Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Fuck off!” Tommy yelled to his roommate— ex roommate— as he struggled to drag his suitcase down the staircase. He would have taken the elevator, but it was fucking broken, again.

“Get a damn job!” His roommate yelled again in blinding hot rage, his face flushed pink from the exertion, throwing a black hoodie to the ground in front of him— of which he greedily scooped up (clothing is expensive , okay?).

“This place is a fucking shit hole anyways,” He says, turning to unhook the suitcase wheel from where it was caught. “And you’re a fucking asshole! I’m not coming the fuck back!”

“Good! You’ve only burdened me! No fucking wonder you’re a fuckin’ junkie now, pathetic. ” The man spit at his feet, disgust crossing every feature in his face. 

Damn . That hit far closer than he would have prefered; tears involuntarily welling in his eyes. Tommy turned back before the man could have any pleasure in it. He tugged himself down the stairs, suitcase knocking each step with a loud bang .

At one point they were friends— until Tommy turned to the “wrong people”, as his roommate so kindly put it. He doesn’t believe that. It’s not his fault the man can’t handle change in his life; his outbursts always ending in some kind of damage. He was allowed to do his own things, for Christ's sake.

Tommy was half glad to see this place gone; but upset nonetheless. He was just coming down from the fight, anger still fueling out of his system.

He scoffed one more time, glaring at the tenants who came out of their caves to look at the scene. He pushed his way through the door, feeling the wind tussle his hair, managing through the streets to an alley he knew was nearby, having changed there (embarrassingly) many times.

He’d go on patrol when he’s stressed; being one of the only things he can do to release energy without punching a hole in the wall. Which he should’ve done before he left— next time, he supposes. No one but Tubbo and Ranboo knew of this side hobby, being his two best friends.

He snuck into the alley, quickly changing his clothing after looking around one more time. He covered the suitcase with a thin, matted blanket in the dark corners. If it got stolen… oh well. He could thieve it back.

As a vigilante, he felt free . He typically liked to help in the shadows, having done it for two years now.

His outfit was a thick, black hoodie— since it was easy to hide blood stains in, and easy to blend into his surroundings. He used green cargos he stole from some thrift store months ago, after his old pair of jeans ripped beyond repair. He wore red kneecaps to protect himself from any hard falls, as mistakes have been made.

He added extra pockets and handles throughout the outfit to safely hide knives and guns, without being stabbed as he maneuvered around, and anything else he’d need. He’d usually hidden a cart or a lighter somewhere on his body. 

He had fingerless, leather gloves covering his hands— admittedly, he only got them because he thought they looked badass; but they had come to be pretty helpful in protecting his hand from any injuries.

His hair, which he would pin back behind his hoodie as it was highly identifiable, had grown into a shaggy mullet— he’d recently dyed it a vibrant, deep red. His blonde roots were just starting to peek through. It was the first time he’d ever attempt to dye his hair, but it was pretty fuckin’ cool to him.

The lower half of his face was covered by a red bandana— simple, sure, but it worked. Although his face was covered, he’d gotten a septum piercing impulsively and off his fucking head high a while back, which he thankfully didn’t regret in the morning.

However, his outfit wasn’t the cool part— his powers were. He could best describe it as matter manipulation— even though he didn't know the full extent of it. It slightly scared him. As far as he was aware, he was the only person with this power; or atleast to this… extremity . It appeared as red sparks in the air, where he had gotten his vigilante name Red from, and allowed him to change things. He could make things go flying, or with more practice, change an object entirely. And hell, it even let him fly. (He just doesn’t question these things anymore.)

Red was a vigilante well renowned in the lower districts; even if the Heroes hardly paid a mind to him. He preferred it that way, wanting not to spend his time fighting the Association. Instead, he helped his community: stopping the petty crime and villainy. He helped drop the crime rates significantly , but he was still considered “dangerous”. 

He breathed out again, shaking his head, before releasing his power and shooting up to the roofs of district twelve.

He loved the feeling of flying— the wind flowing through his hair and pushing against him, it was like the world finally went quiet. He felt bad for all those who would never experience this.

He released the hold he had as he reached the rooftop, dropping down to the roof in a quiet thump. He breathed out a smile, and he could almost forget about all the worries and stress of real life. He picked his pace up, running across the roof and to the edge, where he jumped across with a boost of his power. 

He’d stopped a few times to help people cross the street, or prevent some small robberies, but he kept a steady pace across the district.

As the sun dropped and set, he boosted himself up to one of the apartment building roofs overlooking the city. This was one of his favorite spots to go. It was quiet; since no one ever came up here, and it had a perfect view. 

He sighed, sitting himself on the ledge, legs dangling over the side. He dug through one of the pockets in his pants, pulling out his cart. He’d usually steal them, (don’t judge him, okay), since they were fucking expensive . He’d only taken from chain stores, so was he really that bad? 

He brought the cartridge to his lips from under the bandana. Inhaling for ten seconds, and holding it for a bit longer before exhaling. He held the bandana up as he released the smoke into the air, watching it fizzle out.

As he was going to take another hit, a voice behind him monotonously stated, “that’s not very good for you.”

“Fuck!” He startled, nearly jumping off the roof as he whipped around and jumped up. His fists instinctively went to rest on the handle of his knife. 

“Fuck.” He said again, when he realized who was behind him, pocketing the cart. Of course, the one night he wasn’t in the fucking mood , the number two hero Blade has to show up, poking in his business.

Blade wore a thick, red and white fuzz lined cloak. It looked fucking heavy . Underneath, he had a white dress shirt, gray pants, and black combat boots. He had a sheath on the left side of his waist, his most commonly used weapon he aptly named Peace . Which Tommy found fucking pretentious, by the way, considering who he was working for. 

His identity was covered by a thick, pink pig skull. Which must have been some kind of cannibalism, considering the man was a piglin hybrid. His hair reached nearly halfway to his waist, pink (he was starting to notice a theme) and flowing. 

Blade preferred to use hand-on-hand fighting rather than his powers, which Tommy thought was stupid seeing how powerful blood manipulation powers were. But it made it easier for him, he concludes.

“You know, I’m really not in the fucking mood right now Blade, ” he nearly spit out the last word, venom lacing his sentences. 

“Neither m’I, kid. Part of the job.” Blade shrugged, “I don’t want to fight you. Jus’ come in quietly, and this whole thing’ll be a lot easier on us.”

Tommy scoffs, “like I’d ever.” He pulls out a knife, positioning himself defensively if the hero decides to make a move.

Blade sighs, pulling out a sword. Tommy didn’t see how that could be easy to handle in battle, but it was also the man’s whole brand. 

Blade lunged at him, he used his power to push against the man, hoping to stumble him enough to knock him down.

Now, Tommy wasn’t stupid. Blade was basically all brute force and skilled weaponry— if he could keep enough distance, there was hardly anything the guy could do to him. But he was also built like a fucking truck , so keeping him away is a harder challenge than it sounds. 

His best bet would to be run away; but that’s a fucking Pussy move, and he was anything but a Pussy.

His power didn’t do anything to truly hinder the man, so with a flick of his wrist, he grabbed the sword out of the man’s hand and threw it across the roof. He could see his use of power throw him off— Tommy had never really, publically, used his power, and has never garnered much attention from the Heroes— but the man decided to continue without it.

“C’mon, Blade, let’s just call it a day,” Tommy calls, making more distance between them. 

“Sorry, no can do,” he grunts, running towards Tommy again.

Tommy groans, deciding to take a more offensive approach. He ran towards Blade, momentarily distracting the man, sliding behind him kicking his knees in. The hero stumbled for balance before quickly whipping around, and getting a kick on Tommy’s chest. He kicked like a damn bull.

Tommy grunted, hand instinctively reaching to hold his ribs, probably fractured by now, “asshole!”

His face flushed with anger, and he sent a flare of energy flying to Blade’s stomach. This, being overtly run by his anger, gave enough force to knock the man back, to the ground. 

Tommy barely had time to revel in the victory before he shot up and jumped over the building. He could head Blade stumble over to the edge with what little energy he had left, looking for where Tommy had gone.

By that time, he was already shooting up way past the buildings; red sparks leaving in his wake. 

Blade was left gaping, standing on the roof watching the vigilante fade into the horizon. Number two hero Blade bested by a teenager. That would make headlines.

Who the hell was this kid?

—

Tommy stumbled back into the alleyway, every breath giving him a dull pain. He was sure he didn’t break his ribs, just bruised them. Badly.

He changed his shirt back into his previous green sweater, opting to keep his cargos on. He placed the knives and mask carefully into his suitcase, shaking his hair out and rubbing his eyes. 

“Stupid… fuckin’ heroes…” he grumbled as he packed away the last of his stuff into the suitcase. He tugged it along behind him, still close by, and pulled out his phone. 

His finger hovered over the call button when he reached Tubbo’s contact. Biting the bullet he anxiously rang him. He didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go, and Tubbo has always offered a place in his and Ranboo’s place before. It’s not like he didn’t want to go, he just didn’t want to burden them. 

“Tommmyyy!!!” Tubbo yelled when he picked up. Tommy winced from the loud sound, but laughed nonetheless.

“Hi Tubs,” he says. He took a deep breath. “So, you know. I got kicked out… finally.” 

“What?” Concern laced his voice. “Oh, that fucking asshole. Tom, we’re gonna get you.” He heard Tubbo mutter something to Ranboo behind the screen.

He let out a sigh of relief. He was relieved that his friend didn’t question his request, “thanks Tubbo. You— you’re sure though, right? It’s not gonna be a problem?”

“No! I’ll tell Ranboo to go get you, okay? Where are you?” 

“I’m… next to my apartment— well, my old one, I guess.” 

“Okay, okay. Ranboo’ll be there in just a second.” He heard some scuffling behind the phone, and then a vwoop appeared next to him. 

He startled slightly, before realizing it was just Ranboo.

Ranboo had teleportation as their power— perks of them being half Enderian. He could “change” forms between Human and Enderian, which was pretty damn cool. Their Enderian side was a behemoth, standing at a lanky seven feet tall. His skin was split black and white, and his eyes a red and green on either side while in this form. Winding horns appeared on the sides of their face, and their ears were longer and more… elf-like. However, as an Enderian, they were allergic to water ; which is rather inconvenient.

Their Human form wasn’t lacking in the height department either, being six foot six.  He preferred his Human form anyways— it attracted a lot less attention, him being painfully socially shy. 

As a human, he couldn’t teleport— they had no abilities other than being able to reach the top shelf.

Tubbo, on the other hand, was a goat hybrid— although he inherited no powers or form-shifting from that side. Alongside his hybridity, he had enhanced strength, stamina, and hearing. He could be an absolute tank if he wanted to.

“Hi Tommy,” Ranboo smiled at him, offering out a hand. He hesitated, if only for a brief moment because he knew how nauseating teleporting was, before grabbing his hand. “Ready?”

Tommy nodded, and then they vwipped into the apartment. His head, now lightheaded and woozy, nearly blacked out upon arriving. Teleporting is something he didn’t think he’d ever get used to. 

He covered his mouth with one hand, leaning against the couch, bile rising up his throat. Ranboo reached out to him for stabilization while Tubbo laughed in the background, to which he happily flipped off. 

“I do not know how you do that all day, Ran.” He says at last, looking at the other two teenagers in the room. The Enderian just shrugs and smiles at him awkwardly.

“I am ex -fucking- hausted .” Tommy says, yawning and looking around the room despite having been here millions of times before. He rolls the suitcase to the corner of the room, beside the TV stand. Tubbo and Ranboo afforded a fairly nice apartment, for district twelve, although still one room— it had heating, and hot water, which was a win in his book.

“Do you want to take the couch?” Tubbo offers, walking over with a pillow and blanket in hand.

Tommy shrugs in affirmation, and Tubbo sets out the bedspread. They’ve had this couch for years , made of cheap, synthetic leather. It worked, though; so who was he to judge?

“Thank you guys. I don’t— I really don’t know what I would do without you.” He manages out, a brief moment of vulnerability passing him by. Ranboo leans over the couch to give him a hug, and he wraps an arm back around them.

“Gotta stick together, Tom. Fuck that asshole you were living with.” Tubbo says, voice muffling as he joined the hug before they separated.

He laughs appreciatively, “yeah.”

“Okay, well… it’s way past my bedtime.” Ranboo says awkwardly. “Shower’s open for you.”

“I don’t smell that bad.”

“No, yeah, please take a shower.” Tubbo says, backing away. 

He rolls his eyes, “sure.”

When they both left to the bedroom, he rustled through his bag for a pair of pajamas. He settled on black shorts and a baggy, gray t-shirt. He would never have felt comfortable wearing shorts anywhere but here, feeling like he was displaying his scars and injuries for the whole world to see. It just made him uncomfortable; he wasn’t quite ready for that.

A while back, he’d gotten an arm of tattoos to cover the majority of his scars, but even then it couldn’t hide everything. He wasn’t sure if he’d get more tattoos to cover the scars he had, on his legs especially, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

He made his way to the bathroom, showering quickly through the luke-warm water and changing into his things. He brushed through his hair while it was still wet, planning on letting it air dry. He, unfortunately, did not have anything for his curls, so he just brushed it out most days.

He looked at himself a last time before going to sleep.

—

“Tommy,” something whispered, he felt his side being prodded. “Tommy,” it whispered again.

“Wha—what.” Tommy sleepily slurred out, finally stirring awake as he rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes.

“Good morning! You won’t believe the job offering I’ve got for you.” Tubbo smiles cheekily, as he always does when he has a terrible plan.

“Do I even wanna know..?” He asked genuinely, knowing what the answer would be anyways.

“No! So,” he began, walking to the kitchen across, and behind the couch, and flipping the lights on. They flickered in and out before stabilizing, “hear me out on this one.”

“Great…” Tommy groaned, sitting up further to watch Tubbo as the blanket fell around his waist.

“SBI has the position of an intern.” Tubbo plainly stated, and before Tommy was able to protest he added, “you know how much money they make! This could be life changing, Tom. Plus I didn’t go through the effort of forging documents for no reason.”

Tommy looked at him stupidly, a look of bewilderment written on his face. “You’re not kidding, are you?” The goat hybrid just shook his head in confirmation, a grin crossing his face.

Tommy just groaned, burying his head into a couch cushion, “Tubbo, this is the worst idea I think you’ve ever had. I’m a vigilante . Heroes, vigilantes, don't mix too well, in case you remember!” 

“Well you won’t be going as Red, dumbass. You’re going as Theseus Innes .” Tubbo threw a document on his lap. “Read that, memorize it. Interviews in a few hours!” 

“I am going to go to Pandora because of your fuck ass…” he muttered as his hand opened the file. Tubbo just laughed at him before closing the bathroom door.

Theseus Innes. Not the name he would’ve chosen, but it’s alright. Nineteen years old, aged out of the foster system, and currently lives with his two roommates in upper district twelve. Graduated high school, but never pursued higher education. Yada, yada, yada.

 His eyes briefly skimmed the rest of the page, and the resume attached onto it.

This would be a long day .

—

He wore the nicest clothing he could find; a pair of too-big blue jeans that weren’t yet torn or patched under a plain, black t-shirt. He hoped it wasn’t unprofessional to expose tattoos, but it was also just an interning position. He’d live if he didn’t get the job. 

He couldn’t help the itch in the back of his mind begging him to get high, even when he knew he couldn’t now. He could feel the irritability threatening him to collapse. After the interview , he promised himself. 

Part of the reason he’d not moved in with Tubbo and Ranboo sooner was because of this… problem. He knew he could get it underhand for them; he’d hardly believe it had even gotten bad yet. It was still a problem, though, if he’d admit it or not.

He did his best to shake these thoughts for the time. He ruffled his hair, combing out any knots he found. He patted the stray frizz down with water, similarly washing his face down. 

“Tommy!” Tubbo banged on the door, “you gotta get going!”

He groaned, “I still don’t understand how you think this is a good idea. I’m counting on you to bail me out, you know.”

He unlocked the door, quickly throwing on his pair of converse. They were a little ratty by now, but it was a fashion choice . Mhm.

“All grown up,” Tubbo wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye, and Tommy whacked him behind the head.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy muttered below his breath. “Don’t die while I’m gone,” he told Tubbo flatly before shutting the front door behind himself. He walked down the set of stairs, a much nicer stairwell than his last residence. Really, anything was nicer than that shithole.

It took him only a few minutes longer to reach the subway: district twelve being one of the only lower districts to have a direct line to upper. 

The subway itself wasn’t bad, with the upper districts doing a lot to maintain its cleanliness. The Hero Tower was located smack dab in the middle of district two, where only the wealthy could ever afford to live. 

The ride there was hardly past thirty minutes, though Tommy had rarely gone up past eight. District two was nice. Too nice. It gave a near plastic look, but Tommy knew there was more than meets the eye. It was the Association’s doing, he knew. 

It was all big, towering, extravagant buildings of no use other than aesthetical. Rich fucks . He could almost appreciate the beauty, though. 

As he closed in on the Hero Tower, he could already notice large crowds making their way in. And by fuck, he was underdressed. Tommy did not see the reasoning for wearing a full-blown suit to an interning position. He was so incredibly out of place, it nearly made him embarrassed.

He knew now that there was no way in hell he was going to get hired, but he could say he tried.

He greeted the receptionist at the desk, who noted down his name and pointed him to the floor he’d go to. He smiled appreciatively as he left.

He anxiously stood behind a particularly large group of people, occasionally bumping into someone— to which he got a nasty look every time. He didn’t want to be here either, alright?

He followed the group of people to the elevator, hiding himself in the far corners. He could already feel their judgment, pitying looks that seemed to pry into his mind.

He glared back at each one of them, hoping it got the message across. 

The elevator closed and reopened again with ding , to the twenty-third floors waiting room. He had never quite seen such a huge room— it probably held up to forty chairs— full with tons of fancy pricks in suits interviewing for an average, minimum wage job. High demand, he supposed.

He tucked himself away into a far corner of the room, hoping for a minute of silence away from… everything. This was already an overwhelming experience for a job he wouldn’t even get , and he was afraid he’d go batshit crazy if some rich prick tried to talk to him.

The people filtered in and out fairly quickly, some of them leaving confidently, others with their heads hung low. After an agonizingly long wait (really, they should have thought about wasting his precious time), his name was mechanically called out— someone he didn’t recognize beckoning him towards them. Tommy obliged, giving a small nod of acknowledgment as he passed them by into the room. They shut the door behind him.

Into a room with the top two heroes . Oh, fun, they were doing the interviews, he thought. Nothing like being surrounded by the same people gunning for your life everyday.

“Theseus, right?” Angel said, motioning him to sit down. 

Blade sat quietly off to the side, a small chair in the corner and a notepad under his leg. He could feel his eyes scour and observe every part of himself: it made him uncomfortable, as if he were to look deeper and see Red.

Angel was a peculiar hero. Even though Tommy was a firm believer that the Association was corrupt, he could hold some level of respect for the man.

He was one of the earliest heroes on scene, in fact having been a vigilante for a short time before his formal employment. The man adopted large, black crow wings— being an avian. Avians were rare , being highly sought after and sold into trafficking most times. 

He adorned a long, green cloak over a simple black shirt and jeans. He, more classically, wore a striped white and green bucket hat over his short-cut blonde hair; and a crow skull to protect his identity. 

Angel, beyond his wings, had avian telepathy. Which meant, in simple terms, he could talk to birds of his kind— crows . It was rare to see a stray bird or two not following him around.

He was an extremely skilled fighter, and where wings may have been a burden for any other person, he used it to his advantage in warding enemies off. Angel traditionally used throwing knives, if he were to engage in weaponry. The knives were made of netherrite, which was really fucking expensive.

He held a higher level of adoration for the work Angel did; being one of the few heroes who didn’t do it for any popularity. In his opinion, atleast. 

Tommy realized he was staring dumbfounded at the man, in a near awe. He quickly shook himself of this, nodding quickly and scrambling dumbly to his seat. “Please, just Tommy is okay.”

Angel nodded, then flipped through the pamphlet on his table. He presumed it was his file.

“So, Tommy, any reason you’re applying for a position here today?” Angel asks him, hands folding together as his eyes stare intently.

“Uhh— well; I’ve always wanted to work with the heroes, I guess.” He blatantly lies through his teeth. “And money, you know, since I’m from district twelve.”

“District twelve?” He could tell Angel was surprised. “I hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle to get here then, mate.” 

Tommy shrugged, anxiously rubbing his palm against his knuckles. “Wasn’t too bad.”

Angel smiled and nodded again, eyes still intensely trained on Tommy. “Do you have any prior qualifications for an interning position here?”

“Well…” he thought about it for a moment. “I can adapt well to new climates and such. I’m able to get on my feet in tense situations, and I’ve had a history in self defense training.”

Angel gave an acknowledging noise, “that’s great!” He patted the table, standing up. “I think that’ll probably be it, then. We’ll send a message your way when we make a decision, okay?”

Tommy froze, “what— that’s it?” He cringed immediately, backtracking on that response. “Sorry, but that just seemed quick.”

Angel laughed, “yeah. There’s just a lot of applications out there, so we may have cut down on the questions.”

Tommy gave an awkward laugh, knowing he just absolutely fucked any chance he had. “Yep, I can see that.” He said, hand resting on the door’s handle. “Uh— thank you for your time.” 

He got out of the room as fast as he could, not bothering to wait for a response.

That went well. 

Chapter Text

Tommy went out on patrol. Ranboo was on the other end of his earpiece since Tubbo was studying for school.

He still hadn’t told them about his… pleasant interaction with Blade the other day. They would have, firstly, gotten pissed that he didn’t tell them before going on patrol; and secondly that he fought Blade. He, still, is reeling from the adrenaline of it all.

And now they want him to work for the same heroes. Even if they didn’t know the disaster that was his interview, he’d discuss it later. Probably. Maybe.

“Robbery a few blocks down your left, Red,” Ranboo informed him, and Tommy quickly boosted himself across the roof to follow the street.

“On it, big man.” He said simply, pushing himself further as red sparks lingered in his wake.

He narrowed in on the building finally— he could see through the windows, a small cafe with three armed men inside, huddling civilians in a corner while they robbed the register. He couldn’t imagine there was much in there to rob.

He dropped silently next to the building, before loudly announcing his presence when the glass door flew open. He momentarily cringed when it banged against the wall, hoping it didn’t shatter (it didn’t, thank Prime. He would not have been able to pay for that.)

One of the men standing as a backup— in a stupid, cliche burglar mask, funnily enough— whipped around with a shout and shot at him. It was a familiar loudness.

He flicked the bullet away with a swipe of his wrist, and it fell away to the ground. The man shuddered from shock.

“That wasn’t too nice.” Tommy clicked his tongue, laxly advancing as the other two criminals in the room trained their guns at him.

“Back off, and no one has to be hurt!” One of them shouts at him, waving their gun around.

Tommy let out a laugh, and one of them shot at him again. He, again, flicked it away and ran towards the closest guy near him. With a swift strike to the chin, they stumbled and eventually fell unconscious.

The other two fired at him, sound cutting through the air and flying towards him fatally. He let the bullets fall blankly to the ground. You’d think they would have learned by now, but apparently not.

He blasts one of them away with his power, seeing them hit the ground motionlessly. He knew that it wasn’t enough to kill them.

He ran towards the last man, who looked inches away from running away with his tail tucked between his legs. Well, he didn’t have a tail, so problem number one arises there. With a strong hit to the side of his abdomen and head, the man fell defenseless.

Tommy despised petty criminals like them. They were hardly getting anything out of it, especially not enough to feed three people for more than a few days. It was unnecessarily cruel to the people around them.

He gathered the three unconscious criminals up and zip-tied their arms and legs together, throwing their guns across the room.

He would have stuck around further to wait for all civilians’ safety, but he could hear a faint siren in the distance signaling the Police’s arrival. They couldn’t have been any quicker, huh?

“Are you okay, T—Red?” He heard Ranboo's stress, probably set off by the number of gunshots. He knew that loud noises like that would always trigger them, and he felt a pang of sympathy for the Enderian.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He promises, already working his way back to the apartment. “Nothing I can’t handle.”He could hear Ranboo sigh of relief.

“I’m going to head back now, ‘kay?” Ranboo responded affirmatively.

He nodded his head to the last stray civilians sticking around before leaving the store and boosting himself across the roofs of District Twelve.

The sun was beginning to set, marking the end of his patrol, and the way the sunlight glittered on buildings gave an ethereal look— however beautiful District Twelve could be, anyways. He thought the real beauty was the community here, but he knew others wouldn’t think that way. (Cough, cough, the upper districts.)

In short time, he made it back to his apartment, sliding through the window to the bedroom and changing his clothing out when he made it to the bathroom.

Tubbo got home just as Tommy had, and he was sprawled out on the couch looking defeated. Tommy debated throwing a pillow at him, but he ultimately decided not to for fear of being pelted. Tubbo could do some severe damage if he truly wanted to, and he really didn’t want to test that now.

“I am so hungry,” Tommy groaned, slouching in the chair when he reached the table.

“Niki gave me some extra food if you want,” Ranboo suggests, pointing to the bag sitting on their counter.

“Please,” Tommy begs, scrambling up and to the fridge. Niki’s food was always heavenly. He was so lucky that Ranboo worked there, and that Niki had a soft spot for them.

He pulled out one of the sandwiches— not bothering to heat it before biting into it. Ranboo cringed at him.

Tubbo had gotten off the couch now, grabbing food out of the bag before sitting at the table with them.

“How did the interview go?” Tubbo asked in between bites and Tommy paused.

“Well… y’know…” He says hesitantly, eyes darting away. “It went.”

“Tommy.”

“Look, it’s not even my fault. They had like two questions.” He says, hands up in mock surrender.

Tubbo just sighs at him. Oops.

“I’m probably just… way too overqualified…”

Ranboo raises an eyebrow at him, and Tubbo sighs again.

“I’m gonna…” Tommy awkwardly starts, quickly finishing his sandwich, pointing behind himself to the bathroom. “Take a shower.”

He scrambles inside before any damage can be done.

Tommy rummaged through his bag for a pack of brownie edibles to take before he slept. It was definitely somewhat of a bad habit, but he couldn’t seem to sleep without them. He wanted to take some now, get it out of the way, and give it some time to kick in while he showered.

After a quick shower, careful to preserve the hot water, he threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt to sleep comfortably in. His eyes were dilated, glossier than usual, and his movements slower. He hoped his two roommates didn’t decide to initiate a sudden conversation with him. He didn’t notice them anyway and presumed they went to bed.

He was, honestly, not sure how he managed to fall asleep yesterday without taking anything. He guessed it was some sort of adrenaline crash. Finally, he could feel himself depart into sleep, thoughts slipping away faster than they could even reach him.

-

The next day was much similar to his normal routine. He, for better or worse, ended up smoking most of the time away. Of course, not while either Tubbo or Ranboo was home— he went to the roof anyway. He could easily feel himself fall into the same pattern as if he’d lived with them his whole life. Almost.

He was eating dinner with both of them now. Niki had given Ranboo more food like she could sense that they needed it. An angel of a woman, Niki was.

He chose a simple grilled cheese. He was never one for anything fancy. But, fancy or not, Niki could cook. She must have put something in it, and if anyone were to know, he’d consider himself qualified. Ha.

Tubbo, sat at his computer per usual, yelped; face getting closed to read text. “Oh my god!”

“Wha’?” Tommy said between mouthfuls of food.

Ranboo grimaced, but turned his attention to Tubbo.

“Tommy!” The ram-hybrid yelped again, “You got it!”

“Got…” Tommy started confusedly before the gears clicked in his mind. “Oh no.”

He knew what that meant. And he did not fucking like it.

He got the job. He, vigilante Red and dirt-poor seventeen-year-old from the middle of District twelve, got the job? He was more in amazement that they chose him than anything. Because who the fuck would choose him when there were far better, more qualified rich fucks?

It had to have been some kind of pity. Maybe they had some kind of savior complex for poor little orphans.

Scratch that, they most definitely did.

“Oh yes!” Tubbo said excitedly.

“You’re fucking kidding. How?” Tommy groaned, head hitting the dining table. “I had to be like.. the worst applicant there.”

Ranboo giggled out of what must have been a pure shock. “I guess you did something right.”

His head lifted momentarily to glare at the Enderian. “Great…” he drawled, “I am going to get fucking arrested.”

“Not if you’re smart about it,” Tubbo said, whacking him on the back of the head. He somehow made his way over while Tommy was wallowing in his misery.

In all honesty, he despised the heroes. They overlooked so many things for their convenience and it ruined the city in lower districts. They didn’t bother pretending to patrol, or care, for lower districts anymore. Tommy thinks they could at least put on a show of it. If they did, there wouldn’t be so many vigilantes. And if there weren’t so many vigilantes they could get back to stopping actual villains.

He had a lot of thoughts on this situation. Regardless, he knew it was too great of an opportunity to pass up. Working with the heroes? That would look great on his resume. Although he wasn’t sure what he’d need a resume for after he was locked in Pandora for the rest of his life.

“I am so screwed, you realize that, right?” Tommy says and Tubbo shrugs at him mischievously.

“Your first day is tomorrow.”

Tommy turns to Ranboo with a question. “You’re just gonna let him do this?”

“Hey, don’t look at me.” Ranboo puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Not a part of it.”

Tommy groans once more, hopping out of his seat at the table and jumping to the couch. He stuffs his head in between two pillows as if it would drown out his problems. Or, more specifically, his one very stupid hero problem.

He was so screwed.

—

He was stress smoking. Well, he would have smoked either way, but now it's stress smoking. He was on his way to his new job. He was not too enthused about it, but Tubbo practically kicked him out of the apartment to make him leave.

He’d gotten dressed in the nicest clothing he could find, hopped on the train, and now he’s coming upon the hero tower. It was just as looming as last time; a big glass building of probably fifty floors. It was tall enough that it looked like it would fall over from a gust of wind. He knew better though, considering they had some of the best engineers go into making it.

He could almost regret his… eccentric hair choices but then again, Blade had pink hair. So who really gives a fuck?

He took one last blinker from his cart as he rounded into the hero tower. He smiled at the nice receptionist lady as he passed by her again, who returned the gesture, before shuffling into the elevator quietly. He was the only one inside, but he still kept to the back in case a sudden flood of people came through.

Even being inside the tower made him nervous. Surrounded by a group of people dedicated to jailing you wasn’t exactly his idea of a nice day out. Before the chance of chickening out crossed his mind, the elevator dinged open, to the thirty-ninth floor this time.

It was big. Bigger than the other room he had been in, which was nearly twice the size of his apartment now. At first glance, it looked like a living space, and he could’ve mistaken it for someone's house. Though, that’s probably what it was used for some days.

The room itself was very… open, in a way. Huge windows overlooked the city, to the point it almost made him nervous. The windows spanned all across the wall in front of him, from what his eyes immediately picked up. He wasn’t even ashamed to say he gaped at the view. Sue him.

A huge, black cloth couch was in the center of the room, facing the left-most wall. Directly against the wall was a huge television— and he means huge— (seriously, who needs that big of a screen?). Beneath the couch was a fuzzy, black carpet that reached the huge gap between the television and the sofa.

Behind the couch was the kitchen, where Angel sat leaning against the island counter on his phone. He tried not to gape at him again. The kitchen could probably feed the entire tower, with how big it was.

A wall separated the kitchen from a narrow hallway, leading to four different rooms behind wooden doors.

He turned his attention back to Angel, who seemingly had spotted him, and ushered him closer. He didn’t spot Blade anywhere near, but he didn’t worry about it too badly. He seemed pretty anti-social anyway.

“Hiya, Tommy!” Angel said. “Was the trip here okay?”

“Just fine, thanks.” Tommy said.

Angel nods at him, “if you ever need transportation, I’m sure we could get that sorted out too.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay.” He replies, “thank you, though, sir.”

He felt a little awkward calling Angel sir, but it seemed appropriate in this situation when he was talking to the number one hero.

“Oh, please, just Phil is alright, mate.” The man says.

He was a bit taken aback. by how easily Ang—Phil gave out his name. Sure, he knew realistically that heroes had a lot more protection than regular people, but still? He practically just met him. Like, he could be a vigilante in disguise. That would be crazy.

It also made him laugh. Not because it was particularly funny, but just from the shock. He hoped the hero didn’t find that disrespectful; and from the look on his face, he didn’t. Phil took off his mask, setting it on the island— and he looked surprisingly normal. He didn’t know what he expected, really, but it wasn’t a middle-aged looking father. Well, actually in a way, that made sense for him.

“Okay, then, Phil… sir.” The man rolled his eyes in amusement.

“Well, welcome to the office.” He says, spreading his arms out. It didn’t look much like an office to him.

“And living area.” Phil quickly adds. “We spend a lot of time here.”

“Ah…” Tommy nods. “So this is like… your house?”

Phil laughs, “no. We have a house. We just end up spending a lot of time here.”

“Sure…” Tommy says skeptically. “I believe you.”

The man rolls his eyes again. “Right. I suppose I should give you a tour, huh?”

“That would be wise,” Tommy says affirmatively. He was doing his best to lightly push his boundaries, but it was still crazy to him that he was talking to the number one hero. Like, what?

“Alright, well..” Angel says, leading him to the living room. As if he hadn’t seen it already… but that’s okay, he supposes. “This is the living room, as you… probably guessed.”

Tommy pursed his lips in acknowledgment. “Yup. Nice couch.”

Angel leads him to the hallway he spotted earlier. He points at a door down the very end, walking toward it.

“The one here is my office. If you need to come in, just make sure you knock.” He says, and then points to a door across from it. “That one is Blade’s— same goes for him.”

“Blade— or I guess, Techno— is out right now, but he’ll talk to you later.”

He thought that was a weird name, but he decided it would be better if he didn’t voice this opinion.

Phil led him to the door closest to the main living area, opening it up to a small office. It had a wooden table and office chair, but it was still surprisingly spacious. A computer sat on top of the table, and it looked about as expensive as he did. Although, he could say that Tubbo had a nicer computer. But that was because he was a genius and just created his own, so it didn’t truly count.

“This one is your office!” Phil says, walking inside. “Of course, you can decorate however you like later on, but this is what you have to work with for now.”

Tommy nods, walking around the room and to the chair. “Fuck yeah.”

Oops. He hoped they wouldn’t mind him swearing. That would make his job very complicated. More than it already is, considering he is a wanted vigilante.

Phil just laughs again. “So today, I don’t mind if you just get settled in. Your job will essentially be to handle our social media accounts, and some paperwork. A lot of paperwork. I’m sure you were briefed already on that though.” He nods in confirmation.

It wasn’t so bad though. They already explained the job through the emails, but it was still a nice gesture that he explained. He could remember when Tubbo introduced him to social media— nearly shivering at the memory. Dark times.

“So I just… start interacting online?” The man nodded at him, and he added. “Easy enough.”

“Should be.” He replied, patting the wall. He noticed his habit of just patting things. Maybe it was an old man thing.

“I’ll leave you to get set up, mate. I’ll be out in the kitchen if you need anything.” Phil walked out, calling into the room one last time before closing the door, “The cafeteria is on floor three, so you can go check that out later today!”

He sighed, sitting down. It was going to be a long day. He wasn’t sure he’d meet Blade— no, Techno— today, as he was too nervous to even walk out and bother Phil.

He was ready to go home, despite being here for hardly thirty minutes. Thankfully, his job today wouldn’t be too hard. He had instructions left on sticky notes to get into the accounts.

All of their social media accounts— aptly named some form of “SBI” (which he had no clue what it meant, for the record, but it had been their brand name forever)— were all very dead. Their last tweet was from more than three months ago, and their other accounts hardly had any activity. No-fucking-wonder they needed someone for social media.

His job, according to the emails, was just to manage their online presence. So he could just start tweeting out absolute bullshit right now. That would most definitely get him fired, but tweeting “Red is better,” seemed almost worth it.

He shook that thought from his head, because no, he would not be doing that. Not today, atleast.

After thinking for a moment, he let out his first tweet on the official SBI account, just to spark up discussion again. It wasn’t anything serious, as that could be left to the actual PR team. He was just hired to be funny. Which obviously isn’t a problem for him, being so incredibly wise and hilarious. There was no better way to start his job than to be an absolute idiot online. That has always gone right for him.

Immediately, he began to get notifications from the app. To be fair, it was their first tweet in months, and it was some stupid shit like “sbi twitter takeover” when all their previous ones had been just to announce an interview being released, or something else dreadfully boring.

He held a ton of power to absolutely break their career right now, but he was also still trying to make money. Plus, he’d rather do that to Morpheus or someone who was actually annoying enough to deserve it. Although, this was fun. He might even consider making an account for Red. That would be funny.

He changed his mind. This job would be fun.

Chapter Text

So, it may be twelve at night. And he may be stoned. And he may be in full vigilante attire while his roommates are unaware. While on that line of topic, he, perhaps, could be sitting on the same roof he fought Blade the other day. And he kicked ass, for sure.

Tommy could see and feel the world around him more vividly than sober, even if that sounded a little bit contrary. He wasn’t being careless, but it helped relax him. He would be no good to anyone if he was high on anxiety all day.

As he took another glance over the world around him, sighing, a pair of feet landed near silently behind him. Tommy yelped, nearly tumbling off the roof. He picked himself up and spun around to face the culprit. He brought his arms up defensively.

In all his glory… Angel stood in front of him. Oh, great. He was beginning to think this building was cursed. Ugh, and it was such a nice view. Shame.

“‘Ay.” Tommy says, voice thinly disguised by his voice changer. “What do you want, hero?”

“Mate,” Angel— Phil? He doesn’t really know— quells. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.”

Tommy scoffs, “to talk?” He saw Angel’s eyes flicker down to his raised knuckles.

He nods innocently.

“You heroes don’t talk.”

He shrugs, “I do.”

“Is this like how Blade talked with me? Before pulling a fuckin’ sword, might I add.”

The man shakes his head, “No, not like that.” He laughs. “I do want to talk.”

“Yeah? How do I know that you’re not— tryna arrest me?” He replies, inching backwards. “I’m not too fond of prison, y’know. Or heroes.”

Angel laughs again, shrugging slowly. “You don’t, I guess. But I keep my word, I promise.”

“Right…” he replies skeptically. “The fuck are you here for then?”

“You caught my eye, I suppose.” Angel says. “Fighting Blade and winning? Not many people can say that.”

“Guess not.” Tommy shrugs, still harboring some suspicion. I mean, the number one hero coming to congratulate you on defeating their colleague? That’s suspicious as hell. “But you can’t have come all the way out here to talk about Blade.”

“No,” he said. “You’re right.”

“Okay…” Tommy said, waving his hands forward.

“They want me to recruit you.” He said, bluntly.

Tommy let out a startled laugh. “Me?”

Angel shrugs. “I told them you wouldn’t come, but they insisted. I mean, you’re powerful, you must see why.”

He scoffed, “I’d rather be caught dead and shining Morpheus’ feet than work for the heroes.” Well, maybe not. Considering he was working as an intern, but that’s different.

Angel cringed, “that’s… that’s, yeah.” He sighed. “Since you aren’t joining us, you understand I’ll have to arrest you, right?”

“I’d to see you try, Angel.” Okay, maybe he shouldn’t be fighting Angel while high. This certainly was not a moment of so-called great thinking of him, but he wouldn’t pussy out in front of Angel.

Angel just sighed, and the two began circling each other slowly. Tommy couldn’t deny the rush he felt as the fight really began, quickly sobering him up.

Between Blade and Angel, Blade was a much stronger fighter. But Angel made it up with his quick thinking, which is something Tommy could admire. Don’t get him wrong, Angel was still an incredible fighter of strength, but he certainly had other qualities.

But Tommy was quick, agile. He’d have to use that to his advantage, he thought, feeling as Angel quickly struck his side. He grunted feeling the hit, cringing away slightly, but threw a punch to Angel’s stomach. The hero twisted away, blocking the punch with ease. He flapped his wings, knocking Tommy to the ground.

Tommy coughed, winded from the fall. Angel went to pin his wrists, but he curved away quickly. He picked himself back up, circling around. Back to square one.

He would need to change his plan if he was planning on beating Angel.

“Com’on, mate, we’re both tired. You can still do the right thing.” Angel said exasperated.

“I am doing the right thing,” he barked, sending a burst of energy to knock Angel to the ground. “You wouldn’t know much about it.”

The man picked himself up in a beat, running towards Tommy and catching him off guard. Tommy felt himself being lifted off the ground, Angel’s hands gripping tightly.

He can admit that he panicked. I mean, it was fucking cool to be flying with Angel, but the circumstances surrounding that were not so cool. He squirmed, attempting to release himself from Angel’s grasp, but it was like being held in a steel vice. That’s to say, he may have struggled.

“Let—“ he grunted, “me go.” He placed his hands against Angel’s chest, blasting the man away. It worked, but he was left flailing in the air, nearly one hundred feet up.

He slowed the drop with his power before hitting the ground. It didn’t prevent the fall completely— he could feel himself twist his ankle painfully— but it did enough.

Angel was taking a moment to recover across the roof, slowly picking himself back up, but it gave him enough time to flee the scene. Tommy blasted himself off the roof, his heart pounding in his ears.

He’d have to move fast now. He got away for now, but he knew the hero would be on his tail soon enough. He would take a few diversions in his path rather than making a beeline to the apartment. One good thing about living in Twelve for years: you knew it inside and out. He could use that to his advantage.

-

He was beginning to feel the after effects of the fight now, after running on pure adrenaline for thirty minutes straight. He grunted, slipping through the window, holding his ribs from where Angel hit them. They were going to be bruised, even more bruised from when he fought Blade.

He sighed in relief, seemingly not having awoken any of his roommates. Now he had the problem of changing in the bathroom without them noticing.

Well. That would have been his only problem, if Tubbo wasn’t sitting on the couch staring dead at him with a disproved look crossing his face. He froze. “Tommy.” Tubbo said sternly.

“Hey…” Tommy dragged, awkwardly laughing. “Really strange seeing you here…”

“Tommy.” Tubbo said again. New plan: feign dumb.

“Well it’s really nice seeing you… but um. I have to go shower, you know how it is.” Tommy scrambled bunglingly, doing his best to reach the bathroom.

“No, I don’t fucking think so, Thomas Innes.” Tubbo said as he pulled Tommy by the back of his shirt backwardly. When did he even get over there? Maybe he was getting clumsy from the left-over effects of weed. Or maybe Tubbo was just freakishly light on his feet.

“Tubs, Tubbo…. Tubster, my man,” Tommy fumbled, attempting to escape the oddly strong grasp.

“Why were you out patrolling?” Tubbo questioned him unwaveringly. “You shouldn’t be out without one of us, Tommy! Do you want to get caught?”

“No, no I don’t, obviously.” Tommy shot back. “I wasn’t even doing anything. I was just stargazing, you know?”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow at him. It wasn’t exactly a lie he told, just not entirely the whole truth.

“In your full vigilante attire?”

“I didn’t want anyone bothering me…” Tommy shrugged nervously.

“And…?” Tubbo continued.

“And… nothing… else happened.” Tommy said. “Nothing else.”

Tubbo raised his eyebrow again. He was in deep shit, essentially, and Tubbo clearly didn’t believe a word he was saying.

“Thomas. I know you well enough to know when you’re lying.”

“What?” Tommy denied. “What’s so unbelievable about that?”

“You’re injured. I can see it.” Tubbo points to the hand still holding his ribs, and Tommy quickly drops it.

“Nuhuh.”

“What did you do?”

“Okay, fine.” Tommy sighed dejectedly. “Maybe… just maybe I fought Angel.”

“What?!” Tubbo practically screeched. “You did fucking-what-now?”

“Hey, this isn’t even my fault! I didn’t go seeking him out, he came to me, alright? Probably my incredibly strong, masculine presence that’s hard to ignore—“

“Tommy.” Tubbo sighed. “I thought you told me you wouldn’t get roped up in this… with the heroes? You’re gonna have like twenty heroes gunning for you everyday now!”

“You’re the one who had me get a job at the hero tower anyways! If anything, that’s the bigger problem.”

“I know.” Tubbo sighed again. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d make it past the interview.”

“Hey—“

“But just… promise me you’ll be smart about this, okay? The heroes… it’s a nasty fight to pick, Tommy.”

“Hey, hey. I promise I’ll be safe. They keep searching for me, not the other way around.” Tommy re-affirmatively pats his shoulder.

“Keep searching?” Tubbo inquires.

Oops… now, he didn’t mean to imply that. He can’t keep anything from Tubbo, can he? He supposed it was about time to come clean anyways.

“Well… you know… there was that incident with Blade the other day— you know what, nothing truly worth talking about. Now, on that note, I really should get—“

“No, continue the story. What exactly did you do? And you didn’t tell me about this either?”

“It’s not that important, I told you… he was just going’ on about his heroic duties in arresting me or something, and then he tried to fight me…— I totally beat his ass, by the way.”

“Tommy. You didn’t think this was something I would have wanted to know?”

“Okay, I see where I may have gone wrong— but I didn’t want you to worry!” Tommy insisted.

“You are so stupid sometimes, you know that?”

Tommy shrugged innocently, limping over to the bathroom.

“Did you injure your ankle, too?”

“…Maybe.”

Tubbo sighed again again; it must have been the fifteenth time already— “Prop it up and ice it tonight.”

“I know, I know,” he quelled, “I got it, Tubs.”

It’s not like he hadn’t spent most his life taught in things like that. No, not at all… but it was still a nice reminder. He would have been dead long ago without Tubbo and Ranboo; and he wasn’t sure he could ever repay them for that.

“Sure you do.”

—

It was his second day at work. He made his way to his office, briefly passing by and greeted Phil; still no notice of Blade—Techno, he noted—, fortunately or unfortunately enough. He huddled himself in the office, although he was getting more comfortable around Angel there was still some lingering anxiety he couldn’t shake.

He looked on twitter. He knew they were absolutely having a field day with his last tweet, and he was purposefully ignoring the replies. It was funny to watch, okay?

He should really get on making an account for Red. He could have some great interactions from it, truly. Even if he was trying to keep a low profile… it was a little late for that, wasn’t it? Might as well have fun with it than ponder the potential consequences.

For a later time maybe. He focused back on twitter, gross. He made a few replies— liked a few things, all the fun stuff.

But what wasn’t so much fun was the meeting he had to attend today. He was emailed at the last moment this morning, Theseus, come to this meeting at bla, bla, bla. Something like that, he didn’t have a stellar memory.

Anyways. That was happening in like thirty minutes now— and he had to attend for some reason, or another. He supposed it wasn’t all so bad for gathering intel on the heroes. He had to manage their schedule, after all, and jot down some notes on the meeting. He wasn’t sure why they couldn’t do that themselves, but fine.

He wasn’t sure what the meeting was about; the email just detailed the time and floor. It was one of the top levels— something he scarcely had access too, reserved for heroes or something lame. He should have access to the whole building, in his humble opinion. Infact, every vigilante should have full entire access to the hero tower at all times.

He decided to organize their schedule some more, marking down today for “Meeting at 8:30”. He’d have to wait for more alerts to add anything more than that for now, and hopefully they weren’t so last minute. Time passed quicker than he expected, and in no time did he have a knock on the door.

“Tommy?” Phil called. “Are you ready for the meeting, mate? I was thinking you could head up with me.”

“Oh, yeah, just a sec!” He replied, shutting down his device before opening the door to Phil. “Lead the way, sir Angel.”

He shook his head. “I told you to just call me Phil, didn’t I?”

Tommy smiled cheekily. “Sure thing.”

They reached the elevator, and Phil scanned his card to travel upwards. He had gotten his card yesterday, before he left the building, and although it certainly didn't take him everywhere, he could still go to the majority of areas in the tower. Phil surely had a lot more access, though. Like, Tommy couldn’t reach Pandora— which was the lowest floor of the tower, below the surface. Only high ranking heroes could access it anyways, if he remembered correctly.

Anyways. The elevator dinged open, and he was welcomed by a short hallway— open doors on the end, to a larger room with a table fit nearly to the entirety of the room. Point being, there were a lot of chairs. He could spot a few heroes littered about; Asclepius— who he noted was the healer of the Tower— Warden, Artemis, Captain, and Blade. He didn’t notice Morpheus, Blaze, and Proteus; although Proteus was still in training. He felt sorry for the guy, in some way. He could spot a few other heroes with interns following close at their heels.

Some of the heroes opted to wear masks— although that was few. It felt wrong, almost, that he was seeing the identities of some of the strongest people of L’manburg. If they knew who he was, he wouldn’t have a chance of escaping in this room. His best bet would be to try and jump through the window, but he wouldn’t be able to reach before the heroes bombarded him with attacks.

He was slightly nervous when Angel began towards Blade— although he knew it made sense, seeing as they worked together. And he did work for Techno. It felt weird calling him Techno, having hardly met the man, but he’d have to learn it anyways.. but you can hardly blame him, considering everything. Phil sat down next to Techno, and Tommy quickly followed suit. Blade’s eyes skimmed over him.

“Is it true your name is Techno?” Tommy asked childishly to break the ice. He could hear Phil let out a startled laugh next to him.

“Is your name Theseus?” He quips.

No, it was not in fact Theseus. But he didn’t have to know that part.

“I asked first.” Tommy insisted.

Techno deadpanned at him. “Yes, my name is Techno.”

“Sick.” Tommy drawled. “Techno…Blade. Technoblade.”

The last heroes filtered in, Morpheus, Blaze, and Proteus— all three of them orderly sitting down together as the others chose their spots. The room was loud full of people chatting with one another.

Before Techno could reply, Captain cleared her throat and stood up. He liked Captain. She had a lot of involvement in community and charity work throughout L’manburg.

“If I could have your attention, everyone, please.” Captain called out through the air and the remaining conversations simmered off and heads turned their attention to her. “Okay heroes, as you know, this is our routine check in; for anyone unaware—“ her eyes flickered to Tommy, “we’ll review recent mission reports and discuss any events or patterns that may have come up. Simple enough— would anyone like to lead our discussion?”

It felt like a school assembly. Although he’d never gone to a traditional school; nor a traditional lecture. So he wouldn’t actually know how that felt, but it still did feel that way to him.

Morpheus stood up from his chair and he noticed that the man kept his iconic (and frankly disgusting) smile mask on. “Last week, I came across a new vigilante by the name Soteria.”

Tommy perked up at this— a new vigilante? It wasn’t anyone he’d heard of, and he was still active in his community. Soteria must be in the upper districts. Now, this was interesting. Upper districts didn’t get many vigilantes— considering it was much higher risk than lower, seeing as this is where heroes mainly patrolled nowaday. He was curious on how long they’d last.

He didn’t like Morpheus though. He had the highest ego of the whole tower, and he was only the number three hero. Like, holy Prime, at least make first place before you’re that cocky. Plus, Tommy felt like he was only really a hero for fame, and Tommy was usually right.

“A new vigilante?” Angel muttered next to him.

“I encountered Soteria in district four,”—well, his suspicion was right—“and they appear to be powered. Young, I’d say maybe twenty or so; and human— no apparent hybridity.”

“Well, what’s their power?” Artemis questioned. He noticed her eyes were on him an odd amount of time this meeting, and it made him a little nervous.

“It looked to be some kind of forcefield— it only activated when being attacked, but even then it couldn’t catch everything. It didn’t seem to be on will.” Tommy thought he heard a glimmer of pride. Of course. A force field power was interesting, though. He can’t say he’d heard of that too often, if at all. “I’d say they have some kind of enhanced stamina, too.”

“We can monitor their behavior for the time being.” Captain says. “Most new vigilantes don’t last the first two months. If it becomes clear that Soteria is a threat to the Association, we may apprehend them. For now, the rehabilitation service would be a good bet for them.”

Morpheus nods his head and sits down. Captain coughs again, “well; anyone else?”

Phil sat up, raising his hand slightly to draw attention. “Techno and I have come across the vigilante Red, recently.” He must have seen this coming— of course they would talk about him in the mission report meeting. He was curious about what Phil’d say about him, though. “I did a little research after. He’s been out as Red for about three years; his powers aren’t unknown to the public, although that’s the confusing part.”

The best bet would be some kind of matter manipulation— stronger than any I’ve come across before— but even that’s just a guess. Though, simply, he seems to have control over the matter around him in any form; it appears as red sparks illuminating around him, primarily a red glowing from his hands.”

That was an oddly good description of his powers. Even he, the one with the power, was unsure the extent of it.

“What, so he’s been a vigilante for three years and somehow hasn’t hit our radar? How is that possible?” Blaze asked.

Phil shrugged, “I don’t know, that’s what's interesting. He’s… skilled, though. He’s definitely had some previous training.

“He primarily patrols in district twelve, and he’s seemingly dangerous. He slipped away both times Techno and I pursued him.” Tommy couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that one, which Morpheus unluckily picked up.

“Do you have something to say?” Morpheus asks him. Ew. Nothing to him, but now every set of eyes in the room was on his.

His eyes flickered around the room quickly. “I mean… no. But you realize he’s not dangerous, right?”

Morpheus tilted his head, an inclination to go on. Phil seemed interested now, too.

“I mean, come on. Dudes just a vigilante, really. He’s been protecting district twelve far more than the Heroes have.”

“He’s dangerous.” Blade says. “We don’t know his powers, and he’s fought both Phil and I. We don’t know his motives, where he’s come from— it makes him a threat.”

Tommy scoffed. “He was just defending himself, though. You guys were the ones who initiated it.”

Techno quirked an eyebrow, “and how would you know this?”

Fuck— he let slip far more than he intended. He shouldn’t have even added to the discussion anyways. Tubbo was going to kill him, no doubt.

He stumbles for his words, “word travels quickly in district twelve. Everyone knows everyone.”

“You’re from district twelve?” Blaze asks, almost accusingly.

“Yeah? What about it?” Tommy fires back.

“No, nothing. But you’ve seen Red around, haven’t you?” This was getting oddly suspicious. If the next words out of his mouth were It’s Red! Get him! Tommy would not be too pleased.

“I guess so, yeah.” Tommy responds slowly. “Why?”

“You can help us, then!” Blaze responds enthusiastically. “You have the knowledge we need to understand Red.”

“What?” Tommy asks. “No, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Angel asks.

“Uh… you know, he’s just an elusive fella. I don’t think I could be of much help.” Tommy quickly makes up.

“Well, you know more than us.” Angel insisted. “Anything helps.”

Tommy sighed. “Fine. But I still don’t think it’s a good idea.” Angel patted his shoulder as Tommy slouched in his seat. He tuned out the conversation from here, doing his best to distract himself by doodling in the corners of his notepad. He was far too busy overthinking the predicament he’d gotten himself in— although, he could just feed them false information. Oh yeah, he has a deadly touch, so I would just leave him alone, you know? That would probably work against him somehow.

He was snapped back when the heroes began sitting up again, some (presumably) walking back down to their floors. He noticed Artemis walking toward him, and it reminded him that she had been eying him the whole meeting. Angel and Blade stepped aside when she walked up.

Ugh, they’re not going to defend him?

“Hi, Tommy!” Artemis said, waving a hand out. She sounded… familiar. “I didn’t know you were working here.” She slipped her mask off. He froze.

“…Niki?” He nearly screeched in astonishment. “You’re a hero?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, rubbing her neck. “Suppose I forgot to tell you guys, huh?”

“Forgot… to… tell us? You’ve been a hero this entire time?” He gawks. “Wait, does Ranboo even know?”

“No, he doesn’t. Hero confidentiality laws.” She sighed.

“What the fuck.” Tommy says. “What the fuck.” He repeats again, smartly. Now that he really looked at her, he was curious as to how he didn’t see the resemblance earlier. I mean, pink hair? Who else has pink hair? Other than Blade. He doesn’t count.

“Sorry about that…” She said, and he blinked at her.

“Well, it’s great that you’re working here Tommy! Aren’t you a little young, though?”

“Who’re you callin’ young? I am nineteen.” He said in all the grace that a totally nineteen-year-old would have.

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes! I’m sure!”

Angel laughed at the interaction. “You guys know each other, then?”

“Yeah, uh—“ he was half-gawking at Niki, café Niki, who has been Artemis this whole time. I mean, Artemis was pretty badass, but still. “She runs a bakery in Ninth.” He explains, before quickly tacking on— “my roommate works there.”

“Oh, her bakery!” Angel acknowledges. “Maybe I’ll see your roommate down there sometime.”

“Maybe.” Tommy shrugs. He wasn’t sure how well that’d go, but it would make him laugh quite a bit.

Niki looks back at Captain— they worked together a lot as heroes— who beckoned her back. She sighed, “alright, well, I’ve got to go Tommy. Say hi to Ran and Tubbo for me, okay?”

“Yeah— you got it.” Tommy threw a thumbs up; still recovering from the shock.

This was a weird fucking day.

Chapter Text

It was friday. The week passed quickly, too quickly maybe, but he had connected a bit more with his new job and he’d finally felt like he had gotten the grasp of it.

He had the weekends off as an intern, which is something he could truly appreciate. All things considered, it was a fairly stress free job. Ignoring the imminent risk of being captured and jailed, held for ransom or murdered by villain attacks, it was ideal.

Stepping in the apartment, he was greeted by the rough sound of an argument between his two roommates. Tubbo looked down-right murderous.

“Tommy!” Tubbo ushered him towards them. “Tell Ranboo that we are not watching Legally Blonde for the fifth time in a row.”

“No, no,” Ranboo threw their hands up. “Tubbo wants to watch national geographic. National Geographic?”

Right. Friday movie night! He could nearly forget their weekly tradition under all this newfound stress— but clearly, they wouldn’t let him.

They never seemed to agree on what movie they should watch. One day, they needed to set up some kind of rotation system— because Tubbo looked seconds away from snapping their necks and burning the house down.

“Maybe we can learn something new for once—“ Tubbo threw back.

“Guys, guys.” Tommy cut him off, his hands raised placantently. “You both are wrong.” Tubbo leaned back and crossed his arms together.

“We should watch Up.” Tommy finished; and that must have sent Tubbo boiling over— he threw his hands up exasperatedly and words spewed out faster than Tommy could keep up with.

“We are not watching Up— that is literally the only movie you have ever watched!”

“Even I’m with Tubbo on this.” Ranboo agreed. “I can recite that movie front and back already.”

“What?” Tommy recoiled. “Up never gets old.”

“You’ve watched it fifty three times,” Tubbo shot at him. Whatever. Just because they refused him doesn’t mean he will shy away from true, raw beauty at its’ core. Up is timeless. A masterpiece. Tender. Gorgeous. Synonyms for masterpiece.

“Now, Legally Blonde, on the other hand—“ Ranboo began before Tubbo shut them down.

“No!”

They watched National Geographic that night. Tommy fell asleep ten minutes in.

—

Not a few hours later, Tommy could feel his eyes flicker open. He was trapped between Ranboo and Tubbo; and took care in tearing himself out of the web so they wouldn’t wake up.

They looked at peace; Ranboo didn’t look so alert and anxiety-ridden— aside from an occasional twitch in their sleep— and he could see Tubbo’s shoulders eased of tension.

Tommy silently rifled through his bag for a pack of cigarettes. His hands went to pull the window open, carefully slipping out and climbing to the roof. Perks of living in the city, he supposed.

They weren't technically allowed to be on the roof, but he knew that everyone else did it as well; and their landlord couldn’t care less anymore.

He dangled his legs off the roof, taking quick puffs. He watched the smoke dissipate quickly through the cold air. Goosebumps trailed up his arm, but he didn’t bother warming himself up. His hand tapped the ash away.

“Tommy.” A voice called out behind him. He startled and whipped his head around, hand instinctively reaching for a knife that wasn’t there.

Purpled stared at him, then at the cigarette in his hand, before moving forward and sitting beside him. His hand pulled the mask covering his face down.

Tommy was good at noticing people, hearing people, knowing them better than himself even, but Purpled was like an anomaly. He came in and wrecked any illusion Tommy could delude himself in. He, freakishly, seemed to have tamed the silence to himself.

Purpled was one of his vigilante friends. Well, more than that, they could be just friends. They’d started their career within the same months as each other, and had become quite close as vigilantes. Shit happened, and then they knew each other face to face.

Purpled was elusive, really, he tried avoiding publicity, preferring to act in the shadows. Tommy did too, in his own way, but Purpled went out of his way for it.

Lelenantus; the Titan god of air— more than that, invisibility. Just as Purpled’s powers went, invisibility. And he probably had enhanced natural abilities, but never relied on such.

He was a good fighter— so good it could impress Tommy. When inquired, all he would say is my brother taught me.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” He said, plainly, before pinching the smoke in Tommy’s hand and swiping it off the roof. He painfully watched it tumble down, even as it receded his vision.

“Hey—“ Tommy said as it was picked from his fingers. He sighed dejectedly. “I wasn’t done with that.”

“Smoking kills, you know.” Purpled says, with no real intent behind it.

“Yeah, I know.” Tommy snarked. “Don’t need fucking reminders.”

Purpled leaned back in silence for a moment. “So, you moved in with Tubbo and Ran?”

Tommy shrugged. “I got kicked out. Seriously, this time. Moving here was easiest.”

“Mm. And who’s the prick that kicked you out?” Purpled asked, twisting a bracelet on his wrist.

Tommy laughed dryly. “He’s no one important now. Never was, in the first place.”

Purpled let out a snort too, “so why’d you stay?”

Tommy sighed, “convenience, mostly. Even when it became inconvenient.”

Purpled nodded along slowly. “And Ranboo and Tubbo are good roommates?”

“Of course,” Tommy defended, quickly. “You know they are.”

Purple studied him closely, and then cracked a smile, turning his gaze back on the horizon. “That’s good.”

There was another silence.

“What are you doing down here, anyway?” Tommy asked, curving the conversation elsewhere.

“Chasing someone down.” Purpled said. “They’re long gone now, though. Then, decided I should stop by and say hello.”

“Hm.” Tommy nods. “Anything I can help with?”

“No,” Purpled admitted. “They probably won’t be back.”

Tommy nods and they dove back into silence.

“You should come around more often.”

-

Tommy wasn’t sure when he got back inside the house, or when he passed out on the floor; but he awoke groggily with sore bones and a headache.

He did, however, register the goat-boy in front of him with a hand outstretched and poking him awake.

“Leave me aloneee,” he dragged out and rolled onto his back. “Everything hurts.”

Tubbo snorts. “Dumbass.”

“Fuck you.”

“You should’ve taken the bed.”

“Mimimi,” he mocks and sits up. “You should have taken the streets.”

“Let’s not forget whose apartment we’re in,” Tubbo warns half-heartedly.

“Ranboo’s,” he said, and Tubbo whacked him with a pillow.

“Ranboo would side with me,” Tubbo defended.

“Nuhuh. Ranboo would side with me.”

“No, Ranboo would definitely side with m—“

“I wouldn’t side with either of you. I’ll just kick you both out.” Ranboo butts in frankly.

Tubbo whispered something nasty under his breath; praying to the Gods to strike them down, or something. The usual.

“Tubbo…” Tommy drawled, “May I…” please patrol, went unsaid. It didn’t need to be spoken; Tubbo knew instinctively.

“No.” He said plainly.

“Okay.” Tommy said, but inched closer to his bag.

“No, I’m busy.” Tubbo wagged a finger in disapproval at him.

“Ranboo’ll watch. Right, Boo?” Tommy asks eagerly.

“As long as you agree tonight is a spaghetti night.” Tommy and Tubbo groaned.

“Fine,” he compromised and Ranboo let a smile lift his face.

“Then sure, I’ll help you, Red!”

—

Ranboo assigned him to make the pasta. Pour water in halfway, salt the water (Tommy didn’t know how much he wanted it salted, so he poured half the container in), set the stove to high and wait for the water to boil. Then, add the pasta in. Really, Tommy was doing most of the work. All Ranboo had to do was pour the sauce and take the credit. He stirred the pot occasionally so the pasta wouldn’t stick together.

Here’s a life lesson, don’t put a silicone spatula in the boiling water. It will melt, as Tommy came to understand. Tommy finally strained the pasta and spilled water all over his hand, so Ranboo took the initiative and took over. He is a prodigy. A Gordan Ramsay type prodigy. Maybe they just don’t see it now.

The room was loud with banter, mostly Tubbo talking about his new project nonstop. He’d hardly taken time to breathe, much less for a bite of food.

“No, Ranboo you don’t get it, okay. These are entirely self sufficient— they have ultrasound sensors, alright infrared sensors, and vision systems. And they’re so small you won’t even notice them.” Tubbo waved his hands in the air, enthralled in the conversation. His spaghetti went forgotten through the explanation. Something-something-nerdy-about-bees. “Did I even mention their highly efficient, state of the art energy recovery system? Using air friction! How fucking smart is that? And strategically placed solar panels on the wings will optimize the intake.”

All jokes aside, it was rather interesting. It would make stealth operations a lot easier. It was, essentially, a robot bee. There was even a discreet identification system that, as Tubbo explained, analyzed an image and compared it to a pre-programmed database of known objects and people. Something like that. Anyway, it was all connected to his computer if he, for some reason, needed manual control to the bees, being fully autonomous, self-sufficient, and all. Tommy had no clue how he managed to fit all of that into such a small device, but he wouldn’t question it— even if it was explained, he wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t trained for that.

Ranboo listened intently, his eyebrows knit together in deep thought as Tubbo rattled on about the technical aspects of the bee drones. He glanced over at Tommy, who seemed slightly bewildered by the complexity of the project.

"That is cool," Ranboo admitted, unable to hide a hint of awe in their voice. "But… why bees?"

“Are you serious? Bees are remarkable little creatures,” Tubbo said after a pause, “their hive mind, ability to communicate and work together, the way they adapt and thrive in their environment—“

He cut himself off, coughing. “But, I mean, what better to model? They’re practically tiny, flying little machines already. Little workers. Just buzzing around, all the time. Plus, they’re small enough to be inconspicuous. Nature’s perfect spies.”

“I hope this isn’t your ploy to replace us,” Tommy joked.

Tubbo gave a contemplative hum, “No. I have use for you yet.”

“Thanks, I feel so valued.” Tommy said dryly.

“Besides,” Tubbo said. “You guys could never be replaced. You’re too loud and stupid to be effective ro-bees.”

“Ro-bees? Really?” Ranboo snorted.

“It’s not finalized!” Tubbo defended. “But now that I’m thinking of it, it’s kind of catchy…”

“Tubbees,” Tommy suggested.

“Bumble-bots,” Ranboo added.

Tubbo gave them both a wicked look and grinned, “I’ve gotta start writing these down.”

“When do you think they’ll be ready?” Tommy questioned.

Tubbo sighed. “Well, it’s taking a little longer than I thought it would to work out all the kinks in the design— and, of course, the obvious issue that I don’t really have access to every supply I need… but I’m working out easier solutions for that as I go along, anyway. That said, anywhere between two weeks and two years.” He said cheerily.

“Fuck yeah,” Tommy nodded equally enthusiastic.

Tubbo looked down. “I forgot my food.”

Ranboo shook his head disapprovingly. “Microwave it. Or eat it cold.”

“Nothing as good as cold spaghetti!” Tubbo said, and lifted the fork to his mouth.

Tommy and Ranboo shared a look of mutual agreement. Tubbo was a freak. But Tommy couldn’t be any happier to have them both by his side, cold-spaghettieating or not.

Chapter Text

Techno knocked on his door before walking in. Not even bothering for a response. Though he’d been here for over a week, he’d hardly any interaction with Techno past brief encounters in the office. He was just really closed off. And probably a prick. Blade was far superior to Techno, anyhow… even if Blade hated his guts.

The man leaned on the doorframe, pursing his lips, “Phil told me to get you.” He motioned Tommy up.

“What’s up?”

“We’re leaving.” Techno probably made an effort to say that in the least threatening way possible; but anything he says sends shivers up the spine, really.

“Why?” Tommy said, hesitantly standing up. “Am I in trouble?”

“You aren’t in trouble—“

“Am I fired? Or is it because of the toaster thing again? Because I told Phil that—“

“What?” Techno paused, and looked at him tilted. “What did you do to the toaster?”

Tommy let out a sigh of relief, before cheekily smiling. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“…Is that something I should worry about?”

“No!” Tommy said quickly. “So what’d you want, big man?”

“We’re going out,” Techno said, turning on his heel and walking to the elevator. Tommy followed closely behind.

“I’m not fired, right?”

Techno shook his head amusedly, “No, you’re not fired.”

“Okay…” Tommy said slowly. “So, where are we going?”

“Outside.”

“…Outside where?”

“So many questions,” Techno responded. The elevator dinged.

“You know, if you’re going to murder me, you should know I have some excellent martial arts training.” Tommy demonstrated, badly kicking his leg out in a large arc; nothing that would do real damage if hit, he made sure of.

“There go my afternoon plans,” Techno said sadly.

“Ha-ha. Real answer?”

“Phil told me you were hungry.”

“Phil told you that?” Tommy asked. “Well, you know Phil— he’s a deeply troubled, dementia ridden, lying, deceitful—“

Techno snorted, “such a way with words.”

“That’s what they say, at least. The modern Shakespear, even.” Tommy bashed.

“Alright then, Shakespear. Let’s go get food.”

“I’m not paying, though.”

“Didn’t expect you to.”

“Wow…” Tommy drawled. “Rude. I could pay if I wanted to. Maybe I will.”

Techno gave him a look. 

“Okay, fine, you can pay this time.”

“Good. You’d just dine and dash.”

Tommy feigned offense. “Me? Lies and slander, Techno. I’ll take you to court for this one—“

“Guess we’d have to fire you, then.”

Tommy gasped, “you wouldn’t dare.” 

They reached the ground floor. Tommy spotted Kristin working the desk and ran up.

“Kristin!” He yelled, “you have to save me! I’m being kidnapped by this strange man! Call the police!” Kristin laughed, and fake dialed the phone to help.

“Don’t worry, the heroes are on their way!” Kristin told him quickly, placatedly raising her hands.

“No!” Tommy screeched. “The Police—!” 

Techno grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged him along. “Off we go.”

“Cruel, cruel man. I’m going to get your hero license revoked.”

“Uhuh.”

“And I’ll get you jailed.”

“Uhuh.”

“And I’ll vote for Schlatt next election!”

“Oh no, what ever will I do!”

Tommy sighed dejectedly. “So where are we going?”

“I just told you— out to eat.”

“No, I know that much. But where?” He asked innocently.

“You’ll see,” Techno tells him, maneuvering around a crowd of people.

He sighs again. “Are we there yet?”

“Are you five?”

“Nineteen. Bitch.”

Techno looked him up and down. “Right...”

“I am!”

“Does that make me thirty?”

Tommy paused. “Aren’t you?”

“No,” he says exasperated. “I’m twenty-three.”

“What?” Tommy says. “How old is Phil, then?” 

“Thirty-six.”

“Holy fuck. And he birthed you?”

“Birthed me?” 

“Isn’t he your father?”

“I’m adopted.”

“Oh.” Tommy says, looking at him closely. “That tracks. You didn’t even inherit half of his good looks.”

“Ha-ha.” He said flatly. “Very funny.”

“When did you get adopted?” Tommy asks eagerly.

“When I was thirteen.”

“No shit,” Tommy stares at him dumbly. “I meant why.”

“Should’ve said that, then.”

“Okay, bitch, why did you get adopted?”

“I threatened to kill the President.”

“What?” He screeched. “You?”

“Yup.”

“So… why didn’t you?”

“The law.”

“That’s stupid. You should’ve done it anyway.” Tommy said, and then quickly added, “hold on, so, you just threatened to kill the President and Phil decided you were the perfect orphan?”

Techno tilts his hand side to side, “more or less.”

“Holy shit. Why didn’t I do that?”

“You don’t have any parents?”

“It’s… complicated.” Tommy said truthfully. “I never knew them.”

“Hm.” Techno nodded. “I understand.”

“Wait, so why did you threaten to kill the President?”

Techno snorted, “that’s a story for another day. We’re here.” by

Tommy looks up, examining the building ahead. “Wait-a-fucking-minute. I know this place.” Ge screeched, and muttered an afterthought, “where do I know it?”

 Bad’s Diner, the sign glowed high above. He racked his brain to remember where he recognized the name. Techno walked inside the diner; a bell ringing as the door was pushed open.

And then he remembered.

“Hey, hey, wait.” Tommy grabbed his arm. “I remember! This is the villain front! 

Techno laughed. “It’s not. Don’t worry.”

“It is! It was a huge story!”

“It was fake.”

“Oh yeah? Then why is no one here?”

Techno shrugged, dragging him over to a booth table.

“Aren’t you a hero? Shouldn’t you be saving me right now?”

“No, but keep it up and I’ll put you in the stew.”

“Don’t!” Tommy screeched at him.

“Hi, you guys! My name’s Bad, I’ll be your server today!” Sounded from behind him. He jumped.

Did Bad both own and work for this place? Tough times.

“How the fuck did you just appear?”

“Language!” The seven-foot-demon-man chided. Bad placed menus on the table “Can I get you started on any drinks?”

Tommy shook his head no. Techno asked for a matcha. Glorified grass, in his humble opinion.

“Good to see you, Techno,” Satan’s spawn said before leaving.

Tommy stared at Techno accusingly. “You’re on first name basis with Mr. Supervillain?”

“Not a supervillain.”

“Yeah right.”

Techno snorted. 

“Don’t make fun of me! This is fucking ominous, Techno.” Tommy whispered, leaning over the table. “Why couldn’t we have gone to, like— Good’s Diner, or something.”

“Good’s diner?” Techno raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know!” He raised his hands. “Or Chipotle. Chipotle is great.”

“Look at the menu,” Techno shook his head and stifled a laugh.

“Fine. But when we’re murdered and grinded up into meatloaf, let it be known I tried.” 

He examined the menu, scanning each page briefly. “Do they really only serve breakfast food? All day?”

Techno nodded. “It’s great. Have you decided what you want?”

“Hm…” Tommy drawled, before saying, “chocolate-chip waffles.”

Techno shook his head in disbelief. “You are a literal child.”

“Fuck you! Chocolate chip waffles are a manly choice.”

“Manly, huh?”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t know much about it.”

“Do you always talk to your boss like this?” He questioned, half jokingly.

“Phil’s my boss. You’re a prick.”

“I am very much still your boss.”

“Bitch.”

“Here are your drinks!” Bad said, appearing out of nowhere again. He placed Techno’s cow food drink on the table. “Have you decided on what to eat?”

Techno nodded. He let Tommy order first.

“Chocolate-chip waffles, please!” Tommy smiled.

“Great choice!” Bad said cheerily. Suspiciously cheerily. He’s going to die here.

“It’ll be right out for you!” He said enthusiastically, again, taking their menus away.

“Why didn’t he take your order?” Tommy questioned as soon as Bad was out of earshot. Maybe Bad takes offense to question. If he was a villain, he probably had the place wired, though.

“I always order the same thing.”

“And that is…?”

“…potato pancakes.” He said almost guiltily. 

“What the fuck?” He repulsed away from the man. “Really?”

Techno nodded.

“You are fucking evil. No wonder you go here. Do you take it with a side of childrens’ tears?”

“Don’t knock it til’ you try it.” 

“You can keep that monstrosity away from me. How the hell are you the number two hero? You should be in jail.”

“In jail for what? Breakfast food?”

“You know it’s wrong.” Tommy shook his head disappointedly. 

In hardly ten minutes, Bad walked back out with their food. Tommy drenched his waffles in maple syrup. 

“And you call me evil,” Techno said. “You can’t even taste the waffle past all’that.”

“Yes, you can.” Tommy defended. “You just live a sad, miserable life.”

“Uhuh.”

“This was definitely made out of human.” Tommy said, before stabbing his fork in and tearing a piece off. 

“Humans taste a little different.”

“And you know this how?”

“What do you think happened to the last intern?”

Tommy stared at him in horror. “Evil, evil man.”

Techno laughed at him. Tommy finished up his plate, watching Techno take his last bites. He wouldn’t admit to the man that the food was fucking delicious. Nope.

“Are you finally done eating your evil potato pancakes?” Tommy asked impatiently.

Techno rolled his eyes. “You are so immature.”

“Am not.” Tommy propped his elbows up on the table. “You know this food is probably laced? You just don’t realize it.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “I’ve been coming here for years.”

“Maybe you’re just so dumb you can’t tell. Maybe he’s using you for his evil supervillain schemes.”

“Okay Sherlock,” he jokes, “I think you’ve been watching too many movies.”

“So Naïve. So innocent. You don’t even know the trap you’ve walked into.”

“What’s this about traps?” Bad asked from behind him. Tommy jumps— his heart practically skipping a beat.

“Nothing… just talking about…” Tommy stumbled, settling on, “rat… traps.”

Techno snorted. “Rat traps? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“You have a really bad habit of stepping on rat traps!” Tommy defended.

He shook his head in disbelief. “We’ll just take the check. Thanks.”

Bad nodded and came back a moment later with the card scanner for Techno. Tommy eyed him from the corner of his vision giving a 45% tip. How rich do you have to be to give 45%? 

“Thank you, Bad.”

“No problem! Have a good day, Techno!” He smiled.

He was still convinced that Bad was absolutely in some villain gang. Techno was blinded, truly. 

As soon as Bad left, Tommy eagerly jumped out of the booth. “Let’s get the fuck out of the villain base, now.”

Techno shook his head in a laugh. “Not.”

Tommy dragged him out the diner by his arm (though it was likely Techno just let him— seeing as the man probably benched his weight).

“So. Techno…” Tommy said. “Who's your favorite hero?”

“Blade,” he responded easily. Tommy gave him a flat look.

“It can’t be Blade.”

“Iron-Man.”

“Iron-Man? Really?” Tommy asked skeptically. “He’s not even real.”

“You didn’t specify real heroes,” Techno shrugged, grabbing him by the arm before he crashed into a crowd of people.

“Okay, fine, then my favorite hero is Spiderman.”

Techno chuckled, “Spiderman?”

“Yeah! You got a problem with it?”

“No, no problem,” he snorted again. “It’s very you.”

“Spiderman is the coolest. He’s the only right answer.”

“Which Spiderman?” Techno questioned.

“All of them. Every single one. There's never been a bad Spiderman.”

Techno shrugged, “that’s fair.”

Tommy nodded triumphantly. “Just the truth.”

Tommy was content to walk back to the hero tower in silence; until he heard it. They looked at each other in the same split second. 

Screaming.

It was one scream at first, breaking through the calm of the crowd. And then it seemed to echo through everyone— people dropping bags and running away. They’d been swept up into a sudden wave of panic.

With so many people pushing against them, it was like trying to run through a wall. He needed to get to the Tower, but the dense crowd made his progress infuriatingly slow.

What the fuck was going on? The possibilities ran through his mind. Tommy attempted to grab someone's arm to stop them, but they pushed past him before he could get a firm grip.

Tommy could see the Tower in the distance now that he wasn't drowning in a crowd. Closer now, too, he could see a thick trailing line of smoke rising higher in the sky. It was almost suffocating.

Fuck, he thought. He finally reached the source of the smoke, eyes widening as he took in what was happening. 

Plutus, Shark, and King were here. As were Morpheus, Blaze (the cause of the smoke, he helpfully deduced), and the apprentice Proteus. Tommy couldn’t think of a worse scenario to bring an apprentice to, but to each their own.

It was a chaotic clash between heroes and villains, though it was becoming increasingly clear that the heroes were outnumbered. 

“Damnit,” Tommy muttered under his breath. He’d have to break away to help somehow, but Techno seemed relentless in getting to the Tower.

“We have to get back,” Techno hissed. He was grabbed by the arm, closer to the tower. 

Tommy attempted to subtly tear himself away, but not before Techno turned around almost accusingly, “What are you doing?”

“I have to go!” He said.

“No!”

“I have to—“

“You’ll be safer at the Tower!”

Tommy tried to break free, his eyes fixed on the chaos of battle. He scrambled for an excuse, “but my roommates, they’ll be worried—“

“Just call them!” Techno insisted. “Don’t be stupid, Tommy!”

Tommy wretched himself from Techno’s grip.

 “I’ll be fine!” His voice was barely audible with the noise around them. “Just get to the Tower!”

Techno reached out, but was unable to grab him before he disappeared in the frenzy of panicked civilians.

“Damn it, kid,” He muttered, before reluctantly turning back around to the Tower.