Chapter Text
Tommy stands on the ledge of a tall building, basking in the night air. The chill seeps through his red and white hoodie, making him shiver. The building is a perfect spot, as he’d decided long ago, with a nice overview of the city.
Or, more importantly, of crime.
Tommy, you see, is a vigilante. Fighting crime without a license and all that jazz. Tonight was no different, being a day he’d scheduled a patrol. And by that he meant he’d decided, unprompted, to do so.
But that didn’t matter. Nothing did, when he was up here. The city, the cars, the lights- it all looked so small from so high up. In all honesty, he was tempted to just sit here and take in the sight, as if he didn’t every other week.
But the peace is interrupted by a tug at his sleeve. His brows furrow, because there’s nobody else up here. He’d checked.
And there isn’t, of course, and his eyes drift to his sleeve. A yellow string, glowing brightly, is wrapped around his wrist. He recognises it easily as energy, the residue of certain powers, which tends to become visible if you focus enough. Or if your power detects it as his does.
Tommy grins, because illegal power-usage? At this time? This sound like a job for Tommy Innes, or rather, Vivid.
So he pulls a mask over the bottom half of his face, the same with red-rimmed, circular goggles for the top. Then he hops down from the ledge, letting gravity take him before two vibrant red appendages burst from his back. They're like wings, but smoother; made of energy.
The source is easy to find, following the string that’s visible even from so high up.
He lands in a slightly cramped alleyway, wings dissipating into the air. The string isn’t pulling anymore but it’s still there, floating. So he just follows it, which leads around a few bends. With each turn, voices begin to come into earshot.
"Please-please," one of them cries, sheer terror filling their voice. "I-I haven't done anything, I swear- Dictator promised me-"
They're cut off by a hissed "Quiet." in a robotic voice. Tommy peeks around the corner, willing to jump in now if he has to, but he needs to know who he'll be dealing with. Damn you, logic.
"Tell me," the robot-guy begins- given the dim light, Tommy had no choice but to activate his power to even see the guy. He's quickly surrounded by a blazing cocoon of gold, flecked with streaks of red and blue. It tints his from in a yellow light. Tommy's eyes widen. Mixed auras aren’t common, as far as he knows. Double mixed, with two colours, are a rare sight but not impossible. But triple-mixed auras? That’s unheard of. Plus, he’s only ever seen a predominantly gold aura once, and that was...
No—no! He inwardly scolds himself for even thinking that. He would never be like this guy, who he now recognises as Jubilee Line, with his blue-white-red theme, accented with gold. Plus, his curly brown mop of hair that nearly covers one of his glowing eyes, similar in colour to Tommy’s energy, is easy to recognise, even with a beanie covering the top.
Tommy bares his teeth though it goes unseen, because, well, let's just say there's some...bad blood, between the two. A rivalry, but worse. Jubilee Line hated him, he knew, viewing his vigilante persona as an annoyance, a wrench in whatever his plans were, and Tommy felt the same.
But that didn't excuse temporarily deafening him for an entire week because he was annoying! Even Tommy knew where to draw the line- he wouldn't cause permanent damage to someone, like a head injury or multiple broken bones, and that was the line in the sand.
But Jubilee had crossed it, so Tommy had no reason not to do the same.
But right now, he was realising he'd missed half of what Jubilee was saying. Great.
Luckily, he’s able to catch the last snippet; "-steal from me, from us, and get away with it?" It gave enough context, at least. Tommy’s almost tempted to wait and see what the guy'd stolen, if anything, but he'd done enough waiting and watching. It was time for his real job; vigilantism and violence.
"Oi, Dirty-J!" Jubilee whipped around, presumably recognising his modified voice right off the bat. Tommy grinned, though it wasn't visible.
The part of Jubilee's face that was visible, being the bottom because he had a blindfold around his eyes, snarled, and the person he'd been threatening - who had a pallid green aura, flickering in fear - wisely took the opportunity to run away. "Vivid." Jubilee hissed, a scowl crossing his features.
Tommy gave an invisible grin, then did what he did best; taunted. "Awh, you remember me!"
Jubilee, uncharacteristically, wasted no time with a retort. Tommy was taken by surprise as the ground shook, a soundwave hitting the concrete and invading the crevices. Tommy was luckily quick on his feet (literally), firing a golden sphere of energy to the ground and jumping back to avoid the blast.
The energy and sound evaporated against one another, but Jubilee was also quick. A sound wave from the mini-explosion was thrown towards the vigilante, nailing him right in the chest and sending him to the ground. He groaned, but Jubilee didn't even let him get up. Another wave, this time from his own voice, was thrown back at him.
Tommy didn't make another sound, definitely not fearing the repercussions. He just scowled beneath the mask because if Jubilee wanted to play like this, Tommy would too.
Instead of drawing energy from his own core, he drew it from Jubilee's. The gold flares, this time visible to the man himself, engulfing him in energy that bent to Tommy's control.
His palms sweat within a second, heat welling alongside a golden glow, but he disregards it. Every other aura does this, in one way or another, the only difference being he’s never tried it with gold. Or, on anyone but himself. For more than a few seconds
Jubilee’s lifted into the air much like a ragdoll as Tommy's hand moved, sweat beading on the teen’s brow in effort. Nothing but his face changed, which was a blazing scowl. Tommy gave a strained grin under the mask and brought his hand down.
He drew another sphere of energy from his palm, red - using the last of his reserves to make it bigger than usual - firing it at Jubilee's chest as gravity returns, sending the villain to the pavement with a thud.
Tommy took the moment to breathe and get to his feet, wincing at how his hands stung as he pushed himself up. The energy, as it usually did, had burnt his palms. Great.
Thankfully for the both of them, Jubilee had some sense, breathing heavily as he sat up. "You win, Vivid." He growls, pride clearly taking a hit. "But not for long."
With his cryptic words - dramatic as ever, Tommy thinks - the villain retreats, jumping and throwing a soundwave to propel himself up. He looks pretty stupid in the process, but Tommy doesn’t care for once. Or maybe can’t’s a better word. He’s tired from energy overuse, and Prime, it’s late.
Surely his flatmate’d be wondering where he was by now. The teen huffed, pulling the mask down to get a breath of fresh, cold air and goggles up. It was needed for his lungs, apparently, as it felt like the greatest thing ever.
While it was nice, he had to get a move on if he didn’t want suspicion. He just had to get home, think of an excuse, and feed it to Wil. How hard could that be?
—
Very, as it turned out.
Given that Tommy's shift was morning, contrasting Wilbur's afternoon and sometimes night, he couldn't say he'd stayed late without implying his employers broke some serious labour laws. And Prime knows Wilbur would be on that.
The walk (walk, because he literally didn't have it in him to use wings) home was shorter - fucking time - so Tommy had to think. Fast.
As he was turning the key, he still didn't have a valid lie. Time was, and had, run out.
But when the door swung open, the lights were off. So was the TV, and there was no noise from Wilbur. It was eerie, to say the least, and confusing. "Wil!" He calls loudly, exaggeratedly, letting the door slam shut as he flicked a light switch.
"You there?" No, apparently, as no response came. Odd, and slightly concerning.
Today was an afternoon shift, right? Usually, he would've been back by now, giving Tommy the third degree for 'worrying him', but he wasn't. Tommy ran it over in his head, sitting down on the apple red couch and turning the TV on. The news, ugh.
Where else could Wilbur be? Not in the apartment, obviously, because even asleep or hiding he made noise. Out? He didn't have friends aside from Tommy. And Phil. And Techno, but they weren't the types to 'hang out' at this hour. At his second job? No, that was morning, wasn't it?
Then the door swung open, Tommy coming to the startling realisation he hadn't locked it, and in steps a person.
A familiar one, luckily. Wilbur Soot, disheveled, with a stupid grin on his face.
"I'mmm bacckk!" He announces, drawing out the words with bravado. Tommy blinks owlishly.
"Where were you?" He got straight to the point. Wilbur flinched, unnoticed by Tommy.
"At work? Hold up, kept me late.” He explains simply, smile tugging at his lips.
Ah. Tommy was an idiot for not thinking of that. He tells himself so.
"Oh." He replies intelligently. Wilbur snorts, having locked the door behind him, and saunters to the couch. His brown eyes drift to the TV, and he raises a brow.
"Were you watching The News?" He asks, incredulous, because Tommy had a history of calling the News boring, and just reporting on things everyone knows, like Jubilee line or Puppeteer attacking like it's a surprise.
Tommy squawks in indignation. If his wings were out they would've puffed. "No! Why would i—of course not! T'was the first thing on when I got back, didn't think to change it!"
Wilbur grins, completely ignoring the blond's words. "Awh, my baby brother's getting interested in the news. He's all grown up." His voice's filled with faux sadness, dramatic as always, and Tommy's face burns hot. So he does the logical thing, and chucks a pillow at him.
"Ow!"
"That's what you get, dickhead."