Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Act One: The Beginning

This story does not have a happy ending.

This is a story about a boy pushed into the spotlight. This is a story about a boy fighting to stay in the shadows.

The kid with gunpowder under his fingernails and smoke in his hair will never see his home again. The kid whose parents loved him will never see him the same way again. 

Bonds of trust will be broken down to dust. Heroes will kill those who did not deserve to be killed. Teenagers will have too much responsibility placed on their shoulders. Gods will interfere in ways that never should have been. Friends and families will be torn apart with nothing but the bloody remains left floating in the wind.

If you are reading this, waiting for a wrapped up conclusion with happy characters who have found their home, you are in the wrong place. Walk away now. 

Stories will be left unfinished, stories will be left untold. The people in this story are not good people. Your assumptions about them are incorrect. They lie, they steal, they kill, they hurt their friends, they hurt their family, they betray, and they keep to their word.

They are a walking contradiction to life and an antithesis to death.

This is your last warning to turn back.

To those of you brave enough to continue:

Welcome to The Game.

Tommy looked up to the sky, easy laughter on his lips. The green beneath him pressed against his bare arms, cooler than the sun beating down on them. The sound of Ranboo’s giggling was not unknown to him, Tubbo passionately explaining something about-

“It’s stupid because I know Mr. Connor wouldn’t do that-” he mutters, not nearly as quiet as he should be in the rather packed park. Late July had brought people to the weird mixture of field and beach, and Tommy’s little ragtag friend group was sitting under one of the trees in a shaded area. 

“But he did,” Purpled interrupted Tubbo, a small smile on his face and twirling a twig between his fingers with far too much concentration for what he was doing. “I literally watched him do it.” A frustrated noise escaped Tubbo and Tommy snorted at it as Ranboo poked him in the foot. 

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Ranboo shrugged, settling against the tree. “It’s summer- it’s not like we’ll see him again.”

“Ran, grade eleven exists,” Tommy finally said, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look his friend in the face. “We’ll see him in two months.” 

Ranboo just waved their hand. “Time is a construct.” 

Tubbo snickered. Purpled pulled a face. “One that you’re bound by, though.” 

“You gotta think outside the box, Purps.” Tubbo stretched a hand upwards, almost reaching for the branches far above them. “What if we all crash and burn before then?” 

Ranboo looked horrified. It sent Tommy into a fit of laughter, the sound echoing in the small friend group.

It was peaceful and it was chaotic. It was summer. It was the end of one chapter and the beginning of something new.

Something the boys would never realize.

“Mint chocolate chip is revolting.” 

Tubbo slammed his hand down on the little metal table, standing up and pointing at Tommy. “If I hear one more word about my superior ice cream flavour from your little stereotypical cookie-dough mouth-” 

Purpled’s mouth tilted into a smile as he took another bite of his moose tracks ice cream, peaceful and unbothered. Ranboo was, unfortunately, stuck between the crossfire. It wasn’t an unfamiliar thing; this was usually what every meetup they had descended into.

“It’s the best one, that's why it's popular, you-” 

“Fellas, fellas,” Purpled said, setting his spoon down. “You’re both beautiful.” 

Tubbo blinked at him. Tommy looked at Tubbo and back at Purpled. Ranboo laughed, poorly disguised as a cough. 

Tommy and Tubbo spoke in unison- “What?” 

Purpled shook his head dramatically with a loud sigh, looking at Ranboo, who was actively choking on his ice cream from silent laughter. “Uncultured.”

Tubbo sat back down, pulling a face. “I don’t get it.” 

Purpled waved his hand away. “Don’t worry about it.”

Tommy opened his mouth to say something before the sound of an incoming phone call cut him off. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, a bright red case with an absurd amount of scuffs covering it. 

“It’s Sam.” He picked up, pressing the phone to his ear.

It took two glances before Tubbo, Ranboo, and Purpled, in sync, loudly began to shout things. 

“DRUGS-”

“SO MANY DRUGS AND EVIL THINGS-”

“-STEALING AND DRUGS-”

“-THE YOUTH LOVEEE THE DRUGS-”

Tommy stood up and left for the far side of the outdoor patio. There was a mutual understanding between the remaining three that they had won this one as they leaned back in their respective chairs, finishing off their ice cream.

Tommy came back some time later, sitting back down and eating the last couple of bites of his now soup-like ice cream. 

“I gotta go.” He said through the mouthful, a spot of cookie dough catching the side of his mouth. Purpled was going to let him leave it there, but Ranboo, the angel, gestured to it and handed Tommy a napkin. “Sam is here.” 

They said their usual goodbyes, waiting for Tommy to disappear into the parking lot before Purpled turned back towards the other two, rolling his spoon between his fingers with a flat expression. “So?”

Tubbo scoffed. “So what? We had a good afternoon. There was nothing to it.”

Purpled laughed, a dry, humourless little thing. “Okay. I saw you, y’know.” 

“Saw me doing what?” Tubbo asked, and his voice got lower, a little more dangerous. “What’re you suggesting?” 

Ranboo sighed, long and exasperated. “Can you guys not do this like- once. Can’t we have a nice afternoon with Tommy and that's it?”

“It was great before now,” Tubbo crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. 

“Yeah, like we all don’t know you wanna tell him.” 

“I don’t- ” 

Purpled leaned forward, setting his arms on the table and staring Tubbo down. “It would ruin his life, Tubbo. Look at him- he’s got a family. A proper one. We can’t do that to him.” 

“I wouldn’t!” Tubbo protested- it sounded weak, even to his own ears. Ranboo and Purpled had both seen him hesitate for a moment when the topic of heroes and villains had come up. 

“But you want to,” Ranboo finished quietly. “Maybe we should hold off on hanging out with Tommy for a little while.”

“No chance, bossman.” Tubbo crossed his arms. “He’s gonna think we abandoned him.”

“Just for a little while- we call it getting busy, Purpled is always busy around this time of year anyway, and we can make up some excuse… or something.”

Tubbo faltered, just for a moment. “The summer just started.”

Purpled sighed, setting his spoon down. “A month. If Tubbo doesn’t spill it, then we’ll go to that Gala together. Deal?”

Tubbo huffed. “This is unnecessary.”

“It isn’t. We can’t slip.” Purpled pressed. 

“Tubbo,” Ranboo stated, fiddling with their fingers- “Look. It's a month or forever. We can still text him and stuff.” 

“Fine. Fine.” Tubbo pressed his palms into his eyes. “One month.”

Purpled nodded and stood up, pushing his chair in. “Glad you’re over your dilemma. I'm going home.” 

Ranboo frowned, their fingers drumming against the metal again. “Boss called us tonight, though.” 

Tubbo scoffed, crossing his arms. “He doesn’t care, Boo. He’s Purpled, all mysterious and doesn’t wait for anyone.” He said the last part mockingly, scathing and none of the laughter or friendship that it would’ve held if Tommy had been in earshot. 

“Little Tubbo, who can’t take reality,” Purpled responded slowly, dragging his finger across the back of his chair. He didn’t meet Tubbo’s eyes. “that he made choices he has to live with now. The consequences of your actions.” 

He watched as Tubbo’s hands balled into fists. Ranboo put a hand on his arm, gentle in nothing but appearance. Purpled knew Ranboo had a mean grip. 

“Purpled,” Ranboo said, low and warning. 

“Ranboo,” Purpled shot back, unbothered. “Stop protecting him. He made his choices.” 

“You don’t even know what I had to do to get here.” Tubbo snapped, hatred seeping into his eyes. 

“And I wouldn’t want to,” Purpled responded in an instant, turning his back on the pair of teenagers. “Have fun with the Boss.”

He turned heel and walked out before either of them could object or stop him, making his way to  the parking lot. A small car, more beat-up and discreet than what was probably necessary- but it wasn’t his anonymity, so it wasn’t his problem- sat in the corner of the far end of the place. The car started up as Purpled approached it. He slipped into the front seat. 

“Did you have fun?” Quackity asked behind the sunglasses and beanie, and Purpled sighed, long and bored. 

“Do I ever have fun? It’s a job.”

“You can have fun on a job, y’know. Especially when the job is hanging out with your friends.”

“My colleagues and the random stray they picked up? Never.”

Quackity made a little offended noise as he pulled out of the parking spot, merging onto the main road. “Don’t call Tommy a stray. He’s a good kid.”

“Quackity, you barely met him once.”

“And he was a nice kid!” He repeated again, turning his blinker on and going left. “Y’know, we got that meeting tonight. In suit.”

Purpled hummed, focusing on a blur of a blue car passing by. “I’m not going.”

“Purps.” 

“Don’t call me that. I’m not going,” Purpled said, tone flat.

“They’re gonna suspect it at some point. You can’t keep skipping and getting me to cover for you,” Quackity said offhandedly. Purpled tucked his hands into his sweater pockets. 

“Then don’t. Give me the standard,” Purpled pressed, an edge of hardness leaking into his voice. “Don’t cover for me, Quackity. I’m not your kid.”

“Not by blood,” Quackity said, his voice light but stone-firm in belief. “You are in everything else.”

“I’m not, ” Purpled insisted; there was a certain intangible desperation that hung above his shoulders. “Just because you were in the right place, right time three years ago doesn’t make me some miracle for you. I’m a bad omen. You know that.” 

Half a memory of white walls and whiter tiles flashed before Purpled’s eyes, and he blinked it back, swallowing inaudibly. He didn’t even notice the silence until Quackity broke it, the pause between sentences just long enough to be awkward.

“Well, you’re still my kid,” He repeated, turning into the gated house. “Whether anyone knows it or not.”

The house that they pulled into was, in the simplest way possible, huge. If Purpled had cared even a fraction more, maybe he would’ve had something to explain the impossibly infinite floors and enormous backyard and hundreds of windows- but to Purpled, it was a house, and a house meant a roof, and a roof meant staying dry. 

It’s all that mattered. 

Purpled took the house key out of his pocket, clicking the door open and leaving it unlocked for Quackity to come in behind him. Getting up to his room was a mission on its own, the stairs and hallways stretching over a frankly obscene distance. 

It was on the opposite side of the manor; far away from Quackity’s own bedroom, because Purpled had chosen it three years ago and not much had changed. It was a barebones sort of place; no frames on the walls, the bedsheets a plain beige. The carpet beneath his socks was black and fluffy. There were four locks on the door.

Regular stuff. 

Purpled stepped into the washroom and tugged his shirt off, catching his own reflection in the mirror. Dozens of shimmering marks marred his body, reaching up to his face and down to his feet. There was one that stretched across his nose, beneath the concealer he used to cover it up.  His own scars stretched over his shoulders, tiny pricks over his arms. If he turned around, Purpled knew he would see an expansive scar from the bottom of his spine to his shoulder blades, mimicking lightning. 

But he didn’t turn around. Because scars were a reminder, and Purpled didn’t belong in the past. 

He took a new t-shirt from the small pile in his bare closet, pulling it over the tapestry of scars and gold.

“Quackity,” Purpled asked idly as they ate dinner from opposite sides of the long dinner table. “Did you ever find your goldbound?”

Quackity hesitated for half a moment- a quarter of a second, but Purpled caught it, his grip tightening around his fork. Quackity kept eating like nothing had happened, finishing his bite of chicken. 

“No one ever finds their goldbound, Purpled,” he said, half amused, but there was just the barest hint of panic under his voice- Purpled honed in on it, watching as Quackity’s eyes caught on the baked potatoes and flowers in the middle of the table and the salt container and everything but Purpled’s face.

“I know. But miracles happen,” He responded, moving his vegetables around his plate. “Ranboo and Tubbo found each other.”

Quackity sighed, setting his fork down and staring at his hands. There was a collection of shimmer-gold markings all over his hands, like little nicks. When he lifted his sleeve, there were a couple of longer marks, too; messy things that caught the dim light. 

“I have no idea who they are. I get gifts, sometimes, from them- which is fair, because I give them a fair amount of marks too.” Quackity laughed a bit to himself, picking up the fork and taking another bite. “I dunno. I think we’ve both just decided not to look into it too hard.” 

He shrugged, and yet Purpled could see the guilt lining Quackity’s shoulders; a lie. It was a lie, or a half-truth, but in any case Quackity just didn’t want to tell Purpled.

Purpled didn’t push. Not for now, at least. He leaned back, and they finished dinner rather quietly after that. Quackity asked how Tubbo and Ranboo were doing, Purpled shrugged and gave a half-hearted answer. 

He thought, briefly, if his goldbound ever looked at the lightning scar on his back and wondered what happened to the other end of their pair. Purpled caught himself wondering at night about the receiving end of his scars a lot; the long, arching lines of gold he’d catch in the mirrors sometimes, shimmery gold for scars he could’ve sworn weren’t there the day before. 

The rest of the night passed rather quickly- the rest of the month, actually, until the week of the Gala, when he’d messaged Tommy about going and gotten a response almost immediately. Purpled blinked, surprised- he hadn’t realized just how eager he’d been to go. 

There was half a realization that it meant sacrificing his anonymity as being ‘Purpled, Quackity Nevada’s adopted son’, but it was probably fine. It’s not like they’d ever find out more than that, anyways; and Tommy was a civilian. If anything, he should be worried about Tubbo and Ranboo knowing.

But those two were bound. Bound to secrecy, to the organization, to everything so interconnected like a fly in a web. So Purpled let himself have just this, if only not to die of boredom for six hours as old women and older men pinched his cheeks and called him cute and stupid. 

Sam’s car was a dark green, something that almost stood out but was almost quiet enough to be safe. The car was already running as Tommy got into the passenger’s side.

“What’s the problem?” Tommy asked, all business. The ease he held with his friends was nothing but a distant memory in mere moments.

“We have a hostage situation at a bank,” Sam said. “Your suit is in the back.”

“I was with my friends, you know,” Tommy said, leaning over to pull the package of clothes from the seat.

“You knew you were on call,” Sam said. Tommy pulled on the plastic around the clothes.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. How far?”

“Two minutes,” Sam said. “Then another two for suiting up.”

“Two minutes?” Tommy scoffed. “Please. I only need a minute thirty.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Big words, kid.”

“Not a kid,” Tommy said, rolling his eyes. “And it’s easy. It’s just my suit.”

“Whatever you say,” Sam said, taking a turn a little too fast to be entirely safe. He couldn’t drive terribly recklessly in a civilian car, but he couldn’t pick up Tommy in an HQ vehicle, either. Compromises. That’s what Sam was always going on about.

It ended up taking Tommy one minute and forty three seconds to change, and another eight minutes to fix the hostage situation with Sam. A record. Tommy grinned at the praise and smiled at the cameras and waved like he’d been taught to.

Everything was settled and the police had come to clean up what remained. Sam and Tommy were sitting on a rooftop of a nearby building. The sun had only just started setting, casting the city in a sharp, golden glow.

“How was hanging out with your friends?” Sam asked.

“It was good,” Tommy said. “Other than Tubbo being crazy and liking mint chocolate chip. Seriously, who likes mint chocolate chip ice cream?”

“I know plenty of people who like mint chocolate chip,” Sam said. “It’s really not that uncommon.”

“It should be made more uncommon,” Tommy said. “Mint chocolate chip should be banned for- violating the Geneva convention or something. It probably did that.”

“Right,” Sam grinned, and his mask was off so Tommy could see it. His mask was off so he could see the glimmer in his green eyes, and his mask was off so he saw something other than the leader when he looked at the man.

“You’ve got connections. You could make mint chocolate chip ice cream illegal, right?” Tommy asked, perking up.

Sam laughed, and Tommy grinned. Sam rarely laughed these days, but something told Tommy that the man should laugh more. Something told Tommy the man used to laugh more.

The thought was gone as soon as it entered his head.

“I do not have the authority to ban a perfectly good flavor of ice cream, Tommy,” Sam said.

“Are you a mint chocolate chip sympathiser?” Tommy demanded dramatically, leaning away from him.

“It’s really not that bad-”

“It tastes like toothpaste!”

“What kind of toothpaste have you been using that tastes like ice cream?” Sam asked.

“It’s not the toothpaste that’s the issue, it’s the ice cream!” Tommy proclaimed.

“If you say so, kid,” Sam said. Tommy elbowed him.

“I’m not a kid! I’m old and mature!”

“A mature person who’s complaining that someone else likes a flavor of ice cream,” Sam said, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s a valid concern,” Tommy said. “It’s only because I care so much about Tubbo. It would be for his own good if it were banned, really.”

“How would you even enforce a ban on ice cream flavors?” Sam asked.

“That’d be on you to figure out,” Tommy said. “You’re the one making the law.”

“I’m not making it a law,” Sam said. “I don’t have the authority to do that.”

“You’ve got higher up friends,” Tommy said. “If you really wanted to, you could.”

Sam just shook his head. “I’m glad you had a fun time with your friends tonight, even if it got cut off by this.”

Tommy shrugged, a lie and anything but. “It’s the job. It’s not like I had a choice.”

The beat of silence was tense.

Tommy cleared his throat. “Because someone would’ve gotten hurt otherwise. Couldn’t let that happen.”

“Being a hero requires sacrifices,” Sam agreed and instructed, as though that hadn’t been drilled into Tommy for years at this point.

“Speaking of which.” Tommy twisted the edge of his cape in his hands. “Training tomorrow?”

“Bright and early,” Sam confirmed. “Next on your regiment was balance and endurance.”

“I do parkour around the city every night, who says I don’t have balance?” Tommy asked, throwing his hands in the air.

“If you don’t train it now, you’re going to fall off a roof,” Sam said.

“I could handle that,” Tommy said.

“You very much could not,” Sam said. “At the very least, you’d break a bone. We can’t have you out of commission for that long.”

“Someone could just heal it,” Tommy said, staring at his arm. He’d broken it once, but he couldn’t quite remember how. 

“You still need recovery time after that,” Sam said. “We don’t have enough heroes to afford to lose you.”

“Well, I’m not going to break one of my legs,” Tommy said. An arm, maybe, but that was only if Tommy was being reckless.

“You won’t because of your training in the morning,” Sam said pointedly. “Which you won’t skip.”

“It was one time-- Sam.” Tommy’s voice caught, because he wasn’t going to say Sam. He wasn’t going to say Sam because that’s not what he called Sam. He called Sam something else. But what else would he have called Sam? He wasn’t about to call him Paragon. What else could he have called him?

Sam didn’t notice Tommy’s dilemma. “You’re a hero, Tommy. You’re better than that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Tommy stood up, stretching. “What time is it?”

“I’ve told you that you need to get a watch,” Sam reminded him.

“I’m going to,” Tommy said. “At some point. But using my phone is easier.”

“You don’t have your phone on missions,” Sam said.

“I should get a work phone,” Tommy decided.

“What would you do with a work phone?” Sam asked, tilting his head.

“Call the police,” Tommy said resolutely.

“It’s not happening,” Sam said. “You’d break it in a week, anyways.”

“Would not!” Tommy protested.

“Any fragile piece of equipment we give you breaks after your first few fights with it,” Sam said, unimpressed.

“Becuase I’m fighting people! The people I’m fighting break it! You should stop giving me fragile things to fight with,” Tommy said, crossing his arms.

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s 8:47, Tommy.”

Tommy rolled his shoulders. “I’m on shift until 10. Is Glide out yet?”

Sam sighed affectionately. “I’ll send her your way. Don’t be late to training.”

“I would never,” Tommy said, putting a hand on his heart. Sam gave him a look. “Again.”

“Good.” Sam put on his mask, and when he looked at Tommy, he was the team leader.

Like he’d always been.

“Well, I’m going to go solve some crime,” Tommy said, giving Sam a sloppy salute while he put on his mask with his other hand.

“Stay here until Glide gets here,” Paragon said directly.

“I’m old enough to fight crime on my own, you know,” Tommy said.

“Not until you get your certification,” Paragon said.

“Who cares about certifications, anyways?” Tommy muttered bitterly.

“The law,” Paragon said.

“Who cares about the law?”

“We are the law.”

“Dang it.”

Tommy pushed a sweaty strand of hair out of his eyes, his breathing heavy. He spun to dodge, a bullet shooting straight past him.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that!” Tommy taunted, loud and overconfident. Marigold’s next shot caught his shoulder.

“Is that good enough?” Marigold called. Tommy gritted his teeth, dropping to a knee. No matter how many times he got shot, it never got any easier.

“Lumen, I’ll cover!” Paragon called, returning fire to Marigold over Tommy’s head. Tommy forced himself back to his feet, retreating to the nearest cover he could see on the edge of the battlefield, some old shipping container.

He dropped to the ground, leaning against the thin metal. His shoulder was burning, the pain lacing down his arm. He was going to kill Marigold next time, he swore-

“Hey there, kid.”

Tommy looked up as Medi rounded the corner, kneeling next to him. Her curly white hair was pulled back in a bun and her golden mask was firmly in place over the lower half of her face. She slid her bag off her back, setting it down.

“How many times do I have to say that I’m not a kid?” Tommy asked with half the energy he usually carried.

“Keep going until it’s true,” Medi said, a faint smile in her eyes. She spread her hands towards the blood leaking from Tommy’s shoulder. He pulled his cape out of the way. Medi frowned, pulling back.

“What? What’s wrong?” Tommy asked, furrowing his brows as Medi pulled open her bag.

“The bullet didn’t go all the way through,” Medi said, pulling a couple of tools from her bag. “Don’t worry. It won't be hard to pull it out, but it’s going to be painful.”

Tommy held out his hand. Medi handed him a rag, something like regret in her posture. Maybe it was because she couldn’t help Tommy painlessly. Maybe it was because Tommy was sixteen and he knew the process of getting a bullet pulled out in the middle of the battlefield. Maybe she was having regrets about her choice of career. Tommy didn’t ask.

He bit down on the rag, keeping his eyes trained on the dark forest that bordered their current fighting grounds as Medi did her job. He did his best to quiet his screams, since the shipping container really wasn’t going to be great protection if Marigold turned his minigun on them. If they were lucky, the others could keep the villains distracted until Medi was done.

Of course, he was Tommy. Luck was never on his side.

Ender rounded the corner, cutting off the golden sparks jumping from Medi’s hands. Tommy tackled her to the ground to avoid Ender’s attack. Tommy rolled down the hill, shoving himself to his feet. The grass was dewy and slippery. The sun would be rising soon.

“Attacking a healer? Real low, man,” Tommy said, straightening his cape.

“We never claimed to be virtuous,” Ender said. His mask always made his voice crackly and was near impossible to understand.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re villains, you’re supposed to be evil.” Tommy tilted his head to the side, mocking. Blood was still trickling down his arm. “Give me a break.”

“That’s not an option,” Ender said.

“I was being sarcastic , duh.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “Did you not go to villain school? Do they not teach English at villain school?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Ender said, raising his gun.

“You hurt me.” Tommy clutched his chest. “I thought you knew that already.”

Ender squeezed the trigger. Tommy’s cape whipped behind him as he dodged, almost a dance beneath the stars. He was a breath between death and life and nothing so silly as a bullet could ever kill him and his life could end in a second.

The rain of bullets stopped and Tommy followed suit. He nearly slipped on the grass. His head was starting to hurt. Maybe he’d been bleeding worse than he thought. No, Medi would’ve told him if he’d lost a dangerous amount of blood. She would’ve told him if she had time, at least.

Speaking of Medi, she was the reason Ender had stopped. She’d gotten Ender’s gun, somehow. Maybe that was something to be concerned about. But Medi was on his team, so Tommy wasn’t going to question it.

Ender’s hands were raised as he slowly backed away. Tommy walked to Medi’s side, a grin on his face.

“Not so confident now that you don’t have your weapons, huh?” Tommy’s voice was smug, overly pleased with Medi’s accomplishment.

“Don’t pretend like you’re any better,” Ender said. “You wouldn’t fight us without your guns.”

“I’d bring my fists to a gun fight, actually,” Tommy corrected. He didn’t even use guns. He wasn’t allowed, yet. “Big man Lumen doesn’t need puny guns to be strong.”

“Like those puny guns that shot you?” A new voice joined the conversation. Tommy stiffened, wheeling around. A figure stood in the branches of a tree, almost invisible in the darkness. The only thing Tommy could make out was his eyes and the sword slung over his shoulder.

“Lumen, you’re injured,” Medi said, a warning and a plea.

“Lumen isn’t worried about a little gunshot, now, is he?” The figure dropped from his branch, unnatural shadows dripping off him as he stepped into the starlight. 

“I could take you any day, Aph.” Tommy raised his chin. He dove to the side as a shadow shot towards him like a throwing knife. 

“That’s not my name, Lumen,” Aphelion said icily.

“Come on, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Tommy’s grin was back and light glittered at his fingertips. “Friends give each other nicknames, Aph. Why don’t you try me?”

Aphelion rudely threw another shadow blade at him. Tommy waved his cape, the sparkling light diminishing the shadow blade before it reached him.

“Has anyone ever told you your power sucks?” Tommy asked. “I mean, getting beat by glitter? Kinda lame for some big bad villain.”

“Glitter being the only thing to protect the hero’s golden boy is worse,” Aphelion practically informed him.

“Call me that again,” Tommy snarled.

Aphelion’s expression was invisible, the shadows that covered his mask unmoving. “You’re the hero’s precious little golden boy. Why else would you be Paragon’s sidekick?”

“I’m not a sidekick!” Tommy shouted, ripping a weapon off his belt. Medi backed up as Tommy hurled it at Aphelion. The villain tried to use his shadow sword to cut it in half, but it exploded the moment it touched the weapon.

Aphelion stood there, blinking. Tommy cackled at him. It was dark, but the starlight was still enough to reflect off the glitter now covering Aphelion’s outfit.

“I’m going to kill you.” Aphelion tightened his grip around his sword.

“You can try.” Tommy braced his feet, raising his fists. Aphelion spun his sword dramatically. If Tommy had the time, he’d have rolled his eyes.

However, Tommy did not have time, because he forgot that they weren’t alone.

“Lumen!” Medi shouted. There were hands on his shoulders and nails digging into his skin and flashing colors over his vision and suddenly, the wet grass was gone from beneath Tommy’s feet. Tommy yanked a knife from his belt, stabbing it blindly behind himself. The world flickered back into view as Ender released him.

They were in the middle of the battlefield. Dark blood was dripping from Ender’s arm, but he teleported away before Tommy could do anything else. 

Vaguely, Tommy knew he was supposed to move. He wasn’t supposed to be there, he was supposed to- he was supposed to be somewhere else, wasn’t he? Where did Medi go? Wasn’t she supposed to heal his shoulder? It still hurt. He didn’t like that it hurt.

“Paragon told you to get to cover, kid.” There was an annoyed voice to his side and a hand on his arm, yanking him away. Tommy had to blink several times to recognize the person in front of him. 

“Not a- kid.” Tommy stumbled over a rock on the ground.

“Not the important thing right now,” Aries said roughly. “Are you still bleeding?”

“Uhh…” Tommy swiped at the wound. His hand came away wet. “Yep. I think so. Or I rolled too much on the grass. That’s possible too.”

Aries groaned. “I forgot you get annoying when you lose blood. Paragon is over there, go.”

Tommy was shoved in the direction Aries had pointed. There was a figure in the distance, running. Tommy couldn’t quite tell if it was towards or away from him.

“That’s too far,” Tommy complained, looking back at Aries, who’d already turned away. “Where’s Puffy?”

Aries slapped Tommy’s head. “Names, kid, no names on the field.”

Tommy scrunched his face. “How do we know who we’re talking about then?”

“Just get to Paragon.” Aries waved a hand and started walking away. Tommy considered following him, but he was told to go to Paragon. That meant he should go to Paragon. Probably. Unless Aries was lying to him. But Aries didn’t lie to him. That was something that villains did. Aries wasn’t a villain.

“Paragon!” Tommy yelled, walking towards the figure in the distance. “Paragon!”

Paragon stopped short, staring at him. He was waving his arms, saying something, but he was too far for Tommy to make it out. Tommy’s earpiece crackled to life.

“Lumen, run!”

Well, Tommy was glad he wasn’t Lumen. Lumen was a weird name, anyways, who would name their kid that?

Wait.

Tommy was Lumen.

He booked it. No sooner than he started running, something exploded behind him. The noise brought a little clarity to his mind. He’d been wandering around the middle of a battlefield, yelling for Paragon. He was an idiot .

Two more explosions followed him before they abruptly stopped. Tommy didn’t stop running, because he hadn’t gone completely insane. 

Just minorly. He blamed it on the blood loss and Puffy’s healing.

“Villains called a retreat,” Paragon said in Tommy’s earpiece. “Aries, set a tail. Medi, Lumen still needs medical attention.”

“On it,” Medi responded.

“The villains always lose our tails,” Aries muttered bitterly. Paragon ignored him.

Tommy sat down. The wet grass immediately soaked into his suit, which would need to get patched up anyways. Tommy should really start making friends down at the costume department, or they were going to start hating him. If they didn’t already.

“Tough fight?”

Tommy jumped, reaching for his belt before he realized who was standing next to him. He hadn’t noticed Paragon approaching.

“Nah, nothing I can’t handle,” Tommy said proudly. “Just got grazed.”

“I watched you get shot,” Paragon said. “That wasn’t a graze.”

“I’m a big man, Paragon,” Tommy said. “Maybe you’re the one overreacting, huh? Heroes get shot all the time.”

Paragon rolled his eyes. “It’s my job to worry about my team, Lumen.”

Tommy huffed. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard the speech before.”

“I don’t give speeches,” Paragon said.

“You do,” Tommy said. “It’s practically in your job description.”

“I enforce the rules, but I don’t-”

“I’m afraid you do, Paragon.”

Tommy looked up at Medi’s voice. She looked a little worse for wear, but not bad, considering the fact that she’d had to deal with Aphelion on her own.

Paragon blinked at her. “I give speeches?”

“You do.” Medi patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’re the team lead. You’re supposed to lecture the kid when he does stupid stuff.”

“I never do stupid stuff! I’m the smartest man ever!” Tommy proclaimed loudly.

“You keep telling yourself that, Lumen,” Medi said, patting his back. Golden sparks dripped from her hands. “He needs to get back to the HQ, Paragon.”

“I’ll take him,” Paragon said, holding a hand out to him. “Come on, Lumen.”

“Tonight sucked,” Tommy muttered. He only took Paragon’s hand because he wanted to, not because he had to.

“It always sucks to lose a fight,” Paragon said.

“We didn’t even lose!” Tommy said, throwing his hands in the air. He hissed at the sharp pain in his shoulder.

“We lose every time we don’t capture the villains,” Paragon said.

“Then I have some bad news for your track record,” Tommy said. Paragon snorted. Tommy stood a little straighter.

“Come on, kid. Back to the HQ with you.”

“Not a kid!”

Tommy idly swung his feet, impatient waiting for the doctor to dismiss him. He’d been healed and was ready to go, but the doctors were worried about a concussion or some nonsense.

“Hey, Lumen,” Medi said, a little out of breath as she reached his bed. “Sorry, with the villain’s activity last night, we’re a little swamped here.”

Tommy glanced around the busy Medbay. “I can see that.”

“Look at the light,” Medi instructed, holding up a penlight. Tommy watched it obediently. “What’s your hero name?”

“Lumen,” Tommy said. “Is this supposed to test if I’m good or not?”

“Yes,” Medi said. “What’s my real name?”

Tommy glanced around, lowering his voice. “Puffy.”

Medi switched off the light. “Any dizziness or headaches?”

“Not anymore,” Tommy said. “Really, I just think it was the bloodloss.”

“Seems like it,” Medi agreed. “You know the drill, if-”

“If I have any symptoms, I come back here, blah, blah, I’ve been through this a thousand times,” Tommy said, shaking his head from side to side. “Can I go now?”

Something sad crossed Medi’s expression, but she blinked it away before Tommy could decipher it. “Yes, Lumen, you can go. Paragon wants to see you when you have time.”

Tommy groaned. “Is it for another lecture? I’m not going if it’s for another lecture.”

“Your team lead summoned you, Lumen. You can’t ignore him,” Puffy said.

“Are you sure?” Tommy asked, almost whining, but not quite, because heroes weren’t supposed to whine.

“Yes, Lumen,” Puffy said, sounding almost amused.

Tommy sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine, whatever, I’ll go.”

Medi patted Tommy’s shoulder- the one that didn’t get shot. “Get some rest afterwards. I saw your patrol sheet.”

Tommy pushed himself off the bed. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“It’s nothing you should have to handle,” Medi said. “The rest of our sheets never look like that.”

“Paragon wants me to have the practice,” Tommy said, shrugging.

“Paragon doesn’t make the sheets, Lumen. He’d never schedule one person that much in one week,” Medi said.

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows. “He doesn’t? I always thought- Well, whoever makes them knows perfectly well that I can handle anything they throw at me.”

Medi sighed. “I’m exempting you from tomorrow’s patrol. I’m afraid I can’t do much more than that.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You don’t have a choice here, Lumen,” Medi said, crossing her arms. “I’m not letting you out right after you just got shot.”

“It’s not like the villains are going to do anything,” Tommy said. “Some of them got injured too, didn’t they?”

“Aphelion did,” Medi said. “I believe Marigold did, as well.”

“Then they need recovery time, too,” Tommy said.

“Glide will take your place,” Medi said. “I already talked to her.”

“You hate me,” Tommy said dramatically. “I just want to do my job.”

“If you want to do your job so badly, then why don’t you write your report about what happened last night?” Medi asked, raising her eyebrows.

Tommy shut his mouth.

“That’s what I thought,” Medi said. She gave Tommy a little push. “Now go on, Paragon’s waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” Tommy straightened his cape, heading out of the Medbay. There was still blood on his shoulder. He was going to have to send down the suit to get fixed later.

Tommy walked down the familiar hallways to Paragon’s hallway. It was a little like being called to the principal’s office- though Tommy had never been to a proper school, so he only knew that from movies and shows. He rapped his knuckles on the door, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Come in,” Paragon called. Tommy pushed the door open, shutting it behind him. Paragon didn’t have his mask on, his green hair messy and dirty.

“Hey, Sam,” Tommy said, dropping into his usual chair. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Is everything alright?” Sam asked.

Tommy blinked. “Huh?”

“You weren’t yourself tonight,” Sam said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tommy said, slumping down. “That’s how I always act.”

Sam didn’t say anything. He looked at Tommy with solid eyes, eyes that knew a little too much, eyes that knew Tommy a little too well, and sometimes not at all.

Tommy squirmed under his gaze. “It doesn’t matter, really. It’s just a personal life thing.”

Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes. “As your legal guardian, it’s my job to keep both your life as a hero and a civilian safe. Is everything okay with your friends?”

Tommy pulled his mask off, fidgeting with it in his hands.

“I thought so,” Tommy said, breaking eye contact. “Last time we hung out, it was fine, but…”

“But?” Sam prompted.

“They haven’t really been answering my texts,” Tommy said, his fingers itching for his phone. Maybe they’d answered while he was out on patrol. Maybe they were calling him and he wasn’t picking up and he was losing his chance. Maybe he would go back to his room, pick up his phone, and see that there was still nothing .

Worse than nothing. Another empty answer to his questions, to his ideas. The excuses were worse than the silence.

“Did you have a fight?” Sam asked patiently.

“I mean… a little,” Tommy said. “It was just over ice cream flavors. It was a joke. It wasn’t really a fight.”

“Well, summer can be a busy time for civilians,” Sam said. “Vacations, jobs, spending time with family since school’s out.”

Tommy hunched his shoulders. “Yeah. They’re just busy. I just- It’s just quiet without them.”

“Why don’t you pick up a hobby while they’re busy?” Sam suggested. “You need something in your life outside your friends and being a hero.”

Tommy picked at a stray thread on his pants. “Most hobbies are kinda hard to keep up with in this line of work. And when you’re alone.”

“Then we’ll get the whole team to go along with it,” Sam said. “They’ll be more than happy.”

“Even Schlatt?” Tommy asked, raising his eyebrows.

Sam tapped the table. “Schlatt might need some convincing. But everyone else would be happy to join, I’m sure. Everyone is always so focused on their work. We need something to lighten things up.”

“If that was another pun on my name-”

“No, it wasn’t, I swear-”

“You said you’d quit, you promised me-”

“I didn’t mean it, I-”

“You said you’d drop the awful puns if I stopped making fun of your terrible jokes, Sam-”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Sam said. Tommy huffed, twisting his cape so the glitter side wasn’t facing Sam. 

“My name is awesome. And poggers. And manly.”

“Yes, we’ve talked about this. Many times. At length,” Sam said.

“Yeah, well. My name is cool.” Tommy stood, pulling his mask up over his face.

“I’ll get back to you on that hobby,” Sam said. “I’m serious about it. Kids need hobbies.”

“Not a kid,” Tommy said.

“I still have legal responsibility over you,” Sam reminded him.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Legal shmegal.”

Sam just shook his head. “The sun’s coming up soon. You should get some sleep.”

“Sleep is for men who are weak and aren’t as poggers as me,” Tommy said. He glanced at the window, at the rapidly rising sun, and changed his mind. “Actually, sleep is only for the awesomest of men. Which means that you’re not allowed to sleep until you get 30% cooler.”

“After what happened last night, I’m not sleeping for a while,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“If it’s the reports, I’m not helping with them,” Tommy said.

“You need to record your perspective of events,” Sam said methodically. 

“You can’t make me,” Tommy said childishly.

“I literally can,” Sam said. “Now, I would rather not, but-”

Tommy threw his hands in the air. “If you really insist, I guess I’ll write a report when I wake up.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Sam said, sounding sincere. Tommy stood, walking back to the door.

“I mean it,” Sam said. Tommy looked back at him. He’d put on his mask when Tommy opened the door. “You’re a good hero, Lumen. People look up to you.”

Tommy grinned, something more fake than real. “Of course they do. I’m the most awesome man to ever exist.”

Sam paused, as though he wanted to say something else. They hovered in a silent stare until Sam finally spoke. “I’ll see you at training tomorrow, Lumen.”

Tommy pulled his cape over his shoulders. “Yeah. Training.”