The Future is Now (Sparks Turn into Flames)

by RedReality_R

Summary:

“It means,” Techno drawled, “that if you’re switching to the good guys, I may as well switch to the other guys.” The avian’s eyes widened. “My soul focus will be to destroy your delightful commission.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Phil stiffened.

Techno gave a manic grin, baring teeth. A crow squawked.

-

Or, where tommy is a year 11 student/vigilante, techno is his english teacher/villain and both are too stubborn to let others do as they wish

Notes:

these characters are c! only, not cc!, but if i do add any controversial characters ill try to give them little screentime

btw the beginning is a flashback, so dont question the italic

inspired by ma_jrs on tiktok! https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSjDBxXgw/

Chapter 1: We blew it up

Summary:

in which i now add dsmp quotes to the chapter titles
"A government got in the way of Phil and I, so… we blew it up.” - Technoblade

“Zephyrus, I’m not working with the government!” Techno yelled at Phil.

A small chatter of voices vibrated through his head.

The two vigilantes stood on a roof facing each other. Multiple crows perched on nearby power lines. Their intense staring left Techno’s neck prickling.

Phil held up his hands placatingly. “Look mate, I get it: the government is shit. But this is the offer of a lifetime!”

“How,” Techno asked. “Just, how? They’re corrupted douchebags. They almost killed you!” Phil averted his gaze a moment. “Or do you not remember taking weeks to recover from their explosion that tore your wings apart? We thought you’d been grounded!”

Chat swarmed through his ears, words rattling around.

Phil met Techno’s red eyes, piercing into him. The sparkle of affection that he could always spot was replaced with clear betrayal.

“Tech- Protesilaus, listen,” Phil urged, “They’ve agreed to forget all our crimes and erase it from the system. We can start anew. And you know that it was Joker who burnt my wings, not the heroes.”

Techno scoffed, “They pulled in a favor to get him to do it, you know that. And what about our duties? Our responsibilities? We can’t just cut it off like that. Also, that’s the government! The Hero Commission! How many times do I need to repeat it?”

 

heroes?

blegh

gross

cut him off, 

he’s kinda mean :(

phil why are you being mean

crow father turned chicken slut

oiling himself up for the heroes

wtf? that’s gross

ur gross

fuck you

 

Techno bit his tongue to stop himself from snapping at Chat.

Phil tried a calming smile. “We’ll be provided with the best doctors. Never again will we have to bleed out on the sofa, stitching each other up. We won’t have to balance life and,” he gestured around, “this!”

 

I dunno, health’s kinda important

but doctor = no blood, no blood = lack of offerings for blood god

oh dang

we need that blood

blood for the blood god

fr

 

Techno crossed his arms. His lips twisted into a tight frown behind his mask  “No.”

Phil’s smile wavered. “Protesilaus. We can fix it from the inside. We can help.”

“What of our purpose, Zeph? To destroy the Hero Commission. Was that not what you wanted?” Techno’s skin bristled in distaste.

“That was never going to work,” Phil waved dismissively. “I mean, seriously mate. Destroy the heroes? Fat chance.”

 

gasp

he lied to us?

 

“I didn’t know you had no faith in me,” Techno snarled. “Go on, run to your heroes. Maybe they’ll save the day just like every other time.” 

His vision tinted red. The crows seemed to intensify their stares. Some flew off.

“You need to learn to differentiate reality from ideals!” 

 

oh no he didnt

oh he did

nuh uh

yuh huh

blood for the blood god?

 

A flash of movement. Phil took a step back. Techno had an axe at his throat.

Instead of shock, Phil’s face darkened. A bead of blood dripped.

“You don’t want to do this, Protesilaus.”

“You know,” Techno started, rotating the axe slowly so the blade was resting against Phil’s jaw, “if you’re joining the enemy, I may as well up the anti.”

“And that means?” Phil asked, holding his composure together.

“It means,” Techno drawled, “that if you’re switching to the good guys, I may as well switch to the other guys.” The avian’s eyes widened. “My soul focus will be to destroy your delightful commission.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Phil stiffened, his onyx wings fluffed up, startled.

Techno gave a manic grin, baring teeth. A crow squawked.

 

yesssss

YESSSS

blood for the blood god?

blood for the blod god :D

blod for blod god !

blood!

blood!

blood!

yippee!

you ruined the chain fuckass

oh :(

 

Phil immediately recognised the moment Chat took over. He didn’t hesitate in grasping hold of the axe and letting a surge of electricity run through. He’d been charging up since he brought up the topic of heroes. Just in case.

He may have underestimated the amount he’d stockpiled. Electricity ran across Techno’s arm, splitting and traveling through his body.

That was definitely enough to kill a man. Thankfully, Techno’s ability dampened the damage. 

Techno stumbled backwards as heat coursed through his arm, shocking him out of the rage.

 

pun intended?

UNINTENDED you idiot

dolt head

dollop head

dollop cream?

now i want pancakes

bitches u aint helping

 

His entire body seemed to jump. His skin seared and popped.

Techno stared at Phil with widened eyes. Phil refused to meet his gaze. He turned and spread his wings, ready to fly.

Techno’s fist tightened around his axe. He held it out, ready to send it flying into Phil’s back. He hesitated.

Phil flapped and flew away in a bundle of tightly packed electric volts. It streamed across the sky, crackling and buzzing.

---

Techno roars awake, throwing his axe that rested beside his bed and embeds it in the wall of his bedroom. It sits snugly among many other harsh gouges in the wall from similar incidents.

He slams his alarm off, puts his face in his hands and breathes slowly, counting to twenty.

“I really need to put that somewhere else, anywhere else.”

 

ya think, genius?

 

Ignoring Chat, Techno perches his glasses on his nose and stumbles to grab pre-made coffee from the fridge and chugs it.

He wanders around his and Phil’s house, getting ready for the day. He ties his hair into a loose ponytail and pulls on a long glove, the skin of his arm fully covered.

 

i dont get why you hide it

licktinburg scars are beautiful!

its spelt lichtenberg dumbass

stfu

no u

technos rlly pretty so i bet if anyone saw the scars theyd die from a pretty man overload

omg ur right

 

Techno sighs, grabbing his gear and heading to work.

 

---

 

“Mr. Blade, please! I can’t handle this torture, it’s making me insane!”

Techno glances at Tommy, disinterested. “It’s a simple question,” he replies, looking back to the practice exams he’s marking, “just say whether you thought Paris was a good guy or a bad guy and explain why.”

“You’re a bad guy. I’ll sue you for brain damage,” Tommy crosses his arms, almost pouting.

Techno hums noncommittally.

“I mean it,” he continues, “I’m gonna take you to court and show you up and all the ladies will see how great I am and you’ll be so embarrassed.”

“Shut up, Tommy,” Tubbo grumbles from where he has his forehead resting on the table. Somehow managing to write without looking, Techno notes, impressed. Techno then remembers that Tubbo was dyslexic and ADHD. He’s going to spend an hour decrypting the writing. He takes his praise back, staring dully at the works he was marking and wanting to cry.

“Isn’t Juliet like twelve? Paris is obviously a bad guy,” Tommy says.

“It was pretty normal at the time, actually,” Ranboo chimes in. They jolt as Tommy then rips apart the question paper and gnaws on a piece.

“I hate Shakespeare,” groans Tommy through his full mouth of paper. “Even his name’s stupid, what the fuck kinda name is it anyway. Shakespeare, the man who doth art shooketh thy spear.” Tommy shakes his fist around, imitating Shakespeare shaking a spear.

“Language,” Techno says.

Tubbo mumbles something incoherent into his desk. Tommy pats his shoulder in sympathy.

“You understand me, big man. Unlike a certain somebody!” he glares at Techno. Techno takes a long sip of his unpleasantly lukewarm coffee.

“Tommy, stop eating your papers,” Techno scolds.

In response, Tommy opens his mouth and lets a wet ball of scrunched up, chewed up paper roll off his tongue and onto his notebook. His classmates all let out noises of disgust.

The bell saves them and immediately everyone packs their items away and rush out the door to lunch break.

Techno moves himself to his usual bench and helps himself to jacket potato in a thermos. The bench is placed on the grass, a comfortable distance away from the usual loud spots.

“Mr. Blade!” The usual trio runs up, each of them grinning. A bag is held in Tubbo’s hands.

“Please, please, pretty please, may we do your hair?” Tubbo asks and Tommy makes puppy eyes at him.

Techno blinks at them. The first time he was asked it was just Tommy, and all he could manage was a messy plait. He scrutinizes the bag that Tubbo is holding like a newborn baby.

He decides he can’t care enough and takes another bite of his potato.

“Do whatever you want, but if you harm my hair I’m expelling you.”

The trio share devilish smirks and get to work. Tubbo has everything in the bag: a hairbrush, hair bands, freshly picked flowers, yarn and more.

Initially, Tommy was helping. However, Tubbo and Ranboo quickly discover that Tommy was messing everything up and shooed him off. He sits on the ground next to the bench grumpily assembling flower crowns out of the patches of dandelions that are scattered around the grass.

Ranboo laughs triumphantly as they and Tubbo finish up Techno’s hair. Tubbo fishes out his phone and take a video of the hair in a three-sixty. Techno sets down his own phone, with which he was using to read news articles, and looks at the video.

Techno stifles a gasp. His hair is set up in a bun, with braids wrapping around. Entwined in the hair is golden yarn. Yellow daffodils poke out. Tubbo and Ranboo stare at him.

“It’s good.” At the kids’ unimpressed glares he restates: “Really good.”

The two high-five. “Where’d you get the daffodils, though? There aren’t any around this school as far as I’m aware,” Techno asks.

Tubbo pats Techno’s face, succeeding in smudging fingerprints over his glasses. “A magician never reveals his drug smuggling secrets.”

Tommy, now released from his exile and donning a flower crown, jumps up and places a flower crown on Techno’s head.

When Techno thanks him, Tommy sniffs fake-poshly and says, “I’m a pro at crowns. They should make me king.”

The three run off and Techno stares at the spot they used to be standing. Weird kids, he thinks as he runs his fingers gently along his new hairstyle.

---

Techno jumps onto the roof of some apartment building and deduces that he’s out of reach before dropping onto the concrete and sitting down.

He fishes the USB out of a pocket and fiddles with it while he catches his breath. He flips it over, rotates it and pushes the lid on and off.

The scuffle of feet followed by a yelped “Shit!” catches his attention and he jumps back up, stuffing the USB back into his pants.

He winces when he puts pressure on his leg, a spike of pain courses through his calf. He hadn’t realized the gash was that bad, he’s going to have to stitch it.

Ignoring the sticky liquid sinking into his trousers, he readies his axe and looks to the direction of the noise.

Some guy, a new hero sidekick maybe, stands, leaning on the window of an apartment, perhaps trying to hide themself despite being in plain view.

They make brief eye contact before the new guy throws something sparkly at the ground. It bursts into a glittery red smoke screen and the guy shoots off.

Techno, not wanting to give up the chance of interrogating them and prying out any information about the heroes, cracks a knuckle and chases after. They have some distance between them, but that doesn’t stop Techno from using his enhanced strength to speed himself up.

The masked guy notices Techno quickly gaining ground; they stop, swivel, grab a cylindrical canister from their belt and from that assembles a bow. They pull an arrow that looks regular before it starts glowing an icy blue from a side section of their belt that holds a quiver, pulling it against the string and sends it flying at the approaching Techno.

He dodges it, of course, but then it makes impact with the roof he’s running across, and gone is the glow and in its place large chunks of ice crackles and spreads, seeming to take over a circular area of five feet radius and increases its area with a frosty crepitate.

Techno grabs their arm, pulling them down. At the same moment they throw a shimmering white marble at his face. It explodes in a flash of red light, leaving Techno’s ears ringing and eyes splotchy.

He keeps a tight grasp on the guy’s forearm. Instead, not bothering to deal with their struggling, he clutches both the guy’s arms, blindly flips him over and sits on him. He ignores the string of curses that follow and instead yawns, rubbing his tortured eyes.

“Get,” the guy shouts, “off of me!”

“No can do,” Techno replies. “Can’t have you running.”

“Then I won’t run,” they try to barter, uselessly.

Now that Techno has a look at the exposed parts of their face and voice, albeit modulated as it was through the technology in his mask, he can tell he was male. Or at least, has the voice of one. Can’t really tell in this society.

“We got off the wrong foot,” the man says. “I get it. Smokescreens are scary for first timers.”

When Techno stares at him, blank and silent, he continues lamely: “Hello, my name is Red Eye, what’s yours?”

After receiving nothing in response, Red Eye squirms. “You don’t have to answer that,” he awkwardly chuckles. “You’re the great Ares! Scary fella. Would be more intimidating if you weren’t sitting on me and rather were holding me off a building by the throat or something.”

“Was that a request?” Techno raises a brow.

“No!” he squeaks.

“Red Eye, huh,” Techno drawls. “You a new hero, or what?”

Red Eye pulls a face. “Gross. Absolutely not. I’ve been a vigilante for a few weeks.”

Techno stands back up, leaving Red Eye to recover from being sat on. The vigilante stumbles with a wheeze as he regains his sense of balance.

“So,” Red Eye starts, clearing his throat, scrutinizing the villain Ares, “I’m not on your to-kill list?”

Techno huffs, “I don’t have a ‘to-kill list.’”

Red hums, clearly not believing that Techno isn’t a deranged murderer.

The two stare at each other. The vigilante is shuffling on his feet, unsure if he should run. He’s clearly terrified though, so he probably figures he’d get an axe in the back if he is to turn his back to the villain Ares.

Notes:

Next chapter is Tommy's pov! My fav to write :0

i accept constructive criticism :D

comment or i chop off technos hair and give him a buzzcut

Chapter 2: Every single night

Notes:

"You sleep all the time!” - Fanfiction Tommy
“You mean every night?” - Fanfiction Ranboo
“Yes! Every single night! Doesn’t that seem a bit much?” - Fanfiction Tommy
(sorry i dont remember what fanfic this is from)

---

Tommy is as terrified as a ghost that got flashed by a skeleton’s behind.

Ares- the Ares is right there. And also, Ares, of all people, sat on him. Which takes a point off his intimidation factor, but. But, that’s still a full-on villain. 

Oh god, Ares is looking at him. He doesn’t want Ares to look at him, let alone acknowledge his existence.

“Just a friendly neighborhood vigilante over here,” Tommy raises his hands in surrender, slowly stepping away. Sweat drips from his face as Ares stands silently.

Tommy’s foot hits the edge of the roof and he glances down. Ares takes a step towards him.

He looks back up at Ares, taps a button on his wrist and yells, “See ya!” before jumping into the dark alleyway below.

The vigilante dissolves in a blur of purple particles. His vision swirls and is invaded with a purple tint.

Tommy feels his feet hit the floor and promptly falls over a mess of cables.

“Fuckin’ hell, Tubbo,” he spits. “Deal with your shit, man.”

“Oops,” Tubbo shrugs from where he’s sitting in front of his laptop. He turns around and scrutinizes Tommy

Tommy picks himself up and nudges the jumbled pile to the side of the room. He points at Tubbo.

“Not,” he threatens, “a word.”

The brunette merely grins cruelly. “You got sat on,” he snickers. “By Ares!”

“What about Ares?” Ranboo asks, entering the room with two hot mugs in hand.

“Shut it,” Tommy warns.

“Ares sat on Red Eye,” Tubbo replies, to the amusement of Ranboo. “Here, I’ll bring it up, I recorded it.”

Tommy shrieks, grabs Tubbo’s chair and pulls it harshly away from the computer. Tubbo mopes at the loss of contact with his device.

Ranboo pushes a coffee into Tubbo’s hands and places Tommy’s tea on the table. 

“He jumped me,” Tommy complains.

Ranboo hums, “He was probably just trying to figure out who you are and if you’re a threat,” they shrug. “He does it with all the newbies.” Ranboo fails to hold back a shiver at the memory of their own first meeting with the villain.

“I bet he just hates glitter,” Tommy theorizes. “Specifically red glitter. Like how bulls are obsessed with red cloth.”

“Ares isn’t a bull,” Ranboo rebuts.

“You don’t know that,” Tommy rejects. “He could be. He’s hella strong so bull works for his powers.”

“I don’t think bulls have regeneration abilities.”

Tubbo sips at his coffee mindlessly.

“Ares told you to not let the truth out. He doesn’t want the innocents to know his secret.” Tommy says.

Tubbo removes the mug from his mouth, confused, “How is Ranboo less innocent than you?”

“Look at him!” he shouts. “His face screams of mischief.”

Tubbo’s eyes move to the corner of the room where a glitter bomb had been recently released, courtesy of Tommy. Ranboo had been the only one bothered to clean it up, but barely so. There’s still glitter sticking to the walls and carpet.

Tommy follows Tubbo’s pointed gaze and scowls.

“Are you going back on patrol?” Ranboo asks.

Tommy makes a face, “Maybe next time.”

Tubbo scooches his wheelie chair over to Ranboo, patting him on the waist. “You can go home now, big man.”

Ranboo gives a thumbs up, grabs their backpack and disappears in a burst of purple particles. Tubbo hacks and coughs.

“Ergh, I think I inhaled some,” he sputters.

“I should prank Ares,” Tommy muses. “How would I prank Ares?”

“Do not prank Ares.”

“I should steal his axe and paint it pink.” 

“His hair is pink,” Tubbo shoots down, “he’d probably love it if his axe were matching.”

“You’ve got some prank worthy tools, yeah?” Tommy asks him.

Tubbo pauses, considering it. He always jumps at any chance to show off his tech. Tommy wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“No,” he decisively denies, making Tommy visibly deflate. “You will not,” he stresses, “pull any pranks on Ares. I don’t want you getting slaughtered ‘cause you couldn’t stop messing around.”

“Boo,” Tommy jeers.

---

Tommy is absolutely not going to pull a prank on Ares. He’s just going to mess with him. Just a bit. Sure, he may be terrified of him but that’s no reason to chicken out.

It’s like a friendly orientation. With Tubbo, he spilt the guy’s coffee over his laptop, thus getting a fist to the face and spending hundreds of dollars on repairs. Now they’re best friends and Tommy is broke.

For Ranboo, he first locked them in a cupboard. That was before he realized the guy had teleportation. Instead, he hooked one of Tubbo’s drones to their sneakers and they both watched (Tommy, gleefully and Ranboo, sullenly) as it flew off.

Tommy stifles a chuckle at the memory as he hauls himself onto the roof of their home. He stands and taps each of his legs, enchanting them to be faster and jump further. He grins as he runs, taking a leap off the roof and lands smoothly and satisfyingly, not stopping but continuing to hop over each building, making sure to keep an eye on the streets and alleyways as he does so.

Cold wind whips through his hair and hood, exhilaration sweeping through his chest. A car alarm goes off and his legs slow as he pauses on the roof, pushing a button on Tubbo’s fancy-ass bow. It expands and he pulls an arrow from his belt-quiver, enchanting it with a touch of his hand with fingerless gloves.

Nocking the arrow against the string in one swift movement, Tommy aims and fires beside the perpetrating woman’s feet. She jolts in surprise pulling her arm out of the broken car window, eyeing the arrow and her surroundings, not noticing the ice creeping onto her legs until it’s too late.

Tommy hops off the building - not before enchanting his legs to not have his bones rupture on contact with the ground below, of course - and approaches the woman, fetching some zip ties from his belt. He whistles, distorted through his mask and voice modulator as he ties up and fights off the flying hands of the woman who’s using too little expletives for Tommy’s taste.

Snatching her phone sticking out of her pocket, Tommy calls the police, name drops the street, stuffs it back in the woman’s pocket, salutes and does some excellent expert parkour back up to the rooftops where he continues his patrol.

The amount of crime was an unfortunately normal amount. Unfortunate because Tommy had intercepted multiple fights and robberies, the usual. Heroes rarely patrol these streets, instead focusing on the inner city of L’Manberg where the villains tend to target. Which, you know, makes sense, but still. It means Tommy’s own city has little people protecting it.

He lays on the concrete top of some dude’s house with a groan, clutching his ribs tightly. Some guy got a lucky shot. Tommy bested him, of course, but there’ll be a bitch of a bruise for the next week or so.

“Fuck,” he groans, warbled under the mask.

“Red, you good?” Tubbo buzzes through his ear comm.

“Yeah,” Tommy grimaces, “only got punched. But it hurts like shit.”

Tubbo inhales sympathetically. “Sucks.” Tommy agrees. Any act of physical damage against him is clearly a crime. If he were king, he'd shout ‘off with their heads!’ and that would be that.

A moment passes. “Lethe was called in to help Ares with a lead,” Tubbo informs him, much to Tommy's glee and trepidation. “They're working on the edge of the inner city, maybe fifteen blocks from where you are.”

“Cool. Thanks Agent Bee,” Tommy says, standing from his seat.

Tubbo complains, “I detest that name.”

“Then you shouldn’t’ve sympathized with that buzzy prick that stabbed me,” Tommy scoffs.

“Sod off,” he grumbles. “It died right after making a small red mark on your oh-so-precious skin.”

“My skin is precious, for your information, thank you very much,” Tommy sniffs. “The pain almost killed me, you could’ve at least spared me a glance.”

He can practically hear Tubbo rolling his eyes with enough strength to whip a horse into giddying up. “Shut up.” The comms are shut off.

“Asshole,” Tommy scowls at no one in particular.

He turns his head to the area Tubbo directed him to. The inner city of L’manberg has tons of massive buildings that tower over everything and everyone. As you head out to the outer city, the buildings decrease size into bland, flat houses and such.

Of course, Tommy would have no issue navigating over the tall-ass buildings found in the inners. A simple tap would enchant himself with strength and sticky-ness, like Spider-Man. Only he's lacking in a grappling hook that would allow him to swing around. Maybe he should ask Tubbo to make him one.

He makes his way over to the location given, taking his time and continuing to keep an eye on the streets while ignoring the ache in his side as he does so.

A foreboding shiver runs its way through Tommy's spine.

“Red,” Tubbo says, voice wavering, “Lethe’s informed me that the job Ares is intercepting is one of Jo-”

He's cut off by a shockwave of wind slicing through the air and turning the comms into static for half a second. Tommy almost loses balance from its force.

Shit.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he blanches. “Motherfucking Joker.”

The blast came from a large office building maybe five properties away from where the vigilante stands. Screams echo the streets as Tommy watches time practically stop as half the building comes toppling down. More explosions, thankfully much smaller than the initial one, ring out in intervals.

He crosses his arms over his chest, enchanting his body to be as strong and fast as goddamn Superman.

He zips under the falling building, watching in slow motion as lovers clasp onto each other and children stare, having difficulty processing the imminent danger they're in.

There's no way he'll be able to save them all.

No one's dying today. 

Tommy catches a glance of a familiar distortion of purple particles, as Ranboo flickers back and forth, saving those they can.

He jumps, rocketing into the air, heading straight for the crumbling building that's actively having chunks fall apart. He slams his fist into the side of it, having nowhere to hold on to so he sloppily sculpts his own hand holders.

Lifting his other hand, he claws that one through the wall as well. He climbs, finding purchase through DIY gouges until he reaches a shattered window.

Since gloves protect the majority of his hand, Tommy receives not many cuts as he pulls himself into the building.

Now, let's not forget Tommy's fast as fuck at the moment. All this is being told slowly but it only took him maybe a second or two in real time to ascend the falling infrastructure.

He dashes through the rooms, enchanting every person inside with a cushion effect and throwing them out the window where they'll bounce around harmlessly and eventually return to normal elasticity. 

Defenestration saves lives, kids. Don't forget that. Maybe that should be my motto, Tommy thinks.

He barely manages to get everyone outside before the building hits the road, debris scattering over the pavement and cars crushed. The ceiling quickly follows its predecessor’s actions, collapsing on Tommy.

Luckily, however, Tommy manages to squeeze himself out before he's pancaked. Heart racing, he breathes like he just narrowly escaped death. Which is wrong, of course. It was not narrowly, no one’ll ever catch him lacking like that. Despite what it may appear to look like.

He stumbles into the nearby wall of an evacuated cafe, leaning on it as all his strength saps away from him. His legs fail under him and he slides down, letting the wall take his weight.

Now, having such overpowered skills such as Tommy's is certainly not without consequence. Unfortunately.

The nausea kicks in and he tries to blink away the spots and dizziness as he's riddled with a migraine. He groans, resisting the temptation to duck his head into his knees. Pain prickles all around his body, painful in how he imagines intense period cramps to feel. Like pins and needles all over and around his limbs. Fuck.

Tommy's heavy eyes look around the area. Police have tape set up and are maintaining the area to not have any civilians running into the precarious ruins. He spots them all clutching phones, some pointing at the wreck, some at Tommy himself and some at the sky.

He pushes himself up barely managing to tolerate the agonizing repercussions, using the wall for balance. His gaze travels through the sky, trying to see what they're capturing in the lens of their phones.

The surrounding city has many charred and smoking properties, none too damaged but set alight and having to be washed down by firefighters.

His eyes succeed in catching onto a black figure highlighted with flashy blue sparks, sweeping in and out of the building that had exploded. Thunderbird, no doubt.

Tommy prises his eyes off the avian, too nauseous to focus on anything specific. His legs give way and once again he tumbles onto the pavement. Everything hurts, ugh.

A cough makes its way out his throat and it won't take much for him to be convinced that it's blood. Although, aside from his initial bruise in the rib, nothing should be the cause of that, so it's likely just him overreacting.

Speaking of potential health problems, he's either hallucinating or a few police are cautiously approaching him with guns and cuffs.

Aha, he's in danger.

Notes:

The woman with the car was actually swearing up a shit storm but this is Tommy, okay? Like, she can do better than that 🙄

Comment or I'll send bench trio to Tartarus (literal Tartarus or prison Tartarus... Hard decision) to get hair cuts from the Fates

Techno's pov next chapter and possibly some bedrock duo bonding ✌️

Chapter 3: Subscribe to Technoblade

Notes:

When you make a series of events happen in your fanfic but then the next chapter you realise you have to link them together in a way that actually makes sense: *surprised Pikachu face*

ah, procrastination my beloved, why must you end? we had such a loving relationship

me: how many words have i written? is it one million? is it TWO million?
doc: 1616 words
me: LIES

Technoblade steps across buildings at a swift pace, surveying the streets around him, keeping an eye out for any sign of Joker. Lethe and him had split up earlier, taking different directions to cover more area.

Joker’s abilities are annoying as hell, fortunately though, a few ways to stop him have been theorized.

First is what Techno’s gunning for: the death of Joker. This hasn't been proven but there hasn't yet been a power that continues on after death, and there'd be no one to activate it either.

Incapacitation is also a valid way to cut off his power, yet annoying to actually do, what with Joker’s defences. His golden bodyguard and that awful green sludge. Techno has yet to figure out who the source of the sludge is from.

The most viable option, however, is by drawing blood. It's laughable, really, that all one needs to destroy his stash of readymade grenades is to make him bleed. A simple papercut would be sufficient enough. Those goddamned playing cards of his as well. He stores them in his pockets and with one touch his power activates, subsequently throwing the card at his target and blowing it up.

Techno gouged a hole through the pyromaniac’s mask once, no doubt leaving a nasty scar over the man’s face. Blood dripped down and Joker’s tactics switched from offense to defence, after he had been made powerless. 

 

yawn

hes probably gone by now

lets go home

the jokester needs to die thoughh

him and his freaky circus

 

His scouting eye doesn't falter, scouring alleys and obstructions and crowds–

There.

Techno leaps off the building, charging towards a section of roadworks. Partially hidden by a truck stands Joker, mask pulled up slightly to reveal his mouth, casually lighting a cigarette with a series of mini explosions and taking a drag with a grin.

His guard is down. Techno opens his mouth for his comms, to send his location to Lethe, but faulters when he catches the sight of Joker glancing at him, grin widening. Techno is only a few metres away, he hastily throws a dagger before the truck Joker was leaning on blows up, knocking back the two villains, Techno into a wall on the other side of the street, and Joker further down the street.

Joker tumbles but catches himself in a roll, using his newfound momentum to shoot himself down the path, adamant to get the hell away from any antagonizing villains.

Ares pulls himself from the crater he planted in the wall, his side stinging from burns that slowly heal over. Ignoring the commotion the beginning of their fight caused, and the possibility of heroes being sent on their way over here, he runs off, following the way Joker took.

Techno moves to speak through his comms once again, before a massive explosion shatters the air and tears down the foundations of a tall building. Screams fill echo the city as a shockwave of wind pierces the air. Smoke gathers around the building, slowly floating upwards, being pushed around by the wind.

 

you hear those screams in the background? irrelevant. lets get pancakes

yowzah

people are dying? D:

yippee :D

 

“Ares,” Lethe pants, the distinct vwoop sound of their teleportation repeating over and over, “I’m on scene, evacuating the citizens.”

“I’ll pursue,” Techno says, “you minimize casualties.”

“Sorry,” they apologise for leaving their post, which Ares doesn't really mind, no matter how beneficial it would be to go after Joker together.

He curses, looking away from the unstable building that topples down. He runs after the villain, who managed to gain quite some distance from the distraction.

Techno catches up quickly, following behind the man who weaves in and out of alleys and around cars, trying to lose his trail.

As he steps by a fire hydrant, it blows up, knocking him into a brick wall. Having durable skin and strength is hell of a life saver against this villain’s ability, he thinks, rolling his sore shoulder and continuing his chase.

He watches Joker tap cars and bins and walls as he dashes ahead, forcing Techno to avoid the minefield of obstructions by weaving around them. Some shocked bystander civilians aren't lucky, getting a violent face full of the blasts, knocking them into nearby walls and such.

 

ouch

oof

chase scene, lets go!

break a leg!

literally break his legs!

yesssss

 

He throws a few daggers, which are intercepted by Joker’s own playing cards, blasting the daggers out of the air.

Techno tactively speeds past a set of the DIY landmines, which blast him forward, giving him a boost of speed which he uses to make a leap onto the evasive villain, latching on and sending them both tumbling to the ground.

As Joker is sprawled on the concrete, he grabs Techno’s forearm, activating his power and covering their vision in smoke, leaving a large third degree burn on Techno’s skin. He groans, choking down his pain, swiftly reaching for his last dagger with his uninjured hand and sending it straight for the other man’s throat.

He barely manages a slice with blood trickling down before he drops the dagger as he's sent flying into a parked car, crashing it into a shop’s window, glass shattering.

He pulls himself out of the wreck of a car with a grunt, rolling to the side to dodge a flash of gold as his limbs ache painfully. He looks over to see a golden trident dug in the vehicle where his torso previously rested. The trident pulls itself out of the scrap, hovering its way towards a large man decked out in gold and emerald coloured gear. 

 

gasp

its the golden boy

thats a full sized man

our foosh!

foosh!!!!

 

The Fool, the new villain's name, stands over Joker, who's scrambling to stand up, clutching his hand over his bleeding neck. The trident slides itself into The Fool’s outreached hand with ease and Fool lifts it up, taunting Techno who grasps his own axe, holding it in front of him.

The two stand there for a moment, before Techno makes his first move, swinging the axe at the man who reacts by catching it in the prongs of his trident. Techno tucks and twists his axe, moving the weapons to the side so he can duck down, swivel and sweep at the other villain’s legs. The Fool stumbles and Techno tightens his grip, slashing at the recovering man who twitches his fingers and the trident counterattacks his strike with its own, forcing Techno backwards.

 

this is so badass

blood for the blood god >:)

 

Now standing upright, The Fool goes on the attack, levitating the trident with the movement of his hand, forcing Techno into defence, striking and thrusting. 

While they're distracted, Joker starts his getaway. Techno has been keeping a track of him out of the corner of the eye and refuses to let him escape. He sidesteps and seizes the offending trident, his strength overpowering the invisible force behind it and pulling it from the air, the heavy weight hardly a bother. He charges at The Fool, knocking him aside and chases Joker into an alley. As he rushes over, he buries the cumbersome trident deep into a wall.

 

dont let him get away!!

break his legs

his chicken legs

duck legs lol

 

Joker turns into a corner and Techno turns to follow but halts in place when he sees the path completely blocked by a sticky green translucent sludge. He pokes at it to test the consistency and finds that his hand can't penetrate it and it sticks to him. With some effort, he tugs his hand off the human fly trap and leaves the alley to find a way around.

 

icky slime

silly slime

edible slime?

o_0

techno can you taste it for us?

just a lil lick–

 

The Fool isn't in the street where he left him. If Techno does continue to search for the group of villains, he won't find anything.

“Damn it!” he throws a punch into a wall, his hand going out the other end. His body is riddled with bruises and burns. He's tired.

“Lethe, Joker’s escaped. What happened on your end?”

Techno hears their groan of exhaustion. “I teleported far too much,” they exhale, “bit of a problem though: the new vigilante, Red Eye? He came on scene, managed to evacuate a ton of people and is now stumbling about, drained to all hell. I need you here, now.” At those words, Techno ignores his screaming legs and rushes over to the original explosion.

“Police are surrounding him, and he'll get sent to Pandora’s Vault if they get those cuffs on him.”

High above, Techno spies a blur of black with crackles of electricity skirt the wind. His arm phantom prickles in remembrance.

He reaches the street and sees that it's now covered in rubble and debris, with police, firefighters and paramedics on the scene and a few heroes checking out the area.

It's not hard to find Red Eye. The vigilante’s surrounded by a group of police cautiously approaching him with guns and power-suppressing handcuffs.

 

NOOOO

the child :(

quick go save him

 

Carrying an unconscious vigilante to safety was not on Techno's to-do list for today. He silently groans, dragging a hand down his face.

Taking a smoke bomb from his belt, he throws it into the street, causing the police to yell out in shock and confusion and civilians being checked out by the paramedics to clamor.

He whisks up the kid, gently throwing him over his shoulder - making sure not to increase his injuries - and skedaddles the hell out of there, heading over to a safe house of his.

Notes:

am i good at writing chase and fight scenes? :] (probably not lol) i didnt know if it was too short or if i shouldve made them do a different action instead and i really wanted more foosh screentime so im upset it ended so soon 😫

no bedrock duo this chapter unfortunately ;( (unless you count the end) but bedrock duo is kind of the main focus of this fic so you wont be deprived of it

“Imagine you are fighting and your opponent materialises a nuke out of nowhere 💀” - Silvernut
Congratulations @Silvernut, you successfully foreshadowed Joker’s powers! or, close enough anyway

quick rundown of quackity and foolish’s powers: quackity can turn anything he touches into a grenade, basically. if he spends a lot of time focusing on something he can increase it by A LOT. foolish has telekinesis but only for gold. goldkinesis? aurumkinesis? idk, google wont tell me its name. also i have a shit grasp on money and how much is too much and such, so idk if quackity would actually be able to buy gold weapons or if they would have to be just coated in gold or what. you can choose your preference, i guess

Quackity: “Alright, Foolish, what villain name do you want? It's gotta be card-related to fit my vibe, else you'd be a disgrace to my whole shtick “
Foolish: “Alright, so, I was looking at these things called tarot cards, and one of them just spoke to me: The Fool.”
Quackity:
Foolish: :D
Quackity:

I need some more characters for this story and i was wonder which you guys would prefer:
1) i use characters of problematic content creators like c!wilbur and c!eret and such
2) i make characters built off the cc!s characters so theyd be inspired by them and quite similar but to the left a bit and with different names
3) i make entirely new ocs
4) a mix of the above options or something else (please specify)
if you choose 2, 3 or 4, feel free to give me an entire character sheet detailing every possible fact, name, relations and such lmao. i need more villains and heroes, i cant just make it be bedrock duo & bench trio against the house of cards (joker & crew) and philza, i need more

if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask them ^^, im not great at covering lore or whatever so i wouldnt be surprised if any of you were confused about some things

comment or ill give tommy an F in his grades. i mean, juggling a job, school and vigilante-ing? he doesnt need this stress, it'll all be on you for stressing him out so much. he gets extra credit for every comment i receive. how does that work? im this worlds creator, i can do anything

Chapter 4: Only want to see you happy

Notes:

“Drug dealers only want to see you happy.” - Quackity

(for the people who had already read the previous chapters when this chapter was published, check out the chapter titles and the quotes i put in the summaries)

BEDROCK DUO 🕺💃🎉

right so i realised that aside from “woohoo, vigilante!tommy & villain!techno bedrock duo lets go!!” i dont actually know what this fic is gonna be about and i need to draw up an actual plot :/
fuuuuckkkkkkkkkkk (edit: im actually developing a full on plot and its lowkey interesting and im so into it)
i just took an idea and ran with it without any forethought
for now ill just have the story play out and ill have to brood in the corner, scribbling possible plot points

Tommy wakes up feeling like he was hit by a truck. Ugh. He groans, pulling himself up from the bed he's laying in. The bed feels wrong, Tommy scrutinizes. He groggily looks around at his surroundings.

He rubs the side of his face, his mask having dug painfully into it from sleeping on it–

His mask? Why was he sleeping in his mask? Agh, his back hurts, he goes to scratch it– Ouch. Let's not do that, actually. 

Okay, so, Tommy is in full vigilante gear, his hands are bandaged, his back hurts, his front hurts, he's kind of nauseous and he's in some random unrecognisable bedroom. Brilliant. 

The bedroom is bland and seems to lack anything personal, he notes. He stands from the bed, wincing at the strain on his legs – the kind of strain you get if you spent the previous day running a marathon you weren't prepared for. 

He snoops through the drawers of the bedside table before moving to the closet. Nothing. Completely empty. Has he been kidnapped?

…

Right. Well, it's better than Pandora's Vault? Unless he's hallucinating. Ehh. Tubbo will kill him either way. Getting jailed would lead to a furious Tubbo breaking him out to lock him in a prison of his own and getting kidnapped would be the same.

Ignoring his pummeled state, he cautiously makes his way towards the hall. Peering out, he sees a couple different doors and to the end of the hall, what appears to be a living room connected to a kitchen.

He sticks his head out and to his absolute shock he catches sight of Ares and Lethe - Ranboo?! - decked out in full villain gear casually chilling on a couch.

“What the fuck,” his mouth runs faster than his mind, it appears. Ares looks up from his laptop that he was typing some shit in. Ranboo pauses writing in his weird journal and gives a small wave. “What the actual fuck.”

Ares turns back to his laptop, acting like this situation is completely normal. “Morning,” he says.

And to make the situation all the more weirder, everyone's got their voices modulated and faces hidden. What is happening right now.

“Ran– Lethe? What the fuck is this?” Tommy's just flabbergasted right now.

“Uh, remember yesterday?”

Yesterday-? He got hit in the gut, climbed through a very broken window, was stabbed by glass shards, and almost crushed by a falling building that grazed his back. The ache over his body must be from the power exhaustion then.

“Unfortunately.”

“Yeah, Ares brought you here because he couldn't exactly take you to your house,” they explained.

“Why are you here then,” Tommy asks in a sort of demanding way.

“I'm in his evil anarchist group thing, you know, the Syndicate?” Ah yes, the syndicate, the group that all the mostly morally-good villains and some vigilantes are a part of. And Ares is a part of that. The same Ares who is click-clacking on his keyboard. Prick.

Wait– “You're a member?” he gapes.

“Sort of?” Ranboo responds, “I'm more of a backup. They have me on the bench until I turn eighteen.”

“Training wheel protocol for the wee babes,” Ares mutters, loud enough for the others to clearly hear. 

Ranboo splutters at that, taking offence.

“My friend's a terrorist,” Tommy says, stunned.

“I'm not–!”

“Ehh,” Ares cuts in, “you kind of are.”

Ranboo appears to be rethinking his life decisions. Tommy decides to take pity on the baby terrorist, promising to revisit the topic later.

“What, is this your house then?” He asks Ares and moves to lean against a wall because, ugh, his legs hurt and it's awkward just standing there. “Lonely, innit?” Ranboo starts scribbling furiously in his book. Jeez, man.

“It's a safe house,” the villain replies.

“You kidnapped someone's house?” 

“How would that even work?”

“You find a random bloke’s house, kill the guy and now you've got a house,” Tommy explains, like that would be a normal thing to do.

“I didn't kill anyone, I bought it. Like a sane person,” Ares lies like a fucking liar.

“Uhuh, sure.” Ares manages to hide his groan well. 

The man seems to be enjoying the brief moment of silence that follows after. Little does he know…

“So you've got what, two houses?” Ares twitches in annoyance. Oh yeah. “Don't you think that's a bit much?” 

Tommy moves to check out what Ares is doing on his laptop. The villain snaps it shut before he can get a glimpse.

“What're you doing?” He questions.

“Confidential work stuff.” Ares says evasively. Tommy hums.

“Alright,” he stretches – ouch, he forgot he was hurt, “this was fun, bye!”

He makes his way to leave and– “Red, no,” interrupts Ranboo, making Tommy pause, “You're staying here.”

“What? Why?” he stares at Ranboo, perplexed and wary.

“You’re in no state to be moving around,” the teenage villain says. Tommy can almost feel the disappointment and disapproval that's hidden behind their mask. They add on, “Plus, it's the weekend. You have nothing better to do.”

“I have work!” he shouts back, defensive and really just wanting to get out of this apartment; Ares’ apartment.

Tommy doesn't get what Ranboo sees in the villain. They tell these stories about them meeting up and doing illegal stuff together but when Tommy looks at the villains he can only see what everyone fears at the sight of them.

He supposes, Ares isn't the scariest one out there. There's Joker’s group, the House of Cards. Very insane and genocidal and makes Ares look like an innocent kitten in comparison.

“Please just rest here, Tom–,” Ranboo hacks and coughs a bit, eyeing the man beside him before saying instead, “Red. Your work doesn't start till a few hours. Please, power exhaustion isn't something to scoff at.”

Tommy scrunches his nose, “You also exhausted yourself,” he defends, “Didn’t you get thrown into like five buildings and ten cars?” he directs that last part at Ares.

“An exaggeration,” Ares states cooly, like the badass– cough, asshole he is.

Ranboo sighs, “Look, we're all recovering and tired. Red, just sit down.” Tommy scowls. “You can go to work later. Just rest.”

Tommy wants to argue more, but he truly is tired. Maybe Ranboo is right. The vigilante huffs and drops onto an armchair, rubbing his fingers over the fabric. He hides his relief at being able to lay down and not further stress his sore muscles.

“Do you want anything for lunch?” Ares’ deep voice calls out.

“What?” replies Tommy dumbly.

“Do you want lunch,” he repeats, “it's noon,” he says, motioning his hand at a clock Tommy hadn't noticed was on the wall.

Tommy just then recognises the familiar pain of his stomach feeling like it's eating itself inside-out.

“Uh, yeah sure.” The hospitality seems strange for a villain. Then again, Ranboo’s a villain and, well, look at them.

There’s an awkward silence between the three of them for a few minutes, as Ares grabs a pan and a spatula and cracks some eggs. Well, awkward for Tommy, that is. The others probably love the silence.

Bored, Tommy asks, “So, what, is this a hostage situation then?” Ranboo doesn't bother looking back up from their book.

Ares stares at him for a moment, “...Do you see anything keeping you strapped here? What could we even possibly want from you?”

Tommy sputters, “You're literally forbidding me from leaving! And what wouldn't you want from me? With my numerous wives and tons of juicy money?”

Ranboo chimes in, “If you leave any earlier than half an hour before your shift begins I'll be telling Tu– uh, our mutual friend.”

“You're keeping me in the same vicinity as Ares,” Tommy raises a brow, “Mr. Mutual-Friend wouldn't approve.”

He's shrugged off. “He's chill with it. To some degree.”

A few more minutes pass of Tommy looking at a wall before a plate is placed before him. 

He must've been staring at it for a while, because Ares says, “Not allergic or on a diet, are you?”

“Uh, no sir,” Tommy replies swiftly. He pokes at the food, tempted to devour it. A part of him urges him to stand and return home, rather than push Ares’ hospitality any more, so he pulls himself up from the armchair.

“I will drag Agent Bee here,” Ranboo says smoothly, with an underlying threat in their voice.

Tommy sits back down. Ares seems to have taken his own food to eat in a different room. Tommy pulls down his mask, picks up the fork and starts eating at a slow pace before practically shoveling it down greedily.

Stomach now full, Tommy adjusts his mask to cover his face again. Soon after, Ares returns with his own dirty plate.

An awkward silence follows as Ares settles back down on the couch.

Feeling the older villain’s gaze linger over him, Tommy stiffens and twitches his hand, subconsciously ready to protect himself with his powers.

“Are you even wearing any armor?”

“What?”

“That seems like a safety hazard.”

Notes:

also, in case you were worrying: no i will not abandon this fic. i just update really slowly because i write a bunch then my motivation vanishes and renews after a month or so

comment or ranboo will steal your gender

Chapter 5: Problem there no is not

Notes:

“Tech-no-blade! Problem there no is not!” - Tubbo

hi guys... it definitely hasnt been 2 months since last update haha

to all the people who have been reading and waiting for each update: i value you all so much, thank you for your support! <3

“That seems like a safety hazard.”

Techno looks at the young man, and underneath his hoodie and cargo pants, there doesn't appear to be anything underneath or on top that could take a hit.

“My powers are perfectly fucking suitable to protect myself,” he defends, sitting himself upright.

“Yeah, I'm sure,” Techno drawls. “And if you get into a fight with Monarch?”

The hero Monarch was a nasty one. Not that they themself are a bad person, just that her ability to cancel the powers of anyone that’s in her vision – whether she's focusing on them or if they're just in the peripheral vision – is hard to fight against.

The white-eyed gaze of Monarch is honestly chilling. It tears down any defence or offence and forces his opponents to retreat. Commonly known for the sunglasses he wears when not on duty.

The taller villain (for a kid, he sure isn't lacking in the height department), clad in their own armor, looks at Red Eye who’s actively avoiding Lethe’s eyes that raise a brow that says ‘I told you so.’ 

protect the baby

get him armor!

swaddle him with metal

Techno debates with himself before sighing. “I can get you armor,” he reveals. “I know a guy.”

Lethe knows him. When they first joined up with Techno and …Phil… they took him to see the guy.

“You mean Sentinel?” Lethe asks.

Techno nods, “Aegis, yes.”  he ignores Lethe putting their hands on their face, “He’s skilled at making stylish armor and rather effective weapons. Half my stuff was made by him.”

“I don't need you getting anyone to make me anything,” Red Eye objects.

“Yeah, that's great,” Techno brushes over that, “I'll tell Lethe when Aegis is done making your stuff and they can get it for you.”

Techno moves to scrounge through a drawer for paper and pencil. He passed it (forced it, more like) into Red’s hands.

He gestures at it, “Draw what you want on there and I'll pass it over.”

When the disgruntled vigilante was done scribbling on the paper, sketching something similar to what he'd like, Techno took the paper.

He balked at the atrocious drawing skills of a five year old, before banishing any related thoughts from his mind. He'd leave that to Sentinel to decrypt.

He folds the paper and tucks it in his pocket. 

Eventually, he decides the others have been here far long enough, and kicks them out.

“Out you get,” he says to the two, handing Lethe a key. “That's if you need this place for emergencies. I've got to go.”

He dials Sentinel's number, resting his phone against his ear as it rings.

“Aegis, you busy?” Techno asks, stepping across the loungeroom to the more discreet bedroom.

A sigh comes from the other end. “Nah, I'm free. That's not my name, you know that.”

“I'll be there in fifteen, then.”

“Awesome.” He hangs up.

Techno rests his phone on the bed – still in disarray from when Red Eye rested in it – and takes out casual clothes from the wardrobe. He pulls them on and hides a basic medical mask in his pocket, transferring the bit of paper he put in his suit to his new outfit.

He's glad for his regenerative abilities, he thinks as he boards a bus. Otherwise he'd have very questionable bruises and sore bones that'd take at least a week to heal completely.

The bus passes through streets, taking stops on its journey. Eventually, it slows to Techno’s stop. He hops off, beginning to walk to his destination.

This part of town is covered in shadow, with cheap rent and housing prices. Not too far away is Pandora's Vault, towering over the place. People tend to move their gaze away from it, fearful of the effect its voided walls give, like it'll suck them in.

Sentinel is weird with it though, his gaze actually being drawn towards it rather than away. The way he seems to admire the prison is peculiar. Techno has theories that the guy might have actually been part of its construction, all those years ago.

He brings a regular face mask out of his pocket and puts it on, wrapping the ends around his ears as he approaches Sentinel's workshop. In the front yard he spots a man with green hair holding a broom and sweeping it defensively at a meowing cat.

“Out,” the man yells quietly, “out I say!”

Techno approaches with a hand on his waist, watching amused. “Cat problems?”

“Not in the least,” Sentinel says meekly, voice cracking as the cat dodges the broom and nuzzles its neck against the man's calf.

Techno decides to spare the creeper-hybrid, bending down to lift the cat who mewls sadly in response. Sentinel keeps a wary eye on it, as if Techno's holding a bomb that could go off at any moment. He fuels the guy's uneasiness by scratching the cat behind its ear.

“Just– put it away and come inside.”

Techno gently drops the cat onto the path, nudging it away. It seems uneager to leave, but eventually scurries off, escaping through a neighbour’s fence.

He follows Sentinel inside the door, stepping through a warehouse with dozens of machinery flanking him on each side. They walk over to a large table, a mess of paper and tools scattered and crumpled over it, big and small.

Sentinel brushes some paper into a pile on the side, ignoring the half that drops onto the ground. “What did you want from me this time?” he asks, brows furrowing as he picks up an obviously misplaced tangle of wires and looking around for its origins before tossing it at a wall on the side of the room. 

“Your axe break, did you forget to sharpen it this time? Or–” he eyes Techno’s standard fabric mask, “you didn't crush the mask again did you?” he sighs, lifting an old used mug to his nose before wrinkling his nose and tossing it into a bin beside him, “You know that's a pain to fix.”

“No,” Techno responds, fiddling with some pliers, “I'm here for someone else. A new vigilante.”

“Huh,” Sentinel taps his chin in thought, “are you referring to Cottontail? The rabbit themed vigilante?”

“No, Red Eye.”

“I think I've heard of him in passing.”

“Well, Protesilaus–”

“Ares,” Techno growls at the man who has a twinkle in his eye. He'll stop calling him Protesilaus if the villain stops calling him Aegis.

“Uhuh, well, I'll take the designs off your hands and work on it.”

Techno hands over the bits of paper, confounded by how Sentinel can find anything in this disorganised shed. He hides a grin behind his mask as Sentinel’s eyes lose their brightness looking over the sketches Red Eye drew. 

“Basically, he wears red and black and uses a bow and arrow. Some weapons to keep in a belt would be favourable in close combat,” Techno informs, watching the man beside him squint at the frankly horrid sketches.

“Got it.” 

“The usual price?” Techno asks. Sentinel nods and Techno waves farewell, heading home, glad that it's Saturday. He needs a break.

Notes:

and, before you ask: sam (sentinel/aegis) and tubbo would be a match made in hell. *shudder*

poor sam, having a phobia of cats (cos hes a creeper) while also being a cat magnet

guess who cottontail is!! (i lowkey love the name i chose, its so adorable)

i cant wait till i get the motivation to write the next chapter, its going to be so good

Chapter 6: Who needs help

Summary:

arson.

Notes:

“Who needs help when you have primes.” - Tommy

im adding the unreliable narrator tag because the character that the povs are speaking from arent necessarily correct in their thinking/assumptions (im not sure if im using the tag right but yeah)

this fic was last updated.... 4 months ago... which is surprisingly not as long as some of my favourite fanfics havent been updated for

we've hit the 10k words mark!!

*back in black by ACDC starts playing*

Tommy strolls down the pathway, humming to himself and kicking a stone as he follows along the path. He's been patrolling the streets and so far it's been rather quiet. He found some teenagers squabbling and intimidated them into returning home. They were the same age as him, he remembers with a sense of delight. He stretches and leans against a wall, looking over the dim-lit street, thinking of turning in early. He has some schoolwork that he probably should do.

Maybe he might be able to redeem his sleeping schedule by heading home now. It would make tomorrow so much easier to get through if he can avoid lounging half-dead like Mr. Blade always does. The weirdo.

His eyes catch on to a flash of light in an alley and all thoughts of catching a wink are pushed away as he pushes himself off the wall and turns the corner, taking a peek around the edge. Someone in full gear, more than likely a criminal, was sneaking around.

Well, the night was boring and this guy was probably up to no good, so Tommy followed, careful not to lose them in the dark abyssal streets.

They weaved through from one alleyway to another, before heading towards a section that Tommy knew there had a dead end there. He grinned as they turned the final corner, only for the smile to drop, frowning in confusion when he can't see the perpetrator anywhere.

“Damn it,” he whispers, nudging a loose piece of scrap with his foot.

Suddenly, he hears a sound behind him, almost sonic-like? He startles and swiftly turns himself around, to stare into the masked face of the guy he was chasing.

“Oh shit.”

His arm is outstretched and holding a pulsating energy, brightly glowing a pristine purple and white with a thrumming noise indicating that one wrong move will lead to half Tommy’s face getting vaporised. He'd like to keep this face, thanks.

“Why are you following me?” His voice is modulated, and they're similar in stature to Tommy. Tommy straightens up, making himself give off a confident vibe despite his fear.

He's basically being held at gunpoint right now, if not worse. So he pushes down his terror and meets the masked-person's eyes with an unyielding glare.

“A guy in a fancy costume is sneaking around and stalking in the shadows, is it not a vigilante's job to check that out?” Tommy bites back. He sweats nervously when the dude's powers glow brighter and hotter, leaving spots in Tommy's vision for him to blink out. “What are you doing then? Don't suppose you just like to hang around dirty and smelly alleys with a creepy mask?”

Masks like this really are popular, especially amongst villains. Joker and his team have it as a symbol, having borrowed the shtick from Weaver, a puppeteer with a mask that's a symbol as taboo as the swastika. Weaver has long been rotting in jail, at least (courtesy of Ares in his debut, and what a debut that was. Actually insane and blew up the internet for MONTHS). That smile will haunt this society for a long time to come, but at least everyone can rest knowing the bitch won't be able to break out of Pandora.

The guy lowers his arm, the light dimming from its previous flare as he pauses in thought. “A vigilante?” he ponders and tilts his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps you can help me then.”

“Why the fuck would I help you?” Tommy asks, bewildered. Are they on something?

“I've got information about a drug that makes powers go haywire." Tommy snapped to attention. "I've seen it a couple times in the news. With heroes fighting against civilian victims, with their powers stronger and more uncontrollable than ever.”

Tommy recalls a bit of that. He hadn't paid much attention to it, more invested in other things, but the frenetic flailing powers fizzled out at the end. He imagines what it would do to someone with a more dangerous skillset. The heroes on tv struggled to fight against the drugged victim while minimising injury.

There wasn't any discussion of it, but it makes sense now. It must've been kept hush from the public. He goes along with the purple coloured possibly-a-vigilante, listening to the information he gathered and following him through the streets, but still cautious of the stranger. He can't be trusted.

Tommy followed him closely as he was guided through the suburb.

“In there,” the masked man nods toward a large building, leading Tommy around the back. It looks like an average company building, Tommy thinks. But he supposes that the worst crimes are always hidden behind the least-suspicious things.

“I can't do this myself because my abilities are more… destructive, than anything,” he says as they approach a sealed staff backdoor. “It would draw more attention than I'd like. Sound every alarm in the vicinity.”

“Not to worry,” Tommy huffs, “I'm a genius at lock picking!” He steps forward, examining the door and seeing the electronic keypad lock.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters. The guy beside him stifles a laugh and Tommy shoots a glare at him.

He rifles through his belt. “My friend made me something just for this kind of situation, though!” He takes out a small device and attaches it to the lock. It whirs to life and numbers flicker through the screen, shifting constantly through each combination as it settles on one number at a time until the password is decided and complete.

They watch it settle onto eight numbers before exchanging glances. Tommy puts in each number one by one, listening to the keypad beep each time. Fingers crossed.

He presses the final number and releases a breath he hadn't released he was holding as the keypad lights up green with a ding, unlocking the door.

They peek inside, eyes scanning an empty foyer. It's empty of course, because why would anyone be at work at night?

The vigilante beside him lights up his hands as a flashlight, brightening up the hallway as the walk through, footsteps clicking eerily and echoing. They look around at the regular scientific equipment, keeping an eye out for anything potentially suspicious.

He walks over to a set of vials, holding it up to his face before the other vigilante snatches it off him with a look. Right. Yeah, probably not the best idea to take a whiff of an unknown chemical.

“How are we meant to find anything in this?” Tommy says, quieter than usual. The eerie atmosphere of the almost seemingly abandoned and dead silent laboratory told his subconscious to not bring any attention to them. Gotta be sneaky.

“They obviously can't do anything that's clearly illegal,” Tommy's companion replies, his voice also lowered. He drags his gloved fingers across a cabinet as he peers inside to view the contents. “There's probably a cliche hidden basement to hide the drugs in.”

Tommy leaves the vigilante and crosses to the other side of the room to the location of a bookshelf, giving his knuckles a crack before tugging at each book.

“Please be a secret door,” he whispers under his breath, “please, please be a secret door.” Nothing.

He stumbles backwards with a disappointed groan, thumping his palm to the wall next to the bookshelf.

He almost trips as the section of wall he pushed on gave way, sinking in and the bookshelf swung open, revealing a door with a sign ‘RESTRICTED ACCESS’ attached.

Bewildered, Tommy turns around to the other guy staring back at him. If he weren't wearing that shoddy mask, Tommy would bet he'd see him gaping in disbelief right now.

“These idiotic bastards,” he sighs, walking over to Tommy, who barks a laugh.

“Oldest trick in the book, ay?” Tommy jokes, pushing open the door to reveal a staircase, leading down to the depths of the building.

As they walk down, Tommy brings up a conversation. “You know, I keep calling you ‘vigilante’ and ‘some man’ in my head, but that's not at all practical and bloody weird as hell. You got a name? Any sort of codename?”

They eye him weirdly. “Vigilante? I go by Star.”

Tommy nods in understanding. “It works with your abilities. Real hot and real bright. Doesn't quite match your purple colour scheme, though.”

“Pur–? The suit is almost entirely black.”

“You’ve got a few purple parts here and there.”

“I'm sure I could get the plasma purple if I liked.”

Tommy snorts, “Yeah just go ahead and throw some rock powder into it like a dumb science experiment.”

“What does purple even have to do with my codename?”

“You gotta have a schtick, mate. My whole thing is red. Just take something and stick to it.”

“I like to stay more undercover than that,” Star deadpans and Tommy yawns.

“How boring,” he responds as they exit the staircase.

Now this room looked like an evil laboratory. Dozens of lab equipment, solutions and cabinets filled with books were packed neatly in every side of the room, against stark white walls. The most interesting, however, was the large cylindrical glass case in the middle of the room.

Tommy makes his way to the books, flicking through and wrinkling his nose at all the chemical formulas and fancy language. He turns to see Star waving at him by a computer and jogs over across the room.

“That device of yours works for unlocking computers?” He asks hopefully, and Tommy nods.

He presses a button on the device, ejecting a USB port, plugging it into the base. The numbers and letters spin, until they land on a completely random and long combination. Star types it in, and they watch the home screen appear.

Star inserts a USB of his own into it, copying everything onto it. The loading bar fills slowly, taking ten minutes just to get to the halfway mark. In the meantime, while Tommy absently stares at the loading screen and tapping his foot, Star makes his way over to the cylindrical glass container.

He lights up his hand, tracing it in a circle over the glass, leaving a molten gap where he touches, forming a large hole. Tommy watches Star pocket a few vials for himself, confused.

Having noticed the vigilante's confusion, Star says “I'll try to find an antidote. Just in case.”

Tommy nods, turning his attention back to the computer. It's finished downloading, so he ejects the USB and passes it to Star.

“This is all we need,” Star says, “hopefully this is everything. If not, there may be information on other labs like this one on that drive.” he spins the USB around his fingers before sliding it into a pocket.

“That simple? Kind of boring innit?” Tommy asks, not quite feeling satisfied with the underwhelming investigation. He expected to be met with guns at each entrance of the place.

Star pushes him out the doorway. “We'll torch the place, satisfied?” And that was the right thing to say, judging how Tommy's eyes sparkled.

He faltered, “What about the building above us? Will there be any civilians?”

“Nah, it's late at night so there won't be anyone in,” Star theorises, “The biggest problem we'll have is when it topples in on itself, but if we escape fast enough we'll be alright. It's better than leaving this be and letting the drug continue to circulate.”

Sounds legit, Tommy thinks as he watches Star’s hands glow and a magma-like goop drips down his arm. Star detaches the molten glass-looking sludge and spreads it throughout the room. He nods and gestures for them to evacuate quickly.

“Let's go,” Star calls and the two of them hurry up the staircase and out through the entrance.

They manage to step safely out, almost immediately a resounding boom and a crashing noise reverberates through the earth, and they watch the building crumble in on itself.

Tommy laughs, leaning against Star. The other vigilante joins in, both of them in relief of the mission going off seamlessly.

Star seems like a pretty cool guy, actually.

“I owe you for this,” Star smiles, tossing a burner phone at Tommy, who fumbles before managing to catch it. “Call me if you want to cash it in.”

The interaction jolts Tommy with a reminder of Joker, who deals in favours. People make massive mistakes when they ask for something from him. Yet they still approach him for them. He wonders what could get someone so desperate.

Most of the time it's for information. Even heroes often go to Joker and his House of Cards for details on the most elusive criminals they face. None of that goes public, of course. It would destroy the heroes’ reputations (which is why vigilantes get the brunt of it in the news instead).

From the distance, sirens can be heard blaring and the moments of peace are gone as the two rush away from the demolished building.

Blue streams of lightning shoot through the air, pausing directly above them before swooping down. Tommy's skin tingles from the electrified air, his hair standing on end. A dark silhouette morphs out of the lightning, dropping onto the ground in front of them and leaving the grass into a crispy burnt black.

“Philza-fucking-Minecraft,” Tommy chokes out, watching the top hero.

“Thunderbird,” Star says, speechless.

“You're under arrest,” Philza Minecraft states.

There really isn't much to say here except ‘oh fuuuuck.’

A serene smile is plastered on Thunderbird's face. "You're under arrest, come quietly." Although he says it casually - almost friendly - the threat in his words is thick and crystal clear.

In his peripheral vision, Tommy can see Star shaking. Unless that's him. Or maybe they're both shaking.

Tommy lifts his hands in surrender, "We're only vigilantes, mate. Busting some drugs, yeah?" He exchanges a glance with Star.

Another section of the blazing building behind them crumbles down. Star kicks his shin.

Philza's wings spread out wide, like he's changing stance. "Unregistered heroes are highly illegal. Don't bother fighting."

"Oh, yes, you're quite right," Star agrees, shifting his feet backward.

At this, the hero shoots forth in a burst of lightning, grasping onto Star's arm with an electrifying grip. Tommy watches him almost fall limp in a seizure, but Star focuses power in his arm, forcing Philza to jolt away, shaking his burnt hand with a hiss.

Star quickly recovers with a wheeze and the two vigilantes take that as a sign to get the fuck out of there, making a dash through the maze-of-a-city.

Tommy rests his hand on Star's arm, imbuing him with speed. Star is clearly taken aback by the sudden boost, falling into pace without tripping over his feet like people normally do. Tommy grumbles because he couldn't run properly the first time he enchanted himself. Star must have especially good balance, the prick.

Star looks at Tommy with wide eyes. "This power - Tom--?" An onyx wing slips into view, slamming Star against the concrete wall.

Holy wings. What could they possibly be made out of?

Tommy ducks to avoid an angry stream of lightning, which leaves a dark burn scattered on the wall behind him. He only gets half a millisecond to admire the graffiti before he's stumbling to the side to avoid getting hit by Philza's wings that have the power of a steamroller.

The hero's fist shoots forward. It misses only because of Tommy's enhanced speed, leaving his hair standing upright.

Electricity circles Phil's arms and veins as he charges up for a powerful attack.

A white beam blasts itself at Phil, making him stumble forward and lose his attack, letting Tommy get a glance over his shoulder at Star behind them, newly recovered. His hood has fallen down, revealing his blonde hair with blood droplets dripping down, mask still intact.

As Star throws another plasma blast forward, Tommy unsheathes a dagger. Daggers, marbles, and a bow. What a brilliant selection of weapons for a close-to-mid range fight. What he wouldn't give for a simple sword or even a bat right now.

Thunderbird is clearly getting sick of them right now, opting out strength for speed and wanting to wrap this up. He dodges a plasma attack and grips Star's neck, sending him tumbling out into the street. Tommy's already shifted his dagger in his grip to make room for his bow, pulling the string taut and letting a shot loose.

The hero lifts a wing to cover himself from the arrow, which lodges itself in his wing. Tommy stands still as Philza steps toward him, full faith in the paralysis he enchanted into the arrow.

Thunderbird's movements begin to slow, and Tommy grins. Holy shit.

"Having fun there, big wing?" he asks mischievously, folding his hands behind his back, calmly walking around the half-limp hero and offering a hand to his fallen vigilante friend.

"You couldn't have taken your share of the damage?" Star grimaces.

"You just gotta learn to dodge," Tommy huffs.

"It's a bit difficult to multitask when you're busy trying to blast a hole in a man."

"Just get good. Can you walk?"

"Probably."

"Let's go."

Notes:

GOLDEN DUO! (chant with me here) GOLDEN DUO!! GOLDEN DUO!!!

Holy shit purpled im SO SORRY it wasnt in my plans to have you slam into a wall and then gripped by the throat and once again slammed into the ground what the hell happened here 😭

comment or tommy blows up (but who knows i might make it happen anyway)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of TFiN (STiF) Collection