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Tubbo Underscore wasn’t an outlaw yet but the man besides him was. None of the pictures of him had been clear, poor camera quality when paired with his horse's speed meant they were all blurry and eyewitnesses tended to forget the exact dimensions of someone’s nose when adrenaline kicked in. It was Grian , no last name was known. Tubbo couldn’t prove it but he knew. He knew alright, he knew it in his brain. The feathered ears matched up.
Tommy Innit, his partner in crime, was ordering their second round of drinks which meant he wasn’t there to tell Tubbo off for ‘oogling’ at the man’s gun. It was hard to find a man like himself who appreciated good gun care but Grian did. Tubbo could see his reflection in the metal. He squinted and shuffled his chair ever so closer to the man so he could get a better look at it.
Grian looked up from his drink. He had been incredibly focused on it. Tubbo froze as the outlaw looked up to stare at him, raising an eyebrow as if challenging him. Tubbo reached towards his gun holster. He didn’t keep his best gun there; it was easier to steal from his waist and the last thing he wanted was for his best gun to be used against him.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Quackity said as he slammed his hands on the tables. The worn wood shook, nearly toppling Tommy’s drink. Tubbo’s head whipped around. Grian gave Quackity a side-eye as he continued to drink his beer. The beer was probably mixed with ginger as well, fucking rich outlaws who could do whatever they wanted. Now with both their attention, Quackity continued to explain that his bar was a no violence space. No, he didn’t care that Grian was an outlaw since any number of his patrons could get caught in the crossfire. No, he didn’t think Tubbo was in any position to start a fight when his partner was still at the bar waiting for his second drink. Grian, he is incredibly lucky he’s still around the bar as an outlaw, God knows it would be easier for Quackity to let him die.
Tubbo placed his hand back on the table, in Quackity’s line of sight. Grian placed his drink down and put his hands in the air. Quackity huffed and turned around to head back to the bar. Grian, definitely the most wanted outlaw around, didn’t move to pick up his drink.
Nothing should have been said, Tubbo should have gone back to picking at the stray parts of the wood and giving himself a splinter. Grian should have gone back to making his drink last the entire night at the speed he was at. But alas, it wasn’t meant to be.
“If you still want to shoot me, why don’t we take this outside?” Grian said. He chugged his entire glass in the five seconds Tubbo stared at him in awe.
“I thought you were going to shoot me !” Tubbo cried, at a normal volume level. “I’m not stupid enough to think I could beat an outlaw in a fight.”
“That’s an outlaw?!”
Tommy Innit was standing by the table with two more glasses of beer, nearly brimming over the top, with his mouth wide open. Tubbo grinned. “Yeah.” He said. “And he just threatened to shoot me!”
Grian wanted to stop, diffuse the situation before it got worse. The second main reason why he was still alive relied on his ability to reason with others. Unfortunately, young adults who had just turned old enough to drink at most were not easy to reason with. He opened his mouth to explain-
“Woah! Tubzo, what did you do to piss him off?” Tommy exclaimed.
Tubbo grabbed his glass and took a swig. He said, “I looked at him.”
“Well that wasn’t very nice.”
Tommy was staring at Tubbo. Tubbo was staring at Tommy. Both their faces were drawn in a grimace. Tommy tilted his head. Tubbo shrugged. Tommy rolled his eyes. Tubbo glared harder. Tubbo glanced at Grian again. Grian felt his feathers prickle at the look; they increased in intensity, when they smiled at each other.
In sync, they turned to face him.
“Now, Mr Outlaw-“
“Grian.”
“You were unfairly discriminatory towards my friend, Tubbo over here.”
“Pulling a gun on me was kind of an overreaction.”
“He’s gay. Homophobia is a hate crime I’ll have you know!”
“Like, I get that you’re an outlaw and that life is hard and all.”
“And pulling a gun on a gay man who you don’t like is a crime against someone you hate. A hate crime.”
“But that isn’t a reason to nearly kill a man!”
“I’ll have to take you to the sheriff if you don’t make it up to him!”
“So, we should probably make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“And that means you have to teach us crime.”
“And the best way to do that is to teach us everything you know!”
They stared at Grian expectantly. He closed his mouth, letting the words he had been about to say die on the tip of his tongue. Grian placed his hands on the wooden table and pressed his head against his hands. He muttered a short prayer to the Watchers. Someone poked his shoulder. Grian sighed. He stood up and walked away without turning back. He made sure to leave a coin for Quackity’s troubles and left his expensive drink.
Tubbo knew this was meant to be the payment for their emotional damages. If it had been anyone besides Grian, maybe he would have split the drink and used the experience to bolster their own reputation. It wasn’t every day you got to interact with an outlaw however.
Tubbo scurried out after Grian, Tommy hot on his heels. He overtook the man and paused him in his tracks. Tommy stumbled to his side and offered his hand out. “I’m Tommy.” He pointed at Tubbo, “That’s Tubbo. We can help you commit your many crimes. Then we can get many women and become rich. Then when you’re old, Tubbo and I can keep you in a good retirement home!”
They had no plans to ever pay for Grian’s retirement home. If their mentor somehow lasted until he needed one, Tommy would stab the man dead himself. Grian was an outlaw and he’d be old! What was there to stop him! The law wouldn’t step in and what could an old man’s creaky bones do against the great Tommy Innit?
Grian pinched between his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Will you guys accept no for an answer?”
Tommy shouted, “No!” Tubbo shook his head.
“Right,” Grian said, more to himself. He turned to face the pair “I’ll let you help with one crime and if it goes better than normal. I’ll let you stick around. Otherwise…” He pulled the gun out of his holster and spun the barrel. The pair didn’t pale and instead nodded with what was either determination or stupidity.
Three heists later and Grian loathed to admit it, Tubbo could tell by the way he rolled his eyes with hidden affection, but Tubbo and Tommy were good. As he went longer and longer as an outlaw with an unfilled grave, the quicker people were to pick up on what he was doing. Grian’s wings made him fast, they let him escape to the air but people were getting wise; people knew what to expect as soon as they spotted him. His speed was essential but so was surprise.
Tubbo’s supply of explosives and Tommy’s tendency towards theatrics made a great distraction that people didn’t realise he was robbing them under their noses. On the best nights, everyone scattered from the bar to see Tommy’s demands that they didn’t notice his claws reaching for the gold.
The fourth heist was going to be simple, an in and out where Tubbo would blow up an empty farm house nearby the jewellery merchants' stall. The market would empty, in fear of what could befall them if they stayed near an active bomb threat. Grian would swoop in, steal some jewellery and they’d pawn it in a couple weeks.
There’s always something you can’t quite predict occurring during a heist. Improvisation while ideally avoided was often needed. Tubbo had drilled that into him with a series of mock situations where either himself or Tommy did something to disrupt the plan. What should Grian do if he was forced to take a hostage? What should Tommy and Tubbo do if no one reacted to the explosion? How did they mitigate people linking the two events together?
The best laid plans however, never fail because of a possibility people might expect. Other outlaws were briefly brought up. Tommy reassured Grian thieves had far too sticky fingers to get into a gun fight while gold was on the line. In hindsight, Grian wasn’t entirely sure Tommy and Tubbo knew who Lizzie ‘The Shadow Lady’ Beans was.
Stupidly, like an idiot, as Grian pushed his way through the crowds, he caught up a flash of pink hair and brushed it off. The Shadow Lady had a record for being a gentlewoman. She had a gun filled with blanks and an eye for expensive jewellery that were easy to grab.
The market was filled with enough jewellery to distract her from Grian’s mark. One of the benefits of a booming economy was that people could afford to splash their money. The small town had gold under its feet but a whole different goldmine in the hands of the smart shopkeepers. At first, Grian had presumed that was the Shadow Lady’s aim. Her persona, Lizzie, had a good eye for business and knew enough to charge exuberant amounts for her advice because she knew she could get away with it.
Lizzie had the money that the heavy jewels on her rings, around her neck and on her wrist didn’t make people question her. A keen eye would spot that her jewels went missing days before she donned them. It would get her caught one day but Grian wondered, when putting all the information together, if the rush was her only motive.
They stood at neighbouring stalls. Grian slipped the gold in his pockets. The Shadow Lady placed the cold, heavy necklace in her mouth. The shopkeeper noticed. They turned to point their finger at her. Lizzie dove forward to begin to fight them. The stall crashed to the floor and the two of them started to pull at each other’s hair and rip their clothes. Grian stepped back, not taking his eyes away from the fight. Running would make him guilty, draw attention to him. The crowd had circled in, trapping Grian in. In the crowd, stood the sheriff. He pushed forward, prepared to stop the fight.
“That’s the outlaw!” Someone shouted. The Shadow Lady froze up in fear. The merchant threw her off themselves. She pushed herself up and looked around for what had drawn so much attention to her scrabble.
The Shadow Lady stared at him. Her eyes widened by millimetres, her shoulders dropped and she pressed her mouth into a thin line as she recognised him. Grian narrowed his eyes and turned away from her. His wings spread out to form a protective barrier. He pulled his gun from his holster and fired a blank in the air. The brave civilians started to back off. The sheriff did not.
The sheriff didn’t look like much. There was a jagged scar over his face, which looked like a knife wound, and he walked with a limp, most likely from an unhealed bullet wound. Grian bared his teeth, his wings stretching to appear larger than life. He pointed the gun at the sheriff and drawled, “If you let me go, I’ll let you live.”
“I can’t just let you go, not with that merchant's hard work.” The Sheriff was eyeing the gold jewellery that was thrown over Grian’s wrist. Grian took his eyes off the sheriff for a brief second to look at the gold. In the sunlight, it glittered like the gold it pretended to be. His eyes widened.
“Well, I’d say that’s a fair compromise. My life for some measly gold.”
Grian began to throw the odd chain the sheriff’s way. He slid some of the more expensive, the actual gold, into his shirt sleeve. He kept the gun pointed at the Sheriff.
“You are surprisingly cooperative for a criminal. Would you just let me arrest you?”
Grian stepped back at the prospect of ‘arrest.’ The sheriff was going to such lengths of pretence. He raised the gun higher. The bullet would go through his forehead. “No.” He shifted the gun slightly down, to the left and pulled the trigger. At the sound of the bang, he started to flap his wings, to push himself off the ground. The sheriff grasped his ear. Overdramatic, Grian thought, it was merely a graze, and wouldn't even damage his hearing.
He was starting to fly towards the safe house he, Tommy and Tubbo had agreed to meet at, when he was shot. Grian heard it before he felt it. He felt the bullet wedge itself in through his primary feathers and into the muscly flesh. Then he felt the pain. The sheriff stood below him and blew the smoke off his gun with a cocksure grin on his face. They stared at each other for a second. Grian felt a connection form between them, a thin fragile thread of their hopes this situation worked in their favour.
The thread snapped. Grian blinked as the wind started to rush past him. The force was familiar at first. He almost laughed. His wings weren’t carrying the wind like usual. The shot wing had curled in on itself unnaturally. With a dignified squawk, Grian plummeted to the ground. He had enough wits about him to curl into a ball and place his hands above his face before he hit the floor.
Grian turned around to face the sun. It was bright; he squinted. The sheriff, his star badge read Scar, blocked out the sun. The pain must have nearly made Grian delirious because the sight of him almost made him smile. Reality, the instinct buried deep into him didn’t kick into the metal of the handcuffs snapped around Grian’s wrist.
Scar smiled, almost brighter than the sun, “That was close! I nearly would have lost my job just then!”
Grian didn’t mask his scowl.
Scar pulled him up and dragged him towards the wagon. The citizens stared at the sheriff in wonder. Finally, they probably thought, someone had caught the damned bird and would free them of the perpetual fear of robbery – because no one else would ever rob them.
“Are you going to publicly execute him!” Someone yelled. Grian rolled his eyes, they could also be thinking of that. It was always good to know how bloodthirsty the innocent people were. He was forced into the back of the carriage. His wings tucked themselves behind his back. The horse stamped their feet when he shifted the weight.
Scar frowned lightly. A second too long passed and his sunshine smile fell back on his face. “We’re going to give him the fair trial he deserves. See if he has any money to pay his bail!”
Bang on the agreed time, the farmhouse nearby went up in fire. The explosion sent the flaming planks of wood flying in the air. Scar’s eyes widened as he stared towards Grian and the fire Tubbo and Tommy had set. Please , go after them because that would have been part of the plan and Grian could still run fast with a shot wing and handcuffs. The peasants scattered in fear of the nearby bandits. Unfortunately, Scar seemed to hold no such fear.
Scar slammed the carriage door before Grian could hear the public’s response. He turned his head away from the crowd. He didn’t dignify himself with their response. He didn’t care. It wasn’t until the carriage shifted once more and the trip trop of horses hooves had been going for minutes that he faced forwards.
The prison uniform was uncomfortable. It itched and the wing slits had been cut into a suit for humans so they fell off his back, leaving it exposed to the elements. The cell was cold. The cement bed was cold. Grian was cold. He paced around the room.
Behind the cell door, Scar was arguing with his Boss, a wolf hybrid if the occasional growl was anything to go by.
“He wasn’t doing anything wrong when I arrested him! Why should we kill him? Isn’t that against the law we fight so hard for?”
“That is a well renowned thief, Scar! The only reason why you aren’t dead is because he missed!”
“But he missed. How good of a criminal can he be if he missed?”
Grian hadn’t missed but he wasn’t sure if that fact would help or hinder his case. He took to placing his ear against the cell door, trying to parse the quieter murmurs of other members of the force.
“Sir, maybe the bounty wasn’t reasonable. There might be hope to redeem him yet.”
“Martyn, thieves such as Bird Outlaw do not merely change.”
“It could be poverty that’s keeping him from settling down with a proper job. Now he’s outlawed, it’s kind of the only thing left that he can do.”
“See Ren. Even Martyn agrees with me! Are you really going to say no to Martyn?”
“Then we must keep him under observation! Should he act to hurt any of you, I want him dead on sight. His potential redemption is not worth the lives of my faithful servants.”
There was a cheer of agreement. Grian slid down the wall and held his head in his hands. He could defang himself. His most recent crimes had been thefts and destruction of property but he’d been quick enough to avoid pulling out the guns. The sheriff had either changed or had forgotten his dead workers but Grian wasn’t going to shoot that gift horse in the mouth.
The night sky fell that night and Grian curled into a corner. He prepared for a slow night’s sleep where the cold air kept him awake. He pressed his ear against the wall, listening to the birds croon and the wind blow. When the moon was high in the sky, the doors to the main building opened. Quiet words were exchanged between Scar and Joel before Scar left to go to sleep for the night. Joel promised Scar he’d had a pot of coffee before leaving so he wouldn’t be sleeping through his shift. The great news for his captors wasn’t so great for the captive. But with the knowledge that he wouldn’t have a high chance of escaping, Grian fell asleep.
Loud knocking woke him up in the morning. Grian rolled over and stared at the ceiling as he remembered where he was and the miracle that he was still alive. The door opened and the metal bars clashed together. Grian tilted his head to see Scar’s boots.
“Do you even get a break?” He asked.
“Yeah? Um, I have breakfast for you and some questions to ask?”
Grian pushed himself up from the ground and stretched his wings, letting the red, blue and yellows fill the cell. “What are your questions?”
“We have some pictures of the culprits from the bombing yesterday. Since you’re affiliated with criminals, we were wondering if you’d like to help us out. I heard from my boss that we might even pardon your status as an outlaw.” There was a rustling of paper and an audible wink when Scar finished his proposal. Grian turned around to stare at two, mildly accurate, portraits of Tommy and Tubbo.
Tommy’s bandana had done its job at making it harder to see his square jaw and hiding the distinguishable cleft chin. The portrait had assigned him a rounder face and too tight curls. His eyes were accurate, the correct colour and shape, as was the bridge of his nose. Tubbo’s scar wasn’t drawn on, a small relief as even hiding it made it suspicious. They had got his horns the wrong length, assuming they were fully grown rather than having one growth spurt left to go. Small details muddied his portrait enough that while recognisable, wouldn’t get him pulled over in the street.
Grian turned his back from Scar again. “I haven’t got a reputation as being quick because I had others dragging me down. Do you think I know who they are?”
“So you do?” Scar smiled. He folded the sheets of paper into his pocket and walked into Grian’s personal space, leaning over his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me who they are? Or do you want to remain an outlaw.”
“I’ve seen them around Quackity’s bar occasionally. They’re small fry.”
“Yet you’re protecting them.”
“It’d be harder for me to regain trust than to break out of here.”
“Whoever said you’d be breaking out of here.” Scar said. He backed away, his keys jingling as he moved. “We could hang you at dusk and who would be capable of blaming us.” He shrugged and grabbed the bar with his hand.
Grian tilted his head, turning around to see Scar, his wings bristled behind him. He waited until the silence had drawn on for an uncomfortable amount of time. His feathers had only puffed up further, waiting for the seemingly inevitable direct attack to his life. Scar cracked under the silence first, “That’s just something to think about. You can give me a knock when you’re ready to speak.”
Scar had locked the metal bars and was moving onto the wooden door, which kept his identity ‘private’, when Grian cracked. “You’re not going to kill me.”
“Oh!” Scar said, excitement rushed to his features, “You’re going to talk?”
“No.” Grian said, smiling. He walked up to the bar and grabbed the bar besides Scar’s face. The force made the metal ring in his ears. He dragged his hand down the pole until it was resting just above the lock box. “I don’t think you have the guts. You can’t divorce the idea of the infamous bird outlaw with the man you captured. You want to save me and killing me at dusk wouldn’t help serve that cause.” He grinned.
Scar bit his lip. He didn’t say anything dramatic about how Grian was wrong, or how someone truly human would help save lives by getting criminals off the street. He shut the wooden door and left Grian in the dark with his thoughts.
Tubbo and Tommy had made a Plan. They had a plan with a capital P then a couple more plans that could serve as the plan B, C and D. They were lower case p plans, Tommy reminded Tubbo as they walked into the jail that the Plan was ideal because once they were past plan B, which was to pull out the guns and the explosives and the guns and the murder, it was mainly: improvise and don’t get caught after that.
They’d been spying on the building for a day before deciding they had the shift changes down to a T and could break Grian out with some stolen keys and some well-timed distractions (the bombs deemed too dangerous to carry with them in case it blew them up as well.)
Tommy nodded to Tubbo then swung the doors open. He’d pulled down his green mask so it looked more like a bandana. Tubbo had taken his red bandana and tied it over his scarred eye to better obscure his identity.
The sheriff, the same one who’d arrested Grian, waved when they entered. He began to compile paperwork and pushed them towards the front of the table. He smiled with too much enthusiasm to be believed and asked how he could help the two of them. The longer they stood there, the more the sheriff’s eyes narrowed. Tommy shuffled uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Tubbo offered his hand.
“I’m Karl and this is my friend-“
“Big Man!” Tommy cut off Tubbo. They glared at each other before reaching an impasse and accepting that these were their fake names.
“Well what can we do for you today?”
“We just saw a bandit set up a bomb in the Ranch. I couldn’t make out any distinct features but it looked like he had long blond hair. Might have been a girl, now I actually think about it.” Tubbo said as he tapped his cheek.
Tommy played up the role of a scared bystander who just so happened to see some scary individual in the area. Tubbo stared at the sheriff.
Scar started to sweat under the gaze of the smaller boy. He asked them both to sign the paperwork while he started to grab his gear to dismantle the bomb and apprehend the bandit who thought this would work out.
Tommy tapped his foot impatiently, “You know, I think the bandit is going to commit a crime any second now. They aren’t known for their patience and we had to get here and then report it and now we have to do paperwork! It’s almost like you want people to die and suffer in the firing glory that the bandit will release if you don’t leave right now.” Tommy kept talking because their bomb was going to go off any second now and they needed as long as possible to get Grian out as possible.
There was always the idea, which loomed over their heads, that their mentor was dead in his cell and they were still debating whether or not to hang him in the town square or throw his body in some unmarked grave. Tubbo shuffled closer to Tommy as the bomb ticked closer and closer to going off.
“Stay there!” Scar ordered seconds after Tommy finished his rant. Tubbo and Tommy immediately stood up straight. Scar strode past them, shoving his jacket on as the urgency hit and he rushed out the door. Tubbo plucked the keys off him from his belt.
The door slammed shut behind them, Tubbo dangled the keys from his fingers and grinned at his partner. They jingled as he headed towards the jail cells.
Tommy pounded on all the metal doors. “Hello!” He’d shout. He’d then pound a bit more before frowning and moving on. As they got further and further across the halls, something stirred in his gut. Surely, surely they would have woken someone up so far. But still, no one replied to their knocking. The only good sign was that there was a distinct lack of the smell of death. That didn’t say much, cleaning could perform miracles.
They knocked on the final door.
“What do you want now?” Grian yelled.
Tommy could have jumped into Tubbo’s arms in glee but they were on a strict time limit that didn’t allow for them to mess around and make silly mistakes. Tommy settled for knocking excitedly back at the door, “We’re coming for you Gri-en!” he yelled. Grian groaned through the door. Tommy’s excited knocking was disturbed when Tubbo tapped his back so he could have access to the locks.
There were twenty keys on the chain. One for each cell, one for the filing cabinets and one for the staff room. Tubbo stuck his tongue out as he worked. He tried to force each key in. A few fit through the keyhole. They then wouldn’t twist to unlock the door. As the seconds ticked quicker, sweat gathered on Tubbo’s palms and it was harder to get a firm grip on the key. The final few keys were rusted and looked nothing like the rest. Tommy folded his arms as he stared at the lock so hard he could have burnt it off.
With three keys left, the door to the jail opened. Scar was back. The cell door swung open. Grian stood in front of the door with a grin on his face. Tommy pulled a gun from under her shirt and levelled it at the sheriff. Tubbo focused on making sure Grian had a weapon, taking out the best gun from his boot and pressing it into his hands. Grian raised an eye but Tubbo nodded.
“Woah guys! That’s a dangerous criminal you’ve just let out! Maybe we should sit and discuss this.” Scar said as he raised one hand in the air. The other hand was poised to grab his gun at the second their resolve weakened.
“Do you think we’re not dangerous?” Tommy said, offended, tipping his head between himself and Tubbo. “I find that offensive. Surely no one who was safe would blow up the Ranch and then let an outlaw escape! Put some respect on our name!”
“What would your names be?”
“Tommy…” Tubbo warned.
“Tommy…” Grian warned.
Tommy turned to stare at the two of them, letting his gun drop an inch, “What? Anyways! You just told him my name. The both of you! What difference do names make anyways seeing as our photos are going to be all over the town by tonight! That’s Tubbo.”
“What!”
Grian sighed, “You’re going to let us go.” He walked up to Scar and pressed the gun to his temple. He leaned in close and whispered, “Since you’re kindness has already extended so far for us, we’ll let you live. Now, next time we meet, you won’t be so lucky.”
Tommy and Tubbo started to leave the building. Grian watched them but he never let the gun leave the sheriff and he kept his finger on the trigger. Once the door was shut, Scar relaxed. The gun was pulled away from his head and he breathed. It didn’t even occur to him to grab the weapon right by his hand. The relief was too sweet. Someone, Grian, hit him over the head with the bottom of his gun, hard.
Scar crashed to the ground.
Tommy had started the long process of taming the horses and freeing them so they could be used for a quick escape and Tubbo was standing guard in case anyone else came by the jails while Grian was still there. So, Tubbo was the person who saw Grian dragging the unconscious sheriff across the sand with a determined grimace.
“What you doing that for Boss man?”
“I didn’t want him reporting us, so I knocked him out. It’s an efficient way to get a head start and out of this town for a few days while they have the dogs after all three of us.”
“What about the money back at base? Why did you drag him outside, it’s not like he can snitch on us if he’s asleep. Wait-“ Tubbo gasped, “Are we going to ransom him? That way we can earn back our lost money and keep the sheriff’s off our back for at least a day. They’ll be far more concerned with why Scar’s slacking than figuring out you aren’t captured anymore! Grian, that's genius!”
Grian’s ears rose, “I never said we were ransoming him.”
“But it’d be smart.” Tubbo said. He moved closer to pick up Scar’s legs, “We’ll have him on the same horse as you, since Tommy and I might already be riding the same horse depending on whether or not there’s enough. If he wakes up, you knock him out again and we all live happily ever after!”
“That’s not how it works.”
“It is now.”
Scar discovered his worth in gold was ten coins. As soon as he began to squash down the pride of being that worthy, Grian said, “I doubt they’ll pay it though.” They were around a campfire, in the middle of the desert. The nearest safe place was the town ten miles away – which was where the ransom note had been sent from and the money would be received. The two horses were gone, the two teenagers having taken them to shorten the length of the journey to something manageable.
“I mean, ten gold coins is enough to feed a large family through winter and they have no proof of life. It’d be stupid to pay it.” Grian continued. He chucked another dry leaf onto the fire and watched as it cracked.
Scar shook his head, “They’ll pay it! They can’t lose the public’s faith like that. They’ll pay the ransom and then figure out where we are and you know what! They won’t even have to pay the ransom! You basically gave away your own location when you gave them the letter! They’ll just come and arrest you.”
“They can try. I didn’t get the name of the fastest thief for no reason you know.”
“Yet you got caught!”
“My plan went wrong. The town was filled with nobodies who don’t know what they’re doing. I paid the price.”
“Tommy and Tubbo then?”
“They forced me into this mentorship thing.”
“You could be forced into doing anything?”
The corners of Grian’s lips turned upwards, “They have spunk. Couldn’t let it go to waste, could I now?”
“You could have!”
“I don’t know why you’re blaming me? They would have grown up to become much worse than they are now.”
The conversation lapsed. The night began to properly set in and with it the cold. Grian shuffled closer to the fire and shut his eyes. Scar took the chance and began to fiddle with the rope around his wrists. Just as he started to make progress, Grian opened his eyes and watched him. Scar stopped and laughed sheepishly. He made up some excuse about wanting to get comfortable, to which Grian scoffed.
Slowly, Scar shuffled closer to the fire. He found himself besides Grian but in spite of his fleeting glances, nothing happened. There was no moment of pity where Grian let Scar try to escape, no easy conversation about the stars or how to keep a fire going.
The excitement of the day soon caught up to Scar. He tried to see if Grian was still awake, maybe if the bird hybrid had fallen asleep, he could try and hop to safety. Scar fell asleep before he could properly get the chance.
Waking up the next morning was a surprise for Scar. He came too slowly, the sand too similar to the hard mattress he fell asleep on at his home. The sun was burning hot but the fire had burnt out keeping him from feeling too hot. There were three figures in the distance. Scar sat up.
“Oi! The hostage is awake!” Tommy yelled. He had a chicken wing in his hand. “Do we have to feed him?”
Tubbo started to reach for the wing in Tommy’s hand. It was smacked away to the smaller boy's anger. “Of course we don’t feed him! That destroys the point of him being a hostage. Unless he wants the breast.”
“He’s not having the breast. You’re having that so I can have the wing!”
“Tommy I don’t want the fucking breast. I’ve told you that. I deserve that wing!”
“No you do not!” Tommy started to wave the chicken wing around like a bat. Tubbo looked unimpressed and then annoyed when his attempt to grab it once again failed. “Mimimimimi I’m Tubbo and I think I deserve the chicken wing when I can’t even steal it right!”
Tubbo lunged again. Tommy moved and fell right into Tubbo’s trap. Tubbo bit Tommy in the upper arm. Tommy yelped and jumped an inch in the air but the chicken remained firm in his grasp.
Scar stood up and moved towards the group. On the ground was Grian’s shawl and on the shawl was the chicken breast. Scar looked at it and swallowed the saliva building in his throat. The squabbling teenagers didn’t notice Scar but Grian did. The winged man didn’t say anything. He simply looked at the chicken, grinned and nodded.
He was living with bandits and thieves and outlaws, Scar didn’t think he could get reprimanded too badly for stealing the chicken. That would be hypocrisy and that’s the worst crime, well- maybe not the worst crime but it’s up there.
The plain chicken breast was heavenly. Scar had always assumed he knew how to cook but now he was wondering if he had been overcooking his chicken the entire time. The chicken at home was dry and flavourless. This chicken had salt and didn’t dry his mouth like sawdust.
He finished the breast and licked the remaining flavour off his finger. Tommy noticed he’d eaten it and started shouting about how he needed that to bribe Tubbo to let him keep the wing. He was pointing his free hand at Scar and the wing hung loosely in his other hand. Tubbo had used the moment of distraction to start to eat the wing out of Tommy’s hand. Tommy noticed when Tubbo bit his finger.
“What the fuck was that!” Tommy yelled. He threw the wing on the floor. Tubbo picked it up and continued to eat it with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Grian decided this was when he would finally join in. He smirked at Tommy, said “Take that as a lesson on always keeping an eye on your surroundings.” Before grabbing his shawl and wrapping it back around his neck.
“Actually, ah- how do I say this?” Scar said, looking down at the pile of gold at his feet. It shined in the desert light, so bright it could have been blinding. There was no doubt that was as much as Grian had asked for, potentially more. An extra incentive to send his body if he was already dead as a doorknob
Grian tapped his foot, “Well you’re free now, so better say it quick.”
“Well this gold looks really tempting and you guys are skipping town and will anyone really be shocked if I don’t come back at all. I mean, you’re an outlaw and those kids are well on their ways to joining you. I’ve been told I make an excellent hostage after all…” Scar didn’t meet Grian’s eyes.
“You want in?”
“Yeah.”
“You know normally people would kill us over the cost of your ransom. That’s some good bosses you have there.”
“I know but, look, it was dead there Grian. You couldn’t pay me to go back.”
Grian turned his back, his wings spread out soaking in the sun. He wandered in the direction they’d chosen to take, which would take them a slew of highroads with wealthy men to rob.
“You’re telling Tommy and Tubbo.” Was all he said before he flew into the distance to map out their next location.