by the way Whisper and the others grimaced at the volume of his voice, they heard him.
Philza turned and said something to the others, before turning back to Red Ferret. Tommy carefully unclasped his ear, the other still securely blocking his right ear. It was getting kind of tiring just leaning over the edge of the city. Was the alarm still going?
“You have two choices,” Whisper finally said, stepping forward, and Tommy sighed. Bargaining, now? Really? “One: You come with us, and we turn you into the cops-”
“Not happenin’!” Red Ferret immediately swore.
“-Two: You fall, and- y’know, die.
Oh.
So they saw it as only one option, really.
Whisper smirked, arms crossed over this chest. Philza stood, looking at the vigilante with an expectant look. The Blade looked mostly bored and entirely unbiased with the whole situation.
“Well, I mean, I guess…” Red Ferret began, his voice softer than usual. He lifted his head so his ear was no longer covered, as he adjusted his footing again. To the heroes, and anyone else, it looked as though he was about to step back inside.
Then, Tommy looked back at the city, all of the buildings glowing with lights from where night owls, people with the night shift, and insomniacs stayed awake.
Red Ferret turned back to the heroes, “I think I’ll go with the second one.” And with that, and a two fingered salute, Tommy was falling through the air.