Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 Tommy probably shouldn’t be fucking around on the job, but here he was, swinging the mop handle around like a staff. He had unscrewed the mop part so it was just a wooden stick, but his imagination was plenty helpful filling in the details, like the evil villains he was fighting. The museum around him was dark, only illuminated by lights that never turned off. He was a janitor who only worked after hours, the night shift. It was a dreadfully boring job, and usually, if he finished early before his shift ended at six a.m. he was able to goof off however he wanted. 

Tonight he hadn’t quite finished his job, the exhibit on the ancient Greeks wasn’t clean yet but he didn’t think anything catastrophic would happen if he didn’t dust off the vases or scrub the floors for just one night. Well, he worked every other night, but still, nothing would be too dirty after only three days. No one would even notice. 

Technically he wasn’t supposed to play with his cleaning shit, but no one ever checked the cameras at night unless something turned up damaged or broken, which never really happened anyways, but it was why he always finished cleaning first, that way they wouldn’t have to check the times he was spinning a duster like sword or a mop like a staff. Besides, it was a great workout routine. His arms hadn’t been this strong since he had been roped into playing tennis by one of his foster brothers. 

He didn’t hold back the grin on his face as he fought invisible enemies. This was the closest he ever got to actually fighting. There were people out there who fought for a living with their magic abilities, but he wasn't one of them. He was normal, so he had to do normal jobs like scrub shit. He was a damn good janitor; the museum floor had never been so clean. It wasn’t like he minded being normal though. Heroes and villains had shit lives full of fighting and struggling for grand, responsible goals. Tommy wasn’t responsible and he didn’t really care about the greater good or even goals of his own. He just wanted to live life and pretend to fight shit.

A crash sounded in the distance and Tommy stumbled to a stop, standing upright. The sound had come from the Greek exhibit. Damn it all to hell. The one exhibit he had skipped spontaneously decided to have something fall over? It happened on occasion, a hook falling off the wall causing something priceless to crash onto the floor. The museum was a weapon museum, talking about the evolution of all sorts of weapons, which was the only reason Tommy had applied for a janitorial job there in the first place. Once a steel sword from the fourteenth century had fallen off the wall and Tommy had had to explain very hard as to how he had been across the museum and how it hadn’t been his fault. It hadn’t been his fault at all, but it had taken a while to convince his boss of it. 

Tommy sighed as he walked to the exhibit, the mop handle held loosely in his hand. Mentally he was wondering what had finally fallen. The bronze swords were in glass cases, so probably not one of them. Hopefully it was just a reproduction. Maybe it was a good thing Tommy hadn’t been in that exhibit yet tonight, it made him look even more innocent. That last sword had only been debated so much because the camera had shown him staring at it for ten straight minutes. It wasn’t his fault he had zoned out staring in its general direction. He knew he couldn’t steal it or anything. 

Lost in thought, Tommy walked into the Greek exhibit, about to look around for the cause of the noise, and then he stopped dead in his tracks. Three men stood in front of a spear display. Tommy recognized them immediately. The Syndicate. Tommy took a stumbling step back. One of the men, set apart from the others with sprawling black wings and a veiled hat, the Angel of Death, leader of the Syndicate, whipped around at the noise. The other two turning the same. The man in the black trench coat was Siren, and the third man in the boar’s skull mask… That was the Blood God. All three of them could definitely kick his ass, even if he really had been eighteen like he had told his boss he was. 

“Shit, it’s the janitor,” Siren grumbled. Tommy was frozen in fear, the hand holding his mop handle trembling.

“I thought you said he was done,” Angel of Death asked Blood God.

Blood God shrugged, “He cleaned everywhere, I don’t know why he’s still here.”

They all turned to just look at Tommy. Tommy, to his credit, did not faint, but he did get a little lightheaded. The three most deadly villains were right there in front of him, and they definitely weren’t just there to tour the museum, if the bag on the floor between them was evidence of anything. Tommy took in the three as they watched him, and decided that maybe he should be running, and so he took off, the rubber of his shoes squealing on the marble floors. 

Swearing sounded behind him and there were footsteps as the villains pursued him. Tommy just put everything he had into sprinting away. Panic nearly blinded him as he skidded around a corner on still damp floor from when he had been using his mop the way it was meant to be used. He wasn’t going to be able to outrun them, but he had to try, right? They would kill him when they caught him, he was sure of it. Oh fuck, they were going to kill him. 

A hand closed on his shoulder, and he responded instantly. He slammed his mop handle into the villain who had chosen to pursue him before even looking at who it was. Then he did look, stumbling backwards at the sight before him. Blood God towered over him, clutching the wrist Tommy had just hit. Tommy moved before he could realize this was probably a bad idea, and swung his mop-handle-staff at the villain. Blood God dodged just barely in time, drawing a sword as he took a few steps back. Tommy panted for breath, struggling not to just pass out from stress. He was going to go down fighting, he was a big man. He began to spin his makeshift staff. Blood God watched him through the eye sockets of his skull mask. Tommy did his best not to think about the fact that the man’s eyes were blood red. He did not need the reminder of what Blood God’s ability was. The moment blood was drawn in a fight he would go into almost a craze, killing all of the people around him, only stopping once he had won and his wounds would just heal the moment they were made, so anything that wasn’t fatal didn’t do a thing. Not that many people could land serious blows on Blood God, he was too good. 

Blood God began to circle Tommy and Tommy tried not to think anymore about how outclassed he was. He just swung. He wasn’t used to swinging at real things, so he couldn’t help his alarm when his staff slammed against the flat of Blood God’s sword. He felt the vibrations running up his arms, nearly shocking him into dropping his weapon. He grit his teeth and swung again. It was like every move he made was transparent, nothing landed. Sure, some landed on Blood God’s arms, but never anywhere actually serious. He fought for all his worth, fear turning to desperation and anger, but he made no progress. 

Then, he heard sirens. Police sirens. Blood God’s head snapped to the side and instead of blocking Tommy’s mop with the flat of his blade, he swung with the sharp side, effectively chopping the handle in half. Tommy froze as half of his mop handle rattled to the floor.

“You done fucking around, Blood God?” Siren’s voice announced his presence behind Tommy. Tommy whipped around to face the man, backing so that he could see both villains, struggling to catch his breath. Fucking around with cleaning supplies apparently wasn’t as intense of a workout as he had thought and his arms trembled from the force of his fight, woefully unprepared for fighting for his life. 

“Police,” Blood God muttered.

“Yeah, apparently there was an alarm on the case Angel broke,” Siren waved dismissively, “Would you just do something about the kid already so we can get going?”

Tommy bristled, “Hey! I’m not a kid!” Both villains looked at him. Tommy realized who he was talking to and cringed back, running into the wall.

Siren opened his mouth to speak, but then a window shattered, a man with white goggles rolling into the room. A hero, 404. 404 was not as scary as some other heroes, but he could manipulate what you saw with illusions, so Tommy didn’t completely blame the villains for swearing. He wouldn’t want to fight someone who could convince you that you were covered in cockroaches either.

“What’s this? Has the Syndicate really devolved to museum heists?” 404 scoffed.

Siren growled, “Hey, museum heists are harder than they look!”

“Are they really?” 404 looked unimpressed. Then he seemed to notice Tommy for the first time, “Kid, you need to get out of here,” He said.

Tommy was about to follow through with that wonderful suggestion when Siren spoke, “No. Stay .” His voice carried so much power that Tommy froze mid step, eyes widening as Siren took control of his body. The heroes had long since put ear plugs into their uniforms because of Siren’s power, so the villain couldn’t command any of them. Tommy didn’t know the technology, but they could still hear people. Because of this, Siren was notorious for using his power on bystanders.

“Siren,” 404 growled in warning.

“You know what, I think this kid would make a great hostage,” Siren purred, “Come .” he commanded.

Tommy’s body obediently walked to Siren’s side, though internally he was screaming and raging against his lack of control. He stopped right next to the villain, unable to look away from the black mask that covered the top half of Siren’s face, not leaving any apparent eye holes. Brown hair poked out from the hood that was pulled over his head, the collar of his trench coat standing up. Far too much going on fashion wise, in Tommy’s opinion. You don’t mix hoods and trench coats, it’s just trashy. 

“Well, 404,” Siren said, draping an arm over Tommy’s shoulders, a gun in his hand which he used to turn Tommy’s face to look in the direction of the hero. Tommy shuddered, wishing the hand that held his half of a mop handle was under his control so he could brain the villain with it, but he couldn’t, all he could do was wait. “I think you should count this for a decent loss,” Siren cooed, pulling Tommy against his chest. Why was the fucking bastard so tall? Tommy wasn’t short, just over six feet, but the man was easily a couple inches taller. It was just insulting. Tommy’s urge to hit him grew stronger.

“Siren, how do you plan on abducting a kid out of here anyways?” 404 snapped, “The place is surrounded, Dream is coming.”

Siren laughed, “You know, I heard that Blood God can handle even Dream, isn’t that right, Blood God?”

The usually silent villain cocked his head, “Yes.”

“Besides, I like the kid, he’s got spunk,” Siren said, sickly sweet. He reached over to the wall beside him where a short sword from the seventeen hundreds was mounted. The villain grabbed it, jerking it off of its hooks easily as he handed it to Tommy. “Hold this ,” he told Tommy. Tommy dropped his mop handle and grabbed it with both hands, his hand gripping ancient wood with a strange familiarity. It must be the control of Siren, knowing how to command his body just right.

“Siren, don’t you dare!” 404 snarled, stomping forward, hands up to summon illusions.

“Point the sword at yourself ,” Wilbur said in response.

Tommy did as he was commanded, the blade twisting in his grip so that the point rested under his sternum, angled upwards. He closed his eyes, a tear leaking onto his cheek. His hands should be shaking, but they were perfectly steady.

404 hissed, “No!”

Siren smiled a wicked grin, “Oh, you’re no fun!”

“Siren,” a voice snapped from behind them. Tommy could barely see the Angel of Death walk up behind the two other villains, “It’s time to go.”

Siren practically pouted, “Well alright then. Walk in front of me ,” He ordered Tommy.

Tommy ended up at the front of the Syndicate as they casually walked out of the front of the museum, Blood God keeping an eye on 404 and Siren’s hand resting on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy couldn’t remember if the Syndicate let hostages live or not. The sword never wavered from his gut where he held it, and Siren used him like a human shield to make the cops stand down. Tommy’s eyes teared up as he saw the news cameras on him, the way the officers all lowered their weapons, the way the gathering people ogled him. He wished he didn’t have this dumb job. He wished he had called into work sick. He wished he had never checked on that noise. Anything, anything to make him not be here, a puppet to the worst villains alive. The worst villains in recorded history who were strong enough that they never got captured, a feat that should be impossible.

Then, it was dark. Arms wrapped around him, the wind whistled, and Tommy’s arm finally obeyed him to point the sword away from himself. He couldn’t see anything; all he could tell was that he was being carried. He didn’t know by who or where to. This was the Angel of Death’s power. He commanded darkness, frequently using it to disorient people while he used his super strength and speed to dispatch enemies. Tommy prayed it was 404 who was carrying him, or maybe another hero, anything but what he suspected.

Suddenly Tommy was dropped, he fell onto some rough surface, luckily able to not accidentally impale himself on his short sword, steel clattering on asphalt as he lost his grip on it, and his sight came back to him, the dark night seeming almost blindingly bright compared to the darkness of the Angel’s powers. He was in a street right next to a cop car, his hands empty. He tried to get up but stumbled back to his knees.

“Holy shit!” A voice cried, “You okay, kid?”

Tommy looked up into the eyes of the cop, about to attempt to answer when he promptly passed out.

---

Angel of Death dropped the janitor kid by some cops so they wouldn’t get accused of too much evil, and then landed at their hideout, letting his sons fall from his arms.

“You let the janitor take that sword,” Blood God huffed as he got to his feet.

“You got like ten new weapons today, I’m sure some random short sword won’t be missed,” He said to his son.

“It was owned by a pirate,” Blood God grumbled.

“And now it’s owned by a janitor, at least until the museum gets their hands back on him,” Angel said, “And then you can go get it again.”

Seeming to like that idea, Blood God nodded, “Good.”

“Was it just me or was the kid surprisingly good?” Siren said, making a show of dusting himself off, “He was a beanpole, but he stood up against Techno surprisingly well.”

“You’re right,” Blood God acknowledged, “He was good.”

Angel blinked. Blood God was saying the kid was good? It must be true, “Maybe he was only disguised as a janitor, while actually being a security guard?”

“A security guard wouldn’t be able to do what that kid did with that mop handle,” Blood God said gruffly.

“His body knew it’s way around a sword too,” Siren added, “It was easy to sing him to use it.”

“Odd,” Angel of Death settled on saying.

Chapter Text

The second day after being briefly abducted by supervillains Tommy sat in the museum curator’s office and watched the countless lengths of footage of him swinging around mops, dusters, and brooms like they were weapons. 

“Tommy, you know that we require professionalism in our museum, right? If you had messed up even slightly you could have broken or damaged a priceless artifact,” Tommy’s boss, Jason, was saying.

Tommy nodded, “I was always careful, sir, and I never did it until I was done.”

“Tommy, I can’t let this go,” Jason said gently.

Tommy looked up quickly, eyes wide, “What?”

“Look, I know you’re having a hard time after the abduction, but I need to know my museum is in good, responsible, hands. Unfortunately, you don’t fit that criterion. I’m going to have to let you go,” Jason sounded regretful.

Tommy held his eyes wide, urging tears not to fall, “Okay,” He managed, “I’ll be off then.”

Jason smiled sympathetically, “I’m sorry Tommy. I’ll send out your last paycheck here soon.”

Tommy nodded shakily and immediately fled the office. He had shit to do and that didn’t include crying because he got fired. 

The past two days had been shit. The first day had been spent convincing the police simultaneously that he was uninjured and that he hadn’t had anything to do with the break in. They had looked at the footage, seeing him goofing off and then seeing his fight with the Blood God. It had earned him a careful forgiveness and he had been allowed peace as they decided he was innocent.

Today had just been spent dealing with the museum. He hadn’t expected things to go smoothly or anything but hadn’t exactly thought he would be fired. Maybe it made sense, that he shouldn’t be flinging around a stick only mere feet from priceless artifacts, but Tommy had never once lost control of his makeshift weapons. They always did what he wanted them to, never slipping from his grasp or even faltering in the slightest.

Frustrated, Tommy kicked a pebble. It bounced along before dropping into a puddle at the entrance of an alleyway with a strange tink . Tommy paused, frowning. He approached the puddle and stopped in his tracks, looking around. He realized this was the street where the Syndicate had dropped him just the other night and that would have caused him a little bit of discomfort if he wasn’t gaping at the short sword that everyone had assumed the Syndicate had taken from him before dropping him. He had dropped it while falling and hadn't thought much about it except to mourn its loss, but here it was, disguised in a filthy puddle.. 

Tommy looked around at the reasonably empty street, only a couple people were walking around, and they were studiously not paying attention. He bent and lifted the weapon from the puddle, marveling at how comfortable it felt in his grasp. He really should return this. He looked around again. No one was looking at him. Jason might reward him for returning it… No, fuck Jason. Jason had just fired him. Tommy tucked the weapon under his hoodie and made a beeline for his apartment, only a couple blocks away from where he had been dropped.

When he arrived at his apartment he hurried up to his floor and practically slammed the door behind himself in his excitement. Now safely inside, he removed the weapon and just stared at it. A sword. He had a sword. He grinned, moving to the middle of his tiny, one room apartment. He had an hour till his day job shift started, well, now his only job. Allotting ten minutes to running there gave him fifty to swing his new belonging around. 

He began moving slowly, getting used to the weight of the weapon, his fingers tingling where they touched the handle. Oh, this was going to be wonderful. He began to fight those imaginary enemies again, but this time those enemies took the faces of the Syndicate. He could imagine his fight with Blood God all too well and he replayed it, eyes closed. His sword cut through the air, following his will so easily. 

Fifty minutes ended too quickly, and Tommy couldn’t suppress his grin as he reluctantly hid the weapon under his mattress where it rested on the floor and began the breathless run to the coffee shop that he worked at.

The moment he walked in, the owner of the shop, Puffy, raised an eyebrow at him. “Tommy? You’re a little out of breath there.”

Tommy waved her off as he began to put his apron on, “Started a new workout routine.”

“You work out?” Puffy asked.

Tommy scowled, “Well, yeah.”

She shrugged, “Oh, okay then.”

“Oh, I was meaning to ask,” Tommy said then, remembering the reason why he had the sword in the first place, “Do you think I could start picking up some more shifts? I uh, need a little more income.”

“I could work you in, Foolish has been pretty busy here lately,” Puffy said. Foolish was the other part timer, and Tommy wasn’t guilty at all for taking the man’s shifts, he was a bitch. 

“Cool,” Tommy said, “It should only be for a little bit.”

Puffy gave him a thumbs up. Tommy just hoped that he would be able to find another job soon so it really would be a short while.

Tommy lost himself in his work, easily plastering on his customer service face and humoring the dozens of customers with just enough wit that they tipped decently. It was a balancing act, but he was alright at it. Maybe he would look into waiting tables next? There was a significantly lower chance of being kidnapped while waiting tables.

“Tommy?” Puffy’s voice called.

Tommy looked up from where he was making the drink for what was currently their only customer, “Yeah, what’s up?” he asked his boss who was holding the remote to the TV.

“Were you kidnapped the other day?” Puffy asked. Tommy looked up at the TV to see news coverage of the museum. Tommy stood there on the screen, sword to his own gut and face blank, the Siren standing behind him with a mocking smile on his face as he whispered in Tommy’s ear. Blood God was holding 404 at a distance with his own massive sword and the Angel of Death had his arms spread wide, shadows reaching for his fingertips. Then the camera went black. 

Tommy looked at his boss, “Uh, maybe?”

Puffy looked horrified, as did the woman who he was trying to make coffee for, “Tommy! Why didn’t you tell me! I could have let you have the day off to recover!”

Tommy shrugged awkwardly as he eyed the news casters discussing his kidnapping casually, “I wasn’t injured.” 

Puffy looked back to the TV, “That’s still not okay, Tommy.”

Tommy was about to continue arguing his case when the next scene on the TV was CCTV footage from inside the museum of him defending his life with a mop handle while the Blood God attacked. Tommy immediately lost his train of thought. They had released that? At least Tommy didn’t look totally stupid, just terrified as he clearly barely stayed alive, dodging and fighting almost rabidly.

Puffy looked outright distraught, “You fought the Blood God!” She shrieked.

Their customer pressed her hands to her mouth as she looked at Tommy, “Oh my Prime!” She whispered.

Tommy cringed, “It wasn’t a big deal! He didn’t hit me or anything,” he said defensively.

“What are you even fighting with?” Puffy demanded.

“A mop?” Tommy said carefully.

“You thought you could fight the Blood God with a mop !” Puffy’s voice had only gotten louder.

“I didn’t really have a choice!” Tommy said, “I didn’t fancy dying.”

“They took you hostage, Tommy. No, you’re going home to rest.” Puffy said firmly.

“Puffy, please,” Tommy said.

A man walked into the shop then, taking in the scene of the still stunned customer and Tommy and Puffy clearly in the middle of a heated discussion. He frowned, pushing up his glasses, “Hey, aren’t you that kid who got abducted by the Syndicate?” He asked.

Tommy groaned, putting his face in his hands, “Yes, I am.”

“Did they let you keep the sword?” The man asked, walking up to the register, unconcerned with how Puffy was about to launch into another argument.

Tommy moved to put the female customer’s drink on the counter and went back to the till, “Nah, the Syndicate took it. What do you want?” Tommy asked casually. He wasn't a great liar, but if he followed the lie up with a question, he figured the lie was less likely to be picked at for accuracy. He could hope anyways. 

The man frowned, “Americano please.”

Tommy nodded, “Coming right up.”

“Tommy, no, you need to rest,” Puffy said firmly.

Tommy ignored his boss and grabbed the cup, “Can I get a name for the order?” He asked the man who was watching a slowed down replay of Tommy’s fight.

“Wilbur,” The man answered, distracted, “Have you had combat training or something?”

Tommy snorted, “Nah.”

The man looked back at him, “Wait, really?” He seemed stunned.

Tommy nodded, “I mean I fuck around with sticks, but that’s it.”

The man, Wilbur, just looked confused, “How the fuck did you survive a fight with the Blood God then?”

Tommy shrugged, “I’m a big man, what can I say?”

“You’re like twelve,” Wilbur scoffed.

Tommy squinted at the customer, “I’m eighteen, bitch.”

“Tommy!” Puffy reprimanded, but Wilbur just laughed.

Tommy scrawled the man’s name on the cup, misspelling it, “What kind of name is Wilbur?” He asked, knowing he was definitely pushing the line of casual wit into straight up bullying at this point, but Wilbur had laughed earlier, so Tommy could hope.

“What, is your name, like, better or something?” He squinted at Tommy’s name tag as Tommy moved to the espresso machine.

Tommy grinned, proudly displaying his nametag which he had long since replaced the boring 'Tommy' with 'BIG MAN' in all caps, “Infinitely so,” he said cockily.

“She said your name was Tommy, so I’m assuming that’s correct, instead of big man,” Wilbur said dryly, “And that’s not any better than Wilbur.”

“It’s the principle,” Tommy said as if he wasn’t just pulling shit out of his ass, “For example, have you recently heard of any Wilburs surviving one on one flights with Blood God lately? Because I haven’t, but this Tommy did, in fact, survive a fight with Blood God.”

Wilbur frowned, about to speak, when the door opened and man walked in, long pink hair back in a braid, his stature filling the door. “Wilbur, are you done yet?” He asked gruffly. Then he squinted at the rest of the shop, his eyes stopping on Tommy, focusing instantly.

“Hey Techno, this is Tommy, he’s that kid who got abducted!” Wilbur said brightly.

“What kind of name is Techno?” Tommy blurted, before remembering that not everyone likes backtalk as much as Wilbur apparently did. Weird fucker.

Techno didn’t even seem to hear the comment because he just said, “Did you get to keep the sword?”

Tommy blinked, “Uh, no, the Syndicate took it.” The lie was easy to tell the second time around. As far as anyone was concerned, they had. Only the Syndicate would know it was a lie. 

Techno squinted, “Really?”

Tommy blinked, uncomfortable at the man’s scrutiny, “Yeah? I passed out when they dropped me, so the cops definitely would have found it.”

“You passed out?” Puffy interrupted, “Tommy, why are you here! I’ve told you to go home twice now!”

Tommy once again ignored his boss, “Techno, buddy, friend, big man, what can I help you with this fine afternoon?” He forced his face into the best desperate smile he could.

“Uh, latte?” Techno said, unsure, “You probably should go home though.”

Tommy glared at the man, “You are no longer a big man, I’m fine.”

“Siren almost made you kill yourself,” Puffy groaned, “That’s a lot of stress.”

“Yeah, well I kinda need the money, Puffy,” Tommy grumbled.

“The museum doesn’t pay you enough?” Wilbur looked confused.

“I got fired from the museum this morning, actually,” Tommy said, pushing Wilbur’s cup towards him.

“Fired?” Techno’s face drew into confusion, “Because you got kidnapped?”

Tommy hesitated, “Uh, no.”

Wilbur leaned across the counter, “Why?” He grinned mischievously.

“Something about lacking respect and responsibility to be alone with artifacts,” Tommy said, waving a hand dismissively.

“What?” Wilbur just looked confused too now.

“I used to fuck around when I was done cleaning, swing a mop around and shit. They never noticed, but the Syndicate broke in while I was treating a mop like a staff and they saw it on the cameras,” Tommy said, a little embarrassed. He turned his back to the two men and made up the latte for Techno, giving the cup to the man and reading off the price on the till.

Wilbur paid in card, “Sorry you got fired,” he said, digging a bill out of his wallet to stuff in the tip jar.

“They would’ve figured it out eventually,” Tommy said lightly, “I was just being dumb. Have a good day, Techno.”

“What about me?” Wilbur frowned.

“You’re a bitch,” Tommy said blandly.

“I tipped!” Wilbur said indignantly.

Tommy shrugged, “Bare minimum. Bitch.”

Wilbur shook his head, “Bye, gremlin child,” he waved as he and the man left the shop.

“Not a child!” Tommy called after him. He smirked to himself though, turning to see a twenty-dollar bill in the tip jar, which he frowned at, wondering if it had been an accident, when he noticed Puffy’s glare.

“Home. Now,” she said, obviously not humoring him any longer.

Tommy didn’t even get to argue, she just kicked him out, barely accepting his apron in her hurry to kick him out. He resisted the urge to flip her off, obviously in a well-meaning, kind way. Then he huffed and walked back to his apartment.

It wasn’t until he sat on his bed, feeling bored, when he remembered his sword. He grinned to himself as he pulled it out. Oh, he wouldn’t be bored for a very, very long time.

---

Tommy was forced to take two days off, which he spent the entirety of with his sword. When his body eventually would give out under him, he would just stare at the weapon, learning it’s every part. He noticed how dull it was on the second day and spent an hour just sharpening it carefully, using a whetstone he really had no reason to own. He had always liked knives, which included sharpening them beyond all logical reason. Now he applied that knowledge to the historical relic, surprised at how well it worked. It was thrilling, to hold something that had been made with the intent to be a weapon, not a tool. It made his fingers tingle in excitement. 

The second night he was awoken by his door opening and he squinted into the dark to see a massive form. The form squatted beside him, it was a man, but Tommy couldn’t quite see anything. Another form entered the room as well, looking around casually. Tommy sat bolt upright, suddenly awake as his eyes finally adjusted. A white boar skull mask was inches away from his face. Blood God and Siren were in his apartment. His breath caught and he scrambled away, his hand finding the hilt of the sword under his pillow, though he didn’t pull it out yet.

“Where is it?” Blood God’s gruff voice asked lowly.

“Wh-what?” Tommy asked, struggling to not tremble all over.

“The sword. It didn’t turn up in the archives again. I want it,” Blood God snapped.

Tommy shook his head rapidly, “I-I don’t have it.”

Siren turned to face him, “Tell the truth, Tommy.”

Tommy stiffened, but the man hadn’t used his powers yet, “How do you know my name?”

“Same way we found your apartment,” Siren said, idly kicking Tommy’s trash bin, “Do they really not pay you enough for a real apartment?”

“Fuck you,” Tommy hissed, “I don’t fucking have the sword.” His heartbeat was in his ears. He was on the brink of panic. They had found him; they wanted the sword. His sword. Fuck them, it was his . 

Blood God cocked his head, “What’s under your pillow then?”

Tommy reacted instantly, pulling out the sword and swinging for Blood God, which the man shouldn’t have been able to block as easily as he did at this range. He caught the blade of the short sword on the hilt of a dagger that Tommy hadn’t seen him draw. 

Blood God eyed the blade, “You sharpened it,” he said thoughtfully, then his red eyes turned to Tommy, illuminated by the stripes of moonlight that filtered through the fire escape on Tommy’s window behind him. The fire escape. Tommy began to formulate an escape.

“Because it’s my sword, bitch,” Tommy spat. In retrospect, maybe calling the strongest person in the Syndicate a bitch wasn’t a good idea, but Tommy didn’t really have much of a filter when under pressure. Or ever.

“Interesting,” Blood God just looked thoughtful, “Do you really want to draw blood though?”

Tommy stiffened, remembering footage of Blood God going on a rampage and murdering dozens of cops. “I just want to keep my sword,” he said carefully, finding he was willing to negotiate. He wanted to keep his sword, sue him.

Blood God was slowly pressing Tommy’s sword away from himself, “Why should I let a child keep a sword that I stole?”

“Not a child,” Tommy hissed.

“You obviously are,” Blood God said dryly.

“It’s mine, that’s why I get to keep it,” Tommy said.

“Can you use it?” Blood God’s voice was dark.

“Yes,” Tommy answered without thinking.

“Prove it,” Blood God challenged.

Tommy looked around at his tiny apartment squinting at the villain and his massive broadsword, “Not in my fucking apartment.”

“Then the roof,” Blood God stood then.

“What if someone sees?” Tommy asked.

“Cover your face,” Siren said, tossing a red bandanna at him.

Tommy caught it, staring at the villains in disbelief, “You really are just going to see if I can use a sword? How do I know you won’t just kill me anyways?”

“If we wanted to kill you we would have done it before you woke up,” Siren said dismissively.

“Why didn’t you?” Once again, maybe comments such as this really shouldn’t be asked of supervillains. Especially when they were in Tommy’s apartment, but he spoke before he thought it through.

“You’re interesting,” Siren grinned, “I’d hate to kill someone who interests me.” Tommy shuddered at that thought.

“Come,” Blood God snapped, gesturing for the door.

Tommy stood, following Siren as the man led him to the stairs and up to the roof. It was windy and Tommy looked at the villains as they scanned the rooftop. Tommy tied the bandanna over the lower part of his face, hoping it meant that if anyone thought they saw someone fighting on a rooftop they wouldn’t assume it was Tommy. He stopped then, looking at his sword. Was he really doing this? Trying to prove what? That he deserved to keep the weapon? Tommy scowled, yes he was. He deserved the sword, he wanted it. He had never wanted something so bad in his life, not something he already owned and his life was on the line for anyways. Part of him urged him to think logically and just give up. He would obviously lose the upcoming fight anyways. The rest of him was enamored with the tingle of his fingers and that possessive feeling he had towards the weapon. It was his, no one could take it.

He looked up to see Siren settling off to the side, Blood God drawing his broadsword. “How do I know you’ll let me keep it?” He called across the rooftop.

“You don’t,” Blood God said, shrugging.

Tommy grit his jaw, “Alright then,” He readied himself, settling into a stance that probably made him look stupid and inexperienced, but Blood God charged anyways.

Tommy threw all of his willpower into the fight. His sword swung exactly how he wanted it to, truly acting as an extension of his body. It was his and some dumb villains weren’t going to steal it from him. His hands were hot, but he didn’t pay them any mind, he just fought. The movements of the blade seemed to sing to him the way Siren did, pulling him where he needed to be at just the right times. He was careful not to draw blood, but he didn’t spare Blood God any other mercies and slowly it became clear that they were more closely matched than Tommy thought would be possible. Maybe tennis applied to sword fighting better than Tommy thought?

---

Wilbur was in awe. The kid moved like Techno. Sure, he was smaller and obviously less strong, but he still somehow held his own against the massive villain. Even more fascinating, it looked like he was almost evenly matched. Techno was putting more effort into the fight than Wilbur had seen him use in years. No one matched Techno anymore. Even the best heroes could be defeated by him, even Dream, the number one hero. Tommy though, Tommy was better than Dream. Tommy wasn’t using any fancy ability, he just… fought. No, his hands were glowing faintly, a soft red that echoed along his blade. Wilbur shivered in excitement. Then, Tommy stumbled. It seemed his endurance wasn’t nearly at the level of Techno’s, which was unusual for his skill, but then Techno had his blade resting on the boy’s throat. They both were frozen, breathing hard, but Tommy didn’t drop his sword, his pale blue eyes were defiant.

“What’s your power?” Wilbur called.

Tommy’s eyes flicked to him, “Don’t have one.”

“Liar,” Techno said, seeming slightly winded, which was something Wilbur would have laughed at if someone had suggested the Blood God getting winded fighting a random kid even an hour earlier.

“I really don’t,” Tommy huffed.

“Your hands were glowing,” Wilbur said, “Still are,” He pointed at the faint red in the boy’s hands.

Tommy scowled, glancing at his hands, but then his eyes widened, “What the fuck?”

“You didn’t know?” Techno asked, lowering his sword.

Tommy didn’t attack, he just looked down at his faintly glowing hands, “Uh, no?”

“Huh,” Wilbur murmured, fascinated. 

“Who trained you?” Techno asked.

“No one,” Tommy’s nose scrunched behind his bandanna.

Techno blinked at Tommy, then glanced at Wilbur, clearly confused. Tommy must be telling the truth then. Techno could sense heart rates to know if someone was telling the truth or not.

“Then it must be your power,” Wilbur concluded, “You should get that checked.”

Tommy scoffed, “That’s fucking expensive, no way.”

Techno squinted, “Hiding your ability is illegal, you know.”

“What ability?” Tommy bluffed, he held his chin high and made eye contact.

“I like you,” Wilbur said then, grinning. 

Tommy glared at him, “That’s not a good thing, coming from you.”

“Oh it is,” Wilbur promised, “No one will ever touch you.”

“Not that they could anyways,” Techno muttered.

“Look, can I keep the sword or not?” Tommy interrupted.

Techno considered this, “Yes, but only if we meet regularly to spar.”

Tommy blanched, “What?”

“Every week, meet me on the rooftop, I’d say Wednesdays at midnight,” Techno said, “That’s the condition.”

“Why?” Tommy’s eyes narrowed.

“Because it’s fun,” Techno said flatly, “Come, Siren, let’s go home.”

Wilbur turned to leave with his brother, but he kept an eye on the kid as they climbed down the fire escape. Tommy looked completely lost once he was on the rooftop by himself. Wilbur smiled to himself, excited to see more of Tommy.

Chapter Text

Tommy woke in the morning, feeling like shit in general. Sure, he was used to odd hours and a fucked-up sleep schedule, but he wasn’t used to sword fights at fucking three in the morning. He was getting dressed, reaching for his sword, when a knock sounded on the door. A whirlwind of emotions ran through Tommy’s mind before he cautiously approached the door. He cast one last glance over his shoulder to be sure the sword was hidden and swallowed hard. Who could it be? Had someone seen him on the roof and recognized him? He opened the door slowly and then he froze, jaw dropping. None other than 404 stood there.

“Hey, Tommy, right?” The hero asked awkwardly.

Tommy swallowed, hoping that he hadn’t been recognized, he could tell them they had threatened his life, right? That was probably believable… He decided to play it cool, “Uh, yeah, that’s me. Can I help you?”

404 cocked his head, peering past Tommy, “Well the Hero Tower sent me, we were hoping to have a talk with you, if possible.”

Tommy stiffened, “Why?”

“Just a few things to go over from the whole situation at the museum, you aren’t in trouble, I promise,” The man smiled.

Tommy didn’t move, unsure, “What’s it about?”

“A possible job, actually,” 404 said, tone friendly.

Ten minutes later Tommy stood in the lobby of Hero Tower after an awkward car ride with 404 and he looked around at the opulent surroundings, only feeling scared. A job? Why would they want to give him a job? It had to be a trick, right?

“Follow me,” 404 said. Tommy did as he was asked, and they rode the elevator up a few levels and the hero led him into a room. It was something of a gym, though only one other person stood there, green combat gear and round, white mask, split with an unfaltering smile. Dream. The number one hero turned to face Tommy and Tommy shuddered at the sight. He didn’t like heroes too much; they were always causing as much destruction as the villains, and they just supported the corrupt government.

“Hey there, 404,” Dream greeted the other hero with a kind tilt to his voice, then he turned to Tommy, “And you’re Tommy.”

Tommy nodded carefully, “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“I saw the footage of what you did with Blood God,” Dream said, striding to Tommy and offering a hand.

Tommy shook the man’s hand carefully, “I’m pretty sure the whole city has seen it now,” he said as casually as he could. Being alone with the heroes just made him feel trapped, like they could see through him and knew that he had a stolen artifact in his apartment. 

Dream laughed, “True, which is why we wanted to talk to you. Your old boss mentioned that you got fired because you would play during work hours?”

Tommy bristled, “Yeah.”

“Do you have a power, Tommy?” Dream asked. There was a note to the hero’s voice that made Tommy wary.

Tommy shook his head, “No,” He lied, remembering all too well the faint red glow of his hands the night before. He did have a power, even if he had no clue what it was. That made a shiver of excitement race down his spine. He kept his expression blank, which was quite difficult with how intently Dream was staring him down.

“Have you been tested?” Dream asked.

Tommy shrugged, “As a kid. I was in the system.”

Dream hummed, “I’d like to test you anyways, that fight with the Blood God would have killed anyone except me, unless he was sparing you for Siren to use.”

Tommy shuddered, “I think that’s what it was,” he said, not exactly lying. He had put thought into it. Sure, apparently, he wasn’t bad, if the night before meant anything, but in the museum he hadn't even had a real weapon, just a stick. He should have died. 

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check,” Dream said, optimistic, “Here, hold this,” He pulled an orb out of seemingly nowhere and Tommy suddenly remembered what the man’s ability was. To control and warp space itself. It was terrifying. 

Tommy accepted the orb, knowing what it was. It would test his system for magic and calculate what his ability was. He found himself watching it with hope and excitement. What did the red glow do? He couldn't wait to find out. The orb glowed faintly red the longer he held it.

“That’s your aura color,” Dream said, “Red, pretty common.” the last bit seemed to be directed at himself. Tommy just watched the orb. Then it made a beeping noise, words scrawling across its surface.

“Congratulations, Tommy,” 404 said, “Looks like you have an ability after all.”

Tommy gaped down at the words, struggling to make sense of them, “What the fuck is that?” the words ‘Weapons Mastery’ swirled up at him.

Dream whistled lowly, “That is a rare ability, you can master weapons without any actual practice. Different people have different ranges of weapons their ability applies to, you just have to figure it out.”

Tommy blinked up at the heroes, “So I can just use any weapon?”

“Not just use,” 404 said, “You have an innate mastery of them, I can’t wait to see what it applies to.”

“Wanna find out?” Dream asked Tommy. The orb disappeared from his hand.

Tommy looked up at the man, “Uh, yeah, actually.”

“Your ability must have assumed your mop was a staff,” Dream said thoughtfully, and he snapped his fingers, a whole rack of weapons appearing beside them. Tommy jumped. “No need to test that, I think, let’s test the fun ones now.”

404 laughed, “I think we should try swords,” He reached out, grabbing two dull practice swords, handing one to Tommy and the other to Dream. Tommy’s fingers tingled.

“What do I do?” Tommy asked as Dream tossed his own weapon from hand to hand.

“Try not to get beaten up,” 404 said with a smirk.

Tommy blinked dumbly, “What?” Then Dream launched himself at Tommy. Tommy yelped, narrowly dodging the man.

“I won’t go easy on you since you kept up with Blood God,” Dream said.

Tommy yelped as he blocked a blow. It was stronger than it looked, “Why?”

“Well, we need your ability on file,” 404 said from where he had backed away from the fight.

Tommy grit his jaw as he threw his attention into the fight. He immediately noticed that Dream wasn’t as good as Blood God. The man probably relied more on his ability in a fight than the villain did, since the villain’s ability was more of an enhancement while Dream’s was an active ability. Dream still was giving him pressure though. Tommy fought with all the strength in his weak arms and a couple minutes of intense sparring passed before Dream suddenly jumped away as Tommy’s practice sword swung where the hero’s neck had been moments ago.

Dream was silent for a full two seconds before he laughed, “I think it’s safe to say swords apply. You almost got me.”

Tommy ignored the man and just looked down at the faint red glow in his hands while he caught his breath. It wasn’t as bright as the night before for some reason. He couldn’t tell them that though, so he just nodded at Dream, “What next?” He asked.

“Spears?” 404 suggested.

Dream nodded. They got their new weapons and fought again. Spears, axes, throwing knives, regular knives, even bows, all of them made his hands glow faintly. Tommy was exhausted but the heroes were thrilled.

“That’s got to be a record-breaking range,” Dream said, “Let’s try modern weapons.”

They led Tommy to a shooting range and Tommy flinched at the sounds and the sharp smell of gun smoke. 404 handed him a pistol and Tommy remembered Siren caressing his cheek with a very similar weapon and took a moment to remind himself that this wasn’t real. They were in a shooting range; this was only for training. No one would get hurt. He accepted it and then the two heroes watched as Tommy attempted to shoot the targets, and he failed miserably every time, the red glow failing to spread to the weapon.

“I guess we found your limit,” 404 remarked loudly to be heard through the earmuffs.

Tommy nodded, but part of him wondered about it. It felt like he should be able to hit where he aimed, but there was just a slight disconnect. Not that he really wanted to, he was jsut fine not being able to use guns.

He was led to an office where Dream and 404 sat down with him, recording his power into the power database. It was a long process.

“So, since you are unlicensed you aren’t permitted to own any weapons,” Dream said casually.

Tommy faltered, “What?” Just sitting there, knowing that he didn’t have a weapon on him after running his hands over so many weapons was almost physically painful, “Why not?”

“Because of your ability,” Dream said, “Legally we can’t allow you to have any weapons because you’d be a danger to society.”

Tommy looked down at his hands, remembering the tingle and warmth as he used his ability. At least he had the sword in his apartment. He clung to that knowledge, because apparently, he wouldn’t be able to ever buy a weapon again.

“You’re lucky you don’t already own any,” Dream remarked then, “We’d have to search your house and that’s not fun for anyone.”

Tommy nodded. He was really starting to dislike Dream.

“Alright, that’s all, you’re free to go,” Dream said abruptly, crossing his arms on the desk. “Your updated ID will be mailed to you within the next ten business days.” 

Tommy stood, “Thanks,” he said, though he didn’t really feel thankful. He might have learned about his ability, but he was just leaving with different laws applied to him. As a powered person he now legally had to have some sort of identification on him that labeled him as such at all times. He would also face harsher legal repercussions for all crimes, even speeding. It was dumb.

“Tommy,” Dream’s voice called from behind him.

Tommy turned, “Yeah?” He asked.

“Have you ever considered a hero apprenticeship? I’ve never seen someone with your ability have as much range as you do, I’d be happy to take you or find someone to take you,” Dream said.

Tommy blinked, “You want me to be a hero?”

“If you had the license, you would be able to own weapons,” Dream pointed out, “But it’s up to you. You’d be invaluable.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Tommy said, remembering how he had been held captive right in front of one of the top heroes and 404 hadn’t even been able to lift a finger to help.

“Think about it,” Dream urged, “It’ll pay better than a museum.”

“It’s not really my scene,” Tommy said. He had never been the righteous type. He didn’t care about upholding laws, only ever on occasion caring about people getting hurt, but even that care wasn’t enough of a driving force to make him want to be a hero.

“Well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind,” Dream said lightly, “Bye, Tommy.”

Tommy waved at the heroes and left the tower as quickly as he could. He could feel eyes on him the whole way and he scowled down at the temporary ID in his hand. The ID was completely different from normal ones, the font bold and his power listed at the top, along with the smaller words of ‘proficiency with all weapon types excluding firearms’ to show just how many weapons he could use. It was meant to shout to anyone who saw it that Tommy wasn’t normal. Maybe he should be happy, but he was just annoyed.

He walked into work early and was happy to find that the shop was mostly empty. Puffy waved at him while she finished up an order. Tommy donned his apron and joined her behind the counter.

“Hey Tommy, how are you feeling?” Puffy asked as the customer left.

Tommy fished his wallet out of his pocket, “404 hunted me down today,” He said bluntly, flashing his temporary ID at his boss, “I’m legally required to show this to you because you’re my employer.”

Puffy’s brows drew together and she took the ID, squinting at the words, “Weapons mastery for everything except firearms?” She looked impressed, “I’m surprised they didn’t scout you.”

“They tried,” Tommy grumbled, “Dream offered to be my mentor.”

“Dream himself offered to take you?” Puffy looked stunned, “You really must be good then,” she said carefully.

“Who’s good?” A bright voice asked, startling Tommy. Tommy whipped around to see Wilbur of all people peering over the counter, “You have an ability?”

Tommy snatched his wallet from his boss and stuffed it back in his pocket, “Yeah, what can I get you?” He attempted to change the topic.

Wilbur glanced at Techno who had apparently accompanied him inside today and a third man stood with them, blonde hair in a ponytail as he scowled up at the menu, “I knew he wasn’t normal!” Wilbur said brightly to Techno.

Techno grunted, “He fought Blood God and survived, I’m not surprised.”

“What type of ability is it?” Wilbur asked enthusiastically.

Tommy glared at the nosy bastard, “Weapons mastery or some shit. Are you going to order?”

“Americano,” Wilbur said, “Isn’t that a rare ability? Are you just allowed to walk around with that kind of ability?”

“I’m not allowed to own weapons but that’s about it,” Tommy said blandly, “Techno, what can I get you?”

“Latte again,” Techno said.

Tommy nodded, then peered at the new third member of their party, “And you?”

The man was older than the other two by a decent amount, “I’ll take a cappuccino please.”

“Can I have a name for the order?” Tommy asked.

“Phil,” The man smiled, “My boys have told me about you, you must be Tommy.”

Tommy nodded as he began to make Wilbur’s drink, “That’s me.” he shot a glare at Wilbur who was talking lowly with Techno.

“They said you might be looking for a job?” Phil said casually.

Tommy eyed the man, “What kind of job?”

“We’ve been looking for a housekeeper,” Phil smiled.

Tommy paused, no one except rich fuckers needed housekeepers, “How many days a week?”

“Twice a week,” Phil said, “We have a decently sized home, so you can clean half one day and half the other.”

“What are you paying?” Tommy asked.

“Twenty an hour,” Phil said without hesitation, “If that’s enough.”

Tommy was stunned, “Uh, yeah that sounds good,” He managed. The museum had paid him half of that.

“Great! I can show you the house and you can make a final decision after you’ve seen everything,” Phil said with a smile, sliding a card across the counter, “Call me when you get off and we can sort out a day to show you around.”

“Are you poaching my employee?” Puffy asked from behind him.

Tommy glanced at his boss, grinning, “Yeah, they’re gonna pay me so well I’ll only need one job!” He grabbed the card, eyeing the man’s name. Phil Watson. 

Puffy rolled her eyes, “Ah, I see.”

Phil chuckled, “No need to worry, I doubt any hours will clash.”

Puffy smiled, “I’m not worried, Tommy needs to fuel his caffeine addiction somehow, I don’t think he can afford to not get the discount by working here.”

Tommy glared, “It’s not that bad.”

“I saw you down espresso like a shot once,” Puffy accused.

“That was the day after I got kidnapped, cut me some slack,” Tommy said dismissively, placing Wilbur’s drink on the counter, “Wilbur bitch,” He announced almost professionally.

Wilbur looked up from where he had his head together with Techno, “Thank you, child,” he said with a smirk, accepting his cup. Phil looked to be a mixture of baffled and amused at their interaction.

Tommy realized that maybe cussing out his future boss’s friend or whatever wasn’t a good idea, “Uh, sorry,” he said awkwardly.

Wilbur squinted at him, “Please don’t ever be polite to me again.”

Tommy blinked, then he grinned, “Will do!”

Wilbur instantly cringed, “Father I’ve made a mistake,” he said to Phil.

“That’s your dad?” Tommy frowned, he squinted at the pair, looking for any resemblance.

Wilbur nodded enthusiastically, “Yep, and Techno is my brother.”

Tommy blinked at the pink haired man, “I guess the pink hair isn’t genetic then?” He joked.

Techno smiled slightly, “Nope.”

“He’s adopted,” Wilbur said in a whisper-yell.

Techno rolled his eyes, “So are you.”

Phil just watched as his sons dissolved into squabbles, smiling fondly. Tommy finished Techno’s latte and Phil’s cappuccino and placed them on the counter. “Phil and Techno,” He announced, having tuned out the brothers’ bickering, though it was mostly Wilbur tormenting Techno.

Techno ignored Wilbur briefly to grab his drink, “Dad, Wilbur’s being loud.”

“Wilbur don’t annoy your brother,” Phil said without even glancing at the pair. He was busy typing something on his phone.

Wilbur practically pouted, “But Dad, he’s being all grumpy!”

Phil looked up at that, squinting at the pair, “Aren’t you two grown men by now? Come on, we have things to do today.”

Tommy snorted as Wilbur huffed and Techno smirked. Wilbur heard it and flipped him off, which Tommy happily returned.

“Tip the nice barista for his troubles, Wilbur,” Phil said.

Wilbur grumbled a couple swear words under his breath before digging around in a wallet and shoving a few bills into the tip jar. Tommy noted it was two tens. He didn’t call the man back though, if he wanted to tip twenty dollars that was his fault. The family left the shop, and it was suddenly quiet again. Tommy wiped down the counters and thought about Phil’s card. More janitorial work… Not too bad. The chances of getting involved with villains while cleaning some rich dude’s house were probably much slimmer than places like museums.

---

The next day at three in the afternoon, Tommy walked into the wealthiest neighborhood he could ever remember being in. It wasn’t hard to be sure about that fact, being that most of the homes looked like literal mansions. Tommy walked to the address Phil had texted him and stopped before a home that was average for their street but still obscenely decadent. They had a fucking path through a garden in their front yard, a paved driveway and a two-car garage that was mostly hidden by clever and obviously well-maintained landscaping, since bushes didn’t naturally grow round. The porch was sprawling, furnished with modern looking outdoor furniture with green upholstery. Flowers overflowed from the hanging pots and along the flower beds among decorative grasses and leafy plants. The house itself was riddled with fancy stonework and wide windows. It was three stories, from what Tommy could tell. Tommy shuddered. He really had his work cut out for him, didn’t he?

He approached the front door but didn’t get to ring the doorbell before it was swung open by none other than Wilbur, grinning at Tommy like he was the most entertaining thing that had happened all day.

“Tommy!” Wilbur grinned widely, “Welcome! Come on in, Dad’s coming down now.”

Tommy walked in and made sure to wipe his feet properly on the doormat. The floors were a pale wood, covered with lush vintage looking carpets. Tommy was already wondering how many of them he would be able to vacuum and which ones would have to be shaken out. The interior of the home was just as luxurious as the exterior and Tommy tried not to stare too much at the tall ceiling, the grand staircase, or the chandelier that probably cost about as much as six months' rent for Tommy. At least. 

“Tommy!” Phil’s voice called.

Tommy looked up to see the man walking down the stairs, “Hey, Phil,” he said as respectfully as he could.

“Welcome to our humble abode,” Phil said, gesturing vaguely around him with a smile.

Tommy bit back the sarcasm that tried to escape, “It’s a lovely home,” he said instead.

Wilbur frowned, “Stop doing that,” He smacked Tommy lightly, “That professionalism is weird.”

Tommy rolled his eyes at Wilbur, “I literally got fired from my last job for not being professional enough.”

“I don’t mind you being yourself,” Phil said, “There’s no need to restrain yourself here.”

Tommy nodded stiffly, unsure what to make of that. 

“Alright, shall we begin the tour?” Phil asked, and he began without waiting for Tommy’s response.

Turns out, these fuckers were rich. Tommy had seen money before, but this was a whole new level. They each had their own rooms, bathrooms, and offices. There were two guest ‘suites’ Phil called them, a home gym, a massive kitchen, a pantry with a sink, and a smaller kitchen that was apparently not called a kitchen but was just considered a bar? They had a room that Phil explained was usually only used for entertaining guests, whatever that was, but it was furnished with a couple couches, a pool table, and a TV, as well as not exactly hidden speakers. They also had a home theater. It was just weird. They also had two dining rooms. Who needs two dining rooms?

Tommy kept track of all the rooms and began to file them into two different categories for his cleaning days. This looked like it would be all day jobs, both days. He didn’t mind though, not with the pay they were willing to just hand out. 

“So, what do you think? Is it doable?” Phil asked as they had circled back to the landing of the third floor. 

“Two days a week? I think so,” Tommy said, “It might be an all-day thing though, I don’t really know for sure.”

“That’s fine, I understand if you need a couple weeks to get into a rhythm,” Phil said, nodding, “I’ll still pay you hourly at the price we agreed on.”

Tommy nodded, “Sounds good to me, are there spaces you don’t want me touching?”

“Good question,” Phil said, “I’d prefer if you didn’t go into my office, though you can clean my room and bathroom, Wilbur and Techno will set their own boundaries.”

“Yeah, just stay out of my office,” Wilbur said lightly, “My room is currently a disaster, and I have low standards for it, so don’t worry about prioritizing it or anything.”

Tommy nodded, “Makes sense,” he said.

“Any other questions?” Phil asked.

“Nope, that’s about it,” Tommy said lightly.

“Great!” Phil smiled, “When would you like to start?”

“Well, I have tomorrow off,” Tommy said, “I can come then.”

“Great, we’ll have everything you’ll need ready tomorrow,” Phil smiled.

“Cool, uh, I’ll see you then,” Tommy said, making his way to the door.

They waved goodbye from the porch and Tommy began the long walk back to his apartment, thinking hard about the layout of the home and how he was going to go about cleaning it. They probably had high standards of perfection, so he knew he would have to be thorough, but if it meant that paycheck he had been promised, he hardly minded.

Chapter Text

Morning came with sun in Tommy’s eyes, and he stumbled through getting dressed before he rode a bus to the closest bus stop by his new employer’s house. He paused in the Watson family's driveway for a moment, just looking at their massive house before he walked up the stairs and once again didn’t need to knock, though this time it was Techno who answered the door. The man’s hair was combed back neatly, and he wore a pink hoodie and grey sweatpants, a mug in one hand.

“Mornin’,” He greeted Tommy, stepping to the side so Tommy could walk in.

Tommy did so, noticing a bunch of cleaning supplies on the stairs, “Good Morning,” Tommy said casually, still surprised by the sheer size of the home even though he had spent a reasonable amount of time in it the day before. Then he remembered something and muttered a few choice words under his breath as he pulled out his wallet, “Sorry, I forgot to do this yesterday,” He said, pulling out his updated ID, “I legally have to show this to my employers.” He handed the paper copy to the man.

Techno frowned down at the paper, “I mean we already knew you had weapons mastery,” He squinted a bit, “Does that say that you can master everything but firearms?”

Tommy nodded, “Yep.”

“I’m surprised they let you walk out of the hero tower,” Techno muttered, “I wouldn’t have.”

Tommy scowled, “What does that mean?”

“Everything except for firearms? That’s an unheard-of range,” Techno said, “The only reason you aren’t as deadly as some would be with your ability is because you haven’t figured out how to get past the catches yet.”

Tommy frowned, “What do you mean?”

“What makes a weapon a weapon, Tommy?” Techno asked, handing Tommy his ID back.

Tommy returned the piece of paper to his wallet, “I mean if it can hurt and kill people?”

“And if I used that chair over there to bash your head in, would that chair be a weapon?” Techno asked.

Tommy scoffed, “I doubt you could bash my head in with a chair, big man.”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “No? But if I could, would that make the chair a weapon in my hands?”

Tommy frowned, “I guess if you mean to use it that way.”

Techno smiled slightly, “Exactly.”

“Techno, leave Tommy alone,” Phil’s voice called into the foyer and the blonde man was peering out of the kitchen, “You don’t need to bug him with your theories.”

Tommy blinked between the two men, “Doesn’t make much sense anyways,” He shrugged off the conversation, “Good morning, Phil,” he said.

“Good morning, Tommy, would you like some tea or coffee before you get going this morning?” Phil offered.

Tommy wanted nothing more than to accept, but he decided it was probably best that he didn’t steal his employer’s coffee, “I’m fine, thanks,” he said. Then he moved to the kitchen, handing his ID over, “You probably need to see this too.”

Phil glanced over the paper casually before handing it back, “I don’t really need to read it since I’ve heard plenty about it,” He smiled at Tommy, “It’s a good ability, I hope you can put it to use one day.” A mixture of apprehension and excitement ran through Tommy's body at the thought of one day being able to use that glow. To be able to own and use weapons… More than the definitely illegal sword hidden behind his fridge at that very moment.

Tommy just smiled back, “Probably won’t, it’s kinda a shitty life, fighting.” He wasn’t going to pretend that heroes or villains got to live normal lives. He would scrub a thousand floors if it meant he wouldn’t have to live like how Dream and 404 probably had to live. 

“You’re probably right,” Phil said with an odd look on his face, “Well I’ll let you get to it then,” He gestured to the cleaning supplies.

Tommy nodded and took his cue to get to work. He put earbuds in and settled into the order of cleaning he had done at the museum. To the outside eye it was chaotic and inefficient, but it was the best way for him not to get bored. He would bounce between tasks the moment his brain started to scream BORED at him, because if it yelled that too much then he did a shitty job. He cleaned the ground floor that day, the living room, dining rooms, kitchen, powder room, pantry, and entertaining room or whatever it was. By the time he was done he was pretty tired, but he felt quite accomplished. He stopped by Phil’s office, knocking.

“Come in,” Phil’s voice called.

Tommy opened the door slowly and moved into the rather organized office space, “I’m uh done for the day,” He said, “Just thought I’d let you know.”

Phil glanced at the clock, “Oh, that didn’t take too long, would you like something to eat before you head out?”

Tommy shook his head, “No thanks, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

Tommy nodded.

A hand suddenly landed on Tommy’s shoulder, “I’m feeding you anyways,” A voice announced.

Tommy jumped at the sudden presence of Wilbur, swearing under his breath as he scowled at the man, “Fuck, you scared me, Wilbur.”

Wilbur smirked, “I know,” He said, “Come, child, I’ll feed you.”

Tommy tried to argue, but the man didn’t let him object much and then the next thing he knew, Tommy was seated at the island in the kitchen and Wilbur was digging through the fridge. “I really am not hungry,” Tommy tried for the fourth time.

“Shut the fuck up,” Wilbur said, digging out a pair of apples and rolling them across the counter to Tommy, “Cut those up.”

Tommy huffed out a sigh and grabbed a knife and accepted the cutting board Wilbur handed him. He cut the apples quickly and then waited for Wilbur to finish whatever it was he was doing. Wilbur gave him some kiwi to cut up too, which Tommy did.

“You’re good with a knife,” Wilbur said casually.

Tommy shrugged, “I guess.”

Wilbur squinted.

Tommy realized what the man meant, “Oh, Prime, Wilbur, no this isn’t a weapon, it’s a… tool or some shit.”

Wilbur snorted, “Sure, sure.” He didn’t look bothered though as he got out crackers and cheese, laying them on a plate, “Sucks the government found out about your powers though.”

Tommy shrugged, “I’m not really going to be breaking the law or anything, it’s fine.”

“Owning a pocketknife would be breaking the law for you now,” Wilbur pointed out, “Which sucks.” the man chuckled, “Imagine if you had a real weapon?”

Tommy shuddered, “I’d go to Pandora,” he said with finality. Pandora was the high security prison where they put people with powers who broke the law, no matter how minor. It was a death sentence. It was built to suck power from you like some sort of leech, turning it into usable electricity. He thought of the sword behind his fridge. He probably should get rid of it, maybe give it back to Blood God, but he really didn’t want to. He had put so much effort into keeping it sharp and training with it. His arms were sore today from the amount of time he had spent swinging it around. It was his now, they would have to pry it from his cold, dead hands.

“That’s lame,” Wilbur said, “Techno would die if they took his weapons away.”

“He has weapons?” Tommy thought of the quiet, glasses wearing man. Something about weapons and him didn’t quite fit.

“He has a whole collection, if you ever clean his room, you see some of them,” Wilbur said.

Tommy blinked, “Am I even allowed to be near that many weapons?”

Wilbur shrugged, “Probably not.”

Tommy waited to be told he wouldn’t be allowed in Techno’s room anyways, but Wilbur didn’t say anything. Tommy wondered if this was one of the moments where he was supposed to assume he wouldn’t be allowed something. Maybe Wilbur was going to let Techno tell him. Curiosity pushed him to press the subject. He narrowed his eyes, “Probably?”

“I mean I doubt the government wants you even holding a kitchen knife, you know?” Wilbur said casually, “But we don’t really care here, unless you have a vicious streak we don’t know about, you’re fine.”

Tommy was stunned, “You’re fine with me being around weapons? Even with my ability?”

“Two days ago, not even the government would have cared,” Wilbur pointed out, “And you weren’t killing anyone then, so I doubt we have anything to worry about.”

Tommy blinked. The man had a point.

“Come on, eat something,” Wilbur said abruptly, gesturing to his carefully arranged snack plate. He turned to face the stairs, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Techno!” He called loudly.

“What?” Came the muffled and rather exasperated reply.

“Food!” Wilbur said, grinning at Tommy, “That’s one of the only ways to get him out of his part of the house sometimes.”

Tommy nodded slowly.

Techno emerged a few minutes later, footsteps surprisingly soft for his massive form as he walked into the kitchen, eyeing where Tommy and Wilbur were in a conversation about the pros and cons of sand.

“But it crunches!” Wilbur said ardently.

Tommy leaned away from the man, appalled, “Are you eating sand?”

Wilbur flushed red, “I mean... it crunches!” He repeated in a much more sheepish tone.

“He definitely eats it,” Techno said, stabbing an apple slice with a pocketknife.

“Isn’t that like… bad for you?” Tommy asked, just baffled at this point.

“Well, I guess, but you’re ignoring the most integral point of the argument!” Wilbur said.

“Yeah, it fucking crunches,” Tommy rolled his eyes.

Techno eyed them as they continued to bicker, and Tommy could see his exasperation just growing as Tommy called Wilbur a bitch and Wilbur called Tommy a child.

“Prime, there’s two of them…” Techno huffed, turning to face the stairs, “Phil!”

Phil arrived rather quickly, frowning at the part of the argument he had walked into.

“Look, I’m not the child here, you’re the one eating sand!” Tommy said, then he gasped, remembering something, “Those jars of sand in your room, do you eat them?”

Wilbur scoffed, “No, I don’t! I’ve only eaten sand like twice! I just like to look at it now.”

“You’ve definitely eaten more than twice,” Phil said, “I had to get rid of the sandbox because of it.”

Tommy clutched his metaphorical pearls, “Wilbur! You lied to me!”

“Dad, please make them stop,” Techno groaned.

“I didn’t lie! I just don’t remember more than twice!” Wilbur said indignantly.

“You definitely lied,” Tommy attempted to summon fake tears, “How could you betray our friendship!”

“I’ve only known you for like three days!” Wilbur squawked, “How am I betraying anything?”

“Alright boys, calm down,” Phil chuckled, “Wilbur eats sand and lied about it, Tommy, maybe don’t harass him about it?”

Wilbur huffed, “You’re taking his side!”

“He’s the actual child in the room,” Phil pointed out, “He gets leniency.”

“I’m not a child,” Tommy said indignantly, “I’m eighteen!”

Techno squinted at him, “No you aren’t.”

Tommy glared, “Yes I am.”

“Prove it,” Techno challenged.

Tommy pulled out his ID and practically shoved it into Techno’s face, “See? I was born eighteen years ago.” It was the birthdate that Tommy had lied to the government about, but that’s fine. Legally speaking, Tommy Gooding was eighteen. Tommy just wasn't Tommy Gooding.

Techno squinted at the paper, then frowned disbelievingly at Tommy, “Do you have a pituitary gland issue?”

Tommy vaguely understood he was being insulted but he wasn't sure what for, “No! You’re the pitu-pitutut… pitutitary? Pitutu gland issue!”

Techno looked unimpressed.

Wilbur cackled, “Tommy, how are you the dumbest smart person I know?”

Tommy glared, “I’m not dumb!”

“No,” Wilbur agreed, “You’re a dumb smart person, there’s a difference.”

“Fuck you!” Tommy said, then turned to Phil, “Your sons are weird.” Hopefully Phil, the mature and wise old man he was, would take Tommy’s side in this. 

Phil shrugged, “You seem to fit in well enough.” His eyes sparkled with joy and mischief.

Tommy gasped, “Philza! How could you!” He had been betrayed by his own. How could he?

“Phil za ? When did your name get cooler?” Wilbur asked.

“Like five seconds ago, apparently,” Phil said dryly.

“Dadza,” Techno said with a note of finality.

“Dadza,” Wilbur agreed.

Tommy grinned, “I have permanently impacted your spawn, Philza, what do you have to say about that?” He held a fake microphone to his mouth as he spoke and then directed it at the older man.

Phil chuckled, “I don’t know, Tommy, it’s a bizarre situation.”

“We’re adopted,” Techno said from the background.

“No one asked,” Tommy waved dismissively at easily the strongest person in the room, grinning to himself.

Techno looked a mixture of confused and offended, “Dadza, can I abuse our employee?”

Phil eyed Tommy who was gaping at Techno in indignation, “Go for it.”

Tommy was picked up easily, thrown over Techno’s shoulder and Wilbur followed along, cackling as Techno walked to the living room. Tommy squealed, both laughing and nervous.

“Techno? Uh, big man, where are you taking me?” He asked.

Techno just grunted.

Wilbur grinned evilly, “Abuse!” He crowed. Behind him his dad put his head in his hands, most likely very, very disappointed in his very poor parenting… Definitely not laughing… His shoulders definitely weren’t shaking with laughter.

Moments later Tommy could no longer watch the old and wise Philza lament his children’s failings because he was bodily thrown onto a couch. Tommy yelped as he bounced on a couch that probably cost more than his whole apartment. Techno loomed over him, a soft smile on his face, while his brother behind him was just apparently practicing his evil laugh. It was kinda pitchy to be honest. Tommy just laid there for half of a moment, in some sort of shock, but then he grinned, reaching out a hand to grab Wilbur. 

Soon they were wrestling on the plush rug Tommy had vacuumed not even thirty minutes ago and Tommy was losing miserably, and the sad part was that Techno wasn't even helping.

“You long limbed fucker!” Tommy grunted as he was once again forced to tap out, “What the fuck did Philza feed you?”

“Spite!” Wilbur grinned.

Phil, who had moved into the living room to observe the wrestling, snorted loudly.

“Philza!” Tommy said, “That’s hardly a healthy way to feed a child!”

“That’s why I’m feeding you fruit and cheese!” Wilbur grinned, “So you have a balanced diet!” Emboldened, Tommy threw a half-assed punch for the brunet. It definitely wasn’t funny or anything when Wilbur spluttered as Tommy’s fist connected with his face. 

“Okay, no actual hitting,” Phil called from the couch, “I don’t want any bloody noses.”

Tommy sighed, recognizing the end of the play fighting, “I guess I need to go home.”

“What for?” Wilbur asked, detangling himself from where his legs had been locked around Tommy’s waist.

“I’ve got an appointment or some shit tonight,” Tommy said vaguely. He had to fight with Blood God tonight. Hopefully the man appreciated the exercise enough to not just kill Tommy. If he wanted to impress the villain, he wanted to be fully rested and warmed up.

Wilbur squinted at him before shrugging, “Fair enough,” He offered a hand to help Tommy up and Tommy was surprised when it actually was helpful, not just another joke. Apparently, Wilbur was done goofing off.

Tommy left with a check for his work and some pear in a Tupperware container and as he was walking to the bus stop, he realized that he had only known Wilbur and Techno for a few days and already their relationship had turned into something like friends. It surprised him to realize that. He had only made a few friends in his life and to make some so quickly was something rather bizarre. He thought back to the laughter, the playful insults, and the play fighting. He smiled to himself as he ate a slice of pear. This was definitely going to be fun, working for them. Hopefully Phil wouldn’t tire of Tommy’s rambunctious nature.

The bus ride was quiet, and Tommy finished the pear before he even got home, so when he entered his apartment, he immediately washed the container, leaving it in the sink to dry. Then he sat on his mattress and stared down at his sword. It was in better condition than it had been in the museum, sharpened to a shine and significantly less dusty, though there was a chip in the side that Tommy suspected was from a particularly heavy blow that he had blocked from the Blood God. Sure, maybe he should be concerned about ruining the history of the weapon, but when it came down to it, the sword was a weapon and it was meant to be used, not locked up in some dusty case to just be looked at. It was meant to taste blood and to ring through the air.

As the sun set Tommy began to warm up. He started by stretching his arms and shoulders, trying to loosen the sore muscles so he could be at his best. Then he slowly let himself fall into the rhythm of the swings. The weight of the sword was just so right in his hands. He used both arms, tossing the weapon between them as crimson arched along its length. 

When midnight came, he covered the lower half of his face with his bandanna and went up to the roof. Standing near the edge facing the stairs, was Blood God. Tonight, Siren didn’t accompany him, instead the Angel of Death crouched on the edge of the roof, wings flared out, darkness dripping off of his feathers as if it were liquid. Tommy approached the pair carefully, clenching his sword in his hand.

“Angel will take us to where we’ll practice today,” Blood God said gruffly.

Tommy nodded, “Alright.”

The Angel of Death dropped to stand on the roof like a normal person and wrapped an arm around Blood God’s waist. Tommy edged closer, nervous, but the Angel of Death just used his wing to herd Tommy in faster and then the next thing Tommy knew, he was dangling from the Angel’s arms as he flew over the city, darkness coiling around him as they flew. It was a bizarrely terrifying situation, to see the city pass by so far below while one of the most dangerous villains alive carried him, using wings that were theorized to not even be real matter, just darkness itself solidified. 

They landed in an empty shipyard, weeds growing up in cracks of the asphalt. Angel dropped Tommy and then glided a bit farther to drop Blood God before choosing to settle somewhere a few feet away, folding his wings casually.

“No one should see us here,” Blood God said.

Tommy nodded, “Alright.”

“You take the offensive tonight,” the villain instructed.

Tommy cringed, “I’ve never been offensive before.”

“Do your best,” Blood God gestured impatiently.

Tommy gathered his courage and then charged for the significantly larger man. None of his blows felt heavy enough to even make his opponent even twitch, but he still attacked with all he could. It was harder to use his ability like this. Without every movement being instinctual the movements felt clumsier, and he noticed how Blood God felt relatively better than he had in the past. Not long after they began sparring, Blood God disarmed him. Tommy instantly put his hands up, panting for breath.

“You’re not as good at offense,” Blood God noted.

Tommy nodded slowly, “It doesn't flow as well.”

“You aren’t as glowy either,” Blood God acknowledged.

“You’re thinking too much,” Angel of Death said from the sidelines, where he was bending to pick up Tommy’s sword, “Your ability seems to rely on you not overpowering it with your thoughts. When playing a defensive role, you probably don’t have as much time to make conscious decisions.”

Tommy nodded slowly, “That makes sense.”

“Maybe let him play defense till he can get a feel for his ability?” Angel suggested. He tossed Tommy’s sword to him, and Tommy caught it easily, a faint red glow drawing a connection between his palm and the hilt of the sword.

“Good idea,” Blood God said, taking a few steps back to allow Tommy to settle into a stance. Then he came at Tommy. Tommy did his best to keep up and at first he struggled a bit, but then Blood God’s blows got heavier, faster, and therefore scarier. Tommy's instinctual reaction was fear that he had angered the man with his previous failure, but then he realized it was their plan working. His movements became smoother, the logic falling into place so easily. The less time he had to question himself the better he did. 

Time passed without breaks, only the singing of swords clashing and whistling through the air. Blood God didn’t allow Tommy any slack and Tommy found that he liked that. His ability illuminated his sword just faintly, spreading up his arms just slightly. His hands were warm and tingly even beyond the forming blisters. Then, Tommy collapsed. He didn’t even trip, he just fell limp. The glow vanished from his hands, the sword clattering on the ground as he fell to his knees, struggling to breathe, a hundred stitches in his sides. Blood God lowered his own broadsword, panting slightly too. 

Angel crouched beside Tommy, “You alright there, kid?”

Tommy nodded, feeling half asleep even when upright.

“He probably overdid it,” Blood God said, “His stamina isn’t great either.”

“He’ll get better,” Angel said, “I doubt he spends a single moment without this sword in motion when at home.”

Blood God snorted, “Definitely. Remember when I got my first sword?”

“I had to force you to stop so you would eat,” Angel snorted. He pulled Tommy to his chest, lifting the boy gently, “Can you get back by yourself? I don’t think I can carry both of you right now, he’s falling asleep.”

“You know which apartment is his?” Blood God asked.

Angel scoffed, “Of course I do.”

“I’ll be fine then,” Blood God said.

Angle gave his fellow villain a nod and Tommy’s sword was rested on his stomach and even dead tired he instantly reacted to hold it tightly, blistered fingers closing over the hilt protectively. Tommy’s eyes slid closed and when he opened them again, he was being laid out on his bed, sword still tightly against his chest. He was too tired to be alarmed at how he had apparently fallen asleep in the Angel of Death’s arms. What a strange thought. That didn't make any sense. A hand gently brushed over his hair and blankets were tucked around his shoulders. Tommy couldn’t quite remember the name of these foster parents. Was Amy in a nice phase? Maybe it was Janet looking for money or Tiara trying to bribe him into watching the other foster kids all day tomorrow? He couldn’t remember, but he did manage a muttered thanks.

“Of course, Tommy,” The voice was male, which didn’t make sense, but Tommy didn’t question it. He was too tired for logic, so he just fell asleep.

Chapter Text

In the morning Tommy barely had the strength to stand on noodle limbs. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, chasing away dreams of a caring parent as he heated up instant oatmeal for breakfast and started a cup of coffee.

The night before was a blur of adrenaline and excitement. He didn’t know how long he had fought Blood God, and maybe it hadn’t been very long at all, but it had been all he could do and he still had his sword this morning, so he assumed the villains were still pleased by him. Tommy couldn’t quite remember getting home, but he assumed he had just stumbled back to his bed, especially with how his sword had been hugged to his chest like a teddy bear, luckily dulled enough by the fight that he didn’t accidentally gut himself in his sleep.

He didn’t even have the strength to practice, so he sat on his bed and sharpened the weapon, noticing the rough blisters that made even holding the whetstone painful. There was blood on the hilt of the sword and his hands had scabs in places where the blisters had torn. He cared for the wounds and finished sharpening the blade.

He went to the bank before his shift and deposited his check from cleaning Phil’s house the day before and then walked into Puffy’s café, yawning and wondering if he would be able to hide the blisters. 

“Hey Tommy,” Puffy greeted him, “How did you sleep?”

Tommy shrugged, “Had some weird dreams.” It wasn’t a lie, that was for sure. He could have sworn someone had combed his hair back as he fell asleep.

“You look tired,” Puffy noted as he donned his apron, “Do you have something on your mind?”

“Just the usual,” he said with a slightly forced grin.

She eyed him suspiciously for a minute before sighing, “Well we need to restock today, so I’ll let you take over the counter while I do that, if you want.”

Tommy thought of his blistered hands and trembling, sore arms. The last thing he wanted to do was lift and move boxes, “Works for me,” he said.

Puffy disappeared into the back as Tommy then dealt with customers. It was harder to don his customer service face and voice today, and the tip jar suffered for it. Then, as he was about to have a moment to just relax and rest his throbbing hands, Wilbur walked in, alone today.

“Tommy!” Wilbur greeted him with a grin.

Tommy smiled tiredly, “Hey Wilbur.”

Wilbur paused, frowning, “That meeting must have run you into the ground, you’re being nice.”

Tommy flipped him off, “It just ran pretty late. I was falling asleep on the way back home.”

Wilbur winced sympathetically, “That sucks-” then he broke off, grabbing Tommy’s hand, “Are those blisters?” He asked.

Tommy looked down at his palm that Wilbur was inspecting with mild horror, “Uh, yeah, I got a little enthusiastic working out.”

Wilbur squinted up at him, “Really?”

Tommy shrugged, pulling his hand back, “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

Wilbur didn’t look like he was going to do that, but he sighed and moved on anyways, “I’ll take an americano and latte.”

Tommy nodded, “Techno didn’t make it?”

“He stayed out pretty late last night, got back around two I think,” Wilbur said, “He wanted to sleep in.”

Tommy snorted, “What was he doing?”

“Beating up orphans or something,” Wilbur said casually.

Tommy squinted at Wilbur, then snorted, “Sounds about right. I’ll have those drinks in just a minute.” He began to sort out the drinks and Wilbur leaned on the counter to watch him.

“Must be a pretty intense workout routine to tear up your hands so badly,” he noted.

Tommy snorted, “Yeah, it about kills me.” Literally.

Wilbur looked interested, “You’ll have to tell me if you see results.”

Tommy laughed, “It isn’t for everybody.” Not everyone can handle facing Blood God himself swinging his sword at them. Even Tommy still fought not to shudder at the thought.

“Yeah, I don’t plan on doing that to my hands, don’t worry,” Wilbur chuckled, “And you could use the muscle tone more than me anyways.”

Tommy glowered at the man, “Are you calling me weak?”

“I mean it wasn’t exactly hard for Techno to literally throw you yesterday,” Wilbur pointed out.

Tommy rolled his eyes, “That’s just because he’s the literal size of Blood God or some shit.” They really were similar in size.

Wilbur snorted, “True.”

“He could probably throw you too,” Tommy said, “Lanky ass.”

“I’ll remind you who was winning our wrestling matches yesterday,” Wilbur said.

“That’s just because you’re long,” Tommy said.

“Nah, you’re just wimpy,” Wilbur said.

Tommy slid the man his drinks, “No, I’m a big man, remember?”

Wilbur laughed as he tucked a twenty dollar bill into the tip jar, scooping up his drinks, “Sure you are, not as big as me though.”

Tommy flipped him off again as he left and Wilbur just laughed, waving. 

The rest of the day was boring with regular customers who he couldn’t swear at or flip off, and though a few noticed his hands, none really asked more about it once he said it was because he had been working out. Then when he went home he tried to practice some more, but was so sore it nearly made him tear up to try to move like that and his hands felt strangely numb when he held the weapon instead of the warm tingle he was used to. He realized he must have overdone it and resigned himself to just walking around outside to entertain himself. 

The next few days were easy like that and though the second day hurt just as bad as the first he just sucked it up and kept practicing. That energy flowing through his body made it all worth it in his opinion. Then Saturday came and he was still hurting badly as he went to Phil’s house to do the cleaning. Wilbur answered the door this time and welcomed him in with some tirade about a video game.

“So what are you cleaning today?” Wilbur asked.

“Everything I didn’t get Wednesday,” Tommy said, “I’ll probably start with the bedrooms to get them done as fast as possible.”

Wilbur nodded, “Alright, Techno says you can go anywhere except his office.”

“No offices,” Tommy said with a thumbs up. He didn’t blame them. He wouldn’t want a random kid in his office either.

He got to work in Phil’s room first, earbuds in as he stripped the bed and began to tidy up. He washed sheets, vacuumed rugs, and dusted and then moved to the bathroom. When he was done with Phil’s room he moved to Techno’s, knocking carefully.

“Come in,” Techno said.

Tommy moved into the bedroom and was about to suggest he wait a bit before cleaning Techno’s room so he could leave him alone when he saw Techno’s apparent weapon connection. His mouth fell open as he stared up at the wall covered in mounted swords, daggers, cutlasses, polearms, spears, and other things he didn’t have names for. Some were historical, others looked new, the collection was just as extensive as the museum Tommy used to work at. That in an of itself was downright impressive.

“You like it?” Techno asked with a smirk.

Tommy nodded wordlessly.

“It’s my pride and joy,” Techno said, reaching under his desk and throwing something at Tommy.

Tommy caught the dagger without thinking, that crimson glow helping him grab the hilt with a familiarity a kid like him shouldn’t have. Once he realized what he was holding, he dropped it like it was hot, “Techno!” He gasped, “I can’t hold that!”

Techno squinted at him, “I wouldn’t throw it at you if I didn’t want you to hold it.”

“That’s illegal,” Tommy said, edging away from the weapon on the ground.

“Even more of why I want you to have it. You need to be able to defend yourself,” Techno said firmly, “I don’t like people around me being helpless.”

Tommy looked down at the weapon and then back up at Techno, worried, “What if I get caught?”

“Just don’t,” Techno suggested casually.

Tommy carefully picked the dagger up, eyeing the blade, the hilt, feeling the balance, critiquing it with knowledge he didn’t necessarily know, but felt. “It’s well made,” he noted.

“I don’t own any that aren’t,” Techno replied, standing and approaching Tommy, holding a sheath, “Here, you can keep it on your calf.” Tommy reached out to accept the sheath then Techno seized his wrist, scowling at his palms, “Those are some serious blisters,” he noted.

Tommy shrugged as casually as he could, “A new workout routine I’ve got.”

Techno squinted at him, “You need gloves, it isn’t good to get injured like that, it’ll be even harder to defend yourself.”

Tommy wondered if worrying about how someone would defend themselves was just how Techno showed he cared about someone. “I just need to build up some calluses,” he said.

Techno huffed, “Don’t hurt yourself more by working out too much.”

Tommy gave the older man a brilliant smile, like a liar, “I would never!”

Techno rolled his eyes, “If you say so.” And then he left the room without another word. Tommy watched him leave before kneeling to strap the sheath to his calf and securing the dagger there. It was an odd feeling, something he would need to get used to, but it still felt right. He realized he felt more relaxed having a weapon on his person and smiled to himself as he went about cleaning. 

Techno’s room didn’t need much cleaning, but he treated it the same as he had Phil’s before moving on to Wilbur’s. The sweater-wearing fucker had his door open, hanging upside down and messing around on a guitar as he stared into space. Tommy knocked on the doorframe and Wilbur looked over, grinning at the sight of Tommy, which definitely didn't make Tommy want to grin back. 

“Nice hairline, bitch,” Tommy greeted the man, eyeing his rather impressive fivehead.

Wilbur sat up, holding his hair flat to his head with an indignant frown, “Hey! It’s genetic, I can’t do anything about it!”

Tommy scoffed, “Sure you can’t.”

Wilbur just rolled his eyes, “You’ll be in my shoes one day, child, I guarantee it.”

Tommy squinted, “I doubt it.”

“Do you know if your dad has a full head of hair?” Wilbur asked.

“He’s dead, so no,” Tommy said dryly. Well, he might be alive, but Tommy had never met the man as far as he was aware.

Wilbur blinked, “Oh shit, my bad.”

Tommy laughed, “Not a big deal,” he turned his attention to the disaster of a room that was Wilbur’s. The walls weren’t tactfully decorated like Phil’s nor were they covered in deadly weapons like Techno’s. Instead foam soundproofing haphazardly covered the walls in an array of colors, different instruments lining the walls along the floor. 

“You can clean whatever,” Wilbur said, “Just don’t fuck with the instruments.”

Tommy gave the man a thumbs up, “Sounds good.”

Wilbur nodded and moved out of the room, “I’ll let you clean in peace.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said, already planning his cleaning strategy for the rather impressive mess. Then he got to work.

After Wilbur’s room and bathroom he rotated the sheets in the laundry room, cleaning it as he did, then he vacuumed and dusted the guest rooms and did the same for the hallways and stairs. He also swept the front porch and back deck, wiping pollen off of the tabletops and vacuuming off the outdoor upholstery. Finally done, he rotated the sheets again, folding one set and replacing it in the linen closet before he hunted down Phil.

“Philza?” He called softly as he knocked on the man’s office.

“Come on in,” Phil said.

Tommy did, “I’m done for today,” he announced, “I have some stuff in the washer and dryer still so I’ll probably hang around to finish that up, but I’m done cleaning now.”

Phil blinked, “Oh, that’s great, by all means feel free to hang out for as long as you want, help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

Tommy by no means planned on doing that but he smiled gratefully anyways, “Thanks Phil.”

Phil just smiled, “No, thank you, you’re doing a great job.”

Tommy laughed a little awkwardly, “Thank you,” he repeated as he left.

He ended up in the living room since he didn’t want to bug Techno or Wilbur and just stared at his new dagger in awe of it. It was so pretty. Obviously it was new, not old like his sword, but the Damascus steel definitely made up for it. He tossed it from hand to hand and up in the air, slowly higher and higher. It flew so well for a weapon not made to be thrown. He could stare at it for hours.

“Techno gave you that one?” a voice interrupted him as he was tossing it between his hands.

“Fuck!” Tommy jumped and barely kept himself from throwing the weapon at the suddenly appearing Wilbur, “You startled me, Wilbur!”

Wilbur snorted, “I saw that.”

Tommy shook his head, “I nearly threw this at you.”

“It wouldn’t kill me,” Wilbur said, cocky.

“I don’t know, if I threw it, it might,” Tommy said warily, deciding to sheathe the weapon to prevent any more near accidental killings. The thought of the dagger hilt deep in his friend’s sternum had him somewhat shaken.

Wilbur shrugged, “Eh, maybe.”

Tommy eyed the man with disbelief, “You really aren’t scared of that? That you might scare me and I’d accidentally kill you?”

“I think you’d catch yourself first,” Wilbur said, “You’re a good kid, the powers don’t make a difference.”

Tommy snorted, “The government apparently disagrees.” He didn’t add that he was worried they might be right. His instincts were dangerous alone, it seemed. Whose first instinct when startled is to throw a knife?

“The government is dumb,” Wilbur said firmly.

Tommy laughed, “If you say so.”

“I do,” Wilbur said.

Tommy scoffed, “And that will definitely keep me out of Pandora.”

Wilbur’s gaze flickered with something dark and serious, “You will never end up there. We would never allow that.”

Tommy eyed the man, “I hate to break it to you but you can’t just nicely ask for someone not to go to Pandora.”

Wilbur laughed softly, “You’re right on that note.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and stood, “Whatever, I have laundry to do.”

Tommy rotated the laundry and folded the second set of sheets and Wilbur dragged him to their home theater to watch some weird documentary. Then when Tommy finished the last of the laundry he excused himself from their home, check in his pocket. He went straight to the bank to cash the check and then decided to treat himself to a smoothie before he walked home. 

Once he was in his apartment he pulled out his weapons and just admired the shine of the metal for a long time before he began to practice with both at the same time. Balancing the dagger and the sword was an interesting feat and even though his muscles screamed from overuse and his hands ached with their blisters, he smiled.

---

Time began to fall into a pattern. Tommy worked everyday. Wednesdays and Saturdays he cleaned at Phil’s house and the other days he worked at the café and Wilbur would visit nearly every day that he worked, usually dragging another member of his family along. Wednesday nights Tommy would be picked up by Blood God and another member of the Syndicate and would be taken away to a remote location to practice. It was the happiest Tommy had ever been.

One Wednesday night, Tommy and Blood God were locked into a battle on a warehouse roof, Tommy somehow keeping up with the notorious villain. Blood God had been cornering him against the edge of the rooftop and Tommy had no choice but to allow the villain’s advance to push over the side of the roof. Now, he knew that this side of the warehouse had a second level that was only two stories down, but the fall was still rough as he rolled to his feet, wincing. It would have been easier to land had he jumped voluntarily instead of being shoved the way he had been.

Blood God hit the metal roof only a few feet to Tommy’s left and Tommy reacted before he could think, grabbing the dagger from his calf and throwing it at Blood God. The villain luckily swatted the Damascus blade aside so it didn’t draw any blood. It clattered to the ground and Tommy took advantage of the distraction to lunge at his opponent. A few parries later Tommy realized he was on offense and that startled him enough that the red glow in his hands flickered and Blood God had him disarmed in seconds. Tommy tripped backwards, landing on his ass as Blood God’s massive broadsword rested under his chin.

“The dagger is new,” Blood God intoned.

“Yeah, never thought to use it before,” Tommy said carefully.

“Where did you get it?” Blood God asked.

Tommy knew that the Syndicate knew he was in the system for his ability and therefore shouldn’t own weapons, they had implied knowing as much before, “Stole it,” he lied. He wasn’t going to throw Techno under the bus for giving him an illegal weapon.

Blood God huffed out something like a laugh as he pulled his sword away from Tommy’s throat, “Go get it again, Theseus.”

“Theseus?” Tommy questioned as he got to his feet.

“You fell off the roof like Theseus off that cliff,” Blood God said easily, “It suits you.”

Tommy rolled his eyes at the villain’s dramatics and fetched his weapons from where they had ended up around the rooftop. “If I’m Theseus what does that make you?” He asked the villain who was assessing how to get back onto the main part of the warehouse roof.

“The minotaur, maybe,” Blood God shrugged, “Only significantly harder to kill.”

Tommy nodded in agreement, the minotaur had died, Blood God would probably never die to a man’s hand, “Fair enough. What is the Angel?

“Thanatos,” Blood God said without even having to think about it, “Greek god of death.”

Tommy looked up to where said Angel was peering over the edge of the roof, trying to see a god of death. With his current familiarity with the villain he didn’t feel that fear that he used to feel whenever he was near the Angel, but with those wings spread out against the night sky, his head cocked as the veil fluttered around his shoulders it was easy to recall the fear he was supposed to feel. The man’s talons tapped on the edge of the half wall that ran around the edge of the roof.

“I’ll boost you,” Blood God said to Tommy.

Tommy narrowed his eyes at the villain, “What?”

“I’ll boost you up and Angel can catch you,“ Blood God said, “I can jump up that high but I know you can’t.”

Tommy huffed, “I’d rather not.”

“What, Theseus can fall off of rooftops but he can’t jump up to them?” Blood God asked, his monotone voice not quite demonstrating the humor it should.

Tommy grumbled to himself and in the end wound up stepping in Blood God’s hands and gripping Angel of Death’s taloned hands as the winged villain hoisted him up. Tommy ended up falling onto the roof quite epically, though he did manage to not fall on his sword.

“You should work on some parkour skills, mate,” Angel advised.

Tommy glowered up at him before sighing. The man was right, “Yeah I don’t really have anywhere to practice that kind of thing, you know.”

“You live in a city,” Angel pointed out, “I’m sure you could figure it out.”

Tommy huffed, “I’d rather not fall on my face in public, thanks.”

“You’d prefer to do so in front of Blood God?” Angel questioned, cocking his head, his wings twitching.

Tommy hesitated, “Good point, bird man.”

Angel chuckled, “Alright, come on over here so Blood God doesn’t land on you.” Tommy quickly moved out of the way, just in time as Blood God hoisted himself up onto the roof, landing heavily right where Tommy had been sprawled out.

“So heavy footed,” Tommy critiqued.

Blood God grunted, “Only when I want to.”

Tommy didn’t know how he was supposed to interpret that as not terrifying, so he just nodded and moved to the center of the roof. They continued sparring and eventually Blood God marked the end of the night and Angel of Death flew Tommy back to his apartment building.

Tommy grinned up at the villain, “Thanks, big man,” he said, patting Angel’s shoulder, “See you next week.”

“See you then, Theseus,” Angel said easily, leaping from the building and vanishing into the darkness.

Tommy settled into his bed for the few hours he had till he had to be up for his shift at Puffy’s. He kept his dagger under his pillow these days and his sword under the blanket to his right, sleeping with a hand on a weapon at all times. He wasn’t paranoid, but it was soothing. Something about just knowing he was touching a weapon made something restless in his chest settle.

Morning came in a haze of exhaustion like all Thursdays, but Tommy didn’t mind it too much as he went through the motions of the day. After his shift he decided to stop in at the bank to drop off his check from the day before for cleaning the Watson's house.

He walked into the bank, yawning, and got in line. No one in the building looked thrilled to be there and Tommy certainly wasn’t an exception as he shoved his hands into his hoodie and just waited. The line was so slow today he didn’t even bother trying to look attentive as he scrolled through his phone. 

He was halfway through an article about a new policy for people with abilities that was looking somewhat concerning for him when he heard panic from the front of the line. Two masked men holding guns were holding a teller hostage. The woman looked utterly terrified as people began to scream and try to run.

“Nobody move!” One of the men shouted. Tommy wanted nothing more than to move, the dagger on his calf feeling heavier as he watched tears run down the teller’s face. He decided to listen. The second man made a hand sign and three more men came out of the crowd, donning masks as they went into the back of the bank, the teller still at gunpoint.

“Everyone line up on the floor,” the first man commanded, pointing his gun at different people who all were obviously cowed by the weapon. Tommy just wanted to know what the grip felt like in his hands. Would the rifle fit or not? The temptation made his fingers tingle. Tommy sat in the line anyways though, knowing better than to just whip out his ability for no reason. They sat in silence and Tommy kept a hand on the ankle of the leg where his dagger was hidden as he watched the thieves try to break into the vault.

Then, one of the masked men grabbed a woman from the line of hostages and dragged her over to the stubbornly silent manager of the bank. He forced the hostage to her knees and pointed a gun at her head, staring at the manager, “Last chance,” he snarled.

The manager looked at the hostage with fear, then she looked up at the masked man, apparently calling his bluff as she firmly shook her head. It felt like time froze with that simple denial. tommy watched the exchange, the brief limbo between the challenge and the response pushing every witness to perfect, fearful, silence. 

The gunshot rang through the bank and the hostage fell to the ground, blood pouring from her head as one of the tellers collapsed into hysterical tears, the manager looking shaken, obviously exerting effort into keeping herself together. The remaining hostages began to realize how much danger they were in. Tommy’s hand was out and the sheath on his calf was empty. Wait. Shit. The man who had shot the hostage collapsed, screaming, a knife between his shoulder blades.

Tommy looked down at his hand, in shock as the hostages scrambled in the distraction. He hadn't made the conscious decision to throw it, he just had. He looked up to see the man he had hit with the dagger wailing on the floor, his comrades crouching by him. One looked up at Tommy, face twisted in rage. Tommy lurched into motion.

He barely was able to get cover behind a counter before they opened fire at him. Tommy was panting for breath, unsure what to do. He couldn't leave his cover with their guns and he was just a sitting duck just waiting there. Then, like an idiot, one of the thieves ran round the counter. Tommy once again responded before he knew what he was doing, tripping him and snatching the knife from his thigh before stabbing the man’s right arm with one fluid motion. The man screamed behind his mask and Tommy kicked his gun away. Tommy was moving, he cut the hamstrings of a third thief, stabbing downward into his shoulder. The fourth apparently knew something about knife fighting, but he wasn’t as good as Tommy, even though he obviously had super strength. Then he was down and Tommy couldn’t recall if he had killed him or not, he was just moving for the fifth robber who held the manager at gunpoint.

“Take another step and I’ll kill her!” The masked man screamed, desperate.

Tommy didn’t move his feet, he just threw the knife. It sank into the man’s throat and he stumbled away from the manager with a gurgle. Tommy knelt and retrieved his own dagger from  the body of the first one and then turned before he even could register that he had heard someone moving and the knife left his hand the same moment he saw the last living thief lifting his rifle with his uninjured arm. Then there was a dagger in his shoulder and he screamed, dropping the weapon. 

Tommy came to full awareness, standing among growing blood puddles and screams and bodies as the Dream Team themselves burst into the bank. Dream, 404, and Blaze. 

Dead silence.

“Aren’t you that kid from the museum?” 404 asked, looking confused.

Tommy’s breaths were coming faster and faster. Shit. He couldn't get words out to answer. He clutched his chest before flinching back when he realized there was blood on his hand.

“What happened here?” Dream asked.

Tommy looked around, the horrified hostages, the dead thieves and the last living one gripping where Tommy’s dagger was still lodged in his chest, urging himself to think. “Um, they startled me.”

“So you killed four armed and trained men?” Blaze squinted over his black half-mask. The white strip of cloth around his forehead was smoldering at its loose ends. The hero had fire powers and a hot temper to boot. Tommy wondered distantly if he was at risk of being barbequed.

“He had weapon mastery as an ability,” Dream said, “It’s unusual, but not impossible.”

“I didn’t mean to kill them,” Tommy said, his voice cracking. The problem was that was a lie. Every movement had been focused on killing these men and he hadn't resisted that in the slightest. He didn't think he could resist it. It was his relatively new deepest fear, that his ability made him into a killer. His hands shook. 

“You still have to come with us,” 404 said, not quite sympathetic, “You proved you don’t have control of your powers, according to the Powered Humans Act, you have to face responsibility.”

Tommy was in a daze as the hero put him in handcuffs. He ended up in a police car somehow and from there in a cell, a strange white cuff snugly fit around his wrist, blocking out that desire to hold a blade, that need. It should have been relieving but it just made him want to panic. He was stuck. It was like he had been shoved in a too small box and occasionally it would feel like he couldn't draw in a lungful of air, his breaths too shallow and quick before he would loose track of time again.

He stared blankly up at the ceiling till someone came in and led him out of the cell and into a room where his hands were cuffed to a table, Dream himself sitting across from him.

“Hi, Tommy,” Dream said, “You have some explaining to do.”

Tommy looked up at the smile mask, “What?” He managed, his voice rough and his throat dry. How long had he been in the cell?

“Why did you submit false documents to the Hero Tower?” Dream asked, “Why were you in possession of a dagger?”

Tommy shuddered, cold suddenly. He realized he was in an orange jumpsuit. When had that happened? He couldn’t remember. “I- I wouldn’t be hired as a sixteen year old,” he answered honestly, knowing that more lying might land him more securely in prison. In Pandora. “I couldn’t run two different identities at once.” How had they found out he had lied about his identity? 

Dream cocked his head, “So you did it to get hired?”

Tommy nodded, “I was emancipated, but had no income.” Was this were he would be told he could he was headed to Pandora?

Dream nodded slowly, “Where did the dagger come from?”

Tommy froze.

“The dagger you stabbed two men with, to be specific,” Dream said, gesturing to a TV at his side. Tommy looked over seeing CCTV footage replay the fight. Tommy didn’t even recognize the blank look on his face, the grim way he easily killed four men without hesitating at all. His hands tightened into fists, gnawed and raw remnants of his fingernails pressing into his palms. He must have chewed them. He didn't remember that.

Tommy took a breath. He couldn’t risk Techno too, “I stole it.”

“Where from? This sort of weapon is incredibly expensive, its absence would be noticed,” Dream said, pulling the dagger out of nowhere, a flicker of lime green as he used his power to summon it. He rested it on the table in front of Tommy.

“My boss, I clean these rich guys’ house and one of them has a massive weapons collection. I’m not supposed to go in that room, but he had so many,” Tommy trailed off, lying the best he could, “It wasn’t hard to take it, he has so many daggers anyways, so he didn’t notice.” He looked up at Dream, hoping he would be believed. Techno couldn’t get in trouble for this, Tommy wouldn’t allow it. If Tommy went down he would do it alone. 

“Do they know that you’re sixteen?” Dream asked.

Tommy shook his head, “They saw the same ID as my other boss.”

Dream leaned back in his chair, just looking at Tommy, or at least he assumed so, he couldn’t really see the guy’s eyes. “Tommy, you realize how much shit you’re in, right? You owned a stolen weapon while being strictly prohibited from owning any weapons. Then you lied to a government agency about your age and identity. You know how that will look in court?”

Tommy hunched his shoulders, “I- I know I messed up, but please, will they send me to Pandora?” He peered at the hero, pulling his best puppy eyes, though it wasn’t hard to plead. He didn't think begging would change much though.

“They would have to, Tommy, you killed four men. You’re dangerous and there’s no way they’ll just loose you on the public,” Dream said gently.

“I really didn’t mean to,” Tommy felt his eyes misting, “I really didn’t. It just happened and then I couldn’t just take it back…” 

“It’s part of your genetics to use weapons,” Dream said, “I understand that, but the court won’t. There is one thing I can do for you but it’s not guaranteed.”

Tommy looked up, eyes wide, “What?”

Dream leaned forward, steepling his fingers, “Become my apprentice, become a sidekick and eventually a hero and with luck one day they’ll let you live normally.”

Tommy blinked, “You want to be my mentor?”

“You have an incredible power,” Dream said, “Obviously you’ll probably be fitted with a tracker and put on house arrest when you’re not on duty as well as a power suppressant, but if you do well enough you would get free reign once you graduate as a full hero.”

Tommy stared at the dagger, then he looked up at the hero, considering, “Would I be able to own weapons?”

“Once you graduate,” Dream said.

Tommy looked at the Damascus swirling steel, the hilt he knew the feel of. His fingers twitched, flickering red, and Dream snatched the dagger out of Tommy’s reach.

“None of that while on probation,” Dream said firmly, “It can get revoked incredibly easily.”

Tommy nodded slowly, “I’ll do it,” he said.

“Good,” Dream said, tone relaxed, “But remember, one slip up, and it’s Pandora for the rest of your life.”

Tommy closed his hands into fists as he nodded, “I understand.”

---

A day later Tommy was in his blood splattered clothes from when he had been arrested and Dream was right behind him as he walked up the steps to Phil’s house. Tommy didn’t ring the bell, he just took a breath as he waited for the door open like usual and it did, Phil standing in the door. The man looked wary as he eyed Dream behind Tommy. There was something different about the way he carried himself today. Tommy didn't blame him. He wouldn't be too thrilled either if his housekeeper showed up in bloody clothes with the number one hero on his heels.

“Tommy? Are you alright? We saw you on the news,” Phil said carefully, evidently electing to ignore Dream, Wilbur and Techno appearing behind him, just as unsure, lingering almost out of sight.

Tommy nodded, forcing a dry laugh, “Uh, I got arrested, you know, fun stuff like identity forgery, theft, and illegal possession of weapons.”

“Identity forgery?” Wilbur’s voice was a little too high.

Tommy nodded, unable to make eye contact. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the potential loss of some of his best friends, “Yeah, my name is Thomas Innes, I am sixteen years old, and I was emancipated from the foster system a few months ago, on my sixteenth birthday,” Tommy swallowed and waited for the anger.

“Tell them the whole thing,” Dream’s voice was firm.

Tommy gripped the power limiting cuff, seeing the three men’s eyes catch on it as he did so, “I uh, I also stole from you guys,” he stepped to the side, Dream moving up closer.

The hero extended a hand with Tommy’s definitely not stolen dagger in his palm. Tommy wasn't allowed to hold it anymore, apparently that was part of the reason why Dream had to come with Tommy for this whole thing. “This was the weapon he used to fight two of the attackers in the bank,” Dream informed them. Techno scowled at the dagger, clearly recognizing that it wasn’t stolen. 

Tommy spoke before his friend could ruin the lie, “I’m really sorry, I know I wasn’t even allowed in the room with Techno’s weapons, but I went anyways,” he choked on real tears even though everything he was saying was made up, but forced himself to keep speaking, they couldn’t speak over him and correct the lie, “I stole it because I didn’t think you would notice…” He squeezed his hands into fists, the familiar calluses on his palms keeping his nails from cutting into his skin. He pleaded with them silently to go with it.

Techno frowned, opening his mouth to speak, but Phil gestured for silence and the man shut his mouth as Phil spoke, “Tommy, we can’t condone theft, but from what I understand, your ability probably made you more inclined to steal a weapon.”

Dream scoffed, “He should be in control of his urges, Mr. Watson, trust me.”

Phil nodded slowly, blue eyes fixing on Dream with a harsh sort of light,  “Well, I still don’t blame him, we genuinely didn’t notice the missing dagger,” he took the weapon from Dream’s hand and passed it to Techno who didn’t look happy but accepted the weapon anyways, “Does Tommy need a lawyer? We have the resources to support him.”

Dream shook his head, “I was able to organize a way to keep him out of Pandora, he’s just a kid, after all.” Tommy shuddered at the mention of the prison, “Tommy, would you like to tell them about your new opportunity?”

Tommy looked at the Watsons, “I’ve been put in the sidekick program and when I graduate in two years I’ll be allowed to own weapons and will no longer wear the power suppressant and tracker when not on the job.” He gestured to the white cuff.

Wilbur cocked his head, something strange crossing his face, “You’re going to be a sidekick?”

Tommy nodded, unable to make eye contact again, “It’s a good opportunity.” It was his only choice.

“If that’s what you’re happy with,” Phil said, his tone diplomatic, “If you ever need anything, you can come to us, Tommy.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that will be possible,” Dream interrupted, “Unless your home is inspected and all weapons removed from the property, we cannot allow Tommy to spend time here without supervision.”

“And if we want to meet up with him in public or at his apartment?” Wilbur asked, tone harsh.

“That would be permitted,” Dream said, though from his tone he wasn’t thrilled at the thought.

Wilbur glared at the hero openly before turning his gaze to Tommy, sympathetic, “We’ll try to visit when you’re not busy being a hero.”

Tommy nodded stiffly, “You aren’t angry at me?” He was unable to keep the words from slipping past his lips.

Wilbur’s gaze softened, “No, Tommy, never.” He turned to glare at Dream again, “Can I hug him?”

Dream nodded stiffly, “Yes, you may.”

“I’m kinda bloody,” Tommy protested weakly, but Wilbur approached him anyways, tucking him into his arms firmly.

“Hang in there, if you ever need an escape, we can help,” Wilbur whispered to Tommy, his voice so soft that Tommy barely heard the words even though they were whispered directly in his ear. Then he was released.

Techno moved in, having to hand the dagger to Wilbur before wrapping Tommy in an awkward hug too, “If you need anything,” he said gruffly, unable to speak as softly as Wilbur.

Finally, Phil moved in, a hand on the back of Tommy’s head as he pulled the boy in, “You’re a good kid. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.”

“I killed like four guys,” Tommy argued softly.

“In self defense,” Phil said firmly, “A normal person wouldn’t be charged with that.”

“Tommy, time to go,” Dream said sharply.

Phil reluctantly let go of Tommy, “You’ll be a good hero, please be safe. Avoid the Syndicate.”

Tommy nodded, laughing a bit as he realized he would somehow have to explain this situation to the Syndicate without them killing him, “I’ll be careful,” he promised as Dream led him away from the trio somewhat forcefully.

Dream brought him back to his apartment and Tommy could feel the man’s judgment as he looked around at Tommy’s tiny home.

“If you leave this building before I come to pick you up in the morning a warrant will be released for your arrest unless it’s an emergency,” Dream said firmly.

Tommy nodded, “Alright.”

Dream left without another comment and Tommy waited for a full minute of tense silence before he began to scan over his apartment. It had been searched and though they hadn’t found the sword that he had been lucky to put more effort into hiding this morning, he knew they had probably planted bugs and cameras. He wanted to search the area and find those bugs, but he knew better. The supervision was part of the deal. He had to surrender his privacy and peace for his freedom. It was a price he was willing to pay if it kept him out of Pandora. He was never going to Pandora. Never.

He just sat on his bed, looking at every detail of his apartment, wondering where the bugs were hidden. Then, a knock sounded on the door. Tommy frowned, standing and peering out to see his landlord.

He opened the door, “Uh, hi?” He said warily, eyeing the way the man stared vacantly ahead and the thick book in his hands. The man didn’t speak a word, he just held out the book. Tommy accepted it, frowning as the man abruptly turned and left. Tommy leaned out of the door to watch him leave, but just shook his head. His landlord could be strange sometimes. 

He moved back into his room and sat back on his bed, looking at the book he held. Greek Legends and Myths . He frowned, opening up the front cover and seeing a beautiful scrawling note written on the inside cover. 

Tommy,

Your companionship was appreciated while it lasted. If you are to be a hero, stand for what heroes should be. I hope to never see you on the battlefield, but if I do, know that we will only be enemies. To honor the end of our relationship, accept this gift.

Tommy gaped down at the writing, realizing all too easily who the book was from. Blood God. The glazed look of his landlord suddenly made sense. Siren must have sang him into delivering the gift, knowing better than to actually approach Tommy. They must have either been watching him or the Hero Tower’s records to know what had happened. Tommy turned past the title page and saw the first legend recorded in the book. Theseus. Tommy was crying before he realized it and he shut the book quickly so his tears wouldn’t damage the paper. He put the book to the side and curled up on his bed, just letting the tears fall. Someone at the Hero Tower was probably watching him, but he didn’t care. He was allowed to cry when the happiest three months of his life ended so painfully.

“I’ll miss you all,” He whispered, thinking of the Blood God and his sweeping scarlet cape, the skull mask, the pink hair, the crown. He thought of Siren’s trench coat and dumb, unnecessary hood and mask. He thought of the Angel of Death’s sprawling wings, the dark green robes and that black veil. He would miss them. It was ironic, how he had been almost friends with the most dangerous villains in L'manburg, and here he was, going into training to be their sworn enemy.

Tommy cried himself to sleep that night.

Chapter Text

Tommy barely spun away in time to not get kicked in the face by Dream for the second time today. His mentor was in a foul mood and not scared to take it out on Tommy. The hero’s heel whipped past Tommy’s nose and Tommy slid in to try to land a hit while the man was unbalanced, but Dream saw it coming, effectively blocking Tommy’s blows and retaliating.

Dream danced away as Tommy shook off the pain of his mentor’s punch, “Come on, Theseus, you should know better than that by now. You’ll be a full hero here soon, you can’t be baited like that.” Tommy didn’t reply, Dream didn’t want him to reply anyways. He just launched himself back into the fight. Tommy hadn’t held a real weapon since he had been arrested two years ago, only allowed a baton which his powers barely worked on when patrolling. At first Dream’s excuse had been that Tommy was just untrained, but then it had slowly become clear it wasn’t just that, but that Tommy simply wasn’t trusted with weapons. There was only so long Tommy had maintained hope to train with weapons before he had realized it wouldn't happen till he was a full hero.

So Tommy had trained. If he wasn’t allowed his weapons he would be just as good without them and his body responded to it well, taking the agility training, the bruises, and the aching, all in stride. Tommy almost loved his work, but he hated it just as much. He loved the activity of it, the way he constantly pushed his body to new limits. He loved the fights, breathless and adrenaline-filled as his muscles contorted his body around weapons, knuckles stinging, baton rapping sharply on his foes' bodies. He hated everything else. He hated the fake smiles for the cameras, the pressure to be perfect, the constant critique from every side, and he hated the admiration everyone seemed to hold so tightly for his piece of shit mentor. He hated Dream. 

When Dream pulled a sucker punch and used his ability to dodge Tommy’s guard and hit him in the nose, Tommy was sent reeling and seeing stars Dream just laughed, “With how you’re doing today I would have been better off leaving you to Pandora,” The man’s voice was full of fake warmth. Two years ago Tommy might have almost fallen for the faux kindness, but he knew better now. 

Tommy wiped blood from his nose and kept fighting. 

Two hours later even Dream was out of breath and he dismissed Tommy, “Go get some water, try to catch your breath. We still have to patrol tonight.”

Tommy nodded, panting as he stumbled to the water fountain. When he had first started training he had thought his mentor’s coldness would eventually stop as Dream came to know Tommy better, but it didn’t. The man was as distant as ever, caring only for his work and only rarely complimenting Tommy. He hadn't maintained hope to be regarded with the same friendliness Dream reserved for 404 and Blaze for long. There were only so many times a person could be sneered down upon and then forced to work hours of unpaid overtime before they would hate the cause of their suffering. Tommy was no saint, after all. Part of him almost would have preferred Pandora to the mistreatment and neglect he faced at the hands of the Tower, but he always stamped that small feeling out the moment he caught whiff of it. The humiliation, bruises, and exhaustion were worth it. In only a few days Tommy would be able to fill his sleeves with knives, he would be able to fight the way his body was meant to. Dream would be nothing but an afterthought. He would be able to do what he wanted for the first time in two years.

Tommy dipped his head till his mouth hit the cool stream of water from the fountain and he drank greedily, leaning most of his weight on it. 

“He got you good,” A voice said, far too happy for Tommy's current mood and aching body. 

Tommy glanced over to see a man in a suit, grinning as he leaned against the wall beside the water fountain. “Only because he cheated,” Tommy said, “I didn’t know you would be here today, Charlie.”

Charlie smiled, “Oh you know how it is, work and all.”

“You got kicked out of another meeting?” Tommy surmised. Charlie always accompanied his boss, the rather notorious casino owner and information dealer, Gamble. Gamble was always masked, but Charlie never was. Tommy had asked him why he wasn’t worried about being recognized and his identity being exposed and Charlie had simply morphed his face into something not even human anymore without bothering to explain what that meant. The man had some sort of ability that allowed him to turn his body into a gelatinous goo, so it hadn’t been horribly alarming.

Charlie grinned, “Yes, Gamble wanted to talk to Schlatt about something in private.”

Schlatt was the president of the Hero Tower and occasionally dealt with Gamble, which Tommy suspected had a bit to do with some corruption, but he was just a sidekick still on probation, so he didn’t say anything about his suspicions. He didn't really care, either. Everyone knew Gamble was more villain than just a regular information dealer. He was suspected to be behind countless arms deals and thefts, even the one Tommy had accidentally interfered with two years ago in the bank, but no one questioned when he showed up in his mask and a business suit, making a beeline for Schlatt’s office. Most people assumed he had a deal with the Hero Tower for immunity.

“So you decided to come to the gym?” Tommy questioned.

Charlie somehow smiled wider, “Oh yes, I wanted to see you, you’re much more fun than any of the other heroes.”

Tommy shook his head, “Well I’m a little busy.”

“Dream said you can have a break,” Charlie pointed out.

“It won’t be a long one, especially if he sees me talking with you,” Tommy pointed out.

Charlie shrugged, “Well you’re the only hero I like to talk to.”

“Charlie, I’m not a hero yet,” Tommy pointed out.

“You will be in a few days!” Charlie grinned, “You have your graduation ceremony on Friday, don’t you?”

Tommy smiled a bit, “Yeah, I do.”

“Are you excited? It sounds boring, but surely you’re excited to be a full hero? You’ve been working hard for two whole years! Everyone has been talking about how you should have graduated a year ago!” Charlie said enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I’m excited,” Tommy admitted. He would be allowed to hold and own weapons, that thought was thrilling. To hold a sword or knife openly… He smiled to himself at the thought. His sword from the museum still was hidden away, untouched since his arrest since his apartment was bugged. 

“You’re a very good fighter,” Charlie said judiciously, “Even Gamble thinks so.”

“Wait for when they let me have a real weapon,” Tommy said with a grin before he could stop himself. He mentally reprimanded himself at the slip up. No one knew what Theseus’s power was, only that he was good at combat, so most assumed it was some sort of enhancement and Dream had impressed on him the importance of no one knowing what Theseus could really do, though Tommy didn’t really quite get it, he listened to his mentor. He didn’t really have a choice anyways.

Charlie cocked his head, “Are you going to be a dark hero, Theseus?” He asked.

Tommy adjusted the mask that covered his eyes, “No, Charlie, I might do a little rebranding, but I’ll stay what I promised to be by becoming a hero.” Dark heroes were what people called heroes who used deadly force when necessary. Dream was one of them, as well as a couple others. Tommy couldn’t afford to straddle that line between right and wrong. He thought of Blood God’s note to him in the cover of the book he hadn’t touched since placing it on the top of his fridge two years ago. He had chosen to be a hero, if he went back on his promises to protect and serve the citizens of L’manburg it would all be for nothing. It would be as good as being in Pandora. 

Charlie grinned, “You haven’t promised yet! That’s on Friday, remember?”

Tommy blinked, then laughed, “You’re right, I haven’t promised anything yet.” Charlie nodded, still smiling, and the conversation lulled a bit and Tommy turned to lean on the wall and watch the other heroes and sidekicks training. Rosethorn, a woman with plant manipulation abilities, was currently training agility on the agility course. Blaze was training his new apprentice that Tommy hadn’t met yet by shooting fire at him. A hero known as Totem was training with weights. 

“Why did you decide to be a hero, Theseus?” Charlie asked lightly.

Tommy glanced at the man, wondering how much of his conversations with him got back to Gamble, “I didn’t really have a choice,” He said truthfully, “It was that or Pandora.” He managed to smile around the hatred that swelled in him at the thought of the place.

Charlie looked puzzled, “What did you do?”

“Stole some stuff,” Tommy said vaguely, “Owned some illegal weapons. You know, that sort of thing.”

Charlie cocked his head again, this time in the other direction, “I see,” He said, though he didn’t seem to really understand, “Do you like it? Being a hero?”

Tommy knew the right answer. He also knew that Charlie was the second in command of a business that made millions selling information. He also didn’t care. “I like fighting,” He answered.

Charlie smiled slightly, “Then it’s a good thing you’re good at it. Gamble doesn’t compliment fighting often, you know.”

Tommy eyed the man, unsure how to interpret that.

“He told me to pass on a message to you as well,” Charlie’s countenance took on a more serious cast, “He said that when you graduate you should come by Las Nevadas.”

Tommy blinked, “Uh, should I be worried?” Being personally summoned to Gamble’s home turf was something Tommy had only heard of happening a few times in typically very serious situations.

Charlie shrugged, “Probably not.”

Tommy shook his head, “That makes me worried, big man.”

Charlie chuckled, “Here, let me ask,” He closed his eyes then.

Tommy realized that the man was missing his right pinky, probably left in the form of a tiny version of Charlie with Gamble in the meeting room. Tommy had seen the man communicate with himself like this before, but it was still weird. 

“He said no, he just wants to get to know you,” Charlie said brightly, eyes open again.

Tommy nodded slowly, “Alright then, I guess I’ll stop by sometime.”

“Good!” Charlie said, “I can’t wait to see you with a real weapon.”

Tommy laughed, “I can’t either.”

“What is your favorite weapon?” Charlie asked.

Tommy considered the question, “It’s definitely between swords and daggers. Do you have a favorite weapon?”

Charlie shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t need weapons.”

Tommy nodded, “Fair enough.” Turning into slime seemed like an undefeatable defensive skill, and Charlie was easy going enough that Tommy doubted he had ever wanted to hurt anyone. 

Charlie was about to say something when the sound of a notification filled the air and he reached a four fingered hand into his pocket to pull out a phone, frowning at the screen, “Ah, the Syndicate was sighted in downtown,” He told Tommy, “You’ll probably have work to do now.”

Tommy saw Dream then, making a beeline for Tommy, “Yeah, probably,” He told Charlie, “It was good talking to you though.”

“Theseus!” Dream’s voice cut into the conversation and even though Tommy had been expecting it he still winced, “Get over here, now!”

Tommy nodded to his mentor, “Yes, sir!” He gave Charlie a small wave and jogged over to Dream’s side.

“I told you not to talk with him,” Dream said harshly, “His job is literally selling information. It’s dangerous.”

“Sorry,” Tommy said, not bothering with an excuse. Dream wouldn’t want to hear it anyways.

“Come on, the Syndicate was seen downtown,” Dream snapped, “We’ll discuss him later.”

Tommy knew that just meant he would get lectured for befriending people who weren’t heroes, but he just nodded, “Alright.”

Dream led the way out of the Hero Tower, which really was only a few blocks from downtown and he began to run through the streets in the direction of the sighting, according to a bracelet on his wrist that Tommy would get when he graduated. Tommy was never allowed to get involved in confrontations with the Syndicate because he was a sidekick still and the three villains were considered level five threats. He still had to stand in as backup though, just in case. It was better that way though, Tommy didn’t know what he would do if he tried to fight Blood God again. Two years ago the man had outmatched him, but now he wasn’t sure where he stood with him. Tommy had gained some height and muscle as well as experience, but he wouldn’t stand a chance if he wasn't allowed a real weapon.

Luckily, the screaming civilians let Tommy and Dream know exactly where the Syndicate was and they moved against the flow of traffic until they reached a square where the three villains stood facing a clearly losing Punz. The man had a form of weapons mastery like Tommy but he had a significantly smaller range only working on knives, though it did give him a physical boost while holding those weapons.

“Your backup finally arrived,” Blood God intoned, voice as level as ever. He held his broadsword casually.

Tommy held back like he was trained to do and Dream ran up to Punz, “Are you hurt?” He asked the hero.

Punz adjusted his white half-mask, “No, just a little worn down.” The man had an all white theme except for his belt and harness that held his multitude of knives and his black boots that Tommy knew were equipped with a bunch of maneuverability helpers. 

“Good,” Dream said.

The Syndicate looked at Dream, obviously not impressed. Siren spoke, “No matter how good you are, Dream, you won’t be able to take on all three of us.” The earplugs in Tommy’s costume were specifically attuned to Siren’s voice and the way they worked was to seal whenever he spoke and simply overlay his words with a robotic voice. It made him sound like a GPS, in Tommy’s opinion. Tommy wouldn’t admit to himself that he missed the man’s actual voice, even if he hadn't talked directly to the Siren much in those months he had trained with Blood God. He now knew, as a hero, that everyone in the hero-villain scene had voice changers, so it wasn’t even the man’s real voice, but it still didn’t mean the voices weren’t unique. Only third rate vigilantes and villains had the voice changers that sounded the same and that was just because they couldn’t afford a real voice changer.

Dream considered Siren’s words before he laughed a humorless laugh, “Lucky for me my sidekick is trained enough to participate in fights like this, I think.” All eyes turned to Tommy, “Theseus, come here,” Dream snapped.

Tommy edged closer, they wanted him to fight the Syndicate without a real weapon? He drew his baton, wishing the faint red glow that traced his fingers was brighter. This was the first time he had even been fully visible to the Syndicate since the start of his apprenticeship. The first time Dream had even referred to his name.

“Theseus? Interesting name,” Blood God said slowly, eyeing Tommy’s hand.

Tommy knew exactly what Blood God was saying. He recognized Tommy. Tommy remembered clearly when he had decided on his hero name and he had only been thinking of the skull-masked figure that now stood directly before him.

(“Have you decided on your name?” Dream asked while Tommy was laid out on a mat, just trying to catch his breath after hours of training.

Tommy nodded, “Yeah, I have.”

“What did you decide?” Dream asked.

“Theseus,” Tommy said, “It’s from Greek mythology.”

Dream scoffed out a laugh, “Theseus? Really? Are you sure?”

Tommy had looked up at his mentor, frowning, “Yeah, I like it.”

Dream chuckled, “It’s permanent, you know.”

Tommy nodded, “Yeah, I know.”

Dream shook his head, “I’ll let you think about it a bit longer. You might change your mind.” If his tone had meant anything Tommy had known that Dream thought the name was silly. Tommy decided he wasn’t going to think about it anymore. He would be Theseus, if not for Blood God, then for his own spite.)

“Thanks,” Tommy said, grinning, “Quite fond of it myself.”

Dream sighed, “Why are you here?” He asked the Syndicate.

“Just a little shopping,” Siren quipped.

Dream took his ax out of its sheath, “In full costume? You must be losing your minds.”

Angel of Death spread his hands, his wings straightening, “Shall we get to it, or are you just going to talk?”

Dream scoffed and immediately launched himself at Blood God. Whenever the Syndicate showed up Dream was always the one dispatched to help because he was the only one who could survive a fight with Blood God and everyone just hoped that the other heroes could deal with Siren and the Angel of Death. Punz moved to take on the Angel and that left Siren to Tommy. Great, give the man with the baton the opponent with guns. That sounds like a spectacular idea. 

Tommy edged towards the man, nervous. He had never fought Siren before. He spoke to fill the gap between them, “Your costume is shit,” He said.

Siren frowned, “Excuse me?” He pulled pistols out of his holsters.

“You heard me,” Tommy said, “The hood and trench coat combination is tacky and then you threw a mask that covers the top of your face into the mix? Seriously, aren’t villains supposed to have good style?”

Siren looked utterly confused for half a second before he leveled his pistol at Tommy, “You talk a lot of shit for a gangly child of a hero who looks like he was attacked by toddlers armed with red fingerpaint.” Then his finger squeezed the trigger.

Tommy dodged left, rolling across the ground and zigzagging across the pavement as he tried to get closer to the man, bullets spraying past him, barely missing. He felt the tug of lead on his left arm at one point but he just kept moving.

“Theseus!” Punz called.

Tommy spared a glance to see the man wind back an arm. Punz released a knife and Tommy lifted his hand without even thinking, he didn’t know how he timed it right, but somehow his hand closed around the hilt of a throwing knife and he ducked into a roll, as he came up he released the weapon at Siren. The knife sunk into the villain’s shoulder and Siren screamed, dropping his gun. Tommy’s fingers were warm and tingling from even the brief contact with a weapon. He ran in close to Siren who was holding the wound with the knife and grimacing.

“They really should graduate you from a fucking baton,” Siren said, the tone of his voice lost in the electronic voice speaking for him in Tommy’s ear.

“That’s what I keep telling them,” Tommy said with a grin, moving in to attack the man, but his baton clashed with a very solid broadsword before he was able to clobber the wounded Siren. Blood God stood there, shorter than how Tommy remembered him, but still massive. Tommy stumbled backwards, barely blocking a following blow from the villain. It was so familiar but Tommy’s arms felt sluggish and inexperienced without a weapon. Blood God’s motions were familiar, but he couldn’t respond to them as well as he used to be able to. Blood God’s eyes narrowed.

“What’s your ability, Theseus? That glow looks a little dim,” Blood God noted.

Tommy grit his jaw, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“A baton is an odd weapon choice for a sword fight,” Blood God’s lips quirked into a strange smile.

A weapon? Batons weren’t weapons. Tommy’s hand flickered. It distracted him and his eyes cut to his own hands, fearful. Then someone tackled him to the ground, his head hit pavement as the broadsword whirled through the air where his neck previously was. Tommy’s eyes widened. His distraction would have killed him. Blood God wouldn't have stopped like he used to when practicing. It should have been obvious, but it still made something connect in Tommy’s mind to see evidence of it. this wasn't the friendly villain he had maintained an awkward sort of friendship with those years ago. This was Blood God. This was the man whose sword had cleaved through blood, bone, and flesh without discrimination. This was the man that only Dream was allowed to deal with in direct fights.

“Fucking Dream,” Punz’s voice snarled, angry in Tommy’s ear as the man climbed off of Tommy, “Take a fucking weapon before you get killed,” he practically threw a bowie knife at Tommy.

Tommy took the weapon in time to shove Punz away from Blood God’s follow-up downward swing. Tommy somehow caught the broadsword on the hilt of the knife and was barely able to deflect it, the difference in weapon size was hard to deal with, but the glow was there and the knife felt so right in his hands. He got to his feet, about to launch into a battle with his old sparring partner, when Angel wrapped an arm around Blood God’s waist and suddenly they were in the air, flying away. Tommy watched how Angel cradled the injured Siren gently, but Blood God’s eyes were still on the ground, watching Tommy. Tommy shuddered, they definitely recognized him and he had just injured Siren, a sure way to be labeled as their enemy. So much for old friends.

As they disappeared on the horizon, Tommy looked down at the knife in his hands, distantly aware of Dream and Punz arguing about something. The weapon still glowed faintly with his power. His ability worked automatically and he just stared down at that red glow with something like awe. It was his. He was using his ability. He was holding a weapon.

Suddenly, the knife was gone from his grasp and the warmth in his hands was gone. He sucked in a shocked breath, looking up at where Dream now held the knife, “Theseus can’t have weapons! I’ve told the Tower that so many times, you’d think you’d all figure it out!”

“He was helpless to a villain of Siren’s caliber, Dream,” Punz snarled, “He could have died because you refuse to properly train your apprentice!”

“You know what happened the last time he used a knife, five people died!” Dream snapped back. Tommy flinched at the reminder. He didn’t like the knowledge that he had killed people. Sure they had had it coming and he barely remembered it, but that knowledge still rankled. His morals weren't great, he didn't care about things like theft, but knowing that he had killed would hesitation still forced him into a spiral of panic sometimes. 

“Because they killed a bank teller right in front of him! He was a kid, kids panic in situations like that, Dream,” Punz said.

“I can’t risk the safety of everyone around us because he gets a little freaked out,” Dream growled.

“No, but you are risking other heroes by restraining him,” Punz shot back, “He hasn’t used his ability once except today since you took him under your wing, why is that? What are you scared of? You’re strong enough to stop him, that’s the only reason the Tower let you keep him out of Pandora, because you were supposed to be able to be there and keep him under control!”

“He is under control!” Dream’s voice had a dark quality to it that usually implied training till he dropped and then some. Tommy’s shoulders tensed.

“Only without using his ability, apparently,” Punz scoffed, “It’s ridiculous, Dream, he graduates on Friday and you still haven’t let him use his ability on the job!”

Dream stiffened, “I don’t know why you think I have to listen to how you think I should teach my apprentice.”

“Because every fucking hero is worried about it,” Punz didn’t yell, but Tommy could see the tension in his neck.

“It’s fine!” Dream insisted.

“Dream, can you handle him or not, because that’s what they’re whispering about,” Punz’s voice was even lower as civilians were beginning to poke their heads out of buildings where they had taken cover.

“I can handle him,” Dream said firmly, “I didn’t let him train weapons because if he trains at all with weapons he’ll be more skilled with weapons than I am, I would be forced to use my ability if we ever clashed.” Tommy was stunned at the admission and he leaned back on his heels. Dream noticed his reaction, his mask flicking to face Tommy. Dream rarely even acknowledged Tommy’s ability, much less saying anything about how powerful he was. Tommy hadn't heard even a whisper of his ability that was more than a dig at Tommy's apparently bloodthirst, and now Dream actually was admitting that Tommy could be stronger than him? Something dark and angry poked it's head from where Tommy kept it shoved away in the back of his mind. It smelled like vengeance and death. Tommy shoved it back and carefully maintained a neutral expression. 

“He’s been nothing but a perfect sidekick, Dream, in two days he won’t even be a sidekick anymore and you’ve deprived him from proper training,” Punz’s voice was firm and harsh, “If anything happens it won’t be his fault, it will be fully on your head.”

“Nothing will happen,” Dream said firmly, “Because he will never be issued a weapon.”

Tommy stiffened, “What?”

Punz responded similarly, his eyes widening, “You’re going to throw him into the battlefield without his ability? Dream, what is wrong with you!”

“He’s on probation, he doesn’t need to access weapons at all,” Dream snapped.

“He could die!” Punz hissed, “Sure he’s good without his ability, a decent C level hero, but most of the villains out there are C level at least . If he meets the wrong person on the streets he won’t survive!”

“He chose this career!” Dream said dismissively, “He knew the risks.”

“He was sixteen!” Punz snapped.

Tommy stepped closer to his mentor, rage tingling in his fingertips, “You told me I would be allowed weapons when I graduated!” he snarled, “That’s one of the reasons I agreed!” That and trying to not rot away in Pandora.

Punz nodded, “You can’t do that!”

“Schlatt already agreed with me,” Dream said, “Theseus will never be allowed to own weapons, on or off of the job. It’s too risky.”

Tommy felt like someone had grabbed the rug out from under his feet and brutally pulled all he knew away. He would never hold a weapon again.  Hollowness opened up in his chest and he stumbled along the precipice of panic. The argument between the heroes was winding down with Punz being unable to argue against Schlatt’s word. No one could. Even being a hero and risking his life every day, Tommy wouldn’t be able to ever feel that warmth of a weapon in his hands. The past two years, patiently tolerating every jab of disrespect and all of the blatant disregard for Tommy's health and general wellbeing was for nothing. Nothing would change. 

“Theseus!” Dream’s sharp voice interrupted Tommy’s thoughts.

Tommy’s head whipped up, seeing that Dream was trying to move away from the square where the little fight had happened, “Coming,” he managed, struggling to keep himself composed. As he walked away from the white clothed hero, he felt Punz’s eyes on his back. Tommy didn’t allow himself to look back. If he saw the inevitable pity there he didn’t think he’d be able to stay calm. The only thing holding him together was plain spite. 

They immediately began patrolling and worked overtime, though Tommy didn’t get a choice about the overtime part. He knew Dream was just punishing him for using a weapon so he didn’t dare to protest, even as he became increasingly aware of how late, or rather, early, it was getting. Dream rarely stopped to let them rest, pushing Tommy mercilessly and Tommy couldn't even convince himself it would pay off as strength int eh future when that future looked so bleak.

An hour after the sun had risen, Dream finally stopped walking. It had been a fairly busy night with petty thieves and scaring off anything else by simply being with the number one hero. Dream turned to face Tommy then in the early morning sun, “You’re done for the night, you can go home. Never touch a weapon again.”

Tommy nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll see you at noon,” Dream said, dismissing Tommy.

Tommy nodded again and began to go home. It was harder to stay out of sight in the light, usually he got off around one or two, this had to be at least six hours of overtime, but he still managed to stumble down to his fire escape and through his window. He was so tired, his eyes drooping shut as he ripped his mask off and closed his curtain, being sure his alarm was set. He had four hours to sleep. Luckily he was too tired for insomnia and he instantly slipped asleep.

Chapter Text

Tommy's alarm screamed for him to wake up on time as usual and he snoozed it twice since he had slept in his uniform and then finally dragged himself upright, his mask over his head and glancing in his mirror to be sure everything was sorted out. He felt like shit, but it was the life of a hero, he supposed, and began his walk to the Tower.

On the walk over he thought about the Watsons. The last time they had reached out to him he hadn’t answered. He was dangerous to be around, now that he would be a hero, and they had been more than willing to break the law for him and give him that knife, so long ago. That would not end well for him or them. How long had it been since their last attempt to reconnect? He thought about eight months ago, probably. He missed them more than he had thought he would when he had made the decision to pull away. He had only attempted one Dream-supervised ice cream outing with Wilbur and Techno before deciding to cut them off. The Watsons were uncomfortable around the number one hero and Dream refused to let them hang out in anything like privacy. It wasn't worth the strain on them. That fact stung, but Tommy refused to let the Watsons suffer for him. He couldn't risk their careers, whatever it was that made them so much money, and they shouldn't be as willing to throw their lives away for some scrappy kid as they were. It was for the best. Tommy pretended that it didn't make a spot below his sternum ache.

He walked into the Tower right on time and immediately noticed people watching him. He had a moment of panic where he wondered if he had forgotten a part of his uniform, but after a quick check, he knew that wasn’t the case. Then he remembered Punz and Dream’s argument and realized Punz must have talked and now the whole Tower probably knew that Tommy would never be allowed to use his ability. That fact, refreshed in his mind, was fucking disappointing. Tommy wasn't surprised everyone knew already. Gossip was every hero's favorite pastime, it seemed.

As he walked to Dream’s office, he thought over the predicament. He didn’t really have a choice but to let the Tower restrict him, it was that or Pandora, but it still hurt so badly. Hadn’t he proven himself over and over that he could be trusted? How could they do this to him? He had the potential to be the number two hero the moment he graduated, he would be a powerful force in the Tower… He came to a stop. Was that why? Were they trying to keep him weak? The current number two hero was Blaze, Dream’s close friend. Were they scared for Tommy to overshadow such a veteran? That was the only thing that made sense. He hadn’t caused a single problem in his two years of apprenticeship. He hadn’t even backtalked anybody, which was an accomplishment itself. Tommy backtalks everybody, but he had been so good for two years, and this was his reward. A betrayal, maybe not in the literal sense, but Schlatt and Dream had betrayed his trust in any case and it was beginning to piss him off. 

“Theseus!” Someone said.

Tommy pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked over to see the person in charge of costume design for the heroes. Their name was Eret and they were the most flamboyant person Tommy knew, which was good, considering that they made all of his uniforms. “Eret!” He greeted her.

She smiled, walking towards him, her skirt swaying as she walked, “Hey, Dream wanted me to tell you he wouldn’t be in till later tonight,” Eret said.

Tommy frowned. Of course his mentor got to sleep in after forcing him through a eighteen hour shift of patrolling. It was fucking inconsiderate. “Oh, alright,” he tried to keep his tone light.

Eret didn’t seem to catch onto Tommy’s anger, “I wanted to take the opportunity to talk to you about your hero suit, would you like to see what I have?”

“Sure,” Tommy said, more than happy to subtly shirk his duties and defy Dream, something he would have usually tried hard not to do, but now it felt fucking useless. It wasn’t like good behavior would earn him anything.

“I’ve been working over two ideas that you might like,” Eret grinned like he always did when he talked about his work.

“Two?” Tommy asked.

“Well I wanted to be sure you liked what I made,” Eret said, almost defensive.

“I can’t remember a time I didn’t like one of your suits,” Tommy said.

Eret blinked at him then their grin spread even wider, “I knew I liked you, Theseus, but I didn’t know you had that much taste!”

Tommy just laughed.

They walked down to the “lab” as Eret called their studio space and Tommy looked among the mannequins eagerly, looking for what would be his new suit. He found them quickly thanks to his bright signature red color. The first was more similar to his usual outfit, skin tight spandex fitted with covert body armor. The shoes were stylized to look like street clothes, and there was a small cape draped around the shoulders. The second suit was more tactical, with a red hooded jacket that was cropped around where the bottom of Tommy’s ribs would probably be, a spandex turtleneck beneath it fitted with body armor and black cargo pants, tight around the calves for those red sneakers like the first outfit had. 

“Oh that’s so pog,” Tommy grinned.

“I’m glad you think so,” Eret said, taking the odd word in stride, “I did want to ask you what sort of mask you would prefer though.”

Tommy cocked his head, “What do you mean?”

“Well you’ve always covered the top of your face and most heroes prefer not to switch that up since photos could be edited and your identity could be revealed,” Eret said, “That being said though, others don’t care.”

“I don’t mind either,” Tommy said, “I like the option on the right,” He said, “The all red is starting to be a little… much.” Besides, he was fairly sure that the Watsons knew exactly who Dream’s new sidekick was, so his identity wasn’t exactly a well kept secret. He didn’t have anyone to hide it from. He hadn't done anything as a civilian since that ice cream outing.

Eret nodded, grinning, “I thought you might think so,” she walked to the option Tommy was talking about, “It has more armor built in than the other option because I wasn’t limited by what spandex can hide. The jacket snaps on so it doesn’t fall off when you’re moving around but you can still choose to take it off if you want or need to. The hood is weighted to stay up too, and the shoes come with all the neat little gadgets I give most heroes with physical abilities like jump boost, force absorption for falls, and reinforced toes among others.”

Tommy nodded and he moved closer to inspect it, “That’s amazing,” He inspected all the pockets and grinned, his first thought going to all the weapons he could hide in them before he remembered that wasn’t an option anymore and his mood instantly soured.

“Is something wrong?” Eret asked, looking concerned, "Do you want me to change anything?”

Tommy blinked, realizing his anger and frustration must have shown on the part of his face Eret could see, “Oh, no, sorry, I was just thinking.”

“What about?” Eret seemed concerned and she cocked her head.

Tommy hesitated before sighing, “I just found out yesterday that I won’t be allowed to use my ability even when I graduate.” Eret would find out eventually, it was a surprise they didn't know already.

Eret blinked, shocked, “What? Why not?”

Tommy shrugged, “Something about being too dangerous.” He did his best to keep his face blank.

Eret’s eyes flashed, “Too dangerous? Isn’t that why you’re being trained?”

Tommy looked away, “I thought so.”

“Oh, Theseus, I’m so sorry,” Eret’s voice softened and they gently rested a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “You probably really had your hopes up, didn’t you?”

Tommy nodded, trying to keep his eyes from watering more than they should. He wasn’t sure how to deal with the offered sympathy.

“Maybe they’ll change their minds one day?” Eret suggested.

Tommy laughed dryly, “Right now only Dream would be stronger than me with my ability, it would be the best time to let me run around. They won’t wait till I’m the strongest.”

Eret paused, “I’m sorry, Theseus. If you ever need anything, please contact me, I want what’s best for you.” Her voice was firm and determined.

Tommy smiled sadly, knowing he would never do that, “Alright, Eret, thanks.”

“I’ve probably distracted you long enough,” Eret said, waving to dismiss Tommy, “And you probably have some training to do.”

Tommy nodded, “Yeah, I do,” He lied, “I’ll see you around, Eret.” He turned to walk and when he glanced in the reflection of the fume hood he saw Eret glaring into the distance after him. Tommy nearly glanced over his shoulder to see if maybe the tinted glass had warped the kind person’s expression, but he didn’t, instead he left the lab, thinking.

He didn’t really have anything to do without Dream there, and usually that meant he needed to train, but he was feeling rebellious, so he didn’t plan on doing that. The problem was that he had no idea how to waste time in the Tower because he never had been allowed to. 

He ended up in the lobby again and found a surprising amount of teens and young adults all sitting in the waiting area. He leaned in close to the receptionist, a woman named Sally, “What’s going on today?” He asked her.

She looked up at him, brushing dark red hair behind her ear, “They’re interviewing potential interns for the technology department.”

Tommy blinked, “Oh, I see. Thanks Sally.” 

She nodded, smiling slightly, “Of course, Theseus.”

Tommy saluted her and then moved towards the nervous looking interviewees. He scanned their faces and then paused, seeing a boy with a face that was significantly less nervous than those around him. He just looked… grumpy. Tommy noticed that the chairs around the boy were empty and the boy glared at those empty chairs from under his fluffy brown hair. On a whim, Tommy sat across from him.

The boy watched Tommy sit and his dark eyes narrowed, “Who are you?”

“A sidekick,” Tommy said casually, “My name is Theseus.”

The boy scowled harder, “Don’t you have like.. Crime to stop?”

Tommy cocked his head, “Not without my mentor.”

“Who is your mentor?”

“Dream,” Tommy said, “He’s sleeping in this morning.”

The boy frowned, “What?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tommy said dismissively, “You’re here for the interview?”

The boy nodded.

“You nervous?” Tommy prodded, watching for that angry glower, but the boy didn’t look angry anymore.

“Yeah,” The boy said.

“You looked pretty pissed off,” Tommy said carefully.

The boy blinked, then he ducked his head, cheeks flaming red under his fringe of hair, “Did I?”

Tommy nodded.

“It’s my nervous face,” he said, suddenly sheepish, “I was wondering why no one was talking to me, it made me more nervous.”

Tommy laughed, “That sucks, big man.”

The boy laughed back, shaking his head, “I’m Tubbo, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Tubbo,” Tommy said, “Where are you from?”

“The lower districts, I moved closer here recently,” He said, “The villain activity was hard to deal with.”

Tommy nodded, though he didn't personally have experience with the lower districts. Dream only patrolled wealthy areas, “That sounds rough,” He said in sympathy.

“As if Dream would ever patrol there for you to know,” Tubbo grumbled.

Tommy blinked, then laughed, “You’re right, he wouldn’t, not if he could help it.”

Tubbo cocked his head, puzzled. “Do you not like your mentor?”

Tommy shrugged, smirking as he held a finger to his lips, “Let’s just say I’m glad I’m graduating here soon.”

Tubbo’s eyes glittered behind his hair as he leaned forward, “What happened?”

“He’s just an asshole,” Tommy said quietly, “He kinda screwed me over here lately.”

“How?”

Tommy shook his head, “I can’t tell you that much, I shouldn’t have even said we don’t get along.”

Tubbo looked disappointed, but he just shrugged, “Fair enough, you could get in trouble.”

“Oh yeah,” Tommy said, drawing out the 'oh' for emphasis.

“When do you graduate?” Tubbo asked.

“Tomorrow,” Tommy said happily.

Tubbo blinked, “You’re the hero they’re going to announce?”

“Unless things have been planned behind my back, yeah,” Tommy said with a laugh. It wouldn't be off brand for them at this rate, but he did know his graduation wouldn't be postponed. Giving a hero a sidekick often put them behind when it came to the work they could take on, so the tower would be more than happy to get their number one back in commission.

“That’s crazy,” Tubbo then smirked, “Now I’ll be able to piss off your future fans by saying I knew you before you were famous.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “I don’t think anyone would believe you.”

Tubbo looked thoughtful, “Maybe not, but it’s worth a shot.” A mischievous grin spread across his face, “Anything to piss off the superfans.”

Tommy snickered, “Fair enough.” He wasn’t exactly looking forward to people crowding around him the way they did with Dream, but maybe, if he was bad enough without his ability, he would be able to avoid that attention? No, there were people who prided themselves for liking smaller heroes, which meant that every hero had a fanbase. How fucking exhausting.

“So what are your fancy skills that you plan on using to get this internship?” Tommy asked, crossing his ankles, playing at being professional.

“I’m good at engineering,” Tubbo shrugged, “And I’m built in lab safety as long as my boss signs off on it.”

Tommy frowned, “What do you mean by that?”

“My ability is controlling explosions,” Tubbo said, “I can’t make them, only control their scale and the damage they cause. At the Tower there’s a chance it’ll get signed off that I can use it for lab safety and stuff.”

“Oh nice,” Tommy said, somewhat interested, “That’s a cool power.”

“Thanks,” Tubbo snorted, “Not cool enough to be a hero though.”

Tommy shrugged, “Maybe, but that’s not the only criteria for cool abilities.”

Tubbo scowled, “I guess.”

Tommy cocked his head, scrambling for another topic to talk about. He wasn't used to this small talk thing. Finally he came up with something, “Well, you have any hobbies?”

Tubbo snorted, “No. You?”

Tommy laughed, “The only thing I do when I’m not working is sleep.”

“You must sleep a lot,” Tubbo observed.

“Nah, I work a lot,” Tommy said.

“Fair enough,” Tubbo said, “I used to work twelve hour shifts constantly, at my old workplace.”

Tommy cringed sympathetically, “That’s awful.” Then he froze, spotting Blaze walking into the Tower, “Uh sorry Tubbo, I gotta go pretend to be busy somewhere else.” Blaze spent a lot of time with Dream, Tommy didn’t want to risk him tattling. He didn't think the number two hero would do so out of malice, but he might do so by accident.

Tubbo glanced over his shoulder, seeing Blaze, “Alright boss man, see you around I guess.”

Tommy nodded and stood, immediately fleeing to the private area of the Tower as Blaze got bombarded with fans. The number two hero had a lot of fans… most of them were female. That was a fact Tommy had taunted the man with several times in the past, though Dream usually shut the banter down before Tommy could do much more than comment on it, watching Blaze's ears turn red, uniform smoldering when he got flustered.

Finding that he couldn’t push his luck any more, he went to the gym and eyed the training weapons sadly. If they wouldn't ever allow him real weapons there was no point in training with them. He moved to the weights and began to lift, deciding strength training would probably be most useful.

A couple hours of half assed training later Dream arrived and they set out on patrol. It was a quiet patrol again, only having to deal with a car thief and a small robbery before midnight came and they went back to the tower where Eret met them with a grin, eagerly drawing Tommy towards their lab.

“Time to retire your uniform!” They said gleefully.

Tommy blinked, “Oh, okay.”

Dream yawned loudly, somehow, “You two do that, I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, goodnight, Dream,” Eret said, frowning slightly. 

Dream waved behind him and marched off to his rooms at the top of the tower. He didn’t live there full time, but he did like to spend the night there on occasion. Perks of being a top hero.

Eret leaned in to Tommy, “I assumed he would want to help you, but I guess he’s still an asshole around you too.” Then he pulled back, “Anyways, let’s go!”

Tommy blinked, “Where are we going?”

“To burn your uniform, duh!” Eret giggled.

“Burn it? Isn’t it flame resistant?”

“Yeah, that’s why Blaze will help,” Eret said, “It’s tradition to end your last shift as a sidekick by burning your suit. Every hero has done it, though usually the mentor is there to help.” Eret rolled her eyes, “Don’t worry, only 404 will miss Dream.”

Tommy frowned, “You guys don’t like him?”

Eret laughed, “Do you?”

“I mean…” Tommy trailed off vaguely, “He isn’t too bad.” The lie even tasted bad.

“No one likes him much. He treats other heroes like shit and gets away with it because he is the number one hero and knows how to kiss ass to Schlatt,” Eret said.

“Oh,” Tommy said, surprised.

“Come on, you don’t want to be late,” Eret urged, pulling Tommy into the employee’s lounge. Tommy blinked in awe at the collection of heroes and sidekicks, all grinning at him. Blaze stood in front of a massive steel bowl thing. An awkward Tubbo stood next to them.

“Tubbo?” Tommy blurted.

“Oh, you know the new intern?” Eret looked pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah, I met him this morning,” Tommy said, “You got the internship?” He asked the boy.

Tubbo nodded, “Uh yeah, but I don’t know why I’m here?”

“Sometimes the suits blow up when I try to burn them,” Blaze said casually, “Damage control, right?”

Tubbo nodded, looking unsure, “Yeah, sure.”

Totem strode towards Tommy from the small group, holding a set of clothes. Tommy recognized the Hero Tower merch sweatpants and the Dream merch hoodie with a plain, solid white mask resting on the top. “Here, go change into this.”

Tommy blinked at the clothes, accepting them, “Oh, okay.” As he walked towards the bathroom he overheard muttering behind him.

“Where’s Dream?” Totem asked softly.

“Didn’t want to come,” Eret huffed back.

“What a dick,” Totem muttered.

Tommy closed the bathroom door behind him before he could overhear the rest of that conversation and quickly changed into the outfit. The hoodie felt stupid to wear considering he had been trash talking his mentor all morning, but he figured it was probably meant to be a joke or another bit of obscure traditions. He realized he had never attended one of these suit burning things but Totem and a few other small heroes had graduated in the time he had been at the Tower. He looked in the mirror at himself in street clothes as he placed the plastic full face mask over his face and realized that Dream just never participated in anything with other heroes unless it was required and even then he only ever spent those events kissing ass. Tommy had thought that’s all hero shit was, kissing ass, but maybe these heroes he had never had the opportunity to get to know would prove him wrong. Excitement stirred in his gut. Maybe being a hero wouldn’t be so bad?

He walked out into the room, pulling his hood up tightly, trying to hide as much of his identity as possible. Heroes hid their identities even from friends and coworkers as the hero contracts demanded, but a lot had their identities leaked or revealed through other circumstances. Blaze for example had been accidentally taken hostage once and had no choice but to do his job and saved several lives because of it, but now he had significantly less privacy since paparazzi had the tendency to find him when he was off duty. Tommy wasn't sure why he even bothered with a mask anymore.

“You look weird in civilian clothes,” Blaze said, his eyes crinkling with humor, “Come on, let’s get started,” He flexed his hands and they began to glow with heat, his apprentice beside him was practically bouncing with excitement.

Tommy placed his uniform in the steel bowl and stepped back between Totem and Tubbo.

Blaze’s eyes lit with an aggressive sort of eagerness, “You ready, Tubbo?”

Tubbo nodded, “Yep!”

Then Blaze let loose a gust of flames so powerful Tommy and everyone else stumbled back, except for Blaze’s apprentice who was giggling maniacally for some fucking reason. Tommy watched with wide, burning eyes as his uniform began to disintegrate under the intense heat of the hero’s ability. Maybe it should have been a little scary that the man could burn through flame resistant material, but all Tommy could see was his apprenticeship ending and he grinned behind his solid white mask. Dream would soon be nothing but a distant figure. He wouldn’t have to constantly worry about what Dream would think of things he did or said, and he would be able to patrol on his own. Sure, he didn’t get his ability, but any amount of freedom after two years of practically hell was so intoxicating.

Then, Tubbo inhaled sharply, flinging his hands out as a burst of energy rolled off of the suit. Not quite an explosion, but certainly close. In an almost comical pop , suddenly the suit burst into fabric pieces, popping like a balloon, the flaming bits of cloth not even flying far enough to go outside of the bowl.

Blaze stopped shooting fire and looked at the smoldering and charred remains of Tommy’s suit and then looked at Tubbo, “Holy shit, you’re good.”

Tubbo panted a bit as he lowered his hands, “Thanks.”

“That was great!” Blaze’s apprentice said enthusiastically, “There was so much energy and then you just absorbed it!”

Tubbo blinked, “Uh, I guess?”

“My ability is energy manipulation, so I can create small explosions sometimes, but it’s really hard. I mostly just turn energy into lighting!” The boy rambled, clearly still excited.

“What's your name?” Tommy asked the apprentice.

“Surge!” The boy answered.

Tommy blinked, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Surge, I’m Theseus.”

“Yeah, you’re like the best sidekick,” Surge said dismissively, “Of course I know your name.”

“The best sidekick?” Tommy asked, stunned.

Eret swatted playfully at Surge, “Don’t tell him that, he’ll get a crazy ego.”

Tommy didn’t even know how to answer that. The best sidekick? Even without his ability? Dream had always complained about how useless he was, unable to even help in fights, but apparently others didn’t think so?

“Anyways,” Totem interrupted, “Are you excited to graduate tomorrow?”

Tommy brought himself out of his thoughts, “Oh yeah, I’m really excited.” The cuff on his wrist would come off, not just deactivating when he was on the job. He would get so much more freedom. He would finally search his apartment and get rid of any bugs or cameras. He would finally be able to relax.

“Good!” Totem said, “Have some cake then!” He steered Tommy to a table where a cookie cake was set out with a generic “Congrats!” written on it in icing. Tommy took a slice and the heroes and sidekicks all joined him. Tommy sat in a chair as they all filled in and he found that while the environment was unfamiliar to him, the others were all comfortable with each other. They joked around, telling jokes, referencing past gatherings, and were at ease around each other. Tommy had never been this relaxed as Theseus before. 

Finally the night ended and Tommy left, wandering the streets a bit, removing his mask as covertly as he could and tucking it in a pocket as he just enjoyed the night life. People in varying states of sobriety wandered past. Most were headed home leaning into friends or dates. Tommy thought back to his only friends. The Watsons. He shoved thoughts of them away immediately. Maybe once he was off probation he would be allowed to be with them in privacy, but with the latest news about his powers, he doubted it. 

Finally, Tommy decided to make his way back towards his apartment when shouting caught his attention. Maybe it was ingrained in him from his hero training, or maybe he just didn’t know better than to be curious, but he followed the noise. It emanated from an alleyway and he peered around the corner and almost immediately fled.

Wilbur Watson stood there, eyes angry, “Look, I didn’t really have a choice!” He was yelling at a smaller man wearing a navy beanie whose back faced Tommy, blocking most of Wilbur from sight

Beanie man seemed drunk, swaying slightly, “I told you it was dangerous! But you did it anyways and got hurt!”

Wilbur huffed, obviously annoyed, “Can we have this argument while you’re sober? You aren’t listening to reason!”

“No! I’m done with you putting yourself in danger for your stupid, dumb reasons !” The beanie man snarled, “Fuck you, Wilbur Soot Watson!”

Wilbur shook his head, looking slightly hurt behind his anger, “Fine then! We’re done!”

“Good!” Beanie man practically screamed.

Tommy whipped back so he was out of sight from the corner and realized he had just witnessed his old friend going through what was probably a pretty rough breakup. He turned, ready to flee when the men began to speak again.

“At least let me help you get home,” Wilbur’s voice came from the alleyway.

“No, I said to fuck off!” The man snapped.

“Fine,” Wilbur sighed, “I’ll call Fundy then, he’ll pick you up, okay?”

“I don’t fucking care what you do, just leave, Soot,” the beanie man’s voice was thick with rage. Tommy wondered vaguely what Wilbur had done.

Wilbur emerged from the alley and Tommy shrunk back into the shadows behind a news box, praying Wilbur wouldn’t see him. “Hey, Fundy, come get your boss.” Wilbur’s voice said, sounding defeated almost. “Look, I don’t really want to talk about it… I said no, Fundy…” Tommy peered around the box to see Wilbur on the phone, his arm in a sling. Tommy wondered vaguely what he had done to get hurt. Dumbass. “He won’t listen to me and he’s drunk!” Wilbur protested into the phone, “All I can do is send you his location and pray he won’t wander off. If I try to keep him here he might just run, the idiot,” Wilbur said defensively, “No, I really tried to keep him sober, I promise… No, I don’t think this one will gloss over, Fundy. He’s really pissed about it… Yeah, hurry up, I’m not hanging around.” Then he hung up on this Fundy person and whipped around to walk off, his head hanging dejectedly.

A few moments later, beanie man emerged from the alley, glaring at Wilbur’s back in the distance before he promptly began to walk in the opposite direction. Tommy watched as the man approached, wondering if he should keep the obviously drunk and potentially distraught man in one place for this Fundy person to pick him up, when the man spotted Tommy crouched behind the news box.

The man cocked his head, then looked around before frowning at Tommy again, “Should I be hiding?” He asked, his words slurring around the alcohol. He had a gold tooth that glimmered in the street lights.

Tommy blinked up at his former friend’s potential ex, “Uh, no,” he stood warily, glancing to be sure that Wilbur had disappeared, which he had, “I just didn’t want to see someone.”

“You know Wilbur?” the beanie man squinted, apparently not drunk enough for that to go over his head, “He’s a fucking asshole.” The man said, and apparently he was drunk enough to not feel the need to ask Tommy how he knew Wilbur.

“He can be,” Tommy agreed, though Wilbur had only been good to him. He stood, brushing himself off.

“Wanna go drink somewhere with me?” The man asked.

Tommy frowned down at him, “Uh, I don’t even know you.”

“I’m Quackity,” the man offered a hand.

Tommy shook his hand, “I’m Tommy.”

The man nodded and then began to drag Tommy off, “Nice to meet you. Let’s go get drunk.”

“I’m pretty sure you already are drunk,” Tommy pointed out, “And I don't drink.”

Quackity stopped at that, frowning at Tommy, “You a kid?”

Tommy shrugged, “Kinda.” He just wasn't a fan of drinking.

The man huffed and then abruptly sat on the curb, “I guess I should wait for Fundy then.”

“Probably,” Tommy said, “Will you be okay?”

Quackity glared those dark eyes up at Tommy, “Just fine, why?”

“I mean it sounded like you just broke up with him,” Tommy said carefully.

Quackity looked down, “Yeah. It wouldn’t have lasted anyway. Too many conflicting interests.”

Tommy heard a sadness in the man’s voice so he sighed heavily as he settled on the curb next to him, “I’m sorry,” He offered.

“Don’t be. We argued a lot. It wasn’t meant to be a permanent thing,” Quackity said.

“Still sucks though,” Tommy said.

Quackity grunted, then he eyed Tommy, “What are you, some sort of Dream fanboy?”

Tommy frowned, knowing that was definitely not the case, then he remembered he was wearing a Dream hoodie from the burning of his suit, “Oh, not really,” He said, “A friend gave this to me,” He half-lied. They kind of were friends, but it was a little weirder than that.

Quackity eyed him, “Dream’s a bitch,” he said.

Tommy blinked, shocked at this random guy’s apparent hatred for the number one hero, then he laughed, “Yeah, he is, isn’t he?”

Quackity nodded, “Yep.”

They lapsed into silence and footsteps drew Tommy’s gaze to look up at a pedestrian and he immediately froze, mouth half open as he recognized Blaze’s civilian identity. Tommy’s heart sped up as Blaze stood over him, gaping at him and definitely recognizing Tommy’s outfit.

“Uh, hey,” Tommy said carefully. Blaze had never seen Tommy’s face before but he definitely knew who he was looking at. So much for no one knowing what he looked like.

Quackity leaned around him to squint up at Sapnap, his eyebrow rising, “Who’s this?” Then his eyes lit with a drunken recognition, “Oh, you’re that hero, Blaze!”

Blaze swallowed, obviously nervous and unsure how to respond, “Uh yeah, that’s me.” He still was looking at Tommy.

“You know this kid?” Quackity asked.

Tommy shrunk back, was his identity about to be ruined?

“Oh, um I’m in charge of his probation,” Blaze lied, and not very well either, but it seemed to go over drunk Quackity’s head.

“Probation?” Quackity asked Tommy.

Tommy cringed, being seen as a criminal to Wilbur’s ex wasn’t exactly better than being known as a hero, “Yeah, probation.”

Quackity eyed Tommy with something like approval, “What did you do?”

“Illegal possession of weapons,” Tommy said, shrugging awkwardly, showing his white bracelet to the man.

Quackity grinned, “That’s a good crime, good job, kid.”

Blaze blinked, “Uh, I feel like I need to tell both of you that all crime is bad?”

Quackity glowered up at him, “Fuck you. Dream’s a bitch.”

Blaze looked utterly baffled as he looked between Tommy and Quackity, “Um, Th- kid, why are you just hanging out with a drunk guy anyways?”

Tommy shrugged, “He broke up with his boyfriend a little bit ago, I’m waiting with him for his ride.”

“You can’t just tell my secrets like that,” Quackity squawked, “I’m a mysterious man and would prefer it stayed that way!”

Blaze frowned, “Do you need help?”

Tommy blinked, “I mean, it should be fine.” Quackity just seemed most likely to complain about life and overshare than anything else.

“I don’t have anything else to do,” Blaze sighed, sitting on the other side of Quackity, “I’m Sapnap,” He said, offering a hand to the drunken man.

“Can I sell knowledge of your name for money?” Quackity asked, squinting.

Sapnap blinked, “Uh, you can if you want?”

Quackity grinned widely, “Hello, Sapnap, I’m Quackity.”

Sapnap looked puzzled, “Nice to meet you I guess.”

Quackity grinned, but then he cocked his head, eyeing the hero thoughtfully, “Wanna be my drunken rebound?”

Tommy spluttered, “What?”

Sapnap looked just as stunned, “Uh, why?”

“It’d piss Wilbur off,” Quackity said, shrugging, “And you’re pretty.”

Tommy suddenly stood, “Well I guess that’s my cue!” He immediately began his escape, but Blaze wrapped a hand around his ankle as he walked past.

“No, Th-” Sapnap began.

“Tommy,” Tommy interrupted, glaring down at the hero. He was not about to have his identity leaked, he didn’t care how drunk Quackity was, he wasn’t risking that.

“Right,” Sapnap said quickly, “Tommy, please don’t leave me here.”

Tommy smirked, “Why not?”

“He wants me to be his rebound!” Sapnap hissed, looking panicked.

Quackity laughed, “I won’t force you, it was just an open offer.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a black card that he then decided to tuck behind Sapnap’s ear with a wink, “There’s my card, if you ever change your mind.

Sapnap was just confused now, “Uh, okay?”

Tommy cringed, “I really don’t want front row seats to whatever shitty rom-com this is, so please let me go.”

Just then a car came to a stop in front of them. Quackity stood quickly, grinning widely, “Fundy!” he crowed, elated.

A redheaded man got out of the car, exasperated, “Quackity, what are you doing?”

“I’m flirting with this off-duty hero and made friends with his probation child,” Quackity gestured to Tommy and Sapnap.

Fundy blinked at them, “Uh, I’m sorry, that’s a lot to understand, what?”

“He’s my probation officer of sorts,” Tommy said vaguely, nodding to Sapnap, “And I saw Quackity break up with his boyfriend and figured I should keep him from running off. He’s pretty wasted.”

Fundy sighed, “Yeah, thanks for that, I’m just glad Wilbur called me, he tends to hold grudges after fights,” He then turned to face Quackity who had laid back on the filthy sidewalk, eyes closed and hands folded on his chest, “Get up, Quackity, come on.”

Quackity ignored his friend, pretending to snore.

“You need help?” Sapnap asked.

Fundy eyed Sapnap with a wariness that Tommy recognized to be from someone with a subpar opinion of heroes, “I mean I just have to pick him up.”

Sapnap nodded, “I can help,” He knelt beside Quackity, “I’m gonna pick you up, alright?”

Quackity opened one eye with a smirk, “If you insist, darling.”

Sapnap blushed, “Uh,” he glanced at Fundy, clearly regretting his offer to help.

Fundy snorted, “That’s all you, hero.” Sapnap sighed and gently scooped up the drunken man, lifting him easily. Fundy opened the door to the backseat of what Tommy realized was in fact a rather expensive car. Sapnap began to settle the spontaneously limp Quackity into a seat. 

“When you get home make sure you drink water,” Sapnap said gently as he held Quackity upright so he could fasten the seatbelt across the man’s chest.

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Quackity waved dismissively.

Sapnap shook his head, “You’ll regret it in the morning if you don’t.”

Quackity snorted, “Obviously. I want an excuse to not talk to Wilbur.”

Sapnap looked vaguely sad, “You really should clear it up soon though, it’s never good to break up when drunk. Your friend is right that you’re lucky he called for you to get a ride.”

“It’s fine, no one would fuck with me,” Quackity said with all the confidence of a drunken man.

“Yeah, that’s enough talking for you,” Fundy said dryly, moving to shoo Sapnap back and close the door.

“Wait!” Quackity said, flinging a hand out to hold the door open.

“What?” Fundy snapped.

“Give the kid one of my cards, I owe him dinner or something since he stayed with me,” Quackity said.

“Business or personal?” Fundy asked, reaching into his suit jacket.

“Personal, obviously,” Quackity rolled his eyes, then he craned his neck to look at Tommy, “Call any time and I’ll get you something nice or some shit and we can talk shit about Wilbur. I might not remember you so remember to introduce yourself and call me by my name.” He gave Tommy a thumbs up and then closed his door himself.

Fundy was holding out one of those black cards like Sapnap currently had behind his ear, “He seems to like you, thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

Tommy accepted the card, eyeing it thoughtfully. Quackity, no surname. A phone number and a vague location. Las Nevadas. Shit, Las Nevadas? Who was this guy? He must be rich, which made sense considering Wilbur’s tax bracket.

“Feel free to contact him any time tomorrow, the earlier the better, make him regret getting drunk,” Fundy snorted.

Tommy nodded, nervously tucking the card in his pocket, “Uh, should I be worried?”

Sapnap cocked his head, taking the card from behind his ear and scowling at it, noticing the detail Tommy was caught on, “Las Nevadas? He knows I’m a hero, right?”

“He’s messed with worse,” Fundy said easily, “And no, you don’t need to be worried, he’s just a dealer in the casino, nothing crazy.”

Tommy nodded slowly, “Well I’ll be in touch I guess, make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

Fundy scoffed, “I’m pretty sure I’m too late on that aspect. He drunkenly broke up with his boyfriend like ten minutes ago.”

Tommy nodded, “Fair enough.”

Fundy sighed, “Well, I’m off, take care, kid,” He pointedly ignored Sapnap.

Tommy waved goodbye as the car pulled away and Quackity rolled down the window to flail comically out the window in an exaggerated wave before the window began to roll up, forcing the man back inside the car. Tommy was about to begin his walk home when he remembered Blaze at his side and he froze, looking up at the off duty hero who was still frowning at the card in his hand.

“Uh, can we agree not to talk about this?” Tommy suggested.

Sapnap looked up, startled for a moment before he nodded sheepishly, “Don’t worry, your identity is safe with me.”

Tommy smirked, “And I’ll not advertise that a dealer from Las Nevadas offered you a drunken hook up.”

Sapnap cringed, “Yeah, thanks.”

“Goodnight,” Tommy said and he moved away from the hero.

Sapnap waved, “Night.” He tucked his own card away and they parted ways.

Tommy got back to his apartment and promptly collapsed in his bed. It was almost easy to fall asleep after the happy event with the other heroes and the almost comical encounter with Quackity. Things were shaping up to not be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

The next day Tommy didn’t have to come in till five which meant he had nothing to do for the first time in years, literally. He hadn’t had a day off since he had first become a hero. With literally nothing better to do, he laid out on his bed and stared blankly up at his phone for a few hours before he remembered his meeting the night before and the offered meal.

He pulled out Quackity’s card, hesitating before he typed in the number. Should he really follow up with the man? He didn’t really want any accidental meetings with Wilbur, he would probably insist on meeting up somewhere or a family dinner or something. Tommy did like the idea of making a friend though. He would have more freedom here soon, which meant a friend would be possible. He pressed call.

It rang once before the phone was picked up, Quackity’s voice coming through the phone, “Hello?” He sounded cautious and less than happy.

Tommy instantly regretted calling, but it was too late to just hang up, “Hey, Quackity, this is Tommy, you gave me your card last night when you were drunk.”

The man on the other end paused, “The kid, right?” He asked, tone lighter.

Tommy grinned, relieved that the man had remembered him, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I promised you dinner, didn’t I?” Quackity mused.

“Yeah, you did,” Tommy said.

Quackity hummed, “What day works for you?”

“I’m off this weekend,” Tommy said. He got two days off for graduation and he couldn’t wait. Though, prior to this call he hadn't had any idea how to spend the time.

“Saturday night, then? I’ll be in the city then and I’ll pick you up for dinner in Las Nevadas?” Quackity suggested.

Tommy paused, “Uh, that should work.” Would he be allowed to go to Las Nevadas? He should be able to.

“Oh shit, didn’t you say you were on probation? Will that hero fucker let you come out?” Quackity asked.

“Technically my probation ends today, but there might be restrictions,” Tommy said carefully. He really didn't know yet just how free Schlatt and Dream would allow him to be. 

“Oh, congrats on the freedom,” Tommy could hear the man’s smile, “How about we plan for that and if you can't come out you can just text me, yeah?”

“Sound’s good,” Tommy said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Quackity said, “Text me your address and I’ll pick you up when I’m done with work in the city.”

“Alright,” Tommy said.

“Bye, Tommy,” Quackity said and hung up before Tommy could respond.

Tommy looked at his phone for a moment before he made Quackity a contact and texted him his address. Quackity responded with a thumbs up emoji. Tommy was unsure how to feel, but he did feel a few steps closer to having a friend, even if said friend was a little strange. Was it exactly moral for a hero to befriend a dealer at a casino owned by the most notorious information dealer alive? Probably not, but morality wasn't exactly something he was worried about.

With nothing better to do, Tommy paced in his apartment for a while before his eyes caught on the book Blood God had gifted him so long ago. He had never read it. He reached on top of his fridge where it was propped up against the box where he kept all his official document shit and pulled the book down, dusting it off with his hand. The cloth cover made the dust cling to it, but Tommy didn’t fuss over it too much. He settled on his bed with his back to the wall and opened it, reading over the note again before moving on. 

The story was vaguely familiar from school when he had done a Greek Mythology unit in English once. He lost himself in the words, concentrating the best he could as the letters tried to dance away from him. He nearly gave up a page in but he didn’t have anything else to do, so he went back to it. Occasionally he misread a word and it made the whole sentence sound weird, but usually he caught it. It was why he had been more than happy to drop out of school when he got emancipated, reading just was hard. How did people just chase letters around for hours on end?

Turns out, reading wasn’t too awful. Sure, the effort of reading made it less easy, but he did enjoy the story. He was about twenty pages in when he turned a page and immediately slammed the book shut, eyes wide. Had he seen what he had thought he had seen? He carefully opened it again and sure enough, the center of the pages were carved out, making a little hollow where nothing other than throwing knives rested. Tommy stared at the dark steel, his mouth practically watering. Throwing knives. Weapons. He brushed a finger down the side of the knife at the top of the stack, just feeling it, before he remembered that there might be cameras in his room. He pulled his finger back and closed the book, robotically putting it on the floor by his bed, within reach of where he slept, just in case, he told himself, and he stared straight ahead, comprehending.

Two years ago, Blood God had gifted him not just a book for memorabilia of his nickname, but to sneak him weapons. The Syndicate had known he had gotten in trouble, they had known his dagger had been taken. They had cared enough to sneak him other weapons. He smiled to himself, oddly flattered. It was really too bad he had stabbed Siren, if they had made the effort to be nice to him. Oh well, they would probably understand. 

Now that reading wasn't an option, the hours passed slowly and Tommy was sequestered in his room since he had never really tested how far he was allowed to go with his bracelet before they assumed he was escaping or something since he had never been off for this long before. Tommy kept finding his eyes landing on the vent by his bed that was frequently covered by an extra blanket where his sword was tucked away. His old pastime was calling his name and his fingers twitched at the thought of swinging a sword again, but he knew better and with his power inhibitor it wasn’t like it would be as satisfying as it used to be.

Around four a knock sounded on his door and Tommy was elated to have the distraction, opening the door with a grin only to stumble to a stop. Tubbo, the new intern at the Tower stood there, a tall man standing at his shoulder. Well, maybe not a man, the kid was scrawny and looked shy, curling into himself.

“Hey!” Tubbo greeted, innocent that they were already acquainted, “I’m Tubbo, I recently just moved in just down the hall.”

“Oh,” Tommy did his best to lie, “I’m Tommy.”

“This is Ranboo, he moved in today and I helped him get settled,” Tubbo said, gesturing to the tall boy.

Ranboo smiled shyly, “Hi there.”

Tommy squinted, “What kind of name is Ranboo?”

The boy blinked, “Uh, what?”

“It’s weird,” Tommy assessed.

Ranboo looked utterly baffled, “Oh, um, okay?”

“It is weird,” Tubbo said, “But that’s okay, my name is weird too.”

Tommy nodded, “Why am I the only one with a normal name?”

“Maybe your parents weren’t very inventive?” Tubbo suggested.

Tommy snorted, “I probably was named by the system.”

“Oh,” Tubbo frowned, then he shrugged, “That explains why it’s so boring.”

Tommy scoffed, about to launch into a debate as to why his name was not, in fact, boring, when Ranboo interrupted their rather obscure bickering, “Want a cookie?”

Tommy blinked, “Yes,” he answered instantly.

Ranboo smiled widely, holding out a platter that Tommy had only just now noticed, “Here,” he offered.

Tommy inspected his cookie options. There were M&M cookies, chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter cookies, and sugar cookies. He, naturally, selected one of each.

“Hey! Only one!” Ranboo protested.

Tommy shoved all four in his mouth, taking one massive bite out of all of them simultaneously, mumbling around his mouthful, “Thowwy-” And he began to chew, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, moving to replace three of them on the tray when Ranboo snatched the tray away from Tommy’s tainted cookies.

“No! That’s gross!” Ranboo shrieked.

Tommy shrugged, not really caring.

Tubbo snickered, “Good one, boss man, he wouldn’t let me take more than two and I even helped move his mattress.”

Tommy feigned being appalled, still unable to talk as he attempted to chew and swallow his mammoth bite of cookie. He pressed a hand to his chest and drew his eyebrows up and together.

Ranboo sighed, “You’re going to be weird neighbors.”

Tommy nodded and Tubbo snorted.

“Here’s our phone numbers,” Tubbo said, handing a piece of notebook paper to Tommy.

Tommy accepted the paper, frowning at the two numbers and then he saluted them.

“Good to meet you,” Tubbo said.

“Enjoy your cookies,” Ranboo said dejectedly.

Tommy snorted and waved comically as the pair moved away from his door. He shut the door and locked it, puzzled. The new intern was apparently his neighbor. Should he be concerned? Well, the guy seemed nice enough, so if he figured out who Tommy was, Tommy wasn’t too concerned.

Finally it was time to go to the Tower and he grabbed the plain mask he had been given the day before and tucked it into his pocket as he walked to the Hero Tower. He slid the mask over his face and let himself in through the employee’s entrance to avoid a minor panic or something as he made his way to Eret’s studio. An unidentified masked person would probably cause public outcry. 

The designer was waiting for him, a grin on her face, “Theseus!” She greeted him.

Tommy grinned, then remembered Eret couldn’t see his face, “Hey, Eret.”

“Ready to get your new uniform on?” Eret asked, looking more excited than Tommy was.

Tommy nodded, “Yeah,” he said, putting a little more excitement in his voice for their sake.

Eret eagerly shoved Tommy’s new uniform into his arms and shooed him to a changing room, “Hurry up in case I need to make a last minute alteration.”

“Alright, alright!” Tommy said, though he wasn’t really annoyed. As he began to change into his uniform he grew more excited. The tank top was more armored than his old suit had been and it made him look stronger, which he could always use, being as gangly as he was. The pants had lots of breathing room and he loved the pockets, even though he didn’t have weapons to put in them. The jacket also was great, though it was lined in hundreds of tiny sheaths for throwing knives that Eret had apparently assumed Tommy would need. Tommy ran a finger over one of the empty rows, thinking back to his newly discovered knives. Maybe if he was sneaky he could carry them around? The problem was that he wouldn’t really be able to use them. He forced himself to ignore the pockets and moved to the mask. It was metal, little slats over the sides with a diamond shape in the front to make room for his nose and to shape the metal into something like a muzzle shape, but he quite liked it. He slipped it over his face and it sealed, filtering the air with a small whirring noise. He pulled his hood up and eyed his reflection with a grin, this was definitely going to be fun. It was a totally different look from his old spandex look.

He walked out of the room and Eret squealed in enthusiasm when he saw Tommy, demanding for the soon-to-be hero to twirl.

“There’s nothing to twirl?” Tommy asked, confused. His voice came out different than he was used to his voice changer being. It was more serious and a little robotic. 

“Do it anyways,” Eret insisted.

Tommy sighed, “Alright,” He conceded and spun for the designer who clapped appreciatively.

“Oh yes, I did a good job, didn’t I?” Eret mused.

Tommy laughed, “Yeah, you did.”

Eret moved forward and began inspecting seams critically. They turned back the sleeve of his jacket and froze, the little pockets for knives displayed, “I guess you won’t be needing those anymore,” They said, almost bitterly. Tommy knew they hated when their designs were tampered with.

“It’s fine,” he said, “I don’t mind.”

Eret eyed him, “Well, maybe we can hold out hope?”

Tommy nodded, “Sure.” He knew for a fact Schlatt and Dream would never change their minds, but he couldn’t do anything about that, so he settled for comforting the suddenly sad designer. 

“Well, I hope they get used one day, but if they don’t it’s just extra temperature protection,” Eret said.

Tommy nodded, “Fair enough.” It almost hurt to think of his suit not getting the use it deserved,  to not be able to use his ability, but he pushed that feeling away.

“I’ll get your duplicate suit done by the time you’re back from vacation,” Eret promised.

“Duplicate?” Tommy asked, frowning.

Eret blinked, “Yeah, full time heroes get two suits to cycle through, did you not know that?”

“Uh, no?” Tommy was baffled. He didn’t mention he had been working more than most full time heroes either. He had always struggled to find time to wash his suit. He was mostly positive he had absolutely reeked a couple times on patrol.

“Huh, Dream really didn’t tell you anything, did he?” Eret scoffed.

“I guess not,” Tommy said.

As if summoned, Dream chose that moment to enter the room. He paused by the door, eyeing Tommy’s new suit, “You ready?” He asked.

“Nothing to say about my hard work?” Eret pressed, clearly annoyed by Dream’s brusqueness.

Dream’s mask turned to face Eret directly, “It’s good as always, no need to fish for compliments.”

Eret’s eyebrows furrowed, clearly offended, “Excuse you,” they snapped.

Tommy rested a hand on the designer’s shoulder, knowing very well that Eret would lose any following arguments, “I’m ready, Dream.”

“Come on then, Schlatt wants to talk to you,” Dream said sharply, clearly annoyed by Eret.

Tommy nodded, shooting Eret a sympathetic look before he followed his mentor out of the studio. Dream took him to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. They were alone in the small space.

“It’s stupid to change which part of your face the mask covers,” Dream said lowly, “Anyone could figure out your identity now.”

“I know,” Tommy said, irritated. Why was Dream such an asshole? When he had first met the man he had been reasonably nice to him, but here he was: short and easily annoyed. 

“I expected better from my apprentice,” Dream said.

Tommy glared at the back of Dream’s head, “Yeah, well you didn’t exactly show up to any of the design sessions with Eret nor did you show up last night, so I’m not sure you really get to complain. You’ve only been my mentor while patrolling and that was probably only so you could keep me under your thumb.” Tommy's words were venomous but it gave him a short lived sort of satisfaction to get back at his shitty mentor, even in such a small way. Dream had lied to him and led him to believe he would be allowed to use his ability when he graduated and then revoked everything he said without even having the decency to inform Tommy. It was a downright asshole maneuver.

Dream turned to face Tommy, that smile on his mask was quite daunting, “I’d have been more present if you didn’t constantly make yourself such an annoyance,” His voice was cutting even through the voice changer, “I am ashamed to have accepted you as a mentee.”

Tommy was somewhat taken aback. He shouldn’t be, insults were nothing new from his mentor, but this seemed like a new low, “Well, just know I’m relieved to be graduating,” He managed to spit back.

Dream scoffed, “That makes two of us then. Maybe next time they won’t give me a killer for a sidekick.”

“I sincerely hope Schlatt never assigns you another sidekick,” Tommy said coldly, the killer comment had gotten to him. It always did. Once again, he should know better, but Dream always knew where to hit so it would hurt the most.

Dream laughed, “Keep playing at being mature, Theseus. Schlatt will realize how useless you are soon and you’ll be nothing more than a human battery in Pandora.”

Tommy grit his jaw. That was what terrified Tommy the most about the prison. Rotting away while your very life force was siphoned off. Most powered people didn’t produce much energy, but powerful people produced enough to power homes for years as their life force was literally sucked out of them. “I will never go to Pandora,” he swore softly.

Dream scoffed, “I give you a year. At most”

Tommy glared, “No, Dream, I don’t think you’re hearing me,” he moved to stand face to face with his mentor, those widely spaced dots only inches away from his own mask. When had Tommy gotten as tall as Dream? He wasn’t sure, “I will never go to Pandora.”

Dream just laughed, “Keep pretending you have a choice, if it helps you sleep,” he patted Tommy on the shoulder mockingly and turned abruptly, signaling the end of the conversation. Tommy seethed silently as they came to a stop at the top floor and Dream led the way down the hall to Schlatt’s office.

As they walked in, Tommy examined the space with interest. The man was somewhat elusive, rarely leaving his office except to make public statements. Dream probably saw him the most out of all the heroes. He was sitting at a massive mahogany desk, it was strikingly traditional in a stark modern room. It was perfectly organized and two chairs sat before it.

Dream dipped his head to the man, “President,” he said in his usual ass-kissing voice.

Schlatt looked at them over steepled fingers, “Welcome, Dream, Theseus have a seat.”

Tommy did as he was asked, tense to be around the man who held his fate so firmly. The white band around his wrist felt heavy.

“Theseus, are you excited to graduate?” Schlatt asked, leaning back in his chair.

Tommy nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“Good, good,” Schlatt said, “Now, let’s get to business.” He picked up a document from his desk, eyeing it, “Unfortunately, due to concern from your superiors, you will not be granted weapons or the privilege of your ability, but we will still remove your power inhibitor, which I want to impress on you as the responsibility it is. Any use of your ability will have that right revoked immediately, understand?”

Tommy nodded, “Yes sir.” He fought to keep his hands relaxed in his lap. As if anyone except Dream was actually worried about his ability. Punz had fucking commanded him to use a weapon, for fuck’s sake.

“You will be removed from probation, but this is extremely tentative and I would encourage you to make yourself extremely scarce in anything Tower related,” Schlatt said, “Being out of Pandora is a privilege for you, and so in return for this favor for keeping your free, I expect you to not have any presence in the media or politics. If you’re in the Tower I’m going to assume it is an emergency, there is a formal event, or you are training. For no other reason should you be here. You are a liability and I keep liabilities as far away from me as possible.”

Tommy nodded slowly this time. They were practically shunning him. He wanted to flip the man off and stab him with his fancy fountain pen that rested in an official looking holder. He struggled with the control to keep his hands perfectly still. Dream knew that his little finger twitches promised violence or at least conveyed a desire for it and he never let it slide. What Tommy would do to jam that steel nib into the man’s jugular, maybe to slam his dumb lamb-chopped face into the smooth mahogany… repeatedly. The thought was somewhat soothing and he commanded his eyes to stay relaxed. At least he didn't have every twitch of his lips anymore, but now it meant he had to exert effort o keep his brows level now. he had developed a bit of a habit of raising an eyebrow, but that was firmly off the table now. 

“If I hear even a whisper of you breaking the rules then there will be no mercy for you and I will have you in Pandora before twenty four hours are up,” Schlatt said, almost cheerful, “Now, if you earn my trust, I’ll let you know what rights you have regained and maybe one day, if you do well enough, you’ll be able to enjoy the privilege that is full hero-ship, alright?”

Tommy grit his jaw, “Yes sir, thank you sir.”

“You have potential to either be the worst or the best hero we have, nothing in the middle, Theseus, don’t ruin it for yourself and keep your head down,” Schlatt said with a false smile, “You’re dismissed. I’ll see you at the ceremony.”

Tommy stood, “Thank you sir, see you then.” He then left the room. He made it to the elevator before his hand began to tremble with rage. He ran his fingers over the inside of his sleeves, knowing there was a camera in the elevator, and felt at the spot where knives should rest and he wallowed in his sheer rage.

He got to the event floor and walked into the beginnings of the event. A few heroes were helping with the last of the setting up. He walked over to where Blaze and Surge were chatting, leaned up against the wall.

“Theseus, is that you?” Surge asked, seeing him.

Tommy grinned, “Yep! Like my new suit?” He forced his rage back in favor of fucking around. He did like Surge.

Surge nodded enthusiastically, “That’s awesome! You look scarier.”

Tommy nodded, “That’s what I was going for.”

“I’ll have to let Eret know they did a good job,” Blaze said.

Tommy laughed, “They’d appreciate the compliment,” he said lightly, but he was thinking back to the night before, struggling to feign ignorance. This man knew his real name and what he looked like. It was weird. But then again, Tommy knew that there was a man in Las Nevadas who had attempted to lure him into his bed, which was funny enough that it loosened tension in Tommy’s shoulders.

He was able to relax into easy conversation with the pair as more and more heroes filtered in. He was called across the room a few times, people congratulating his new look and subsequent graduation. Everyone was surprisingly friendly, which Tommy noted was different from how they usually were around Dream, but Tommy wasn’t really surprised. 

Eventually Dream and Schlatt entered the room and the other heroes only talked with them in passing, obviously knowing better than to ignore the most powerful men in the room. Food was served and Tommy had to get help from Eret to discover a small slot he could shove small bites of food through to get to his mouth and the same with drinks. The designer luckily seemed to have moved on from Dream’s insults and was more than happy to be seen with Tommy since it meant he could take any compliments as his own. 

“Did you outfit the jacket to hold weapons?” One of the oldest heroes, BadBoyHalo, usually just referred to as Bad, asked. His power was something about curses, but Tommy didn’t really understand it except that the man’s power had affected his appearance, which was rare, making his skin black, horns curling from his temples and his eyes were a solid white. He also was freakishly tall, but that might just be natural. 

Eret cringed, “I did, originally,” she said carefully.

Bad frowned, “I thought Theseus would be using weapons when he graduated?”

Bad’s closest friend, Skeppy, another person whose ability affected their physical appearance with glittering diamond crystals growing directly from his skin like scales, serving as armor, the high defense supplemented by how he could turn objects into diamonds, elbowed Bad sharply in the side, “Bad,” he hissed in reprimand. His eyes looked like solid diamonds, which was creepy because it meant Tommy could see the back of his eyes sockets faintly through the crystalline patterns, “He won’t be allowed weapons.”

Bad instantly looked like he regretted his comment, “Oh, I’m sorry Theseus,” he said.

“He didn’t know,” Skeppy said.

Tommy nodded, “Don’t worry, I’m not offended.” He quite liked the pair. They were sort of odd ones out and had always been kind to him. They didn’t do much hero work anymore with their age, but everyone knew that if they did they would probably make a power team stronger than Dream. They hadn’t been active together in nearly a decade though. 

Bad looked troubled, “That’s not right, I’m sorry you have that restriction.”

Skeppy elbowed his friend again.

“Hey!” Bad said, “What was that for?”

“You know exactly what that was for,” Skeppy sent the horned man a glare.

Bad shook his head, “Whatever. Anyways, congratulations, Theseus,” he said before the diamond scaled man dragged him away.

Unfortunately for Tommy the rest of the heroes were terribly boring. They all had some half assed congratulations for him but he saw the wariness and boredom in their eyes far too easily. They didn’t trust him or like him and he returned the sentiment. There were only heroes here as was tradition, but Tommy still did his best to not act like the extrovert he found it way too easy to be. Schlatt wanted him quiet and Tommy didn’t want to end up in Pandora, so he would listen, even if the thought had his fingers twitching, despite his attempts to calm them, so he decided to hold a cookie to occupy his hands. Surely he would feel less murderous with baked goods in his hands? Nope. The cookie made him think of how he would jam it down Schlatt’s throat till the man choked- Tommy cut off the thought and the cookie seemed to faintly glow red with his anger. He ate it quickly and settled for keeping his hands in his pockets.

Finally the official part of the night began and Schlatt stood on stage with Dream at his side and grinned out at the sea of heroes, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, tonight we celebrate the graduation of a sidekick who had worked hard for two years as an apprentice under Dream, the number one hero!” Polite applause broke out and Schlatt gestured to Tommy, who took his cue, walking onto the stage. He started to do his usual polite smile before he remembered that his new mask covered the painfully fake expression, so he instead waved at the crowd. 

“Theseus here has worked hard for his rank as a hero and though he lacks in the ability department, I have no doubts that he will become a great hero,” Schlatt smiled at Tommy like he actually liked him, patting him on the back. Tommy fought to not slap the hand away. “Dream has done a fantastic job of mentoring him and Theseus will be working in some of the more distant districts in the future to protect even the dirtiest corners of the city. He has shown true dedication to the cause and as of tonight his probation will be lifted!”

Dream stepped up to Tommy, holding what Tommy instantly recognized as one of the keys for the ability dampener cuffs. Tommy held out his wrist and Dream unlocked the white cuff, taking it from Tommy and placing it on a small table. The spot where the cuff had rested for two years was pale compared to the surrounding skin and Tommy circled his fingers around the spot, marveling at how he could touch his own skin there again. Then Dream handed Tommy a thin black bracelet that would act as part of his suit, sending him codes in the form of patterns of colored lights as a method of emergency communication. Tommy slipped it over where the power limiter had been, grinning to himself.

“Tonight Theseus officially joins us as a hero!” Schlatt said.

The applause was more enthusiastic this time, Blaze and Surge actually leading the faint bits of cheering, followed easily by Totem and Eret. Tommy found himself shocked that people actually liked him and he marveled over this spontaneous show of support in awe.

Schlatt and Dream exited the platform and Tommy followed, being congratulated again. The rest of the night was something of a blur as people talked with him a little more. Around midnight heroes began to leak out of the room and Tommy wasn’t ashamed to leave early from his own party, especially considering some of the higher ranked heroes had started drinking. 

He went to his apartment and scanned the room, squinting. “My probation is over now,” He announced to the supposed bugs, “I’m going to find all of you tomorrow and you can’t do shit about it.”

Obviously the bugs didn’t reply.

Tommy shed his uniform, new bracelet included, and laid in bed, just thinking. He thought of all that had happened in the past two years, things he had seen, done, and experienced as he ran his fingers over the skin that had been hidden for so many years. He remembered days spent in the training hall while Dream was on orders to interrogate a prisoner in Pandora, a place where sidekicks were firmly denied entrance, only to return with blood splattered on his sleeves. Tommy remembered dragging unconscious civilians out of the danger zones of villain’s fights, often badly injured and screaming. He remembered, only days after he was instated as a sidekick, walking into a train, confused about his mentor’s coldness when he saw it. At the memory, Tommy’s hand moved form his wrist to close over his forearm and the other clutched his shoulder as a shiver wracked his body. He had seen the blood, though the bodies had been removed along with the one survivor. A two-year-old commanded into such a deep sleep the paramedics couldn't wake her. Siren had slaughtered easily dozens of people. The blood hadn’t been what had disturbed Tommy though. He had simply stared at the splatters and puddles with something like curiosity. That was what had scared him. That his first thought hadn't been horror, but instead curiosity as to what sort of pistol Siren had used to do all of that. 

Tommy opened his eyes to look at the book on top of his fridge. A gift from Siren’s teammate.

Tommy was officially a hero. He should be reporting it. He should be disturbed that Siren’s powers had been used that day the book had been delivered, only days before the massacre. It didn't though. Instead all he could think about was the pistols on the man’s thighs, cared for immaculately. He thought of Blood God’s broadsword, raised overhead, shining dully in moonlight as Tommy crouched in cover nearby while the villain cleaved through the arm of a hero that Tommy didn’t see around the Tower anymore. He didn’t watch the blood, the screaming hero whose name Tommy didn’t remember, instead he fought to keep the smile from his face at the blood on the blade of the sword. All he could see when he thought of the Syndicate was weapons, glittering unholy crimson, be it from blood or his own power. Singing in the air and carving their mark in society. Blood God's sword was as much a symbol of his reign of terror as his mask was and Siren's immaculate and most likely custom pistols were the same, with their gold and blue accents. Weapons Tommy would never be able to touch the like of again. 

Tommy could remember the last day Dream had allowed him to train with wooden swords. He had been angry with the man because it was two in the morning and Dream refused to let him go to sleep after a long patrol. Tommy had wanted to hurt him. He had wanted that wooden sword to slam against Dream’s body with bruising and breaking force. So he had. The sword had been alive in his grip, moving faster than Dream could do anything about. It had felt right. He had Dream disarmed in less than a minute and the man was shouting his surrender seconds later, Tommy’s sword gripped in one fist, the other hand gripping his ridiculous green collar, the point stopping not even an inch away from Dream’s stupid white mask, right between the black dot eyes. Dream had left with cracked and bruised ribs and had Tommy stopped half a second later he would have had a broken nose as well. Dream had to go see a healer that night and Tommy had overheard him bribing a security guard to delete the footage. Dream was untouchable, according to his fabricated truths, anyways. Tommy hadn't been allowed to train with weapons since.

Tommy rolled over, looking vacantly at the fire escape out of the window. When it came down to it, he was a bad hero. He only cared for weapons and himself, but he didn’t care. He had to become a true hero. As rain started to fall outside, Tommy came to a decision. He would be the best hero he could be, he would do as the Tower commanded, but he would be damned before he let them force him into an early grave. 

Chapter Text

In the morning Tommy didn’t even eat breakfast, he just started looking for bugs. He tore everything apart. Things he cleared he placed in a careful pile. There were two bugs hidden in more obvious hiding places, then he found two more in harder to reach places. One was tucked into the mechanical stuff on the back of the fridge, another literally inside one of his cabinet shelves. He prayed he had found all of them, but he had no way to be sure. Then something occurred to him. He wandered down the hall to where that intern Tubbo lived and he knocked on the guy’s door.

Tubbo opened the door just enough to squint up at Tommy, one eye visible under fluffy brown hair, “Tommy?” He asked.

Tommy abruptly remembered that his civilian identity shouldn’t know what Tubbo did for work and he floundered for a bit before finally settling on as close to the truth as he could manage, “Uh, do you know how to find bugs?”

Tubbo squinted more, “Bugs?”

“Uh, the electronic type,” Tommy said.

Tubbo warily opened his door a bit more, “Why do you need to find electronic bugs?”

“I just got off probation and don’t want the shitheads listening to me anymore,” Tommy said as casually as he could. He gestured to the pale strip of skin on his wrist.

“You don’t think that will put you back on probation?” Tubbo questioned.

Tommy shrugged, “It’s worth it, I have been living for two years knowing they’re listening and I’m about neurotic because of it.”

Tubbo nodded, thoughtful, “Alright, I’ll help. Let me get something.” He closed the door, disappearing for a moment. When he reappeared he was holding a strange device that looked like someone had hot glued and riveted an old flip phone to a metal detector… maybe. There were a few other foreign parts that looked completely homemade attached as well.

“What the fuck is that?” Tommy said instantly.

“It detects electrical signatures,” Tubbo said.

“Did you make it?” Tommy asked.

“Nah, I picked it up at Walmart,” Tubbo rolled his eyes, “Yes, I made it, dipshit.”

“Does it work?”

“Obviously, I made it, didn’t I?” Tubbo scoffed.

Tommy paused, “Is that legal?”

“Not in the slightest,” Tubbo grinned.

Tommy couldn’t help but to grin back, “Let’s go then.” He wasn’t on duty, sue him.

Tubbo tested his machine on the bugs Tommy had already found and they did a lot more scanning, finding a bump on the wall Tommy had thought was just his landlord’s shitty paint job and it turned out to be a camera of sorts, and then a camera, tucking into the window frame, giving a decent view of the room, luckily not in a point where it could have possibly seen Tommy discover his throwing knives. That would have definitely put him in Pandora.

Then, Tubbo inspected the object pile since every inch of the room was clean now and the machine beeped on Tommy’s book. The one the Blood God had given him of all things, and Tommy managed a shocked laugh before he snatched it away from Tubbo’s reaching hand. He should have known they would bug it. He should have checked. 

“Can you disable them?” Tommy whispered, gesturing to the devices they had on the floor.

Tubbo frowned at the book, obviously wondering why Tommy didn’t include the book in it, but then he shrugged and pulled a hammer out of his pants for some godforsaken reason and just began caveman smashing all of the devices. Tommy gaped at the shattered bits of plastic and metal. He had assumed the guy would have some fancy way of disabling the bugs, but apparently not.

“It’s the best way to do it,” Tubbo said, when he saw Tommy’s gaping, “No tricks if it’s smashed to shit.”

Tommy nodded slowly, “Remind me not to piss you off, that thing is a weapon in your hands.”

Tubbo grinned a little evilly, “Yes, piss me off and I break all your toes. Now, let’s get that last one.”

“Uh, this one’s a little more complicated,” Tommy said carefully.

Tubbo cocked his head.

“Did I tell you why I was on probation in the first place?” He asked, lowering his voice as much as he could.

“No?”

“Illegal possession of weapons,” Tommy said, “So, uh, yeah,” he opened the book, showing the throwing knives.

Tubbo looked down at the weapons, eyes wide behind his hair. Tommy silently removed the knives from the book and then passed it to Tubbo who scanned it and found the bug under a barcode sticker on the back. 

Tommy watched as Tubbo thoroughly smashed the hell out of what was most definitely the Syndicate’s bug and smiled to himself. They really thought they could spy on him? Not anymore. He had Tubbo scan the knives just to be sure though.

“You’ve been hiding throwing knives in a book?” Tubbo finally asked as Tommy replaced the knives and began to set the one-room apartment back to rights.

“Yep,” Tommy said, “It’s a good spot.”

“Apparently, if they didn’t even notice when they fucking bugged it,” he laughed in disbelief, “Why do you even have illegal weapons?”

Tommy tossed his blankets back on his mattress, “Because they’re fucking cool,” he said vaguely.

Tubbo snorted, “Yeah right, what’s your power?”

“Tell me yours first,” Tommy said defensively, even though he already knew Tubbo’s power, this was supposed to be a balance and civilian Tommy didn’t know shit about Tubbo’s day job.

“I can incite and control explosions,” Tubbo said.

Tommy froze, instantly noticing that was not exactly what the kid had told a person he had known to be a hero, “Holy shit,” he said, covering his shock, “That’s awesome.” Apparently the intern couldn’t just control the explosions like he claimed, he could also make them. That was fucking terrifying and would definitely either have him in Tommy’s exact shoes or in Pandora if the Tower knew. Well… Tommy might be a hero, but he wasn’t going to say shit. He wouldn't wish his situation on anyone. Tubbo knew about his knives anyways.

“I can only explode explodable things,” Tubbo said dismissively, “Pressurized or air tight containers or preexisting explosives.”

“Like how pressurized? Could you blow up a zip lock bag?” Tommy asked.

Tubbo grinned, “Yep, though it’s a really small explosion and takes a lot of fucking energy to make worth anything.” He pulled the hair back from his forehead, displaying scar tissue that probably should have blinded him, “This was when I accidentally discovered my ability with a sparkler as a kid.”

Tommy blinked, “I don’t know if I should be impressed or scared.”

“Be both then,” Tubbo shrugged, “Now spill.”

“Weapons mastery,” Tommy said, “Everything but firearms. Though I can’t say I’ve tested the limits much since I’m not allowed to use my ability at all.”

Tubbo looked thoughtful, “We should definitely test it.”

Tommy grinned, but then hesitated, “We would have to be careful.”

“Let me guess, that was your last chance?” Tubbo pointed to Tommy’s pale wrist.

Tommy nodded, “Yep.”

“We’ll be careful then,” Tubbo said, “I mean, I've hidden blowing shit up for years. That’s not easy to hide.”

Tommy snorted, “I doubt it is.”

“You’ll be fine,” Tubbo reassured, “And if they try to arrest you then I’ll just break you out or some shit.”

“Tubbo, I’ve fought Blood God and lived to tell the tale, the only person they would send to arrest me would be Dream himself,” Tommy laughed.

Tubbo blinked, “You fought Blood God?”

Tommy froze, noticing the slip up, “Oh yeah, I, uh, got kidnapped by them once, that's how my ability was found out.”

Tubbo shook his head, “Don’t lie to me!”

“Look up the fucking museum heist from two years ago then,” Tommy said boldly, grinning a bit. He didn't often get the opportunity to brag to people. 

“I will, and if you’re lying to me, I swear…” Tubbo hefted his hammer.

Tommy cringed back playfully, “Spare me, spare me, Tubbo!”

Tubbo rolled his eyes, “Whatever,” he moved to leave the apartment, “I have illegal shit to build. Bye.” He then left, not waiting for Tommy to return the farewell.

Tommy snorted and resumed tidying up his apartment. When everything was in its place he opened the air vent where he hid the sword, the other one had his hero outfit in it and he had wrapped it up tightly with two blankets because he wasn't dumb enough to assume it wouldn’t be bugged or have a camera on it. Tubbo’s detector hadn’t alerted to the vent so Tommy assumed it was appropriately insulated.

The sword was dusty and Tommy cleaned it reverently. How long since he had felt its hilt? Too long. He allowed his power to wash over the blade, smiling peacefully. He fell into the familiar motions of using a sword again, the blade steadier than ever, his eyes closed as he let the flow of the dance fall over his body, stronger than he had ever been before when he used to practice. Two years of intense strength building had paid off, it seemed. 

---

Quackity removed his jester mask with a sigh. Schlatt was an asshole as per usual, but his information on Theseus was valuable and Quackity didn’t regret coming by. Sure, every moment locked in a room with Schlatt was absolutely miserable, but Quackity had a business to run. 

“Hard day?” Charlie sympathized from the driver's seat.

Quackity snorted, “That’s one way to put it.”

Charlie hummed, “Will you still be having lunch with… that kid?” He was cheerful as always, but Quackity caught the unsure note in his assistant’s voice. The man didn’t know why Quackity cared to pay back some random apparently budding criminal for what had been a rather measly kindness, and Quackity didn’t quite understand it himself, but the kid had been funny, at least in Quackity’s drunken hindsight, and he apparently knew the Watsons, which was cause enough for interest.

“Yeah, I’ll call him now,” Quackity said, allowing his fake height as Gamble to fall away, perks of being a shapeshifter, and pulled out his phone. The kid’s contact was easy to find and he dialed. It rang a few times before Tommy apparently picked up, though he didn’t speak at first, instead fumbling with the phone for a moment.

“Uh, hi?” Tommy's voice came over the phone. He sounded nervous and like he had been running, his breaths coming in short bursts.

Quackity frowned, “Hey there, why are you out of breath?” Charlie glanced in the rear view mirror at that but Quackity ignored him in favor of wondering if he had somehow interrupted a mugging. Whichever end a kid who just got off parole might be on.

“Uh, I was working out,” Tommy said, a hitch in his voice. He was obviously lying.

Quackity squinted. Definitely illegal then, or at least humiliating enough that the kid wouldn’t talk about it, “Nothing that would keep you from a trip to the greatest casino in the world?” He asked in lieu of prodding at the kid’s use of his free time.

“Oh, no, um, sir,” Tommy’s voice faltered again, but he just sounded unsure this time.

Quackity snorted, “Please don’t call me sir. I’m not nearly high enough on the pay grade for that.” Charlie rolled his eyes good naturedly in the rearview mirror at that.

“Okay,” Tommy didn’t seem too inclined to believe that.

“Well, I’m headed your way, be ready,” Quackity said, “Put up your drugs or whatever it is kids do for fun these days,” he teased, though he knew for a fact Tommy was smart enough to hide whatever illegal activity he was up to, and drugs most likely was not on that list. 

Tommy squawked, “Um, what exactly did you do for fun as a teenager?”

Quackity laughed, “A lot of blackmail and cheating at poker, anyways, see you soon,” he cut off the conversation cheerfully and hung up, smirking up at his driver.

“Does Tommy know who you are?” Charlie asked.

“Nope!” Quackity grinned, “He thinks I’m just a dealer at the casino, which to be fair, Quackity is,” he referenced his civilian identity. 

Charlie smiled, “Are you trying to learn something from him?”

Quackity considered the question, “I wouldn’t mind a little information about his probation officer, that man was beautiful, but not really.”

Charlie was puzzled as he turned a corner, “So he'll just be a friend?”

“Pretty much,” Quackity said, finding himself slightly confused by his own actions too, “What can I say, I like the kid.”

“Huh,” Charlie said, morphing the shape of his features to no longer be Charlie Slimecicle, but instead just plain old Charlie the driver. He could manipulate every molecule in his body however he wanted, at least shape wise, making it something of a far less effective shape shifting ability. He couldn't change his total mass, though he could divide it, and he would never be able to change the color of his hair or anything. 

They pulled onto the curb outside of the apartment building where Tommy’s address had led them and Quackity’s first impression of the building was that as a property owner he would have torn it down and rebuilt it about three decades ago, because it currently looked ready to be condemned and like it violated about ninety percent of the city’s building and fire codes.

Tommy sat on the curb out front and he squinted at the car. He wore a red hoodie pulled up and his hands curled in his pockets. Quackity rolled the window down and waved him over. Tommy stood and approached the car, inspecting it as he moved to climb into the side Quackity wasn’t on.

Quackity could see a lot about the kid now that he was sober and it was light out. For one, his light blue eyes glanced over everything with a caution that was definitely not innate, but learned. For two, he had knives in his sleeves and socks, which Quackity could only tell because he put a lot of effort into being sure where the people around him kept their weapons. Quackity found himself trying not to be impressed with the kid’s oddity as he sat next to him, buckling up.

“Good afternoon,” Quackity grinned.

Tommy smiled back, a little unsure, “Hey there, I thought you said you weren’t high on the pay grade?”

Quackity cocked his head, wondering how the kid interpreted the situation, “What do you mean?”

“You have a fucking chauffeur,” Tommy squinted, gesturing to Charlie.

Quackity blinked, then laughed, “Oh, that’s just a company courtesy, I don’t have a license anyways.”

Tommy scoffed, his wariness fading with the noise, “Really? That’s fucking lame, man.”

Quackity pretended to be offended, “Says the kid who just got off probation.”

Tommy flushed, “Whatever.”

“Illegal possession of weapons, right?” Quackity asked, smiling, knowing for a fact that Tommy was currently armed.

“Yeah,” Tommy said awkwardly.

“Didn’t learn, did you?” Quackity snorted.

Tommy blinked, then flinched back, his fingers slipping into his sleeves in a definitely not innocent maneuver, “What do you mean?”

“If you don’t have knives in your sleeves and socks I’m blind,” Quackity said.

Tommy stiffened, eyeing him suspiciously, looking for a threat, for betrayal.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word,” Quackity promised, “Though I really am curious where you got them so fast. I could use an arms dealer that fast.”

“I always had them,” Tommy said, “They were hidden during my probation.”

Quackity blinked, “Oh wow, good hiding spot.”

Tommy laughed, seeming sheepish, “So good I only found them a couple days ago.”

Quackity laughed, “You know, one time I hid some money like that, didn’t find it till months later by accident.”

Tommy snorted, “Nice.”

“You have any other weapons that you intentionally hid?” Quackity asked, interested. This kid had the makings of a good criminal, if he could ever figure out how to lie, which Quackity would be more than happy to teach him in return for a few favors maybe.

Tommy eyed him for a moment, wary again, then he sighed, “If you're a cop I‘m already doomed, yeah, I do.”

Quackity narrowed his eyes, “Trust me, Tommy. I am not a cop.”

“You’re pretty nosy,” Tommy pointed out.

Quackity blinked, “I guess you’re right, but it’s curiosity more than anything. I haven’t had a talk about small-scale crime in forever, I was missing it.”

Tommy snorted, “The other weapon is a little larger scale.”

Quackity’s interest was officially piqued, “Oh?”

“It is a historical artifact. I think from the seventeen hundreds? Owned by a pirate,” Tommy grinned, “Stole it kind of accidentally from a museum.”

“How do you accidentally steal from a museum?” Quackity asked, “You need to fill me in on your thieving techniques.”

“It really was an accident, at first,” Tommy said, “I didn’t notice it till I was on the street, and then I decided to just keep it.”

Quackity didn’t miss the way he cut his eyes away momentarily. He was omitting something from his story. Quackity grinned, “You must be lucky then.” Everything the kid said or lied about made Quackity more interested in him, “You know, I can think of a few people who would be very interested in that sort of luck.” He eyed Tommy and Charlie’s eyes flickered to him in the mirror.

Tommy frowned, then realization dawned on his face and he held his hands up quickly, “Oh, no, I don’t think I could work at Las Nevadas, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Why not?”

“I already have a job,” Tommy tucked his hands into his sleeves again, “It's part of the deal for my probation ending. If I tried to quit I’d be in Pa-prison in seconds.”

Quackity didn’t miss the slip up on the word ‘prison,’ but he didn't mention anything, just tucking the information away, “That’s too bad, well, I can always introduce you to someone if you ever are interested. How long do you have to do that job?”

Tommy shrugged, “I don’t really know, until they say I can stop?” He frowned, a flicker of anger and betrayal on his features.

Alarm bells were ringing in Quackity’s head but he didn’t let any of it show on his face or in his body language. Tommy was so expressive, it was refreshing, but he would probably be eaten alive if he tried Quackity’s work. Though Quackity knew he could find work for someone like Tommy anyways. Someone who wore throwing knives knew how to use them, no doubt about it. “That’s a shame,” he said with the appropriate amount of sadness, because it really was. It was a damn waste. People like Tommy had the makings of good fucking villains. That anger that presumably was at people who took away his choices, the constant threat of prison and the lack of concern with crime. Quackity would eat his tie if Tommy never dipped into heavier crime than illegal possession of weapons, which was no worse than possession of some drugs. He paused, thinking.

“How long were you on probation?” He asked. 

“Two years,” Tommy said.

Two years? For owning some weapons? Not just anyone would get that sort of sentence for that sort of crime at Tommy’s age. Either that or he had owned an entire fucking armory, “That’s a long probation for your crime,” Quackity said, hiding his prodding with false confusion.

Tommy snorted, “I know, right? Apparently I’m ‘dangerous.’” He rolled his eyes and put air quotes around the word.

Quackity stilled momentarily, calculating. “Oh?” If he ever hired Tommy he’d have to teach the kid when to stop talking because Quackity was already gathering way too much information about him. For example, Tommy definitely had powers, the type to make the government nervous, but not enough to instantly lock him up.

Tommy paused, seeming to realize he was talking too much, at least he knew not to spill explicit facts, “Yep,” he said with finality.

Quackity hid a smile, “So how do you know Wilbur?” The mention of his ex wasn’t exactly the best change of conversation, but Tommy latched onto it quickly.

“I used to clean his family’s house,” Tommy said.

Quackity blinked, stunned. The kid wasn’t lying, “The Watsons let a random kid clean their house?”  Wilbur’s family was significantly more secretive than Quackity, and for good reason. They had a nice home in the city and civilian reputations aside from their Syndicate identities. Just one look in Techno’s room should be enough to send any self respecting person miles in the opposite direction, but then, Tommy had proven his uniqueness to Quackity already.

“Yeah? Is that unusual?” Tommy asked, looking confused.

“They’re usually pretty secretive, so yeah,” Quackity said. Then something occurred to him, “Did you ever see Techno’s room?”

Tommy’s eyes lit up so bright they could have be used as high beams on a car, “Yeah, it was fucking epic. I hope I have as many weapons as him some day.”

The look on Tommy’s face at just the thought of so many deadly weapons was enough to make Quackity consider giving the kid more knives and swords than Techno just to see his joy, but he restrained himself. It wouldn’t do to doom him to potential Pandora if that hero ever checked up on him again, probation over or not, “He does have a lot,” Quackity said. Maybe if he just kept some in Las Nevadas for the kid? No, he was being ridiculous. 

“They must have cost a fortune,” he said, still dreamy, then something sad crossed his face and the emotion rapidly decayed into bittersweet sadness.

“What?” Quackity asked, confused. Was Tommy sad he didn’t have that many weapons?

“I uh, haven’t really been in touch with the Watsons in a while,” he said awkwardly.

“Why not?”

“I cut off contact, I didn’t want to mess with their reputation or anything,” Tommy didn’t make eye contact, glancing out the windows.

“Oh,” Quackity frowned, “I doubt it would be that bad to talk with them, there’s no crime in befriending a kid with a criminal history.”

“No,” Tommy agreed, “But there is a crime in giving said kid a dagger.” His eyes met Quackity's.

Quackity blinked, “What?”

“Techno gave me the knife I was found with, that got me on probation. They asked me where I got it so I told them I stole it. Dream walked me to their house and I had to apologize for stealing a dagger that Techno gave to me as a gift,” Tommy snorted, but it was humorless, “Luckily Phil caught on to the improv.”

Dream had gone to the Watson’s home over a kid stealing a dagger? Things weren’t adding up, but Tommy looked like he was done oversharing, unfortunately. Quackity was apparently going to be doing some follow up work with the Syndicate here soon, “I’m sorry,” he offered.

Tommy brightened, “It’s okay, I have some weapons still.” He patted his sleeves.

Quackity snorted and they fell into easier conversation till they reached Las Nevadas, though Quackity only half paid attention, thinking over Tommy’s oddities.

Once Charlie pulled in front of the main entrance, Quackity climbed out, Charlie holding the door for him while Tommy gaped up at the building. Quackity didn’t stop his grin, he loved seeing people’s shock when they first arrived at Las Nevadas.

“So, what are you hungry for?” Quackity asked his young friend, buttoning the top button on his suit coat.

Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know, I haven’t eaten out in a while.”

Quackity hummed, “We’ll go to my favorite place then,” he suggested and Tommy nodded easily, still taking in the sights. Quackity chuckled as he led the way into the casino. Was Tommy old enough to be there? Probably not, but oh well, Quackity owned the place.

He took the kid to a nice grill and made the waiter give Tommy a menu without prices listed, which he could tell made the kid nervous but Quackity silenced any complaints easily, claiming he owed him a favor, which was true, but not this sort of favor. Sitting on a curb to keep a drunken Quackity in one spot sure required a reward, but not a seventy dollar steak, but Quackity didn’t mind, because Tommy interested him and he couldn’t help but to see him as an investment. The way he fingered the knives in his sleeves, the way he sat so he could see the entrance, the way he finally relaxed and swear words flowed freely and a grin spread across his face, bringing more color to those blue eyes. Tommy was too sad for a kid his age and Quackity wanted to know why. He also wouldn’t mind ruining whoever had hurt him, but that wasn’t what mattered. Quackity barely knew this kid but he was already more than willing to tear down whatever necessary for him, Tommy had that sort of effect. He was a magnetic sort of force, once you got past the insults and wariness he was quick to smile and smart as a whip. Quackity also didn't mind the thought of influencing him more towards villainy.

Finally Quackity led Tommy back out to the car he had texted Charlie to bring around and they drove back to the city, Tommy chatting animatedly about his sword. Apparently his only hobby was swinging it around. Sure, illegal, but not nearly as exciting as Quackity had first assumed. It actually sounded boring, but Quackity didn’t say that to Tommy, he just listened.

When they dropped the kid off at his apartment, Tommy taking long strides up the stairs into the decrepit building, Quackity turned to Charlie, “The Watson’s house.”

The Watson’s mansion was as insultingly opulent as usual and Quackity walked onto their front porch with Charlie behind him. He wasn’t stupid enough to drop by unexpectedly on the Syndicate’s doorstep alone. He wasn't wearing his mask though and he kept his height natural. He struggled with himself as he climbed the stairs, knowing that he would have to face his ex a little too soon for his liking, but then he couldn't just not know what was different about Tommy. He already was attached to the kid, that meant he needed to know more.

Phil stood in the door before Quackity even came to a stop at it, shadows behind him attempted to coalesce into his infamous wings, but not quite solid. He looked conflicted as to what sort of visit this was. “Quackity,” he finally settled on, the wings melting away.

“Phil,” Quackity confirmed, “I have some questions for you.”

Phil frowned, “Come in.”

Quackity did, awkwardly taking in the foyer, seeing Wilbur at the top of the stairs, glaring down at him. “Hello,” he greeted carefully.

“What are you doing here?” Wilbur snapped.

Techno stepped into sight in the kitchen, apparently sharpening his broadsword, obviously meant to intimidate Quackity. It was working. Just looking at the man had his mouth aching with phantom pains.

“I met a kid the other day,” Quackity said vaguely, remembering that Tommy had been hiding from Wilbur when he had found him, “Tommy.”

All three members of the Syndicate tensed at once. Suspicious as fuck. Especially with how Techno gave up on sharpening his sword to instead hold it with both hands. If he had been willing to hand over part of his... hoard to the kid he had to be attached.

“He told me he used to clean your house,” Quackity mused as calmly as he could, though he knew Charlie behind him was as tense as the Syndicate members, “I had lunch with him and learned quite a lot about him. Not enough though.”

“What do you know?” Phil asked, tone cold, calculating, and overall protective. This kid had it fucking golden if all three of the strongest villains in the city were this protective of him. Too bad he didn’t know.

“He got off probation yesterday. He walked out of his apartment with knives in his sleeves and socks. He apparently “accidentally” stole a sword from a museum. He was walked to your front door by Dream himself and then proceeded to cover for Techno here. He was given a shit sentence for weapon possession, and he’s genuinely smart and funny,” Quackity listed on his fingers. Then after some consideration he added another point, “And he’d make a good fucking villain.”

The Watsons all glanced at each other, then Phil spoke again, “We kidnapped him two years ago, that’s how he got the sword. Techno went back for the sword but the kid knew how to use it somehow. They used to spar when Techno was in the mask,” Phil hesitated, “His ability is weapons mastery and he’s good. He could go toe to toe with Techno by now, probably.”

Quackity nodded slowly, “What’s his job?” Going toe to toe with Blood God? Only Dream could claim that title and that fucker was still scared to draw blood on him.

Phil cocked his head in a birdlike way, “What do we get for that information?”

Quackity sighed, pinching his brows, sometimes his job sucked, “I’ll tell you what I know about that hero they announced yesterday.”

“Straight from Schlatt?” Wilbur asked slowly.

Quackity nodded. It seemed fair. A nobody kid and a nobody hero, their information should be exchanged fairly.

“Tommy is a hero,” Techno said, “They gave him an ultimatum when they caught him. Hero or Pandora, and he was smart. He killed four thieves, your people, if I remember right, and hospitalized a fifth who you later got rid of on your own. They scared the shit outta him and his ability protected him from what he interpreted as mortal danger. He’s lucky they offered in the first place.”

Quackity’s eyes widening, knowing already who Tommy was. He should have known the moment he had seen him in red. “Oh shit.”

“You must know, then?” Phil asked slowly.

Quackity rubbed a temple, “He’s that new hero, Theseus.”

Techno nodded, gaze intent.

“He stabbed you like not even a week ago!” Quackity snapped at Wilbur whose arm was still in a sling, part of the reason they had broken up in the first place, “Why are you still defending him?”

“He’s a good kid!” Wilbur snapped back, “And he doesn’t know it’s me.”

“Shit,” Quackity said, more to himself than anything, “Well, Schlatt’s already got it out for him. Today he told me that Theseus was too dangerous, he’s not allowed to use his ability on the job. I think he thought telling me that might get the kid killed faster. He’s stationed on the outskirts in Mesmo and Riptide’s territory. No back up and only a baton.” Now, usually this sort of information meant that Quackity got some easy bait for some villain looking to make a name by killing a hero, but now Quackity was already planning on how he could blackmail the notoriously deadly duo who owned that territory into not killing the kid somehow. 

“Shit,” Phil said, his wings flickering into existence, fluffed up defensively. It had always puzzled Quackity how they acted like real wings when they were just materialized shadows, but he had never asked. That seemed rather personal.

Techno hefted his sword, eyes turning red, “Schlatt did that?”

“He’s just threatened by Tommy,” Wilbur growled, “Dream was his mentor, Tommy must have proven to be stronger than Dream.”

Quackity frowned, the mental image of Tommy fighting the faceless, masked Dream was too bizarre, “That’s unlikely. Sure, I guess he’s good, but no one can get past Dream’s ability.”

Techno scoffed, “If anyone could it would be Tommy, once he figures out how to properly use his ability.”

“What do you mean?” Quackity asked.

“He has no limitations,” Techno said with a smirk.

“He said he can’t use firearms,” Quackity said.

“Do you realize how many other types of weapons there are?” Techno scoffed, “That opens up to many possibilities. If I’m right it could spread past just traditional weapons too.”

“What do you mean?” Quackity frowned.

“The first time we fought, in the museum,” Techno began, more talkative than Quackity had seen in a long time, “He held his own with a mop handle.”

Quackity frowned, “What?”

“He was using a mop handle like a staff,” Techno said, “And his ability was working on it. I don’t know for sure, but I think it has more to do if something can be used as a weapon than if it is a weapon.”

Quackity paused. If that was the case, Tommy could apply his ability to practically anything if done properly. “Schlatt must suspect that.”

“Then the kid has a one way ticket to Pandora already,” Techno said, looking slightly angry, which, in the world of Techno expressions, meant downright enraged, “He doesn’t know that and if pressured enough he’ll inevitably accidentally use his ability.”

“Can I kill Schlatt?” Wilbur asked softly.

“Can you kill Dream?” Phil asked in response.

Wilbur huffed, “Lame.”

Quackity was already thinking though. Could he just kidnap Tommy, convince him to work as a villain? Probably not. The kid was trying to not become a criminal, even if he had a blatant disregard for the weapon restrictions. All they could do was watch over him from a distance then. Quackity swore under his breath, “We just have to protect him the best we can then.”

The other villains didn’t look happy about that, but they nodded anyway. They probably had embraced this role two years ago when Tommy had first been a sidekick. Now though, he was a hero, he was going to face a lot more issues and somehow the four of them had to keep him alive without anyone knowing.

Chapter Text

Tommy walked into his first day on the job as a full hero and picked up his assignment for the week. He had a six day work week as a hero, less than he used to be forced to work with Dream, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. His fingers still tingled faintly from where he had pushed his ability to cover his sword for the entire day yesterday. The thought of it had his fingers twitching and a smirk on his face that made him glad that he didn’t have his mouth exposed anymore. He definitely didn't have any excuse for his ridiculously good mood. 

His assignment was a notoriously crime ridden sector of the city with two very powerful villains mostly keeping control of the area. Tommy wasn’t oblivious to the obvious attempt to get him killed on the job, but as he ran across rooftops to get to his sector he felt determination flowing through his veins and he smiled down at the cracked streets, already feeling a protectiveness for the area. He wouldn’t let Schlatt get rid of him that quickly. He would protect this sector to the best of his ability and he would be the best hero. He wouldn't tolerate anything less for himself. He would prove himself. 

As Tommy worked his way through the area, he began to make a mental map of it, avoiding the streets since poor areas rarely like heroes. There were countless dark alleys and too many sketchy people probably dealing drugs, but Tommy wasn’t worried about them. If the rumors of this sector were right, he should be keeping an eye out for people’s immediate safety, not things like small dealers. He could deal with that sort of thing when muggings, robberies, and villain activity were less frequent.

Speaking of muggings, Tommy came to a halt, peering down at the man holding a young man at gunpoint. Tommy sighed to himself. He hated dealing with guns. The sounds and the damage they could cause were just awful. He still jumped onto the fire escape, feet light as he climbed down to the street level, working hard to not let himself be heard.

"Hand it over," the mugger hissed to his victim.

The man raised his hands, they were trembling just slightly, "I really don't have my wallet on me." Tommy dropped soundlessly to the alley floor, drawing his baton.

"I don't believe you!" The mugger snarled, shoving his gun closer to the man's face. Alarmed, Tommy lunged forward and slammed his baton into the man's wrist. The mugger cried out, dropping the gun and Tommy followed up the blow, hitting the pistol out of the air out into the street as if his baton was a bat. Tommy then punched the mugger in the face and kicked the back of his knee. The soon-to-be inmate cried out as he fell to his knees and Tommy slammed the butt of his baton into the back of the man's skull. He fell forward, limp. Tommy didn't bother catching him as he fell face first on the filthy alley ground.

Tommy blinked down at the unconscious man and his faintly glowing baton, "That was easy," he said, mostly to himself. A strangled noise reminded Tommy of the victim and he looked up at the young man, "Oh shit, man, are you hurt?" He reached out.

The man stumbled back, "Don't touch me!"

Tommy froze, at first worried and confused when he then realized that this was his first time out and about. Not to mention that he was wearing red and black, notoriously villain colors, and was in a sector infamously ignored by the Tower, "Oh, I'm sorry, let me introduce myself," Tommy tried to squint his eyes as if he were smiling, "My name is Theseus, I'm a hero and will be working this area."

The man's fear rapidly became suspicion and wariness, "A hero?"

Tommy nodded, "Yeah! I'm a new graduate, but I will do my best."

The man squinted, "Yeah, we were fine without you heroes."

Tommy looked down at the unconscious mugger for a beat then back up at the man, "Uh huh," He said, nodding slowly.

The man rolled his eyes, "Yeah, this shit happens, no need to be dramatic about it."

"It's kinda my job," Tommy said, "It's okay if you don't like me, but I'll still be here taking care of people."

The man took another step back, "I don't trust heroes. Ever since Warden turned. You lot are too powerful and no one cares to make sure you don't turn villain."

Tommy winced. Warden was something of a hero traitor. He had been incredibly involved in secret Tower projects and on the hero scene and then he had abruptly changed, turning full villain. He was something of a sore subject in the Tower. "The Tower broke L'manburg's trust, I understand."

The man scoffed, "Just fuck off, will you?"

Tommy decided to laugh instead of flip the man off in return. He was a hero, he had to be the bigger person, it was literally his job description, "Once I call the cops on this asshole, sure!"

"I'll call, just restrain him," The man wrinkled his nose in disgust at the mugger as he pulled out his phone.

Tommy gave him a thumbs up and then knelt to zip tie the mugger's wrists and ankles together, finding it fairly amusing. Then he made sure the man wasn't face down before he waved to the would-be-victim who flipped him off as he talked with the police and Tommy climbed back up the fire escape to resume his patrol. Not a bad start to things.

As he patrolled he thought of the friendly heroes he had met lately, smiling to himself. It really seemed like he had a warped perspective of the Hero Tower, with Dream as a mentor. Maybe he really could find a place for himself? Maybe one day he would be comfortable with his coworkers and be something like friends with some of them? The thought made him both nervous and excited.

Footsteps to his right had him looking over, mildly alarmed. The sun was setting, so the figure was illuminated from behind by an orange sky. Tommy rested a hand on his baton, curious more than anything. He couldn’t see anything about the person yet and he didn’t want to attack just anyone. It was his first day, not a good way to start off his reputation, beating the shit out of a civilian just because they were standing on a roof. 

“Hey there,” he greeted, trying for a cheerful note in his voice, but it was hidden by his voice changer. The person edged sideways and now that Tommy could see them properly, Tommy recognized them as none other than Riptide. She wasn’t tall, but she held herself like she was, clearly well aware of how powerful she was. Her white-blonde hair was short and blew across her face, giving her a crazed look. She wore a gas mask over her face and her gear was somewhat mismatched, but all in tones of blue and grey. At her waist were rows and rows of corked vials full of water, and tubes ran along her body, probably full of water too.

“You’re new,” She noted, a voice changer making her sound like she was underwater, her voice warped.

He nodded slowly, drawing his baton, “Yes, I am.” He didn't know if he would stand a chance against Riptide, and her didn't fancy dying, but he also couldn't, in good faith, just let her go on her way. 

She began to circle him with a wide radius, “What is your name?”

“Theseus.”

“Ah, they announced you yesterday, didn’t they?” Her voice was vaguely amused, “Schlatt must really hate you to assign you to our sector.”

Tommy recalled quite suddenly that Riptide was never without her friend, Mesmo. He began to scan his surroundings for the other villain, “Nah, I’m just that good,” he bluffed.

She laughed, “You’re funny.”

“Thank you,” Tommy muttered, still looking for Mesmo as he still tracked Riptide’s location.

“Do you only have a baton?” She seemed puzzled.

“It’s good enough for you,” Tommy said as confidently as he could, then he saw Mesmo. The man was crouched half behind an AC unit. He wore all black, a hood over his face, big red and blue goggles over his eyes and a black mask over the bottom of his face. He saw when Tommy saw him and cocked his head, standing. Tommy felt a little too cornered for his liking, especially with Riptide edging to put Tommy between her and her partner. 

“For both of us? You must have a good power then,” Mesmo’s overly electronic voice came to Tommy.

“The best,” Tommy scoffed, trying to move to where he could see both of them at the same time. 

“I guess we’ll find out then,” Riptide said cheerfully before suddenly three vials at her waist opened and she commanded their contents out, water swirling like a whip around her. Riptide could command water, but not large amounts. She tended to use it to whip, restrain, and then drown heroes. She had killed two heroes before. Tommy met her mid way, his baton passing uselessly through her water, and the tail of her water whip cracked him in the face, right above his right eye. He rolled closer, going for her legs but then Mesmo was there, a large hammer slamming into the roof right where Tommy had been moments before.

Tommy got to his feet, wishing he had his daggers, and he turned to face the more immediate danger of Mesmo, but the bastard used his powers on the shockwave from his hammer, making Tommy’s world warp and spin almost comically. Mesmo could use shock waves to cause confusion. Tommy blinked rapidly, and in his distraction Riptide’s water whip wrapped around his baton, ripping it away. Tommy snarled and lunged for Mesmo. Mesmo reeled back his hammer and as it came down Tommy blocked it on a forearm, trying to deflect it sideways, which worked but he still cried out in pain. It got him inside the man’s guard though and he slammed a fist into Mesmo's gut, but the man was wearing a bulletproof vest and barely flinched. Tommy swore as the man swung an elbow for Tommy’s face. He barely leaned back fast enough for the armored elbow to sail harmlessly over his head and he dropped to the ground, wrapping an arm around one of Mesmo’s ankles, kicking a leg around the other one, unbalancing him. Mesmo fell and something was getting into Tommy’s eye, but Tommy ignored it in favor of straddling the villain, water cracking against his body. He grit his jaw and drew back an arm, landing a punch on Mesmo’s jaw before suddenly water was in his face. Tommy barely slammed the emergency shut to his vents in time to cut off the water, but a small amount still got in. He clenched his jaw shut but it just went to his nose. He panicked, reaching for the first thing he could, anything that would hurt Riptide badly enough before she lacerated his lungs with a little blade of water like she liked to do. His hand closed on a small rock as the water began to force its way into his nostrils. The rock was slightly pointed. He wanted it to draw blood, so he threw it as hard as he could, barely able to focus enough to aim right, and somehow it sailed right for the glass lens over her eye, cracking the glass. It apparently startled her because the water lost form momentarily.

Tommy got to his feet, dodging Mesmo’s attempts to grab his ankles, and charged the smaller of the villains. Luckily she wasn’t far away and he somehow landed a kick on her face. She stumbled to the ground and Tommy opened the vents on his mask momentarily to shake the water out of it before he sealed it again. Then he slammed the toe of his steel toed sneaker into the villain’s face, the already fractured glass in that left eye shattering and she screamed until her head hit pavement and she fell silent. 

Then a boom rattled Tommy. Mesmo was on his feet and his hammer in his hands. The world spun out of Tommy’s control and he swayed, trying to watch the man. At this point he had realized that when Riptide had hit him over his right eye she had cut his skin and so the blood was what was messing with his vision and at this point he could barely see out of the eye at all so he just kept it closed. Mesmo lifted his hammer again and this time it was aiming for Tommy. Tommy made a split second decision, allowing the hammer to hit his ribs, knocking the air out of him in a sharp cracking noise, but he slapped his hands around the handle of the weapon, tugging backwards and the villain stumbled forward. Tommy moved forward at the same time and slammed another punch into the man’s face, the only place he knew would actually cause damage. Mesmo’s head whipped back and the man lost the grip on his hammer. Tommy ripped it out of his hands and was about to use it, the red glow flickering to cover it, hands warm and tingling, when he remembered his rules and threw the weapon as hard as he could over the side of the roof. No weapons for Theseus. Tommy grit his jaw as Mesmo lifted his fists.

“You’re not bad,” the man snarled.

Tommy shook out his hands, raising his own fists, “Why thank you,” he said.

Then, something collided with the side of his knee and his leg fell out from under him, his breath catching painfully with his surely fractured ribs after Mesmo’s hammer. He dropped into the most painful roll of his life, getting away. When he righted himself Riptide stood with Mesmo, his baton in her hand. Tommy kept his hands up, eyeing them.

“Not bad for a first meeting,” Riptide said, “We’re leaving now though.” Then the woman snapped back an arm, throwing Tommy’s baton at him. He narrowly dodged it and when he looked up the pair of villains were already fleeing. Tommy swore, grabbing his baton and moving to pursue, but suddenly his leg collapsed from under him. He cried out, landing right on his face, his ribs screaming and the blood in his eye stinging.

Tommy laid there for a moment, just wondering if he had won or lost for a long while as he attempted to gather the strength and willpower to move again when he heard footsteps again. He immediately whipped into motion, grimacing in pain as he struggled upright, an arm over his ribs as he assessed his new opponent. He was a tall man wearing a plain mask, one half black, the other white, covering his whole face with opposite colored circles where his eyes were and his hair pulled back under a beanie colored similarly. His outfit carried the split white and black theme, claw-like things decorating the fingertips of his gloves. Tommy recognized him immediately. Domino. He was a vigilante who was quite notorious in this area and for fighting Riptide and Mesmo. He only ever stepped in if people were about to die and he popped up fairly randomly across the poor sectors. No one had caught him yet, mostly because the fucker could teleport.

“You must be Theseus,” The vigilante said, edging closer, his voice changer was the cheap type. 

Tommy nodded, “Yes. And you’re Domino.”

Domino cocked his head, coming to a stop a few feet away from Tommy, “You’re not a bad fighter.”

“No shit, it’s kinda my job,” Tommy grumbled, eyeing the vigilante, “Are you trying to get a couple cheap shots in?”

Domino shrugged, “Not quite, ever heard of the phrase ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, “So you’re proposing we work together?”

Domino nodded.

Tommy snorted, “I can’t do that, so fuck off before I have to try to arrest you or some shit.”

Domino didn’t have to be told twice, vanishing instantly, leaving behind a few flickering purple particles. 

Tommy huffed, beginning his rather painful walk back to the Tower. Heroes could only really get healthcare at the Tower anyways and he didn’t have another hero in his sector to call for help.

He made it, somehow, stumbling through the door, tasting blood and blind in an eye from the blood from that cut Riptide’s water whip had given him. He glared around the lobby of suddenly silent guests, tourists, and receptionists before making his way to the elevator. Eyes followed him, people whispering amongst themselves wondering who he was and what had happened to him. The receptionists uneasily named him and assured the onlookers that he was just fine. If he wasn’t he would have been assisted by other heroes. They told the concerned people that it was just Theseus. He’s dramatic. Tommy rolled his eyes and spammed the button to close the elevator doors. 

Once he limped into the infirmary a disapproving Ponk greeted him. The man had a healing ability and therefore wore a disguise, but he rarely left the Tower, instead running the infirmary and making sure no heroes died. That in and of itself was a full-time job.

“Theseus,” Ponk said, eyeing Tommy up and down.

Tommy grunted, “Mesmo and Riptide decided to welcome me to the job,” He muttered.

“Alright, come on then,” Ponk said dryly, gesturing for Tommy to follow. He led Tommy to a bed and drew a privacy screen around them. “Alright, what’s the damage?”

“Took a hammer to the ribs, hammer to the arm, cut over my eye, and my right knee took a hit from the side, not to mention assorted cuts and bruises from Riptide’s whip,” Tommy listed.

“Alright, take off your shirt so I can take a look at your ribs,” Ponk said, “Did she get any water in your lungs?”

Tommy shook his head, “Almost did but I managed to knock her out briefly before she could get farther than my nose.” He shed his jacket, setting it aside and began untucking his turtleneck.

Ponk grunted, “Good.” Tommy pulled his shirt over his head, struggling a bit as the cloth caught on his mask and Ponk wasted no time pressing cold fingers to Tommy’s side. Tommy yelped from a mixture of the cold and pain from the pressure, but Ponk was not deterred, dragging his fingertips over Tommy’s skin.

“Two broken ribs,” The healer noted, then he knelt, pulling off Tommy’s right shoe and pushing up his pant leg to inspect Tommy’s bruising knee, a hand wrapped around the swelling joint, “Bruising… damaged your tendons pretty epically. You’re lucky nothing dislocated.” Then he stood, pushing Tommy’s head back and pushing his hair up to inspect the cut, “And this isn’t bad, maybe two butterfly bandages, no healing,” The man muttered before roughly grabbing Tommy's arm, “Just some bruising, nothing broken,” he announced.

Tommy watched as the man then pressed both hands flat against Tommy’s ribs and Tommy’s breath caught in his throat as a coldness reached into his body and righted his ribs. It had goosebumps all over his arms and he struggled to breathe properly. Then the healer wasted no time before moving to his knee and repeating the action. When the healer moved away to get something to clean Tommy’s face Tommy was shivering, pushing his pant leg down. He had never gotten healed by Ponk before and now he knew why so many heroes complained about it. It was a downright miserable experience. At least he didn’t have two broken ribs and a nearly dislocated knee anymore. 

“If you have any other injuries pop up let me know,” Ponk said as he pressed stinging antiseptic to Tommy’s cut. 

Tommy hissed through his teeth, “Alright,” he managed.

Ponk huffed as he cleaned blood out of Tommy’s eye and then closed the wound with two bandages, luckily it was already beginning to scab over. “Next time don’t come in the front door. The public doesn't like the reminder that heroes actually get hurt on the job.”

Tommy nodded, “Alright.” It wasn’t news to him that heroes did more protecting of their image than actual hero work, but it still wasn’t a fun reminder that he wasn’t allowed to be injured.

“Now, think of a good excuse for when you’re out of uniform,” Ponk instructed, “You’re off for the rest of the night. I want you to stay here in case something pops up, but still try to sleep some. When I healed you I used your energy, not my own, so you'll be tired. It takes a bit to settle.”

Tommy nodded, feeling tired already, “Alright.”

Ponk snorted at is drooping eyes, “Sleep well, Theseus, I’m glad you survived meeting them, not many other heroes have been that lucky.” He offered Tommy a slight smile behind his mask before he shut the curtain and moved away. Now alone Tommy laid out on the small bed and didn’t bother getting completely dressed again as he fell asleep almost instantly.

---

Tommy was awoken by Ponk whipping the curtain open, “Wake up, time for you to go home.”

Tommy lurched upright, sore all over and struggling into wakefulness, “Uh, yeah.” He managed, comprehension coming later as he grabbed his shirt and jacket and attempted to get dressed with his eyes half closed. 

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” A bright voice asked.

Tommy pulled his turtleneck over his head finally, wincing as the cloth brushed the cut on his forehead and then got caught on his mask. He looked over to see Surge and Blaze standing there as he pulled his shirt straight and grabbed his jacket, combing through his mussed hair with a hand, “Uh, Mesmo and Riptide.”

Surge winced sympathetically, “That sucks man!”

Tommy blinked, still not fully awake, “Yeah, it does.” He felt more tired than he had before falling asleep. He was probably still working off the healing.

“Come on Theseus,” Blaze said, “I’ll get you home.”

Tommy squinted, aware enough to know to be wary with his identity.

“I already know what you look like and your name, I thought you might be most comfortable if I helped you, Surge will stay here,” Blaze said.

Tommy nodded, that made sense. He staggered to his feet, allowing Blaze to pull his arm over his shoulders. They ended up walking and Tommy didn’t quite remember getting there. One foot after the other. One foot after the other. He was half asleep as he walked.

“You must have been pretty injured if the healing got you this messed up,” Blaze muttered.

Tommy grunted, “Got fucked up.”

Blaze chuckled, “Fair enough.”

They walked some more. Then, someone shoved them into an alleyway. Tommy ran into a wall, struggling towards wakefulness as he heard voices.

“What's this?” A voice crooned.

Tommy leaned on the wall fully, reaching a hand to his baton and lifting his head to see Blaze standing between him and a masked figure. Distantly he recognized fearfully that the person before them was Warden. The hero turned villain had a gas mask similar to Riptide, but his theme was green and black. He was terrifying and known for killing heroes. No one knew why he had switched sides but no one had been able to stop him yet and he avoided Dream studiously.

“Warden,” Blaze’s voice was cold, “What are you doing here?”

Tommy wondered distantly as his knees trembled from the effort to keep upright if Blaze had known Warden before he switched sides.

“I recognized you from a distance and decided this was a good opportunity to get rid of a threat,” Warden answered casually.

“You know you can’t kill me,” Blaze scoffed, sparks flickering between his fingers.

“Oh, no, no,” Warden said, crooning, “I mean Theseus.”

Blaze stiffened, stepping so that Warden couldn’t see Tommy, though Tommy accidentally slid sideways, stumbling to stay upright on the wall, and got full view again, “I’m not letting you kill him," Blaze's voice was confident.

Warden didn't even have the curtesy to pretend to be threatened. “Tell me, why did a sidekick good enough for even Dream to take him in suddenly get stranded in the worst district? How is it that he has no noticeable ability except a very faint glow?" Warden stepped closer, "I’ll tell you, it’s because he never is allowed to use his ability, but then Punz gave him a knife and he suddenly could react to Blood God’s speed,” Warden pulled out his trident, pushing it towards Blaze, “That leaves me with the assumption he is stronger than Dream and Dream didn’t like that so he just did what he always has done when someone’s better than him, he gets rid of them.”

Blaze glowered at the man, “That’s my friend you’re talking about.”

“I know, which is why I wouldn't mind killing you too,” Warden said thoughtfully, “If you leave now I’ll let you live though.”

“Never,” Blaze spat, lunging at Warden, fire trailing from his hands as he moved. Tommy’s eyes were closing against his will and he fought for consciousness. How had the healing taken so much out of him? He gripped his baton tightly. To his sleep deluded mind the handle nearly felt like the hilt of a sword and a smile flickered on his face as vivid orange light beat on his eyelids, heat from Blaze's powers fanning his face. He realized his eyes were shut and jerked them open, seeing Blaze struggling to not die to Warden’s trident. Tommy wanted to help so badly. He wanted to use this baton like a real weapon. He wanted to brain the green and black fucker and slam steel into his temple. He wanted the man unconscious and then to keep hitting him. He wanted to hurt him. Who messes with a half asleep kid just trying to get home? Seriously.

Tommy realized he was moving when his baton crashed into Warden’s trident, knocking it out of its trajectory where it had been about to make a Blaze kebab. Tommy didn’t give the villain recovery time, he just slid the baton down the handle. Maybe he could break some fingers? He smiled at the thought. Batons were meant for finger breaking. The steel hit the villain’s gloves with a crack and Warden grunted, spinning his Trident as he faced Tommy. Tommy blinked and the next thing he knew he was slamming the base of the baton by his hand into Warden’s skull. Warden collapsed like a bag of sand and Tommy looked down, discovering that he couldn’t feel his left arm. He frowned looking down at his red sleeve, seeing it was torn in one place. Then he looked over in the faint red glow in the alleyway to see Blaze struggling upright from where he was on the ground, a deep cut in his right leg and another on his left side. The wound on his side was significantly worse than his leg.

Tommy blinked, so exhausted he barely managed to slur out a confused, “What happened?”

Blaze’s eyes widened, “You don’t remember?”

Tommy shook his head, frowning down at his baton and realized suddenly why the alleyway had a red glow. The baton was lit as bright as any sword would have been in his grasp and he vaguely remembered cracking that baton against the Warden’s body, hearing bones crack from the force of it, breaking his way past body armor somehow. Confused, Tommy frowned, about to ask when a baton was considered a weapon when his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, unconscious before he even knew it.

---

Sapnap gaped down at the unconscious Theseus at his feet right next to the unconscious Warden. He was in a state of shock. He had been badly losing against the former hero who even Dream struggled with. Warden was no one to be trifled with and Sapnap had known this wouldn’t end well. Then, out of nowhere Theseus’s baton had glowed so brightly that Sapnap had no choice but to notice as the young hero came in swinging. The fight had been so painfully leaning in Theseus’s favor that Sapnap had been shocked into distraction, being knocked back, a deep cut on his side. It seemed that Theseus had just switched on even more of the glow Sapnap was faintly familiar with, his eyes unfocused as his baton slammed into Warden’s body over and over. Sapnap stared at the villian's form. Warden was beaten by a kid with a stick who was half asleep. Theseus had knocked him out before apparently coming to his senses and asking what had happened as if he hadn’t been absolutely massacring a man who had been a top hero before switching sides. Sapnap recalled suddenly the footage of Theseus killing those robbers two years ago in a bank. They had never stood a chance, just how Warden hadn’t. 

Now what though? Warden and Theseus were unconscious, though Theseus was snoring faintly, which implied he was just asleep. Theseus had a deep cut in his arm, Sapnap knew he wouldn’t pull through with his own wounds without help, but Theseus had obviously used that ability that Sapnap knew Dream feared and Theseus wasn’t allowed to use, unless he wanted his life sucked away by Pandora. Sapnap didn’t have the skill to do that to Warden so there would be no hiding who had done it. Theseus would be in Pandora by the time he woke up. Sapnap grimaced at the thought of the kid rotting away. Sapnap didn't even like putting criminals in Pandora, some kid was ten times worse, easily.

Then an idea came to him and he pulled a business card out of his pocket. Quackity. Las Nevadas. He typed the number into his phone, and it rang a few times before it was picked up.

“Who the fuck is calling me a three am?” The man’s sleepy voice came through the device.

“Uh, it’s Blaze. You gave me your card when you were drunk?” Sapnap said carefully.

The man was silent for a moment and when he spoke again his voice was clearer, “What do you need?”

“You work for Gamble, right?” Sapnap bit his lip. Would he be turned down?

“Yes? What’s it to you?”

“I have a favor to ask, a big one,” Sapnap asked, trying to breath in through the pain, hand on his bleeding side. He could feel the blood loss slowly getting to him.

“Spit it out,” Quackity sounded impatient, moving.

“I have an unconscious Warden and a similarly unconscious and probably delirious Theseus in an alleyway,” Sapnap cringed, hoping to any god that might listen that this wouldn’t end as badly as it definitely could.

“You what ?” Quackity’s voice snapped, “How does that even happen?”

“Good question,” Sapnap muttered, groaning a bit as he sat against the wall, keeping an eye on Warden, but the villain hadn’t twitched. Just how hard had Theseus hit him? “Can someone pick us up? We all need healers.”

“Why not go to the Tower?” Quackity asked, his voice was a little more distant, shuffling.

“I’d like to keep Theseus out of Pandora,” Sapnap said.

“Alright, send me your location, I’ll have someone come for you,” Quackity said, “Don’t die or let either of them get away.”

Sapnap snorted, “I don’t think I could do much anyways, but I’ll try.” Then he hung up and texted the man his location. About thirty minutes later a car came to a screaming stop outside of the alley, three men getting out of a black van. Two ran and one walked. Sapnap struggled upright from how he had slowly slumped over on the ground, the world swaying, and he struggled to keep focused. None other than Gamble walked towards him as a man in a fox mask and another without a mask took in the alley, moving to Warden and Theseus, removing their weapons from their limp hands though Theseus apparently had a death grip on his baton since it took a rather rough tug to get the baton from his fingers.

Gamble eyed both of them, “Get them in the van, keep them sedated.” Then he looked at Sapnap. “Blaze,” he appraised the hero, “You’re injured?”

Sapnap nodded slowly, leaning on the wall to watch Warden getting roughly dragged into the van while the man holding Theseus under the arms impatiently told the fox masked man how to do it more efficiently. “I owe you for this,” He said.

Gamble nodded slowly, “You do. Come then.”

Sapnap swallowed, pushing himself to his feet fully as he stumbled after the tall villain. He nearly fell immediately and Gamble barely caught him in time, steadying him. Sapnap gasped at the pain from the movement.

“Stupid heroes,” Gamble muttered shrinking in height so Sapnap’s arm fit over his shoulders more easily as he helped the man to the van. The unmasked man was in the driver’s seat and the fox masked man in the passenger seat. Gamble helped Sapnap up and to a seat on the side of the van, slamming the door shut behind him. The villain then sat beside him, eyeing where Theseus and Warden were laid out, a man in an oversize purple hoodie with swirls up the arms and a similar mask on the bottom of his face was inspecting them.

“Are you the healer?” Sapnap asked.

The man held up Warden’s hand, the fingers looking oddly angled even in the glove, “Something like that, haven’t seen something like this in a while though.”

Sapnap snorted, but the movement sent pain through his body.

“He’s bleeding all over my van, Chronos,” Gamble grumbled, “Heal him first.”

The man, Chronos, nodded, turning to face Sapnap, his fluffy hair falling in his eyes. He didn’t spare Sapnap a greeting or even questions, he just immediately went to his side, hands hovering over Sapnap’s side. Sapnap watched the man’s delicate hands nervously, already dreading the anticipated coldness. Gamble was digging for something beside their bench, but Sapnap didn’t look away as a purple glow emanated from Chronos’s hands. The moment the glow hit Sapnap's side, an intense wave of nausea flooded him and he gagged instantly and he slapped his hand over his mouth as the glow intensified. Sapnap watched in something like horror as the blood on him and the seat around him went back into his body, the skin knitting shut just how it had been made. Then it was done and Sapnap couldn’t hold back the nausea anymore, but Gamble held out a bucket, apparently what he had been getting. He accepted it gladly, ripping his mask off to empty the contents of his stomach into the bucket. Chronos didn’t even hesitate, he just moved to Sapnap’s thigh which had clotted but once the glow touched it, the blood began to flow again, only it didn’t drip, it just went back into Sapnap’s body and the nausea hit again, leaving him retching painfully even a while after Chronos stopped using his power.

Finally Sapnap lifted his head, wiping his face as he glared up at the man who just watched him with a cocked head, “You have a shit power,” he snapped.

Chronos laughed lightly, “What can I say, it isn’t meant for healing.”

Sapnap placed the vomit bucket aside and watched uneasily as Chronos resumed inspecting Warden, “Still shit,” Sapnap muttered, his stomach still rolling but not threatening to make him gag again.

“So, care to explain what happened here?” Gamble asked.

Sapnap glanced in the villain’s direction before looking back at Warden’s now exposed hand as Chronos inspected the obviously broken fingers, “Well Theseus got injured on the job today and our healer can leave you pretty drained so it was my job to get him home. When we were going home Warden ambushed us, trying to kill Theseus while he was out of it…” Sapnap trailed off, very aware of who he was speaking to.

“This information is part of the favor you owe me,” Gamble said firmly, “Chronos can always return those injuries and we can drop you off back on the street.”

Sapnap winced, what was worse, Pandora or Gamble knowing things about you? “He had some theories about Theseus and decided he wanted to get rid of him while he wasn’t a threat. I tried to protect Theseus but obviously I can't do much against Warden, and I was about to get skewered when Theseus suddenly lunged in… He… His ability is Weapons Mastery and it’s never worked except very faintly on batons and that’s just if he pushes it, but tonight… It was glowing so brightly it looked like a glowstick from his aura and he beat Warden that badly,” Sapnap nodded to the unconscious villain as Chronos pulled up his shirt to inspect some impressively bruised ribs, especially considering his body armor, “None of that is my work. Theseus was half asleep and he beat Warden up that badly and then when he knocked him unconscious he seemed to come to his senses, asked me what happened and then just passed out.”

Gamble’s mask was directed at Theseus, his posture casual but still tense, “He wasn’t aware of what he had done?”

Sapnap shook his head, “No, but he isn’t allowed to use his power, so if the Tower found out about this, he’d be in Pandora, and I might be with him, if they knew I went to you.” He directed a glare at the man.

Gamble nodded, “Obviously.”

Sapnap scoffed, shaking his head, “Any way I can make sure this doesn't get back to Schlatt?” He asked, knowing that the information dealer frequented the Tower.

Gamble looked at him, hopefully considering, “We’ll see,” he said, “You definitely owe me more than one favor for this though.”

“What, an unconscious and badly beaten Warden doesn’t count as a bonus?” Sapnap grumbled.

“We work together on occasion,” Gamble said thoughtfully, “Though I know some people who might be interested in meeting with him given recent developments.” The man’s voice turned dark.

Sapnap shuddered. He wondered who Warden had pissed off.

“Well this has really been rather enlightening, but I’d rather not let you know too much about the inner workings of Las Nevadas,” Gamble said lightly and something pricked Sapnap’s neck, his sight unfocusing instantly, “We’ll talk more when you wake up,” the man promised as Sapnap slipped unconscious, falling into Gamble's arms, the villain catching him with a chuckle.

---

Quackity was both enraged and a tiny bit flattered. So Warden thought he could just try to kill Tommy? Not on his watch. Then of all people, Blaze showed the intelligence to know who to call. The hero had always been painfully loyal to his friends in the Dream Team, Quackity wondered what had changed as he held the unconscious hero’s head in his lap. Blaze looked so sweet and pretty when he wasn't awake and angry and Quackity tracked his eyes over the man’s sharp profile thoughtfully as Chronos healed the countless bruises on Warden’s body.

“He really did a number on Warden,” Chronos noted.

Quackity looked up at his favorite rogue, smiling behind his mask as the man diligently worked, “He’s good.” Chronos was an anomaly. He didn’t fit in as a hero, villain, or a vigilante, so he had been dubbed a rogue. No one knew why he did what he did, but he didn’t hurt people or try to save them and certainly didn’t work for the government, so he just floated around. Quackity liked to think he was friends with the man even though he hardly knew anything about him, a fact that annoyed the information dealer.

“Very good, if he can go toe to toe with Warden while half asleep from a healing,” Chronos muttered.

“Are the wounds bad?” Quackity asked, running his fingers through Blaze’s hair. It was so soft and the hero would definitely be spitting fire if he was awake, but Quackity had sedated him thoroughly enough to keep him under control that it wasn't a problem. 

“Considering the armor? Very. If Warden was any less protected he might have died,” Chronos said, glancing at Theseus, “It’s hard to believe that that kid did this.”

“Kid?” Quackity asked. Not because he didn’t know that Tommy was young, he just didn’t know how Chronos knew.

“He’s eighteen,” Chronos said with finality.

“How do you know?” Quackity asked.

Chronos turned exasperated eyes to Quackity, “Because I’m all knowing, that’s how.”

Quackity frowned, “I see.” He did not see. He could tell Chronos was just being difficult.

“And one of the things I know is that this is weird,” Chronos muttered, “I assume you know more than you’re letting on?”

“Right now I know the most,” Quackity said, “I know quite a lot about that kid and to be fair, it’s almost nice to see that I was right. For a while I had a hard time believing that he really was capable of so much violence.”

“He’ll kill a lot of people in his life,” Chronos said with a surety that had Quackity frown.

“What does that mean?” Quackity asked.

“Just what I said,” Chronos refused to elaborate.

Quackity squinted at the man, “I don’t like not knowing things, Chronos.”

“That makes two of us,” Chronos said sharply, cutting the conversation off.

Quackity glared, “Whatever, just, don’t heal Theseus’s arm.”

Chronos glared at him, “Why not?”

“I don’t want to die when he wakes up swinging,” Quackty muttered, eyeing Warden. The last thing he needed was a half conscious hero killing him before his business was finished.

Chapter Text

Tommy woke slowly. His eyes didn’t want to open, but the pain in his arm helped him come to awareness. He was laying on his back and vaguely heard chatter. Memories flooded back to him. Warden. He had fought the villain and then fallen unconscious. Blaze had been injured, badly. Shit. He forced his eyes open, seeing that he was laying on a rug in a strange room. The furniture was dark wood and the lighting was somewhat dim. He didn’t know where he was. The only comfort there was that it wasn't Pandora or Schlatt or Dream's offices. He didn't allow himself to be too hopeful yet though. He didn't let whoever else was in the room hear him waking up. 

His hands were tightly cuffed together, and he explored his belt for his baton, but didn’t find it. Violence wouldn't solve his current problems then. Pity. He rolled his head slightly to the side, seeing none other than Gamble himself seated at a desk, looking quite comfortable. Across from him, saying something urgently, was Blaze. The hero’s hands were cuffed as well, and behind him, barely in Tommy’s line of sight, was Warden, leaned back in his own chair, rolling his eyes at whatever Blaze was saying. 

Tommy had to do something, so he gathered energy. He didn’t see anything within arm’s reach that he could use as a weapon of sorts, but he would bet that Gamble would have weapons on him or at least something Tommy could stab with on his desk. Gathering his energy, Tommy lurched to his feet, his injured arm screaming at the pain, but Tommy’s eyes latched on a letter opener on the villain’s desk as all three men looked at Tommy in alarm. Tommy lunged forward, grabbing the letter opener and moving quickly with his bound wrists to grab the back of the stunned Gamble’s neck and slam the man’s jester mask into the surface of his desk, the letter opener clenched in Tommy’s hand biting into the wood of the desk beside his face.

Tommy leaned into Gamble’s ear, snarling, “Let Blaze and I go and I’ll let you live.” Warden must have been working for Gamble. Tommy glared up at where the black and green themed villain was staring at him with wide eyes.

Gamble didn’t move, “Blaze, educate your friend, would you?” The villain spat, sounding annoyed, but his voice had a tremor to it.

Tommy looked up at Blaze, the man’s mask was off and he was watching Tommy with something like fear, “Theseus, calm down, he helped us.”

Tommy snarled, “Then why the fuck is he here,” He nodded to Warden who had edged back in his chair. Warden lifted his hands which had been in his lap. They were cuffed too. What the fuck? Tommy blinked at the villain, then Blaze before directing his gaze down to Gamble.

“Would you let me go so I can explain?” Gamble growled.

Tommy was so stunned that he did as Gamble suggested, stumbling away, “What’s going on?”

Gamble stood, running a hand through his black hair and straightening his mask, “Right now I’m wishing we had kept you sedated,” He grumbled.

“Anyone would have done that,” Blaze snapped.

“Look, pretty boy,” Gamble growled at Blaze, “I prefer not almost dying,” He turned to face Tommy, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” His tone was tense but still apologetic.

Tommy took a step back, “Why do you have us here?”

“Because pretty boy here decided to use a favor. You’re in a bad place Theseus, I barely got the camera feeds wiped in time,” Gamble said.

“I have a name,” Blaze snapped, but he was blushing.

“Camera feeds?” Tommy asked warily.

“You used your ability,” Blaze said, “The Tower would have put you in Pandora.”

Tommy stiffened, remembering his brightly glowing baton, “I don’t even know how that happened, I didn’t mean to.”

“Excuses don’t change the facts, Theseus,” Warden said softly, his green eyes intent on Tommy, “And I really wish I had killed you when I had the chance.”

Tommy gripped his letter opener. If he could put enough force behind it he could probably get the dull blade past the villain’s clothes enough to cause real damage. He could aim for the exposed parts of his face… maybe blind him…

“None of that,” Gamble interrupted Tommy’s thoughts, eyes on the letter opener, “You won’t be killing Theseus and he won’t be killing you either.”

Tommy stiffened, he might have better luck with the letter opener on Gamble, a red light flickered at the edge of his vision but he ignored it in favor of glaring at the villain, “Why not?”

“Theseus!” Blaze spluttered, “You can’t kill them, really.”

“Why not?” Tommy repeated, annoyed now. 

“Because I have good ideas for both of you,” Gamble said, his head still angled down slightly, “Theseus, why don’t you put the letter opener and I’ll get you healed up?”

Tommy glared, “I don’t trust you, Gamble.” The letter opener could definitely cause damage on the suit wearing man

“I wouldn't either,” Gamble said calmly, “But that doesn’t mean you need to kill me with my own fucking letter opener.”

Tommy squinted at the man then down at said letter opener, stunned to find it wrapped in a vivid red glow. So stunned in fact that he dropped it instantly, staring down at the silver object as it hit the carpet with a dull thud, wide eyed, “What the fuck?”

“Look, Gamble and I were talking about it,” Blaze said slowly, “We can just pretend that tonight never happened, but you’ll owe Gamble a debt for it.”

Tommy looked back at the others in the room, the impossibly glowing letter opener forgotten, “Why would you agree to that?” He asked Gamble.

“I have my own reasons, but I also was hoping to create a relationship with both you and Blaze anyways, so it’s a wonderful opportunity,” Gamble said, finally settling into his chair again.

Tommy then turned to Warden, “What about you? Why did you agree?”

Warden glared, “Because I can’t kill you, apparently. You beat me, somehow,” he looked annoyed, “And if Gamble wants you for something that’s not my business.”

“Why are we all cuffed then?” Tommy spat, this time to Gamble.

“Because I didn’t want to die or have you finish the job with Warden either,” Gamble said easily.

Tommy frowned at Warden, “Did I really beat you that badly?”

Blaze snorted and Warden’s gaze darkened, “You don’t remember?”

“The only thing I remember is breaking your fingers and the next thing I know I’m knocking you out,” Tommy cocked his head, eyeing the man for said injuries.

Warden glowered, “You broke some bones.”

“You beat him so badly that had he not been wearing as much armor as he does, you would have killed him,” a voice behind Tommy said.

Tommy whipped around to see a new man wearing some oversized purple hoodie with spirals on it and a matching mask, “Who are you?” Tommy asked.

“Chronos,” the man said, cocking his head, “I’m here to heal you as long as you don’t plan on killing anyone.”

“I don’t just go around killing people,” Tommy grumbled, “I won’t.”

Chronos didn’t respond, he just moved forward, “Sit,” he gestured to a third chair near the desk next to the wastebasket. Tommy did as he asked, Blaze cringing beside him, but Tommy didn’t get the chance to ask about it before Chronos’s hands were on his injured bicep, glowing purple, and the nausea hit Tommy instantly. Gamble shoved the trash can under his nose as he vomited. Then it was over, though Tommy’s stomach was still rolling and he groaned, leaning back in the chair.

“That was faster than mine was,” Blaze muttered.

“You were dying, he’s not,” Chronos said absently, replacing the trashcan on the floor, “I had to give you some of your blood back too.”

Tommy looked down at the wound on his arm to find an unmarred sleeve and he felt no pain, “What the fuck kinda ability do you have?” He muttered.

“Nothing I plan on telling anyone,” Chronos said brightly, patting him on the shoulder as he moved to Gamble’s side of the desk where he just sat himself on the arm of the villain’s chair, which seemed to surprise Gamble as much as it did Tommy.

“So we just won’t talk about this ever?” Tommy prodded suspiciously.

“Correct,” Gamble said, “And you owe me, for keeping you out of Pandora.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, “What kind of favor would that be? You want a spy or something? I’m shit at being discreet.”

“I’m aware,” Gamble said dryly, “I wouldn’t ask you that, but I might ask you for physical protection sometime.”

“Not against heroes,” Tommy said firmly, “I would be right in the same situation only I’d be significantly worse off.”

“No, you’d beat the hero,” Gamble said confidently, “But no, I wouldn’t expect you to go against heroes, not openly. I host many big meetings here, I might need you to accompany me in your civilian form so that you can be something like a bodyguard around other villains, and the occasional corrupt hero, potentially.”

Tommy cocked his head, “You said no heroes though?”

“Only corrupt ones,” Gamble said easily, “You won’t mind then, would you?”

“They’d recognize my power,” Tommy shook his head.

“Not if you killed them,” Gamble said lightly.

Blaze stiffened, “Hey, Theseus is new to this whole world, you can’t just ask him to kill people.”

“I know, he’s young, isn’t he? Eighteen?” Gamble seemed thoughtful.

Tommy stiffened, “What do you know about me?”

“Almost everything, I would think,” Gamble chuckled, “I know where you live, I know your real, legal name, I know what you look like, and I know your ability.”

Tommy’s fingers twitched, Blaze’s eyes flickering to them, fear flickering across his face, but Tommy was glaring at the information dealer. That little nameplate didn’t look attached to the desk, he could probably hit the villain with it… “How do you know that?” Then he thought of something and rage rolled through him, “Quackity,” he snarled. It had been all to convenient. He should have been more careful than to trust one of Gamble's employees like that. 

Gamble cocked his head, “No, not him.”

“Who is Quackity?” Warden asked.

“An employee,” Gamble said casually, “He didn’t sell you out, frankly I don’t think he would if someone asked him to. He doesn't know either. He only knows your civilian identity.”

“Bullshit,” Tommy snapped, “He works for you, there’s no way he would hide shit from you.”

“He’s taken a liking to you,” Gamble said calmly, “And I already know everything I want to know about you. I don’t need to ask him anything.”

“Who told you then?” Tommy snarled.

“Well,” Gamble reclined back a bit more and Chronos rested an elbow on the villain’s shoulder, once again surprising everyone including Gamble, though he rolled with it rather well, “Your boss for one.”

Tommy froze, thinking about how Schlatt visited with Gamble frequently. Why would Schlatt tell Gamble about him? That question was painfully easy to answer. To get rid of him. Tommy was a threat. Now Tommy wanted to slam that name plate into a very different dickhead’s skull. “I see.” His fingers tightened in his lap, that longing for thick crimson to cover his hands surging up. Tommy fought the urge to seek vengeance.

“Schlatt wouldn’t do that!” Blaze said suddenly, defensive for whatever reason, “Yeah he’s not great, but he wouldn’t sell out a hero!”

“No? He’s done it before,” Gamble said, “He’s done a lot of things, Blaze. Things that your little friend Dream supported, and this is one of those things. He wants Theseus dead.”

Tommy didn’t flinch, but his hands were twitching steadily, glaring into the distance, if only he could strangle Schlatt and stay out of Pandora. Chronos watched him, thoughtful. The purple clothed man snaked his arm across Gamble’s shoulders, whispering into the man’s ear.

Gamble turned to look at Tommy, “Maybe we can establish a sort of alliance for your safety?” He suggested. Chronos’s eyes rested on Tommy.

Tommy looked between the two of them. What were they planning? “A deal with a villain will just get me in Pandora faster.”

Gamble snorted, “Who would be able to put you there? If you had a weapon, who can overpower you?”

“Dream,” Tommy answered instantly.

“I know a way to get Blood God’s help. If anything happened we could get you out before you ever ended up in Pandora,” Gamble said, “You’d make a great villain, Theseus.”

Tommy stiffened, “I don’t want to be a villain.”

“Do you want to be a hero?” Gamble seemed puzzled.

“Fuck you,” Tommy snarled, thinking back to his slip up with Charlie when eh had still been a sidekick, admitting he only really liked fighting, “I’ll give you your favor, but that’s the end of it. Let us go now, I have sleep to catch up on.”

Gamble nodded, “Very well.” He pulled a key out of his pocket and rounded the desk to uncuff Tommy, “You’re free to go, Charlie will drive you back to your apartment.”

Tommy glared as the driver just oozed his way through the wall to Gamble’s left, standing there as if he had always been there, “Fine,” he spat. He was about to leave when he stopped, looking down at the still cuffed Blaze. He glared up at Gamble, “What about Blaze?”

“He’s going to take a leave of absence,” Gamble said calmly, “Part of his favor.”

Tommy glared, “What?”

“Bye, Theseus,” Gamble said calmly, “Try not to get killed anytime soon.”

Tommy turned to Blaze, “What is he having you do?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Blaze said, though if his expression was anything to go by, Tommy should be very worried.

Tommy stood his ground, unsure if he wanted to leave his friend and coworker.

“Go, Theseus,” Blaze hissed, “He promised I would be unharmed.”

Tommy didn’t really have a choice, he realized. He doubted the man would be able to back out of whatever he had agreed to, and Charlie just expectantly smiled at him while Warden glared. Tommy didn’t like the glaring. He felt the need to remind the villain not to fuck with him, so as he was following Charlie he faked a stumble on the rug, hitting the ground and rolling upright, the forgotten letter opener in hand and he whirled around, glaring his rage at the man. He wanted to sink the letter opener into the man’s eye socket, to blind him, mar him forever. He wanted to injure him so badly that when he looked in the mirror all he saw was the reminder to not fuck with Theseus. Tommy couldn’t make himself though, so when he loosed the letter opener where he predicted the villain would lean back to avoid the projectile without time to properly consider a good way to dodge, the Warden flinched back, alarmed, and the other men in the room all straightened, alarmed, but instead of sinking, dull blade first, into the man’s eye like Tommy almost wished he had done, the handle ricocheted off of the man’s forehead quite epically.

Warden cried out, cuffed hands going to cover the center of his forehead, “Hey! What was that for?”

Tommy glared, “If you ever attack me or Blaze again I won’t hesitate to actually cause damage,” he then turned on his heel, addressing Charlie, “Let’s go, Charlie.”

The man smiled widely, “Alright!” And he led the way out of the room.

Tommy followed the man through the halls of Las Nevadas, lost in thought. He had been betrayed. The Tower had lied to him and then strung him up, leading all the worst kinds of villains to him, ready to turn him into a martyr. Tommy didn’t like that. In fact, it made him angry.

---

When Charlie came to a stop at his apartment without any instruction Tommy climbed out with a glare for the man. One of the most formidable villains knowing his address was easily one of the scariest things he’d encountered yet, but if he thought about it then it made sense. Quackity had picked him up in a company car, they probably were bugged and everything, so if Gamble knew Tommy’s identity then it made sense as to why he knew where he lived, even if it caused nervous shivers to run down Tommy's spine.

He slunk into an alley and climbed the fire escape into his apartment where he promptly collapsed in his bed, picking up his phone to squint at the screen. It was one in the afternoon, he must have been unconscious for at least six hours, but he still felt bone tired. His shifts as a full hero started around six in the evening, so he had a few hours to try to catch up on sleep. He wrestled his mask off and kicked his shoes into the corner without getting up, sprawling out like a starfish and allowing himself to slip asleep.

An indeterminable time later he was awoken by the sound of a small, muffled explosion. He jumped upright in bed, past experiences with bombs and other similarly terrifying explosions forcing his body into fight mode. He panted for breath, looking around with wide eyes before realizing that he was safe. He looked at his phone and found that there were no villain reports in the area nor had he been called into work, so he elected to ignore it in favor of just going back to sleep, so he laid back down and slipped under once again.

Again, that same sound came, a little louder this time with a yelp following but that sounded vaguely familiar. Tommy pried his eyes open to glare at the wall he shared with Tubbo. The boy was definitely doing something he shouldn’t with explosives, but did Tommy care enough? Well he certainly wasn't going to arrest him, but he definitely considered it for half a minute. Annoyed, he decided to just politely remind his neighbor that some people work night shifts and get kidnapped by supervillains. 

He wrestled out of his uniform, pulling on sweatpants and a hoodie before he stumbled his way out of his apartment, knocking on Tubbo’s door. Now that he was more awake he was able to identify the sound of… welding? Was it legal to weld in your apartment? Talk about a fire hazard. When no one answered for a moment he knocked more aggressively. The welding sounds ceased and footsteps approached the door. 

Tubbo peered out a crack in the door at Tommy, then he grinned openly, opening the door more, “Tommy!” The shorter boy greeted the off duty hero.

Tommy blinked tiredly at his neighbor, not missing the clouds of smoke leaking out into the hall, the way the boy’s mattress was ratchet strapped to the ceiling, the franken-TV somehow propped up next to a minimum of four other screens from what Tommy could see, all playing different news stations except for one which he was pretty sure was just running code. Most of the stations were covering hero fights, one even showed his. Tommy didn’t have a TV or watch the fights, so it was weird to remember just how often his movements would be broadcasted. 

“How can I help you boss man?” Tubbo asked. There was a welding hood on his head and he wore a thick leather jacket.

“Do I need to be worried about you burning my apartment down?” Tommy asked.

Tubbo laughed, “Nah, I’ve got it under control, don’t worry.”

“Great, would you mind not blowing shit up then?” Tommy huffed, “I’m trying to sleep.”

Tubbo blinked, “Oh, shit, I’m sorry man, I’m almost done.”

Tommy nodded, “Good,” then he turned to leave.

“Hey, what happened to your face?” Tubbo asked.

Tommy turned back to his neighbor, confused. His face? Then he remembered the cut from Riptide’s whip, “Oh,” He fumbled for an excuse, “I got mugged.”

Tubbo looked shocked, “What? Are you okay?”

Tommy shrugged, “I’m fine,” he said, “Just a little cut.”

Tubbo squinted at him and just then Ranboo decided to come out of his apartment across the hall, “Tommy, did you just say that you got mugged?” The tall boy was alarmed, his eyes wide.

Tommy groaned, “Yes, it’s fine, I beat the fucker up with a letter opener, now please, let me go back to sleep?”

Tubbo nodded slowly, “Alright, I guess.”

Tommy huffed and promptly went back to bed, ignoring the looks Tubbo and Ranboo were giving each other. He collapsed back on his bed and barely had the mental presence to set an alarm before he fell back asleep.

---

He woke to his alarm and pulled his uniform on with his eyes half closed before he decided to just pull his sweatpants and hoodie over his uniform and take the stairs instead of the fire escape. He was still achy, that guy Chronos’s power must have long term effects or something. 

Halfway to his sector he stripped from his civilian clothes, put on his mask, and pulled up his hood. He tucked his clothes behind a dumpster to hide them and climbed up a fire escape to get to the rooftops. He paused there, stretching somewhat happily. Sure, he had gotten the shit beaten out of him twice yesterday, but he liked this part of his job, the peace of the rooftops. Not to mention that it was infinitely better than a cell in Pandora.

He shook the thought away. He would never go to Pandora. He would do what was required of him as a hero or he would die on the job like most. That was all. He was free when not at work and that was what was most important. He couldn’t afford to just do what he wanted and get arrested. He had a life to live that didn’t include his life energy literally being sucked out of him. The knowledge that Schlatt and Dream had betrayed him stung, but could he really expect anything different? He was dangerous. The anger from the morning before was rapidly taking a backseat in the realm of Tommy emotions in favor of just a sad sort of acceptance. It hurt to be tossed aside. Tommy abandoned his thoughts on that depressing note, deciding to start his patrol. 

He patrolled like usual, popping in on a robbery where the thief just yelped and ran off. Tommy watched him leave, wondering if the man just was scared of anyone in a mask as he recorded the hit in his hero watch thing. Then he moved on, knowing cops would deal with the legal shit. He had scared off the bad guy, that was his job. 

The night was boring compared to his first night on the job and he wondered if that had just been to welcome him to the field, which he wouldn’t be surprised by, but he also hated being bored. Wasn’t this supposed to be the most criminal sector in the city?

As if summoned, a woman in purple and black slunk just barely in sight through an alleyway. Tommy followed silently, interested, and the woman walked herself right to a dead end. Tommy frowned down at her, eyebrows furrowed, curious. Then, she looked up. She wore a black mask over the top of her face, her slitted pupils visible from Tommy's distance.

“Well?” She snapped up at him, “You goin' ta introduce yourself?”

He blinked at her accent and sighed, “Why would I go down into a dead end alley with someone who I don’t recognize?” 

Her eyes narrowed, “You’re tough, come on, I’m going to get a crick in my neck.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. He hopped onto the edge of the  roof and dangled his feet off of it, climbing down using windows, making a series of short drops till he then stood in the filthy alley in front of the woman.

“What’s your name?” She demanded.

“Theseus, you?”

“Minx,” She said, peering closer, slitted pupils narrowing.

Tommy vaguely recognized the woman’s name. She was a thief, known for heists and her cat-like powers of agility, speed, and general intelligence. He took a step back, “You realize I can arrest you, right?” Why couldn’t Gamble have returned his baton? Downright rude, that was.

“I’d have to hold still long enough,” she said easily, “And you don’t use your powers for whatever reason.”

Tommy did his best not to visibly stiffen, “Where did you hear that?” He was going to kill Gamble.

“Warden,” Minx answered, “Said without your powers you’re practically a baby.” She wasn't attacking, just peering at him, curious, almost. 

Tommy blinked. Warden should know better than most that Tommy was far from helpless. Did he even know what Tommy’s power was? Was this a ploy to get Minx arrested? “Look, I have to take you in,” Tommy said, pulling the handcuffs off his belt.

She snorted, “Fuck no!”

Tommy shrugged and lunged for the woman. Predictably, she dodged, dancing away to make room to kick at him. He might be over balanced, but he was better than that. He didn’t need a power for hand to hand combat. He blocked the kick and moved close, trying to hit her ribs with the cuffs still in his fist. She trapped his arm and pulled him close, aiming a knee for his sternum. He used the momentum to topple them to the ground. Her speed would be less useful on the ground. Her knee slammed into his diaphragm and he coughed involuntarily but was able to keep moving to try to wrestle her down. Unfortunately she was also freakishly flexible, which he should have seen coming, but he hadn’t and now she had her knee around his throat and was cuffing him with his own cuffs, laughing to herself.

“Oh this is rich!” She giggled, “Hold still!” Tommy thrashed, catching sight of a screw of all things in a puddle beside him. He wrestled one hand free, the cuffs latched around that one wrist clattering on the concrete ground as he grabbed the screw, twisting to get out of the woman’s grip at the same time. His body was free, but his neck was still caught and she started to squeeze.

“Calm down and I’ll let you stay conscious and call for help,” She advised. The tension around his neck tightened to where breathing was getting hard.

“Fuck you!” Tommy spat, gripping the unusually long screw between his fingers and punching the point into the woman’s thigh. She screeched, but didn’t release him. He growled and punched again, envisioning that twisted steel puncturing her skin. She screamed this time and Tommy’s fingers tingled, he was losing sensation in his hands. He did it again and finally was released, rolling through the puddle he had found the screw in, still gripping his little weapon in hand as he growled at Minx as she struggled to her feet, holding where blood darkened the purple leggings of her costume.

“Fucking asshole,” she snarled.

“Bitch,” he spat back, panting hard for breath that she had previously been keeping from him, “I’d stab you again.”

She had the gall to be offended, “And I’d strangle you!”

“Try it, fucker,” he grinned.

She didn’t try to choke him, instead punching him in the temple. He reeled from the surprise of it and she elbowed him in the head, then gripped his hood, ripping it off his head to grip his hair. She twisted, moving to slam his face into the wall of the alley, but he barely caught himself in time, not exactly thrilled about the idea of a concussion. He gripped the screw in his fist and swung blindly towards her. Steel dragged across her exposed arms and she screamed, releasing him. He didn’t pause to recover though, he just followed her. He gripped the empty cuff in the hand of the wrist the cuffs were still locked around and punched the woman right in the face. She reeled and he moved in, punching again in the ribs, the metal of the cuff protecting his knuckles and probably doing significantly more damage than his fist would. Like brass knuckles. He smiled to himself as she staggered, spitting blood.

He was about to go for another hit when she shot him a glare and suddenly began running. He swore, running after her. The problem was that she was fast. He knew she was fast, he had discovered as much when she had been beating on him moments ago, but this was different. She lost him in minutes and he was left panting for breath and just feeling his bruises somewhat miserably. 

He managed to get on a street, finally out of the maze that was the alleyways in this sector and was about to look for a way onto the roofs when he saw a familiar person across the street. Domino, wasn’t it? The man was tall and he approached Tommy casually, hands in his pockets.

Tommy pulled himself up straight, “You really are good at showing up at the ends of fights, aren’t you, Domino?”

Domino cocked his head, “You could say that. Want help onto a roof?”

Tommy wished the fucker could see his mouth so he could see the sneer there, “Fuck no, I already just walked into one fight today.”

“Minx is tough,” Domino said easily.

Tommy scoffed, “And? Fuck off, I’m not fighting you right now.”

“No, you aren’t,” Domino agreed, then the asshole had the fucking audacity to just vanish in a puff of purple particles. Tommy flipped said particles off and returned to his patrol, annoyed now.

He ached all over but not enough to actually stop patrolling, he was just slightly humiliated. He was supposed to be a hero and here he was having to resort to stabbing people with screws. He grumbled to himself as he tucked the screw into one of his pockets in his sleeve where knives should be, but no, he was a big scary delinquent and couldn't be trusted with real weapons. He also wanted his baton back, but Gamble was a bitch. 

The moment his patrol technically ended, he hailed a cab and climbed in, grumbling to himself as his ribs ached. The driver looked half asleep till he looked in his rearview mirror and saw the disgruntled hero there and instantly straightened, eyes widened. He probably had illegal shit in his car or something, but Tommy was off duty so he just snapped for the man to go to Las Nevadas and settled back. Tommy was going to get his fucking baton if it killed him.

They pulled in front of the casino and Tommy handed the driver Quackity’s card, he didn’t entirely believe that the man hadn’t told his boss all about Tommy’s civilian form, so he could suffer the consequences of paying a cab fare, and he climbed out, glaring at the people who stopped to gape at him. He paid them no mind and stomped his way up the stairs, one arm over his bruised ribs, the other with his fingertips resting on the screw in his sleeve. Not a weapon but he would use it like one if he had to. He didn’t trust Gamble even as far as he could throw him which certainly wasn’t far, the fucker was just as tall as Tommy was. 

The moment he crossed the threshold into the casino Charlie stood before him, phasing through the ceiling to drop onto the plush scarlet carpet with a smile. “Theseus the hero,” He greeted cheerfully, “Have you come to visit Gamble?”

“Yes,” Tommy snapped. He didn’t really want to chat with either villain right then, but he wouldn’t mind trying to slap Gamble around a bit for taking his baton. 

“Of course, follow me,” Charlie said with a kind smile, turning on his heel and leading Tommy through the casino goers who gradually became less interested in his presence the farther he got into the building.

They came to an office, clearly labeled with Gamble’s name and Charlie phased through the door, disappearing briefly. Tommy paused, but then decided he didn’t give a shit about being polite so he gripped the doorknob and turned it, letting himself into the office.

Gamble was in the action of adjusting his mask, pulling it straight, only a glimpse of his chin visible as Tommy’s eyes rested on the villain. Standing at his side was some random henchman with that mask and wearing a suit. He must be new or something because he was tense, though Gamble was perfectly relaxed.

“Theseus, don’t you know it’s rude not to knock?” Gamble asked smoothly as Charlie moved to the side from where he had apparently been speaking with his boss.

Tommy glared, slamming the door shut behind him and he limped to the villain’s desk, “Where’s my fucking baton, jester bitch.”

Gamble leaned back in his chair, chuckling, “I can’t return that.”

“Why the fuck not?” Tommy snapped.

“Because you beat the Warden of all people to a pulp with it. He would have been hospitalized for weeks had Chronos not helped,” Gamble said smoothly, “And I’m not confident that I’m not currently on your shit list.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, “I don’t need a baton to kill you,” he growled, hands twitching with homicidal rage. 

Gamble noticed the motion apparently, “You know, I heard that your hands twitch when you’re about to be violent,” he said, thoughtful, “Tell me, what are you thinking?”

Tommy sneered, “Why would I tell you how I want to kill you? That ruins the fucking surprise of it all.”

Gamble paused and even Charlie looked surprised, but then Gamble laughed a full belly laugh, “Ah, Tommy , let’s have dinner, and then I’ll let you have your baton back, how does that sound?”

Tommy flinched, hearing his civilian name from the villain’s mouth, then he snarled, “Fine.”

Gamble stood, “Do you need a change of clothes?”

Tommy took a step back, “Excuse me?”

“You can’t eat sushi in this mask and people would recognize your costume,” Gamble said, waving a hand dismissively, “I already know what you look like.”

Tommy glared, “I can’t say I’m fond of the idea of losing my body armor in the same room as a villain.”

“If I wanted you dead I would have killed you when you were passed out last night,” Gamble laughed, “Or just left you for the heroes to find, so stop being a prick and humor me.”

Tommy snarled, “Fine.”

Charlie led him to a private room and handed him a suit which Tommy donned uncomfortably, slipping his screw into his pocket, annoyed that it was his only hope of a weapon. When he was dressed, he ran a hand over his hair, noting the beginnings of a black eye and he snarled at his reflection. It wasn’t just Gamble’s fault that he was beaten by a third rate villain like Minx. Warden had told her that he didn’t use his power and fucking Schlatt and Dream had been the ones to deny him his power in the first place. There were a lot of names making his 'shit list' as Gamble had called it. 

He paused, realizing how vengeful his thoughts were, but he realized he didn’t really care about being the better person anymore. Maybe at sixteen he would have hesitated more, but years of abuse at the hands of his Mentor and now he had learned the man’s best traits, how to be a cold hearted asshole and how to get people out of his way. Encouraged by that, he smiled to himself tightly before leaving the room.

Charlie led him to a sushi restaurant and to a table where Gamble sat, wearing a different mask, covering everything except the man’s mouth, showing a gold tooth when he smiled at Tommy.

“Tommy, glad you decided to stay,” the villain said happily, “Have a seat.”

Tommy did as he was asked and accepted a menu from a nervous looking waiter. Gamble’s bodyguard still stood at the man’s shoulder and Charlie stood at the door of the restaurant, looking casual but Tommy didn’t trust it for a moment.

“How was patrol tonight?” Gamble asked casually.

Tommy glared at the man over his menu, “Shit.”

“Tell me about it,” Gamble said.

“Why should I?” Tommy spat.

“Part of the deal,” Gamble said easily, “Information is kinda my schtick, after all.”

Tommy huffed, glancing at the list of food on the menu, looking for the most expensive prices, if the man wanted to treat him to… whatever meal this was, technically it was breakfast time, but it also was kind of his dinner… oh well, not important, then he could pay the price. “Met Minx,” he began casually as he scanned prices.

“Oh? Is that where the black eye is from?” The man sounded vaguely interested.

“Yeah,” Tommy snarled, “She heard from Warden about my… handicap, and thought it’d make a good introduction, so she whaled on me a bit.”

“How close did she come to winning?” Gamble’s tone was calm and Tommy wondered if he had already heard about the exchange. Domino had witnessed it and maybe some civilian had thought to sell information?

“Nearly got me cuffed,” Tommy grimaced, somewhat embarrassed to admit it, “But I got out.”

“How?”

Oh well, fuck it, Tommy reached in his pocket and pulled out the screw he had tucked away and balanced it on it’s head on the table, Minx’s blood still dried on it. 

Gamble paused, opening his mouth, closing it and frowning, then speaking, “Is she alive?”

Tommy scoffed, “Obviously, kind of hard to kill someone with a fucking screw, my guy,” he rolled his eyes, then paused. Could he kill someone with a screw? Maybe if he put enough force behind it? Was it long enough to reach the brain through the eye socket? Maybe if he stabbed a jugular and ripped? He almost wanted to test it and his pointer finger twitched.

“I suspect you’d find a way,” Gamble smiled wryly. He probably had noticed Tommy’s twitch, what an annoying tell.

“Probably,” Tommy agreed, “but I can’t kill anyone, kinda ruins the whole hero thing.” He would rather be a villain than be a dark hero like Dream. 

Gamble shrugged, “If you ever do you can always ask for a favor,” the man smiled, “I have some excellent ways to get rid of bodies.”

Tommy paused, “I’ll pass,” he said. He couldn’t kill people, he not only didn’t want to owe any more favors, but also didn’t want to end up in Pandora. He was fairly sure his identity as a light hero was a big factor for why he hadn't just been framed for something and locked up. He was the model hero so far, that was his saving grace. As long as no one searched his apartment. 

“Well, in that case, are you ready to order?” The man asked, smiling as if this was a completely normal meal. His gold tooth glittered, making Tommy eye it nervously. 

The meal was fairly normal and he found himself relaxing slightly as he and Gamble talked. The man discussed vaguely a new business deal he was excited about and they talked about nonsensical things, Gamble even going so far as to ask Tommy about his favorite weapons, accidentally earning a lengthy description of what knives are best and what makes them best. Finally, Tommy was getting tired after eating more sushi than he had thought he could eat and Gamble offered him a room in the casino for the night.

“No, I’ll pass,” Tommy said firmly, he knew about the rumors of Las Nevadas, about how easy it was to slip into staying there for hours that turned into days that turned into weeks and then you were in debt to none other than Gamble.

Gamble smiled, “You’re smart, Tommy, I’ll give you that. I’ve enjoyed our meal,” he gestured to his bodyguard, “Give him his baton.”

The guard stepped forward and reached a shaking hand into his suit and drew out Tommy’s familiar baton, solid black, scuffed with the occasional mark from hard use and he smiled at the sight. Tommy took the baton back, smiling as it rested in his palms. He loved the feel of the steel and couldn’t wait to bash some skulls with it. 

“I hope you’ll visit again, I don’t want to be an enemy of yours, Tommy,” Gamble said with a smile. 

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Tommy snarked, “Do I need to catch a cab back to the city or does dinner with Gamble come with a free ride home?”

“Charlie can take you home,” Gamble said, standing with Tommy. The man didn’t escort him out of the casino, but it would be weirder if he did and Charlie handed Tommy his hero uniform in a nondescript paper bag and they left.

The car ride was silent and Tommy found he was still somewhat mad at Charlie for whatever reason, maybe because he had thought he had a friend in the man and should have known better, but if that was it he wouldn’t be admitting it any time soon. Gamble couldn't know as much about Tommy as he did without informants and Tommy had had quite a few conversations with the gelatinous man in the past.

He got out of the car at his apartment, remembering that his sweatshirt and sweatpants were currently hidden behind a dumpster somewhere near his sector, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, so he counted it as a loss and just made his way to his apartment. He was about safe from human interaction when an explosion came from his neighbor’s apartment and the smell of smoke hit Tommy’s nostrils. He stopped only three feet from his own apartment door before throwing his head back in frustration, groaning. He was off duty, so normally he would just ignore it, but this was his apartment building too, which meant that if Tubbo burned it down he would be homeless right next to the fucking maniac.

He turned back and knocked on Tubbo’s door, “Anything on fire?” he called through the door, vaguely concerned when there was no noise behind the door.

Finally there was some shuffling and the door whipped open to reveal the grinning madman that Tommy had the misfortune of sharing a wall with, “Tommy!” The boy greeted with his usual gusto, “Why the fuck are you fancy?”

Tommy wasn’t worried about explaining the obviously expensive suit he could probably make good money if he sold, instead he was just gaping at the soot covering Tubbo’s face, “Why do you look like one of those child laborers from a coal mine?”

Tubbo scowled, “Rude, this isn’t coal dust, it’s soot, there’s a difference.”

Tommy blinked, “Uh, great, but why are you blowing up your apartment?” He leaned around the boy, catching a glimpse of the wreckage that was Tubbo’s apartment, “You’re definitely not getting your deposit back,” he noted.

Tubbo rolled his eyes, “It’s a price I’m willing to pay,” he then grinned, “I built a bomb! And it worked!”

Tommy hesitated, “Like with your powers?”

“No, that’s boring, I’ve been doing that since, like, kindergarten,” Tubbo waved dismissively, “This one actually, like, blew up how I wanted and everything, all I had to do was press a button!”

“Do I need to be concerned about getting questioned for being a terrorist’s neighbor?” Tommy asked slowly. He wondered if they would put him in Pandora for that. They might for him not reporting it… Oh well, he wasn't going to turn the kid in. He liked Tubbo, even if it made his sleep schedule fucked.

“Ah, I’m not a terrorist yet, don’t worry,” Tubbo said brightly, “Now, why are you fancy?”

Yet? Tommy wondered briefly, “Work,” he said, “Ended up in this meeting and had to borrow a suit. I think I’m going to sell it.”

“Good idea,” Tubbo appraised, “Don't go any lower than two hundred.”

Tommy frowned down, “You think?”

“Oh yeah, let me see the tag,” Tubbo reached for Tommy’s collar.

Tommy leaned away, “Fuck no, not with those fingers, I won’t be able to get ten bucks for it if its stained.”

Tubbo looked at his soot stained fingers in surprise, “Oh yeah, sorry boss man.”

“Anyways,” Tommy moved on, “I’m going to go to sleep, try not to do anymore bomb testing.”

“Yeah no problem, but only if you tell me what the black eye’s from,” Tubbo’s eyes glittered with a promise of violence, hopefully not for Tommy, the kid scared him.

Tommy sighed, “Don’t stress, I was just dumb and ran into this weird short stop sign,” he lied out his ass.

Tubbo didn’t look like he believed Tommy, but he said slowly, “Alright then, sleep well.”

“Night,” Tommy gave the boy a thumbs up and left. 

He changed before going to sleep this time, wanting to keep the suit in good condition, but then he promptly collapsed on his mattress, falling asleep in no time at all.

Chapter Text

His first week of full time heroism started off rough, but the other days were almost normal. He found that most of the villains were in fact people he could deal with and he rarely left with anything even as bad as his fight with Minx. No one else knew about his ability being limited and his baton made fighting a lot easier, even if he still kept the screw in his sleeve. In fact, he had started to collect odd objects here and there just in case. He had a second, smaller screw now, a broken tie clip, a few nice round pebbles, and like three bobby-pins that he had found on a popular corner for prostitutes, and he just chose not to think about where they might have been and tucked them in a pocket anyways. 

His first day off arrived and he laid out in his hero pants from where he had lost the energy to change halfway through the endeavor and let the cool air brush his skin as he ran his fingertips over the steel of his throwing knives tucked under his pillow. Sure, sleeping with sharp shit was never a good idea, but it had been far too easy to fall back into the habit of being armed. It was like an addiction, only with far less impacts on his health… unless he was caught, which he wouldn’t get caught, ever.

He laid there, motionless, for about an hour when a knock sounded on his door. He sat up, knife in hand, glowing faintly, no real intent behind it yet. He approached the door, glancing back to be sure his hero stuff was hidden well enough, and it was, tossed in the laundry basket, before he peered through the peephole. 

Standing outside was none other than Wilbur fucking Watson. Tommy snarled to himself, throwing his door open to glare at his old friend who he hadn’t spoken with in years now. “How the fuck did you get my address,” he snarled at the man.

Wilbur blinked at him behind his wire frame glasses, “Uh, my ex mentioned you and I bribed him for the information?”

Tommy glared, “So fucking Quackity gave out my personal information again then? Of fucking course.” Apparently if you wanted to know anything about Tommy Innes, all you had to do is ask a certain dealer in Las Nevadas. He moved to close the door. 

Wilbur caught the door with his foot, his hands occupied with two paper coffee cups, “Wait, I just wanted to talk.”

Tommy huffed, he couldn’t really turn the man down, just talking to him again made him want to slip back into that familiar pattern of friendship, “Fine,” he snapped in a moment of weakness, allowing the lanky ass fucker in. Wilbur ducked through the door and took in Tommy’s apartment, but it wasn’t a critical stare, instead he just settled on the floor, seeming to take that as the best place to sit considering Tommy’s clear lack of furniture. Wilbur set the cups down, one in front of himself and the other between him and Tommy. 

Tommy sat across from the man awkwardly, realizing he still was half dressed and all wrinkly from sleep, “What do you want?” he asked, most of the heat had leached from his voice by then and he rested his knife on his thigh as he sat, just reminding his guest exactly who he was.

“Just to check on you,” Wilbur said, eyes flicking from the knife to Tommy, “I see hero life has been treating you how I expected.”

Tommy glanced down at himself, the mixture of old and new bruises on his body apparent, then he glared at the man and sipped the offered coffee, pleased to find it how he liked it, strong a fuck with way too much sugar, “Yeah, well, it’s how it goes.”

“Theseus, huh?” Wilbur asked, voice softer.

Tommy shrugged, “Someone called me it once, it stuck.”

Wilbur nodded, “I like it, sounds like something Techno would name you,” the man snorted.

Tommy cringed at the reminder of his other friend, “How is he?”

“Techno?" Wilbur looked slightly surprised, “Oh, he’s good, been working hard here lately, got a big project.”

“Oh,” Tommy said, “I see.”

“Tommy, I-” Wilbur broke off, then sighed, “I noticed they didn’t announce a power with your debut.”

Tommy nodded, “That’s true.”

“Are they allowing you to use your power?” Wilbur looked up at Tommy.

Tommy paused at his apparent worry, “What do you think?” He barely managed to keep his tone sharp. It was all too tempting to want to crumble, to let all his pains finally register, to let Wilbur help put him back together. He couldn't open that door to friendship again though. Now as a hero, he couldn't afford to let Wilbur get wrapped up in the complexities of his career. For all he knew, a villain might use Wilbur against him. Tommy shuddered internally at the thought of what Riptide and Mesmo might do if they knew what Wilbur was to Tommy. He couldn't even trust that the Syndicate was above that sort of thing either. They weren't exactly buddies anymore. 

Wilbur winced, then he paused, looking at the dagger on Tommy’s thigh, “And that? Is that legal?”

“No,” Tommy said simply.

Wilbur didn’t look away from it, “You really like walking that line, don’t you?”

“I always have walked the line, there’s nothing to like or dislike about it,” Tommy said softly.

Wilbur met his gaze, eyes sad, “Are there really no other options for you?”

“There’s always Pandora,” Tommy scoffed, “And I will never go to Pandora.”

Wilbur nodded, “Fair enough.”

Tommy sipped on his coffee, just relaxing in the feeling of warmth.

“What was your first week like? The media doesn’t cover much of your fights,” Wilbur asked, a little too tense to be casual.

“Only got in two big fights,” Tommy shrugged, purposefully omitting the fight with the Warden, no one needed to know about that one.

“Quackity said you fought the Warden,” Wilbur said.

Tommy stiffened, of fucking course Quackity had told Wilbur, “Why are you two still in touch anyways?” He snapped.

Wilbur sighed, “We have some common ground still.” He looked up at Tommy then, frowning, “Don’t avoid the topic, did he hurt you?”

“The Warden?” Tommy scoffed, then hesitated, remembering Chronos’s healing and cringed at the reminder of the nausea and he hadn’t even had a cut in his uniform to show for it, “Nothing serious,” he settled on.

“Don’t lie, I saw that wince,” Wilbur said firmly, “What did he do? How did you get away?”

“Don’t really remember,” Tommy grumbled, “I blacked out and when I came to Blaze was bleeding out and Warden had a shit ton of broken bones. Then I blacked out again and when I woke up I was in-” Tommy broke off, the rest of the story wasn’t really relevant, “I was healed and back in my apartment.”

“Don’t lie,” Wilbur rolled his eyes, “I know you went to Las Nevadas.”

“Didn’t really have a choice,” Tommy snapped, “Just woke up there.” Then his gaze sharpened, glaring at Wilbur, “Why are you even asking if you already know?”

“Quackity just mentioned it in passing, I couldn’t get it out of him,” Wilbur frowned.

“Why do you care?”

“Because you’re my friend and you’re in a shitty place right now,” Wilbur answered, eyes intent, “I care about you and I don’t want some two-bit traitor to kill you.”

Tommy snorted, “Don’t worry, Warden will be avoiding me for a while, I think.” He thought back to the flicker of fear on the man’s face before the letter opener had almost harmlessly bounced off of his forehead. Nothing that heavy would be harmless when thrown, but Tommy was wishing he could have caused some real damage. Just to be sure he stayed afraid.

“Avoiding you? Why?” Wilbur frowned.

“I threatened to kill him,” Tommy said lightly, considering briefly that he wouldn’t mind testing the usefulness of a screw against the man who had royally fucked up Tommy’s life. Warden was the reason Tommy had ended up at Las Nevadas in the first place and Tommy was far from thrilled at the bad start to his job. His fingers closed around his throwing knife and he looked at it thoughtfully.

“Would you be able to really kill someone?” Wilbur asked, not looking wary, instead just thoughtful.

Tommy considered the question, tossing his dagger in the air, catching it every time, the red flickering with an unsure strength. Could he throw this into a man’s eyes socket how he had wanted to with that letter opener, but this time mean death, not just pain? Could he slit a man’s throat? The thought of crimson blood pouring over the steel had a shiver run down his spine and he fought the smile from his face. No one should smile at the thought of murder, which made him pause. The heroes really were right to fear him and what he might do. Only a fool would assume he didn’t mean it or something juvenile like that.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “I would be able to, but I think I’d regret it.”

Wilbur didn’t cringe away from Tommy, didn’t look scared, his just looked at him, “That doesn’t make you a bad person, Tommy.”

“I think it does,” Tommy laughed.

“Your weapons need to be used, not just sit hidden away,” Wilbur said gently, “You should see how Techno gets when he hasn’t drawn blood on anyone in a while.”

Tommy whipped his head up to look at the man, frowning, “Does Techno frequently draw blood on people?”

Wilbur blinked, then laughed, “No, not often, but his ability relates to blood, he gets energy from it.”

“He should be a phlebotomist,” Tommy snickered.

Wilbur laughed, “That’s what I told him.” Then the man sighed, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to use your ability how it’s meant to be used, Tommy.”

“Yes there is, I can’t just go around killing random people,” Tommy said.

Wilbur looked thoughtful, “I mean as a hero, you could probably claim self defense.”

Tommy flinched back, “How would I kill them?”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, “You broke the Warden’s bones somehow, I’m sure you could bash someone’s skull in if you needed to.”

Tommy laughed, “I don’t even remember doing it, big man.”

“And? You still did it.” Wilbur was smiling and was about to launch into some other logic for murder when an explosion sounded from next door. Wilbur jumped, started, but Tommy just stood, grumbling as he tugged a sweatshirt on, about to go tell his neighbor to at least pretend to not be doing illegal shit for as long as Tommy had a guest, when he saw Wilbur opening the door.

“Wil!” Tommy shouted, “Wait, let me take care of it.”

“That was an explosion,” Wilbur said firmly, “It could be dangerous.”

“Nah, it’s just Tubbo,” Tommy said, “I’ll just tell him to quiet down while I have company,” Tommy said dismissively. Wilbur frowned, obviously not convinced as he followed Tommy to Tubbo’s door. Tommy knocked, “Tubbo, it’s Tommy!”

Tubbo opened the door, “Boss man, you’re a great neighbor, but you can’t stop me from blowing shit up all the time,” Tubbo began, looking exasperated, “I have to find time to make explosions somehow and its-” he broke off, seeing a vaguely horrified Wilbur standing at Tommy’s shoulder, peering into the warzone that was his apartment.

“Tommy, why is your neighbor a child terrorist?” Wilbur whispered, not quite softly enough that Tubbo couldn’t hear him.

“Hey! I’ve been a legal adult longer than Tommy!” Tubbo huffed, “Who the hell are you?”

“Wilbur,” Wilbur introduced himself absently, “Why is your mattress ratchet strapped to the ceiling?”

“Because it’s a fire hazard,” Tubbo said easily, “You can’t weld right next to a bed, that’s just stupid.”

“You’re welding in here?” The man was just horrified.

“Not everyone can afford a work space separate from their living space,” Tubbo said critically, eyeing Wilbur, “Nice coat, let me guess, pure wool?”

Wilbur leaned away from the kid, “Excuse me?”

Tubbo ignored Wilbur, turning to face Tommy, “Where did you even find this fucker? Was he in that meeting the other day? Are they taking your suit back?”

“Meeting?” Wilbur echoed, looking utterly confused.

Tommy cursed the civilian’s inability to understand when to shut up, “No, he’s an old friend, I used to clean his house,” Tommy settled on the truth.

“Wait, Tommy wore a suit?” Wilbur’s eyes lit up in excitement, “Do you have a picture of that?”

“What for?” Tommy asked curtly, not trusting his old friend for a second.

“Dad and Techno will never believe it,” Wilbur smiled widely.

Tommy rolled his eyes, “No, he didn’t get a picture-”

“How much you paying?” Tubbo interrupted.

Tommy’s eyes widened, “What?”

Wilbur grinned more, “We can negotiate a price.”

“How much did that coat cost?” Tubbo asked.

Wilbur looked offended, “Far more than I’d pay you for a picture, no matter how good.”

Tubbo snorted, “What about a video?”

“Video?” Tommy shrieked, “When did this even happen?” He didn’t have a single memory of the other boy videoing him in his suit. 

“When I moved in I installed a bunch of cameras,” Tubbo said dismissively, “I’ve got a nice view of everything around and in the complex.”

Tommy froze, seeing the monitors and screens that the boy had on his wall, noticing more than there used to be, now mostly occupied with code, “Everything?” He asked, wary.

Tubbo rolled his eyes, “Yeah, so what? Ooh, you’re a scary hero, but anyways, about that video-”

“No,” Wilbur’s playfulness was gone, “What do you know?”

Tubbo paused, frowning, “He literally uses out shared fire escape to come and go and he’s fucking wearing part of his uniform right now. Only an idiot wouldn’t notice the injuries too. No one gets black eyes from running into stop signs.”

“You’ve been using a shared fire escape to get in and out of the apartment while in uniform?” Wilbur hissed at Tommy, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Tommy cringed, “No one ever lived here and it just didn't occur to me to stop?” He said weakly.

“Whatever, I won’t tell anyone about his illegal shit if he never arrests me,” Tubbo said simply, “We both have shit on each other, so I’m not worried about it.”

Tommy was somewhat shocked, “When did you figure it out?”

“When you came back with the suit,” Tubbo said, “I started to pay attention to when you came and went, and all I had to do was look outside when you were leaving to know exactly what was happening.”

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, “Oh, well that’s great!” It was not great. If Tubbo had only lived here for about a week, how many other people knew because he had been so careless?

“Wait, can we backtrack?” Wilbur held his hands up, “Why did you come home in a suit?”

Tommy huffed out a sigh, “Let’s not talk about this in the hall,” he pushed past Tubbo into the boy’s apartment, finding a place on the floor that wasn’t covered in soot and metal bits and the other two sat around him, Tubbo was interested, though he began to fiddle with metal pieces that Tommy hoped wouldn’t blow up, and Wilbur was just taking in Tubbo’s room.

“So, tell me,” Tubbo said excitedly, “Ranboo won’t tell me any of the shit he gets up to.”

Tommy shook his head, not blaming their tall neighbor, “I was on patrol and got the shit beat out of me by Minx and I was mad because I might have had a chance if Gamble hadn’t taken my baton, so I took a cab to Las Nevadas and he made me have dinner with him in exchange for the baton, and part of that was wearing a suit while we ate.”

“He knows what you look like?” Tubbo asked, eyes wide.

“The fucker claims to know everything about me, it’s just him trying to get the upper hand,” Tommy huffed.

“How did he get your baton in the first place?” Tubbo asked, pulling a screwdriver out of nowhere to keep working on his object that Wilbur was starting to eye with concern. 

Tommy sighed and launched into an explanation that he had previously given Wilbur. Tubbo took the information with a significantly more enthusiasm and less concern for his safety though, just launching into questions about exactly how many broken bones he thought he had given Warden and how Blaze had gotten stabbed. The boy was in no way concerned about anyone in the story’s well being either, just grinning maniacally even when Tommy described Chronos’s nauseating healing. 

“That’s epic!” Tubbo said brightly.

“What is wrong with you?” Wilbur asked the boy.

Tubbo scowled, “Nothing, why?”

Wilbur just shook his head.

“You’re just spoiled as a rich person,” Tubbo informed Wilbur, “The rest of the world has to deal with villainy all the time.”

“I deal with villainy more than you, I can guarantee it,” Wilbur snorted.

Tubbo squinted and Tommy sat back with his coffee as they bickered, finding that he didn’t mind the chaos if it meant he could be with his friends. He should really be distancing himself from the Watsons still, but here he was, a sucker. He smiled to himself, deciding passively he would kill someone if they tried to hurt either of his friends. Morals had never bene his strong suit anyways.

---

Life was falling into a pattern again. Tommy would patrol six days out of the week, always the same streets, and he always stopped the same sorts of crimes. He would see Riptide and Mesmo fairly often and he would see Domino occasionally, the vigilante was helpful but Tommy still gave him chase occasionally since it was kind of his job.

One such night Tommy was running across the rooftops, hot on Domino’s heels, when the vigilante had tripped. Tommy had reacted immediately, lunging forward and catching the tall man’s legs as he nearly went head first into the street four stories below. Domino had screamed, his cheap voice changer glitching, and Tommy had dragged him up, terrified that he’d lose grip. He rather liked Domino. Then they sat there, silent and panting for breath as they just comprehended what had just happened. 

“Did you just save my life?” Domino whispered breathlessly.

Tommy nodded silently, swallowing hard. He had saved Domino’s life. It occurred to him that he had never really planned on arresting the man. He was a friend. Theseus was friends with a vigilante. He jumped to his feet, alarm thrumming through his veins, “I’ve got to go.”

Domino stood too, “Hey, I owe you Theseus,” he said solemnly.

Tommy took a step away from the man, conflicted. He loved fighting the lanky teleporter, it never felt serious because he always knew that Domino would get away. “No, you could have teleported away,” he said suddenly. He knew Domino better than that though, he knew the vigilante couldn’t teleport in high stress situations, probably why he didn't make the cut to be a real hero, but Tommy didn’t care. He couldn’t take responsibility for saving the man’s life, he just couldn’t.

Domino shook his head, “No, I couldn’t have.”

Tommy didn’t stick around to argue, breaking into a sprint in the opposite direction. Domino didn’t follow. That night Tommy barely slept, staring blankly up at the ceiling thinking about that split colored mask. He had saved the life of someone he was supposed to be enemies with. It hadn't been long at all and he was already royally fucking up this 'good' hero thing.

A few days later, Tommy was patrolling as usual and he spotted his least favorite villains. Riptide and Mesmo, stealing a car. Tommy crouched on the sidewalk across the street, amused, as Riptide yelled at Mesmo for choosing a Nissan, apparently not liking that sort of car for some reason. 

“I told you I didn’t want a Nissan!” She whined.

“Yeah, well I don’t exactly see any other cars out here, ready to be stolen!” Mesmo huffed.

Tommy shut the vents on his mask, prepared for a fight with the villains. Mesmo was right, this car was actually parked illegally, which meant it was the only car on the street. Poor location choice on the owner’s hand, in Tommy's opinion. That’s just asking for someone to steal it.

“Still!” Riptide groaned, “They’re so bad!”

“It’s just a car,” Mesmo argued.

Riptide huffed in annoyance, looking away from her partner and tapping her foot, “Fine, but if it doesn’t work right then I get to pick the next one.”

“Sounds great,” Mesmo said, Tommy could practically hear him rolling his eyes. 

“Unfortunately I don’t see much car thievery in your near future,” Tommy said about as casually as he could. He stood, sliding his baton out of his belt and grinning at the villains. 

Riptide pulled a puddle off the ground with her ability and Mesmo stood straight, fingers ghosting along his hammer. Riptide cocked her head, the lens in her mask had been fixed a long time ago, “Theseus,” She greeted him.

“Hey there, Riptide, Mesmo,” Tommy sauntered closer, watching Riptide’s water. The puddles on the ground were concerning with her ability. He still hadn’t figured out what her limit was. Her name implied a lot more than the little whips she made to fight all the time, and though she never really used much more, he never saw her strain. 

“You’re going to ruin our night, aren’t you?” Mesmo said, exasperated. 

“Yep! It kinda is my job,” Tommy shrugged, “Now are you going to let me cuff you or not?”

Mesmo responded by slamming his hammer into the ground. Steel hit asphalt and a shockwave hurled at Tommy. Tommy just threw his body to the side in an attempt to escape the blow. He had tried so many times to block the hits, but had always ended up limping away with something bruised or fractured, frequently his ribs. It was awful. So he threw himself to the side and he felt the air rush past him, the force clipping at his jacket. He grit his teeth and ducked into a roll. 

He tried to move close to the pair, but they knew better than to let him in close anymore, after a few too many hits that he was positive had broken bones. It was easy to assume as much, with the cracking noises and the cries of pain from the villains, but they were never set back much. He envied them their healer, they never had the drained look that Tommy always felt when he had to get healed. 

Riptide slung her whip at him and he watched for the faint tell-tale glow that would tell him where she concentrated more of her power to solidify the water enough to make it hurt and was barely able to block it with his baton. It then wrapped around the baton and yanked it from his grasp. He grit his jaw, unzipping one of his pockets where he held a collection of small objects to use as pseudo-weapons. His fingers brushed over a few nails, screws, marbles, and pebbles. He grabbed a marble and ducked into a roll to dodge another swing of the whip and then threw himself to the right to dodge a shockwave and as he came up he hurled the marble at the pair. Sometimes, with enough luck and effort, he was able to distract them enough, though he had yet been able to knock out another lens on their gas masks. The marble bounced off of Riptide’s chest harmlessly and she didn’t even flinch. Hm, maybe it was time to find an object that could cause actual damage.

He ducked close though, jumping over another shockwave. His baton was as good as gone now, and he grabbed a long screw from his pocket, the ribs on it could scratch nicely, especially after he had sharpened them. He had sharpened the nails too, but they were harder to use on these two because Tommy couldn’t afford to grapple with one while the other went at him, so something that could cause damage while in action was best. 

He swung the hand with the screw for Mesmo’s arm, knowing the sharpened screw could tear cloth. It dragged, but the man pulled back just barely in time to avoid injury. Tommy let a feral snarl from his lips, finding himself disappointed at the lack of success. He grabbed another screw in his other hand and lunged in closer after Mesmo. The villain swung his hammer for Tommy’s ribs and Tommy blocked with his forearm, knowing it may just break it, but he got lucky and there was no snapping sound, instead Tommy shoved away the throbbing ache to the back of his mind and just kept moving forward, swinging his screws for Mesmo’s body.

“They need to get you some knives,” Mesmo snarled, struggling to block Tommy’s movements with Tommy inside his guard, “Are sharpened screws a personal choice or something? I heard you stabbed Minx with one.”

Tommy managed a breathless chuckle at that, “Yeah, we’ll call them a personal choice.”

Mesmo didn’t respond, too busy dodging a screw aimed for his throat. 

Then, a tendril of water smacked the back of Tommy’s head. He yelped as he was forced forward, directly into Mesmo who had his arms out, ready to catch. Tommy wasn’t able to direct the screws at the man’s body in time and the villain was able to seize his wrists, redirecting them to the side and to shove Tommy to the ground.

Tommy hit asphalt and shrieked indignantly as his face hit an oil-stained puddle. Mesmo jerked his arms to Tommy rolled to his back and a boot pressed against his sternum as the villain wrestled the screws from Tommy’s grasp. The man ended up with a decent amount of cuts on his hands and forearms for the attempts, but then he just mercilessly dropped the hours of careful sharpening work into a storm drain. Tommy tried to kick up, but Riptide snatched his ankles, pulling him back to the ground. Tommy cursed himself, knowing he should have been better at keeping an eye on all of his opponents, but it was too late now, he was pinned, Mesmo shifting to kneel on him.

“Get some zipties, the fucker is strong,” Mesmo grunted to his partner.

Tommy stilled briefly at that. Mesmo and Riptide killed, they didn’t incapacitate. That meant they had something planned with him if they were talking about zipties. He didn’t like the sound of that. He fought harder, twisting and yanking on the hands holding his wrists, trying to roll away from the man. He couldn’t even twist his hands into his sleeves to grab the long screw he stored there, the one he had stabbed Minx with. Mesmo grunted, forcing his whole weight over Tommy to keep him immobilized, his ankles still restrained by Riptide’s water whip.

Then the villainess walked into Tommy’s vision, looking down at him with that expressionless mask, “Hold still,” she said firmly, the water tightening threateningly around his ankles, feeling sharp. 

Tommy didn’t listen, going into something like a panic. Sure he had been close to death or worse at this pair’s hands, but never had it seemed so inevitable. He couldn’t move or even protest. His limbs were restrained and his weapons were gone. His weapons were gone. Tommy’s breaths were coming too fast.

“Shit, he’s panicking, Riptide,” Mesmo grunted.

Riptide knelt by his head, trying to grab at his wrists, and Mesmo’s grip relaxed slightly, as he was anticipating help, and Tommy jerked the limb to freedom. It was the sleeve with Minx’s screw. He grabbed it and swung into Mesmo’s shoulder. The villain screamed, jerking, but still obviously trying to hold Tommy down. Tommy stabbed again, fear blinding him. He was going to die, he couldn’t die, they were going to kill him. He aimed for an artery in the arm this time, knowing where blood flowed strongly and he felt his weapon find it’s mark and he didn’t even hesitate to go again, under, in between ribs and ripping the sharpened ridges of the screw through the villain’s side. Mesmo screamed again, forcing himself away from Tommy, but Riptide was still close and the water still restrained his ankles, he could still die, hell, she could cut his tendons, incapacitating him for easy transport, or whatever it was they had in mind for him. He swung for the villainess’s throat but she dodged, stumbling away, not quite fast enough though, his screw cut through the inside of her wrist, cutting deep, even cutting one of the tubes full of water, which began to drain from the tube as she scrambled away, holding the injury.

“Holy shit,” Mesmo groaned, holding his arm where blood poured from Tommy’s most successful hit, “He’s aiming to kill, Rip.”

Riptide huffed out a breath, “You’re lucky Gamble said not to kill you,” she snarled at Tommy. "I don't tolerate people trying to kill my partner."

The water was cutting into his skin. Tommy screamed, reaching, but he couldn’t get a grip on the water, it turning to an innocent liquid wherever he tried to grab it. The puddle he had fallen in reared up in another whip that looked suspiciously more like a spike than the other had. He tried to get away from it, but it snaked around his forearm and forced his arm to the ground. He screamed, not bothering with words. He didn’t have backup. This was exactly what Schlatt had wanted, and Tommy doubted Gamble’s apparent fondness for him would keep him from being left to bleed out in the streets. 

Another puddle grabbed his other arm and Riptide stared into him, rage apparent. She was going to hurt him, he knew it. He fought as much as he could, but the water was sharp on his skin, cutting with each movement. It didn’t slow him much though. 

“Fuck you!” He screamed up at the villainess, “I’ll kill you!”

“You’ve proven that much already,” she sneered.

“Let me go!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” she scoffed, raising a hand. 

Tommy heard water sound and followed the noise to look above his head, seeing the storm drain where his screws had been tossed, the sound getting louder as Riptide’s fingers slowly curled, her head tilting back. Then, water erupted from the drain in a force that was unrecognizable from Riptide’s usual strength. Tommy put more force into his struggling, but a tendril of water encircled his neck, pulling him flat out on the road and the two holding his arms reared up, stabbing through his palms, pinning him even more effectively as he screamed, the pain making his body force him to stillness, unable to do much more than tremble and seize. He watched helplessly as the geyser of water raised overhead in a barely contained mass of swirling froth. Riptide screamed in rage and Tommy’s eyes widened at the sheer amount of water she controlled. It was an unseen amount. Tommy had seen a water hero practice before and their limit had been half of this. 

Then, Riptide’s body relaxed, the water immobilized over Tommy as she walked to her partner who was desperately trying to keep himself from bleeding out and she lifted him. She turned to glare at Tommy and the restraints around his limbs and neck began to crack with cold as they solidified into ice. She could freeze water too? His breath caught, realizing the position he was in, in the middle of the street, half of the fucking sewer water in the city suspended over his head, and ice restraints frozen around him. Then she released the water.

It hit him with the force of a truck. He couldn’t do anything but close his eyes and brace himself. Muck and filth washing over him, forcing his body against his cutting restraints and he screamed in his slowly filling mask. It wasn’t quite watertight around the edges, something Riptide thankfully hadn’t noticed yet. It trickled in, steadily filling the space, trapped over his mouth and nose. It reeked and soon he couldn’t breathe, the last of the air in his mouth having trickled out, replaced by sewer water. The water wasn’t washing out around him and he forced his eyes open in the stinging murk, realizing that Riptide was holding a globe over him. She wanted him to drown. Maybe she really did know his mask wasn’t watertight. 

Tommy held his breath as much as he could as the water began to settle. His vision was fading, a weightlessness settling in his body, but he was still able to see the ice spikes forming in the water over his body. Then, the tension holding the globe of water over him vanished and the water all rushed outwards and down, spikes moving with it. It wasn’t enough to make a Tommy-kebab, but he still felt cold ice tear into his arms and legs, cutting at his sides, avoiding anything vital but still causing damage. He couldn’t even sob at the pain as the sewer water eked away, flooding past him back to where it had come from, because his mask was draining much more slowly. He wasn't submerged anymore, but he was still drowning. He choked on the vile stuff, lungs spasming in a painful need for air. A tear tracked down his cheek, his eyes too wide as he looked past the ice spikes embedded in his body, a faint figure on a rooftop nearby, flickering oddly with purple. 

Tommy couldn’t breathe and the pain was too much. He could see the sun beginning to rise at the edge of his periphery as spots danced across his vision. Maybe the figure was a civilian who would report where he was. Maybe this really wouldn't kill him. Maybe he would be okay. Maybe he would see Wilbur and Tubbo again. He didn’t have long to wonder about it before he slipped unconscious.

Chapter Text

Pain. Tommy fought it with a choking sort of whine as he attempted to wake up. His body was weak and the lights overhead were altogether too bright and demanding. Memories of why he was in pain ran through his mind. Riptide's rage, Mesmo's crimson blood splattering on damp pavement. Sewer water in his mouth and nose. Ice in his body, shocks of too-cold against burning, mind numbing pain. He was alive, but it was clear there was a cost to that simple fact. Pain.

“Theseus?” a familiar voice questioned.

Tommy forced his eyes to look over and he saw Blaze sitting there, unmasked, at Tommy’s bedside.

“You awake?” Blaze asked softly, brows furrowed. "You were out for a couple days.”

Tommy looked back at the ceiling, trying to gather the strength to move, but he found it far too difficult. He didn’t doubt that it had been a while that he had been unconscious. He was honestly impressed that Ponk had been able to do much for him at all. The healer used your own energy to heal, and Tommy hadn't exactly been lively, considering he didn't even know how he had gotten back to the Tower. He had to have been rescued.

“Ponk said you almost died,” Blaze said carefully, “Riptide and Mesmo did a number on you, not to mention that you had Domino of all people rescue you.”

Tommy had the awareness to frown at that. Domino had saved him? The vigilante hadn’t been very present lately. 

“He just teleported you to the headquarters lobby, right in the middle of a tour group, dropped you and then vanished again,” Blaze laughed, “You should have seen the receptionist’s face.”

“He saved me?” Tommy whispered, not quite surprised to find that his mask was off of his face. A fraction of a memory of purple particles hit Tommy. Oh. Well, maybe they were even now, Tommy saved Domino from falling to his death and Domino kept him from bleeding out and drowning in sewer water.

“Yeah, you’re lucky. He normally doesn’t like heroes,” Blaze said, “You just befriend everybody, don’t you?” There was something behind the man's voice, something almost sad that Tommy didn't want to get into. He chose to ignore it.

Tommy grunted, apparently he did befriend everyone. The hero intern with a penchant for explosives next door, the rich bastards he used to be a fucking maid for, a dealer in Las Nevadas, even motherfucking Gamble seemed to be fond of him. None of it made sense to him, but he wasn’t really going to complain. Gamble liking him was the only reason he was currently alive, if he remembered the moments before falling unconscious properly. Riptide hadn't killed him simply because the villain had said not to. 

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with this life,” Blaze said more softly, “Gamble told me some about your situation that I didn’t know.”

Tommy looked over at the hero at that, recalling suddenly that the man had spent some time apparently at the information dealer’s bidding.

“No one deserves that, Tommy,” the man murmured.

Tommy looked away. He knew he didn’t deserve to be betrayed and lied to constantly, but it was a far better option than Pandora, so he wouldn’t really complain. He couldn’t.

Blaze sighed and stood, “Ponk, he’s awake,” he called loudly.

The healer entered the room, scowling down at Tommy, “Ah, welcome to the world of the living, Theseus. Let’s see, eleven stab wounds, two of them were sharpened screws, five lacerations, half drowned…” the healer trailed off, looking thoughtful as he counted out Tommy’s injuries on his fingers, “Ah, and lacerations and bruising around your wrists, ankles, and neck, which I didn’t bother healing, along with some other bruising.”

Tommy groaned, “Great,” his voice was rough, cracking embarrassingly and he didn’t even have his voice changer on to hide it.

“Hm, well, the worst has been healed, but you have three days off anyways, try not to mess with the stitches on the walk home,” Ponk said.

“Stitches?” Tommy managed, struggling to get control over his limbs and was somehow able to get upright, Blaze offering a supporting hand. 

“I only healed the worst stuff, but a lot of your stab wounds were still deep enough that I had to stitch them up, one of the lacerations too,” he said thoughtfully. 

“Oh,” Tommy said, groaning a bit as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. How lovely.

“Do you think you’ll need crutches?” the healer asked.

“Yes, he will,” Blaze snapped.

The healer hummed, nodding, and then he left, disappearing behind a curtain. 

Tommy looked down at his plain grey sweatpants and black sweatshirt. It was better than the Dream hoodie though, so he wouldn’t complain, “Where’s my uniform?” He asked.

“Eret’s doing repairs,” Blaze said, “It was in tatters and the sewer water fucked up your mask’s filter system.”

Tommy sighed, knowing the sharpened screws and nails in his pockets would likely disappear and he would be lucky if Dream and Schlatt didn’t find out about them. 

Ponk returned with a pair of crutches and a small brown paper bag. He handed both to Tommy. Tommy frowned at the hag, hearing a rattle inside.

“I usually let heroes keep things they get stabbed with and those are the only ones that didn’t melt,” Ponk said lightly, “Whoever made them put effort into sharpening them, was it Riptide or Mesmo?”

“Riptide,” Tommy lied easily, “She must be trying her hand at projectiles in her whips.”

Ponk grunted, “Lovely, so you’ll be in for more lacerations now then?”

Tommy glared, “Probably.”

Ponk sighed, “Alright, I’ll stock up on sutures.”

Tommy rolled his eyes as he got the crutches under himself and managed to get upright. He was in to see Ponk almost three times a week as a full hero, the man should know well enough what to expect at this point, but he always made it seem like some great inconvenience. 

Tommy’s legs hurt where he had been stabbed and his palms were worse as he balanced himself with the crutches. Though the ice had gone all the way through his palms, so it was no wonder. He wondered if he qualified as an off brand Jesus at this point or not. Surely he did? He snorted to himself and began the pain-filled walk to the elevator. 

He got to the street, allowing Blaze to herd him and ask if he needed help every few seconds before he got annoyed.

“Look, I’m fine, leave me alone,” he snarled.

Blaze frowned, “The last time you were this bad off you almost got fucking assassinated.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “I’m fine, Blaze.”

Blaze didn’t look convinced.

“All you’ll do is draw attention to me with your face,” Tommy reminded the man, “I’m a civilian right now, so don’t worry about me.”

Blaze frowned, “Alright, I guess, please be careful though.”

Tommy nodded, “I will,” he waved the man off as he shuffled out onto the main street and began the long walk to his apartment. He avoided looking at manhole covers, remembering all too well the way the sewer water looked erupting out of them.

He was waiting to cross a street, lost in thought and trying to ignore the pain of his body when firm hands hit his back. His eyes widened as he careened forward, unable to move his body in time, much less his crutches. He could see a car coming and had he more time to understand the situation he would have laughed that out of all the people out there who wanted to kill him, a car would be the one to do it, but then a firm hand grabbed him and yanked him back.

He crashed into a blonde haired woman, her eyes wide with concern as she steadied him, “Are you alright? You almost fell into traffic there!” She scanned him nervously.

Tommy shook his head, looking for someone who pushed him, frowning, “I was pushed, did you see anyone?”

She frowned, “No, I didn’t. All I saw was you falling,” she pressed a hand to his forehead. 

He leaned away, still looking for a culprit, for all he knew, she had been the one who almost accidentally killed him. He didn’t trust nice strangers, not after far too many odd coincidences. 

“What did you do to yourself,” the woman asked, noticing the bandages on his hands and neck, “That looks pretty bad.”

“Car accident,” Tommy lied.

Her face twisted in concern, “I own a bakery down the street, do you want something to eat?”

Tommy hesitated, knowing better than to follow strangers, but this woman genuinely seemed concerned about his wellbeing. He smiled a bit “Sure, sounds great.”

The woman smiled,  “My name’s Niki.”

“I’m Tommy,” he said.

---

Wilbur scrolled through the hero-watcher forums, looking for an update on Theseus. His little hero friend had been seen fighting Riptide and Mesmo three days ago and then it had been on the news that a vigilante of all people had dropped his unconscious body off in the Hero Tower without a word. There was no announcement that he had died, only radio silence. The Tower didn't even have the curtesy to assure the public that the boy was still alive. Wilbur had tried his apartment, and Tubbo had seemed just as worried, but Tommy hadn’t been there, leaving Wilbur with no choice but to assume that Tommy was in the Tower recovering. 

He put his phone in his pocket as he entered his friend’s bakery. Her name was Niki and she was quite well known, even catering to the hero tower sometimes and she happened to be Riptide. Wilbur and Niki were aware of each other’s work personas, but they were friends outside of work and so usually tried to not let work interfere in friendship, though he was breaking that rule today, he wanted to be sure she hadn’t killed Tommy. He knew it was inevitable that they fight, being that their territories overlapped, but he had hoped that it would never end how news reports claimed Theseus’s condition to be, stabbed through with ice and barely alive. He was conflicted with warring emotions. Part of him wanted to kill the person who had hurt his little hero so badly, but the other part was praying that Niki had a good excuse, that she hadn't meant to hurt Theseus that badly.

Wilbur only took one step into the bakery when he made eye contact with pale blue eyes, blonde hair, and a face stuffed with a chocolate croissant. He froze, looking from the bandaged Tommy over to Niki happily watching him devour her goods. Had she kidnapped Tommy? No, he looked far too happy for a kidnapping victim, and she looked far too fond to know who it was that sat across from her. He had heard her rant about Theseus quite a few times. It used to be funny how she had threatened to stab the kid. Wilbur had been sure that Tommy was too skilled to get stabbed by anyone but maybe Techno or Dream. Apparently his lack of weaponry meant just anyone could hurt him. Wilbur had the urge to burn the Tower to the ground.

Tommy saw Wilbur and froze, eyes wide. Niki followed his gaze to grin at Wilbur.

“Oh, Wilbur!” Niki greeted him happily, “This is my new friend, Tommy.”

Tommy blinked from Wilbur to Niki, clearly stunned, “You guys know each other?”

Niki was the stunned one now, “You know Wilbur?”

“Uh yeah, I used to clean his house,” Tommy said slowly, “How do you know him?”

“We’ve been friends for a while,” Niki said, then she frowned at Wilbur, “He used to clean your house?”

Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, he did.” There would be no hiding how much Wilbur trusted the kid after this. Wilbur walked closer with a forced casualness. Would she use Tommy against him? He hoped not.

“Did he ever help you with your work?” she asked casually, eyeing Tommy with a new interest, to which the boy was oblivious. 

Tommy snorted, “What do rich fuckers like Wilbur even do for work?”

Niki laughed, but her eyes still weighed him, “So you got injured in a car accident?”

Tommy nodded, not making eye contact with Wilbur or Niki, eyeing the next pastry on his plate, though the motion looked forced.

“I was wanting to follow up with you about that, actually,” Wilbur said. He didn’t know how long he could delay the realization that the boy Niki seemed so thrilled to feed was the very hero she had nearly killed a few days ago. He didn’t know how it had taken this long, with the way Tommy’s sleeves were rolled back, bandages around his hands and wrists and others around his forearms, a nasty bruise on his right forearm, likely from Mesmo’s hammer. Wilbur debated the pros and cons of killing Mesmo with his own hammer. 

“What about it?” Tommy asked, wary, glancing at Niki as if to remind Wilbur that she was there.

“How are you recovering?” Wilbur asked neutrally.

“I woke up this morning,” Tommy muttered, “The healing sucked out my soul or some shit, you need to find a better doctor next time you try to pay for my medical bills,” he would be such a great liar with that kind of improv if he could back it up with body language.

Wilbur took it in stride, knowing Niki was taking note of everything, “And they let you out already? Did you at least get time off work?”

“Three days,” Tommy muttered, laughing bitterly, “We both know my boss wants to work me into the grave or something.”

Wilbur nearly cringed at how accurate that was, “Well you know you can come to me if you ever need anything, right?”

Tommy nodded, a little sad and definitely not listening, “Sure,” he lied. 

Wilbur smiled fondly, ruffling the boy’s hair, “You like Niki’s food?” If Niki would figure out who was sitting there inevitably then Wilbur could at least do the most he could to endear the kid to the villainess. 

Tommy grinned around a mouthful, “Oh fuck yeah, this is good shit, Niki, you are the only woman ever.”

Niki smiled, but her eyes were on the bandages on his arms, “Thanks Tommy.”

Tommy ignored her and turned his full attention back to his plate. Wilbur stepped closer to the boy protectively as he watched Niki begin to connect dots, her eyes widening in anger and then shock. 

“Hey Toms?” Wilbur asked, forcing cheer into his voice, “Quackity was asking about you, have you been in touch with him at all?”

Tommy looked up at Wilbur angrily, such a familiar anger in those blue eyes, Niki was getting tenser, “Fucker sold me out, you know.”

“Oh?” Wilbur asked, “Odd,” He knew that wasn't true, but Tommy likely still had no clue that Quackity was Gamble, so it made sense he would think so, “And Dad and Techno have been asking too, they saw about the wreck.” Wilbur was just name dropping at this point, anything to warn Niki what exactly it was she was up against if she fucked with Theseus’s civilian identity. 

Tommy flinched, “Well I’m fine,” he said, “Tell them not to worry.”

Wilbur smiled slightly, “Maybe you should come over for dinner sometime or something?”

Tommy winced, grabbing his crutches and standing, “Sorry, Wil, I can’t, you know why.”

Wilbur nodded slowly, “I won’t stop Techno when he hunts you down,” he warned, watching Niki’s face flash with concern and fear before flickering with anger again. 

“Fucking bitch boy won’t find me,” Tommy said confidently with an empty smile, “But anyways, thank you so much Niki, you have my forever friendship for your wonderful food and for saving my life, but I have to go now.” He gave a mock bow despite the crutches and how much he must be hurting, Wilbur had seen the picture of countless spikes of ice in his body. He grabbed a brown paper bag from the table that rattled faintly and walked out of the bakery about as best you can on crutches.

Niki waited a few minutes before she said coldly, “He’s Theseus, isn’t he?”

Wilbur looked down at the villainess who watched the door the hero had left through, “Yes, he is.”

“He used to clean your house?” She murmured.

“We were friends before he got inducted into the sidekick program,” Wilbur said, “He got caught with illegal weapons and chose being a hero over Pandora.”

Niki looked up at Wilbur, clearly conflicted, “I didn’t know he was so young.”

Wilbur nodded, taking the boy’s seat, “He’s a good kid.”

“He doesn’t know who you and your family are?” Niki asked.

Wilbur snorted, “No, he’s oblivious to it, even Techno.”

Niki nodded slowly.

“We’re attached to him, so you know. If anything were to happen to him…” Wilbur trailed off, knowing a threat would be unnecessary. 

Niki eyed him, “Is that why you’re here? Because you saw the news?”

Wilbur nodded, “I saw a picture of that kid so full of spikes he could be a hedgehog, you can see why I would be concerned, can’t you?”

Niki nodded, “Yes, I can.”

“Don’t kill him, or injure him to that extent again,” Wilbur’s voice was soft, and he knew this could ruin their friendship, but he didn’t care. He would protect Tommy first.

“I don’t plan to, but he started aiming to kill that time, got some hits in on Mesmo that I knew could kill if I didn’t get them healed,” Niki said.

“He aimed to kill?” Wilbur blinked.

“Thought we were going to kill him, probably,” Niki said, “But we aren’t stupid, Gamble is protecting him and now you three.”

Wilbur nodded, “The kid has a lot of allies, even a vigilante apparently.”

“He and Domino have been buddies for a while,” Niki said, “Here lately they’ve been avoiding each other though.”

“Do you know why?” Wilbur asked, pondering if he should try to get his hands on the notoriously elusive vigilante. Catching a teleporter was nearly impossible.

“No, I have no clue,” Niki said, lost in thought.

Wilbur recalled something the boy had said as he had left, “What did he mean when he said you saved his life?”

Niki winced, “He nearly fell into oncoming traffic. All I saw was some kid clearly recovering from some injury about to die, so I grabbed him and pulled him back. Then he seemed pretty shaken, insisting someone had pushed him so I thought I’d do something nice,” she ran her hands over her face, sighing, “And he turned out to be the hero I revealed the extent of my ability to and nearly killed in the process.”

Wilbur sat in Tommy’s vacated chair, considering that. “Schlatt’s trying to get rid of him,” he said carefully, wondering just how much he should tell her. He knew she had a soft heart though and it seemed that she was already conflicted about Tommy. 

“Get rid of him?” Niki frowned, “He’s good, why would he do that?”

“He was Dream’s apprentice,” Wilbur said slowly, “Quackity and I have a theory that they realized how hard he is to control and are either going to force him into choosing Pandora or try to get him killed.”

“They found him with illegal weapons?” Niki mused.

“He isn’t allowed to have weapons,” Wilbur said vaguely. A lot of people already had theories about what Theseus’s ability was, and it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you were around him all the time, but Wilbur still didn’t want to give the kid’s enemy all of his information. Maybe he should let Tommy in on some facts about Riptide to level the playing field?

“That’s what the screws are about,” she muttered.

“Screws?” Wilbur frowned,

“He has these screws he sharped and they cut roughly, making wounds that scar pretty badly, even when I get them healed,” she said, rolling up her sleeve, showing a ragged white scar on the inside of her arm, “This was from the other day.”

Wilbur whistled, unable to keep from grinning. The kid was fucking resourceful. A screw isn’t a weapon but he sure was using it like one, “Is that what he stabbed Minx with that first week?”

“Probably,” Niki said, “Though the stab wounds on Jack apparently look cleaner than the ones on Minx, so he’s sharpened them significantly more since.”

Wilbur had heard all about Minx getting stabbed with a screw by the new hero, most villains had heard about it and it had been the first step in Theseus’s growing reputation of being a scrappy and resourceful fighter, someone you don’t want to fight when there’s makeshift weapons around. “He stabbed Jack?” Jack was Mesmo, Niki’s partner, they were lifelong friends and Wilbur was surprised that Tommy had been able to cause that much damage on the man, but Niki had mentioned him almost killing the villain. 

“Three times,” Niki said, “The last one he ripped out, right between the ribs, it wasn’t pretty, nearly hit a lung, that screw was a good three inches long.”

Wilbur grinned widely, “Ah, he’d be such a good villain.”

Niki snorted incredulously, “You’re trying to turn him?”

“We all are,” Wilbur said, “Feel free to join in, he hasn’t caught on who any of us are yet, which is good, he’s a shit liar.”

“He really is,” Niki snorted, “But I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.”

Wilbur smirked, knowing for a fact that Tommy wouldn’t just let Niki off for feeding him free of charge and saving his life, “We’ll see.” He wasn't worried though, most of his rage having dissipated. Niki didn't look likely to hurt Tommy again anytime soon and he was sure that if he ever did manage to turn Tommy into the villain he had the potential to be, Niki and Mesmo would get their dues. The kid was aggressive and vengeful, he wouldn't let that sort of thing slide. 

---

Tommy hated his life. He didn’t even get to his apartment before Ranboo appeared, eyes wide as he grabbed Tommy and demanded to know where he had been before he saw Tommy’s wounds and promptly released him, but the encounter had drawn the attention of their other neighbor and Tubbo hadn’t had an ounce of the care for Tommy’s injuries.

“You bastard! No contact, nothing! You know how worried I’ve been!” Tubbo shouted.

Tommy cringed as Tubbo punched him in the gut, luckily the worst of his injuries there was some bruising, Riptide hadn't stabbed anywhere vital, “I didn’t have my phone, I’m sorry,” he tried to placate the bomb enthusiast, knowing he couldn’t be honest with Ranboo right there, enough people knew who he was already for his liking. 

“I know, I heard it ringing when I tried to call,” The shorter boy spat, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey, Tubbo, he looks like he’s been beaten up pretty bad, maybe don’t beat him up more?” Ranboo suggested, eyeing Tommy’s bandages.

Tubbo hesitated, “Yeah, alright, come on in, boss man.” He held Tommy’s apartment door open as if it were his own and Tommy kicked the stray clothes in his room to the side, covering up his spare uniform at the same time. Tubbo helped him settle on the mattress and then both boys stared down at him with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Tommy snapped.

“What happened to you?” Ranboo asked, “You disappeared and then you show up like this?”

Tommy cringed, “I got hit by a car.” A decent lie, he thought, and thankfully his neighbor seemed to buy it.

“What was the damage?” Ranboo asked.

“Uh, lots of bruising and lacerations,” Tommy said, ignoring that the worst of his injuries had been stab wounds.

Tubbo’s eyes caught the brown paper bags still in Tommy’s hand, “What’s that?”

Tommy blinked, then looked at the bag, realizing there was no hiding it, “Oh, this is something they pulled out of me,” he said as casually as he could.

“Pulled out of you?” Ranboo’s eyes widened.

Tommy cringed a bit, opening the bag and carefully pulling out the two screws. They were quite impressively sharpened, clear to see now that they were clean and he had to force himself to not just admire his work. Ranboo gingerly lifted one and Tubbo picked up the other.

“Holy shit, boss man,” Tubbo whispered.

“How did this happen?” Ranboo asked, flinching as he pricked a finger on the end of the screw.

“There was a construction site nearby,” Tommy said awkwardly.

“Where were they stuck in you?” Tubbo asked.

Tommy hesitated, which one of the stab wounds had been screws? “Um, I don’t know,” he finally said, “Didn’t ask.” Not a lie, he hadn’t thought to wonder where his own weapons had been lodged in his body. Though he suspected he would be able to tell when he looked under his bandages, a screw would make a different mark than an ice spear, surely. 

Tubbo grinned, “These are cool,” He tossed the screw from hand to hand, somehow not cutting himself, “I would pay money to get screws this sharp.”

“What for?” Ranboo asked.

Tubbo’s grin took a predatory shadow, “They’d be great projectiles.”

Ranboo looked concerned, “Uh, okay?”

“Look, I’m tired, can you guys leave me alone?” Tommy said, glad that instead of being worried about his injuries, Ranboo had apparently been distracted by the thought of Tubbo somehow turning screws into projectiles.

“Oh, of course,” Ranboo said, “Come on Tubbo.”

Tubbo stood reluctantly and the pair dropped the screws into Tommy’s hand as they made their way out of the apartment.

When they were gone Tommy laid back and looked at the screws. He had nearly killed a man with these. The fact didn’t disturb him nearly as much as he knew it should. His lack of concern was part of why he shuddered. Sure he had been in a panic, unable to think clearly, and he’d been sure they were going to drag him off and kill him somewhere, but it didn’t help that he had freaked out and tried to kill them for it. Part of him wondered if he had misread the situation, because they hadn’t killed him, but the memory of nearly drowning in sewer water as ice impaled his body, pinning him to asphalt, was enough to make him feel that his actions were justified. He had just gotten lucky that Domino had saved him. He frowned. Were they even now? Probably. 

He rolled onto his side, tucking the screws under his pillow with the throwing knife that lived there and he allowed himself to fall asleep, dreaming fitfully of sewers, screws, and gas masks. 

---

The first day of sick leave Tommy had was boring. The pain medicine he had gotten back at the Tower had long since worn off and it hurt to move, so he just didn’t, laying in bed and only getting up when it was absolutely necessary.

The second day he woke to a faint buzzing and he lifted his phone to his ear without even bothering to check the caller ID.

“Hello?” He rasped.

“Tommy?” A voice questioned.

Tommy frowned and pulled the phone away from his ear. Quackity. He pulled it back, debating hanging up, “Quackity,” he replied. “The fuck you want?”

“Uh, I just thought I’d call to check in, we haven’t talked in a while,” the man sounded unsure, “Is everything okay?”

Tommy grunted, “Sustained some injuries,” he managed.

“Oh shit, what happened? Someone I need to fuck up?”

Tommy laughed bitterly, “Fuck off Quackity, don’t play nice, I know you sold me out to your boss.”

Quackity frowned, “What are you talking about? I would never sell you out, Tommy.”

Tommy glared, “How does he know where I live then? How does he know shit about me?”

Quackity hesitated, “Tommy, I promise I would never sell you out. Why would Gamble want to know stuff about you anyways?”

Tommy froze. That hadn’t occurred to him. Quackity didn’t know who he was. “Whatever, I’m fine, you can fuck off now.”

“Wanna get something to eat?” Quackity asked slowly.

Tommy snorted, “No, I’ll pass.” Then he hung up, ignoring when the man tried to call him back. He could fuck himself. 

The mention of food was appealing though. Tommy groaned along with his plaintive stomach and finally forced himself upright, grabbing one of the hoodies he had modified to hold knives and filled the sleeves to his contentment and he struggled to his feet, the wounds in his body screaming at the movement. Then he collected his phone and wallet, ignoring another call as he moved out of his apartment.

He rode the elevator to the ground floor and began walking, not thinking much about where he was going, distracted by the soreness of his body. He wished Ponk had healed him just a bit more, but no, here he was, beat to shit and stitched up like off-brand Frankenstein's monster. He was both off-brand Frankenstein's monster and off-brand Jesus now, apparently.

He grumbled to himself as he walked, not really paying any attention to his surroundings and because of his distraction, he nearly missed when the masked man charged him. He barely came out of his thoughts when he saw silver streaking for his stomach. He yelped and instinctually used one of his own knives to deflect the blow, red flickering over his blade as he knocked the hand to the side and slammed the weapon into the gut of his masked attacker.

The man groaned and blood spilled out over Tommy’s hand, but he barely flinched, pulling the knife out and shoving the attacker into a nearby alleyway and against a wall, the man swallowing roughly as Tommy pressed his blade into his throat.

“Who the fuck are you?” Tommy snarled, his body buzzed with adrenaline and the feeling of his ability.

The man whimpered in response before swinging clumsily at Tommy with the knife he still had. Tommy easily blocked it with a crutch, twisting it to send the blade skittering along the ground of the alley. Tommy rammed the top of the crutch into the man’s gut where he had stabbed him and then slammed the bottom onto the man’s foot, the sound of bones breaking was thrilling and Tommy grinned as the man slid to the ground.

“Why are you trying to kill me?” Tommy asked, crouching despite the pain from movement. His side was hurting worse than it should, probably from his initial movements. 

The man glared at him over his purple mask, “Someone with good money wants you dead, that’s why. I wouldn’t’ve taken the job if I had known you were good with weapons though.”

Tommy laughed, cocky suddenly in the thrill of the situation, “I’m not just good, big man, I’m the fucking best.” Then he paused, “I guess you don’t know who is trying to kill me?” 

The man shook his head.

Tommy didn’t need him to know though, Tommy suspected well enough. It was too clear. Riptide had spared his life, not stabbing vital places and not drowning him or turning his lungs to slices. It meant that Schlatt needed another way to get rid of him. Tommy looked at the man, the blood pooling in his gut. Tommy had stabbed him, there was no hiding it. It meant he had a weapon. Could Schlatt prove it though? It was Schlatt, of course he could. He would fabricate evidence if he had to. Tommy snarled and slammed his crutch into the man’s skull and he fell limp, blood falling past his hand. He was a witness. Tommy couldn’t afford to let him tell a story but Tommy also couldn’t bring himself to kill him, and even if he did, what would he do with the body?

He stood and walked to the mouth of the alley, blood on his hand, staining the bandages there and his knife. That wasn’t ideal. Not to mention the fucking unconscious paid killer in the alley behind him. He swore softly to himself as he leaned on his crutches, adrenaline fading in favor of a just as familiar feeling, fear.

Then he saw a familiar store front. Niki’s bakery. He paused, looking at his hand. That could solve one of his problems. Surely she had a first aid kit? Maybe if he was sneaky he could make it just look like he had bust his stitches? Then he could clean his knife and crutch too. The part he was supposed to lean on was bloody too when he had hit the stab wound on the man. At least his hoodie was red. 

Tommy shuffled to eye the people around and snagged the hitman’s knife from the ground, stuffing it in his hoodie pocket, and then crossed the street, careful not to be hit. He used his foot to open the door and shuffled in with his knife carefully hidden in his fingers against the handle of the crutches, since he didn't want blood in his hoodie. He needed to be fast if he didn’t want the fucker in the alleyway to bleed out though. It wasn't a big knife, but any sort of stab wound could kill, surely. 

“Tommy?” a voice asked.

Tommy looked up, seeing Niki looking at him from behind the counter, looking a mixture of horrified and happy. He paused, then saw the other person in the room. Techno Watson stood across the counter from the woman, his huge form taking up a horrifying amount of space, his glasses on the end of his nose and he peered over them at Tommy, his pink hair up in a messy bun, his pink hoodie matched it perfectly in shade. Tommy’s breath caught. He had been avoiding the rest of the Watsons, he couldn’t ruin all of them, he wouldn’t forgive himself. He had just stabbed a man in an alley for Prime’s sake. 

“Techno?” Tommy licked his lips nervously, considering just leaving.

Techno looked at him and those dark reddish eyes scanned down him, narrowing, “Whose blood is that?” The normally monotone inflection was bled through with anger.

Tommy stiffened and Niki’s eyes widened, “Uh, mine,” he lied, “Stitches got bust, can I clean up in your sink?” He asked Niki. He didn’t have long if he didn’t want the hitman bleeding out. He looked down at the clearly stained red sleeve and the hand just as stained. No wonder the man looked almost murderous… Well, as much as Techno ever looked like any sort of emotion.

“Sure,” Niki said, her voice a little strangled, “Come on.”

Tommy shuffled closer and followed her eagerly to the sink, but then she didn’t leave and Techno huddled close, grabbing his wrist where his hand was bloodied. The man rolled back Tommy’s sleeve, squinting all too intelligently at the stains.

“That’s not your blood,” he said, prying Tommy’s fingers open where the bloodied knife rested, poorly hidden, “Who did you stab?” the man huffed, almost sounding like an exasperated parent. 

Tommy cringed back, watching Niki fearfully before looking back up at Techno as the man unwrapped the bandage, dropping the knife into the sink, “It’s uh, self defense,” he managed.

Techno spared him a glance, “Sure,” he snorted.

Tommy flinched, “It really was, this guy tried to stab me.”

“Where is he now?”

Tommy’s eyes cut outside, “In an alley.”

“Is he dead?” Techno’s voice was far too calm as he placed aside the old bandage and inspected the stitched up wound on the center of Tommy’s palm.

Tommy looked at Niki, wishing he could tell what she was thinking, she probably thought he was some horrible murderer now, “No, but he might be if we leave him.”

“What did you do to him?” Techno asked.

“Stabbed him, and then hit him with my crutch a couple times,” Tommy muttered.

Techno nodded, “He’s unconscious?”

Tommy nodded.

“I know some people I can cash in a favor with to take care of it,” Techno said, “Don’t worry. Where is his knife?”

Tommy tucked the hand that Techno wasn't carefully cleaning into his pocket, pulling out the knife, “Here.”

Techno accepted the weapon, eyeing it, “Cheap,” he huffed, sounding disappointed.

“Muggers don't care about quality equipment,” Niki said, looking somewhat annoyed at that fact.

Tommy suddenly remembered that she was there and fixed a shocked look on her, “You’re okay with this?”

Niki blinked at him, looking unsure, “Uh, yeah? I don’t blame anyone for stabbing in self defense.”

Tommy hesitated, “Oh.”

“Relax, she won’t say a thing to anyone,” Techno said soothingly, shooting Niki a look, “Right?”

Niki nodded quickly, “Of course.”

“Good.” Techno said and then he finally pulled Tommy’s hand from the sink, drying it carefully and frowning at the stitches, “What a sloppy job.”

Tommy laughed nervously, hyper aware of Niki. Techno might know what his job was and who he was, but that didn’t mean the fucking baker should.

“Have a look at the kid’s hand,” Techno said, holding Tommy’s hand out to the woman.

She flinched back like any normal person as she eyed the gory, barely sealed hole through Tommy’s palm, “I’m sorry,” she said, looking like she had been the one to shove ice spears through his body.

“Not your fault,” Tommy said quickly, pulling his hand back, cutting a glare to Techno as he did, he didn’t want his injury flaunted, anyone who looked too close would be able to tell it wasn’t a normal injury, “It was a bad accident.”

“Did they catch the person who hit you?” Techno asked casually, rolling with the lie. Wilbur must have filled him in.

“No,” Tommy said, “It was a hit and run.” A very literal type of hit and run.

“Did you get a look at them?” Techno mused, pulling a first aid kit out of seemingly nowhere as he took Tommy’s hand again to redress the wound.

Tommy could all too easily remember Riptide standing over him, feeling his face pale and he swallowed just to get moisture back into his mouth, “Nah.”

Techno nodded, “They’ll get them,” he glanced at Niki who had her hand over her mouth, looking pale as she looked at Tommy’s hand. She must be squeamish. “Revenge is sweet, they say.”

Tommy huffed, “I guess.” No one would be getting Riptide anytime soon. She was probably busy planning her next heist, one that didn’t include Nissans this time. He couldn’t even catch her and he saw her regularly. 

Techno nodded and allowed Tommy to have his hand back as he cleaned Tommy’s dagger and handed it back to him, “Here, let’s go get your mugger.”

Tommy accepted the blade and tucked it into its home in his sleeve, seeing how Niki’s eyes caught on it. He hoped Techno was right that she wouldn’t tell people about it. Techno passed the woman and she waited for Tommy and as he moved past the counter he tucked the hitman’s knife up his sleeve as well. He wouldn’t be missing it, even if he was still alive. Then he followed the large businessman out of the bakery, Niki following.

---

Techno was angry. He had been busy interrogating and threatening Riptide to be sure she didn’t spill Tommy’s secrets to anyone when said hero had burst into the bakery, his hand bloody. Techno hadn't even needed his eyes to know there was blood, he could feel it, especially since it was caused by violence. The presence of blood made those voices in the back of his mind murmur in growing excitement. They only got louder the more he learned about how his favorite hero had defended himself from some dumb mugger.

Stabby child.

F in the chat for the mugger

Blood.

F

F

RIP mugger

Blood for the Blood God

F

He looks so cute when he’s violent <3

Techno ignored the constant chatter as he followed the sense of blood to an alley across the street where a man was slumped over in a growing puddle of his own blood. Techno paused, puzzled. The man wasn’t wearing street clothes. He was wearing tactical gear.

Techno crouched beside the man seeing Niki eyeing the man’s clothes as well and he gripped the man’s hair, pulling his head back to see his eyes were open. Oh, he was awake. And he was familiar. Techno leaned close, all too familiar with the person sitting there. He had never personally spoken with him, but he was well known. Purpled, an assassin for hire. He was expensive.

Purpled’s eyes widened in recognition, going from Techno to Niki and then to Tommy and back to Techno, “Shit, you’re Bl-”

Techno cut the man off with a hand over his mouth, gripping hard. Tommy didn’t need to find out Techno’s identity from some shitty assassin, “And you’re Purpled.”

Purpled’s eyes widened more, but he was unable to speak.

“You know this guy?” Tommy asked, looking nervous.

Techno looked at the kid, thoughtful. Someone was trying to kill his civilian identity and Techno didn’t like the look of that, “He’s an assassin for hire.”

“Oh,” Tommy’s voice was small, but Techno knew for a fact he had already known that.

Purpled was looking at Tommy, almost confused among his fear. He looked at Tommy like he'd never seen the boy before.

Techno watched the dying man thoughtfully. What form of Tommy did he know to be confused when Tommy was sweet and bashful? Probably not a pretty side. Probably the side that left the Warden behind, nothing more than a pile of fractures and bruises. Techno fought the urge to smile.

“Who hired you?” Niki asked, squatting beside Techno.

Techno shifted his grip so the man could talk.

“Don’t know, but they didn’t pay near enough, said he was just some kid,” Purpled spat, “Not a fucking psychopath,” Purpled snarled at Tommy at that.

Techno cast his eyes to Tommy, catching the tail end of the cooly pleased look on the boy’s face before he became unsure when he realized he was under Techno’s gaze. Techno smiled inwardly, oh he loved this kid. Techno looked back at Purpled, “You should know better than that,” Techno mused, “No one hires you to kill some random kid.”

“This person did, it looked like an easy job, they weren’t offering enough to make it sketchy and since the Warden went quiet a couple weeks ago I haven’t been up to much, I don’t trust it,” Purpled muttered.

“The Warden’s been quiet?” Niki asked, alarmed.

“Who the fuck are you?” Purpled spat at her.

Tommy snapped to attention at that, “The fucking best woman,” he snarled, his attitude flipping like a switch and Techno pulled back as the boy pressed the foot of his crutch to the hollow of Purpled’s throat, “And you will not speak to her that way. Do you understand?”

Techno watched approvingly as Purpled weakly clutched at Tommy’s crutch, gasping painfully and Tommy’s voice dipped into that dark tone that suited him so well, his fingers twitching around the handle of his crutch, flickering red in his anger. Niki was staring at the boy in calculating shock. Techno wondered how she felt about the hero she had almost killed a few days ago standing up for her.

“Don’t kill him,” Techno chided as Tommy’s crutch didn’t let up for a little too long.

Tommy pulled back, looking somewhat startled, “Ah, my bad,” he said easily. He didn’t look nearly disturbed enough to be the hero he was supposed to be. 

Purpled choked and coughed, “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

Tommy laughed, “Wouldn’t you like to know, bitch boy? I don’t give out personal information to losers bleeding out in alleyways.” Somehow he was back to being playful and light hearted and just a touch nervous. 

Purpled’s lips twitched in a half smile, “You’re scarier than the fucking Syndicate.”

Tommy froze and Niki and Techno watched his reaction. He preened under what he obviously took as a compliment before he paused, frowning, “Maybe don’t tell them that, I’m not too sure they like me right now.”

Purpled scowled.

“I kinda stabbed one of them,” Tommy shrugged, grinning sheepishly.

Techno snorted. Stabbing Wil had been the best thing Tommy had done since becoming Theseus in Techno’s humble opinion, though he had heard some interesting stuff happened between him and Gamble after the fiasco with Warden, but Techno could only count things he knew as fact, and threatening the leader of Las Nevadas with a letter opener was a bit of a stretch, after all. Besides, it had kept Wil relatively humble in his perceived idea that he was Tommy’s favorite. Obviously the stabbing proved that to be false.

“Well we should find somewhere to put this guy,” Niki muttered.

Purpled looked at her, “You going to let the kid kill me?”

Techno laughed, “No, I’m going to cash in a favor.”

Purpled frowned, but Techno just pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number. He was just glad that Gamble had forgiven him for taking out his tooth, in his defense he had thought he had kidnapped Wil. Now the man had a nice gold tooth, even if he hated that he couldn’t shapeshift it, he was the dumbass who had chosen an unnatural looking false tooth.

“Blood God,” Gamble greeted him.

“Gamble,” Techno said easily, watching Tommy’s eyes widen, would the kid finally figure it out? Tommy wouldn't be able to hear Gamble's words, but not just anyone had Gamble himself on speed dial. “I have someone for you.”

“Who?”

“Purpled, he was trying to kill a friend of mine,” Techno said, smiling down at the assassin as he paled even more than the stab would make him.

Gamble paused, “Theseus?”

“Yes,” Techno said, “Tommy came to me, bloody, and I discovered that he left an unconscious man in an alley, so I thought I’d help him out.”

“I’m in the city right now, I’ll be there,” Gamble said quickly, “Send me your location and don’t let the kid leave.”

Techno glanced at where Tommy was edging away, “I won’t.” Then he hung up and texted the man the location, eyeing how Tommy was obviously trying to escape. 

“How do you know Gamble?” Tommy managed.

Techno smiled, “Work. My family is successful for a reason.”

Tommy blinked, “Oh,” he seemed to accept this explanation, “Well uh, I should head out, I’d rather not be around when the fu- uh, when Gamble gets here,” Tommy smiled awkwardly.

“He said to not let you leave,” Techno said, “And if it means I don't owe him for this then I’ll keep you here. He won’t hurt you, don’t worry.” He wouldn’t dare to, not with Techno there.

Tommy looked uncomfortable before he sighed and settled against the wall, glaring down at Purpled who was very aware that he had become the target for the release of Tommy’s frustrations. Then the boy looked at Niki, “You’re rather comfortable, knowing that I know Gamble, stabbed Siren, and apparently have someone trying to kill me.” He was guarded, for all his protectiveness, it seemed he was testing her. Techno watched with interest.

“I know who you are,” she said then, cringing a bit, “So I’m not surprised.”

Tommy’s eyes widened and Purpled looked between them, interested. “You know?” Tommy managed.

“Yeah,” Niki flinched, “Uh, let’s just say it wasn't hard to tell.”

“Oh fuck, you’re a villain, aren’t you?” Purpled swore up at Tommy, “Some big asshole like Mesmo or some shit?”

Tommy blinked down at the assassin, then he snorted, “Mesmo? Big asshole?” His speech degraded into laughter, nearly crying in his humor as Niki watched with a wry smile. Tommy sobered up though, “No, I’m not Mesmo. He’s just a little bitch.”

Purpled looked mystified, likely trying to think of anyone who could align with who Tommy might be. They had to be in Mesmo's caliber, but not a member of the Syndicate, and also somewhat at odds with Mesmo. Techno smiled, the man wouldn't make any progress with that thought process. 

“You’re more alive than I thought you would be,” Tommy said then, eyeing Purpled critically.

“His ability is like endurance, it’s really hard to get him to bleed out,” Techno huffed.

Tommy looked interested, “Ah, so you’re staying because I broke your foot then?”

Purpled glared, “That was the old reason.” He shot a wary look at Techno and then looked back at Tommy, “Now I just don’t think I’d make it far if I tried to get away anyways.”

Tommy snorted, nodding, “Fair enough.” Techno watched with unmistakable pride. Tommy was watching the assassin like a cat watches a mouse that it knows is caught. Tommy knew he was in control of the situation and he had no qualms with the fact that his prisoner was injured and very very slowly bleeding out. Tommy liked this power and Techno couldn’t wait to bring him around to villainy, to bring him to question people with him, to let him press his glowing red knives into the skin of those who had crossed the Syndicate. Techno could just see the joy on Tommy’s face to see the concrete floor of their bunker turn crimson and to have those who angered or inconvenienced him screaming under his hand. It was a look Techno knew disturbed most people when he wore it, but it would suit Tommy like a crown to a prince. Vengeance and sadistic pleasure resting in beautiful curls more fittingly than gold and jewels as scarlet paints everything. Techno couldn’t wait, he would be the one to teach Tommy the joys of their lifestyle, to urge him to take that crown and give him as many weapons as his little heart desired. 

Blood for the Blood Prince.

Blood for Theseus.

The voices agreed. Techno couldn’t wait. 

Chapter Text

Tommy watched Purpled get dragged into Gamble’s van with a small smile on his face. He leaned on his crutches casually, running his fingertips over his knives, wishing he couldn’t have stabbed the assassin at least once more. That man with the fox mask, Kurama, was quite strong as he forced the injured hitman into the back. Purpled had started panicking fairly quickly once Gamble showed up and unfortunately he hadn’t really been able to run with his broken foot, Techno muscling him to the ground before he could get far enough for Tommy to throw a knife. What a shame.

Gamble had watched with his expressionless mask and told Kurama to restrain the man. Then he had turned to look at Tommy, “He tried to kill you?” The man’s voice was soft.

“Yeah,” Tommy shrugged, a little uncomfortable now that the villain was looking at him. 

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry,” Gamble purred, “Techno, thank you for calling me.”

Techno grunted, eyes on where Purpled had disappeared, “My business partners might be interested in him as well.”

Tommy watched his friend interact with the villain. He didn’t know what to think. Techno was a businessman, but apparently their company used Gamble’s information sometimes, or something, and now he mentioned his business partners wanting something to do with a hired killer. Tommy was beginning to wonder if he didn’t need to be as worried about bringing crime to them as he had thought. Gamble and Techno seemed rather familiar with each other and Tommy wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He trusted Techno, the man had done so much for him, he had been the first to offer that complete trust in the form of a small knife and Tommy had trashed that in record time, but Techno hadn’t seemed to hold a grudge, instead being willing to owe a favor to Gamble, of all people, in return for helping Tommy out when Tommy had been too scared for what he might owe the villain.

Gamble cocked his head, chuckling, “Oh they would, wouldn’t they?” Then he paused, apparently lost in thought, for all Tommy could tell with the mask. Then he brushed himself off as if he had been the one hauling Purpled into the van, instead of his henchman, “Well, I’ll be going now,” he announced, pausing as his mask faced Tommy. He reached a hand out and Tommy flinched back, but he wasn’t fast enough to escape the man’s reach in his crippled state, but instead of roughly grabbing him or inflicting any sort of pain or discomfort, Gamble simply ruffled Tommy’s hair, almost fondly.

“Don’t touch me!” Tommy spat, his hands finding the knives in his sleeves, though he didn’t pull them out, he was just prepared.

Techno stepped closer, “Gamble,” he said lowly, “Don’t touch the kid if he doesn’t want to be touched.”

“Not a kid,” Tommy grumbled, but he didn’t object too loudly since Gamble seemed likely to listen to Techno for some unknown reason. What sort of company did the Watsons even run? Tommy couldn’t quite remember. Had he ever even asked?

“Alright, no touching,” Gamble raised his hands defensively, “But don’t be afraid to contact me, Tommy.”

Tommy snarled, “Fuck you, Gamble.” It was unnerving to be called his real name by a villain. 

Gamble laughed and began to turn away, pausing to dip his head to Techno, and look at Niki, “You seem familiar,” he murmured.

Niki looked a little pale, “I believe we’ve met, under different circumstances.”

Gamble seemed to consider this, “We will be in touch,” he finally said, “And I expect complete silence.”

Niki nodded, “Of course, sir.”

Gamble seemed pleased with this because he turned and left, climbing into the van which pulled away, casually rejoining the sparse traffic of this part of the city. Tommy watched the van disappear and finally released his knives. When he looked at Niki he found that she was watching his hands.

“You good at using those?” She asked, almost casually.

Tommy grinned, “Oh you have no idea." 

Niki’s face was carefully blank, “I see.”

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” Techno said lightly, he turned his body to face Tommy fully, “If you ever run into any trouble at all, contact me or one of my family members. Any issue you have, we can help. We miss you, Tommy, you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

Tommy blinked, surprised to hear such words out of Techno of all people, but the man had surprised him multiple times already today, so he rolled with it, “Of course, I will,” he lied the best he could.

Techno nodded, “You had better. Now, follow me,” He pulled keys out of his pockets.

Tommy frowned, “Where to?”

“Home. Dad wants to see you and Wilbur will think it’s funny you stabbed a guy,” Techno said.

Tommy blinked, “Uh, I think I’ll pass, Techno, sorry. I’ve got, uh, stuff to do.”

“Are you working?” Techno asked darkly.

Tommy shook his head quickly, “I got three days off after…” he trailed off, thinking of Riptide’s mask and ice impaling his body, sewer water in his nose, trapped against his face by the mask that was supposed to save him. “After my injury,” he said as brightly as he could with Niki there.

“You need longer than that,” Techno said.

“It’s long enough, besides, apparently people are trying to kill me out of uniform too now,” Tommy managed a harsh laugh, “So time off doesn't do anything for me.” There was no way Schlatt had only hired one guy.

Even Niki seemed angry at that, moving forward, “Maybe you shouldn’t leave your house then?”

“That won’t stop them,” Techno said lowly, “You’re coming with me. Until this blows over you aren’t going anywhere without someone I trust with you.”

“Do you trust Gamble?” Tommy asked wryly.

“No, but I trust that he wants you safe too,” Techno growled.

Tommy remembered Riptide’s frustration that she couldn’t kill him, all because Gamble said she couldn’t. Well, he couldn’t argue with that, though she certainly hadn’t hesitated to turn him into a fucking polar bear shish kebab or some shit. 

“Come,” Techno’s voice allowed no argument, so Tommy obediently hobbled after the man, Niki following, looking lost in thought. They were back on the sidewalk, Techno leading the way towards an expensive car that was definitely his, and Niki following Tommy closely, steadying him on occasion when Tommy tried to move too quickly, when a man appeared, walking towards the three of them. 

Techno stopped so suddenly that Tommy nearly ran into him, Niki moving forward to meet the man with a hug. The guy had an arm in a sling and was moving stiffly and he and Niki spoke to each other quietly for a moment before the man’s eyes shot up, fixing Tommy with something like a glare. Tommy tensed and Techno shifted between them, the man’s eyes lifting to meet Techno’s and he instantly paled. Niki whispered furiously, pointing at the newcomer like a mother scolding a stubborn child.

Finally the man seemed to relax a bit and Niki led him back towards Tommy and Techno. Tommy’s hands were firmly on his knives and he was hoping he wouldn’t have to call Gamble again for someone who was clearly a good friend of Niki’s.

The man stopped before Techno, “Techno,” he greeted the larger man, grinning crookedly, though it looked a little weak, “I come in peace,” he joked, raising his hand in surrender, his other immobile int he sling. Tommy wondered how he had gotten injured.

Techno didn’t relax, but Niki shot him a look full of meaning that Tommy couldn’t identify as she softly pleaded, “Techno, please.”

Tommy watched the interaction, puzzled. Techno must not like this guy. Tommy eyed the newcomer more warily.

Said newcomer reached a hand past Techno to Tommy, “Sup, I’m Jack.”

Tommy cocked his head, warily taking the man’s hand, “Tommy.”

The man’s smile widened and he gripped Tommy’s hand tightly. Too tightly. Tommy grit his jaw at the white hot pain of his injured hand being squeezed, “Nice to meet you!” The man said brightly.

Tommy fought the urge to not stab the bastard, for all he knew, the guy hadn’t noticed the rather obvious bandages on Tommy’s hand, but whatever the case, he wasn't earning any brownie points, as he shook Tommy’s hand violently.

Tommy felt a shift in his sleeve and pried his hand free of Jack’s barely in time so when the knife fell from his sleeve, he was able to catch it, crimson dancing over the blade as it found its way to Tommy’s palm. Tommy was glad that he was so good at catching knives, since he didn’t exactly want to have to pick it up in the middle of the sidewalk with his crutches.

Jack was silent, staring at the weapon with wide eyes, “Uh,” he stammered.

Tommy smiled tightly, “Nice to meet you too,” he said smoothly, not replacing his knife. His ability was visible on the surface of the steel and in the veins of his fingers. 

Jack was just gaping at Tommy’s knife.

Tommy smirked, tossing it up, “Whatcha think, big man?” He taunted, “Not so tough now that I’m the one with the sharp object? You have a mean handshake, literally.” Okay, maybe unnecessary, but this Jack guy had pissed him off, and Tommy trusted Techno’s judgment.

“Uh, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Jack said weakly.

“You definitely did, but we can move past it, I guess,” Tommy said, shrugging and replacing the knife in his sleeve.

“Quick question,” Jack managed, “Is that legal?”

Tommy laughed, “Nope!”

Techno sighed, “Come, Tommy, let’s go, you scared him enough.”

Tommy grinned cruelly, not quite done getting his vengeance, but then he hesitated, remembering that this was Niki’s friend. She stood behind Jack, looking nervous as she watched them, but not interfering. Though to be fair, they had only met twice and the second time they had met Tommy had just stabbed a guy, so it made sense if she didn’t feel like getting close when he was armed and angry. He instantly softened, offering a smile, “Sorry Niki, I know he’s your friend. I’m coming, Tech.”

Techno led Tommy to his car and helped Tommy in as Niki and Jack spoke, or maybe argued, for all the hand gestures from Niki and the sheepishness from Jack, Tommy wasn’t sure that was the right term. Then Techno didn’t get in the car, he just walked back to the pair, locking Tommy in the car while he spoke to the pair. Tommy scowled at what had obviously been a ploy to speak to them privately, but he tried not to be mad, he had interrupted the man’s conversation with Niki in the first place. He couldn’t even see the pair behind Techno’s broad shoulders. The man must work out constantly to have that stature, though you wouldn’t assume as much with the long pink hair. Tommy smirked, wondering if his friend was some sort of Blood God fanboy. Not too surprising, Blood God was pretty cool…

Techno got into the car and made sure Tommy was buckled before he began to drive, “Sorry about that, I had to finish my discussion from earlier.”

Tommy nodded, “I figured.”

Turns out, Techno was a great driver. He followed all road laws and made sure to use his turn signals and even a safe following distance. Tommy was somewhat amazed, but he didn’t comment on it, allowing the car ride to be silent till they approached the Watsons’ ridiculously wealthy neighborhood.

They pulled into the garage and Techno led Tommy into the main part of the house, helping him on the stairs. The man was almost overbearing with how careful he was with Tommy, gently helping him and checking every few frustrating stairs if Tommy was alright, and each time Tommy insisted he was, ignoring the pain from the stab wounds in his legs. He was just fine, damn it.

When they reached the living room though, Tommy didn’t hesitate to collapse into one of the huge couches, fighting to stay composed.

“Tommy?” A voice asked sharply.

Tommy looked up, smiling at the sight of Phil entering the room, looking concerned as per usual, “Hey Phil!” He said brightly, hiding the pain the best he could, unsure where Techno had gone off to.

“Tommy, oh Prime, we saw what happened,” Phil said, “Are you okay?” The man hurried to sit next to Tommy, looking him over.

“I’m fine,” Tommy said as confidently as he could manage, though his right hand was in his pocket because he had seen blood on his crutch handle and he was mostly sure that Jack had squeezed it a little too hard.

“Tommy, you don’t have to lie,” Phil said carefully, “I know I wouldn’t be okay if I got stabbed that many times.”

Tommy cringed at the memory.

“And Techno said someone sent Purpled after you?” Phil tisked softly, “Let me check you over, it’ll make me feel better.”

Tommy shook his head, “Don’t worry, trust me, I’m fine.”

“He’s not fine,” Techno said, reentering the room with Wilbur right behind him.

Tommy frowned, “No, I’m definitely fine.”

“Don’t lie, I know you’re bleeding,” Techno said firmly, “Take out your hand.”

Tommy winced, but did as he was asked. The bandage was bloody and Tommy mourned the second bloody hand of the day. At least the first time it hadn't been his blood.

All three men then proceeded to care for him like he was a child, forbidding him from complaints as they gave him painkillers, fixed what had turned out to be a busted stitch, and redressed the injury. Then it seemed that wasn't enough either, because they inspected his other wounds, muttering about shitty healers and more threatening phrases that Tommy couldn’t quite hear with the constant questions.

“Next time, stab a few ribs up,” Techno advised, “How long was the screw?” At this point Tommy had spilled an in depth description of the night and was wishing he could just get away with his car accident excuse again, but they knew who he was and weren’t scared to talk about it.

“I don’t know, three, four inches,” Tommy estimated.

Phil poked at a wound on his thigh, Wilbur had forced him into a pair of shorts so they could see the wounds on his legs, “What was the approximate diameter of the spikes?”

Tommy shrugged, “An inch or two?”

Phill hummed, thoughtful, “They should have tried to heal you completely…” he trailed off, the beginnings of a threat hidden when Techno spoke over him.

“Yeah, those screws are long enough, you could cause real damage, just stab in as far as you can, you don’t even have to rip. At this point it’s enough of a calling card it might cause problems for people you stab,” Techno’s voice trailed off.

“Why?”

“Because Gamble and the Syndicate are protecting you,” Techno answered off handedly.

Tommy froze, “The Syndicate is protecting me?”

“Word on the street,” Wilbur shrugged, “Now, about how much water did you say Riptide commanded?”

“I don’t know, the bubble was huge, even if I hadn’t been pinned I don’t think I could have gotten out by the time she made the spikes,” Tommy said.

“She must have been worried abou-” Wilbur muttered before turning away, his voice lost, the sentence left hanging.

Phil quickly spoke over him, “Have you changed your bandages yet?”

“No,” Tommy said, “I don’t really have any at my apartment.”

Phil frowned, “Alright,” then he looked down, “I’m going to be changing them.”

“Good idea,” Techno said.

This whirlwind of care didn’t stop till all of Tommy’s bandages had been replaced, leaving behind a large pile of old dressings that Phil took care of while Wilbur disappeared to cook and Techno settled by Tommy, the questioning apparently done as they relaxed into talk of weapons.

That night they finally allowed Tommy to go back to his apartment after he had been fed two meals and given leftovers and a shit ton of first aid things. Wilbur drove him back, a considerably worse driver than his brother, and he insisted on walking Tommy to his apartment, making sure the small space was empty before he let Tommy in, even locking the window and making Tommy promise to not let anyone in at all and if someone he didn't know approached to instantly call them. Tommy agreed to everything the man said, though he didn’t plan on doing half of the man’s demands. He wasn’t going to call the Watsons if someone was trying to kill him, at least not until he had dealt with the threat.

Finally Wilbur left and Tommy relaxed to go to sleep. 

It seemed that the moment his eyes, ice was wrapped over his throat, pressing all too tightly, keeping him immobile. It tore through his body, hotter than tongues of flame and Tommy stared at them as he screamed, trying to reconcile the burning pain with the ice speared through his heart. He followed the spire of ice up to the hand of Riptide, her mask gone, though dream-Tommy couldn't look higher than her mouth, all he could see was her cruel smile. 

You really think I'd let you live? As if even Gamble could keep you safe from me .

Tommy woke up screaming. He didn't go back to sleep for a long time.

---

The second day Tommy had off he went to sit on the fire escape to waste some time, but paused when he saw something slick and red on the grate. Blood. He didn’t know how it had gotten there, but he wasn’t about to sit out there in it, so he decided to pay Tubbo a visit and ended up sitting through a lecture on how to build explosives till the boy had to go to work. 

Without his neighbor, Tommy was bored so he left his apartment. He walked down the streets, avoiding looking at manhole covers and sewer drains while he pretended he had slept just fine the night before. He didn’t get far before he encountered a familiar van. He stopped on the sidewalk as Charlie smiled at him, open and friendly. In the passenger seat was Quackity. Tommy took one look at the pair before turning and working his crutches as hard as he could to escape the familiar face. The last thing he needed was Gamble's people watching him, but Quackity caught up quickly, stopping in front of Tommy so Tommy was forced to come to a stop, glaring at the man as he straightened his beanie.

“Tommy!” Quackity said, “I’ve been worried, what have you been up to?”

Tommy propped his crutches up better, “Getting the shit beat out of me, Q, what do you think I’ve been up to?”

Quackity hesitated, wincing, “I heard from Gamble.”

Tommy’s gaze hardened, “Done playing oblivious then?”

Quackity sighed, “Tommy, it’s complicated, but you can trust me, Charlie and I are here to keep you safe.”

“Sure you are,” Tommy scoffed, “I’m not stupid, Quackity. And I don’t trust your boss.”

Quackity ran a hand over his face, “My boss has been threatening all the villains in L’manburg that if they hurt you at all he will return it tenfold.”

“Then Riptide is dead?” Tommy asked, dryly, not buying it for a minute, “Because tenfold for her is fucking dead and then some.”

Quackity shrugged, “Apparently he has something planned for her and Mesmo.”

“Not just a dealer, are you, Quackity?” Tommy mused, wishing he could walk freely so he could circle him. It isn't very intimidating to be threatened by a cripple, “What do they call you?”

Quackity looked at him, eyes widening slightly before he smirked, a gold tooth peaking out from behind his lip, “You’re smart, Tommy, you can figure it out.”

“What can you do?” Tommy asked.

“That’d give it away,” Quackity said.

Tommy hummed thoughtfully, “Well this conversation is over now, go back to your creepy dead body van.”

“Oh come on, we dumped the body outside of Las Nevadas this morning,” Quackity laughed.

Tommy smiled slightly, not wanting to laugh at the man’s joke, then he paused, was it a joke? He didn’t know. These were Gamble’s people. Maybe they did have a body to dump. Tommy thought of the blood on his fire escape, and froze.

Quackity noticed Tommy tense, “Don’t worry, we took care of it,” he said reassuringly.

Tommy didn’t feel very reassured. He had assumed the blood was the aftermath of a street cat's meal or something. For some reason he hadn't thought to wonder about the similarities with how he was being hunted down and the fact that the blood had most certainly originated on his fire escape.

“Moving on, you hungry?”

Today was Quackity and Charlie’s day to watch him it seemed, and Tommy wondered just how much the Watsons were in touch with Gamble in order to organize this. He was just glad the Syndicate hadn’t shown up yet though. That would be awkward for sure. What would he even say? Sorry I stabbed your buddy, it's kinda my job?

The two men corralled him into eating lunch at a Mexican restaurant and Quackity spent the whole time trying to teach Tommy Spanish while Charlie observed cheerfully, interjecting with his own perfect Spanish on occasion. Tommy wasn't one to hate someone like Charlie, but the constant reminder that he was shit at the whole accent definitely made him feel a little murderous. In any other situation he probably would have enjoyed the time he spent with the pair. They were chatty and funny and Tommy was highly entertained by the constant banter between them. The problem was that every time a person came into the restaurant Tommy's shoulders tensed and he would slide his fingers into a sleeve to wait, hoping to anything holy that it wasn't an assassin come to off him over his arroz con pollo with extra cheese. Part of him also wondered if maybe people were watching him for Schlatt, if they would report Tommy for being seen in public with people who worked at Las Nevadas, henchmen of Gamble himself. 

When they finished eating Quackity decided they should watch some new movie and Tommy begrudgingly agreed, settling in an aisle seat, with Charlie at his side, Quackity having vanished at some point between the entrance and the popcorn. It was easy to relax, watching the movie while Charlie offered constant commentary, calling every plot twist before it happened and enthusiastically filling Tommy in with all the holes in it. By the time Tommy left he was so distracted by Charlie’s in depth discussion about what was wrong with the movie he didn’t notice the man who had been sitting behind him, apparently sleeping, the marks on his throat hidden by the dim lighting. 

When they met Quackity in the hall he slipped a wound up cord into his pocket and told Tommy to meet them at the popcorn machines in a few minutes while he dragged Charlie off to some mysterious task, but Tommy ignored them and went to the bathroom to relieve himself. 

He was washing his hands, leaning awkwardly on his crutches to lean over the sink when a flicker appeared in the mirror and Tommy felt something cold on the back of his head. He froze, eyes flickering to the mirror and he only saw himself, though the air behind him shimmered oddly. Invisibility. Tommy swallowed, hard.

“Sorry kid,” A woman’s voice said, “You pissed someone off it seems.”

“This is the men’s restroom,” Tommy blurted.

The invisible woman didn’t speak, hopefully confused. Tommy’s fingers slipped into his sleeves and he dropped one crutch to whip around and use the other to sweep the assassin’s feet out from under her. The resistance and the sound of a body hitting tile was the only proof that it worked and Tommy lunged forward, dropping his weight onto the invisible form, praying that she didn’t have a gun pointed at him or worse, a knife. His blade found purchase and fortunately for Tommy, she cried out, flickering to visibility. 

She held a pistol and wore a bulletproof vest and some body armor, though his knife had somehow managed to embed itself deeply in her side, flickering with a strong red. Tommy whipped out another blade and slammed it into her gun arm, cleaving a rough line in it. She would have screamed but suddenly Quackity was there, jamming a hand over her mouth and slicing her throat in one fluid motion. 

Tommy knelt over the woman as she twitched, blood spewing from her body, on his hands and flooding the filthy tiles beneath them. He felt it soaking his pants and he was just conflicted. She had been paid to kill him, but no one deserved to die in a movie theater bathroom.

“Next time go for the kill as soon as possible,” Quackity advised, tapping a button on his watch, ignoring the blood on his hand, “Normal people don’t have paid killers come after them like this. If police or heroes get involved it won’t end well, especially with these sorts of wounds.”

Tommy nodded, using the counter to help himself up so he could clean his knives with shaking hands in the sink. It suddenly felt real now, that people were trying to kill him. How many had Schlatt hired?

“Hey, you okay?” Quackity asked then as Charlie walked in, “Did she hurt you?”

Tommy shook his head, “I’m fine, the whole assassination thing is just feeling a little too real,” he managed a small laugh.

“Whatever happens, it will be okay,” Quackity said firmly, “We will take care of you.”

Tommy laughed, looking at the blood on Quackity’s hands, his mystery weapon gone, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Come on, Charlie and I are gonna pretend to be EMS. Roll around in the blood there some, with the bandages, it should be believable, say you slipped and your stitches burst when someone finds you,” Quackity said.

Tommy nodded, “Alright.”

“We’ll be wearing different faces,” Quackity said, “So don’t be alarmed. I’ll still have the gold tooth though.”

Tommy nodded and lowered himself to the bloody floor, closing to rub it on his hands, an idea occurring to him, “I’ll see you in a bit,” he said. As Quackity and Charlie picked up the woman’s body.

Charlie grinned, “See you soon, Tommy!”

They left and Tommy didn’t even bother trying to figure out how they got the body out of the theater, instead he rolled up his pant leg, ripping off his bandages and slicing some of his stitches in his right leg, wincing in pain. Well, he had to act, didn’t he? This was a lot of blood, but hopefully the person who found him wouldn’t know that it was too much for a few busted stitches.

He let out a short scream quickly followed by his best whimper. He forced himself to focus on the pain, which wasn’t too hard and he pressed on the now open wound, not shying back from the blood that definitely wasn't his. The woman had to die, or he would be dead, now he just had to not get caught in the lie. He had never been a great liar, but it didn’t matter, he was going to do his best. People would believe it just for the blood.

An employee ran into the room soon, looking worried and then they screamed at the sight of Tommy in a pool of blood, pretending to be trying to staunch bleeding in his leg.

“Call an ambulance!” Tommy did his best to sob.

Another employee rounded into the bathroom and she just fainted, dropping to the floor like a sack of stones.

The first pulled out his phone with shaking fingers and he dialed, speaking in panicked tones over the phone, “Uh, there’s a kid bleeding out!” He rushed to Tommy’s side, “L’manburg Theaters! Hurry, there’s a lot of blood!”

Tommy groaned, only half faking, letting tears pass down his cheeks, “It hurts so bad!”

“Okay, apply pressure,” the kid said, putting his phone on speaker, sounding determined.

“What caused the injury?” The woman on the phone asked.

Tommy cried out louder than he usually would have when the boy began to apply pressure to Tommy’s leg.

“What happened?” The boy asked Tommy.

“Fell- ah,” Tommy groaned, “My stitches burst…” he trailed off with dramatized sobbing. Once he had started crying it was like he had suddenly been reminded of the pain in his body and the stress of obviously being hunted down and it was so easy to keep going.

“Stitches? Have you recently had surgery?”

“I’m su- supposed to be on b-bed rest,” Tommy sobbed. Obviously a lie, but no one would call a crying kid on a lie, idiots.

“Ok, we have a unit nearby, they’ll help, make sure you keep pressure, okay?” The woman said.

“I’m maintaining pressure,” the employee said, completely focused on his task.

Tommy tuned out the chatter, just crying, groaning, and saying how much he hurt. Man, being a civilian was great. A little wound and everyone was fawning over him. He had limped into headquarters, post life or death situation and he had just been told he was dramatic. They had it good. He hid a laugh as a sob, covering his smile with a bloody hand. They were too easy to fool.

Soon two men rushed in dressed as paramedics and they helped Tommy onto a stretcher, talking hurriedly to the employees. Tommy saw a gold tooth on one face and relaxed, aware that he was actually bleeding a decent amount from the wound that Quackity, labeled only the gold tooth, was applying pressure to as they rushed out of the building into an ambulance that Tommy wouldn’t even question how they got ahold of. Nothing these two did made much sense, but he had to assume they knew what they were doing.

Once the doors shut behind them Quackity was back to normal, frowning down at Tommy. Charlie was driving, Tommy’s crutches had been tossed somewhere nearby.

“Did you cut your own stitches?” Quackity demanded.

Tommy grinned, “Yep!”

“Why?”

“I had to have some sort of injury,” Tommy said, too exhausted by his performance to debate much.

“That was good acting, I was pretty worried,” Quackity murmured.

“It’s great being a civilian,” Tommy smirked, “I can be as dramatic as I want.”

“The heroes don’t let you be dramatic?” Quackity asked it like it was a joke, smiling as he cleaned Tommy’s wound.

“Nah, the first time I fought Riptide and Mesmo I walked in the front door, all beat up and I got a lecture about not coming in the front door when I’m injured because the public doesn’t like to see heroes injured,” Tommy’s laugh was empty.

That was met with silence.

"Where are we going?" Tommy inqured.

"Las Nevadas," Quackity said with a tight smile and that was the end of conversation.

When the ambulance finally stopped, Charlie helped Tommy out of the ambulance and while Quackity ran off to apparently talk to Gamble. Tommy limped along, gritting his jaw, aware of people eyeing him in concern and suspicion, and then Gamble and Kurama appeared, Kurama pushing a wheelchair that Tommy was told he could either sit in or be put in. He chose to sit in it, scowling as he was brought upstairs.

Gamble led him to a suite and watched as Tommy explored it to the best of his ability. He had never seen such a fancy hotel room before. It was like an apartment and the bed was huge.

“The fuck you want?” Tommy finally snapped.

“I heard about what happened,” the villain said smoothly, walking to crouch before Tommy, the boy’s eyes level with the man’s mask.

“I’m just fine,” Tommy spat.

“You know, you’re young, you’re allowed to not be okay,” Gamble said softly.

Tommy scoffed, remembering what he had told Quackity with some bitterness. He really should know better than to spill details about his life to Gamble's people. “I’m a hero, Gamble. Not a kid.”

“Not too long ago you were nothing but a delinquent,” Gamble said, “What, only a few months.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, pulling out a knife, “And now I'm a criminal, so what?” He broke laws all the time, it was his life at this point.

Gamble laughed, a real, belly laugh, “Theseus, you can’t be a criminal and a hero at the same time.”

“I wouldn’t be a criminal if the Tower trusted me,” Tommy said, “I’m no different than the other heroes. Punz keeps weapons on him all the time, I heard Surge talk about it.”

“But they don’t trust you, so you are just a backwards hero. You play at the morality of your fellow heroes, but you break every one of their laws. You’ve tried and succeeded at killing. You’ve traded favors with me. You’ve hoarded illegal weapons. You’ve fraternized with the enemy, Theseus. You aren’t really a hero. Only in name.” Gamble’s voice was gentle, as if he were breaking bad news to Tommy instead of blatantly insulting him. The villain rested a hand on Tommy’s arm gently.

Rage flashed through Tommy and he didn’t hesitate to stab the hand. Right through the center of it, the point going completely through and into his own arm, not hindered much by existing bandages. Gamble let out a strangled gasp, his body flickering, changing in size and shape right before Tommy’s eyes. Tommy ignored it though. He leaned forward and twisted the knife slightly, the changes of the villain were more obvious now, his hair flickering through colors, realistic and not, his shoulders wide, then narrow, his hand flickering through tones of color, size, and shape. Stagnant only around the knife where blood was pooling. The twist of Tommy's own knife in his arm barely even registered. 

“Maybe I’m not a hero, but it isn’t by choice, Gamble,” he said softly, calm, “But I’m certainly not a child.”

“No wonder Blood God loves you,” Gamble’s voice was an array of pitches and tones, the words almost lost, “You’re a sadistic little bastard.”

Tommy laughed, despite the feeling of his own knife twisting in his own arm, instead focusing solely on Gamble, “Oh yes, very. And I don’t like being touched without permission. Didn’t I say as much when we last met?”

Gamble managed a sobbing sort of laugh, “Alright, you’ve made your point, Theseus, let me go.”

Tommy bared his teeth knowing there wasn’t much point in continuing, so he retracted the knife, debating stabbing again as the man’s form finally returned where it should be, his hand cradled to his chest, blood dripping steadily down his arm. Tommy ignored his pain still, just sneering at the villain.

Gamble stood, “You’re hard to like as Theseus. You’re lucky I also know Tommy.” And with that the man left. Tommy watched the closed door, the blood on the carpet, and his own blood dripping down his wheelchair in complete silence.

Then he finally broke. 

They were real sobs this time, not the forced, showy ones like before. This time the sobs weren’t pulled out, instead they forced their way out. Tommy threw his knife and it sunk into the hard wood of the door, his and Gamble’s blood still on the steel. Maybe even some of the assassin’s blood. Tommy pulled his arm to his chest and bent over himself, just sobbing. He was miserable. His breaths were burning in his chest like the ice spikes from his dreams, hiccups lost in hyperventilating as his fingers tangled, bloody, in his already bloody hoodie.

People were trying to kill him. They were on the streets pushing him in front of cars, stabbing him beside dark alleys, on his fire escape, and they were in movie theater bathrooms with their pistols on the back of his head, gunmetal on tangled blond curls. Tangled because his body ached too much to brush it. Tangled because he couldn’t afford nice shampoo, his salary not even half of what it should be. His boss was hiring people to kill him and he didn’t know how long he could fight them off. He wasn't safe at work either, because he was a hero and Riptide was out there, probably with a healing Mesmo, plotting another heist he would inevitably stumble upon. He was a hero because he couldn’t be in Pandora. He was a hero because the crimson on illegal weapons was something he couldn’t live without. Crimson magic. Crimson blood. They were both intoxicating, sending a rush through him and that fact whispered in twisting, cruel words, maybe he belonged in Pandora. 

The worst part was that Gamble was right. He was only a hero in name. He hadn’t followed a single rule like he was supposed to. Even before he had known it was his ability giving the museum a strange red glow at night, he had been breaking rules with wild abandon. He had never been a good person. That was so clear in far too many things. He had killed, stolen, made deals with villains, even befriended them. He lied, cheated, and made decisions to hurt people on whims. He wasn’t a merciful killer though. He had not attacked the assassin thinking of defense. He had been planning to kill her, but he hadn't gone to kill right off the bat. He had been planning to stab, to ask questions, to demand answers with crimson on his fingers. Death had been inevitable but not until he had gotten enough pain in. He was evil. He was no better than a villain. 

Chapter Text

“Tommy?” A voice called, soft.

Tommy turned his head. He had slipped to the floor at some point in his mental breakdown, and it only gave him a view of knees and a pair of feet off to the side. He must have fallen asleep because his eyes felt grimy, a weight pulling his eyelids down. It was hard to focus on the source of the voice.

“He’s going to try to stab you if he’s not awake enough,” a different voice warned.

Tommy struggled for the strength to lift his head, brows furrowing as he recalled where he was. A suite in Las Nevadas. He had stabbed Gamble. How was he still alive? Surely the villain wouldn’t stand blatant aggression like that? Tommy had heard horror story upon horror story about people harming villains, especially in their own territory. 

“Tommy, are you awake?” the first voice asked, soft, gentle.

Tommy’s eyes focused on a familiar face. Blaze, out of uniform and crouched at Tommy’s side, hand outstretched, obviously unsure. Over his shoulder stood Chronos.

“Talk to me, kid,” Blaze said.

Tommy nodded slowly, carefully pulling his arms away from his chest where he had curled up. His whole body hurt and when he moved his left arm he cried out in pain, blood had dried his hoodie so it stuck to where he had stabbed himself. Through Gamble's hand. He had stabbed through Gamble's hand and effectively stabbed himself at the same time. Pain lanced behind his brow at the thought. He wanted to cry again. He didn't know how he hadn't been killed instantly.

“Tommy?” Blaze lunged forward, “What hurts? Talk to me, kid.”

Tommy whimpered, “My arm,” he pulled his arm out and saw Blaze’s eyes widen at the sight of so much dark blood on the once bright red hoodie.

“Shit,” Blaze swore, “Help me, Karl.”

Chronos moved forward and did as Blaze directed. Tommy was limp as they carefully pulled off his hoodie, aware he was shirtless now since he hadn’t bothered with a shirt under the hoodie, though bandages covered a decent amount of his torso anyways. He didn't have the presence of mind to be embarrassed anyways.

“What happened?” Blaze asked as Chronos inspected the wound.

“Stabbed Gamble,” Tommy muttered, “His hand was on my arm.”

“The knife twisted,” Chronos noted, “Did you do that?”

Tommy nodded.

“Can you fix it?” Blaze asked.

“It’d be hard, he’s better off just stitching it up,” Chronos said.

“Don’t let Chronos fix it,” Tommy said softly, “Please.” He couldn't handle nausea on top of his headache and the throbbing sensation in his arm. He realized he had a grand total of twelve stab wounds now. That fact nearly made him laugh. He stomped the sick humor down, not a difficult feat with the pain.

Blaze looked distraught but he nodded, “Okay Tommy.”

Tommy's third day off was shit. His arm was treated by Kurama and Gamble stopped by, hand bandaged, but he offered a terse apology anyways, Tommy returned it, not in the mood to bicker or even defend his pride. Gamble had been completely silent at that and had left quickly, Blaze soon replacing him. Tommy didn't even have time to wonder why Gamble had apologized to him. Tommy had been the one stabbing.

“What’s wrong, Tommy?” Blaze asked, sitting on the side of Tommy’s suite bed. It was a king size. Tommy had never laid in a king size bed before today. The boy had been given fresh clothes since his old ones had been ruined by blood and he had managed a quick washing off. Kurama had changed his other bandages too. He was clean but still far from feeling refreshed. He just felt exhausted.

“Nothing,” Tommy said emotionlessly, looking at his daggers laid out on the bedside table, just within reach. The lights in the room illuminated them strangely.

“Do you want to talk about something?” Blaze suggested, “Has anything been bothering you?”

“Blaze, I’ve had four people that I know of try to kill me,” Tommy said tiredly, “That doesn’t include villains, who didn’t hesitate to make me Jesus, the sequel. Those knives are illegal for me to have, and you’re one of Dream’s closest friends. Dream, who was my abusive, shitty mentor for two years. No, I don’t really want to talk about anything.”

Blaze stopped, mouth half open, “People are trying to kill you? Why?”

“Ask Schlatt,” Tommy laughed dryly, “And leave me alone.”

Blaze did leave, after a bit more convincing, and then Tommy was left in perfect silence to watch his knives between stints of sleep.

---

Tommy stood over L'manburg. He smiled at the sight before him. Destruction. Corpses hung up like trophies on exposed bits of rebar jutting from the shattered frames of skyscrapers and Tommy knew they were all heroes. Tommy laughed as he faced his next target. The Syndicate. They were already half dead, but Tommy wouldn't stop till they were all dead. 

"What did they turn you into?" Siren asked. His voice wasn't mechanical like Tommy was used to. Instead, he sounded familiar. He sounded like Wilbur, but Tommy knew he wasn't Wilbur, because Wilbur was dead too, strung up in a noose right next to everyone else Tommy had been foolish enough to befriend. He had killed them all. 

"A villain," Tommy answered, pulling out a pistol, it was Siren's pistol, glittering with carefully placed accents. 

Three shots.

Three more cadavers.

Blood splattered and eyes stared without sight.

Tommy laughed.

He strung them up like fish at the top of the Hero Tower. He was a villain. The worst villain. Tommy smiled fondly as he cupped a hand to Tubbo's cold cheek, spooking a fly. He met those glazed over eyes and cocked his head as his touch sent the hanged boy swaying. Tubbo had gone stiff already. Tommy giggled at the sight it made. 

No one can hurt that which is Tommy's. Only Tommy can. And he did. He hurt and he hurt, and he laughed and he laughed. He was evil. He lifted a smiling mask from the ground, cracked and splattered with brain matter and blood and slid it over his own face. Dream had made him; shouldn't he get the recognition for his hard work? A signature on a bloodstained page. 

Tommy woke, retching as he stumbled to the bathroom on trembling and wounded legs to vomit in the toilet. When he thought he was done, arms shaking, he remembered those staring eyes. the corpses. The burning city painting the fly-littered faces ochre.  He threw up until there was nothing but bile. Then he fell on the cold tile and sobbed. He didn't remember falling asleep again.

---

Then it was the fourth morning. Tommy woke in the bathroom and struggled to make himself somewhat presentable in time to be collected. Charlie drove him to his apartment, and he didn’t bother collecting his crutches from the car. He was on duty now; he couldn’t afford to have them. He limped into his room and dressed in his uniform, pulling a hoodie over his jacket and turtleneck to hide it before walking to the Tower. 

The walk to the Tower was a blur, Tommy's eyes not quite focusing on the faces that passed him as he limped along. His hands still felt stiff with pain and the new wound on his arm blended right in with the rest. He was in pain. Tommy didn't stop though. He knew if he tried to take a break he wouldn't move again, so he walked with slow, thudding steps till he reached the alley behind the Tower and shed his hoodie, grimacing as the stitches in his sides pulled a bit at the motion of lifting his arms over his head. He dug his mask out of the pocket and slid it over his face, making sure it was secure, before he walked into the Tower, ignoring the shake in his knees. He got to the front desk, doing his best not to limp, the receptionist didn't even look up for more than a half second before ordering him to go to Schlatt's office. Tommy didn't deign to reply, mood sour.

Tommy stood before the huge doors, a sick feeling in his stomach that wasn’t caused by too many painkillers or pain. It was anxiety. Usually, he just picked up his schedule from the receptionist. He hadn’t spoken to Schlatt since… Since he had become a full hero. Nothing good would come from a one on one meeting and Tommy felt the need to vomit somewhere. Maybe he could call out a sick day? No, he knew that wouldn't work. He'd patrolled with Dream with worse symptoms before.

He took a breath and knocked, Schlatt calling him in impatiently, “Come in!”

Tommy entered the room, taking in the familiar scenery. The sterile office didn't look any less intimidating than it had when he had been nothing but a sidekick, unable to sit still. Not much had changed. At least Tommy didn't have to keep a straight face with his new mask. 

“Hurry up, sit,” Schlatt snapped, gesturing for the seat in front of his desk.

Tommy did as he was asked.

“Tell me, Theseus, how many times have you gone to Ponk in the past month?”

Tommy frowned, “Uh, I don’t know, twenty?”

“Surprisingly accurate,” Schlatt said, laughing without humor, “In a single month, you went to Ponk nineteen times. Why is that, Theseus?”

“Uh, because I have a sector notorious for a high crime rate and no backup?” Tommy asked slowly. He knew this was a trick question, but he wasn't exactly known for his intelligence, was he? Dream had called him stupid to his face and to other people while Tommy stood at his side time and time again. 

Schlatt’s gaze hardened, “Don’t pin this on us, Theseus, you are perfectly capable. You were Dream’s apprentice, for Prime’s sake! You’re good, or you wouldn’t have graduated. There is no excuse to be injured this frequently. You’re a drain on tower resources. You haven’t made a single villain or vigilante arrest in your entire time as a full hero. Until you make a change there and actually arrest someone important, all medical costs will be coming out of your salary.”

Tommy just gaped at Schlatt. Medical being paid for by the Tower was a huge reason anyone even considered being a hero, without it you’d dig a hole of debt for yourself. To take that away till he arrested someone was… inhumane and cruel. Tommy’s fingers twitched in his pockets and Tommy imagined ripping a screw through Schlatt’s arteries. Under those hideous mutton chops and through the bottom of his chin. The man wasn’t skinny enough to stab in the heart with a screw, but that certainly wouldn’t stop Tommy from trying. Oh, it was so tempting. Afterall, he was no better than a villain.

“Don’t just look at me, I want a response, kid,” Schlatt snapped.

“Yes sir,” Theseus’s voice wasn't even recognizable to himself. It was sickly sweet and cold, “Will that be all?”

“Yes,” Schlatt said sharply, “Oh, and if that vigilante, Domino, helps you again we will be conducting an investigation into your loyalties, in and out of uniform.”

Theseus dipped his head, “Of course, sir,” his voice dripped sickly sweet poison. What he would do to flay this man alive with the weapons he had been forced to craft because he couldn’t have any real ones. A screw would cut roughly. He would have to saw, but it would be sweet to see the look on Schlatt's face when he realized that he had done it to himself. He was the reason Theseus had spent hours of time sharpening the ridges of screws. Theseus wanted nothing but to show the fucker what that meant. From the inside. Theseus's bandaged hands trembled with the simple blood lust of his thoughts and Theseus barely restrained himself. The only thing keeping him still was that picture on the wall to his left. A new addition to the office Theseus hadn't noticed at first. Dream shaking Schlatt's hand. Theseus couldn't kill Schlatt because he didn't stand a chance against the number one hero. 

“You’re dismissed then,” Schlatt said.

Theseus nodded, “Have a good day, sir,” he managed to nearly copy Siren's sweet purring tone, turning, and walking a smoothly as he could out of the man’s office. The hatred he felt would have made Blood God and Gamble proud. They would have cheered for him to paint the walls crimson and make an example of his boss, but Theseus couldn’t, because he couldn’t beat Dream and he couldn't go to Pandora. He had to turn the other cheek, so that was what he would do. Schlatt wanted an arrest? Theseus would bring the fucker two villains. Riptide and Mesmo staked through the palms in the middle of the street till they begged sounded rather pleasant. It was time for some self-care.

He limped through the streets, slowly making his way through a rather nice district while civilians watched him curiously and with some awe, though he wasn't approached, and he hadn't made it far from the tower when he heard feet hit the ground behind him and people began screaming and running.

“Theseus!” A voice said brightly.

Theseus turned to see none other than Siren grinning at him, a pistol in each hand. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, right? “Siren,” Theseus greeted, remembering Wilbur mentioning that the Syndicate had his back. Had Wilbur been wrong or were they planning something? “Your shoulder recovered nicely,” he said, testing the waters.

Siren pouted, “You know, you hurt my feelings with that. What did I ever do to you?”

“Tried to kill me?” Tommy suggested slowly.

Siren laughed, “I guess you’re right! Oh well, it wasn’t very fun,” he leveled a pistol at Tommy.

Tommy launched to the side as a bullet hit the pavement where he had just been standing. Siren was aiming at his feet. Where was the villain trying to herd him? He tried to get close to the villain, but it never worked and there were countless cameras on him so he didn’t trust himself to use weapons and his baton was still long gone somewhere either in his sector or in one of Riptide and Mesmo’s trophy cases.

He grit his teeth, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite get close to the villain, only narrowly dodging every bullet sent his way and it wasn’t until he was in the middle of a square when his leg gave out from under him, the leg where he had reopened his stitches to get away with murder, specifically. Siren grinned as Tommy struggled to gather the willpower to stand. He hurt so badly his legs were trembling. Tommy was about to give up on hiding his various projectiles and sharpened construction equipment when Siren leveled his pistol at Tommy. Tommy froze, hands in his sleeves. He recognized instantly that this gun was different, and his blood ran cold as Siren pulled the trigger.

With a nearly comical thwip, a force hit the center of his chest and Tommy gaped down at a small, feathered dart. He swallowed nervously, was this poison? That would be a shitty way to kill him, that was for sure, but when he lifted his head to look at Siren, all he saw instead was the diving form of the Angel of Death. The world spun away as the villain scooped him up from the center of the square. His body was beyond his control and the world faded in flashes of vague light. 

---

Tommy woke to murmurs of voices and soft cloth all around him. He also had a pounding headache, though it felt distant, just like the rest of his injuries. The voices he heard sounded vaguely coherent and he furrowed his brow in concentration to focus on them.

“-rather concerning news, the Syndicate has struck again, this time abducting the former sidekick of number one hero, Dream! Analysts suspect it is a ploy to draw the hero out and there has been no news on the young hero’s well being as of yet!” A manufactured female voice announced, too clear and paced oddly. A newscaster. 

Tommy pried his eyes open, focusing on the flickering video he could see on a tv screen. It was a video of him getting shot in the chest with a tranquilizer dart and then the Angel of Death swooping in and carrying him away, limp in the villain’s arms. 

“This is very concerning footage, and it demonstrates how well planned this abduction was,” The woman was saying. Her face popped up.

Tommy looked away from her as she discussed how scary the Syndicate was, not exactly a fact he needed cemented any further in his brain and took in the room. He was in a plain white room, one wall mostly occupied with a massive mirror. In the corner was a toilet and sink, a small curtain hanging from a rack in the ceiling for what Tommy assumed was privacy. Next to the bed was a table and chair and on it was a tray of food. A sandwich and a small bag of chips next to a bottle of water. Tommy wondered if it would be drugged. 

When he had sensation in his limbs, he slowly pushed himself upright and reached a fumbling hand for the water bottle. Once he got it open, he downed it in a single go, panting for breath. He ate the offered food then, each moment getting more and more feeling back into his limbs. 

When the food was gone, he stood. The Syndicate had kidnapped him, and he was locked in this room… At least they had given him food. He also recognized that he was in a plain grey sweatshirt and matching pants. He sighed at the thought that he had been changed, but there wasn’t anything to do about it, so he just ignored it. It wasn't like he had dignity in the first place. 

He walked the perimeter of the room on shaky legs, examining every feature but it was painfully clear the only entrance to the room was the door and obvious one-way mirror. The only vents were barely two inches wide, and Tommy might be skinny but he wasn't that skinny. He sat on the bed, watching the news discuss his chances of survival.

“He’s not been on the hero scene long, only for a few months,” one of the newscasters said.

“He’s had an interestingly faint presence in the media for being Dream’s apprentice as well,” the woman mused, “I would assume he doesn’t have a flashy power, but surely he is tough enough to survive captivity?”

“We can only hope, he is young for a hero, only eighteen, according to rumor,” the third newscaster said.

Tommy tuned them out briefly, annoyed, but eventually he didn’t have anything else to do, so he went back to watching. Apparently, no contact had been made with the villains. How long would Tommy be here? What did they want with him?

A few bland hours later Blood God walked in, fully dressed in his costume, and carrying a food tray. 

“Ayup,” Tommy greeted the villain, wary. Was he going to be tortured or something? It wasn't like he knew big secrets or anything.  The biggest secrets he knew were his own secrets and he was pretty sure the Syndicate knew pretty much everything he got up to anyways. They were allied with Gamble supposedly protecting him, implying that there were no secrets about him between the two parties.

“Hullo,” the man said, “Have your dinner.”

Tommy didn’t answer as the tray replaced the old one. This time there were two water bottles and a small cup with a few pills.

“Those are painkillers. Our healer suggested them for recovery,” Blood God said as if it was the most casual thing someone could say.

“Your healer?” Tommy questioned.

“You were turned into a Theseus porcupine four days ago, we didn’t exactly want you dying on us,” Blood God said blandly.

Tommy nodded slowly, his heart beating loudly, he couldn’t get a read on the situation. “Why am I here?”

“Money, mostly,” Blood God shrugged, “You have a lot of pity right now, since the porcupine incident, and we have the tools to get more till the tower has no choice but to give us millions of dollars.”

Tommy blinked, “Oh.”

“Don’t be alarmed at future pity tactics,” The man said causally as he walked out of the room.

The door locked and Tommy was alone. He looked at his food, trying to figure out how he felt. No one seemed to be hurting him and he didn’t know anything. Wilbur had said the Syndicate was protecting him, right? Assuming it was like Gamble’s protection then he could assume he would survive this encounter, but he still didn’t take the painkillers, instead when the lights dimmed for him to supposedly sleep, he laid there, wondering just what sort of drugs they were trying to slip him.

---

Tommy stood on a rooftop. Dream stood in front of him, Domino in his grasp. The vigilante struggled and Tommy lurched forward.

"Stop! No!" He called as he moved forward, only his steps didn't shorten the distance between them. It was as if he were stuck. As if he were pinned.

Dream looked over his shoulder, that cruel mask smiling at Tommy, "Why? Are you a traitor, Tommy?"

"No! I'm a hero," Tommy screamed, "I'm not a traitor!"

"You aren't fooling anyone," Dream mocked, the dot eyes almost looked cruel, "I know you, Tommy, you're a villain, aren't you?"

"No!"

Dream lifted Domino in a single hand, the lanky person kicking desperately as they were dangled over the street far below, wind buffeted them, Dream swaying with the force of it even, "Heroes don't save vigilantes," Dream snarled, "Heroes don't break the law and work with villains. You aren't a hero, Tommy."

Tommy sobbed; his limbs weren't even moving anymore. He looked down, trying to fight whatever had trapped him, and he found his body slammed full of ice spikes, tinged brownish and turning red as he bled. He looked up at Domino, dangling helplessly in Dream's grasp. He couldn't stop. He had to save him. He had to save the vigilante. His feet wouldn't move though, ice circling them. He reached in a pocket, grabbing a dagger, and then as he raised his hand to throw it, ice cut through the center of his palm. Tommy screamed and his dagger dropped uselessly to the ground.

"You know how I know you're a villain?" Dream cooed.

Tommy looked up as water choked him, tasting foul and gritty between his teeth. He gagged.

"Because you can't even save a vigilante." Dream let go. Domino fell.

Tommy sat bolt upright, face streaming with tears, gasping desperately for breath. The room was dark, and his wide eyes locked on his vague reflection in the one way mirror. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he could see a figure there, short hair and a gas mask riddled with tubes. Tommy blinked at it was gone and he choked as his lungs went on a terrifying sort of strike. 

He didn't go back to sleep that night, just staring at the black TV screen and the dark cell.

---

Tommy was so, so bored. Sure, he could watch the news and Blood God had given him a sudoku book, the type with cheap, rough paper, but he had gotten stuck on one and had thrown it across the room, not to be touched again. That left him with nothing. The only Syndicate members he had seen was Blood God and their mysterious healer who was a woman in Angel’s veil who had talked to him like she genuinely cared for him as she changed his bandages, telling him she had done what she could, but since another healer had messed with his injuries she couldn’t do much, only successfully healing where he had stabbed himself, though he still had a scar. 

It was the third day of his capture, and he was antsy, but couldn’t exactly do anything active because it made his stitches hurt and the healer had been sad when he had popped a stitch yesterday. She was nice, he couldn’t help wanting to be nice to her. Why was the Syndicate’s healer so fucking nice? The irony of the Syndicate's healer treating him better than the Tower's healer wasn't lost on him.

He watched the newscasters come on with worried faces and his interest piqued. This might actually be interesting considering they had mostly just talked about boring shit. He couldn’t even access buttons on the TV to change the channel, it just turned off when the lights dimmed automatically. Turning on whenever he woke up. This cell-room thing was high tech, and he wasn't exactly sure why he had been given a TV, but it did manage to keep him relatively sane when his only human interaction was with Blood God and the healer.

“A video was anonymously submitted to several media outlets across the city this morning,” The female caster, her name was Jodie, said. “The following video contains sensitive content, and we would like to warn viewers to be mindful of children.”

Then with a grim look, Jodie disappeared, replaced by a grainy video. It was a darkly lit room, lights concentrated on a figure in the middle, tied to a chair. Tommy sat up straight. It was him. He frowned. No, it was another guy in his suit. The man slouched in the chair, blonde hair mussed and filthy, face hidden. Angel of Death strode into view of the camera. He stood behind the captive man, gripping his hair in a taloned hand and he ripped the head back in a violent movement. Tommy cringed at the sight of his mask on the face of a man that definitely strongly resembled him, in the rough footage at least. The man also was beaten up. Tommy’s red jacket was discarded on the floor in the frame, the sleeveless turtleneck of his shirt bared the arms of the prisoner twisted awkwardly in the restraints, covered in bruising, scrapes, and methodically even cuts. The man had been tortured.

“We’re waiting, Dream,” Angel purred.

The man whimpered.

“Call your mentor, Theseus,” The Angel ran a talon down the man’s bicep, and he tried to throw himself away from the touch, but didn’t get anywhere with the restraints. Angel laughed, “Meet our demands or Theseus suffers the consequences, Dream.”

Then the video halted, and it turned back to Jodie and her coworkers, Mark and James. Tommy wasn't listening though; he was just confused and somewhat horrified. There was a man they were torturing to extort money out of the Hero Tower in Tommy’s uniform, and Tommy wasn't sure what pissed him off more. 

When Blood God returned with his dinner he glared at the man.

“What?” the villain asked, replacing Tommy’s lunch tray.

“You’re torturing someone in my suit? Who even is he?” Tommy spat.

“He’s a guy with a shapeshifting talent, he can take the physical form of anyone he drinks the blood of. We gave him some of yours and told him if he said anything we would make the pain worse,” Blood God said.

“Why him?”

“He lied to Gamble,” Blood God said, shrugging.

Tommy shivered, “Oh.”

Blood God left, never one for conversation.

Two days later Tommy tasted something odd in his breakfast and he looked at the one-way mirror, annoyed, but he finished every bite before he passed out. If they were going to drug him, the least he could do was let them know he was well aware.

When he woke up he was in a desolate parking lot. He was draped in Blood God’s arms and in his uniform which was covered in a stranger’s blood. His breaths rattled in his mask and parts of his face and body hurt for some reason. He groaned.

“Sorry, kid, it’s for realism,” Blood God said lowly.

“I don’t like it,” another voice muttered, distorted by AI in Tommy’s mask. Siren then.

“It’s necessary. They would question him if he was in perfect shape,” Blood God argued, “It’s for his own safety.”

“Still,” Siren huffed.

Tommy couldn’t quite grasp what they were talking about.

A car came to a stop and Tommy could barely see it as the Dream Team stepped out, Dream leading the way with Blaze and 404 at his heels.

“Is he alive?” 404 asked, sounding somewhat worried.

“Our healer’s better than that,” Angel of Death scoffed.

“You’ve been healing him?” Dream asked warily.

“Enough to keep him in shape,” Angel shrugged in the corner of Tommy’s vision.

“Hand him over,” Blaze snapped.

“Do you have the money?” Blood God rumbled.

“Here,” Dream waved a hand and duffel bags appeared on the ground between the grounds, shrouded by green. Tommy’s lip curled in distaste at the sight of his former Mentor's aura.

Siren walked forward crouching and kicking each bag, inspecting the contents carefully, “It’s real,” he called to his partners.

“Good,” Angel said, “Blood God.”

Blood God lurched into motion and deposited Tommy on cold wet concrete. Tommy struggled to focus on anything. Then Blaze was hovering over him.

“Theseus! Are you alright?” the man was searching Tommy’s body, “What did they do to you, kid?” he whispered.

“He won’t remember anything,” Angel’s voice laughed cruelly, “We wiped his memory.”

Blaze whipped his head up to glare at the villains, “You are evil bastards.”

“At least we gave him free medical care,” Siren scoffed, “See ya later, Dream Team.” And then Angel’s wings announced the villain’s retreat.

Arms gently cradled Tommy and his head rolled back, giving him a view of 404 and Dream.

“Maybe it’s a blessing they wiped his memory?” 404 suggested, looking unsure as he tried to look into Tommy’s unfocused eyes.

“I don’t know,” Blaze murmured, “I’d almost rather know what they did to me.”

“I just want to know what they asked him,” Dream muttered.

“Fuck off, Dream, not everything is about hero shit. He’s too young to be tortured by the fucking Syndicate,” Blaze snapped.

“You know, you’re real argumentative since you got that reporter boyfriend, Sapnap,” Dream’s voice was cruel, “Your loyalties changing?”

“No, you’re just being a cold-hearted asshole for no reason,” Blaze snarled, “You aren’t the Dream I met in training, you know. What would Puffy say?”

Dream lunged forward, gripping Blaze’s collar over Tommy who just watched with half-comprehension, “Don’t you dare bring her up!”

“Guys!” 404 interrupted, “We have a clearly drugged, potentially braindead hero here with us that probably needs medical attention on our hands. Stop arguing like sisters and get your shit together.”

Dream released Blaze. Tommy would have joined Blaze in mocking Dream if he could feel his tongue, but as it was, he was completely limp so he could only silently cheer the man on. Unfortunately, the bickering was finished and Tommy was jostled as Blaze carried him.

They got into a car, Tommy laid in the back seat, propped up against Blaze who muttered reassurances to him the whole way. The other members of the Dream Team didn’t say a word. When they came to a stop, Tommy distantly recognized flashing lights, realizing that his eyes were closed, and he forced himself to full wakefulness in time to be blinded by paparazzi as Blaze carried him into the tower.

“Who the fuck told them about this?” Dream spat.

“I don’t know,” 404 sounded troubled.

Tommy felt Blaze’s arms tighten around him.

Then he was laid in a bed, his uniform pulled off of him impatiently. He groaned at the disturbance, but it seemed those around him interpreted it differently.

“Be careful! You’re hurting him!” Blaze snapped.

“Look, we don’t even know what’s wrong with him,” A new voice shot back heatedly. Ponk, “The faster we get him stripped the better. I don’t like the look of this blood.”

“The Syndicate said they healed him and wiped his memory,” Dream’s voice said.

Tommy sneered, the only thing he really seemed capable of. He really shouldn’t have eaten all of that drugged food. Then he realized his mask was off. Oh well.

“He’s got a black eye and bloody nose,” Ponk said in response, “We don’t know what condition the rest of him will be in if this is healed.” The hands continued to pull him out of his clothes. They didn’t even bother pulling his tight tank top off, instead using some massive shears to cut through the tight material and get it off of him. He grunted in displeasure both from the faint cold sensation of metal on his stomach and because he liked his uniform. He didn’t exactly want it all fucked up and he didn’t plan on working without it.

“His old injuries have healed nicely, the healer must have kept an eye on them,” Ponk muttered.

“Those are from before?” 404 asked, his un-goggled face leaning over Tommy to peer at him. “Riptide did a number on him.”

“These two were from screws,” Ponk said, pointing to fading wounds where Tommy couldn’t see. It wasn't for lack of trying though, he was quite curious.

“It looked like they fed him fairly well,” Dream noted.

“Yes, it seems they were dedicated to maintaining his health,” Ponk muttered, “I wonder what they wanted from him?”

“You’re just the healer,” Dream said sharply, “We’ll take care of the investigation.”

“Hm, yes, I’m the healer,” Ponk mused, “Which means none of that bull shit attitude with me, alright?”

Tommy smirked. Someone smacked him slightly.

“At least he’s coherent,” 404 noted.

“He’s got some decent bruises, but I can’t find anything else,” Ponk said, “They drugged him to shit though.”

“Do you know what it was?” A finger pulled at his eyelid which he distantly noted had somehow slipped closed again without his permission.

“Enough of a sedative to knock out several large land mammals,” Ponk muttered.

“Careful there, it almost sounds like you care about him,” Blaze teased the healer.

“Shut up, Sapnap,” the healer snapped, “He’ll be like this for the rest of the night, I would think.”

“When will he be able to be questioned?” Dream asked.

The question was met with prickly silence.

“You’re not going to question my patient,” Ponk leveled a finger at the man, “Got it?”

“We need to know what they wanted him for. You don’t just kidnap some no-name hero for ransom!” Dream snapped.

Tommy almost laughed, but when he started to, he promptly forgot why he was laughing and settled on just trying to figure out who was there.

“I said what I said, Dream,” Ponk said firmly, “For all we know he’s got internal injuries we don’t know of.”

“Can’t you sense that shit?” Dream snapped.

“Yes, usually, but another healer’s energy is all over his body, I can’t feel anything,” Ponk sounded troubled.

“Shouldn’t we be running tests then?” Blaze demanded.

“He’s probably fine,” Ponk said, “He’s obviously been heavily healed, with all that energy in him.”

This puzzled Tommy because he couldn’t remember being healed much more than small injuries, but he dismissed the confusion, instead deciding he wanted to sleep. He let his eyes close and ignored the talking around him.

---

When Tommy woke fully it was to a pounding headache. He groaned, pressing a hand to his face and flinching when he found that his nose and right eye hurt under the pressure of his fingers. He faintly recalled Ponk mentioning a black eye and bloody nose, but he didn’t remember the Syndicate ever laying a finger on him. It was odd. Though, to be fair, he had been drugged out of his mind for a while, considering breakfast had been drugged and the heroes had picked him up at dusk. 

He patted himself down. He was in the usual tee shirt and sweatpants. He found a few minor bruises and his ribs hurt, but that was all. For the life of him he couldn’t remember getting hit and it disturbed him. Who had done it? Hadn’t Wilbur said there were rumors the Syndicate was protecting him? So much for that. 

Ponk noticed him upright and approached him with a glass of water, “Hey there, how are you feeling?”

Tommy grimaced and chugged the water, placing the empty glass on a table by the bed, “Like shit. What happened, exactly?”

“We don’t know. You were abducted, we got videos of you being… hurt, and we negotiated your return. What do you remember?” Ponk frowned.

Tommy shrugged, “All I remember is just being bored in a white room.” He touched his black eye gingerly.

“Did you ever interact with the Syndicate?” Ponk asked.

“Blood God brought me my meals,” Tommy said carefully, “That’s all. He’s not exactly a conversationalist.” He frowned as he remembered Blood God explaining that the video the media had was fake. Had it all been fake then? He also knew that Ponk had said he had another healer’s energy in his body, and he faintly recalled someone saying his memory had been wiped. He had some bruises though. 

“I wonder why Blood God brought you your meals?” A new voice asked. Dream walked into the room.

Tommy glared at his old mentor, “I have no idea.”

“You only remember being bored? You weren’t scared, being kidnapped by the Syndicate?” Dream pressed.

Tommy huffed, “I didn’t exactly see them much.”

“Was your food drugged?” Dream asked, coming to a stop by Tommy.

Tommy frowned, “Sometimes.” If the Syndicate had somehow fabricated all of this to protect him and get more money out of the Tower, he wasn’t exactly going to ruin their planning by saying it genuinely made no sense when they would have tortured him. He had had access to a clock on the TV, for fucks sake. He would have noticed chunks of time slipping away.

“How often did you see the healer?” Dream asked.

“Every day,” Tommy said, “She would come in and change my bandages.”

“Bandages?” Dream cocked his head.

“Yeah, from when Riptide made me Jesus, the sequel,” Tommy huffed. He showed the man his palms, the scabbed over marks in the very center. The older hero leaned away from the sight. 

“Did Blood God ever ask you anything?” Dream asked, ignoring Tommy’s hands.

Tommy snorted, “No, he’s an awkward fuck of a villain.”

This seemed to irritate Dream, “So you know absolutely nothing that they might have wanted to get from you?”

Tommy blinked, “Yeah, pretty much.”

“The Syndicate is thorough, Dream,” Ponk said.

Dream huffed, “Fine. If you remember anything at all, come to me immediately, understand?”

Tommy nodded, “Sure.”

Dream practically stomped out of the room. Tommy watched him go, amused. Sure, this was the only hero who really scared Tommy, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t a literal child most of the time. Ponk rolled his eyes before turning back to Tommy.

“Well for every minute you spend here the more gets deducted from your salary,” the healer said.

Tommy’s eyes widened, remembering Schlatt’s threat all too well, “Oh shit, okay.” He stood, “Where’s my uniform?”

“It was pretty much destroyed, so Eret has it right now,” The healer had turned back to his desk, shuffling through papers.

“Alright, thanks,” Tommy got up and began to make the journey to the designer’s lab. As he walked, he noticed how good his condition was. He hadn’t felt this little pain since he first started working as a hero, but then again, he had inadvertently ended up with over a week off from work with his leave days and then being kidnapped. Not a bad time, if he was completely honest. 

He reached the lab and when he opened the door, he came to see a scene that nearly had him turn around to leave, but he didn’t, instead he closed the door behind him and analyzed the chaos. Eret was standing to the side, holding a clipboard, and wearing safety goggles and a padded vest with his lab coat over it. Standing in the center of the room was none other than Tubbo who Tommy had honestly forgotten was an intern at the tower. He had his hands out towards what Tommy immediately assessed as a woefully inadequate blast chamber and inside were various samples of cloth being doused in a steady stream of flames.

Tommy warily walked farther into the room and the two… scientists? They didn’t notice him. He came to a stop where he could see both their faces and the blast chamber. Tubbo had that maniacal look on his face like when Tommy found him testing explosive compounds at six in the morning. Eret didn’t look much different, though her goggles hid her face.

“Uh, what’re you two up to?” Tommy finally asked.

“We’re testing the heat capacity of these new materials,” Eret answered gleefully, “They explode when they’ve reached their limit.”

Tubbo didn’t look away from the chamber.

Tommy looked at the automated flamethrowers and squares of fabric, wondering how Eret got away with blowing stuff up all the time. Then, one of the samples actually did explode, and Tubbo grinned widely as a sharp sounding pop filled the room. Eret pressed a button and scribbled things down.

“Alright, that one lasted almost five minutes,” Eret raised their goggles, “Now, how can I help you?” They turned to raise an eyebrow at Tommy.

Tommy realized then that he wasn’t in uniform, and his identity was plain to see. Eret didn’t know what he looked like. She didn’t even know what his real name was. 

“Tommy!” Tubbo seemed to have finally decided to take in his surroundings and he instantly had a glare leveled at Tommy as he threw down his protective gear and ran at Tommy, wrapping him in a tight hug, “What the fuck are you doing out and about?” He held Tommy at arm’s length, eyeing him, “You know how worried I’ve been?”

Tommy blinked, seeing tears in the other boy’s eyes, “Sorry, big man, I didn’t mean to scare you…”

“Who is this, Tubbo?” Eret approached, eyeing Tommy curiously.

Tommy cringed, “Uh, I’m Theseus.”

Eret’s eyes widened, “Oh shit, really?” then she was crying too, rushing to Tommy and hugging him, “Are you okay? Why aren’t you with Ponk?”

Tommy submitted to the hugging, “Medical is coming out of my paycheck till I can make an arrest,” Tommy rolled his eyes, “And the Syndicate was apparently healing me as they went.” He laughed dryly.

Eret released him holding him at arm’s length to scan his eyes down Tommy’s body, “The Syndicate was healing you?”

Tommy nodded, “No memories of… anything either.”

Eret cringed, “Never look it up then.”

Tommy nodded slowly, “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Wait,” Tubbo snapped, “They tortured you, then healed you and made you forget it?”

“Apparently?” Tommy shrugged.

“You have some bruising though,” Eret noted.

Tommy shrugged, “I don’t remember getting hit.”

“If I ever get my hands on them,” Tubbo snarled darkly as he looked at Tommy’s black eye.

Tommy somehow believed that Tubbo would actually be able to stand a chance for a bit against the villains. His ability had a lot of potential, “Please don’t be dumb,” he winced. Standing a chance wasn’t anywhere near surviving the encounter though.

Tubbo didn’t answer.

Eret was glaring too.

“Anyways, I uh, need my suit,” Tommy said.

“Oh, I have one repaired,” Eret said, “Follow me.” They led him back to a part of the lab and Tommy froze, seeing one of his suits set out on a table, not yet worked on. He crossed the room to it, gaping down at the state of it. It was bloodstained and filthy, dried bits that Tommy assumed to be vomit on parts of it. The fabric was cut in places and Tommy could see that some of the armor plates had been broken. He crossed his arms at the thought of how much force would have to be used to break those plates. If it had been him who had been tortured in the suit, he didn’t know how he was alive. 

“Don’t look at that,” Eret said, pulling Tommy’s attention away, “It’s better you don’t think about it too much.”

Tommy shivered, but listened, directing his attention to his other suit. The one from the night with Riptide. He decided that night was significantly more traumatic than being the Syndicate’s prisoner. He remembered what Riptide had done to him all too well. 

“I fixed um, all the holes,” Eret seemed to realize how awful that sounded, cringing, “But it’s as good as new now. Also, your phone was in your uniform pocket when you were dropped off.”

Tommy nodded, “Thanks Eret, I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Eret answered, “Now go home and relax, alright?”

Tommy smiled, “I will.” He left the designer and nodded to Tubbo who was glaring at Tommy’s ruined suit. The boy nodded back but didn’t say anything. Tommy left the tower with his uniform tucked under his arm, wrapped up in his red jacket. He realized he had lost his screws and projectiles and sighed at the loss but knew there was nothing to do for it. 

He took his time going home, not yet ready to be stuck in a small room again. He took side roads and didn't walk faster than a stroll. Then, as he was meandering through a backstreet, just minding his own business, someone jumped him. He was slammed to the ground, landing on his suit, groaning as the mask pressed into that bruise on his abdomen. So much for not being in pain. Well, that was just Tommy's life now, wasn't it?

A knife pressed on his throat and he froze. Oh yeah, people were trying to kill him. His body reacted to the weapon before he did, his hand gripping the hand holding the knife and pulling the man closer, over balancing him enough for Theseus to roll aside, gripping the man’s arm and twisting sharply. The attacker wore a plain cloth mask, and he cried out as Theseus kept twisting the arm. The knife hit the pavement at Theseus’s feet and he grabbed it, adjusting the grip to hold it properly in half a second before he slammed it to the hilt in the man’s gut.

The man screamed. 

Theseus stabbed him again. Blood matched the crimson of his uniform. The crimson of his ability. He stabbed again. And again. He was angry. He couldn’t even get one day to enjoy life, could he? He got nearly killed and can’t even recover in peace, then he was abducted, fake tortured, and then he’s back out there getting fucking stabbed at!

The man lifted a weak hand and Theseus realized he held a gun. Theseus stabbed the offending arm, grabbing the weapon from the man and slamming the steel into the side of the man’s face. Then Theseus stabbed him through the throat, moving away from the blood and cleaning his new knife on the man’s clothes as he pulled out his phone. Crimson splattered on filthy concrete and Tommy didn't look away from it.

He found the contact quickly, glaring down at the corpse as the phone dialed.

“Hello?”

“Quackity, I’m sending you an address,” Theseus snarled.

“You’re… Wait, you’re out? Tommy, why are you not recovering?” Quackity sounded downright stressed.

“We both know that’s not necessary,” Theseus spat.

Quackity paused, “They’re dead, aren't they?”

“The assassin? Yes.”

“Okay, you’re pissier when they’re actually dead,” Quackity said, “I have men in the area, they’ll be there soon.” Then he hung up.

Tommy looked at the phone screen, frowning. Quackity had men in the area? An odd way to say it. He didn’t dwell on it though, tucking his phone away and crouching down in the odd alley-like place he had been ambushed in. He watched the corpse slowly grow cold and wondered if he would ever get the privilege of a normal life again. He liked his job, liked fighting villains, liked the friends he had made. But he hated this part, being ambushed when he let his guard own. Being scared that he wouldn’t survive an encounter with a villain because of a handicap his boss had given him. The fear that he would slip up and end up in Pandora. He was scared and there was no solution. He could arrest every villain in the city, and he was positive Schlatt would never let him have the luxury of his ability. 

When two men started walking down the alley, Tommy stood, his knife ready until he recognized Kurama and Charlie.

“Hello!” Charlie greeted him.

“Hey Charlie,” Tommy said tiredly, “Sorry about this.”

“Gamble told us all about it!” Charlie said enthusiastically, “Don’t worry, we understand.”

Tommy nodded, “Alright then, I’ll go then.”

“Bye!” Charlie waved. Tommy waved back silently before he walked back home. When he got into his apartment he collapsed in bed, gripping a dagger in an attempt to soothe himself. His breaths felt forced, and he reached his empty hand up to his face, stopping only when he realized it was still bloody. He stood and stripped out of the hospital clothes, now permanently marred by an assassin's blood. Tommy threw the clothes into the corner and scrubbed himself down. He paused to peer at his reflection in his small mirror. Dark circles scored under his eyes and Tommy couldn't look for long. He might have been bored in his capture, but that hadn't kept the nightmares at bay. He looked at his bed and swallowed. He couldn't conjure up the desire to sleep he knew weighed his body down. Instead, he dug out his sword and held it in trembling hands as he let his ability guide his body. 

He moved until he couldn't anymore and then he curled up on the floor, sleeping with his sword in his arms like a fucked-up teddy bear.

He didn't dream.

Chapter Text

Tommy slept most of the day and when it was time for his shift, he detangled himself from his sword and pulled his uniform on. He noted mournfully that his pockets were empty except for two screws, but at least his baton had been replaced. Pressing his mask into his face, he used back streets and alleys to get to his sector. He hadn’t really patrolled since Riptide had nearly killed him and his hands shook as he eyed the street where he had been pinned, the asphalt already patched over. He crammed his hands in his pockets, whipping around and beginning his patrol, avoiding looking at the nearby sewer drains.

Things were normal. He used his baton to clear away robberies and small crimes, people recognizing him and some even mentioning surprise that he was working so soon after being imprisoned, but other than that it was just a normal, quiet night. Then he saw them. Riptide and Mesmo stood in the middle of the street where they had nearly killed him and Tommy crouched on a nearby rooftop, eyeing the obvious trap. Riptide could control far more water than he had ever thought possible, and he was wary to be on street level with her for that reason, though he recognized that being on a building wouldn’t change that much, she had stood against him well enough before without all that water too. Mesmo was standing just behind her, Tommy’s lost baton in one hand, his hammer in the other. They looked nervous.

Theseus carefully approached from behind them, keeping his footsteps quiet. He didn’t tell them he was there, he just kept approaching, counting every step that he got closer to his revenge. Then Riptide turned, that mask facing him when he was barely ten feet away. He charged.

“Truce!” She screeched, her voice changer struggling with the pitch of her voice.

Theseus ignored her, targeting her first. She barely made a small shield of water in time to block Theseus’s baton from cracking her skull. Theseus didn’t flinch, taking it in stride, bouncing from her to go for Mesmo. 

“Hey man!” Mesmo yelped, blocking an attack with the handle of his hammer, “We’re here to apologize!”

“Bullshit,” Theseus growled, putting a screw in his empty hand as he began his unrestrained assault on the villains. 

“We don’t want to hurt you, Theseus!” Riptide managed as she dodged a screw aimed for her throat.

Theseus snarled in response. He wanted to see their blood. He wanted them pinned to asphalt, left to bleed out just like he had been. He wanted vengeance. He didn’t notice the crimson glimmer over his baton getting stronger or the one growing on the screw.

“Theseus, we’re really trying here!” Mesmo spat, sounding like he was on the brink of stopping whatever game it was they were playing where they only dodged and blocked. Good. Theseus was sick of it. 

Theseus didn’t care if they wanted to apologize. Apologies are for bumps and scrapes, for spilt drinks and rude comments. Apologies aren’t for attempted murder in such horrifying ways. They could be begging him, and he wouldn’t care. 

“Look, have your baton back!” Mesmo tossed the baton to the ground and Theseus froze.

“Please listen to us, Theseus, what I did was wrong. I recognize that I scared you and you thought you were going to die, and I only escalated the situation by doing what I did. You didn’t deserve that,” Riptide pleaded.

Theseus tucked the screw up his sleeve, grabbing instead the baton on the ground. One in each hand. He flicked them experimentally. He could see in his mind’s eye the wreckage he could cause on a human body with these weapons. He could hear the breaking bones, see the spittle flying, smell the blood. He looked up at the pair. They were nervous. A red light bathed the street.

“Shit, Riptide,” Mesmo murmured.

“Run,” Riptide whispered softly.

Theseus didn’t give them that option. Something was different this time. Mesmo’s air waves were still as catastrophic, Riptide’s whip was just as fast and cutting, but Tommy was somehow better. He could focus better, not distracted with quips and comments or simple irrelevant observations. All he saw were the villains and their moves and he saw through their moves. Their strategies were child’s play, their reactions slow. He was winning.

A baton hit Mesmo’s hand, fingers cracking as the man shouted, having to switch to one hand. He hit Riptide’s shoulder in a thrusting gesture, the end of the baton hitting a collar bone which he heard snap as she screamed and her arm fell to her side, limp. He kicked Mesmo’s knee and knew it was dislocated without having to look. He broke Riptide’s ribs. He knocked Mesmo out. He pinned Riptide. It was easy.

She was panting beneath him, whimpering in pain and looking around frantically. Her wrists were under his knees. Beneath her was the patched pavement where he had been trapped eight days ago. He placed his batons on either side of her head.

“I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry, Theseus, I really am!” She was sobbing under her mask.

Theseus sneered, “Did you know that you stabbed me eleven times?”

She whimpered.

He pulled out a screw, “I’ll save you from that fate, but that doesn't mean you’re off the hook.”

“Theseus, listen to me! I fucked up, I know I did-”

Theseus laughed over her words, “Oh yes, you did, but Riptide, I’m vengeful. I’m not like the other heroes, you know, I don’t have that moral compass. Begging won’t change what I have planned for you.”

She sobbed.

Theseus grabbed one of her hands and she surprisingly offered no resistance as he pressed the back of it to the asphalt. He held the screw point first over the center of her palm and she let out a shaky wail. Theseus seethed. So she could do it to him but when the tables turned it was the end of the world? He hadn’t done half of what she had done to him. She had nearly drowned him. Stabbed him eleven times. Cut into his sides five times. Left him to die, to bleed out in some shitty street on the outskirts of the city. She had nearly drowned him in sewer water. This was nothing. 

Theseus used the base of the baton to hammer the screw down. It offered surprisingly little resistance, and he didn’t stop till he couldn’t drive the sharpened steel any deeper into the asphalt. It had already been a struggle. He did the same to her other hand. She didn’t struggle but he still pinned her forearms with a knee.

She was sobbing weakly when he climbed off of her, her autotuned screams still ringing in his ears. He looked down at the motionless villainess as he put his batons away. Mesmo was still unconscious a few feet away. Theseus dragged the man to lay on the pavement beside his partner, contemplating his next move.

“Don’t do it, Theseus,” A voice behind him said. 

Tommy turned to see Domino standing a distance away. “Do what?” He asked.

“Don’t do it to Mesmo too,” Domino looked nervous, shifting where he stood, “With Riptide you were getting revenge, but Mesmo wasn’t part of that.”

Tommy glared, “I wasn’t planning on it. You’re right. I got my revenge.”

Domino still was shifting around, “What are you going to do with them?”

“Arrest them, probably,” Tommy said, looking down at the pair, frowning. For some reason he felt worse about sending them to Pandora than hammering screws through Riptide’s hands. 

“Oh,” Domino’s voice was small.

“You have another good idea?” Tommy asked. 

“They were asking for a truce,” Domino said, “It doesn’t feel right to arrest them when they returned your baton.”

Tommy scowled. Was that why he didn’t want to arrest them? Probably. He did feel a little bad he hadn’t even heard them out, now that the rage was gone. They were even now; he had no reason to send them to have their power sucked out of them in Pandora. He pulled out his phone, sighing.

“What,” Quackity sounded far from thrilled to be woken at four in the morning. 

“Do you not check the contact cards when you pick up the phone?” Tommy inquired.

Quackity paused, “Ah, Tommy.”

“Not right now,” Tommy corrected, “Anyways, I have two villains I need owing me tomorrow.”

There was shuffling, “Riptide and Mesmo?”

“Yes.”

“How exactly? Are they… I need details,” The man was ruffling around, probably getting dressed. A voice sounded in the background but Quackity shushed whoever it was. Tommy scrunched his nose at the thought of Quackity sharing a bed with someone.

“I got revenge,” Tommy said, keeping his voice relatively light as he crouched beside Riptide. He was fairly sure she had fallen unconscious, “Mesmo took a blow to the skull, has a dislocated knee and some broken fingers. Riptide has broken ribs, collarbone and two… puncture wounds.”

Quackity paused, “Where?”

“The hands.”

Quackity gave some sort of strangled laugh, “Oh, wow, is this your new signature?”

Tommy frowned, “What?”

“You did the same to Gamble, remember?”

Tommy blinked, “Oh yeah, I wasn’t really thinking clearly at the time.”

Quackity hesitated, “Gamble and the others will be there soon.” 

“Alright,” Tommy said brightly, hanging up the phone.

“Who was that?” Domino asked carefully.

“Someone who can help,” Tommy said, “We should go now.” He stood, not bothering to collect his screws as he led the way away from the villains.

Instead of following like Tommy had expected, Domino closed a hand on his shoulder and in a sickening sensation of falling they teleported to an unfamiliar roof. Tommy stumbled away from the vigilante, swallowing back his nausea. He spared the tall man a half-hearted glare.

“I don’t approve of what you did to them, but I understand why you did it,” Domino said. 

Tommy nodded, straightening and adjusting his jacket. It didn’t really need it, but he felt the need to do something with his now blood hands. “Thanks, Domino, I owe you, by the way.”

Domino huffed, “I don’t know if I want you owing me.”

“No?”

“You’re scary, Theseus,” Domino’s voice was level, but Tommy could all too easily recall the fear in his voice just minutes before. “The things you did to those two… I don’t know many other heroes who could do that.”

Tommy blinked, “Oh.”

“I’ll leave you here,” Domino said, “Your shift should be over now. I’m glad you aren’t still in the Syndicate’s basement.”

Tommy laughed, “Were you worried about me?”

Domino laughed, his voice changer struggling with the sound, “No, Theseus, I knew you’d make it.” Then the vigilante vanished in a burst of purple particles. Gone.

Tommy blinked, unsure what to think of Domino’s apparent faith in him, but there was nothing to do about it, no way to be sure what was the truth and what wasn’t, so he made his way to the street and began the walk home. 

---

Tommy woke up a little earlier this time, getting in uniform before he had to and he had Quackity get him a ride to Las Nevadas, Charlie driving again. Tommy was beginning to wonder if anyone else in the casino knew how to drive. The odds weren't looking good. Once he got to the casino, he followed Charlie to Gamble’s office and Charlie let him in with a smile.

Tommy took in the two villains seated in the chairs before Gamble’s desk and the information dealer sitting with his fingers steepled under his chin.

“Theseus,” Gamble said in greeting, “Welcome.”

Riptide and Mesmo both stiffened, turning to watch Tommy enter. There was a third empty chair between them and he took it, relaxing back in it easily. The rage from the night before had almost completely dissipated, soothed by the bandages the two villains wore.

“Gamble,” Tommy greeted the villain, “Sorry about stabbing you by the way.”

Gamble chuckled, holding up the hand Tommy had stabbed, a scar was all that remained, “I took care of it a while ago.”

“I owe you for this,” Tommy nodded to the villains on either side of him.

“You owe me a lot,” Gamble said, agreeing easily.

There was a note to the man’s voice that Tommy didn’t like, but he kept going, pushing his chair back so he could see Riptide and Mesmo better. “And you two owe me.”

They looked at him, not reacting. Not that Tommy could tell, with their masks.

“I didn’t arrest you, I also didn’t stab you eleven times, but I’ll just count it as one favor,” Tommy said lightly.

The pair looked at each other before nodding. 

“We’re even, injury wise, though,” Tommy said, “I got my anger out faster than I thought I would. So, we’re going to discuss our relationship.”

Riptide flinched, “We were planning on offering a truce,” she said carefully.

“I have an idea,” Tommy said, “You can carry out your heists and I will still stop you, but we operate under sparring rules. No serious injuries and no trying to kill each other. I think it’s been proven that when we go all out people get hurt,” Tommy eyed Riptide’s bandaged hands, “Until I make a big arrest any healthcare costs come out of my salary, but since we’re even I don’t feel like sending you to Pandora. I also am somewhat fond of Domino, so I won’t be sending him there either.”

Gamble cocked his head.

“And you sitting in on this conversation is one of the favors I owe you,” Tommy pointed at the man.

Gamble laughed, “I was wondering.”

“I’m not stupid,” Tommy said sharply.

“I never thought you were,” Gamble said smoothly.

“What do you two say?” Tommy asked the villains.

“We agree to your terms,” RIptide said. “We want this over between us.”

“I do too,” Tommy said, “I’m sick of constantly worrying about being killed.”

The pair seemed to respect this. 

“That’s all I wanted to say,” Tommy said.

Riptide stood, her arm in a sling, “Thank you for not arresting us,” she said.

Tommy nodded curtly and the villains made their way out of the room. Mesmo was on crutches, one hand in a splint. He watched their progress, amused that he had been on crutches after their last fight and now it was Mesmo’s turn. 

“I thought for sure you would arrest them,” Gamble said once it was just the two of them. 

Tommy laughed, “Me too.” He stood, “I have a patrol to do.”

Gamble leaned back in his chair, “I have information you might be interested in.”

Tommy shook his head, “I owe you too many favors already,” he said and left the office before he could change his mind. He would figure it out in his own time, he was sure. 

---

Tommy was enjoying a mid-shift snack of convenience store trail mix when his wrist made a small beeping noise. He paused, mid-bite, turning the wrist to stare at the alert on the slim black band there. Three red lights. The Syndicate had been confirmed, likely in his district, if he was being informed. Shit. Tommy crammed his trail mix into his pocket and scrambled to his feet. Why would the Syndicate be here? For him? They had just released him, surely they weren’t coming back for seconds? He remembered Gamble’s proposition for information and wondered if accepting that information would have put in him a better position here. Oh well, too late for that. 

“Theseus,” a voice said from behind him.

Tommy whipped around, whipping out his batons, sure that the fuckers had somehow already snuck up on him, but instead he found a familiar face. Punz. “Punz?” Tommy relaxed. Had he somehow earned backup enough to not have to face the Syndicate on his own? How generous of the Tower. “What are you doing here?”

The white-themed hero approached, something tense in his shoulders, “I wanted to talk.”

Tommy frowned, something about the tone of the man’s voice making his hands tighten on the handles of his batons, a foot inching backwards, ready for action, “Oh yeah?” he asked, eyeing the hero warily.

“What’s wrong?” Punz asked, head tilted, “Guilty?”

Tommy froze, “No? Why would I be guilty?” What did Punz know? It could be anything.

“Theseus, I was here, last night,” the hero’s hands moved to his chest, the action not quite casual as his thumbs hooked around sheathed throwing knives. “I saw what you did to Riptide and Mesmo. I saw how badly you hurt them. I saw how you worked with a vigilante to hand them over to Gamble.”

Tommy’s blood ran cold, and he swallowed in a desperate attempt to work moisture back into his mouth. It didn’t work very well. “Oh,” he said. There would be no denying his actions. He was caught. Punz had seen Tommy break the law. He was being arrested. Oh fuck, he was being arrested. Tommy’s heart rate sped up.

“I talked to Schlatt,” Punz said, slowly beginning to pace in a half-circle around Tommy, “He gave me two solutions. You can come in quietly, or I can kill you.”

“You can’t just kill another hero,” Tommy said, “The media will eat you alive, it will eat the Tower alive.” He was gambling on Schlatt’s need to preserve his own reputation and he knew it wouldn’t work. There was no way he could get out of this one. His hands were sweating, his aura over his batons flickering, unsure. 

“Not if I make it look like Riptide and Mesmo did it,” Punz said slowly, “It wouldn’t be hard, They already nearly killed you very publicly. Everyone would buy it.”

Tommy swallowed again, shifting his feet, debating his odds at running. The problem was that Punz had ranged weapons. All that would get him would be a knife between the shoulder blades. “I’m not going to Pandora,” he said, aiming for confidence and missing rather pathetically, his voice cracking.

“Don’t make me kill you, Theseus,” Punz said, it almost sounded like a plea and Tommy remembered when the man had given him a knife back when he had been a sidekick. 

Tommy gritted his jaw against the memories, “I’m not going to Pandora,” he repeated with more strength this time. His hands shook minutely. They had finally caught him. His balancing act between hero and villain was officially over. Did that make him a villain? Panic flared at the thought, memories of his dreams filtering through his mind. Oh Prime, he was a villain now. Heroes don’t break the law. Heroes don’t torture villains for revenge. Heroes don’t hoard illegal weapons.

Then, Tommy saw a flicker of movement to his right. It seemed that Punz noticed too, because the hero whipped around to face what could be nothing other than the Syndicate. Two forms leaping over rooftops, the sky darkening in their wake, though Angel wasn’t in sight. 

“Theseus!” A familiar voice called, and Tommy gaped at the Blood God as the massive villain landed on the opposite end of his rooftop, scarlet cape billowing around his wide shoulders, broadsword at the ready.

“Blood God?” Tommy did not squeak, he was too manly, but if he did, it would be perfectly reasonable, especially with the flickers of pursuing heroes on the horizon behind the villains. Why was the Syndicate here? If they were passing through that might make more sense, but no, Blood God had come directly to Tommy. Tommy thought of Gamble’s offered information. Oh. Wilbur had said that he was under the Syndicate’s protection and apparently the lanky fuck wasn’t wrong after all.

“Do not touch him,” Blood God leveled his broadsword at Punz.

Punz backed away, eyes wide as he took in the villain and Siren arriving on the rooftop at that moment, dusting off his trench coat abomination as if he were just out for a casual stroll, not actively escaping heroes that Tommy was mostly sure were the Dream Team. 

“Blood God?” Punz stammered, looking at Tommy, “Were you working together this whole time? They tortured you, Theseus!”

Tommy did his best to collect himself, shrugging as if he were completely at ease, when in reality he felt surrounded. Enemies on all sides despite what Wilbur claimed. “I don’t really know to be honest, but if they’re stopping you from killing me, I won’t complain,” Tommy feigned confidence. 

Siren stepped forward, pistols drawn with their accents gleaming in the rapidly fading moonlight and ambient streetlight, “You heroes have been abusing and tormenting him for so long,” the villain snarled, “You took everything from him!”

Tommy was almost flattered, but he was just as alarmed. How did the Syndicate know all that the Tower had done to him? Why did Siren care so much? Why hadn’t they tortured him when he had been in their custody?

Then the roof was illuminated with a brilliant flash of green, Dream himself striding forward, smiling mask right out of Tommy’s nightmares, “Because he hasn’t been doing his job as a hero!” Blaze and 404 were identifiable in the near distance, hurrying towards the bizarre little gathering, “Theseus consistently neglected his duties and in doing so has endangered fellow heroes. He even spared the villains who tried to kill him. He is no hero.” 

Siren laughed as Tommy shuddered, the words a knife to Tommy’s heart. “He was never given a chance! You were too scared of him being better than you!”

Dream stared at the Syndicate members before speaking lowly, 404 and Blaze were only a building away now, “Punz, deal with the traitor. We’ll take care of the Syndicate.”

The chaos began immediately. Tommy barely dodged the first of Punz’s knives as Dream launched himself at Blood God. 404 made illusions, the world spinning around them, the sky flashing bizarre colors, afterimages of every movement, attempting to unbalance the villains and Tommy. Meanwhile, Blaze fought desperately against Siren, tongues of fire and the ensuing smoke unleashed in an attempt to obscure the villain’s line of sight as Siren desperately dodged the thrown fire, shooting whenever he had a half second to peace.

Tommy couldn’t even get close to the more experienced Punz, every knife thrown his way was thrown with intent to kill or maim. He couldn’t gather the focus that he had somehow found when fighting Riptide and Mesmo and was barely making it. It was clear that Blood God and Siren weren’t exactly winning either. Sure, they held their own, but without Angel of Death there they were falling behind the Dream Team simply due to being outnumbered. Tommy gritted his jaw as he threw his body to the right, the edge of the roof far too close for his taste as he dodged another knife. This wasn’t going well. Where was Angel?

Suddenly, Domino appeared in a flurry of purple particles. For half a second Tommy hoped the vigilante would help him, but instead Domino turned on the Syndicate, sending kicks and punches towards Blood God in an intensity Tommy hadn’t yet seen from the man. That was enough of a distraction for Dream to gain an upper hand, as Domino’s blows didn’t draw blood, Blood God’s ability remained frustratingly out of use and every time his ax got close to Domino, the vigilante would vanish in a puff of purple only to reappear behind the villain or to put a cheap shot in on Siren.

Tommy knew they were losing and he began to panic, wishing that clarity would come to him, but it remained stubbornly out of reach, his batons feeling clumsy in his hands. He wished he had his weapons, his knives, his sword, his new knife, even. Anything. Anything at all. 

A throwing knife sank into his thigh. Tommy screamed and his leg gave out from under him, Punz slowing as he panted for breath, trying to gather the strength to move. The hero stalked forward, confidence in his shoulders. Tommy wouldn’t be able to dodge anymore. Domino noticed Tommy go down and his flurry of attacks on Blood God slowed.

“Theseus!” The vigilante cried, thoroughly confusing Tommy. Whose side was this guy on?

“Shit!” Siren swore loudly, barely dodging fire. Though Blaze seemed to be hesitating too, staring at Tommy with this conflicted look, dark brows furrowed over his mask. 

Punz was drawing closer to Tommy, and he looked down at the knife in his thigh, a horrible idea coming to him. There was no way it would work… Then Angel of Death swooped out of the sky, decking 404. The illusions that had been throwing all of them off instantly ceased. Oh. It would work. 

“Blood God!” Tommy called, pulling the knife out of his leg with a grunt.

Blood God half turned to face him, “What?” He parried a blow from Dream’s ax. He was practically casual about it.

Tommy cringed, “Fuck you!” he aimed-

“No!” Punz screamed, leaning to run at Tommy, to stop him.

-there was a place in Blood God’s armor where Tommy knew a knife would easily cut through and where the villain would bleed a lot-

“Stop him!” Dream yelled.

-it would take a miracle-

“Angel!” Siren screamed.

-Tommy was a weapons master though, miracles were his thing. He loosed.

The knife twirled through the air before sinking true in that one spot. 

The world froze. 

“Shit!” Angel cried, instantly swooping for Siren, scooping him up in his arms without delay.

Blood God was frozen, Dream backing away, his team doing the same. Punz looked pale. The air grew thick. Domino choked, fizzing the way he did when he couldn’t quite teleport. Blood God made an animalistic noise, his sword raising.

“Blood for the Blood God,” he snarled. His voice had an inhuman quality to it, his whole body beginning to flicker with a red aura, significantly darker than Tommy’s, like drying blood.

Tommy’s blood itself slowed, he couldn’t move, muscles lethargic and he was lightheaded. This was the power over blood. This was the Blood God. Tommy felt the wound in his leg bleeding steadily faster.

“Domino, take Theseus home!” Siren called from where he hung in the Angel’s arms, flying away, the words of command making the vigilante stiffen. Blood God’s eyes were glowing red as he focused on Domino, but then Domino disappeared, a flash of purple and the last thing Tommy saw before they teleported was those glowing red eyes on Tommy, unrecognizable as Tommy’s very blood rebelled, that massive sword raising. Then it was gone.

Domino teleported over and over, at least five times in a row and when they finally stopped. It was like being trapped in a merry-go-round at the speed of a rocket launching, g forces whipping and pulling at his very matter, disassembling and reassembling over and over. Then the floor was under his feet and Tommy immediately ripped his mask off to vomit on the floor of… an apartment. An apartment that was a mirror image of his own. 

He wiped his mouth, panting, as he looked up at Domino.

“Tommy?” Domino squeaked.

Tommy blinked, looking at the familiar apartment, then up at the freakishly tall and skinny vigilante. The split dyed hair. “Ranboo?”

Domino ripped off his split mask to gape at Tommy, “You’re Theseus?”

Tommy nodded, struggling upright, his leg screaming in pain, “Yes, what the fuck, you saved my life.” He struggled to think clearly, to think of a plan. Luckily the nausea was fading.

“Siren commanded me,” Ranboo said, running a hand through their messy hair. How the hell had Tommy not connected those dots earlier? He used to wave to the person when he passed him on the way in from work! What the hell!

“No, no, after Riptide, but I guess you did this time too,” Tommy muttered, “Shit, I owe a lot of favors.”

“No, you don’t owe me anything!” Ranboo said quickly, “Tommy, what was going on? Why were you fighting Punz?”

The door of the apartment slammed open and Tommy jumped, readying his batons, thigh screaming in pain, but it was just Tubbo. “You fought Punz!” He paused then, wrinkling his nose at Tommy’s vomit, “You should clean that up.”

Tommy realized then exactly what had just happened, “Oh shit, I’m going to be arrested.” His neighbors instantly looked at him with wide eyes. 

“What?” Tubbo asked.

“Punz saw me not arrest Riptide and Mesmo and Schlatt said he should either kill me or arrest me,” Tommy clenched his hand in his hair, disrupting his hood, “Oh fuck, I can’t stay here, they know where I live!” He instantly pushed past Tubbo and ran to his apartment door, rushing in and collecting his weapons. He discarded one baton in favor of his sword, throwing knives in his sleeves, and the assassin’s knife in his belt. Then he grabbed a duffel bag, stuffing anything he could think of into it. Clothes, money, food, water, his whetstone.

“Don’t take your phone,” Tubbo said from behind him, “Or any electronics. You should ditch the mask.”

Tommy swore, Tubbo was right, “Thanks big man.” He threw everything electronic onto his mattress. Phone, wrist band, and mask. Then he paused to inspect his thigh. He wouldn’t be able to do much with the injury and it was bleeding a lot.

“Here,” Tubbo approached with a first aid kit and he somehow had the wound cleaned and butterfly bandages on it in record time, covering it with gauze. He pressed some pills into Tommy’s hands and a bottle into the duffel bag. “The blue one is an antibiotic. The white one is a pain killer. Take them regularly.”

Tommy nodded, using sink water to down the pills, “Thanks, I owe you for this,” he shouldered his bag.

“Just go, dumbass,” Tubbo said, “Do me a favor and don’t get caught.”

Tommy saluted the man as he climbed out his fire escape. Anxiety and fear thrummed through him as he dropped to the street. He didn’t know where to go. Las Nevadas? He owed Gamble enough; he didn’t want to push that anymore. He needed to stay away from the Watsons, even though Techno knew Gamble, he didn’t want to push the stretch of laws they were willing to break. That left… Nothing. He sure as hell wasn’t going to Niki’s bakery. So, he was on the run.

He stayed in the dark, feeling exposed with his face uncovered but still in his suit, so he changed into a dark blue hoodie, transferring his throwing knives as he shoved the uniform jacket into his duffel. He kept his hood up as he moved through the city. He needed a safe place to sleep, and stabbing Blood God had bought him some time, but he knew it wasn’t forever. Eventually the villain would either run out of steam or the heroes would somehow subdue him and Tommy would once again be a priority. 

Spotting a twenty-four-hour diner, Tommy ducked in and ordered a breakfast meal, keeping his hood up as he ate. He didn’t know how long he had, so he planned on recharging however possible. He cleaned his plate off and was about to rest his head in his arms to sleep when he saw the TV in the corner with nothing other than a picture of him unmasked.

“Once fan favorite hero Theseus has been reported as a traitor to the Hero Tower and out of concern for the safety of the public, his identity has been revealed as Tommy Innes. He is considered armed and dangerous. Any sightings should be called in at this hotline-” The newscaster was saying.

Tommy seized his duffel bag, swearing as he dug out a twenty-dollar bill and he tucked it under the edge of his plate. The waitress looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed, and he pulled his hood down lower, booking it from the diner. He didn’t know if he had been recognized, but he couldn’t risk it. His thigh hurt even through the pain killers, and he couldn’t risk a fight.

The day was spent in alleys, resting and dosing for a few minutes at a time before his anxiety woke him and he had to move, a hand constantly on a weapon. He didn’t know what to do. Asking to be harbored was a big fucking favor he wasn’t willing to use from anyone. Even if he could track down Riptide and Mesmo’s civilian identities, he didn’t know if they would even be able to help him much. He cursed himself for not planning better, but he couldn’t do anything about it now. Now he had to survive and not go to Pandora. Though if it came down to it, he would rather be dead than go to Pandora. The thought of rotting away till he finally didn’t have any more life energy to give sent chills down his spine. If he went it would be on his own terms. That fact cemented in his mind the longer he spent ducking around cameras and hiding his face.

By the time the sun was setting, Tommy was exhausted and hungry and his face was plastered fucking everywhere with heroes on double time trying to find him. He vaguely remembered Warden’s betrayal, how it had stirred up the heroes similarly, but at least Warden had been able to plan his, Tommy hadn’t even known his secrets had been revealed until too late. He debated stealing a car and trying to sneak into Las Nevadas for probably the hundredth time, but for one, he wasn’t confident in his abilities to drive, and for two he didn’t think it was possible to sneak into the casino. 

He ducked out of sight as he saw Rosethorn walking a street, plants cracking through the pavement around him, leaning towards her with fresh green leaves. He watched them warily. He’d never talked with Rosethorn much, but he knew she was powerful. He also knew she could communicate with her plants and didn’t dare to touch any of them.

“Tommy!” A voice hissed.

Tommy’s head whipped up, eyes wide, when he gaped at who he saw. Puffy, his former boss, stood just inside the building across the alley from him. Tommy looked around, realizing he had somehow ended up at the café.

“Puffy?” he let out a strangled whisper.

“Come! Hurry!” She whisper-yelled.

Tommy didn’t hesitate to do as she asked, rushing into the familiar building and she closed and locked the door behind him, “Puffy, I can’t stay!” He said lowly.

She huffed, “I know, but let me help you out first,” She led him to a shelf where she collected a first aid kit, shoving it in Tommy’s duffel bag as well as a burner phone. “This phone has three numbers in it,” she instructed, “Mine, Angel of Death’s, and Gamble’s.”

Tommy nodded slowly, “Alright, but Puffy, I can’t rely on any of them.”

Puffy glared up at him as she shoved a roll of cash into the bag, “No, you have to, Tommy. The first moment you can, call the Angel. He owes me a favor anyways.” It escaped Tommy to wonder why Puffy, the café owner would be owed a favor by the Angel of Death.

Tommy blinked, “Puffy, I literally stabbed Blood God. I don’t think they’ll like me anymore.”

She winced, “Yes, you complicated things, but it’s your only chance.”

Tommy nodded, “Alright, I’ll call,” he lied.

“Good,” Puffy cupped his face with a sad smile, “Don’t get caught.”

“I’m never going to Pandora,” Tommy swore.

She patted him on the cheek, “Good, call the Angel, please.” She shoved a pastry into his hands.

Tommy recognized it was time to leave, nodding his lie again as he ducked out the back door. He ran from the cafe, conflicted. Puffy seemed convinced the Angel would help him, but Tommy found it hard to agree and he wasn’t going to use one of the woman’s favors on him. Besides, he had seen enough snippets of a reporter interviewing Dream about him to know for a fact that his old mentor was personally after him after having to retreat from Blood God’s attack that morning. He would lead Dream right to them. 

Tommy was cornered. He had nowhere to go. He downed the pastry in his hands quickly as he developed a last-minute plan. He had to get Dream out of the equation. Somehow, he had to kill Dream or die trying. He would never be able to relax unless Dream was gone.

---

An hour later, Tommy was in his hero gear again, maskless with his duffel hidden away in an alley several streets over. He walked down the center of the street in the direction of the Hero Tower, the massive white structure in his line of sight. He saw people on the sidewalks whispering to each other. He played up his limp, sword in one hand, baton in the other. He saw phones directed at him. Cameras recording his every move as he made his slow way towards the Tower. It was a challenge and he fully expected it to be accepted.

Then a violent green filled the dimly lit street and Tommy lunged to the side as an ax split the pavement where he had been standing moments before. Dream jerked his weapon free as he stood tall, his masked face looking directly at Tommy.

“Theseus,” Dream said lowly.

Tommy sneered, almost happy that the fucker could see his face so he could make his dislike of the man as clear as possible, “Hello, Dream,” he greeted his former mentor, beginning to circle him.

“I thought you were smart, but apparently you aren’t, considering you’re here,” Dream mocked.

Tommy grinned, “I can recognize that the only thing between me and freedom is you.”

“So what, you want to kill me?” Dream laughed, “We both know that won’t work.”

“Maybe not,” Tommy shrugged, “but I’ll still try. I won’t live in hiding, Dream.”

“Then live in Pandora,” The sneer in Dream’s voice was audible, obviously referencing Tommy’s opposition to the prison and the insistence that he would never go there. He was trying to get under Tommy’s skin. It was working. After years of insisting that Tommy would never go to Pandora, years convincing himself that he could be a hero, a good one, and here he was, facing Dream. A masked hero standing before a maskless villain. It already felt like an unfair fight.

Tommy attacked. He threw a knife and as Dream held out a hand to redirect the blade with his space manipulation, Tommy lunged for the man. The fight was reminiscent of their training, only Tommy was better. He could feel it, the difference between practice weapons and this. It wasn’t quite like how he had fought Riptide and Mesmo though and he couldn’t quite grasp that strength. It frustrated him.

Every time he nearly landed a blow on the hero, his sword would barely miss or suddenly the handle of Dream’s ax would deflect his baton. The green glow easily overpowered the red of Tommy’s weapons. Tommy grit his jaw. Dream was winning. He didn’t know how to counter it. He just couldn’t land a blow. The only good thing was that Dream struggled to land a blow on him too, but struggling didn’t mean he never did. The ax cut into him bit by bit, slipping past his sword as if it weren’t there, appearing suddenly all too close to Tommy to completely dodge or curving in its path to make dodging almost impossible.

The fight dragged on and Tommy was losing by a larger and larger margin, his thigh screaming, the wound opened in the fight with blood dripping down his leg and filling his shoe. New cuts on his body and limbs joining the steadily growing choir of pain to pull at his attention with every movement. He was exhausted after not resting properly, and he still bore a few minor aches from his imprisonment and the fight with Riptide and Mesmo. Dream had fought Blood God, sure, but he had been able to recover, his wounds healed by Ponk or some other healer and his exhaustion mended with comfortable sleep. 

Tommy wouldn’t be so scared if it wasn’t also obvious Dream wasn’t going to kill him. Pandora was suddenly inevitable, and Tommy knew he would rather die than be there. He used all of his resources, throwing his knives, but keeping one last one. It would keep him from the life of imprisonment. He fought with reckless abandon, wishing his sword could bite flesh, taste blood, and in his sudden burst of energy, Tommy managed to get one cut in on Dream, crimson guiding his sword past the man’s too-slow guard and snagging through his side. The cost of it was horrific though. The blade of Dream’s ax was suddenly in Tommy’s face with a blur of neon green and he couldn’t lean back fast enough as the blade cut through his skin, over his right eye, narrowly missing the eye itself with the aid of the shape of Tommy’s brow, skipping down to cut into the bridge of his nose and score across his cheek. Blood flooded Tommy’s nose and he was pretty sure the ax had cut through bone, his vision instantly impaired by blood from his brow as white hot pain lanced through his skull.

Tommy stumbled back, screaming as he clutched his face. Dream cried out too, holding his own side. Tommy looked at Dream with his left eye, the right already covered in fast flowing blood. He couldn’t remember a single time anyone had gotten a good hit in on Dream and Tommy had just broken that streak. Even Blood God couldn’t hit Dream, not really. He managed a crazed sort of laugh around the pain in his face. Dream’s head whipped up to stare dot eyes at Tommy before the hero screamed in rage and threw his ax. Tommy tried to block, but the handle of the ax phased right through the blade of his sword as it suddenly vanished from his hand with a lurch of aggressive green, and the handle of the ax hit his throat, sending him back into a wall he hadn’t realized he was close to, the blade lodging into the wall far enough that Tommy struggled to breathe through his bruising throat, coughing and choking against the leather wrapped wood that pinned him to the wall.

“You fucking rat,” Dream snarled, storming forward, “This is the end.”

Tommy scrabbled at the handle, desperate, but making no headway. His chewed fingernails made no purchase, and he couldn’t get enough leverage to free the weapon from the brick it was lodged in. The ax was well and stuck. Dream was right. This was the end. There was no more escaping his fate. Tommy grit his jaw, finding that it wasn’t so hard to draw the courage for what he was about to do. He pulled his last knife from his belt, the one that had nearly killed him only a few days ago. He didn’t hesitate to angle it under his ribs and push it upwards into his ribcage, screaming at the agony, but also laughing because he had won, he wouldn’t go to Pandora. Dream wouldn’t win in the end. Tommy had done better than any villain before him and he was now going to end the fight on his own terms. Then, before he could rip the knife from his body to ensure a faster death, Dream was there, strong hands keeping the blade in Tommy like a plug on his life.

“You can’t die yet,” Dream snarled in his ear, “You’ll be in Pandora, I promise you.”

Tommy screamed through his bruised throat, vision fading as he squirmed and fought, trying to wreak as much damage as he could to himself, but Dream held him so firmly against the wall that Tommy knew it wouldn’t be enough. Somehow, he would live and then Dream would win. Tommy screamed wordlessly as he slipped unconscious, pinned to the wall by the ax as Dream cuffed his hands. He had lost. He was going to live. He was going to Pandora. 

Chapter Text

Tommy was numb. His body tingled with unfamiliar sensations and as he opened his eyes he recognized dimly that he was laying on the floor of a plain white room, too well lit for comfortable sleep, a strange sapping feeling in his body as he struggled to comprehend why he could only see from one eye. He tried to touch his face but after a few failed attempts he realized that his hands were cuffed to the floor spotless white floor, not even a foot of length to the chain. It was cold, in a way that was uncomfortable, but not enough to make him shiver. He slipped back unconscious before he could reason out where he was.

---

When he woke again he was still numb and there was a tube in his throat. He choked violently, eye shooting open as an indistinct form over him spoke to him softly, other hands holding his head immobile.

“There ya go,” the man said, “The heroes want you functional.”

Tommy fought weakly as the tube was pulled from his throat, gagging at the sensation. Where was he? Who was this man?

“Hard to believe that the traitor who got a hit in on Dream is like this,” the man behind him said, thoughtful.

“He’s young,” the man with the tube said, “And this cell sucks more power than most.”

The man holding Tommy’s head let him go and Tommy didn’t have the strength to stop his fall and his head smacked the floor painfully, but he couldn’t quite recognize that fact, his mind fuzzy with that weight pulling at him. It felt like something was forcefully leaching everything out of him. His energy, thoughts, and life force. 

It occurred to him as the two men disappeared through a door that sealed with a hiss behind them that he was in Pandora. Tears leaked from his one eye and he barely had the strength to curl into a tight ball, the pain in his gut not stopping his movements. He had lost. He was in Pandora. He drifted again. 

---

When Tommy woke next he felt more clear in the head, but he was in significantly worse pain. He took in his surroundings and once again realized he had lost. He was in Pandora. He was trapped with his power slowly draining out of him, making his body feel heavy and his eyes want to slip closed. fighting the urge to just sleep away his time took up all of the remaining energy he had. The pain helped though. It was a dull throbbing, pulsing through his body as a steady reminder. He wondered if he had lost his eyes or if the bandage jut covered it. He wondered how many stitches he had. If he would ever see someone again other than the two men who force fed him through that tube. 

He lay there, unable to really do anything else with the pain he was in and the shortness of the chain on his wrists. He discovered his legs were also chained similarly, though they weren’t attached to the floor. Every moment he lay here, staring at white walls, he became more and more aware that his power was getting pulled from his body to power someone's fucking microwave or to heat someone's bath. Hell, it might even simply be powering the very lights currently illuminating him. The thought enraged him. He gets caught in one mistake and he wasting away, doing nothing but benefitting the fucked up system that put him here int he first place. He couldn't tolerate that. He wouldn't. With fumbling fingers he ripped at his bandages in a blind and panicked sort of way. It had hard to maneuver, but he didn't think, he just scratched and tore and ripped. 

The next thing Tommy knew, he was slowly bleeding out, sobbing in relief as his blood covered the once spotless floor with red. He would be out of here if he were dead. He wouldn't be forced to serve the system that had put him here. But then men and women rushed in, shouting things that he couldn’t understand in the weakness of blood loss compounded with Pandora’s effect. He laughed as they tried to keep his blood in his body. He hoped they had been too late.

---

He woke up again. 

This time he was in a straight jacket. He stared listlessly ahead. He had failed again. He tried to roll, but there was a chain holding him to the floor still, wiped clean of blood now. He idly pushed his weight against it, listening to the sound of the chain. He had lost. He was in Pandora. 

---

Footsteps woke him up this time and Tommy peered up with his one unencumbered eye at none other than Dream, standing over him.

“I heard you tried to kill yourself again,” Dream mused, crouching beside him, “You should know better. I won’t let you die so easily. I promised to let you experience Pandora, didn’t I?”

Tommy couldn’t recall the hero doing so, but he didn’t doubt it. He laughed weakly, “Fuck you, Dream.”

Dream scoffed, “Still obstinate?”

“You know, I remembered something,” Tommy rasped through his damaged throat. Not only had Dream’s ax fucked it up but the feeding tube had as well. The man who forced the rubber down his esophagus was far from gentle. Tommy sneered up at Dream, “Puffy, right?”

Dream froze. It was enough of an answer.

Tommy laughed maniacally, oh, this was good. Tommy had remembered that when he was drugged after being with the Syndicate, someone had mentioned something about someone named Puffy and had pissed Dream off. Tommy didn’t know if it was his Puffy, but he now had a tool. A possible escape if he played it right.  

“Where did you hear that?” Dream spat.

“From you!” Tommy giggled, “You know, it’s a unique name, tell me, does this Puffy own a café?”

Dream didn’t answer.

“Is that a yes?” Tommy crowed his victory, “Oh, Dream, I love Puffy! She trusts me, you know!” He tried to sit up to get in Dream's face the but the chain pinning him to the floor was too short. He settled for putting too many teeth in his smile, pulling his mouth painfully wide. The smiled of someone who had lost their mind. Someone unpredictable. 

Dream was still.

“You know, it wouldn't be too hard to kill her,” Tommy mocked. Obviously he never would kill her, but Dream might just believe it, “I have so many knives! I could slit her throat, gut her, oh, I could make it hurt! Dream, I could make it hurt and I could tell her all about you!” The smile was no longer forced and Tommy let that ruthless grin cut across his face, not caring as he felt the wound on his cheek breaking open.

Dream punched him. It was a sweet sensation, flashing pain across his face, “Don’t you dare speak her name!” The hero snarled, gripping Tommy by the straight jacket.

“Oh Dream!” Tommy let his head tilt a little too far, “Puffy is a lovely woman. This poor little prisoner just misses her, that’s all!”

Dream lost it.

Tommy had always known the man had a short temper, but this was a new level of short tempers. He was pummeled into the ground by the hero’s fists, getting whaled on till he lost his already feeble grip on awareness. Just talking to and provoking Dream had drained so much of his energy already, the beating just made it easier to let himself go.

---

Unfortunately, Tommy woke again, not dead from Dream’s rage. Oh well, he’d have to try harder next time. However, he was aware of someone lifting him, rough hands jostling his new and somewhat old injuries in a way that nearly pulled a groan from his lips, but he kept himself stubbornly silent.

He looked up to see Rosethorn and Totem lifting him. He blinked at them, surprised.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Rosethorn muttered. She put an arm around his straight jacket sleeve and Totem did the same on his other side. 

“Maybe a guard was a Dream fan?” Totem suggested. They began to move.

“Shouldn’t we like… report it?” Rosethorn seemed uneasy.

Tommy let his chin fall to his chest and his feet drag, enjoying the pair’s conversation. He didn’t think he had the strength to walk either.

“He’s a traitor, Rose,” Totem reminded the female hero.

Tommy snorted.

“Oh, you’re awake?” Totem seemed surprised.

Tommy was lowered into a wheelchair and strapped in with thick straps over his chest, lap, legs, and ankles. He lifted his head with some difficulty, “Yes, I am. Where are we going?”

“Your trial is today,” Rosethorn said, more uneasy now that he was awake.

Tommy nodded slowly, “Huh.” He hadn't known he would get a trial, “I didn’t know I would be blessed with such kindness,” he sneered. One good thing about this situation seemed to be he could badmouth whoever he wanted and if they snapped it did nothing but benefit him, even if it hurt. Every beating was a step closer to getting out of Pandora. 

“Everyone has a right to trial by jury,” Rosethorn said, indignant, “Even evil men like you.”

Tommy scowled at her, “Are you telling me that the way to get people to stop calling me a kid is to become a traitor?” 

Rosethorn cringed away from him, “What?”

Tommy ignored her, laughing to himself. So now that he was ‘evil’ he was an adult? But when he wanted to defend the city from villains the way heroes did he was a kid who couldn’t control his ability reliably enough to be allowed to use it? The fact was bitter on his tongue. They really would say whatever they wanted to manipulate the populace. It was annoying, but oh so on brand for the Tower. People pity children. They don't pity men. 

Totem and Rosethorn loaded him into a black van branded with the Pandora logo and they sat on either side of him in anxious silence the whole ride to the courthouse while Tommy just sat there, staring at them, mostly because it was funny to scare them. Rosethorn worked especially hard to avoid eye contact.

Then he was unloaded and he was somewhat surprised to find cameras on him, but he just smiled at them, playing up the unhinged element. They wanted a villain? Well he had been told he’d be a good one.

Rosethorn and Totem carefully unstrapped him and hooked their arms through where the straight jacket sleeves were buckled to the torso, getting him to his feet. Tommy had a couple inches of a chain between his ankles so he could shuffle along, chains rattling as he struggled not to just collapse. 

The next thing he knew he was in a chair in a courtroom with a stranger at his side and a jury of timid people staring at him. Tommy couldn't even pay attention to any of the court proceedings. They were just a low buzz in his ears as she watched the people. When they locked him away permanently would he see this many faces at once ever again? Probably not. 

They pulled him to the witness stand and had him swear to not lie before the stranger who was apparently his lawyer approached him.

“Tommy Innes,” The man said, “What possessed you to not arrest Riptide and Mesmo the night of September third?”

It was September? Huh. Tommy decided he didn’t care to lie about anything, “Well I had already gotten my vengeance, so I felt like we were even.”

“What exactly was your vengeance?” the lawyer questioned.

“I put my screws through Riptide’s palms,” Tommy said, “And beat the shit out of both of them. It was payback for them almost killing me eight days before that.”

“Why did you choose to put screws through Riptide’s palms?” 

Tommy blinked. Where was this man going? “It’s what she did to me, and I made the screws. Kinda rude to use my own weapons on me to be honest.”

“Elaborate on what you mean by you ‘made’ the screws.”

“I found screws and sharpened them to use as weapons,” Tommy said, “Since I was forbidden from the use of real weapons.”

“And why would you want to so clearly break the rules the Tower set out for your own safety?”

Tommy laughed, “Those rules were only made to protect one thing, Dream’s ego.”

“Dream was your mentor, correct?”

“Yeah. When I was forced into the program he promised me the use of my ability when I graduated and then changed his mind two days before I graduated after two years of verbal abuse and overworking me, at the time, only sixteen and seventeen,” Tommy said casually. “I worked more hours as a sidekick than I did as a full hero. I also never received a full salary or overtime.”

The questions continued, with and without purpose and Tommy withheld no details. The jury learned all about the ways the Hero Tower had lied to and tricked him. He mentioned the constant threats of Pandora, the way that he was always injured and it had been held against him and how healthcare had been taken from him. He mentioned the assassins constantly after him. He told them about a friend he had made in Las Nevadas who helped clean the bodies after him. He didn't mention any names. He was asked about his imprisonment and he told them exactly what he remembered.

Then he was off of the witness stand and they pulled on Blaze who only spoke of how Tommy was a good kid, how Theseus was a good hero. Then it was Dream, telling how he refused to follow clear orders, constantly on the brink of violence. Tommy laughed and asked how his knuckles were feeling. He had gotten a stern warning from the judge for his comment but Tommy could see people looking at Dream’s bruised and split knuckles, hopefully drawing comparisons with Tommy’s bruises. 

After Dream was Tubbo, sobbing as he said what a good neighbor Tommy was and Tommy did his best to stay blank. He hoped Tubbo wouldn't suffer at the Tower for standing with Tommy. Then Eret walked up, looking nervous as she betrayed Tommy with mentions of his short temper, how he was flighty, how he had searched his apartment for bugs the moment he graduated. Tommy’s eye bored into the designer’s and he felt his rage rising, his fingers twitching in his straight jacket. Eret had sided with the Tower in the end. Tommy wouldn’t forget that. He had thought of them as a friend. They had taken the easy route, and if the way he glanced at Dream meant anything, he was saying exactly what he was supposed to say. 

Hours later the jury vanished for barely a few minutes before returning and passing their verdict to the judge who read it out imperiously, “Tommy Innes, alias Theseus, is sentenced to life in Pandora on charges of betrayal and working with villains.” The gavel came down.

Tommy just laughed, not crying or collapsing like he had seen videos of others before him doing. No, he just laughed because there had been no other possible outcome. Schlatt probably was behind everything with Dream right there, begging to get Tommy locked away forever. They would be donating to public works with private thanks that the judge had see to it that Theseus was no longer a menace to society. They would personally commend the judge for their hard decision, made to protect the populace, surely. 

Rosethorn and Totem helped him out of the courtroom and he kept his chin high, resigned to his fate as he stared into the cameras on him. He would be the convenient villain if they asked it of him. He would take that blame as Dream and Schlatt celebrated the loss of someone they couldn't control. That's why he was here. Dream had long ago decided Tommy was too good. Schlatt had been easy to back his pet hero and it really was too simple to sign Tommy away to die for Dream's reputation and power. Tommy's smile was sharp and he fought his trembling body to stay upright as Rosethorn and Totem didn't provide quite enough support. 

They were making their tediously slow way down the steps of the courthouse when Tommy heard a distant explosion. The heroes on either side of him stiffened and Tommy did the same, instinctively flipping into hero mode. A plume of smoke trailed into the sky, almost lethargic. tommy's mind was slow to catch up, but then he realized a bomb had gone off. He wondered, with flickering hope, if maybe protection extended to keeping him out of Pandora? Could he hope to see Gamble or the Syndicate? No one had ever broken someone out of Pandora itself before, this really was the perfect opportunity, Tommy was a sitting duck. Tommy also realized that it was also perfect for those who had grudges against him. A chance to kill him themselves when he was so weak he could barely stand, much less defend himself. 

Then, swooping from the sky, was the Angel of Death, wings spread wide as the day began to darken with his power. He landed in the street, wings flared wide, shadows reaching for the people gathered to watch Tommy being marched to his doom. Blood God and Siren landed on either side of Syndicate leader, weapons out. To the right Tommy saw movement and he looked over to see Riptide and Mesmo sauntering down the street as if just going out for a casual walk, only Riptide's arms were raised and int he street behind her water rose from the storm drains in amounts that rivaled when she had pinned Tommy. In a flurry of purple, Domino appeared to the left of the Syndicate, a smaller person stumbling away from them. Tommy didn’t recognize the smaller person, but then the boy lifted his head, his shaggy brown hair covering his eyes and a high-tech mask covered the lower part of his face, ram’s horns made of metal curling through his hair, thick tubes from his mask circling back to an oxygen tank on his back. In his hands was a collection of strange objects. Tommy recognized Tubbo’s handiwork with a wide smirk. Then, Tubbo raised a hand, snapping his fingers and the courthouse behind Tommy exploded. Tommy was unbalanced by the explosion and the heroes holding him were the only reason he didn't fall down the stairs of the courthouse. Glass showered around him, Rosethorn and Totem dragging him to the ground for some semblance of cover. Ever the heroes.

“They’re here for him!” Totem called to Rosethorn.

Heroes came out of the woodwork, facing off against the slew of villains. Totem and Rosethorn abandoned Tommy on the stairs to joint he fray. Rosethorn charged Riptide and water and ice clashed with vines. The Dream Team took on the Syndicate. Punz was there, fighting Domino. Tubbo lobbed bombs, unhindered, while Mesmo fought Totem and suddenly Tommy was alone in a straightjacket and chains on the courthouse stairs. 

Recognizing that he was both in danger just sitting there and that this was the prime time to facilitate his own escape, he attempted to scoot down the stairs, too weak to stand on his own. He made it a few steps, managing not to get cut by glass or anything when a shadow crossed his and he looked up to see the Warden staring down at him.

“Warden,” Tommy said warily. He was halfway scooted and his arms trembled under his weight. 

“Theseus,” Warden mused, then he crouched down and pulled Tommy onto his shoulders, fireman style. He pressed a hand to his ear and spoke lowly, “Let’s go.” Instantly every villain in front of the courthouse flocked to them, the heroes baffled at the sudden retreat for a quick moment before they realized that Warden had Tommy. 

Warden ran through town and the other villains defended them from the heroes, Tubbo doing most of the work with various pre-planted bombs. Tommy was bouncing uncomfortably over the Warden’s shoulders as they ran, dodging attacks and vines when suddenly the Warden veered to the right and Tommy was thrown into a van, grunting as his bruised body hit the steel floor of the van, Domino jumping in after him and closing the door, then the vigilante grabbed him by the shoulders and teleported him to another van which instantly lurched into motion. 

Tommy was dazed from the speed of his rescue, blinked at the grinning Domino who had taken off their mask and was just Ranboo now. He looked at the driver of the van, seeing a stranger, but in the reflection of the rearview mirror the man had a gold incisor. Quackity smirked at him.

“Welcome to the villain game, Tommy!” Quackity laughed as he joined traffic. In a gap between buildings Tommy saw villains flocking around a white van and heroes desperately trying to attack it. 

“What the fuck just happened?” Tommy managed.

Ranboo was cutting away Tommy’s straightjacket, “A diversion. The heroes will think you’re over there, but you're here instead, and we’ll take you to Las Nevadas while the others keep them busy. They’ll regroup at the casino.”

“How the hell did you get all of them to help?” Tommy asked Quackity.

“Favors, and they were more than willing themselves,” Quackity grinned, “What can I say, people like you, specifically villains.”

Tommy’s arms were freed but he didn’t have the strength to help Ranboo get him out of the straightjacket, allowing the vigilante to gently tug him free, “That’s weird, big Q.” He worked out his shoulders slowly, pain making it momentarily hard to breathe with the bruises mapped over his torso. Dream seemed to have steel-toed boots. 

“It kept you out of Pandora,” Ranboo said, frowning as he took in Tommy’s condition, “Hey, Gamble, you have the Syndicate’s healer at Las Nevadas, right?”

Quackity looked in his mirror, “Yeah, she’ll be ready, is it that bad?”

“Wait!” Tommy snapped, “Gamble?” He looked incredulously up at Quackity, “What? You’re Gamble?”

“That’s not the important thing right now,” Ranboo said, “Tommy, you’re not in good shape.”

“Yeah, thanks to Dream, I don't really care, I do care about the fact that you’re Gamble!” Tommy wasn’t sure if he was angry, betrayed, or confused.

“Look, I can fill you in on identities here soon, but first I think you should get treated,” Quackity, or Gamble, said over his shoulder.

Tommy seethed, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it, just holding his head up was hard, “That’s some bullshit.” Then he frowned, “You dated Wilbur! Did he know?” That would make sense why Techno knew Gamble... Kinda.

Quackity took a corner rather sharply and Tommy’s head hit the wall of the van, Ranboo barely catching him in time to keep him upright, “Look, Tommy, we can talk about it all you want at the casino, let me drive right now.”

Tommy glared, “Fine,” he muttered, allowing Ranboo to lay him back against the floor of the truck. His neighbor seemed rather concerned about him, fussing over the multitude of bandages from Tommy’s fight with Dream and the bruises from Dream beating him up. He especially seemed worried about the bandage that crossed Tommy’s face.

“I saw the video, it’ll probably scar,” Ranboo muttered.

“There’s a video?” Tommy managed. The longer he laid there with the truck rocking the more he was falling asleep.

“There’s lots,” Ranboo said, “You did surprisingly well,” The boy seemed satisfied with his inspection and leaned back.

Tommy grunted in response. Not well enough.

“Go to sleep,” Ranboo urged, “We can take care of you.”

Tommy didn’t argue, he just closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off to the rocking and noises of the interstate. 

---

Tommy woke to gentle arms scooping him up. He opened his eyes slowly, seeing the underside of Blood God’s skull mask. The villain gently pulled him close and carefully supported his head, which Tommy didn’t really have the strength to hold up. Or think too hard about the fact that Blood God was carrying him like a baby.

“He’s in rough condition,” Ranboo’s voice said as the freakishly tall vigilante stood, appearing in Tommy’s line of sight, “From what I understand Dream had a go at him in Pandora.”

“Of course he did,” Another voice said darkly and it took Tommy a bit to recognize the voice of Siren after years of only hearing the disguised version with his hero mask. 

“Kristin will help him,” the Angel of Death’s voice said, “Let’s hurry.”

Blood God grunted in agreeance and Tommy was jostled slightly as they moved. He felt a little embarrassed to be carried like this by the man he had stabbed only a few days ago, but he wouldn’t complain because he definitely didn’t have the strength to walk.

He was laid on a bed and a woman with dark hair leaned over him, “Hello, Tommy,” she greeted him with a soft smile, “Do you remember me? I’m the Syndicate’s healer.”

Tommy blinked dumbly for a moment before he remembered the woman who had worn Angel’s hat to treat him when he had been abducted by the Syndicate. He nodded slowly.

“Good,” she said gently, “Try to trust me, alright?”

Tommy nodded, “Alright,” he managed.

The healer peeled back his bandages to peer at his injuries. She bent over the stab wound in his gut, where he had stabbed himself, and warm fingers ghosted over the injury briefly before she pressed a hand over it and a soft warmth filled him. He gasped, flooded with the heat till it felt like it was burning at his injury, in the way that a hot cup of hot chocolate burns, uncomfortable, but not enough to damage him. He clutched the woman’s wrist mostly in alarm, and she murmured assurances to him till the warmth faded. She didn’t stop there though, moving on to the cut on his face, and when she was done there she attended to all the more minor cuts and bruises on his body. His thigh, a spot on his ribs, two on his arms, and the bruises that massed on his gut and face.

When she finally pulled away, dark circles rested below her eyes and she gently stroked his hair back from his forehead where sweat had made it cling to his skin. She smiled at him kindly, “You did so well, Theseus.”

He managed a weak grunt.

“Kristin, you overdid yourself,” Angel of Death moved close to the woman, fretting, his hands hovering around her shoulders but not touching her.

“I’m fine. He’s a kid, he deserved to be well,” the woman, Kristin, said, sending a soft smile Tommy’s way. Tommy genuinely hadn’t felt this little pain since he started work as a hero. There weren’t even any small bruises or scrapes on his body. It made him even more tired.

“Go to sleep, Theseus,” Angel’s voice said, “We’ll talk when you wake up.”

Tommy didn’t need to be told twice. He let himself fall asleep.

---

Morning came with a fuzziness that had him frowning. He pushed himself to a seated position, surprised when it worked. He took in the room he was in, obviously a suite at Las Nevadas and he took a moment to just think about the day before. He had been sentenced to life in Pandora only to be rescued by almost every villain he knew. What even was his life?

He wanted nothing more than to get up, but his body rebelled against his wishes and he flopped back onto his back, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stand at all today. It felt like he had been constantly running for days, his muscles trembling weakly, and he suspected it was more because of Pandora than the healing. Just the thought of his power being drained from him for however long he had been in the prison was nauseating. 

A knock sounded on the door and three familiar figures entered the suite. The Syndicate. Angel was at the lead, his wings not materialized, leaving the space behind him oddly empty, behind him was Blood God and Siren trailed at the back. Tommy scrambled back, barely managing the strength required to push his body against the headboard. His arms shook in effort of lifting himself and he scanned his surroundings desperately, finding nothing that he could potentially use as a weapon. 

“Relax,” Angel said calmly. He held a tray topped with orange juice and a plate with some eggs and bacon, “We brought you food.”

Tommy glared distrustfully, aware that he was still in his prison uniform and that he was pitifully unarmed, not that a weapon would have made much of a difference. He didn’t think he had the strength to do anything to defend himself. 

The Angel of Death settled on the edge of the bed by Tommy’s legs and Tommy twitched away as the mattress dipped, “Here,” the villain smoothed the blankets that had gotten rumpled in Tommy’s desperate escape attempt and rested the tray on his lap, “Hope you like eggs.”

Tommy scowled at the meal, then at the Syndicate, “I’m vegan.”

“You weren’t vegan two weeks ago,” the villain noted, his face hidden but a smile in his voice. 

Tommy huffed, “Is it drugged?”

“No,” the Angel relaxed back on his palms over Tommy’s legs, “Though you’d still eat it out of spite.”

Tommy grabbed the fork, ignoring the shake in his hands as he speared some of the scrambled eggs. He tasted them carefully, looking for that taste from his imprisonment, but when nothing familiar hinted at his senses he only relaxed marginally. For all he knew that had been a diversion. 

“You’ve made quite the entrance into the villain game,” Siren said finally.

Tommy’s eyes flicked to the villain. He knew Siren the least out of the Syndicate, since usually it was Blood God and the Angel who would go to the training nights, but what he did know about the man was that he was dangerous, especially without ear plugs. Not to mention the bastard’s ego. Tommy only felt a little bad for stabbing him.

“Let’s see, first you stabbed Blood God, dooming multiple heroes and an unfortunate vigilante as well as yourself to the less than comfortable occurrences that happen when Blood God's ability activates. Then you went and escaped by the skin on your teeth only to pop up and challenge Dream to a one on one fight, get a hit in on the fucker, and then lose, trying to kill yourself. Then when you show up for your trial you’re beaten up and get sentenced to life in Pandora only to get rescued by some of the most notorious villains in the city,” Siren smirked, “They won’t shut up about you for a while.”

Tommy bristled, he knew he owed all of those villains and that fact was like a spike in his back, sure to kill him one day. 

“Siren,” Blood God rumbled, “Let the boy recover in peace.”

Tommy huffed, “So I’m still a kid to you all then?” He rolled his eyes.

“You act like a dramatic teenager,” Siren supplied, “Refusing help with your problems and then jumping to the worst possible solution when you mess up.”

Tommy grabbed a pen from his bedside table, a surprisingly nice one, and launched it at the villain. The man flinched back as if he was actually scared, but the object bounced harmlessly off of his forehead.

Angel looked between the two of them before snorting out a laugh, the sound odd with his voice changer, “Theseus, we’re here to help you. You never wanted to be a villain, but now you don’t have a choice and we want you to know that we’re willing to go out on a limb for you.”

“Why should I trust you?” Tommy growled, crossing his arms, “You kidnapped me and for all I know, you really did torture me and just wiped my memories! Your healer’s energy was all in my body, and I had some bruises.” He was like ninety percent sure that they hadn't tortured him, but part of him had still wondered, maybe it was all staged, that way he would never know what information they had tried and possibly succeeded at extracting from him. 

“That was for realism,” Blood God said lowly, “We would never hurt you unless absolutely necessary. Kristin spread her energy in you intentionally to cover our story and hopefully earn you some sympathy. The bruises were to be sure they didn’t doubt it.”

Tommy didn’t trust it. “I don’t trust any of you. I’m technically a hero.”

“Not anymore,” Angel said softly, “You’re as infamous a villain as we are.”

Tommy clenched his hands around his arms, “I’m not evil.”

“Maybe not,” Angel shrugged, “You still do crime though.”

Tommy looked away from the villains. They were right, he wasn’t a hero anymore. He thought to Wilbur, Tubbo, Niki. People he would kill for to protect. Maybe being a villain would align better with his values than being a hero. The only bad thing was the fact that it meant everyone had been right. To look Gamble in the eye after having stabbed the guy through the hand for calling him a villain and then announcing that Gamble had been right would be awkward at the very least. 

“Theseus, you aren’t evil,” Siren said, “Sure, you’ve been turned into something far from saint-like, but that doesn’t mean that it’s who you are as a person. The only reason you’re a villain is because Dream forced you to be a hero in the first place.”

Tommy looked up at the villain, he was right. Tommy looked at his cooling breakfast. It was all Dream’s fault. If Dream hadn’t stuck his nose in Tommy’s business then Tommy would have never been in this position. If Dream hadn’t cut off his choices and lied to him… 

“Eat, Theseus,” Blood God urged, “Pandora drained you a lot.”

Tommy mechanically began to eat, shoveling eggs into his mouth, but his mind wandered, vaguely angry. Dream had betrayed him and Schlatt had let it all happen. Tommy knew where to find them, and he wanted nothing more than to get revenge.

“Theseus, what is driving you right now?” Angel asked softly.

Tommy looked at the villain, “Revenge.”

Siren grinned, “Oh this is going to be good.”

Tommy shot the man a glare before redirecting his attention to Angel, “I want to kill Dream and Schlatt.”

The Syndicate fell silent, looking at each other.

Tommy grit his jaw, “Yeah, I know it’s damn impossible, but I’ll do it.” to kill Dream would be hard enough, but then to kill Schlatt… he’d have to go through all of the heroes.

“And after you kill them?” Angel asked softly.

Tommy paused, thinking, “Then I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Crime?” Siren suggested. Blood God elbowed his partner. Siren yelped, jumping away from the other villain, “It’s just a suggestion.”

“If he kills Dream and Schlatt he doesn’t have to keep being a villain,” Blood God said, “He could be a rogue like Chronos or a vigilante.”

“I don’t know what I’d want to do, but I’d only do what I want, not what everyone else pushes me to do,” Tommy said firmly.

“That’s fine,” Angel said, “Now, the important part is getting you strong enough that you don’t feel the need to commit suicide next time Dream corners you.”

Tommy winced at the reminder. He would do it again, but it still wasn’t a pleasant topic of conversation. He would do anything to not be back in that cell, fed through a tube and slowly wasting away. 

“We’re offering you training, Theseus,” Blood God said. “We can help you fully get a handle on your power the way Dream never let you, and then give you the skills necessary for whatever you may need.”

Tommy blinked, “Training?”

Blood God actually smiled, “You have untapped potential, Theseus, let us help you.”

Tommy released his arms to grip his fork. Training at the hands of the Syndicate. It was an offer no one in his shoes should turn down. He looked back up at the trio, “Alright,” he gritted out. Training was the last thing he wanted to do, remembering Dream’s awful teaching techniques, but he somehow trusted Blood God more than he trusted his former mentor. Memories of their midnight sparring making it sound far less daunting than training with Dream had been. 

“Good,” Blood God smiled wider, “When Kristin releases you from her care we will begin.”

Tommy tensed, “Okay.”

Angel rested a hand on Tommy’s knee, Tommy flinching under the touch, “One more thing, Tommy.”

Tommy winced at the use of his real name, “What?”

“We’re going to show you our true identities,” Angel said softly.

Tommy looked up at them with wide eyes, seeing the trio in motion already. Siren lowered his hood, Angel removed his veil. Blood God reached for the buckle on his mask. Tommy’s stomach dropped as he looked into the Angel of Death’s familiar blue eyes, blond hair back in a bun. The villain lowered his mask. Siren pushed his mask up over his head, his face bared as he ran his fingers through his fluffy brown hair. Blood God lowered his mask. 

“What the fuck?” Tommy whispered. He was looking at the Watsons.

“Hey Tommy,” Techno rumbled, holding his skull mask in one massive hand. His pink braid and huge stature should have given him away so long ago.

Wilbur grinned, “Did you know?”

Phil smiled with kind eyes, “Do things make more sense now?”

Tommy dropped his fork, mouth half open, “How… What?”

“Normally we would never let some kid clean our house but you were so stubborn and spirited when we kept running into you, we couldn’t resist the opportunity to get to know you better,” Phil said.

Tommy rubbed his hands through his hair, “What the fuck is my life?” Tommy had literally spent months simultaneously befriending the civilian identities and villain identities of the entire Syndicate and he somehow hadn't noticed. Sure, it made sense now, looking back. The way that the Syndicate always seemed to know things about him, the way the Watsons never questioned when he would talk about meetings or the blisters and calluses on his palms from long nights of sparring. Even Gamble being Quackity and dating Wilbur made more sense. It hadn't been a villain dating a random rich kid, it had been one villain dating another. Knowing who they were, Tommy was very glad they weren't a couple anymore, but at least that also clarified why Gamble and the Syndicate both were always fully informed about what the other party knew about Tommy.

Wilbur laughed, “Sorry we couldn’t tell you, it would have endangered you and you’re a shit liar.”

Tommy glared up, “Well, yeah, but still! I stabbed two of you!” That was something he actually regretted now. He remembered the sling Wilbur's arm had been in when he and Quackity had broken up in that alleyway. He also thought of the way everyone had been telling him he could trust the Syndicate to care for him, even Puffy, and he hadn't listened. Damn, he really could have just gone to the Watsons' mansion when he was on the run and probably could have avoided the whole Pandora thing. Suddenly Tommy felt very stupid. 

“We expected as much,” Techno said, “You didn’t have a choice. If it kept you safe we would tolerate it. Besides, not many other people can give us injuries these days. It kept Kristin well paid."

“Why…” Tommy trailed off, “I’m so fucking stupid… Techno, you aren’t sneaky, like, at all!” He looked at the pink haired brick wall of a man and wondered how no one had ever noticed the similarities. 

Techno shrugged, “No one’s noticed yet.”

“That’s so dumb!”

“He promised to wear a wig if anyone ever asked questions,” Phil shrugged.

Tommy groaned into his hands, “I hate all of you.”

“We’ll let you come to terms with it,” Phil said gently, “Kristin is here anyways.”

A knock sounded right on cue.

“Come in!” Wilbur called gleefully.

Kristin walked in, looking at the unmasked Syndicate with a raised eyebrow, “What’s going on in here?”

“Tommy agreed to train with us,” Phil said lightly, smiling at the woman.

Tommy blinked at the healer, “How do I not know you?” Surely a healer like Kristin would be more well known. At the very least in the villain world. Tommy should have at least heard whispers of her. 

“She stays under the radar,” Techno said, “So the government doesn’t know there’s a healer who can heal with minimal side effects. We keep her safe and pay her.”

Tommy blinked, “Oh.”

“How are you feeling?” The dark haired woman asked kindly.

Tommy shrugged, “Fine.”

“He can barely move,” Phil supplied.

Tommy glared, “I’m fine.”

“He’s not,” Wilbur said firmly, “He’s exhausted.”

Tommy huffed.

“Alright, you three, patient confidentiality, get out of here,” Kristin shooed the villains. They grumbled, but Phil dragged his sons out of the room, masks back in place as the door closed behind them. Kristin relaxed in a chair, “Eat up. I’ll inspect you when you’re done.”

Tommy did as he was told. Phil, the fucking Angel of Death, seemed nervous around her and Tommy didn’t trust it, so he knew better than to argue. She seemed nice, but he also remembered who her bosses were. It was odd, to suddenly realize the similarities between people he knew. To see a man he would put everything on the line to protect as a man he had fought not too long ago. He wasn't sure if it disturbed him or if it was relieving that he didn’t have to worry about the Watsons anymore. His crimes wouldn’t ruin them, not before theirs anyways.

When he finished his meal Krisitin moved his tray and took his face in her hands, frowning at him, “It scarred pretty badly,” she murmured. Tommy blinked, reminded that he had been cut across the face and left for it to heal naturally. Then he had ripped the bandages off and gotten beaten up… Yeah it would scar. Another mark among dozens already on his skin. 

“Any pains?” Kristin asked, moving on from his face to help him out of the top of his jumpsuit and inspect the scar below his sternum where he had stabbed himself. 

“No,” he answered, “Just some weakness.”

“That’s from Pandora. They really drained you a lot. You wouldn’t have lived much longer there,” Kristin said bitterly, “It’s wrong.”

Tommy blinked, “I would have died?” Logically speaking he knew Pandora would ill him, but to have it stated that way made it sound a lot more realistic, especially when a healer was the one telling him. 

“Yes, with that sort of drain, you maybe had one or two years in you,” Kristin said, “But now that you’re out of there we can focus on your energy recovery. It won’t have a long term effect on your lifespan.”

Tommy shivered.

“I’m glad they got you out of there,” she said softly, “Now, let’s get you out of that jumpsuit, yeah?”

Tommy nodded, agreeing, and she helped him to his feet. He shuffled to the bathroom and she set him on the toilet lid as she grabbed a set of clothes. He peered into the mirror to his right and flinched at his reflection. Heavy, dark bags lined his eyes and his hair was dirty, mussed up and obviously too long. The most alarming, however, was the scar. Sure, Kristin had just told him he had one, but it was still alarming to see the garish red mark across his face. It was daunting, the way Tommy so easily remembered the ax that had sliced through his features in a half second. His eyebrow was split in half and the line continued in a divot across the bridge of his nose. The thought of how close he had been to being half blind made his neck prickle, and he eyed the thick, still-healing scar past his nose, fading across his cheek. He shuddered, turning away from the sight as Kristin came in with the clothes. To think that was what his face looked like now. It didn't feel real and he couldn't make himself reason that it was real, his mental image of himself bright-eyed and smooth-faced prevailing over that new reflection.

Embarrassingly, Kristin had to help him undress and get in the shower, though he had to sit on the floor of the fancy shower, he declined help, cleaning himself. She did have to help him dress though, reassuring him that she was a professional, but it didn’t stop the burning in his cheeks. 

“One time,” she said as she pulled a red and white shirt over his head, “Wilbur’s spine was broken when he was thrown into a wall and it took two weeks of regular healing to get sensation back for him and in that time I had to bathe him, help him to the bathroom, and everything else. He could use his arms but that was about it.”

Tommy let her straighten out his sleeves, “He broke his back?”

“It was about four years ago?” She mused, “Before they met you. It took a few weeks of physical therapy to get him moving again too.”

Tommy shivered, “How long will I be this weak?”

“Not too long,” she reassured him, scrunching up the legs of a pair of sweatpants, “Maybe a week at most. You’re young, you’ll recover faster than Phil would if he were in the same situation.”

“Okay,” he didn’t like the idea of being so weak at all, but if that’s what it took to recover, he would have to withstand the humiliation of being dressed. She helped him into the pants and put socks on his feet before helping him back to bed.

“People may stop by, if you get annoyed just tell them I said not too much socialization and they should leave,” Kristin winked.

Tommy smiled, “Thanks Kristin.”

“Of course,” she ruffled his damp hair before she left.

Tommy watched the healer leave and frowned to himself, wondering over how kind she had been. It didn’t fit the whole idea he had always been told of the Syndicate, and to think that they had such a kind and gentle healer in the shadows was a wild concept. She had been almost motherly, an unfamiliar concept to Tommy. Sure there had been the kind foster parents but it had never felt really personal, it had been the tailored personality for everybody, but Kristin felt so genuine. He flushed remembering how his legs had trembled when he had tried to undress himself, collapsing on the poor woman. she had caught him without hesitation though and gently helped him get into the shower.

He rolled onto his side, fingers ghosting over the soft ridge of the scar on his face. He had been changed by his fight with Dream and not just physically. He didn’t balk at the idea of being a villain. It felt like the only natural solution. Sure, he didn’t think he was a true villain like the Syndicate, but it was undeniable that he would be a villain when he drove a knife through Dream’s throat. The world would never forgive him and they knew what he looked like, but he couldn’t bring himself to really care. The only people he really had to fear were Dream and the Syndicate, and he was fairly sure the Syndicate didn’t plan on gutting him anytime soon. They were the Watsons, they liked him… right? His thoughts trailed off as he slipped asleep.

Chapter Text

Tommy was stuck. He was cold too, body heavy and encased in ice that stabbed through him. He watched Riptide's retreating back, choking on sewer water and doing his very best not to drown. He just had to hold out, he knew Domino would save him. He just had to wait for those purple particles. Only, the didn't come. Instead, footsteps approached and leaning over him, was Dream, that mask's smile curving wide. 

"Oh, hello, Theseus," Dream cooed, "You look stuck."

Tommy couldn't even struggle as Dream crouched beside him, Riptide's power keeping him firmly to the asphalt. Even his blood, hot with his life force, couldn't melt the ice spikes. His eyes widened and the street melted away to a familiar white room. He was in a strait jacket again and Dream still sneered down at him.

"I'll have to thank Riptide for catching you for me," Dream mused, gripping Tommy's sewer-water filled mask, "Imagine if we had another villain running around? That would be awful, wouldn't it?"

Tommy choked on tears, unable to make a sound as that foul water crept down his throat. His chest burned desperately for air, but Dream made no move to free Tommy from his mask. 

"Now you get to experience Pandora!" Dream said as if that were something to celebrate. "For the rest of your life. I hope you like straight jackets."

Tommy tried to kick, to move, but he couldn't, he ankles were anchored to the smooth floor, his arms so tightly strapped to his chest that he didn't have a millimeter of space to move in. If he were drowning on sewer water, he would barely be able to breathe. He was dying, and Tommy's first reaction as bordering on relief, that he would drown before Dream could keep him in Pandora. But then, the hero pressed the seal on Tommy's mask and it came free, suddenly freeing Tommy from it's trap. Tommy choked and spluttered while Dream just stared down at him. The sewer water spilling out of the mask and from Tommy's throat wasn't water. Tommy stared down at the blood pouring on the floor, staining his straightjacket. Blood. His blood. He looked up at Dream and saw an ax in the man's hand.

"What do you think, if I take your tongue then I won't have to even listen to you in here," Dream suggested.

Tommy screamed.

---

Tommy lurched awake with a short scream, panting desperately for breath, he skin slicked with sweat. He blinked at the dark suite around him. He wasn't in Pandora. Dream wasn't there. He was safe. 

The young villain laid there, struggling to relax for a long time before exhaustion finally reclaimed him, pulling him into another nightmare.

---

Tommy woke to murmuring and didn’t allow himself to tense, just tuning his ears into the sounds. He wouldn’t put it past the people here to hide things from him, so he had to adapt to stay ready for whatever was going on. It wasn't like sleep had be pleasant anyways.

“-think he’s dead,” A voice said softly. Kurama, if Tommy recalled the red haired villain’s voice correctly.

“No one important would fall for it,” A voice grumbled back, Quackity. Gamble.

“It might give him some peace out of uniform though,” Kurama muttered.

There was a sigh before Quackity spoke, “I don’t think that will happen for a long time. That scar will only fill people in.”

“So what will we do?”

“Offer sanctuary, in return for some bodyguard work, maybe,” Quackity sounded thoughtful, “He’d never just accept that it’s a courtesy.”

Tommy wanted to think they didn’t know he was listening, but this conversation sounded like it was pandering to him, trying to get him to trust the villain. Unless Gamble really did care for him, which was impossible. He opened his eyes, looking directly up at Quackity.

The man jumped probably a whole foot in his chair, “Holy shit! You scared me!”

Tommy blinked, looking at where Kurama leaned against a dresser, watching him closely. Tommy managed to scoot into something of an upright position, his arms trembling as he struggled to support himself, “What do you want, Gamble?” he asked lowly, wishing he had weapons, but this shirt didn’t even have long sleeves to hide them in. Probably by design. He wouldn't trust himself with weapons either. 

The man cocked his head, “I just was checking in,” he said carefully, “How do you feel?”

Tommy shrugged, “Fine.”

“No pain?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “You’re worse than Angel, yes, I’m fine.” He wasn’t sure if the villains knew each other’s identities and he didn’t plan on outing the Syndicate themselves. Just the fact that Angel was Phil was something he still struggled to comprehend. The nicest people he had met all seemed to be villains. Except Niki and Puffy maybe. 

“You weren’t exactly in good shape,” Quackity said slowly, “You had stabbed yourself.”

“I’m well aware,” he said dryly. He tried not to think too hard about that detail.

Quackity stood, “Well, don’t let me interrupt your sleep, it’s important that you recover your energy. Pandora can leave lasting effects if you don’t spend time actively counteracting it.”

Tommy huffed, “Great.”

“Sleep, eat, and relax,” Quackity managed a small smile, only the smallest flicker of gold visible, then he left, Kurama following him silently.

When they left, Tommy watched some TV, ate some food that was brought to him by a terrified woman in the Las Nevadas uniform, and then laid back to sleep again.

The next few days he was barely awake for a few hours a day, his body aching to recover the lost energy and every time he tried to stay awake for a reasonable amount of time he would start to ache, so he didn’t push it. He let the days slip by in meaninglessly spaced meals and visits from Kristin as well as faint glimpses of other visitors, but he never really woke up to pay them any attention. He was exhausted, but not enough to not dream. He relived the night with Riptide back to back with his suicide attempts and Pandora over and over countless times, but he was so weak he couldn't even force himself to not fall asleep, always getting pulled back under into another horrific reality, only to thrash awake periodically, panting for breath and soaked in sweat. 

Then, one day, Tommy wasn't sure how long it had been, he woke feeling rested. It was such a novel feeling he actually pinched himself to clarify he wasn’t dreaming, though this would certainly be the best dream he had had in weeks. He wasn't dreaming. The room was empty and he sat up with more strength than he had been able to manage previously. He had felt his strength returning the past few times he had woken, but it was still so odd to not tremble like a mouse the instant he wanted to move. It somewhat disturbed him that he was so used to being horribly weak that being strong was unusual.

He got to his feet, a little unsteady, probably just because he had been stationary for so long, and wobbled to the bathroom all by himself, grinning at his reflection, scar and all. He wasn't just content with a bathroom trip by himself though. He was bored. Bored and antsy. TV wouldn’t cut it, so he moved to the door of his suite, recognizing that Kristin probably wouldn’t be thrilled he was up and about, but he didn’t really care, so he opened his door, wandering into the hallway. 

It was dead silent in the hall and as he used the wall to steady himself, walking down it, he didn’t hear any changes, so he made his way to the elevator, pressing a button and waiting only a little impatiently.

Then, when the soft ding announced the opening doors, Tommy froze. Two people were pressed against each other, passionately making out, and one of them was Chronos, that rogue. Tommy couldn’t quite make out the other person’s face but recognition tickled the back of his mind moments before Chronos released his partner and fucking Sapnap turned around to gape at Tommy.

“Theseus? You’re alive?” The hero stumbled away, jaw agape, he looked at Chronos, “He’s alive?”

Tommy stiffened, suddenly enraged, launching himself at the hero. He grabbed the man’s hoodie, notably not his uniform, and slammed him against the wall of the elevator, unsure how he had the strength to do as much, but he took it in stride, “Blaze,” he snarled through bared teeth. 

Sapnap paled, “Hey buddy, uh, I won’t tell-”

Tommy cut the man off with a fist to the face, oh Prime it felt so good to punch something, even though he was already feeling exhaustion tugging at his limbs. “You let him do this,” Tommy hissed at him. Was he really mad at Blaze? Eh, not really. He was more angry at the situation. He was angry that he didn’t know what the date was, what day of the week it was. He was mad that his reality had been forcibly taken from him and he had been plunged into this unfamiliar lifestyle. He was mad that he hadn’t yet won against Dream even once. He was just mad, and Blaze was a hero, so he fit the bill pretty damn well for being a punching bag.

“I didn’t want to!” Sapnap yelped, hands up defensively, “I’ve always liked you, Theseus, I didn’t want you to be locked up in Pandora for life. I know it was fucked up, the whole situation, but I couldn’t do anything about it!”

Tommy snarled, slamming the man on the wall again, just because, “I only just woke up, bitch! Pandora drained my fucking life out of me!”

“I know! Please, listen, I didn’t want that to happen!”

“Who do you think told Gamble when your trial would be? Who do you think told the Syndicate that Schlatt had sent Punz after you?” Chronos asked, interrupting Tommy’s next flying accusation.

Tommy froze, looking at the rogue who tilted his head towards Sapnap. Tommy looked back at the hero, jaw limp, “You helped me?”

Sapnap nodded, “Yeah, I heard Dream laughing about it to G- 404 and I didn’t… I didn’t want you to be hurt,” the man whispered the last part, “You’re still young and what the Tower has done to you is wrong.”

Tommy released him, torn, “You fought the Syndicate when they came after me though?”

“I can’t outwardly do anything,” Sapnap said awkwardly, “I guess it’s like how you were before this whole fiasco.”

“Scared of Dream?” Tommy raised a skeptical eyebrow, leaning an arm on the elevator wall as casually as he could.

“More like, scared of Schlatt,” Sapnap shrugged.

Tommy snorted, looking between the hero and rogue, “Well you seem to have… conflicting feelings.” Now that he knew Sapnap had helped him, he was very aware of the fact that he had just caught the pair making out in an elevator. A hero and a rogue in a relationship... that would go over about as well as swimming in quicksand. 

Sapnap’s face blazed brilliant red and Chronos’s eyes scrunched with what Tommy assumed to be a grin. “You didn’t see anything!” Sapnap managed around his blush.

“Neither did you,” Tommy retorted.

The hero blinked, “Of course.”

“Good,” Tommy said as lightly as he could, “Hey Chronos, do you know if the Syndicate is still hanging around?”

Chronos nodded, pressing a button, “They have a penthouse here. That’s their floor.” He dragged the hero out of the elevator, “Bye, Theseus.”

Tommy waved absently as the doors closed and once they did, Tommy slid to the floor, tired already, but he didn’t want to just sit in his room, which meant he was going to torment the Watsons… and hope they were the same people now that he knew who they were. He sat there on the floor of the elevator, anxiety keeping his eyes glued to the floor numbers as they slowly increased, and then, finally it was the Syndicate’s floor and Tommy struggled upright, his body was tense and he swallowed thickly as the doors slid open… and he was facing a closed door.

It made sense, not wanting people to instantly see your house if they pressed the wrong buttons, but it also felt like a second chance to go back to his room. He stepped into the small foyer-like space and eyed the bench, shoe rack, and welcome mat. Then he looked at the frosted glass door, taking a deep breath. He raised his knuckles to the glass and rapped three times.

Footsteps sounded on the other side and Tommy saw a vague shape that from the outline and size he assumed to be Wilbur, too scrawny to be Techno and too tall to be Phil. The door opened and Tommy didn’t look up to see Wilbur, instead he saw Siren and the barrel of a pistol.

Tommy went cross-eyed looking at the weapon in his face, somehow both terrified and amused. “Uh… hi?” He managed, forcing himself to look at Siren’s masked face. His fingers twitched at the close proximity of the weapon and it took all of his self control not to seize it despite not being able to use it.

Siren’s mouth was half open in what Tommy assumed was shock, “Tommy? What are you doing here?” He holstered his pistol immediately and pulled Tommy out of the foyer, closing the door behind Tommy.

“Woke up and was bored,” Tommy said absently, staring at the Syndicate’s penthouse. It looked slightly lived in, modern furniture spotted with throw blankets, the end tables cluttered with cups or random knick-knacks. The dinner table had a few crumbs on it and there were pots in the sink. Siren was also the only visible occupant.

Siren sighed, removing his mask, “It’s Tommy!” He called.

Fading from a shadow Tommy hadn’t even seen beside the fridge, Angel stepped forward, pulling off his hat as he did so, Blood God stepping out from the hall, placing his broadsword on one of the couches casually as he removed his mask.

“Did Kristin release you?” Phil asked, masks completely aside.

Tommy shrugged, “No, but I didn’t want to be in my room.” He also wasn't eager to go back. The last thing he wanted was to relive more of his trauma in a dream. 

Phil sighed, “You really shouldn’t be out and about then.”

Tommy ignored the man in favor of moving to the nearby windows to look out at the empty land around the casino, L’manburg in the near distance. “Wow,” he said softly.

“Theseus, you really shouldn’t be up,” Techno muttered, grabbing Tommy and lifting him into his arms.

Tommy yelped as he was held like he weighed nothing against the man’s armored chest, which was odd to see Techno’s expressionless face above, “Hey! Let me down!” he snapped, clinging to Techno in mild fear. He knew that Blood God was strong, but he still didn’t want to be carried around by him.

“Put him on the couch, I’ll call Kristin,” Wilbur said, his Siren gear dumped on the counter except for the guns on his belt. 

“Yup,” Techno said, talking Tommy to a couch and dropping him onto it.

Tommy tried to escape the villain, but Techno simply grabbed a blanket and wrapped him in it tight enough to immobilize him despite his wiggling, “Free me, bitch!” Tommy snapped. The banter came easily, but part of him still tense, half expecting Blood God to react instead of Techno. Half expecting to be reminded of his place. Reminded that he owed every villain he had ever met a massive favor for keeping him out of Pandora

“Nah,” Techno said with a small smile, sitting beside the bound boy, wrapping an arm around him before Tommy could roll off of the couch in an attempt for freedom. He was still Techno. Tommy relaxed a bit. As the boy struggled for freedom though, he discovered quickly that his body was draining of energy rapidly, so he couldn’t fight it for long, resorting to scowling when Wilbur sat beside Techno and pulled Tommy’s legs over his lap, Phil smiling at them with his wings melting away as he lounged back, waiting for the healer.

A short wile later, there was a short knocking on the frosted glass door and Kristin let herself in, “Tommy!” she said sharply, obviously disapproving.

Tommy cringed, “Yes?” he asked carefully, his limbs still trapped in a stupidly plush blanket.

“I didn’t clear you to leave your room!” she said firmly, rounding the couch to scowl down at him.

Tommy tried for an innocent smile, “I feel great!”

“Sit up,” the healer commanded.

Tommy blinked, moving to do so, finding it was unusually difficult, “See? It’s fine!” he lied.

Kristin raised an eyebrow, “No, absolutely not, I won’t have you prolonging your recovery. Techno, dear, take him back to his room.”

Tommy groaned loudly and Techno donned his mask, sheathing his sword on his back before he gathered the still swaddled ex-hero into his arms. “Let me down!” Tommy shrieked.

Kristin huffed, “Tommy, you need another week at least before I’m clearing you completely. For now you can wander, but only with assistance, alright? I’ll see to it you aren't alone if you want, but you still look exhausted. It’s very important you recover quickly.”

Tommy huffed, “Fine.”

Blood God shifted Tommy in his arms and began to walk to the door, Wilbur laughing as he grabbed his villain things and dressing as he followed them. Blood God stepped into the elevator and Siren followed, the glass door closing Kristin and Phil into the penthouse. A man in a suit and half black mask already stood in the elevator, apparently going down and Blood God nodded to the obviously terrified man before casually standing there as if he wasn't holding a struggling teenager in his arms.

“Let me down, this is humiliating!” Tommy hissed at his captor.

Blood God huffed in amusement, “I don’t think you can even stand right now.”

Tommy bared his teeth, “I can stand just fine!”

Siren laughed, the sound seemed mocking with his voice changer, and he ruffled Tommy’s hair, “You’re cute like this! You can’t stab us!”

Tommy glared. The man in the suit edged away from them, eyes flickering between them warily. Tommy wasn’t sure how he had intimidated the man, but he was definitely included in those glances. He wouldn’t complain though. He also gave up on trying to wiggle his way to freedom. It was pointless and only served to embarrass him in front of one of Gamble’s nameless lackeys.

The elevator stopped on Tommy’s floor and Blood God and Siren strode out, making their way to Tommy’s room. He was tucked into bed quite literally and the villains got comfortable, taking off their masks and setting up the TV. Wilbur launched himself onto the bed next to Tommy, Techno, climbing in on the opposite side of the bed, shoved Wilbur to make more room and the next thing Tommy knew, Wilbur had pulled him to his chest, running his fingers through his hair as they watched people try to survive in bizarrely harsh environments, only interrupted by Techno’s occasional commentary about their stupidity. 

---

When Tommy woke up again Kristin was walking in, Wilbur wiping droll from his cheek as he sat up from where he had fallen asleep, adjusting Tommy on his chest. Tommy wasn’t quite awake yet, but when he realized he had fallen asleep on Wilbur he came to awareness quickly, mortified and sitting up as quickly as he could, though his arms gave out on him and he collapsed back. Tommy dimly realized that he hadn't dreamed.

“I’m just doing a check up,” Kristin said lightly, and she conducted her inspection quickly before she ruffled his hair, sending Wilbur a smile and a look before she excused herself, letting in a woman with Tommy’s dinner. 

Wilbur had to help him sit up and Tommy stubbornly refused to be helped to eat, trembling, but denying any weakness stubbornly.

“You know, it doesn't hurt to be helped sometimes,” Wilbur said gently. 

Tommy glared as he nearly dropped his bite of mac and cheese on his shirt, “Fuck you.”

Wilbur sighed, but allowed Tommy to continue to struggle.

---

The next week was worse than the first week which Tommy had slept through. Now Tommy was slowly more and more frequently conscious, but he didn’t have the strength to do much and then when he did have the strength, he was forbidden from doing anything unassisted. He wasn't allowed to even leave his floor, pacing while he was shadowed by one of the Syndicate and effectively scaring the shit out of housekeeping and the occasional Sapnap sneaking into Chronos’s suite. Even Gamble was on the floor sometimes as Quackity, but he didn't visit Tommy, so the boy wasn't sure what the villain was up to. 

Then it was the last day of his imprisonment and Tommy practically vibrated with energy as he waited for Kristin’s visit. Techno was on Tommy watch the previous night and if his sighs meant anything he was exasperated by Tommy’s boundless energy. 

“Good morning,” She greeted him when she walked in.

“Morning!” he said excitedly.

She eyed him with a small smile, “You look excited.”

“It’s the last day,” he said, hesitating a bit. Would they change their minds? Would it be another situation where he was strung along till the last minute? 

She smiled, “Well, you were probably ready yesterday, so I can see why you’re ready.” She got close, inspecting the scar on his face, “Your energy seems to be back in full force and none of your wounds have reopened or rejected my healing, so I see no more reason to keep you on house arrest.”

Tommy grinned widely, “So I’m free?”

Kristin smiled, “Yes, you’re free.”

Tommy laughed like a mad man, “I’m free, Techno!” he cheered.

Techno sighed, “I heard.”

“I want to stab shit,” Tommy said excitedly. A flicker of anger rose in his chest, the desire to seek out his revenge overpowering for a brief moment. 

Techno smiled a bit, grabbing his mask, “Then let’s get some energy out, shall we?”

Tommy nodded, “Yes, let’s!”

Techno fitted his mask over his face and collected his sword, “Thank you for your efforts Kristin,” he said kindly.

She smiled back, “Of course, Techno.”

“Thanks Kristin,” Tommy said.

She just smiled fondly at him, “Don’t get hurt again, that’s all I ask.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tommy said.

“Come on, Theseus,” Techno grunted, grabbing Tommy by the back of the neck and steering him out of the room and towards the elevator. Tommy lapped the slow walk of the villain easily, going back and forth in his path, jumping excitedly. Blood God selected the tenth floor and Tommy bounced on his heels as he waited for the steel box to lower to their destination.

Then once the doors opened, Tommy froze. Before him was a massive room, interrupted only by load bearing pillars, and cluttered with weapons and other training things. A gun range occupied the left end of the space, mats covered most of the right, and raised rings lined the back edge, with weight lifting equipment along the left. 

There were a few people there, all probably Gamble’s employees, but none of them were familiar and they all slowly began to take note of Blood God nudging Tommy into the room. Tommy didn’t have to be encouraged much, he made a beeline for a rack of swords. Half were dull training swords, but the other half were reasonably sharp. Tommy grabbed a sharp one, grinning as he swung it, testing his range of motion. He was a little weak still after so long without physical activity, but he didn’t doubt he would be back up to speed soon. 

“Want to spar?” Blood God offered.

Tommy grinned, “Sure!”

Blood God pulled out his broadsword, gesturing for the center of the matted space, “Come.” Tommy followed eagerly, and then, suddenly, Blood God whipped around, a downward swing nearly cutting Tommy in half.

Tommy yelped, jumping to the side, “Hey!”

“Keep up,” Blood God suggested, “I won’t go easy on you.”

And he didn’t. Tommy barely deflected another heavy blow, his crimson aura sluggishly responding to his call, but growing stronger the more close calls he experienced.

“If my thinking is correct,” Blood God droned on as if he weren’t almost killing Tommy with every move, “Your ability relies on intent.”

Tommy glared, annoyed at the man’s talking. Did he have to make it obvious how easily he was handling Tommy’s onslaught? Tommy must be weaker than he thought, if his movements were that transparent. In the past Tommy had given Blood God a run for his money. 

“There, your ability got stronger,” Blood God said, “It’s about if you want to cause harm to your opponent, how you intend on using a weapon.”

How he intended on using a weapon? Tommy frowned, “That makes no sense, you stab with weapons,” Tommy said.

Blood God snorted, “Not always. Right now, do you want to hurt me?”

“No,” Tommy answered, narrowly ducking under a swing of the other’s blade.

“Try to,” Blood God said.

“What if I draw blood?” Tommy asked.

Blood God shrugged, “Then run.”

Then, it was as if a switch had been flipped in the villain. He lunged at Tommy without restraint and Tommy threw his whole attention into the fight. He was doing worse than he did back when he had been sixteen, somehow. He scowled, frustrated, and tried to harness the desire to hurt the man, but whenever it seemed he had grasped it, he would remember who was under the mask and his desire to hurt Blood God would vanish, the crimson nearly vanishing. It did prove Blood God’s theory though. 

Tommy tried to focus, and then he tripped on a raised section of mat, stumbling to the ground. He narrowly avoided impaling himself and lay on the floor, gasping for breath when he heard a sharp laugh. His head whipped to the side, seeing Siren lounging against a pillar.

“Is it just me or did he get worse?” Siren mused, his lips twisted in a cruel smile. 

Tommy snarled, “Fuck off, Siren.” He wondered if the jab would have been funnier if Wilbur had said it. 

“Then actually get a hit in on him, you’re supposed to be his match, after all. You hit Dream but can’t avoid tripping on a mat?” Siren mocked.

Tommy lunged to his feet, “Shut up,” he muttered, his ears blazing.

“Then prove him wrong,” Blood God suggested from behind him.

Tommy didn’t hesitate. He lunged for his opponent. He fought with the pure desire to bonk the man firmly on the head. He moved with reckless abandon, the blazing scarlet of his aura flickering through his vision, dancing on steel with every motion. The feel of the match changed, it was practically feral now and he didn’t hold back. Blood God must have been alarmed at his change of pace because suddenly his sword swings felt transparent, every move predictable and just barely too slow. It wasn’t quite enough to defeat the notorious villain though and despite Tommy’s best efforts, Blood God had him disarmed, his sword skittering across the ground. 

Tommy screamed in rage, the memory of Siren’s laugh in his ears as he dove for the first thing he saw, which happened to be a towel. He didn’t hesitate, ideas rushing through his mind. He could wrap it around the sword, his hands, neck, legs, so many options, anything to get him to let his guard down for a half second so Tommy could punch the bastard in the face. 

Blood God stepped forward, mouth half open to speak and Tommy spun the towel into a whip, cracking it against the mat. Blood God gave a small smile and moved in to attack. All of Tommy’s attention went into not getting sheared into Tommy chunks and then he saw an opening. He cracked the tip of the towel out and it snapped across Blood God’s jaw. The man actually hesitated at the hit and Tommy moved again, lunging in close to wrap the towel around the man’s hands as he jumped forward, a socked foot on Blood God’s momentarily bound hands to crack a punch on the villain’s cheek. Then he stumbled to the side, bracing himself on his knees to catch his breath as Blood God just stood there, mouth half open, head to the side, a red mark on his cheek.

Tommy panted breathlessly, grinning victoriously, “Take that, bitch!” It wasn't a perfect victory, but he would take it.

The room was silent.

Tommy looked around to see that people had gathered and not just the people who had already been training, no there were villains in the mix now. Angel stood by Siren, Kristin stood with Riptide and Mesmo, Warden was even in the back and Gamble stood at the front of the crowd, masked. 

Siren’s mouth was open, “Did you just use a towel as a weapon?” he asked slowly.

Tommy froze, blinking as he looked over at where Blood God was looking at the towel around his hands, then he looked back at his audience, “Uh, maybe?” He managed. A towel? How was that possible? He had done it though.

“Well, it seems you were right, Blood God,” Angel chuckled, half breathless.

Blood God pulled the towel from his hands, holding it up and looking at it, “Seems like it,” he said slowly.

Tommy nervously eyed the men, wondering if he shouldn’t have kept going after being disarmed.

“That was impressive, Theseus,” Gamble said smoothly.

Tommy looked at the villain, unsure what to do with the praise.

“Good job,” Riptide said softly. Mesmo elbowed her, but she ignored him, Kristin smiling at them. Tommy did his best not to feel betrayed that Kristin was so comfortable with them, but it wasn’t her fault. Riptide probably had tricked the healer or something. Tommy forced himself to not just glare at the pair. They were supposed to be even, he needed to try to move past his grudge. Somehow. 

Warden cocked his head, nodding, and then he turned to leave. For some reason that was the highest praise yet. 

“Alright, clear out!” Gamble commanded and all of his people immediately turned to leave. Riptide and Mesmo left as well, leaving only the Syndicate, Kristin, and the information dealer in the room.

Tommy tensed as Gamble approached, resting an arm over his shoulders. Tommy noted that he was taller than Quackity usually was. He must be able to change his height at will. 

“Theseus will be needing to train a lot to master his mindset,” Blood God finally said, sheathing his sword. “We can take him back to our base now that he has recovered.”

“He owes me some favors,” Gamble said, “So he’ll be staying here till I say otherwise. Besides, it’s safest here.”

“He’d be just as safe with us,” Angel said.

“Maybe,” Gamble shrugged, “but I’m still cashing in a favor.”

Tommy cringed, shrugging the villain off of his shoulders, “What do you want?”

“A week of work,” Gamble said, “But you can’t do it as Theseus.”

“How do you expect him to be a bodyguard without his ability? It’s probably the most recognizable ability out there right now,” Siren scoffed, crossing his arms. 

“Easy, he’ll use the one weapon that they said he can’t use,” Gamble said smoothly, “If you’re right, Blood God, there is no reason why Tommy can’t use guns. And since he seems to think he can’t use them, it would be good training for that mindset you were speaking of.”

Tommy frowned, “I really can’t use guns though, Gamble. Nothing happens when I try.”

Blood God seemed thoughtful, “Gamble is right though, if it really is about your intent, then guns shouldn’t be out of the question, and it would keep you properly under the radar. Half of the heroes think we killed you and we should try to keep it that way till you’re done training.”

Tommy glared, “I don’t like guns.”

“Which is probably why your ability doesn’t affect them,” Siren said thoughtfully, “I’ll train him, Gamble.”

Gamble nodded, seeming pleased, “Good. I’ll give him… a month, to be proficient at any firearms we have on the premises. By then his mask should be done and it should be long enough that the appearance of another weapons master with a red aura won’t be questioned too much.”

Tommy blinked at the gathered villains, “Why can’t I be Theseus though?”

“Shock factor, till you’re done training,” Blood God said. “You can’t face Dream yet, not until you’ve mastered your mindset, and till then you still need to be active and out there getting better, so an alias is a good way to do that.”

Tommy huffed, “I liked that persona.”

“And you can have him back when you’re done training,” Angel promised, “but all Theseus is right now is a target, and we won’t be letting our hard work go to waste that easily.”

Tommy grit his jaw, “Fine then, I’ll use guns. What if I get rusty with swords though?”

“You’re a weapons master,” Blood God said, “Getting rusty is impossible, but we will still train with your favored weapons when not in public to get more practice in if you want. We’ll even expose you to other weapons if possible.”

Tommy didn’t really like this. It felt like they were seizing control of his life, but he knew there was nothing else he could do except allow them to do this if he wanted training. It was like the situation with the Hero Tower all over again and it made his skin crawl. The only difference this time was that he knew the men keeping him in this cycle this time and he could hope they wouldn’t treat him how Dream had treated him.

“It’s settled then,” Gamble clapped, “I’ll see you in a month, Tommy.”

Tommy nodded wordlessly as he watched the villain leave. Then he looked at his teachers, “What now?”

“First I’ll introduce you to some guns!” Siren said enthusiastically.

Tommy glowered, “Fine.”

“And when you’ve had a break with that we’ll get back to work,” Blood God said.

Tommy frowned, “Why? Shouldn’t I focus on guns?”

“I’ll be training you how to move differently as well,” Blood God said. “The Tower has analysts who work to see connections between villains, they would recognize your movement style in a heartbeat. Besides, Dream didn't even teach you techniques, so your movements skills are awful.”

Tommy didn't even get the chance to be offended before Angel started to speak, “I think we should try to bulk him up some too,” the villain said, thoughtful. “With a different frame he’ll have no choice but to move differently. Same with different gear. We’ll need to design something for him with his new persona.”

“What will my new name be?” Tommy wondered.

Siren laughed, “We can figure that out later. Come, I want to show you my Sig Sauer nine millimeter first.”

Tommy was dragged to the shooting range and Siren didn’t hesitate to shove a pistol into his hands. He looked at the weapon with a nauseous feeling in his stomach. He could recall the sound it would make when he pulled the trigger, the fear when it was pointed at him. He swallowed. He wanted nothing more than to shove it back at Siren. Siren was oblivious to Tommy’s disgruntled expression, or just didn’t pay it any attention, because he shoved the hearing protection over Tommy’s head.

“Here, stand with your feet shoulder width apart,” Siren advised, speaking loudly to be heard through the thick ear muffs. “You want loose elbows, don’t lock them, and don’t squint down the sights, it will throw you off.” He adjusted Tommy’s hold on the pistol till it felt like the grip fit under Tommy’s fingers, “This is the safety, flick it off and never have your finger on the trigger unless you’re pointing at a target. Point and shoot, you have six bullets.”

Tommy swallowed, nervous. His finger slid over the cold trigger and he cringed as he squeezed the trigger, the weapon jolting in his hands as the noise berated his ears. He lowered it a bit, squinting at the paper target with the outline of a man on it at the end of the range. He was way off.

He looked at Siren, “See? It doesn’t work.”

“That’s because you’re scared of it,” Siren said, “The gun will only do what you tell it to, Tommy. We’re going to do this till you aren’t scared of it anymore, and then do some holstering practice before we move on.”

Tommy swallowed, “Okay.”

“Go again,” Siren pointed down the range, “Five more bullets.”

Tommy did as he was told.

Siren taught him how to reload the weapon whenever he ran out and eventually he didn’t need to be told to do it again before he just reloaded and fired again. His fear slowly faded and the knockback and noises faded away into expectation. His aura didn’t take over the weapon though. 

“Who do you want to kill the most?” Siren asked while Tommy slid more bullets into his magazine. He had been firmly corrected that it wasn’t a ‘clip.’

Tommy paused, frowning as he shrugged his hearing protection to the side to hear the man better, “What?”

“Who do you want to kill the most?” the villain repeated.

Tommy cocked his head, the answer coming to him immediately, “Dream, why?”

Siren nodded, then he put Tommy’s hearing protection back in place and drew his own pistol and fired multiple times at the paper man at the end of the range who Tommy had somehow not even managed what Siren said was an average grouping on. Tommy blinked at the clear smiley face that Siren’s bullets carved in the head of the target. 

Siren placed his pistol on the table before them, raising Tommy’s pistol to point down the range, “That’s Dream. Kill him.”

Tommy understood what the villain meant instantly and he pressed his lips together, trying to visualize that the smiley face was on a white ceramic mask and the rage that rose at the mere thought of facing Dream down with a gun in his hands was overwhelming. He fired without thinking and then his mouth fell open in awe. It had worked. His pistol was covered with red light and his grouping was tight in the center of “Dream”’s forehead. 

Siren grinned, ruffling his hair, “There you are! Just harness that blood thirst and you’ll be a master at fucking everything you can find in an Ikea along with real weapons.”

Tommy blinked at the praise before he managed a slow smile. It was significantly more fun when he actually hit what he was aiming for. He reloaded and tried again.

Hours passed before his arms felt like they were constantly vibrating from the constant knockback and Siren had engrained multiple holstering techniques into his brain, pushing dozens of terms and new words into Tommy’s brain before he was released to eat. He ate with the smell of gunpowder on his hands and his eyes on the different targets Siren had had him aim for. He could see his progress. He could see when he had been able to properly harness his blood lust as a method to harness the desire to “harm” his target. It wasn’t easy, but he was fairly sure he could hit somebody now. That was only one day’s worth of work too. He smiled to himself as he shoveled some sort of potato dish into his mouth, trying to ignore the stench of gunpowder every time he raised a hand near his face.

Then Blood God grabbed him and he was forced into weight training for a while, followed by intense stretching while Siren continued to quiz him on gun vocabulary. Everything from identifying the caliber of a bullet to the different parts of a gun. When his limbs trembled from exertion and he didn’t think he could move anymore Siren sat down with him and had him clean the pistols he had used, walking him through the process. Tommy found it to be relaxing to disassemble and then reassemble the weapons. Part of him struggled to still see them as weapons, the aura not covering them instantly the way it did with knives, but he trusted he would have his aura mastered by the end of the month.

That night he showered and grinned at his reflection despite his trembling limbs. He was becoming a real villain, not a pseudo-hero. Finally intense training seemed to fit him. He ate dinner and then promptly fell asleep.

Chapter Text

The month was hell, to put it simply. Every day Tommy was aching with exhaustion, but the Syndicate gave him no slack. Angel and Blood God trained him with strength and movement, teaching him to use his growing strength to his advantage and how to run through obstacles they set up, often chasing him down with some sort of taser thing that was more of a slight pain than a debilitating shock, but he still hated it and always ran the best he could. Sometimes they would shock him simply because he had moved too much like Theseus.

When he wasn't running for his life from two of the most notorious and fearsome villains in the city, he was shooting. Siren had him learning tons of different guns. Things from assault rifles to pistols, to things they had to practice with outside like sniper rifles, Tommy’s face shrouded with a black balaclava from prying eyes while he tried to control fucking machine guns in the backyard of Las Nevadas. He didn’t even know where they had gotten those. It was terrifying at first, but then he began to associate the smell of gunpowder with success and he began to grin his way through successful groupings while Siren nitpicked anything he could he could. Siren struggled to find flaws in the things that now were coming naturally like Tommy's stance, methods, and speed. He shot skeet with shotguns and then used an array of weapons on other moving targets. Siren pushed his flexibility by giving him random numbers of bullets in an array of guns and testing how many bullets he could shoot in a given time, accounting for different types of weapons needing to be readied and his changes in stance. 

It was a challenge. He was trained for the absence of an arm, of needing to move and fire at the same time be it out of car windows or while sprinting and ducking while Siren shot a bb gun at him to simulate enemy fire. Tommy was pretty sure not many other people could shoot as well as the villain and that it was a little unnecessary that Siren of all people do the shooting, but Siren seemed to think it was funny, even when they had to pause to pinch a plastic bead out of Tommy’s skin when he had been hit in the neck just a bit too directly. 

One Saturday he was eating lunch in the training room, they would be training mobility with paintball guns in the obstacle course in a training match once he finished and he was thrilled to have real practice so he was eating quickly, when the elevator opened. Tommy half turned to see who it was, the Syndicate all stiffening at the intrusion with hands reaching for weapons and masks before relaxing. Tommy nearly dropped his bowl of gumbo. Standing awkwardly in the elevator were two familiar faces.

“Tubbo!” Tommy cheered, setting his lunch aside and sprinting for his friend, “Ranboo, you’re here too?” his former neighbors were in their costumes, but once they entered the room their masks came off as they hugged Tommy.

“Tommy, holy shit, you reek,” Tubbo laughed, shoving the boy away, “What the hell have you been doing?”

“Training,” Tommy said eagerly, “We’re going to do a training match after lunch.” He gestured at the Syndicate, all seated on the floor with their own meals, unmasked as necessary, which was mostly just Phil, though Blood God’s skull was angled to the side so he had to look through just one eye so he could see what he was doing with his face still covered. They never liked being unmasked out of private rooms. Tommy had laughed the first time Techno had done that, but he had just gotten more reps into his schedule for it and had barely been able to hold a pistol properly the next day for it, so he hadn’t done it again. It wasn't his fault Techno looked stupid with a crooked mask, but Tommy wasn't about to push his luck.

“Neat,” Tubbo said, scanning the obstacle course, “What weapons are you using?”

“Siren and I are using paintball guns and Blood God and Angel are using tasers,” Tommy said. “I can only shoot Siren.”

Tubbo seemed puzzled, “Interesting. I thought you couldn’t use guns?”

“It’s hard with bb guns,” Tommy shrugged, “Blood God says it’s good to train my mentality with. I’m getting better.”

“That makes no sense, but cool!” Tubbo said brightly.

“What are you two doing here?” Tommy asked.

“I’m making you a new mask, apparently,” Tubbo said, “And I just wanted Ran to come with, so he could visit you.”

Tommy smiled up at the freakishly tall vigilante, he seemed to have grown even since Tommy saw him last, “Glad you could come, Ranboob,” he greeted the boy.

Ranboo snorted, “I’m just glad you're in better shape than you were last time.”

Tommy scowled, “Hey, I’ve got the best fucking healer out there, I’ll have you know.”

“Of course,” Ranboo said, “Still though, you were pretty rough last I saw. Now you seem as spiteful as ever.”

“That’s me, spiteful,” Tommy agreed. He didn't really want to think about the circumstances he had been in when he had seen Ranboo last.

“You two want to see Tommy train some?” Angel called, he rose from where he had been sitting, mask firmly back in place, veil and all, “It might give you some inspiration, Nuke.”

Tubbo glanced at Ranboo, “Sure,” he said with a shrug, “It’d be fun to see Tommy get shocked to shit.”

Tommy scowled, “Just for that, I’ll shoot you.”

“Onlookers are off limits,” Angel said calmly, “Now, finish up your lunch so we can get going or we’ll give you a penalty."

Tommy snorted and saluted the man, going back to his gumbo and downing it quickly despite Siren’s warning to not make himself sick. He was Tommy fucking Innes, he was too big a man to get sick… probably. He did slow down a bit. 

Then the bowls were cleared away and Tubbo and Ranboo teleported to the rafters so they could get a clear view of the maze of mats, bars, and platforms that Angel and Blood God rearranged regularly. Tommy knew today was a new arrangement and the excitement of the challenge sent his blood thrumming. He used to dread training, when Dream had been in charge of it, but now it was fun and different every day. He was constantly facing new challenges and obstacles and the Syndicate managed to push him without actually hurting him or exhausting him too badly. It was a balance Tommy had previously thought impossible.

An overhead voice ran a countdown and Tommy tensed with his weapon in hand, a face shield over his face and long pants and sleeves covering his body to protect him from the paintballs. It was all white too, to really show the paint. He was excited. Then, a buzzer sounded and Tommy took off. Angel and Blood God were only there to slow him down and police his movements, the real objective was to get Siren covered in more paint than he would be. Siren had changed to all white for the event as well, though he had somehow gotten his hands on a white trench coat for the exercise. Pompous fucker.

Tommy got hit first, but he took it in stride. He focused on the sting of the paintballs, the desire for Siren to feel it ten times over, and his ability swathed over the fake weapon. It was all about desire to injure, he had realized, and he took full advantage of his anger issues. 

By the time the time was up he collapsed to the ground, narrowly avoiding a shock from Blood God, splattered in paint and aching everywhere, but still grinning. Siren was paint covered too and removed his face shield, his eyes covered with his usual mask beneath it, his mouth twisted in distaste as he wiped a splatter of paint from his cheek. 

“Holy shit, you’re badass!” Tubbo said gleefully, Ranboo teleporting them back to ground level.

“Thanks, big man!” Tommy removed his face shield, grinning up at his friends.

“The scar is definitely a look,” Tubbo said, “Too bad it’d give you away.”

Tommy shrugged, “It’ll come back when I’m Theseus again.”

Tubbo nodded, looking thoughtful, “Do you like fairy tales?”

Tommy’s eyebrows scrunched together, “What?”

“I don’t know, I was thinking about something along the lines of a medieval wolf thing. You could be called Grimm,” Tubbo suggested.

Tommy scoffed, “That’s cringe, big man.”

“Grimm is the name of the authors of most traditional fairy tales,” Tubbo said, “With two ‘m’s.”

Tommy still wasn't convinced.

“Think about it, wolves are sneaky and powerful,” Tubbo argued, “Kurama is already a fox, so you don’t get to be one too, and with Blood God as one of your mentors you could pay homage with the medieval look.”

Tommy considered it, “But I’ll be using guns, that doesn't make sense to be medieval.”

“You could also spin it like the grim reaper,” Ranboo suggested, “Since people think you’re dead? And the whole guns thing could be a psychological thing.”

Tommy scowled, “Give me a sketch and I’ll think about it,” Tommy finally decided.

“Alright, I will,” Tubbo said, “I’ll let you get back to getting zapped and shot,” he grinned as he grabbed Ranboo’s arm, “I have work to do.”

“Bye Tommy,” Ranboo said before the pair vanished into a puff of purple.

Then Tommy looked up at his mentors, “Do I get a break?” he asked.

Siren cocked his paintball gun, lowering his face mask. Blood God raised his taser, and Angel spread his shadow wings threateningly.

“Get going, Grimm,” Blood God intoned.

Tommy scrambled to his feet and the game resumed.

---

A week later Tommy was practically dying in weight training when Tubbo and Ranboo came into the training room with a completed mask and a drawing of his future suit. Tommy took the metal mask into his hands. It was wolfish in shape, but somehow more ominous, despite the ears.

“Am I furry now?” Tommy managed.

“Yep!” Tubbo cackled, “Here, this is what Gamble and I decided on.”

Tommy noted Gamble’s involvement as he carefully accepted the sketchbook, opened to a rough drawing. It was a figure with that wolf mask. The figure was swathed in a cloak thing with a black poet’s shirt beneath it and black pants with covert pockets. It came with armor and he was draped with guns and ammo. It was… surprisingly okay.

“What do you think?” Ranboo asked.

“It’ll do,” Tommy said reluctantly. The cloak wasn’t too medieval like Blood God’s, instead verging more on a trench coat in design, with a short cape thing that covered his arms with a second laver beneath it so his arms would be free-ish. He liked the modern spin on it, and he liked to think of everything he could hide under it. 

“Great!” Tubbo cheered, “Because I already made the cloak, I took inspiration from Siren’s trench coat.”

“I’ll look like an emo furry pirate,” Tommy realized.

“It’s fine,” Tubbo said dismissively, “You’ll survive.”

Tommy huffed, “Alright then.”

“Alright, Ran, we have lots to do!” Tubbo said, seizing Ranboo’s arm again. The poor vigilante hadn’t even had time to take his mask off yet, “To the lab!” Tubbo directed.

They vanished with a sigh from Domino and then Tommy looked back at Blood God, “What do you think?”

“Grimm will work,” Blood God said, “Though Theseus is a better name, Grimm won’t be permanent, so it doesn’t matter too much.”

Tommy nodded, “Fair enough.”

“Get back to it,” the villain directed then. Tommy did as he was told.

---

Then the month was over and Tommy was directed to Gamble’s office with a balaclava over his face where he met the Syndicate, Nuke, and Domino, all geared up, with his new suit on Gamble’s desk.

Gamble grinned at him, “Get dressed.”

Tommy nodded, a little nervous, but he took the suit from the man’s desk and walked to the bathroom where he pulled on the clothes thoughtfully. He found knife pockets in the sleeves and smiled at Tubbo’s thoughtfulness, but he didn’t plan on using knives at all while in this disguise. The Syndicate was right. The Heroes thinking he was dead was his biggest advantage. 

Then he grabbed the silver mask and pulled it over his head, his blonde hair was the only similarity he had to Theseus at this point. He ran his hands through the messy, overgrown curls. Well, with the hood up, they wouldn’t be as visible, and the new mask covered the whole front half of his skull, so his hair certainly wouldn’t fall forward. He pulled the hood up, finding magnets in the hem that stuck to the back of his metal wolf ears and keeping the hood up right. He walked out of the bathroom and the villains all grinned, from what he could tell anyways. 

“Here,” Siren pointed to Gamble’s desk where a pile of various firearms rested, “This pistol shoots sedative darts,” The sights on the pistol were blue, “And this one shoots paralysis darts.” This one had purple sights.

Tommy strapped on the belt with the dart guns in his hips, hard plastic containers strapping to each thigh, the fletching of the darts color coordinated like the sights. Then he shed his cap briefly to pull on a harness-like pair of holsters that sat on his sides under his arms. He knew the instant he touched them that they were very real. He then pulled on a second belt lined with extra magazines before pulling his cloak back on. The real guns were perfectly hidden in the cloak and he looked at the villains in the room, grinning despite how his face was completely hidden. This whole Grimm thing wasn’t so bad.

“How does it all feel?” Nuke asked, his voice warped with his mask on as he circled Tommy.

“Good,” Tommy answered, finding his voice pitched with an odd quality. It was pitched down and sing-song, very different than Theseus’s voice.

“He sounds good too,” Siren said.

“Be careful you don’t talk the way Theseus did. He didn’t talk much, but he did taunt, so either talk a whole lot or none at all. Don’t give anyone any hints of your identity,” Blood God advised.

“I’ll probably stay quiet,” Tommy said, “It matches the persona.”

“Good idea,” Gamble said, “And you’ll be introduced as an associate of mine, so consider it your debut into villainy. Anything you do will be remembered.”

“When Gamble is done with you we will pick you up and you will be staying with us to complete your training,” Angel said, “You can stay in our bunker and we’ll let you do whatever sort of villainy you want.”

Tommy cocked his head, pondering the option. “I don’t really want to go around just doing whatever,” he said slowly, still not quite used to his new voice.

“It’s up to you,” Angel shrugged.

“Once I’m done with you,” Gamble said, regaining control of the conversation, “Come, Grimm, I have a meeting to get to.”

Tommy dipped his head, “Alright.”

“No more talking if you really want to be silent,” Gamble said firmly as he straightened his suit. 

Tommy opened his mouth to answer before he stopped himself and just nodded.

“Follow me,” Gamble said, “And the rest of you may do as you wish, within reason, of course.” Then he walked towards the door. Tommy followed, anxiety in his throat. It was his debut all over again, and this time he couldn’t talk… which would be difficult. He was excited as well though. He wasn’t unarmed anymore. He knew more about his ability, and he had allies. He was ten times better off this time around and he planned on putting it to use. He also didn’t have to worry about rules, literally his existence as being a villain meant rules didn’t matter to him. That thought brought a small smile to his face.

Gamble led him to a car where Charlie already held the door open for the information dealer and Tommy walked around to the other side, aware of people watching him, whispering, phone cameras turned to record his existence for the first time. When he settled in the car he smiled to himself.

“We have a few meetings in L’manburg today. One will be with Schlatt.” Gamble said, buckling.

Tommy tensed, whipping his head over to glare at the man, biting scathing words back. Schlatt? Why? Surely he would be recognized?

“Relax, you’ll be in the room, but won’t say a thing. I won’t let him goad you on either. As far as he knows, you’re only there because I don’t trust him anymore. However, if you try to kill him I will side with him in subduing you,” The information dealer said firmly.

Tommy glared wordlessly. He didn’t like this at all. He didn’t even know if he could hold himself back.

“Consider it a test of your resolve,” Gamble said easily, “If you can’t hold yourself back then there’s no way you can defeat Dream in combat. Control of your emotions is key for your ability. If you can’t control yourself it will only end poorly.”

Tommy grit his jaw, looking away. Gamble was right, but his hands, covered in fingerless gloves and resting on his thighs, twitched angrily. If only he could shoot the man between the eyes.

“While you are Grimm you are going to be affiliated with me, your emotions must be controlled,” Gamble said, “Understand?”

Tommy nodded stiffly.

“Good,” Gamble rested a hand on Tommy’s shoulder briefly before they fell into silence. 

The car pulled to a stop beside the Hero Tower and Charlie got out to open Gamble’s door and Tommy climbed out of his own, looking at the heads slowly turning to face them. Civilians gaped and pointed, starting to whisper to each other and record him. Tommy pretended to not notice them, glad his mask hid his eyes, and he moved to stand just behind Gamble. The villain was his boss in this moment, he had to play his role. Gamble then strode into the building, Tommy on his heels.

The moment they entered the Tower, a tour guide stumbled to a stuttering halt in what she was saying and the familiar receptionist looked up at them in fear. Tommy stood silently behind Gamble who looked around expectantly as Rosethorn walked forward purposefully. Tommy forced himself to stay relaxed as he watched her approach, focusing on everything except from how she had escorted him to his trial. 

“Gamble,” she said tersely, “Who is this? I thought you would be alone?”

“This is my newest associate, Grimm. He’s still in training, and I thought this would be a good learning experience,” Gamble said smoothly.

“Do you doubt your safety in the Tower?” Rosethorn scoffed.

“With recent events, I wouldn’t mind the extra manpower,” Gamble said lightly.

“Theseus is presumed dead,” Rosethorn said tightly.

Tommy forced himself to not react, just staring blankly at the woman. He was glad his entire face was hidden. The Syndicate had been right when they had called him a shit liar. He was too expressive.

“I never said anything about him?” Gamble cocked his head.

Rosethorn tensed, “Schlatt is waiting for you, not you and your wolf.”

“He stays with me,” Gamble said.

Rosethorn bared her teeth, “Fine, follow me.” She turned on her heel, leading the way to the elevator. Gamble followed without checking that Tommy was behind him and the boy moved quickly to follow, remembering to keep his movements the way Blood God had taught him. Move loosely, swing his arms a certain way so that he was always close to his weapons. This was supposed to be the first time he had been to the Hero Tower, so he glanced around a bit. He kept his gait the way Blood God moved, confident and strong. Then he filed into the elevator after Gamble and Rosethorn, the hero eyeing him distrustfully as the doors slid closed. He stared back, somewhat enjoying as she broke eye contact to shuffle a bit away from him, eyes flickering over the pistols she could see on his hips. 

“Grimm,” Gamble said softly, a warning.

Tommy turned his gaze away from the hero to look at Gamble.

“None of that,” The villain said firmly.

Tommy grit his jaw but dipped his head in acknowledgement, realizing he was taller than Gamble, though he wasn't sure when that had happened or if Gamble simply had altered his height this time to make Tommy look taller. 

“Sorry about him, he’s very curious about the Tower,” Gamble said smoothly to Rosethorn, “Not to worry though, I have him on a tight leash.”

Tommy hid his hands in his clock to hide the way they twitched. He reminded himself this was his favor, he had to withstand it. 

“He’s damn unnerving,” Rosethorn muttered, “And has a staring problem.”

“Being unnerving is part of his job.” Gamble shrugged, “I don’t think he’s capable of turning it off.”

Tommy glared at the information dealer, not liking how he was being discussed as if he weren’t right there.

“Does he speak?” Rosethorn asked.

“No,” Gamble answered simply. 

Rosethorn nodded slowly, eyeing Tommy with some curiosity mixed into the wariness that had already been there. Tommy met her gaze, uneasy with her analysis, but then the doors of the elevator slid open with a happy little ding . 

“Lead the way, Rosethorn,” Gamble said.

The hero seemed unhappy with being told what to do, but she did as she was asked, leading the pair of villains through the hall and to the large doors that sectioned off Schlatt’s office from the other executive offices on the floor. She knocked and a murmur allowed entrance to the trio.

The doors opened and Tommy nearly froze, only keeping his body relaxed by sheer force of will. Schlatt sat behind his desk, and Dream himself stood to the side, looking out the window, perfectly relaxed.

Gamble waltzed into the room as if he hadn’t even seen the number one hero, Rosethorn following warily. Tommy noted how she seemed jumpy.

“Schlatt, I see we have a guest,” Gamble said lightly, sitting in the chair opposite of Schlatt.

Dream turned to face them and Tommy’s blood ran hot with pure rage. He forced himself to not even twitch, his fingers still, though he wanted nothing more than to put a bullet through Dream’s skull. He had to control himself. Control was key. Besides, killing Dream as anyone other than Theseus would be a waste. He wanted the hero to know exactly who it was killing him.

“I saw on the cameras that you had a guest, so I thought I would do the same,” Schlatt said lightly.

“It’s hardly necessary to have the number one hero keeping an eye on a bodyguard still in training,” Gamble scoffed.

“We don’t know what he’s capable of,” Schlatt said. “Who is he, anyways?”

“This is Grimm,” Gamble said.

All eyes turned to Tommy and he struggled to maintain his casual posture.

“What do you do, Grimm?” Dream asked, standing beside Schlatt, that mask pressing attentively into Tommy.

Tommy glanced down at Gamble. 

Gamble cocked his head, “He doesn’t speak.”

“Then you can answer,” Dream said sharply.

Gamble chuckled, “I see what this is, you think I’m stupid enough to drag a wanted traitor into the heart of your tower? A traitor that I might mention all evidence suggests to be dead?”

Dream’s shoulders tensed. Tommy prided himself in how he hadn’t even flinched since coming into the Tower. Even as they talked about his alter ego, he remained perfectly relaxed.

“We’re simply curious,” Schlatt said.

“Grimm, show them something, try not to break or kill anything,” Gamble sighed, waving dismissively.

Tommy looked down at the villain, cocking his head in question. That was… loose criteria.

“You heard me,” Gamble said.

Tommy didn’t hesitate to draw both dart guns at once, pointing the sedative at Dream and the paralysis agent at Rosethorn. He allowed his desire to hurt them to well up, his urge to get even enveloping the weapons, a strong red, and he squeezed the triggers. 

Dream swore softly, lime green warping both darts to miss their targets, his hands out, “What the hell!” Rosethorn had stumbled away, unable to stop her dart, she would currently be paralyzed if Dream hadn’t intervened.

“Those wouldn’t have killed you,” Gamble shrugged, “That’s enough Grimm.”

Tommy put the guns back in the holsters.

Schlatt looked thoughtful, “Firearms mastery?” He assumed, “And a red aura. It’s similar to Theseus.”

“Theseus couldn’t use firearms at all, not even dart guns,” Dream spat, lowering his arms, “Thank Prime.”

Tommy smiled behind his mask. Dream was going to have a very rude awakening in the future.

“Yes, a better rounded weapons master would have been more convenient, but there’s nothing to be done for Theseus,” Gamble said.

“Do you know if he is dead?” Schlatt asked.

“What do I get in exchange? You just learned about my new bodyguard’s ability, I should learn something of equal value,” Gamble said lightly.

Schlatt grit his jaw, “A new vigilante has popped up in the northern part of the city. He goes by Shroud. He can grow spider limbs.”

Gamble nodded slowly, “I see.”

“Tell me what you know of Theseus,” Schlatt said tersely.

Gamble tilted his head towards where Rosethorn still stood.

Schlatt waved at her dismissively and she hurried to leave, glancing once at the dart in the wall before closing the doors behind herself.

“The Syndicate got even with the poor bastard,” Gamble said smoothly, “If he’s alive he’s in their custody and after he paid Blood God back with a knife to the chest I doubt he’s in one piece.”

“Theseus could have handled the Syndicate,” Dream said sharply, “He even got a hit in on me.”

Gamble shrugged, “Maybe.”

Tommy smirked. Dream seemed to think very highly of himself, but it was also so unusual to hear anything that resembled praise from the man, he couldn’t help but grin at the implication that he was as strong as his former mentor.

“What heroes were most strongly affected by Theseus’s betrayal?” Gamble asked.

Tommy listened intently.

“Blaze, Dream, Punz, and Surge,” Schlatt answered.

Their information trading deviated from topics that related to Tommy after that so he stopped paying attention, instead staring just ahead, watching Dream and he knew almost for a fact that Dream was watching him too. Green energy swathed at his fingertips and Tommy knew it meant he was ready to fight or defend. He saw Tommy as a threat. Tommy couldn’t wipe the smile from his face behind his mask

When they finally left, Dream walked them out of the Tower, eyeing Tommy distrustfully the whole way till Tommy slid into the car and they had pulled away from the Tower.

“You scared him,” Gamble noted.

Tommy nodded, smirking to himself.

“Good,” Gamble laughed, “It’s about time he deals with another sharpshooter besides Siren. It pushes his ability. Bullets are a lot harder to reroute.”

Tommy chuckled, the sound odd with his voice changer.

“Be careful though, he may want to target you for that,” Gamble warned.

Tommy nodded. He didn’t want to fight Dream as Grimm. That was a job reserved for when he brought Theseus back.

The rest of the day was boring. He scared the hell out of businessmen by just existing and watched Gamble sell out men he had just sworn he would never betray just minutes prior and gain more money than Tommy could imagine. One place even paid the dealer in cash and he had to carry out the briefcase. It had been heavy. 

Then the day was over and Gamble led him back to Las Nevadas where they ate in his office, not talking much, just relaxing before Tommy was on patrol duty, to supervise the casino, apparently.

He walked through the dark rooms, flashing lights and drunk people filling his senses with mindless clutter. He watched people gamble away money they didn’t have and others win big, cheering as they went on to waste it on alcohol served in glasses he knew were scaled to look the be the proper size, but in fact held a fraction less of the expensive drinks, saving the casino even more money. The guests of the casino didn’t mind though.

Then he became aware of someone watching him. He didn’t let the watcher know he was aware of them, he just kept to his rounds, which was just aimless wandering, and kept an eye open. The sensation followed him through rooms and he knew he was being followed, so he stopped and turned to look behind himself, finding, of all people, Puffy the café owner, standing there and staring at him thoughtfully. Then she cocked her head back, urging him to follow as she turned, walking away.

Tommy didn’t want to follow, he was supposed to be Grimm. Grimm doesn’t know Puffy, but he couldn’t stop himself either, so he followed the woman all the way into the employee break room, Kurama dipping his head in greeting to her before repeating the action to Tommy. Was she a regular here? It occurred to him that she had told him that the Angel of Death owed her a favor. How did a supervillain owe a café owner a favor? His stomach dropped at the certainly belated realization that it wasn't a coincidence that Dream knew the woman. When she had handed him that flip phone with three numbers on it, he had been too panicked to do much more than accept the small help. So, he followed her into the break room and shut the door behind himself, crossing his arms as he looked at where she had lounged out on one of the old couches. 

“Hello,” She greeted him with a smile.

He dipped his head in a cautious greeting, his fingertips brushing his pistols under his arms. He didn’t think he’d use them but she was making him uneasy and the weapons soothed him.

“Ah, right,” she smiled, “You don’t talk as Grimm.”

Tommy cocked his head, so she did know who he was?

“Yes, I know who you are, but I won’t say your name for your peace of mind,” She smiled, “I’m glad to see you doing well.”

He nodded, carefully edging closer to her.

“Look, I‘ll get right to it,” she sighed, “I used to be a hero.” 

Tommy froze.

“I know, I know, I was the Captain.”

The Captain. The Captain had been one of the first heroes of the Tower, making their good name for the populace. The Captain had been the only hero to ever completely put the mask aside and retire in whole while in a rather ambiguous time for the Tower. The Syndicate had first appeared around that time, and people had blamed her absence for their appearance.

She smiled, “I wanted to tell you that I was Dream’s mentor.”

Tommy’s hands were on the grips of his pistols in a half of a second.

“I’m not here to antagonize you,” she said quickly, “Let me explain.”

Tommy didn’t let go of the pistols, his mind whirling. Puffy had been Dream’s mentor? Dream who had been such an awful person and who had lied to and used him repeatedly? How could that have happened?

“Dream had a lot of potential when I took him on as a sidekick, he was the first person to be a sidekick, but I could tell he had a lot of hatred for anyone not a hero. He only got worse with time and when it became clear I wouldn’t support his proposal for new dark heroes he turned on me completely. It was a rough time and it ended with me giving Schlatt an ultimatum. Keep killing outlawed even for heroes, or I would retire, and I think it’s pretty clear what Schlatt chose,” Puffy smiled sadly, “I know that you aren’t a hero anymore, you’re far from it, but I wanted you to know that. The Tower had become corrupt and I think you are one of the only people who has experienced enough of it to realize how bad it is. The Warden left for his own reasons but he also hates the Tower, you might find an ally in him.”

Tommy released his pistols, staring at his former boss. So Dream was a bitch about Puffy because she didn’t want him to kill people? What the fuck was wrong with the dude? That still didn’t explain how she knew the Angel considering that she had retired before the Syndicate existed, but Tommy knew even if he could ask she probably wouldn’t tell him. Hell, she had witnessed his rise to becoming a hero and hadn’t said a peep about being the Captain. 

“I’ll be off then,” she said, standing, “Keep your head down.” Then she brushed past him, leaving the break room. 

Tommy was frozen for a few seconds before he left the room as well, lost in thought as he finished his patrolling of the casino. The Warden. Why hadn't it occurred to him earlier? The man had to have had a breaking point for his abandonment of the Hero Tower, so what was it? It had been a hard thing, to see how wrong it all was. The way everyone filed in behind Dream and Schlatt despite not liking how they ran things. The way that no one questioned when heroes only brought bodies back, not prisoners. It was slowly becoming apparent to him that the Tower should be a very different place. 

Tommy had a lot of work ahead of him. 

Chapter Text

The whole week of working for Gamble was spent being introduced to shady business partners and standing behind the information dealer while he threatened the destruction of companies and families. Tommy wasn't too interested in his work, and he found the patrolling to be boring as well, the most exciting it got was when he had to break up drunken squabbles or escort people out of the casino, but no one ever tried to push him, so he didn’t get to even slap anyone around, usually just standing there looking down at people was enough to make them cave. It was somewhat disappointing.

Then his week was up and Gamble gave him a duffel bag full of clothes, cash, and a burner phone before Charlie drove him to L’manburg in the middle of the night. With the favor paid Tommy was going to go back to the Syndicate. It seemed to Tommy that they had simply decided to take guardianship of him and walk him through how to be a villain and the rest of the villains seemed to support that effort. 

Once Charlie parked, Tommy climbed out of the car, Grimm mask in place and hood up as he looked around at the desolate parking lot the Syndicate was supposedly going to pick him up from. Charlie drove off with a cheery farewell and Tommy moved to the side of a dilapidated movie theater that the parking lot used to belong to and crouched there for something like cover. It made the back of his neck prickle to be in the open. The simple fact that every hero in the city wanted him dead was barely soothed by the reality that no one knew Grimm and Theseus were the same person under the mask. 

“What are you doing here?” A voice demanded.

Tommy stiffened and turned to look up, a masked face peering down at him from the roof of the building. He rested his hands on his dart guns. Their voice changer was cheap and the person’s mask was clearly homemade around some cheap goggles, designed to cover the top of their face. A vigilante or wanna-be villain if they were anything. Tommy didn’t think lethal force would be necessary. He stood slowly, bag in one hand and sedative gun in the other as he slowly backed away from the building. Once he was a few feet away, the kid jumped down, landing on the sidewalk where Tommy had been crouched moments before. Tommy cocked his head. He had no clue who he was looking at. He debated just shooting them, whoever they were. It was dangerous to fight someone you don't know the powers of. Especially since Tommy was limited only to his guns. 

“You’re Grimm,” the kid spat, “Gamble’s latest lackey.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed at the person's classification of him being a lackey. He strongly disagreed, but Gamble really had displayed him like nothing more than that, so it was no surprise there.

“You don't talk, do you?” the kid asked, sounding a little nervous, their mouth twisting into something of a grimace.

Tommy gave a single, slow nod.

The kid took a shaky breath, loud enough that the voice changer picked up on it. “I’m Shroud! I’m a vigilante.”

Tommy recalled suddenly that Schlatt had mentioned a new vigilante in the northern part of the city named Shroud. Well, this was definitely the north. Tommy sighed. Did he really have to fight some kid? Shroud had a small, lean stature, there was no way they were a legal adult. Not that Tommy had been a legal adult for long, it just felt wrong when he so obviously would outclass the kid. No wonder everyone used to be unhappy about him be a minor. 

“Get out of here,” Shroud said with some forced bravery.

Tommy raised his dart gun, not hesitating to level it in the kid’s direction, though he had no desire to hurt the kid so his ability didn’t activate. He didn’t bother trying to visualize yet. Hopefully he would manage to spook him off.

Shroud winced, then he took a breath, “I’ll make you go!”

Tommy cocked his head, not threatened in the slightest.

“Don’t make fun of me!” Shroud practically screamed, and then in these awful cracking noises, barbed black appendages began to grow from the kid’s sides, coming through slits already cut into his black hoodie. Pincers grew in his mouth and then… Then Tommy was looking at the most nauseating and gruesome ability he had ever seen. The kid was some sort of spider, with eight hairy and barbed legs lifting his small body from the ground, his pincers clicking together. In a moment of alarm and possibly fear, Tommy fired. The dart hit the kid’s chest and Shroud looked down to see the blue fletching before looking back up at Tommy for half a second before he collapsed to the ground, unconscious as his spontaneously grown spider limbs crumbled to dust the moment he was out.

Tommy blinked at the kid, then looked at his gun. Damn, he really had gotten spooked. Oh well, Shroud would survive. It wasn't Tommy's fault that the vigilante's power was so freaky.

“Nice shot,” an amused voice said.

Tommy looked up to see the Angel of Death coming to land next to him, massive shadow wings making the former arachnid limbs blow away with each gust of air.

“Poor kid,” Angel said, almost gentle.

Tommy snorted. He wondered if this was how they had seen him when they had first met him. Young with a baffling ability and a little too much gusto. Yeah, definitely.

“Here, put this on,” the Angel said, handing Tommy a blindfold.

Tommy accepted the strip of cloth warily.

“You don't get to know where the base is yet. Blood God doesn’t want to risk anything,” Angel said, shrugging.

Tommy huffed, but he holstered his dart gun and placed his duffel on the ground to tie the blindfold around his eyes, doing dramatic jazz hands when he was done, feeling stupid. The fact that the Blood God didn't trust him with information about the bunker yet hurt. Blood God was Techno, Tommy had spent the last month training with him, surely he could be trusted with information like that? Apparently not. 

“Thank you, Grimm. Don’t worry, I won’t drop you,” Angel chuckled, “It won’t be too big of a deal, just till we’re content to let you run around causing chaos.”

Tommy crossed his arms, but then arms were lifting him and a strangled yelp escaped his lips. Angel just laughed and the next thing Tommy knew, he was pretty sure they were flying. He made sure to hold still. Logically he knew Angel's shadow wings could hold much more weight, but it was still terrifying to just be dangling in his arms, riding on materialized shadows.

After several minutes there was a jolt, but he wasn’t released, instead being carried bridal style as the Angel walked somewhere. Doors opened and closed but the grip on Tommy never faltered until he was finally dropped into something soft, a weight dropped on his lap that he instantly recognized as his duffel bag. He steadied himself on something upholstered.

“You can take off the blindfold now,” a voice said brightly.

Tommy did, whipping off the cloth, somewhat angry, and he saw all three Syndicate members standing there, only the Angel was in costume and Wilbur was grinning like a kid in a candy shop while Techno peered down at him through his glasses. Tommy pulled off his mask and glared up at them, “Why the hell did I have to be blindfolded? What am I gonna do?” If they didn't trust him, he wanted it out in the open. He wouldn't just let things happen behind his back again. He couldn't risk being unprepared for another betrayal, though the thought of the Syndicate betraying him seemed like a distant reality, he couldn't afford naiveté. It had nearly killed him last time.

“Try to do something before you’re ready,” Techno said easily.

Tommy huffed, “I’m not stupid.” He knew he couldn't take Dream yet, that much was clear. 

“No, but we need to be careful,” Wilbur said, “Come, I want to show you around!”

Tommy sighed, allowing the man to pull him to his feet, “So I’m just stuck here?”

“Until I say otherwise,” Techno said.

Tommy glowered at the man, “Fine.” If it meant he would get training, he wouldn’t complain. If he trained enough, maybe he could even beat the three of them and then it wouldn't matter fi they betrayed him, because they wouldn't be able to do anything to him. 

“So this is the kitchen, living room, and dining room,” Wilbur gestured around them and Tommy took in the surprisingly nice space. He hadn’t expected their bunker to be so nice, if he was completely honest.

“This way is where all the bedrooms are,” Wilbur gestured to a hallway, striding towards it. Tommy followed and Wilbur led him to an open door, “You will stay here, you have your own bathroom.” Tommy peered into the room, striding into the decently sized space. It felt smaller than the suite in Las Nevadas, but at the same time it was ten times larger than his old apartment. He placed his bag on the made bed and dropped his mask beside it, also shedding his cloak, though he kept his guns strapped to his person. 

Wilbur waited impatiently for him to finish dropping his things off before he led Tommy back on the grand tour which only had one more space in it anyways. And it was a massive training room. Not too different from Gamble’s, except scaled down, which made sense, considering that there were only three of them. It was fully outfitted with weapons, a sparring ring, mats, and workout equipment.

“This is the training hall!” Wilbur said with a wide grin, “This is where Techno will make your life a living hell!”

Tommy nodded slowly, “Great…”

---

Sure enough, it really was a living hell. Tommy was dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour of five AM and Techno shoved a hasty breakfast down his throat only to drag him into the training hall. He focused on movement techniques for what he called a warmup, but it occupied the entire morning. After lunch which a grinning Wilbur delivered, Tommy was dragged into a ring and Techno tossed him a wooden dowel maybe the width of his thumb but only the length of Tommy’s old short sword. Then the man wasted no time before attacking with his own dowel.

Tommy yelped, barely dodging, “What the hell!” 

“Concentrate, Theseus!” Techno huffed.

It was unnerving to fight the man while he was in civilian clothes, though his glasses were gone, Tommy had a hard time seeing anything but a friend. For that mistake Techno absolutely pummeled him. Tommy was beginning to wonder if this was revenge for that one spar, scowling as he rubbed a knot on his forehead where Techno had rapped the dowel against Tommy's head without mercy. 

When Tommy was sprawled out, trying to catch his breath, Techno leaned over him, “You have a disadvantage in that I can use anythin' with the skill I have with a sword, regardless what it is, but you, you have to convince yourself it is a weapon and you have to want to use it like one.”

Tommy huffed, “Yeah, I get it.”

“Come on, focus,” Techno prodded Tommy to his feet and they went at it again.

Hours later Wilbur announced dinnertime and Tommy limped out of the ring and made his way to the dinner table where Phil and Wilbur had set out spaghetti and meatballs.

“You trained hard,” Phil praised, “So eat up.”

“I saw him fall on his ass like ten times,” Wilbur snorted.

Phil threw an oven mitt at his son’s head, scowling, “I don’t see you training, so shut.”

Wilbur glowered, but obeyed.

Tommy smirked as he eased himself into a chair, finding it odd how the Syndicate was there, bickering like the family they were. Sure he had now known their identities for almost two months, but it still threw him off. These men killed people. Heroes, villains, civilians, it didn’t matter much to them. If you got in their way, you would die. That made him pause, but he had no choice but to accept it when he realized he wasn’t too different. If a random civilian tried to jump between his sword and Dream he wasn’t really positive that he would hesitate. Same if any of the Watsons were in danger. It was hard to trust again, but if Tommy trusted anyone it was the Syndicate.

He smiled down at his plate as they all settled into a comfortable meal and tried to ignore the pain in his body. This was growth. It was necessary.

---

Time passed sluggishly and Tommy had never trained this hard. Sure, Dream had run him into the ground, but that hadn’t just been training, it had also been unpaid labor. This was strictly training. It seemed like it was all he did, eat, train, and sleep. He was always hurting and Kristin would stop by occasionally to sneak looks at Phil as she healed Tommy's aching and bruised body. He debated running a few times, but it would only put him in more danger and maybe lose his closest allies, so he never attempted it. However, even on days when things didn't go right or when Tommy was slower than usual, there was always a compliment or some praise at the ready for him. When he would just about collapse, the Syndicate was there to mention that he was stronger than he had been before, that his ability was coming to him faster than it used to. That alone motivated him more than he had thought it ever would. Dream never wasted breath on reassurances or compliments. If he did well he would just get a harder beat down for his effort. 

The only change from the constant physical activity, which was getting easier by the day, was the occasional meditation session with the whole family where they would hand him a random household object and make him meditate and focus until he could use his ability on it, though usually that session was followed by him being expected to hold his own against an armed Techno in a spar with said object. It was hard.

It had been a long time since Tommy had first been brought to the bunker and today the object was… a rose. He frowned at the flower, then up again at the three villains, “What the actual fuck?”

“Try,” Phil urged, “There should be no limitations.”

Tommy huffed, “Fine! But flowers aren’t exactly threatening.”

“Don’t tell Rosethorn that,” Wilbur giggled.

Tommy glared, ignoring the man and instead closing his eyes to focus. A rose. It had thorns, the stem was flexible, but not enough to strangle someone with and not strong enough to cause bruises or impale someone. His best bet was the thorns then. He ran his fingertips over the points, considering. He could slit someone’s throat maybe? With repetitive motion? He felt his aura tentatively reaching down the stem. Something he had gotten better at sensing in the past few weeks.

“There you go!” Wilbur cheered.

Tommy opened his eyes, concentrating on the morbid curiosity if it would actually work, another idea occurring to him. He could shove the rose down someone’s throat. The red grew in strength. Then it was a weapon. He could kill or at the very least hospitalize a man with this rose. It fascinated him a strange way, how broad his ability was. Back when he had been a hero, he never would have been able to imagine this. He was sitting in the living room of the Syndicate's bunker, surrounded by the Watsons who were the Syndicate, and he was capable of using a flower as a weapon. 

“Impressive,” Techno said softly.

Tommy grinned under the praise. No matter how many times he heard similar things, the simple statement never failed to make him full of a buzzing sort of happiness. 

“I think you’re ready,” Techno said.

Tommy’s head whipped up to look at the man, his hair falling in his eyes, “What?”

“Not to face Dream, you would be facin' half of the Tower even if every villain you know helped, and you definitely aren’t ready for that, but I’d say you can start going out as Grimm,” Techno amended, “You can start buildin' a reputation if you want, prepare for after you win.”

Tommy frowned, “After I win?”

“Well if you kill Dream and Schlatt what do you want with your life? You’ll always be a wanted criminal,” Wilbur said, "The Tower released your identity, remember?"

Tommy blinked. “I forgot my identity was revealed.” It shouldn't have been so easy to forget, the way his uncovered face had been plastered on every TV and phone in L'manburg. His training with Techno had brought Tommy out of reality almost, forgetting that beyond the concrete walls of the bunker, the world spun on and the heroes continued to be as morally corrupt as ever. Even villains didn't reveal faces. It just wasn't done, but it had been done to Tommy. He brushed his fingers over his scar. It marked his failure, but it also marked the heroes' betrayal. He had been unprepared for villainy because he had trusted the Tower. And they had destroyed everything he had, even his face and identity.

“Yes, so you won’t ever be able to have a real job,” Phil said.

Tommy scowled, “So you want me to start… stealing?” He hadn't ever been exactly opposed to a little minor theft, but that didn't mean that he was all too keen on the idea of massive robberies liekt he Syndicate pulled, slaughtering whoever stood between them and money. 

“Yep!” Wilbur grinned, “Just small heists first, but you know, make yourself a living out there!”

Tommy frowned.

“Think about your retirement, mate,” Phil said, “I’ve been planning for years, the earlier you start the earlier you can quit.”

“How the hell will I ever own a house?” Tommy asked, suddenly realizing just how much his face would fuck his life over. if he ever went anywhere he would be jumped by heroes. Even his new identity, Grimm, was a criminal. 

“Fake identity and a beard maybe,” Wilbur said dismissively, “We can find a real estate agent who won’t ask too many questions through Gamble, that’s what Dad did. If we have to, we can buy a second home and you can pay the mortgage through us.”

Tommy nodded slowly, “I see.” Life would never be normal for him. It was weird, thinking about life beyond killing his enemies. Well, that wouldn’t be his whole life, would it? Hopefully.

“You can go out whenever you like, but we will still train for five hours a day, minimum,” Techno said.

Tommy groaned, “Five hours?”

“You’ve been doing ten,” The man shrugged.

Tommy blinked, “What’s the date?”

“February third,” Phil answered.

Tommy gaped up at the man. February. “Holy shit! I became a villain in September !” He stared at his hands, trying to figure out where the time had gone. He knew what had happened though. He had been training. There was a daily schedule he followed, not a weekly one, so the days blurred and then months had somehow passed without his notice. Hell, he had missed almost the entirety of winter and the holidays.

“Well you had better get to work,” Wilbur shrugged, grinning, “You have villainy to catch up on.”

Tommy nodded, standing and pressing the rose into Wilbur’s hand, “I’m going out today.”

“Don’t get arrested,” Techno called after him as he left the training hall. Tommy waved behind himself in agreeance to his mentor and hurried to his room where he dug out his Grimm uniform and tugged it on excitedly. It had been buried in his closet so long, he couldn’t wait to go out again. 

“Put your hair up,” Phil said as he passed Tommy's door, “It’s getting a little long.”

Tommy grinned, “Will do!” He grabbed a hair tie and put his hair into a ponytail of sorts, though he only managed a half-up. His hair really was long. He didn’t pay it any mind though, and just suited up.

As he slid his mask into place and walked to the living room where he saw Phil in his Angel of Death get-up. The man extended a wing for Tommy, “I’ll be hanging around today just to be sure you don’t get caught,” he said, “But I won’t interfere unless absolutely necessary. You won't be unsupervised until Tech completely releases you and you've deal with Dream."

“Alright,” Tommy agreed, though he would personally prefer if that weren’t the case. He would accept their terms though. They hadn’t lied to him at the last possible moment. He was really getting to run around and… he didn’t know what he wanted to do. He’d figure that out later. First things first: he wanted to see the sky. 

Angel unlocked the door of the bunker and it led the way to a long dark hall that he led the way through. They came into some sort of garage and Tommy frowned as the villain pressed a code into a keypad, and a hidden door slid open, revealing… a parking garage. Tommy gaped as he walked past the villain into a parking garage he was fairly sure was only a few blocks from the Hero Tower.

“Wh-” Tommy started to ask before he remembered he was in costume and he couldn’t speak, Angel brushed past him and promptly vanished into shadows without answering a single question. Tommy huffed in annoyance, but he accepted it, slipping through the garage till he found an alley, the winter chill biting at his fingertips and cooling his mask. He smiled to himself as he climbed a fire escape, noting an old pile of snow where snowplows had pushed it into the alley. He stood on the roof and stared out at the downtown area and took a deep breath of the cold air, unable to fight the grin from his face. He was outside. He could do whatever he wanted. He could do whatever he wanted . A thrill ran from the base of his neck to the small of his back. It felt like freedom. 

He began to run, leaping between rooftops, fighting the urge to cackle maniacally the whole way. Wind whipped at his cloak and he saw people pointing at him as he ran, but he didn’t care. He wanted a hero to notice him. He wanted a fight. He wanted to prove himself. Energy thrummed under his fingertips and he wanted nothing other than to put it to use. To put a weapon in his hands and weak havoc.

“Grimm,” a familiar voice called.

Tommy turned with a grin to see none other than Domino. It was good to see his friend, he hadn't seen the vigilante since before he had been introduced to the world as Grimm.

“What are you doing here?” Domino asked, teleporting to Tommy’s roof, standing at a distance. Tommy saw a news helicopter in the distance. Oh, this would be televised. Not much of a reunion.

Tommy shrugged.

“I guess I should see if your super secret training paid off,” Domino said slowly.

Tommy shrugged again, but this time the movement hid him grabbing his dart guns. that had sounded like a challenge. A battle, perhaps. Tommy grinned savagely behind his mask. He focused on the desire to win, to prove to the world that he was good, that he could fight. A paralysis dart flew and Domino teleported.

It was just like back when he had tried to catch him as Theseus, frustrating. Every time he almost hit the bastard he would disappear, and then Tommy had given up on the dart guns, fighting with his fists, something Techno had trained him with rather extensively. He wouldn’t always have weapons and his mentor wanted him to be prepared. Domino’s teleporting was slowed as he tried to get hits in on Tommy, and it became clear that Tommy was more skilled than his former neighbor and then in a blink of an eye, the vigilante vanished, completely gone from sight and Tommy knew he had won. Well, as much as he was allowed to with the news helicopter overhead.

“I was hoping he’d get you,” someone said sourly.

Tommy turned and froze to see Surge standing there. The boy wore a different suit, it was more tactical, but it was definitely him. He must have graduated. Tommy cocked his head at the black cargo pants and spandex shirt lined with body armor and jagged white patterns along the boy’s ribs. It was somewhat reminiscent of Tommy’s old Theseus suit. Though Surge’s mask covered the top half of his face. 

“Are those darts lethal?” the hero asked, kicking at one that had landed in the half wall around the edge of the roof. 

Tommy just cocked his head. He didn’t think he had time to reload the dart guns at his hips, and he didn't really want to shoot an old friend with real bullets either. Hand to hand again then. Good, the fight with Domino had hardly been a warmup. 

Surge began to circle Tommy and Tommy returned the motion easily. “You know, people wondered where you had disappeared to.”

Tommy didn’t answer, unsure why Surge kept talking.

“You know Gamble though, right? You were his bodyguard?” Surge’s voice was tinted in anxiety. 

Tommy nodded once.

“Is Theseus alive? Did Gamble lie?” Surge asked, his words too soft to be overheard by any nosy cameras overhead.

Tommy cocked his head, then shook it slowly. He didn’t like telling people he was dead, but he knew it was essential that he did so. The whole point of Grimm was a chance to get experience and practice without being hunted the way Theseus would be hunted.

Surge’s lips pressed together tightly, and then electricity crackled in his palms. Tommy barely lunged to the side in time to not get zapped. He needed cover. He dove off of the roof without hesitation. He knew there was a fire escape there, but he still heard Surge yelp in alarm, though Tommy didn’t slow as he slid down the fire escape all the way to the ground, looking up to see Surge grimacing down at him. Tommy paused, wondering if the hero would follow. He should probably discourage it. There wasn’t much he could do against straight electricity. 

He pulled out a single pistol, aiming it carefully. He didn’t want to kill Surge, or even hurt him, but he still concentrated on the desire to scare him away. He knew what he needed the bullet to do, and the red overtook his weapon in a flash, Surge lurching back for cover, but just a little too slow and he screamed as Tommy’s bullet hit its mark. Surge would have a hole in his ear now… Oh well. Better than being dead. Tommy used the hero’s pain to his advantage and immediately whipped around and sprinted away.

With the fight out of him, Tommy didn’t really get up to any crime. He didn’t want his reputation to be petty thievery, so he mostly just wandered around, debating who to target for his villainy. It was no fun to pick a random target. It was also funny to watch people when they recognized him.

As he walked, he spotted a mugger attempting to assault a woman in an alley and he stopped where he had been walking casually, cocking his head as he regarded the scene. The woman’s panic, the pure horror that laced her screams as she was shoved against a wall. No one on the street looked inclined to interfere. They dutifully ignored her, more distracted by Tommy’s presence. Sure, he looked like a threat, but the real crime that was happening wasn’t him standing there, it was the woman experiencing a traumatic event just across the street. Tommy remembered being told to hide his injuries for the public’s peace of mind with a sour grimace. People were content to ignore horrible happenings if it made their lives easier. If they didn’t know that heroes got hurt then they were infallible. If they didn’t pay attention to the woman being attacked, it wasn’t their business. 

Tommy raised a gun and people shrieked in fear, diving away, but the mugger didn’t have the chance to run for his life before Tommy put a bullet through the man’s skull, blood spraying on the woman’s face. Maybe just as traumatic, but at least she hadn’t been raped and there was one less criminal in the world. The woman collapsed to the alley floor in panicked shrieks, her hands going to her face as she scrambled away from the dead attacker. Tommy watched with a sort of curiosity. He could remember when he had come to awareness in that bank, years ago, knowing he had killed for the first time and he could barely remember any of it. He wondered if the fear and confusion was mirrored in this sheltered civilian at that moment. He wondered if she had finally caught a glimpse of the world that people around her lived in every day, just so she could get groceries in peace.

“What, are you doing vigilante shit now?” A voice scoffed.

Tommy didn’t have to turn to know it was Nuke behind him, but he did anyways, smiling at the sight of his friend. What was this, meet Grimm day?

“She’s probably going to need therapy,” the short villain noted, peering into the alley where the woman was hyperventilating, “Better than the alternative, I guess.”

Tommy shrugged, holstering his gun.

“What, you don’t think I’m a threat?” Nuke said incredulously.

Tommy wouldn’t dare assume that, but he knew that any bullets on his person were weapons to Nuke, and firing a gun at him probably wouldn’t work anyways. That wasn’t a fight he could win. Though if he had some knives? Who knew what could happen.

“Ah, you’re just smart,” Nuke said, laughter in his voice, even disguised.

Tommy shrugged again.

“Want to go blow shit up with me?” Nuke offered then.

Tommy considered the offer. He didn't really feel like blowing things up, and if anything, his saving of the woman just proved he wasn’t quite over his hero phase yet, so mindless slaughter didn’t exactly sound too fun. He shook his head.

“Alright,” Nuke was unbothered by the refusal. “The offer always stands, I’m sure you could contact me through your mentors.”

Tommy nodded. He didn't have Nuke's number in the phone the Syndicate had gotten him.

“Alright, I’ll see you around!” Nuke said brightly, and then, somehow, took off from standing, his boots propelling themselves upwards from the soles, launching him through the air almost comically, except Tommy suspected it was the force of explosions that had made that possible and it somewhat unnerved him to see his friend using such methods as transportation. Tubbo had always been on the unhinged side though, so he wasn’t too alarmed. 

He resumed his wandering, returning to the rooftops for some peace and quiet, just bouncing around without any real destination. He made note of a couple different banks and affluent businesses to look into for his heists. When he had a sizeable list he snuck back to the parking garage the Syndicate’s base was under and Angel met him by the door, shadows sweeping around them as Angel pressed in the passcode to let them into the bunker.

The moment Tommy entered the main area of the bunker he shed his mask, rubbing his face to rid it of the sensation of metal. 

“How was your first outing?” Wilbur asked from the table, grinning up at Tommy.

Tommy grinned back, “It was great, fought some people, killed a rapist, scouted out places to rob, you know, good shit.”

Techno snorted from where he sat on the couch, “Still not tired of playing hero?”

“It was a rapist,” Tommy scrunched his nose as he flopped backwards over the couch beside the large man, he landed upside down on the couch, legs over the back and head dangling off the seat.

“I’ve killed my fair share of rapists and pedophiles,” Phil mentioned as he shed his mask and hat on the counter, “We’re villains, not… scum.” 

“Fair enough,” Techno said, “Where are you thinking about robbing?”

“Places that sponsor the Tower,” Tommy grinned widely, “They all advertise it, and I figure it’ll be more fun to just steal the Tower’s money than some random person’s.”

“Be careful,” Wilbur said, “Those places have better security.”

“I know,” Tommy struggled upright, his cloak making the maneuvering awkward till he could see Wilbur over the back of the couch, “That’ll just make it more fun.”

---

It took a week to plan his first heist and he was buzzing with energy. The Syndicate had helped him plan it out, offering all the advice they had and Angel and Siren would sit nearby as backup if he needed it. He didn’t think he would. It wasn't like modern banks store piles of physical money, most of the job is sneaking a flash drive into their systems and going through the simplified steps of stealing digital money. Hardly exciting and not very fun. So he had some other things planned too. 

Tommy broke the glass of the bank’s front door with a bullet and then kicked in the shards before he walked in, smiling at the sound of the alarms. Rosethorn was on patrol tonight. He wouldn’t mind shooting her. Sure she had actually been a little concerned when he had been injured, but she still hadn’t done anything about it. Complacence is just as bad as what Dream did every day. Tommy wouldn’t tolerate it. He didn’t really want to kill her, but an injury? Not an awful thought.

He waltzed into the building, not quite literally, but pretty close, and he set one of Tubbo’s bombs off to break into the back of the building where their systems were. He had traded a favor with Gamble for the layout of the bank so he knew where their computer systems were, not nearly as protected as the vault, and it was child’s play to put the flash drive into place and go through the steps he had rehearsed multiple times already. Tubbo had been a huge help for this heist and Tommy had promised him a favor in return for the technology and help, though Tubbo mostly just seemed happy to let Tommy blow shit up. Pyromaniacs are easy to please.

As the screen displayed a loading sign, Tommy heard the first of Rosethorn. Boots on broken glass. Tommy smiled behind his mask, pulling out his pistol and spinning the rather cheap office chair to face the door as the hero strode into the room, hands out, ready to grow plants or some shit. Tommy almost wished his mask didn’t cover his whole face so she could see his eyebrow raise, but oh well. Besides, he could only raise his left eyebrow these days, the scar tissue didn’t move quite right so raising the right just looked weird and pulled on his eye funny. It definitely lowered the fun factor of eyebrow expressions. Fuck Dream.

“Grimm?” Rosethorn actually gaped at him. 

Tommy resisted the urge to request she close her mouth, instead leveling a pistol in her direction, giving her a little finger wave. He knew he had been classified as a mercenary, not a villain, but that was about to change. Back in his hero days he would have been surprised to see himself here too, but that was the fun of it, to catch the heroes by surprise and absolutely wipe the floor with them. 

Her eyes flickered to the computer behind him, lips pressing together, “What are you doing?”

He blinked at her, nearly bursting into laughter. Wasn’t it obvious? 

“I thought you were a mercenary?” She spat, fingers twitching as vines slowly crept into the room. “Turns out you’re a common thief.”

Common? Hardly. Tommy switched pistols in a half second, a paralysis dart launching for the hero. She dove to the side the moment he lurched into motion, her plants meeting her halfway from the floor and the dart hit a vine. Tommy’s grin turned a little more feral. He changed his mind on how he felt about shooting real bullets at the hero. Her plants couldn’t block bullets, which made it far too easy. 

In the small room maneuvering proved to be difficult and Tommy dodged a few wildly swinging vines, a lot of his darts hitting vines. He could see openings in Rosethorn’s attacks, but that didn’t make for much fun, it was too easy, and Tommy became increasingly aware that he could kill the hero with a single shot, but he hesitated. It felt unnecessary. Sure she had sided against him, but she didn’t know any better. He made his decision with a tightening of a trigger finger. When a sedative dart hit her ankle and realization dawned on her face, Tommy stepped close, catching her as she dropped into his arms. She didn’t weigh much and the plants around her fell limp with her. He lowered her to the ground as her eyes dropped closed before he retrieved his flash drive, pausing to look at the hero's unconscious body, deciding a little more could be done yet.

He always carried a knife on him and he kept tight rein on his ability as he sawed through Rosethorn’s vines, not allowing any interference with his ability, it might be caught on the cameras. He wouldn’t lose his anonymity over something so silly as being caught using his ability on a knife on camera. He tied her securely in her own vines and dragged her out to the front of the building, unconscious by now and stood in front of the gathering press, smiling behind his mask. He hefted Rosethorn and dropped her on the pavement in front of him, wincing a bit as her head hit asphalt. Oh well, better than dead. 

He paused to watch the cameras pointed at him before he smiled wider, pulling out his real pistol. The press dispersed in wild screams and panic, but he didn’t point at them, instead he pointed behind himself, glancing back briefly to locate his target, a small blinking red light, and then he fired. The bullet flew true and Tommy spread his arms to the side as the building exploded behind him. Tommy was instantly glad that his Grimm mask had built in hearing protection. Oh, how he loved Nuke. As the force of the explosion hit his back he allowed himself a low laugh. There was something thrilling about destruction, especially when he could visualize Dream hearing the news, when he finally realized just how much damage Grimm could and would cause. That made it all worth it. Broken glass scattered in the street, reflecting the growing flames of the remains of the bank. 

The Hero trained part of him wanted to make sure no one had been hurt but that contradicted everything that Grimm was. He was a villain. People would get hurt, it was an unfortunate fact of life, and he just had to accept that casualties were a part of the trade. The Syndicate had killed hundreds, that was why they were so feared, and if Tommy wanted to be feared he had to be willing to use the odd person as cannon fodder. He wasn’t as much a villain as his other villain counterparts though, so he would select his cannon fodder carefully. If civilians slipped through the cracks he had to embrace that fact and move on. Dream would fear him. If not as Theseus then as Grimm.

As the press was screaming and claiming to be injured, Tommy slipped away, running through the shadows and laughing to himself. He didn’t feel like going back yet, he was still riding on the high of the heist, but he knew it wasn't smart to be out and about after causing an explosion. He didn’t feel ready to fight multiple heroes quite yet. He only had real practice with one enemy at a time.

He was almost to the meeting point where Angel and Siren would make sure he was in one piece and not being followed before they went back to the bunker, when he quite literally ran into a small form. He grunted in surprise as something wrapped around his body. It was hard, spiky, and faintly fuzzy and he looked up in disbelief to see Shroud the vigilante holding him in his spider limbs. 

“Grimm,” the vigilante hissed.

Tommy cocked his head, trying not to be disturbed at the sight of the massive pincers coming out of the kid’s mouth. Shroud’s ability was impressive and had so much potential, but Tommy still shuddered at the thought of how those pincers must feel.

“You blew up a building!” Shroud snarled, the spider limbs around Tommy tightening.

Tommy smiled, his right arm wasn’t far from his paralysis dart gun.

“How could you do that! Someone could be injured!” Shroud demanded.

Tommy paused, fingers resting on the grip of his dart gun. Shroud seemed like a genuinely good kid. The kind who really should be a hero. Oh well. Tommy shot him through the slit in his black hoodie where the spider limbs came from his ribs. There was no way to tell if he had body armor or not. Shroud might have learned from his last encounter with dart guns. The kid fell limp almost instantly and Tommy shrugged off the spiky limbs, shuddering a bit in an attempt to shake off the sensation as Angel stepped out of a nearby shadow.

Angel looked down at the vigilante and Tommy noticed the slight shift of the vigilante’s body. He couldn’t move but he definitely was trying to. “Shroud, right?” Angel mused, reaching down to cup Shroud’s chin, lifting it so he could inspect the pincers.

“Yep,” Siren stepped forward, walking around the spider legs warily, “Creeps me out.”

Tommy smirked behind his mask.

“He’s righteous,” Angel noted, “Hard to find these days.” The man’s head moved barely perceptibly to glance at Tommy, “He reminds me of you.”

Tommy snorted, the voice changer making it sound odd. Tommy was far from righteous and he never really had been in the first place. Phil must be going senile. He'd need Kristin's full time care... Maybe that was the plan.

“Grimm?” Siren cackled, “As if! He’s far from it.”

“Had the past two years been different he would be,” Angel said lightly.

Tommy glared from behind his mask. Shroud was still conscious, if immobilized. He didn’t exactly want a vigilante figuring him out.

“Not under my tutelage,” Siren scoffed, “Right, Grimm?”

Tommy shook his head tiredly. No one can be righteous while training to be a villain. Proof of such was currently smoldering a couple blocks away. The Syndicate had definitely influenced the decision to blow that bank up.

“You’ll have to tell us all about how it went once we get back!” Siren said excitedly.

Tommy gestured pointedly at Shroud, wanting to cue Siren to be silent around the vigilante.

“What’s he going to say?” Siren asked, lips quirking in a cruel smile, “When he was out doing illegal activities as a vigilante, he found proof that Grimm is a member of the Syndicate? He’s smarter than that.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, gesturing to Angel. They really shouldn’t just be hanging around.

Angel seemed to agree, leaving his study of Shroud to grab Siren and drag the pissy villain towards Tommy who stepped carefully over spider limbs till he could hold tightly to Angel’s side. It was a short flight to the bunker and Tommy couldn’t help the skip in his step as he walked down the long hall, Siren laughing behind him while Tommy danced around in victory. The moment the bunker door was shut behind them Tommy had the flash drive out and mask off, laughing gleefully.