Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wilbur walked through the familiar streets, his pace leisurely and confident. It was dark, the streetlight overhead flickering slightly, and some suspicious groups talking quietly in the alley ways. Most would feel anxious, or at least a bit wary around these parts of the city. Not him. As part of the Syndicate, a well-known villain group in Japan, he was comfortable around villains. They didn’t scare him. After all, with a Quirk like Charm Speak, if he ever needed them to piss off, all he had to do was tell them to. Unfortunately, he was currently in his civilian disguise, so villains didn’t know to leave him alone. They didn’t recognize him as the number 3 villain, Siren. 

“Hey, kid. How about you buy us some drinks, eh? You don’t mind, right?”

Speak of the devil.

Wilbur turned, seeing some low-life thugs coming up to him. They were barely even worthy of the title, ‘Villain’. They had pathetic masks on, and they didn’t even look that tough, if he was being honest. Maybe some kid would be scared of them. He thought it was a bit insulting for them to think a 24-year-old would.

“How about you go fuck yourselves?” He said casually, barely giving them a glance. Without warning, he was slammed into the side of a building, one of the bulkier ones gripping his shoulder tightly.

“Think you’re tough shit, huh? How about you just hand over your wallet, and we won’t have to beat your pretty face?”

The thug leaned close, his breath a thick stench of weed and alcohol. Wilbur scrunched his nose, grimacing. Gross. Alright, time to get this over with.

“Oh, sure. Then maybe I’ll-” Before he could even finish his sentence, a bolt of green lightning flashed, and the grip that was on his shoulder disappeared. Within a second, the thugs were on the ground, tied up with rope.

What the hell…

Standing there was a young man who looked to be no more than a teenager, green lightning still flashing across his body. He had short green hair, a tattered orange scarf, and a dirtied hero costume. His green eyes flicked over to Wilbur’s brown ones.

“Are you okay?” The hero asked.

It took about two and a half seconds for it to click. This was the well-known vigilante who was jumping around Japan, capturing villains left and right. Deku. 

“You’re the new vigilante, aren’t you? ‘ Deku ’?” Wilbur asks, his lips curling up slightly.

Deku, huh? You’ll do quite nicely.

The Syndicate was a villain group known for killing hundreds of heroes, villains, and vigilantes alike. Not many know the reason for their continuous murders, but they do know that they tend to target those at the top. The leader of the group, the number 1 villain, was Zephyrus, followed by the number 2 villain, Blade. The very fact that three of the top three villains of Japan were all in one group was enough for the Syndicate to be considered among the most feared villain groups, alongside the League of Villains.

However, the Syndicate has a very big difference from the League, and that is their goal. The Syndicate’s goal is a peaceful society, and they believe that for that to happen, they must go back to a Quirkless world. Things started going downhill the second Quirks started appearing; more crime, more violence, more chaos. Heroes and villains alike cause chaos in their world, and the Syndicate believes the only way to change that is to take away dangerous Quirks entirely. 

The Syndicate always keeps a keen eye out for potentially dangerous Quirks, and Deku’s was one that they have been concerned about for a while. Thus, Wilbur finds himself in an interesting situation.

“That would be me,” the young man said gruffly, nodding. He looked a bit slouched over, almost like he might pass out at any second.

Perfect.

“You’re quite famous, aren’t you?” Wilbur hums, his voice amused and curious as he puts his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. 

The vigilante just nodded. He stepped back, looking like he was getting ready to take off again. Wilbur’s heart jumped.

“Wait!” He called out, causing Deku to stiffen, turning with a confused expression. “How about I buy you a drink? You did save me, after all,” he said, cringing a bit at his lame excuse. But hey, what teenager denies a free drink, right?

Deku paused, his eyes looking tired. He glanced out behind him, frowning. “I…really can’t. I appreciate the offer, but I have to go.”

Okay. That didn’t work. Time to change tactics.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Wilbur says, wearing a bitter smile. “It’s just… I was so scared. And this is my first time having someone save me like that, I just- I really want to repay you somehow.” He looks up, pleading with his eyes.

Deku looks conflicted, biting his lip. 

It’s working. So he’s more of an emotional person, huh? Let’s step it up a notch.

“You know… I kept seeing you on the news, and I just thought you were so cool. And, if I’m being honest…” He rubs his neck awkwardly. “I’d just really like to spend a bit more time with my hero.”

That seemed to do the trick. Deku sighed, offering a small, tired smile.

“Sure. For a bit.”

They stepped into the pub, with not a lot of people filling the room other than some groups of people talking quietly among themselves. At the front was the bartender, a middle-aged man with blond hair pulled into a manbun, a bit of stubble on his chin. He looked up as the two entered, his eyes widening slightly as they fell on Wilbur.

“Phil,” Wilbur greeted casually, sitting down on one of the bar stools and gesturing for Deku to do the same. The vigilante sat down, looking a bit warily around the place.

“Wilbur. To what do I owe the pleasure?” The bartender said calmly, looking at the other with fondness. Wilbur hummed, leaning forward on the bar counter with his head propped up on his hand.

“Just here to treat a friend. He helped me out,” he said, glancing towards Deku. He smiled shyly, nodding towards Phil.

Phil’s gaze lingered on Deku for a moment, and his eyebrow quirked upwards slightly. He chuckled softly. “Wow. A famous vigilante in my humble pub. I’m honored.”

Deku seems a bit shocked by this reaction, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “You…don’t mind?” He asked carefully.

Phil chuckled again. “Business is business. Besides, this is a safe place.” He nodded at Wilbur, who smiled back.

“Well…that’s good. Most places tend to call the cops immediately if they recognize me,” Deku said, fidgeting with a piece of his hair.

“I can assure you that no one is going to call the cops on you here. You’re safe here,” Phil said calmly, smiling softly. He set down the glass. “Now, what can I get you two?”

Deku glanced at Wilbur, who nodded. “I’ll just have a beer,” he said, smiling at Phil.

“Make that two,” Wilbur chimes in, and Phil nods. 

“Coming right up.”

“You two seemed to be friendly. Do you know each other?” Deku asked, seeming to relax a bit more. Wilbur nodded.

“You could say that. He’s basically my dad,” he said with a light chuckle.

Deku’s eyes widened a bit at that. His expression dimmed for half a second before he smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You two seem close.”

Wilbur found himself curious about his reaction, but he didn’t comment on it. He smiled. “Yeah,” he said, glancing up to watch Phil work. “He’s a nice guy.” 

Deku follows his gaze, his eyebrows creasing slightly.

“Yeah.”

A bit later, two glasses were placed in front of the two.

"Thanks, mate," Wilbur said, taking a large gulp. 

"Don't mention it. Holler if you need anything," Phil said, turning to another customer who walked in.

The two take their drinks, the air between them becoming a bit more relaxed with the alcohol. The bar had a relaxed atmosphere, one that Wilbur had come to appreciate. His dad really did know how to make the place welcoming. The dim lighting, the soft music playing, the quiet chats and occasional laughs- It was definitely one of Wilbur’s favorite places to just unwind. Sometimes he and his family would chat here, without the worry of heroes. He even invited Tommy a couple times, although he refused to let him drink. He was only 16, and Wilbur needed to at least try to be a good influence on his little brother. Tommy never made it easy, though, with how adamantly he would ask for just a sip. The kid was a gremlin child, through and through.

“So what were you doing in such a dangerous area?” Deku finally asked after some moments of comfortable silence, glancing curiously over at Wilbur.

He stares for a second, before chuckling lightly. "Ah, it was kinda an accident, to be honest. I didn't realize I was starting to get into that part of the city until I ran into those villains," He said, taking another gulp of his beer.

He had actually been heading straight to Phil’s Pub, hoping to chat for a bit, get a couple of drinks before heading home. Plans changed, fortunately.

Deku laughed softly at that, finding the reason amusing. “Really? You must be rather careless then. It’s a good thing I was in the area.”

Wilbur almost laughed at the naive comment. But he shoved it down with a soft smile, one he hoped didn’t hold too much amusement. "I really am. I don't know what I would do if you hadn't shown up. Phil's always telling me I can be a bit airheaded sometimes."

Deku hummed, nodding as he took a drink from his beer. “I can see that.” He then paused, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Wait, if Phil is like a dad to you, how old are you?”

“I’m 24.” He says casually. “And you?”

Deku shrank into himself a bit, smiling a bit shyly. “...I’m 17,” he admits quietly, his eyes gauging his reaction.

He felt his eyebrows raise slightly. "-17? You do realize the legal drinking age is 20, right?" He says, chuckling lightly, though the way his eyebrows creased slightly shows his concern.

Deku smiled bitterly, looking back down at his beer. “I guess it doesn’t matter much, huh? I’m already breaking the law by being a vigilante,” he muttered quietly, his thumb rubbing against the handle of the mug.

Wilbur’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, feeling a weird pang of sympathy at the sentence. He turned back to his own drink. “I suppose you’re not wrong,” he said softly. He glances back at Deku. “Still, have you drank before? Are you going to be alright?”

The vigilante chuckled lightly, meeting his gaze. He looked tired and incredibly forlorn despite the smile on his face. The expression- It felt weirdly familiar. Like, even though life had beaten him down in so many different ways, he stubbornly keeps getting up. Wilbur felt his chest squeeze a bit.

“I’ll be okay. I’ve had drinks befores” he stated. He raised an eyebrow, his expression turning a bit more playful. “You know, you worry a lot,” He said, tilting his head. “You kinda act like a dad,” he commented, taking another sip of his beer.

Wilbur practically chokes on his drink. "God, don't make me feel so old," he mutters, his voice raspy as he coughs. "You're a minor, I think I'm allowed to be a bit worried."

Deku shrugged casually. “Fair enough.” He went back to drinking, unbothered. Wilbur watched him silently. The vigilante looked different in person. In the news, he looked…well, terrifying. He had black tendrils coming out of him, an intimidating mask, his gloves looking more like claws than hands. Not to mention the insane power he held. The capability to take down any villain in seconds, regardless of how powerful. Even though those villains he had run into earlier were insanely weak, the fact that Deku had just flashed by in a second, and suddenly they were in ropes, was impressive, admittedly. 

But now, looking at the vigilante- the kid …He looked tired. So tired. The eyebags under his eyes could rival Wilbur’s own. He also looked dirty. He wondered when the last time the kid had had a shower. There was something obvious about the kid’s demeanor, like just sitting down here was taking a huge weight off him. He didn’t just need a break. He was desperate for one. And it seems he hasn’t had one in a long time.

Wilbur shook his head gently, forcing his gaze back to his drink. He couldn’t be thinking like this. Deku was dangerous. For the Syndicate, for Tommy … he had to kill him.

Despite this, he found himself asking, “What’s it like being a vigilante?”

Deku was silent for a moment. “It’s…not easy,” he finally said, his voice weirdly hollow. “But people need me. So I do what I have to.”

Wilbur finds himself frowning at the statement. It seemed that ‘what he had to’ was destroying his body. That realization caused his fists to clench.

“You know, it’s not all on you. You don’t need to be everyone’s savior or something,” he said in what he hopes is a casual tone and doesn’t reveal his inner turmoil.

Deku chuckled dryly. “It is. I- It’s hard to explain. But this is something I have to do. It’s my job.”

Wilbur felt himself getting increasingly more distressed. It was clear the kid was overworking himself. And he thought it was his duty. Like his wants and needs didn’t matter at all. He hated how familiar it all felt.

“It’s not your job. You aren’t a pro hero. You’re just- you’re just a kid. ” The words fell out of his mouth easily, perhaps loosened by the alcohol. Deku’s eyes widened a bit, his grip on his mug tightening slightly.

“...That doesn’t matter,” he whispered, and Wilbur felt his heart crack. “What matters is whether I’m capable. And I am . It doesn’t matter whether I asked...” Wilbur heard his voice waver, and the next words were clear. Whether I asked for this.

Tommy is Quirkless. He always was, and always will be. His life has been nothing short of a living hell. Every day, getting beat up by villains, barely escaping because the heroes don’t manage to show up in time, and then going to school and being beat up by his classmates. Yet he wears a smile the whole time. Despite the bruises and scars that litter his body, you would never catch him dead admitting it hurt. He would take all of it, and he would get back up every single time.

Wilbur stared at this boy. 

He’s just a kid.

Appearance-wise, he was nothing like Tommy. Green hair. Green eyes. Freckles. But the way he spoke, the way he talked about his struggles like he didn’t even care, the way he jumped into danger, ignoring his own well-being, the way he kept getting back up, forcing that same stupid smile onto his face… Wilbur couldn’t help but see Tommy in this boy. This poor, lonely, exhausted boy. 

He couldn’t kill him. He just couldn’t. And he didn’t know if that made him a coward or a traitor to the Syndicate, but in that moment, he didn’t care. If this kid were anything like Tommy, he couldn’t possibly kill him.

“Need a refill?” Wilbur jolted, his eyes looking up to see Phil, who was looking down at him with a look akin to curiosity. It was almost like he could read his thoughts. He swallowed, glancing back down at his empty mug. He hadn’t noticed he’d finished it.

“Sure,” he says, offering a small smile as he passes his glass to Phil.

“I’ll take a refill too,” Deku pipes in, and Wilbur’s eyes widen at his empty glass. He finished it already..? He’s only 17- How much does this kid drink?!

“How did-” Wilbur muttered, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Deku laughed . It was the first time he really laughed since he had met him, Wilbur thought distantly.

“Don’t worry. I may be young, but it’s not my first time,” he said calmly, a playful smirk on his lips. Despite his words, Wilbur did catch the slight flushing of his cheeks. Still, the kid looked so…happy. In that moment, there wasn’t a flicker of misery behind his eyes. It was enough for Wilbur to feel some weird sense of relief. “In fact, I bet I could drink you under the table.”

Wilbur’s eyebrow twitched upwards at the bar lingo. He chuckled, finding this kid more and more intriguing. “Really?” He asked, amused. “You sure about that?”

There was a competitiveness in his eyes that came seemingly out of nowhere, Deku leaning forward with a confident smile. “Of course I am.” 

Wilbur couldn’t help but laugh again at the total determination in his eyes. It was entirely too familiar. The corners of his lips curled up, and his expression turned smug. “Kid, I’ve been drinking for years. You’re out of your league,” he said confidently, leaning on his hand.

Phil placed down their refilled drinks, and Deku smirked. “We’ll see about that,” he said, taking a gulp of his drink.

Wilbur felt an odd mix of intrigue and concern as he watched the teen drink from the mug. “I was just playing, you don’t actually need to prove anything,” he said, hoping the kid didn’t feel peer pressured. It was a ridiculous thought, when his plan was to get him drunk from the start. He should be overjoyed. But all he can feel is concern for this kid, who clearly was not mentally stable.

“It’s fine. I can handle a little alcohol,” Deku said between gulps, the sheer amount he was drinking starting to really concern Wilbur.

Wilbur stares for a second, but sighs. "Alright. But if I have to worry about a black-out drunk 17-year-old, I'm gonna be pissed," he said, with an amused glint in his eyes.

Deku just shrugged, his cheeks noticeably flushed now. “You worry too much,” he muttered, his words starting to slur together a bit. Wilbur frowned.

“...Okay,” he said finally, taking another gulp of his own beer. He was also starting to feel the effect of the alcohol, feeling a bit of warmth himself. But there was no way a kid would beat him. He may not have the best alcohol tolerance, but surely he could best a teenager?

As Deku continued working on the mug at a considerably quick pace, Wilbur was side-eyeing him, amused by the kid. Sure, there had been plenty of minors that made their way into the pub, and Phil was good at giving a blind eye to it, as well as any other unsavory customers. However, usually the kids he saw were nervous, unsure of themselves, clearly worried about being caught. This kid, however, was chugging the beer like it was water. It was entertaining, if a bit concerning. Wilbur took another drink of his beer.

Deku’s eyes flicked over to meet his, raising an eyebrow. “You’re staring again. Are you really that worried?”

"You're fucking insane," Wilbur chuckled, clearly seeing the effect the beer was starting to have on the kid. "But seriously. You should slow down," he suggests, his tone turning a bit more serious.

“You’re not my fucking dad,” The vigilante grumbled easily, the cuss catching Wilbur off guard. Then his sentence hit.

He felt his cheek start to burn with embarrassment and the effect of the alcohol. “Fuck off,” he grumbles, taking another gulp.

Deku laughed hard at that, his laughter a strangely sweet sound that Wilbur wanted to hear more often. He could even see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Despite his embarrassment at his earlier comment, he found himself smiling at the kid, with a strange urge to laugh along with him.

Soon enough, the two had gotten another pint of beer, the competitive glint still in each of their eyes. The second they got their third beer, Deku took a long drink from his, which Wilbur perceived as a clear challenge, to which he immediately accepted.

He takes a breath, chugging down about half the glass. "You're out of your league," he said again after the long drink, smirking. 

"Getting competitive with a teenager, I see?" a voice said, and Wilbur looks up to see Phil watching the two, amused. 

Wilbur gives a childish glare. "Shut up," he muttered, his words slightly slurred. Phil just chuckled.

"I better not have to take care of both of your drunken asses," he said, a bit fondly. Deku watched the interaction with a gleeful yet almost envious expression. He rubbed the side of his glass. He quickly recovered, however, turning to Wilbur with a devilish grin.

“I bet I can finish this whole glass before you,” he challenged, and Wilbur instantly grinned back at him.

“You’re on.” Phil mutters a quiet 'oh boy' before turning to another customer. Wilbur takes another large gulp.

The two continued like this until both of them were rather drunk, Wilbur less so, but still clearly drunk. Phil came over to the two, crossing his arms. 

"You two look like a mess," he commented. Wilbur puts up a middle finger, glaring. 

"Fuck off," he grumbled. Phil chuckled. 

"Haven't seen you this drunk in a while, Wil." Phil crossed his arms, looking at the two with the look only an exhausted father could. He sighed. "Alright. You guys are pretty much the last ones, so I can drive you. Kid, you got a home to go to?" he asked, turning to the vigilante.

The words seem to hit Deku especially hard, as his grip on the handle tightened. His expression turned pained, his emotions an open book in his drunken state. “N…No. I-” his voice hiccuped. “I don’t….have a home.”

Phil raises an eyebrow. "You don’t?" 

Wilbur's eyes also widen, sharing a similarly pained expression.  "You- You don't have a house..? Or...family or anything? Do you...have a friend to call?" Wilbur asked, worry evident in his slightly slurred words. Phil glanced at Wilbur curiously.

Deku’s frown deepened, staring down at his cup. Slowly, he shook his head.

Wilbur looked absolutely crushed by this news, looking half-near tears. Phil just turned his attention back to Deku. "Well, if you feel comfortable with it, you two can crash at my place. I don't mind," he said casually, cleaning a glass. 

Time stopped. Wilbur blanched, feeling like cold water had just been dumped on him. 

Crash…at his place. Deku. Oh—Oh no-

This wasn’t a friendly offer. Phil was still planning to kill him. He was planning to kill Deku. Wilbur's eyes widened impossibly, a look of deep concern and almost horror coming to his expression. "N-No! No, Phil, you...you don't- please. You don't need to do that," he said, his tone desperate. 

With his eyes, he tried to convey his desperate plea to the best of his abilities, trying to ignore the confused expression on Deku’s drunk face. 

The two kept eye contact for a second, curiosity flicking across Phil's expression. "Don't be ridiculous. It's not a problem," he said, and Wilbur’s heart sank.

No Phil. No, not him, please not him, I can’t-

“What’s wrong?” Deku asked, his eyes so wide with innocence and care and complete and utter naivety, what was he thinking?! How could he even think to hurt someone so pure? His eyes were so full of childlike puzzlement, not knowing what’s going to happen.

Phil was right there. What could he say? But how on earth could he just say nothing? How could he just watch this poor kid get kidnapped and then killed? Was this really the world he was fighting for? A world where poor innocent kids must be killed just because they possess a powerful Quirk?

All of this was for Tommy. Of course it was, it always was. But how could Wilbur look Tommy in the eyes ever again if this kid’s blood was on his hands? How could he pretend to be a good big brother? He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. So he opened his mouth, and-

"He's always been bad at asking for help. He's worried about being a bother," Phil says casually, glancing at Wilbur for a second. 

No. No, that’s not it, Phil, please-

Wilbur's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "No, I- Phil. I don't want you to ," He said, staring at Phil for a long time. 

Phil just sighed. "Wil. You clearly aren't in a state to care for yourself," he said softly. The words sank a hole of dread and despair in his stomach. Phil wasn’t going to let Deku get away. It wasn’t like Wilbur could blame him, since that was the plan, but- 

Wilbur just stared at the table, his expression still distraught. "He'll come around, eventually." Phil says with another sigh. "What about you? I really don't mind having you stay just for a night," Phil asked, turning back to Deku.

Wilbur can’t help the anxiety squeezing his chest as he waited for Deku’s answer. He wanted to shake his head, give him a look, say something- But he could feel Phil’s gaze pinning him to the chair. It was as if he was saying, “I don’t know what you’re going through right now, but get it together. We have a job to do.”

Deku’s eyes lingered on Wilbur for a while, his drunken mind clearly struggling to understand Wilbur’s inner conflict. Why is he so upset? Doesn’t he like Phil? And Phil is being so nice.

“S-Sure…I mean, it- it would be…nice to sleep in a bed,” He murmured, his words slurring together as he smiles softly. Wilbur’s heart plummeted even further at those words.

Phil smiled back, nodding. "Alright then." He set down his glass. "Just give me a second, I'll just clean up and then we can close and head off." 

Wilbur just stared at the table with a conflicted expression, his mind spinning like a hamster in a wheel. He has to save Deku. But how..?

“Are…Are you okay..?” Deku asked quietly, his eyes still wide with that childlike innocence that made Wilbur feel sick. He looked up, his hands shaking slightly as he thought about what he might look like covered in blood. He wanted to throw up.

He flicked his eyes over to Phil, who was still watching him like a hawk. The bastard even had the audacity to smile at him. "...I'm fine," he forced the words out weakly, his hands gripping the edge of his bar stool tightly. He wanted to say more, but he bit his cheek.

“You don’t look like it,” Deku murmured, leaning a bit closer as if to encourage him to tell him what was on his mind. He set a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, and it felt like burns on his skin. Why did he have to be so caring? He shook his head miserably.

After a few minutes, Phil walks back over, tossing his cloth in the bin. "Alright, kids. You ready to go?" he asked, his eyes flicking over to Wilbur in a concerned but curious expression. 

Wilbur bit back the urge to scowl at the expression. He sighed softly. "...I guess," he muttered, his words still slightly slurred.

Deku nodded as well, giving Wilbur one more worried look before smiling up at Phil.

Phil helped the two into his car, and before long, they arrived at his house. His house was larger than what was average, seeing as the Syndicate’s base was inside. Wilbur just stared out the window the whole time, with a pensive expression. The entire time, guilt ate at his insides. He couldn’t even bear to look at Deku anymore. Phil had told him not to get attached to their targets. But how could he not when the kid reminded him of his own little brother? How could he just accept that he had just brought this poor kid to his death? And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it?

Soon enough, Phil came to his side, helping him out of the car. He looked up at him with pleading eyes, and Phil looked at him with confusion and sternness. There was a question in his gaze, and Wilbur wasted no time answering.

“Please, Phil. I don’t- I don’t want to. He’s so- so young and- he’s like Tommy- ” His whispered words came out rushed and panicked, his breath hiccuping. Phil pursed his lips.

“Wilbur. You’re reasoning is clouded because you’re intoxicated. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” His words were far from harsh, only the soft sternness of a father to a son. And yet, he found his blood boiling at them.

“My reasoning is fine, ” he growled, his hands trembling with anger. Phil’s eyes pierced through him, observing his obvious aggression.

“Wilbur, we’re not talking about this right now,” he snapped with finality, his eyes flickering for a second. The sight sent a chill down his spine. His hands tightened into fists, his eyes staring unseeing at the ground.

“Don’t kill him. Not yet,” he begged quietly, trying to ignore the confused looks Deku was giving, trying to listen in on their whispered conversation. Phil sighed.

“I won’t kill him right away. I’ll wait till morning,” he relented, looking tired. Wilbur nodded. His heart still ached to help Deku get away, but at least he wasn’t going to kill him right away.

Wilbur was getting more and more anxious the closer they got to the house. He knew they wouldn’t kill Deku right away. But he still needed to try and save him. It was probably useless, but then again, his drunk mind couldn’t stand the thought of not at least giving it one last-ditch effort. He glanced at Phil, and before he could think better of it, he whispered as quietly as he could. " Run. "

The words clearly had an impact on Deku, his eyebrows furrowing and his expression turning a bit panicked despite his drunkenness. “H-Huh? What do you-”

Before he could get another word out, darkness covered them both. The last thing Wilbur saw before his senses completely turned off was Phil’s eyes staring at him and his pitch-black wings erupting from his back. The look in his eyes felt like death.

Chapter Text

Philza, also known as Zephyrus. The number 1 villain of Japan. There was a reason why he was the number 1 villain, and his Quirk was the embodiment of terror. Dark Depravity. The second he took out his wings, those within a certain radius were impacted by sensory deprivation. In other words, they were covered in darkness in every possible sense- sight, hearing, touch, scent, and taste. It was equal parts terrifying and incredibly dangerous. His power was most effective at night, from the hours of 8pm to 5am.

Unfortunately for the two, it happened to be nighttime, which meant they were both sent into complete sensory deprivation. It was almost like you’re floating in space, except you have no body. You’re just there. In space. Alone. The silence is about as loud as your own thoughts.

Eventually, he was taken out of the darkness, voices and sights immediately flooding his consciousness. He was in his bed, at home. Phil must have carried him while he was blacked out from his Quirk. He had to get up, he had to find Deku, save him-

But exhaustion hit him like a bloody bullet train, and he just couldn’t resist. He quickly fell into a hard, dreamless sleep.

When consciousness finally came back to him, Wilbur was immediately assaulted with a pounding headache, the light coming through his window feeling like it was burning the back of his eyes. He groaned, stuffing his face into his pillow and pulling his blankets over his head. He dully registered people talking outside his room, but the nails being drilled into his temples were too distracting to understand a word of it. Even so, he found himself grumbling incoherently at the sound, curling in on himself.

Why did they have to talk so early in the morning…?!

As he was forcefully pulled out of his weary state, the voices came a bit clearer, and more irritating by the second.

“.....think that he’s……..talk about this. Deku is……have to deal with……Techno, can you……Deku?” Wilbur scowled at the voices, pulling the blankets closer over his body.

God, why can’t they just shut-

His heart jumped to his throat. What did they just say? … Deku.

His eyes shot open, and he ripped the blanket off himself as he rushed to his feet, nausea hitting him instantly, causing him to stumble and collapse against his dresser. His shoulder hit the edge, and he winced. His head pulsed and pounded, and he was suddenly overcome with the urge to vomit. He gritted his teeth, his hand flying to his forehead, pulling back his brown locks. His forehead was slick with sweat, and he grimaced, wiping his hand on his pants.

After a moment of recovery, his stomach had settled somewhat, and he pushed off the dresser. He faltered, his hand stretching out to lean on the wall as he walked. Every step felt arduous, but he ignored it. He had to make sure Phil kept his promise. He had to make sure Deku was alive and safe.

Finally, he reached his door, and he collapsed against it for a moment before pulling it open. Phil and Techno were in the kitchen. Phil was standing at the island while Techno was sitting on one of their stools, his hand wrapped around a mug of tea. Techno glanced over, his eyes tired and deadpan.

“You look terrible,” he commented in true Techno-fashion. Wilbur just glared.

“Good to see you’re up,” Phil said casually, contrasting Techno’s dry greeting. “I made you some peppermint tea.” He picked up a cup of tea on the counter, moving it to the island for easier access. Wilbur scowled at it.

“I’ll just have coffee,” he grumbles, falling down onto one of the stools. Phil raised an eyebrow.

“Wil. Peppermint tea would be much better, coffee will just dehydrate you. If you don’t want tea, at least have some water,” Phil said calmly, reminding Wilbur of how much of a dad he really is. Unfortunately, he was in no mood to accept his sickening kindness.

“I’ll have water later,” he growled, leaning over and picking up the coffee pot. “Can you pass me a cup?” He asked, looking up at him tiredly. Phil gave him a long look, but eventually sighed.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head fondly as he grabbed a cup and placed it in front of Wilbur. He poured the coffee and chugged it in a matter of seconds, completely black, something that never failed to impress his dad and brothers.

The bitter taste coated his mouth, the warm liquid burning his stomach in the most satisfying way. He sighed. Then he realized the reason he had left his room in the first place. His expression turned a bit more panicked as he looked up at Phil.

“Where’s-”

“He’s fine,” Phil answered. He really did have a talent for reading Wilbur’s mind like a goddamn book sometimes. Phil chuckled at the expression that was supposedly on Wilbur’s face. “You’re wondering about the vigilante kid, right?”

Wilbur nodded, a bit of relief easing his anxiety at his reassurance. Phil hummed.

“We didn’t kill him. Yet.” Wilbur hoped the dread didn’t show on his face. “You seem to be rather attached to the kid, huh?” Dammit.

Wilbur rubbed his thumb over his glass, biting his cheek. “I guess so,” he said, a severe understatement for the protectiveness that had washed over him like a tidal wave. He didn’t fully understand it, but he couldn’t see the kid as being just some vigilante, just another target anymore. When he thought of him, an image of Tommy quickly followed. 

Phil sighed, resting his weight against the island in a relaxed manner. “May I ask what sparked this? You said yesterday that he was ‘too young’ and that he was ‘like Tommy’,” he said calmly, his expression perfectly neutral.

Wilbur stared at the dark liquid in his cup for a moment. He didn’t know what to say. How could he possibly explain the complicated emotions he was struggling with? He didn’t even fully understand it himself.

“I just…I look at Deku and I see Tommy,” he said quietly, his voice sounding fragile in his ears. Phil silently listened, waiting patiently for him to continue. “He…He needs our help. Not a knife in the back. Don’t you see that...?” He said, his eyes looking up. He felt his chest squeezing with emotion, his grip on the cup tightening.

“It sounds like your emotions are causing you second thoughts,” Phil said calmly. Wilbur just nodded. “But that doesn’t change anything. Deku is still dangerous, and he still needs to be killed.” His voice was impossibly tender. Wilbur’s eyebrows furrowed, his jaw tensing. He knew Phil was right. Phil was always right.

But maybe…

“What if we didn’t have to kill him?” Wilbur asked suddenly, looking back up to meet Phil’s gaze. Phil sighed, sounding a bit tired.

“Wil, we already-”

“Just listen for a second!” Wilbur pleaded, setting his cup down with a clank. “What if- What if Deku joined the Syndicate? Then we wouldn’t have to kill him, because he would be on our side. ”

Phil stared at him for a long moment, clearly taking in his suggestion. “Deku is a vigilante. We can’t trust that he won’t betray us,” he said calmly.

Wilbur pursed his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. “Then- Then we’ll just have to keep him here! Put Quirk suppressors on him constantly so he can’t escape!” He said, trying to ignore the glee he felt at having the kid around all the time.

Phil considered this, actually bringing a hand to his chin. “That…might work,” he said softly. “But how could we convince him? He’d never join the Syndicate willingly.”

“Well, it’s either that or killing him, right? And- And he’ll get used to us. Eventually,” Wilbur said, a bit of guilt gnawing at his stomach at the thought. He didn’t like forcing the kid to join them. But…he couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that was overjoyed at having him join. 

Tommy never wanted to join the Syndicate. In fact, it was pretty obvious he didn’t approve of the things the Syndicate did at all. And although Wilbur understood that that was completely his choice, he did feel a bit disappointed that his little brother wouldn’t be a part of the Syndicate.

But now, Deku could join! And sure, he wouldn’t be thrilled at the start, but surely he would get used to it, right? Maybe he would even start to believe in their dream. It was wishful, but it still made him a bit giddy to think about.

Phil hummed, nodding to himself. “It could work,” he muttered, and Wilbur’s heart leapt. His head whipped up a bit too quickly, and he was overwhelmed with the reminder of his pounding headache.

“...Really?” Wilbur asked, hardly able to believe that Phil was actually going to go along with this. He was usually so hard-set in the rules; his word was law. But he was considering it. He was considering not killing Deku. He was considering letting him stay with them, as long as he had Quirk suppressors on.

“We can give it a try, Besides, you seem to care a lot about him. Sometimes you’re a bit too affectionate for your own good,” Phil said, fondly ruffling his hair. He then grimaced. “When was the last time you showered? Your hair is greasy as fuck, mate,” he said with a chuckle.

Wilbur rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the way the corners of his lips curled upwards.

Deku woke up to a blinding pain in his temples and the back of his head. The room spun for a second, feeling like the world had just flipped over on itself. There was a singular light above him, and it felt like it was burning a hole through his skull. The muffled voices outside didn’t help either. He couldn’t make out a word they were saying, and frankly, he didn’t care. He just wanted to fall into the sweet darkness of non-existence again. He groans, moving to cover his eyes-

Huh.

He couldn’t move his hands. Actually, correction. He couldn’t move his entire arm.

Sorry, correction again. He couldn’t move at all.

He felt his heart immediately ram against his chest, trying to wrestle and scramble his way out of whatever was keeping his body captive. His slow and disoriented brain managed to process that he was sitting in what was supposedly a chair. But he couldn’t move. He could only move his head and neck- his arms and legs were completely enclosed in some thick metal cuffs. He tried to activate One for All to rip his arms out of the enclosure, but was struck with the sudden realization that he couldn’t. His mind froze.

Were these cuffs some Quirk suppressors or something…? Like Aizawa-sensei’s Quirk? He didn’t know that kind of thing existed. He pulled and squirmed against his restraints, even moving his body back and forth to try to tip the chair (In retrospect, he wasn’t sure how that would help, but his brain was still a bit scrambled), only to find out the chair was also fixed to the floor.

His blind panic and rapid heartbeat paused only for a second as the images of the night before started to flash across his fleeting memory.

He was at the bar with that guy… William? No, that doesn’t sound right. W-...Wil...Wilbur? And the bartender, Paul? No, Phil. It was Wilbur and Phil. But what happened after that…? How was he here?

He furrowed his eyebrows, straining his brain to remember what happened. It was painfully difficult, though. He remembered the bar. He couldn’t really remember what happened after that, though. But he did have this weird memory of sudden bone-chilling fear and darkness. Was there a villain? Had a villain attacked the bar? Then why was he here? Was he kidnapped? And where exactly was here?

He forced his eyes up, his mounting panic coming back in full force as he looked around the room. It was plain. A completely empty room, grey walls, a door right across from his chair, and a singular light above him. He was struck with the dreadful thought that this room looked like the place where people were kidnapped, tortured, and then killed- a lump formed in his throat.

Would this room be the last thing he ever sees? Is his captor just taking his time before eventually killing him? But why?

Some people get a sick pleasure from torturing their victims. Taking their time with them before their inevitable death.

Deku distantly noticed his vision was getting a bit fuzzy at the edges, and his ears had started ringing dully. His heart leapt when he realized he might have been poisoned. Maybe the headache and the increased heart rate were the poison slowly killing him? 

He was gonna die. This was the room where he died.

There was a weird emotion that washed over him at that thought. He was terrified. Of course, he was. He didn’t want to hurt. He didn’t want the pain of poison eating away his vital organs or the agony of a thousand different torture mechanisms that he didn’t even want to start to imagine. But there was also a…calm. 

He had been barely holding on by a thread for so long, he didn’t even know if he was even holding on anymore or if he was just in free-fall and delaying the inevitable.

He wasn’t oblivious to the way his body was destroying itself with every missed meal and sleepless night and infected wound that went untreated and never would be. Maybe this was for the best. He was so tired of fighting. Maybe he could finally rest.

He felt something warm tickling his face, and he watched as a teardrop leaked off his cheek, staining the ground at his feet. His breath hitched, and soon enough, choked sobs were quietly leaving his raspy and dry throat. He felt so dehydrated. He shouldn’t be crying so hard. But he also couldn’t help it.

“Wanna be a hero too, huh?”

“Yes. More than anything.”

Eventually, he ran out of tears, his eyes burning a bit, and he tried to blink the pain away. Unfortunately, his uncontrollable sobs didn’t help his headache either; the stabbing pain at his temples only heightened. In fact, his breakdown really hadn’t helped anything at all. Not like any of his previous escape attempts were all that effective, either.

Now, there was just this dull ringing in his ears and the ever-present violent assault on his head. And a hollow feeling in his chest. He knew he should be concerned about how numb he felt all of a sudden, but he couldn’t get himself to care enough to do anything about it. The longer he sat in this stupid fucking chair, the more irritable and quite frankly concerning his thoughts got. He glared up at the door across from him.

Come on. Just walk through that fucking door. Stab me through the gut. Drill a hole into my fucking head. Do it. Just fucking do it, why are you just waiting?! What, you think I care? You think I care what some motherfucker is gonna do to me?! You could shoot me through the chest and I’d gladly thank you. So why don’t you just get it over with? You can start by piercing a blade through my head. It would be a fucking improvement from whatever hell I’m experiencing right now.

His jaw was so clenched he might actually start to grind his teeth, the glare he was giving the door probably lethal. His vision was still swimming, but his intense glare never wavered. It felt like hours of this painful game before he started considering yelling out to his captors to just kill him already.

But he still felt scared. He would never admit it, but there was still that panic in the back of his mind. He was trying hard to ignore it, but he was still terrified of what they might do to him. So he kept his mouth shut, even though every thought in his self-corrupting mind was yelling at him to just get it over with.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, he didn’t have to make a decision, because the door to his small, plain room opened, and his heart jumped. His anxiety went into overdrive as he watched silently, fear clawing at his-

Wait-

His thoughts slammed to a screeching halt as he took in the individuals in front of him. One guy he didn’t recognize, but the other two…

“...Wilbur? A-And Phil…?” He whispered weakly, his raspy voice barely coherent, but the way the brown haired one flinched, it was clear they heard him. He stared at the two, his eyes flicking back and forth as he waited for some explanation. Luckily, Phil wasted no time.

“As you probably have already figured out by now, we’re villains,” Phil says simply, his expression perfectly neutral.

Despite the fact that he really should’ve figured it out, the sentence still hit him like a semi-truck. Of course, they were villains. He was bound to a chair in a room that looked like the last place people would usually ever see. But the betrayal that he immediately felt was sudden and violent. A chuckle ripped from his throat without his permission, and he saw the way Wilbur winced at it.

“What-” He started, his scratchy words dying in his mouth. He swallowed thickly. “W-What are you- This isn’t- I-” He didn’t even know what he was trying to say, but he felt his eyes starting to burn, his throat closing up. His breath hitched, his mind spinning.

No. No, I- They were my friends. I thought they were my friends, they wouldn’t- They wouldn’t just betray me like that, how could they leave me-

“Breathe.” Deku flinched, his eyes flicking upwards to see Phil calmly looking at him. The look on his face made him want to scream and cry at the same time. The scowl that made its way to his face made Phil frown slightly.

“You- I- I trusted you - I thought- I thought someone cared for once , but you- you were just manipulating me the whole time, weren’t you..?! You never cared,” he spat, his words stumbling out without his permission. Phil visibly winced, which shouldn’t have filled Deku with as much satisfaction as it did.

Deku glared up at Wilbur, whose expression was pained and guilty.

Good.

“ Well?! Say something, dammit! ” He screamed, his whole body trembling with emotion.

He really shouldn’t be so upset. It was to be expected. He was a powerful vigilante, it was his own fault for being so damn trusting. For being so selfish as to want a break. For being so desperate for some semblance of love that he took it from strangers. For being so, so stupid.

“Can I talk alone with Deku for a second?” Wilbur asked quietly, and Deku glanced up to see his eyes trained on the floor, looking absolutely awful. He almost felt the urge to comfort him before stomping it down immediately. These people weren’t his friends. He felt an ache in his chest.

Philza looked over to him, an unreadable expression on his face. Despite it, eventually he nodded, gesturing for the other guy to follow him out. Deku turned his attention back to Wilbur, biting his lip.

“Well?” He said again, trying to ignore the pain eating at his chest and focus his energy on glaring at the man who had tricked and betrayed him. Wilbur sighed softly, glancing up.

“I’m…sorry,” the bitch said. Deku scowled, turning his gaze away. 

He’s sorry? That’s all he has to say?!

“Don’t be.” He growled, refusing to look him in the eyes anymore. “Cut the bullshit, just tell me what you want.” He knew how villains worked. He’d dealt with them enough to know. Villains either wanted power, money, fame, or just good-old-fashioned chaos and destruction. He didn’t know what kind of villains these bastards were, but it didn’t matter, because they always fit into some special flavor of evil.

Wilbur said nothing for a while, and Deku was tempted to look up, but he pushed it down. He didn’t want to look at him. He didn’t want to see that expression on his face, and instinctively feel bad for the bastard. Finally, he spoke. “I don’t want to kill you.”

Well, that was something, he supposed. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, which admittedly was a bit concerning.

“Okay, then what do you want?” He said dryly, his eyes narrowed at the floor.

“We want you to join us.” Deku frowned.

Join them..?

He flicked his eyes up for a second just to convey his puzzlement, and Wilbur’s expression was serious, although there was a flicker of caution, like he wasn’t sure whether Deku would lash out at him or not.

Shockingly, he didn’t feel angry. He didn’t feel much of anything other than some mild shock. He knew that Kacchan had once been asked to join the League almost two years ago, so it wasn’t necessarily unheard of for former heroes to be asked to become villains. And seeing that Deku had made a name for himself as being rather powerful, it wasn’t shocking that they would want him on their side.

“Join you?” He asked plainly, and Wilbur looked a bit shocked at his calm response.

“...Yes,” Wilbur said evenly, his eyebrows furrowing a bit. He took a breath. “We’re all part of the Syndicate.”

The Syndicate?

The Syndicate, to Deku’s memory, was a really powerful villain group that held the top three villains of Japan, as well as some other members, however, the top three were the face of their group. Siren, Blade, and the Angel of Death- Zephyrus.

And they weren’t the top three villains for no reason. It was hard to tell exactly what their Quirks were, but the public had their assumptions. Siren: The ability to charm anyone into doing his bidding. Psychologically terrifying, and often used to force heroes to fight each other, resulting in a massive blood bath. Blade: The ability to grow stronger the more people he harms. Absolutely nightmarish to witness. There have been videos of him in a pig-like hybrid form, blood soaked into his fur, his eyes a vibrant and bone-chilling red.

And then there was Zephyrus, the top villain in all of Japan. It was impossible to know what his Quirk even was, based solely on video evidence. All he knows is that the second his black wings appear and extend out, everyone nearby suddenly- freezes, a terrified expression on their faces. They then try to scramble away, looking like an ant caught in a jar, but they never survive; always stabbed in the chest by Blade.

Deku remembered the first time he watched the news feed of the Syndicate’s mass attack on the pro heroes. He was in the UA dorms, his friends watching with him in the common area. It was like watching a horror movie.

Deku swallowed thickly, trying to push the memory out of his mind.

“S-So, you work with Zephyrus, then? And Blade, and Siren?” The question came out quieter than he intended, his mask of anger faltering without his permission.

Something odd came to Wilbur’s expression, and he bit his lip. “Deku. I’m Siren. ” He said carefully, anxiously watching Deku’s reaction.

Deku’s mind froze, his heart skipping a beat. He stared at the man in front of him, disbelieving. His mouth opened and closed, and his gaze focused on the ground.

Wilbur…is Siren.

It didn’t make sense in his mind. He couldn’t possibly- Sure, he didn’t remember much from last night. But he remembered how safe he had felt. How full his heart felt after feeling hollow for so long. He had blurry images of Wilbur’s playful smile, his gentle concern, his kindness.

No. Wilbur couldn’t be Siren. That doesn’t make any sense at all. Siren is this…this heartless monster, someone who could kill hundreds without batting an eye. The Wilbur in front of him looked too…human. He could still see the anxiety in his gaze, like he was still worried that Deku might yell at him.

Deku was then struck with the realization that Wilbur was Siren. That meant that he had Siren’s Quirk. That meant Siren could tell him to do whatever he wanted, and Deku couldn’t resist because he couldn’t cover his ears. He might be able to drown out his commands with his voice, but he couldn’t do that forever.

His heart raced faster as his mind was filled with all the possibilities. This was worse than torture. Siren could tell him to just torture himself , and he wouldn’t be able to resist.

Cut off his own thumb. Rip off his own nails. Pull out his own hair.

His heart hammered with the possibilities, his mind getting fuzzy with static. He thought he might pass out-

“ Deku! ” Deku flinched, flicking his gaze back up to Siren with wide eyes. He noticed Siren had gotten closer, a hand stretched out slightly as if to console a wild animal. Deku grimaced away from it, and Siren swallowed, letting his hand drop to his side.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about right now, but you’re safe. We’re not going to hurt you.” Deku’s eyes flicked over his expression. He looked genuine. But he had also looked genuine yesterday.

“So…You’re Siren,” Deku said numbly. Siren nodded and then pursed his lips.

“And, uh- Phil is Zephyrus, and that guy from earlier is Blade,” Siren said quickly.

Deku’s eyes widened, and he stared up at Siren, not believing what he was hearing. His mind was reeling, unable to process a word.

Phil is Zephyrus. Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? Because it wasn’t good enough that I trusted the number 3 villain like an old friend. I also had to let myself get kidnapped by the number 1 villain in all of Japan.

A laugh ripped from his throat unexpectedly, and Siren winced back.

“ You’re- and Phil is- is Zephyrus?! ” He exclaimed, uncontrollable giggles leaving his mouth. “ Zephyrus? As in, number 1 villain Zephyrus?! ” Siren stared at him with concern, but Deku didn’t even care.

Wow. I am such a fucking idiot.

“...Yes,” Siren responded awkwardly, wringing his hands as he observed Deku’s mental breakdown with mounting concern. “And, uh-” Siren pursed his lips. “We were gonna kill you.” Deku’s eyebrows shot up. “ Not anymore! ” Siren quickly reassured, and Deku relaxed a bit. “Look, we- …it’s hard to explain, but…yes. I wanted to kill you at first. But I don’t…want to, anymore,” he said, seemingly picking his words carefully. “But, like- we can’t exactly just let you go, so… you have to join the Syndicate, and stay here for a while.”

Deku felt a bit of dread fill him, but he forced himself to ask the obvious question anyway. “...And if I don’t want to join your group?”

Siren’s eyebrows furrowed, and he flicked his gaze to the floor. It was an answer in and of itself. “...We’ll have to kill you,” he mutters, his hands clenched into fists.

Deku’s throat felt tight, but he kept his tone even. “...So I don’t really have a choice?” Deku hoped his expression didn’t convey the anxiety that was starting to really build up. His heart sank a bit further at Siren’s silence.

I really don’t have a choice. I can’t possibly escape with these Quirk suppressors and a house full of the top three villains of Japan, and…

No one is coming for me.

The thought affected him a bit more than he was expecting. When Kacchan was kidnapped, at least he could have the reassurance of knowing that the heroes and his friends would be on their way, finding a way to save him.

Deku had no one.

No heroes because he was a criminal in the eyes of the law. No friends because they had all long since forgotten him. No family because they had all decided he wasn’t worth the effort.

There was no one who would miss him. No one who would even notice he was gone. Aside from the media, but it wasn’t like most people had a positive image of him anyway. They all thought he was this terrifying monster.

Nobody cared.

Suddenly, there was a hand wiping at his cheek, and he flinched, his eyes whipping up to see Wilbur in front of him- when had he gotten there?! He then registered the familiar tickle of tears rolling down his face. He had started crying again. Fucking typical.

Wilbur’s hand flinched back in turn. His big eyes turning a bit cautious, but there was a care in them. Or maybe Deku had imagined it. “Sorry,” Wilbur apologized immediately, backing up. “I didn’t- I don’t know what came over me,” he muttered, looking a bit embarrassed. Deku didn’t know what to make of it.

Deku tried to ignore the way his skin crawled at Wilbur- Siren being so close.

There was an awkward silence for a bit, Deku staring back at the floor and Siren looking at him like some kicked puppy. “I- …Are you okay?” Siren whispered, and Deku gave him a deadpan look. “...Right. Bad question.” They fell into awkward silence again, and finally, Siren sighed.

“I’ll, uh…come back later. You probably need some time to…process,” he said quietly, offering a small, clearly forced smile. Deku didn’t respond, staring back at the ground.

Eventually, he heard the sound of Siren’s footsteps leaving and a door opening. Then a sharp inhale of breath that caused Deku to look up. Siren was standing at the doorway, his eyes wide as he seemed to see something out of Deku’s view. He frowned, trying to crane his neck to see through the doorway.

“Wilbur?” a voice asked. They sounded young, maybe a teenager? Deku tried harder to strain against his restraints, trying to get a peek at the kid. What the hell was a teenager doing here…?

Siren stiffened.

“Hey...Tommy.”

Chapter Text

Tommy was in the kitchen, making himself some toast, when he heard voices in the basement.

It wasn’t uncommon. The Syndicate bringing their… victims to the house to kill them wasn’t a rare occurrence. But he didn’t usually hear talking.

He would hear screams. And then nothing.

Tommy grabbed his piece of toast, spreading some peanut butter and jelly on it.

As he sat at the island, his ears naturally perked to listen to whatever conversations were happening in the basement. It was a bit odd, hearing them just… talking. The basement wasn’t for casual talking.

As he ate his breakfast, he heard the sound of footsteps walking up the stairs from the basement and the door to the basement opening, and he mentally prepared himself for the stench of blood.

It never came.

Confused, he looked up to see Phil and Techno walking out, completely blood-free. Techno was still in his usual form, which meant he hadn’t shed any blood.

“Morning, Tommy,” Phil said calmly, walking over and smiling at him. Tommy smiled back, though he couldn’t help trying to decipher the calmness. Was it ‘Zephyrus’ calm, or ‘Dad’ calm? He thought by now he would be able to tell the difference. But when he was just walking up from the basement, he couldn’t quite tell.

“Morning,” he responded, nodding at Techno, who had the same dry expression he commonly wore. He frowned. “Where’s Wilbur?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Did he go back to bed?

Phil’s expression stayed perfectly neutral. “He’s taking care of some things.”

The sentence sent a chill down Tommy's spine, but he didn’t let it show. “Oh,” he said. He didn’t ask any more questions.

Techno poured himself some tea, sitting down next to Tommy, while Phil left. There was something calming about Techno. It was a different calm than Phil's. It felt…genuine. Not that Phil’s calm wasn’t genuine, but it was hard to see it that way when he wore the same calm expression while ending hundreds of lives.

Techno was deadpan, in the best way. He didn’t sugarcoat things. He didn’t pretend. He said things as they were. Although that did sometimes cause Tommy some discomfort, the way he so easily talked about the hundreds of people he killed in the more gruesome ways, without any filter. Even so, he knew that when Techno was gentle, it wasn’t just him being nice. It was true. It was real. It made the terrifying image of him in his pig-beast form a bit easier to ignore.

That’s why he felt like he could ask Techno what was going on, and he would get a straight answer.

“What’s going on in the basement?” Tommy asked quietly, frowning at his toast. He felt his chest tighten slightly, but he ignored it. He wanted to know. And his family had already agreed months ago that they wouldn’t keep secrets from him about their work.

Even so, he felt his heart start to pound a bit quicker as he waited.

“We captured one of our targets,” Techno said plainly, and Tommy nodded. He had figured as much.

“Why aren’t they-” His voice died without his permission, and he scowled, clearing his throat and trying again. “ Why aren’t they dead? ” He forced the words out of his mouth, hating how bitter they tasted.

Tommy could feel Techno looking at him. “We aren’t going to kill him, apparently.” Tommy frowned. Not going to kill him? He looked up, his puzzlement showing in his expression. Techno sighed.

“It’s hard to explain, but Wilbur doesn’t want to kill him.” He felt a mix of relief and confusion at the statement. Of course, he was happy they weren’t going to kill another person. But why? They never hesitated before. Why now? Who was this person? 

As he tossed these thoughts in his head, Phil entered the kitchen again. “Techno, can you come to my office for a second?” He asked calmly, and Techno got up right away. Tommy watched as they left.

As he continued eating his toast, he could feel the basement door looming in his peripheral, and the muffled voices coming from it.

Who was in the basement? Why did Wilbur want to keep him alive?

He bit his cheek, the door burning into the back of his head. Before he knew it, he was standing at the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob. His hand was shaking. He swallowed thickly.

He had never been in the basement. It wasn’t a rule or anything, but the stench of blood alone was enough to keep his curiosity at bay. He let out a shaky breath and gritted his teeth.

Get it together. It’s just a damn basement. And it’s not like you haven’t seen dead bodies before.

Suddenly, his ears picked up a creak of a floorboard a little away from him, and he jolted, his eyes flicking up. Techno was standing outside Phil’s office, his eyes watching him. If he was shocked at all at Tommy standing at the basement door, he didn’t show it. He just turned and disappeared into his room without another word.

Tommy sighed softly, turning back to the door. Finally, he slowly turned it, instinctively bracing himself for the copper stench. Luckily, it never came. Which shouldn’t be a shock, seeing as Techno had told him they didn’t kill anyone.

There was a set of stone stairs with lanterns attached to the walls, casting a soft orange hue. It looked like any stereotypical villain base. Tommy crept down the steps, the cold tiles stinging his bare feet. As he descended, the voices got a bit louder.

“....have a choice?” The voice sounded oddly young, but it might just be the echoing walls. He walked down the halls, the space rather bare. He could suggest some design adjustments. Perhaps some skull heads, or maybe some blood staining the walls. That would really sell the ‘villain-lair-vibe’.

After the long, boring hall, some doors started appearing, and the voices got louder and much clearer.

“I- …Are you okay?” Tommy frowned. It was Wilbur’s voice. Was Wilbur asking their prisoner if they were okay? It was such a… Wilbur thing to say, it made his skin crawl. Siren wasn’t supposed to sound like Wilbur. “...Right. Bad question.”

Tommy could now clearly hear the voices coming from one of the doors, and slowed down as he neared it, his ears perking.

“I’ll, uh…come back later. You probably need some time to…process.” Tommy then heard the sound of footsteps coming closer to the other end of the door, and he stumbled back a bit, wondering whether he should hide or not. But he shoved it down. He needed to know what was going on. And it wasn’t like he wasn’t allowed in the basement. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.

He clenched his fists, staying perfectly still as he waited for the door to open. Wilbur left the room, looking a bit…shameful? And then his brown eyes fell on Tommy’s blue ones, and he could see the way he visibly stiffened.

“Wilbur?” He asked quietly, his eyes naturally flicking over to the open doorway. Wilbur shifted his body, as if to block the way, which made Tommy’s chest tighten.

“Hey…Tommy,” he said awkwardly, looking like a kid caught sneaking out. Tommy narrowed his eyes and started walking over to the door. “W-Wait-! Tommy, you don’t-” Wilbur immediately went to stop him, stretching out his hands, but Tommy pushed past him, straining to see who was in the room. His heart dropped to his stomach.

There. Was a kid. A kid. A- A teenager. Like him. He looked like a high schooler. 

His blood went cold. When Wilbur pushed him out of the way, he didn’t even have the energy to fight him off.

“Tommy, I can explain. We were just-” Tommy looked up at him with absolute horror, and Wilbur's words died in his mouth. Tommy swallowed thickly, forcing his limbs to move. This time, Wilbur didn’t stop him.

He stepped into the doorway again. The boy who sat in what looked like some torture mechanism looked to be around his age. His green eyes were bloodshot, like he had been crying, dark eye bags under his eyes. He looked sickly pale.

The boy’s eyebrows furrowed as his eyes met Tommy’s, and he flicked his gaze behind him at Wilbur.

“What is a teenager doing here? Did you kidnap him too?! Siren? ” The boy spat, his voice raspy and broken. Tommy felt paralyzed, staring at the kid. He barely registered Wilbur pushing past him.

“ No! Of course not, I- Tommy, are you okay? Tommy, say something. Please stop looking like that, I need you to say something for me. I promise it’s not what it looks like, Tommy, just please- I’ll explain everything, just-” Wilbur’s hand cradled his cheek, his thumb rubbing against it gently. Tommy couldn’t comprehend his words, and he had to force his head to move away from Wilbur’s soft care.

“Who is this.” Tommy muttered quietly, his eyes flicking from the boy to Wilbur’s distraught and heartbroken expression. The boy was frowning, looking between the two with confusion.

“Tommy, this isn’t-”

“ Tell me who the fuck that is! ” Tommy spat, and he noticed the way the boy flinched violently at his raised volume, and he felt sick at the reaction. Wilbur stiffened, his expression pained.

He sighed. “That’s Deku,” Wilbur said softly, his voice weak. Tommy frowned, the name ringing a distant bell. Now that he looked at the boy, he also looked weirdly familiar. And then it hit.

He had seen a news report of a vigilante saving people from villains a couple of weeks ago. The footage of the vigilante had been a bit startling; most people commented that he looked more like a villain than a hero, and Tommy couldn’t help but agree.

But now he looked at this boy, and he looked really tired. And so young. He didn’t know that Deku was only a high schooler. He had always worn a mask. But he wasn’t wearing one now.

Suddenly, the pieces started clicking into place. Of course, the Syndicate would go after Deku. He was clearly super powerful from the news footage. Still, it was sickening that they would capture a literal kid.

Tommy walked closer to the boy, and he noticed the way Deku’s eyes locked on him apprehensively, watching his every move. It made his skin crawl. “He’s…rather young,” He said quietly, feeling a bit sicker the more he observed the anxious expression on his face. He had a guarded and aggressive exterior, but Tommy could recognize the panic behind his eyes. He knew because he did the same thing.

“...I know,” was all Wilbur said, his voice hollow.

Tommy bit his lip. He wanted to look away. But he couldn’t. He was overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions, he didn’t know how to even start to process.

He felt a hand grab his arm, gently pulling him. “C’mon Tommy,” Wilbur said quietly, and shockingly, Tommy didn’t fight back.

Tommy sat on his bed, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone. He felt frozen, and he wasn’t really sure if he was breathing anymore.

The footage was of a villain attack. No, not just a villain attack. A Syndicate mass murder. Siren was commanding heroes to attack each other until there was no one left. Zephyrus had his wings outstretched, flying a bit above the chaos like a true Angel of Death. Everyone within his range had terrified expressions on their faces, stumbling around like blind mice. And then there was Blade. He wasn’t even recognizable anymore.

Tommy knew what Techno’s Quirk was, of course. But this was the first time he had seen it in all its gut-wrenching horror. He looked like a monster, his eyes glowing red, blood soaked into his fur, large, deadly tusks, and his axe. Techno had called it the Axe of Peace when he showed it to Tommy a few weeks ago. When Tommy had seen it before, he thought it was cool. He didn’t think that now.

Blood coated the axe, and Tommy felt his heart jump every time he watched it rip into someone's chest. He was dully grateful the footage was taken from a helicopter overlooking the blood bath, because if he had to see it in any closer detail, he was worried he might throw up. He wanted to look away. He didn’t want to see the reality of what his family really was. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away. His heart pounded in his chest, watching the horrific scene with morbid curiosity until all the heroes were dead, and there were only the villains left.

He almost let out a sigh of relief when it was over. He knew he didn’t have to watch any of it. But he did. And now he felt sick to his stomach.

Suddenly, he heard the back door open, and his heart jumped to his throat. He scrambled off his bed, rushing to his door, and- he froze, his hand hovering over the door knob.

Were they still the Syndicate? Or were they his family now?

He hated the fact that he didn’t know. His mind flashed back to the seemingly endless bodies littering the city streets. What if-

No. That’s stupid. They love me.

He swallowed thickly, his hand falling to his side. His heart pounded in his chest.

They love me. They aren’t the same people when they’re around me. They- They may be monsters outside, but here, they’re family.

His hands clenched into fists, and he forced it up to the door knob, turning it. He could hear his family’s loud footsteps entering the house. He pushed open the door slowly and saw them walking in. Wilbur looked fine, aside from some blood on his trench coat. Phil had some blood dripping from his ears, and his eyes looked a bit out of focus.

Tommy turned his attention to Techno, and his breath hitched. His red eyes flicked over to him, and his blood turned cold. He was still in his beast form, and there was a strong coppery scent coming off him that was hard to ignore. The beast stepped forward, and Tommy’s fight-or-flight kicked in, his instincts screaming at him to run . He closed the door before he could think it through, his hand flying to the lock.

He stumbled away from the door, his legs feeling like jelly. His heart was hammering in his ears, his hands trembling. There was this dread that he felt the second those red eyes landed on him. Like he knew he was gonna die.

“Tommy.” A gruff voice came from the other side of the door, and Tommy found himself instinctively relaxing at it. It was so…Techno. So deadpan. So dry. So blunt. His heart slowed.

“Techno?” He whispered meekly, and there was hope in his voice.

“Yeah,” the gruff voice answered, and Tommy relaxed fully. He stepped towards the door, unlocking it and slowly opening it. His blue eyes flicked up to meet Techno’s glowing red ones, and there was a second of panic. His grip on the knob tightened.

“Are….Are you still…?” Tommy whispered, looking at the beast with apprehension. Techno nodded. Tommy glanced back down at his fur. The blood was dried against it. It still made him sick.

Techno slowly raised a large, half-hooved hand, resting it gently on Tommy’s head. It was heavy, yet grounding. He heard footsteps and looked up to see Phil and Wilbur standing there, watching the scene curiously. Wilbur stepped forward, offering him a soft smile that melted Tommy, and Phil gently rested a hand on his back.

Tommy fell against Wilbur’s chest, a hand clutching his trench coat lightly. He was warm. And in that moment, Tommy felt safer than he had in all his life.

Deku watched as Siren and the teenager left, his mind spinning with questions.

Who was that kid? How does Siren know him? Why did he act so-

He thought back to the way Siren spoke to the boy, the soft words, the gentle touches, and the eyes so full of fondness and care. He felt a lump form in his throat as he thought about it.

Siren just made no sense, he concluded.

He didn’t know how to process any of it. Even though Wilbur had told him he was Siren, it still didn’t feel real. And every time he had to force his mind to remember who he really was, he felt an ache in his chest.

In fact, when he was watching Siren and that boy earlier (Siren had called him Tommy, right?), there was a weird emotion he experienced, watching Siren act so…tender. His mind couldn’t process that he could be capable of that. It was almost like Wilbur and Siren were two completely different people in the same person, which didn’t make any sense at all. But it was easier to think about than Siren being capable of love.

The boy hadn’t looked scared of Siren. There was horror in his expression, but it wasn’t at Siren at all. It was at him. Deku. Which also didn’t make any sense at all. If he wasn’t a prisoner like Deku, then he was most likely another member of the Syndicate, so wouldn’t he have been in on the plan to kidnap him? But the boy had also asked who he was, so maybe he didn’t know?

But that still didn’t answer the question of why he would be so shocked, unless he wasn’t a part of the Syndicate. But then, why was he here? If he wasn’t a prisoner, and he wasn’t part of the Syndicate, what business did a kid have being in what he assumed was the Syndicate’s lair?

Question spun around in Deku’s head, and he couldn’t make sense of a single thing. As his mind wandered, he was brought back to his conversation with Wilbur, which had been…something.

Wilbur was Siren. Phil was Zephyrus . The guy he still didn’t know was Blade, apparently. And they wanted him to join the Syndicate.

The thought filled him with anxiety. The Syndicate. A group of heartless mass murderers. The thought of having anything to do with them was enough to make him sick. How on earth was he supposed to help the same people he had been trying to stop for years?! How could he help kill heroes when it had been his dream since he was six to become one?

Maybe it was better that he just let the Syndicate kill him instead. It was what he had wanted before…right? He had already been killing himself to save others. This would be his final sacrifice. One final thing he could do for everyone.

But then, who would defeat All for One? All Might had told him it was his duty to defeat All for One. So, was it shirking his responsibility if he just let himself die? 

His fists clenched from within his Quirk suppressors.

Why can’t he just do things for himself? Why can’t he just think for one second without the worries of the entire world on his mind? No matter what he thought, no matter what plan he came up with, he was always thinking about everyone except for himself, and it was exhausting.

He shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. He was being selfish. This was just the way things were; complaining about them wouldn’t change anything. One for All was the one to defeat All for One. That’s how it’s supposed to go. It doesn’t matter how he feels about it. It never does. So just get it together.

His ears perked as he heard footsteps from outside his room, and his anxiety immediately came in full force. There were two people. Two sets of footsteps. One was heavier than the other. His heart pounded as he waited, and soon enough, the door opened.

It was the guy from earlier- Blade, apparently. He didn’t look like Blade. He looked like a regular, buffer-than-average guy. The only thing he could associate with Blade were his red eyes, though they clearly weren’t glowing, as well as his pink hair, somewhat resembling the pink fur of Blade.

Then it hit him. People had theories that the more people Blade harmed, the more beast-like he became, because they noticed that after his axe sliced through someone, he got slightly bigger and stronger. Maybe this was what Blade looked like when he hadn’t harmed anyone for a day.

In his hand was a tray filled with pancakes, syrup, and little sausages. Deku narrowed his eyes, looking from the tray to Blade’s face. Blade glanced down at the tray and back up at Deku, looking almost…awkward. Which wasn’t an emotion he expected to see from the villain.

“Breakfast,” the guy said in the most monotone voice Deku had ever heard in his life. Deku’s eyebrows quirked upwards a bit. He wasn’t expecting to be fed, much less with actually good food.

Unless it was poisoned.

His stomach squeezed, tensing up a bit. Blade’s eyes bore into his. Slowly, he approached Deku’s chair, to which Deku watched him with a keen eye, wary of his movements. Just for a second, as Blade walked under the light above Deku’s head, he saw his eyes flicker, the glow showing for half a second. Immediately, he went to activate One for All- only to realize he couldn’t.

He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t run. All he could do was watch the man step closer, a steaming plate of pancakes on his tray. The juxtaposition made his head spin.

Slowly, the man set the tray down on the floor, taking out a key. He bent down, inserting the key into the bottom of his enclosed metal cuffs.

“If you’re thinking of escape, know that Zephyrus is outside the door right now,” the man said dryly, the cuffs making a click sound, splitting in half from the top. Carefully, Deku took out his hand. His arm felt numb and sweaty. He was a bit shocked that they were even trusting him enough to let his arms free.

Does that mean I can use One for All in my arms now?

He tested it out, generating only 5% of One for All in his arms. Suddenly, a heavy hand was placed on his shoulder, and he flinched, looking up to see Blade staring at him with a bored expression.

“Don’t do that,” he said, and Deku felt his head nodding before he told it to.

He hesitated for a second before taking a bite of his pancakes, his mouth working around it to try and detect any foul taste. He didn’t find any. He swallowed, praying he wasn’t willingly ingesting poison into his body. The food was shockingly pretty good. A small part of his mind wondered who made it. The image of any one of the Syndicate casually baking pancakes was incredibly funny to Deku.

As he ate his breakfast, his mind wandered back to the kid. It didn’t make any sense for him to be here. As much as he hated the thought of someone so young being a part of the Syndicate, it was the only thing that at least made some sense. Maybe the other members have just been keeping him unaware of the darker parts of their work? That would at least explain the reaction.

Deku glanced up at Blade. He wasn’t looking at him, his arms crossed, and just staring blankly at the far wall. He almost looked like a guard of some kind, stone-faced with no emotion.

“Who’s the kid?” Deku muttered, taking a bite of his sausage. Blade raised an eyebrow at him.

“The kid?” He asked. Deku nodded.

“Blond hair, blue eyes.” Blade hummed.

“Ah.” He turned back to the wall. “That’s Tommy.”

Deku waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

“And, uh- Why is he here?” Deku asked, frowning at his food.

“He’s our little brother.” 

Little brother..?

So he’s his little brother. So, does that mean he was forced to join the Syndicate, or did he just happen to visit the Syndicate’s lair today?

Then Deku came to another realization. Blade had said ‘our’. He frowned.

“‘Our’?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Blade nodded.

“Me and Wilbur’s.”

Wait a damn second.

“You and Siren are brothers?!” He exclaimed, his eyes widening.

There were conspiracy theorists who had suggested that Zephyrus, Blade, and Siren were all a family because they worked so closely together; they complemented each other so well that some wondered if their bond was closer than just coworkers.

Deku always dismissed that as just a crazy theory, though. It was too much of a coincidence. The three top villains of Japan just so happened to all be a family? It was too ridiculous.

However, some witnesses during villain attacks had testified that after Zephyrus got injured, Blade would go on a rampage, and when someone would try to sneak up on Blade, Siren would command him to move out of the way, almost as if he were protecting him.

Deku thought back to earlier. The care Wilbur had shown Tommy when he was frozen in shock. The way he gently held his cheek, eyes wide with worry and affection. Now that Deku thought about it, it did remind him of an older brother’s protectiveness over their younger sibling.

“So…you, Siren, and…Tommy. You’re all brothers.” Deku repeated, his mind spinning. Blade nodded. “And, uh- Zephyrus?” He asked, wondering if he was also a part of this family somehow.

“Phil is our dad,” Blade said plainly.

Dad. There was something so wrong about hearing such a common name of familial endearment to someone like the Angel of Death. It didn’t fit. He couldn’t imagine someone like Zephyrus being a dad. Much less a good one. He didn’t even want to know how he treated his children. How he treated poor Tommy.

“...Right,” he said, turning back to his food. This was really important information. If this ever got out, it would be extremely helpful for the heroes. They would have a solid plan to take down the Syndicate- using their weaknesses against them. 

Not like he would ever get the chance to share this with any heroes, Deku thought numbly.

“So…is Tommy part of the Syndicate, then?” He asked carefully.

“No,” Blade said, and Deku was a bit shocked by the response. He had thought that, seeing as the rest of their family was villains, they would force Tommy to be one too.

“You…don’t want him to be a part of the Syndicate..?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. 

“He doesn’t want to,” Blade said simply with a shrug, and Deku didn’t detect any annoyance at all in his tone. 

“...Oh,” Deku muttered, not expecting such a simple answer. The way Blade said it made it seem obvious, like it wasn’t a big deal at all.

It made Deku’s mind spin. He thought for sure that they wouldn’t care whether Tommy wanted to be a villain or not. If they were all villains, then he would have to be one too.

That’s at least how he expected villain families to work. Maybe this one did things differently. It was a relief, at the very least, that Tommy wasn’t being brainwashed into their villain group or anything. He was allowed to make his own choices, have his own opinions. It was something that didn’t really seem to fit with a villain family, but there were a lot of things that didn’t seem to fit with them.

“Why did you join the Syndicate?” Deku asked, finding it weirdly easy to talk to the guy. He didn’t feel like he was talking to Blade at all. He felt like just some guy. He almost forgot that he was being held captive.

Blade’s expression darkened ever so slightly, which was a bit shocking to see when he had had such a straight face this entire interaction. “Quirks are a curse. I want to help cure the world of it.”

The sentence sent an unexpected chill down Deku’s spine. Quirks are a curse? Deku couldn’t help wondering what made Blade think that. He looked up to see an odd expression on Blade’s face. His expression was completely cold. He noticed the way his hands clenched so tightly that when they unclamped, he saw some blood in crescent shapes on his palms.

When Deku looked back up, his eyes were slightly glowing. Deku tensed, his heart picking up. He thought back to the footage of the Syndicate’s attack. The blood-red glowing eyes. Deku shivered.

“Are you done with your tray?”

Deku flinched, his eyes flicking back down. He had some pieces of pancake left, but he didn’t feel hungry anymore. He nodded, handing his tray over to him. He could more clearly see the red leaking from his palms. His chest tightened.

Eventually, Blade had put the Quirk suppressors back on, and he watched him leave. There was something intense in his gaze. And the red never left Deku’s mind.

Phil leaned against the cold stone, only half-listening to the conversation inside. He heard Techno’s heavy footsteps approaching the other side of the door, and he pushed himself off the wall, dusting himself off casually. He heard the door open, and he glanced up at his son.

“How did it-” His words died as he took in his son’s appearance. His expression was cold. Phil hadn’t seen that expression on his face since he was a boy. There was a light glow in his eyes, and he noticed that some dried blood stained his palms. Phil sighed softly.

“Techno-”

“I’m fine,” he said, and before Phil could get another word out, Techno was leaving, gripping the tray tightly. He was concerned it might dent under the pressure.

“No civilians, please,” Phil said wearily, and Techno just nodded, his red eyes focused forward in a gaze that could kill.

Chapter Text

Slash

Clang

Shing

Clank

He took a shaky breath, his legs shivering with the weight of the blows unrelentingly warring against him. He felt a thrill ring through him with every swing, adrenaline pounding through his veins. He wanted to win. Every bone in his body was singing with the thought, pushing him forward, harder, faster.

Blood.

He gritted his teeth, his canines digging into the flesh of his mouth. His grip on his sword tightened, and he charged forward, dodge, parry, strike.

His sword ripped into the flesh of his target's shoulder, the red red blood a satisfying victory. He smirked, taking advantage of his opponent’s temporary distraction to kick him in the chest. He fell down into the dirt unceremoniously, grunting in pain.

“Dual end. Telamon Kaine wins.”

Telamon puffed out his chest, bringing a hand up to pull his pink hair out of his sweat-covered face. His heart was still hammering in his chest from adrenaline, energy ripping through every limb. His opponent scowled.

“Of course he did. He’s a fucking Kaine,” he spat, shakily getting to his feet.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Lucien,” Telamon drawled, watching with cruel amusement as the boy struggled to his feet. Lucien glared.

“He’s right, Lucien. Telamon beat you fair and square,” an older voice said, and Lucien immediately straightened his back.

“U-Uncle!” He stammered, his cheeks reddening a bit. Telamon snorted. “I- Right. Of course. I’ll try harder next time,” Lucien muttered, biting his cheek. The man nodded calmly.

“I’m sure you will. You work very hard.” Lucien stood a bit taller.

The man turned to Telamon. “Can I speak to you for a moment?” Telamon stiffened.

“Of course, father,” he said quickly. The man turned and started walking away, and Telamon jumped, following quickly after. He heard Lucien snicker behind him.

They walked in step with each other around the dual grounds, many kids around his age in the middle of duels. However, Telamon took pride in being the best. He was only 14, yet he could beat kinsfolk older than him now.

He had been fighting since he was eight, and he never took a day off. He was the first-born of the Kaine bloodline- the original wielder of Blood Retribution. His father had put a lot of pressure on him because of that, as well as his brother.

Telamon was named after the Greek word support , because his father hoped he would preserve the legacy of the Kaine family. In reality, it more felt like the burden of his father’s dreams was crushing him.

Even so, he worked hard. His father had made it clear that the Quirk would be harder on Telamon as it had been with him, as he was a direct descendant of the Blood God’s original vessel. He had noticed it immediately.

Once he turned six, voices blared in his head.

Blood.

Blood.

Blood.

Telamon had been scared. His mind felt like it was attacking itself, the noise so loud, it hurt the back of his eyes. He had pushed the palms of his hands against his temples, screaming, begging, crying.

His father had rushed into his chambers. He didn’t comfort him. He didn’t say a thing. He just took Telamon’s hand and placed a knife in it.

Somehow, Telamon knew exactly what he had to do. He didn’t need to be told. His entire body was already singing a chorus of desire.

Blood.

Blood.

Blood.

He curled his trembling fingers around the handle of the knife, squeezing tightly. His father never spoke. He didn’t need to. Telamon brought the end of the knife to his other palm. His entire body was shivering uncontrollably, his heart pounding rapidly in his ears.

He squeezed his eyes shut, bringing the point down against his flesh, and-

Slice.

He dropped the knife clumsily on his bed, staring at the red red blood leaking from his self-inflicted wound. Instantaneously, the voices went quiet. He could feel the sting, but the relief he felt at the sudden merciful silence was like heaven. He took a shaky breath, his heartbeat slowing.

His father then wrapped his arms around Telamon’s small frame. It was the first time he ever hugged him, and it was also the last time.

“Telamon,” his father said, and he jolted, looking up at his father. He was back at the grounds. His hands trembled slightly, and he squeezed them into fists.

“Yes, father?” He asked, focusing his attention forward. The air was filled with the clanking of swords, and a light breeze jangled the wind chimes. The sound should be calming, but he never felt that way with father.

“I haven’t seen your brother at practice recently,” he said, his gaze fixed on the fighters. “Do you know where he is?”

“I don’t,” Telamon said quietly, hoping his voice came out steady. His father observed him silently.

“Is that so?” He asked, something in his voice that made Telamon clench his fists a bit tighter.

“Yes, father,” he answered calmly, pushing his shoulders back. His father hummed.

“Alright, then.” He set a hand on Telamon’s back, gesturing for him to stop. Telamon turned to look at his father, keeping his expression steady. “If you see him, be sure that he attends. Duals are not optional.”

Of course, Telamon knew this. He nodded. “Okay,” he replied, meeting his father’s gaze with a serious expression he had mastered over the years. His father nodded.

“Good.” He set a hand on Telamon’s shoulder, the weight heavy and restrictive. “You’re a good kid.”

Despite the anxiety in his chest, he found himself relaxing a bit at those words. He kept his expression blank. “Thank you, father.”

He watched as his father left, the bell playing in the distance indicating the end of Dual Matches. Telamon's lips curled up a bit.

Telamon walked in a rushed pace through the halls of the Sanctuary, his soft and careful footsteps barely audible. His older relatives would smile and give him a half-bow of respect to the firstborn, while his kinsfolk would scowl and ignore him. He didn’t care for either.

He made it to the back, and when he found no one looking, he retreated out the back door to the garden. The garden was abandoned ages ago for lack of use, the once beautiful carnations and marigolds now withered and rotting, weeds overtaking the scenery. The garden wasn’t why he was here, however.

In the garden was the Shire, a stone tower also broken down from disuse. Telamon approached it, and he pushed open the rusted door with ease and familiarity. The inside of the Shire was cold, with light from the outside creating dust particles in the air. It was completely abandoned, and Telamon loved it.

“Techno? Is that you?”

Well, not completely abandoned. 

Telamon smiles widely, taking the stone steps two at a time. The stairs wrapped around the inside of the Shire, and at the top was the Lookout. There was a trapdoor on the roof near the corner wall, and it creaked open, a pink-haired head peaking out.

“Hey, Icey.”

The boy smirked widely, his head poking back up and a rope falling down from the trapdoor. Telamon grabbed onto it, pulling himself up through the trapdoor.

At the top was a small hideout for just the two of them. The Kaine brothers. Here, in the Shire, they weren’t Telamon and Icarus. They were Techno and Icey.

There were stacks of books in the corner, a lantern lit on a stump they had found in the garden. They even had taken a couple of the flowers from the garden when they were still vibrant and full of life, and kept it in some dirt in a cup from the Mess Hall. Icey made it his personal duty to water them every day. They were rather grown over, but they liked them that way.

“Father was asking about you. I think he’s starting to get pretty worried,” Techno said, leaning against the stone wall, grabbing one of the books from the pile labeled, The Art of War, by Sun Tzu.

Icey shrugged. “He's always been like that,” he said nonchalantly, picking up his own book, something about Greek Mythology. Icey had always been a huge nerd when it came to that stuff, sharing all the stories he learned in the most unserious and dramatic ways possible. Techno turned back to his own book. He supposed they both were a bit nerdy.

“You really think you can get away with it forever?” Techno asked, pursing his lips. “He's gonna find out about the Shire eventually,” he muttered, glancing up at his brother with a slight frown.

Icey tucked his knees a bit closer to his chest. “I…I don't know,” he muttered quietly, trying to sound dismissive, but Techno could recognize the uncertainty behind his gaze. There was something different about Icey today. He never used to be bothered at all, usually being the one to tell Techno that he would be fine. It was weird seeing him looking unsure of himself.

He turned back to his book, wondering whether he should say something more. He didn’t get a chance to, however.

“I wish I were like you, Techno,” he said suddenly. Techno raised an eyebrow, looking up.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He asked, frowning at his brother. Icey bit his cheek.

“You can just do what father wants us to. Be a fighter. You're living up to our family name, and I'm just-” His voice cut off, and he pulled into himself more, focusing more deliberately on his book, even though he clearly wasn't reading a word.

“I can't,” he muttered. “I'm not like you. I can't just… hurt people. It's not right to me.”

Techno furrowed his eyebrows at his brother. Something was wrong. Icey was the, I’m gonna do what I want and I don’t care what you think about it type of person. He was always the one trying to convince Techno to stop worrying so much about what father thinks, and do things because he wants to, not because it’s expected of him.

Techno had to fix this. He set down his book, and he sighed softly, shifting himself to sit closer to Icey. “Look. I like fighting.” He rested his head against the cold tile, staring up at the ceiling. There were cracks in the stone, allowing streams of light to peek through. “But you don't have to. Father has all these plans for Icarus, but that's not who you are. And I'm not Telamon. We have our own destinies, and they don't have anything to do with the Kaines.”

He smiled down at his brother, who looked up at him, unsurely, his eyes wide. In them, Techno could see the doubt, but he could also see hope.

“You're Icey. And Icey has different goals than those set out for Icarus. And that's okay.” 

Icey gripped the fabric of his pants. “Are you sure?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

Techno nodded. “Yeah. I'm sure.” He tucked an arm around his little brother protectively. It ate at him to see his brother like this. He was so passionate, and he never wanted to see the light in his eyes go out.

“Now, how about you tell me about that book you were writing?” Techno asked calmly, and the way Icey lit up immediately was enough to put Techno at ease.

“Oh my gods, okay so I have actually been working a lot on the backstories of some of the characters, and it works so well with the plot, because it explains a lot of their motives and-” Techno listened fondly as Icey pulled out his tattered and used notebook, flipping through the pages.

That's the Icey I know.

Tommy and Wilbur walked up the steps from the basement, Tommy feeling weirdly outside his body. He couldn't get the image of the vigilante out of his head.

More specifically, he couldn’t get the image of how young he was out of his head. He looked like he was Tommy’s age, and that thought made him sick.

It could very well be Tommy in that chair instead of Deku. He had always felt so disconnected from everything the Syndicate did. He often used the excuse that it wasn't his business, but seeing that kid, someone that looked maybe only a bit older than him…he just couldn't ignore it. He couldn't.

Tommy glanced up at his older brother for a second. He looked guilty, which was something, at the very least. But he didn't know if he was guilty that he kidnapped a teenager, or that he got caught .

He turned his gaze back to the ground, stepping into the living room.

“We should talk,” Wilbur said quietly, and Tommy nodded. He felt Wilbur flick his gaze down to him anxiously. “Could you…maybe say something?” He muttered.

Tommy sighed, clenching his fists. “What do you want me to say, Wil?” He asked dully, staring at the floor. He picked out the shapes in the wood. That one looked like an eye. So did that one.

“I just want to know that you aren't mad,” Wilbur whispered in a low voice.

Tommy scowled. “Of course I'm mad, Wil. You kidnapped a teenager who looks like he hasn't slept in the last year, ” he growled, but his voice didn't hold the same bite it did earlier.

Wilbur didn't say anything for a while, and Tommy felt his chest tighten.

Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me it's a misunderstanding. Please,

he pleaded in his mind, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I…didn't want to.” Tommy bit back a smart remark, settling for a dry look. Wilbur grimaced at it. “Okay, I did at first,” he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“What changed your mind?” Tommy demanded. He hated the way his voice wavered. He was angry. He was supposed to be angry. He clenched his fists tighter.

He swallowed thickly, forcing back the instinct to shut up and push this all away. It could’ve been him in that chair. He couldn't ignore this. “You never hesitated before,” he muttered, a bit of emotion leaking into his voice without his permission.

“Kill each other. Until there’s no one left standing.”

“Now kill yourself.”

Tommy flinched at the memory, his hands trembling slightly. He noticed the way Wilbur’s eyes flickered at his biting words, but he didn't care. It could've been him. 

Wilbur sighed. “I don't know.” The words came out detached and hollow. Tommy scowled. 

Wilbur was a terrible liar.

“Tell the truth,” he said plainly, forcing a serious expression on his face. Wilbur wilted under his glare, despite how forced it was.

“...He’s young,” Wilbur admitted quietly, and Tommy’s chest tightened.

Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? It was so easy to ignore when it wasn’t personal. They were just nameless faces- some Tommy would even admit would be better off dead. But now their work had gotten to a point where kids like him were being kidnapped. They probably would have killed Deku too if Wilbur hadn’t suddenly gained empathy.

The thoughts racing through his head just made him spiral more, because he knew how kind Wilbur could be to him. He knew the comforting words and touches like the back of his hand. It was one of the main reasons it was so easy to ignore it all.

Philza’s cooking and fatherly care, Techno’s protectiveness and passionate stories, and Wilbur. He was so gentle, so affectionate, that it didn't make any sense at all that he could be the same person to kill hundreds with just a few words. To force heroes who save people to do such horrible and traumatizing things.

To kidnap a wore-out teenager and lock them in a fucking basement.

Tommy swallowed. “Yeah,” he muttered quietly. “He is.”

They were quiet for another moment. Tommy could practically feel Wilbur shrinking in on himself in guilt, and it made Tommy’s heart ache without his permission.

He should be mad. Why did he feel so sad instead?

“We can't just let him go, though,” Wilbur whispered after a while, his voice tentative.

“Why not?” Tommy said before he could stop himself.

Wilbur let out a tired sigh. “You know why-”

“Yeah, you wanna make a ‘perfect world' or whatever,” he spat, narrowing his eyes at the ground. “But is this really worth it if you have to kill a kid ?”

Wilbur flinched back, looking a bit shocked. Tommy crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch, his eyes still trained on the floor.

“You think I don't know what your group does?” He muttered quietly, his fingers digging into the fabric of his sweater. 

“I may not know as much as I probably should, but I can hear the screams from the basement! I can smell the blood on your clothes when you get out of the basement!” His volume gradually got louder, his voice shaking. He bit down on his cheek.

Wilbur was staring in shock at Tommy. It had been years since Tommy spoke up about anything the Syndicate did.

Tommy could feel his heart hammering in his chest with both anxiety and adrenaline. He was already in deep, he might as well keep going.

“And you seriously think I haven't seen any of your ‘missions’?! The attack on the pro heroes?!” 

Wilbur’s eyes widened with guilt and horror, stiffening.

“...You saw that..?” He whispered quietly, and somehow his words disengaged all the anger Tommy felt swirling around in his chest.

“...Yeah,” he muttered. He tensed his jaw, mentally shaking himself. He forced his gaze back up.

“But that's not the point right now. You can't just kidnap a kid and still pretend you're the good guys,” he said in a hard voice.

“...Tommy. I'm doing this for you -” Tommy scowled instinctively. How many times had he heard that one..?

“Well, I don't want you to!” He spat, his anger coming back in full force. He felt like a whirlwind of emotions, and despite everything, he couldn't stop shaking. “I've said it before and I'll say it again! I'm fine . I don't need you-” He gritted his teeth. “You- killing people so that I can have a better life!”

“You're not fine, Tommy. I know you don't like showing it, but I can see the impact.” Wilbur flicked a sympathetic gaze towards his right arm, and Tommy had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Your right arm. You broke it a couple years ago from a piece of wreckage from a villain's attack falling on it.” Tommy dug his teeth deeper into his cheek.

“That's not-” He started, but Wilbur interrupted him before he could finish his retort.

“That scar on your cheek. You got attacked by a villain who could turn their arms into swords when you were only 12.” Tommy felt his cheeks heating up.

That's not the point.

“And your right leg. I noticed you've been limping-”

“ Shut up! Just fucking shut up, I don't need you- you telling my own life story, okay?!” He snapped, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

He hated Wilbur analyzing him, making him feel weak, making him feel helpless. He wasn't helpless. He wasn't some useless kid. He didn't need Wilbur baby-ing him like he couldn't handle his own life.

“Yeah, I know my life is pretty shit. But it's my life. And I don't need you to- to try and fix my life.”

Wilbur grimaced, his eyes wide with that stupid pity.

“I-I’m not…I'm just trying to make your life easier-”

“ You already do that, Wilbur!!” Tommy yelled before he could think his words through. His heart slammed into his chest when he realized what he said, and he felt his eyes start to burn.

Wilbur blinked, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and Tommy shrank into himself a bit.

“... Don't you fucking get it..?” He said quietly, his voice cracking. “You already make my life easier. You- You do so much and-”

“...Tommy…” Tommy’s breath caught at the word, whispered so quietly and with so much care . He felt a lump form in his throat.

Before he could get another word out, he felt warm, gentle arms wrapping around him, and he just- fell into them. It was so easy to lean into his warmth. To accept his affection, his comfort.

“...You idiot. I don't need you to fucking reconstruct society to prove you care about me,” he muttered into his chest, his words muffled by the fabric.

This is already more than enough.

They stayed like that for a little bit, Wilbur gently rubbing his back and Tommy desperately fighting back tears.

“So…are you still mad, or…?” Wilbur said, a teasing smirk on his face. Tommy glared, pushing him away.

“Fuck you,” he growled, crossing his arms. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Wilbur said softly, laughing lightly. The brothers were quiet for a moment, and then Wilbur pursed his lips. “...Did you mean it..? When- When you said I make your life… easier. ” He asked quietly, fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves.

Tommy sighed loudly, looking up at his brother with an unimpressed stare. “You're a fucking moron, you know that?” Wilbur stared back.

“That doesn't exactly-”

“Of course you fucking help me, damnit!” Tommy yelled exasperated, throwing his hands up. “You never realize how much you matter to people, I swear to god.”

Wilbur hummed in a casual way, but there was a small smile on his face and a mistiness in his eyes.

What a fucking drama queen.

“Okay,” Wilbur said. Tommy bit his cheek.

“So…about Deku,” Tommy muttered, regretting it the second he said the words with the way Wilbur stiffened. It was so stupidly easy to ignore it when Wilbur was being so caring, but he wouldn't just let this go. He couldn't do that. “What's going to happen with him..?”

Wilbur sighed, rubbing his neck. “Ideally, he’ll join the Syndicate so we won't have to kill him,” he admitted, and it put a pit in Tommy's stomach.

“There's no way you'll let him go, then?” Tommy asked quietly. He didn't know why he needed to ask. He already knew the answer.

“...We can't just let him go, Tommy,” Wilbur muttered sympathetically. Tommy stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“...I know,” he said finally. It was stupid for him to think he could change his family's minds. It had never worked before.

“I can promise you we won't kill him, or even hurt him in any way..?” Wilbur offered, and it did little to comfort. But it was something, so Tommy nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly. Wilbur observed him silently for a moment, a certain look in his eye, before speaking.

“He reminds me a lot of you, you know.” Tommy looked up, furrowing his brows.

“What?” Wilbur looked at the ground, that same look in his eye. He smiled, a bit sadly.

“Deku. You two are a lot alike. Painfully so.” Tommy frowned at the sentence, trying to understand what Wilbur was saying, but he didn't continue.

Before Tommy could ask anything more, the back door opened, and heavy footsteps walked in.

Tommy turned to see Techno coming in, and as he took in his appearance, he came to the chilling realization that his eyes were glowing red and he was taller. Tommy's heartbeat quickened a bit.

He also noticed his fists had splotched red on them. That was odd. Where was his axe?

“Techno?” Wilbur asked, looking completely unbothered, though a bit confused. Techno didn't answer, his gaze focused ahead in that detached way. Wilbur furrowed his brows as Techno left, disappearing into his room without a word.

Tommy flicked his gaze from Wilbur to Techno’s door, matching his confused expression, although with a bit of anxiety lingering under it.

“I should probably check on him,” Wilbur said, and Tommy nodded in agreement.

“Probably.” Wilbur smirked at Tommy, and it did a bit to ease his anxiety. If Wilbur wasn't worried, then Tommy probably shouldn't be either.

“We'll talk more later, okay?” Tommy nodded, his expression turning more serious as Wilbur headed towards Techno's room.

It was a bit scary, actually talking to his family about…well, everything he tended to avoid. But he also found his chest feeling a little bit lighter.

Deku was shocked when nobody came into his small room since breakfast. He was expecting an interrogation, demanding information about One for All and intel on the top heroes, maybe some beatings to get the answers they want. Or maybe just to blow off steam. Hell if he knew, Kacchan never told him what happened when the League kidnapped him.

So far, the Syndicate had been nothing like what he had expected. They had given him unpoisoned food (as least, he hadn't experienced any side effects yet), they had trusted him enough to take off his Quirk suppressors for a bit, and Siren…he just couldn't understand him yet. His interactions with the kid- Tommy, apparently. The way he had tried to comfort Deku when he was spiraling. And then all the things from the night before that he still didn't remember very well, but the emotions of which were as vivid as ever.

Nothing made sense. Nothing at all.

The room had also started getting more claustrophobic the longer he stayed in here. He was escorted to a bathroom a few times during the day by Zephyrus, giving him a bit more of a look of the place he was being held.

It was pretty boring, honestly. It looked like your standard basement, just with a bit more of a menacing vibe, thanks to the lanterns and the smell of stale blood as you passed some of the rooms. Pretty standard stuff for a villain's lair, he had honestly expected more. Someone should do some decorating.

It was nice being out of the room, though, for as short a time it was. But then he was right back in his room, which he was starting to see more as a cell the longer he stayed in it. When he had complained to Zephyrus about it, he had seemed weirdly sympathetic, though it was probably fake.

Zephyrus was almost as confusing as Siren was. Zephyrus was the one who had given him his dinner this time, and despite the glares and defensiveness Deku showed, Zephyrus never looked bothered at all. He supposed that wasn't new. The guy seemed to act like nothing could bother him. Still, that particular trait never failed to confuse him.

Once again, he hadn't detected any poison in it at all, and the food was, as much as Deku hated to admit it…good. It was a basic chicken soup with sliced carrots, yet it felt amazing after eating nothing but fast food for the last year- not to mention, he didn't usually even have that most of the time. He was just too busy.

All Might had made him lunches at first, but eventually he stopped with that after Deku had rejected him enough times. Deku’s stomach turned at the memory, and he shoved it away as soon as he could.

Deku heard quiet footsteps coming up to his door and a tentative knock. He frowned, wondering why they would be knocking. It wasn’t like he could deny them from coming in.

“Hello?” He asked, tilting his head as if he would be able to figure out who it was solely by the shadow underneath the door.

Slowly, the door opened, and on the other side was the teenager from earlier, looking a bit anxious, like he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“...Hey.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The boy- Tommy, snuck into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Deku found himself looking the boy over, taking in everything he could, after the information he got from Blade.

So this was Blade and Siren's little brother, Zephyrus’ son?

He was starting to realize he had a lot of expectations when it came to the Syndicate family, and Tommy contradicted every one of them.

He had a scar over his cheek, and a couple of bandages over his face. Honestly, he looked like the rebellious kid who always skipped class and picked fights.

He also looked well-fed, rather tall as well. It was a relief that he at least wasn't malnourished. He just prayed his injuries weren't from his family. Somehow, he doubted it.

“You're Tommy,” Deku said dumbly, not sure what to say. The boy crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to the door.

“Yep,” Tommy said awkwardly, also seeming to look over Deku with a somewhat pained expression that Deku didn't fully understand.

“And your brothers are Siren and Blade,” Deku continued, watching Tommy closely. Tommy grimaced a bit, nodding. Deku took note of it. He couldn’t help the desire to question him, understand his family, and understand the Syndicate. So much didn’t make sense right now, and this was one of the only people he had a chance of being able to finally get some answers from .

“What's it like, living with them?” Deku asked cautiously, observing his demeanor. Tommy pursed his lips.

“I don't know,” Tommy muttered, his gaze staying mainly on the floor. “They're nice.” That wasn't the answer Deku was expecting. In fact, that was quite possibly the exact opposite of what Deku expected.

“Siren and Blade are nice? ” Deku repeated incredulously, and he noticed the way Tommy flinched. It ached at his chest instinctively. Clearly, there was more to this he wasn't saying.

“Yeah. They're nice to me,” Tommy repeated, a bit harsher. Deku caught on to the subtle sentence change. To me. There was definitely more to this.

“They kill people,” Deku stated, staring at the kid, noticing every grimace, every falter, every flicker in his gaze.

“You think I don't know that? I'm not an idiot,” Tommy spat, his anger sudden but not unexpected. 

This kid's family situation is pretty complicated, huh? Now, are they actually nice to him, or has he just deluded himself into believing they are?

“And it doesn't bother you? Because they’re nice to you?” Deku pushed, raising an eyebrow. Tommy clenched his fists.

“Of course it bothers me!” He exclaimed, emotion flickering over his expression, and Deku felt a pang of sympathy.

What was he doing..? He shouldn't be pushing this poor kid like this. He didn't even understand his situation fully. For all he knew, Tommy could be brainwashed and manipulated. Hell, it was practically guaranteed he was at least a bit manipulated, given the circumstances. He needed to go about this a different way.

Deku took a deep breath. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed,” he said quietly, and Tommy frowned, flicking his gaze back up.

“...It's fine,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I don't exactly blame you for wanting some answers. My brother's the one who kidnapped you, after all,” he muttered, a bit resentfully Deku noticed.

The two went quiet for a moment. “What did Wilbur do? When he kidnapped you?” Tommy finally asked, a bit of anxiety in his expression.

Deku sighed. “I wish I could tell you. I don't remember much.” He rolled his neck, cracking out the tension from lack of movement. “All I really remember was a bar, talking with Wil- Siren and Zephyrus, and then darkness.” Tommy’s eyebrows rose, a look of recognition in his eyes.

“I…think I know where that is. Phil's Pub. I've been there before.” Deku raised an eyebrow. 

“You’ve been there?” Tommy nodded.

“Yeah. My dad owns the pub, so we go there sometimes. It's fun. Wilbur doesn't let me get near the drinks, though,” Tommy continued, a fonder look coming to his eyes. “But it was really fun seeing Wilbur and Dad get drunk. Wilbur gets really drunk, it's super funny. Dad starts cursing a lot and scolding us a lot more, which is really different from his usual. It's nice seeing his guard go down a bit, though.”

It was really odd, hearing how… casually he spoke about his family. They sounded just like a regular family.

Deku found his own gaze softening as he heard Tommy reminisce, oddly starting to find their family dynamic…charming. At the same time, he felt this ache in his chest, listening to Tommy speak about his family. He almost felt…jealous. Which didn’t make any sense at all. He wanted nothing to do with the Syndicate, so why would he be feeling like this? Before he knew it, he was asking, “And what about Blade?”

He grimaced a bit at the thought of Blade drunk. He was already dangerous; he didn't want to imagine what he could be like when he wasn't in his right mind.

“Techno? Oh, he doesn't drink. He's the responsible one, taking care of Wilbur when Dad gets too drunk to,” Tommy answers, smiling softly.

Blade is the responsible one, huh?

“...Your family sounds almost normal,” Deku said, his eyebrows furrowing with puzzlement at the sentence. He can't even wrap his head around it.

Tommy's expression dimmed a bit. “Yeah. When they're my family, it almost feels normal.” Deku frowned at the sentence, repeating it in his head.

When they're my family.

“...And when they're not?” Deku asked, taking in Tommy's expression. He bit his cheek.

“I don't like to think about when they're not,” the boy stated plainly, his expression guarded despite the obvious emotion behind it. It just made Deku feel worse for the boy. Deku couldn't even begin to understand his home life.

“Are they…good people? To you, I mean,” Deku asked. Tommy nodded, pushing himself off the wall.

“Yeah. They- They’re really good,” Tommy whispered, and Deku could tell he was being genuine. It was less difficult to believe, especially after everything he’s already seen. Deku nodded.

“I…get that,” he said quietly, and Tommy looked with a confused and shocked expression. He raised an eyebrow.

“You do? ” He asked, sounding incredulous. Deku felt his stomach squeezing a bit with guilt, but he nodded anyway.

“...Yeah,” he said finally, his gaze flicking to the ground. “I get it. Siren- he seems…nice.” The words felt like dirt in his mouth, but they also felt true. It was what he had been thinking this entire time, just finally said out loud. Still, it felt so wrong. Tommy’s expression flickered a bit.

“ Wilbur’s nice,” Tommy repeated, and Deku found himself frowning at the wording. 

“Right,” he said, glancing back up at Tommy. Deku was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “And the Syndicate? What about them?” He had recalled Blade saying that Tommy didn’t want to join the Syndicate, and he was curious to hear his reasoning.

Not like he didn’t understand. He definitely understood, especially since he was being faced with basically being forced to join. But he wanted to hear Tommy’s reason. Tommy was part of their family, surely he wouldn’t want to feel left out.

Tommy rubbed his neck, biting his lip. “They’re…” He struggled for the right word, staring at the ground with a not-fully-there expression. “...scary,” he finally said, and Deku felt a shiver run down his spine at that.

Scary. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand that perspective. He had seen the footage; how terrifying it was to see the Syndicate killing hundreds of heroes. But he hadn’t expected Tommy to have that same perspective. They were his family. And he seemed to care about them a lot. So it must be pretty hard finding your own family scary.

“But they’re your family?” Deku asked quietly. “You already know them.”

“Not them,” Tommy said immediately, and Deku’s eyes widened. “I know my family. I don’t know the Syndicate.” Deku noticed his hands trembling. His answer had felt almost…instinctive. Like his brain goes into the defensive the second the line between his family and the Syndicate starts to blur.

Deku furrowed his brows. “The Syndicate is your family, Tommy,” he said carefully, taking in his expression with concern and confusion. Tommy gritted his teeth.

“No, they aren’t,” he said, staring at the ground. He huffed out a breath. “I don’t expect you to understand.” Deku took in his words, and weirdly enough, he found himself…kinda getting what Tommy was saying.

It was pretty much the same thing he had been thinking this whole time, except…reversed. Tommy can’t process that his family and the Syndicate can be the same people, so he seems to be almost separating them in his head.

Deku can understand that, because honestly, it’s hard for him to process, too. He thinks back to the interaction Siren had with Tommy earlier, and then to the Syndicate footage. He had told all those heroes to attack each other until only one remained, and then told that one to kill himself. It had been horrifying.

It didn’t make sense for those two people to be the same person. And it must be even worse for Tommy, living with the guy. “No. I think I-” Deku furrowed his eyebrows. “...I think I get it.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, something a bit…softer coming to his eyes. “You see it too?” He asked, sounding painfully hopeful. Deku found himself smiling, and he nodded.

“Yeah. I- I saw the way Siren was acting around you this morning. He seems…”

“Nice,” Tommy finished, and Deku nodded.

“Yeah. Nice.” Tommy turned his gaze back down to the floor.

“It doesn’t make any sense, though, does it?” He said, his jaw tensing.

“No,” Deku said with an involuntary chuckle. “No, it doesn’t.” Tommy let out a short laugh as well, and there was a strange lightness in the air for a moment. It was weird, having someone seem to actually understand the thoughts that had been swirling around in his head. In fact, Tommy might be the only one in the whole world who would understand.

“It’s fucked,” Tommy said after a while, seeming a bit more relaxed. “Like, how can he act like that? So fucking- chill, and caring and stuff, and then he just goes out and starts murdering people. How can someone do that? It doesn’t make sense.” Deku chuckled along with him.

“I can’t understand how someone as heartless as Siren could act so…nice to you. And to me.” Tommy looked up, a bit of recognition flickering across his expression.

“Yeah, he was, wasn’t he?” He said, sounding confused. “I heard him. He was asking if you were okay and shit.” Deku raised an eyebrow in clear confusion.

“That’s not normal?” He asked. He had assumed Siren just liked to pretend that he cared, manipulating his victims. Same with Zephyrus.

Tommy shook his head. “No. Normal would mean you’d be dead by now.” Deku felt a chill run through him at how… casually the boy said it. Like he was talking about something as mundane as the weather. It made him wonder just how many people he had to see the Syndicate kill.

“...Right,” Deku said, a bit uncomfortably. Tommy didn’t seem to notice his discomfort at the sentence, continuing to look lost in his thoughts.

“He said it was because you’re young,” Tommy said, furrowing his brows at Deku. Deku remembered from when the two had come into his cell earlier, Tommy had commented about how ‘young’ he was, and Siren had agreed, or something like that.

Was that why Siren didn’t kill him? Because he was young? That was a pretty stupid reason. He had fought tons of villains when he was still in school, and none of them had hesitated at all because they were still kids. Not Shigaraki, not Muscular, not All for One, not Overhaul. Not a single one had cared.

“That’s stupid,” Deku said before he could think it through fully. Tommy looked over, confused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, sounding a bit accusatory. Deku shrank into himself a bit. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“Well- villains don’t usually care if someone is young or not,” Deku muttered, shrugging. Tommy’s eyes flickered with something, and it seemed to settle on anger.

“Well, that’s fucked up,” he said, crossing his arms. “You’re only, what, 16? You shouldn’t be getting fucking kidnapped and killed!” Tommy spat, and Deku found his anger weirdly familiar. What was even weirder was the way he instinctively relaxed at it.

“I’m 17,” he retorted, well aware that wasn’t the point.

“Oh, wow. What a bloody difference. You’re still a fucking minor, I think it’s pretty reasonable to not want to be fucking murdered when you can’t even legally drink yet.” Deku found himself smirking a bit at his aggression, his sarcasm.

“Yeah, well, I’m just saying most villains wouldn’t agree,” Deku says with a shrug. Tommy raises an eyebrow.

“And? You’re not a villain, so you shouldn’t share that opinion. The fact that kids get attacked by villains is fucked.”

“The fact that people in general get attacked by villains is fucked,” Deku corrected calmly, and Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. Also, not the point I was trying to make.” Deku snickered, and Tommy narrowed his eyes. “You think this is funny? I’m being bloody serious- You’re 17. You shouldn’t be kidnapped in some villain’s basement.” Deku laughed harder, feeling weirdly light.

“I-I’m sorry, you just- you just remind me so much of someone,” he said between laughs. This all felt way too familiar.

“I remind you of someone?” Tommy asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Deku nodded, smiling softly.

“Yeah. Just an old friend.” Deku felt an ache as soon as those words left his mouth, his smile faltering a bit. It was nice to pretend, but the second it was over, he had to realize that he likely would never see Kacchan again. Or Uraraka. Or Todoroki.

He knew this, of course. It had been this way for the last year. He hadn’t seen his friends since he left, and even though it was his own choice, he couldn’t stop thinking about the what-ifs. What if he came back? What if he had never left in the first place? Would he be happier?

Probably. But then his friends would have been in danger. He couldn’t bear to see that happen. He couldn’t bear to be the reason his friends got hurt because All for One attacked the UA dorms. It was safer for them if he left.

“...Oh,” Tommy said, seeming to notice the change in Deku’s expression. “...You’re…not friends anymore?” He asked carefully, clearly trying to tiptoe around the topic. Deku forced a smile to his face, trying to seem unbothered.

“Yeah. You know, vigilante stuff. Kinda gets in the way, sometimes,” he said casually, but Tommy’s expression didn’t change.

“...Right,” he said after a while, turning to the ground. They were quiet for a moment before Tommy spoke up again. “You said earlier that villains don’t care whether you’re young or not. What’s it like, fighting villains all the time?”

Deku looked at the ground, thinking over the last couple of years, ever since the League had infiltrated the USJ. The fear when Shigaraki had approached him at the mall. The fight with Muscular, the bone-chilling terror of seeing All for One for the first time. Stain, Overhaul, Dabi, Toga, the Liberation Army…so many experiences, terrifying, life-threatening experiences that still haunted him when he closed his eyes.

How could he possibly summarize all of that in only a few words?

“...Pretty shit,” Deku said after a while, and Tommy snorted. Deku chuckled as well, though it felt a bit flat. “Villains seem to be obsessed with UA, and All for One really- well, he’s a problem too.” He mutters, skating around the issue as much as he can. Even though he doesn’t think Tommy is necessarily un trustworthy, he still has connections with the Syndicate, and if the Syndicate found out he has One for All…well, that could be problematic. He’d rather keep as much under wraps as he can manage.

“UA? You go to UA? Like, the best hero school in Japan, UA?” Tommy questioned, looking shocked. Deku smiled sadly, the reaction familiar, yet still held a quiet ache in him.

“I did.” Tommy’s expression shifted to confusion.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I went there almost a year ago, but… things came up, and I…couldn’t. Anymore.” He muttered, his eyebrows furrowing as he felt the familiar squeeze in his chest. He cleared his throat. “Uh, anyways. Villain attacks were pretty common when I was taking classes there. It was…scary. Intense. Traumatic,” he said with a chuckle, but Tommy didn’t laugh along with him this time, looking at him with a serious and almost concerned expression.

Deku's eyes widened at his expression and quickly backtracked. “I- I mean, I’m fine. I lived. And it uh, made me a better hero, so…it’s fine,” he reassured quickly, but Tommy’s frown only deepened.

“Fuck. Wilbur was fucking right,” Tommy muttered to himself, and Deku raised an eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head lightly, turning to look back up at Deku. “But like- how often? You say it was common, how- …you were a high schooler. How often did you have to- to fight villains? ” Deku bit his lip.

“I- I don’t really know-” He mentally counted them in his head, his eyebrows furrowed at the ground. “I mean- the League attacked UA specifically a couple times, but then we had to fight them back because they captured Kacchan the second time, and then that whole thing with All for One happened- you probably know about that, honestly, it was pretty viral at the time. And then we were asked to help out with the whole Liberation Army situation, and then Shigaraki kinda went insane, so they needed help with that-”

Deku started falling into mutters, his mind descending further and further as his mind trailed off to All for One and all the pressure that was now on him, all the villains he’d had to stop in the past year since becoming a vigilante, while having absolutely no support, and-

“Deku?” He flinched, his eyes widening as he flicked his gaze back up to Tommy, who was looking rather concerned. His face reddened.

“Sorry. I do that sometimes.” Tommy furrowed his eyebrows.

“Uh-huh.” Tommy continued to stare at Deku, and Deku continued to avoid his eyes to the best of his ability. “You really weren’t lying, that sounds pretty damn shit.” Deku chuckled, but it came off a bit hysterical after everything.

“Yeah,” he agreed. As he thought about it, he found himself curious about Tommy. Most people he knew wanted to become heroes when he was a kid, but Tommy grew up around villains. But he also had made it clear that he didn’t want to follow in his family’s footsteps, so he wasn’t really sure. “What about you? Have you ever wanted to be a hero, or something like that?”

Tommy’s eyebrows rose, his eyes looking puzzled. And then he started laughing.

Okay, maybe that was a stupid question.

Deku’s cheeks reddened, and he bit his cheek. “...Sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“N-No, it’s not that,” Tommy said between laughs, wiping away a tear. “I-It’s just that most people I know already know.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I’m Quirkless.”

Deku’s eyes widened at the revelation, his heart slamming into his chest. “You’re…Quirkless..?” He had never thought that Tommy, of all people, would be Quirkless. Maybe it was the fact that his family were the top 3 villains in all Japan. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. Either way, it came as a complete shock that he was also Quirkless, like Deku had been.

Deku didn’t know a lot of people who were Quirkless, and he found himself incredibly curious.

He noticed the way Tommy shrank into himself a bit, looking…awkward, for the first time since the start of their conversation. Maybe even a bit nervous. “Yeah. What of it?” He said, his voice a bit defensive. Immediately, all kinds of alarms were ringing in Deku’s head.

“No- I didn’t, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just…curious,” Deku quickly stammered, and Tommy looked up, his eyes still gazing at him, almost like he was suspicious. Deku felt deja vu slam full force into his being. He flicked his gaze back over his scar, his bandages, his guarded demeanor, and suddenly, everything made sense.

“It’s whatever,” Tommy muttered, but he still sounded suspicious, and it ate at Deku’s heart. He wished he could say more. Wished he could tell him that he wasn’t alone, that he used to be Quirkless too. But he couldn’t. Because that would mean telling him about One for All, and he couldn’t risk it.

“...What’s it like?” Deku asked cautiously. He felt he already knew the answer, but something inside him was aching for that familiarity, that knowledge that someone else went through the same thing he did, the same pain, the same isolation, the same powerlessness .

Tommy narrowed his eyes at him, that same distrust in his gaze. “Why do you care?” He asked, his voice holding an edge to it that made him wince. It was almost like he expected Deku to insult him, make fun of him, maybe even scold him for something he had no power over. It hurt Deku, how familiar it felt. He had only really met this kid today, yet he felt like he knew him his whole life.

But Tommy didn’t understand it. Tommy didn’t know how well Deku understood him in that moment, as if their very souls were connected. “Uh- I just- I-” He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to come up with an excuse. “I…have a friend that’s Quirkless, and he, uh- He had a really hard time growing up. I was just curious if it was the same for you.”

The change in Tommy’s expression was instantaneous, from suspicion to shock, to something a bit more melancholy. He fidgeted with his sweater sleeves, rubbing the ends of the fabric between his two fingers. “Oh. Uhm, well…” His gaze turned distant, staring at a point on the floor, like it were the most interesting thing at that moment. 

“It kinda sucks,” he muttered, and when Deku waited for him to continue, he sighed. “It feels like you’re missing out on something. Like when your other friends go to an event, and then the next day, they’re talking all about it, and you kinda- I don’t know. You feel like you missed out on something important.”

Deku understood that. He understood that more than he wanted to admit. When all his friends were getting their Quirks, and he had nothing. He was told he was a late bloomer, that he would get his Quirk any day now. Well, that day never came. And the years that came after were nothing short of a living hell. 

“Yeah,” Deku said, because what else could he say? He felt a lump in his throat, and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh- my friend felt the same way.” 

Tommy looked at him a bit oddly, and Deku shook himself mentally. “You seem to uh, be handling it pretty well, though,” Deku quickly said, knowing it didn’t mean much. The way Tommy crossed his arms confirmed it.

“Well, yeah. I’m not gonna curl up in a ball and cry about it,” he muttered, leaning against the wall. “It’s my life, and it’s not like I’m gonna just magically get a Quirk one day.” Deku almost laughed, but he managed to stifle it with a cough.

“Right,” he said, biting on his cheek. “But uh- you don’t seem to be letting it get you down too much. That’s good to see.” Tommy looked at him for a moment before turning his gaze back to the floor.

“I try,” he says, and Deku can recognize the flicker of vulnerability in his gaze.

It was weird. Even though Deku had only just met the kid, he found himself relating to him more than he ever thought he would. It was easy to talk to him, like he fully understood him and his situation. It was a relief, honestly. With all the confusion, not knowing the intentions of his captors and being lost in the contradictory mix of betrayal yet an unexplainable want , it was so nice to be able to talk to someone who seemed genuine.

He hated the way his stomach immediately turned at the thought, his mind being assaulted by memories of the friends who had left him, forgotten him, didn’t care about him. The trust he had felt for Wilbur and Phil before they were revealed to be Siren and Zephyrus.

He squeezed his hands into fists from inside his Quirk suppressors, fighting back the rush of anxiety-induced worries.

How can I know I can trust Tommy? 

Maybe this was all just a ploy to get information to the Syndicate. What had he talked about, again? Did he say anything that could be detrimental? He had admitted that he thought they might be nice, so if they were manipulating him, then that would be pretty good news for them. He had also talked about his old friends- shit , hopefully they didn’t use that against him.

It doesn’t matter. He can’t afford to trust Tommy. He can’t believe he’s even let it get to this. What was he, some idiot? He should’ve learned his lesson by now. And by Zephyrus’ son? How did he ever think it was a good idea to trust him?

He was gonna get betrayed again. Hurt again. Nobody cared about him, and no one would. It was just the cruel way the world worked. How could he forget that? He was on his own for a reason. He never let anyone in for a fucking reason. Why was he being so stupid? He was just asking for the universe to punish him again for his stupid hopefulness, his stupid naivety that got him in this mess in the first place.

How did he even know Tommy was even Quirkless? He could be lying about that to make him put down his guard. Maybe that was the goal from the start. To make him think Tommy was on his side by having Blade tell him he didn’t want to be a part of the Syndicate. This was a trap. This was all a trap, and he had fallen for it again, how could he-

“Uh, Deku?” He flinched, realizing his heartbeat was rabbiting in his chest. He forced his eyes to refocus, blinking a couple times. “You, uh- kinda spaced out there.”

Deku took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing mind. His overthinking sometimes helped when it came to analyzing Quirks and fighting techniques, but it also had a habit of sending him into downward spirals. “I’m fine,” he said after a moment, his voice coming out a bit too shaky for his preference.

“Uh-huh. Right,” Tommy said sarcastically. He turned to the door. “Look, it’s getting pretty late. I should go.” Instantaneously, Deku felt this ache in his chest. He didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t want to be alone again. The thought of being all alone with his thoughts again was enough for his breathing to hitch.

“W-Wait!” He spat out as Tommy took a step, and Tommy frowned, turning.

“Yeah?” He asked, and Deku felt his cheeks start to burn. What was he thinking? He couldn’t just ask him to stay all night. He was being selfish.

“N-Nevermind. Uh, goodnight,” he muttered, staring at the ground. Tommy looked at him for a moment, confused, before finally nodding.

“...Okay. Goodnight,” he said, quietly opening the door, looking both ways before closing it behind him. Deku felt empty as he watched Tommy leave. He hated how badly he missed that…connection. He felt so alone.

Tommy quietly left Deku’s room after confirming none of his family had seen him. Not like it mattered. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. Nobody had told him he wasn’t allowed to see Deku. Even so, he found himself checking his footsteps, his ears perked for any signs of his family being up.

He crept up the basement steps, closing the door behind him. He thought back to his conversation with Deku.

As much as he hated to admit it, Wilbur was right. The more he talked to Deku, the more he started to understand what Wilbur had meant when he said he and Deku were similar. He had the same look in this eye, the same stubborn guardedness, the same forced smile. It was chilling, honestly.

He definitely would be coming down again to talk to him more. It had been really nice to talk to someone who wasn’t his family for a change. It wasn’t like he could get them to understand why it was so difficult for him to accept that they could love him and kill people in the same moment. But Deku understood. Somehow, he did.

Somehow, in the short amount of time Deku had been here, he was already starting to question his family. And it was bloody awesome. It was so fucking validating. It wasn’t just him. He wasn’t going crazy. Someone else also thought it was fucking weird.

As he passed Phil’s office on the way to his bedroom, he heard voices coming from inside, and his steps slowed without his permission, his ears instantly picking up every noise.

“-about Techno. He’s been acting really weird recently. Since this morning, I think. Just super quiet, more than usual.” Tommy frowned, leaning his ear towards the door.

“Yeah. I’m not really sure what happened, either. But let’s just keep an eye on him, okay? We don’t need another incident.” Tommy felt a chill run down his spine at the word. Incident. What incident? What were they talking about? What was going on with Techno?

“...Right. Yeah, okay.” They were quiet for a moment, and Tommy pushed his ear closer to the door, his heart hammering in his ears. “...Do you think it’s about him, again?”

“...Could be. It is getting to that time.” Tommy heard Phil sigh, his mind spinning with questions. Who was ‘him’? What was ‘that time’? What the hell was happening?!

“We’ll see about talking to him in the morning, okay? I’d like to avoid anything happening again.”

“Yeah. Same.” Wilbur’s voice sounded a bit shaky, and Tommy felt a pit in his stomach. Something was wrong. Wilbur always sounded so confident, so untouchable. Even in the footage, he had sounded angry. It felt so incredibly wrong to hear him sound…scared. 

Then he heard footsteps heading towards the door, and his heart jumped. He quickly rushed away from the door, slipping into his room just as he heard the office door swing open, and Phil  saying, “Make sure you keep him away from Tommy.”

Chapter Text

The Sanctum was filled with the descendants of the Kaine family: aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, brothers, and sisters. All gathered together for the daily ritual of blood offerings for the Blood God.

Lanterns lit the room dimly. At the front was Grand Laskaris, clad in his reverent ritual attire of robes and jewels, long earrings hanging from his ears. He had a parchment in his hands, reading off names which just flowed right through Telamon’s ears like sand.

Telamon scanned the crowds of his kinsfolk, his anxiety slowly rising.

C’mon. Where is he?

His eyes flicked over kinsfolk whose hair was too long, who were too tall, who had brown hair instead of pink, who had red eyes instead of blue. Some would find it difficult to pick someone out in a crowd of family members who all had some familiar features, but not Telamon. He knew who he was looking for.

Where the hell are you, Icey?

“Icarus Kaine.” Telamon flinched, flicking his gaze back up to the front. His Great Uncle was at the front next to the Altar, his red eyes piercing into Telamon. “Is Icarus Kaine here?”

Telamon grimaced under the gaze of his relatives, all eyes on him. He pulled his hands into fists. “Telamon? Is your brother here?” His Great Uncle asked, his voice calm, yet strict. Telamon bit his lip, forcing his expression steady.

“No, sir. I’ll look for him after the Offerings.” His Great Uncle nodded.

“Be sure that you do,” he murmured, turning back to the large parchment in his hand. “Telamon Kaine, you can come up now.”

He nodded, standing up and stepping to the front, past the hundreds of heads. He kept his back straight as he stepped in front of the Altar. He brought his hands together, closing his eyes and bowing his head down.

“Blood for the Blood God,” he whispered, before picking up the dagger with a perfectly steady hand.

He rolled up his sleeve, bringing his forearm over the stone Altar. He took a breath and, in a single swift motion, brought the blade down against his flesh, slashing it across his skin. He barely flinched.

He watched with hollow eyes as the blood dripped down onto the Altar, the red red liquid leaking down the stone structure. His Great Uncle handed him a cloth, and he wiped the dagger, placing it back down. He then wiped down his arm before tossing the used cloth into the basket beside the Altar.

“Well done, Telamon. You are dismissed.” Telamon bowed shortly, muttering a quiet, “Thank you, sir,” before heading towards the large doors at the front of the Sanctum. He felt eyes watching him, and he gritted his teeth, ignoring them.

The second he left the Sanctum, he picked up his pace, racing to the Sanctuary. He pulled open the doors, the building empty due to the Offerings. He ran through the halls with no regard for tact, quickly making his way to the back door of the building. He raced through the cracked stone path, his ankles rubbing against overgrown plants overtaking the path.

He came up the Shire, pulling the door open. Immediately, he slowed, his ears perking for any sounds.

“Icey? You up there?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Slowly, he closed the rusted door behind him, the sound echoing up the tower. He walked up the steps slowly, and once he made it to the Lookout, he walked under the trapdoor. “Icey?” He asked again, staring up at it, waiting for it to open.

Eventually, it slowly creaked open, a rope falling from it, and Techno smiled softly. He grabbed onto the rope, pulling himself up to the hideout. Icey was sitting down in a ball, rubbing at the floor with his shoe. Techno felt his heart ache, looking at his brother like this.

“Icey..?” He asked tentatively, eyeing him anxiously. Icey only hummed, not looking up at all. Techno bit his cheek.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, hesitantly sitting down next to him. His brother curled in on himself a bit more.

“...Is father upset..?” He whispered quietly, and Techno felt his heart crack a bit. His eyes flicked down to the ground at his feet.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, staring at the floor. They were quiet for a moment, Techno unsure of what to say. He figured it was best to get straight to the point. He wasn’t the best at comforting people, anyway. “Why didn’t you come to Offerings?”

Icey was silent, biting his lip. “...Doesn’t it feel wrong?” 

Techno furrowed his brows. “What does?”

Icey leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, his knees pulled up. “All of this. The fighting. The rituals. The prayers. And for what? For us to go out into the world and hurt more people? Is that all we were meant to do?” He looked over at Techno with big eyes, as if begging him to deny it, his eyebrows creased. “Hurt?”

Techno broke eye contact, staring at the floor. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Maybe.”

Icey turned away, tucking his knees closer to his chest. “I don’t want to,” he whispered, and Techno’s chest tightened at the fragility of his voice. He wanted so badly to comfort his brother. To say something that could help him. But he came up empty.

“But…the Quirk. Father says we have to offer blood to keep the Blood God happy-”

“ Fuck the stupid Blood God! ” Icey screamed suddenly, the swear catching Techno off guard. He noticed in his brother’s eyes was a look of deep anger and resentment, an expression he rarely saw Icey wear. “It’s His fault, anyway, for giving us this stupid Quirk!” He said, grabbing a pebble that had broken off from the tower and chucking it across the room. It bounced harmlessly off the wall.

Techno sighed, rubbing his neck. “You really shouldn’t say that stuff.”

Icey scoffed, stuffing his face into his arms. “I don’t care,” he muttered, his voice muffled. They went quiet again, Techno eyeing him nervously. He had never seen his brother acting like this. It was so unlike him.

“I’m not giving my blood to that stupid God anymore,” he grumbled, and Techno’s eyes widened.

“What? Icey, you- father told us-”

“I don’t give a fuck!” he yelled, jumping to his feet. Techno watched him silently. “Aren’t you tired of it?! Tired of just doing what he says all the time? I don’t wanna live his life, and I don’t wanna live the Blood God’s life either! I’m sick of being a puppet, I just- I just wanna live my own life for once!” He stammered, his breathing turning a bit more sporadic. “I’m sick of doing stuff for people that only hurt me, ” he said, his voice cracking.

Techno watched, not having any words. Maybe if he had done things differently, things wouldn’t have ended like this. Maybe if he had said something different, or maybe if he had informed his father of his brother’s feelings. Maybe he could have saved his brother.

But instead, he followed his heart rather than his head. So when he spoke his next words, he spoke them because he wanted his brother to be happy again. He wanted to see the passion come back to his eyes. But in reality, he was only feeding into his brother’s self-delusion. The illusion that he could change the order of the gods.

“Okay,” he said, turning to look his brother in the eye. He smiled. “I’m with you.”

Tommy didn’t sleep last night. His anxiety was through the roof, wondering what Phil and Wilbur had been talking about last night. What was going on with Techno? Why couldn’t he be around Tommy? He tossed and turned, his mind spinning and his heart racing.

When morning finally came, he had decided that he would be getting some answers. He was never one to turn a blind eye when something was clearly going on. And he would get his family to talk, one way or another.

He paced around his room, and once he heard the sound of Phil’s room opening, he waited a few minutes before leaving his room.

“Good morning, Tommy,” he said calmly, and it irritated Tommy. He didn’t say anything, just sat down, his eyes focused on his Dad. Phil raised an eyebrow at him. “You sleep okay? You look tired, kiddo.”

Tommy gritted his teeth, his grip on the stool tightening. “I’m fine,” he muttered, keeping his eyes set on Phil. Phil frowned.

“Is there something on my face?” He asked, touching his face with a confused expression. Tommy narrowed his eyes.

“What’s going on with Techno?” he demanded, his glare not wavering. Phil’s eyebrows rose slightly, in a fake shocked expression. Tommy could roll his eyes at the old man.

“I believe he’s still sleeping, why?” Phil asked, and Tommy scoffed.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he spat, and Phil’s eyes widened a bit more at his hostility. He sighed.

“Tommy, Techno is going through a hard time at the moment,” he said softly, leaning against the island. “I need you to just give him some space for a bit, okay? He’s fine.”

Tommy flicked his gaze over his Dad’s features, narrowing his eyes a bit more. “That’s not how it sounded last night,” he said before he could think it through. Phil raised an eyebrow.

“You heard me and Wil talking, then? Why were you up? It was past midnight,” Phil asked in an impossibly calm voice, like he was just asking about school. Tommy went quiet for a moment.

There’s no reason to lie. Nobody said I’m not allowed to see Deku, so it’s fine. I should just-

“I had to use the bathroom,” he said before he even realized it. Phil’s expression stayed neutral.

“I see,” he said, smiling softly, and Tommy’s chest flooded with relief.

He didn’t even know why he was still keeping it a secret that he had seen Deku. Weirdly, it felt like he was betraying his family by doing so. Like he was partnering with the enemy. Which didn’t make any sense. Deku wasn’t his enemy; he was the Syndicate’s enemy, and he wasn’t part of the Syndicate. And he was allowed to make his own choices. So there was nothing wrong with him talking to Deku.

That’s what he kept telling himself, anyway.

“Well, Techno is just fine. You don’t need to worry about him, me and Wil have it handled,” his Dad said softly, ruffling his hair. Immediately, he relaxed, the sensation causing the previous anger to leave him instantly. He looked back up at his Dad, smiling softly.

Maybe he was right. Techno always acted a bit weird in the Spring, anyway. Maybe it was a pig-hybrid thing.

“Now, what do you want for breakfast? I was thinking of pancakes.” Phil turned to face his cupboards, and Tommy nodded eagerly, a yawn escaping him.

“Fuck yeah! Pancakes are the fucking best,” Tommy cheered, and Phil laughed softly. Tommy loved the way the corners of his eyes crinkled.

Telamon sat down at his seat in the Mess hall, a napkin placed under the table. As he ate, he snuck a chunk of bread, some pieces of red pepper, a couple apple slices, and some nuts into the cloth. He tied it closed, carefully tucking it into his bag. Nobody noticed. Nobody ever did.

Once lunch was finished, the bell chimed, and Telamon got up slowly, waiting until everyone had left already before slipping out the back door.

Down the cracked path, past the overgrown weeds, up the couple of steps to the Shire. He knocked three times before entering.

It was getting warmer, the Shire no longer cold, but a nice cool temperature, light illuminating the structure. Telamon climbed up the steps, up to the Lookout, under the trapdoor. 

“Icey? You awake up there?”

Icey had been asleep the last few times Techno visited the Shire. He grabbed a large stick placed on the floor there, using it to tap the trapdoor gently. After a few times, he heard some movement, and the door slowly opened, the rope falling down. Techno smiled, putting down the stick and grabbing onto the rope, pulling himself up into the hideout.

Icey was lying down on the floor, his hair messy. He looked exhausted, with dark eye bags under his eyes. Techno’s heart squeezed.

“I, uh- I brought you food,” he muttered quietly, pulling out the napkin from his bag. Icey hummed, but he didn’t sit up. He pursed his lips, crossing his legs.

“You’ve…been here for a while. How are you doing..?” Techno asked carefully, eyeing his brother anxiously. His brother rolled over to his side, curling in on himself a bit. His hands were gripping the fabric of his sleeves tightly.

“...Leave.” Techno’s heart cracked a bit, flinching back from the word.

“...Icey?” He asked, his eyes flicking over his brother's frame. He noticed he looked rather skinny, and his chest ached. He flicked his gaze back to the floor, his hands curling into fists. “I’m getting worried about you,” he admitted quietly, his voice echoing around the tower.

“...Techno…” Icey whispered, and Techno immediately looked up. His brother slowly got up, and when his eyes met Techno’s, they glowed for a second. Something felt wrong. But he stayed put.

“What is it?” He asked carefully, watching his brother with a pained expression. Something flickered in Icey’s expression, and his breathing quickened noticeably. His hands were trembling. Techno frowned. “Icey, are you-”

Icey winced, curling in on himself, his hands pressed against his ears. His eyes were glowing brighter and brighter, his breathing picking up. Something was wrong.

“I- I don’t want to- I don’t- please, shut up, just shut up, I don’t- I-” Icey muttered, his voice so quiet, it was hard to pick up what he was even saying. He frowned.

“Icey?” He asked again, his anxiety mounting quickly. Icey’s eyes flicked up to meet his again, and an instinctive chill ran through him at the icy blue eyes. They felt like they pierced right through him.

“I…I need-” Techno slowly got to his feet, his red eyes locked with Icarus’ blue ones. “ I need to eat. ”

A couple of days had passed. Tommy didn’t see Techno. Although Phil and Wilbur continued to insist that he was fine, it was also getting obvious that they were starting to get worried, too. When they thought Tommy wasn’t around, they would talk about him.

“Techno didn’t come back last night,” Phil whispered quietly in the kitchen one morning. Tommy paused his walking, stepping back silently. He leaned against the wall, listening.

“Man,” Wilbur muttered. He took a long drink from his black coffee. “What do we do?”

Phil sighed softly. “I don’t know.”

Tommy felt his chest tighten at those words. That was something he never heard Phil say. Ever. He always knew what to do. He always had a plan of some kind.

“The best we can do is hope he handles it himself. And make sure he doesn’t get close to Tommy.” Tommy felt his hands pull into fists at those words. Don’t get close to Tommy. Why the hell are they still trying to keep him out of this..?! He’s not a kid.  

“Yeah, I know. He’s gone most of the day at this point, so I think we’re fine in that regard. I’m just worried about-”

“-Yeah. Well, there isn’t much we can do other than hope he can wear himself out.” Tommy bit his lip. It was weird hearing his family so…hopeless. They really didn’t seem to have a clue what to do.

Quietly, he turned back to his room, his mind still racing. He wanted to help. He hated being out of the loop. Phil said he was fine, but that clearly wasn’t true. But how could he help when he didn’t even know what was going on?

“ I need to eat. ”

A chill ran through Techno at those words, and suddenly, he realized what was going on. He was pulled back to his memories as a six-year-old, his father rushing into his room with nothing but a knife.

That’s what Icey needed. He needed to get him a knife. The Quirk was fighting against him because he hadn’t shed blood in too long. He needed to go-

Icey leapt at him, throwing him against the ground, his hands wrapping around his throat, his blue eyes wide and vibrant. Techno gritted his teeth, his fighting skills kicking in. He grabbed onto Icey’s wrist, kicking his foot against his chest, throwing him off with ease. Icey may be desperate, but he was inexperienced. Techno could handle him.

Even so, he coughed, taking in deep breaths. Icarus didn’t wait, charging at him again. But this time, Techno was ready, easily dodging his moves with practiced ease. It was weird. Icey looked like he was trying to kill Techno, not like he was just trying to shed blood. It didn’t make any sense for him to choke him, otherwise, since that wouldn’t shed blood.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time to try and figure that out. He needed to get Icey a knife as soon as he could so he could shed blood, and hopefully get his Quirk under control.

“I’m sorry for this, Icey-” he said, waiting as Icey got close before pulling his arm back and swinging. He easily knocked him out, Icey collapsing to the ground like a bag of potatoes. Techno let out a shaky breath, turning to the trapdoor.

He grabbed a knife from the Mess hall, which was thankfully empty since lunch had just ended. He raced back to the Shire, climbing up the steps and pulling himself up the rope. Icey was still knocked out, and Techno set the knife down in front of him.

Should he leave? But what if Icey hurts himself more than necessary? It’s hard to predict how his Quirk will react with how long he’s gone without shedding blood.

He swallowed thickly, guilt suddenly assaulting him.

This was his fault, wasn’t it? He was the one who had let him stay in the Shire, who kept him secret from father. He had encouraged him. He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought he was helping his brother.

Techno stared down at his brother’s still frame. His pale skin, his eyebags, his thin figure. His clothes looked too big for him. Techno’s hands pulled into fists, his jaw tensing.

This was all his fault. He was supposed to be the responsible one. The one who knew better. He was supposed to protect his younger brother. But he was the reason it had gotten this far.

Techno bit down on his lip, his eyes burning. He focused his gaze on the floor at his feet.

How could he let this happen..?

He bit down too hard, breaking the skin. He felt a copper taste in his mouth, and he grimaced. Suddenly, Icey’s eyes shot open, the icy blue settling on him. Techno felt a chill, but he shoved it down. He needed to do this one thing for his brother. He wouldn’t run away when he needed him most.

He crouched down, setting the knife in his brother’s hand wordlessly. There were no words to be said. Icey’s hands gripped around the handle, a whole war waging within his eyes. Techno smiled softly.

“It’s okay, Icey,” he said quietly, rolling up his sleeve. “It’s my fault it got this bad.” He brought his arm to his brother. “You can shed my blood instead of your own.”

Icey furrowed his eyebrows slightly, his eyes flicking from Techno’s red eyes to his arm. His hand trembled, his eyes finally resting on Techno’s chest. His grip on the knife tightened, and suddenly, he plunged the knife towards his chest.

Techno’s heart leapt, and by pure muscle memory, he managed to move himself out of the way. Unfortunately, not completely. The knife dug into his left arm, and Techno winced, pain shooting up his arm.

“Ow,” he grumbled, shuffling away, his hand gripping the wound as blood poured out of it.

Well, at least now he shed blood. He should be okay now.

Techno looked back at Icey, waiting for some recognition to come to his eyes. Instead, his eyes grew brighter, and he slowly got to his feet, an eerie smile creeping across his face.

“ More. More blood for the Blood God. More. More. More, ” he whispered, his hands trembling so badly, he was wondering if the knife would slip from his hands. Techno took a step back.

What..?

Before he could process anything more, Icey was racing towards him again, his steps quick but uncoordinated. He slashed the knife toward Techno, and he pivoted to the side, barely dodging it. But Icey didn’t give him a second, continuing to slice and slash his knife at Techno, most missing, but some cutting into his flesh.

He felt the wall of the Shire behind him, and he ducked down just as a knife came flying at his head. He staggered to the side, his eyes scanning for something he could use to defend himself. His eyes fell on stacks of books, and he took one, chucking it at Icey. 

Unfortunately, it harmlessly stuck to the knife, to which Icey ripped it off aggressively, tossing it to the side. He charged forward, and Techno’s heart leapt.

“I-Icey! Calm down, just-” He stumbled at the constant attacks, having no way to block them. He fell to the ground, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. Those blue eyes. This wasn’t Icey anymore. There was something feral in his gaze, something unknown. Something violent.

Icey stabbed at his neck, and he just barely managed to move out of the way, the blade grazing his neck. He should’ve shed plenty of blood by now. He should be back to normal. But the Quirk wasn’t satisfied.

Techno came to the chilling realization that it might never be satisfied until it killed someone. Another stab came for his shoulder, and he couldn’t move out of the way in time, the blade stabbing into his flesh, his white blouse earning another dark red stain. He let out a groan of pain, gritting his teeth together. Panic was starting to well up in him. He didn’t have anything to defend himself with. Icey was pinning him, and he couldn’t get him off while he was unrelentlessly trying to stab him.

His mind felt dizzy, black spots starting to form in his vision. He was well aware he was losing too much blood. He needed to stop this, or he was seriously going to pass out.

He grabbed onto Icey’s hands gripping the knife, trying to push it away from him. To his horror, Icey directed the point of the knife towards his chest, pushing hard against him. Techno groaned, doing everything he could to keep the point away from his chest, but it was getting closer, and with Icey having the height advantage, he was able to put much more pressure than him. His heart raced in his chest, his mind screaming at him something it never had before. A thought so foreign, it sent a chill through his body.

We’re gonna die.

“ ICEY! ” He screamed, desperation ripping into his shaky and panicked voice. Suddenly, the knife stopped pushing. Techno frowned, his eyes flicking back to Icey’s. They were still glowing a bright and toxic blue, but instead of a crazed look, they were wide and terrified. Icey’s hands trembled.

“...Icey? Are you still in there?” He whispered, and Icey’s breath hitched, his eyes flicking from Techno’s eyes to the knife.

“I’m- I’m so- so sorry-” He stammered, his voice so broken and raspy. Techno let out a breath.

“It’s okay, you didn’t-” Before Techno could finish his sentence, Icey turned the knife, plunging it into his own chest.

Techno stared in shock, his words dying on his lips. He felt his mind blank, blood dripping from Icey’s chest down onto Techno. He felt cold. His eyes flicked back up to Icey’s face, and to his horror, there was a small smile on his dry lips. He looked tired. So tired.

Icey’s body collapsed, falling against Techno’s chest. He felt the breath completely leave his lungs. For a moment, all he could do was stare, his heart still hammering from adrenaline and fear.

Shakily, he pulled himself up, his hands carefully grabbing Icey’s arms. He set him down, his mind so loud and so quiet at the same time. He tried to ignore the way Icey laid, completely still and lax. Like a puppet with no strings. He stared.

He flicked his gaze back to Icey’s blue eyes. They weren’t glowing anymore. In fact, they were dark. Too dark. A blank expression lacking any light or passion or excitement or-

“Icey,” he muttered quietly, his voice hard. His entire body felt cold, and numb. He stared.

He brought his hand reluctantly to his neck, two trembling fingers searching. Shakily, he brought his hand back, pulling his hand into a fist.

“Icey,” he said again, a bit louder. He stared.

He grabbed him by his arms, gripping him tightly. He leaned over his bloody frame.

“Icey, wake up,” he demanded, staring at his blue eyes. He waited. His grip tightened.

“Don’t do this. Please, don’t do this. You’re not-” His voice cracked, and he gritted his teeth, pulling Icey’s body closer. “ Get up! ” He screamed, his voice wavering without his permission. His heart pounded in his ears, his entire body trembling uncontrollably.

“ Icarus Kaine, get up, ” he spat, his teeth tearing into his cheek as hard as he could. His eyes started burning, and his breathing hitched. He pulled Icey into his arms, his fingers digging into his back. Icey’s head simply lulled to the side, limp against Techno’s body. Techno could feel his blood seaping into his clothes, but it all felt so distant. Irrelevant.

“Please, wake up,” he whispered, and he watched as drops fell from his face. “Please, I’m sorry. You can stab me. You could stab me a hundred times over. Just please. Wake up.”

But Icey didn’t. He didn’t wake up. And his eyes never lit up ever again.

Tommy walked up from the basement after talking a bit with Deku again. The house was silent, as it usually was at this time. He opened the basement door, less nervously than he had the first time. He had gotten used to the routine by now. Wait until midnight, sneak down to the basement to talk to Deku for a little bit, and then he would go back to bed. Easy.

As he silently crept to his room, he heard a sound, almost like footsteps. He frowned, his heartbeat picking up. He tried to figure out where he was hearing the sound, when he realized. It was from outside. Heavy footsteps. Really heavy footsteps. Far too heavy for any human.

He froze, his body unable to move at all. He heard the back door open, the heavy footsteps entering. He smelled it before he saw him. Strong, coppery, thick. Then he saw a large frame come into view. Eight feet tall. Pink fur, coated with blood. Large, sharp tusks. Red beady eyes.

Tommy’s heart stopped.

“...Techno?”