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Tubbo made it to cover first, vaulting over waist-high garbage containers and scrambling behind a rain-slick dumpster. He grabbed Tommy’s ankle and yanked his friend from the top of the dumpster into hiding beside him. Tommy was still swearing, not exactly quiet.
“Fuck, those robot wronguns are fucking weird. Did you see the way that one’s head moved?” He gestured wildly beside Tubbo. “Looking at me with its fucking bug eyes, and it was gonna shot me with its fucking laser, but I’m too big a fucking man to be—“
His voice cut off as Tubbo clamped a hand over his mouth. “Quiet.” He threw in as a second thought, under his breath— “They’re not robots, they’re fucking— military cyborgs. Make them out of criminals or some shit.”
Tommy licked his hand. Tubbo recoiled, then wiped his hand on Tommy’s face. Tommy gasped in horror and threw himself forward, mouth open to bite Tubbo’s shoulder. Tubbo fended him off furiously, holding his friend at arm’s length. A heavy footfall sounded in the alley and both of them froze.
A minute later, the footfall moved away, and both of them let out a breath. “Stupid fucking robot.” Tommy’s tone was confident. “Obviously it wasn’t gonna see us. Ezclap.”
“I think they have heat vision, but it must’ve missed us.” Tubbo cautiously peeked over the edge of the dumpster. “I think—five more minutes till we’re clear.”
“Even if it did find us, I’d just pull its—its fucking head off.” Tommy stretched his arms up over his head.
“You couldn’t.” Tubbo’s tone was flat. “They’re titanium or some shit. And they’re programmed to destroy threats.”
“Fuckkk youuuu,” Tommy proclaimed, full voice, reaching out to pull Tubbo into a headlock. “Tommyinnit is the biggest man of all fucking time and if I want to destroy a fucking wrongun robot I’ll pull it apart with my bare fucking hands and—“
He cut off with an outraged gasp as Tubbo bit him, and then both conversation and conscription squads were forgotten in the scuffle.
“Tubbo?” Tommy poked his head in the flap of the standard-issue tent, crisp in his red and blue uniform. “Inspection’s in ten minutes.”
Tubbo raised his head from where he was bent in a u-shape over a training manual, blinking bleary eyes. “Whu—?”
“Did you nap in your fucking uniform?” Tommy sat on the military cot and reached out to adjust Tubbo’s ill-fitting collar. “You’re gonna get in trouble.”
“I’ve gotta learn the bomb schematics. I was up late last night.” Tubbo batted his friend’s hands away, then paused and squinted at him. “And you’re one to talk.”
“Wilbur likes me.” Tommy reached out again to re-button one of Tubbo’s epaulets. “And I’m supporting his fucking aims and shit. We’re going to have so many wives and they’re going to say Tommy how did you win all these medals and I will say I’m just a hero like that.”
Tubbo let himself be fiddled with. “Aren’t you supposed to call him Commander Soot?”
“Wilbur and I have an understanding.” Tommy’s tone was airy. “I’m his right hand man, and he’s going to fix everything, because he’s smart and good at talking and shit, and I’m so fucking good at helping him.”
“That’s why you keep getting in trouble.”
Tommy recoiled, offended. “I don’t even get in fucking shit like you do!”
Tubbo grinned at him, the expression taking over the tired lines of his face. “You got a demerit last night, bossman, told an officer to fuck off.”
“And you told somebody to speak the fuck up at breakfast!”
“They were mumbling!” Tubbo kept grinning.
“Yeah, well.” Tommy allowed that. “Couldn’t fucking hear them, yeah. Fuckers need to speak up.” He reached out and adjusted Tubbo’s collar again, getting it to lie flat.
Tubbo sighed. “Who’s doing this inspection?”
“Some kind of internal affairs wrong-un, name of Dream, him and all his fucking robots.” A tone sounded outside the tent, and Tommy looked towards the exit. “Gotta go.”
Tommy flopped on his back next to a bucket of water and a scrub brush, eyes closed. Footsteps approached. Tommy’s jaw set. His arms closed convulsively around a sandwich and an apple as they hit his chest, rolling to the side and then opening his eyes to glare up at the figure above him.
“Eat something before you fucking pass out.” Tubbo’s uniform had more braid now, but it still didn’t fit right.
Tommy pushed himself upright and polished the apple on his shirt. He took a bite. “Fuck off,” he said with his mouth full.
Tubbo looked at him. “You’re not—“ He sighed and hunkered down on his heels. Tubbo jerked his chin at the damp parade square. “You’re almost done.”
Tommy shrugged. “Dream’s just gonna say it’s not good enough and make me do it over again.” He took a vengeful bite of the apple. “Cause he’s a fuckin’ wrongun.”
Tubbo raised his eyebrows at him. “What’d you do this time?”
Tommy grinned around the apple. “Told him he probably wore that mask thing cause his face looked like one of his robots’ fucking ass.”
Tubbo glanced at the cyborg standing by the side of the parade square, faceted eyes locked on them. The green and blue eye of Internal Affairs gleamed on it’s shoulder. It did not appear to have much of an ass at all. “Yeah.” His tone was dry. “Sure, bossman.”
“He does!” Tommy punched Tubbo in the leg, then picked up his sandwich and bit into it. “How’d you get the food, they give you extra cause you’re fuckin’ important now?”
Tubbo’s shoulders shifted inside his new uniform. “No.” He grinned briefly. “Stole it.”
“Nice.” Tommy applied himself to his sandwich. Dry bread crumbled.
Tubbo glanced at the cyborg again. Its gaze was unwavering. “I gotta go.” He stood up.
Tommy nodded, mouth full. “Go tell Dream that he’s a bellend and he should fucking die.”
Tubbo’s mouth twitched. “Yeah I—“ His shoulder slumped slightly. “Whatever.”
“You should do it! You’re in charge now! Wilbur said—“ Tommy’s face fell for a second, then set as he nodded encouragingly at his friend.
“I’m gonna tell him that you didn’t mean it.”
Tommy’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“He’s been saying—I’m not saying he’s not a fucking idiot, but you know—“
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Tommy scrambled to his feet and jabbed Tubbo in the chest with a forefinger. “I meant every word. Dream’s a wrongun and I fucking hate him and he’s as stupid as one of his—“ He waved a wild arm. “— as one of his fucking robots. As one of his robots’ fucking balls.”
Tubbo’s attention flicked to the cyborg, then back to Tommy. “Dream’s important though.” He picked at the seam of his pants. “He can—fuck.” He sighed. “He can cause a lot of problems, you know.”
“I can handle it.” Tommy slung an arm around Tubbo’s shoulders, smiling broadly. “Come on, Tubbo, I’m a big man, Dream is a little bitch. I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah— sure.” Tubbo managed a smile. “You’ll be fine.”
Dream’s hand clamped on Tommy’s shoulder like a vise, dragging him slightly off balance. Sunlight gleamed off his mirrored visor and the metal on the cyborgs arrayed behind him. “That’s the last straw, Underscore. Tommy’s been a problem since day one, and he’s not been responding to normal reprimands.” A smile entered his voice. “It’s time for the next step.”
“Fuck off.” Tommy squirmed, trying and failing to escape his grip. “It was just a fucking prank.”
Tubbo licked his lips, balled his right hand into a fist, then made it unclench. In the middle of the parade square, there was nowhere to hide. Behind his back, the people he was in charge of loomed like a weight on his shoulders. “He’s sorry—he’ll help repair any damage he caused, won’t he, Tommy?”
“Fuck you, what’d you fucking mean? There wasn’t any damage, it’s fine.” Tommy tried to kick Dream in the shin. “Bunch of pussies.”
“Tommy’s little prank was an ambush full of explosives that caused auditory and physical damage to my squad.” The smile still in Dream’s voice had a sharp edge to it. “After weeks of disciplinary and disruptive issues. My enforcers are a significant investment, and Tommy is a street rat. I’ll be taking him in for retraining.”
“What the fuck?” Tommy screeched. He tried to kick Dream again. “I’m not fucking going anywhere with you, you fucking wrong-un.”
“Tommy, be quiet.” Tubbo’s voice was ever so faintly unsteady. “Auditor Wastaken, it was my responsibility, I’m the one who was in charge of Tommy. I’m the one who needs fucking— retraining.”
“What?” Tommy had not decreased in volume. “I’ll say you need retraining, retraining not to tell me to shut up, everyone should be happy for my beautiful fucking voice. Fuck you, I set off those firecrackers my fucking self. And it was fucking fine.”
Dream’s attention didn’t shift from Tubbo. “Now, Underscore, don’t be ridiculous. You have potential. And all these people here depending on you.” Light refracted painfully off of Dream’s visor. “I’m excited to see you learn the confines of your position. Tommy—needs a firmer hand.” He took a step back. Tommy stumbled as he was dragged with him, a gap in the squad of cyborgs opening up and then closing as they fell into position around both figures. Dream chuckled. “What do you think, Tommy?”
“Let me fucking go, you motherfucker, I can walk by myself.” There was the sound of a scuffle from Tommy as he once again tried and failed to evade Dream’s grip. “Fuck off. Tubbo never did anything wrong ever, he’s the best leader and knows every bomb. And I didn’t even cause any damage, you’re just obsessed with your fucking robots!”
“My robots know how to behave, because I’ve taken them in hand.” The cyborgs moved in step with Dream as he headed towards the exit. “And you’ll learn too,” he said. “Once we get a little more programming and some upgrades into you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Tommy protested, voice fading into the distance as he was dragged away. “Tubbo, you can’t let this guy take me away—Tubbo! I’m gonna be fine, I’ll be right fucking back! I’ll see you tomorrow—fuck you, Tubbo. Fuck off, Dream, let me go.”
There was a van waiting at the edge of the square. The cyborgs formed an impenetrable wall around it, Tommy and Dream disappeared behind them, and a weighted door slammed. Tommy’s voice cut off. Silent cyborgs returned to their positions around the base.
Tubbo watched the van until it disappeared into the distance, fists clenched at his sides and jaw clamped tight enough to ache. Then he went back to work.