TommyInnit's Foolproof Guide To Having Too Many Identities

by RevenantMotif

Summary:

It was surprisingly hard to keep a vigilante presence off the radar.
Somehow, it was when Tommy was using his identity that could literally turn invisible, that he’d been almost immediately clocked by the heroes. He’d really only been just starting to have a presence when the heroes cornered him about it. Surprisingly, instead of attempting arrest, they’d recruited him. And who was he to say no to free access to the hero database and nice bathrooms?
One power per secret identity, that was his rule, and he still had a couple more up his sleeve. The heroes could have one. As a treat. He was generous like that. He’d just take more care to keep his other identities off the radar.
Simple.
If only things worked out as planned. Somehow, it hadn’t taken long for his next vigilante persona to be noticed as well, though not by heroes this time.
“I hear you talk to ghosts.” Said a deadpan voice.

--

Tommy can't help wanting to help, and he keeps getting powers so why not have more than one secret identity, yeah? Hero, vigilante, villain, coffee barista, and maybe one other.

Or I read so, so many vigilante fics that I caved in and stuffed all of my ideas into one fic.

Notes:

• Inspired by Just One Mistake (is all it will take) by Bluestrasa
• Inspired by We Don't Make The Rules, We Simply Break Them by Dragonire
• Inspired by [Restricted Work] by titanthesleepyrat (Log in to access.)

Chapter 1: Lesson 1: Don’t Put All Your Powers In One Basket

Tommy Innit was a normal person, and an adult no less, who worked at a coffee shop and got sleep at night. Life was boring and mundane and simple.

And he had a house.

Tommy sighed as he put on his apron. At least the coffee shop part was true.

And, legally, according to his fake ID, so was the adult part.

He didn’t mind working the morning shift, but he did mind a lot of the customers. Generally, about half the people who desperately needed coffee in the morning were not, in fact, morning people. And Tommy had to deal with them before they had their wake-me-up drink. To his credit, even if he never grew to enjoy it, he was very experienced in handling annoying people.

Experienced, and still awful at it.

He hadn’t been fired yet though, which felt like a huge accomplishment, even though the owner was the sweetest woman on earth. Why Kristin had taken one look at Tommy with his fake ID and no shoes and decided, yeah, he’s barista material, he’d probably never know. But he’d be forever grateful that she did, and for her, he would put up with the grumpy morning crowd.

Thankfully, the next customer looked like the quiet type. As someone who couldn’t relate, Tommy was still glad people like this guy existed in the world. If everyone was loud, no one would hear him, and that would be the greatest tragedy.

The customer was tall, glasses perched on his nose, looking like he’d pulled an all-nighter. Maybe he was a grad student, and had a paper due last night or something. His hair was a light pink, pulled back and looking like it had since been through hurricane winds. On some nights, Kristin kept the store open late specifically for the influx of students racing to finish homework. Somehow, she always knew whenever those rushes were going to happen. If this guy really was a grad student, he was off-sync with the rest of the crowd.

So maybe not a grad student. Maybe he was a teacher.

“Hullo, what can I get started for you?” Tommy asked brightly.

“Uh, hot macchiato. Thanks.”

“Sure thing big man,” Tommy said, putting it into the system. “What flavor?”

“None.”

Yeah, he had to be a teacher. Who else would be so desperate to wake up that they waved the opportunity to sweeten the taste, in favor of letting the bitterness slap them awake? Tommy couldn’t understand anyone who didn’t want at least a little sugar in their coffee. He liked to pretend that the sweetened, flavored macchiato was the only version of the drink.

“None flavor.” Tommy repeated flatly. Stupid early morning people. No one knew how to have fun.

“I mean, technically espresso is the flavor.” The guy pointed out.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, just go on and say you had a bad night and now nothing but bitterness makes you feel something. We’ve all been there.” Tommy hadn’t, actually, been there. Even after all of his absolutely normal and definitely calm life, he’d never reached the point of not putting sugar in his coffee. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

The guy raised his eyebrows, the vaguest hint of a dry smile on his lips. “Nah, just the macchiato that’ll make me feel something. It was this or set a building on fire. Did you know your name tag is upside-down?”

“Yeah it’s supposed to be like that.” Tommy said, ringing up the drink. The name tag wasn’t even his, it belonged to an employee who didn’t work there anymore. “Keeps people guessing. Could I get a name for your order?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s Techno.”

Tommy snorted, reaching for a cup. “Yeah? Lovely music genre. In that case, you can call me Synth. Just follow the prompts on the screen to pay.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Man, if I were a superhero I’d go by the name Synth. Superhero names are wasted on people with powers. Synth is way cooler than something like Blink.”

“There’s a hero called Blink now?” Techno asked, using his card to pay.

Tommy shrugged. “Yeah, they just announced it. Apparently he’s gonna debut this week. Got invisibility powers or something.”

Techno shook his head. “Can’t keep up with all the new heroes. Didn’t they just get two new ones?”

“Yeah, Undergrowth and Voidwalker.” Tommy grabbed a pen, writing ‘Techno’ on the cup. “If you ask me, they seem a little desperate.”

Heroes were still loved and respected by most of the city, but they’d never quite fully recovered their reputation after the incident nearly two years ago. Not when the great hero Blade had drawn the people’s most beloved vigilante to his death, marking his downfall into villainy. And not when his teammate Nightingale had broken him out of prison after his initial arrest, severing what was left of the public’s trust.

Icarus had been a healer; a power so rare it hadn’t been heard of, until he showed up in the back alleys and dangerous sides of the city. Even then, the vigilante had only been whispers and rumors until a very public appearance in the midst of a hero and villain fight, earning the name given by the public along with a warrant from the heroes for vigilantism.

In the end, Icarus had lived up to his name a little too well, falling to his death almost two years later, despite his shimmering golden wings.

So no, people just didn’t trust the heroes much anymore. The hero committee, it seemed, was still scrambling to find someone new to be the people’s darling, and raise their ratings back to what they used to be.

Not that any of that was Tommy’s business.

Tommy went to work on pulling the espresso shots and foaming milk. He was in a chipper mood, all things considered. His day was going so well, it felt like hardly any time had passed, when he’d really been there for . . . he looked up at the clock with a grin, which faded as he read the time. He’d been working for half an hour.

His disappointment was immeasurable and the day was ruined.

The door bell chimed as he finished the drink, putting it out on the counter. “A none flavor macchiato for the music genre Techno!” he called out, immediately turning his attention to whoever had just walked in.

Kristin stood there with an eyebrow raised. They’d already talked a few times about ad-libbing when drinks were ready. Honestly, Tommy saw it as a compliment. People had to stand out to him in order to think of something creative to call. “Oh, hey Kristin. You’re here early.” he greeted.

“Hi Tommy.” She said, shaking her head with a smile. “I’m getting a head start on inventory this morning.”

The customer’s voice cut in. “Your name tag does not say Tommy on it.”

Tommy looked down at his name tag. “How would you know? It’s upside-down.”

“Yeah, I can actually read words upside down.”

Tommy frowned. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Sure.” Techno laughed. “Alright then, see ya Tommy.” The bell rang again as he left.

Kristin paused on her way to the back. “Hey, thanks for opening today. I hate giving you back-to-back shifts like this. Especially since you have to walk to and from home in the dark.”

Tommy shrugged. He’d told her long ago it wasn’t a problem, but his occasional bruises had made convincing her difficult. “Don’t worry about it, no one’s gonna target me on the streets. Criminals see me and run screaming.”

“. . . I’m sure they do. Did you at least get some sleep?”

“Yup.” Tommy lied, like the liar that he was. “Like a babe.”

He definitely hadn’t been running around the city in between his closing and opening shifts. What kind of idiot would do something like that? That’s what people would do if they wanted to get mugged. Tommy never got mugged, he was simply too poor for it. That and other reasons.

Normal reasons.

Kristin narrowed her eyes, but didn’t say anything more as she disappeared to start inventory.

The hours passed slowly, Kristin left for lunch. The morning crowd dissipated, leaving the cafe empty for a quiet day. A quiet, slow day. That was a good thing, Tommy reasoned with himself. It stopped every day from blurring together. Made him slow down. Gave him time to think. Have thoughts. Ponder. Reflect.

So of course he tried to disassemble the espresso machine and fix the death-rattle sound it always made, instead of leaving it to the repairman who said he’d be by to fix it two weeks ago.

As it turned out, the machine was supposed to be unplugged before getting disassembled. Or at least turned off.

But Tommy hadn’t stopped to think about that.

A bolt of electricity snapped through his body, flinging him off the counter he’d climbed to get a better look. Tommy let out a loud yelp, his vision flashing white as he slammed into the floor. His head collided with the cabinet under the counter.

Tommy groaned. That was . . . painful. Good thing no one saw him.

“What the—are you okay?”

Shoot.

It was entirely possible someone might have walked inside in time to witness his electrocution. That was awkward. Tommy reached up to grab the countertop, pulling himself up as he blinked rapidly to get his sight back.

“Hullo, welcome to my job, what can I get started for you?” he said in the general direction of the register. His tongue was only slightly numb.

Hands grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. “Whoa, hold on there. That was a nasty hit.”

Tommy’s sight slowly returned, bringing the man in front of him into focus. Blond hair, blue eyes. It was like looking into a funhouse mirror that made him look like an old man. He frowned. “Um, customers aren’t allowed behind the counter.”

“I’ll go right back once you stop going cross-eyed there, mate.”

Sounded reasonable. Tommy squinted. “How did you even get back here so fast?”

The man held up two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Eleven.”

The man frowned. Not in the mood for jokes then. Well, that was too bad. Tommy grinned back, finally finding his balance again. He glanced over the man’s shoulder. “Did you jump over the counter?”

“That’s not important right now. It looked like you hit your head pretty hard, you might have a concussion.”

Tommy shrugged. “Nah, it takes more than that to get me. There’s no way you jumped the counter, right? You’re, what, fifty?”

“I’m really not.”

He nodded, brushing the man’s hands off his shoulders. “Whatever you say, old man. What can I get started for you today? Unfortunately, our espresso machine just broke. We have drip coffee and uhhhh . . .” he stared at the small refrigerator. “Milk.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? I could take you to a doctor.”

Tommy walked over to the register. He’d been through worse. “Oh, yeah, totally. Fit as rain or whatever. You can get out from behind the counter now.”

Thankfully, the man obliged, swinging around to his proper place to take an order. He still looked at Tommy like he could activate x-ray vision and check for broken bones, but he ordered a cup of coffee like a boring old adult.

Never mind it was the only option at the moment.

“Name for the order?” Tommy asked automatically. His muscles were aching.

“Phil.” the man said. His eyes narrowed on Tommy’s nametag. “And your name is . . . Reginald?”

“Nope.” Tommy said. “Not my nametag.”

“Ah. Well I’ll call you Reginald then unless—”

“It’s Tommy.” He interrupted. A good name. Common name. A real name, even.

And it belonged to him. That’s what his ID said.

He whirled around to grab the coffee before the conversation could turn awkward. His head hurt where he’d smacked it after being launched away from the espresso machine. He was going to need to fix that before Kristan got back. Maybe with it unplugged this time.

“Black coffee for Phil!” he called as he turned to place the drink on the counter. Phil, leaning on said counter, flinched slightly at being yelled at from two feet away. Tommy offered him a sheepish grin. “Oh, oops.”

The man laughed, taking his drink. “I know how customer service habits are, you’re good mate.”

“You’ve worked in food service?” Tommy asked, not sure why he found that surprising. It probably shouldn’t be, considering how fast that man got behind the counter after Tommy had electrocuted himself.

“Retail, but yeah, similar enough.” Phil gave a knowing shake of his head. “Can’t say I miss it. I think if I’d stayed any longer it would’ve been my villain origin story.”

Tommy nodded, deadpan. “If I can’t fix the stupid espresso machine it might be mine.”

“Aren’t you supposed to call a mechanic for that? I doubt you’re paid enough for it to be your problem.”

“Yeah, well,” Tommy shrugged, “they don’t call me Tommy Problem Innit for nothing.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Want me to take a look at it?”

“Nah, Kristin won't get sued if I get hurt tinkering around with the machines, but she sure could be if a customer gets hurt on my watch. Unfortunately, your safety is my top priority, old man.”

The guy looked like he wanted to make a retort to that, but instead settled on “Kristin’s the owner, I take it?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, but if you wanna sue, her name is Helen Bubbleberry.”

“Understood.” Phil laughed, pulling away from the counter with a two fingered salute. “Call a mechanic, Tommy. It’s faster to fix when it’s only whatever the original problem was.”

“Sure thing, big man.” Tommy lied.

This time around, he remembered to turn off the machine first. By the time Kristin came back, it was reassembled and working again if you hit it just right. Well, reassembled aside from a weird shaped piece and two screws he couldn’t figure out.

They probably weren’t important.

--------

Tommy left out the back door, locking it behind him. He took a deep breath, and then coughed at the less than stellar air he’d breathed in. It was growing dark, the sun disappearing behind buildings and casting the ground into shadows that would only deepen as the night settled in. The city was alive with people rushing home from work or leaving their house to have fun.

Tommy did neither, because Tommy didn’t have a house.

Which was fine, really. It saved him a lot of money, which he spent on much better, cooler things. He didn’t actually need a bed anyway. Hadn’t for . . . a couple years.

It was a weird side effect to an extra power he’d discovered then, but it did wonders for balancing a daytime job and nighttime shenanigans. Unfortunately, he still experienced feeling tired, as anyone did after working a food service job. Or, drink service job.

Forcing himself to be alert of his surroundings, Tommy casually strolled through the alleyways. He wasn’t the only one who used them as shortcuts or an alternatively stealthy way to get around, but they’d never held anything close to busy traffic. After a couple turns, Tommy lept up onto a dumpster that had a gap between it and the back of a store. Both gaps on either end of the narrow space were blocked off with boxes and outdoor holiday decorations. Tommy stepped off the edge and fell the short distance into the crack. He stooped down and grabbed a plain, dirty, black backpack with a grin. It wasn’t his only stash of personal belongings by any means—it wasn’t even his only stash of these specific items—but it was always a pleasant surprise to find things where he left them.

Quickly, Tommy changed. A thin gray trench coat was thrown over his long-sleeved white-and-red shirt, and his jeans were traded for black cargo pants. He checked for the first aid supplies he kept in one of the bigger pockets, making sure nothing had gone missing or needed a restock before grabbing a gray cloth face mask to put over his mouth. The last item was a small voice changer that fit around his throat, and he double-checked he’d turned it on before zipping the backpack closed and returning it to its hiding spot.

Getting out was always a bit trickier than getting in, but he’d done it enough times by now that it was muscle memory to grab the dumpster ledge, plant a foot on the wall behind him, and parkour his way up the narrow space.

Clambering back down into the open alley, Tommy let out a sigh of relief and let his eyes change into a dimly glowing silver. Wispy phantoms took shape around him.

The time to fight crime had just begun.

------

It was surprisingly hard to keep a vigilante presence off the radar.

Somehow, it was when Tommy was using his identity that could literally turn invisible, that he’d been almost immediately clocked by the heroes. He’d really only been just starting to have a presence when the heroes cornered him about it. Surprisingly, instead of attempting arrest, they’d recruited him. And who was he to say no to free access to the hero database and nice bathrooms?

One power per secret identity, that was his rule, and he still had a couple more up his sleeve. The heroes could have one. As a treat. He was generous like that. He’d just take more care to keep his other identities off the radar.

Simple.

If only things worked out as planned. Somehow, it hadn’t taken long for his next vigilante persona to be noticed as well, though not by heroes this time.

“I hear you talk to ghosts.” Said a deadpan voice.

Tommy’s heart leapt into his throat as he whipped around, stuck between a defensive position and the urge to bolt. He knew who he’d find connected to that voice even before turning around, but the foreboding figure before him still stole a little too much of his breath away anyway.

The Blade was not someone he wanted to fight. Ever. The once-hero had fallen from favor into villainy, now leading one of the most powerful villain organizations called the Syndicate. He was vicious and masterful with the sword, his fighting skills unmatched, his brain a mastermind of strategy.

And he could bloodbend.

Which meant it was technically too late for Tommy to run. He’d already accidentally met the man’s glowing red eyes. That tiny detail wasn’t about to stop him from trying, though. If he saw an opportunity.

The villain snorted, unimpressed. “Calm down, I just wanna have a chat.”

Right, because the Blade was so well known for his conversation skills.

“Yeah okay I’ll get you in touch with my secretary,” Tommy said, trying to match his tone, and not ramble like any reasonable person would when facing the Blade. “We’ll set something up. I think Septembruary is open on my calendar.”

His eyes were dimly glowing silver, just enough that he could see what phantoms were nearby. One in particular was always there, his shadow ever since he’d discovered his ghost powers. A small girl who had once had soft copper hair and dark gray eyes.

Clementine.

She was currently gaping at the Blade. He had always been something of a favorite hero to her, even after he’d become a villain. At least if Tommy died tonight she’d be thrilled it was at the Blade’s hands.

“Or we could just talk now.” The Blade pointed out, “I’d hate to bother what I’m sure must be an already busy secretary.”

Tommy nodded, like the man had made a reasonable point, like he’d take a moment to consider that reasonable point; and then he bolted. He made it all of three steps before his body seized up, drawing him to a sudden halt. It felt like pressure pressing from every side, especially inside, and that pressure now controlled his limbs like a puppet.

Rude. And with his muscles so sore from being electrocuted earlier, too.

He was turned back around to face the Blade. Thankfully, his mouth was still in his own control, so he went ahead and used it. “You could have just started with this, you know. It’s a cruel thing to give a man hope before you rip it away.”

“I try not to use it if I don’t have to.” The man replied, and to Tommy’s surprise, he released his hold. “You’re called Orpheus, right?”

The rush of blood being released to its natural rhythm made Tommy sway where he stood, his vision filled with stars for a second before returning to normal. He regained his senses just fast enough to process the villain's words. He let his power surge briefly, the silver in his eyes brightening as he let some of his phantoms flicker into visibility, and then fade. “Yup. That’s me. What can I do for you mister Blade?”

“I’m looking for someone.” He started. “A ghost, most likely, or someone ghosts might know.” He held out a paper.

Tommy took it, scanning over what seemed to be a missing person file. It took him a moment to absorb any of the information written there, mostly because this was not the sort of thing he’d expect the Blade to ask the renowned Orpheus for help with. Perhaps he was tracking down an old enemy, or someone who owed him money, or . . .

A kid.

The boy on the paper looked like he was in his mid-teens, with blond hair and gray eyes. The boy’s name was Karl, and that combined with his portrait rang a bell in the back of Tommy’s mind. He read farther down until he found it. The kid had been reported missing by his foster family, about two years ago.

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “What, you’re working for the foster care system now?”

The Blade looked surprised. “You know who he is?”

“Vaguely.” Tommy shrugged. “I try to keep tabs on missing kids. I don’t want them to end up as one of my phantoms.”

Silence followed his statement, settling the weight of his words into his bones. Even with his eyes only dimly glowing, he could see Clementine peeking at the paper. What he wouldn’t have done to be able to keep her from being a phantom . . .

He shook himself out of that train of thought. “This is an old case, though. Anything I should know to look for specifically? It’s a pretty cold trail.”

The Blade looked at Tommy in a way that felt thoughtful. Assessing. “He disappeared around the same time Icarus died.” He said slowly.

Tommy’s heart thudded dully against his ribcage. Icarus. The city’s favorite vigilante. The one the Blade was so well known for killing. The one who was dead. His mouth felt dry. “You’re trying to find Icarus?”

“They never found his body.” The Blade said. “And the heroes are too busy blaming me to look for it themselves.”

Tommy startled, first looking up at the fallen hero, and then to Clementine. She was looking up at him, something almost shining in her faded eyes. “Maybe he can help.”

He swallowed hard, looking back at the picture of the missing kid. He was too old to be Icarus, by several years, but no one else would know that. This boy had also been reported missing about four days after the famous vigilante fell. The villain wasn’t going to find Icarus by chasing this lead.

“It wasn’t me who killed him.” The Blade said, his voice cautious. “Which means the person who did, is getting away with it.”

Tommy found himself stuck between laughter and tears. He was actually trying to solve this cold case. Someone was still looking for Icarus. The Blade had never really stopped being a hero, had he? He cleared his throat so neither emotion came through. “So you’re going after the real killer.”

The man straightened, looking surprised, like he’d expected disagreement. Like he’d been prepared to pull out a powerpoint presentation or something to argue his point. The Blade opened his mouth, and then closed it.

Tommy took that time to think. It wouldn’t be the first time someone from the Syndicate showed up at the end of a missing person’s case, but from what he’d heard they usually showed up with a dead body.

“So why do you need my help?” he asked. “I mean yeah, I can send out my phantoms and see what they can find, but from what I hear you’re a pretty capable guy when it comes to going after what you want. Icarus died two years ago, this can’t be the first missing kid you’ve looked for. So why me, and why now?”

“It’s, uh, actually the first kid.” the Blade said. Tommy looked up in surprise. “The other missing cases were technically adults, and usually they had a police trail of clues and suspects to pick up. Turns out most of them were unsolved murders. Foster kids . . . as it turns out, they’re harder to find when they’re labeled ‘runaway’ and added to a list of people to keep an eye out for. There isn’t a trail to pick up, and we need something like a wide net to search with, more than investigative skills.”

“Which my phantoms could provide.” Tommy nodded, looking back down at the paper in his hands. It seemed the Blade was speaking as a part of the Syndicate, and not just for himself, using the word ‘we’. And if they’d been looking into missing persons this whole time . . .

He wasn’t going to find Icarus by finding this kid though, that much Tommy knew, but the Blade might still find the people behind Icarus’s death if he kept looking down these roads. And find some missing kids to boot. Foster kids seemed to slip through the cracks too easily in their city, and it would be nice to have someone help look for them. It was dangerous, if his suspicions about what happened to the boy were correct. Even for someone as powerful as the Blade.

Tommy tucked away the paper. “Yeah, I’ll look into it. It’s kinda refreshing to see a villain care about a dead vigilante.”

“You believe me?” The Blade asked.

“I have sources backing up your words, Blade.” Tommy tilted his head, dramatically sliding his glowing eyes back to Clementine, who was still invisible to anyone else but him. She was phasing her hand back and forth through the paper he held, trying to make it ripple. He decided not to mention that his ‘sources’ were mostly himself, because he had also been looking into Icarus’s case. He'd just let the man believe he had helpful ghosts whispering in his ear. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have believed a word you said, of course. I don’t give my trust that easily, and frankly, neither should you. Just because I won’t turn you in to the heroes or police doesn’t mean I can’t stab you in the back.”

It was a fair warning, considering the other identities he kept. He was a pretty prolific liar, all things considered, but he wouldn’t hold the illusion that Orpheus wasn’t someone the Blade should be wary of. It also kept Orpheus at a more comfortable distance from being immediately labeled a villain, just because he took a job from one. Not that the heroes were known to pay attention to that kind of detail.

Still.

“Alright.” The Blade said, still looking at him curiously. “I’ll just give you my number then, and get out of your hair.”

“Your number?” Tommy said. “Mr Blade, sir, my man, my good dude, that is actually the opposite of not trusting me.”

The Blade snorted. “Not my personal number, idiot. I have one that’s strictly for business.”

The Blade had a business phone number. How very . . . civilized of him. The guy held out a blank card with a number typed out in the center, and Tommy took it in shock. “You have a business card. For your villain jobs. To find lost foster kids.” he blinked, peering back up at the man. “You’re not very good at maintaining your reputation, you know.”

“Yeah,” the guy said dryly, “I’m aware. I wasn’t good at it as a hero either. I’ll see you later, Orpheus.”

In seconds, Tommy was left standing in the alley alone, a plain business card still gripped between his hands.

Chapter 2: Lesson 2: It's All About Balance And No Sleep

Tommy was early to the hero headquarters, with plenty of time to take a shower and make himself look like someone who sleeps at night before clocking in. He’d gotten his official hero outfit only a few days ago, and it was finally the day to put it on for longer than when they were making alterations. It felt a little ridiculous all the fuss that went into making it, but it was also the nicest clothes he’d ever worn in his life, so he wasn’t going to complain. The fabric was some sort of durable fancy stuff that made him feel bulletproof. When they’d asked him about the design, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from going for his signature red. Had he worn red and white every day of his civilian life since working at the coffee shop? Yes. Was it a risk of exposing his identity? Yeah, it probably was.

But did he look fantastic in it?

Absolutely.

He’d gone for the leather jacket look, bright red with white trim and white stitching details, worn over an incredibly breathable black t-shirt. He’d asked for black cargo pants to go with it, despite his vigilante outfits doing the same. The pockets were just too handy. What they gave him was a fancy-looking spin on cargo pants that didn’t trip him up when he ran and felt suspiciously fireproof.

And a bright red domino mask. Of course. It brought out the blue in his eyes. Should he be highlighting a feature on his face that could be recognizable in his civilian form?

Yeah, he thought so.

The hero headquarters was mostly below ground. It used to be a tower, years ago, until a particularly bad villain attack brought to light how many ways someone could get in if they were determined enough. Bullet-proof glass did not necessarily mean power-proof, and while basement levels could collapse in on themselves just the same, they didn’t usually endanger the surrounding buildings while doing so.

The main levels were bustling with activity. It wasn’t the corporate job rush that Tommy had originally anticipated when he’d been shown around the first time, but something slightly more . . . chaotically friendly. Heroes worked all over the place, ranging from clocked-in-wearing-sweatpants to full-getup-hidden-identity. Civilian names, hero names, nicknames, and creative descriptors were called out to each other across the open spaces.

It felt a bit like a small business that had blown up in size way too fast.

Tommy hadn’t expected to love the place, and certainly not so fast, but the casual atmosphere kept him from thinking too hard about closed spaces and white walls.

“That red is so bright your invisibility powers won’t work.” a voice said nearby.

The hero Undergrowth had bleached hair that had grown out by a couple inches, showing his natural brown underneath. He wore the most futuristic-looking green jacket Tommy had ever seen in his life, along with a pair of jeans with holes in the knees that almost certainly weren’t supposed to be a part of his hero costume. Tommy knew cheap brand jeans when he saw them, and the costume department never used something that could be so easily ripped by something sharp.

He’d also never seen the boy wearing anything else.

Tommy turned to the slightly shorter boy with a grin. “Tubbo, my man, this red is so bright people will have to look away from its brilliance. Think about it, I’ll go unseen without having to use my powers. It’s called efficiency.”

A new voice chimed in. “It’s called being too lazy to use your powers, Blink, and you still haven’t taught me how to do it.”

Tommy shrugged at the tall boy. “Lesson number one, Voidwalker, is to avoid everything for as long as possible.”

Voidwalker’s hood was pushed back, displaying his black and white split-dye hair which was just long enough to get into his eyes all the time. He was one of the few people who was taller than Tommy if he ever bothered to stand up straight, and he always wore his black and white mask over his mouth whether or not he was in the rest of his hero costume.

Voidwalker and Undergrowth had been the newest—and youngest—addition of heroes until today. It seemed like they were not at all sad to see that title go, and instead looking forward to passing down all the noob jokes they’d gathered since their debut to Tommy.

“Have you talked to the Captain yet?” Tubbo asked. The boy had told Tommy his name almost immediately upon meeting each other, adding that he didn’t care if others didn’t want to share theirs. He was pretty sure Tubbo knew Voidwalker’s real name since they were partners when they patrolled, but if he did, he was one of only a few. Perhaps the only one.

Tommy shook his head. “Haven’t seen her, something happen?”

Tubbo grinned, “Finally, someone who hasn’t heard about it. There was a Blade sighting last night!”

“Oh?” The Captain had been Tommy’s mentor, and she was also the head of the team assigned to arrest the Blade. A team he’d be officially joining as of today.

Voidwalker nodded, chiming in. “They had a brief fight before he got away.”

“Voiiiid,” Tubbo elbowed his teammate. “I was gonna tell him.”

“Do they know what the Blade was up to?” Tommy asked. “It’s been a while since the last sighting.”

Of course, he knew what the Blade was up to, but he was curious what the heroes had figured out. He doubted they’d believe that the most feared villain in the city was trying to look for missing kids.

“No,” Tubbo said eagerly. “They think he was probably on his way to or from something, but no one has reported a villain attack so we don’t know.”

A man with red hair and a sharp nose burst into the group with a stack of files in his arms. “Blink! You’re gonna see the Captain soon, right? Could you give these to her?” He grabbed two of the files and pushed them into Tommy’s hands. “Thanks!”

And he was gone.

“How bad do you think it would really be if I ate these files? Like, healthwise?” Tommy said.

Tubbo eyed the files thoughtfully. “It’s an awful lot of fiber.”

“Let’s face it,” Voidwalker said, “I’m pretty sure whatever manages to kill Blink, it’s not going to be something he eats.”

“Void, that burrito was barely expired.”

“It had been in the lunchroom fridge for three weeks.”

“Yeah, in the refrigerator,” Tommy said. “The thing that keeps stuff from expiring.”

Tubbo shook his head at him. “It just slows down the process. It’s not a stasis chamber.”

“Close enough. Anyway, the burrito was fine.”

Voidwalker shook his head. “Case in point. By the way, you missed out on Foolish catching fire yesterday.”

Tommy perked up at that. “What really? How?”

“Nook said he wasn’t sure our fire extinguishers were up to code,” Tubbo said. “And he didn’t want to risk them not working in case of an emergency. Foolish wanted to test one of them out before agreeing to using funds to replace them.”

“Almost set his desk on fire.” Void added. “Saved the desk, but his shirt caught instead.”

Tubbo grinned. “And then I sprayed him with the fire extinguisher. Good thing it worked, we don’t have a hero that controls water.”

“Nook is talking about sprinkler systems now.” Void said solemnly. “So I don’t think Foolish saved us any money in the long run.”

“Blink!” A new voice called out. Tommy spotted his mentor walking to him, her hero costume making her look like a masked pirate captain. A sword dangled from her hip. “You’re looking sharp. How are you feeling? Big day for you.”

Tommy gave her a wide smile. “Not as big of a day as you just had, from what I hear.”

A dangerous glint appeared in her eyes. She always got a little intense when it came to the Blade. “I was caught off guard, he got away too easily. We should have had you debut yesterday, then we would’ve had him.”

“Yeah, he’d be thrown off by my charm and wit and never stood a chance.” Tommy said, mostly unfazed by the Captain’s intensity. Mostly. If he hadn’t actually talked to the Blade the night before, he’d have completely managed it. He handed her the files he’d been holding. “I’m supposed to give these to you.”

The Captain took them with a sigh. “As much as I have a problem with vigilantism, I do envy their lack of paperwork. I’ll take this to my office, you go ahead to the main meeting room. They’re starting in a couple minutes.”

“Yeah, come on greenhorn, we’ll make sure you get there.” Tubbo said.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “You know full well that I know where the meeting rooms are, Undergrowth.”

The main meeting room was supposed to be large enough to accommodate all active heroes, which it managed to do most of the time. The table that took up most of the center had a couple mismatched chairs added on, and the three of them scrambled to get good seats next to each other.

Two older heroes were shuffling papers between each other, talking between themselves in low casual tones. The hero Nook had goggles pushed up into his deep green hair and a gas mask hanging around his neck. He had a trident leaning on the table next to him, looking one hand wave away from falling to the floor. Nook had electricity manipulation powers, and most of the time he used it for building maintenance and helping out in the weapons department. He used to do more fieldwork years ago, but after the hero tower was destroyed in a villain attack he switched to doing more headquarters management.

The other hero was Foolish, a guy with a quick smile and easy laugh, who was currently wearing sweatpants and a shark hoodie. Of all the heroes, he was probably the most liked by the public. He had invulnerability powers, which, according to Tubbo, he hadn’t thought to activate when he’d caught himself on fire the other day. He had also been the mentor for Undergrowth and Voidwalker, and he looked up briefly to grin at the boys as they fought over their seats.

More heroes filtered in, and the Captain managed to arrive seconds before they started. It was a fairly normal monthly briefing, and Nook opened it with a reminder that desks should not be moved; and that if another desk ended up in a bathroom as a joke, they’d start bolting them to the floor.

“As I’m sure Undergrowth has told everyone by now,” Nook continued, giving Tubbo a look, “the Blade has made another appearance after a couple weeks of radio silence. We don’t know what he’s up to, so I want everyone to stay alert and patrol in teams. As of today, this includes the Captain, since Blink is officially joining her team.”

Everyone’s attention turned to Tommy, who tried to look unfazed and not squirm under the sudden spotlight. They were all happy for him, a few heroes ribbing on him in a friendly manner. He missed the days when he could simply enjoy being the center of attention and not worry about any potential downsides to being under scrutiny.

He loved it, he really did, but it was hard to tolerate in anything more than small doses anymore.

Foolish was the next to speak up, addressing the room. “There’s also been a shift in scheduling and patrol routes, as we’re starting to see a pattern in petty crime occuring when heroes aren’t scheduled to be around. We can’t be everywhere at once, but we’ve got to discourage the idea that they can avoid us.”

The Captain nodded. “This is also going to mean a greater chance of running into vigilantes as well.”

Tommy resisted the urge to snort. Yeah, of course it did, because vigilantes existed to stop crime, and somehow they always seemed to figure out criminal activities faster than the heroes did. Maybe because avoiding heroes was the one thing they had in common.

“As always, be careful when dealing with vigilantes.” Nook said. “We can’t afford another Icarus incident happening, especially not so close to the anniversary of his death.”

All humor drained from Tommy’s mind at that. Frowning, he checked the date on his work phone while the other heroes around him shifted restlessly. Surely it wasn’t that close to . . .

Huh. It was only a day away. No wonder the Captain was tense after losing the Blade yesterday. Rumor had it she had been good friends with the Blade before he was proclaimed a villain. She’d been friends with the hero Nightingale as well, who was also now a member of the Syndicate under the new name Thanatos. From what Voidwalker and Undergrowth had told him, the three of them had been a team.

Those were two awfully scary people to have once been friends with, but the Captain could be a pretty frightening person herself.

“Detain them if possible,” Nook continued, “but securing civilian safety is the priority. Otherwise, avoid letting altercations with vigilantes get violent, if possible. The general public is restless already, we don’t want any angry mobs this year.”

So Icarus was still a touchy subject. Tommy hadn’t been in the city last year when the first anniversary of Icarus’ fall passed, but from what he’d gathered things had gotten a bit tense between the public and heroes. It was then that the heroes had released an official statement declaring the Blade and anyone who assisted him as villains, and that they were actively seeking to bring them to justice.

It was Foolish who smoothly cut through the weighty atmosphere that had settled in the room. “We all know mostly what to expect with vigilantes, but a few things have come to my attention that I want to share so no one is caught by surprise. Firstly, we have accounts from several sources that Theseus is getting more active again.”

Now that was a name Tommy hadn’t heard in a while. Theseus was a vigilante who had been active mostly in the Pogtopia district, occasionally known to have teamed up with Icarus. Working as a combo where one could sense danger and the other could heal was one that worked really well for them. Somehow, the two of them had been dubbed the Golden Duo, despite Theseus having nothing gold about him unless you counted his blond hair.

“Though some things about his appearance and weapon choice have been known to change, he’s identifiable by the purple hoodie he wears. He’s a bit of a loose cannon these days, so if you encounter him, exercise caution and expect anything.” Foolish looked down at a paper on the table in front of him. “Manifold has had multiple sightings in the last week. He hasn’t had many encounters with anyone, criminal or otherwise. From what we can tell, it looks like he’s simply making his presence known, especially in the areas surrounding where Icarus died. So far it’s been helpful with keeping down outbursts from the public, so leave him to it unless provoked.”

Manifold was an older vigilante. Everyone knew of him and his ice powers, he was one of the first to have a warrant out for his arrest for fighting crime, after the heros had been established. He’d had a few close calls back in the day, but it eased up after Icarus rose and fell in the spotlight, making the hunt for vigilantes unfashionable in the public eye.

“Lastly, there’s been a relatively new vigilante building up a name for himself and garnering attention. It seems he’s managed to fly under the radar for a couple months, and from what we can gather he has some sort of nightmare-inducing powers. He goes by the name Shuteye—”

Tommy felt a jolt go through him at the name.

“—and is usually seen wearing a blue bomber jacket and a blindfold. We don’t know much else at this time, so stay alert.”

Well, shoot. Shuteye’s presence was on the heroes’ radar now. Tommy sighed, lightly drumming his fingers against the table. He knew it was bound to happen eventually, but he’d hoped for a few more months before having to deal with being actively wanted by the law.

He was just too irresistible, it seemed. A burden some people just had to bear.

“Alright!” Nook said, clapping his hands together. “That should be it for our meeting. Get out of here and get your work done, crime waits for no one.”

Everyone broke up into smaller conversations, some heading quickly out the door while others remained in their seats. Voidwalker elbowed Tommy’s side. “Was that kinda weird for you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Void, I’ve been in meetings before.”

“No, I mean the bit about the vigilantes. Is it weird hearing us talk about them when you were, uh, you know, one of them.”

Undergrowth leaned forward to look at Voidwalker from Tommy’s other side. “Void! You can’t just ask a guy about how he used to be a vigilante.” his eyes slid to Tommy. “But yeah, Blink, was it weird? Does it feel like, I don’t know, like a betrayal to your people?”

“Tubbo!”

“What!”

Tommy leaned back so he could have both of them in view, and gave them a shrug. “I mean, I wasn’t a vigilante for very long before the Captain got to me. It’s not like I know those guys, and it’s not like we were told to hurt them.”

“Aw, man.” Tubbo slumped back in his chair. “That’s so undramatic.”

“Undramatic?” Void repeated flatly.

“Yeah, and don’t tell me it’s not a word. That doesn’t matter when you know what it means anyway. I stick with what I said.”

“It is a word, actually.” Tommy said. “You’re just saying it weird so it doesn’t sound like one.”

“Shut up, I say it like a perfectly normal—”

“Hey Blink,” The Captain cut in, tapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s not be late to your first patrol, yeah?”

Tommy stood quickly, giving the other two a mock salute. “Sorry boys, some of us actually have work to do.”

He turned his back on their bickering and followed the Captain out, grabbing his fighting sticks on the way and twirling them in his hands while they rode the elevator up. By the time they reached the main floor, he was pretty sure she was more nervous than he was. As weird as a daytime patrol was going to feel, it wasn’t his first time; though it was the first time trying it in a while.

As they left the building, the Captain took a deep breath. “Remember, if something happens on patrol, don’t feel pressured to make all the correct decisions right away. I’m here, and you can always ask me if you don’t know what to do.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “And don’t feel bad if you freeze up, a lot of new heroes do. That’s why no one starts out alone; if you lock up, I’ll get you out of it.”

Tommy gave her a thumbs up, deciding not to bring up the fact that this isn’t his first time patrolling the streets. Blink, as a vigilante, had still been very new to the scene when he’d been recruited, and so it was expected that he’d still be pretty inexperienced.

It was sort of nice, knowing he could mess up and someone would take care of it.

Really, the thing he was most nervous about was the press. He wasn’t required to interact with them like some of the other heroes; it had been one of his conditions when the Captain recruited him, and she’d agreed easily. He wasn’t the one that the heroes hoped would be the new public darling anyway, and he was just fine with that.

As much as he should be unrecognizable, the idea of him being seen on tv still put him on edge.

“Blink? Where did you go?”

Tommy looked up at the Captain, who was standing right next to him but looking around like she couldn’t see—

Oh.

“Sorry, I’m right here Captain.” He said, and he dropped the invisibility he’d subconsciously put around himself.

“Nervous?”

“Who? Me? Never.” Tommy said. “I’m ready for anything. It’s just weird when it’s quiet and I don’t have anythi—”

“Blink!” The Captain clamped her hand over his mouth. “You can’t say the Q word! Why would you do that? And today of all days! Didn’t anyone tell you?”

She lifted her hand and tapped her earpiece while Tommy looked at her innocently. “What?”

“This is Captain to hero base, be on the alert. Blink just said the Q word.”

Over his own earpiece, Tommy heard the quiet groan from Nook. “Dang it Blink, now I owe Voidwalker ten bucks. It hasn’t even been half an hour.”

Tommy grinned sheepishly, tapping his own earpiece. “Roger that. Would you mind letting Undergrowth know he owes me twenty?”

“I dread to ask, but why does Undergrowth owe you twenty?” Nook asked wearily.

“He said I wouldn’t have the guts to say it to the Captain’s face on my first patrol.”

“Blink!” Captain put her head in her hands.

“Somehow,” Tommy continued, “he still doesn’t realize how little self preservation I have. How else do you end up on a team tasked with bringing in the Blade?”

And the heroes could use a little excitement, anyway.

“This is really not the time.” The Captain said, her voice muffled by her hands.

Tommy patted her on her shoulder. “And you really can’t afford to be covering your eyes now, Captain. I think I can hear crime approaching.”

They didn’t even have the chance to leave the Prime district before he was proven right.

It was ridiculous, really, the way they just happened to be walking by right as a convenience store was being robbed. In broad daylight, too. Tommy went invisible and the Captain put up her shields as she walked in.

“Robbery is illegal, you know.” She said. She didn’t even flinch when a knife was thrown at her, bouncing harmlessly off the force shield she had up. “I appreciate how you’ve dropped one weapon already. Let’s put down the other knife and not make this day any harder on the poor cashier than it already is.”

Tommy was standing right by the robber now, which made it easy for him to grab the guy as he lunged for the cashier, using his momentum to swing him around and flip him onto the floor. He twisted the guy’s wrist until he dropped the second knife. Kicking it towards the Captain, he blinked into visibility, shaking his head. “If only he’d known that robbery was illegal.” he looked at the old man behind the register. “You okay?”

The man nodded shakily.

“We’ll get him out of your hair.” The Captain said, pulling out handcuffs.

One back alley knife fight and two purse thieves later, Tommy was feeling pretty good about their patrol. “That wasn’t too bad.” he said as they continued their patrol route.

The Captain sighed. “Please, Blink, stop jinxing it.”

“What? I’m just saying. I haven’t even gotten shot at.”

“Stop it!” she smacked his shoulder, looking around like she expected to spot a sniper on one of the roofs. He laughed at her, and then went invisible when she looked like she’d smack him again.

They entered the shopping district, weaving through the light crowds that milled about. Most people ignored them, leaving the heroes to do their job in peace. A few threw some looks at them that were either glares or something closer to wariness. Tommy just smiled back at them. Any problems they had with heroes weren’t his fault, so he didn’t bother giving them much of his attention.

By the time they were heading back, the Captain had gotten quiet. She was alert, looking around, but her thoughts were almost definitely in another place.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Tommy prompted. “I’m about to have two thousand of those soon from Undergrowth, so I might be persuaded to offer two pennies if you play your cards right.”

His mentor blew out a sigh, giving him a brief glance before returning to scanning the streets. “There’s a lot of thoughts in here, I might charge you fifty pennies.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Tommy shook his head. “I’m going to be a poor, poor man.”

She snorted. “Not if you keep risking your patrols to win bets with Undergrowth.”

They fell silent again for another block. Tall office buildings rose around them, blocking off all but a sliver of the sky, before she spoke again.

“I was going to retire.” she said softly. “Several times, really, but that time I was so sure I’d do it. I’d already been cutting back to working only mid-day shifts, handing off work to other heroes and trying to wrap up a couple cases. The Blade was taking on more, and Nightingale was well past being new to the job with a couple years under his belt. The two of them had made a good team; I thought the city would be in good hands if I left.”

Tommy fidgeted with his sticks, trying not to think too hard about what was bound to come next. The Captain certainly didn’t cut back on her hours anymore. In fact, she was the most active hero by a good margin. She just shook her head. “Two years ago was a nightmare, and it’s hard to not relive it when the anniversary comes around.”

“Ah.” There wasn’t much more to say to that.

“At least you weren’t doing this job back then.” She said, “Things were unstable for a long time. Not a good time for vigilantes or heroes, but we’re fixing it back up. All we need is to get the Syndicate locked up and on trial, and we can finally be back to . . . to where we were before.”

She didn’t sound so sure of herself. Tommy tried to twirl one of his sticks in his hand, only barely keeping himself from dropping it. “So you can retire?”

Silence, and then: “Probably not. There’s no reason to anymore.”

Tommy frowned, looking up at his mentor. She looked anywhere else but back at him. That sounded . . . both incredibly ominous and too personal to ask about, so he dropped it. Along with his stick.

The Captain told him to stop twirling them after that.

The rest of the patrol was fairly quiet, though he didn’t say it out loud again. They bounced back to lighter subjects of conversation, but neither could shake the heaviness that had formed in the pit of their stomachs, no matter how hard they tried.

Tomorrow was always coming, even when it was dreaded; but it would always give way to the tomorrow after that, even if it was looked forward to. It was just a day, after all.

When he got back, he found the money from Undergrowth in his locker and couldn’t help a small triumphant grin.

Sometimes, it really was the little things.

Notes:

Did I give the name Theseus to someone who wasn't Tommy?
Maybe.
Sort of.
Trust the process, m'kay?

Chapter 3: Lesson 3: Go With The Flow

Normally, Tommy would not recommend wearing a blindfold at night. As cool as the aesthetic was, it was much more useful and handy to have the ability to see. Shuteye was his last vigilante identity to make, and by the time he did, he’d met a very interesting man who insisted on being called Slime.

Why? The world may never know. The guy’s powers had nothing to do with slime, and everything to do with lie detection. More importantly for Tommy, however, the man had decided to start a business on the black market, selling specialized equipment.

It was possibly one of the more mortifying moments in Tommy’s life; standing in front of a man who can detect lies, explaining the idea of a blindfold he could see through as a kind of mask because he thought it would look cool. Thankfully, the man pulled through, and Tommy had spent every single penny he’d saved to buy it.

And then a few more, once he got another paycheck.

Tommy had been parkouring across rooftops for a few hours as Shuteye, so to mix things up he’d gone back down to the ground, where he now strolled down the center of an empty street. Anyone out at this time of the night were probably either stumbling home drunk, stumbling home after a night shift, or stumbling out of an alley high off their mind.

Sometimes vigilante work felt more like becoming a human crutch then anything else.

There was a baby screaming from inside one of the apartments that crowded the street. Tommy paused, looking up to identify which one.

Not because he could do anything about a screaming baby. He was just curious.

He pinpointed the baby’s incessant cries to a window on the second floor, dim light pressing against the closed curtains. A faint silhouette paced back and forth. The screaming was faint to Tommy, and even he was starting to feel stressed by the sound. He couldn’t imagine how the parent must feel. It was, what, two in the morning? Maybe later.

Not that it was any of his business. Even if he could put the child to sleep easily.

He was out to fight crime and help stumbing people get home. Not show up at some random person’s doorstep in vigilante gear, telling them he could put their child to sleep. It would almost certainly sound like a threat.

The figure paced by the window again. It was impressive, how much that baby could scream.

Tommy counted the windows, mindlessly calculating the apartment number. Not that he needed it. He was going to go. He was going to leave and find a mugging or something.

Tommy walked into the apartment complex.

He was, unfortunately, unable to walk away from a screaming child.

He hadn’t needed to count the windows, it was pretty obvious which apartment the screaming cries were coming from. Tommy—Shuteye—came to a stop in front of the door in the dimly lit hallway.

He was so stupid.

Without a plan or a single smart idea, he knocked on the door. For a minute, nothing happened, and he wondered if he’d knocked loud enough to be heard over the noise. Maybe he should knock again. Maybe he should leave. What was he going to do? Say ‘hi don’t worry I’m here to take care of that baby’?

That just sounded super ominous.

The lock on the door clicked, and the woman on the other side was already talking as she opened the door. “I’m so sorry about the noise, I swear I’m try—”

Her eyes widened. Tommy held out his hands at his side to show they were empty in a placating gesture.

The woman slammed the door shut.

Honestly? Understandable reaction.

Tommy stood there like an idiot, when he really should be running. The woman was probably calling the police. Reporting him as a . . . polite robber or something.

Before he could shake out of his daze, the door opened again, just far enough that the lady could step half-way out the door. One hand gripped her door handle, the other held a wicked sharp steak knife.

Tommy could respect that.

“Shuteye?” she said tightly.

Oh good, at least he wouldn’t have to explain that part. The rest . . . he offered her a hesitant smile. “Hello, ma’am. I wanted to, uh, offer my help? As you might know, I can put people to sleep. Your baby . . . sounds like it could use some.”

As wedged as she was between her door, her feet were in a solid stance, the knife in her hand held up. She certainly looked like she could slit his throat.

“Don’t—don’t you give people nightmares with your powers?” her voice was strained.

“I can chose not to. What kind of sleep I give is up to me; I give ‘em to wrong’uns and people who chase me down, but not to babies.” he tried to speak softly, both to calm the lady in front of him, and to keep neighbors from joining this awkward conversation. “I uh, I’m sorry to bother you like this, if you want I can just g—”

“Wait.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, the baby’s screams filtering out of the apartment. The woman still looked terrified and ready to slice him, but he noticed something else now.

Something leaking through her words and hiding in her eyes.

Desperation. Desperation with a side of sleep-deprivation. She took a deep breath, tears rimming her eyes. “I—I really need him to sleep.” she whispered.

Tommy nodded, waiting.

She hesitated a moment longer, before drawing herself back inside, leaving the door open for him. Tommy stepped inside, keeping his movements slow. The last thing he needed was a spooked mother with a steak knife. Well, that’s exactly what he had, actually. No need to make it worse and startle her into action, then.

It was a relief to leave the empty, echoing hallway. He was used to hiding in shadows and behind dumpsters, dashing across rooftops, not standing exposed in a lit-up hallway.

The woman never looked away from him as she slowly led him to the living room, where a very loud, very upset baby screamed in a bassinet. She hovered over her child protectively. “I swear, if you hurt him, I’ll kill you.” It was a good thing he was watching her as she spoke, her voice was nearly drowned out.

Tommy nodded again. “I won’t. I promise.”

He kept one hand raised in plain sight while the other reached out for the baby. The mother’s eyes were locked on that hand, which was shaking ever so slightly. Tommy lightly touched the baby’s forehead with a single finger, keeping a tight rein on his power as he let out the tiniest, tiniest bit of it. He didn’t press the powers in, instead letting it take its time, soothing the child’s distress. The screaming turned to fussy cries, which then turned to quiet coos. He carefully nudged the baby towards sleep, and the child went willingly.

Tommy pulled away, hardly daring to breathe. The mother swapped the knife to her non-dominant hand, immediately reaching out to her child, checking for breathing, for a pulse, for any sign of pain. When she found nothing but peaceful sleep, her entire body wilted, the tension leaving. She collapsed onto the couch beside the bassinet, looking up at Tommy with weary eyes.

“Thank you.” she whispered.

“You’re welcome.” he said, suddenly unsure what he was supposed to do with his hands. “I’ll just . . . head out then. Make sure you lock the door after me, don’t want to let any ruffins in here.”

The woman nodded, but made no move to get up. Tommy took a step away, and then rocked back. “Ma’am? It’s important you lock the door. I obviously don’t have a key to do it myself.”

The woman nodded again, her eyes drooping. She was not going to be able to lock the door. She probably wouldn’t be able to speak coherently anymore. He wondered just how many nights she’d stayed up with a screaming baby. Sighing, he crouched in front of her, gently reaching out to hold her head in his hands. “Ma’am? You can sleep in a sec, just listen to me first, okay?”

She looked at him through her half-closed eyes. Tommy hazarded a look around the apartment. “Okay, don’t worry, I’ll uh, I’ll lock the door myself. And I’ll leave . . . through the window. I think I can close it behind me.” there was a decent windowsill, he could probably balance on it. Why not. “So don’t panic when you wake up. I’ll take care of it.”

He felt the faintest nod in his hands, and he carefully let out his powers again. It really didn’t take much to knock her out, but he guided her sleep to something restful and relaxed. Not so deep that she wouldn’t hear her child cry, but not so light that she couldn’t get rest from it. He guided her to lay down, and took the steak knife from her limp hand. He took the knife to the kitchen, setting it in plain sight on the counter. He locked the door, adding the chain lock for good measure, and then paused once more in the living room.

The woman reminded him of his foster mother.

She’d been too often tired from work when she picked up him and her daughter from school, and she joked about being a safety hazard at her job with how accident prone she was. Still, no matter how weary or worse for wear she looked, she never made him feel like he was a bother, or in any way unwanted. Her daughter, too, acted like his being there was a dream come true, and not an intrusion. It was nice.

The memory felt like a knife, though, and dwelling on it only made the knife twist. He had wanted nothing more than to stay with them.

And so he’d left the moment he noticed danger stalking his steps.

Tommy shook his head, focusing back on the dimly lit living room, and grabbed a throw blanket to place over the mother before turning to the window.

He then spent the next ten minutes trying to figure out how the window worked. Most windows he jumped out of were already open. Or broken. Or missing. This one had to remain intact and shut behind him after he went through.

He slipped out, toeing the small ledge provided by the window sill, his fingertips gripping the frame as he slid the window shut. He shut his eyes tightly, taking long, calming breaths. It was only a two story drop. It would be basically the same amount of force as landing a parachute. He knew how to break that kind of fall. He could even prevent bones from breaking.

Probably.

It was just two stories.

He twisted, kneeling sideways on the window sill as he looked down to plan his landing. The sight made him dizzy and a tiny bit nauseous, but he saw a clear spot he could roll through without hitting something.

He used to be so fearless when it came to heights. His father used to say he was born with rubber bones. He’d climb anything as a kid, and then yell to the closest parent ‘watch this!’ and gave them a heart attack as he jumped.

He’d kept the habit of climbing and jumping, but he hadn’t managed to retain the fearlessness. Falling hurt; and the higher one fell, the more it hurt.

Tommy rose, turning his back to the window, and then stepped off the ledge, inhaling sharply as he fell. He kept his feet together, toes first, and crumpled into a side roll over his shoulder the moment he touched ground.

It hurt. He lay on the ground, staring up through his blindfold at the pinpricks of stars in the sky. It hurt, but not the broken bones kind of hurt. He was going to have some colorful bruises, and he’d be sore tomorrow, but he was fine, nothing broken. If his heart would just get with the program and stop beating at four times its normal speed, that would be fantastic.

He spread his hands flat against the ground, pressing into it to prove it was solid because somehow he still felt like he was falling.

He was fine. His breathing was normally that fast. He was going to get up any moment now.

Or maybe it was a good time to do some stargazing. It would get him some major points with the astrology girls, if only they were around to appreciate the way he decided to stop and stare at the sky.

Maybe if he stayed there long enough someone would try to mug him and it would save him the effort of finding them himself.

Yeah, he was so smart.

“Don’t tell me you fell off the roof.”

That got him to sit up. Someone was walking towards him from deeper in the alley, hands stuffed in his front hoodie pocket. The voice was familiar somehow, despite the voice changer it went through, and finally Tommy’s breathing started to even out. He propped himself up by his hands, still pressing into the solid ground. “Obviously I’m stargazing.”

The vigilante Theseus stopped a few steps away, looking down at him. The faint streetlight lit up the side of his masked face. “Weird place to do it, but to each their own. Can you even see through that thing?”

Tommy grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?”

Theseus pulled one hand out of his purple hoodie pocket and offered it, pulling Tommy back up to his feet. His hood was down, revealing two antennas sticking out of his hair. “You hurt?”

“Nah,” Tommy said, brushing off a piece of an old receipt from his sleeve. “What are you doing around here, Theseus? Aren’t you usually in the Pogtopia district?”

The vigilante looked at him with a small amount of surprise. “Guess I don’t have to introduce myself then. Yeah, I’m usually in Pogtopia, but I thought I’d poke around and see if I could meet this new vigilante that people have started talking about. Can’t say I expected to find him stargazing.”

Tommy shrugged. “You should try it sometime. It’s, uh, nice to meet you. I’m Shuteye.”

There was a feeling of faint déjà vu between them, and it made his heart ache. Something was the same, but opposite. Something was incredibly right, and incredibly off. They were too old, perhaps, or too quiet. Theseus tilted his head, his antennas slightly vibrating.

And then a new voice from above broke the moment, making them both jump. “Hey losers!”

Looking up, they spotted a girl in a green cape standing on top of the apartment complex, a white mask over her face with a black ‘XD’ painted across it. She had a black scythe in one hand as she stepped off the roof, smoothly floating down in the dim green glow of her powers.

As far as making a grand entrance went, she pretty much nailed it.

“What’s up, nerds?” She said, resting the scythe on her shoulder. “Purpled, I was looking everywhere for you. Was starting to think maybe you’d gotten lost in the weeds if you know what I mean.”

Theseus sighed. “Please don’t say it like that.”

XD turned to Tommy with entirely too much energy for past two in the morning. “I’m XD, and you’re Shuteye. You can call him Purpled too, if you want. We call him that because one time during April Fools someone put—”

“Why were you looking for me?” Theseus interrupted.

“Wait, if you’re explaining names,” Tommy cut in. “then what does XD stand for? Extradrriestrial?”

He knew what XD stood for, but he’d been sitting on that one for a long time. Granted, it might have been a whole lot funnier inside his head.

The two vigilantes stared at him together, a startled silence falling between them. Tommy decided to take that as a win.

“What?” Theseus said.

XD snickered. “Was that an alien joke that . . . that wasn’t aimed at antenna boy? That’s amazing. I like it. You’re pretty okay, new kid.”

“Not a kid.” Tommy said reflectively.

“Right, and I don’t have powers. No one gets defensive about being called a kid faster than a teenager, which, like most of us, you probably are.” XD shrugged. “Relax, it’s not like they’re gonna arrest you for being underage. They’re too busy trying to arrest you for other, much cooler stuff.”

It was impressive, how he wanted to befriend her and punch her in the face at the same time. He wondered if that was what other people felt like when they met him for the first time.

Theseus cleared his throat. “XD, why were you looking for me?”

XD tugged on her hood like it had gone crooked. “Spotted some more sprouts in Pogtopia’s drainage tunnels. Have you seen them yet? We might need to block them off.”

Theseus leaned back against the alley wall, both hands in his pocket again. “Blocking off drainage tunnels could cause problems. How much was there?”

Tommy frowned, looking between the two. Sprouts? Had XD really tracked down Theseus to talk about weeds growing in some drainage tunnels? Sure, maybe that was a problem, but it really didn’t sound like something a little weed killer couldn’t fix, and not the kind of problem vigilantes usually worried over. Maybe they were talking in code.

“Just a couple that I saw, but I couldn’t get very close.”

Theseus glanced over at Tommy. “Have you seen any red plants growing anywhere recently, Shuteye?”

Tommy narrowed his eyes behind his blindfold. They didn’t seem like they were pulling his leg, but he wouldn’t put it past them. If anyone was going to have a good poker face, it would probably be Theseus. “I don’t . . . really look at plants much?”

“You might want to start.” XD said. It was hard to tell if she was serious with her entire face hidden, but her voice sounded believable. Suspiciously believable. “If you see any red ones, don’t get too close. Especially if you think you hear voices.”

He looked at her for a good couple of seconds, and then back at Theseus. It had to be a joke, and he couldn’t let himself fall for it. They were kidding, right? Voices?

“Yeah, he thinks we’re pulling his leg.” Theseus sighed. “We should just show him. I want to take a look at the ones you found anyway.”

“If you’ve got the time.” XD said, turning to Tommy.

“I dunno XD,” Theseus said drily, “he was pretty busy stargazing when I got here.”

Tommy grinned at him. It felt almost natural, almost familiar. “It’s not that easy to get rid of me. Show me these strange plants.”

The Pogtopian district was crowded with buildings. It hadn’t been a part of the original city and so it wasn’t built on the neat, straight grid of streets that architects like so much. Buildings were placed wherever, with more structures squeezed in between until people gave up on trying to name the streets that zigzagged through them. If there was ever a place to learn how to jump chain-linked fences, it was Pogtopia.

Tommy found himself waiting for something as he followed XD, though it was hard to put a finger on what. It just sat in the air between him and . . . Theseus, he realized. He was waiting for Theseus to make a joke, or dare him to do something stupid, or anything, really, that wasn’t this distant masked stranger beside XD.

XD didn’t seem fazed, though. There wasn’t tension between the two, despite how it looked like she’d get on his nerves. They were comfortable together, and Tommy . . . Tommy was an outsider. He was the stranger.

Of course. Of course he was. That was normal.

Even though he was inherently likable and fit in anywhere.

Suddenly, XD pulled to a stop. She stood still, staring blankly, like she was listening to something Tommy couldn’t hear. She reached up to an earpiece, tapping it twice. “Sure is.” She said, throwing a glance at Theseus. The guy tilted his head inquiringly at her. She nodded. “Yup, on our way.”

The two shared a look, and then XD turned to Tommy. “How would you feel about a detour and helping us bust a potential drug deal?”

“XD, we don’t need—”

“Sounds like fun.” Tommy said.

She nodded, bumping her shoulder lightly against Theseus before taking off again. Theseus just groaned quietly and followed. They course-corrected to the docks, where the edges of Pogtopia met the river. The docks weren’t any more open than the rest of the district, a conglomeration of warehouses, shipping containers, craines, and loose garbage haphazardly filling any breathing space that might have once been.

XD pointed to a warehouse. “Inside, loading bay. Eight people, at least two powered. Thorn is one of them. The other has super strength. Everyone is heavily armed. I’ll take care of the guns, but Thorn’s whip is tricky. I’ll leave her to you Theseus. Shuteye, the more grunts you can put to sleep the smoother this will go. Otherwise try to grab whatever they’re selling and get out. Punz is waiting outside, he’ll cover you.”

Tommy nodded. Punz. He was an older vigilante, with . . . x ray vision, if he remembered correctly. The kind of guy to look someone in the eye and calmly explain exactly which bones he’d broken and how much. He must be the one on the other end of XD’s earpiece.

Theseus pulled a short stick from his hoodie pocket, pressing something that had it extending into a bo staff. “Quietly.” He said. “Take them by surprise.”

They moved in, Tommy falling behind Theseus and slightly to his left, where his blind spot was. The guy habitually forgot to check his left side.

They heard voices first. Words murmured that Tommy couldn’t catch.

They slipped into the large loading bay, ducking behind crates stacked along the edges. It looked like a dealer with two big thugs facing a group of five. The dealer herself gave Tommy the heebie jeebies, a wild light to her eye that put him on edge. She had a rose tucked into her hair that did nothing to soften her look.

The buyer, on the other hand, stood like he’d spent his whole life folded up in a lawn chair and yearned to go back. It wasn’t his posture, exactly, that made him look that way—though it certainly did help. But it was like all of his bones had been broken and healed wrong.

His skeleton needed ironing.

He was flanked by four men with very impressive guns, one of whom was leaning forward to get a closer look at the open case of vials. Not making the drug in a powder form was an interesting choice. Most people preferred pills they could crush—unless they were a mad scientist, in which case liquid vials would be a solid marketing choice.

His observations were cut short by everyone’s guns flying out of their hands, smacking whoever was closest in the face on their way out. Theseus dashed out, running straight for the woman with the rose in her hair.

Tommy lept out after him, aiming ultimately for the case of vials, but with the added detour of anyone he could get his hands on along the way.

The unfortunate truth of using a power that was touch-activated was that he had to get uncomfortably close to some very dangerous-looking people before he could use them. It was always so tempting to use his phantom powers in moments like this, but those phantom powers were for when he was Orpheus, not Shuteye. One power per identity, that was the rule, because one person with multiple powers got a lot of attention. And a lot of attention got people killed. Or worse.

But he also had to work in the morning, so he tried to avoid as many injuries as he could. Early on as Shuteye, he’d had to get really good at dodging, and fast. Even so, he was only kinda good at it.

Maybe he should get tranquilizer darts and just shoot those instead.

The first guy was the easiest, because he was still surprised and instinctively trying to use the gun he no longer had. Tommy jabbed his fingers into the guy’s neck and sent him into a heavy sleep with a touch of nightmares.

The second guy was considerably harder. Tommy took exactly one hit to his upper arm to realize who the person with super strength was. Every bit of focus narrowed in on making sure the guy didn’t land a headshot.

Concussions were absolutely miserable, and so were split skulls.

Tommy didn’t even try to hit back; more than likely he’d break his hand on rock-hard muscle and he needed his hands to steam milk.

He just needed to find the guy’s rhythm. Then he could reach out and touch the skin without getting punched and then—

Someone tackled him from the side and he went skidding across the ground with a new opponent on top. Not great, but plenty of openings for skin contact.

Barely a second later and Tommy was faced with the new and exciting problem of wiggling out from under the dead weight now draped over him.

The super strength guy sent a powerful kick straight for his head, and Tommy felt the air rush past him as he barely moved in time. Scrambling out from the tangle of limbs, he made a feint to the right and then booked it to the left, returning to going after his more important target: drugs.

He got a glimpse of Theseus, dodging and flipping and jumping the long, green, whirling thorny whips that the rose lady now wielded.

If only Tommy could dodge like that. Instead, he got hit by another body flying into his side. This time, though, the guy was already limp.

“Sorry!” XD shouted, switching from using her powers to swinging her scythe.

And then the super strength dude was blocking his way. Tommy took a breath, and then ran towards him. His dodging could use some work and he couldn’t lift people with his mind, but he could do his job. Or at the very least, stop someone else from doing theirs.

After all, they didn’t call him Tommy Problem Innit for nothing.

The guy made a grab for him this time, and Tommy grinned as the man got a fistful of the front of his shirt, pulling back the other fist for a swing.

Tommy grabbed the hand holding him, powers surging, and the guy went out like a light. He yanked his jacket back into its proper place.

Now. Back to the drugs.

He grabbed the case of vials, clicking it shut and scrambling away with it clutched in his hands, looking around to assess the scene around him.

The Thorn lady’s whip made a loud crack right where Theseus had just been standing. Theseus was flying backwards with a faint green glow surrounding him, and he collided into XD.

Thorn ran, and Tommy hurried over to the other vigilantes. Theseus had long tears in his hoodie, and a couple shallow cuts, but otherwise fine. XD pushed him off of her, apologizing for the split-second decision to yank him away with her powers.

They worked on tying up the sleeping and unconscious for law enforcement to find, and Punz joined to help. They then opened the case to look at what was being sold.

Glittering red vials sat in cushioned slots.

“I’ve never seen a drug that looks like this.” Tommy said, looking up at the others. They didn’t look like they knew what it was either.

Punz shook his head. “I couldn’t hear them so I don’t know what it does. I just know they were paying a fortune to get it.” He nodded over at the bag of money half-spilled on the ground.

“I don’t like it.” XD said. “It feels… off. And do you smell that?”

“Like rotting apples.” Theseus said.

Tommy went back to staring at the vials, a sick feeling twisting through his stomach. They made him think of syringes and lab coats and white walls and the smell of bleach. This wasn’t the kind of stuff that was made for the streets. At least not originally.

Punz closed the case and pulled out a cloth, wiping it down. “We’ll leave it to the police. They’ll send it in to their labs for analysis. It will be much easier to keep an eye on them and get their results than it would be to try to analyze it ourselves.”

XD nodded, stepping away. “We have somewhere else to be anyway.”

Theseus muttered something that sounded like ‘you’re not my dad’, but he turned to follow XD without any other protest.

Punz looked up at Tommy, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“If you roll your eyes back far enough and use your x-ray vision,” Tommy said curiously, “can you see your own brain?”

The vigilante blinked at him.

He blinked back, and then turned to sprint after XD.

--------

As it turned out, they really had been talking about actual plants. The three of them crouched inside the drainage tunnels beneath Pogtopia, staring at the tiny red sprouts that seemed to shiver under XD’s flashlight.

Tommy squinted, taking a step closer to see them better, but Theseus grabbed his arm. “You don’t want to get much closer,” he said.

“Why not?”

“You’ll start hearing voices.” XD said. “And then we’ll have to drag you out of here ourselves.”

Tommy fell back in line with them. “Then how do we get rid of them?”

XD shrugged. “Dunno. If I try to use my powers to pull them up I just get a direct line to the voices, along with a headache.”

“So far they haven’t shown up in places where people would be likely to stumble across them, but they’re spreading.” Theseus said. His antennas were twitching like crazy, glowing a dim purple at the ends. “Weed killer seems to slow them down, at least. Covering the plants with cement has made the voices mostly stop, but there are cracks forming where we tried that, and they’re leaking through again. It’s not a permanent solution.”

“They’re growing through cement?” Tommy asked.

“I mean, look at them.” XD said. She motioned to the sprouts before them, which were, indeed, growing through cement.

“Anyway,” Theseus said. “Keep an eye out. The voices kinda put people into a trance, and I really don’t want to find out what happens after that.”

Before Tommy could answer, the vigilante turned and left.

“Bye Purpled.” XD called after him. She pulled Tommy back with her, and they left as well.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” she said once they were back on the streets. “If you find anything important to share, come find me. I’m a bit all over the place, so good luck, but I’m a better bet than Theseus. He mostly keeps to himself these days, so I was surprised to find him with you earlier. Anyway, ciao.”

A green glow surrounded her, and she shot towards the nearest roof. Showoff. Tommy shook his head at her and picked his own way through the streets of Pogtopia.

He found a rock to kick, keeping it going for a while until he lost it down a storm drain. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at his surroundings. It had been a while since the last time he’d been in Pogtopia, but the place was as familiar as the sound of his own voice. He’d grown up there. Well, not completely, he’d left for his first foster home at the age of ten, but he considered it the only place with real childhood memories. He’d come back a lot, of course, and had other memories tied to the place, but nowhere else held pure childhood nostalgia.

Another life.

His arm throbbed where that super strength guy had hit it. That was unfortunate. He was about seventy-eight percent sure he hadn't cracked a bone though.

His whole body was starting to feel sore from that two-story jump he’d made earlier, and now that the stars had mostly faded and no one was there to distract him, he became aware of how tired he felt. Which was stupid, really, because it wasn’t like his body would let him sleep. He hadn’t been able to do that since . . . well, since the day his life went really rotten, really fast.

But hey, on the bright side, at least he didn’t have to deal with nightmares.

Notes:

Hey look at that, it isn't overwhelmingly angsty! Right? Maybe I can write fluff and crack after all.
Or maybe I'm in as much denial as Tommy is. We'll see.
It is becoming very clear to me that these chapters are gonna be much longer than those of my previous fic. These three chapters are already a third of the last fic's total word count, and looking at my convoluted plot outline, I'm thinking this will need at least… twenty-eight chapters??
Wow, that sounds like a lot. What am I doing.
Send help.

Chapter 4: Lesson 4: Dying Sucks. Try To Avoid It

Notes:

Okay so while there's some fluff here for y'all, there's also the new and exciting ✨angst✨

So some warnings, lemme know if I need to add to this: Flashbacks, mentions of death and loss, power repression, mention of blood and injury, heights and falling. I don't think anything is terribly graphic.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sky was turning pink when he changed into his civilian clothes; cheap jeans and one of his many long-sleeved white and red shirts. This one already had a stain on one of the sleeves, but it was most likely a coffee stain so he figured it wasn’t a big deal. It was much better than revealing the massive bruise forming on his arm.

It was a new day, and he was already hurting.

Which was fine. It ranked incredibly low on the list of things he’s had to survive. There was something about minor discomfort, though, that sometimes irritated him much more than severe pain. But it was fine.

He pulled out his civilian phone, checking it for any messages from his one (1) contact. There were no texts from Kristin. Good. A normal day then.

Until he remembered what day it was.

Great. So probably gonna be a weird day.

He opened up the coffee shop, flipping lights and pulling chairs off the tables. It was fine. It wasn’t like he was going to be watching the news, listening to reporters talk about something that happened two years ago and going over every tiny detail they have about it. Whatever happened in the city outside of his work today was none of his business.

He flipped the sign in the window and counted the till in the register, and then he waited for the first customer to arrive.

It took twenty minutes for someone to come in.

Tommy felt his stomach sink as he realized it was going to be a slow day. After making the one customer her drink, he started methodically sweeping the already very clean floor. His back ached, and he was pretty sure it was from his totally normal and calm night, but the pull between his shoulder blades made him feel a bit too much like the kid he used to be.

He used to sneak out of his first foster home to visit Pogtopia.

At the start, it was just to think. A pull that tugged on his heart that he now wondered if it was, perhaps, grief. Or maybe just him keeping a tight hold on at least one thing that felt familiar while the rest of his life flipped upside-down.

It hadn’t taken long, though, before he’d heard someone call out for help in an alley. He’d run towards that voice, absolutely no thoughts going through his brain aside from knowing the voice that called out had been full of pain.

He hadn’t caught the mugger. Hadn’t been able to get back the guy’s money. But the man had received a pretty bad head injury, and Tommy . . .

It was the first person he’d helped.

After that, he started sneaking out later, walking through the more dangerous corners of Pogtopia, a dollar store mask ready to pull on. He’d hesitantly explored the extent of his powers.

He got really good at running away from dangerous people, and then looping back to check on their victims.

It had been the one thing that he’d really looked forward to those days. He’d kept it small, leaving the big fights and rescues to the heroes. He just wanted to help out the people who got hurt anyway.

Tommy stared at the floor, broomstick gripped tightly in his hands.

He’d been walking home from school when a big fight had broken out between the heroes and some villains. Intrigued, Tommy had snuck to the edges of the fight. Just to watch. Just to see real heroes fight and save the day.

He’d spotted someone on the edges then, a young boy with blood leaking from a gash in his leg. No one else was helping him, too distracted by everything else going on, so Tommy dug out his mask from the bottom of his backpack and carefully snuck over.

“Hey kid,” he’d said softly. The boy’s eyes had snapped to him, blown wide. “It’s okay, I want to help. Can I take a look at that leg?”

The boy had probably been in shock, nodding his head absently and letting Tommy kneel beside him.

He’d just finished fixing the gash when a collective shout rose from the people nearby, causing Tommy to look up. One of the heroes—a new one, with wings on his back—was falling from the sky. One of the wings was flailing desperately, the other frightfully limp. Tommy’s heartbeat had raced at the sight. Someone screamed.

It was a long way to fall.

He’s taken a single second to think. One second to consider not doing anything about it, just letting it happen, and then Tommy had burst into a run. His powers flared, and he summoned spectral wings to his back. They weren’t like the hero’s wings, they weren’t flesh and bone and feathers, but rather glowing golden particles that swirled together into a phantasmal shape of wings. Heart in his throat, his sight locked on the falling hero, Tommy had launched himself into the air.

He was throwing himself into plain sight, breaking his one rule that had kept him safe so far: to stay hidden from the public eye, and off the heroes’ radar.

The hero was going to be too heavy.

They were going to arrest him.

He was going to get hit by an attack from a villain.

But he couldn’t just watch a hero fall to his death. Not when he could do something. Not without at least trying.

He could hear shouting and fighting and the rush of wind against his ears, but it all became garbled in the background as his focus narrowed on his one goal: catch the hero before he hit the ground. He didn’t have to carry him back up into the sky, he just had to make the fall slow enough to survive.

As long as they were both alive, Tommy could fix it.

He collided with the hero, managing to hit the man’s chest and wrap his arms around him. The golden glow of his powers grew brighter, encompassing him as he strained to pull up. He’d been right about the weight, he couldn’t fly with the hero in his grasp, but he was slowing the fall. It was working.

“Hang on.” he’d said, his jaw clenched in effort. “I’ve got you.”

The hero struggled to even his breathing, and Tommy could tell he was attempting to hold as still as he could. He’d appreciated the effort. If the man had kept flapping his good wing, Tommy would have ended up with a serious case of vertigo, and possibly lost his grip. He risked a glance down, suddenly remembering the landing part of the descent. He tried to aim for an empty rooftop, if only to give him a fighting chance to get away before the authorities arrested him for vigilantism.

“We’re landing.” was the only warning he gave the hero before they hit the rooftop. It wasn’t the most graceful or gentlest of landings, but they hadn’t hit the roof too terribly hard, all things considered. The hero crumpled to his knees immediately, his masked face pale and filled with pain.

“Thanks mate.” the man gasped.

He needed to run, he knew he did, but the hero was still injured. It looked like he was in a lot of pain. The man probably had access to great medical care, much better than vigilantes could ever manage without being arrested. No one would fault him for leaving.

But he reached for the wing anyway. The hero stiffened at his touch, but relaxed as his pain faded and his wing was pushed back into place.

And then the Blade reached the rooftop and Tommy ran faster than he’d ever ran before, his wings weak from exertion but holding out a little longer to take him far away.

It took less than a couple hours for him to be dubbed ‘Icarus’ by the public. He supposed it made sense, for them, since all they saw was a boy with golden wings rising and falling in a sudden and brief appearance.

He had to lay low for a while until the worst of the attention on him passed. He was too busy with changing foster homes anyway. From then on, he was recognized when he showed up to the edge of villain attacks or in the darkness of an alley, following the sound of someone in pain, or teaming up with another vigilante for a patrol. He had to stay alert, dodging heroes when they spotted him.

He’d done a good job of it too. For two years. Two of the best years of his teenage life.

It ended on the day of his fifteenth birthday, when Icarus fell with nothing to catch him, not even his own wings.

“Happy birthday to me.” Tommy said under his breath. So much time had passed, it felt like decades instead of a couple years. He was starting to realize how young thirteen really was.

“Hullo?”

Tommy yelled, jumping straight out of his skin and throwing the broom at whatever had just—oh. A customer stood just inside the door, catching the broom by the handle with a surprised look on his face. Tall, pink hair, dark circles under his eyes . . . Tommy recognized him. The dude from a day ago—a day ago? Maybe two days. It was hard to keep track when he never slept.

It was the guy with the music name. Synth. No.

Techno.

“Didn’t mean to startle you. You are open, right?”

He was shaking, his mind running too slow as he blinked owlishly at the man. “. . . yeah.” he said, super convincingly. A couple brain cells caught up with him, and he tried to shake himself out of it. “Yeah, sorry. We’re open. I can—sorry I threw that, I’ll put it away and then take your order.” he took the broom back, grasping desperately at his jumbled thoughts to find his rhythm as Tommy, the normal boy with a normal name who worked at a coffee shop and lived a boring life.

The guy Techno waited at the register, and Tommy pulled up his customer service smile. “What can I get started for you Techno?”

Techno blinked at him. Now that Tommy looked at the guy without his adrenaline spiking, he noticed how ragged he looked. Like his bed had grown teeth in the night and started chewing him. Like he’d fought that bed and lost. Terribly. His eyes held just a little bit of a glaze over them, the kind that settled on normal people after they’d pulled a stressful all-nighter.

“You . . . remember my name.”

“Sure do, bud.” Tommy answered. “What can I say, I’m just cool like that.”

“Sorry I startled you when I came in.”

Tommy’s smile felt strained. “Don’t worry about it big man. In fact, please forget it happened.”

Techno stared at him for a few seconds, and then nodded. “Alright then, how many shots of espresso can I get in one drink?”

“What.”

“Like, can I order a medium cup filled only with espresso or is there a limit.”

“What, a flavorless macchiato isn’t enough violence for you today?” Tommy asked.

The guy shrugged. “That’s my regular order. I was kinda hoping for something closer to a heart attack today.”

“Why?”

Well, there went all of his smooth customer service tact. Right out the window. Along with the chance of getting a tip. Kristin could really use a break from customer complaints about his quality of service, but it looked like he might be keeping them coming.

“Because I thought a heart attack would be a nice distraction from the chaos going on inside my head.” Techno said casually. “However, now that I think of it, throwing that broom at me was kinda close to doing the trick.”

Tommy forced a laugh. “Ha. Yeah. That’s my bad. I can do five shots before I have to fight my conscience. If I fight it, I might get you up to six.”

“I’ll take the five,” he said. “You’ve fought enough already.”

He had no idea. Tommy nodded, ringing him up and then getting to work pulling the shots.

“Is this place usually so empty or did I just miss the morning crowd?” Techno asked over the sound of filtering water.

Tommy shrugged. “It’s a weird day all around, my guy. You’re my second customer all morning.”

“I guess that checks out. Everyone seems like they got off the wrong side of the bed today. You look like you didn’t get much sleep yourself.”

“Says the man who looks like he tried to sleep on an angry bear.” Tommy snorted.

“Ha.”

Tommy poured the last of the abomination into a cup and handed it over. “If you actually get a heart attack from this, don’t tell anyone where you got the coffee.”

Techno gave him half a smile at that, taking the cup into both hands, but he didn’t make any move to leave. He took a sip, straight-faced, and then stared down at his hands with a distant look in his eyes. Distant, and a little bit . . . sad?

Tommy didn’t try to get to know anyone past surface level for a reason, but today that reasoning felt distant and stale. Maybe it was because the look on Techno’s face reminded him of how he’d been feeling. Maybe he just didn’t want the guy to leave yet. Maybe getting to know a random guy’s problems were preferable to spiraling thoughts while he stood in an empty coffee shop. Whatever it was, all it took was to simply not try to stop himself from speaking.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked. Techno jolted, looking back up at Tommy, who just shrugged. “I’ve got nothing but time right now, and I gotta be honest big man, I don’t think solid espresso is gonna make it better.”

“Can’t hurt to try.” Techno said dryly. “As we all know, nothing bad has ever happened from consuming too much caffeine.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I actually think it will hurt to try. At the very least you’re gonna get chest pains from overloading your heart like that. You could also end up with dizziness, fainting, throwing up . . .” he ticked off each finger on one hand, like he was going down a list. “. . . headaches, convulsions, trouble breathing . . .”

“You sound like you’ve had experience.”

Tommy paused, glancing up at the man. It hadn’t exactly been from a caffeine overdose, but he had experienced some things that would produce essentially the same result. He’d experienced a lot of things that put too much strain on the body. “I mean, I work at a coffee shop.”

Techno took another sip, looking thoughtful. “I uh, lost someone a while ago. All this stuff about Icarus . . . reminds me of it.”

Oh. That actually hit a little too close for comfort. Tommy felt his pulse pick up. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Gonna be a long day, I guess.” the man shrugged. He took another sip. Tommy managed to suppress a wince at the thought of how much espresso he was drinking. “It happens. How’s the day looking for you?”

“Slow.” Tommy said immediately. He slumped with his arms folded over the counter. “I’m gonna be bored out of my mind. Might end up disassembling the espresso machine again.”

Techno looked at him over the cup he’d raised to his mouth. “Again?” he asked, faint humor crossing his face.

“Yeah. Stupid thing keeps breaking, and I get bored easily. It’s too quiet in here when things are slow. I’d play music but we don’t have speakers installed. I’ve been bugging Kristin about it for weeks. To be fair, she is trying to get some. We just have the world’s worst mechanics in this city because no one will come out to install them.”

Techno looked around the room, as if visualizing where speakers would go. “That is a problem. Have you considered a portable speaker?”

Tommy sighed. “I should probably look in to that. Maybe I’ll do it after work.”

“But until then,” Techno said solemnly. “You’re stuck with silence.”

“Yup.” Tommy said absently. He gave some half-hearted jazz hands. “Happy birthday to me.”

“Aw, man. You’re working on your birthday?”

Tommy startled, realizing he’d said it out loud. He gave a nervous laugh. “I mean, doesn’t everybody?”

“You should close up and skip.” Techno deadpanned. “Pretty sure you get a free pass on your birthday. It doesn’t really look like it’ll be noticed with these crowds.” he waved his hand towards the empty streets outside.

Tommy laughed. “And do what? Aside from getting a speaker, I guess.”

“I dunno, most people get a cake. Hang out with friends. Watch a movie.”

Maybe he could buy himself a cake slice. It sounded a little sad, eating cake alone on the streets, but he hadn’t eaten something like cake in a while. Mostly he’d just eaten meals to keep himself running, not so much spending a little extra for dessert. He had phone bills to pay. Vigilante gear to buy. Laundry loads to run in the little dingy laundromat during a time of day where no one would be around to stare at his combination of twenty identical shirts mixed in with vigilante clothes.

“You . . . you do have someone to hang out with, right? Oh, no, don’t tell me you don’t have anyone to hang out with. That’s just sad.”

“Hey! Not everybody can keep up with a social life, okay?” Tommy threw his hands up. “I have . . . friends.”

Techno raised an eyebrow. “You hesitated.”

“And you’re letting your heart attack get cold.”

“Touché.” he took another sip. “Well, guess I’m stayin’ to keep you entertained. Can’t have you wastin’ away on your birthday. That would just be rude.”

“You really don’t have to.” Tommy said weakly. “I’m fine.”

“Nope. Pretty sure you’re wastin’ away. If I don’t stay, it’ll be fatal. It’s my civic duty to stay. Besides, I got nothing else to do.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes. “You’re just looking for an excuse to stay, aren’t you. Do you have friends?”

“Yes! They just happen to be . . . working.”

“You hesitated.”

“I do have friends. I’m just staying to make sure you have a half-decent birthday.”

“Name one friend that you have.” Tommy challenged.

“Easy. Phil.”

The name rang a bell. Tommy thought for a moment before remembering the man who witnessed his electrocution. “You’re friends with that old man?”

“Heh?”

“Phil? The guy who ordered a black coffee and tried to take me to a hospital?”

“He’s not that ol—why was he trying to take you to the hospital?”

Tommy grinned. “Because I disassembled the espresso machine.”

Techno let out a surprised laugh. It was nice, though, talking to him. Much easier than Tommy would have thought.

True to his word, the man stayed and chatted with him for his whole shift. The six espresso shots did make him jittery, to the point that Tommy forced him to drink a ton of water and then sent him out to buy them both snacks. Eventually, they’d ended up with Tommy sitting on the counter in front of the register, watching as Techno balanced precariously on one of the tables with an empty cup and a flat cup sleeve, trying to capture a large spider on the ceiling.

One of Tommy’s phones vibrated, and he pulled it out, checking which one. It was his hero phone. Glancing at Techno—who was completely focused on inching closer to the spider—he answered. “What’s up?”

“Blink!” He winced at Tubbo’s loud voice. “Void and I were talking about hanging out after patrol, wanna join us? We’ll probably end up at the skate park. Hold o—what?” He was pretty sure the distant voice on the other end was Void. “Yeah, I have a skateboard. Obviously we could take turns. Have you ever skateboarded Blink?”

“Uh,” Tommy watched Techno slam the cup up into the ceiling, trapping the spider. “It’s been a while. Are saying like, meet up as . . . like normal? No, uh, work clothes?”

Techno slid the cup sleeve between the ceiling and the mouth of the cup, glancing over at him. “You call that work clothes?”

Tommy looked down at his shirt. He wasn’t even wearing an apron. Kristin would probably get on his case about that, but to be fair, it wasn’t like he really needed it today.

“Oh! You can wear a facemask or something. Or show up in work clothes. Whatever you’re comfortable with. Void wears his facemask with his civies, and fingerless gloves like a tryhard.”

“Hey!” Void’s voice said faintly. “It’s called having style.”

“When, uh, would you want to meet?” Tommy asked.

Techno jumped down from the table with way too much style and ease. Showoff. He raised the cup towards Tommy triumphantly, and then mouthed ‘you have friends?’

Tommy shrugged, raising his free hand in an ‘I guess’ gesture.

“Well, we only started patrol, really. What about tonight, around seven? We can meet at the convenience store on Fifth street.”

“Yeah, okay.” Tommy said, watching Techno walk closer. He frowned. ‘What?’ he mouthed.

“Great!” Tubbo said excitedly. “We’ll see you then!”

“Yeah, see y—Techno whAT ARE YOU DOING GET THAT AWAY—”

Techno released the spider onto Tommy’s lap. “Happy birthday.”

Tommy flung his phone at Techno with a shout, jumping off the counter and swiping at himself to get the spider off. Techno caught the phone and ended the call, unphased. And with only one hand, too. Which Tommy would have spent more time admiring, if he hadn’t been fighting for his life.

“You bastard! What the—why would you—where’d it go?!”

Techno just laughed. It took Tommy five minutes to find the spider again, taking the cup from Techno and capturing it himself, releasing it outside like a normal, rational person. “I’m spitting in your drink next time.”

Techno was still grinning. He tossed back Tommy’s phone. “My immune system can take it.”

“Not this one. I have special germs.”

“The horror.”

--------

It was only as Tommy walked into the convenience store that he realized putting a red bandana over his nose and mouth was a fantastic way to look like he was going to rob the place. He gave the cashier a sheepish wave and a few awkward coughs, before ducking into one of the aisles to stare intently at whatever happened to be on the shelves.

He was trying not to think. He’d been managing it quite well with Techno hanging out at the coffee shop, but now he was alone again until Undergrowth and Void showed up, and the convenience store wasn’t playing any music to fill the silence. There was the hum of electricity and the sound of the cashier fussing around.

And no thoughts.

He didn’t even know what he was staring at.

A shiver ran down one side of his body, which probably meant Clementine was close by. He blinked a few times, making sure he hadn’t accidentally started using Orpheus’s powers. No, he hadn’t. Clementine just simply didn’t play by the same rules as the other phantoms, sometimes showing up and talking without him using his powers. He hadn’t ever questioned it, really. It felt natural for her to be able to do so.

He’d known Clementine when she’d been alive.

Tommy sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against a shelf.

Icarus shouldn’t have gotten predictable. To be fair to himself, most of the time he wasn’t. On Friday afternoons, however, towards the end, just after schools let out . . .

He’d run across Clementine again by accident.

It had been two weeks after running from his foster home, trying to shake whatever was haunting his steps so they wouldn’t get hurt. Two weeks since sneaking out—since leaving behind Clementine, her mom, and the only home that had felt right since his parents died. He’d thought it would keep them safe. Maybe it could have. If only he hadn’t kept looking back.

Logstedshire had been a district under development, tall new buildings either under construction or brand-new and empty, waiting for businesses to fill them. Dressed as Icarus, he’d been flying rooftop to rooftop—far, far from the ground and traffic below.

And Clementine had been sitting on the edge of a high-rise rooftop, feet dangling, eyes on the clouds floating overhead.

He shouldn’t have stopped. He shouldn’t have joined her on the ledge, shouldn’t have asked her what was on her mind.

But he had. She’d opened up to him about her foster brother disappearing, and he’d nearly gone back that night. He wondered if maybe, just maybe, he was too paranoid. That maybe he really could depend on an adult to keep him safe and not die in the process. Maybe he could go home with Clementine, and his foster mom would listen to his worries and be able to do something about them.

Instead, he went back to the same rooftop on the next Friday, and the Friday after that. They hung out as golden hour settled over the city, a little girl and a healer vigilante, talking about anything and everything. A moment of peace in the world of chaos.

So of course it didn’t last.

“Do you ever not wear red?” Tubbo’s voice jolted him out of his memories. Shoot, he’d been thinking.

“I mean, red is objectively the best color, so why would I wear something else?” Tommy said, mindlessly tugging at his sleeves. “Do you ever not wear green?”

Tubbo was, in fact, wearing a dark green hoodie that looked well-loved, with sleeves slightly too short for his arms. He had a skateboard in one of his hands, hanging at his side. Void was standing beside him, his normal split-colored face mask on. The Hawaiian shirt was new to Tommy, though. It did not in any way go with his fingerless gloves.

“I don’t think you understand what the word ‘objectively’ means.” Void offered. He was definitely staring at the bandana. “You didn’t rob this place while you were waiting, did you?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “If I was going to rob a store, I wouldn’t have to hide my face with a cloth.”

Tubbo walked past him, pursuing the snacks. “Come on, let’s get some supplies and then go. We’re gonna see how good you are at skateboarding.”

Void grabbed several ramen packets. Tommy raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think there’s a stove at the skate park, bud.”

Void blinked at him, and then followed his gaze to the packets. “Oh! Um, yeah, no, I don’t need a stove. I just eat them.”

“You just eat them.” Tommy repeated. “The dry ramen noodle bricks.”

“Yup.”

“And you think the stuff I eat is weird.”

Tubbo already had too much in his hand, trying to use two fingers to pick up one last candy bar. “I’m checking out. Are you guys getting anything else?”

Tommy ended up with a cake slice, and Void had his ramen packets and a slushy. Evening had set in as they followed Tubbo to the skate park. It both seemed like the most normal thing in the world, and the strangest thing Tommy could do. The three of them hanging out, like they were normal teens or something.

Which, of course, legally . . . well, did eighteen still count?

“Oh!” Void said suddenly, making him jump. “I’m Ranboo, by the way.”

Tommy whipped his head to him so fast something cracked. “You’re—What?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda a weird name, I know.”

“You just—” Tommy stared at him. “You’re just telling me your name?”

Ranboo shrugged. “Sure. Feels weird to call me Voidwalker outside of work, ya know? I don’t mind you knowing.”

Tubbo turned around, walking backwards. “Welcome to the Ranboo knowers club!”

“We’re not calling it that.”

“Oh.” Tommy said. It made sense. They were dressed as civilians—or, civilians with face masks—of course it would be weird to call each other by their hero names. Kinda defeated the purpose of a secret identity.

Did that mean . . . was civilian Tommy, part of his hero identity? Not at work, of course, but in this sort of situation . . .

Not even the Captain knew his identity. Coffee shop Tommy was a normal guy, with a normal, boring life and a normal, common name. But going to a skate park with friends . . . that sounded like something a normal guy would do. “You can call me Tommy.” His heart rate spiked, like he’d just told them they could shoot him where he stood. “And this bandana sucks. You guys can keep a secret, right?”

“As long as the secret isn’t that you sleep in minecraft pajamas.” Tubbo said cheerfully.

Ranboo gave a heavy sigh. “It’s really just, the least important detail you could have remembered from that.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, tugging off his bandana. “What were the other details?”

“I sleep walk sometimes, and this one time—”

“He grabbed leftover spaghetti from the kitchen,” Tubbo cut in, “and then dumped it on his half-sister’s face and yelled ‘welcome boys and girls!’ into her ear.”

“She has fast reflexes.” Ranboo said. “Grabbed my shirt so fast it kinda ripped. Like a lot. She felt bad about it later and fixed it.”

Tubbo nodded, facing forward again. “And then the first thing Ranboo says to me when he gets to work is ‘my sister ripped the sleeve off my minecraft pajamas.’ So yeah, I think it’s a reasonable detail to remember.”

Tommy looked down at his cake. “Younger sister?”

“Nah,” Ranboo said. “Older. She’s, um, technically my legal guardian. So yeah.”

“Legal guardian? Aren’t you like, an adult?”

“I will be in a few months.” Ranboo nodded. “Tubbo’s gonna beat me to it, though.”

Tommy stumbled. “I thought you were both adults? Tubbo, don’t you talk about paying rent for an apartment?”

“I’m a legally emancipated minor.” Tubbo said casually. “What about you?”

“Uhhh,” Tommy said intelligently, “I’m eighteen. Nineteen.”

Ranboo gave him a side eye. “Suuuure you are.”

“I can show you my ID, idiot. I just forgot it’s my bir—” He clamped his mouth shut. He didn’t want to think about what day it was. He should have put a different birthday on his ID, if only so he could celebrate it on a day that didn’t feel weird.

“It’s your birthday?!” Tubbo yelled, spinning back around.

Tommy just half-heartedly raised his plastic container of cake in response.

“Dude, why didn’t you say something?” Ranboo asked.

“I wouldn’t have ever guessed you were older than us!” Tubbo added.

He wasn’t, but that was his secret. “I don’t really like my birthday anymore, so it’s not a big deal,” he insisted. “I just wanted to hang out with you guys.”

And not sit anywhere with his own thoughts.

“Aww, thanks bossman.” Tubbo said, turning around again. “Well here we are! The best skatepark in the whole city!”

It certainly had a lot of ramps and rails set up. It was also surrounded by an underpass, two dumpsters, and a staircase that could make a small tumble in the wrong direction into a much longer, much bumpier one.

“Wait, Tubbo, let me have the skateboard first.” Ranboo said. “You guys wanna see something cool?”

Tubbo handed over the board. “If it doesn’t involve fire, I might get bored.”

“Oh, no, you’re gonna love this. Just watch.” Ranboo opened a ramen packet, pulling out the dried noodles as he stepped onto the skateboard. He got it going fast, and then aimed it directly towards the staircase.

“I should have lit him on fire for this.” Tubbo said, opening his candy bar.

Ranboo had one hand in his pocket, the other holding the ramen for him to take a bite out of. It did, admittedly, look pretty cool going down the first couple of stairs. After that, it was all limbs and an empty board flying through the air. Tommy was beginning to understand the need for the gloves Ranboo wore.

The ramen survived the ordeal unscathed.

They took turns with the skateboard after that, whichever two didn’t have it would cheer the other on and constantly demand flips, despite the fact that none of them could do that. Tubbo used his powers to grow patches of grass in the cement cracks, just so that he could tear up the blades as they sat around. Tommy almost asked him if he’d seen any red plants recently, but that was a hard question to explain, and anyway, he wanted to be normal Tommy for the evening. Ranboo didn’t teleport at all, even though it probably could have saved him a lot of scrapes and bruises. The guy just acted like his bones were made of rubber.

They skated until it was too dark to see and Tubbo ran over Tommy by accident, thinking he was a small ramp. It was Ranboo who reminded Tommy that he had patrol with the Captain in the morning. They said their goodbyes, telling Tommy to go get some sleep and he promised them he would. Like a liar.

Instead, he looped back around to the skatepark and sat on one of the ramps. The stars were peeking out between clouds. He closed his eyes, letting them flash silver behind his lids. “Hey Clem.” He whispered.

She became a bit more solid, sitting down next to him.

It had been his fifteenth birthday, two years ago, when he’d lept across the tall rises to the spot he’d always met Clementine. He'd been on a rooftop one building away, when he’d found himself face-to-face with the city’s most beloved hero, the Blade.

The hero’s cape had been blue back then, a crisp blue that made Tommy’s blood run cold. He’d always avoided the heroes, always managed to stay far away, aside from that time he’d caught the falling Nightingale. That day, however, he’d flown straight up close to one of the best. Surely, he was going to get arrested.

Though the hero didn’t seem particularly hurried. “Hullo Icarus, I was hoping we could chat.”

“Yeah, right,” Tommy had said tightly, his eyes darting to the rooftop beyond. No Clementine yet, good. He didn’t want her involved. “If you’re gonna ask me to let you arrest me I’m gonna have to say no.”

“I’m not here to arrest you.” The hero said, and Tommy almost believed him. The Blade took a step closer. “I really just want to talk, and then you can be on your way.”

Tommy relaxed, just the tiniest bit, letting the man take another step closer. He’d been curious, of course; anyone would be curious to know what a superhero wanted to talk to them about, vigilante or not. Before the hero could say another word, though, a sharp sting hit his arm. Somehow, the thing he remembers the most clearly was how the Blade’s eyes had gone straight to the small dart sticking from his arm. A hot, uncomfortable sensation had swept over him, something that felt like a tight layer of near-melting plastic covering his skin, making him go stiff. It was like it was locking something inside, just out of reach, just below the surface.

It took about two seconds for him to realize that the thing it was locking inside him was his own powers. His eyes had blown wide in fear, looking to the hero in front of him with horror. “You’re lying.” He’d whispered. “I’m so stupid. I nearly fell for it.”

The Blade opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the sound of a stairwell door one building over, slamming shut. Both of them had looked towards the sound, and for a moment there was nothing.

And then Clementine flickered into sight, staring at them in shock.

He almost told her to go invisible again. He’d known about her power—she hadn’t had the best control of it—and now would be the best time for her to go unseen. She was going to be associated with him, perhaps blamed for helping him or something, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“That wasn’t me, I swear.” The Blade cut into his thoughts. “Icarus, are you in danger?”

Tommy looked back at the hero in time to see him try to take another step forward, and Tommy stumbled back in response. This was a setup. Something awful was happening to the powers beneath his skin, he couldn’t grasp them as well as usual. What if he couldn’t fly? What if he couldn’t escape? What if—

BOOM

Clementine’s scream was nearly drowned out by the explosion. Tommy locked eyes with her, and she looked back at him with fear. Realization had dawned on both of them in that moment, that the explosion had just come from under her.

The building she stood on was crumbling. Her powers flickered the way they often did when she was scared, and the roof shifted under her.

“Icarus!” She screamed.

And it didn’t matter if there was a hero facing him. It didn’t matter if he could fly or not. Tommy ran for her. He just needed to reach her, to grab her as the structure beneath her feet split and fell away. If he could just reach her—

She ran straight to the edge of the roof that was quickly disintegrating, straight towards him.

He jumped, sailing over the long gap between buildings. For a brief moment, his wings burst out from his back, flaring out. Her hand was outstretched, she stopped flickering, he was going to make it—

Their fingers brushed against each other, and then his wings flickered out.

They fell.

It was a long way down.

Tommy nearly forgot about the ground fast approaching, focusing desperately on the wings he couldn’t summon. He could feel his powers, they were right there, pounding beneath his skin. Trapped.

He hit the ground amidst rubble and dust.

It had felt like every bone in his body had been shattered, every nerve on fire and screaming. His powers were desperately trying to knit him back together even as he broke apart, but in that moment, his focus had zeroed in on one thing and one thing only. Or, rather, one person. She was laying beside him, just out of reach. A little girl with copper hair. Clementine.

His sister, in every way that mattered.

He’d dragged himself towards her, and their eyes met one more time, both pairs open wide with horror and pain. His bloody fingertips had managed to brush hers, and only then did he realize what had made him fall in the first place.

He couldn’t use his powers.

Her eyes closed, one tear running a wet track down her gray dusty face. Hands had grabbed him, dragging him away, and he lost consciousness still trying to reach out to his little sister. Leaving her behind.

The Federation had only cared about keeping Icarus.

A chill settled into his bones as Clementine leaned into his side. A light breath of wind found its way through the skatepark. He wished she was warm and alive, teasing him about his weird name, or telling him about school. She was quieter as a phantom.

Clementine gave a quiet sigh, resting her semi-tangible head on his shoulder. “Happy birthday, Theseus.” she whispered.

Notes:

Tommy, internally: I'm not telling anyone it's my birthday, not even myself.
Tommy, externally, to everyone he meets: yeah so anyway it's my birthday.

So! Did I explain things or make them more confusing? lol. I'm excited to finally be getting past most of the setup. I think. Was this a super long chapter? yup. Did I almost split it into two chapters? yup. Will it happen again? probably.

Chapter 5: Lesson 5: Remember To Have Fun

Tommy showed up to work with a frappuccino and heavy feet. His patrol as Shuteye during the dark hours of the morning had resulted in more running than he’d done in a long time. On the one hand, it worked well for clearing his mind and focusing it on the present. On the other hand, that present it focused on was his lungs and their ability to function, which wasn’t the most fun subject to dwell on.

For someone who had powers that never let him sleep, he sure was tired. A lot. Who would have thought that running across half of his very large city for hours with constant adrenaline and parkour would have that sort of effect. The caffeine wasn’t doing much, as far as he could tell. Or the sugar. Maybe his day was doomed.

The other heroes at the base were also looking tired, so at least he blended in. Of course, the normal hustle and chaos remained in motion, if filled with an unusual amount of tripping and bumping into things.

“Rough day yesterday?” he asked the Captain as he walked into her office.

She sighed, her eyes looking a little red. “Petty crime went up as expected, tensions were high, a lot of people had something they wanted to say to heroes and a lot of it ended up with them yelling. Everything’s schedules were off, people weren’t gathering in the normal places . . . it was dead quiet and crazy busy at the same time. I hope you had a more restful experience.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said, watching her shuffle through papers with glazed eyes. “Yup. Slow day. Pretty boring. Saw a spider.”

He’d also thrown a broom at Techno, sat through flashbacks in an empty skatepark with a ghost, and chased criminals who had the endurance of rhinos through too many streets and alleyways. But who was counting?

“Think you could spend some time filing before we go out? Foolish was asking if we could swap patrols.”

“Sure,” Tommy said with no enthusiasm at all, “I love paperwork so much.”

The Captain gave him a wry smile, reaching for her own coffee that sat on her desk and definitely didn’t look hot anymore. “I know, but hey it gives us a chance to enjoy our drinks.”

Tommy wrinkled his nose. “No offense Cap, but your drink looks sad. Do you want me to do a proper coffee run for you?”

She grinned but shook her head, handing him a stack of papers. “Last time you got me a coffee I burned my tongue and couldn’t taste anything for five days.”

“You said you liked your coffee really hot so that’s what I got you.” Tommy said. “Not my fault you decided to chug it without even checking the temperature.”

He settled down with the stack in his hands, looking through some of the reports from the day before. The later in the day the reports happened, the more creative the wording got. He couldn’t blame her, either. No wonder she looked tired.

Foolish popped in, standing just inside the doorway and staring for a solid two minutes before he spoke. “Thanks for swapping patrols, Cap and Blink.”

The Captain looked confused. “Thank y—”

Foolish stepped back, flicked the lightswitch a few times, flashed them a grin, and then left with the door wide open.

“Real mature, Foolish!” The Captain yelled after him.

Tommy finished his frappuccino, had a brief sugar crash, and then was forced to drink water. Disgusting.

A couple people stopped by with questions for the Captain or more files, and an intern dashed in frantically telling them not to use the microwave.

During their lunch break, there was a noticeable lack of a microwave.

By early afternoon, they were finally reaching the bottom of the pile of backlogged paperwork. Tommy was about to ask the Captain if she knew how to make a good paper airplane, when the chill atmosphere was shattered.

There was a loud alert noise over the building’s speakers, followed by an urgent voice. “Blade and Nemesis break-in and attack at police station in western Prime district, request immediate assistance from the Captain and Blink. I repeat, Blade and Nemesis break-in and attack on police—”

The Captain was already flying for the door, snatching her sword and buckling it to her waist. Tommy was right behind her with his fighting sticks in both hands. A break-in at a police station? What in the world were they doing there?

Maybe he should have told the Blade he could get access to government records. The hero job did have its perks.

Shoot, he hadn’t looked into that missing person case yet. He really needed to get on that. Were they trying to find out something about the kid at the police station? Was it related? Surely the Syndicate had other business to do, they didn’t spend all of their time trying to clear the Blade’s name, right?

Maybe he should have asked. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to know. Maybe—

They left the building, and the Captain drove a company car to get to the police station on the west side of the Prime district, since neither of them had transportation powers. The Captain had laser focus as she drove, tense as a drawn bowstring, and it finally hit him what they were doing. He was about to go fight the Blade and Nemesis. As a hero. It didn’t matter what he knew about them, this was a hero and villain fight.

The moment they arrived on scene, an officer ran up to the Captain, pointing to the rooftops. “They split up, the Blade went that way. We already have someone on Nemes—”

The Captain had already given the officer a sharp nod and started running in the indicated direction. Tommy went invisible, breathing heavier as he fought to keep up. “What’s the plan?”

“Hang back for this one, stay out of sight.” she said. “I’ll keep his focus on me, wait until I’ve worn him down before assisting with the arrest.”

“What? But—”

“Blink. Stay back and out of sight until it’s time for the arrest.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” He said, slightly disappointed. His part in the plan sounded rather boring. That’s what he gets, though, for being a hero with stealth powers.

Nook’s voice spoke up over their earpieces. “I’ve got eyes on him. You can cut him off if you make a right down that alley and then get on the rooftops.”

They went down the alley and then clambered up a fire escape. Tommy tried to be quiet as he followed the Captain, since his one job was to be hidden. By the time he swung over the edge onto the roof, the Captain had already lept into the Blade’s path, causing him to skid to a stop.

“Thought you might be showing up.” the Blade said, and he didn’t even sound out of breath. Rude. He lifted his sword, ready for an attack. “Any chance we could skip today?”

The Captain lifted her own sword, avoiding eye contact and using her off hand to summon a force shield. “No.”

She attacked. Something about her was different than all the times they’d trained together, different even from when they’d patrolled. A different kind of intensity. A bit reckless, too. She was making some moves that she’d been trying to train out of him. He had a very close front seat to their fight, and he focused on looking for an opening. All the Blade had to do was mess up once. If he did, then Tommy could . . .

Was he really going to get the Blade arrested? Sure, yes, he’d joined the team specifically assigned to capturing the Blade, but that wasn’t so he could actually . . . capture him. He’d be able to keep an eye on how close the heroes were getting, keep track of his appearances, maybe learn some more about the guy.

Now, though, the Blade was helping him. Well, technically, he was the one helping the Blade with a case that he just so happened to also be invested in. For slightly different reasons.

The Captain’s attacks were getting more reckless, not allowing for a space that the Blade could use to break away from her. Tommy didn’t want her to get killed. With the way she was fighting, he was beginning to wonder if he was the only one. Her moves were sloppy, and the only reason the Blade hadn’t drawn blood yet was because of her force shield. And maybe because he seemed to be more focused on trying to get away than winning the fight.

Tommy should prioritize keeping the Captain alive. That’s what teammates did. Have each other’s backs. That’s what she always told him. Yeah. He’d keep her from getting herself killed, and then the Blade would just slip through their fingers. So sad. Unfortunate, really, but what could he do?

“Stop retreating and fight me Blade!” The Captain yelled.

Not the most self-preserving thing to say, but from someone who wanted to make an arrest, he supposed it made sense.

“I’d rather you give up the chase, Captain.” The Blade was getting out of breath now. She’d nicked his arm a few times, but it was hard to tell if the cuts had made it further than slicing fabric.

“You killed them. I’ll never give up the chase.”

Tommy couldn’t see much of the Blade’s face behind the boar’s mask he wore, and he knew better than to try to look at the guy’s eyes, but he was pretty sure the Captain’s words were getting to him. He wasn’t completely on the defense anymore.

She was egging him on.

Great. Perfect. That’s fine. That was super smart and fine. Tommy was thinking maybe should be getting involved in the fight. Maybe create some space, accidentally trip up the Captain, let the Blade slip away before he truly decided on drawing blood.

“I didn’t set off those bombs. I didn’t make him fall.” The Blade was hitting harder. “I couldn’t have saved either of them!”

The Captain shuffled a few steps back, and there was a pause. The two of them, glaring, neither of them breaking away but paused in their attacks. Tommy held his breath.

“It wasn’t me.” The Blade said. “And I’m going to prove it.”

The Captain let out a strangled shout, and then she did several unexpected things in quick succession. Firstly, she dropped her sword.

Secondly, she charged straight at the Blade, her free hand going to something on her belt.

“Captain!” Tommy yelled, and for just a moment, his invisibility slipped.

Thirdly, she met the Blade’s eyes.

And froze.

Tommy moved. If it had been one thing she’d taught him, it was how to fight without ever looking the opponent in the eyes. She hadn’t let him debut as a hero until he got good at it, because once the Blade meets your eyes or touches you, he can control your blood. He doesn’t even have to maintain the contact, though it seems to help.

Of all the things for her to mess up, why had she looked him in the eyes? She was straining against his hold, not even her mouth moving.

The Blade turned his head, his gaze nearly falling on Tommy, and he went invisible again. He stopped moving forward and started circling the Blade instead.

The Blade had the Captain under his control. His sword hit her force shield, and it wobbled under the strain. He was going to kill her. He hit again, and his sword slid down the side of the shield, piercing through just enough to leave a long shallow cut down her arm.

Her shield was going to drop. Tommy swallowed hard, tightening the grip on his sticks. There was no backup that could make it in time. He was the backup.

Okay.

It was time to be incredibly stupid.

Good thing he was good at that. Raising his sticks, he charged the Blade and attacked, getting in a single good double-hit before the man turned and raised his sword to block the next hit.

Tommy dashed away from the villain’s returning swing, circling around him to attack his other side.

And was blocked.

“Blink no!” The Captain’s voice was tight and panicked. Hey, look at that, she could move her mouth now. Kinda.

Tommy wasn’t going to listen. He needed the Blade to let her go completely.

Two fighting sticks against a very sharp, very fast sword was not an ideal fight, but Tommy kept his feet moving, going for the man’s blind spots and drawing him away from the Captain.

He wasn’t landing any hits.

Tommy checked a few times to make sure he was still invisible. He felt a little bit awed, and a little bit sick, as he realized just how good this man’s senses were. In fact, he was starting to use his sticks for blocking the sword instead of to attack.

His invisibility was really only good for keeping the blood control at bay.

“Blink!” The Captain yelled, her voice tearing like paper. “Disengage! Get out of here now!”

The Blade turned back to the Captain, suddenly disinterested in Tommy’s attacks. Apparently he’d grown tired of their fight, because he reached out, fully focused on controlling her blood once again as his other hand raised his sword.

No.

Her shield was down. The Blade was closing the small amount of distance Tommy had managed to put between them. Her sword was laying on the ground, useless.

And it’s interesting, the things that can cross his mind when he decides to commit to a stupid plan. Tommy ran, scooping up the Captain’s sword, fighting to cut off the Blade before he closed the space between himself and Tommy’s teammate, and all he could think about was how in the world had the Captain stayed alive fighting the Blade for this long.

Tommy stopped in front of the Captain, facing the Blade, and dropped his invisibility.

The man stopped in surprise, close enough for Tommy to hear his breath hitch.

To be honest, he was shaking. Slightly. He was Blink, a hero. Staring straight into the Blade’s eyes. The man truly could just slice through him. This could be it.

Maybe he’d resort to his other powers. Probably not Shuteye’s, since that required touch and there was no way the Blade would just let him make contact when he could control his blood.

But he could summon his phantoms. He could have them pull the Blade away, maybe.

And then expose himself as Orpheus and Blink, to both a villain and a hero in one fell swoop.

Yeah, maybe he was just gonna die today.

The Blade took a step back. “Interesting.” he said, and he lowered his sword back to a ready stance. “I kinda don’t have time for this though, kid.”

“Too bad.” Tommy said. Either holding the Captain put too much of a strain on his powers to add another, or the guy really didn’t want to use his powers on Blink. Curious. “I’m not leaving.”

He was pretty sure there was some super old wise quote about striking your enemy first or something, and he decided that was the wisdom he’d use. He lunged forward, slicing the Captain’s sword in the air. It was knocked aside, and Tommy stumbled a bit too close to make a sword fight comfortable.

Totally on purpose. He meant to do that.

To . . . to force the Blade back. Yeah.

The Blade stepped in, and suddenly there was a sharp sword edge against Tommy’s neck. Glowing red eyes bored into startled blue. “You’re leaving. Now move.”

Heart pounding out his ears, Tommy pulled his face into a grin. It was surprisingly easy for him to do in situations of intense fear and likely death. Maybe it was a side effect of having humor as a coping mechanism. “The Blade doesn’t kill kids.”

Not that he was a kid. Not according to his very legal ID. But he was willing to microdose on telling the truth if it kept him alive.

“Maybe he does now.” The Blade said. “I’m no hero.”

“You used to be.”

“Don’t remind me, not with the Captain here.” The Blade shoved him back, and Tommy stumbled on numb legs to catch himself. “She holds a mean grudge.”

The Captain gasped for air behind him, and he heard the distinct sound of her collapsing to the ground. The Blade must have let go. Perfect. If his very short experience having his blood controlled as Orpheus told him anything, she was likely not going to be able to do much after being held for . . . how long had it been? For him it was barely a minute.

Now he just needed to make the Blade leave. Tommy, in all his brilliance, had not yet dropped the sword in his hand, and so he raised it again.

“Blink, get behind me!” The Captain said weakly, probably trying to pull herself up, or some such ill-advised action. “Go!”

He did go. Just not the direction she was telling him to, and instead attacking the Blade with a series of blows that the man swatted aside, looking annoyed.

He was pretty sure there was another old quote about annoying your enemy. He was pretty sure he did an essay on that quote in school. It got a pretty bad grade, but he’d given himself an A for effort and that’s what counted.

The Blade blocked another of his attacks, and then lunged forward, eyes blazing.

It was very sudden, and Tommy wasn’t actually very good at sword fighting. He tried to knock it away, but not quite enough. The sword went into his upper arm.

Tommy cried out, more from surprise than pain. He couldn’t feel much yet.

“Blink no!”

And the Blade . . . he yanked his sword away, and stared. The glowing red in his eyes flickered.

Tommy clamped his hand over the stab wound, his sword clattering to the ground.

The Blade took a step back, and then another. His eyes lifted up to look at Tommy’s pale, masked face, and like an idiot Tommy stared back. His heart was pounding pretty hard for something that felt so light in his chest.

The Blade’s eyes flickered over Tommy’s shoulder, and then he turned around. And ran.

--------

The Captain had done a hurried job of wrapping his arm so they could get back to the base, but he still held his hand over the wound like his grip was the only thing holding his arm together. It had been a silent, worried trip back.

That silence broke when they were finally on the main floor. Nook and several others were running over to meet them. Someone was already asking if they were alright.

The Captain stopped in front of Tommy, turning to face him. Oh, she looked upset. “What the hell was that?” She demanded. “Are you suicidal?”

“Are you?” Tommy shot back, and it was a little too easy to find more words to say. “What happened to ‘if you mess up, I’ll take care of it’? There was no way you could have taken care of it, you were too busy making a mess for me to take care of! How in the name of sanity have you survived this long?”

Hmm, maybe he should shut up. He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be yelling at the city’s top hero. That had to be bad for the longevity of his job.

“I knew what I was doing, if you’d just listened it would have been fine.” She paused, and then pushed back the opening to her coat, pulling one of Nook’s small lightning bombs from her belt. “I was about to activate this, but you got in the way. We almost had him!”

“Almost—” Tommy sputtered, his brain short-circuiting. The lightning bomb wasn’t a death sentence by any means, but it was certainly worse than getting electrocuted by an espresso machine. Not great for anyone’s health, and with the proximity she’d had, it wouldn’t have been limited to the Blade. “He had you under his blood control, and he fought me blind like it was nothing! The only thing that almost happened was our deaths!”

“I told you to run away!” She insisted. “You would have been safe!”

“And you wouldn’t! You think I could just go, and leave you at his mercy? He was going to kill you!” His arm was definitely hurting by that point, and it wasn’t helping him calm down. His voice rose louder. “You think it’s that easy? To just leave my teammate behind and save my own skin? Do you know what losing someone does to a person?!”

He was breathing too fast. A chill went down his spine. He shouldn’t be this shaken up. He’d been stabbed before. No one died. The Blade got away.

All he’d ever wanted was to keep people from getting hurt.

Was he the smartest about his own safety? Not really. Had he acted any less reckless than her during the fight? No, probably not. Had he gotten himself into worse situations than she did in that fight? Yeah, maybe.

Maybe he was being hypocritical.

But he wasn’t the city’s top hero. He wasn’t the one who was teaching new heroes to be cautious and safe and smart. He wasn’t even an adult. Not that anyone would know that.

Between the two of them, he wasn’t supposed to be the rational one.

“Blink,” her voice, in contrast, dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I—”

“You were gonna let me carry that?” His mind was racing. “For the rest of my life? You were going to discharge a lightning bomb at close range, and that was if you even could while under his blood control.”

There were more people around them, but he didn’t care. “Did you even think about how likely something like that could paralyze you? Take your hearing? Your sight? Your nerves?”

The Captain closed her mouth, taking a tiny step back. They were both shaking. Her voice was only just above the ringing in his ears. “We almost had him.”

“Is he even worth it?” Tommy said, voice strangled. “Did you ever wonder if you’re wrong about him?”

“I’m not. You weren’t there, he—”

“Neither were you!”

They stared at each other, the Captain’s face twisting into something halfway between hurt and . . . anger? Shock? Bewilderment?

Icarus’ fall had been caught on camera. Apparently a news station had gotten some sort of anonymous tip that the Blade was going to arrest a vigilante. Everyone pointed to the footage as ironclad proof, even though it was taken from pretty far away. The bomb, too, was made with some materials that only the heroes were supposed to have access to. And, of course, the Blade had been right there.

The video was everywhere now, but no other heroes had been there when it happened. No one was. Just two kids, a scapegoat, and the people who’d dragged him away before anyone else could find him.

“And you were gonna throw away your life for that?” He continued, letting his voice drop back to a normal volume. “You taught me to be careful. You taught me when to make the hard call to retreat and call for backup if things became too much. You taught me that. What happened?”

The air was heavy and taut. There were too many eyes on them. The Captain was just looking at him incredulously. Like he’d grown a second head. Or like he’d criticized her reckless behavior. You know, crazy things like that.

His arm hurt.

“I can’t work with someone who thinks that the rules they enforce don’t apply to them.” he snapped, and then walked past her. He walked through the audience of heroes and workers that had gathered, making a beeline to the elevator.

He hit the number for the medical floor and then slumped back against the wall. His arm really, really hurt.

They were probably going to fire him. He’d blown up at a superior in front of nearly everyone at the hero base, not to mention his own ill-advised decisions he’d made while fighting the Blade. He hadn’t exactly listened to her instructions, even if he did think they were stupid. He hadn’t listened, gotten injured, failed the mission, and then yelled at his mentor. Yeah, he was sacked for sure.

In all honesty, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

He got a bunch of stitches, some good painkillers, and antibiotics he was definitely going to forget to take. All in all, 10/10 patch up experience. They even numbed the area before doing the stitches.

He decided to go invisible so he could leave without being yelled at by anyone. Or fired. If they were gonna fire him, they were gonna have to find him first.

He checked his phones on his way out, and found a text from Kristin.

 

Boss: Hey, something just came up, could you cover the closing shift for me?

 

He sighed. Life never stops chugging away. His arm didn’t hurt too bad, though, and it wasn’t like he was in danger of the painkillers putting him to sleep. What else was he going to do with his night? Run around and get stabbed some more?

He probably should be working on that missing kid case. He wasn’t putting it off. There wasn’t any reason to dread it. He’d get around to it soon.

He texted Kristen back.

 

Biggest man ever: Yea sure, on my way

Biggest man ever: You get a date or something?

 

Hopefully it wasn’t like, a medical emergency. Or a house fire. He was pretty sure her text would have been a bit more urgent if it was.

 

Boss: My life isn’t that interesting you drama queen

 

Tommy grinned. No, it wasn’t. That’s why he liked working for her. He ditched his sling and hoped she wouldn’t notice one of his arms looking bigger than the other from bandages. It wasn’t like she was going to stick around for a chit chat. He was giving her the freedom of not working a closing shift. She was going to be out of there in five seconds flat.

“Tommy!” Kristin beamed, hurrying out from behind the counter and pulling off her apron. “You’re a lifesaver. Thanks so much.”

“No problem, boss.” Tommy said. She looked excited to leave. Good. Honestly, this sort of life saving was so much easier.

“The espresso machine spat out a mess of coffee grounds earlier. I cleaned most of it up but make sure you hold down the lid when you use it.” Kristin grabbed her things and started walking towards the door. “Oh, and if an old lady calls and wants to order three black coffees for tomorrow morning, let her know I’ve already taken the order and that we’ll have it ready. She’s called four times so far.”

Tommy nodded, waving with his uninjured arm as she left.

He was tired. He made a face at that and put on an apron. Maybe another frappuccino would make him feel better. It was worth a shot.

Twelve customers and a sugar crash later, and he wasn’t feeling much better. He was, however, starting to wonder if he was even allowed to be fired from being a hero. They knew he was a vigilante before, and that was kinda illegal, and maybe they were going to track him down and arrest him for yelling at his boss instead. Maybe he should have cleared the air with the Captain before leaving.

Maybe he should have asked how getting fired would work before signing up to be a hero.

Maybe he needed to close up the coffee shop and not think about it. Yeah. He wasn’t getting arrested. That was . . . the painkillers talking. Painkillers always talk about getting arrested.

He didn’t know. He didn’t have as much experience with painkillers as he really should have.

Tommy locked the door and started closing up. Mopping was going to be interesting. He was pretty sure he could do it without pulling his stitches. He wiped down the counters and the stupid espresso machine first, and then started trying to lift the chairs onto the tables with one hand so he could sweep.

He should probably call the Captain. Or at least check his phone. Maybe they’ll hear him out and put him on probation instead. Or just cut his pay.

He could ask Tubbo what he thinks they’ll do. Tubbo seemed like a safer option.

A knock at the door shook him out of his thoughts. Tommy looked up, spotting a man with pink hair and a hand cupped around his eyes, squinting to see through the window. That . . . that was Techno. Huh. Frowning, Tommy walked to the front door and opened it enough to stick his head out. “You’re a bit late, man. We’re closed.”

“Can I . . . ” Techno’s voice trailed off. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Can I just sit inside while you clean up? Please?”

The man looked rough, with red-rimmed eyes that held the edge of a thousand-yard stare, and his voice sounded worse. The way he looked reminded Tommy of . . . well, it reminded him of not-quite memories that he pushed down as soon as they tried to rise.

Without a word, Tommy opened the door and let him in. He locked the door back up before grabbing Techno and pulling him away from the chair closest to the entrance he’d been drifting towards, and taking him to the table nearest the cafe counter. He pulled a chair off the table, and Techno promptly collapsed into it.

The guy never struck Tommy as a loud person, but something about him was uncharacteristically quiet. Tommy regarded him with one more long stare before returning behind the counter with a sigh. He pulled out the milk and chocolate syrup, resigning himself to cleaning the steamer again.

No more than a few minutes later, he quietly set down a steaming cup in front of Techno.

Tommy was halfway back to the counter before Techno spoke up. “What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate. Drink it.”

“O-oh.”

Tommy put everything away and restarted his cleaning, sparing many glances at Techno as he did so. The guy was zoned out. Hard. Not in a bored way, or a sleepy way, or a thoughtful way. In fact, it looked like he was actively keeping any and all thoughts from occurring. Had he come to the coffee shop on autopilot?

At least he was taking sips of the hot chocolate. Tommy didn’t even know if the guy liked hot chocolate. He didn’t exactly order drinks that were known for their sweetness.

But he was definitely in a state that called for hot chocolate.

The mopping job wasn’t the best, but he was pretty sure he didn’t pull his stitches, so he counted that as a win.

He threw another glance at Techno. What could’ve possibly made the guy like this? And where were his friends? Like, yeah, Tommy was a pretty awesome guy and of course anyone would want to be around him, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t on the top of Techno’s list of people to go to when he’s dissociating out of his mind.

Techno’s phone started vibrating. Tommy watched as Techno pulled out the phone and stared at it. It kept ringing. Tommy walked over and sat down next to him on the only other chair still on the floor. The screen went dark. Techno kept staring at it.

His phone lit up again.

It was a close-up blurry picture of someone’s eye, and the contact said ‘Phil’. Tommy glanced back up at Techno. “You want me to answer it, big man?”

Techno handed him the phone, and he accepted the call. “Techno’s secretary speaking, what’s up?”

“Tech—what? Who is this?”

“This is Tommy, and I’m gonna use my fantastic deduction skills to guess you’re the Phil who came by the coffee shop I work at when the espresso machine was broken.”

“Oh. Uh, yes, yeah that’s me. Is Techno there? Isn’t—hold on, isn’t the coffee shop closed?”

Tommy looked around the cafe. “Uh, I’m getting it there. Yeah, Techno is here. Mostly. He’s kinda . . . not doing good, so we’re hanging out. I don’t really know where he lives and I don’t think he could get me there right now.”

“Is he hurt?”

Tommy looked at Techno. “Are you hurt?”

Techno was . . . sort of looking at him. It was closer to looking through him and into an abyss, but he gave Tommy the smallest shake of his head.

“No, I don’t think so. Just really out of it.”

“Shoot, okay, can you stay with him for a little longer? I can come pick him up, I’ll be there in, uh,” there was a sharp hissing sound of breath drawn in through teeth, and Tommy got the distinct impression the man was trying not to swear. “I can be there in fif—twenty . . . no, maybe eighteen—”

“Phil, your voice sounds stressed.” Tommy interrupted. “If you listen to my voice, you’ll notice it does not sound stressed. I’ll take care of Techno, you take care of yourself, and when you’ve got everything sorted you can come join us. We’re having a staring contest. I haven’t won yet, but I think he’s cheating by dissociating.” He squinted his eyes at the man’s glassed-over look. Techno didn’t break his thousand-yard stare, but a hint of a smile twitched on his lips. “Yeah. Cheater.”

Phil gave a small strained laugh. “Okay, okay. Yeah, I’ll just . . . I’ll sort this out and then come get him. Thanks mate, tell him I’ll be there soon, yeah?”

Tommy nodded, and then felt a tiny bit stupid because Phil wasn’t going to hear him nod over the phone. “Yeah, I will. Don’t worry about him, we’ll see you soon.”

It took Phil twenty minutes to arrive, on the dot if Tommy’s counting was accurate. He was on the longest losing streak for a staring contest of his life; he was pretty sure Techno only blinked like, three times. His own eyes were watering like crazy when Phil tapped rapidly on the door. Tommy let him in.

“Techno, hey.” Phil said, worriedly looking over his friend. “It’s me, it’s Phil. Are you hurt? Can you hear me?”

Techno leaned into Phil’s arms.

“Yeah, okay. Alright. You’re okay. I got you.”

Tommy felt a small lump form in his throat at the sight. It looked really nice. Having a friend to lean on like that. Having someone worry. “Is he going to be okay?” he asked softly.

Phil got Techno standing up. “Yeah, he’s just been having a rough time. It looks like we’ll be having a movie night at my place.” Phil smiled, and then looked at Tommy, including him in the smile. “Want to join us? I’ve got some frozen pizzas I can throw in the oven.”

Tommy blinked. “Oh. Oh! No, thanks, I don’t want to intrude, I—”

“It wouldn’t be intruding,” Phil said, waving him off. “If you don’t want to, I understand. But I do mean it, I’d love to have you join us.”

Techno nodded. Just a little, a bit distantly, but he nodded along with what Phil said, and maybe . . .

It wasn’t against any of his rules. Tommy was a normal guy. He could hang out and watch some movies with some friends. Acquaintances. Whatever this was.

His healing no longer worked on himself. It hadn’t since he’d fallen as Icarus. Not for lack of trying, of course, and not for lack of opportunity. The suppressor from that dart he’d been hit with had worn off fast enough, and it hadn’t even hindered him from healing himself at the time, but ever since he’d woken up from being dragged away from that rubble . . . it just never happened again.

The Federation hadn’t been happy about that.

It wouldn’t hurt to have a chill evening for once. He’d just been stabbed, after all.

And he would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about Techno. He barely knew the guy, but . . . but he had hung out with him on his birthday. Just to keep him company, for his entire shift at work.

So slowly, Tommy let himself return the smile. “Okay,” he said, “I’d like that.”

Notes:

Okay so! Names. Names can get confusing. If only you could see the chaos that is my notes for this story.
Here's a rundown of the names we've come across so far:

Civilians:
Kristin- owner of coffee shop
Techno- pink hair, has yet to order a drink with a single grain of sugar in it
Phil- watched Tommy get zapped by the espresso machine, Techno's friend
Tommy- works at coffee shop. Totally normal, definitely an adult.
Theseus- Tommy's birth name
Clementine- Tommy's foster sister, now appears as one of his phantoms

Vigilantes:
Manifold- ice powers
Theseus- powers not yet explained. appearance- Antennas, blond, purple hoodie
XD- telekinesis powers
Punz- X-ray vision
Slime- lie detection powers, also sells vigilante gear on the black market
Shuteye- totally real and legal civilian name Tommy- sleep powers
Orpheus-totally real and legal civilian name Tommy- phantom powers

Heroes:
Undergrowth- civilian name Tubbo- plant powers
Void- civilian name Ranboo- teleportation powers
Nook- electricity powers
Foolish- invulnerability powers
The Captain- force field powers
Blink- totally real and legal civilian name Tommy- invisibility powers

Syndicate:
The Blade- used to be hero by the same name- blood manipulation powers
Thanatos- used to be hero by the name Nightingale- wings
Nemesis- powers not yet revealed

I'm pretty sure that's everyone so far. Anyway, this week has been kicking me like a horse hoof to the mouth. I've both been too busy to write and also writing to cope. Fight scenes with superpowers are so fun to read but DANG they're hard to write. Also sword fights. Why did I give everyone swords.
Also shout out to my friends in a group chat who randomly got my question about how many stitches a stab wound would need. Turns out the answer is more than five.

Chapter 6: Lesson 6: Never Stop Running

Notes:

Okay so trigger warnings: flashbacks, brief panic, and derealization

I'm really not great at knowing what to put as trigger warnings so please tell me if I should add anything <3

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Phil’s house was unnecessarily big for one person.

It wasn’t grand or flashy, the house itself blended in with the rest of the neighborhood. It was just . . . big. For one person. Or maybe Tommy had a warped view of how big houses were supposed to be. It had been a while since he’d lived in one.

“Make yourself at home.” Phil said as they entered. Techno drifted into the living room, and Tommy slipped off his shoes and followed after him. Phil split off towards his kitchen.

“Why are the walls orange?” Tommy asked, flopping onto a couch. It was a bit jarring to the otherwise cozy homey feeling of everything else. Framed pictures and throw blankets and knick knacks with a lovely cohesive color scheme that was extremely . . . not orange.

Techno snorted, a small smile breaking through his unfocused expression. “Lost a bet. Sucks to suck.”

“You could have at least picked a soft, autumnal orange.” Phil called from the kitchen.

“Nah.” Techno sat down next to Tommy, his voice still slightly detached. “Needed the most orange to ever orange.”

“What bet did he lo—”

“Don’t answer that!” Phil yelled.

“Thought he could get twenty clothespins on the back of our supervisor's shirt without her noticing.”

“How many did he get?”

“Fourteen.”

“It was fifteen!” Phil insisted.

Techno grabbed the tv remote and started absentmindedly flipping through movie options. “Fourteen. The blue one fell off.”

Tommy grinned, half because Phil painted his walls orange because he lost a bet, and half because Techno was much more responsive now. “Was dying your hair pink also a bet or was that on purpose.”

“Excuse you, it’s naturally pink.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’ll never see my roots growing out, and that’s because I don’t have to color it.”

“You can’t get naturally pink hair. I bet even the Blade colors his hair.”

“Nah, he wears a wig.”

Tommy gasped. “Wait, really?”

“Of course.” Techno kept his semi-focused eyes on the tv screen. “Do you know how much of a pain it is to keep pink in your hair? It’s totally a wig.”

Phil broke into a coughing fit. There was the sound of water being turned on at the sink, which Tommy was pretty sure wasn’t necessary for frozen pizzas.

“Well then how would you know how hard it is to dye your hair pink, huh?” Tommy challenged.

“Because a friend of mine does, and it looks exhausting. If this wasn’t natural there’s no way I’d make it pink.”

“Techno.” Phil croaked, poking his head into the living room. “Did you pick out a movie?”

“Nah. Nothing’s on.”

“You’re literally scrolling through a subscription service.” Tommy said. “There’s plenty on.”

“Nothing good.”

Tommy snatched the remote out of his hand. “Give me that.” He tried to ignore the pain that burned through his arm at the movement. He was going to move a lot, it was a part of who he was. The stab wound was just going to have to get with the program. “Now how do I find Up?”

“You’re such a child.” Techno said, taking back the remote.

“I’m literally not a child.” Tommy lied. “I’m nineteen.”

“So young.”

“I will beat you up.”

“I’m terrified. Are we really watching Up?”

“Yes.”

“Child.”

“Philllll!” Tommy whined. “Tell Techno I’m not a child!”

Phil walked into the room, shaking his head. “Techno, stop bullying the child.”

“I’m nineteen!”

Techno snorted. “Okay mister legal adult, move over so Phil can sit.”

“Move over which way?”

“Just—”

“I’ll sit in the armchair.” Phil interrupted. “I don’t want an elbow in my kidneys.”

“Phil,” Tommy said in mock offense, “I would never.”

Techno shifted his position. “You couldn’t avoid it. Elbows are all you’re made of.”

Tommy paused a minute to imagine what someone would look like if they really were made of a bunch of elbows. Just a whole lot of joints. Joints with blood. They’d be so . . . foldable. It would be fantastic for escaping places. Just fold up and slip through a hole.

“Tommy?” Phil said, cutting in to his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Did we just find an off button?” Techno asked.

Tommy rolled his eyes, sinking back into the couch. “Being made out of elbows was a compelling image. You should really stop and revel in the art you make sometimes.”

“I’m not making someone out of elbows.”

“I think the oven is heated.” Phil said, leaving. “I’ll put in the pizzas and get a timer going, and then we can start.”

It had been a while since he’d watched Up. If he shed a tear here or there, shut up no he didn’t. It was the painkillers. The painkillers that were probably wearing off and he should take another dose before he felt the full might of being stabbed earlier that day. He considered just sneaking off to the bathroom to take it, but he didn’t want to miss any of the movie.

And then Techno fell asleep on him.

Like, fully on him. He was like a piece of Techno-shaped napping furniture, apparently. So obviously he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even snatch away Phil’s phone to delete the picture he took of them. When the movie ended, Phil took their plates and gave Tommy the remote to find another movie. He waited for Phil to be out of sight before grinning. He didn’t need to look very hard, he knew what he wanted to watch next, and if they were going to give him the freedom to choose they were going to have to deal with the consequences.

And since he was thinking about dealing with consequences, he decided to pull out his phone and finally ask someone if he still had a job as Blink. The Captain hadn’t sent him anything yet, and he decided for the sake of his nerves that that was a good thing. His finger hovered over her contact, trying not to have the resting heart rate of a prey animal being hunted for sport. He opened Tubbo’s contact and asked him instead.

 

Big Man: am I getting fired?

 

He turned off the phone and let out a slow breath. Well. There. What a cool and responsible thing to do. Tubbo would tell him how it was straight. If he didn’t know, he’d find out.

Now all Tommy had to do was wait for a response.

Phil came back into the living room with some soft drinks, holding out the choices for Tommy. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said nervously. He grabbed the Coke. “I’m great. Super good. Might be getting fired from this other job I have. Which is, uh, fine.”

“That’s a pretty nerve-wracking thing to deal with.” Phil said. “Did something happen or are you just getting the feeling?”

Tommy let out a small laugh. “I might have yelled at my . . . supervisor. Person. It’s, uh, been a rough day.”

Phil nodded, looking sympathetic. “Seems to be going around.” His eyes drifted to the screen. “You picked . . . Moana?”

He felt a grin return to his face. “Yup.”

“I see.”

Tommy waved the remote like he was directing traffic. “Have a seat, old man. This is what the youth are watching these days.”

“I’m really not that old.”

“You painted your living room orange. Your arguments are invalid.”

“Mate.”

His arm was aching. He took another loud sip of his Coke, hoping the sugar inside would fill in for the fading painkillers. “Buckle up, I’m pressing play.”

At some point near the middle of the movie, he slowly realized Techno’s restful sleep was slipping into a nightmare. The guy was dead weight on him that didn’t move, but the contact that came with having someone fall asleep on him made it very easy for Shuteye’s powers to passively start feeding him information. And the information he was being fed was mostly bad vibes.

Phil was, despite mild earlier protest, very invested in the movie and not looking away from the screen. Techno, obviously, was sleeping. Not very well, but sleeping. It wasn’t like anyone would notice.

With a gentle nudge of his powers, Tommy sent Techno’s dream in a much more pleasant direction. Wherever he held his happy memories, that’s where Tommy sent his dream.

He sat through the next musical number in the movie without processing a single note, until he could convince himself that no, he had not just given anything away. He was fine, and Techno was sleeping better.

His phone vibrated, startling him. The heart rate that he’d only just managed to get into control went flying away from him.

He was so fired. He checked his phone.

 

Tubs: No??

 

Tommy blinked, staring at the message. He wasn’t fired?

 

Tubs: oh, is this because you yelled at Cap?

Tubs: lol Foolish told us, it sounded epic. Nah, you’re fine bossman

 

He. He wasn’t fired. Neat. It didn’t sound like he’d get arrested either. Silly painkillers for thinking that was an option. Now he just had to worry about how he was going to carry a normal conversation with the Captain again. He’ll have to figure out if she was mad at him about it, and wing it from there.

Yeah. He could wing it. He was the king of winging it.

 

Big Man: Coolio. See you tomorrow

Tubs: tomorrow? didn’t you just get stabbed?

Big Man: yeah? It’s fine. I won’t pull the stitches

Tubs: bro

 

He turned off his phone and went back to watching the movie. Blink was still a hero. He wasn’t getting fired. Moana was playing. There was Coke in his hands.

His arm hurt. Kinda a lot. Oh well, he couldn’t win them all.

After the movie ended, Phil helped him get out from under Techno without waking him. He went to the bathroom, took his painkillers, and then said goodbye. Phil offered to drive him home or call a cab, but Tommy reassured him that he was fine and he didn’t live far, and a bunch of other lies that kept him from telling the man that he didn’t have a home and was, in fact, thinking of running around the city looking for crime and missing kids.

The painkillers hadn’t even set in and they were already making his confidence soar. Oh the things he could get done because something was stopping his brain from being aware of intense pain. Maybe he should put painkillers on his budget.

The plan was to change into Orpheus and start looking in to that missing kid case the Blade gave him. He’d send out his phantoms to look for information and keep those powers activated as long as he could stand to. If they didn’t find anything, he’d try again another time. Easy. Simple.

He changed into Shuteye instead. He was wearing the blue bomber jacket and aesthetic blindfold before he could really think about it.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to look into this job for the Blade. He did. He was going to. He didn’t know why it was so hard for him to get around to doing it. He wasn’t avoiding it. Nope.

As a weird compromise, he found himself patrolling the suburbs, passing by some houses he knew were foster group homes. Just to check in. Mostly, he supposed, it was to reassure himself. He knew it was easy for kids to slip away unnoticed when there were enough of them around. He also knew that the foster system was constantly strained in capacity.

The houses were quiet, a few lights still on. Sleepy. Calm. He didn’t often walk through the nicer suburbs on patrol, but he made a note to himself that if he ever wanted a place to simply walk around in peace . . .

There was a kid on the roof.

He almost missed it, since it was a small dark shape on a big dark roof, but the yellow street lights lit up enough for Tommy to spot him, and clamber up to the roof himself. What was he doing? Winging it, that’s what. He wasn’t going to find out what the kid was doing up there until he stuck his nose in it.

He needed to make sure he didn’t startle the kid too badly, though. The kid was a bit close to the edge and he really didn’t want to deal with a broken wrist or worse.

“Is this rooftop taken?” He asked, still a good distance away.

The kid jumped, whipping his head around. He stared for a moment, eyes so dark they swallowed up the spot where there was usually white around the pupil. He shrugged. “Isn’t my rooftop.”

Tommy walked closer, standing at an easier distance to talk. “Kinda quiet tonight, isn’t it?”

The boy snorted. “You’re not exactly in an area with a high crime-rate.”

Fair.

“Yeah, it’s been a while since a mugging was reported out here.” Tommy nodded. “Doesn’t mean crime doesn’t happen in the suburbs though.”

“You scouting out a place or something?”

“Close enough.” Tommy said. “And checking on stargazing citizens when it’s a school night.”

The boy rolled his eyes, pulling his knees up to tuck under his chin. “I’m fine. It’s not that late, and I won’t fall.”

Tommy sat down carefully, letting his gaze wander down to the quiet street below. His last foster home was in a neighborhood like this one. That neighborhood was in one of the very few places in the city that he avoided completely, but not because it was a bad place. If he searched his memories just a little, he’d be able to picture a younger version of himself walking down the street, coming home from school, hanging out with the neighbor kids, laying in the front yard . . . it felt like a lifetime ago. It felt like someone else. “People call me Shuteye. What should I call you?”

A wry smile ghosted the boy’s face. “Stupid name.”

“People call you Stupid Name?” Tommy gasped in mock offense. “Now that’s just rude. Tell me who, I’ll make ‘em stop.”

A light laugh escaped. “No, I mean you have a stupid name. Who decided to call you Shuteye?”

“You know, I’m honestly not sure.” Tommy said. “I just didn’t give anyone a name and suddenly that’s what I was called. Could happen to anybody. Might happen to you, if you’re not gonna offer anything for me to work with. I’m not calling you Stupid Name though.”

“My friends called me Shroud, where I used to live.” The boy said, his voice suddenly small.

Tommy nodded. “Can I call you Shroud then?“

A halfhearted shrug was the only response he got.

“It gets kinda lonely, moving houses.” Tommy said into the night. “Are you still able to talk to your friends?”

“No phone.” Shroud said. “And they’re on the other side of the city.”

Isolated. Tommy felt his stomach twist. Isolated and in a group home. Comfortable slipping away from people and sitting on rooftops. If Shroud had powers, there was a chance.

A chance of falling through the cracks.

“Are the people here difficult?” Tommy asked carefully. It was too easy for someone to lie if they were asked if they liked where they were. But sometimes, the opening to complain a little bit left more chance for truth.

Shroud turned his head, black eyes narrowed at him. “What are you, the police?”

“I actually tend to avoid the police.” Tommy said, the boy’s noncommittal answer stirring up anxiety in his gut. “And between you and me, I tend to avoid foster caseworkers too.”

“You’re in the system?” Shroud asked, surprised.

“Not anymore.” Tommy whispered dramatically. He sighed, going back to his normal volume. “They’re not bad, but some weirdos do manage to slip in, and there’s not much you can do about it when you’re a kid.”

Shroud nodded. “Yeah I . . . I’ve seen a few weirdos before. I haven’t been here very long yet, but they seem alright I guess. Doesn’t mean I have to like it here.”

There were some things he missed about being in the system—or at least, that he missed about being at a good placement. Things like having an adult take care of all the annoying constant needs so he could bemoan his homework in peace like a normal kid. Not worrying about how to cook or how much hot water costs or what to do if he got sick, and instead dealing with school and climbing trees and watching tv. . . he missed that.

But going from home to home, never sure what the new people would be like, or what the rules were, or when he’d be uprooted again, not having any control over any of it . . .

He didn’t miss that. Never would.

“Nah,” he said, “I’d be kinda surprised if you liked it. You don’t get into the system by stuff that you like happening.”

“What’s your power?” Shroud asked, deftly switching subjects. “You fight criminals with your eyes closed or something?”

Tommy grinned. “I put ‘em to sleep. If they’re real wrong’uns, I give ‘em nightmares to boot. No one’s shutting these eyes, not if I can get to ‘em first.”

Shroud grinned, but the look faded fast. He was quiet for a bit, and Tommy let the silence rest between them.

“I just discovered my powers,” he said quietly.

Tommy leaned back on his hands, glancing at the boy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Like the dead.” Tommy replied easily.

Shroud looked at him and then away. “I can shapeshift.” he whispered. “A little bit.”

Tommy gave a low whistle. “That sounds cool, man. Was it fun?”

“Kinda.” the boy shifted, looking down at his shoes. “Foster parents at my last home didn’t like it so much, though.”

“Oh.” his heart ached. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

That meant the kid’s powers were definitely on his records, then. An invisible band tightened around Tommy’s chest. He was just a kid. What was he, nine? Ten?

“ . . . wanna see?”

He flashed Shroud a grin. “Yeah, of course I wanna see!”

The boy turned to face him, hesitant excitement on his face. “It’s not big, but . . . okay, here goes.”

He took a deep breath, and eight black spider-like eyes appeared on his face. They collectively blinked at him, and then morphed back to Shroud’s face.

“Dude!” Tommy whisper-shouted. “That was cool! Can you see through all of the eyes when you do that?”

“Yeah, it’s really weird. It’s blurrier, but I see more colors.” Shroud said, a smile growing. “It kinda gives me a headache if I do it for too long.”

“Whoa,” Tommy said. He raised his hand for a fistbump. Shroud gave it, his smile nearly cracking his face in half.

He was just a kid.

Tommy didn’t want to stare at a missing person file with Shroud’s face on it. He didn’t want this kid to hate white walls and fear the sound of approaching footsteps, or know what it feels like to overuse his powers for days on end. He didn’t want that for anyone.

He needed to find Karl.

Maybe he was just a runaway. A runaway who’d been fending for himself for . . . two years. Karl had been close to aging out of the system anyway, maybe he was fine. Working at a coffee shop or something.

Maybe Karl was a dead end for them. He was kinda hoping for it.

Anything but ending up there.

Tommy slowly stood up, resisting the urge to reach over and mess up the kid’s hair. “There’s crime happening, I feel it in my bones. Can you get down from here okay?”

Shroud nodded. “I’ve done it before. Have fun stopping crime.”

“Will do. See ya around, kid.” Tommy gave him a two-fingered salute and then clambered back down from the roof. Back on the street, he turned and waved at the small dark silhouette. Shroud waved back.

“Stay safe.” Tommy whispered.

He pulled out the missing person report, and started walking towards the location Karl had last been seen. The trail had gone cold a long time ago, but it was as good a start as any. It was also near one of his backpack stashes, and he changed into Orpheus’s outfit. There were some apartments and old office buildings in the area, along with some road construction. Tommy found himself wandering into a parking garage and setting up on the roof level.

There wasn’t much to set up. He sat on the cement in one of the parking spaces near the corner, his eyes turning silver as his phantoms took shape around him.

He laid the paper on the ground. “Okay, everyone listen up.” he said. A shiver went down his spine as his phantoms gathered closely. They always made him feel cold. It was a big deciding factor in adding a trench coat as part of his getup for Orpheus. “We’re looking for this kid Karl. Any sightings, or someone mentioning him, or any other evidence about his existence and where he might have ended up, I want to know it. I’ll keep my powers going as long as I can so you can all scatter and search the city. We’ll do this until—”

“We don’t have to.” one of the phantoms interrupted. “You already know what happened to him.”

Tommy frowned. “What? I mean, I can guess, but I’d really like to be wrong about that. I also need something more solid than a guess to take back to the Blade.”

Obviously for Tommy, Karl wasn’t Icarus. However, if he was taken by the same people, and Tommy had proof . . . that could be a strong lead to the more important part of this mission of finding out what happened to Icarus. It would lead them to finding everyone else he’d left behind.

Everyone else who couldn’t escape.

Another phantom pushed closer. “No, you actually know what happened to him. You’re an eyewitness.”

He was a what now.

“No, I’m—” Tommy stared at the wispy phantom, confused. “I . . . don’t remember? If you know, please tell me.”

“We can’t.” Clementine said softly. She was sitting cross-legged on his right side, the only phantom with more than a couple defined features.

“Why not?”

“You won’t let us.” Another phantom said.

There was a murmur of agreement all around. Tommy looked down at his hands, as if they were doing something to stop them from telling him, but they were empty. He didn’t feel like he was trying to constrain them with his powers. “How am I not letting you?”

“You don’t want to remember.” Clementine said. “You’ve blocked it off, and that keeps us from accessing it too. We know it’s there, but it’s . . . off limits.”

The phantom beside him continued. “But if you’re willing to remember, we can tell you.”

Tommy took a deep, shuddering breath. He didn’t like where this was going. The only reason why he’d not want to remember would be because . . .

It was almost confirmation enough as it was. But the Blade would have questions, and frankly, so did he. Was Karl alive? Would Tommy know where he was? How long ago had he seen Karl?

Was that curiosity enough to let him remember?

“So what, do I just tell you that you can remind me, or do I need to do something?” He shifted uncomfortably where he sat.

“Just—just try to remember.” Clementine said. Her voice was small, like she didn’t want to do this either. “We’ll help you once you’re trying.”

His heart was running like it could escape his ribcage and flee. Tommy stared down at the paper in front of him, at the photo of a boy who looked almost the same age he was now. He knew that face. The eyes were wrong, though, and he didn’t know why. He knew that name. Not because of his previous research, but because he’d said it out loud to him. He could remember the sound of Karl’s voice; faint and scared and out of breath.

No missing persons document could tell him that.

He remembered holding his hand. It had been shaking. Cold. Pale. Clammy. He remembered feeling . . .

He gasped, a sudden flood of emotions sweeping over him.

White walls closed in, boxing him in.

Tommy had been exhausted, every bone in his body aching from something that had recently happened. It had been his own hands that trembled. Or maybe both boys were shaking; with pain, with exhaustion, with fear.

It had felt like sticking his hand into fire, activating that golden glow of healing powers that had already been drained.

The boy Karl had the ability to see into the past, and the—those people were trying to find out if he could see the future as well. He kept coming back with injuries, though, and no knowledge of the future.

Tommy didn’t understand it, no one ever told him why or how it got the boy injured. They were too busy trying to figure out how his healing power worked to explain anything to him. It wasn’t until one day when they were both being poked and prodded while he healed Karl that he found out. The older boy had squeezed his hand and pulled him into the past with him.

Tommy’s hands had still held a faint glow, and he knew he was still healing Karl, but none of his powers reached out to the faded version of Karl that stood with him. They were ghosts of themselves, and they stood in an alleyway. There was a ringing noise of a fight in the street nearby that clattered and echoed down the walls. Karl had pulled him deeper into the shadows, his eyes darting around them. “Be careful,” he’d said, “if you get hurt here, you get hurt back in your real body.”

“Where are we?” Tommy had asked, his voice hoarse.

“Years ago.” Karl answered. “When the Watcher fought Dream. It’s dangerous out there. I—I come here a lot.”

“Why?”

“Because I at least know how to avoid the danger here. It’s not very relaxing, but it’s better than some other times I’ve seen. There’s one other time where I know how to not get hurt, but I didn’t want to take you there.” The older boy had shuffled his feet on the ground nervously. “It’s, uh, when they got you.”

Tommy swallowed hard. Yeah, he was glad they hadn’t gone there.

Sirens rose up behind the noise of fighting.

“I could see into the future, if I let myself.” Karl whispered, and Tommy had to lean closer to hear him. “I know I could. I don’t want to though. I’m scared that all I’ll see is . . . that place. Forever.”

“Maybe you won’t.” Tommy offered weakly. His heart was pounding, and he couldn't tell if it was because of the secret he’d just been told, the fighting close by, or the overuse of his powers as he continued to heal the boy in front of him. It was making him dizzy. “Maybe you’ll see us get out.”

“If I do, what do you think they’ll do about it?” Karl whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “When I come back, I usually ramble about what I saw before I can stop myself. The only reason they don’t know for sure that I can see the future is because I haven't looked.”

Silence fell between them. The sounds of fighting grew. Tommy didn’t want to go back. Back to that room. Back to voices that demanded the impossible. Back to what his life had become.

He could see the sky here. It was cloudy, and it was right then that he decided he loved the clouds. He wanted to wave his hand through them.

“I hope you get out.” Tommy had whispered. “I hope we both do.”

And then he’d been yanked back into his body, every nerve screaming for relief from overexerting his powers. His hands burned like they were on fire. Sluggish blood had dripped down from his nose. He remembered seeing Karl’s eyes open, distant and faded, already rambling about the Watcher fighting Dream.

Their eyes had met then, hands already pulling them away from each other, and Tommy remembered thinking to himself that there was no way he’d ever forget the haunted look in the older boy’s gaze.

Tommy was heaving.

For breath or to empty his stomach, he wasn’t sure. His hands moved spastically, only half in control of them as he swiped the paper out of his sight. The eyes were wrong. Even in black and white ink, they were too bright, too lively, too young. His fingertips buzzed with the feeling of pins and needles. He couldn’t—he couldn’t—

He could still see the haunted look in Karl’s eyes. Even with his eyes open, he could see it.

He didn’t know if Karl was still alive. The Federation had never quite figured out how to steal Tommy’s powers, and then they’d lost him. Their healer.

Karl had to be dead. They would have pushed him until he got killed in the past, forever refusing to look into the future.

Tommy placed his hands on the cement in front of him, pressing down. He couldn’t feel them. Couldn’t feel the surface they pressed against. He was watching hands that didn’t belong to him, no longer attached.

If Karl was dead, was it his fault?

Tommy didn’t know where they were. He didn’t remember where he’d been when he’d finally escaped the maze of white halls and blaring alarms. Some things, he remembered. How to get back was not one of them.

Something ached, but he couldn’t figure out what. It just ached and ached and didn’t go away. Was it his lungs? Tommy gasped in a sobbing breath. Yeah, it was his lungs. He hadn’t been breathing, and now the air was sharp and dry and inefficient.

The phantoms were gone. He’d dropped his powers at some point.

He was alone.

Tommy wrapped his arms around himself, barely feeling it. It made breathing harder, but he kept them there anyway. His bones were heavy. His vision became static—gray and distant and fuzzy. He was gray and distant and fuzzy.

So was the sky.

He sat there, shaking and cold, until the early light of dawn broke. He stared, unfeeling and empty as the sun slowly lit up the sky in pinks and golds and misty blues. A couple wispy clouds sat high above the city. Sun rays fell over him, but their warmth couldn’t seem to touch his skin.

He needed to go to work soon. He needed to swap the masks he wore. Remember how to talk. How to smile. How to look at someone and see them.

He wasn’t Icarus anymore.

That thought was the only thing that got him to stand up. He had to be Blink in a few hours, and there were things to do before he went on patrol. He wasn’t Icarus anymore, so he took a step forward. And another. He didn’t remember his steps after that, but they led him to the nearest black backpack of clothes.

Soon, he wasn’t Orpheus anymore either.

Well, almost.

He pulled out the Blade’s card and Orpheus’s phone, staring at the screen for a few minutes before typing out a message.

 

Orpheus: Found something. Meet up tonight?

 

He should be off patrol by then. And maybe even in his right mind. Tommy almost laughed. He hadn’t been in his right mind since maybe the age of ten.

He hadn’t realized he had zoned out facing an alley wall until the phone vibrated in his hands. It took him a second of looking at the screen before he was able to process the words.

 

Blade: Great, why don’t you just come to the Syndicate meeting and share what you found there. Easier than saying everything twice.

Blade: the meeting is tomorrow. 7pm. Tell me where to pick you up and I’ll send someone to drive you there.

 

Tommy stared at the message, his heart faintly pounding in protest. The—the Syndicate? All of them. So soon? Just like that?

He was going to meet the entire Syndicate?

Tomorrow?

He stood frozen, his thumbs hovering over the phone’s keyboard. How does someone . . . respond to that? Tomorrow. 7pm. He should be off work then. Whichever work he had that day . . . he couldn’t remember which job, but he was pretty sure he was off by 7. People usually pick a public spot when meeting with strangers, right? So they don’t get taken away in a strange car to an unknown location . . .

Except that was exactly what he would be doing.

Was this stupid? He didn’t know. Not a single useful or coherent thought ran through his head. He’d gone this far, and he had information they wanted, and he had his powers. Maybe he could bring a knife or something. Pepper spray. Tommy took a deep breath.

He briefly wondered what the Blade would say if he asked to be picked up in front of the Hero building.

 

Orpheus: okay, I can meet you in front of the convenience store on fifth street

 

He also typed out ‘please don’t kill me’ but then deleted that bit. It didn’t sound very professional.

He shut off the phone and returned it to his pocket. It was done. He was just going to . . . not think about that now. At all. Easy.

He was good at that.

Tommy shoved his backpack full of Orpheus’s gear back into its hiding place. There. Now Orpheus was gone, and so were the ghosts that whispered about memories and pain.

He had work to do.

Notes:

Tommy, sitting next to the guy who stabbed him: is this how you make friends?

Y'all have left such nice comments, thank you so much. <3 I'm so happy to see everyone excited to read this chaos from my brain, and I can't wait to get the next chapters done. I think the actual funniest idea I've ever written is about two chapters from here. So. That's something to look forward to.
Once more, because I know I'm throwing so many people at y'all, here's a list of names we've encountered so far:

Civilians:
Kristin- owner of coffee shop
Techno- pink hair, has yet to order a drink with a single grain of sugar in it
Phil- watched Tommy get zapped by the espresso machine, Techno's friend
Tommy- works at coffee shop. Totally normal, definitely an adult.
Theseus- Tommy's birth name
Clementine- Tommy's foster sister, now appears as one of his phantoms
Shroud- foster kid- mild shapeshifting powers
Karl- missing kid- time travel powers

Vigilantes:
Manifold- ice powers
Theseus- powers not yet explained. appearance- Antennas, blond, purple hoodie
XD- telekinesis powers
Punz- X-ray vision
Slime- lie detection powers, also sells vigilante gear on the black market
Shuteye- totally real and legal civilian name Tommy- sleep powers
Orpheus-totally real and legal civilian name Tommy- phantom powers

Heroes:
Undergrowth- civilian name Tubbo- plant powers
Void- civilian name Ranboo- teleportation powers
Nook- electricity powers
Foolish- invulnerability powers
The Captain- force field powers
Blink- totally real and legal civilian name Tommy- invisibility powers

Syndicate:
The Blade- used to be hero by the same name- blood manipulation powers
Thanatos- used to be hero by the name Nightingale- wings
Nemesis- powers not yet revealed

Other:
Dream- alignment undisclosed- powers undisclosed
The Watcher- alignment undisclosed- powers undisclosed

Chapter 7: Lesson 7: Are We Having Fun Yet?

Notes:

TW: panic attacks, flashbacks, derealization, mentions of blood and injury uhhhhhh I think that's it?
Good luck.

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Undergrowth and Voidwalker were sitting in the middle of the main floor, playing . . . something on a chess board. There were select chess pieces and three different colored poker chips scattered across the board, and both heroes were staring intensely at the game. Everyone else who worked there simply walked around them like they were a support beam.

Tubbo slid a bishop over to a poker chip and hopped over it, taking the piece and landing next to the queen. “Checkersmate.”

Ranboo frowned, staring at the board.

Tommy crouched down beside them. “Don’t you have, like, work to do?”

“We’re on standby for emergency calls.” Tubbo said. “Same as almost everyone else here. We just don’t have paperwork to do in the meantime.”

Ranboo straightened with a grin and grabbed his king piece, hopping in a zigzag over Tubbo’s pieces and landing on the opposite side of the board. “Body-swap!” He announced triumphantly, switching his king and queen.

Tubbo groaned. He grabbed his own queen and moved it on top of one of the checker pieces. “Fine. I invoke a dice duel.” he glanced over at Tommy. “How’s the arm?”

Ranboo was pulling out a set of dice from his pocket. Tommy gave Tubbo a thumbs up. “Five stars, would get stabbed again.”

“Please don’t.” Ranboo muttered, handing one of the dice to Tubbo. “Also, aren't you not on the schedule until the afternoon?”

“For active duty, yeah.” Tommy shrugged. “But I have research to get done.”

Research for the Syndicate, but he wasn’t telling them that bit. He needed to get all his information together in one day and so far all he had was a resurfaced traumatic memory and a growing hunch. He needed data, and there was no better place to find it than in the hero base, on one of their computers, with the Captain’s ID. She wasn’t nearly as good at hiding her password as she thought.

Tubbo and Ranboo rolled the dice, and then both started grabbing different pieces and moving them around at the same time. They were both counting for each move they made, and Tommy didn’t even try to figure out how the rules worked. “The Captain in yet?”

Tubbo finished moving his pieces and pushed away the mop of hair that was falling into his face. “Pretty sure she just got off a redeye shift. Probably won’t see her until noon.”

“Does she do literally anything else?” Tommy asked. “Outside of work and sleep?”

Ranboo shrugged, surveying the game board. “You’d know better than us. She doesn’t really talk about personal life stuff.”

“Great.” Tommy said. “Well, I'm going. Hope you both win.”

He went down a few levels, to where they had spare offices available for anyone who needed them.

The light in the room was a little dim, but that was alright. As long as it wasn’t bright fluorescent lights, he didn’t care.

He sat down, logged in, and got to work.

The Blade had really only recently started considering that Icarus had been a minor, and had only looked for a missing kid of roughly his description who’d gone missing within a couple days of Icarus’s fall.

Tommy had run from his foster home months before then. He had started having run-ins with masked assailants trying to grab him, and things started to feel less like he was finding criminals, and more like they were finding him.

And then one of them had managed to take off his mask.

It was brief, Tommy punched him in the eye out of sheer panic and ran away, but it was enough to make him really think about what was happening. If someone wanted him, and they somehow found out who he was and where he lived . . .

He couldn’t do that to his foster family. He was dragging his vigilante life too close to civilians. Some really, really good civilians.

So he ran away.

He started opening missing person files, looking for cases that were still ongoing, or ones that were closed—not because they found the missing person, but because the investigators had given up on the case. He knew he wasn’t the only person taken, and he knew he hadn’t been the last. The web that the Syndicate was stepping into was so much bigger than a single vigilante who died and whose body was never found, and someone needed to tell them.

Some of the files nagged at the back of his mind, something about a name or a photo feeling familiar in a way that made his throat threaten to close up. He didn’t want to remember anything more, he just wanted to get the information he needed so he could go talk to a group of the city’s most wanted villains like he was someone who they should definitely listen to.

He couldn’t think about that.

With effort, he let his thoughts grow more and more distant, his research becoming something more mechanical as he tried instead to focus on literally anything else than what he was doing. He knew what he was looking for anyway. He printed out the files right there, since the spare office rooms had their own printers in case of someone needing to print out sensitive material.

It wasn’t a fast thing to do, and in fact, some of the files had required more digging than he’d thought. Even with the Captain’s clearance, he ended up down a few rabbit holes trying to figure out how to get past sporadic red tape and piece together blacked out information.

He was vaguely aware of some sort of discomfort, but he didn’t pull himself out of his work enough to figure out what was causing it. Another file printed out. He’d started with the more recent reports and had worked his way into the past. Faces and names didn’t really process anymore.

“Have you eaten yet?”

Tommy startled, looking up. Captain who stood in the doorway, in all her masked-pirate glory. His first thought was to hide everything he’d printed out and log out of the computer, but he managed to not do that since that would have been so extremely suspicious. His second thought was somewhere along the lines of ‘oh no, Captain’s here’.

The third thought bounced off the second and immediately deleted itself, so his response ended up being a very eloquent “Huh?”

She didn’t look mad, but she didn’t exactly look happy either. There was a furrow forming between her brows and her head tilted ever so slightly, like something about him puzzled her. She looked . . . not mad, not confused, but maybe . . .

Was she worried?

“Have you eaten yet? It’s past lunch and you don’t look like you’ve moved much recently.”

“Oh.” Tommy said, starting to log out of the computer in a chill and calm manner. He was so good at that. His heartbeat didn’t believe him, but he was. “Food. I, um, yeah. No, not really. Time flies.”

“Please tell me you at least ate breakfast.”

Sure, he could do that. “Yup.” he lied.

She narrowed her eyes at him, so he decided to fling it back. “Did you?”

“I had . . . yeah, I had breakfast.”

She was not very good at lying. That was good to know.

Tommy gathered up the papers he’d printed out and placed them all in a folder. Somehow, he was finding it difficult to look her in the eyes. She was just standing there, and obviously she wasn’t going to, like, attack him or anything. She was leaning against the doorframe with one foot crossed over the other, arms folded. If he pushed her she’d topple immediately. She’d probably not have enough time to get her arms out to catch herself very well.

The Captain sighed, and it wasn’t a disappointed one. It’s the kind of sigh his foster mom would give whenever he made a terrible pun. “Let’s go get some lunch, I’m sure you’re starving. How’s your arm?”

“Undergrowth said I’m not fired.” Tommy blurted out instead. He stood, holding the file to his chest, like it could shield him.

The Captain nodded slowly. “Yes? He would be correct. Why would he feel the need to say that?”

“I asked him.” Tommy said. “Yesterday was uh, a time. Sorry for yelling at you.”

He didn’t know if he really was sorry for yelling, it still felt a bit justified. However, there were two things he knew about speaking with adults who were potentially mad at him; escalation and de-escalation. Right then seemed like a good time to dust off his de-escalation skills.

“Oh.” Her eyebrows went up. “Okay, maybe I can clear up a few things, then. We didn’t really get the chance to talk after things calmed down.”

He should probably walk over and talk with her as they went to the dinning hall, but he sort of liked having the desk between them, so he remained standing in place. The Captain walked in, closing the door behind her. Probably to give them privacy. She was respectful like that. He didn’t have a problem with her closing the door. It was just a tiny bit stuffy in the room, is all. He wasn’t normally so on edge.

“Look.” she said, “It was not the time to have that conversation when we did. You needed medical attention and we were both coming down from an intense fight. I’m sorry about that.”

Huh. Tommy felt his grip on the file loosen to something that didn’t make his knuckles go white. He couldn’t think of a good response to that, so he just nodded and waited for her to go on.

“Yesterday was . . . not my best.”

Tommy snorted. “I sure hope not.”

He shut his mouth immediately. It had just kinda slipped out, and not in a very de-escalating way.

But the Captain just gave him a look™ and went on. “But, when we’re on the field, I need to know that I can count on you, and that you won’t go rogue. You didn’t listen to a single thing I said during that fight. Do you know how terrifying that is? Especially with the reckless decisions you were making.” She ran a hand through her curly hair; it was the one part of her outfit that wasn’t put together yet, resting on her shoulders like clouds instead of up in her usual ponytail. “You pulled it off, and I’m glad it worked, but I have been around here long enough to see what happens when you don’t get lucky. I can’t lose another teammate.”

“And I can?” Tommy blurted out. Oh, he was rusty on this de-escalation thing. That wasn’t great. “Look, I can stick to the plan as long as it doesn’t involve you blowing yourself up.”

“It was a small electricity bomb, Blink! I was going to survive. If it means capturing the Blade, it would be worth it.”

“Well not to me!” Tommy shot back. “I kind of prefer keeping my allies around for longer than a couple months! You can still lose a teammate without them dying, you know.”

“I know!” she said, her voice just loud enough to make his heart stop a tiny bit.

A heavy silence fell between them. The Captain looked like she was trying to reign in her emotions, and Tommy wasn’t about to interrupt that. His hands were cold. Maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut and let it go. At least he’d been able to use the computer before she came in.

His arm ached. Stupid painkillers kept wearing off, he’d just taken them . . . twelve hours ago?

Huh. Time flies.

“Just . . . talk to me when you want to change the plan.” she said, sounding tired. “Don’t go rogue on me like that again.”

“I’ll work on it.” Tommy said. He’d rather get stabbed a few more times than try to disagree with her in the middle of a fight, but she was offering him an out to this conversation, and he was going to take it.

The Captain sighed, and then opened the door. “Lunch?”

Wordlessly, Tommy followed her out of the room. Some part of him wanted to ask about what other teammates she’d had before the Blade and Nightingale, and what happened to them, but the majority of him clamped his mouth shut and kept it that way. He could look it up later.

 

Reported gunfire and bomb threat at the Primepath courthouse. All available heroes needed. Civilians reported on multiple building levels . . .

 

Tommy looked up at the Captain, eyes wide, and they both broke into a run. He paused briefly as they passed the personal lockers to shove his folder inside for safekeeping. Slamming the door shut, he ran to catch up.

 

. . . emergency vehicles notified but delayed by emergency on opposite side of the city. Voidwalker, Undergrowth and Foolish now on site. All available heroes needed. Reported gunfire and bomb threat at the Primepath courthouse . . .

 

One car was already peeling out of the building, and the Captain and Tommy wasted no time taking another. The Captain glanced over at him briefly, most of her focus on the road. “Civilian safety takes priority. We might not be together on this one, so—”

A voice on their comms interrupted her. “This is Foolish. Captain, when you arrive I want you with Undergrowth, the three of us will deal with the threat directly. I’m going to have Void start at the top level and gather people to extract, but he can’t carry everyone. Blink, you can sneak past, so I want you to join Voidwalker finding people and securing a safe route out. Reynard, we need—”

He continued talking the entire short trip there, directing heroes as they arrived. Tommy turned invisible the moment he was out of the car. “On your right.” he said quietly to the Captain, and they joined Foolish and Undergrowth in front of the building.

“Blink is here.” Captain said by way of greeting.

Foolish nodded and Undergrowth blindly waved in their general direction. Tommy waved back, even though no one could see. Foolish had activated his invulnerability powers, which made his skin look like gold, his eyes shifting to look like solid emeralds. “There’s a group of five on the main level, and we don’t know where they might have placed bombs, so we’re going in delicately. Blink, go straight for the stairs, and keep an eye out. A gunshot was reported coming from the upper levels. Let’s go.”

They went.

The fire alarm was blaring inside, though he didn’t see any smoke. Tommy broke off from them as soon as they were through the doors, making a beeline for the stairs. He wasn’t bulletproof, though his costume did its best, and he wasn’t behind the Captain’s shield, so the faster he got upstairs the better he felt.

He’d never done this kind of rescue before. Sure, they’d prepared him for it, he knew what to do, but he didn’t have that old familiarity of vigilante experience to lean on. This was bigger than a mugging or a convenience store robbery.

But one thing remained the same. People were in danger, and Tommy was there to help.

He burst into the next floor, and almost plowed into a man wearing a black ski mask. Instinctively, he jumped out of the way as the man ran for the stairs, but in a last minute decision, stuck out his foot to trip him. The guy went flying, hitting the floor hard. A knife slipped from one of his hands, clattering on the polished wood floor.

This level smelled like smoke. Tommy kicked away the knife as the man scrambled up and ran for the stairs. He pressed a finger to his earpiece. “One masked man on his way down. I took his knife.”

He pressed the earpiece again, so it wouldn’t continue to transmit his every sound. Like his heavy breathing from running a flight of stairs. It didn’t matter how much running and parkour and climbing buildings he did, stairs always left him winded.

Boom

Tommy hit the floor as the building rocked slightly, and he dropped his invisibility. That sounded like a bomb. Not great. He got up, trying to shake off the fear that leapt up his throat, and started checking rooms. He was pretty sure he heard gunfire from the main level.

“Top level clear.” Void said through the comms, his voice strained. “What exploded?”

Through the fire alarm’s ringing, Tommy could hear a distant sound of yelling and pounding. He finished his sweep of the room he was in and then ran back out. It sounded like it was coming from down another hallway.

“Back door!” Captain’s voice rang in his ears. “Cut them off!”

Tommy turned a corner, following the sounds of distress. Smoke filled the hall. He was getting closer. Why did they make courthouses so maze-like? He was almost definitely running towards the fire, the smoke getting thicker towards the ceiling.

Boom

Tommy stayed upright this time around. It didn’t sound like the heroes downstairs were having a good time.

“Voidwalker, Blink, finish up and get out fast. The building structure is compromised.” Foolish said.

Yeah no kidding. Tommy took another turn and finally spotted someone. There was a man lying unconscious on the floor, right in front of a door that had smoke leaking out through the cracks.

A door where the sound of pounding fists and screaming came from.

“Help! Help!”

The voice was young, very young, and terribly scared. Tommy ran to the door, reaching for the handle. “Hello?”

He hissed through his teeth at the heat from the handle, but it wasn’t hot enough to burn. That was a good sign. The door didn’t budge. That was a bad sign.

“Help! Get me out!” The boy on the other side sounded near hysterics, and honestly Tommy couldn’t blame him.

“I’m gonna get you out, okay? Can you unlock the door?” Tommy asked, kneeling next to the unconscious man to feel for his pulse. The guy’s face was bruised, his lip bleeding, but the biggest concern was the stab wound that his limp hand was covering. Tommy’s stomach turned at the sight of how much blood there was. If he found a pulse, if he had a moment to spare, maybe he could—

“Everybody out! Now!” The Captain’s voice called out in his comms.

The handle jiggled. “I can’t!” The kid sobbed. He sounded so small.

He found a pulse. No time. Tommy pressed his finger against his earpiece. “Void I need your help, I’ve got an unconscious—”

Vwoop. “I’ve got him.” Voidwalker said breathlessly beside him.

Tommy didn’t waste a second, going back to the door. “I’m gonna break down the door, okay kid? Back up so you don’t get hurt.”

Void was gone. Tommy hoped he wasn’t about to cause a backdraft from kicking in the door. If he had more time, he’d make sure the kid heard him and wait for confirmation that the he was out of the way, but as it was . . .

“Blink, you need to get out! The building is—”

Cracks sliced down the ceiling like lightning.

He slammed into the door, clenching his teeth against the way the hit rattled through his bones. The door didn’t move. Courthouse doors were built to be solid, it seemed.

“Blink!”

Rumbling started filling the air. Panic squeezed his lungs in an iron grip. He couldn’t leave, not yet, not without the child on the other side. He couldn’t leave someone behind. “Void, I can’t reach the kid! He’s on the other side of—”

Vwoop. Voidwalker appeared in front of him for a split second, taking in Tommy’s position, and then he disappeared. Hopefully to the other side of the stupidly solid door. Tommy spun around, looking down the hall he’d come from.

The floor was shaking, sinking, right along with his heart. The ceiling cracks widened. He didn’t have time to run to the stairs, much less get down them. The building was about to collapse.

“BLINK GET OUT!”

His breath caught, stuck inside his throat. He was trapped. Even if he flew, there was no empty sky, no opening to let him out. He was going to fall. Flying wouldn’t help. Chunks of the ceiling dropped, crashing into the unstable floor.

“I can’t.” He whispered.

The floor beneath him broke.

And suddenly Voidwalker was in front of him again, a little boy clinging to his neck. Tommy reached out, just as he felt himself drop. An awful sense of déjà vu swept over him as fingers brushed against his, and he felt something pull.

Vwoop.

They were outside, and Tommy’s knees buckled. There was shouting and motion and the overwhelming sound of a building collapsing that encompassed all.

His eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing the scene that surrounded him anymore. His knees had hit solid ground, but he was still falling. Stomach dropping, heart in his throat, it was a long way down and yet the ground was rising fast. Too fast. Too impossibly fast and the force of hitting it would crush him.

It was going to crush Clementine too, and there was nothing he could do. She was reaching for him and he was going to fail because he already had, but he reached back for her anyway.

Maybe this time. Maybe if he’d done it differently. Maybe if he tried a little harder.

The ground rushed to meet him.

Wind in his face.

A deafening roar in his ears.

“—ink! Blink, come back to me bud. Can you hear me?” The Captain was holding his shoulders, face filled with concern. “Blink?”

There was so much dust in the air. It coated everything. The Captain was practically gray, and for a moment, Tommy thought perhaps he’d stopped being able to see in color.

Another voice spoke up nearby. “I think his eyes are clearing up. Blink, can you hear us?”

He knew that voice. It was . . . a friend. Distantly, he nodded. He pressed a hand onto the ground, trying to convince himself he wasn’t falling.

His stomach refused to listen, instead doing loop-de-loops inside him.

Relief sagged the Captain’s shoulders. “Hey, deep breaths. You’re okay. Do you remember who I am?”

Captain. He meant to say it. He tried to, but it was like his voice was too far away to access, so he nodded instead.

“Okay, okay good. That’s good. Are you hurt?”

He blinked at her, coherent thoughts fleeing his grasp. His hand pressed into solid ground, but it didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like his hand. Was he hurt? How in the world was he supposed to know that?

“Blink? Can you talk?”

Well, he knew the answer to that one, at least. He shook his head.

Something was draped over his shoulders. “It’s okay bossman, take your time.”

Tubbo. That’s who it was. He turned his head, the action feeling disconnected from himself. His friend was also covered in dust, some dark smudges here and there where he must have wiped at it.

Someone was missing. He frowned, finally looking around. Emergency vehicles, police, heroes, civilians, rubble, fires being put out . . .

“Blink?” The Captain asked gently, her voice safe and warm.

“Where’s—” he was so surprised to hear his own voice that he cut himself off.

“What?”

He looked back at the Captain, his heart rate kicking back into gear. A low gear, but it was enough for him to realize who was missing. “Where’s Void?”

“He took the kid to find his dad.” Tubbo said, pulling out his phone. “Or, yeah, he found him. They’re riding the ambulance taking the guy to the hospital. The kid’s okay.”

Tommy nodded, the words ringing through his head as he tried to get them to sink in.

The kid’s okay.

And the ground was solid. He wasn’t falling. He wasn’t falling.

“Can we join him?” Tommy asked. His mouth was dry.

The kid’s okay.

“Let’s have you get looked at by a medic first.” The Captain said. “Once they give the all-clear, you and Undergrowth can go find Voidwalker. You’ve done enough, the rest of us can take care of cleanup.”

 

------

 

Void was in the emergency waiting room, still in costume but with his hood pushed back, the little boy curled up against his chest and fast asleep. He gave them a small smile as they came in. “Hey guys.” He said softly.

Tubbo claimed a chair next to him. “Heya.”

Tommy didn’t sit, instead just watching the kid in Void’s lap as he breathed in and out. In and out.

“Blink? You okay?”

He glanced up at Ranboo. The guy looked drained, a slight tremor in his arms. There were beginning signs of power burnout. He probably pushed himself too far to get everyone out. “You were kinda out of it when I left you with the Captain.”

Tommy nodded, trying to pull himself into the present. The feeling of the floor giving way beneath him was far too easy to recall. But he hadn’t fallen. Voidwalker had teleported him. He didn’t fall. He wasn’t falling. “I’m good.” He probably wasn’t. “How’s the kid’s dad?”

Void sighed. “Uncle, apparently. And, um, not great. He flatlined briefly on the way here. So yeah. He’s in surgery right now.”

Tubbo leaned forward in his seat. “So you’re waiting for his parents to come get him?”

Voidwalker shook his head. “No parents. No other family, I guess. Just, uh, just waiting for CPS to find him an emergency placement with a foster home and pick him up.” He carefully readjusted his position in the hard plastic chair. “I told them I’d watch him while they figured it out.”

“Was he hurt?” Tommy motioned towards the kid. “Burns?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Ranboo said. “Though his clothes had some burns in them. He doesn’t have any powers listed, but he’s young enough that he might have not discovered them yet. Maybe he’s fireproof?”

“What’s his name?” Tubbo asked.

“Micheal.” Ranboo said softly. The boy stirred slightly at his name, but remained asleep.

“Want me to get you something?” Tubbo asked. “Drink? Snacks? Blanket?”

“A drink would be nice.”

Tubbo left, and Tommy numbly took his seat. A comfortable silence fell between them, and Tommy stared into nothing as he listened to Micheal’s quiet breathing.

His arm hurt. It was like a switch was flipped, and he was suddenly aware of the throbbing pain in his arm that had probably been there since he slammed it into that door. He hoped he hadn’t opened his stitches. He almost definitely had. And his painkillers were in his locker.

That was a problem, but not one he was going to deal with at the moment.

“Hey bud, you’re okay.” Ranboo said, and Tommy looked over to see a beary-eyed Micheal sitting up on Ranboo’s lap. “Do you remember me?”

Micheal stared at Ranboo for the world’s longest minute, and then whispered “Boo.”

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m Boo.” Ranboo said. “And this is my friend . . .” he glanced at Tommy, suddenly unsure how to continue.

“Toms.” Tommy said.

“Oms.” Micheal repeated sleepily. He looked around, taking in the waiting room they sat in, and then leaned forward to put his head back on Ranboo’s chest. “Hi Oms.”

Tommy felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth. “Hey there kiddo. Feeling a little tired there?”

“‘M not tired.” Micheal said, not bothering to lift his head. He did reach a small hand towards the back of his neck, though. “Why’s it itchy.”

Ranboo gently pulled away the back of the shirt collar. A stiff tag sat just inside. “This part here?”

Micheal nodded.

Tommy stood up. “I’ll ask if there’s some scissors I can borrow.”

By the time he came back, Tubbo was back in his seat, distracting Micheal with a stuffed bee. Ranboo was still holding the back of the shirt collar off the kid’s neck, a cup of whatever drink Tubbo had gotten him sitting on another chair nearby.

“I couldn’t find scissors, but I got a nail clipper.” Tommy said, holding it up. “Let me see that tag.”

It wasn’t fast, but the nail clippers worked. He clipped it as close to the shirt as he could get, and he might have made a tiny hole or two, but when he was done Micheal said it didn’t itch so they all counted it as a win. Tubbo was suggesting names for the stuffed bee, but Micheal just shook his head with a tiny smile and said “Bee.” after each suggestion.

“That’s what it is but you can name it something else.” Tubbo said playfully, “I’m a person, but you don’t call me ‘person’. See?”

“Person.”

“No, wait, that’s not what I’m called—”

“Person.” Micheal giggled.

“We can’t be Boo and Person, silly! It doesn’t even remotely have a ring to it.”

“Silly Person.”

“Noooo.”

Tommy glanced at the clock on the wall, lightly rubbing his arm. It was about the time he was supposed to be off patrol, but he’d still need to go back to the hero base so he could retrieve his folder. He could also use a shower. He’d have to be careful not to get his stitches wet. The stitches that were more than likely re-opened.

He didn’t want to get stitches again. They took forever.

Wait.

He looked at the clock again.

He had a shift at the coffee shop. There was barely enough time to stop at the hero base and take the world’s fastest shower. “I, uh, I gotta go.” Tommy said.

Ranboo and Tubbo looked up at him. Micheal took that moment to steal the bee from Tubbo’s hand.

“You okay bossman?” Tubbo asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, I just uh, have to clock in at my other job soon.”

“You have another job?” Ranboo asked, right as Tubbo said “You could call in sick!”

Tommy waved them both off. “I’ll catch you chuckleheads later. Bye Michael.”

“Bye-bye.”

 

------

 

He was fifteen minutes late, and his legs were shaking. Kristin looked up as he entered, looking a little concerned. She put a coffee drink out on the counter and called a name as Tommy went into the back to set down his folder and put on an apron.

“You okay Tommy?” Kristin asked when he came back out.

“Always.” he answered. He should have called in sick, it was starting to feel like he might be. “Go home, I got this.” He did not got this. “You’ve been working all day.”

“You sure?” Kristin asked, hesitantly untying her apron. “Because you look like you didn’t get any sleep last night.”

He didn’t get any sleep on any of the nights.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now shoo, you workaholic.” he said, like a hypocrite.

She took off her apron. “Okay. Call me if something comes up. It’s been pretty slow after the morning rush.”

Tommy nodded, and she grabbed her stuff and left.

There were a few customers at the tables, some with open laptops, others on their phones. Slowly they trickled out.

He’d forgotten to grab the painkillers.

It was fine. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He could handle anything. He was Tommy Handler Innit. He could deal with the pain in his arm and the way his muscles were shaking for some reason and the stomach pains he was getting, wait why was his stomach . . .

He might be hungry. The last thing he’d eaten was . . . pizza at Phil’s. Last night. In hindsight, that might also be why he was so shaky. That and the adrenaline crash. But he could handle that. He’d grab something to eat as soon as he closed.

The Syndicate meeting was tomorrow.

He was going to a Syndicate meeting, and it was tomorrow. He had no idea what that was supposed to look like, or how he was supposed to behave. Did the rest of the Syndicate like that he was working with them, or did they disagree with the Blade’s choice, and want him gone? They’d at least want to know what information he had. Right? Maybe he should practice what he was going to say. What if they didn’t believe him? They had to, right?

Well, they were the Syndicate. They didn’t have to do anything. Were they going to ask him to keep working with them? What if he couldn’t do what they ask of him?

He was going in blind. Would they try to kill him if things didn’t work out? He couldn’t take on the entire Syndicate in a fight!

Tommy grabbed the edge of the counter, his head spinning so hard he broke off his train of thought. He felt weightless. Both hands clung to the counter as he squeezed his eyes shut, which ended up being a mistake. Closing his eyes just made him dizzier.

He blinked hard, waiting for the dizziness to pass. He wasn’t falling, he wasn’t going to throw up, and he most certainly wasn’t going to pass out.

If he simply said ‘no thank you’ the feeling was legally required to leave.

The cafe was empty now, and he wondered if he should close early. There wasn’t much chance he was going to be able to make coffee like this. He was probably supposed to call Kristin, but she would insist that she take him to the hospital, and he didn’t want that. In fact, the thought of going to the hospital made him break out in a cold sweat.

Yeah, he was just going to close early. It was slow anyway. They wouldn’t get too many complaints.

He started stumbling through closing, trying to focus more on the pain in his arm than the fear creeping up his lungs. He was fine. Everything was fine. He had information to give the Syndicate, and all those papers to back him up. He’d re-printed Karl’s missing person file, the original one that the Blade gave him got lost sometime during his freak-out session on top of the parking garage that morning.

His totally understandable and reasonable freak-out because he’d known Karl and the entire memory wasn’t a pleasant one and it had opened a door to a place he was trying not to think about but he’d seen other faces on those papers that looked familiar and if he let himself . . . if he let himself . . .

They had wanted to take his blood, at first. Vials and vials of it until he was dizzy, dizzy like he felt now, and then he’d pass out. He never slept a single night after his fall as Icarus, but he’d passed out plenty because they took his blood and then got mad at him because whatever they wanted wasn’t in the blood.

Tommy locked the front door, looking around the silent cafe. At the tables. Chairs. He wasn’t back there. The walls weren’t white. He was fine and he was never going back and they’d never find him again because they’d be looking for a kid with golden wings and healing powers and he didn’t use those anymore.

There wasn’t much he could do about his face, except wear a mask any time he was outside the coffee shop. They wouldn’t find him. There were so many blond-haired blue-eyed boys in this city, it was ridiculous. He didn’t stand out.

Tommy left out the back, his folder that he didn't remember picking up was tucked under an arm. He didn't know if he’d counted the till in the register. It didn’t matter. Kristin wouldn’t yell. She might fire him, but she wouldn’t yell. He liked that about her.

His hands were shaking so bad he dropped the key twice before he was able to lock the back door. Returning the key to its hiding spot was so habitual that he didn’t remember doing it. He needed to put on a mask. They wouldn’t find him if he wore a mask, so he staggered down the alleyway to the dumpster that held a black backpack. If he just got behind that dumpster, he’d be fine.

As long as he didn’t think about it. As long as his mind didn’t go back there.

He couldn’t go back.

It had taken them forever to figure out that he couldn’t heal himself anymore. They thought he was just refusing to, and tried to trigger the power without him in the way, pushing him to the brink of life and death so that his instincts would kick in and take over.

It never resulted in him healing himself.

He wasn’t sure when exactly Clementine showed up, but he knew it was very early on, and at night; during some of those rare hours where the silence and dread and white walls pressed in on him. When he was alone and scared and overwhelmed with the feeling of helplessness.

And then suddenly Clementine was there, faded and wispy, talking him out of a state of panic. She told him his eyes were glowing, and that had spooked him enough that she had to spend the next couple of hours calming him down again.

He couldn’t let them find out he had other powers, or they’d force him to use those too. Once, he hadn't been sure how to choose which power to summon, and wasn't able to use either.

Not until he came in. The man who ran the place. The man who he couldn’t escape. He knew the name, he wasn’t going to think of the name, he hated that name. He had come in with a knife, and made the small wound he was supposed to heal on someone into a fatal stab wound. Fatal, unless he was able to use his healing powers, and fast.

He'd been drowning and learning to swim at the same time. Drowning was killing him. Swimming killed him a little less.

And so he'd picked swimming.

Tommy shook himself, he couldn’t think about it, stop thinking about it. He was in front of the dumpster. He just had to jump onto the dumpster’s lid and then lower himself behind it. It was safe there. Hidden. He was going to be okay.

He scrambled onto the dumpster.

Spots were scattered across his vision.

He didn’t know if anything special had triggered his escape. He couldn’t remember most of it.

All he remembered was touching the federation worker who was handling him, and the worker just dropping, fast asleep. Tommy dropped with him, since he wasn’t in great shape and also hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t known he could do something like that. But once he found the pulse and heard Clementine whisper ‘he’s sleeping’, he realized he had a chance and started running.

Hallways. Endless hallways that occasionally branched off to more hallways or sometimes, rooms.

He remembered turning a corner and freezing six feet away from a pair of workers, wandering the halls.

He remembered them looking right through him. He remembered forcing his feet to move and silently slinking over to press himself against the wall. And that was the first time he’d ever turned himself invisible.

He remembered his lungs aching. He probably hadn’t done much breathing.

And then he was in Pogtopia. Shaking and faint and always checking over his shoulder.

He knew the streets of Pogtopia, he’d grown up on them, but he hadn’t had to survive them before. Not really. He’d always had somewhere to return to.

Weeks later, he had met his fair share of strange people. He asked around for someone who could make him a new identity, and that’s how he met Connor.

The guy was good. He was willing to accept payment after it was done. He even made sure Tommy got something to eat, and offered a place to stay while he got the job done.

It took Tommy his first several paychecks to pay him off. It also gave him the motivation he needed to go find a job in the first place. Nothing like owing a sketchy guy a ton of money to get a job search going.

At some point during that time, he managed to press all of those terrible, terrible memories into some hidden corner of his mind and then locked it up, determined to not think about it.

Because if he did, it would drive him insane.

Tommy pressed his back against the brick wall. He didn’t remember jumping down from the dumpster, but he could still feel himself falling. His hands were buzzing, going numb as he tried to pull out his backpack. He was breathing too much, he was always breathing too much. There simply wasn’t enough air in the city.

He couldn’t feel anything.

The world around him rocked and swayed, and all sense of direction fled from him.

All he knew was that he was falling.

And the world went black.

Notes:

Well! That was a beast of a chapter. o7 to all the braincells that died to make it.
Dumps it on you and runs away

Chapter 8: Lesson 8: Disregard Any Rule If Breaking It Is Objectively Funny

Tommy was starving when he woke up. It was the only thing on his mind for the first couple of minutes. He was so, so, hungry, and rather thirsty too, now that he thought about it. Like, really thirsty. It was like he hadn’t eaten in days why hadn’t he eaten before he went to sleep—
Wait.

He didn’t sleep. He couldn’t. He—he had passed out.

Tommy sat up, suddenly aware of how awkwardly he was wedged between a dumpster and a wall. His muscles ached and cramped in protest. How long had he been out? It felt like morning.

Everything was usually a slightly different color when the sun had barely risen, and right now everything was tinted in that color.

Had he been out the entire night?

He grabbed the black backpack and dug into one of the outside pockets, where he kept emergency granola bars. He didn’t really like granola bars, but at the moment, he’d take anything.

After a couple bites, he searched for a water bottle too.

His arm hurt. Oh joy, he was back at feeling that again. He really missed the days when he could just heal himself with barely a thought.

Once he’d wolfed down the bar and found some water, he pulled out his phones, hoping no one had tried to contact him during the night.

He turned on his civilian phone first.

And then stared at the date.

He . . . he’d been unconscious for . . .

Two full days??

He hadn’t just been behind the dumpster for one night. He’d been there for three.

No wonder he was so thirsty.

He had fourteen notifications from Kristin.

 

Boss: Did you sleep in? I got a call that the cafe isn’t open. You knew you had the opening shift, right?

Missed call

Boss: Are you sick? You didn’t look great last night.

 

Boss: Tommy?

2 missed calls

 

4 missed calls

Boss: if this is you quitting, just tell me. Otherwise I feel like I should report you missing.

Boss: Tommy please call me

Boss: Or text

Missed call

 

Cool. Cool cool cool. Tommy closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall behind him. He was probably reported missing. Again. He was going to have to apologize for scaring her, and for leaving her to run the coffee shop without help.

He was also going to need a good reason for being gone so long.

Opening his eyes, he grabbed his hero work phone. Better to go through all of his notifications first before making a plan. Six missed calls from Tubbo, and four from Ranboo. And then twenty total notifications from the Captain.

 

3 missed calls

Cap: Blink? Are you sick?

Cap: you’re supposed to be at work by 1pm

Cap: ???

 

Cap: call me when you see this.

Missed call

 

Cap: Blink I’m getting worried. Please respond, I just want to know if you’re okay.

4 missed calls

Cap: why is your emergency contact a rejection hotline? This isn’t funny

Cap: call me

5 missed calls

 

He was in trouble. He’d forgotten that he’d put the rejection hotline number as his emergency contact. It had been really funny, at the time. Apparently the Captain didn’t share his humor. Okay, so he needed a reason why Tommy the normal barista disappeared for two days, and then he needed a reason why Blink the superhero went MIA for two days.

Cool. He could do that.

Two days. Could he just tell the truth and say he’d passed out for two days? That sounded like it would spark more questions than he’d like to answer. Either way, he couldn’t give the same excuse twice. It was bad enough that both identities disappeared for the same two days. He couldn’t let it be easily connected. Maybe . . .

He jolted, sitting up ramrod straight.

The Syndicate meeting

He’d missed it. He’d stood up and ghosted an entire villain organization. That was more than just being in trouble. He was dead. They were going to kill him.

Tommy scrambled for his Orpheus phone and opened it up, not even looking at how many notifications he’d missed.

 

Blade: hey, Hermes said you aren’t at the pickup spot, where are you?

Blade: if you got held up on the way that’s fine, just text me when you see httis

Blade: *this

 

Blade: Hermes is going to drive around a little to look for you, but he’ll loop back. If you get there before he does just wait for him

 

Missed call

Blade: do you need some help?

Blade: are you okay?

Missed call

 

Blade: meeting is over, we’re going to look for you. Let me know when you get this

37 missed calls

 

Blade: we’ll find you. Just stay alive

 

Tommy stared and stared at the messages. That was . . . surprisingly lacking in death threats. He reread them a few more times. What . . . what was he supposed to do now? They were looking for him. Honestly, he was a little surprised none of them had found him yet.

If he ever needed to hide a body, he now knew where to put it.

He made his eyes flash silver, and Clementine came into sight, kneeling in front of him. Half of her translucent body was inside the dumpster, since there wasn’t much space. Her face looked relieved. “You’re alive.” she said.

“Yup.” Tommy said. “I’m alive, and in so much trouble. Did you see any of the Syndicate while I was out?”

“Couldn’t.” she replied. “You were unconscious, so I wasn’t around.”

“Ah.” he said intelligently. He hadn’t known that about his powers. “Well, now I have to tell a bunch of people that I’m alive and not to worry about me going missing for two whole days.”

“Yikes.” Clementine offered.

And that about summed it all up. He felt really weak, and pulled out a second granola bar to eat while he thought. Maybe he could tell the heroes that he got kidnapped by the Syndicate, but he didn’t really want to place the blame on them. Heroes hated them enough as it was. Maybe he could say that he got mugged on his way home from work. For two days.

Hmm.

Maybe he got mugged and went into a short coma. Yeah. And has been at the hospital this whole time. Kristin might buy it.

The others probably wouldn’t. He was supposed to be the kinda guy who stopped muggers. Maybe he could say he got lost in the drainage tunnels and didn’t have cell service down there. For two days.

He sighed. That wasn’t a very solid excuse. Everyone would have questions like ‘why were you in the drainage tunnels’ and ‘how did you manage to stay lost for so long’ and ‘are you an idiot’, which he’d really rather avoid answering.

At least Shuteye hadn’t made any commitments. It wasn’t unusual for his other vigilante identity to go quiet for several nights at a time. Maybe he could put in a good word for Shuteye. Tell the heroes he saved him or something.

He sighed. This was getting complicated. Either that, or he just needed more food in order to think straight.

Out of the people he needed to talk to, he should probably talk to the Blade first. And right away. That wasn’t a phone call that should happen in public, and he had a feeling it would get too complicated to explain over text. He would just tell him . . . that he passed out. Yeah. Maybe the truth would actually hold up with him. Maybe.

He didn’t have any better ideas.

Before he could think better of it, he hit the Blade’s contact and put the phone to his ear. The Blade answered just before the second ring. “Orpheus?”

His mouth was dry. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m so sorry I missed the meeting.”

“Forget the meeting, are you okay? Do you need help?”

Tommy’s thoughts glitched a little. He hadn’t expected there to be so much worry in the guy’s voice. “Yeah? I mean no, I don’t need help. Yes, I’m okay. I—” what was his story again?

“You sure? Are you hurt?”

“Yeah, I’m fine now.” He said, head racing. He needed an excuse. Anything. “I just . . . had a run in with Shuteye.”

What

That wasn’t what he was going to say, not at all, but he needed to keep going and make it work. Wow, he’d just made everything so much worse. He really didn’t want the Blade hunting down his last vigilante identity. “He’s a—a new vigilante. We fought, I slipped up, he put me to sleep.” It was possibly the next closest he could get to the truth. He swallowed hard and went on.

“I guess he went a little overboard, because I didn’t wake up for a couple days, apparently. I woke up at his base or whatever, and then we had the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had in my life. We cleared up some misunderstandings, I talked him out of turning me in, and we parted ways.”

Was that even believable? It was true that a conversation between Shuteye and Orpheus would be one of the weirdest conversations he’d had, and he talked to Tubbo on a fairly regular basis. “I don’t know, man. I don’t remember half of it. I think I’m still waking up. But I’m fine.”

There was shuffling on the other end. “Do you want me to have a talk with Shuteye?”

Well that sounded . . . terrifying. “No, No, I talked to him plenty. It’s fine. I’m okay. I’m just sorry I missed the meeting.”

“Orpheus, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’re okay. We can call in another meeting as soon as you like.”

“Oh.” Tommy said. It was getting hard to think. The Syndicate, the group of the city’s most feared villains, the group that—aside from the Blade—he hadn’t even met, were all willing to just . . . drop everything and have another impromptu meeting for him? “What? I mean—you don’t have to, I can just meet with you or send the information or something.”

“It’s fiiiine, everyone will want to see that you’re safe anyway. Plus we’ll have info to share with you. It’s just easier this way.”

Everyone . . . wanted to—what? He didn’t know what to think, much less say, to that. It was a lot to process for someone who had only just woken up from being unconscious for two days. They were going to tell him information? What sort of information? Had they found out something about what happened to Icarus?

“Unless . . . you don’t feel up to it. It doesn’t have to be right away.” The Blade said hesitantly. “If you need some time that’s understandable.”

“No, uh,” Tommy stammered. “I should share what I know with you sooner rather than later. I could do, um, hold on,” What day was it? “I could do tomorrow?”

He grabbed his other phones to check their calendars. If he remembered correctly, he should have that day off for both jobs.

“Tomorrow sounds good.” The Blade said. “Let’s do uhh, hm, could you do four o’clock?”

“PM?”

A snort on the other end. “Yeah, PM. Four AM is Thanatos’ bedtime. Same meetin’ spot?”

“Yeah. See you then.” Tommy said, and he hung up.

Well. They didn’t want to kill him. That was nice. He loved it when things turned out that way. He wished it happened more often. With a sigh, he gathered his phones and stood up. His next mission was to prevent giving Kristin a heart attack. He shot her a text before clambering out from behind the dumpster.

 

Big man: I’m alive.

Big man: omw to explain.

 

The first few steps were shaky. His head spun a little. His arm ached a little, but he wasn’t going to worry about that until he was at the Hero Base.

For now, Kristin.

It was early morning, so there were a few people in line when he walked in, with a couple more at various tables.

“TOMMY INNIT WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?”

Every head in the room turned. He gave a sheepish wave as Kristin abandoned the customers in line and ran over to him. “Hey Kristin.”

“Start talking.” She said, pulling out her phone to show him his text. “You said you’d explain.”

“Yeah.” he glanced around the cafe. “Is uh, is everyone curious or can we maybe . . .”

Kristin sighed, turning to the line. “Is anyone in a hurry? I need a few minutes with him.”

The customers told her they could wait, so she dragged him into the backroom. “Well?”

“So I got mugged on my way home.” Tommy said, and Kristin’s face immediately changed to worry. “I think they were more angry than poor, and one of them hit real hard. Guess I was in a short coma. I woke up at the hospital about an hour ago. Sorry I left you hanging.”

“Oh, Tommy!” Kristin said. “That’s terrible, you should have just called. Should you be up so soon?”

He waved her off, “I’m fine now, don’t worry. I wanted to tell you in person. Didn’t think you’d believe me if I said I was okay, unless you could see it for yourself. I’m sorry there wasn’t anyone to tell you.”

“Give my number to your emergency contact.” Kristin said. “In fact, have them message me so I can add them to my phone. Next time something happens they can just call me. I don’t mind working a few days on my own.”

“Uh, yeah . . .” That was a fantastic idea, if he had someone who could do that. And if he’d actually been at the hospital and not passed out behind a dumpster.

“Tommy, you do have an emergency contact, right?”

He thought about how he’d put down the rejection hotline number as his emergency contact for his hero identity. In his defense, aside from it being incredibly funny, it wasn’t like he could put down a number to someone he knew without his identity being compromised.

He opened his mouth, hesitated, and then shut it. Hopefully, if he ever ended up at a hospital, they wouldn’t realize he had multiple phones and look through them. Especially not Orpheus’s. For most of his contacts he tried to give normal, non-suspicious names. The Blade, on the other hand . . . he needed to change it to something else. If he got a text from ‘The Blade’ saying he was missing a Syndicate meeting, he would wake up in a jail cell.

“You mean you were in a coma at the hospital alone?!”

Tommy winced. He was pretty sure the customers heard that. “Kristin, it’s fine, it’s not like I was awake to notice—”

“Tommy!” she said. “Why don’t you have an emergency contact?”

Well this was awkward. “Uh, the only contact I have on my phone is yours, and like, work and life separation and all that.”

“You don’t have anyone else in your . . .” she stared at him in shock. “You’re what, eighteen? And I’m your only contact?”

Seventeen, actually. “Nineteen.”

Kristin shook her head. “Right, okay. Make me your emergency contact. If you’re unable to make a decision, I’m not letting some stranger make life and death calls! They need to have someone who knows you! Do you have any allergies? Any medications you need to avoid? Are you—”

“Kristin.”

“Listen, I know you hate being called a child but you’re still a teenager—”

“I’m a legal adult.”

“—and you’re saying I’m the only adult in your life? Add me as your emergency contact. I can’t believe I’m becoming a parent today.”

“I am also an adult in my life.” Tommy said, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t an adult and he’d never had one who stayed—no, that wasn’t fair. His parents didn’t want to die. His last foster mother didn’t want him to leave. Even the terrible adults didn’t want him out of their sight. In fact, if he had the power to make the adults in his life leave, his last two years would have been so much less painful.

He didn’t like getting close to adults. He didn’t trust them. Even the nice ones. Even the ones who he knew would love him. He didn’t want them to discover the people who chased him, and he didn’t want them to look at him with disappointment.

“Just make me your emergency contact.” she said. “I won’t mother you or anything if you don’t want it, but you should have someone in your corner when things get bad.”

He nodded, pulling out his phone. It was probably the best compromise he’d get, and he could always change it later. It would give her peace of mind. “Alright. But I don’t plan on getting mugged again. It’s already happened so now I’m immune.”

Kristin sighed, but she was smiling.

“I have somewhere else to be, but I can take the evening shift. Give you a break.” He said.

“You don’t have to. Just get some rest.”

“I’m coming in. Evening shift. Be ready to go home.” he insisted, and he booked it before she could tell him no.

Two down. One to go. Ugh, passing out was such a pain.

He took a bus to the hero base. It was almost a mistake, because once he sat down his legs remembered that they didn’t want to work after being unused for an extended time. They’d get over it though. They had to.

He texted the Captain once he sat down.

 

Blink: I live!

Blink: I can explain

Blink: Be there soon

 

He needed to be clear on his story before he got there. So far he’d used the ‘coma in a hospital’ excuse, which he could never use on Kristin again since she was supposedly his emergency contact now, and the ‘Shuteye hit me too hard’ excuse on the Blade. The truth would raise too many uncomfortable questions, and he didn’t want to throw the Syndicate under the bus for this one. Not right before he goes into a meeting with them and possibly ends up much more tangled up in their business.

Shuteye had already taken one hit, and really, what was one more? It would be pretty believable for him to get into a scrape with a vigilante, and he’d only be blaming himself. He could even confirm it as Shuteye if they got suspicious and looked into it. Did he want to fight heroes as Shuteye? Eh, not really. But he was pretty familiar with their routes and shifts, it wouldn’t be too hard to avoid them.

Yeah. He could blame it on Shuteye. Dang vigilantes and their meddling. The heroes would totally buy it. He was his own scapegoat.

Shifting the blame to the version of him that was slippery and didn’t have to answer questions directly if he didn’t want to.

By the time he’d arrived at the Hero Base, his mind was made up. No huge, detailed story that could get messy. Just a simple ‘oopsies, a vigilante got me’ and then he’d move on.

He’d barely walked inside before a clipboard was shoved into his hands, and then he was crushed in a hug.

“Blink! Never do that again!” Captain said. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Had a run-in with Shuteye. I’m fine now.” He said, voice muffled. “What’s this?”

“Emergency contact form. Don’t put down another hotline.” She said, pulling away. “What do you mean run in with Shuteye? Are you hurt?”

He swallowed, looking at the form. “Uh, not really. He put me into a really solid sleep though. Just woke up this morning. Sorry I wasn’t able to answer your calls.”

The Captain sighed, sounding frustrated. “Pesky vigilantes. You had me really scared there, and I didn’t have any way of finding out what happened to you. Fill out the form, and seriously this time.” she jabbed a finger at the clipboard. “I mean it. I want a real person who you know and would want to be contacted if there was an emergency.”

Oh, yeah, a real person. Tommy was familiar with them. The city was full of real people. He just . . . didn’t know many of them.

“What if I don’t have anyone?” He asked quietly.

“You don’t?”

He shrugged. “No one that’s close enough to know why I’m not answering my phone.”

“Then put down someone who you’d want making medical decisions if you end up in a coma or something.” She offered a sad smile. “The secret of your identity is only worth so much.”

Sure. Easy.

He took the clipboard with him to his locker, giving himself time to think. Outside of the heroes, Tommy really only knew the phone numbers for three people:

1. His foster mom, Puffy, whose number he knew by heart

2. The Blade’s business number

3.His boss at his other job, Kristin

He’d left Puffy’s life for good, and he was going to keep it that way.

He liked her; she had a heart of gold, and her and her daughter were the closest thing he’d gotten to family after his parents died, but that only made it all worse. He couldn’t go back into foster care, waiting for the Federation to find him in the system. Even without that, he couldn’t bring his multiple lives into her house, and he wouldn’t ever, ever be able to look her in the eye again. Not after Puffy lost her daughter.

Not after Clementine.

He leaned his head against his locker door instead of opening it.

Kristin had told him to put her down as his emergency contact. He probably should. It was just . . . she was his one shot at being normal. No powers, no masks, no life and death, just coffee and the people who drank it. He never wanted Kristin to know about his hero life, but . . . the only other option was the Blade, and while putting him down as an emergency contact would be possibly the funniest thing he could ever do in his life, it would also be very, very stupid.

He looked at the blank spot to fill in his emergency contact’s name and number. No matter whose number he put down, it would be giving away at least one of his identities to someone. A crack in the foundation. A domino set up to fall.

He seriously considered putting down a fake number, or another hotline; but there was a tiny, insistent voice asking if—should there really be an emergency—he wouldn’t want someone to know.

If something did happen, if he died or was close to it, there was a good chance they’d find out his real identity anyway. After all, there was a reason he avoided hospitals. If they looked up something like his dental records, the game was over. Connor had said there wasn’t much he could do about those. They’d at least find Puffy and tell her. Maybe Kristin too, if they found his fake ID.

If something like that happened, that was it. Everyone would find out. Best case, he never ends up in a hospital or police station, and all the Captain finds out is just whoever he puts down as an emergency contact.

So he might as well have something happen on his own terms. Something he could control.

Tommy filled out the form.

With his own carefully built life held precariously in his hands, he took the form to the Captain and handed it over. She read the information he’d put down.

A phone number.

No name.

Relation . . .

“You have an older brother?”

His heart was in his throat. He was, admittedly, going to be the only person who found it even remotely funny. In his defense, he is his own target audience, and he found it hilarious.

The phone number belonged to the Blade.

“We’re not, uh, close.” he tried to imagine how a phone call like that would go. It was too bad he’d never be there for it. “I really don’t want him to know about what I do or anything, so that’s only for life and death situations. Like I said, I don’t have someone for you to call if I’m not answering my phone. I’ll just, uh, try to make sure I don’t . . . get kidnapped again?”

Or end up in a hospital, while he was at it.

He walked out of her office, grinning, and was immediately plowed over by a pair of heroes.

“Blink! What the hell, man?” Undergrowth said, shoving him lightly. “Pick up your phone when I call!”

“Are you okay?” Voidwalker asked. “I thought Cap was gonna bust a couple blood vessels when you didn’t respond to anyone.”

“Sorry.” His grin turned sheepish once again. “I’m fine now. Shuteye just gave me an extra long nap.”

“You ran into Shuteye?” Undergrowth asked, eyes sparkling. “Was he cool?”

Tommy shrugged. Shuteye would sure love to say he was cool, but alas, he wasn’t Shuteye at the moment. “I dunno man, he walks around with a blindfold and doesn’t pull his punches with that sleep stuff. Kinda weird chap if you ask me.”

“His blindfold is so cool.” Undergrowth went on undeterred, much to Tommy’s delight. “I wanna steal it from him just so I can see how it’s made. Like, how does he see with that thing on? I’m guessing some kind of see-through mesh, but that still hinders your vision especially if it’s already dark and—”

“And we’re glad you’re okay.” Voidwalker interrupted. “Hell of a time for it to happen though.”

“Oh yeah!” Undergrowth said. “You’ve been asleep while everything happened. Oh boy did you pick a terrible time.”

“I didn’t exactly pick—”

“We’ve had a bunch of Syndicate sightings.” Voidwalker said. “Like, for the past several nights. They were everywhere, people were reporting them from all over the city, and then they’d be gone without a trace by the time anyone got there.”

“It was crazy!” Undergrowth nodded. “We’ve been running around playing whack-a-mole while also dealing with Cap going all crazy because you went MIA. She was pretty convinced they’d taken you.”

“Ah.” Tommy said numbly. “That’s . . . really wild. I missed out.”

“You really did, man.” Undergrowth shook his head. “If they’re out again tonight, I’m gonna just pick a really tall building and set up a sniper rifle. I’m tired of running.”

“At least tonight will be our last night shift for a while.” Voidwalker said. “Though it’s not like I’ve been getting the best sleep recently anyways.”

Tommy patted Voidwalker on his shoulder with a grin. “Listen, if you’re having a hard time with sleep, I can hook you up. I know a guy now. He’ll have you out for days.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Anything for you big man,” he said, “and hey, if I see him again, I’ll try to snatch his blindfold for you Tubbo. Would serve him right.”

“Really? That would be awesome.” Undergrowth beamed. “Hey, wanna come over to my place tomorrow after we get off patrol? We all need a chill night, and I finally got more than one controller so I can have people over to play games. Mario party is way more fun with more people anyway. Void’s coming. What do you say?”

He had a Syndicate meeting tomorrow, and he didn’t know how long those went. Probably not more than a couple hours, that’s the feeling he got from the Blade’s messages he’d read that morning. And they were meeting pretty early in the evening . . .

“What time do you get off patrol?” he asked. He hadn’t played a video game since . . . wow, since forever. Maybe he should download something on one of his phones. And maybe he should give the Blade a heads up about the heroes being out in force looking for them.

Then again, he’s probably well aware of it already. What a time to agree to another meeting. And so easily, too.

“Seven. And then it would be a bit before we actually got to my place. I can send you the address and let you know what time we’ll be there once patrol is over. If any big emergency happens we’ll probably be a lot later.”

“Yeah. Let me know, I should be able to make it.” Tommy said brightly. If the Syndicate meeting went too long he could always say something came up. He wanted to play mario party. He’d never known enough people who also liked video games to play it with him before.

It was something to look forward to. Something that didn’t come with a sense of life and death hanging in the balance, and something that wasn’t work.

It was nice.

It was almost like he was . . . normal.

For a few hours, at least. And what he wouldn’t give for a few hours of being a normal person . . .

 

------

 

When he got back to the coffee shop, Kristin was chatting with someone who looked familiar at the register. Tommy walked closer, his step growing lighter as he recognized the man.

“Tommy, have you met Phil?” Kristin asked.

“Yup,” Tommy responded, hesitating as he got a good look at the guy. He looked like he hadn’t slept. And then maybe did some dumpster diving. “Hello old man, how’s the nursing home?”

Phil groaned and Kristin burst into laughter. Tommy grinned, walking behind the counter.

“Tommy! Phil is my age, are you saying that I’m old too?”

Tommy stopped in front of her, trying to pull a serious face. “Kristin. You’re so much older than him. Clearly you’re an immortal, forever blessed with the beauty of youth.”

“Why thank you Tommy.”

“Don’t waste your time on Phil, he’s only going to age and wither away. He’s got like, three years left in him, tops.”

“I’m literally thirty four.” Phil protested.

Tommy shook his head sadly. “Ancient.”

A customer came in with a kid in tow. Tommy glanced at Phil’s order on the register and pulled out a cup to start it. It seemed like he really hadn’t slept last night, considering the extra shot of espresso in his order. Kristin started helping the new customer. The boy who’d come in with him was watching Tommy make the drink, so Tommy watched him back.

The kid sure did stand out. He had blond hair—like half of the city’s population—and he wore a shirt with an image of a duck on it. He had a yellow jacket tied around his waist, which was almost bright enough to distract Tommy from his intense green eyes.

He wondered if the kid had powers, based entirely on how radioactive his eyes looked when they caught the light.

Phil waited at the counter, so Tommy slid his drink over.

“So . . . how’s school?” Phil asked, picking it up.

“I don’t have school, old man.” Tommy said, rolling his eyes. “I graduated.” Flat-out lie, but so was the rest of his fake ID.

“And college?”

His smile faltered. College was a dream he’d never had, mostly because high-school was impossible enough. “No one goes to college anymore.” He shrugged. “Too much money for a piece of paper.”

Phil didn’t seem to buy it, though he kept his words light. “Might be worth trying for some scholarships, you never know. Could get a lucky break.”

What a world that would be.

“Only thing that’s lucky and breaking is this stupid espresso machine. It’s lucky I haven’t got an axe to drive through it.” Tommy grinned, looking over once again to the kid, who seemed invested in their conversation.

The boy nodded seriously, and then said in sign language, “The only solution, clearly.”

Tommy laughed. “See? He understands.”

Phil looked between them, a slightly confused smile on his face. He turned to the kid and slowly moved his hands into the words, “Sorry, I only know a little sign.”

The boy’s face lit up, looking at the two of them. Tommy was glad now that he’d panic-learned as much sign language as he could when he’d first started being Icarus; worried that he’d run into someone who could only sign, and not know what they were saying. “Is that all the sign you know, Phil?” He asked.

“Almost. There’s a few other words.”

“Which ones?” the boy asked.

Straight-faced, Phil signed back, “Pasteurized milk.”

The kid burst into laughter.

“Tommy, could you take care of the hot chocolate?” Kristin asked, ringing up her customer. He nodded, pulling out milk to steam.

Phil drifted back towards Kristin, chatting while she made the other drink. The door opened, and a few more people walked in. Tommy glanced up to see a pretty frazzled-looking man and a little girl practically hiding behind him.

He did a double take at the guy, suddenly recognizing him. They hadn’t ever met personally, but Tommy had looked up the faces of every foster parent and caseworker in the system, and he knew that man was a caseworker.

Tommy snapped his gaze back to the guy who’d come in earlier with the boy, and realized he recognized him too. He was a registered foster parent. The two adults met up, and the kids stared at each other from across the table they’d chosen.

The girl picked at her oversized purple sweater, peeking out from behind long dark curls. Something about her looked soft, but felt sharp. Tommy tried not to stare, most likely this meeting was her being introduced to her foster parent, and that sort of thing was hard enough without some random barista watching. Still, he couldn’t help but see himself in her place.

Confused. Scared. Meeting the strangers who would control his life for the immediate future.

He caught Phil also glancing over at the group.

Introductions were being thrown around, the case worker seemed to be in a hurry, but the kids kept their eyes locked on each other. Tommy set down the hot chocolate, checking the name Kristin had written on the cup, and then looking back at the kids. Something was going on between them, and he didn’t want to interrupt.

Chayanne. That was the boy’s name. He was signing to the girl, who seemed to understand what he was saying. It was surprisingly hard to not eavesdrop with sign language, but Tommy tried to give them their privacy while he waited for a good time to call the boy’s name.

Chayanne looked close to the age he’d been when he’d entered the foster system. Tommy had started growing early, so he hadn’t been quite so small, but it was jarring to see how young he was. Or rather, it was jarring to see how young that age looked, now that he was older.

He found himself hoping that neither of the kids had powers. Their lives were complicated enough.

The girl had signed something, and Chayanne nodded. And that seemed to be that, because the girl glanced up once at her caseworker, and then hesitantly walked over to Chayanne, grabbing his hand and holding it.

“Hot chocolate for Chayanne.” Tommy called, and then he turned around, busying himself with cleaning up. Somehow, he’d ended up blinking back moisture in his eyes. He’d like to hold someone’s hand.

It felt a little stupid to admit. He’d had to say it out loud more than once that day, that he didn’t have anyone in his life who was close. No one who knew him. The real him. All of him. But that was okay, he meant for it to be like that. It was safer. For him, and for everyone else.

For the moment, though, just having a hand to hold seemed better.

He started wiping down the counters, frustrated with himself. At least if something terrible happened to him, he could die knowing that the Blade would be told about it in the most cursed way possible. Not that he’d know that Tommy was Orpheus; but the guy was smart, and if Orpheus mysteriously disappeared when Tommy died, he’d figure it out. In fact, for a few seconds, Tommy let himself daydream a little.

He imagined ending up in the hospital in a terrible shape, maybe he’d been found out and the police were entering the hospital with a warrant for his arrest, maybe someone who works there was a Federation worker dressed as a doctor, coming for him before the police could have a chance. He imagined everything crumbling, every terrible thing he’d ever tried to avoid coming for him, and then . . .

And then he imagined the Blade himself walking in. And the Blade would say “this guy’s with me” and he’d fight anyone who tried to take Tommy. And finally. Finally, someone capable would be there for him.

Tommy stared down at the counter. He knew it was an unrealistic fantasy, but man. It sounded nice.

Really, really nice.

“If you think too hard you might actually have a thought, mate.” Phil’s voice broke through.

Tommy looked up, giving him a weak smile. “Can’t have that. The world’s not ready for me to be capable of conscious thought anymore than it’s ready for you to have another sleepless night. Like, come one man, you look like death. If you don’t sleep tonight I think you might combust and release a deadly plague.”

Phil chuckled at that. “Don’t worry, I plan on sleeping tonight, even if I have to get someone to come over and knock me out to do it.”

“Well if everyone else is busy, let me know.” Tommy said. “I’ve always wanted to knock someone out.”

Phil grinned. “Don’t hold your breath. My friends will probably jump at the chance.”

“You need better friends, Phil.”

“Nah, I’m fine with the ones I’ve got. They keep my life from being boring.”

“Boring isn’t as bad as they make it sound, you know.” Tommy shrugged. “So much easier to catch up on tv shows.”

“And you call me old. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Lost it in my teens like everyone else.”

“Mate.” Phil shook his head, “I think you’re the one who needs better friends.”

“Lost those too.” Tommy said, but with a grin and two finger guns, which made everything way better. “I’ll have you know I’m just that dedicated to the grind.”

“At a coffee shop?”

“Yup. The coffee grind.” He grinned.

Phil groaned. “I walked right into that one. Well Tommy, I’m gonna see myself out after that. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“But Phil, I thought you wanted me to regain my sense of adventure.”

Phil left without a response, which of course meant that Tommy had won that round. He decided to award himself with twenty-three points, because he could, and no one could stop him.

And what was the point of keeping things to himself if he didn’t have some fun with it.

Notes:

I wanted to get this finished days ago, but eh, holiday travel and all that kept me from having the time. It's finished now though! Probably. Idk I'm so tired, formatting all this took ages. Why did I decide on making text messages look like that. Well, I know why. ~Aesthetic~
Anyway. Much like Tommy, I think I'm very funny. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Chapter 9: Lesson 9: Lie Through Your Teeth

It was four o’clock in the afternoon. Evening? Tommy didn’t know when evening time officially started. In the summer, four o’clock felt like the middle of the day. In the winter, it felt like the beginning of nighttime. At the moment, it felt like slowly rising anxiety.

Tommy stood in front of the convenience store on fifth street, and had been for the past twenty minutes. In his Orpheus gear, he probably looked a little odd, waiting on the edge of the street with his hands in his coat pockets. There were a couple of strange looks tossed his way, but for the most part people went on with their lives. He didn’t want to be late, he was probably already on thin ice from missing the original Syndicate meeting.

Hermes was supposed to pick him up, whoever that was. The name had been a surprise, he had thought there were only three Syndicate members: Blade, Thanatos, and Nemesis. As far as he could find out, everyone only knew of those three. So who was Hermes?

Did it matter? Probably not. But it was something small that he could worry about that didn’t make him feel nauseous. He’d rather not deal with nausea, especially not while wearing a face mask. The voice changer around his throat wasn’t helping. He didn’t normally notice the small device, but he’d given himself too much time to stand by the street and think about every little thing on and around him.

“You know,” piped up an echo of a voice beside him, “I don’t think gray is really your color.”

Tommy sighed, looking down at the curb by his feet, where Clementine now sat. “I don’t really think you get a say in that, Clem.”

“You’re Orpheus right now,” she said happily, “and you like being all spooky and whatever with your eyes when you're Orpheus, which means I get to say whatever I like. And I say gray washes you out.”

He shook his head. “Great, a peanut gallery, just what I need. I can turn it off, you know. Orpheus doesn’t have to have glowing eyes.”

Clementine gave an exaggerated gasp. “And let the Syndicate find out what your real eye color is? You might as well take off the mask while you’re at it.”

“Oh, shut up.” he said. Maybe he was a tiny bit paranoid in areas that didn’t really matter, sue him. No one gets kidnapped and experimented on for two years without coming out the other end with a couple of quirks. “And I think the gray goes with my eyes while I’m using this power.”

“If you wanted to match your eyes you could have gone with a silver. Or no, wait, what’s it called . . . the color you called mom’s car. The one you threw up in that one time? And then we couldn’t get rid of the smell so it just smelled like—”

“Chrome.” Tommy interrupted. “I called it chrome and then you told me that wasn’t a word, so you bet your chocolate bar that you were right and then I showed it to you in the dictionary. You never gave me that chocolate, by the way. I’m kinda salty about it.”

“You should have worn chrome if you wanted to match your eyes.”

“I don’t need to reflect light like a safety vest,” he said, “Orpheus was supposed to stick to the shadows, not be a beacon of transportable moonlight.”

Clementine giggled. “It would still be better than boring old gray.”

A black car squealed around the corner, driving right up to where Tommy stood and then yanking to a stop. Tommy stared at it for a minute, a little shocked at the lack of subtlety. The car was pretty nondescript, aside from the tinted windows, and seemed otherwise great for going unnoticed and keeping identities hidden.

Click

The doors unlocked. Tommy glanced down at Clementine, who simply blinked back at him and shrugged. Well. This was it, he supposed. Time to see if he was about to get kidnapped. Again.

If only the Federation had known how easy it could be.

He opened the back door to the car and crawled in. He’d barely shut the door before they started moving again, and he scrambled to fasten his seat belt. Villains still used seat belts, right? Doing crime didn’t make car crashes any less dangerous.

“Hey man, sorry I’m late.” the driver said, and it made Tommy nearly jump out of his skin. “Time got away from me and then traffic . . . you know how it is.”

“Oh, uh,” Tommy tried to cover his nerves by filling the air, “It’s no prob . . . lem . . .”

He had anticipated a lot of things for this Syndicate meeting. He’d thought through countless possibilities; what if they didn’t like him, what if a fight broke out, what if Hermes didn’t show up, what if this was a trap, what if he’d forgotten his files, what if . . .

At no point, in all of that time anxiously playing out scenarios, had he ever pictured the mysterious Syndicate member, Hermes, wearing a Sonic onesie. With a blue mask. And no voice modifier.

A part of him thought the guy’s voice sounded familiar, but that thought was mostly overridden with the pure shock of seeing his driver dressed as Sonic the hedgehog.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, my guy.” Sonic—Hermes—said. “You kinda had me worried last time when you missed the meeting. I betcha that convenience store woulda called the cops on me if it were in a better part of the city, I looped around it so many times.”

Tommy nodded, feeling a little numb. “Yeah. Uh, Hermes, right?”

“Yup, that’s me. Don’t worry, I’ll getcha to the right place at the right time. No one’s panicking today! Love those kinds of days.”

“You were only late by like, a minute.” Tommy said, his stomach lurching a little as they took a hard turn without slowing down. “No rush.”

“Oh, am I driving fast?” Hermes looked down at his speedometer. “Ah, sorry about that. The world’s always just a little slower than I anticipate. Speed powers and all that.”

“Speed powers?” Tommy blurted out. Most people didn’t just . . . offer up what powers they had like that. He really hadn’t expected it from a previously unknown Syndicate member. Then again, he hadn’t expected the Sonic onesie either.

Yeah, he was going to be stuck on that.

“Eh, not like you’re probably thinking. I’m just kinda faster than normal. No superspeed or anything. But boy, no one has ever won in a footrace against me, so that’s something! Imagine being able to say that the Blade can’t outrun you. No one but me babyyy.”

Tommy nodded again, unsure what exactly to say to that. Briefly, he wondered if this was somehow an elaborate prank that Undergrowth had set up. Or perhaps he was having a fever dream and would wake up any moment in front of the convenience store.

But it wasn’t a prank, and he didn’t sleep. So this car, this driver, they could only be reality. Oh well, it was better than being held at knifepoint or something. And it did wonders for his nerves.

Nothing like good old bewilderment to knock the anxiety right out of the system.

It also distracted him from keeping track of where they were going. He didn’t think to notice until they were driving down into a tunnel beneath the ground. One turn off of whatever road that was, and they soon found themselves in a parking garage. Hermes parked the car right in front of an unmarked door in the wall and waved his hands at the cement around them. “Here we are! Just go on through that door and down the hall. Second door on your left.”

Wait. Tommy paused mid-click of his seatbelt, squinting at the driver. He was . . . was he supposed to go alone? Was Hermes just going to sit there for the entire meeting? It felt a little stupid to ask if Hermes wasn’t going with him, so he kept his mouth shut. Second door on his left. That’s all he had to remember. Second door on his left, and hope he wasn’t shot the moment he walked in.

No problem. Easy. He slid out the backseat and headed for the door.

His nerves were back, and he really hoped he wasn’t going to throw up. It was a serious identity risk. He couldn’t just tear off his mask in front of the Syndicate.

The hallway was industrial. Like a basement to some factory that didn’t bother to cover the pipes and support beams with drywall. He went to the second door on the left and stood in front of it for a stupid amount of time.

Maybe he could run.

No, he wasn’t going to do that. It was too late. He had to believe it was too late to run because that was the only thing keeping him from booking it. The city’s most wanted villain group was behind that door. No biggie. He was just . . . he was just going to go in. Yup.

“Chicken.” Clementine said at his elbow.

He pushed the door open and walked in, nearly falling down the set of stairs that led into the room. As if they weren’t far enough underground as it was.

The room was big. Rich red carpet, stone arches in the walls that framed some fancy wood paneling. Tommy didn’t know much about the different kinds of wood, but he knew mahogany was a wood name so he decided that must be what the walls were made of. Hanging lights dangled from the ceiling. A big, sturdy table sat in the center of the room, and on one side of that table stood three people.

Three Syndicate members.

Honestly, the table size was a tiny bit overkill.

Tommy didn’t say anything about it. He was too busy holding absolutely still at the sight of all three Syndicate members standing in front of him.

“Orpheus!” the Blade said, turning to face him. “Glad you could make it.”

Tommy nodded sharply, barely holding himself back from saying something like ‘Hi! I don’t want to be stabbed, by the way’. He hadn’t planned on going for the quiet, stoic kinda impression, but for the time being it was the less embarrassing route.

“Orpheus, this is Thanatos,” the Blade motioned at the man beside him, wearing his signature dark green robes and brimmed hat, a dark veil hanging down over his face. Large, gleaming black wings sat folded at his back.

Wings Tommy had healed, once upon a time. Back when Thanatos had been the hero Nightingale.

This man was the reason Tommy had become known as Icarus by the city.

“And this,” the Blade continued, as if this wasn’t the closest Tommy had stood next to the ex-hero since the day he’d healed the man’s wings, “is Nemesis.”

Tommy tore his gaze away to the third of their group. She was shorter than the other two by a good five inches, with bubblegum pink hair and a black lace mask. She wore a kevlar vest over a dark long-sleeve shirt, jeans, and a black cape that hung down to her knees.

He didn’t know what Nemesis’ powers were. With as many encounters as the heroes have had with Nemesis, no one really came out with the same story. Some accounts seemed to mix her up with her Syndicate members, saying she had wings or that she could freeze them in place by blood control. Other accounts suggested illusionary powers. Some of the heroes insisted that she didn’t have any powers, and was simply skilled in infiltration, since that seemed to be the job she showed up for most of the time.

The not knowing left Tommy feeling unsettled. He gave her a nod. Should he say ‘hi’? Was that too casual? He hadn't even finished high school, how was he supposed to know villain etiquette?

The Blade threw out his hands. “Welcome to the Syndicate.”

Tommy took that as an invitation to look around instead of trying to figure out conversation, and his eyes caught on one of the walls. Or, rather, on the large board that covered it. He found himself walking to it, his breath catching in his throat.

Papers covered the surface, pinned in place. The board stretched wider than his arm span, filled with reports and articles and pictures and handwritten sticky notes that had long ago lost their stickiness. Different colored yarns connected related parts of the board together.

There were a lot of colors. A lot of question marks, too.

The Blade followed him over, his voice quiet as he spoke. “This is everything we have so far.”

“On Icarus?” Tommy asked.

“On everything we’ve found looking for him.” Thanatos said, joining them.

All of those cases, and the Syndicate had looked into every one of them. Honestly, they were shaping up to look more like detectives than villains.

It was like the rest of the city that Tommy didn’t ever see was laid out before him. Sure, he kept his fingers on the pulse of both criminal and hero activity, but he couldn’t be everywhere, and he hadn’t been anywhere for several years. All the catching up he’d done was skimming over the more public news. The key events. And, of course, what Icarus had become to the public eye.

“This is like looking for a needle in a haystack.” Tommy whispered. It sounded weird coming through this voice changer. He cleared his throat. “What if Icarus wasn’t even reported missing? We don’t even know about who he was as a vigilante, how would we find out his civilian identity?”

Thanatos nodded, his veil shifting up and down with the movement. “True. If we knew more about him as Icarus, we could have looked into things like safehouses he might have gone to, or people he could have contacted before his fall. Or after, if he’d survived.”

“He didn’t survive.” The Blade said. He was staring at the board intensely through his boar skull mask, as if the answer was in front of him and if he just looked hard enough, he’d find it. He shook his head with a sigh, looking more thoughtful. “Well, Thanatos did meet him once, but it was really brief, and the only time I talked to him was right before everything happened.”

“What about other vigilantes?” Nemesis asked softly, her voice right behind Tommy and making him jump. He hadn’t heard her walk over. “He worked with other vigilantes from time to time, right? Maybe they would have some of the pieces we’re missing.”

Tommy’s heart was thudding against his chest and he told himself it was because Nemesis had snuck up on him, and not because he was worried about whether he could steer them in the correct direction. “Maybe I should share what I’ve found.” he offered.

They returned to the big, sturdy table, and the Blade motioned for him to take a seat. A few outlines of phantoms moved in the corner of his eye, not quite there. As he looked around the table, he felt his nerves trying to take over. He glanced around, making his eyes glow a tiny bit more, until he found Clementine. She was across the table from him, and gave him a tiny wave when he looked at her.

He took a deep breath.

“Karl is not Icarus.” He started. Everyone around him deflated a little, but they didn’t seem surprised. He went on. “His powers are different. He’s still missing, and from what I could find out . . . if he’s alive, it’s not under pleasant circumstances.” Tommy looked at the table in front of him, trying to find the next words to say.

“What were his powers?” Nemesis asked softly.

Tommy winced at the past tense. “The simplified explanation is time travel projection.”

The Blade tilted his head, and Tommy imagined he was raising his eyebrows behind his mask. “And what’s the complicated explanation?”

“Complicated.”

“How did you find that out?” Thanatos asked. “There’s no government records of his abilities.”

Tommy sighed, and pulled out the file folder of papers he’d brought, pulling out the couple on top and placing them on the table. “There used to be. Someone erased it.”

The papers were Karl’s legal documents, along with his missing persons report. The ‘known abilities’ section had one word in brackets.

REDACTED

“It used to be there.” Tommy continued. “And you have to really dig to even see that something was removed. The only way that I know what his abilities are, is . . . ” He swallowed hard.

“One of my phantoms saw it. It’s uh, a fragmented memory at best; most of my phantoms are barely echoes of people. But I’m certain about what he could remember.”

He was certain because it was his memory, but admitting that would make this whole conversation way more complicated than it already was. Before anyone could ask another question, Tommy started pulling out the other papers in his folder. “And Karl wasn’t the only missing kid with powers that have been redacted from documents. I’ve looked through all of the missing persons reports for minors from the last three years that are still unsolved, and most of them have a couple things in common.”

Some of them had almost all of their information removed, barely a name and age left. He stared at his own missing persons report as he placed it on the table; between the Federation’s tampering and his own, there wasn’t much left. When he’d gotten a new identity, the guy who helped him had also gone in to his old records to erase anything that could easily connect the missing boy Theseus with the coffee barista, Tommy. So no picture, no physical description.

Thanatos gave a low whistle as they all leaned in to look at the papers he’d spread out. Tommy sank into his seat, letting them peer at his evidence with a dizzy head. Icarus was right there. They were looking at his papers, they were standing right next to him.

But this was bigger than him, and he needed to convince them of it.

“They all have abilities that are no longer in their records, and they’re all kids who could fall through the cracks. Foster kids, mostly.” he thought about the two foster kids at the coffee shop. He thought about the boy Cheyanne’s neon green eyes. “A lot of them were still new to whatever placement they had, some have a track record of being runaways. Very little to no living relations, lots of tragic accidents surrounding them, often separated from friends and placed far away from wherever their homes were.” He thought about the boy on the rooftop, Shroud. How the boy had said that he couldn’t talk to his friends anymore.

Tommy looked up at each of the Syndicate members. “Something is making kids with powers disappear, and it’s doing it without ever making the news . . . with the possibility of one exception.”

The Blade tilted his head to the side, staring at him intently. “You think his death is related?”

“He had some pretty rare powers.” Tommy said. “And a lot of vigilantes are minors, especially around areas like Pogtopia. If his civilian identity was discovered by someone who made kids like him disappear, he wouldn’t be safe, with or without the mask.”

“That’s . . . an angle we hadn’t considered.” Thanatos said slowly.

“But why kill him?” the Blade asked.

Tommy resisted the sudden urge to shudder. “Maybe it wasn’t on purpose? Either way, his body is gone. Maybe his body was all they needed.”

Maybe that’s where they would have gone, eventually. They hadn’t been getting the results they wanted while he was alive, maybe their last idea would have been to see if they could get results from him after he was dead.

The Blade looked back down at all the papers. “I feel like we’ve just made the haystack bigger.”

“I guess.” Tommy shrugged. “Or like we’ve made half the haystack into needles.”

“So you’re saying,” Nemesis said softly, “when we do find Icarus, we might be finding a lot more than just him.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair. That was one way to look at it. “Pretty much.”

He looked around the table again, watching as the Syndicate thought over everything he’d said. They all looked so serious, so ready to jump into action. This meant a lot to them. Finding out what happened to Icarus meant being able to clear the Blade from the false accusations. Looking for Icarus and uncovering just how many people had disappeared mysteriously . . . it couldn’t feel good.

“I know you’re doing this to clear your name and all,” Tommy said, unable to meet the Blade’s eyes, “but have you considered whether it’ll work? Even with proper evidence, it might not be enough. People are pretty dead set on making you the villain.”

There was a moment of silence, where it seemed Thanatos and Nemesis were waiting for the Blade to answer. Eventually, the Blade spoke up. “It might not work. We won’t know until we’ve tried. Either way, I’d like to have the evidence for myself, to prove I wasn’t the one who killed a vigilante and a kid . . . well, if what you think about Icarus is true, then I guess it would be two kids.”

Tommy looked up at him sharply. Clementine was standing next to the Blade, her head resting on his shoulder. She was looking back at Tommy with sad, sad eyes. “Why would you need . . . you don’t believe that you got them killed, do you?”

The Blade was looking at his hand, spread out on the table in front of him. “I know I went in with zero intent to kill anyone. It’s just . . . after two years of being told that I did it, it gets a little hard to remember. I’d just appreciate some hard evidence I can hold on to.” he sighed, his eyes flickering back up to meet Tommy’s. “All of that aside, there’s still the fact that no one knows what happened to Icarus, and whoever was behind it all got away with it. That doesn’t sit right with me.”

The others nodded in agreement. “That’s why you’re helping us, isn’t it?” Thanatos asked.

And, well, yes. He wanted the people who got away with it to get caught. He wanted everything that they were doing to stop.

“I’d already been looking into it myself for a while.” he said softly. “I guess I just didn’t expect a group of renowned villains to be the ones who’d want to help.”

Nemesis nodded. “We do. We’re getting to the bottom of this, no matter what.”

Tommy’s eyes drifted over to Clementine again. She was still leaning on the Blade’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. She offered him a faint smile, and Tommy sighed. “Stop leaning on the Blade.”

The Blade looked up. “Heh?”

Clementine pouted. “I’m not siphoning his energy!”

Tommy looked at the Blade apologetically. “One of my phantoms seems to like you, and she’s being clingy about it. If you feel any energy or body heat being taken, let me know. I’ll make it stop.”

“Well,” the Blade said, sounding bewildered, “uh, okay.”

Nemesis laughed lightly.

“Actually,” Tommy said, “I have a question about your names. Nemesis popped up for the first time with that name, but Nightingale was changed to Thanatos. Why did he get a villain name but you didn’t, Blade?”

The Blade groaned, resting his head back against the chair. “I did, actually. It just didn’t stick like his. My Syndicate name is Protesilaus.”

“Ah.” Tommy said. “Really rolls off the tongue, dunno why it didn’t stick.”

“Shut up.”

Thanatos leaned forward, “So we have two routes we can take,” he said, “we can look into the disappearances of powered kids, and hope that they all lead to the place Icarus went; and we can talk to the vigilantes that Icarus used to work with, and find out what they knew about him.”

“Which is harder than it sounds.” The Blade cut in. “Most of the vigilantes hate my guts, especially if they knew Icarus. Even if we can approach them without them running off or trying to kill me on sight, I doubt they’ll feel like talking.”

“They would have to be approached by someone who isn’t known to be in the Syndicate.” Nemesis said thoughtfully. “Hermes could, but he avoids getting involved in confrontations.”

Tommy had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going.

“Orpheus,” the Blade said, “do you happen to know Theseus?”

The sound of his real name jolted through him for half a second, before he remembered the vigilante. “I know of him,” he said carefully.

More than they could know. He’d named the guy, after all.

The first time they’d met, the purple-hoodied boy had just had a nasty fall off a building, and Tommy, in his early days of wearing a mask before he’d become Icarus, had healed him. He’d called the guy Theseus as a joke, because of the whole falling thing, and then kept doing it since the guy didn’t have a vigilante name yet anyway.

What Tommy never told anyone, was that he also called the boy Theseus because he’d found it incredibly funny to call another vigilante his own, real name. Sure, it kept him on edge when the name caught on and he randomly heard people call it out while he was masked, and sure, he felt his heart stop whenever it happened.

Still, it was incredibly funny.

And in a very small corner of his mind, he thought it was nice that his name was still out there, even if it couldn’t be his anymore. One of the few things his parents had given him to keep, and someone else was running around with it. Holding it, in a way, for him.

“What do you know about him?”

Tommy blinked, pulling out of his thoughts. “I know he’s been a vigilante for a while now, and that the heroes consider him something of a loose cannon. I know what his powers are and that he doesn’t always stick with the same weapon.” he fought the urge to sigh. He might as well acknowledge the elephant in the room. “He was also the vigilante most frequently known to team up with Icarus.”

The Blade looked over at Thanatos. “It’s our best bet.”

“What are his powers?” Nemesis asked.

“You don’t know?” Tommy asked.

“They’re not very flashy,” Thanatos said, “and he doesn’t really stop to explain. It makes him a bit of a challenge to, uh, consider having a conversation with.”

Tommy snorted. “Yeah, well, even knowing what they are, he’ll be a challenge. He’s aware of a lot more than we are, and nearly impossible to sneak up on.”

“He has enhanced senses?” the Blade asked.

“That’s his power, yeah.” Tommy shrugged. “He’s basically a constantly overstimulated, anxiety-ridden guy who decided to make it every criminal’s problem.”

“Fair enough.” the Blade nodded. “You’re on neutral terms with him, then?”

“I guess so.” He’d really rather keep it that way, or improve it. He didn’t want Theseus to hate him and put him on a kill list.

Thanatos tilted his head, his veil shifting. “Think you could set up a meeting with him for us?”

“I really don’t want to make him an enemy.” Tommy hedged.

“Too late for that,” Nemesis said, “you’re working with the Syndicate, he’s going to hate you for that regardless.”

Yeah, but that wasn’t public information yet.

“And we really need to talk to him.” the Blade added. “Or at least try.”

Tommy sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try to think of something. Let me study his routes and get back to you about that.”

“Perfect.” Thanatos clapped his hands together. “Anything else?”

Tommy waved at the papers still scattered across the table. “That’s all I have on the missing kids. Uh, have at it. Also, word on the street is the heroes are really out in force looking for you guys. You might want to lay low for a bit.”

“Oh, speaking of heroes.” Blade said. “There’s a new guy who seems to have joined the Captain in trying to capture me specifically. What do you know about the hero Blink?”

Ah. Yes. Blink. He knew a thing or two about that guy. “Uh, he debuted pretty recently,” Tommy said, “invisibility powers, right? You want me to keep an eye on him?”

The Syndicate members looked between each other. “It might be good to know what he’s in it for.” The Blade said. “Get a read on him. So far he seems a bit less . . . emotionally motivated. Unpracticed, but steady.”

Tommy nodded, letting his eyes glow brighter, and he looked at Clementine. It wasn’t enough to make her visible or audible to anyone else, and he gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Hey ghosty, you remember invisiboy?” he asked.

Clementine giggled. “You mean the guy who locked his keys inside the locker on his first day as a he—”

He sighed. “Yes, yes, that guy. Think you can go haunt him for a bit?”

“Hmm,” She pulled her face into something semi-serious. “Yes, I can do that.” And then she broke out into ringing laughter. The kind that others could hear. Everyone at the table shifted at the sudden haunting sound of a young girl’s echoing laughter.

Technoblade shook his head. “Geez, the guy is still new to being a hero, you know. You’re gonna give him a heart attack.”

“Eh,” Tommy shrugged.

Thanatos leaned forward, and Tommy wished he could see at least a part of the guy’s face. He was the hardest to read out of the three of them. “If Shuteye bothers you again, let us know, yeah? We can have a word with him.”

Tommy forced out a laugh. “Yeah, uh, will do. I’m sure it’s a one time thing though. He’s just new.”

“You have my contact for reaching out,” the Blade said, “let us know your ideas for meeting Thesesus when you have some.”

Tommy stood, and the others followed. “And you have mine. If something comes up, don’t hesitate to contact me.” he said.

And just like that, it was over.

He left the building, and Hermes was still there, ready to drive him back. Tommy’s mind was so busy going over everything from the meeting that he, once again, didn’t pay attention to where they were. The Syndicate weren’t even trying to hide their location from him and he still didn’t know.

He did request that Hermes drop him off a few blocks away from where he’d been picked up, if only to avoid worrying the convenience store workers about shady vigilante dealings or whatever.

It was also closer to a place where he had a change of clothes. He probably needed to make a laundromat run soon. That was going to be a hassle, but not a problem for the moment. No, he was going to be a normal guy, about to play mario party with his work friends and pretend he hadn’t just been sitting in some secret meeting room with the Syndicate.

He checked his hero phone for messages from Tubbo. They weren’t going to stand a chance against him. He was pretty sure he was good at the game.

He was like, a strong 32% sure.

Notes:

Heyyyyyy I'm back! Sorry, I kinda got you used to weekly updates there for a bit, didn't I? My bad.
Friendly reminder that ConnorEatsPants is a canonical Syndicate member, lol. Shoutout to Knight of Endale on Youtube for writing him the song 'Wrong Place, Wrong Time', which may or may not be a big reason why he popped up as the Syndicate's driver. That song is a bop. Anyway.
The new year is kicking off strong, and by kicking off strong I mean kicking me in the gut. Doctor says I have 'chronic fatigue', but can a chronic fatigued person do this?? *gives character no sleep ever permanently*

 

Since it's been a while, here's the list of names so far:

Civilians:
Kristin- owner of coffee shop
Techno- pink hair, has yet to order a drink with a single grain of sugar in it
Phil- watched Tommy get zapped by the espresso machine, Techno's friend
Tommy- works at coffee shop. Totally normal, definitely an adult.
Theseus- Tommy's birth name
Clementine- Tommy's foster sister, now appears as one of his phantoms
Shroud- foster kid- mild shapeshifting powers
Karl- missing kid- time travel powers
Michael- kid saved from collapsing building- theorized fire resistant powers
Connor- some guy who helped Tommy get a new ID- totally no one else
Cheyanne- foster kid- unknown if he has powers
Puffy- Tommy's foster mom & Clementine's mother- totally no one else

Vigilantes:
Manifold- ice powers
Theseus- Antennas, blond, purple hoodie- enhanced senses powers
XD- telekinesis powers
Punz- X-ray vision
Slime- lie detection powers, also sells vigilante gear on the black market
Shuteye- totally real and legal civilian name Tommy- sleep powers
Orpheus-totally real and legal civilian name Tommy- phantom powers

Heroes:
Undergrowth- civilian name Tubbo- plant powers
Void- civilian name Ranboo- teleportation powers
Nook- electricity powers
Foolish- invulnerability powers
The Captain- force field powers
Blink- totally real and legal civilian name Tommy- invisibility powers

Syndicate:
Protesilaus- used to be hero known as the Blade, still called the Blade by most- blood manipulation powers
Thanatos- used to be hero by the name Nightingale- wings
Nemesis- powers not yet revealed
Hermes- slight speed powers

Other:
Dream- alignment undisclosed- powers undisclosed
The Watcher- alignment undisclosed- powers undisclosed

Chapter 10: Lesson 10: Relax. You Remember How To Do That, Right?

Notes:

TW: brief discussion where self-harm is brought up. No specifics, mostly out of concern.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first words out of Tubbo’s mouth when he opened the door to his apartment were: “This is the worst day of my life.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Was that before I arrived or . . . ?”

Ranboo’s voice drifted in from another room. “It’s gonna do it this time! Just watch, it’s . . . see it’s gonna . . . uh, oh no. Oh man. That is not ideal.”

“Mario Party won’t load up.” Tubbo groaned, opening the door wider to let Tommy in. “Everything else works just fine, but Mario Party keeps crashing whenever we open it.”

Tubbo’s apartment was very . . . green. Not the walls, which were white like most landlords seemed to want for their apartments, but green with plants everywhere. The living room was a tripping hazard of pots and vines. A large window took up a good chunk of the far wall, and some kind of hobby workbench was pressed up to it.

A small kitchen sat by the door, with a little island counter that doubled as a table with the two barstools tucked beneath the counter’s lip. A hallway led down to several doors, one of which was open and seemed to be the room where the game was being set up.

“I’m turning it off and then on again.” Ranboo called.

Tubbo shut the door behind Tommy and sighed. “We’ve already done that a dozen times, but I’ll be honest I’m not sure what else to do. It usually fixes any of the problems I’ve come across. Come on, the tv is in my room.”

They picked their way over a few houseplants in the middle of being repotted to the hallway, and into Tubbo’s room. It was spacious, compared to the chaos of the living room, and Ranboo was digging around behind a tv screen in front of the bed, probably either plugging it in or out.

“Hey man.” Tommy said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Hey Tommy!” Ranboo said from behind the tv. “This’ll work. Tommy’s here, so it’ll work this time.”

“Whatever you say bossman.” Tubbo said.

Ranboo straightened and backed away from the screen, snatching up one of the controllers. He selected the game, and they all watched as a loading screen popped up, flickered, went blue, and then crashed.

Ranboo’s shoulders slumped.

“Should we play something else?” Tommy suggested.

“Yeah, probably.” Tubbo said, taking the controller that Ranboo had been using. “Aw, man, I wanted to finally play Mario Party.”

Ranboo sat on the edge of the bed, pushing hair from his eyes. His face mask covered his mouth, but now that Tommy was looking, he could tell the guy was tired. Dark circles were forming under his eyes.

“We could just play Mario Kart.” Ranboo said, folding his legs into a pretzel. “That one loaded up fine.”

Tubbo selected Mario Kart.

“Long day on patrol?” Tommy asked, climbing on the other side of the bed. “You look worn out.”

“Nah,” Tubbo said, watching the loading screen. “Patrol was fine. Actually, it was really quiet. We were so bored.”

Ranboo nodded. “Yeah I just look like this because I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Can’t go to sleep?” Tommy asked. “You know, I mentioned yesterday that I know a guy now. He’ll knock you right out.”

“You also mentioned that you slept for like, three days, and that you hated the guy.”

Tommy shrugged. “Details, details . . .”

“I can actually fall asleep fine.” Ranboo continued. “But uh, I’ve been sleepwalking a bunch more than usual. Like a lot more.”

“Oh. That sucks.” Tommy said. No wonder the guy looked tired. He’d been walking around at night and then chasing down the Syndicate during the day. His legs must be so sore.

Or super buff.

“Yeah, I woke up on the edge of Pogtopia last night.” Ranboo said, reaching for another controller. “I haven’t ever teleported in my sleep as far as we can tell, so that means I was walking while unconscious for like, a really long time.”

Tommy grabbed the last controller and they started selecting their characters. “Well, if I ever see you on the streets at night I’ll come wake you up.” he offered. “Hey, I wanted Toad. Give him back.”

“Hmm, no.”

“Rude. At least let me have—Tubbo!”

Tubbo shrugged. “You snooze, you lose, man. And it looks like you snost and you lost. Princess Peach is mine babyyy.”

Tommy grumbled and picked Yoshi. He didn’t remember much about this game, but he was pretty sure he played it at some point. Maybe at a foster home? Maybe with his dad. He could picture playing it with his dad. At least he knew most of the characters. He had no idea if Yoshi was a good character to race with, though.

To be fair, he didn’t know if Princess Peach or Toad were any good, either. He just went by vibes.

The vibes, as a whole, were chaotic. Ranboo kept overcompensating on turns, bouncing from wall to wall and falling off the edges. Tubbo stalled out immediately and then accidentally managed to self-sabotage himself with most of his power-ups. Tommy spent the first lap staring at Ranboo’s screen thinking it was his.

The three of them ended the race ranked in the top three . . . for last place.

For the next race, Tommy decided to dedicate his time to trying to run into Ranboo as many times as possible, which somehow balanced out the guy’s overcompensating and ended up helping him drive better. After finishing last, he decided to stop doing that.

“I’m first!” Tubbo yelled, “Yeah take that! I’m so good at this game. I’m so cracked.”

“Literally all you had to do was not have Tommy running into you.” Ranboo said dryly.

Tommy slouched. “Shut up, I was helping you. Look, you got eighth place. That’s way better than the last race.”

“That’s not a very high bar, Tommy.”

“And yet,” Tubbo said, “look at where Tommy finished.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, chuckleheads. I’m gonna beat everyone in the next race. I just haven’t been trying yet.”

“Uh-huh.” Ranboo said, unimpressed. “Let’s do rainbow road.”

Tubbo grinned, needing no further encouragement to select the rainbow road map. He then proceeded to grab Toad before either Tommy and Ranboo could. “Yesss now I will rule the road—ow, Ranboo, stop—!”

Ranboo tried to snatch Tubbo’s controller, “No, only I get Toad! Give him back! Give back my son!”

Tommy selected Princess Peach.

“Haha I kidnapped your son and now he’s mi—how are your arms so long you lanky pool noodle—”

“Yeah I stretched them for the purpose of getting back my children give me that I need it—”

“Has anyone,” Tommy asked over their bickering, “ever considered choosing Mario to play Mario Kart?”

“Toad is my son and I would never leave him, Mario is—move your sticky fingers you unpaired sock—Mario is the weird neighbor I never talk to.” Ranboo said, now completely folded over Tubbo and prying the controller from his hands.

Tommy nodded. “And Princess Peach?”

“My daughter!” Tubbo yelled from where he sat crumpled under Ranboo, speaking faster as he sank from sight. “She’s a strong independent woman who doesn’t need her father, but her father needs her so she—noooo let me have him please just this once I need your son let me have him.”

“Nope. Mine. Now you don’t have any children.”

“Yeah I do, she’s just—”

“You can play Mario.” Tommy offered generously. “Wouldn’t he be like, your son-in-law or something?”

Ranboo shook his head. “Bunch of weird neighbors, the lot of them.”

“Just because he likes my daughter doesn’t mean I approve of him—”

“Why wouldn’t you approve of Mario?” Tommy pressed. “He’s, like, Italian. And uh, a plumber.”

“Very nuanced take on him.” Ranboo nodded.

“I’m choosing Bowser.”

“Your daughter’s kidnapper?”

“Stereotypes are harmful, Tommy.”

“That’s . . . that’s not even a stereotype,” Ranboo said, “that’s actually his whole character. Like that’s literally his thing.”

“I can fix him.”

Tubbo, it turned out, could not fix him. He hit Tommy with a blue shell twice and then laughed so hard he forgot to cross the finish line. Tommy had to pluck the controller from his hands and do it himself so that the race would end.

“I’m going to get snacks.” Tubbo proclaimed. “Victory snacks. Because let’s face it I basically won that one, crossing the finish line is just semantics.”

“I’m pretty sure—”

“It’s just semantics. I’ll grab some sodas too, what do you want?”

Ranboo shrugged, “I’ll have whatever.”

Tubbo looked to Tommy, and he stared back a little helplessly. It was a broad question without much detail. Ranboo’s answer was safe and not helpful at all in narrowing down what his options were. He could probably echo his answer, but then he might end up with something like Pepsi or cranberry juice and he wasn’t ready to risk that either. “Um, do you . . . have Coke?”

“Yup! I’ll be back in a bit, I’m gonna warm up some dip too.”

Tommy relaxed, looking back at the screen. He’d managed an answer and nailed it. Big points scored for him.

Ranboo looked back at the screen. “Practice round while we wait?”

“You’re on.” Tommy said.

He was, once again, too slow to pick Toad. Out of spite, he chose Mario instead, and then crashed into Ranboo at the start before speeding off.

“Hey, um, can I be frank with you for a minute?”

Tommy tried to drift around a corner, eyes glued to the screen. “As long as I can still be Tommy.”

“As long as you can . . . oh. Oh, yeah. Um.” Ranboo fumbled a little, narrowly missing a wall. “I just—and it’s totally fine if you don’t want to talk about it, but I just—I notice you always wear long sleeves?”

Tommy dropped a banana on the track, directly in Ranboo’s path. Nice. “Yeah I sure do.”

There’s a beat of silence where Ranboo glances over at him, before returning to the game. “Sometimes you fidget with the sleeves, so uh, I just sort of notice them and um. Are you . . . are you doing good, man? Because if you need to talk to someone . . . I know we haven’t hung out much outside of work and all but like, you can always talk to me or whatever. Like I’m not gonna judge or something.”

Huh. Tommy collected a powerup and immediately activated it. He didn’t know what it did, but it sure was doing it. Ranboo’s words took a minute to hit him.

And then—ohhhh, he was asking about . . .

He glanced down at his hands before bouncing his eyes back to the screen. Yeah, he had a tendency to stretch out his sleeves a little, a combination of paranoia and mindless habit. Generally, he liked to keep as much of himself hidden away as possible, especially out in public. Anything that could identify, anything unique to him, those things were covered up; aside from his natural wit and charm, of course. But his wrists were, yeah, identifiable. He also just didn’t like the way it felt to have them exposed to open air, which he found super weird because open air never hurt them.

Well, except for that time he fell and almost died.

But he didn’t have any scars from that. It had been the last time his body had healed itself, smoothing over the last of his skin’s surface while unconscious. He kinda wished he had gotten a few scars from it.

He’d collected plenty after.

He felt . . . a little warmed, actually, that Ranboo noticed. That he bothered to poke his nose in and ask. It was not at all like what he was thinking, but the check-in was nice.

It also made Tommy slightly nervous. Sometimes he forgot that there were other people who were paying attention. Sometimes he forgot that he worked with people who are trained and encouraged to pay attention and notice things. He wasn’t supposed to be someone who was noticed.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine.” he was fine. He was so fine; the king of fine, in fact. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I don’t—I don’t like showing it but not because of . . . it’s just bad memories. But I’m good.”

He passed the finish line, first place. Finally.

Ranboo followed close behind, turning his head to look at him carefully. “You sure?”

Tommy let one hand release the controller so it could tug on the other sleeve, self-consciously pulling it far beyond the scars that twisted his skin from fighting against restraints. “They’re all marks that other people gave me. It’s okay, though. They don’t know where I am now, and they’ll never find me again.”

That was the plan. Outrun outlast outlive. And point the Syndicate at them; because when in doubt, get the city’s most wanted and sic ‘em on your problems.

It was a solid plan.

“I’m glad you got out.” Ranboo offered.

Tommy flashed him a smile, all teeth and distraction from the way a tremor ran through his hands. “I’m a hard man to catch, noodle man. Just ask all of the many women who have fallen for my charms.”

Ranboo snorted, looking back at the screen and selecting another racetrack. “I’ll ask one as soon as I discover such a tremendously rare creature.”

“Hey! Now that’s just rude. It’s not my fault you can’t get within a ten foot radius of a—HA! I got Toad! What do ya think of that, noodle man?”

“Where did you even get ‘noodle man’ from?”

“Umm Tubbo I think. I’m sure he said it first. Now pick someone to race your child and lose, because I’m . . .”

His mouth kept running, but his focus drew away from the conversation. Something shifted, and his skin prickled with goosebumps in response, his muscles going tense. His breathing went shallow as the countdown on the screen started ticking down.

For a few extremely slow seconds, he didn't know what he was reacting to.

And then there it was. His hearing tunneled in on the noise of approaching footsteps.

They weren’t loud. He was pretty sure they were soft enough that he shouldn’t be able to notice them. Yet there he was, going above and beyond regular expectations as every cell in his body decided to focus solely on the steadily approaching steps.

He stalled out in the game, his finger tightly pressed down on the button for his engine. The door was pushed open.

He was trapped in the room and someone was coming—

“Behold, I bring you a feast—oh! Ranboo blue shell! blue shell!!”

“I’m in first place, there’s no one to hit.”

Tommy blinked, bouncing Toad off a wall and straight into another one. Tubbo dumped stuff on the bed behind them, clambering up after doing so.

A breath in.

A breath out.

Just chill out. He was fine. If he put on a cape he could be Super Fine. Or if the ladies could see him now, he’d be super fine.

Why was he so stiff.

“What happened to your child, Ranboo?”

“He’s . . . in his running-into-walls phase, apparently. That’s, um, that’s why I let Tommy take him this time.”

“I could have taken him for his running-into-walls phase! I’m great at that phase! Just ask my school’s driver’s ed instructor.”

He just needed to . . . relax his fingers. No need to hold the controller with white knuckles. And maybe if he just unclenched his jaw . . .

“I thought you dropped out of highschool before you were old enough for driver’s ed.”

“Yeah I never took it but I knew the instructor. He said I was a hazard to society and should look into marathon running.”

Tommy activated a powerup and managed to pull from last place to second-to-last. His muscles were still tight, as if they were the last thread holding him together. Everything was fine. No one had noticed anything. “Did you? Look into marathon running?”

Tubbo shrugged. “I tried running one, it was fine. Not really my thing though. I prefer doing something when I’m running. Like growing plants around the feet of criminals.”

“Who wouldn’t.” Ranboo said.

“Everyone who didn’t become a vigilante or hero, I guess.”

The race was over. Tommy wasn’t last, and that’s all he could say about that. He turned to look at the pile of snacks Tubbo had brought back with him. There were a few bags of candy and some chips, along with a bowl of warm dip that tilted precariously on the bedspread. Three soda cans rolled towards Tubbo as he settled down.

They had just been Tubbo’s footsteps. He’d known he was coming back.

He wasn’t trapped.

Everything was fine.

He’d zoned out of the conversation. To be fair to himself, a conversation with Tubbo and Ranboo was easy to get lost in. He grabbed the Coke Tubbo had brought and tuned back in.

“If you think about it, everyone who argues for the need for vigilantism points to Icarus,” Tubbo said, opening a chip bag. “And everyone who argues that we need heroes point to the Watcher.”

Tommy pulled the tab on the can, listening to the crisp sound of it cracking open.

“Yeah except they always forget to mention the fact that the Watcher never actually founded the heroes.” Ranboo pointed out. “Or that he never joined them, either. He disappeared after stopping Dream. Wouldn’t that technically make him a vigilante then?”

“Maybe, but he was given the title of hero after the organization was formed. So it’s more like, realistically he was a vigilante, but the technical points to him being a hero.”

Tommy took a drink before jumping into the conversation. “People don’t care about those details, anyway. It’s all about what he represents.”

“What do you mean?” Ranboo asked, leaning forward to look at him across Tubbo. “Doesn’t he represent being both vigilante and hero?”

He shrugged. “I think he’s more of a symbol for the need to be able to hold vigilantes in check. There’s not a whole lot keeping them from going off the rails like Dream did.”

“So do you think vigilantes should be stopped?” Tubbo asked. “Weren’t you a vigilante?”

“Yeah.” Tommy replied easily. He couldn’t relax his muscles but his voice was steady enough. What did he need them tight for? The floor suddenly disappearing? “Doesn’t mean that I think there aren’t any problems with them. They just sort of . . . happen, though. Sometimes you live in a crap neighborhood where people are scared, and maybe you watch Spiderman for the first time and hear the words ‘great power, great responsibility’, and you end up deciding to stake a lookout for the elderly lady down the road when she goes out for groceries to make sure she gets home safe.”

“But that’s not being a vigilante, that’s just like, forming a neighborhood watch group consisting of one person.” Tubbo insisted.

Tommy thought back to that first time he’d ducked down an alley to help someone. For him, there hadn’t even been so much build-up. He’d just been wandering, and then he heard someone cry for help. “Sometimes that’s all it feels like. You just . . . start to collect people to watch out for, until suddenly you realize it’s a whole district. Blink didn’t even get that far when the Captain recruited me. My case was one that let me skip the line to becoming a hero, sorta. It’s not an option for a lot of people. Normally, it’s pretty hard to get in. You guys took the courses and entrance exams and everything, didn’t you?”

Ranboo wrinkled his nose, “Yeah. Never taking those again.”

Tommy nodded. “See? There you have it.”

His breathing was back to normal. His heartbeat was less so, but he could blame that on his sugar intake. Tubbo picked up his controller again, and they continued racing.

Tommy wasn’t holding his controller too tightly. His arms weren’t stiff. No, that would be weird.

Maybe he caught himself holding his breath a few times.

There were no other footsteps. The door was open. He was fine.

Ranboo’s phone rang loudly, making Tommy jump. He turned to the other boy, aghast. “You don’t keep your phone on silent?”

Tubbo shook his head in response with a knowing, sympathetic look, while Ranboo jumped off the bed and answered the phone. Tommy barely waited for the guy to duck out of the room before turning to Tubbo. “Why?”

“He’s worried he’ll miss something important.” Tubbo sighed. “Apparently, the last time he didn’t hear his phone ring was when his sister Niki had gotten locked out of the house during a hailstorm. He didn’t find out until the next day.”

Tommy winced. “Oof.”

“So yeah he’s a little bit paranoid. I can’t really blame him though; his life is like, all curveballs.” Tubbo reached back and loaded dip onto his chip. It smelled amazing, and Tommy followed suit. “It’s like the moment he tries to relax it causes a shockwave and the next thing you know, boom! His parents are dead or his identity is stolen or his sister ends up in the hospital.”

Tommy nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “So now he keeps his phone on full volume.”

“Yup.”

Tommy reached for more chips.

“So! If you were bitten by a zombie, would you want to be shot immediately, or would you want your friends to try to keep you around without hurting anyone?”

“Would I what—”

“Because I’d rather be shot. I don’t care if they find a cure eventually, if I’m a zombie just take me out.”

Tommy swallowed his mouthful of chips. “I mean, yeah I guess, why would you want your friends to keep you around once you’re infected?”

“Right? That’s what I think. That being said, I guess having an infected person to run tests on would probably help people trying to find a cure, but it’s not like there would be a scarcity of infected people in a zombie apocalypse.”

Tommy’s head was racing to keep up, but he was managing it. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like, to have scenarios like a zombie apocalypse occupy his waking thoughts. Instead of things like, you know, keeping several different identities straight in his head so he didn’t slip up at any given moment.

Ranboo came back, and his face behind his mask had faded to sheet-white.

“Ran?” Tubbo asked, “What’s wrong?”

A few purple particles flew off Ranboo, as if he were preparing to teleport. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, looking up at them with unmistakable panic in his eyes. “You remember Michael?” he asked hoarsely.

Tommy felt his heart drop. Cold pricked at his skin. Michael, the boy they’d found in the courthouse that collapsed. The boy Ranboo had waited with in the hospital, because his uncle was barely alive and the CPS hadn’t come for him yet.

He’d been so small. So, so small. They had suspected that he could have had some kind of fire-resistant powers, but surely it wasn’t enough to catch unwanted eyes. He’d called Tommy ‘Oms’ and slept curled up on Ranboo’s chest and smiled when Tubbo got him that stuffed bee . . .

“Yeah,” Tubbo said slowly.

Tommy watched, jaw tight, as Ranboo shoved his phone in his pocket, another stray particle springing from his hands. Michael was . . . he was too young, right? He couldn’t be—

“He’s been reported missing.”

 

------

 

The night sky was blanketed with a low layer of clouds, lights from the city reflecting off of them in a way that lit up the dark corners of alleyways with a strange, gray sort of twilight. It felt like a world out of sync, almost correct but unable to get the lighting quite right. No color, no shadows, the edges of everything standing out too sharply to be real.

Or maybe it was just denial that made everything look off. Tommy climbed up a pipe along the side of a building, dressed in Orpheus’ shades of gray. The face mask over his mouth grew warm with every exhale, and cold with every inhale, and if he didn’t stop noticing it soon it was going to drive him mad.

Michael had been missing for twenty-eight hours.

His foster mom had taken him to the hospital to visit his uncle, and somewhere in the busy hallways, she’d looked away for a few seconds. When she turned back, he was gone.

Maybe he’d just wandered off. Maybe he’d gotten himself shut into a storage closet. Maybe he’d wandered out the front door.

But the hospital had been searched.

And Michael was a missing foster kid, who very likely had powers.

It didn’t sit well in Tommy’s gut. He clambered over the edge, onto the building’s flat roof. He had thought of suiting up as Shuteye for the night, but Michael going missing had changed his plans.

He didn’t think he’d be able to find the kid, but his eyes were glowing silver anyway, his phantoms wispy and scattered across the city. Searching. He hated that a whole day had already passed before he’d found out. He hated that the trail was cold. He hated the way his thoughts formed an endless loop of useless information.

Michael had been missing for twenty-eight hours. He’d disappeared at the hospital. The hospital had been searched. His phantoms were wandering without direction, because he had none to give them.

Michael had been missing for twenty-eight hours.

A deep chill was settling into Tommy’s bones, his energy seeping away as he held on to the wispy forms of his phantoms, just enough for them to search. Just enough for them to look like smokey silhouettes, like bits of cloud that had fallen from the sky.

He walked across the rooftop, looking off the edge on the other side. Even as late as it was, there were people out, walking home from a party or a bar or whatever it was that people did at night. Tommy shivered, his body beginning to ache. His phantoms had been out for a while. They didn’t have to fight, where their forms would be scattered before re-forming, and they weren’t so fully-formed so as to be tangible, all of which drained Tommy of his energy so much faster; still, even as the wisps that they were, they’d been out long enough that his fingers were going a little numb.

He stuck his hands into his trench coat pockets, bunched up in fists. His eyes scanned the streets for the small form of a little boy he’d only really seen once. He’d give anything to see him again.

“There you are.”

Tommy whipped around, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He didn’t have a weapon on him and most of his phantoms were out and busy, but he had his fists and he was stupid enough to rely on them.

A girl in a green hooded cape was walking towards him across the roof, her face hidden behind a white circular mask that had a black ‘XD’ scrawled across it. Tommy felt himself relax just a tiny bit at the sight. Technically, Orpheus hadn’t met XD yet, but he was still willing to bet she wasn’t an immediate enemy. Not yet. She sounded exasperated more than anything else.

“I’ve heard about your ghosts being spotted here or there,” she said, drawing to a stop at a comfortable talking distance, “but having them out in force like this is kinda putting me on edge. What’s going on?”

The barest hint of a smile twitched on Tommy’s face, though no one would be able to see it beneath his mask. She was straight to the point, nevermind that she’d never spoken to Orpheus before. Not that she was aware of, anyway. If someone watched them without knowing any better, they’d probably think the two vigilantes had run into each other at least a couple of times before.

Her question tugged the smile away from him, though, and his lips were stiff and cold as he answered. “Kid went missing.” he offered, his voice changer putting a metallic resonance into the words. “A little boy named Michael.”

XD sighed, walking to the edge of the roof beside him, arms crossed. She hadn’t brought her scythe with her, he realized. Either that, or there was somehow a way to make it compact enough to carry around. “Not to sound callous, but it isn’t unheard of for a kid to go missing. Why such a big search tonight? Or have I just missed the other ghost search parties?”

Tommy sighed, and a puff of his breath escaped his mask in a faint cloud. “I don’t usually find out this fast,” he said, “and he’s really young. I was hoping . . . that maybe he hadn’t gone far.”

His chances of finding the boy were slim to none. He knew that. He did.

He was just having a harder time believing it.

XD was quiet for a moment, her face turned to look down at the street below. “I’m XD, by the way.” she said. Like it was an afterthought.

It probably was.

“Orpheus.” Tommy offered.

“You wouldn’t happen to have . . . seen any red plants around where you patrol, have you?”

Tommy huffed, looking up at the clouds. If they were just a bit lower, or maybe if he climbed a particularly high enough building, he’d like to reach up and run his hands through them. “Not in the areas I usually patrol, no. Though I’ve been a little out of commission for a few days.”

XD tilted her head, turning to look at him. She gave a quiet hum, before rocking back on her feet. The quiet between them gave Tommy time to realize that he was feeling calmer than he had since Ranboo had gotten that phone call. For a still moment, his thoughts weren’t going in useless circles.

It wasn’t the kind of effect he’d come to expect from being near XD.

“Avoid them while you’re poking around,” XD said suddenly, “. . . the red plants. I don’t know if they spread from some mad scientist lab or if they’re from a villain’s powers or something else, but they sure aren’t natural and they for sure aren’t safe.”

“Sounds fun.” he said, feeling one of his phantoms flicker. He couldn’t feel his toes. “Next mad scientist I meet is getting punched in the face anyway, might as well blame the plants on them.”

XD snorted. “Well, ask if they’ve made an evil weedkiller first. The stuff is impossible to get rid of.”

A short gasp escaped him as the phantom that had been flickering was finally snuffed out. He was at his limit, and needed to call off the search.

The thing was, he really didn’t want to.

“You good?”

He nodded. “My phantoms won’t be bothering you for much longer. I can only keep them up for so long.”

“Oh. Cool, I guess. Want a lift to the next roof?” XD asked. “Or down to the street?”

Tommy glanced at her, before looking at the buildings around them. His stomach made a neat little flip at the idea of her powers taking him off the edge of the roof. “Ah, thanks, but I think I’ll stay here a little longer.”

Yeah, he still had wings, and he was sure she wouldn’t drop him, but all the same, he was sure that being launched off the rooftop in the state he was in would throw him into panic.

And he’d had plenty of that running through him already.

“Alright then, I’m leaving. See ya, nerd.” And XD jumped off the edge, hands glowing green.

Tommy watched her slowly drop to the street, where a group of girls dressed up for the evening stopped to gasp and point. XD waved to them and then joined the group, walking off with them as if that were a perfectly natural thing for a vigilante to do. He wondered if XD had civilian friends that she’d made while masked. He wondered if that was something that could happen for a vigilante.

With a sigh, he stepped away from the edge, feeling a sharp tug in his chest as another phantom faded away. He’d been looking for hours. The city was big, and crammed full of things and stuff and people, and no one could look through all of it. Not in one night.

He needed to figure out Theseus’s schedule, if he had such a thing, and arrange a meeting for the Syndicate. If they got a step closer, then so did he.

He wasn’t giving up.

The Syndicate could insist on finding Icarus all they wanted, but they were tracking down so much more than the boy that Tommy used to be.

He was going to find Michael.

Notes:

Oh boy did this chapter change from what I'd planned. Tommy really was supposed to be Shuteye for the second half but. Uh. Not anymore. This was supposed to be an easy fun chapter. Whoops, lol. Catch me struggling with this bunch of words for two weeks.
Annnyway. Let me know if there's a better way to word the TW, my brain is very understaffed. Hope y'all are taking care of yourselves.
Don't worry about Michael. I'm sure he's fine.

Chapter 11: Lesson 11: Plans Never Work. Make Them Anyway

Notes:

TW: blood.
I think that's it?? also angst but you should know to expect that by now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

An aching cold had settled into his bones. It hadn’t gone away all day, not even after sparring with Undergrowth and Voidwalker, or patrolling the streets with the Captain. The sun was occasionally peeking through the low blanket of clouds, but its rays couldn’t warm him enough.

It didn’t matter. So what if he was cold. He needed to be Orpheus again.

Theseus was at the docks.

He didn’t need to trap the vigilante, all he needed was to draw him over to investigate a strange feeling. There were many things he couldn’t do in this world, but putting out weird vibes was never one of them. Tommy stood around a corner with cold hands bunched up in his coat pockets, his silver eyes glowing while he worked.

Between shipping containers, in the middle of the chaotic conglomeration that makes up the docks, Theseus stopped dead in his tracks. In front of him, faded but visible, stood Clementine.

Any random phantom would have drawn him to investigate, but Clementine was familiar enough to make the vigilante stand rooted in place. She was, after all, the girl Icarus tried to save.

Theseus would have looked up at least that much.

Tommy liked to think they had been friends, back then. Neither of them knew who the other was behind their masks, but knowing each other as vigilantes had been enough. It was what they both looked forward to during the day. It was what made them feel useful. It was what gave them the feeling of freedom. And, perhaps, in their own ways, it was an outlet.

A shiver ran down Tommy’s spine as more phantoms appeared on top of the shipping containers and on the ground behind Theseus. The vigilante clocked them immediately, pulling out his condensed staff and pushing the trigger to extend it to its full length. He looked around himself before setting his sharp gaze over Clementine’s faded shoulder.

“What do you want, Orpheus?” he called out.

Tommy stepped into his line of sight, spreading out his empty hands in a placating gesture. “Well, for you to not kill me would be a great start. I’m just here for a conversation. A, uh, a friend of mine wants to talk.”

Theseus’s eyes drifted from him back to Clementine. His antennas were bouncing to and fro chaotically. The tension did not leave his posture. “You do understand how much that sounds like a threat when I’m surrounded by ghosts, right?”

Well, that was fair enough. Tommy couldn’t let them disappear, though. His phantoms were a smoke screen to hide the Syndicate’s approach, giving them all a chance to state their case before Theseus could decide to hit first, ask questions later. Somehow, he needed to keep things as calm and comfortable as possible.

He pulled his phantoms back to give the vigilante space, sending a few to wander around so Theseus would always be sensing movement, and he let Clementine fade from view. “Sorry, they’re just curious.”

“Who’s the friend who wants to talk?” Theseus asked stiffly.

He held back the urge to wince; there was no way this was going to go over well. Theseus was tense as a set mouse trap. He had to try, though. Tommy braced himself, letting a phantom give the Blade a signal. “You’ve, uh, heard of the Blade, right?”

Theseus took a step back, immediately on guard, his eyes searching everywhere.

The Blade walked into view, his hands empty, his sword sheathed. “I was just hoping you could answer a few ques—”

Theseus spun around to run.

Tommy dropped all his phantoms but a few, which he made as corporeal as possible to grab the fleeing vigilante. A spike of ice cold hit his chest as his phantoms grabbed hold and struggled to retain their grasp.

“Wait, wait, hold on!” Tommy said, holding out a hand like it might do anything to calm him down. “Man, just chill out for a second, we’re not here to hurt you. Would you—” he hissed through his teeth as another chill went down his back. “Would you hold still and listen for once in your life, please.”

Theseus struggled wildly against the phantoms’ hold, twisting himself around and thrashing enough for one of them to disappear from the strain. Tommy cringed at the sight, wishing the boy wasn’t always so high-strung for every second of the day. “Hey, hey, take it easy. They’ll let go of you if you just hear us out, I promise. They’ll let go! Just give us half a chance.”

Theseus narrowed his eyes at him from behind his mask, lessening his struggles to a mild protest. “Just get them off me.”

Gladly, Tommy let them vanish, leaving the vigilante to stumble from their sudden departure. He kept a few drifting around the shipping containers, just enough to keep Thanatos and Nemesis covered. Theseus recovered quickly, tugging his hoodie back from its twisted state and readjusting his grip on his staff. He had a scowl on his face.

Amazing.

What a great start.

Tommy looked over to the Blade, ready to hand off this mess to the other man. The Blade looked like he was wishing he were in so many other places that weren’t right where they were. That made two of them. Three, actually, counting Theseus. Absolutely no one wanted to be there; and yet, there they were.

“Well?” Theseus said, “I haven’t got all day.”

His voice was sharp, but Tommy could hear the fear in it. Just barely, but it was there. What was worse is Tommy could understand it. It hadn’t been too many days ago he’d been in the same boat, standing scared and trapped in front of the Blade. The only difference was that Tommy had already known by then that the Blade wasn’t the one who had rigged Icarus’ fall; Theseus, on the other hand, had none of that to fall back on.

All that the vigilante had, was whatever his imagination had offered up over the past two years.

“I know you won’t believe me,” the Blade said, which was . . . such a strong start. “But I never meant to hurt Icarus. I don’t know what happened to his wings, and I didn’t know about the bomb.”

“Sounds like a load of bull, but go off I guess.” Theseus said.

“But they never found his body.” Tommy blurted out, redirecting the attention to himself. “Police and heroes never found it, and neither did Blade. If he truly didn’t survive that fall, then what happened to his body?”

“He didn’t survive.” Theseus said.

“Well, he did have healing pow—”

“He didn’t survive. I would have known.” Theseus said vehemently, but he looked like he was caught halfway between disappointment and panic. His voice got quieter. “I looked. Sensing his powers used to be second nature to me. I would have known.”

Tommy tried to swallow down the anxiety that spiked at his words. Sure, he always knew the guy had uncanny senses; he remembered how it didn’t matter how quiet and sneaky he was, Theseus always knew it when it was him. He just . . . he’d never given much thought to whether Theseus could sense his power itself.

He was fine. Everything was fine. He was Orpheus, and he was using Orpheus’ powers. Icarus had always kept his power active, since his glowing golden eyes and glittering yellow particles around him were as much a part of him as his costume. Theseus couldn’t sense it now. He wouldn’t be so insistent that Icarus was dead if he could sense it.

Theseus had looked for him.

Perhaps that shouldn’t have been such a surprise, but it was. All that time that Tommy had spent, trapped and hurting, someone had been looking for him. Several people.

The Blade. Theseus.

Maybe . . . maybe Puffy.

Probably not. Clementine had been her kid; she’d have been dealing with planning a funeral and mourning her little girl and finding out how to live without her. She’d spent enough time looking for him during the months before; she wouldn’t have continued looking for some dumb skittish kid while her world crumbled around her.

He’d never looked into the details of how Clementine had been mourned or buried.

It felt weird when he could still talk to her.

He was fine.

“Do you know of anyone else who knew Icarus?” the Blade asked quietly. “Maybe someone who would have taken his body to bury it? Or to keep his identity safe?”

“I don’t know.” Theseus shrugged stiffly. “He teamed up with other vigilantes sometimes. He’s the one who helped XD get started, right before you—” he hesitated, his antennas twitching. “Anyway, I never knew anything about his life outside of when he was Icarus.”

The Blade rubbed at his temple, staring into the ground. “Was he different at all towards the end? Did he seem more on edge, or quiet, or talkative?”

“We didn’t team up much around then.” The vigilante shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He tilted his head as if listening for something, and then shook out his off hand. Tommy couldn’t imagine trying to sort out everything the guy had to be sensing. It was actually impressive how he was able to hold a conversation while taking in a load of other input. Not to mention all the emotions he had to be feeling, talking to the Blade. “I don’t know. He seemed to be around more, but he mostly stuck to himself. For as much as he was active, he was pretty hard to actually find.”

Yeah, that had been the point. Unfortunately, the only ones who succeeded in finding him were the people he’d been running from.

Well, them and Clementine; but he hadn’t tried very hard to be difficult for her to find.

He should have.

“Did he seem like he was running from something?” the Blade asked, getting a little closer to the truth than Tommy was really comfortable with.

But the truth was what they were here for.

They needed it to find Michael.

“What, you mean besides the heroes and police?” Theseus threw a hand up. “How would I know? Vigilantes are always running to or from something. I don’t know what or who specifically; I can’t read minds.”

Tommy tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to get them to warm up.

He missed being Theseus’s friend. He missed the easy way they could work in silence, in sync with each other as they moved. He missed the light banter, the back-and-forth during fights, the nights spent jumping rooftops.

He missed Purpled.

The guy who ran through a crumbling construction site to grab a kid who had wandered into danger. The guy who could fight anyone blindfolded, who could dodge anything that fell or flew towards him, but somehow didn’t see the bucket of paint on that one April Fools day until it was too late. The guy who would end patrols exhausted, but smiling, so much calmer than he’d be at any other time.

It was weird to miss him. He was right there. They both were.

Theseus frowned slightly, glancing at Tommy briefly and then on to the shipping containers around them. “Did the rest of the Syndicate need to ask me questions too, or did they just have nothing better to do?”

Ah, beans. Tommy had barely any of his phantoms up now, and a few of them had slipped from his grasp when he wasn’t paying attention, effectively blowing away enough of his smokescreen for Theseus to see through it.

The Blade turned to look at him, and he just shrugged. “I mean, they might have questions.”

Theseus scowled at them.

The others were just within earshot, so in less than a minute Thanatos landed behind them, tucking in his wings as soon as his feet touched the ground. Nemesis joined them at the Blade’s side, offering a silent nod towards the vigilante in greeting.

Theseus didn’t return it. “Fantastic. This is so fun. Are the others with you or do we need to get out of here before some dock worker . . .” his voice faded, and he was looking intently into nothing as his antennas vibrated.

The Syndicate exchanged looks.

“We didn’t bring anyone else.” Thanatos said.

“Orpheus, drop the rest of your ghosts.” Theseus snapped. “Now.”

The rest of his phantoms vanished. The Blade took a small step backwards, “Maybe this is our cue to leave . . .”

Theseus’s head snapped up to the top of a nearby shipping container, about half a second before a clear, modulated voice rang out. “Well look who just joined the party!”

That . . . that was Thorn.

Thorn, the dealer from the drug bust that Tommy had joined with Theseus and XD. She was grinning, all teeth, her hair braided up on her head with roses woven in. She held an industrial-looking briefcase in one hand.

Tommy took a step closer to the Blade.

Thorn’s men started to appear, reaching for their weapons. Thorn herself walked to the edge of the container she stood on. Her eyes held a dangerous gleam. “I don’t remember inviting you.”

It wasn’t like Theseus couldn’t handle himself. It wasn’t like he couldn’t take on a few criminals.

Tommy heard Thanatos’s wings spread out and push down, hurling himself into the air. Thorn’s men kept appearing. Theseus turned to face them, staff raised.

“Orpheus!” Nemesis called, and he spared her a glance.

She was backing up, her eyes darting between Tommy and the Blade. The Blade had his hand on his sword handle, slowly drawing it out, a calculating look on his face. They shared a glance, and Tommy let his eyes flash brightly.

They were going to fight.

The temperature around him dipped. Phantoms solidified around them, stopping some of the oncoming attackers in their tracks from sheer surprise. Tommy walked forward, clenching his jaw against the cold that gnawed away inside him, and drove his phantoms into the men surrounding Theseus.

The Blade passed him, and a few moments later he heard the sound of wings beating the air.

Thanatos dove straight for Thorn, making her jump to the ground to avoid him. Nemesis ran by, towards them, muttering something Tommy couldn’t hear.

He was a little occupied.

He’d been searching with his phantoms for as long as he could hold them up the night before, and then again just before dawn. Even having spent most of the day as Blink, he hadn’t really recovered much from using his phantoms when he needed them once again to lure in and distract Theseus. He was feeling just a little bit . . . wobbly. And tired.

And cold.

With so much happening and so much on his mind, he almost didn’t see it.

Theseus was weaving around two of Thorn’s men, his staff moving incredibly fast as he blocked and struck at both. Every ounce of his focus was split between his two opponents, and he didn’t have a spare moment to notice Thorn slip through the fight towards him.

Tommy opened his mouth to shout a warning, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Thorn ducked into the fight, her men splitting away as she lifted something in her hand and stabbed it into Theseus’s leg.

Theseus yelled, sending his staff in a flying arc towards Thorn, just clipping her as she threw herself backwards to avoid the hit. She didn’t go far, though. A grin spread across her face as she stood in front of him.

Some sort of fancy-looking syringe stuck out of Theseus’s thigh, a small amount of glittering red liquid still inside.

Tommy lunged towards them, a wave of phantoms surging with him. He felt sick. Whatever that stuff was, it couldn’t be good. Was it already too late to do anything?

Theseus slowly looked up at Thorn, who smiled at him with flashing teeth. “You’re on my side, now.” she said.

Tommy flung out a hand, sending his phantoms to swarm her.

It wasn’t fast enough to stop her next words. “Kill your friends for me, won’t you darling?”

Her thorn whip unfurled and cracked through the phantoms that reached her, sending a wave of ice through Tommy’s veins. He stumbled to a stop with a gasp, a hand flying to his chest where his heart beat overtime trying to warm him up. Theseus turned, gripping his staff in both hands, and Tommy’s stomach dropped.

Behind the vigilante’s purple mask, his eyes had gone a bright, glowing red.

Theseus struck out with his staff, and Tommy yanked himself out of the way. A few of his remaining phantoms flickered as his focus on them wavered. The staff slammed into his ribs, and he dropped a few. On the next swing, Tommy made the super ill-advised move of grabbing the stick.

The force of the hit rattled down his arm, but he clenched his teeth and held on tight. Silver tinted his vision as he brought a couple of his phantoms back.

“Orpheus!” Blade yelled.

“I’ve got him!” Tommy shouted back, yelping as Theseus tried to head-butt him. “Focus on the—ah!” feet caught his legs, and they both toppled to the ground. “—on the others!”

Theseus rolled to the top, pressing his staff down towards Tommy’s neck. It really wasn’t the most ideal position to be in. Tommy pulled his phantoms over to grab Theseus from behind, pulling him off just enough for him to wiggle out.

He could do this. He’s sparred with Purpled before.

Two years ago.

Tommy clambered to his feet. His fingers stung with the feeling of tiny cold needles piercing them.

“It’s okay, Theseus.” he said, gasping in air. His phantoms’ grip on him was slipping. “You won’t hurt us. I’ve got you.”

Maybe he wasn’t the best at this kind of fight, but at least he knew the guy he was fighting. He knew Theseus would often forget to guard his left side, that he preferred throwing punches whenever he could, and that he sometimes relied more on instinct than sight.

And Theseus didn’t know much about Orpheus. He didn’t expect Tommy to know his tricks.

It was all he had in his favor, but he was going to use it for all it was worth.

He dropped most of his phantoms, needing his strength and focus as Theseus yanked the staff from his grip. The lingering few that remained surrounded the drugged vigilante.

Divide Theseus’s focus. Stay on his left side. Worry less about telegraphing movements. Worry more about being fast.

Surely the drug would work its way out of Theseus’s system. He just needed to buy time. It was as good of a plan as he was going to get while he barely kept up with the vigilante’s well-aimed hits.

Nemesis screamed, loud and bloodcurdling, cutting clean through the chaos around them. The sound cut straight down Tommy’s spine like a knife, and the distraction was enough for Theseus’s staff to pass his guard and crack against his shoulder. He dove towards the guy’s left on instinct, narrowly missing the follow-up hit.

Sweeping low with his leg, he tripped Theseus, sending him to the ground. “Hang in there, bud.” Tommy said under his breath.

Theseus replied with a swing at his legs.

“You’ll be okay.”

Theseus lept to his feet, and Tommy pulled up a phantom to attack the guy’s left. When he swung to intercept the surprise attack, he dove straight in, wrapping his arms around him. He held Theseus’s arms pinned down as his phantom dissolved.

And then he held on for dear life, jerking his head out of the way of a backwards head-slam.

“Orpheus, hold still!” Blade called out, running in front of them.

Tommy looked up and watched as the Blade reached out, eyes glowing bright. Theseus went rigid in his arms, and Tommy startled, adjusting his grip. “Don’t hurt him!”

“I’m not, hold him still!” The Blade’s hand was shaking. He honestly . . . didn’t look too good. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.”

Theseus’s breathing hitched. Tommy tried to spot what he was doing, finally noticing the slow trickle of red being drawn out of Theseus’s leg, right where he’d been stabbed. Bright, glittering red, so much so that the color looked fake.

The Blade was drawing the drug out of his system.

Slowly, Theseus relaxed. His rough breathing evened out. The Blade lowered his hand, and staggered back. Any bit of his face that showed under his boar mask looked deathly white. He quickly turned his attention away from them, and Tommy followed his line of sight to where Thanatos knelt, bent over Nemesis.

Tommy felt sick.

Now that Theseus didn’t have that awful drug in his blood, he could hear Thanatos’s voice. It was shaky, glitching through his voice changer, and panicked. His hands hovered over her before pressing down on her side. “No, no, no. Ni—Nemesis, hold on, we’re gonna . . . we’re gonna . . . hang in there, no, no, no, just hold on . . .”

There was a lot of blood.

Tommy felt Theseus regaining his footing, so he let him go. His arms felt like rubber. “Blade,” he rasped. “Blade, go help Nemesis.”

The Blade’s eyes flashed, glowing bright as he looked towards her. He took a couple steps her way and then stopped, his hands flying up to grip his head tightly.

“No, no,” Tommy said, his heart skipping a beat, “Blade, we need you, what’s going on?”

The Blade bent over, lowering himself to his knees. His eyes were shut tight against the glowing red behind his eyelids. “It’s . . . loud.” he managed to say through a locked jaw.

Tommy glanced over at Theseus, who looked like he wanted to throw up.

What a mood.

He would be fine, though. Tommy ran to Nemesis. There was a deep, jagged gash in her side. Thanatos’s hands were shaking too hard to do much more than slow the blood flow. She was losing too much, and if he didn’t do something fast, he might lose her to her wounds, and perhaps Thanatos and the Blade both to their minds.

How had things gone so terribly wrong so incredibly fast?

They were the Syndicate. Tommy had phantoms. Even with Theseus turned against them, it shouldn’t have gotten so bad.

He stopped and knelt at Nemesis’s side. Thanatos shifted over to give him space, his hands pulling away bloody. Tommy pushed away the nausea that rose at the scene before him, and he cleared his throat. He didn’t even need to see under Thanatos’s veil to know that the man was out of it. Stuck without knowing what to do to help, what to do to make it stop, making him freeze up.

Somehow, Tommy was the only one still functioning.

“Thanatos.” Tommy said calmly—though his voice was strained—digging into his first aid pocket for gauze and pressing it over the wound. “She’s going to be okay. I’ve got this. Take a sec and breathe.”

Nemesis looked awful. Blood pooled at her side, her face pale and sweaty, eyes shut. But she was breathing, and Tommy was there. It would be okay. He could fix this. He was the king of fixing things.

Thanatos buried his head in his hands, his veil getting caught in the middle. He didn’t seem to realize he was getting blood everywhere. It was probably a biohazard, but Tommy couldn’t spare a moment to deal with that. The Blade was still where he’d left him, having what looked like a panic attack. Theseus was swaying on his feet with unfocused eyes.

No one was watching him.

One power per identity, that was his rule. Never mix them, never let anyone know that he could do more than one; and never, ever use that one—

But Tommy wasn’t one to listen, not even to himself. Not when someone was bleeding out under his own hands.

Carefully, he pressed her skin together, trying to hold it there under the handful of soaked gauze. Heart in his throat, he glanced around one more time before allowing the tiniest golden thread of healing power to escape from the palm of his hand directly into her wound. He shut his eyes as he felt a flicker of warmth behind them, the gold of his powers trying to change their color.

He was breaking his rules, and breaking them was so dangerous, and he was so close to Theseus, who could recognize his powers; but she had lost so much blood and she was going to lose so much more and no one was paying attention . . .

He cut it off quickly and forced the glow out of his eyes, the action feeling something like swallowing rocks. A lot of them. Sharp ones. What he’d managed wasn’t much, the wound still looked jagged and awful, but he had stopped the blood from rushing out. It should be enough to get her stable, at least for the time being.

“Thanatos, can you hold this please?” He asked, digging into his pocket and holding out a roll of self-adhesive bandages. The man pulled his hands away from his face, hesitating a moment before taking the roll from him. It wasn’t much of a task, but it was something he could at least focus on that wasn’t his spiraling thoughts.

Tommy looked up from working on Nemesis’s wound. “Blade.” He said sharply. The man wasn’t too far off, bent over and clutching his head. “I need you to listen up, big man. Nod if you can hear me.”

It was a voice he didn’t often use, since he usually worked alone, but it was one that had always been rather effective when breaking up fights or dealing with unruly drunks. A moment passed, and then the Blade nodded.

“Good. Alright, whatever you’re thinking in that head of yours, stop it. Live in the moment or whatever. Just . . . just listen to my voice and follow it back to us.”

He looked back down at Nemesis, reaching for the roll of bandages from Thanatos, motioning for him to help him with wrapping it around her.

“Deep breaths, Blade.” If he kept talking, he couldn’t panic. If he kept talking, the Blade would have something to hold on to. If he kept talking, everything would be fine. Everything was going to be just fine. “You need oxygen, but if you hyperventilate you’re gonna get more oxygen than your blood can carry, and our stupid brains don’t know there’s a limit. So when you use up all that oxygen your brain will think you still have some left and you’re gonna get real lightheaded. We don’t want you feeling lightheaded, yeah? Slow breaths, you gotta convince yourself that the danger is over.”

He finished tying off the bandage and motioned to a much steadier Thanatos to take over with Nemesis. He stood and walked over to the Blade, crouching in front of him. While he didn’t know what the man had meant when he’d said ‘it’ was ‘loud’, he knew what it felt like to be overwhelmed. For things to be too much.

Maybe there was too much blood, and it made his powers . . . loud.

He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “That’s it. You’re doing great. The main reason to take in full breaths was actually to slow your heart rate; the stuff about oxygen saturation is more important in situations where you hold your breath and need to keep yourself from passing out, but pretty cool stuff, huh?”

The Blade huffed, letting Tommy gently pull his hands away from his head.

“Yeah they would’ve loved me in nursing school. I would have blown them away with my vast intellect. Too bad I was never able to pursue that career. I’m too busy working with a bunch of scary idiots to make sure they don’t die.”

The Blade opened his eyes, their bright glowing now faded to a soft flickering red.

“Ayup.” Tommy said, grinning. “There he is. Welcome back to the land of the living, Blade. Nemesis is hurt but she’s gonna be okay. Thanatos has her now. We should get going too, yeah?”

The Blade nodded silently, and Tommy stood up with him, holding his arm until it looked like he could stand on his own. As the man took a heavy step towards the rest of the Syndicate, Tommy turned to where Theseus had stood.

Was still standing.

“What . . .” The vigilante’s voice trailed off. It took him a moment to find it again. “What was that?”

Tommy glanced over to the Syndicate. Thanatos had Nemesis in his arms, wings spreading out while he talked with the Blade. “What do you remember?” he asked.

“All of it.”

He looked back at Theseus, surprised. The other boy nodded, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket.

“It . . . it was like . . . I don’t know. It really messed with my head. For a second there I thought I felt . . .” he trailed off, staring into nothing, before he shook himself with a nervous laugh. “I—I need a nap or something, I guess. But yeah, I remember doing it. All I could think about was how much I needed to kill you. I’m . . . kinda surprised I didn’t, to be honest.”

There was a swishing sound of wings cutting through air, and Tommy looked over to see Thanatos flying away, carrying Nemesis. The Blade pulled out a phone, dialing a number and holding it to his ear.

“Yeah, uh,” Tommy said, “I’m just full of surprises. Do you, ya know, still feel like you need to kill me?”

“Need to? No.” the boy bent over to pick up his bo staff. “Can’t say I really like you, but . . . I owe you one.” he looked over at the Blade, “So, thanks. For stopping me. And tell him thanks too for me, I guess. For, you know, getting that out of my system.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said, his throat dry. His brain was trying to catch up with what had just happened. He didn’t really want it to, but it was trying. “Sorry for, uh, you know, kinda cornering you.”

Theseus collapsed his staff, looking up at him with what he could only assume was raised eyebrows. Tommy let out a shaky laugh. “You’re not really an easy person to talk to, you know.”

“I’m aware. It’s on purpose.”

He was starting to feel his adrenaline begin to crash, making his hands shake. His heart was pounding. “Look, I just want to find the people who killed Icarus. I know the Blade is the obvious answer, but some things just don’t line up. And if I’m right and it’s not him?” He looked at his friend, wishing he saw him. Wishing the vigilante knew who he was. For half a moment, he considered it. Theseus wouldn’t tell anyone.

Right?

He could show him without someone else seeing, right?

Look, he could say, I’m alive. I’m alive and I know it wasn’t the Blade who did it. I’m alive but I’m not safe. They’re looking for me. I’m scared. You can’t tell a soul. I’m back but I can’t ever be Icarus again. Not while they still exist. Not when he still exists. You’ll keep this secret, right?

I can trust you, right?

You won’t die because I told you, right?

Right?

“Either way, he’s dead.” Theseus said heavily. “And I’m tired of trying to figure it out. I’m tired of hoping for answers. I don’t think I really want to know what happened anymore, really. I’ve dealt with it long enough. It just hurts, and I don’t want to keep wading in it; so go ahead and make up conspiracy theories or whatever. Just leave me out of it.”

I can be more careful this time. I swear I can be more careful. It isn’t safe but I can do it right this time. It isn’t safe but it would be nice to not be so alone.

Theseus sighed, stuffing his hands back into his hoodie pocket. “I’m just—I’m tired. I’m dealing with enough as it is. So don’t talk to me and leave me alone, okay?”

The vigilante turned on his heel and left, pulling his hood over his head. Tommy watched him go.

I’m back. I’m here. It’s me.

“Hermes is here.” the Blade said, walking up from behind him, making him jump. His voice was distant and worn. “Thanatos can’t carry everyone, ya know? Gonna check on Nemesis. I’ll get in touch later, we’ll figure out what to do next. You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” Tommy said automatically. “Sounds great. Keep in touch.”

I made it back. I made it out.

Right?

He watched the Blade drag his feet towards wherever Hermes had the car. Once the Blade had disappeared from sight, he started dragging his own feet, carrying him out of the cluttered docks and into the edges of Pogtopia.

He didn’t even know what had happened to Thorn. Had she gotten away?

Probably.

What had she been doing there? She had that drug again. It was the same glittering red drug they’d seen before, and now he had a good idea of what it did.

Shoot. That was bad.

A laugh slipped out of him, sudden and hysterical. Everything was really, really . . . bad. They had barely made it through an encounter with Thorn and her gang. How were they supposed to get rid of the Federation, even if they did know where to look? He’d thought the Syndicate would be enough of a force to be reckoned with, that they’d be unstoppable. Now that thought felt a bit silly.

What if they found the Federation, but they couldn’t defeat them? What if they couldn’t save anyone? What if the Federation found out about his other powers? What if they took him again?

He wouldn’t make it out a second time.

Tommy stopped in his tracks, reaching out a hand to steady himself against something. Anything. He found the edge of an air conditioning unit and braced both hands against it, his sight blurring. Panic crawled up his throat, causing his breath to come out through his mask in short gasps.

He’d just . . .

He . . .

Nemesis’s blood was still covering his hands, sticky and drying onto his skin. It was all over his cargo pant legs too, though it was harder to see on the black fabric.

It was getting on the air conditioning unit.

He needed to get it off. Nemesis’s blood and his fingerprints weren’t something that he’d particularly like someone to find.

There was a lot of her blood on the docks.

Tommy’s legs gave out and he let himself slide to the ground, slumped against the air conditioning unit.

He was shaking.

Shivering.

The dried blood pulled and cracked on his skin. The blood that hadn’t dried yet was sticky and red and everywhere—

Tommy rubbed his hands against his coat, his strangled breathing sounding suspiciously like sobs. It smelled. He didn’t know what, but it smelled. The ground, or his hands, or his clothes, or maybe something was rotting nearby.

He rubbed his hands raw against his coat, catching on the buttons and seams and any other part that didn’t lay smooth.

He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t make too much noise.

Still, he didn’t move; his bones were too heavy and his head was too light. He couldn’t hold his hands still. His toes were numb. His chest hurt.

Theseus had said he was tired.

Yeah, Tommy knew that feeling.

He was tired.

Tired without a way to sleep. He drew his legs up against his chest and pressed his shut eyes into his knees. Maybe if he pushed hard enough they’d stop hurting.

He’d forgotten his knees were soaked in blood.

It just made him sob harder, wrapping his arms around his legs and squeezing. He was falling apart. He’d been falling apart for a long, long time. He was in pieces that didn’t connect anymore and yet burned and ached when separated.

He wanted someone to be there. He wanted his parents. He wanted Puffy. He wanted someone who couldn’t be hurt or taken from him.

He wanted Clementine, but she wasn’t there; not an echo or whisper of her in his ear, and he couldn’t summon up the energy to make her appear.

He wanted to wake up, an eight year old once again, snuggled in his bed at home where his parents were still happy and alive.

Instead he was seventeen and cold, and nothing could warm him up.

He should have panicked when he saw Nemesis bleeding out. That’s how teenagers were supposed to react to someone potentially dying in front of them, right? He shouldn’t have stayed calm. He shouldn’t have known what to do. He was seventeen.

Seventeen.

What a fake sounding number.

It didn’t sound anything like it felt. It sounded like something cut and dry, something normal; it sounded like he was supposed to be out doing something dumb and inconsequential, like microwaving soda.

It didn’t sound like confusion and heartbreak and loneliness, the headache and weariness and fear. Not even close.

No one should have to be seventeen.

Notes:

Take a shot every time I refer to Theseus as 'the vigilante' because I was already writing his name so many times lol. And by a shot I mean of water, y'all are probably so dehydrated rn, I'd bet money on it.
Anywhosies, I still don't have the total amount of chapters listed because it keeps changing lol. It's getting longer, in case you're wondering. We're maybe a third of the way through? When this work is completed and everyone can see how long it ended up, let me know how close my guess was, lol. I'll know by then, but also. You can point it out. It's okay. We'll all have a little laugh.

Chapter 12: Lesson 12: Say Yikes And Move On

Notes:

Fantastic news, everyone!
I microwaved soda, and I'm here to share the results. It tastes: bad.
Fizzles like crazy in the microwave, like it's trying to speed-run carbonation. So that was kinda cool. Otherwise flat hot sweet drink with less flavor than you'd expect and slightly bitter from the carbonation. Would potentially recommend if you're trying to quit drinking it.

------------------------------------------------------------------

“Welcome in, I’ll be with you in a minute!” Tommy hollored over his shoulder, keeping his eyes trained on the coffee beans he was pouring into the espresso machine.

His joints were sore from the fight the day before, and they’d had time to stiffen since.

He’d spent all of last night in the cafe. After changing clothes and scrubbing off all the blood, he had made himself a triple shot white mocha latte and then drank it while sitting on the floor behind the counter. The drink had him barely avoiding cardiac arrest, so he got a cup of water and drank that too, but he did it too fast and ended up throwing up on the nicely mopped tile floor. He got himself a second glass of water, drank it slowly, and then cleaned up the floor once it stopped spinning beneath him.

After that, he just sat on the floor and waited for the night to do its thing and move on. His mind fully checked out, and he simply stared into nothing with unfocused eyes. It was probably the longest, most restful thing he’d done since he was fifteen and still able to fall asleep.

Not counting those times he spent passed out, that is.

He secured the lid on the machine, giving it a long, suspicious glare before stepping away. He would make sure that machine was not going to be his final straw, if it was the last thing he did.

“Hey thanks for waiting, I—oh hey guys.” he said, recognizing Cheyanne and the girl he was being fostered with, standing on either side of their foster dad. “What can I do for you?”

The man gave Tommy a tight smile, looking a bit tired. “Vanilla latte and two hot chocolates, thanks.”

“Righto, whipped cream on all of those?” Tommy asked, giving the kids a knowing grin.

“Just on the hot chocolates.” the man said. “Put a little extra on theirs, they have schoolwork to get through.”

Tommy felt a more genuine smile grow on his face as he rang up the order. He hadn’t missed the way the little girl’s eyes had lit up at that request.

Oh, he was going to give them a little extra, alright. Schoolwork on the weekends sucked. This guy had the right idea, and Tommy’s opinion of him went up a little. He grabbed some large cups for maximum whipped cream space.

As he got started on the drinks, his eyes kept trying to unfocus and zone out, which was technically a dangerous thing to do in front of an ornery espresso machine, but Tommy was simply too big of a man to need to worry about little things like first to second degree burns. He had much bigger problems to worry about.

Like how to get more help with finding the Federation and getting the missing kids out of there, preferably without having said help immediately try to kill one of the Syndicate members.

Maybe he could talk one of the vigilantes into it. Probably not Theseus. He’d already made his position clear about how involved he wanted to be with any of this. XD was a wildcard, from what he could tell; she did what she wanted and didn’t elaborate. She did seem to pop up around Theseus, though, and she’d been a new vigilante when he fell as Icarus. There was a good chance she’d refuse to work with the Syndicate. Or try to kill them.

Most vigilantes, actually, seemed to hold a mean grudge against the Blade. Manifold, Punz, Theseus, XD . . . it was heartwarming, if not a bit frustrating, to have them all united against the Blade. After all, if he really had killed Icarus and gotten away with it, he’d hope his vigilante allies would at least hold it against him.

He started pulling the espresso shot while the steamer hissed into the milk. Maybe he should go to the heroes. Perhaps not the Captain, though. She’d kill the Blade on sight, or at the very least arrest every single one of them. Tommy shivered at the thought. Prison sounded bad enough, keeping him trapped while the rest of the world was told exactly where he was; it would be only a matter of time before someone from the Federation came for him disguised as a guard, and there would be nowhere for him to run.

But as Orpheus, and associated with the Syndicate?

Pandora’s Vault.

He’d never see the light of day again.

The steamer hissed and fizzled, heating the milk as thick foam rose to the top. Maybe out of the two options, Pandora’s Vault was preferable. Maybe it was secure enough that none of his waking nightmares could follow him there. It was a small comfort though, a consolation prize for spending the rest of his life in a max security prison.

Maybe . . . maybe Voidwalker would help. He did want to find Micheal, after all. Tommy didn’t know if he could convince the guy to work with the Syndicate, but he probably had a good shot at convincing him that there were kids in danger, and maybe he’d be willing to work with them long enough to get to them. Ranboo could keep a secret. Probably.

Although, he worked closely with Undergrowth all the time, and Tubbo was clever. Tubbo would figure it out. Was that a good thing? He’s been just as distressed about Micheal’s disappearance as Ranboo, and stubborn and loud enough to keep the case from getting swept under a rug.

Tommy wanted to trust them, and that scared him more than anything else. He’s only known them for a few months. They were coworkers, and they didn’t know a thing about him. They think that Blink is determined to hunt down the Blade and bring him to justice, and they haven’t even met Orpheus; why would they listen to him once he flips everything on its head?

Tommy grabbed the chocolate syrup and whipped cream. He knew the other heroes even less than he knew Undergrowth and Voidwalker. Reynard, Antfrost, Boomer, Aly . . . and there were more heroes he still hasn’t even met, officially.

He still didn’t know who’s expired burrito he ate that one time.

Voidwalker and Undergrowth always spoke highly of Foolish, but that didn’t mean the guy would take him at his word and not arrest the Syndicate, while they all blindly searched the city for a place that makes Tommy panic if he lets himself think about it too hard. Nook would be a powerful ally, but he was one of the heroes who worked with the Blade and Nightingale, and took offense at their fall from grace nearly as much as the Captain. Not to mention he hasn’t left the hero base to be active on the field in years.

Tommy called out the drinks as he placed them on the counter, smiling slightly in satisfaction at the mounds of whipped cream that topped the two hot chocolates. He went straight back to the register where another customer waited, ringing up their order.

The hero base as a whole held so many heroes and staff, what if one of them secretly worked for the Federation? What if Tommy asked for help from the wrong person? What if . . . what if he failed to do it right, and it all fell apart? Again?

What if it was all his fault?

Tommy finished making the drink and set it on the counter, calling out the customer’s name. He had to win this time. He had to.

And if that meant doing the impossible . . . well, he didn’t have another choice. He wouldn’t let there be another choice.

Cheyanne was back at the register, a faint cream mustache on his upper lip. Tommy shook himself out of his thoughts and went over to the kid. “Need something?”

“Your nametag is upside down.” the boy signed.

“And you have whipped cream on your lips.” Tommy said back, reaching for a napkin. “Here, take thi—ah, or use your sleeve. Yup. Take the napkin anyway, for decoration. Makes you look sophisticated.”

Cheyanne took the napkin. “Why is your nametag upside down?”

“Because it’s funny. It’s not mine, anyway.”

“Really? What’s your name, then?”

“Tommy.” He folded his arms on the counter and leaned forward. “Why? You gonna write me a letter or something?”

“Do you know how to read?”

Tommy gasped in mock offense. “Of course I know how to read! I’m a big man who works at a real job, and you think I don’t know how to read? Rude.”

“It would explain why your nametag is wrong.” Cheyanne signed, grinning.

Tommy sighed, shaking his head. Kids these days. No respect for their elders. What were they even learning these days . . . he paused, narrowing his eyes slightly at the boy in front of him. “You wouldn’t happen to be avoiding your homework by talking to me, would you?”

Cheyanne’s grin dropped into a much more serious face. “I hate homework”

Tommy nodded seriously. “Yeah, I know. I hated it too. That’s why I dropped out.”

“You dropped out of school?”

“Hey, don’t start getting any ideas, Cheyanne.” Tommy waggled a finger at him. “I might be a dang good barista, but whatever you don’t learn in there you gotta learn out here, and there aren’t as many willing teachers out here.”

Cheyanne thought about that, his next words hesitant. “Would you like to see what I’m learning?”

Tommy glanced over at their table. He didn’t really want to explain to their foster dad why a barista randomly decided to join their peaceful table and sit with his kids. Or worse, turn the pleasant air into a heavy atmosphere of awkward silence.

Cheyanne, however, didn’t wait for him to answer, running back to his seat and grabbing his textbook. He brought it over, and the girl seemed curious enough to abandon her work to get up and trail after him. Their foster dad glanced up, taking a moment to watch what they were doing, and then returned to his work. He looked too tired to fight this battle.

Cheyanne placed his history book on the counter between them. “They keep skimming over the interesting stuff” he signed, “and I have to remember dates and whatever instead.”

Tommy made a face, nodding in understanding. Cheyanne proceeded to point out some illustrations in his textbook and explain some of the historic moments he was studying.

A few minutes into it, as Cheyanne tried to find a specific page, Tommy gave a small wave to the girl and signed, “hi, I’m Tommy.”

The girl gave a tiny wave back, and then signed, “I’m Lullah.”

Lullah. She had one side of her mess of long curls tucked behind her ear, where he could see she wore a hearing aid, and the other side fell into her face, giving her a one-eyed bandit sort of look.

Tommy nodded with a smile, and then suddenly had a textbook pushed into his face. Cheyanne, with a white-knuckled grip on the edges of his history book that he held askew, vigorously pointed out the section he’d been trying to find. Tommy barely read the first sentence before the boy dropped the book back to the counter, his hands flying. “How am I supposed to remember all those names? Not even adults can name them all, why do I have to?”

Tommy shook his head slowly in sympathy. “They don’t even tell you anything interesting about them.”

“Exactly.” Cheyanne signed with a huff.

The door opened to let in another customer. Tommy looked up over the kids’ heads to see who’d walked in, hoping that somehow it wasn’t someone who wanted to order anything, because then the kids would have to go back to their table and he’d have to—and he shuddered to think it—work.

And of course, it's Phil. Phil, who was starting to haunt Tommy’s place of work more and more frequently. A slow smile spread on his face. If he had money to bet, he’d wager the guy wasn’t actually here for coffee. He had the most boring order ever, and often lingered at the counter long after it was collected. Phil didn't even try to hide the way his eyes scanned the room, looking for a certain coffee shop owner. Much to his disappointment, she wasn't there.

Kinda sucked to be him.

To Tommy’s great relief, Phil took one glance at their ‘rant about homework’ group at the register and decided to leave them to it, instead striking up a conversation with the kids’ foster dad. It was quite possibly the most extroverted thing Tommy had seen someone do. And so well, too.

Within the next twenty minutes, Tommy had started to trick Cheyanne into doing his homework by asking him what the answers to the questions were and then going ‘oohhh. You should write that down’, and Phil had become besties with the foster dad. They were showing each other pictures on their phones and everything.

They stayed for hours, although the kids had to migrate back to their table once more customers came in. Eventually, Phil gave his order of ‘one black coffee to go please’ and left, telling Tommy to tell Kristin he said hi.

Tommy made a face at him, but after he left, he still pulled out his phone and texted Kristin. With a smirking emoji, of course.

She just told him to get back to work.

 

------

 

Crouched behind the dumpster, Tommy grabbed Shuteye’s blue bomber jacket out of the backpack stashed away there. He was about to put it on when the smell gave him pause. He held it in front of himself, wrinkling his nose. It was due for a wash. With a sigh, he bunched it back up and returned it to the backpack. He needed to take a trip to the laundromat soon.

Soon, but not right then. The next closest backpack with a Shuteye outfit was a district over. He wasn’t thrilled about walking through the city without a mask of some sort, but it wasn’t like this would be the first time. He just tried to avoid it when he could.

Tommy walked out from behind the coffee shop, turning to take the most straight-fire route to the next backpack. The streets were dipped in shadows that deepened as the sun approached the horizon, it was always dark sooner on the ground between the buildings that rose up on either side. There were still enough people out and about that he didn’t notably stand out, but not so many that he had the safety of melting into a crowd.

His eyes darted to the spaces between buildings, imagining gleaming eyes staring back. The skin on his face felt too exposed for him to be outside.

“Tommy?”

He jolted, snapping his head towards his name before he recognized the voice. Techno was standing on the edge of the sidewalk, phone in hand like he was texting someone. Tommy blew out a pent up breath. “Oh, hi Techno. Sorry, you startled me.”

Techno slipped his phone into his pocket, offering him an apologetic smile. “Yeah you look a little on edge. Heading home from work?”

“Um, yeah.” Tommy said, because he was a normal person who had one of those. “Yup, mhm, homeward bound for me.”

Who talks like that?

“I’ll walk with you.” Techno said, stepping back from the edge of the street. “It sucks to walk home alone once the sun’s gone.”

That was . . . very nice and thoughtful of him.

It was also incredibly inconvenient, since Tommy wasn’t walking home, and didn’t particularly relish the idea of leading the guy to some shady-looking corner where he could dig out a ratty backpack full of his secrets. He took a few small steps to continue on with a nervous smile. “O-oh, thanks man, but I’m good. I don’t live very far away, and the sun is still out.”

“I don’t have anything else going on right now,” Techno shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets as he fell in step beside Tommy. “Wouldn’t mind walking for a bit, nice evening and all that.”

And for the life of him, Tommy couldn’t come up with a convincing excuse for this guy to not do his part as an upstanding citizen. Especially not one that wouldn’t sound super suspicious.

“. . . okay.”

It was fine. They would walk for a bit and then split off after Tommy tells him his house was just down the street. Everything was fine, he just had to think of some sort of small talk to fill the air between them for a couple minutes.

He could do small talk. He worked at a coffee shop, of course he could do small talk. That’s all he ever did in there. Well, that and gripe about homework assignments.

“So, try any new drugs recently?” He asked nonchalantly.

Techno’s steps stuttered briefly, like his toe had hit an uneven crack in the sidewalk. “I—No?”

Tommy nodded knowingly, vaguely getting the vibe that he wasn’t nailing this conversation. “Yeah me neither. A shame, that.”

Something scuttered into a narrow crack between two buildings. Tommy peered into the space for a moment before moving on. “You ever think about licking bones? I guess bones don’t really naturally have a flavor, since your teeth are bones and you lick them all the time and they don’t taste like anything. Unless they do, but we’re so used to it that we don’t think they have flavor; you know, like how you don’t think you have an accent because you always talk like that, or whatever.”

“Are you sure you haven’t been trying drugs recently?” Techno said dryly.

Tommy waved him off. “Naw, this is all me baby. It’s called having ‘natural charm’. You wouldn’t know anything about it.”

“Pretty sure if someone wanted your wallet, your ‘natural charm’ would turn the mugging into second-degree murder.”

“It would probably turn into murder either way once the mugger finds out I don’t have a wallet, depending on how bad of a day this mugger is having.” Tommy said.

Techno gave him a sideways glance. “What, you just carry your money and ID loose in your pocket?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. I have cash in some of my pockets. Not in the clothes I have on, though, so you’re out of luck if you were planning on robbing me. I think my ID is in . . . at home, somewhere.”

It was in the back room of the coffee shop, actually, which was where he usually kept it unless he felt like he’d need it.

“Bruh.”

“Welp! My house is right down there.” Tommy said, pointing down a street on his left. “I can make it the rest of the way on my own. It was great seeing you.”

Techno kept walking with him as he turned down the street. “I’ll walk you to your door, make sure you get in alright.”

“Ah.” Well that was a problem. A very interesting problem. One that he didn’t have a great solution to.

They kept going.

“Uh, what are your thoughts on the magnificent and complicated creature, the platypus?”

“Tommy, you don’t have to keep a conversation running.” Techno said, his lips twitching into a smile. “I don’t think it’s your strong suit when you’re off the clock.”

“Excuse you, my conversation is lovely both on and off the clock.” Tommy said indignantly. “You’re just not appreciating it properly.”

“My bad. You make a fantastic conversationalist.”

“Isn’t a conservationist someone who takes care of wildlife?” he asked.

“N—well, yes, but that’s not the word I used. I said ‘conversationalist’. As in, someone who converses.”

Tommy grinned. “That’s a type of shoe though, innit?”

“Not in the way I used it.” Techno sighed, exasperated. “I said ‘converse’ as in ‘to speak’. So I was saying that you make a fantastic—you know what? I changed my mind. I’m going back to my original stance, you don’t need to talk.”

“But that’s booooringgg.”

“What are you, twelve?”

He nodded. “Yeah, on a scale from one to ten.”

“I presume this is a scale where ten is the most—”

“Handsome, yes.”

Techno laughed. “You didn’t trust me to say it?”

“No, you were gonna say something cringe and wrong,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “Which are two words that I am not.”

“I mean, one out of two ain’t bad . . .”

“I’m not—!” he cut himself off, tilting his head in confusion. “Wait, which one are you saying I am?”

“Out of cringe and wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm . . .” Techno looked at him for a long moment, and then reached over and ruffled Tommy’s hair, ignoring his squawk of protest. “Cringe.”

Tommy patted his hair down, trying to get it to lay right again. “I am not cringe. I’m super cool and the best and you’re just jealous you don’t have my skills.”

“Alright. I guess you’re pretty okay.”

They reached an intersection, and Tommy turned right, because that’s the side of the crosswalk that had the walking symbol lit up. “I make you the world’s best coffee and I’m just ‘pretty okay’?”

“Listen, it wasn’t bad coffee, but I wouldn’t say it’s the world’s best—”

“Well it’s not like you gave me much to work with, mister ‘how many espresso shots can you give me’. Espresso is bitter, you know. And they take a while to pull, so the first ones are cold by the time—”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Techno conceded. “You’re in like, the top fifty people I know.”

Tommy snorted. “Do you actually know fifty people?”

“Shut up.”

“See, I could,” he said, turning to go down a nice looking street on his left, “but then you’d miss out on what a great conservationist I am.”

“Conversationalist.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Is this what it feels like to be dyslexic?”

This street was nice, there were less cracks in the sidewalk, and one side of the road even had streetlights. They were not walking on the side that was lit up, but it was nice nonetheless.

“I’ve been said to have that effect on some people.”

“Like who?”

“Dyslexic ones.”

Techno shook his head at him, and they fell into a short silence, admiring the buildings they were passing.

“Did you buy that portable speaker you wanted for work?” Techno asked out of the blue.

“What?” Tommy scrunched his eyebrows together, trying to remember . . . oh, right, for his birthday. To play at work when it was slow. “Oh, uh, no. I mean, I figured since Kristin already has speakers for the place, I might as well just wait a little longer for them to be installed, you know?”

“Sure, that’s understandable.” Techno frowned, looking around them. “Didn’t you say your house was just down this way, like, five blocks ago?”

“Yup.” Tommy said. “It’s right around the corner.”

“If you’re lost, I can help you out . . .”

“No, I know where my own house is. But if you gotta go, that’s fine, I’m close enough to get home safe.”

Techno waved him off. “I’m just sayin’ I’m good with directions if you need help. I’m not in a hurry.”

Well, wasn’t that just fantastic. Tommy blew a loose strand of hair from his eyes. The sun really was setting now. He was half-tempted to reach over and put Techno to sleep just to get out of this, but that was both terrible for keeping a secret identity, and also not a great move to just leave a friend sleeping on the side of the road at dusk.

Friend? Could he call the guy that? Tommy looked over at him, considering. They’ve watched Up together, so yeah, that probably makes him count as a friend. He’s pretty sure that’s how it works.

They walked across another intersection. Tommy shifted his gaze up, where the sky had started turning colors, thin wispy clouds catching golden fire against a pale pink backdrop.

Gold used to be his color; warm and lively and bright, like a beam of afternoon sunlight. The color always made his hair look richer, and turn his blue eyes almost turquoise—at least until his powers turned them gold, too.

He looked down at his hands, desaturated by the evening shadows.

He hadn’t felt warm in a long while. It was still there, right at the core of his being—gold and red curled tightly around his heart—but there was a time when it ran over his skin, enveloping him like a memory of his mother’s hug.

He hadn’t had one of those in a long while either.

That was a sad thought.

“Uh, Tommy?”

“Yes?”

“You said your house was right around the corner when we were in Eastside.” Techno cocked his head to send him a sideways look. “We’re in Southside now.”

Southside already, huh. He was definitely going to end up at a different backpack than he’d originally planned.

His neck threatened to break into a cold sweat. “Yup.”

This guy sure had a good sense of direction. It was just his luck that he was being walked home by a human GPS.

Tommy took a left down a quiet street.

“Tommy.” Techno rushed forward and then turned around in front of him, bringing them both to a stop. “Do you . . . not have a house?”

His hair sort of almost matched the pink in the sky.

Tommy gave the man a bright smile. It was the only convincing thing he owned. “Listen, man, when the world’s your oyster, you don’t need to fuss about what’s a house and what isn’t. I’m a free man, and this city is my home.”

Techno stared straight into his eyes, a sort of bewilderment seeping across his face. “. . . you’re homeless.”

“I just said that the city is my home, Techno.” Tommy huffed. “I’m giving you the grand tour of my estate. Keep up.”

“Do you need a place to stay? I have a very comfortable couch just sitting there in my living room. I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not homeless.” Tommy said stubbornly. “Thank you for the offer but I’m fine.”

“Sleeping on the streets is not fine. Have you seen the crime rates in this place?”

The city in general? Yes. This spot in particular? He wasn’t sure. He’d have to look it up the next time he was at the hero base. “I don’t sleep on the streets, so it’s not a problem.”

“Oh yeah?” Techno crossed his arms. “And where do you sleep?”

“Well, you see Big Man, I don’t.” Tommy hit him with double finger guns and a spreading grin. “Because I’m a problem solver.”

Techno looked down at the finger guns, and then back up at Tommy with raised eyebrows. “Tommy, when did you last sleep in an actual bed?”

Tommy scrunched up his face in thought. He supposed the cots in the facility counted as an actual bed. He didn’t sleep in them though. And he didn’t really have an actual bed for a few months after running from his foster home. “What day is it?”

“Saturday.”

Tommy nodded, looking up at the sky. The colors were softer now. “Saturday. So, it’s been a little over . . . two years?”

“A little over two—” Techno broke off with a shake of his head. “Nah, kid, you’re coming home with me. I can take the couch.”

Now, honestly, if Tommy could sleep, that would have been a very lovely offer. Even without the ability to sleep, he could still appreciate it. The thing was, he didn’t really feel up to sitting in a room for eight hours, pretending he was unconscious for all of them, while Techno tried to sleep on a couch.

Techno was a tall guy. No way he fit comfortably on a couch.

And anyway, he had things to do. He couldn’t lay still, staring at a ceiling, wasting precious vigilante time. What about his streets? What about the crime?

“Techno, man, listen. It’s a nice offer and all but I really can’t.”

“You really can, actually.”

“I don’t sleep, I don’t need it. I’m immune.”

Techno snorted. “Just let me give you a bed, Tommy. You might even like it.”

“No, not possible.” He had leads to follow. Or, actually, he needed to find some leads, and then follow them. He had a whole mess to figure out, and there was also someone he wanted to check in on. “I don’t like beds. In fact, I’m allergic. Beds killed my parents. I swore vengeance on them. They’re very bad for my health.”

“Mhm.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Techno I’m fine. I am a full grown adult, let me live my life in peace.”

“You look fourteen.”

Okay, rude. He might not actually be an adult yet, but he wasn’t fourteen.

“Yeah well I’d show you my ID to prove I’m not but I left it at the—I mean it’s at home.”

Techno narrowed his eyes. “Your ID is where?”

“Home.” Tommy said with as much innocence as he could.

“The home that we’ve been walking across half the city to get to.”

“Yup.”

“And still haven’t found.”

“Yup.”

Techno shook his head with a small lift and fall of his shoulders. “You don’t exactly instill me with confidence, Tommy, but you’re an adult. If you change your mind, the offer still stands.”

Tommy nodded, taking the out, knowing full well that he had no clue where Techno lived.

He hoped it wasn’t far.

“I’ll see ya later, Techie boy.” Tommy said. “I still need to introduce you to the world of frappuccinos and lattes and sugar.”

Techno turned around with a wave and an exasperated smile. “Keep dreaming, raccoon man.”

Tommy sputtered indignantly to the sound of Techno’s fading laughter. He wasn’t a raccoon.

Anyway.

He needed to go get a mask on his face.

 

------

 

The rooftop to Shroud’s foster home was empty when Tommy climbed onto it. He sat down in the same place he’d been when he met the kid, trying to convince himself it wasn’t disappointment he felt in his chest. It just . . . would have been nice to see the guy. That was all. He wasn’t scared the boy would go missing or anything. His heart clenched inside his chest, squeezing like a thick rubber band.

Okay, maybe he was a little scared.

But Shroud wasn’t there, and that was fine. It wasn’t a missing persons report. It had been a long shot anyway, it wasn’t like the kid climbed up to the roof every night—

“Oh! You’re here!”

Tommy startled, turning enough to spot the dark form of a boy scrambling over from the other side of the roof. “Shroud?”

The boy plopped himself down next to him, grinning. He had a banged up backpack with a broken zipper slung over one shoulder. One of his front teeth was missing. “I was hoping you’d come back. I wanna show you something.”

Tommy blinked hard from behind his blindfold, surprised. Shroud had been a bit more reserved the last time he saw him.

Of course, he was a strange masked vigilante who had appeared at night while the kid was sitting on a rooftop. There was good reason for him to be reserved. The kid in front of him now, however, was a different story.

Shroud pulled out a popsicle-stick framed drawing from his backpack’s front pocket. The glue keeping the frame together wasn’t exactly holding all of the corners together, but it was good enough to keep its shape. The kid held it out to Tommy. To Shuteye. “I made it for you.”

Tommy slowly reached out, taking the picture and looking down at it. It was a drawing of a spider with . . . nine legs, standing on grass, with a sun in the top corner. “Whoa.” he said quietly.

“Do you like it?” Shroud was practically kneading the top of his backpack with his hands. “Can you . . . can you really see through that blindfold?”

Tommy thought about saying ‘nice try, getting me to take off my mask’, but the kid seemed genuinely concerned and hopeful that he’d like the picture. So he’s serious when he responds, if not a little choked up. “Yeah, I can see really well. I love it. You drew me a spider. Last time I saw you, you made your face look like his face.”

Shroud beamed. “Yeah!”

“You made it for me?” Tommy asked.

“Mmhm,” he nodded, “it’s so you can remember me. I wrote my name on the back.”

Tommy flipped it over, and sure enough, there were big scrawled letters that spelled ‘SHROWD’. A small laugh escaped him at the sight. “Thank you, Shroud. I . . . thank you.”

“I lost a tooth yesterday, see?” Shroud grinned, showing off the prominent hole on the side of his smile.

Tommy nodded, trying to keep up. He’d never had a kid draw him something before. “How’d you lose it?”

“Pulled it out at lunch. I wanted to eat an apple.”

Of course he did. Tommy held up a hand to high-five him. “Way to go.”

Shroud missed the first time, but hit the high-five on his second try. “I kept it. Everyone says the tooth fairy would come for it but I hid it really well so I still have it. I’m gonna keep all my teeth and then—” he broke off, glancing behind him. He listened intently for a few seconds, and then picked back up. “Then I’ll have two sets of teeth like sharks.”

Tommy nodded slowly. He was pretty sure Shroud could probably shapeshift his mouth a little to get shark teeth, but he didn’t want to disturb the teeth collecting plan.

The boy lowered his voice. “I think I gotta go back soon, they haven’t caught me up here yet so I gotta be careful.”

“Okay, that sounds good.” Tommy said, and then had a thought. “Wait! Hold on.”

He dug around in his many pockets, looking for anything he could use to write, or something to write on . . . a sharpie! He always kept a sharpie around. “Do you have any paper?” he asked, still digging though his pockets.

Shroud immediately pulled out a school notebook and tore out one of the last pages, holding it out for him.

Tommy took it, and started writing. “Okay, so listen. I probably won’t be around here much, but if you get scared or you think you’re in danger . . .” he looked up into Shroud’s dark, dark eyes. He was glad his blindfold hid his eyes, so the kid couldn’t see how scared he was. “You find a phone, and you call me. Yeah?”

He handed back the paper, his plan already crumbling in his mind. The chances of Shroud having access to a phone while in danger were slim to none. Nevertheless, the boy’s eyes widened as he carefully took back the paper. “I can do that. There’s a phone in the kitchen for emergencies.”

“If it’s a fire or something, call the firefighters.” Tommy said, reaching over to mess up the kid’s hair, just as Techno had earlier. “But if you’re scared and you need me, I’ll come. I’ll run the whole way. Stay safe, okay?”

“Okay!” Shroud pushed the paper into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder again. “And if you get scared, you can come here. I’ll let you in through the window.”

He was scared already. His grip tightened on the popsicle-stick frame. “It’s a deal.”

Shroud scrambled back to the other side of the roof and disappeared.

Tommy drew in a deep breath and held it. His fear dropped down into the pit of his stomach, settling like a coin tossed into a fountain. It was going to just have to sit there. He could hold everyone at arm’s length, he could run from them, but that wouldn’t do a single thing to keep them from danger they were already in. All he could do was run ahead to try to beat them to it, and then beat it to the ground.

No matter how many rules he gave himself, he always cared too much.

Notes:

Techno, immediately calling Phil: Hey, you know how you've always talked about getting a dog? How do you feel about raccoons?

Chapter 13: Lesson 13: They Can't Find Your House If You Don't Have One

Notes:

SO WE'RE NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT HOW IT'S BEEN A MONTH OF RADIO SILENCE
Hi I'm back. I've been beating off the ao3 author's curse with a broomstick, but I'm back. And with 7,600 words to boot. Be impressed. They might even be coherent. Idk, you'll have to tell me.

----------------------------------------------------------

“She got mugged?” Tommy paused in the alleyway.

“Yeah, two days ago.” The Captain said over their comms. They were both on patrol and had split up, walking a few blocks apart from each other. The Captain was keeping a very visible presence to deter crime being considered, while Tommy kept very invisible, to deter crime that was already being committed. “Apparently a family friend found her and got her to the hospital. Void’s been staying with her since he got the news, but it sounds like she’s on the mend. Good thing too. He was pretty shaken up by it.”

Tommy shook his head, walking out from between buildings and walking further down the street. It seemed Ranboo was really going through it. First Micheal disappearing, and now his sister Niki getting stabbed. “That’s pretty rough. Does Undergrowth need someone to patrol with him while Voidwalker’s gone? I might have some time . . .”

He glanced down a dead-end alley, looking for movement while trying to remember his schedule for that week, which ended up being a tricky thing. He couldn’t remember what week it was.

“No, Foolish is stepping in for him while he’s gone. Nook and Renard are filling in where he can’t.”

There was nothing but cigarette butts and a few empty cans in the narrow dead-end alley, so Tommy moved on. Talking while invisible wasn’t the best stealth tactic, but they’d been patrolling for two hours now and he got bored, so he decided to risk the chance of giving people a free trial-run on auditory hallucinations.

“Speaking of Void,” Tommy said, “has there been any news on the missing kid? Micheal?”

“The best chances of finding missing kids is within the first forty-eight hours of them disappearing, and it’s been well over that now.” The Captain sounded apologetic. “At this point, they’re more likely to find a body, if anything at all.”

Tommy glared at the buildings around him, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that line of thinking. “But have they found anything recently? A suspect? A motive? A direction?”

“No, nothing. It’s like he was wiped from existence. I’m sorry, Blink. I know you and Voidwalker spent some time with him after the courthouse explosion.”

He had nothing to say to that. Every reminder that the boy was missing rubbed under his skin like fingernails across a chalkboard, but he wasn’t going to let that case fade into obscurity. Maybe . . . maybe he could do another city-wide sweep with his phantoms. Maybe he should track down the kid’s foster mom and ask her all the questions the police undoubtedly already asked; just so he could feel like he was inching closer to finding him, instead of feeling like he was giving up.

He just . . . he just had no trail to follow. The kid was at the hospital with his foster mom, and then he wasn’t.

The street dipped to run under an overpass, and Tommy saw movement there. It looked like there was a struggle going on, and he picked up his pace. He was about to let the Captain know he’d spotted something when he realized what he was looking at. The familiar white and gold outfit of the vigilante Punz stuck out in contrast to the dark clothes of the guy he held down, zip-tying his hands together. A knife rested on the ground between them, knocked to the side.

Perhaps this situation could do without any more heroes.

Punz glanced up, and then froze at the sight of Blink, the new hero. Tommy stopped, raising his hand in a small wave and then double-tapping his finger against his comms to mute them. “What are the charges?”

Punz eyed him warily, body tensed to run or fight. He glanced down at the guy in zip-ties. “Attempted stabbing. His intended victim got away.”

“Cool, let me take care of that for you.” He said brightly, and then he unmuted his comms. “Heyyy Cap, how would you react if I told you I suddenly had a guy charged with attempted stabbing in my custody?”

“You were supposed to tell me before jumping in!”

“Yeah, uh-huh, that’s very true.” Tommy nodded, kicking the knife on the ground. He made a shooing motion with his hand towards the vigilante. “So, I didn’t do that. But! I’m telling you now, ‘cause I’m just that cool.”

The Captain sighed. “Where are you?”

Punz ran, quickly slipping out of sight. The coast was clear.

“Under the overpass. Uh, the victim fled, so it’s just him and me. Being buddies.” He glanced behind him, where he was sure the Captain would appear. “I don’t wanna be buddies with this guy, Cap. Please come save me.”

“I’m almost there, Blink. Is he being difficult?”

“Nah.” Tommy looked back at the guy, who was glaring at him. Looked like Punz had gotten in a couple real good punches. “He’s zip-tied.”

“. . . you don’t have zip-ties.”

“Nope. But he does.”

“Blink, is there a vigilante there too?”

“Not anymore.”

“Blink.”

Tommy grinned. “Man, I love being a hero.”

 

------

 

There’s really nothing like getting a text from the Blade that just says ‘can we meet up’. No timeframe, no context, no tone indicator, no punctuation . . .

So, of course, Tommy texted back ‘ya’.

And now he was out of breath behind an apartment complex because the Blade had sent him the location and the words ‘fifteen minutes’, twenty minutes ago. He hadn’t even been dressed as Orpheus. Of course he hadn’t, it was the middle of the afternoon.

“You sound out of shape.”

Tommy straightened somewhat, still gasping for air. “And you— sound— ugly.”

The Blade didn’t have a response to that, so Tommy counted that as a win. Orpheus, 1. Blade, 0.

“So,” Tommy said, catching his breath. “What’s up, boss? Something you want to show me or . . .”

“I had a question.” Blade said. “It came up last time we teamed up, but I didn’t have the chance to mention it before everything went, well, you know.” he shrugged.

Tommy rolled back his shoulders, nodding. “Yeah, that’s fair. How’s Nemesis, by the way?”

“She’s fine. Better than we first thought she’d be. She’s tough, and getting some rest, despite protest.” his lip quirked up at that.

There was a pause, and Tommy waited as patiently as he could for the question that the Blade wanted to ask. He was curious, wracking his brain for what might have come up. He hoped it wasn’t about him healing Nemesis a little bit.

His heart tripped on its beat.

No, no the Blade had been super out of it. There was no way he noticed. And anyway, he’d said the question came up before everything went sideways, right? It couldn’t be that. He’d been careful. Kinda.

“Your ghosts, do they . . .” the Blade hesitated, and for once he seemed to struggle with his words. “Do they remember? Their lives from before?”

Not the opening he thought he’d go with, but then again, when has he ever not started off with the last thing Tommy expected? “Uh, it depends on how much of them is left, I think. I haven’t asked many of them about it, but most are an echo of who they were. So they might remember bits and pieces. Whatever remains.”

The Blade nodded. “The ghost you used to get Theseus’s attention, she looked like . . . that was her, right? That was Clementine.”

The name jolted through Tommy, it was strange to hear her name in someone else’s voice. He felt a prickle of cold on the back of his neck. Clementine flickered into his peripheral sight, standing at his side and reaching out icy fingers to grab his coat.

“How do you know her name?” Tommy whispered.

“How could I not know her name?” The Blade shot back. “She died in front of my eyes, Orpheus. Did it never occur to you to tell us you have her ghost?”

It . . . it really hadn’t. Clementine was always just . . . there, shadowing him like she had since they’d met. Sometimes he forgot that she was one of his phantoms. Sometimes he forgot that other people might know her name.

Clementine pressed closer to his side. “He visits my grave.” she said, and her voice echoed with the sound of whispers.

“Ah.” Tommy said intelligently. He had a hard time imagining her having a grave. Of course, she would have one, it was just . . .

It felt wrong.

“Is Icarus there too?” The Blade asked. “Is he—can you—”

“No.” Tommy said firmly. He was half right. He didn’t have Icarus as one of his phantoms, but technically Icarus was dead and standing there with them.

Where Icarus was, wasn’t important, though. Who had taken him was.

“Sorry. I don’t really get to choose who my phantoms are.” he offered.

The Blade sighed. “Yeah, figures. He never did let himself be easy to find.”

“Except for me.” Clementine whispered. “You always let me find you.”

He shouldn’t have. He’d like to think he’d change it if he could, but if he was really honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he would. What if he had just skipped seeing her on that specific day instead? What if he’d come from another direction? What if he’d lept to the other roof the moment Clementine had appeared? What if—

“Can I see her?” the Blade asked hesitantly.

Tommy pulled out of his thoughts, dizzy from their spiral. “What?”

“Clementine. Are you able to . . . can I talk with her?”

“Oh.” Tommy said, a small ache starting in his chest. The Blade had always been Clementine’s favorite hero. Still, he felt protective of her, even though there wasn’t much to protect her from anymore. It wasn’t like someone was going to kill her.

Again.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? It’s not usually a smart idea to bring back the dead, it can do more damage than good.”

“You’re one to talk.” Clementine said, which Tommy stubbornly ignored.

The Blade was hard to read, especially with his boar skull covering most of his face; but his shoulders and jaw were tight, and he seemed to pause instead of responding right away. This was perhaps the closest to something personal that Tommy had seen him deal with.

The villain glanced away, towards the street. Taking a moment to think, or to search for peering eyes, or perhaps he was sorting through memories.

Sorting through memories was exactly the kind of thing Tommy actively tried to avoid.

“Let me talk to him.” Clementine whispered, tugging at his coat. Tommy turned his head slightly, angling his ear towards her. Listening. “Please? I want to talk to him.”

He sighed, a sound that had the Blade snapping out of wherever he’d been to face him, but he wasn’t looking at the man. He was looking down at the girl at his side. “You sure?” he whispered.

Clementine’s lips twitched into a smile. “It’s only something I’ve waited the last half of my life for, and then some. The last chance I had was interrupted by a bomb.”

Tommy winced at the reminder. “Fine, fair point.”

The silver in his eyes brightened, and Tommy let Clementine’s form slowly appear. Cold seeped lightly into his skin. She was still leaning against his side, one hand twisted into the fabric of his coat.

“Hello, Blade,” she said, “long time no see.”

The Blade looked like . . . well, he looked exactly like one might expect he’d look. Like he’d seen a ghost. “Hey.” he said, and even his voice changer couldn’t hide the softness in his voice.

“I’m sorry they blame you.”

Blade tilted his head to the side, questioning. “You don’t?”

“No,” she shook her head, “Orpheus figured out that much long ago. You were just as trapped as I was.”

The Blade’s eyes flitted to Tommy, almost looking surprised, though that couldn’t be it. Tommy had told him as much when they’d first met, hadn’t he? It was possible to be scared of a villain while knowing he didn’t commit the murder he was blamed for. The guy could still bloodbend.

“Still,” the Blade said, “I wish I could have saved you. Both of you.”

“I know.” she whispered.

Tommy looked away, lump in his throat. There was nothing the Blade could have done. Swordplay and blood control couldn’t do anything against collapsing buildings and falling people. The public have speculated that maybe the Blade had used his powers on Icarus when he jumped, and that was why his wings failed. Tommy didn’t think that would work even if the Blade did try. After all the experiments and tests and needles that the Federation put him through, Tommy was fairly confident that his powers didn’t run in his blood.

It had been what frustrated them the most.

The Blade sighed. “How did you get so mixed up with this, Clementine? You shouldn’t have been there, caught between heroes and vigilantes and someone who hated both. You were just a kid.”

And wasn’t that just the refrain that echoed hollow in Tommy’s mind. Just a kid. There were too many of them. Too many, too young, too easily targeted. It wasn’t fair, but it did make the job easier for those who didn’t care. Why wouldn’t they go for the kids?

It wasn’t like they could put up much of a fight.

Clementine hummed, taking half a step away from Tommy. Just enough that she wasn’t leaning into him anymore. “Do you know why Icarus was there that day?”

“What?” Blade asked, looking thrown. Perhaps his question was meant to be rhetorical. Or maybe he hadn’t expected to be answered with another question.

“Well it seemed like you were there to talk to him, how did you know he’d be there?”

“An anonymous tip.” The Blade said, bitterly. “I should have at least considered that it could be a set-up. It was too convenient.”

“And how do you think whoever it was, knew where Icarus would be?” Clementine brushed a stray clump of hair from her face, looking up at the fallen hero with pale eyes. She didn’t wait for him to answer. “It was because he’d gone there before. Every Friday evening. Because Icarus found me there once when I was sad and lonely and he stayed to cheer me up, and when I went there the next week, he showed up again. He was there because of me. It was my fault.”

Tommy opened his mouth to reject that blame. The words died in his throat, though, because what would Orpheus know? He didn’t know how to tell her she wasn’t to blame without his words falling flat.

It hadn’t been her fault. She’d never asked him to keep coming back. He would have gone there again even if she hadn’t, if only to sit on the roof ledge and imagine he could still talk to her. He’d missed her and her mom, even as he ran from them in hope that he could spare them from whatever dogged his steps. In the end, he still dragged her down with him.

Him and his stupid heart.

The Blade cut through his thoughts. “Did you know him, then?”

“I knew he was kind. I knew he seemed lonely, like me. But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?” Clementine said, her voice a little distant.

The Blade shook his head.

“No, I didn’t know who he was behind his mask, but I had a very good guess.” She said lightly, and Tommy tried not to let his surprise show. Obviously, she knew who Icarus was now, but he hadn’t thought she might have guessed it while she was still alive. “I never asked him, though. It was his secret. I didn’t think he wanted me to know.”

The Blade crouched down to her height, keeping his voice soft despite how desperate Tommy knew he had to be feeling. “Who did you think he was?”

But Clementine just smiled sadly at him. “I don’t think he’d want you to know. I’m sorry, but I won’t tell.”

The Blade stared back, a little helplessly. “But it might help us find him.”

“You won’t.” Clementine said, and it was jarring to hear her say so with such confidence. Her image flickered a little, the faint color that clung to her image fading into shades of gray. “But you can find the people who took him, the same people who framed you. Icarus wasn’t the only one they took, and it’s not like they’ve stopped. No one’s been able to get in their way so far, so why would they?”

Tommy held his breath. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Karl; how the older boy’s hand had grabbed his, desperate to not only pull himself away from the people who demanded so much from him, but also to take the healer who stood beside him. If only for a moment. If only to give him a glimpse of the sky.

No, the Federation hadn’t stopped with him. He hadn’t even been the first.

He had been the only one to escape, though.

“How do you know?” the Blade asked Clementine, voice thick. “You . . . you died before you could have discovered anything about them. How can you know he wasn’t the only one?”

“Because he told me.” she whispered, the edges of her visage blurring. “He told me after I fell.”

And with that, she faded entirely, leaving behind the two of them to stare at the hollow space she left behind. Tommy didn’t know what to say, and it seemed the Blade was similarly tongue-tied.

Tommy hadn’t exactly told her . . . had he? It was hard to remember the days when she’d first shown up, sitting beside him as white walls pressed in on every side. Mostly, he remembered the relief he’d felt at the sight of her. He hadn’t really cared if he’d been hallucinating at the time. As long as she was there with him, it didn’t really matter. She’d been all he had to hold him together.

Either way, she had figured out that he wasn’t the only kid trapped there. Maybe she knew it better than him. He’d never asked her if she’d been able to look around when he hadn’t. Maybe she was the reason he found a way out.

Though if she knew the way back, she would have told him by now. She wanted him to be able to find the other kids just as much as he did. Back then, when he finally ran, he’d been drained beyond his limits, along with discovering his ability to put people to sleep. Maybe she hadn’t been able to stay aware as he made his way out. Maybe he hadn’t had the energy.

What the Blade could possibly be thinking now . . . he didn’t know. Clementine had given both of them much more to think about than either had expected.

Tommy dug his hands into his pockets, hoping to warm his icy fingers. Letting her talk to the Blade left him drained in more ways than one. It was probably time for him to leave, maybe dress up as Shuteye and find a rooftop somewhere so he could stare at the sky until haunted memories stopped trying to barge in unannounced. Maybe—

A shrill scream shattered the air.

For half a second, Blade and Tommy looked at each other with wide eyes, and then they were running. It had sounded close. And young.

And terrified.

The Blade drew his sword, and Tommy yanked his hands from his pockets, letting the cold spread as phantoms flickered into sight around him. The chill they created was nothing to the stab of icy fear in his chest. He hoped they weren’t too late to help. He hoped they didn’t make things worse.

A small figure came barreling around the corner, bursting out from between buildings. Tommy’s blood froze as he recognized the mess of dark curls and oversized purple sweater. The girl’s eyes were wild and desperate, and the moment she spotted the two of them, she turned to beeline in their direction.

Lullah.

It was Lullah, and she was running like her life depended on it, gasping for breath in a way that sounded like a sob. She was missing a shoe.

And she ran straight to the Blade, leaping into his arms.

Surprised, Blade dropped the sword in his hand to catch her, staggering to a stop. Tommy kept going, pushing his phantoms ahead of him. He swung around the corner that Lullah had just come from, down a narrow alley that opened into a main street on the other end.

He might have caught movement disappearing out of the alleyway and back into the street, or perhaps that had been one of his phantoms. He couldn’t tell as he ran though, his control flickering, heart in his throat.

Lullah had looked so scared, scared and running and alone. He’d never heard her make a single sound and yet she had just screamed loud enough to pause Tommy’s heart. Something had been chasing her and—and—something had been chasing her.

Tommy reached the other end of the alley, his phantoms already reporting back that they couldn’t find anything, anyone. There were some people on the street—people who ducked into the nearest shop at the sight of his phantoms—and a bit of traffic, but no fleeing attacker. No suspicious runner. No suspects.

Nothing.

Again.

Tommy doubled back, breathing heavily and letting the phantoms fade. She was safe now. That’s what mattered. She was with the Blade.

Still, it felt like claws against his insides to return empty-handed. To not even know what she had run from, what it looked like.

The Blade was still right where Tommy had left him, girl in his arms, sword on the ground. Lullah had wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder, refusing to budge as the Blade quietly asked if she was hurt. The man’s red eyes snapped back to Tommy as he approached, full of questions Tommy couldn’t answer.

Instead, he shook his head. “Whoever—whatever she ran from, it’s gone.” he said, keeping his voice steady and soft so he didn’t spook her.

The Blade gave a small nod, looking a bit stunned, running a hand over her hair in an attempt to soothe. She was shaking, head to toe, silent aside from her struggle to breathe. Tommy walked over to her side, trying to get a peek of her face. It was useless, she was pressing her face into the Blade’s collarbone like she could phase through it, and her hair covered everything else.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tommy tried, glancing between the frightened girl and the city’s most wanted villain. “Can you hear me? It’s gonna be okay. You’re okay.”

She was, in fact, very not okay.

“I’ve got you,” the Blade said, “you’re safe here, I promise. No one can hurt you now. You’re safe.”

It all felt wrong. It was the middle of the afternoon, and they were just standing behind some old apartment complex. It was too bright. There was the faint sound of city traffic and pigeons and someone’s dog.

The city around them was acting normal while the Blade held on to a little girl, scared out of her mind. She was supposed to be safe. Why wasn’t she safe?

It took Tommy a minute to realize he was shaking too.

He didn’t know what she was running from. He didn’t.

At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. Technically, he didn’t know what she’d run from. If she had powers, they weren’t visible. There was no evidence to give him a clue, and she wasn’t saying anything. Wasn’t even trying, her fingers white from their grip on the Blade’s cape.

He shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but it seemed his nervous system had already taken the leap.

They’d tried to take Lullah.

Only a few buildings away from Tommy, they’d tried to take Lullah. They could be anywhere. They could be watching them. Maybe, somehow, this was another trap. Another setup between the Blade, a vigilante, and a girl who didn’t deserve to be caught between.

Suddenly, Tommy decided it was a good thing the girl had chosen to cling to the Blade instead of him. He staggered back a step, looking around them with fearful eyes, half-expecting an explosion to go off. His phantoms scattered out in every direction, directed by nothing but his rising panic.

They couldn’t have found him.

Not here. Not now. Not like this.

He didn’t look like himself, hidden as he was behind a coat and mask and voice changer. Surely they didn’t know who he was. Surely they hadn’t figured him out.

“Orpheus?”

The Blade’s voice barely broke through his racing thoughts, but Tommy turned in response. He couldn’t hide the way he was shaking, or the way his breathing came too fast, too shallow. He didn’t know how to explain why this was leaving him so shaken. Instead, he nodded in acknowledgement, confirming that he heard him. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, struggling to get a handle on his rampant emotions.

“Maybe we should sit down, yeah?” The Blade said, nodding over to the back wall of a building that neighbored the apartment complex they stood behind. “Take a few minutes. Everything’s gonna be alright. I’ve got you.”

His words were mostly directed towards Lullah, who shook silently in his arms, but Tommy let them wash over his frayed nerves as well while he followed them to the wall and sat down.

It was a long time before Lullah loosened her grip, allowing one hand to let go so she could finger-spell her name for them.

Tommy offered her a smile, hoping it didn’t shake. “Hello Lullah, I’m Orpheus.”

The girl just nodded, pressing her forehead back into the Blade’s collarbone. The man hesitantly ran his hand over her curls, trying to look down at her, though it was nearly impossible. “Can you tell us what happened, Lullah?” he asked.

He didn’t introduce himself, and Tommy understood why. The girl was frightened enough without having to realizing who exactly held her.

She turned her head, peeking back out at Tommy through her hair. “Someone was following me, and when I tried to get away, they grabbed me,” she signed, “so I screamed and ran.”

Tommy nodded, glancing up at the Blade. He didn’t know if the man knew sign language. To be safe, he repeated her words back to her. “Someone was following and tried to grab you, so you screamed and ran.”

She nodded.

He nodded.

Blade nodded.

“Good.” Tommy said. “You did really great, and now we’ll make sure you get home safe, okay?”

The Blade rested his chin on top of her head, giving up on trying to look at her face. “Can you tell us where you live, Lullah?”

She curled tighter into his chest, but gave a tiny nod. One hand still held tightly to the Blade’s cape on his shoulder, while the other was firmly tucked beneath her. Tommy rested his head against the wall, watching her as she stared back at him. The Blade kept his chin resting on her head, staring unseeing at the building across from them.

All three of them waited in silence.

It took a while longer for her to pull out her hands again and tell them where to take her home.

They took her there, stopping once the house was in sight, the Blade turning towards Tommy with pursed lips.

“I probably shouldn’t be the one to return her.” The Blade said. “You know. Bein’ a villain and all that. Might freak out her guardian.”

Tommy nodded, swallowing down the fear in his throat. He was right; a vigilante returning a lost child was a lot less likely to go south than a well-known, super wanted villain doing the same. Tommy tapped on Lullah’s shoulder and held out his hands. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

But Lullah had other ideas, and she clung desperately to the Blade, refusing to release him for Tommy. She shook her head firmly, and that was that. Neither of them had the heart to force her away.

“Well. Okay.” the Blade said. He looked so very uncomfortable it was almost funny. “Uh, guess I’m meeting her guardian.”

They resumed walking to the house, right up to the front porch. For a brief moment, it felt like they were trick-or-treating on Halloween in costumes.

Because what villain and vigilante in their right minds would march up to a house and ring the doorbell?

With his heart pounding against his ribcage like it could flee from second-hand embarrassment, Tommy rang the doorbell.

His heart was unusually loud in his ears.

The door opened, and before them stood Lullah’s very shocked foster dad. His mouth dropped open, and he inhaled like he was going to say something, but it didn’t escape into sound. He shut his mouth, and then opened it again. His face went a shade paler.

“Just here to bring her, uh, home.” The Blade said, quietly breaking the silence.

Thick white mist reached out from behind the man, long tendrils swirling and growing around them. Tommy took half a step back as the mist morphed into the shapes of a snarling pack of wolves. They were dripping white and rumbling with warning growls, their eyes a radioactive green color.

Cheyanne appeared from behind his foster dad, with vicious green eyes that matched his wolves. His hands flew angrily as he signed. “Get away from my sister.”

Well. So the boy had powers, then.

Tommy hoped he wouldn’t be killed for helping translate, so he risked opening his mouth. “He says to get away from her.”

“Believe me, we’re just tryin’ to return her and get outta your hair.”

Cheyanne narrowed his eyes. “Doubt.”

Tommy would have laughed, if he hadn’t felt like he was about to get torn to pieces by a pack of mist-wolves. Their teeth looked like tiny icicles.

“Lullah?” her foster dad said, failing to hide the wobble in his voice. He held out his arms similarly to how Tommy had. “Hey, you’re home. It’s okay. Can you come here?”

To everyone’s relief, Lullah detached her arms from the Blade and leaned out towards her foster dad. The moment she was safe in his arms, the Blade and Tommy stepped back, both of them raising their hands in a placating gesture. Tommy decided it was probably safer if he was the one to talk, so he did. “Someone tried to grab her, and she ran into us when she got away. I’m, uh, pretty sure she isn’t hurt. Keep her safe. We’re gonna go now.”

Cheyanne didn’t dismiss his dogs until after the door had been shut and locked.

The Blade suggested they split up and run, since there was a high chance the heroes had been called. So they did.

Tommy wove through streets and alleyways, not really thinking about where he was going. With no-one around and no need to hold himself together anymore, Tommy found himself sinking back into his thoughts, tucking his cold hands back into his pockets.

He felt like Icarus again. Like Theseus. Running with the feeling of eyes on the back of his head, wondering when they would pounce.

He was supposed to be older now. He had a paying job. He had more than one paying job. He had faced and survived horrors, saved and lost lives, tried and failed and tried again. He had an incredibly high pain tolerance and an incredibly low fear threshold.

He used to be a kid, and now there are other kids and they’re smaller than even he had been, and it’s his job to look after them. That’s what grownups were supposed to do, and he’s only a year away from being one. According to his fake ID, he already was.

He ducked into a hidden corner and pulled out a black backpack. The only change of clothes were his civilian ones; white shirt with red sleeves and jeans. Maybe he should go to the coffee shop. Sit inside until Kristin closed and kicked him out.

He didn’t feel like a grownup.

Not even close.

He felt like he was one of three kids stacked up in a trenchcoat to get into an R rated movie, and now he couldn’t find the exit. Did people ever actually feel like they stopped being a kid?

Because deep down that’s what he was, no matter how he tried to pretend otherwise.

It was hard to pretend when he caught his reflection in a window; eyes too wide, face too pale, fists clenched too tightly at his side. He refused to say it, he didn’t want to admit it; because if he did then he’d have to face the most important thing he lacked.

Kids were supposed to have adults.

Someone they could trust to take care of them, who could make them feel safe as long as that person was there. Someone to tell them how things worked and where to go and what was dangerous. Kids were supposed to be loved. They’re supposed to be safe. They’re supposed to be protected.

And Tommy didn’t have that adult.

No one could protect him then, and no one could protect him now. No one knew what kind of giant monster lay somewhere close by, waiting for him to reappear so he could be snatched up once again. Tommy had adults who barely knew him, adults who were dead, and adults who hunted him down.

Maybe he was still a kid. Maybe he wanted to be a kid.

But he didn’t know how.

He just wanted someone to find him, to run around the corner and look relieved that they found him; someone who would pull him into a hug and tell him that he was safe now, that everything would be okay, that they would take care of it all. He wanted it so bad it left him gasping in pain. It was something that felt so distant it was almost fairytale, but he knew it existed. He’d seen it.

That’s what Phil had done when Techno was out of it, back when he’d shown up at Tommy’s workplace after closing with nothing in his eyes and a tremor in his voice.

Techno had it, and he was an adult.

If only he’d asked Techno where his house was. He didn’t know what he’d do if he knew where it was. Maybe he’d ding-dong-ditch him. That would be funny.

Or maybe he’d ring the doorbell and look at Techno with the thousand-yard stare his tired eyes wanted to make, and maybe he’d ask to come inside and sit on the guy’s couch.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t know where he lived, and he didn’t have the guy’s number either.

He didn’t need to be inside a house. He didn’t need to bother anyone. It was safer that way. It was safer to never stop moving, never hold still, never linger.

Right?

That’s how he kept them from finding him. The only reason he failed last time was because he let himself linger. He let himself come back to the same place, becoming predictable. He’d held still long enough for them to catch him. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Then again, he’d always been such a liar.

His feet slowed to a stop. Tommy was looking at his shoes, cheap and worn and dirty. It took him a moment to notice what sat beneath them. He was standing on a welcome mat. In front of a door.

Looking up, he realized where his feet had taken him.

He was at Phil’s house.

It stood before him, mocking him and his thoughts. He should turn around. Leave. It was safest that way. There was nothing he needed there.

It wasn’t like he had to sleep. It wasn’t like he could stay. It wasn’t like he thought that Phil could actually help him; not like he could do anything about the monsters that he ran from, the kind that would haunt his nightmares if he were ever able to sleep again.

But maybe he wanted to pretend.

Just for one night.

He hit the doorbell before he could change his mind. Panic immediately swelled in his chest, urging him to turn and run or hide, but he pushed against it. Tried to swallow it down before it could leave his throat as a strangled sound. He kept his feet glued to the ground.

He might have jumped just a tiny bit when Phil opened the door.

“Tommy?”

He felt sick. He wanted to run, but he wanted to run into Phil’s house, not away from it. He wanted to pretend the Federation couldn’t find him there.

“Hi Phil. I, uh, my apartment . . . flooded.” Yeah, that sounded smart. He’d totally flood an apartment if he had one. “It’s getting fixed, but I can’t stay there tonight and I don’t really, um, have somewhere to go. I was wonder—”

“Then stay with me,” Phil interrupted. “I’ve got a guest bedroom that’s all made up already, you can just crash here.”

“Oh.” He blinked, a little stunned. He’d thought it would be harder than that. He’d thought he wouldn’t make it so far. “I-I don’t want to impose . . .”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He waved Tommy in. “Come inside and make yourself at home, I was just about to start dinner. I hope you like spaghetti.”

Tommy shut the door behind him as Phil walked back to his kitchen. He crouched in the entryway to take off his shoes, focusing on keeping his fingers from shaking as he pulled the laces. He was okay. He was fine. This was a one time thing, it was just for this one night. It wasn’t going to be like his last foster home. He wasn’t going to bring trouble to Phil’s doorstep.

The Blade’s murmured reassurances to Lullah repeated in his head like a mantra.

You’re safe here, I promise. No one can hurt you now. You’re safe.

He pretended the words had been meant for him, stealing them away to wrap around his fast-beating heart.

Tommy followed Phil into the kitchen, offering his help in making dinner. There wasn’t much to do for spaghetti, but that was okay. It was about the limit to his cooking skill anyway.

He thought back to the evenings at his foster home with Puffy and Clementine, cautiously poking through his memories to remember what it was like. Dinner. Conversation. The smoke alarm that always went off whenever they opened the oven, no matter what. He’d been slow to settle into their rhythm, slow to open up and let himself relax, but even then he didn’t remember it being so hard to breathe. Even then, it hadn’t felt like a fist fight with a heart attack.

Even when he started to notice shadows trailing his steps, eyes following from hidden corners, it hadn’t felt like this.

Like knowing what was after him.

Like knowing what it would feel like for them to succeed.

“How’s work?” Phil asked, digging around in a lower cabinet. “Not too exciting, I hope.”

If only. The lines were starting to blur between normal life as a barista and the life that nipped at his heels. Lullah and Cheyanne were supposed to be customers who came in with their foster dad to do homework once in a while. Not kids he worried about. Not kids with targets on their backs.

“Well, I fixed the espresso machine.” he offered, managing a small grin. He’d also had a mental breakdown behind the counter for almost an entire night. “You only have to smack it a few times at the beginning of the day, and it works like a charm.”

Phil glanced at him over his arm, still rummaging in the cabinet. “You mean the repairman fixed it after you electrocuted yourself and then decided to call him, right?”

“I’ll have you know, Phil, that I’m actually quite skilled in repairing machines and don’t need some other guy to come do the same thing I would, and then charge Kristin five hundred dollars.”

The only response he got was a defeated sigh, followed by the crashing sound of containers falling over each other. Phil emerged with a pasta strainer in hand. He remained crouched on the floor for a bit longer, looking up at Tommy’s delighted face.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Need help getting up from the floor down there, old man?”

“I’d rather pull you down to join me, you chaotic gremlin.” the man replied. “I’ve got years ahead of me before I’ll be an old man.”

Both of his knees popped as he stood, which Tommy thought backed up his argument better than anything he could have said.

“Shut.”

He grinned, turning back to the stove and the pot that boiled on it. “Anyway, work is fine, aside from this one customer who hangs around a lot, only to order a cup of black drip coffee.” he wrinkled his nose as he looked to his right, where a coffee maker sat on the counter. “I’m pretty sure he has the stuff at home, Phil. I’m starting to think the guy isn’t actually there for the coffee.”

“Yeah? I don’t know, mate.” Phil had the audacity to look amused. “It’s pretty good coffee you sell there.”

“Ugh.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “Right, well, I hope he’s serious about his coffee. ‘Cause I’ll beat him up if he . . . uh . . . like, breaks her heart or something. The coffee, I mean. Phil, stop laughing, I’m trying to be threatening. You should feel threatened.”

“Mmhm.” Phil said with an ear-splitting grin.

“Whatever. I’ll kill you. Kristin has a heart of gold and deserves the best. You’re too old.”

“We’re actually the same—”

“I don’t care. I’m immune to love.” He turned to Phil with a stern look on his face, arms crossed. “It’s so cringe and weird. Get away from me with your stupid grin, I don’t want to see it.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“No I didn’t. You asked me about work and I started complaining about customers. I was being very justified and profound and you didn’t take me seriously. I’m a very serious threat, Philza.”

“W-what?” Phil wheezed. “That’s not how you say my name.”

“It is now, Philza. Fear me. Phil—Philza. Be afraid. I’m gonna beat you up. Stop laughing. Phil.”

 

------

 

Tommy wiped at the foggy mirror, his hair still wet from the shower.

Phil had loaned him some clothes to sleep in. He’d taken them with a murmured ‘thank you’, feeling odd about the thought of wearing something that wasn’t the same four outfits he kept stuffed in backpacks across the city.

He was wearing a light blue sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, and he tugged at the fabric. It was soft and comfortable and foreign. He found it a bit difficult to look at himself in the mirror, because it was wrong. That wasn’t what he looked like. He couldn’t picture himself wearing something that looked so . . . relaxed. Comfortable. Not even as he looked right at it.

It was the wrong shade of blue. Or maybe it was slightly too big. Or the material was too thick. The sleeves were wrong, somehow. Maybe. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something off. He was pretty sure it was the most comfortable clothes he’s ever worn, but it made him feel so weird.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror for probably a concerning amount of time, waiting for his mind to reconcile the image in front of him with the way he was used to looking.

It never quite settled, but eventually he gave up. It didn’t matter what he looked like. It wasn’t like he could go back to the person he used to be, back when he lived in a house.

He knew he’d never look like that kid, lost to time and memory and . . .

And mostly just lost.

He couldn’t get back those childhood years. The ones he should have had, the ones that slipped through his fingers. He’d lost them; to grief, to change, and then he lost the very last of them to the Federation. They were gone, and he’d never get them back. There was no redo.

What he’d gotten was all he’d have, and . . . and he hadn’t had the time to be a kid after the age of ten. He hadn’t felt settled enough, or safe enough.

He almost did. With Puffy and Clementine. Briefly, he’d started to slip into being a kid again. Just enough to remember what he’d been missing. Just enough for it to hurt when he realized he was putting them in danger.

Tears blurred his vision as he left the bathroom. He was pretty sure he was angry. Or at least he was probably supposed to be. It was probably there, stewing somewhere inside him, but he didn’t have the energy to yank it up to the surface.

He missed his last foster home. He missed his parents. He missed his name.

The guest bedroom had thick carpet and a green accent wall. It was nice. The bed felt soft and comfy enough that Tommy let himself lay in it, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He felt out of place, but he also felt safe. There was a voice in his head that told him it was all fake, that it would crumble the moment it was put to the test, but he did his best to ignore that voice.

He wasn’t trying to have something real. He wasn’t trying to be safe.

He just wanted to pretend like it was.

Just for one night.

Notes:

Tommy, lying on the spot "My apartment flooded!"
Phil, narrowing his eyes, thinking back to the other day when Techno called to bemoan about his discovery that the kid was homeless "That's so sad. Alexa, play Despacito."

Chapter 14: Lesson 14: Under-promise, Over-deliver

Notes:

RIP to everyone who hates italics, you'll never take them from me. Not even from my cold, dead hands. They take forever to format, though, so RIP to me too.
-
TW: auditory hallucinations/slight mind control

Tommy half considered slipping out the window before Phil could wake up, but that seemed a bit rude. And suspicious. Why would he want to leave without a word if he really was staying there because his apartment had flooded?

So he changed back into his own clothes and watched the clock until he heard the sounds of Phil moving about. He waited until he was sure the man had moved into the kitchen before slowly leaving his room, finding Phil on the phone as he prepared coffee.

“Is she okay?” he was asking. He listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone, nodding as he finished putting coffee grounds into the machine. “That's certainly concerning, we'll have to—” Phil turned, spotting Tommy at the edge of the kitchen, “uh, invite them to game night sometime. I bet she'd beat you to smithereens at go fish.”

He waved to Tommy, grinning at the response he was getting on the other end. “Okay, I gotta go Tech. Talk to you later, yeah? Bye.”

“Mornin’ Tommy.” Phil said. “Sleep well?”

“Yup.” Tommy leaned back against a counter, watching. He was a bit surprised at how rested he felt, considering the fact that he couldn’t sleep. Maybe not doing anything for a night was actually, like, good for him. Or something.

It was also pretty boring; but after the day he’d had yesterday, he was okay with a little boring.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Phil asked, letting the coffee do its thing as he moved to the refrigerator. “I’ve got toast or eggs or cereal or . . . coffee cake, I think. I don’t know, someone left it here and it wasn’t labeled.”

Tommy ended up trying the probably-coffee cake, while Phil made an omelet and offered to make him one too no less than three times. He did take him up on the offer for orange juice. A choice he regretted pretty fast, since anything sweet and cake-like makes orange juice taste sour and feel weird on the tongue.

“Any news on the apartment?”

“Oh, yeah actually,” Tommy held up his phone, “all fixed up. Early morning crew really put in the extra effort.”

Man, he hoped Phil wouldn’t question his complete lies. He’d never rented an apartment, much less flooded one. He didn’t know how fixing them went. The guy didn’t seem too fazed, so it was probably alright.

Probably.

At least Phil didn’t keep talking about it, instead asking him if he needed a ride home; which, of course, he refused as politely and non-suspiciously as possible.

Phil saw him to the door, coffee in one hand. His other suddenly reached into his pocket, pulling something out. “You should have this.” He said, handing Tommy a small slip of paper. “In case you need it later.”

Tommy frowned, taking it. “What is it?”

“My number.”

“Oh.” He looked at it, for probably a bit too long. It took him a second to realize what he was thinking in those silent moments.

It was nothing he’d ever say out loud, that was for sure, but . . . he found himself wishing that Phil could have been someone like the Blade: powerful and clever and feared, to the point where the whole city agreed on it. Someone who never lost a fight. Someone who Tommy could maybe hide behind when the monsters finally tracked him down.

He imagined the Federation finally finding him again. He imagined running, and then calling Phil.

Tommy imagined that somehow, someway, it made a difference.

He thought about how he’d given Shroud his number, in much the same way.

And then he snapped himself out of those thoughts, tucking away the slip of paper with a small smile towards Phil. “Thanks.” he said. “I’ll see how fast I can get you to block me. I have a lot of deep thoughts to share at around three in the morning, Phil. You have no idea what you have just done to yourself.”

Phil just chuckled. “You already had your chance last night, mate. Or was my guest room so comfortable that you weren’t awake for any of those thoughts?”

“Shut up,” Tommy muttered. “And yeah, you have a very comfy guest room. With a very accessible window. Don’t be surprised if you find me in there again sometime.”

“Ah, Mi casa es su casa, eh?”

“Uh, sure. Gesundheit.” Tommy said, slipping on his shoes. “I’ll see you later at my workplace, I’m sure. Stalking my boss.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know Kristin has invited me to return whenever I like, I do not—”

“—need the coffee, I know.” Tommy interrupted. “I saw your coffee machine. Very nice one, by the way. Consider donating it to us. It could be a fantastic start to finally getting an employee break room.”

“Okay, Tommy.” Phil said, “I’ll bear it in mind. Don’t flood anything for a while, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy was out the door. “No promises. Thanks for letting me crash at your place.”

“Anytime, mate.”

 

------

 

The day went by fast, and Tommy couldn’t tell if it was because he’d finally hit the perfect schedule rhythm, or if it was maybe because he felt rested and not like he was constantly on the edge of a panic attack.

Eh, it was more likely because of the probably-coffee cake he ate at Phil’s. It had to have been laced with something. Yeah, that’s why the day went by fast. It had nothing to do with taking care of himself or anything. Ppfft.

It was once again dark outside, but this time he wasn’t in someone’s guest bedroom, pretending he slept like a normal person.

The laundromat was empty but open, just how Tommy liked it. Surprisingly, people didn’t often do their laundry at night. They liked to sleep or something instead, the weirdos.

Tommy had spent the evening walking the city, grabbing all his clothes from the various backpacks stashed away. He’d stolen a large trash bag from the coffee shop to carry everything in. Not only was there too much for him to simply carry in his arms, it was also mostly vigilante clothes, and that would just be a really awkward conversation to have with anyone who decided to ask questions.

Tommy pulled out all of his gray trench coats and started stuffing them into the washer.

“Did you check the pockets?” Clementine piped up, appearing inside an idle machine with her head poking out.

Tommy groaned, pulling them back out. “I don’t usually use the coat pockets. They’re just there to look cool and keep my hands warm.”

“Yeah but then you had a sharpie in one of them that one time, and ran it through the wash.” Clementine grinned. “Blue and purple splotches everywhere. Honestly I thought it was an improvement.”

“Gray can be a very nice color, Clem.”

“Hmm, I don’t like it.”

Tommy pulled out a half-eaten granola bar and set it aside. “What about Shuteye’s getup? That one’s mostly blue.”

“I said it was an improvement. I didn’t say I liked it.”

“What do you have against blue?”

Clementine wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know, it’s not exciting enough. Blends in with everything at night.”

“Yeah that’s kinda the point. I’m a vigilante.”

“But there’s no pazazz. No flashiness. Imagine if your blindfold was bright pink! Now that’s a statement.”

Tommy sighed with a small smile, going back to putting the coats in the washer. “Do you like Blink’s outfit then? Bright red and white?”

“You did wear red a lot at home.” she said wistfully. “It suits you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So it’s not really about the pazazz. You just miss who I was when I stayed with you.”

Clementine shrugged, “So? You miss who I was when I was alive.”

Tommy paused, his hands still pressing down gray fabric in the washing machine.

“Remember that huge moth that got stuck in my room? It kept hitting the light and I thought it was gonna, I don’t know, eat my face or something.” She leaned half her body out of the machine, desaturated hair falling into her face. “That was the first time you talked to me, you know. You were all quiet and glare-y before that. I thought you hated me.”

“I remember.” Tommy said softly. He remembered hearing her scream in her room, and his heart had lept straight to his throat. The next thing he knew, he was at her door, trying to figure out what was wrong. He’d almost laughed when he realized it was just a moth; but then he’d seen how she was on the verge of tears, and he decided there would be time to laugh about it later. “I didn’t hate you. I was just . . . not sure what living with you guys would be like.”

Scared. He’d been scared. He didn’t know if there had been a time since his parents died that he hadn’t been at least a little bit scared. It took Clementine also being scared to break him out of his shell.

All because of a giant moth.

“I wish you could have stayed.” she whispered, and the air around them echoed her words.

Tommy shut the lid, fiddling with the settings and pressing start. He moved down to the next machine and started pulling out his bomber jackets; checking pockets, zipping them up, and turning them inside-out. “Yeah, me too.” he muttered.

“Would you go back? If you find the Federation and stop them?”

Of course, he thought about stopping the Federation. All the time. What he didn’t think about was there being an ‘after’. What would he do if he stopped them? If he survived? Maybe he’d go more full-time with the heroes. Or maybe the coffee shop. Save up for an apartment.

He didn’t know. Maybe he’d just reveal his identity to make sure the Blade’s name was cleared and then spend the rest of the year in foster care before he aged out. Maybe he could just . . . zone out until he was truly a legal adult. Relax for once in his life.

But no, he wouldn’t go back. The last time he’d been in that house, Clementine was there. If he never went back, he’d never have to face her absence.

He’d never have to face Puffy, either.

“I don’t know, Clem.” he said. “I don’t think I could.”

He dug into another pocket and hit upon slightly crumpled paper and wood. With a careful hand, he pulled out the drawing Shroud had given him. He flipped it over to read the name written on the back, ‘SHROWD’. The popsicle sticks were no longer sticking to the edges of the paper. He placed it all on top of his heap of pocket items on a bench, trying to pretend like it didn’t make the boy’s voice echo through his memory.

“. . . if you get scared, you can come here. I’ll let you in through the window.”

Even Shroud had offered him a place to stay. Shroud, Techno, Phil . . . it felt dangerous. It felt too settled. Too close. He’d blinked and suddenly he was breaking all of his rules, and with each one proclaiming it to be the only time. The exception. Well, now they were adding up.

It felt like ants under his skin.

He tossed in the last jacket, and then added his gray face masks to the load. Clementine started to hum tunelessly as he set the machine to ‘delicate’ and pressed start.
The next load was a ridiculous amount of identical white shirts with red sleeves. He added socks and underwear to that one, because there wouldn’t be room with all the jeans and cargo pants in the next load.

Those pockets took forever to empty.

“Okay, hear me out: red dye in the wash next time. With everything.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed at the laundromat.” Tommy said. “Plus, if it even worked, that would make Shuteye’s outfit purple, and that’s Theseus’s whole thing. And what vigilante ever had a color change? You’re supposed to stick with what you start with.”

“Oh, and vigilantes are so well known for following the rules.” Clementine rolled her eyes. “You could be the first! Be a trendsetter.”

Tommy snorted. “I don’t think that’s a trend that needs to be set.”

“Ugghhh, you’re so boring.”

“Maybe you could pitch your ideas to the Blade. He kinda did do a color change when he was proclaimed a villain. He even went from blue to red.”

Clementine rolled over so she was facing the ceiling. “Hm, I guess. But no one followed the trend.”

“Probably because he’s the city’s Most Wanted,” he said dryly, “and people don’t really want to be associated with him.”

“Details, details.” she waved a hand. “That hasn’t stopped you from associating with him, I say they’re all fashion cowards. Not you, though. You just hate color and fun.”

Tommy started the last load and sat down on one of the benches there to wait. Having several identities really had him doing way more laundry than he’d originally accounted for. Even without having to pay rent or somehow buying a house, he had so many constant strains on his money. Food. Phone bills. Vigilante gear.

Laundry.

At least he didn’t need a gym membership for access to showers anymore. The hero base had really, really nice showers. And a special way of washing the uniforms. And printers.

He really should take more advantage of so many available printers.

Tubbo could probably help him fix that.

 

------

 

With everything clean and dry, Tommy started the arduous task of returning them to all of their scattered locations. He was almost done by the time he got close to Pogtopia, dragging his trash bag behind him. It was one of the most dead hours of the night, probably close to three in the morning. There wasn’t even a random dog barking.

It was nice, actually. A moment of stillness. With all the running around he did at night, sometimes he forgot how quiet it gets.

Quiet enough that he could hear it when the faintest voice reached his ear. Pausing, Tommy tilted his head, straining to listen. He couldn’t hear words, but there was a sense of urgency in its sound. Maybe an edge of pain?

He poked his head down an alley, but nothing stirred in that direction.

A little farther down the street, he realized there were two voices. One sounded like it was crying out in pain, the other seeming more panicked. He had to be getting closer, though he still couldn’t see even a hint of movement.

They sounded vaguely familiar. He still couldn’t tell what they were saying, but if he strained hard enough, he was pretty sure he could pick out some of the words.

“. . . elp me, please . . .”

“. . . on’t . . . hurts . . .”

“. . . lease, anyone . . . apped . . .”

He closed his eyes as he took another step forward, focusing more on listening than seeing. Behind all the words being said, there was the sound of someone crying. They all sounded so young. They sounded like kids. It twisted his insides into knots, his own panic creeping back up his throat.

He sped up.

He didn’t care that he wasn’t wearing a mask.

Not again. Not another one. No more.

Please.

And then, clear as day, he heard an achingly familiar voice. Screaming.

“Icarus!”

He shook his head, the voices pulling at his mind, his head pounding strangely. Icarus . . . Icarus was in the past. He was dead.

And the voices . . .

It was like they weren’t coming from any specific direction, but more like he could hear them inside his head. The voices weren’t—they weren’t real.

They weren’t real.

Tommy’s blood went cold. He needed to get out of there, he needed to get away from the red plants that brushed under his fingertips.

Wait, when had he reached his hands out?

He pulled them back, stumbling a little as he tried to get his feet to move. Anywhere, any direction, it didn’t matter, as long as it got him away. There were little red sprouts everywhere, thin tendrils of vines reaching out.

He couldn’t keep listening. It was uncomfortable, pulling away, but he was doing it. He just needed to ignore the voices long enough to get away, and then—

“Oms?”

He froze, heart lurching. That was Michael's voice.

“Oms . . . lp, I can’t . . . et me out of h . . .”

“Michael?” Tommy whispered. “Can you hear me? Michael?” He was pretty sure he was moving, but he wasn’t paying attention to that anymore. It wasn’t important. If he didn’t focus, he might miss the sound of the faint familiar voice.

“. . . elp, help, I . . . out . . .”

He sounded exactly like he had when he’d been trapped in that burning room. Small and scared and urgent, Tommy needed to find him. He couldn’t let the kid slip from his fingers again.

Please, not again.

The other voices came back, mixing in until he couldn’t tell them apart. It didn’t really matter, though, right? Micheal was one of them; and they were all calling for help. They all needed him.

They grew louder as he focused. He could find them, he just needed to keep listening. They just needed to hang in there, he was coming, he was on his way, just hang on—

There was a faint scream and a sob, and he knew it was Karl. He knew it was because he’d been there. He’s heard it before. It sounded exactly how Karl had back then, in the many times he’d laid under Tommy’s strained hands, hurting while Tommy was forced to push himself too far to keep him alive.

It felt like there was a rope attached to his heart, and someone was tugging on it insistently. If he didn’t follow the pull, it was going to be tugged straight out of his chest, leaving behind a bleeding wound that wouldn’t heal.

There were people who needed help, and Tommy could help. He had to. He’d never been able to turn away from the plea, and he wasn’t going to start. He could do something. He could find them. He could get them out. The voices were clearer now, louder, detangling from each other and they all pulled at him.

There was a voice that sounded like that first person he’d ever run to to help.

There was a scream that sounded like Lullah.

There was a broken cry that sounded like Shroud.

Tommy ran.

“. . . ommy, Tommy help!” Clementine cried.

Clementine?

But Clementine wasn’t alive.

Her voice didn’t . . . it didn’t sound like that anymore. It was supposed to have a strange hollowness to it, and he wasn’t feeling the normal cold that accompanied her presence. And Clementine didn’t need help anymore, not from anyone, she was already . . . she . . .

That wasn’t . . .

It couldn’t be her.

He stumbled, wildly throwing out his hands for something to steady him. Something was off. Was he having a flashback? How could he . . .

His hand found something to grab, and he ground to a halt. He was panting, shaking, clinging to whatever he’d grabbed for dear life. It was dark. Not nighttime-in-the-city dark, it was dark like he was inside a room with no windows. Dark like there was no sky.

A shiver raced down his spine, and it had nothing to do with his phantom powers.

He was holding a rope, maybe, though it wasn’t scratchy. It was attached to a cement wall, intermittent leaves poking out from it.

Wait.

Tommy yanked his hand away like it had been bitten. That was a vine. A vine that, even without any light, he could confidently bet was red as fresh blood.

Whispers pressed at his mind, but Tommy pushed back, shaking his head like it could throw them off it. He was in danger. He was in so, so much danger. His heart kicked in at that thought, going its fastest beat to flood him with adrenaline.

Honestly, his heart did so much heavy lifting when it came to keeping him alive. More than it should.

He needed to get out. He . . . he needed to see. Tommy blinked, trying to look around. It was dark, and cold, and confined. He pulled out a phone and turned on the flashlight.

Cement walls stretched out in front of him in a long tunnel, long ropes of vines clinging to their surface. It reminded him of when XD and Theseus had first shown him the red plants; though now he wasn’t standing anywhere near an entrance, and the plants were no longer sprouts.

He was . . . he was in the city’s drainage tunnels. He had no idea how deep.

A strange feeling crept up the back of his neck. Goosebumps rose in silent warning. Like something else was there. Like he wasn’t alone.

Something was looming over him.

Or behind him.

He held his breath, frozen in place.

Great. Cool. Neat. What—what could possibly be down there with him, in the drainage tunnels covered with red vines? He didn’t want to know. He’d rather never know. He didn’t want to be in a place where he’d have to figure that out.

There was a shuffling sound behind him.

He needed to know.

He needed to know what it was, and whether Tommy could out-run it, and if it could bleed.

Or if it could be put to sleep, maybe.

Did eldritch underground horrors sleep? Did Tommy really need to ask himself that question? Was it not enough that he wasn’t alone, in the dark, under the city, but that he had to start spitballing the worst ideas like an over-eager improv group with anxiety?

Whatever it was, it was getting closer.

He couldn’t keep holding his breath. Heart on his tongue, Tommy turned around with his light to look down the tunnel behind him.

A tall figure with glowing purple eyes stood looming in front of him.

Tommy screamed, scrambling backwards and almost losing grip on his phone. He screamed loud enough that he couldn’t hear the voices in his mind. He screamed loud enough that he almost covered his own ears to block out the sound.

He screamed loud enough that the glowing eyes blinked, jerking back, light dimming.

Tommy stopped screaming. He’d run out of breath. He’d also tripped, and he sat down hard. His brain moved faster than he could think.

Panting, he raised his phone light back to the figure in front of him, whose eyes had stopped glowing entirely.

He blinked.

Blinked again.

“Huh?” the eldritch horror said.

A couple of seconds ticked by in pure silence, before Tommy’s brain finally slowed down enough to understand what it was telling him.

“Ranboo?” He gasped. “What are you doing here?”

Ranboo looked just as confused as he felt, possibly more. He was holding something close, something that had small arms clinging to his neck, and Ranboo seemed to notice it at the same time Tommy did. The child in his arms pulled back his head a little to look up at Ranboo, before burying it back into his neck. But they’d both seen enough of his face.

And recognized it.

“You found Michael?” Tommy asked, stunned.

“I—I . . . uh,” Ranboo stuttered, “. . . maybe?”

“What do you mean maybe? You’re holding him!”

“I don’t know, I just . . . I just woke up to you screaming, scaring the living daylights out of me.” He raised a hand to Micheal’s head, running his fingers through the kid’s hair. Ranboo was wearing minecraft pajamas, Tommy realized. Barefoot, too. Had he been . . . sleepwalking? Underground? Ranboo’s voice was soft as he turned as best he could towards the child tucked under his chin. “Michael? You okay there bud?”

The kid tightened his grip, and then nodded. His voice was so, so small. “Boo?”

“Yeah. Yeah it’s Boo. I’m here. I got you.” He glanced back at Tommy. “ . . . somehow.”

Shock was rocking through him, making it difficult to keep his balance as he stood back up. There was no way they just . . . got Micheal back like that. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? Was he on the side of some street, pulled into some weird plant-induced dream-coma state?

He sure hoped not. He’d like to keep this, as impossible as it seemed.

“So . . . I guess you don’t know where we are either.” Tommy said.

“Uh,” Ranboo looked around with a frown, “drainage tunnels?”

“I mean besides that. Do you know the way out?”

“Oh. Uh, sure, it’s probably . . .” Ranboo peered into the darkness of the tunnel in front of him, and then behind him. And then in front again. “Uh, no, I have no idea actually. But if we pick a direction and just go, we’ll probably make it out. Right?”

Tommy took a deep breath. “That sounds like a great way to make it worse. What if we go the wrong direction? The drainage tunnels are their own network that runs under the entire city. And this is a big city.”

“Wait,” Ranboo said, adjusting his hold on Michael, “how did you get here? I was sleepwalking, but you were obviously awake.”

“I, uh,” Tommy examined the walls and then the floor. How in the world was he going to explain this? “sort of, got put into a trance? I . . . can you hear the voices?”

Ranboo squinted his eyes, confused, before they widened a little. “Oh.”

“Stop listening to them!” Tommy snapped, panicked. Ranboo blinked hard, but nodded. “That’s, uh, that’s how I got here. I was walking around outside and then suddenly I was here.”

“You were walking around outside?” Ranboo made a face. “At night? What time is it?”

“That’s . . . really not important right now. We need to get out of here. Can you teleport us?”

“Oh, right, yeah. I can do that.” Ranboo shifted so he was only using one hand to hold Michael, the other reaching out and grabbing Tommy’s shoulder. “Hang on.”

Tommy felt the pull seconds before they disappeared, tugging at his chest and tangling with the edges of his ribcage. It was taking more time than normal. Something was off.

Vwoop.

The moment they reappeared, an awful screeching sound filled his head. Tommy tore away from Ranboo’s grip, dropping his phone, crying out. He slammed back into a cement wall, pressing one hand against his temple. After taking a sharp breath, he bent over to retrieve his phone and lifted it, looking around.

They were still in the drainage tunnels. Surrounded by vines. Michael was whimpering, pressing his head into Ranboo’s chest. Ranboo himself stood across from him, still as stone.

His eyes were glowing purple again.

Tommy lurched forward, panic rising. He grabbed his shoulder and shook it. “No! Ranboo, snap out of it! Ranboo!”

Ranboo blinked, and the glow faded. He looked confused, shaking his head, and then snapped his eyes to meet Tommy’s, wide with fear. “How long was I out?”

“Not long. Maybe a few seconds.” Tommy said, leaning back with a sigh of relief. That was close. Too close. “It didn’t work. I don’t know how far we moved, but we’re still in the tunnels. Let’s . . . not try teleporting again.”

“Yeah. Yeah, no more teleporting.” Ranboo rubbed circles into Michael's back, offering murmured reassurances.

He could still hear Michael's voice calling out for help in his mind, but he could see the kid. He was curled up against Ranboo. Silent. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him.

It wasn’t real.

Tommy rested his head back against the wall, dragging his hands down his face. He was getting a headache.

More voices crept into the back of Tommy’s mind, begging, pleading, crying. He shook his head, hard. It only made the headache worse. Ignoring their cries was going against everything Tommy had in him. He never ignored pleas for help. He’d never tried to block them out before.

But they weren’t real. They weren’t real. They weren’t real.

He couldn’t fall for it again.

“So, what do we do now?” he asked, his own voice conflicting with the ones in his head. “Call someone?”

“Not my sister.” Ranboo said quickly. “She was just discharged from the hospital, I can’t stress her out with this.”

Tommy chewed on his lip. He didn’t want to suggest it, but . . . “The heroes?”

Ranboo groaned. “Please no, we’d never live it down.”

“Yeah, agreed.”

Silence.

“Uh, what about your parents?” Ranboo suggested.

“Dead.”

“Oh.”

Tommy huffed a breath. “Tubbo?”

“Sleeps like a rock. Wouldn’t wake up to his phone ringing.”

“Rude.”

“Sour grapes.”

“Shut up.”

Silence.

“Do you know literally anyone else?”

Tommy glanced down at the phone in his hand. It was his civilian phone, thankfully. “Uh, I don’t get around much.” He had the Blade’s number, which would be pretty funny, but he didn’t bring it up. “Do you?”

Ranboo hummed, slightly rocking the child in his arms.

Michael.

There hadn’t been any time for it to really sink in. They found Michael.

“Uh, there’s a family friend I could call.” Ranboo said. “He’s helped Niki out a lot, especially before I came to live with her. He might be able to help.”

Tommy tore his gaze away from Michael. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, let me just, um,” He patted at himself with one hand, before looking at Tommy with wide eyes. “I don’t have my phone.”

Tommy groaned. “You wouldn’t happen to have his number memorized?”

“I’m really not good at retaining numbers. Of any kind. I have a pretty terrible memory in general, actually. I think it had a seven in it?”

“Great. Cool. Awesome.”

“I should sleep with my phone in a pocket.” Ranboo muttered. He sighed, resting his head against the kid’s.

Tommy couldn’t see much of the kid, but his heart crept back up to his throat as he realized Micheal’s clothes looked familiar. Too familiar.

They looked like the kind of clothes he’d worn, once.

The kind of clothes that the Federation had used.

“Aw, man. The one time I actually think to call Phil, and I can’t because I don’t have my phone!”

Tommy’s eyes snapped back to Ranboo’s, drawing out of the spiral of thoughts he’d been about to go down. “Who?”

“The guy I want to call.”

“Yeah, I know that. Did you say his name was Phil?”

“Um, yeah?”

There was no way, surely. It was a big city. Phil was a common enough name. There was no way Ranboo’s sister was an old friend of the same Phil that Tommy knew. “Phil.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Is he blond? Like yay tall?” he held out a hand at about Phil’s height. “Kinda old? Likes his coffee straight black?”

“Uh, he’s not like, that old. I mean he’s kinda old. Older than Niki.” Ranboo wrapped his arms tighter around Micheal. The kid didn’t seem to mind. “Wait, you know Phil?”

“No way he’s the same Phil.”

“Do you have his number?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it have a seven in it?”

“Wh—I don’t know! Maybe! I think so, actually.”

“Can we call him?”

“I . . .” He looked back down at his phone. Poor Phil just wasn’t going to catch a break from Tommy, it seemed. He’d literally just gotten out of the man’s hair. “Guess so?”

He walked over to stand next to Ranboo, who shifted to look at his phone screen. Tommy pulled up his contacts.

All two of them. Kristin and Phil.

Because Tubbo and Ranboo were on his hero work phone. And the Blade was on his vigilante one.

“Wow, you really don’t get out much.” Ranboo said.

“Shut up. What do I even say?” Tommy said. “I . . . I barely know the guy.”

Never mind that he crashed at the guy’s house for the night because he felt small and scared and lonely. Never mind that he’d literally seen the guy that morning and eaten his leftovers.

“I mean, I guess I could talk to him?” Ranboo said hesitantly. “Put him on speaker. If I recognize his voice, I’ll talk. If I don’t, you talk.”

“Great.” Tommy said, staring down the contact. “So if he isn’t the Phil you know, I’ll just have a super awkward conversation with the guy who has a crush on my boss.”

“W-what?”

Tommy hit the call button.

It rang three times, and Tommy was about to abandon the call when a half-sleepy, half-panicked voice answered. “Hello? Who is this? Are you okay?”

And, wow, what a way to answer an unknown number.

Ranboo glanced up at Tommy with a nod, clearing his throat. “Hey, Phil, it’s uh, it’s Ranboo. And Tommy.”

“Hi.” Tommy said weakly.

“Ranboo . . . and Tommy.” Phil sounded all sorts of confused. “Wait, and Tommy? Wh—how do you . . . actually, never mind. Are you boys okay?”

“Sort of?” Ranboo offered, helpfully. “We’re kinda lost. I was sleepwalking and Tommy—”

“I was mind-controlled by plants.” Tommy said flatly.

“O . . . kay?”

“Yeah,” Ranboo said, “so we both woke up underground in the city’s drainage tunnels, and we don’t exactly know where. Or how to get out.”

There was a rustling sound on the other end, likely Phil sitting up in his bed. “The drainage tunnels.”

“Yup.” Tommy said.

“We also kinda found a kid.” Ranboo added.

“A kid?”

“Yeah.”

“You found him in the tunnels?”

“Maybe?”

“What do you mean, maybe?”

“I was sleepwalking.”

“Okay,” Phil said, “okay. Three kids, underground. No idea where. Okay. Where’s the last place you remember?”

“‘m not a kid.” Tommy grumbled. “Last I remember, I was in Pogtopia. I don’t know how long ago that was, though.”

“Last I remember I was going to bed.” Ranboo chimed in.

“Right.” Phil said. “Okay. Are you using the phone’s flashlight? Can you look at the walls?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, that’s good. Look at the ceiling. Do you see any symbols?”

Tommy and Ranboo looked at each other, before pointing the light up and squinting at the ceiling. “Symbols?”

“Yeah, people who do maintenance on the tunnels need to be able to navigate them without getting lost, so they marked the different branches—”

“There!” Tommy pointed excitedly. It was a bit further down, but there was a symbol etched in to the cement above them. “It looks like uhhh . . . square with three X’s?”

“Oh wow.” Phil said, which was super not informative at all.

Ranboo leaned closer to the phone screen. “Was that a good ‘oh wow’ or a bad ‘oh wow’?”

“Right, sorry, it was an impressed ‘oh wow’.” Phil said. “You’re under Primepath street; that’s really far from where either of you started.”

Tommy looked up at the other boy, mouthing “Primepath?” with all of the shock he felt running through him.

Ranboo looked back at him with much the same sentiment. “So what now?”

“Now you both choose a direction and start walking. Keep an eye out for if the symbol changes, and try to find a storm drain.” there was a faint sound of a door shutting. “Once you find one, stay there and call me, and I’ll come help remove the manhole cover and get you guys out. I’m on my way right now.”

“Okay.” Tommy said, nodding. Phil hung up.

“Michael?” Ranboo asked softly. “Do you want to choose which way to go?”

The boy barely lifted his head, peeking out for a moment before going back to pressing into Ranboo with a shrug.

“Yeah?” Ranboo said, “I’ll decide then. Let’s go . . . um, that way? I guess?”

He pointed down the long, dark, tunnel, and Tommy led the way, swinging the light between the tunnel ceiling and the vines.

Silence had fallen between them, and it provided too much room to the unwelcome voices that insisted on being heard. Tommy opened his mouth, about to ask something, anything, when he was saved before he could start.

“He’s asleep.” Ranboo said softly behind him. “Hey, you don’t think . . .”

Tommy barely stopped himself from pointing the light directly into his eyes as he turned. “Not normally, no.”

A snort, and then a silent moment before Ranboo continued. “But actually though, you don’t think he’s been down here the whole time, do you? There’s . . . there’s nothing to survive on, and it’s been days . . . and he doesn’t seem like he’s, I don’t know, starving? I mean, I guess if his teeth were really sharp maybe he could eat the vines, but I don’t think they’re really, um, the kinda vines that would just let someone, uh, eat them.”

He didn’t want to think about it. The why’s and the how’s. Of course, that didn’t change a single thing, and he was thinking about it. A lot. It was hurting his head, trying to puzzle it out alongside the voices that pulled at the back of his mind. “No, I don’t think he’s been in the tunnels this whole time.” Tommy said wearily. He glanced over at the sleeping boy, worry knotting in his gut. “Either he wandered down here recently, or . . .”

He chewed on his bottom lip. He was having a hard time imagining the little kid escaping from the Federation on his own, not unless he had help of some sort. “. . . or maybe you were somewhere else before you ended up down here with him.”

Not that Ranboo would know. He’d been sleepwalking.

Tommy was having a hard time picturing that, too. The image of a barefoot, sleepwalking Ranboo in minecraft pajamas just . . . wandering around the Federation’s halls, scooping up Micheal, and leaving . . . it was laughable. It was impossible.

“Maybe he’ll tell us.” Ranboo said.

Tommy swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “I hope so.”

He hoped there was some other crazy wild happenstance going on, and that maybe Michael got lost and taken in by some kind homeless person or something. Anything that wasn’t the only explanation that made sense. Anything that wouldn’t give the kid waking nightmares for the rest of his life.

Tommy pointed the light back at the ceiling, keeping an eye out for any other symbols.

The longer silence stretched between them, the louder the voices rang out. Begging, crying, screaming—

“So your sister was discharged today?” Tommy blurted out.

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah.” Ranboo said. “Well, not today. Yesterday.”

“Sorry she got stabbed. That’s gotta suck.” He was pretty sure he was losing his ability to hold conversation. It was hard to focus.

“You would know. Didn’t the Blade stab you, like, just over a week ago?”

Oh yeah. Huh, he’d forgotten about that. It seemed to have healed. “Something like that. Have, uh, have you been stabbed before?”

“Nah. A good thing too, I don’t know how I’d explain it to Niki. I can barely lie to her as it is. Tubbo tased me once, though.”

“L.” Tommy said, and then frowned. “Wait, you mean she doesn’t know about Voidwalker?”

“I mean, I chose not to go public with my identity.” Ranboo said. “Which means only people I work with can know, and even then I’ve only told you and Tubbo. What, are you saying you told your family?”

Hah. “My family’s dead.”

That, or they think he’s dead.

He was pretty sure his foster mom wasn’t looking to adopt, and he’d always known he wouldn’t stay with them forever. They hadn’t been his first foster home, and, if the Federation had never found him, they wouldn’t have been his last.

Still. To him, they had been like family. Close enough that he thought of them whenever family was brought up.

“Oh, right.” Ranboo said awkwardly. “Sorry.”

Tommy shrugged; his mind was too busy for it to be a stiff gesture, so he actually pulled off making it look casual. He tried to picture telling his foster mom that he was the hero Blink. He couldn’t see it going well. She would tell the Captain that he’d lied about his age, for one thing.

He wondered if Void had lied about that, too, or if being a minor was actually a deal breaker for being a hero. He’d kinda just assumed it was. Tubbo was legally emancipated, or at least that’s what he’d said, but he wondered what arrangement Void had with the Heroes. He’d never asked.

Mostly, though, he didn’t think he’d have an answer for his foster mom if she asked him why he had her daughter’s powers. He didn’t really know himself. It wasn’t like he could steal other peoples’ powers; he’d never met anyone with phantoms of their own, or who could put others to sleep with a touch. He’d never tried to take anyone’s powers.

When he discovered them, he’d been too busy trying to survive, too busy trying to keep it hidden from . . . him. There wasn’t room to try to figure out things like why or how.

“There!” Ranboo said, snapping him back to the present. Up ahead, there was a slit of pale blue light coming from the top of the wall, just where it met the ceiling. On the wall across from it, rungs of a ladder stuck out from the cement.

Tommy let out a breath of relief. “You didn’t see any different symbols, did you?” he swung the light around to check.

“No, I think we’re still under Primepath.”

Tommy turned around his phone and called Phil.

“Did you find a storm drain?” Phil asked. He sounded out of breath.

“Yeah.” Tommy said. “Have you been running this whole time?”

Phil skipped over that question. “I’m on Primepath now. Can you reach out of the tunnel? Make some noise?”

Tommy glanced over at Ranboo, and then Michael, still asleep. “I might be able to reach out. Maybe I could play a noise on my phone and stick it out? I don’t want to startle the kid with us.”

“Yeah, try that. I’m almost to one of the drains, and I know where the others are. It shouldn’t take me too long. You’re still in the Primepath tunnels, right?”

“Yeah. Symbols didn’t change.”

It took about ten minutes of Tommy playing alarm ringtones out of the storm drain before Phil found them. The guy got down on his knees to peer down at them. “You guys okay?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. Ranboo gave an awkward wave. “Super ready to get out of here.”

“I bet.” Phil frowned, straightening up for a moment like he was listening for something, and then bending back down. “You sure picked a weird spot to get stuck.”

“Gotta be good at something, I guess.” Ranboo said with a shrug.

Tommy snorted.

With a few minutes of struggle, Phil got the heavy manhole cover off. “Alright, let’s get you out of there.”

Ranboo went up first, passing up Michael once he was within Phil’s reach. Once he’d made it out, Tommy followed.

Well, he tried to. The moment Tommy hoisted his weight onto the first rung, a voice cut through his head, sharp as a scalpel.

“Wait no, please! Don’t leave! I’m sorry, please. Please don’t leave me. Come back, I’m sorry!”

Tommy clenched his teeth, curling in on the ladder rungs. The voice was so clear, so strong, and it sounded like everyone he’s ever known. If he tried to figure out who, specifically, he was pretty sure it would make him pass out. He might just pass out anyway.

“Please, please, help me. I’m trapped. Don’t leave. Help! Come back!”

It sounded like Shroud. It sounded like Clementine. It sounded like Karl. It sounded—it—

Tommy reached a shaking hand up to the next rung.

“Theseus!”

He heaved himself up.

“Icarus!”

Pulled his foot onto the next rung.

“Orpheus!”

Reached another hand.

“Blink!”

Another foot.

“Shuteye!”

A hand.

“TOMMY!”

Strong hands gripped his arms, pulling him out. He staggered a few steps and then sat down. Hard. His hands pressed against his head, trying to push away the pounding headache. He was shaking.

“Hey, hey, you with me?” Phil’s voice cut through, close and worried. “You’re okay. You’re out. You’re all out. It’s okay.”

Tommy leaned into his words, soft and soothing and everything he’s ever wanted to hear. His face was cold. No, wet. He was crying. Or at least, tears were escaping. He wasn’t making a sound, aside from his wobbly breathing.

“Hold on, I’m gonna get that manhole cover back on. I can hear the plants from over here.”

Tommy nodded, barely processing. At least Phil could hear them too. At least he didn’t think Tommy was crazy. He was just . . . he was . . . he was just going to breathe.

Yeah, breathing was probably a good idea.

Stupid stuff was supposed to happen without having to think about it, but he’d sort it out. Teach himself how to breathe for the millionth time. It would be automatic again soon.

Hopefully.

Vaguely, he heard the scraping noise of Phil dragging the heavy manhole lid back into place. Vaguely, it occurred to him that the situation was a little bit funny. Or it would be, in just a little bit.

Phil, running down the quiet streets, and then pulling two teenagers and a tiny child out of the drainage tunnels.

Yeah, that was gonna be funny in a couple minutes.

Small hands rested hesitantly on his knee, and Tommy unfolded himself enough to blink up at the source of the touch.

Michael had scooted next to him, peering into his face with worry.

Tommy stared back, too many conflicting emotions hitting him at once. Because now, the faint light of dawn was seeping into the sky, and he was able to finally see the kid properly.

He could see the burn scar that covered the area around the kid’s right eye, all the way up to his singed hairline.

Michael had been in a burning room when Tommy first met him, and he’d left without a scratch. Ranboo had said it was likely the kid had powers that made him fire-resistant.

So how—

“Oms?”

He took a shuddering breath. “Hey, Michael.”

The boy stared at him solemnly and then nodded, like he’d just said something profound. “‘Kay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m—I’ll be okay. You okay?”

The boy ducked his head and stared at the ground, fingering the fabric of Tommy’s jeans still under his tiny hand.

“That’s—that’s alright.” Tommy croaked. One last tear slipped out. “You’re safe now. You can be okay later.”

Ranboo scooted close, curling around Michael where he sat. Phil slowly lowered himself on Tommy’s other side. Man, the guy had to be so confused. Still, he didn’t ask, didn’t push. He just sat at Tommy’s side, like a wall he could lean on.

And maybe he did, a little bit. For however long it took for the sun to peek over the horizon.

Once again, Tommy thought about how everything must have looked to an onlooker without any context. Phil fishing out three kids from a storm drain and then watching him have a small, wearied breakdown.

The laugh escaped from him before he realized it was there.

It was a little hysterical, a little teary, but it made Phil crack a grin. After a moment, Ranboo joined in with a breathy laugh of his own. Micheal’s eyes bounced between them, hesitancy slowly easing into something relaxed, something that was maybe a cousin to a smile.

That could have been a disaster. That could have been a nightmare. It kinda had been, really.

But they got out. They had Michael. They were okay. They were huddled on the sidewalk as the city woke up, laughing from relief and exhaustion and happiness. Tommy had someone to lean on, and a much smaller someone leaning on his knee, and behind that smaller someone sat a . . . a friend.

He had friends.

The thought should terrify him. It had before. It might later. But for the moment, it felt like golden warmth. It felt like relief.

Maybe, Tommy thought, maybe he was going to be alright.

Notes:

Michael's back! Yay! See, I told you guys he'd be fine. Look at him. Hmmmm ignore the burn scar. He's fine!
Also there is like, very little pre-written stuff from here on out, so updates are slowing down. But never fear, every time I read an unfinished or slowly updating fic, I spend all my grieving time where I wish for more, writing this. It's great motivation. Also I'm suffering.

Chapter 15: Lesson 15: Remember, You Aren’t The Only One With A Secret

Notes:

*Emerges from the void to chuck a chapter at you and then disappear again*

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tommy was tired.

Which was to say; it was a normal, regular day, like every day before. Ranboo had taken Micheal to the police station to get him properly returned to his foster mother, and Tommy couldn’t get past his fear of being recognized in order to follow. Oddly enough, Phil seemed to also not want to go inside the police station, so the two of them walked Ranboo and Michael most of the way and then parted ways.

He felt guilty about leaving Ranboo to navigate the whole thing himself, but he wasn’t wearing anything to hide his identity, and what if that was the mistake that finally pushed the dominoes to fall? Just before leaving, he’d told Ranboo to be careful and to make sure the boy made it to whatever home waited for him. It was a lot to ask.

Especially when Tommy was too cowardly to do it himself.

But Ranboo had simply nodded, a determined look on his face. Tommy trusted that he’d be thorough in keeping the kid safe. As it was, Tommy had an early morning shift at work.

Coincidently, Phil had to go the same direction for a bit to get back to his house. It was nice, he supposed, to have the man walk with him for the first half of the brisk walk to work. There was something inherently safer in walking through the waking city side by side with the man who’d pulled him out of a storm drain only a few hours ago.

There was also something so very awkward about it, too.

“So how do you know Ranboo?” Phil asked.

Great. Yeah. No way Tommy was going to out both his and Ranboo’s hero identities, but what could he say instead? He didn’t get out much, and everyone he met was either through the coffee shop or rather odd circumstances. He didn’t want to say they worked together, because he didn’t know what Ranboo’s cover story for his job was, and Phil knew everyone that worked at the coffee shop.

“We met at the skatepark.” He said instead. It felt like the truth, since that had been the first time he’d met Ranboo outside of work, and found out his real name. “He took a skateboard straight down the stairs while eating dry ramen noodles like they were a granola bar. Of course I had to go talk to the weirdo.”

Phil laughed. “He does know how to make a first impression. The first time I met him, he managed to shoot himself in the foot with a nail gun.”

Tommy choked on air. “What?”

“I know. I’m not even sure where he got the stupid thing.”

Tommy grinned, and wondered how long ago that had been, and if Ranboo had met Tubbo yet; because if there was anyone who he could picture randomly having a nail gun on hand, it was Tubbo.

How Foolish survived training both of them, he didn’t know.

“Well,” Phil said, slowing as they reached another intersection, “this is where I part ways. Try not to get lost in more tunnels for a while, yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah, thanks Phil.”

He watched the man walk away until the crosswalk light changed. Straightening his shoulders, Tommy hurried off to his job. With such a wild start to the morning, a long day at the coffee shop was going to be just the right balance of calm and predictable to even things out.

 

------

 

“We have whole, two percent, lactose free, and almond milk.”

The man across the register stared at Tommy like he was offended that a barista couldn’t read minds. “I don’t want dairy in it.”

Tommy nodded. “We can do almond milk, then.”

“No, I don’t want any nuts. I want dairy-free milk.”

His finger hovered over the screen as he processed the man’s words. “So . . . lactose free?”

The man made a frustrated huff. “No, I don’t want lactose free; I want dairy-free.”

Tommy stared back at him. It was probably a good thing this customer couldn’t hear his thoughts. He pulled up a strained smile. “Sir, dairy just means it contains milk. Our almond milk is the only dairy-free—”

“This is ridiculous! I just want cow’s milk without the dairy, what’s so hard about that?”

He was going to have a stroke. In fact, he was considering faking one just to get away from this man. “I’m sorry sir, we don’t have that here. Perhaps you could try another cafe?”

“No, I want to speak to the manager. Either you’re lying to me, or you’re lacking a basic coffee shop staple!” The man was getting red in the face. “And you’re not allowed to be out of those!”

It was such a good thing that this man hadn’t come in when he’d tried to fix the espresso machine. He would probably have spontaneously combusted.

Much like an espresso machine Tommy knew of . . .

He kept his voice firm. “The manager won’t be in until—”

“Then give me a number!” The irritated man demanded. “I can’t believe I have to—”

“Just let it go, man.”

Both Tommy and the customer turned their attention to the new voice. A teenager stood next in line, hands shoved in the pockets of a threadbare hoodie with a bored look on his face. Dirty blond hair poked out of the hood, just barely brushing over his eyes.

“Excuse me?” the dairy fanatic said. His eyebrows shot into his hairline, never to be seen again.

Rest in peace, eyebrows.

“Sure.” the teenager responded, his tone flat. “You’re excused. Can I get my coffee now?”

Tommy had to fight for his life to hold back his grin so the mad customer didn’t blow a fuse. He liked this new guy. Hoodie-boy was his new favorite hero. A legend. A man of the people. Tommy would follow him into fire if he asked.

He probably wouldn’t, though, so he’d have to settle for a good cup of coffee.

“I’m reporting this establishment to the authorities!” he waggled a finger at hoodie-boy. “I’ll shut this place down!”

“Okay. Thank you for your service.” the teenager replied evenly. “Have a nice day.”

“I won’t!” the man said, and he stormed out.

The kid nodded. “Cool.”

Tommy looked his new best friend in the eye. “I would follow you into battle.”

“I really just need coffee.” Now that he was closer to the register, his eyes did look a little blood-shot. There were some shadowed circles beneath them. “Do you still have the redeye special?”

“Is it exams week already?” Tommy asked, typing in the order. It wasn’t the five-shot espresso monstrosity that Techno had ordered—because that drink was borderline illegal—but it was definitely the go-to drink for if you needed to pull an all-nighter after already being awake for thirty-six hours.

“Nah. I just work security.”

Tommy hesitated, glancing up at the guy. As someone who had a case of baby-face and still insisted on pretending he was two years older than he was, he wasn’t really in a place to judge. He was just surprised, is all.

He shrugged, putting in his work ID to give the guy his employee discount, which brought the total to the low, low price of free. “Can I get a name for the order?”

“Grayson.”

Heh. Gray. His worn-down purple hoodie didn’t match the name.

Clementine would approve.

“Great, I’ll call your name when it’s ready.”

“I didn’t pay.”

Tommy spun around with a wave. “And you never will, my good dude. Not on my watch.”

He got a snort in response.

With a grin, he started making the drink. Thus far the day had been fairly busy. Tommy was super okay with that, because it made the time fly by, and also shut up the echoed memories of the red vines’ voices that stuck to the back of his mind like a negative afterimage stuck to closed eyelids.

Unfortunately, after finishing Grayson’s drink, there was a lull to that busyness.

He wiped down every surface in sight and re-organized the refrigerator in an effort to stall his thoughts until a new customer could come in, but he had no such luck.
What if one of those voices had been real? What if there had been someone else lost in the tunnels? What if . . .

Tommy shook his head, glaring at his register. He was going to buy a flamethrower and point it at the vines until it did something to them. There was enough going on inside his mind as it was, he didn’t need to add mind-controlling voices to the list.

Frustrated with himself, he ducked into the back room to grab his phone from where he’d left it charging. He’d intended to text Ranboo to see how things were going, but the guy had beat him to it.

He said that Michael’s foster mom had invited him over for breakfast so that Michael could have a smoother transition to being home. The boy had remained pretty clingy, it seemed. Ranboo then proceeded to mention an idea he got while there that involved a waffle maker and spaghetti. It was enough to pull out an amused huff as Tommy texted him back.

 

Big man: What did Michael say about how he got out?

 

Ranboo responded almost right away.

 

Boo: Not much. He mostly wouldn’t say anything, but when they asked him where he had been, he said a ‘bad man’ had him.

Boo: So the case is officially considered a kidnapping and not a runaway.

 

Tommy’s throat was strangely dry. There were several people he could consider ‘bad man’ from when the Federation had him, but there was only one who he refused to remember. Only one whose name he knew—and yet couldn’t bring himself to think of, much less say, his name.

He shut his eyes, slowly letting out the breath somehow trapped inside his lungs.

Everything had been white. Bleached, clinical, pale, white white white. The walls, the beds, the clothes they always had to wear—the clothes that Michael had been wearing—; no matter how bloody things got, by the time they’d bring Tommy back to use his healing again, it was back to the sickening, blinding, awful white.

Except for the eyes.

The soulless, haunting, black squares where his eyes peered out at him.

Tommy had never seen the man’s bare face, but he was sure he’d know if he ever saw it—without the medical mask that covered nose and mouth and the half-mask that covered forehead and eyes.

The sickly skin. The X-stitches that peeked out of the edges of his mask. The bushy white hair. The cold monotone voice.

‘Bad man’ indeed.

The conductor of his waking nightmares.

A shiver ran down his spine. His neck felt cool, the short hairs below his hairline rising in response, as if he was breathing down it.

Cucurucho.

Tommy’s eyes shot open, his breathing fast and shallow. He needed to run. Hide. Brace himself. Scream.

He shoved his phone into his pocket, clenching his jaw. The backroom he stood in filtered back into his vision. The sound system they still couldn’t get installed was shoved into a corner at his feet. The smell of ground coffee beans hung in the air.

He was at work.

He’d made it out.

He wasn’t that frightened kid anymore.

He wasn’t.

He wasn’t.

He was.

The smile he pulled onto his face wasn’t his, but he wore it because it was the only armor he had. How he felt was his secret. What he remembered was his secret. Who he really was, was his secret.

He returned to his place at the register. The hours dragged after that.

 

------

 

He was running through the motions of closing when his hero phone rang. The long shadows that the surrounding buildings cast outside spoke of a sunset starting somewhere above them.

All too ready to talk while he finished cleaning up, Tommy answered his phone, wedging it between his cheek and shoulder. “Boo! What’s up?”

Heavy, shuddering breaths met his ears. “Tommy. Tommy, I don’t know what to do. I—I—” a sob broke off his words.

The sound of it was like being doused with ice water.

“Whoah, it’s okay, I’m here.” Tommy reached up to hold the phone tightly in his hand. “What’s wrong? Is it Michael?”

Please not Michael. They only just got him back.

“N-no, he’s fine, it’s—I just . . . I found something I’m not supposed to and it’s dangerous and I’m running and I can’t—can’t teleport. It's too—I’m scared.”

Tommy's mind raced. Some tiny voice in the back of his mind told him it could be anything, there were so many dangerous things to discover and run from in their city. It wasn’t always the specific monsters that haunted his mind.

That voice was drowned out by a very loud, ever-ready panic that screamed ‘The Federation! The Federation!’ over and over and over—

“Where are you?” Tommy tore off his apron, rushing out of the cafe. He didn’t bother to lock the door behind him. There was no time. He tried to keep his voice steady despite the running and the fear and the heart in his throat. “I'm coming. I'm coming.”

“Forty-nine and fifth,” his voice was shaking. “Behind the diner.”

“Okay, it's gonna be okay.” Tommy said. “I’m on the way, I'll be there soon. Are you being chased? How close are they?”

“Um, I—I don't know. I don't know if I'm being chased, I just ran. I—I'm gonna hide back here.”

“I’ll be there soon,” he said. He knew some shortcuts. He could run fast. He could make it. “Just stay hidden, I’m coming. You’re gonna be okay.”

“O-okay.”

Tommy hung up, pocketing the phone so he could clamber up a fire escape to take the risky but much faster rooftop route. The sound of Ranboo’s voice had Tommy’s heart in his throat. He’d never heard the guy sound so frightened before.

He wasn’t sure what he could do once he reached his friend, if he had to fight he would have to do so without a mask, without powers, without a weapon. Maybe he should have invested in a taser or something to carry around at all times.

After all, no one that wanted to attack Tommy would wait for him to get prepared first. And he kept going outside without a mask on.

He ran to the roof’s edge and lept to the next one before his fear of falling could catch up. His heart was already pounding its way out of his chest anyway, so even after the fear caught up with him, he kept jumping over yawning gaps.

Forty-nine and fifth. The coffee shop wasn’t too far from fifth street, but forty-ninth . . .

He was just over halfway there when his other pocket vibrated. Frowning, he pulled out the phone and glanced down. It was Orpheus's phone. He looked at the ID and . . . and why was Nemesis calling him?

He tried to even out his breathing as he answered. “It’s kinda—” his breathing rebelled against being evened out. “—a weird time to call, Nem.”

The nickname for the villain had more to do with lack of breath than familiarity. He’d talked to her a total of like, two times.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to do. I need to ask for a personal favor.” Her voice was tight and she was breathing almost as hard as him, like she was on the edge of panicking. “My brother just found out my identity in a really bad way and now I can’t find him. He’s scared and it's late and—and I need to find him. If I describe him to you, can you have your phantoms look?”

Something twisted in his gut.

He paused in the middle of a rooftop. It was too strange of a coincidence. There was no way.

“You have a brother?”

She made a strangled sound. “Yes, he’s super tall, like 6’3, and his hair is a black and white split-dye. His name’s Ranboo. Please help me, I’ll give you anything.”

No way.

Tommy’s head was racing. Ranboo’s sister… was Nemesis? And Ranboo was scared because he’d found something dangerous. Something he wasn’t supposed to see.

It wasn’t the Federation. For once in Tommy’s life, it wasn’t the Federation. Ranboo was . . .

He was scared of his sister.

“Orpheus?” She was definitely panicking.

“I’ll find him.” He said, bursting into a run again and making a risky leap with the phone still against his ear. “Don’t worry, Nem. He’s gonna be fine.”

“Okay. Okay thanks.”

“I’ll let you know what I find.” Tommy hung up. His eyes flared silver, and shadowed forms rose around him.

“Find Nemesis, tell me where she is.” He said, and his phantoms scattered.

His pounding feet fought to keep him upright while his mind fought to realign his colliding worlds. His original plan hadn’t changed much; Ranboo still needed him, and he was still going to keep him safe. That much stayed the same, no matter how many identities got involved. He’d told Nemesis the truth when he said her brother would be fine, because he wouldn’t let it be any other way.

Yes, Orpheus would keep his promise to Nemesis and find Ranboo for her.

But Tommy was getting there first.

Notes:

It's a shorter one today; and yes, it's because I had to split one chapter into two. It balances out though because I had to delete the chapter that was supposed to come after this one because it doesn't fit anymore.
Anyway *jazz hands* hope you liked it.

Chapter 16: Lesson 16: Have You Considered Crying?

Notes:

I am a dragon and my hoard of choice is your comments. Y'all are amazing

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Tommy landed with his knees bent, taking the brunt of the last story that this particular fire escape didn’t cover. Because what says fire safety like falling the final ten feet?

“Ranboo?” Tommy called softly, running down the alleyway to the back of the diner.

A sob answered.

Ranboo was not very well hidden. He was, however, curled up impressively small considering his height, and tucked into a corner. He raised his head, mismatched eyes wide with fear and wet with tears. He was shaking so hard that Tommy didn’t think the guy could stand up if he tried.

Tommy knelt next to his friend, taking his cold shaking hands into his warm sort-of steady ones. “Hey man. I’m here. You’re safe with me, okay? Breathe.”

Ranboo nodded his head, trying to breathe deep and getting choked. His face was so pale. There was full-blown panic in his eyes, but they stayed locked on Tommy as he struggled to take another deep breath.

“M-my sister—” he gasped, and Tommy felt Ranboo’s heartbeat speed up.

“Not now.” He said. “Tell me in a bit. Just breathe. We have time. Trust me.”

He would make time, if he had to. He didn’t call himself Tommy Problem Innit for nothing.

They sat there for a few minutes, until Ranboo’s shaking wasn’t rattling his teeth anymore. “It’s bad, Tommy.” He said, voice cracking.

“Okay.” Tommy said. “I’m ready for bad.”

Ranboo shook his head, but continued anyway. “My s—I ran into Nemesis. I know her identity. A-and she knows that I know her identity.” His breath hitched. “She’s—she’s—”

“Nemesis is at the docks.” Clementine whispered into Tommy’s ear.

Tommy gave a nod, both to Ranboo and Clementine.

Ranboo’s voice dropped to a pained whisper. “She’s my sister. Niki.” He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face into his folded up knees. The shaking got worse.

“Oh.” Tommy said dumbly, even though he’d already figured it out. It was still hard to process. “Oh, Ranboo, that’s—I’m sorry, man.”

His voice came out muffled. “I think she’s looking for me. I don’t know where to go.”

Tommy wished he had a home that he could take Ranboo to. He wished he could say ‘stay at my place’ and have somewhere to take him. He needed a place to take him.

Now was not the time to tell Ranboo he was homeless.

“Why didn’t you call Tubbo?” Tommy asked. Because as much as Tommy was his friend, he didn’t think he was the first person Ranboo would call in a situation like this.

Also, Tubbo had a place to go to. They’d been there. It was a bit far from where they were, nearly across the city, but it was definitely big enough for one of them to stay over, as long as they didn’t mind sharing space with a few plants. Tubbo wouldn’t mind.

“I did, but he didn’t pick up.” Ranboo pressed his head against his legs harder. “I don’t know; our patrols have messed with his sleep schedule, he might have gone to bed already. You know he’s a—a really heavy sleeper. Probably didn’t hear it ring.”

“Right, yeah that makes sense.” Tommy nodded. He doubted Tubbo had a decent sleep schedule to start with. “Okay give me a second, I’ll figure it out. Just breathe for a minute, yeah? I’m still with you.”

Ranboo nodded, not lifting his head. Tommy stood and turned away, first pulling out Blink’s phone to text Tubbo.

 

Big Man: EMERGENCY I’m bringing Ranboo to your apartment, please text me if you get this. He isn’t hurt physically, but he needs a place to stay.

Big Man: If you don’t wake up we’re coming in anyway.

Big Man: :)

 

He glanced over at his friend as he swapped his phone for Orpheus’s, his fingers hovering for a few beats. Nemesis was over at the docks. Why she thought her brother would run away to the docks was beyond him, but that wasn’t any of his business. What mattered was that they had time to leave before she got there.

 

Orpheus: forty-nine and fifth. He’s freaked out but there’s a friend with him

 

Freaked out seemed like a little bit of an understatement, but it was close enough. Hopefully knowing that he was with a friend would keep her from panicking too much.

 

Nemesis: thank you. I owe you big time

Orpheus: just be careful. kid looks fragile

Nemesis: I will

 

Tommy sighed, putting the phone away. Alright. One step at a time. No problem, not now that Ranboo had him. And Blink, too, if he needed him. Even if that meant the Syndicate got to figure out Blink’s civilian identity. He could deal with that.

Tommy would keep him safe. If Nemesis pushed too far he’d get Ranboo out, one way or another.

“Okay.” He said, crouching down next to Ranboo again. “Let’s get out of here. I’m taking you to Tubbo’s.”

Ranboo pulled his head up, sniffing. Tommy held out his hand, and after a moment, he took it and stood up on shaky legs. Neither of them let go.

“Tubbo’s?”

“Yeah, I sent him a text that we’re coming.”

Ranboo shook his head. “He’s not going to wake up.”

“Then we’ll break in.” Tommy shrugged. “I’m sure he won’t mind. Or you can just teleport us past the door, right?”

“No, no I—I can’t!” Panic crept back into his voice. “I’ve been trying and I can’t focus and when I can I’m not able to control where I go and last time I—”

“Okay, okay that’s fine.” Tommy said. “I can pick a lock if I have to. Don’t worry about it.” He’d need some lockpick tools, but he was pretty sure he had a bag with some, somewhere between there and Tubbo’s. Or he could improvise, and use a . . . a good kick right next to the doorknob, where the door was weakest.

He’d help Tubbo fix it later.

“I’d take you to my place but . . .” but he didn’t have one. “It’s a really cheap place, I don’t even have a couch you could sleep on. And it’s in a neighborhood where the Syndicate are sighted frequently.”

“Oh.” Ranboo said, his eyes going unfocused. He probably hadn’t heard half of what Tommy had said. “Okay.”

“Do you want me to be Blink?” Tommy asked.

“Huh?”

“I have a backup mask nearby that I could grab.” Never mind it looked suspiciously like Orpheus’s face mask. He would probably have to outright say ‘I’m the hero Blink’ and disappear in front of them for anyone to make the right connection. At least he wore red and white as a civilian. “Or I could stay invisible while we walk, as a secret weapon. Do you want me to go with you as Blink? People wouldn’t think twice of a hero leading you somewhere to get help. Either way, I’ll fight anyone that tries to stop us, if you rather I be Tommy.”

“You’re off duty.”

Tommy shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. Do you want Blink?”

Ranboo was quiet for a minute. “No. I want Tommy. I want you to be visible.”

“Okay.” A warm feeling spread through his core at that. It was nice to be wanted for just . . . being Tommy. He poked his head out the alley and then hurried them both across a street, ducking into another alley. “Tubbo’s is a little far from here, still a ways to go.”

Ranboo squeezed his hand. “Okay.”

They squirreled their way down a few more alleyways. Tommy kept glancing back at his friend. Ranboo was jumpy, and shaking, but his expression had gone distant. Like it couldn’t bear his emotions. Tommy could understand that feeling. “Hang in there.”

At least his face wasn’t as pale as before. He probably wasn’t going to have to deal with a passed-out 6’3 beanpole of a person in some random alley.

Probably.

Tommy could have super-strength as a power and it would still be difficult to carry a man who insisted on being all limbs. All limbs and such a flexible back that he might not actually have a spine. So like a cat, in a way.

They turned a corner, and he stopped dead, tightening his grip to almost bone-crushing. It was enough to startle Ranboo to a stop.

Nemesis stood down the alleyway, hands held out in a placating gesture. It didn’t really help, though, considering her hands themselves could very well be weapons. Tommy really wished he knew what her powers were. He should have asked.

The noise that came from Ranboo’s throat sounded more creature than human.

Tommy shoved Ranboo fully behind him. “Stay back.” He said fiercely.

Nemesis stayed where she was. “Please, I just want to talk. I won’t hurt you.”

Ranboo was shaking hard enough that Tommy started to worry he’d fall. A coherent conversation seemed out of the question. “He doesn’t want to talk.”

Nemesis took a step forward, and Tommy shifted his feet to hold his weight evenly, bending his knees to center it. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Ranboo he’d fight anyone. Nemesis could take it. In fact, Nemesis could probably win the fight. “Don’t get any closer. You can say what you want from there, and then you can leave.”

“Ran—”

Ranboo’s hand jolted in his grip.

“Don’t say his name.” Tommy snapped.

Nemesis took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said quietly, “I know you’re scared. I know I messed this up. It’s just . . . it’s getting dark and I’m worried about you, please come home. I don’t have to be there. I’ll stay away if you want me to. Just . . . I want you safe.”

A small, hollow laugh came from Ranboo. “Safe? Y-you think me, going back there, will be safe?”

It was dark, and she was wearing a mask, but Tommy was pretty sure he saw her wince. “I never wanted you to get caught up in my world. The Syndicate won’t ever bother you. I swear you’d be okay.”

Ranboo stayed solidly behind Tommy, his voice small and cracked. “I can take care of myself.”

“Ran—” she cut herself off this time, biting her lower lip.

And that’s when her identity finally sank in for Tommy. Because this was Niki, the half-sister who Ranboo and Tubbo talked about. Niki, who fixed Ranboo’s pajamas because she felt bad about accidentally ripping them. Niki, who worried about his sleep-walking. Niki, who was his legal guardian—

“I love you.” She said softly. “I just want you s—”

“I am safe.” Ranboo snapped. He stepped closer, and Tommy hesitantly shifted over to give him space next to him. His voice changed into something firmer, something stronger. “And I keep others safe too, I keep them safe from people like you.”

Nemesis—Niki—took a small step back, something in her posture deflating. It was getting too dark to see her eyes behind her black lace mask, but they glinted in a way that made him think of tears.

Ranboo was steadier now, seemingly drawing confidence from thin air, though he still didn’t so much as lighten his hold of Tommy’s hand.

That was just fine with him.

“I won’t reveal your identity, but I—I won’t go back there either." Ranboo said, voice dipping. Tommy squeezed his hand lightly.

"The next time I see you,” and he paused, like his resolve was fading too soon. Like he wasn't sure that he wouldn't regret his next words. “I’ll arrest you on the spot.”

Barely a second later, they disappeared in a cloud of purple particles.

 

------

 

Before he could process that he'd been teleported, Tommy tripped over a potted plant, and that was enough to tell him where they’d ended up. He let go of Ranboo’s hand in a desperate attempt to not drag the guy down with him. Face down on the floor, one hand flung into the soil of another pot, the other pinned under his chest, Tommy let himself relax.

They’d made it to Tubbo’s.

“I knew you could do it.” Tommy said into the carpet. He lifted his head, looking back at his friend.

Ranboo had sunk down to sit on the floor, his face crumpling into the start of a breakdown. And . . . yeah, that checked out. It was as good a place as any to have one.

Tommy detangled himself from the plants, righting the ones he’d knocked over. He picked his way to Tubbo’s small kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Soda and energy drinks filled up most of the space. The only food inside was deli meat, sliced cheese, pickles, mayo, and a single bag of baby carrots. Tommy shut the door and scrounged through the cabinets until he found a nearly empty bag of chips and a glass, which he filled with water.

He put everything down next to Ranboo, and then made his way down to the short hallway that held Tubbo's bedroom, a bathroom, and a mystery door he’d never opened.

Tubbo was, indeed, tucked into bed and sound asleep. That was good. It was a best case scenario for why he hadn’t been answering his phone, only ranking slightly above losing said phone. It was charging on his nightstand, waiting for him to check in the morning and get caught up on the presence of his sudden visitors.

He quietly shut that door and took a cursory glance at the bathroom before passing it to open the mystery door, where to his great joy, he found it to be a linen closet. Well, the top half was. The bottom was gardening soil and empty pots and a watering can.

He grabbed some blankets and hauled them over to Tubbo’s couch, setting them down and removing an old laptop and some dishes from the cushions.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he carefully walked back over the potted garden of a living room to sit down next to Ranboo. “I didn’t find any tissues,” he said.

Ranboo laughed between his tears, wiping at his face with the end of his sleeve. “I guess I’ll survive without them,” he said.

Tommy nodded, staring at a plant in front of him, unsure what else to say. He’s helped more crying strangers on the streets as a vigilante than he has with crying friends on a living room floor.

He’d also tried to help crying kids with blood trailing down their skin, surrounded by white walls, white coats, white lights . . .

But he didn’t think about those times.

“What do I do, Tommy?” Ranboo asked in a raspy voice.

He felt like he wasn’t really a good person to ask. The solutions he came up with to solve his problems boiled down to lying, running away, and pointing the Syndicate at whatever scared him; the last of which not being very applicable in this case.

“I guess you . . . drink something and maybe take a shower to relax, and then you sleep on Tubbo’s couch that I’m pretty sure is half potting soil at this point,” Tommy waved a hand at said furniture, “and then you help Tubbo get something to eat that isn’t sandwiches and chips. Surely he can afford a bit more variety on his hero salary.”

Ranboo pulled his knees close and tucked them under his chin. “And what if I see Niki the next time I’m out?”

“I think arresting her or running away are both pretty solid options.” Tommy offered. “It didn’t seem like she’d try anything crazy like kidnap you or something, but if you’re really worried you can take some days off work and stay in for a while. Or stop going on patrols and ask for more office work until things calm down.”

“She’s my legal guardian.” Ranboo said faintly. “What happens if I need her?”

And that . . . he didn’t have a good answer to that.

On the one hand, Ranboo was asking what to do if he ended up in the hospital or needed to sign documents or had to show up in court or something; but on the other hand, he was asking so much more. What was he going to do if he woke up scared and all he wanted was his big sister to calm him down? What happens if he has questions about his own future, and the person he usually turns to, isn’t there? What if he can't handle doing the adult work without help? What if he misses her?

What if he needs her?

“I don’t know,” Tommy admitted. “I never had a—a Niki. I imagine you’re going to miss her a lot. You guys sounded . . . close.”

Ranboo pressed his side into Tommy’s arm. “Yeah. I—I thought so, at least.”

Tommy’s heart thudded dully against his ribcage, his skin going cold at the thought of Ranboo discovering who Orpheus was. He wasn’t officially recognized as a part of the Syndicate, but there had been opportunity for him to be seen with them by now. Associated with them.

Maybe he should lie low as Orpheus for a while.

“Just because she hid this from you, doesn’t mean the other stuff wasn’t true.” Tommy said. He stared up at the ceiling, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “Maybe, I don’t know, maybe she cared so much that she was scared of you finding out.”

“That she’s on the city’s top wanted list?” Ranboo said dryly, turning his head to look at Tommy. “Yeah, she probably didn’t. I could turn her in.”

“But she didn’t kick you out of the house.” Tommy pointed out. “She didn’t nullify her guardianship. There were probably easier ways to make sure you didn’t uncover her secret. I’m not saying it shouldn’t hurt or anything, I’m just . . . it’s . . . maybe there’s still a chance you can, I don’t know, talk. Like, later.”

Ranboo returned to staring forward. “. . . maybe.”

“I just don’t want you to think that everything is lost, I guess.” Tommy whispered.

“It kinda feels like it.”

“Yeah.” he sighed. “I get that.”

“How did you deal with it? Losing everything?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. “What makes you think I have?”

“I mean, your parents are . . . um, dead.”

He snorted. Not because his being an orphan was in any way funny, but because Ranboo’s way of saying it—clearly regretting the decision about halfway through—was hilarious.

“And what makes you think I’ve dealt with it?” he asked quietly.

His preferred route so far in ‘dealing with things’ was probably not the kind of path that a therapist would recommend. Not highly. Not that he’s ever asked, though. Maybe he’s actually doing it all right and should share his secret to success. It’s sure worked out great for him so far. Give or take a few incidents.

“I . . . I guess I was just hoping you had.” Ranboo said.

Tommy shrugged. “Well, I haven’t lost my good looks and charm, so that’s got to count for something, at least. I got a job. Met you guys. I guess maybe . . . you just rebuild. A little at a time.”

Yeah, that sounded like something an adult would say. He was so wise. He should really ask himself for advice once in a while, instead of shutting up his inner voice by tying it up and tossing it in a safe. Heh.

He wasn’t going to, but still.

Still.

“Thanks, Tommy. For everything.” Ranboo gave him a small smile. “For a second back there, I thought you were actually going to punch Nemesis in the face.”

“Oh, I would have. I’d knock that stupid mask right off, too. It wasn’t like it would reveal anything we didn’t already know.” Tommy paused, frowning slightly. “Actually, it probably would. I never actually met your sister. I don’t know what her face looks like.”

He got the slightest huff of laughter in response, and it made Tommy breathe easier. Ranboo could still laugh. They were going to be alright.

“I have no idea how I’m going to get any sleep tonight after all of that.” Ranboo said. “Much less keep myself from wandering off.”

Tommy stood up. “Well at least you can have your phone in your pocket this time. Come on, at least lay down and admire the blanket selection I brought over for you.”

Ranboo let himself get pulled up and guided to the couch, only knocking his toes into one of the many pots, and it didn’t even tip over. He sank into the couch, eyeing the blankets with far more suspicion than was strictly necessary. “So what was the selection process for these blankets?” he asked.

“Well you see, big man, I grabbed every single one I could find and brought them over, because quantity outweighs quality.”

“Ah, thanks.”

Tommy pretended to make a fuss about what order the blankets needed to go on him and proper tucking techniques, hoping to distract Ranboo from his eventful day. It had only been that morning that Phil had pulled them both out of the drainage tunnels. The poor guy had to be exhausted.

They hadn’t even talked about Michael.

But even after he was settled, Ranboo was nowhere close to relaxed. Tommy sat on the floor, leaning back on the couch and talking about nothing in particular. Eventually, Ranboo dropped his hand off the edge, and he grabbed it. His friend’s anxiety was practically radiating off him, but Tommy closed his eyes and slowly, slowly, he pulled out Shuteye’s powers.

Sleep. Sleep that held on and didn’t let him wander off. Sleep that didn’t hold any nightmares. Sleep that let him sink deeper into the sagging couch cushions and forget about the long, eventful day.

He crafted exactly the kind of rest he wished he could have.

Tommy waited until he was sure it had settled in. He waited until his friend’s breathing calmed a piece of himself that still rattled and jumped. He waited until the dark room offered him nothing more than a space to think about his own problems and nothing else.

He wanted nothing to do with his own problems, and so that’s when he left.

Notes:

That's gotta be the fastest update since previous post I've ever done wooooo. And at such a reasonable time of day, too.

. . . no, no it's not 1AM shut up shut up—

Chapter 17: Lesson 17: Never Return From The Dead

Notes:

This chapter is here so soon specifically because Phan_Phantom was disappointed by a spam email thinking I'd updated. Since I can't physically fight a spam email for being so rude, I wrote the rest of this chapter instead.

 

It's also out of spite because I was told no human should be updating so fast.

 

I do what I want.

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Night had fully taken over the city, wrapping up the buildings and streets in dark blues and grays, interrupted only by areas of yellow streetlights and neon signs. Dressed as Shuteye, Tommy blended in with the night and mostly avoided the lit-up areas. Crime was less likely to happen in the light anyway.

It wasn’t a quiet night. It seemed no one was interested in going home or sleeping, and there was the occasional distant sound of sirens and dogs barking and car horns that set a backdrop of sound in his ears.

So he noticed immediately when a child’s scream rose amidst it all.

He cut through an alley and crossed another street before he found the source of that scream. Right at the mouth of the alley opposite of where Tommy came from, he spotted a small boy in overalls sitting with his back pressed against a wall, his little arms holding his legs close to his chest.

Deeper in that same alley, Theseus was fighting multiple masked opponents. Three, maybe, though it was hard to tell in the deep shadows and constant movement. A sense of déjà vu hit him at the sight. If he pretended, it was almost like those nights years ago when the two of them teamed up. Purpled, taking out his problems on criminals, and Tommy checking on the victims.

He didn’t think about it very long, though, because it made his heart ache with a longing that he wasn’t going to acknowledge, so Tommy ran over to the kid.

He crouched down a comfortable distance away, softening his voice. “Hey, there. My name is Shuteye. Are you hurt?”

The boy snapped his head over to stare at him through large droplets of tears. He hugged his legs tighter, as if he was trying to pull them into his chest. It took him a moment of staring before he gave a small shake of his head. A shiver ran through his small body.

“Okay, that’s good. You’re doing great. We won’t let those bad guys hurt you, okay?” Tommy said soothingly. “You’re going to be alright.”

The kid was missing a shoe. He made a quiet sniff that was almost drowned out by the fighting nearby. The boy returned to watching Theseus with tension lining his entire body.

“Are you cold?” Tommy asked, pulling his attention away from the fight.

A slight dip of his head, and then he was looking back up at Tommy with his eyebrows drawn together.

Tommy pulled off his blue jacket, leaving him in a black tshirt as he leaned forward to wrap it around the kid. It swallowed him up, with just his head poking out. The barest of smiles crept onto the kid’s face.

Theseus shouted in frustration, and Tommy looked up in time to spot one of the masked men running away from the fight—and directly towards him and the kid, who blocked off half the entrance—the other two keeping the vigilante busy and unable to stop him.

Tommy lept to his feet and flung his hand out to stop him as the man ran by. His fingertips brushed lightly against fabric, and then he was just out of reach. He took a couple of steps after him, still almost able to touch, but no further.

He didn’t want to leave the kid alone. Not when there were still two others that could break away and attack him.

He stopped, his hand still stretched out towards the man’s back. So close. So close. Something like a scream curled up tightly in his chest, getting stuck in his ribs. If he could just reach him, if he could be a little faster, if he—

The man dropped like a sack of potatoes in the middle of the street.

Tommy froze.

He hadn’t touched him.

He couldn’t. Not from this far away.

There was no one else on that street; the area was eerily quiet, as though people could sense predators nearby and steered clear.

Theseus was still fighting behind him.

The kid hadn’t made a sound.

So how . . .?

Tommy didn’t know what made him think of it, but he let his eyes shift to a faint glowing silver. Just for a second. Just enough to see what he suspected.

Sure enough, Clementine stood over the man, hand frozen mid-air where she must have touched him.

She looked at him with startled eyes. “Did I do that?”

Tommy stood rooted in place, letting his phantom powers fade and staring down at the sleeping man. “I . . . guess?” he murmured. “It wasn’t me.”

He quickly turned back to the little boy, who was still curled up against the wall, drowning in Tommy’s jacket and trying to divide his attention between Shuteye and Theseus. Mind reeling, he returned to the boy’s side, kneeling down to be closer to his height. He offered him a reassuring smile, and then joined him in watching Theseus take care of the other two.

His sleep powers have only ever worked through touch.

Had they changed? Had he . . . shared them with Clementine? Used them through her? Could his other phantoms do that?

Theseus gave a final roundhouse kick and the fight was over, both of his opponents lying crumpled on the ground. He pulled out some zip-ties and bent over their fallen forms.

Tommy should really carry zip-ties with him. They seemed really convenient.

Could his powers develop and change over time? Well, sure, it wasn’t any stranger than randomly gaining several new powers while the Federation had him. But where had those come from? It wasn’t the Federation, they had only been interested in taking his powers, not giving anything.

Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe his memory was wrong. Maybe he’d just hallucinated the whole thing.

Theseus walked past him and knelt down by the man sleeping in the street.

Which meant either he hadn’t been hallucinating, or he still was.

He wasn’t hearing voices, at least. So probably not the red vines. Probably.

He couldn’t believe anything, really.

Maybe he was finally losing it from the accumulated nights of no sleep for the past two years. Maybe two years was the limit.

Theseus straightened, turning back towards Tommy and the kid. He seemed almost hesitant walking over. Tommy shifted so there was room for him to join him on the ground and talk with the kid.

“Hey bud, it’s all over. That was kinda scary, huh?” Theseus said. “Can I ask you some questions about it?”

The boy nodded.

“Cool. What’s your name?”

The boy’s voice came out small and raspy. “Bobby.”

“Hi Bobby. Do you have any ideas about what those guys wanted?”

Bobby shrugged one shoulder. “Dunno. They just grabbed me on the arm and I didn’t like that. And then I bit them and they didn’t like that.”

“Mmhm.” Theseus said, nodding. “Good job. I’m glad you bothered them. Always bother bad guys that grab you. Can you tell me where you live, Bobby?”

Tommy had an idea or two about why the guys wanted to grab the kid. He glanced over at them. Part of him wanted to try to interrogate one of them, see if he could get them to admit what and who they worked for, maybe demand they tell him where they were going to take Bobby.

The other, bigger, louder part of him wanted to hide. He wanted to stay far away from them and hope they didn’t see anything familiar about him.

Theseus stood, pulling Bobby to his feet. Shuteye’s jacket sleeves draped over the boy’s sides and dragged on the ground. As they started walking, Tommy joined them. He pulled his phone from his pocket and gave an anonymous tip to the police.

Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he was smart.

Either way, he left the masked men behind for the police to pick up and rushed to catch up with the other vigilante. Theseus. Purpled.

He needed to get his jacket back, after all.

It was a mostly silent walk, with only an occasional comment from one of them to make Bobby comfortable. When they got to the boy’s apartment complex, Bobby shrugged off Shuteye’s jacket and left it for Tommy to pick up, something in his little face lighting up at the sight of home.

They walked him to his door, and watched from a distance until they saw it open. Bobby was immediately scooped up in a hug, relieved parents asking him where he’d been and if he was okay.

Tommy smiled at the sight. He was grateful for the way his blindfold soaked up the moisture that gathered at the corners of his eyes.

Bobby was in good hands.

The two vigilantes left, walking together without a word between them until they had left the little boy’s home far behind.

“Thanks for the help.” Theseus said, breaking the silence.

Tommy nodded. He didn’t want to part ways just yet. Him and his stupid aching heart. “Thanks for doing all the punching. Really made my night, not having to worry about accidentally breaking my thumb.”

The vigilante grinned, and the way it settled across his face struck Tommy as more Purpled and less Theseus. “The great Shuteye, breaking his thumb with a punch?”

To be fair, Tommy had only done that once, and it had been back when he could heal himself. “Listen man, I’m more focused on making skin contact than I am on where my thumb is. We all have our strengths. You have flawless fighting skills, and I can break my thumb.”

Purpled laughed, his antennas bouncing.

It felt like a victory. He hadn’t heard his friend laugh like that since they were the Golden Duo. The moment was short, but it was fantastic.

And then the smile fell, and it was only Theseus standing there. Theseus, without someone else there hiding behind his mask. He shifted his weight, turning his feet, pulling away.

“I encountered the red vines the other night.” Tommy blurted out.

And, yeah, it made Theseus pause. It made him stay a little longer. But it was also something important, and he needed to share it with the other vigilantes.

“The voices . . . uh, got me.” He admitted. “By the time I snapped out of it, I was pretty deep in the drainage tunnels. They’re really growing down there.”

Theseus turned all his focus back to Tommy. “How did you snap out of it?”

Well, hmm, how was he going to explain that one? ‘Yeah I heard someone call out for me as Icarus and that couldn’t be real because everyone thinks I’m dead’ didn’t seem like the safest route. ‘I heard the voice of a ghost but I didn’t feel cold’ would come with far too many follow-up questions that would push him uncomfortably close to revealing he was Orpheus.

“The voices were all calling for help. They sounded like people I knew.” He said instead. “That’s how they drew me in, but one of the voices was someone who was dead, and so she couldn’t possibly be really there. So I realized they weren’t real.”

“Huh.” Theseus said. “So how did you get out?”

“I know a guy.”

Theseus stared at him, either dumbfounded or waiting for him to continue. Elaborate.

Tommy did no such thing.

“That explains so very little.”

“Yeah, it’s a part of my charm.” Tommy grinned. “The plants did not like me leaving, though. They really kicked up a fuss at the end. Zero stars, wouldn’t recommend.”

Theseus sighed. “You wouldn’t happen to have found a weakness? A way to fight them?”

“No,” Tommy said, his smile fading away. “I only managed to get away from them.”

“Well I’m glad you did. At least we know it’s possible to snap out of it.” Theseus looked away with a thoughtful look on his face. He was quiet for a moment before looking back at Tommy.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll see you around.”

He turned and started walking away, leaving Tommy with thoughts bouncing around his head without a single one of them sticking.

Theseus paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Oh, hey, if you run into XD and she asks if you’ve seen me, you haven’t.”

“Huh.” Tommy said. He had such a way with words. His mind sped up in order to process what Theseus had just said. “Alrighty, I haven’t seen you, but you owe me one.”

Theseus tilted his head with an amused frown. “Hm, I don’t think I do, actually.”

“Just a tiny one.”

“I’m not asking for much.”

“You owe me a teeny-tiny, inconsequential favor.”

Theseus sighed. “Fine. Just don’t tell her that I’m in this area.”

Tommy gave him a mock salute. “You can count on me, boss.”

The city continued to create the noise of nighttime activities, but it was quieter to his ears as he climbed his way up to a rooftop. From up high, he could see the glow of lights rise from between clumps of buildings, like cracks in the darkness. Technically, a rooftop position wasn’t ideal for him as Shuteye. It wasn’t like people regularly got mugged so high up, and it wasn’t like he had a fast way down or a long enough reach to do anything for a crime happening down below.

He was, for all intents and purposes, taking a break. For as complicated of a relationship as he had with heights, it surprised him sometimes that he could still wish to be closer to the sky.

It was just that there was so much room for him there.

He stood at the center of the roof, breathing deeply; it was just him, the clouds, the stars, and a green glowing vigilante who landed next to him.

“Hello loser.” XD greeted him. “Now what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Stargazing, obviously.” Tommy replied. “You?”

“Drugs.”

“Those are illegal, you know.”

“Not if they’re prescribed by a medical professional.”

“Are those the kinds you’re referring to?”

XD snorted. “What are you gonna do, arrest me?”

“I knew I should have gotten my own zip-ties.”

She laughed, walking forward until she was standing at the very edge, looking straight down in a way that had to be making her dizzy. “Have you run across Theseus tonight by any chance?” she asked.

Huh. She really was looking for him, then. Tommy inched closer, though he kept a healthy distance from the edge she teetered on. “Doesn’t he stick to the Pogtopia area?”

She sighed. “Yeah, he did. He’s been branching out recently.”

“What’s the deal with you two?” Tommy asked, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the street below. It seemed XD was always popping up behind Purpled. “Are you guys like, a team?”

“Nah,” she waved him off. “Theseus works alone these days. I just track him down wherever I have time on my hands so I can bug him.” She shrugged, hesitating slightly before adding, “and to make sure he doesn’t go off the rails.”

Tommy thought about the way Theseus’s smile had fallen. “Is that . . . likely?”

“You don’t have to worry about it.” XD said firmly, spinning to face him. “I won’t let it happen.”

“That didn’t really answer my question.” he pointed out.

She paused, mask tilting as she regarded him silently. With her entire face hidden, she was difficult to read. The silence stretched long enough that he thought she wouldn’t answer him at all; that maybe he’d stumbled across something too personal, or crossed a line somehow.

“I suppose I could tell you.” She said into the silence. With the confidence of someone who’s never had their powers fail, she spun back around to look across the skyline.

“Theseus hasn’t quite been the same since Icarus.” XD started. “It’s not by much. More unpredictable, shorter temper, less quips. That sort of thing.”

Tommy nodded. It was one of the first things he’d noticed, but he’d thought that was just because Theseus didn’t know who he was; that they simply weren’t close enough for him to loosen up around Tommy like he used to.

“He used to team up with Icarus a lot. I did too, a few times, before he died. Knowing him as much as Theseus did . . .” she shrugged. “I mean yeah, of course losing him was gonna affect him. I’m just, I don’t know, making sure he doesn’t get lost inside that busy head of his.”

A breeze picked up, playing with their hair as it passed by.

“Not that I’ve ever told him that. To him I’m just that annoying little sister he never wanted.” She laughed lightly, and Tommy couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. Her cape flapped in the wind, tugging like it, too, wished to be closer to the sky. She took a step back and turned to look at him. “Did you know Icarus?”

Ah, there it was. XD’s signature conversation whiplash.

“Shuteye didn’t exist back then.” Tommy said with a shrug.

“Hm, not what I asked, but sure.” She caught the edge of her cape, pulling it away from the wind’s grip. “But did you ever encounter him as a civilian? Or, like, know him . . . personally?”

He frowned, though she couldn't see much of it with his eyes covered. It was uncanny how close she was getting to the truth. He couldn’t tell where she was going with this. “I think you overestimate how often I get out.”

“Are you not answering any of my questions on purpose or is that like, just a thing that you do?”

His face relaxed into a wry grin. “I’m sure you’ll find out if you talk to me long enough.”

XD lightly smacked at his arm and he danced back a step, laughter at the tip of his tongue. She shook her head with an exasperated sigh. Sirens rose from the streets, echoing up to the stars.

The next time she spoke, her voice was soft and quiet, like she was wrapping up something fragile with her words. “Icarus was really nice to me when I started out. Fixed me up a few times, helped me get my balance, introduced me to some of the others, that sort of stuff. I always wished I could have helped him out. You know, return the favor somehow.”

Huh. Of course he had helped—he was never one to leave someone in pain, but also XD was genuinely cool and friendly and down to punch a criminal 24/7. What more could he really ask for in a fr—

“I think Icarus would have wanted someone to look after his friends for him.” She continued, picking at the fabric of her cape. “I never knew his civilian identity, so I only know the vigilantes he worked with. After he fell . . .” she trailed off, her head tilted down as if in thought; as if she were watching memories.

Either that or she was checking that her shoelaces were tied.

XD cleared her throat. “Theseus looked for him, you know. I think it was a long time before it really sank in for him that he was dead. I decided to keep an eye on him; for both Icarus and for my own peace of mind.”

Theseus had changed enough that even the heroes had noticed, but now Tommy could see that XD had changed in her own way, too. She was steadier. More thoughtful.

More lonely.

“And who looks out for you?” Tommy asked quietly.

“Theseus does, whenever he’s around.” She laughed softly. “He doesn’t like to show it, but then I have a knack for giving him heart attacks. It’s in those moments that he’s the most like his old self, though. Maybe I’m a little more reckless around him because of it.”

There was a lump forming in his throat, hard as marble. She was still picking at the fabric she held, a passive fidget for her hands as she talked. And she talked like she’d never had someone to tell before.

He didn’t know what to do with it. It felt like he should cry, maybe, or offer a hug. It felt like she was offering reassurance. That someone thought to look out for the people he cared about while he was gone.

He couldn’t even thank her properly.

Tommy ended up looking at the sky. A few of the brightest stars shone right above him, and he wished he could reach out and take one. Maybe hold it close to his chest.

Maybe a star could bear the combination of pressure and release, of regret and remembrance, of friends and strangers.

It seemed like an awful lot for a human to hold.

“I . . . I knew Dream personally.” XD said softly. Tommy looked away from the stars, surprised.

Her face had lifted back up, but she wasn’t facing him. Instead she was looking out, at the jagged silhouette of the city skyline, illuminated by lights from below. “I knew him long before I was ever XD. I was there when his madness took root. I watched it grow until he embraced it with open arms. Not a day goes by where it doesn’t haunt me, the memory of it knocking about in my mind’s eye.”

She dropped the cape from her fingers, the soft green glow of her powers brightening around her. “All of that to say, Shuteye: no, it isn’t likely for Theseus to go off the rails. I won’t let him. I won’t let it happen ever again.”

Tommy nodded silently. The air was heavy with her words, there simply wasn’t room for his as well. He thought back to the XD he’d first met; the girl with shards of glass sticking out of her skin because she’d pulled a little too much with her powers, the girl who had asked if they could race each other into the sky, the girl who’d found him on April Fool’s day with a bucket of paint and a plan to prank Theseus.

All of that had been after she’d watched Dream go mad.

The green around her glowed a little brighter as her feet lifted into the air. Tommy stepped closer until they were side to side—her weightless and floating, and him with firmly planted feet.

She hovered a few moments longer before flying out into the night.

Tommy stayed on the rooftop for the rest of the night, watching the stars until they blinked out.

 

------

 

Voidwalker and Undergrowth were both at the hero base when he arrived, and the first thing Tubbo did when they spotted him was punch him in the arm.

“Hey!”

“You let me sleep through everything?!” Tubbo cried.

Tommy rubbed his arm. “Tubster, I could play a french horn directly into your ear and you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Did you?”

“What? No. I don’t own a french horn.”

Tubbo threw his arms in the air. “Then how would you know? Blink, you let me sleep through the biggest night of both of your lives!”

“Sorry big man. If I knew you’d be upset about it I would have found an air horn or stabbed you or something.”

“You promise?”

Ranboo rolled his eyes. “Well not the stabbing part obviously, Blink—”

“I promise.” Tommy said solemnly, fighting a smile.

“Alright.” Tubbo nodded, satisfied. “Then we’re all good.”

“Blink, do not stab—”

“Then make sure your next earth-shattering revelation is during the day!” Tommy said.

“I don’t have control over that!”

Tubbo snapped his fingers. “Oh hey, I was going to tell you guys, I think I invented a new flower yesterday.”

“You—you can do that?” Tommy asked.

“I guess. I was just playing around with what I could grow and now I have a flower that I can’t find the name of anywhere. Do you know any botanists? I need to talk to a botanist about this.”

Ranboo used Tubbo’s shoulder as an arm rest and proceeded to drape his entire weight over it. “As someone who has seen Blink’s contacts, I can confirm he barely knows two people outside of us. You’re gonna have to keep looking.”

“I could be a botanist.” Tommy insisted. “You ever think of that? Huh? I’d make a great botanist.”

Ranboo sighed. “Maybe you should study to be one. We might need that kind of knowledge after the weird plants we encountered.”

“Huh?” Tubbo said, looking between the two of them. “What weird plants? You saw weird plants and you didn’t tell me?”

“I got a little distracted.” Ranboo said dryly.

Tommy decided not to mention that it had been during yet another night that Tubbo had slept through. See, that was why Tommy didn’t sleep. It was all very clever, really. No missing out on all the important stuff.

No other reason.

“Void, please tell him all about the weird plants, but don’t let them get him. I’m going to be late for patrol.” Tommy said, backing out of the conversation.

“No promises.” Ranboo said, waving.

Tubbo’s demands for an explanation faded as Tommy walked away. He didn’t make it far before the Captain found him.

“We have confirmed reports of Nemesis being seen last night.” She said without any preamble. “It looks like the Syndicate is getting active again. Our routes have been changed up a bit so they can’t keep avoiding us so easily.”

“Right-o boss.” Tommy said, pretending that this is fantastic and useful information. He couldn’t very well tell her that Nemesis had been out on personal business.

Which reminded him, he was supposed to dig up information on his hero identity for the Syndicate. They wanted to know his motives or something. Ha.

Would they believe him if he reported that it was so he could get access to nice showers and not get arrested for vigilantism?

Maybe.

They were really nice showers.

Patrol was quiet, though Tommy didn’t mention it this time. The Captain was so eager to catch sight of a Syndicate member still out in the early morning that they might just show up if he said the word ‘quiet’ out loud. Just to spite him. Specifically.

After patrol they both sat in her office and went over everything they had on the Syndicate, looking for patterns and hoping for clues for what they were planning. Tommy snorted at one of the reports that had theorized that the Syndicate had gotten so good at hiding murders, that they had started self-reporting on where to find the bodies to get the proper recognition.

Absolutely no one suspected that they were looking so hard for one missing body that they were finding literally all the others in the process.

The Captain finally looked up at the clock and started gathering the papers scattered around her. “You’re off at noon, right?” she said. “Why don’t we have an early lunch, and then finish up before you leave. The words are all starting to blur.”

Tommy looked up from where he’d been getting lost in someone’s analysis of Nemesis and what her powers might be. So far, he’d learned nothing new. She really wasn’t spotted as often as Thanatos and the Blade, and if her powers were visible, she didn’t seem to use them in front of anyone.

“I’m not gonna say no to food.” he said with a grin.

He set aside his file and joined the Captain as she led the way to the dining hall. While they walked, he felt one of his phones vibrate in his pocket. Considering which pocket, he knew for a fact it hadn’t been his hero phone. It was a fifty-fifty chance of it being either Kristin asking about his shift that afternoon or the Syndicate. His heart rate kicked up, but he didn’t reach for the phone. He didn’t want to risk the chance of it being the Syndicate and letting the Captain see something that could get him arrested.

It had just been a text, so it probably wasn’t very time-sensitive, right?

They could always call if it was an emergency. That’s what Nemesis had done. Tommy felt his mouth go dry as they entered the dining hall.

The Syndicate had better not have another family member who suddenly found out one of their secret identities.

Tubbo hadn’t mentioned having family, so he was probably not going to find out he was related to a villain, right? Though Tommy had no idea about his parents. The Captain didn’t talk about family, but then again, she didn’t talk about much outside of work.

They sat down at one of the smaller tables with trays of food provided by the hero base. Yet another motivation for Blink to work as a hero.

Free food.

“You seem deep in thought.” Captain said.

Tommy looked up. “Ah, yeah, you know me. A real thinker.”

“Spot anything interesting in the files?”

He thought about the text sitting unread in his pocket. Coffee shop or Syndicate? Mundane or extremely important? “Uh, not really. You?”

“Nothing new.” Captain said, stabbing at the pasta on her plate. “I’ve been thinking about the Blade’s ties with Icarus, though. He changed so suddenly after killing him. If I could just find out why . . .”

“What if we’re looking at this all wrong?” Tommy mused, knowing that they were, in fact, looking at everything wrong. “What if . . . I don’t know. What if Icarus set him up, and faked his death to get the Blade proclaimed a villain?”

Now that was an interesting theory. An incorrect one, but an intriguing one nonetheless. He wondered if he could get anyone sold on it. If he did, maybe he could get the Blade’s villain status removed, and then he could be a hero again and do his own digging into the city’s social workers and the people at the hero base and weed out anyone who worked there as spies for the Federation and then he could safely tell everyone about the missing kids he’s finding out about and then—

“What?” The Captain said incredulously, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I mean, come on,” Tommy continued, “his body was never found, right? What if Icarus was a villain this whole time and he faked his death and pinned it on the Blade to keep everyone distracted from whatever he was really doing—”

“Blink, stop. Icarus wasn’t anything like that.”

“You didn’t think the Blade was anything like that either.” He said. “I’m just saying, maybe there’s some other angle we haven’t considered.”

He wouldn’t mind if Icarus took the fall for the Blade. He’s already fallen once before, what was a second time? It wasn’t like Icarus could come back again anyway. He was a perfectly good scapegoat.

The Captain shook her head with a sigh. “Believe me, I’ve looked at it from every angle. All we need is to get just one step ahead of the Blade and corner him. After he’s arrested, the courts will handle everything, and we’ll have done our job.” she blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Finally.”

Tommy let it rest at that, and they both returned to eating. He knew better than to make himself sound any more sympathetic towards a group of villains. Occasional curiosity and hair-brained ideas were fine. Consistent disagreements were not.

It did make him wonder, though. What did the Captain really know about Icarus? She had been there when he’d caught Nightingale from his fall from the sky. There had been a handful of times he vaguely remembers running away from her so he didn’t get arrested. They’d never been in close enough proximity to talk, though.

He’d always figured she was so determined to catch the Blade because they used to work together. They had been close, it seemed, which would have made his betrayal sting enough for her to still be hunting him down two years later. That much made sense.

But Icarus?

“Why do you care about Icarus so much?” He asked suddenly.

The Captain looked at him like he’d just asked her if it was okay to kill puppies, and he quickly backpedaled. “Not that I don’t, or anything like that, I meant like . . . it seems personal. Like you knew the guy.”

Which she hadn’t. He knew this. Had he missed something? A creeping cold sensation told him Clementine was nearby, leaning close. He tried not to shiver.

The Captain relaxed, setting down her fork to lean her arms against the table. “No, I didn’t, but I wanted to. I’d already been talking to the committee about recruiting him for a while before he . . .”

Her voice trailed off, and as much as Tommy wanted to fill in the end of the sentence for her, he couldn’t think of a way to do so without coming off as super insensitive.

“Recruit him?” He asked instead, because he’d never heard that particular piece of information until now. “You thought he had potential to be a hero?”

“More than that.” She said softly. “He was already a hero in all but legality. He had the people’s trust for a reason, and he would even help heroes from a distance when he could. I wanted him to be able to do that with proper support, and without fearing arrest.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, feeling something like shock trickle into his veins. He’d never really had an adult speak about him like that. The word ‘potential’ was thrown around often enough, usually close to the words ‘unused’ and ‘failed’. Teachers really had a way with words, and those three seemed to be their favorites.

But respect? Support? Trust? He wasn’t sure he could reach those things even as an adult. A lump formed in his throat that kept him from speaking.

The Captain let out a small sigh. “You aren’t wrong, though. It is personal for me, even if I never had the chance to meet him. He died trying to save my daughter.”

He died trying to . . .

Time stopped.

Started, and then stopped again.

Tommy’s heart lost its pattern, tripping over itself as it tried to keep beating. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Surely not.

“Daughter?” He said hoarsely.

The Captain’s face was drawn, her eyes far away as she stared down at her plate. “I’m sure you’ve seen the footage. When he leapt off the ledge to catch a little girl?”

Cold sank into his bones. Aching, heavy cold.

The Captain wasn’t looking, her gaze unfocused, and for the second time in too few hours, he broke his biggest rule. Right in front of her. Just a little bit. His eyes glowed ever so faintly silver as he turned his head so that he could spot the girl he knew was there.

She was watching the hero across from them with a deep sadness on her face.

He blinked it away before anyone could spot him breaking his one rule that kept him safe. Questions, denial, and a couple other things that didn’t fit in either category bounced against his skull, but he couldn’t very well start talking to a ghost at the moment.

“Her name was Clementine.” The Captain whispered, and with those few words went any chance Tommy had at denying his suspicions.

He couldn’t move. His eyes were blown wide and his breathing couldn’t possibly be anything normal but he wasn’t really able to focus on it enough to tell.

Puffy.

The Captain’s name was Puffy.

His foster mom.

“We all lost a hero that day, but I also lost my daughter . . . along with a teammate who I thought was a good friend.” Her voice sounded strangled, like poorly restrained anger. “Two friends, actually. I knew Nightingale pretty well too. I’ve never understood it. I thought . . .” she trailed off with a shake of her head.

“O-oh.” Tommy managed. “Wow.” His head was reeling, and he wasn’t sure how to recover as fast as he needed to.

His foster mom was a hero.

She’d admired him as Icarus. She’d wanted to recruit him.

Another timeline ran through his head, blurry and distant because it never happened, where Icarus didn’t fall and the Captain convinced him to join the heroes. A timeline where Icarus got training and resources and a mentor, and he got to stay under Puffy’s wing even after running away from her home.

A timeline where Clementine didn’t get caught on the rooftop of an exploding high rise.

A timeline where the Blade never became a villain.

“You have the same powers she did, you know.” The Captain—Puffy, that was Puffy—said. “She never quite . . . got the hang of controlling them. Never had enough time for it.”

“I didn’t know.” He whispered, but he didn’t mean it in the way she would think. Obviously he knew Clementine’s powers.

But Puffy’s? His foster mom?

The woman sitting across from him?

He hadn’t known. He hadn’t—he—he needed to get a hold of himself, but his mind couldn’t let go of that simple fact. He hadn’t known. Even now that he’d been told, it was a difficult thing to grasp.

Puffy was giving him a sad smile. “It’s alright, you couldn’t have known. I never talk about my personal life at work anymore.”

He wanted to run. There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to flee this conversation and find some hidden corner behind a dumpster so he could freak out appropriately in peace. He realized his visibility was flickering. That needed to stop. Fast. It had been Clementine’s biggest tell, and now it was going to be his.

Tommy stared down at his plate, focusing on the feeling of the fork still held tightly in his hand until he stopped flickering.

“I’m sorry.” The Captain—Puffy, said. “That was a lot to dump on you. Are you okay?”

Was he okay? He couldn’t laugh, if only because it would come out deranged and hysterical. He was pretty sure he was not okay.

“Yeah, yeah.” He said, and it surprised him how utterly normal his voice sounded compared to the chaos in his head. “Sorry, I’m just . . . I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine.”

She was looking at him with concerned eyes. He didn’t know how to make her stop. It felt like she could read all of his thoughts, and very few things could frighten him more than that.

“You could leave work early, if you want.” She suggested, and he could’ve hugged her right then and there. “There isn’t much time left for your shift anyway. You don’t look like you’ll be able to focus on reviewing reports.”

“Y-yeah,” Tommy said with a laugh that he cut off before it could become hysterical. “Man, I didn’t sleep much last night, I think it’s affecting me more than I thought. Sorry for spacing out on you.”

There. That sounded like coherent words that formed a solid excuse. Now all he had to do was make sure he didn’t run as he left. Not until he’d left the building, at least.

“Don’t worry about it and get some rest.” She said, “I’ll see you, what, tomorrow afternoon? I think that’s when you’re next on the schedule. Or was it late morning?”

“That sounds about right.” Tommy said. He had no idea when he was scheduled to come in next. He didn’t know a single thing. He picked up his tray and numbly carried it over to the station for used dishes.

Once he was out of the dining hall, he went invisible, if only just so he didn’t have to school his face or try to talk to anyone else on his way out.

It wasn’t until he was outside and halfway down a narrow alley that his brain unscrambled enough for intelligible thought. He headed for his closest backpack, trying to remember what—who—he needed to change into next.

He had an afternoon shift at the coffee shop in a few hours, so he wore his civilian clothes with one of Orpheus’s gray face masks. It looked normal enough. He didn’t want to wander around the city with a bare face. His feet wandered after that, and he didn’t pay attention to where until he found himself at a small, tucked-away park. There was a nice bench under an old shade tree that he collapsed into.

Only then did he realize his mistake, because the civilian Tommy couldn’t summon phantoms, and there was one phantom in particular that he really needed to talk to. He pressed his hands to his face with a groan. He left them there, lowering his elbows to rest on his knees, and he let his eyes glow silver behind closed lids. He didn’t make her visible to anyone else.

Just enough for him to talk.

A light, cold weight pressed against his left arm, and he knew she was sitting at his side. He pressed against his hands harder. “Why didn’t you tell me she was your mom, Clem?!”

“Because then you would have avoided her!” she said defensively, “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t. It wasn’t my secret to tell, anyway. And . . .”

Her voice shrank, until she was practically whispering. Even so, Tommy heard her clearly. After all, as a ghost, her whispers could travel. “I—I wanted to see her. I wanted to spend time with her at the job she never told me about. I figured it out after you ran away, but she never told me herself.”

It seemed like there were a lot of things no one told her about. Tommy deflated, letting all his energy out in one big swoosh of air. The cold of his powers prickled at his skin. It spread lightly over him, feeling like a chilled breath. “I don’t even know what to think.”

“Yeah.” Clementine said.

“She’s your mom.”

“Yeah.”

Maybe he could have told Puffy about the danger he had feared he’d bring to her house, instead of running away. Maybe she could have protected him. What if he had at least asked? What if he’d given it a try?

She was one of the best heroes, and she’d had the Blade and Nightingale on her team at the time.

What if he hadn’t run?

Would they have been enough?

Could he have been the kid he was supposed to be?

There were tears leaking from his closed eyes, seeping through the hands that pressed against them. “What do I do, Clem?”

“Your best.” she said, “Just like you always have.”

“I can’t—I can’t tell her. Who I am. Why I left. What happened. I just . . . I can’t.”

“Even if it made everything better?”

He shook his head. “It could make things worse. I don’t want to know what she’d think of me. I can’t go back to that house. I can’t tell her about the Federation; someone might overhear, or she might trust the wrong person, and they’ll find me again.”

The arm she leaned against was almost numb from the cold.

“And even if it did make everything better,” he whispered. “Even if I knew it would fix everything . . . I don’t think I could. I’m too used to running away. It’s all I’ve ever done.”

“That’s not true.” Clementine insisted. “You run to people, not away from them. That’s how you found me again. That’s how you ended up at Phil’s house. That’s how you work with my mom. That’s how you became a vigilante in the first place. Whether you know it or not, you’re always running towards people.”

“No,” he said. Panic flared up in his chest. “Not anymore. I can’t. I won’t. That’s how I got you killed, Clem.”

“You don’t run away.” she whispered. “You don’t.”

“I have to.” he said.

And that was that.

He let his eyes fade back to their natural color, the cold on his skin melting away. There really wasn’t a single other thought in his head. He wouldn’t think any more of them, and honestly, it was kinda peaceful.

So of course, it didn’t last.

With the suddenness of a lightning strike, he remembered the phone with an unread text in his pocket. He quickly dug it out.

 

Blade: Emergency Syndicate meeting tonight, 11pm. Hermes has important information to share.

 

Notes:

Bobby came out of nowhere, he wasn't supposed to be here. But hey. Guest star, I guess.
Fun fact! After posting the last chapter I was thinking to myself 'ah, at last, we get to the final part of the story' only for me to realize that I was exactly at the halfway mark. That's right folks. There are 32 chapters planned. Send help.

Chapter 18: Lesson 18- Fly Closer to the Sun, You Know You Want to

Notes:

It is 4am and I have not slept a wink right after sleeping twelve hours straight the night before, wooo gotta keep that sleep schedule guessing am I right??
Fun fact, my short little vague outline for this chapter had fourteen question marks in it. Love working through my outline's question marks. Anyway. Here you go, another chapter!
Buckle up!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tommy’s world was tilted on its side.

Hero work had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. They still had no good way to fight the red plants. Whatever news the Syndicate had to share loomed on the horizon. With everything that was happening, there was only one thing he could do:

His afternoon shift at the coffee shop.

It was strange, doing something so mundane while the ground shifted beneath him, but it was strange in an unexpectedly pleasant way. It was something familiar. Something that gave him a minute to breathe. Something that kept him grounded; interacting with the normal, everyday people.

And reminding him that everyone in his city was so, so weird.

“An iced latte with one pump of . . . every syrup?” He repeated back to the teenage girl.

“Yes.” she said brightly. “Two of them, to go.”

“Two of them.” he repeated, staring at his screen. “To go. Uh, yup. Sure. What’s a good name for this order?”

“Drista.”

“Dris . . . how do you spell that?”

“Like you’re gonna spell ‘drip’ except with a capital z instead of the p and then with the letter t after it—the letter not the word—followed by an a. The rest of the letters aren’t capitalized.”

Tommy considered the very real possibility that he was actually having a stroke. He rang up the order without a word, letting her pay as he grabbed a cup and wrote ‘dripZtea’ on it.

Close enough. He hoped she didn’t need it for Instagram.

By the time he’d made the two abomination drinks, he’d forgotten what her name was supposed to be, so he set them down on the counter just as a new person walked in and called out, “Two iced crimes against humanity for Drip-za?”

He immediately turned to greet whoever had come in. “Hi! What can I—oh hey Kristin. What’s up.”

Kristin had an eyebrow raised as she walked behind the counter. Even with the weird callout she’d walked in on, there was a smile on her face. She seemed to be in a good mood. It was potentially going to save him from another discussion on how to call out customer names. “Good news! It looks like we might get our sound system installed today.”

“Oh, really?” Tommy said, watching the girl walk up to get her drinks out of the corner of his eye. She squinted at the name he’d attempted to write and then laughed.

Good. Not for Instagram then.

Tommy turned back to his boss, “How’d you convince them to finally come out for an installation? I was starting to think the people who promised to do it didn’t exist.”

“I’m still not sure they do, they aren’t answering my calls anymore.” Kristin said, pausing in the doorway to the back. “I—uh, a friend offered to do it for me. He’ll be in soon, be nice to him.”

Tommy gave her a salute. “Aye, aye, captain. I’ll do my best.”

That explained why she was there so early. Someone had to oversee the installation, and she wasn’t about to let it be Tommy. He didn’t know why. He’d be perfectly good at overseeing. The best, even.

Anything said to the contrary were lies and slander.

He wiped down the counter, humming a made-up tune. This would be the first time for him to meet one of Kristin’s friends. She didn’t talk about her social life much, and he had started to wonder if it looked something like his own had been.

Nonexistent.

The door opened once more, and—

Tommy groaned, immediately throwing out his best behavior. “Of course it would be you.”

“Hi Tommy!” Phil lifted a tool box in one of his hands. “I’m here to help out with the sound system.”

“Sure.” Tommy said suspiciously.

“Phil!” Kristin popped back out, her face beaming. “Thank you so much for coming by. The equipment is back here.”

The man followed her into the back room, and Tommy let his eyes unfocus as he stared into the far wall. His shift didn’t end for another few hours. He doubted it was going to be a quick installation.

He was doomed, his fate sealed.

Tommy Innit, a boring barista doing his best to get a taste of normal everyday life, got more than he’d bargained for.

He was now, officially, a third wheel.

 

------

 

It was what some people would consider late. It was certainly nighttime, and for some, that was enough. For others, it was only the beginning, a night still young in its hours.

Tommy had intended to lay low as Orpheus for a while after Ranboo’s whole world got rocked by his sister being Nemesis, but he couldn’t very well go to a Syndicate meeting dressed as anyone else.

It was fine. He wasn’t going to be running around as Orpheus. He was just going to go to the meeting and then he was going to change into something else. Just to be safe, he stuck to alleyways and rooftops to stay out of sight.

It was a solid plan.

A good plan.

It should have worked.

He was just reaching the bottom of a fire escape into the safety of shadows when purple particles burst in front of him.

Voidwalker.

Tommy gave a very intimidating, very manly yelp at the sudden appearance, pulling two phantoms into visibility out of pure instinct. His hands were raised in fists to guard his face and prepared to strike. His thumbs were almost definitely in the wrong position.

“I’m not here to arrest you!” Voidwalker said quickly, raising his hands. “I just wanted to ask some questions.”

Out of those two possibilities, Tommy would rather deal with neither of them. None. Zilch. In fact, answering questions just might be the worst of the two. The last thing Tommy wanted to do was talk to Ranboo as Orpheus, actually. He had no idea how the guy had figured out his sister’s identity, which meant he had no clue how careful he needed to be with his own.

“According to rumors,” Voidwalker said carefully, “you’ve been seen working with the Syndicate on at least one occasion. Uh, attempting to take over a drug deal, I believe?”

Huh. Interesting opening. So everyone thought their fight at the docks was an attempt to take over a drug deal, that was news to him. He really should have checked the more recent news at the hero base, but Tubbo had yelled at him and then the Captain—

He’d been occupied.

Tommy lowered one of his hands, leaving the other up to tilt back and forth in a so-so gesture. “The details miss the mark, but yes, I’ve been working with the Syndicate on occasion.”

“Right, right, okay.” the hero shifted on his feet. “So, um, my question then is, why?”

“Why do I work with them?” Tommy clarified.

At Ranboo’s nod, his mind started working at double-speed. He was being handed a chance. By proxy, if he was reading it right, Nemesis was being handed a chance. Ranboo wanted to know about the Syndicate.

And of all people, he was asking Orpheus.

He couldn’t mess this up.

He also couldn’t be late for the Syndicate meeting. Minutes were ticking by, and he could feel them draining away. He really didn’t want them to think that he made a habit of showing up late, or sometimes not at all.

Focus. He needed to be careful.

Don’t give away his identity. Help out Niki and Ranboo. Get to the meeting in time. He could do this.

“They were looking into a case I’ve been working on, and asked for my help.” He said.

He couldn’t see it, but with the slight movement of Ranboo pulling back his head, he knew the guy was making a confused face. “What sort of case has that much overlap between a villain group and a vigilante?”

Tommy sighed. He remembered how the Blade had been when he’d first approached Orpheus for help—like he had prepared to defend a thesis, and expected to lose.

“Icarus’s body was never found.” He said slowly. “I’ve been trying to figure out where it was, uh . . . taken.”

“You think it was taken?”

“Do you think it got up and walked away on its own?”

“No.” Ranboo said defensively. “I thought—wait, are you saying the Syndicate is also trying to find his body? They didn’t—they don’t—”

“No,” Tommy sighed. More time slid through his fingers like water through a sieve. “They didn’t take him. Someone else did, and they’re getting away with it because everyone assumes the Syndicate did it.”

He could almost see the next set of questions popping into que. “Wait—”

“Listen.” Tommy cut him off. He didn't have the time.“That’s just what I’ve been looking into, and that’s why I’ve been working with them. I’m not gonna stand here and try to convince you that I’m right. We’re looking for a missing vigilante, and so far all we’ve found is a concerning pattern of powered kids going missing. There really isn’t time to—”

Ranboo straightened. “There’s more of them? Missing kids?”

Oh, that was a whole can of worms that Tommy hadn’t meant to open, and now he had to lie in them. Why did he mention that part, he could have just said they were looking for a missing vigilante and left it at that, but noooo, now he had to talk about Micheal without giving himself away.

“You know about one of them?” Tommy was fighting for his life to keep his face blank. “Most of the cases get written off as a runaway kid, I didn’t think any of them would make it up to the heroes.”

“I—I rescued a kid from a, um, situation. Spent some time with him while things got sorted.” Ranboo said. Another minute ticked by. “I was told when he went missing. We found him, though. We don’t exactly know . . . how. But he’s home.”

“Oh,” Tommy said, and he decided it wouldn’t be a stretch for Orpheus to know that information. He was looking into the disappearances, after all. It wasn’t suspicious. “Are you talking about Micheal?”

“Yeah. I guess . . . yeah I guess you would know about him. Mmhm, Micheal.”

Tommy really needed to go. The last thing he wanted was for the Syndicate to form a search party for him and run into him talking to Voidwalker. That would just be awkward for so many people. The conversation had really gotten away from him. He needed to reel it back, wrap it up, and send the nice hero on his merry way.

“So . . .” He said slowly, grasping at his threads of conversation skills, “um, if you’re trying to figure out if I’m ‘going villain’ or something, then the answer is no. If you want a review on what working with the Syndicate is like, I’d give it a solid, uhh, like, four stars? It’s a little trippy but they’re . . . nice?”

He was failing Nemesis so hard. Nice? With a question mark? She gets critically stabbed in the gut for helping them get out of a mess with Thorn and her goons, and all he can manage is an uncertain ‘nice’?

“Oh!” Ranboo said, oblivious to the way Tommy wanted to knaw through a table leg in frustration with himself, “Um, yeah, actually, I . . . was kinda curious about that. But mostly . . . mostly just why a vigilante started working with them. You know. Checking in. Keeping the city safe. All that.”

“Cool, cool.”

Silence. It was quite possibly the most awkward conversation Tommy has ever had the agony of being in. And with his own friend, too. Not that Ranboo knew that part.

And hopefully never would.

Man, Tommy needed to get out of there. “Well I can . . . tell them you said hi?”

What a stupid thing to say.

“Ah, no, no, I—I don’t—I’d rather you didn’t.” Ranboo started wringing his hands, glancing around like the alley walls would help him get out of the awful conversation they were both trapped in. “They don’t need to know about, uh, this. Not because it’s a secret or anything! But actually, um, don’t tell them I was . . . asking about them?”

“Sure.” Tommy nodded. Anything to get out of there. “Okay. No problem.”

“I’m not, like, trying to get information from you or something.” he hesitated. “Well, I am; but not like that! I’m not trying to find out their secrets to use against them, or to sell to someone, or anything like that. I just . . . they don’t need to know, because they might think it means something, when it doesn’t mean anything at all actually and—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy rushed to assure him. “No I totally get it.”

“Yeah.” he shuffled his feet. “So . . . I’m gonna, just . . .” he trailed off, jabbing his thumb to point over his shoulder.

“Right,” he nodded again, “I’ll . . . uh, see you around, probably.”

Voidwalker disappeared in a cloud of purple, and Tommy immediately walked to the nearest wall and hit his forehead against it, wasting more precious seconds of time. Maybe Techno was right. Maybe he really wasn’t good at conversation outside of the coffee shop.

 

------

 

Tommy was not expecting for there to be cookies.

He’d burst into the Syndicate room in a rush because he was, indeed, late. Before he could apologize, Nemesis snatched a platter of cookies off the table and held them out towards him. “There’s sugar, chocolate chip, and white chocolate macadamia nut. Do you have nut allergies? Or any other allergies? They’re experimental, so some ingredients are different than normal . . .”

“Oh,” Tommy said, and all he could think about was how awkward his conversation with Ranboo had been. He picked up a sugar cookie. “Thanks. Uh, no, no allergies.”

“See?” The Blade said, “only person here with allergies is Thanatos.”

“I’m not—”

“Thanatos is allergic to babies.” Blade interrupted, looking over at Tommy. He placed a sympathetic hand on the man’s shoulder. “Tragic, really.”

“No I’m not stop telling people—”

“A baby lit him on fire.”

“It was ONE TIME they’re not a danger to me any more than they are to you.”

The Blade nodded, a serious look on his face. “Exactly, which is why—”

“Shut it.”

“Hazard to society.”

Tommy could barely taste the bite of cookie in his mouth. For a brief moment he wondered if he was actually having one of those weird disjointed dreams that happen right before waking up sick. It couldn’t be, but it felt like it.

“You guys are so weird.” He muttered. He didn’t really mean for them to hear it, but then he hadn’t exactly said it quiet enough to keep it to himself.

Thankfully, they didn’t take offense. Nemesis even lifted her free hand to cover a smile.

Tommy finished chewing the bite of cookie before going on with what he’d been planning on saying the moment he’d arrived. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I had an . . . unexpected run-in.”

The Blade narrowed his attention on him. “It wasn’t Shuteye again, was it?”

“Ah, no, no,” Tommy hurried to say. He’d actually forgotten that he’d told the Syndicate that Shuteye had fought him and then accidentally put him to sleep for three days. Good times. “Not him. It wasn’t bad, it just delayed me.”

“Well in that case,” Thanatos said, “don’t worry about it. We’re still waiting on Hermes, apparently he lost some files in his car or something.”

Nemesis shook her head, putting the platter of cookies back on the table. “For someone who has the ability to go faster than any of us, he’s pretty consistently the last one to arrive.”

It was a perfect opening to the question that had been burning in his mind for the past few days. Tommy opened his mouth to ask Nemesis what her powers were, when the door burst open behind him, and suddenly Hermes was standing in the room. He was holding a folder to his chest, papers threatening to spill from every side of it. He was wearing a mask, this time. A blue domino mask.

He was still in a Sonic the Hedgehog onesie, though. Tommy closed his mouth, forgetting what he was going to say.

“Hey guys, sorry for the delay. Hi Orpheus. Oh!” Hermes whirled around, zeroing in on the platter of cookies, “Nemesis brought cookies! Did you make any—”

“White chocolate macadamia nut?” Nemesis interrupted, “of course I did.”

Hermes snatched up two cookies and moved to a chair to sit down. “Stress baking?” He asked.

Everyone else started going to their seats as Nemesis sighed and nodded her head. Tommy hesitantly moved to the same seat he’d taken last time he was there. Stress baking. Of course she was. Her brother just found out that she was a villain, and from what he gathered from Ranboo’s parting statement and the fact that he teleported in front of her, she had just found out that her brother was a hero.

And Tommy hadn’t helped her out at all.

A little trippy to work with but nice? What a glowing endorsement.

The floor could go ahead and swallow him up now.

To be fair, it was trippy working with them. After all, he was staring at a masked man in a Sonic onesie sitting across from him.

“So I was going over the files Orpheus shared with us of all the missing kids,” Hermes said, and oh, okay, they were just jumping right in, “and I think I found us a lead.”

Everyone leaned in at that. Tommy was rather pleased that someone had looked through the files he’d left. They’d considered his theories, looked through what he’d brought, and taken him seriously. It probably shouldn’t leave him so surprised, but there it was. Making him unreasonably happy.

Hermes had opened the folder and was flipping through the mess of papers. “If your theory is correct, and these disappearances are all connected, then finding just one of these kids could be the breakthrough we need. There isn’t much to go on, there’s barely anything on these reports. Especially since none of these kids have been found. Except—!”

He pulled out a paper and slammed it down in the center of the table. Excitement filled his expression. “One of them made it out. A couple months ago. His file was tampered with more than the others, and that’s because it was me that tampered with it, I helped erase who he used to be when I made him a new identity!”

Wait.

Tommy’s breath caught in his throat, threatening to choke him.

There was no way.

This couldn’t be happening.

The missing persons report in the middle of the table had barely anything left on it, but the name was there, clear as day.

Theseus C.D. Kraken.

“He was definitely running from something, most people are when they come to me.” Hermes went on. “But he’s in the city! If we can find him again, he can tell us what happened and where to look!”

He couldn’t believe it.

“What’s the name he goes under now?” Blade asked, half standing from his chair to look at the paper with Tommy’s birth name on it.

Hermes was the guy who made his fake ID? Connor?

“That’s the problem, I usually don’t keep track of that stuff,” Hermes sighed. “Client confidentiality and all that. People walk in, I do the work, they leave, and I forget they exist. Unless they’re hot.”

Tommy opened his mouth to protest that he was, in fact, extremely good looking, thank you very much—before self-preservation kicked in and shut his mouth. It was really, absolutely, not the time. It didn’t stop him from being offended.

The absolute nerve of this guy.

“It was months ago, too. But the name Theseus just really stuck in my mind, you know? Not every day you meet someone with a name from greek myths.” Hermes shrugged. “The new name he picked was something too common and forgettable to stick the same way, though.”

Well excuse you, Tommy thought, even though that had been kinda the point. He’d picked out a fantastic name. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying every stupid protest he thought of out loud.

“Is there anything else you can remember?” Nemesis asked, pulling the paper towards her.

Tommy wished he’d decided to give Orpheus his disappearing ability. He’d give anything to go invisible without repercussions right about then.

“He was blond, I think.”

At that, Tommy’s filter broke.

“Great,” he said sarcastically, “that really narrows it down. Next you’re gonna say he had blue eyes. That describes like, half the city.”

“But it’s something.” Thanatos said, getting up to look over Nemesis’s shoulder.

The Blade was leaning forward with his hands on the table. “One of them got out. If one of them got out, there could be more.”

No one else got out, though. Just Tommy. He’d left them all behind without a single memory of how to get back.

No one escapes that place. No one but him.

. . . and Micheal.

Micheal got out too. Somehow.

“No birth date. No age.” Nemesis said quietly, reading the few pieces of information still there.

Before Tommy could relax, Hermes jumped in. “I remember he wanted to be older. In his new ID. Eighteen, probably. I’m pretty sure he wanted to be considered an adult. I don’t remember how much of a stretch it was, though.”

“A teenager, then.” Thanatos mused.

Tommy was . . . not having a great time. “This is great news,” he said.

He felt sick. If he wasn't so cold he'd check to see if he was running a fever.

“Oh.” Thanatos said, and his veil shifted as he leaned closer to the paper Nemesis was reading.

Tommy tensed, his heart beating at his ribs, pleading for a way out. He couldn’t take any more revelations. This was giving him heart problems.

As if the Federation hadn’t already.

“Puffy fostered him.”

Right.

Of course.

The Blade and Thanatos used to work with her when they were heroes. Of course they knew her name.

“Ah.” The Blade sat back in his chair. “Well, that makes things difficult. No way she’s gonna just give us a description of him if we ask. She’d rather put a sword through my chest.”

How ironic was that. Puffy was keeping Tommy’s identity safe without even knowing. Just by being herself. Her stabby, grieving, revenge-driven self.

Nemesis let Thanatos pick up the paper, tapping her nails against the table. “Maybe we could . . .”

One of Tommy’s phones started ringing.

With a slight frown, he pulled it out, letting Nemesis’s voice fade into the background. It was his vigilante phone.

But the Syndicate were all in the same room as he was, and he didn’t hand out that number to anyone else. So who in the world could possibly have his—

Shroud.

Tommy stood from his chair so fast it fell behind him as he answered the call. “What’s wrong?”

“Shuteye, help!”

Tommy’s heart plummeted.

He was running out of the room without a single glance at anyone else. “I’m coming, where are you?”

Shroud was breathing heavily. “He’s catching up! I can’t—I’m running as fast as I—GET AWAY FROM ME!”

Tommy burst outside, blindly running in the direction of Shroud’s group home, hoping he was going the right way. “Shroud?!”

“Please come get me!” Shroud sobbed into the phone. There were faint crashing sounds in the background.

“I’m coming, where are you?” He’d never run so fast in his life. Fear created bloodhounds snapping at his feet. Shroud’s voice was a string tied to his ribs, pulling, pulling. He had to get there in time.

“I’m running!”

He wanted to scream. “Running where?”

“I don’t—” a short scream. “I don’t know!”

Tommy’s eyes flared, his phantoms solidifying around him. They didn’t wait for a command. His thoughts were loud enough. They scattered, looking for Shroud. Tommy shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with his powers. “I’m coming, I promise! Hang on a little longer!”

“I’m scared, Shuteye.” Shroud gasped. His heavy breaths blew through the speakers like a strong wind. “You—you said—”

Tears were falling straight from Tommy’s eyes. He let them, if only so his sight would clear up faster. “I’m coming Shroud. Keep running, I’ll find you.”

He had to.

It was the only choice available.

Something crashed on the other end, crashed and banged and fumbled, and then Shroud screamed.

Ice exploded over Tommy’s heart. “Shroud?!”

There was clattering, and then Shroud screamed again, but he sounded farther away.

No.

Nonononononono—

“Shroud!”

Silence.

Dead silence.

Not even a wisp of wind.

Dread swept over him, threatening to paralyze. He pushed his legs to keep moving. He couldn’t be too late. He couldn’t.

Not Shroud.

Please not Shroud.

His fingers were numb.

“Theseus!” it was Clementine’s voice, but it wasn’t coming from anywhere near him.

It was coming from the phone.

Cold went down his throat, like he was swallowing snow. “Clem?”

“He isn’t here.” Clementine said. A distant ringing started going off in one of his ears. Maybe both. “We’re looking, but it’s just the phone here. He’s gone.”

No.

No.

No.

He was dreaming. It had to be a nightmare. It wasn’t possible for him to have one, but it had to be.

“Spread—” his voice broke. “Spread out. Keep looking. We have to get him back.”

“Okay.”

They kept looking. Tommy reached the spot where Clementine had found the phone. There was nothing else there. No sign of a small child. No sign of the boy with a missing tooth and spider eyes.

He pushed his powers as far as they would go, and his phantoms searched with a single-minded mission: find Shroud.

They came back with only one answer:

he’s gone

Notes:

Okay listen—

Chapter 19: Lesson 19: Never Let Them Know Your Next Move

Notes:

Hi guys! How we feeling? Yeah?
You know who else be having feelings?
That's right. Tommy. And you're gonna hear about it.

TW: Slight detachment/disassociation, panic, uhhhh that's all I can think of.
-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Orpheus?”

Nemesis’s voice came from somewhere above him, filtering through his ears as Tommy lay on the rooftop of a convenience store. He didn’t know which one. Stars swirled above him.

“Hi.” he croaked.

“Orpheus, are you okay? What happened?” Nemesis asked, reaching his side. The yellow glow of the streetlight softly lit up her face from below as she leaned over him. Her mask framed worried eyes.

Huh. They weren’t blue.

“You left in such a hurry and didn’t respond to any of our messages or calls, we thought you might be in danger,” she continued. “Hermes is driving through the Prime district, Blade’s at the docks, and Thanatos is flying over Pogtopia right now. We’ve all been looking for you.”

That . . . was wild.

Absolute bonkers.

It was also incredibly dangerous. The heroes were all on high alert, the last thing they needed was a Syndicate sighting. He opened his mouth to say as much.

“I lost him.” he whispered instead. His bones were heavy, his insides hollow and cold. The rooftop that pressed against his back wasn’t solid enough to steady him.

Nemesis’s voice was considerably softer when she spoke again. “Lost who?”

The kid who had just lost one of his front teeth. The kid who wanted to save all of them when they fell out. So he could have two sets of teeth.

Like sharks.

“Shroud.” Tommy said numbly. “He’s—he’s just a kid. I told him to call if he got scared and . . .”

He knew it would happen. He’d known, and he’d still lost him.

“They took him, Nem. I was too late. He’s gone.”

A warm hand settled gently over his. Above him, the stars bleed into each other. His skin felt like rubber. The chill of the night seeped into the air, into the roof, into his bones.

Or maybe the chill was coming from him.

He’d probably cry if he had the energy.

“I’m going to go call the others to let them know I found you,” Nemesis said, “and then I’ll be right back, okay?”

It was dangerous for her to be out in the open. Heroes patrolled the area. It wasn’t even a good idea for Tommy to be lying there, dressed as Orpheus. With the way he was, he didn’t know if he could even get Clementine to show up.

“Sure.”

The warm hand lifted, and the air left behind in its wake was colder than it had been before.

What he wouldn’t give to fall asleep; to escape this dreadful night, to rest; to have one blissful moment where he didn’t have to press back against the fear that threatened to choke him.

Who was he kidding. His sleep would have nightmares, too.

What if he told the Syndicate that he was Theseus? Would it help them at all? Could it help them get closer to finding Shroud?

He wouldn’t be able to tell them where to find the place. He didn’t remember the directions he took to get out. He couldn’t tell them how he was taken, and he was unconscious when they brought him to the endless hallways and rooms that no one escaped.

He couldn’t—couldn’t—

He didn’t actually know if he could say any of it out loud. Maybe he would simply open his mouth and then collapse into panic. Or maybe he’d freeze, trapped in his own mind. They would ask questions that only led to horrible memories and then he’d go back there, he’d live it again, he’d see it and feel it and—

“Hot chocolate?”

Tommy turned his head, furrowing his brows in confusion. Nemesis was holding two coffee cups in her hands as she settled back down beside him. How long had she been gone? And where did she get—

He slowly pushed himself up, head spinning. He wasn’t going to ask. There was some old saying in the recesses of his memory about not looking a can of worms in the mouth. It seemed applicable to this. Somehow, she got hot chocolate, and he was going to accept that.

“Thanks.” he took the cup, and oh, his hands were colder than he thought. Stiff fingers held tightly as he drew it closer to his chest.

Nemesis took a sip from her own cup, looking out over the city. Tommy watched her, clinging to her stillness, her calm. He knew his own expression was blank. There wasn't enough energy in him to change it. His chest felt hollow, empty, his ears ringing.

What if he just told her he was Theseus? Right then, right there. It wasn’t like he could make the night any worse than it was already. The words to say it rolled to the tip of his tongue, ready to spring out.

I’m Theseus. I know who took Icarus. I know who took Shroud. I’ll tell you what I ran from.

A shudder rushed down his spine, hard enough for Nemesis to notice. She glanced over, worry in her gleaming eyes, in the unnaturally still tilt of her head.

He opened his mouth.

Shut it.

The words rolled back from his tongue, shooting down his throat, choking him. He swallowed hard and looked away from Nemesis. Silence wrapped around him like a straightjacket.

Coward.

“We’ll find him.” Nemesis said softly. “We’ll find all of them.”

Tommy’s breathing was too shallow. “It’s been too long for most of them. The first fourty-eight hours are the most crucial for finding a missing kid. After that time has past, the chances of finding them alive—”

“Theseus was reported missing two years ago.” Nemesis interrupted. “It was only a couple months ago that Hermes saw him. He survived.”

Yeah, but he had healing powers. Not that he was going to tell her that, though.

What if he told her that he knew of a coffee barista who matched Theseus’s description? Some kid named Tommy or something, could they believe that?

Then he wouldn’t have to tell the Syndicate himself. He’d just . . . get cornered by one of them and they could pull it out of him. Yeah. It was like using cheat codes. At least if he couldn’t speak then, it would still tell them something. They’d know they were going down the right path. Maybe they could ask yes and no questions and he could nod and shake his head until he passed out.

It would be giving up Tommy, though. To the Syndicate.

He sighed heavily.

He’d be giving them his normal, civilian life. The one that didn’t mess around with heroes and villains and vigilantes. The life where his biggest struggles were customer service and the finicky espresso machine. Where he was a new adult in the world, living on minimum wage, third wheeling his boss and the guy who came in for the most boring coffee order of his life.

He was oddly protective of that particular slice of life he’d carved out.

But it wasn’t like the Syndicate knowing what Theseus’s face looked like would change anything, right? It couldn’t ruin anything . . . right?

It was the face that the Federation knew already, anyway.

Hmm.

Maybe that was worse.

Maybe he was going to pass out, actually.

He was going to pass out and spill the hot chocolate all over Orpheus’s outfit and he just washed this coat—

He needed to talk about something else. Anything else. Anything that wasn’t Shroud and Tommy and Theseus and the Federation and pain, pain, pain.

Nemesis. He clung to her presence by the fingernails of his sanity. She was sipping her drink, her black cape pooling around her on the roof. Calm. Steady.

Two words that Tommy wouldn’t ever use to describe himself. He cleared his throat.

“So, Nemesis,” he said casually, like he hadn’t just been seconds from a breakdown. She lifted an eyebrow just over the top edge of her lace mask. “What’s your part in all of this? The Blade and Thanatos obviously knew each other back when they were heroes, but how did you end up a part of the Syndicate?”

She blew out a breath, shaking her head. “Oh, I knew them both long before that. Never knew about their hero jobs until the Blade was in prison and Nightingale called me with a plan for a prison break. He needed my help.”

“Oh.” Tommy said, and yeah, the subject change was working. He tried to wrap his head around what that phone call had to have sounded like. “He told you who they were after Blade was arrested for killing Icarus? And you didn’t turn them in?”

“I trust them.” She said, like it was as simple as that. Like she hadn’t just faced her little brother’s horror at her being a villain. “I knew the moment Thanatos told me who the Blade was, he wasn’t the one who killed Icarus. It’s . . . hard to describe, I guess. It’s like . . . you ever have a friend who could show up at your back door with a dead body, and you’d help them hide it, no questions asked?”

Tommy didn’t have a back door. Or frie—

Well.

Yeah, actually, if Tubbo or Ranboo showed up, running from heroes, asking for his help . . .

Ranboo had sort of done that already, telling Tommy who his sister was. And if it were Tubbo . . . honestly, he wouldn’t even be surprised.

Tommy took a sip of hot chocolate.

“Blade had always been somewhat protective of Icarus.” A distant smile flickered over her face. “Once I was told who he was, it wasn’t hard to figure out why. After all, the vigilante saved his best friend from falling to his death. He’d rather push me off a building than hurt Icarus.”

Oh.

Well . . .

Huh.

“I don’t remember Icarus being such a big deal when he was alive.” Tommy said, his voice much quieter than he’d meant to make it.

Maybe he needed to become a . . . a monk, or something. Live in the Alps. Swear a vow of silence. If he didn’t speak to people, maybe they’d stop telling him things that gave him whiplash to hear.

“Well, I wasn’t such a big deal back then either.” Nemesis said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t have to explain why I don’t think my friend would kill a vigilante if that vigilante was never killed, now would I? Some things just go unsaid if there’s no reason to say them.”

“I guess.” Tommy conceded, begrudgingly. He supposed the way Icarus died might have had an impact on how he was remembered. It was odd to think about, though. “Uh, still, that was a big decision to make, joining them. You became a wanted villain overnight.”

“You are aware you’re doing the same thing, right?” Nemesis shifted to sit facing towards him. The smile that was flickering on her face had become solid. “The heroes will probably add you to the list of villains sooner or later, and you don’t even know who we are.”

He could see how it would seem that way.

She didn’t know just how well he could keep an eye on the heroes, or how easily he could slip into a different identity and disappear when things got too hot for Orpheus. She also didn’t know that technically, he did know who she was.

Tommy shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I guess to me it all seems easier to do this as a sort of, uh, business relationship, then it would be to find out your friends are wanted criminals and just . . . joining them.”

In his peripheral vision, he could see her shaking her head. “See, I think of it the other way around. If you don’t have any personal stakes in it, why put so much on the line?”

She had a point. He thought about Ranboo’s hand clutched in his, how his shaking voice had sounded over the phone. In his mind, he could hear his friend’s voice overlapped by Shroud, calling for help. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and a very faded Clementine briefly flickered into view beside him.

Why would he put so much at risk to help the Syndicate?

Because it was personal.

He was looking into the mystery of his own faked death. Because what got him before could still get him again. Because there were kids he’d left behind when he got out. Kids—some older, some younger—who had cried under his hands as he kept them alive with golden light. Kids with blurry faces, smudged outlines, echoes of a memory, because he couldn’t think too hard about that place, that time, those walls—

He was going after his own bogeyman, and when faced with something like that, maybe it was a little comforting to be doing it with some of the city’s most wanted villains.

But he couldn’t say any of that. The words to do so had been shoved so deep behind the walls of his heart that he couldn’t tear them out.

“I guess,” he said quietly, “it’s easier this way because personal stakes have never ended well for me.”

Shroud’s scream was still echoing in his ear.

“I’m sorry.” Nemesis whispered.

Tommy’s eyes glowed faintly brighter, and he turned his head to where he knew he’d see Clementine sitting beside him. Her incorporal eyes looked sad. She looked like she wanted to argue with him, to say it wasn’t true, but she didn’t.

She was probably coming up empty on proof.

“I knew some of my phantoms when they were still alive.” Tommy whispered. He didn’t know if he’d even intended for Nemesis to hear. It just felt like something he needed to say out loud.

Like it was as close as he could get to admitting something he’d been denying.

The next sip of hot chocolate went down like a thin beacon of warmth. One that faded too soon, too fast.

“So the rumors are true.” A new voice cut in from behind.

They both scrambled to their feet at the sound, spinning around. The Captain stood on the rooftop. Her gaze was sharp, piercing, and she was staring right at Tommy. “The Syndicate seems to have a new member.”

So it seemed things could get worse in one night. Brilliant.

The laugh slipped out before he could stop it. It wasn’t funny; but it was, kinda, a little. If he squinted his eyes while he thought about it. In a crazed, hysterical sort of way.

In a shield against bursting into tears kinda way.

Nemesis stepped in front of Tommy, holding out an arm to keep him back. The other hand still held her hot chocolate. “Orpheus, get out of here.”

Yeah, no way. He wasn’t leaving her to fight one of the best heroes alone, not after she’d got him a hot drink and sat with him while his life fell apart.

He wasn’t abandoning Niki. Not when the whole reason she was out there in the first place was because of him.

He gripped his hot chocolate harder, the silver in his eyes flickering brighter as he brought two phantoms into visibility. “You don’t suppose the Captain would believe me if I told her why we’re up h—”

Puffy rushed towards them, her sword suddenly too fast, too close, and Tommy was being yanked to the side by Nemesis with a yelp. He stumbled back as Nemesis let go, his phantoms rushing up barely in time to shield her from the next blow.

And the next.

Tommy rushed to the side, trying to get his bearings, trying to find an opening to help—

Feathered wings burst into sight, blocking his view. Pink ones. Pink that darkened into black at the tips.

They were from Nemesis’s back.

She shot into the sky and made a quick, sharp turn, diving back down behind Puff—the Captain. There was a dagger in her hand, her drink gone, and its sharp edge skidded across the force shield that guarded the Capta—Puffy’s back.

Puffy whirled around, her sword already arcing through the air, and all Tommy could think was I have an opening.

He threw his hot chocolate.

It splattered against the shield at the same moment that the Captain’s sword sliced through feathers, Niki just barely raising a wing to protect her. The drink did make both women pause for half a second, eyes darting to the liquid that fell to the roof, before Nik—Nemesis was back in the air, but wobbling this time. The black ends of half her feathers on one wing had been sliced off, dissolving into dust the moment they were severed.

Heart in his throat, Tommy tried to pull a phantom into visibility inside the Captain’s shield. A small form flickered there long enough to distract her for a moment, but there wasn’t enough room for it to stay.

And then Tommy was diving out of the way of Puffy’s blade slicing for him.

His breath was visible escaping from his mouth. His bones ached as another phantom appeared in front of him.

It wasn’t able to bear more than one swipe of the Captain’s sword before dissipating. The next swing was already coming, and then Nemesis was there, crashing into her. They hit the rooftop rolling, all limbs and feathers and sword.

Tommy gasped for breath. His feet were going numb. Everything was happening too fast, and he was responding too slowly.

What was he doing?

Hero and villain were grappling, one of them getting a foot underneath them, heaving them both up.

“I’m here, Theseus.” Clementine said softly into his ear. “What do I do?”

He didn’t know. Clementine didn’t often show up during the fights he got into as Orpheus. And he was fighting her mom—

Nemesis gave a short scream, and his eyes snapped back up just in time to see her flung towards him. Her wings disappeared from her back barely a second before they collided.

The wind was knocked out of him. He was vaguely aware of Nemesis scrambling back up as he struggled to get a breath in. He wasn’t being much help at all.

“Eyes over here, coward!” Nemesis yelled, somewhere above him. “Your fight is with me!”

A thin breath drew into his lungs, burning.

“Oh you think so? My fight is wi—” Puffy’s response was cut off with a short gasp.

Tommy pushed himself up, wheezing for air. What little breath he’d managed to gain left him at the sight that met his eyes.

Puff—Captain, the Captain was frozen in place, arm raised, force shield still solid around her, eyes wide as she stared at Nemesis.

Nemesis, who stood inches from her blade, hands half-raised in front of her, eyes locked on the hero. Holding her gaze. Shaking.

Keeping the Captain in place.

“Breathe, Theseus.” Clementine said, her voice tight and panicked. “Breathe!”

He inhaled, blinking the stars from his eyes.

Nemesis had . . . she . . .

She screamed, stumbling back, a hand raising to press against her temple. The Captain gasped, also stumbling as she regained control of her limbs. Tommy stood on unsteady legs. He needed to . . . do something.

The Captain rushed towards Nemesis and Tommy panicked. A phantom flickered in front of Niki as the sword came down, deflecting it just enough for it to skim the villain’s sleeve.

Without hesitation, the Captain pulled her hand back the way it came, smashing the handle into the side of Nemesis’s head.

She crumpled, and Tommy ran. He had to do something. His phantoms were too weak to protect her, he’d overused his powers before the fighting had even begun. He crashed into Puffy’s side and sent them both tumbling away from Nemesis.

“Stop, please, stop,” He gasped, fumbling to push away her sword hand as he tried to get up. She didn’t listen, of course she didn’t, but he wished she would just the same.

Nemesis wasn’t getting up. He was shaking, and numb with cold, and so, so, tired.

But he couldn’t leave without Niki and the Captain wasn’t going to stop and he could barely use his powers. He detangled his legs in time to jump back from a wild swing. “I don’t want to hurt you, please, just go.” he said desperately.

He’s hurt Puffy enough already.

Standing up, her eyes darted to the unconscious villain behind him. Her face twisted in something like anger, and she shoved him out of her way. “Should have thought about that before siding with them.”

“No, stop!” Tommy rushed after her, grabbing her arm and pulling. It was a stupid, desperate move.

But he was a stupid, desperate sort of guy.

And she was going to kill Nemesis.

Niki.

An elbow smashed into his face, causing his grip to slip from her arm. He couldn’t stop her. He had to stop her. Nothing he said or did was working.

She was steps away from Nemesis, her sword raising.

“Stop!” he yelled. He ran, but he was seconds behind. His mind was snatching desperately at straws. He couldn’t stop her.

He had to.

And he only had one idea left.

“Stop!” he screamed, the sound tearing out of his throat. He reached up and tore away his face mask.

“Puffy stop!”

The sword didn’t fall. Puffy turned her head, eyes wide. Staring. Motionless.

The two of them stood like statues in an earthquake; shaking, heaving, stuck. Tommy’s eyes flickered from silver to blue to silver. Time had halted, dragged to its knees by the weight that threatened to crush Tommy’s chest.

And then, a whisper—

“Theseus?”

Theseus. Puffy’s runaway foster kid. The boy who wouldn’t stay.

And she was Puffy. His foster mom. The woman who had welcomed him in to the only place that had felt like home since his parents died.

He wanted to wake up.

He wanted this to all be fake, a trick of his mind, a hallucination. Anything to take him away from this moment, to make it untrue.

Anything to get him away from the shock—borderline horror—in Puffy’s eyes that glued him in place.

He’d never revealed an identity before.

It was such an important rule it didn’t even count as a rule: keep the identities secret. Don’t let anyone know. Not by accident and never on purpose.

Puffy was the first to move, taking a step back, lowering her sword. Numbly, Tommy stepped into the space between her and Nemesis.

The good news was that his plan was working. The fighting had stopped.

The bad news? Nemesis was unconscious, Puffy knew who he was, there was still plenty of reason for her to arrest them both, and they were still stuck on the rooftop.

He had a feeling she wasn’t going to just walk away if he asked.

“Theseus,” Puffy breathed. “What—whe—how?”

He didn’t have a plan anymore. Not even a desperate one. All he had was a goal to get Nemesis out of there, and panic. Not even the useful panic. It was the tight, heavy, paralyzing kind. The kind that held deer captive in front of headlights.

Movement registered in his eyes, and just behind Puffy, Clementine flickered into sight. She was biting her lip, hesitantly reaching out towards her mother. Clementine had a plan.

Okay.

Tommy darted his eyes back up to Puffy.

“Please.” He said hoarsely. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for.

“What happened to you?” She asked, but not in an accusing way. She said it the way someone might ask a loved one why they’d come home bloody and bruised. Worried and sad and . . . and something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

It had been a long two years since she’d last seen him. Too much had happened. He probably shouldn’t be surprised that she’d picked up on that so easily. He was, after all, hanging out with the Syndicate with ghost powers.

Clementine flickered out, and then reappeared, inching closer. He wasn’t completely sure what her plan was, but she was almost there.

Then again, he wasn’t the only one who had been through a long two years. Only difference was that he knew what had happened to her. His voice came out in a whisper. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

Clementine’s icy fingertips touched her mother’s hand, and his breath caught, realizing what she was trying to do. What she's only done once before.

Puffy’s eyes fluttered closed, and Tommy rushed forward to catch her as she fell, carefully easing her down onto the rooftop. Fast asleep.

And then he stood there in silence, the night crashing down onto his shoulders.

He wasn’t going to think about what he’d just done. He wasn’t going to think about what he’d just revealed.

He was going to . . . to find his face mask. And put it back on.

And then he was going to check on Nemesis. Yeah.

She was fine. That’s what he kept telling himself, anyway. She was fine, she was going to be fine. He tried to check her pulse but his hands were shaking too badly. She was breathing though, so her heart was probably beating, right?

His vision went blurry, and he tried to blink it away; he needed to see, he needed to do something. Nemesis was unconscious, and hurt, and she’d almost died.

His breathing sped up but the air he needed evaded him. It was just him there. Just him, a lone vigilante, on a rooftop with a sleeping hero and an unconscious villain.

His old foster mom and his friend’s half-sister.

There was a hysterical laugh trapped somewhere inside him, hopelessly lost.

He couldn’t do this. He wanted to curl up in a ball and shut his eyes and hope for everything to go away, to fix itself. But Nemesis was still hurt. She was still a wanted villain. He couldn’t let another hero find them, especially not with Puffy lying unconscious nearby.

Tommy had to take care of this, and then he could go find a hidden corner to cry in. Maybe stay there for a few days. Maybe never come out.

But that had to be later.

His fingers were stiff and uncoordinated as he fumbled to pull out his phone. Help. He needed help. He should call . . . someone.

Ranboo, maybe. But Ranboo had promised that the next time he’d see Nemesis, he’d arrest her. He might not, though, not with her like this. He might panic instead and teleport her to the hospital—wait no, he couldn’t do that, not with her as Nemesis.

Tommy couldn’t think. He pulled out his vigilante phone and stared at it, breathing hard and fast. His head felt light and achy. For some reason, he considered calling Nemesis for help, before remembering that she was the one he was calling help for.

His mind was oddly and unhelpfully blank. He stared at his phone without a single thought behind his eyes.

Help. Right.

He needed to call for help. He needed . . . Blade.

The Blade would know what to do.

Tommy pulled up his contact and called him, trying to bully himself into calming down and failing miserably. He wanted to fall apart. He was shaking hard enough that he might be already.

He was a mess but someone needed to get Nemesis.

“Orpheus?” The Blade’s voice swept over him and he nearly collapsed at the sound.

“Blade.” He said. It was going to be okay. Nemesis was going to be okay. “Can you get here? I’m at, uh—”

An unexpected sob in the back of his throat cut him off.

“Orpheus?!” The urgency in Blade’s voice was giving him an odd sense of déjà vu. Was that what he’d sounded like when Shroud called him?

“I’m on a r-rooftop of a convenience store in—in—where Nemesis found me. Please, it’s bad. I can’t—I—please help.” His voice cracked. “I can’t do this.”

“I’m coming. Are you hurt? Are you still in danger?”

“No.” He reached out and grabbed Nemesis’ hand. “But Nem—”

He lost his voice to tears. He’d held it together for too long, and now he was finally shattering apart. Between crying and panicked breathing, he dropped the phone; his hands like cold rubber.

He was too tired to reign in his sobs. Too overwhelmed to make decisions. Too drained to do anything to help the two unconscious women around him.

He was too young for this.

At some point he’d buried his face in his hands. Everything was wet and cold and he wouldn’t mind it half as much if his nose didn’t join in and start running. Breathing in hurt because he was taking such big gasps for air and it was all through his mask and why was crying so much work.

“Hey, hey, Orpheus, it’s me,” a low voice cut in, and there were hands on his shoulders, pushing him up. “I’m here, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m going to check on Nemesis. She’s gonna be fine.”

The hands left his shoulders, but he only swayed a little before finding the solid form of the Blade crouching beside him. Something steady to lean on. He felt like he was twelve. Nine. A small age that didn’t have to pay attention to his surroundings while he hurt.

The Blade was murmuring something, but he wasn’t listening. Couldn’t. Didn’t have to.

A small, confused feminine voice reached his ears, and he let himself go boneless with relief. Nemesis was awake. Alive.

Good.

He was going to cry some more about it.

His head felt like static, stars exploding behind his eyelids. His breathing was an erratic mess and his tears went from hot to cold as they escaped from his eyes. A gust of wind rolled over him, and a new voice joined the others.

He heard someone say ‘Thanatos’, so he didn’t worry about it. He wasn’t sure he actually could have if he’d needed to. If someone from the Federation itself showed up he’d simply have to tell them to take a number and wait.

Broken laughter mixed in with his tears at the thought.

The Blade shifted, and his hands returned to Tommy’s shoulders. “—nd then come back for Nemesis. I’ve got him.”

Tommy sniffled, a hiccuping sob shuttering through him. The voices around him were clearer than before.

“—uld I leave her?” Thanatos was asking. His voice was from the same direction that Tommy had left the Captain laying in.

Tommy let his head fall forward, and it collided with the Blade’s chest. It felt good. Like a release of tension to a headache he hadn’t noticed. He left it there.

“Just somewhere that isn’t here.” the Blade said, and Tommy could feel his voice rumble through his bones. “Hospital maybe? Doctors are less likely to prioritize calling the police over taking care of a patient.”

There was shuffling, and then another gust of wind that Tommy realized was probably from Thanatos’s wings.

“N-Nem?” his voice wobbled.

“She’s here, she’s okay.” Blade said. A light groan came from nearby. “Gonna have a killer headache, but she’ll be fine.”

Tommy shivered. He couldn’t stop doing that shuttering inhale thing that came with crying. He was pretty sure his tears were just from exhaustion now. Whatever adrenaline he’d had during the fight had long since gone, leaving a particular hollowness behind.

That was fine.

“I couldn’t save him.” he whispered, “and then I thought I w-was gonna lose her too.”

The Blade shifted into a better sitting position. “I got you.”

Fresh tears slipped down faster than the ones before. Like they’d missed their cue before and were racing to catch up. “I couldn’t—m-my powers.”

“Everything’s alright. It’s over.”

“It’s jus—just been a—” he took another shaky breath. “Long day.”

The Blade was talking, but he couldn’t pick out the words anymore. He let the man’s voice wash over him while he squeezed his eyes shut and pretended that he was on the edge of sleep.

It was almost good enough to be the real thing.

Notes:

Bet you weren't expecting THAT now were you?
-
Tommy really be out there doing three things and doing them well: (1) lying (2) panicking (3) making poor impulse decisions

Chapter 20: Lesson 20: [REDACTED] [replaced by: The Blade’s Aside]

The Blade didn’t have a great history with vigilantes and rooftops.

Apparently, that little fact hadn’t stopped Orpheus from calling him for help. On a rooftop. As much as Blade held a love for dramatic irony, he still wasn’t a huge fan of it happening to him. It had a way of stirring up the voices into an unmanageable chatter. It sounded like a distant crowd, and it felt like anxiety.

And then he heard the sound of Orpheus crying over the phone, and he never wanted to hear that again.

It was an odd sight, seeing the vigilante sat between the crumpled forms of the Captain and Niki, head buried in his hands. He was shaking with the kind of sobs that come from pure overwhelm. The Blade rushed to him, carefully placing his hands on Orpheus’s shoulders.

“Hey, hey, Orpheus, it’s me,” he’d said, pushing the shoulders up so he could theoretically see the vigilante’s face. If it wasn’t, you know, hidden behind a pair of hands. The temperature had dropped in the space around him, sending goosebumps down Blade’s arm. “I’m here, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m going to check on Nemesis. She’s gonna be fine.”

He had no idea if she was going to be fine. He wasn’t even sure that she wasn’t dead, but those weren’t the words that Orpheus needed to hear. Blade moved to check on his friend, and felt relief sweep through him as his powers found her blood moving as it was supposed to. He was locating the injury when he felt the vigilante slump into his side. He was still breathing, still conscious, but he was also dead weight. Exhausted.

“Hey Nemesis, can you hear me?” he asked softly, “you’re okay, everything’s fine, you’re just dealing with a little bit of blunt force trauma. You know, your favorite.”

“Blade?” she murmured, “What . . . oh, that hurts.”

That almost pulled a smile onto his lips. Yeah, Niki was gonna be alright.

Orpheus, on the other hand, dissolved into tears again. Some of it sounded like relief, some of it sounded like distress, and some of it sounded like something buried deep, finally being let out into the open air.

A puff of wind from beating wings announced Thanatos’s arrival, the man’s feet barely touching the ground before he was calling out, asking if they were alright. Blade caught him up to speed, and together they started to sort out the mess left around them. Orpheus’s tears started to mix with the sound of a sort of hysterical laughter, pulling Blade’s attention back to him, leaving the other two to Thanatos.

He turned, shifting so he could better support the vigilante, who promptly curled into him like someone caught in a blizzard, seeking warmth.

Orpheus was young, he realized. Younger than he’d originally thought.

And so, so cold.

It was the kind of cold his ghosts held, though none of them were around at the moment. The kind of cold that made breaths visible on a warm day. The kind of cold that made Blade check that the boy’s blood was still flowing.

Thanatos came back for Nemesis, scooping her up in his arms. Blade started to get up, pulling Orpheus with him, already trying to figure out if it would be possible to carry the vigilante off the roof, or if he’d have to fully wake him up so he could climb down on his own. The plan had been to move them all somewhere safer, somewhere out of plain sight. Maybe somewhere with a bed so Orpheus could get the rest he seemed to desperately need.

But the boy had stumbled to his feet and pulled away. “I-I gotta go,” he’d rasped, “‘m gonna . . . gonna be late for work.”

“Call in sick.” Blade said, holding out a hand as Orpheus swayed on his feet. It was an odd thing to think about the vigilante having a day job. “You can crash at one of our safehouses, that’s where we’re taking Nemesis.”

But the boy was shaking his head. “I got . . . phone bills.” he muttered. His eyes were still unfocused. “Big man s-stuff.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. In the gray light of dawn, the vigilante looked dead on his feet. It seemed he wasn’t waiting for permission, though, as he offered a dazed two-fingered salute and turned away.

There was nothing to do but watch as Orpheus left, taking the cold with him.

Notes:

Hi everyone! I'm alive!
The next chapter is kicking my butt and stealing my wallet but I got my hands on a lead pipe so I'll get it wrangled into something readable soon. Ish. Probably. I didn't want to leave y'all hanging without an update for too long, though, and our brave hero Blade stepped in with some words so I let him have at it.
Yes, this will probably raise the total chapter count. No, I'm not updating it right now. Yes, it will probably happen again.
If you're reading this at some inhuman hours of the night/morning, consider closing your eyes. Sleep is nice this time of year, I hear. You could try it out for the low, low price of free. Whether or not it works is to be determined . . . but trying it is free. Give it a shot.

Okay catch you guys later bye!

Chapter 21: Lesson 21: Don’t (and this is tricky) Be Stupid

Notes:

Boom, baby! I emerge victorious!
I don't think this needs trigger warnings, but let me know if I'm wrong
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(don't look at the chapter count I'm still in denial)
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His head hurt. Among other things. Mostly his head, though.

Vaguely, he wondered if this was what being hungover felt like.

People were running around the hero base in chaos as usual, but there seemed to be a few more worried looks thrown here and there. Tension strung through the air, connecting everyone without a word spoken.

Puffy wasn’t in the main room, nor was she in her office. Tommy poked his head into the dining hall and a couple meeting rooms without any results before he resorted to checking every room he could enter.

He felt like he was dreaming. It was a sensation he couldn’t shake, no matter how real his surroundings. Everyone just looked off. Everything moved wrong. The lights were too bright. His fingers felt like plastic.

Maybe he had a concussion. He wasn’t sure if that should worry him. It probably should. His thoughts were as slow as cold molasses, but he was pretty sure a concussion wouldn’t be good. He couldn’t remember getting hit in his head, though—that had been Nemises. So maybe it was dehydration. Or shock.

Or maybe he was going crazy. That was still an option.

He only sort of remembered pulling away from the Blade and telling him he had to go. The Blade had said something about safehouses and recovering and going with them, but those words were already blending together into an incoherent mess in his memory.

He was pretty sure he’d told the man he was late for work.

Which wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t seem like the Captain was going to particularly notice, what with her being so hard to find. Shoot, Clementine hadn’t put her into a coma, had she? That wouldn’t be ideal.

He didn’t remember the walk from that rooftop, but he’d ended up at the hero base in different clothes, so at least he’d had the presence of mind to not waltz in dressed as Orpheus right after fighting the Captain herself.

That would also not have been ideal.

He opened the door to one of the training rooms, and spotted Voidwalker and Undergrowth sitting in the middle of one of the sparring mats. It didn’t look like they were doing much sparring. Ranboo was sort of staring off into nothing and Tubbo was talking at him.

Neither had noticed the door open, and Tommy stood there looking at them for much too long before kicking himself into motion and walking in. He opened his mouth to say hi, but nothing came out, so he closed it again and simply plopped himself down beside his friends.

“Hey Blink.” Tubbo said. He looked stressed. “You hear the news?”

Tommy was pretty sure he knew what the news was, but he shook his head anyway. He hadn’t actually been told anything yet.

“Apparently Captain fought with Nemesis and Orpheus last night. She’s been in Nook’s office with some others giving a report on it or something. Ranboo caught Foolish stepping out of the meeting for a minute and got some of the jist of it.”

“He said the Captain nearly had them,” Ranboo whispered. “Said she got Nemesis pretty good, but he didn’t say how—uh, how much.”

His hands were shaking, Tommy realized. Shaking as they sat clasped in his lap, white-knuckled. Ranboo was . . .

Ranboo was panicking.

“She’ll probably be okay,” Tubbo said with a strained smile. “Obviously she didn’t get arrested, and we’d know if there was a . . . i-if she was . . .” He trailed off, and the silence that followed was heavier than ever.

“Orpheus’s status is being changed to villain.” Ranboo continued. “I-I’d just seen him earlier that night. He said he wasn’t turning into a villain, but, uh, I guess he’s not getting a say in that now. He said . . . he . . .” Ranboo straightened, his eyes finally focusing and turning to them. “Guys, he said there’s more kids missing. Like, a lot more kids missing, same as Michael was. This is . . . this is really bad, and I still don’t know anything, not a single useful thing! I don’t know where anyone is or if they’re alive or what I can do and I think this is way bigger than anyone realizes and I don’t know what to—”

“Hey, hey, woah there bossman.” Tubbo cut in, leaning forward. “Deep breaths, we’ll work it out, okay? Just not while you’re having a panic attack.”

Ranboo looked at Tommy, scared and pleading, and he just stared back. His friend was right, really. Things were really bad. It was bigger than anyone knew. They didn’t know anything useful.

It seemed like an appropriate time for someone to panic. Someone who wasn’t Tommy. Everything was too far out of reach for him to do the panicking.

His status was being changed to villain.

Huh.

Neat.

The door to the training room opened again, and Foolish poked his head in. “There you a—oh, and Blink too. Hey, Cap’s looking for you. The big debrief is over, I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it.”

All three boys scrambled to their feet. Tommy glanced over at the other two, a thousand little words dying on his tongue. In the end, all he could do was return the nod Tubbo offered in farewell, and he ducked out of the room.

Foolish hadn’t told him where he could find the Captain, but it didn’t take long for her to find him.

“Blink!” she called out from behind him, making him jump. He turned and waited for her to catch up to him. “Hey, sorry I was in that meeting so long. Last night was crazy. Woke up at a hospital.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, the most reaction he could muster up.

She pulled him down the hall towards her office. “I ran into Nemesis and Orpheus while I was on patrol. They were working together. I almost had them, too, but then things happened and . . .” she paused, hand on the office door handle. She frowned at it. “I don’t know. I just . . . woke up at the hospital a few hours later. No nightmares, no concussion, no drugs in my system. It was almost like . . . like memory loss.”

She shook her head and opened the door. Tommy followed her in, reaching out to flip on the lights. He’d forgotten that Shuteye’s known M.O. was nightmares, and not just sleep in general. The reasons for people not discovering his identities were getting thinner and thinner.

“Blink,” Puffy turned to face him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Can you keep a secret?”

He almost laughed.

No, apparently. It seemed he was actually terrible at keeping secrets. Somehow, though, that hadn’t hindered him in collecting them. He nodded.

“You can’t tell anyone, I didn’t . . . I didn’t put it in my report, but I have to tell someone and you—you’ve always been more open to looking at things differently.” She looked around, as if she expected someone to pop out of the walls. “Blink, I—I saw Orpheus’s face.”

Tommy honestly didn’t know what sort of reaction she expected him to have. Seeing a vigilante-turned-villain’s face was probably a big deal. He should be, like, shocked or something. He didn’t have the energy to pretend, though. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like Puffy needed it anyway.

“I recognized him.” Puffy continued. “He—Blink, I know him. Or at least, I did, once. He was just a kid. He used to be so . . . well, guarded, of course. But Clementine had taken to him like a fish to water. She would bug him whenever she got the chance, following him everywhere. And he would let her.” she paused, eyes growing misty, distant. “I don’t know if he ever truly came to trust me, but my word, he let her slip straight into his heart.”

Tommy’s chest ached at the reminder. He’d let Shroud slip in too, and look where that got him. He wished he could close it up, pull back, keep everyone far away from him and his overworked heart. There were just too many cracks for someone to slip through.

And lately he’d been letting those cracks widen.

“He ran away a few months before Clemintine died. Disappeared without a trace. Now he’s back, and he’s . . . working with the Syndicate?” her face twisted slightly, like there was a bad taste in her mouth, and her bottom lip wobbled. “He’s working with the people who killed my little girl.”

Because that’s how it looked to everyone else.

Tommy clenched his hands into fists at his side. He hated it, he hated it so much. He would never in a million years work with people who hurt Clementine.

But how could Puffy know that?

She raked her fingers through her hair. “Right? That’s . . . that’s what he’s doing, right? I-I know what I saw. And he knew who I was, even though I was masked. Blink, he called my name. How long has he known who I am? Do you think . . . was that why he ran away?”

He stared, feeling his reality slip just a fraction farther from his grip. Maybe it was a good thing everyone was out of sorts from last night’s events, otherwise they’d probably notice that there was something incredibly off about him, and he couldn’t summon the energy to explain it all away. His voice, his expressions, his movements . . . all of it felt too distant to access, too distant to bully into changing.

Up until then, he’d been so focused on the fact that he’d revealed that Orpheus was Theseus; he hadn’t realized that he’d also revealed that Theseus knew who she was under her hero’s mask.

“Did he run away because he found out I was a hero?” Puffy went on. “Why? I thought . . . I mean, I know he was hesitant to let anyone close, of course he was, he was a child in the foster system, but . . . I thought he’d started to settle. You know? For all the bluster he tried to put on, he wouldn’t have hurt a fly. How is he . . . a villain, now?” her voice wobbled, “Just like . . . just like Blade. Just like Nightingale.”

She looked up at him, a tear slipping out faster than a heartbeat. “What went wrong, Blink? What am I missing? Why . . .”

She trailed off, looking lost. Torn apart.

He didn’t want this. He wished he could snatch it all back. The revelation, the rooftop, the entire night. He couldn’t, though; so instead, Tommy reached out a hand.

The feeling of touch right then made him want to crawl out of his own skin, but talking felt even more foreign to him, and he couldn’t just leave her like that; in nothing but silence. His hand settled on her arm. It was a stiff, mechanical motion, but she seemed to take comfort in it just the same. She wilted, and her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder.

Maybe it had been a while since someone had last comforted her. Maybe she felt just as lost as he did. Maybe he had more in common with her than he thought.

“Why does this keep happening to me?” she whispered.

His visibility flickered. The whole point of running away from her had been so she wouldn’t be caught up in the mess that dogged his steps. He hadn’t been able to account for her being a hero. Hadn’t been able to account for finding Clementine on the rooftop. Hadn’t been able to account for his aching heart bringing him back to that same spot every week.

I’m sorry, he wanted to say, but it got stuck in his throat. Her words echoed inside him, coming back to his ears in his own voice.

Why does this keep happening to me?

They stayed like that for a long time. Tommy refused to be the first to move, the first to break contact. It would feel like abandoning her.

It would feel like a betrayal.

Eventually, she pulled herself back up with a sigh. “They’re rearranging the schedule so we don’t have patrol today. If you still want to go out, you can talk to Nook about it. I’m sure he’ll find you a team to join. Otherwise we’re doing officework, though I doubt I’ll be able to focus on any of it.”

Tommy nodded, letting her lead the way and falling in step behind her. He doubted he’d be any better at focusing on paperwork than Puffy, but he wasn’t going to let her stare unseeing at paper alone. She needed someone to keep her company. To keep her from feeling alone. To sit with her through the noise in her head and silence in the room.

And if he was being honest with himself, maybe he needed it too.

 

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It wasn’t close to evening yet—not at all late enough for vigilantes to be out—and yet there Tommy was. Shuteye. Bomber jacket and blindfold on, tucked between buildings beside a fire escape. He’d originally planned on climbing it, getting an aerial view, but his head spun so badly barely eight feet off the ground that he gave up on that idea.

School had just let out.

He knew he couldn’t watch over every child that walked home, he knew that. Really. He could watch over at least one of the shadier streets, though. One that he knew some kids had to walk through. Not everyone had parents home from work to pick them up in a car. Not everyone had a car. Or money for a bus.

Clementine used to walk home when Puffy couldn’t get off work in time. Not because she couldn’t afford a bus ticket, but because she hated riding the bus. She’d admitted, later, that it was because it made her feel trapped. Trapped and small and scared.

Tommy halfheartedly pushed that thought away. He didn’t want to think about her telling him that, but he also didn’t like the idea of forgetting it, either. He didn’t want to forget anything she’d said to him.

Small clumps of children started to appear; talking loudly, telling jokes, goofing off. Occasionally eyes would dart around—searching, alert—before they returned to their friends and relaxed again.

Tommy’s mind was loud with white noise. He decided that that must have been why the fire escape made him dizzy, and that it had nothing to do with him being only a few blocks from Logsted Street; the closest he’s been since . . .

Falling, screaming, wind rushing past, debris in the air, dust in his throat, fingers outstretched—

Well.

He avoided it.

Logsted Street and Puffy’s neighborhood. Those were probably the only two places in the city that he’d given a wide berth. Everywhere else couldn’t keep Tommy’s nose out of it, no matter how some might try. Fences were made to be climbed, after all. Especially if it had barbed wire at the top. Barbed wire was a sure sign that interesting things lay beyond.

A shriek rose from the street, and Tommy’s head snapped in its direction, all of his attention pinpointed to that sound, feet already moving . . .

It had been laughter.

A group of girls were shushing their friend, but it was clear they all had a case of the giggles. Tommy pulled himself back into the alley.

The sound of white noise in his head had spread to a buzzing under his skin. He pressed his back against the wall, trying to even out his breath. That shriek had sounded like Clementine. It sounded like Lullah. It sounded like Shroud.

Spots danced in his vision, and he shut his eyes so he didn’t see them. Clementine was nearby, signaled by the slight coolness of his left side. Lullah was safe, she’d escaped and Tommy and the Blade had returned her home. Shroud . . .

Tommy’s stomach swooped like he was falling, sudden enough to grip him with panic. The wall behind him wasn’t solid enough to reassure him, his fingers going numb from that awful buzzing, his eyes still shut tight because what if he opened them and saw nothing but the ground rushing to meet him. What if he opened them and saw nothing but rubble and dust from a collapsed highrise building. What if he opened them and saw—

He shoved himself away from the wall as if he could push away from his thoughts, too. Gravity wasn’t quite working properly on him, making him feel weightless, and he hated that feeling more than anything.

There was pain somewhere in his legs, but he couldn’t pinpoint where. Something was pressing against him on both sides. Something seemed to be wrapped around his chest, and he’d push it away if he had the strength. His head felt so heavy, and his breathing was too loud, and his arms were draped over a small form at his side.

His knees were on something hard.

Tommy finally cracked open his eyes enough to stare at the ground through his blindfold, spinning beneath him.

He was in the alley still, he was pretty sure. Something was propping him up, keeping him from faceplanting into old cigarette butts and a dropped backpack.

Huh.

He didn’t remember there being a backpack in the alley.

Confusion mixed into the vague fog of fear, clearing it away enough to focus. If someone had attempted a mugging right in front of him in those few seconds he’d had his eyes shut, he was going to find a rusty spork and stab them with it. And then he was going to tell them that tetanus was fatal and without a cure. And then he’d call it tinnitus just to see if they knew the difference.

And then he’d return the backpack to whoever it belonged to.

Yeah. Just as soon as he could detangle himself from whatever was holding him and stand without throwing up. He looked down at himself with a frown. What was holding him up?

Hm. Those were arms. Child-sized arms. And they were attached to child-sized . . . children. One on either side.

A mess of dark curly hair on his right, and radioactive green eyes staring through a blond fringe on his left. Whatever panic there was running through his system vanished at the pure shock of recognition and bewilderment that assaulted him.

That was . . . that was Cheyanne and Lullah. Propping him up so he didn’t eat dirt in an alleyway. Lullah still had a school backpack slung over one shoulder, Cheyanne did not. He must have dropped his.

“Didn’t . . .” Tommy said, and man, he was out of breath. When did he get out of breath? “Didn’t anyone . . . tell you guys . . . about stranger danger?”

Lullah let out a soft exhale. Cheyanne carefully pulled away, watching him intensely as he tested out letting go. Tommy swayed before catching himself and holding his own weight.

“Do you know sign?” Cheyanne signed.

For a moment Tommy wondered why he’d ask, of course he knew Tommy could si—oh, right, he wasn’t Tommy. Cheyanne and Lullah hadn’t met Shuteye yet.

Which really reinforced his question about stranger danger.

“Yeah,” he said, “I know enough.”

Both kids slumped with relief at that. Which, yeah, fair. One thing that would make an encounter with a strange, unsteady vigilante weirder than it already was, would be if he couldn’t understand them.

Lullah released him and pulled back enough so he could see her sign. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just got a little dizzy. Thanks.” Tommy cleared his throat, and then narrowed his eyes at the two of them. “Uh, this is a dark alley in a sketchy part of the city. You guys shouldn’t be here.”

Cheyanne shrugged. “You shouldn’t have passed out then.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t pass out.” Tommy said defensively. Neither child looked even slightly convinced. “I was having a, uh, case of hysterics. Totally different.”

The boy grinned at him.

“Anywayy,” Tommy dragged out, “let’s get you two out of here. It’s dangerous on the streets, you know.”

“I’m not scared of some villains.” Cheyanne signed as Lullah grabbed his backpack for him.

Tommy eased himself up to stand on his feet. “The villains aren’t who I’m worried about.” he said softly.

The boy’s eyes flashed neon green, and Lullah’s gaze darted to the shadows. They knew who he was worried about.

“We’ll be careful,” Lullah signed, “and keep each other safe. Look.”

She reached out and took Cheyanne’s hand. The alleyway became full of thick, swirling mist, with pairs of glowing green dots appearing within, until it was a massive pack of icy mist wolves with sharp, dripping teeth. Their forms looked so solid that Tommy was certain that if he pet one, he’d feel fur. Cold and wet fur.

Lullah let go and nearly half the wolves disappeared. The ones that remained were less solid, leaving them wispy and translucent. After another moment, Cheyanne let those fade, too. Tommy swallowed hard around the lump that was taking over his throat. So Lullah had powers too.

Magnifying powers.

Tommy nodded numbly. He hoped her powers weren’t in anyone’s database.

“Don’t take any chances. Run the moment you feel like something’s off. But if you’re backed into a corner . . .” he felt ill. “Then yeah, fight with everything you got.”

Both kids nodded with determined expressions. They weren’t alone, Tommy reminded himself. They had each other. They were alert. No one disappeared in pairs. Lullah’s already dodged them before.

They were fine. He was fine.

Everything was fine.

It occurred to him, then, that he had been talking. Out loud. He didn’t feel quite as distant and detached as before. That was nice.

It had only taken him the entire day.

“Okay. Let’s get you guys home.” he said, motioning out of the alley. “I’ll let my rescuers lead the way, since I have no clue where I’m going.”

Lullah grinned at that, and Cheyanne led them out into the street. There was another cluster of kids walking by, and the boy didn’t hesitate to join the group, vigilante in tow. He did it like there was nothing at all strange about it. Like no one would notice a vigilante twice their height in their midst. To the other kids’ credit, they pretty much immediately went along with it.

Walking Cheyanne and Lullah home turned into walking all of them home, and they had a few more kids catch up or slow down to join them. It was like Tommy was the only person with an umbrella at the start of a downpour. More than that, it was like the kids had known there would be rain in the forecast.

It was like they all sensed something prowling in the shadows.

It was strange walking out in the open, in broad daylight, as a vigilante. With a gaggle of kids. It wasn’t his normal inconspicuous M.O., but somehow it worked. He even spotted Foolish on patrol about a block away, and the hero hadn’t done much more than stare for a few seconds before shrugging and moving on. He probably had bigger fish to fry on his mind.

Bigger fish, like Orpheus.

Who he’d just stared at without knowing.

It would have been somewhat funny if he’d tried to arrest Tommy on the charge of kidnapping a bunch of kids like some pied piper, but since Tommy was very opposed to the idea of being arrested, he was okay with it not happening.

Maybe he should do this as a hero. Maybe he should suggest it to the others.

One of the kids asked him if he could really actually see through his blindfold, and he told that kid that yeah, of course he could. He then proceeded to pretend that he couldn’t see at all, bumping a few of them lightly and then walking straight into a streetlight post.

Their laughter lightened something in his chest. He was able to breathe a little.

Lullah and one of the others decided to ‘yes, and’ his act, and became his ‘guide kids’—grabbing his arms and trying to steer him. He may or may not have made it a teeny, tiny bit difficult for them.

By the time the last child made it home, he had a smile on his face. A sort of ridiculous smile that made him feel like a kid again. One that lingered even as he left the neighborhoods for the more crowded places of the city.

It was with this goofy grin on his face that he turned an alley corner and found himself face-to-face with the Blade.

It was hard to tell who was more startled by this turn of events; Tommy, who remembered suddenly and vividly that the last time he’d seen the guy, he’d had a full-on mental breakdown in his arms; or Blade, who was out in full villain garb carrying a large bag of . . . baking supplies? As if the entire hero organization wasn’t out on high alert looking for him.

Out of sheer surprise, Tommy looked up and locked eyes with Blade; and he’d become so familiar with the villain that it took him a second to remember why that was a really super bad idea.

Tommy’s body locked up in response to the sudden pressure inside him from an invisible hold.

“Shuteye, isn’t it?” Blade said, tilting his head. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

His voice was smooth and cold, dangerous in a way that Tommy had never heard from him before. The eyes behind his boar skull mask glowed red.

“Uh, yup, that’s me.” Tommy responded, talking on autopilot. “How do.”

“If I remember correctly, you’ve had a run-in with a vigilante I know.”

With the gift of hindsight being twenty-twenty, Tommy could see that maybe he should have thought up a better cover story for going radio silent for two days before calling the Blade and running his mouth.

His next words were said with very little regard to any of that wisdom he’d just gained. “You know a vigilante that isn’t dead?”

His mouth was clamped shut for him, the pressure throughout his body tightening until his breathing was only shallow breaths. Logically, he knew the Blade didn’t have the ability to suddenly grow six inches, but it still seemed like he had as he stepped closer, looming over Tommy. “I know one who might no longer meet that definition in the near future.”

“Mm.” Tommy said through his shut lips. Which, of course, was supposed to be interpreted as: ‘from the bottom of my heart, I would like to say . . . my bad’.

He didn’t think the Blade got the translation, though.

The pressure lifted just a little, just enough for Tommy to draw a full breath and regain control of his mouth.

“I believe you had a fight with Orpheus a little over a week ago?”

Was that how long ago it was? It felt like ages. Tommy’s nerves had him giving the villain a shaky smile. “Heh, yeah, that was a big misunderstanding. Hey, how did you know abou—”

“What did you do to him?” Blade interrupted. “Show him his worst nightmares? Make him live his worst fears? He sounded pretty out of it when he got away.”

Tommy gave him an incredulous look. “What? No, I didn't—nothing happened! I just went a little strong on my powers. Not intentionally! It scared me when he took forever to wake up. Sure, the guy could use a nap but—”

“Listen.” And man, the Blade was scary like this. His voice was low and far too calm. “You wanna go after criminals, that's fine. That's good. You wanna go after villains? That's fine, too. I get it. I'll even let you take a few free shots at me.”

Bright red eyes narrowed to slits as the man leaned forward. “But Orpheus is a vigilante, same as you. That means no friendly fire. I don't care what kinda chip you have in your shoulder, leave him out of it.”

Tommy stared right back at the man, wishing he could squirm against the tight hold he was in. It was kinda . . . touching, for him to be looking out for Orpheus like this. A kind of protection he’d never really thought he’d be offered. “Yeah, yeah, for sure. Like I said; huge misunderstanding. Won't happen again.”

Blade held his stare for a moment longer before the pressure holding Tommy was released. His legs were jelly, and he stumbled to a nearby wall to hold himself up while his blood went back to its regularly scheduled program. Blade just walked past him without another word, the conversation seemingly over.

Tommy thought about what Ranboo and Puffy had told him; how Orpheus was considered a villain now. Officially. He still wasn’t sure what he thought about that. Part of him was considering making Orpheus disappear forever so he was safe from the heroes, while the other part didn’t really mind being considered a part of the Syndicate. A third part didn’t want Puffy to think he was working with Clementine’s killer.

Too late for that one, though.

“But like, he's working with you, isn't he?” Tommy said, once again out of breath. “That's the rumor. Doesn't that make him a—”

Blade spun back around. “He's helping track down lost kids so they can go home, does that sound like a villain to you? 'Cause it doesn't to me.”

If that were the case, none of the Syndicate should be seen as villains. The problem was that no one believed them.

“Yeah.” Tommy rasped. “Yeah no I get it. Uh-huh. We're cool.”

“We’re barely cool.” Blade said. “You’re on thin ice, Shuteye.”

Tommy nodded, swallowing down unhelpful words like ‘neat’ or ‘super’ or ‘does that mean we’re hot then’. Instead, he watched the villain walk away with his bag of baking supplies, a flicker of warmth wrapping around his heart. In the grand scheme of things, Orpheus didn’t need protection from Shuteye—that threat level landing somewhere near the rock bottom of his list—but it was nice to have someone try.

He was sore, and shaking, and he might have busted a blood vessel or two, but with that flickering warmth . . .

Nothing had changed, not really, but—

Maybe things didn't look quite so bad anymore.

Notes:

Yeah Blade went to Niki's house to grab baking supplies for her, because she's recovering from a concussion at a safehouse and banned from screens lol. He didn't change out of his villain outfit in case he ran into Ranboo at the house and had to explain why he was taking all of the baking items from their kitchen.
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Who do you think is getting a reveal next? Place your bets now! It could be anyone!
Maybe it's Tommy again! Maybe it's someone else! Maybe it’s you!

Chapter 22: Lesson 22: When Life Gives You Lemons, Eat Them Like Apples

Notes:

Wow, I thought I'd have this chapter out sooner. I was asked to make a powerpoint presentation for a meeting at work and that power went sTRAIGHT to my head. That power was used to make some silly goofy slides, btw. It was a big hit. I am unstoppable.
I also got sick. And then I had someone ask for my number, and we were talking for a bit and man, I could not write a thing while that was going on, lol.
But we're back now! Lock in everyone!

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TW: a gun gets pointed at someone. That's kinda it.
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As the sky dimmed on its way from evening to dusk, Tommy changed his outfit and sent out his phantoms to scatter across the city.

He didn’t need to stop himself from looking scary, didn't need to stop himself from being seen as a villain; not now that the kids were off the streets. And anyway, it seemed like a change from being Shuteye would be good for his health.

Not that being Orpheus didn’t come with its own danger.

He’d spread out his phantoms thinner than normal, telling them to at least try to be discreet, and it wasn’t like the heroes could track him down through his phantoms. They didn’t leave a trail. The past few days had been eventful, to say the least, and he’d already scoured the city for Shroud, but . . .

He could still hear the boy’s voice, begging him for help.

Looking was all he could think to do. It didn’t stop him from feeling helpless, but it took the edge off. There was always a chance his phantoms could find something new, something different, something useful. The Blade had never given up looking for Icarus. He could do the same for Shroud, no matter how hopeless it seemed.

He didn’t climb to the rooftop this time. The vertigo at the thought of being off the ground had faded, but he still didn’t want to be so easy to spot by the heroes. Not dressed as Orpheus. Instead, he walked through the alleyways with his hands stuffed in his trenchcoat pockets as they grew colder from using Orpheus’s specific set of powers. Shuteye kept him from sleep, Orpheus made him cold, and Blink . . .

Well. It was hard to go invisible without thinking about the girl who’d been able to do it first.

As if he’d summoned her with his thoughts, Clementine’s voice rang suddenly in his ear. “Thanatos gave me flowers!”

Tommy jumped, his heart skipping a beat. He stopped in a crossroad of alleyways and turned towards her, bewildered. “What?”

“Thanatos.” She was grinning ear to ear. “He was just at my grave and brought me flowers. They’re so pretty, and they smell super good.”

“Oh. That’s . . . nice of him?”

“Mm-hm. I wanted to eat them.”

Tommy could feel his brain buffering. “What?”

Clementine drifted to one of the walls, dragging her incorporeal hand over its surface. “They looked tasty. Have you ever eaten flowers, Theseus?”

“Broccoli.” Tommy deadpanned.

Clementine gave an exaggerated sigh, turning to give him an unimpressed look. “That doesn’t count. I mean flower flowers.”

“That’s so rude to broccoli.”

“Well, broccoli was rude to me first. Have you ever eaten, like, daffodils?”

“I’m pretty sure those are poisonous.”

She threw her hands in the air. “Fine! Tulips, then.”

“Pretty sure those are poisonous, too.” Tommy fought an oncoming smile.

Clementine glared at him, hands on her hips. “Well, I’m not asking if they’re poisonous, am I? Have you eaten them?”

“We live in a city, Clem. When would I have the opportunity?”

“You’re avoiding the question.” she whined.

Tommy grinned, continuing his walk down the alley. “Nope, no other flowers. Just broccoli.”

“You’re so boring.”

“I think you mean brave. Especially considering your opinion of broccoli.”

“Stop bringing broccoli into this!”

“Hmm, no. I don’t think I will.” He laughed as she tried to smack his arm, phasing through. All it did was leave a faint coldness on the spot. “In fact, maybe I should go buy some broccoli, just for you. They’re like ready-made bouquets. Clem, think of the efficiency. Think of the—Clem, give them a chance, they’re—Clem, stop—”

She was clinging to him, trying to climb him like a lizard up a tree, if lizards were super bad at climbing and also intangible. He knew her goal was reaching his hair to mess it up, and he found it really funny that she hadn’t considered just . . . floating up there. It wasn’t like gravity actually had a hold on her.

The way she was acting reminded him of how she used to be. Before she was an echo. Back when she was so full of . . . life.

“Clem, I’m on the clock.” he said, eyes glowing brighter as he made her solid enough to pry off of himself. “I’m doing super important villain stuff. Super serious. Don’t—don’t go for the mask I need that. You aren’t seriously trying to expose my identity over broccoli, are you?”

She gave up, tossing a strand of faded hair from her face. “You were siding with broccoli, I had no choice. It’s about sending a message.”

“To who? Farmers?”

“None of your beeswax.”

Man, he wished she had been able to meet Tubbo. The two of them would be thick as thieves. Probably the only two people he’d need on his side to achieve world domination.

Not that that was something he’d try to achieve, of course.

“Am I interrupting?” a new voice broke in, startling them both.

Clementine vanished from his grip as Tommy spun around. To his great relief, the man who had walked right into their conversation was Thanatos. It was nice to occasionally run into someone who didn’t want to kill, threaten, or arrest him.

Tommy tucked his hands away into his coat pockets, offering the man a small smile that he couldn’t see behind his mask. “Clementine loves the flowers.” he said in greeting.

“What?” The man said, sounding a little thrown. “Oh, uh, good! That’s . . . that got to you fast.”

Tommy sighed dramatically. “Yeah. She’s really excited about them. Seems you have good taste in flowers.”

“I bet it’s because he isn’t too chicken to eat them.” Clementine whispered somewhere at his side.

“Well, that’s good to know.” Thanatos said with a soft laugh. “You got your ghosts out tonight then? I’ve spotted one or two so far.”

Tommy nodded, the night settling like weight on his shoulders. “They’re looking for Shroud.”

“Ah.” Thanatos turned so he could lean back against the alley wall, arms coming up to casually cross over his chest. “Nemesis mentioned him. He was the phone call you got, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tommy leaned back on the opposite wall and let his head rest against rough old brick, closing his eyes. If he focused hard enough, he could feel the individual tethers to his phantoms; barely there and occasionally flickering. He was trying to pace himself this time.

A novel idea.

“How are you feeling?”

Tommy let out a breathy laugh, cracking his eyes open to look at the villain. The man’s veil shifted as he tilted his head at the sound. His wings weren’t out, he realized. It made sense, he supposed, to make leaning back on the wall more comfortable. Still, he hadn’t ever seen him without wings.

For a moment, he forgot he’d been asked a question. It felt so out of place coming from a man shrouded in dark green robes and a veiled face. Tommy wondered what expression lay behind it.

He realized with a jolt that he’d seen some of the man’s face before. Because Thanatos hadn’t always been a villain, and Tommy had seen Nightingale up close, once. The man had worn a mask that covered the upper half of his face back then; black, with the part that went over his nose coming to a sharp point.

He’d had blue eyes. Blue like the sky he’d fallen from.

The only expression Tommy had seen the man wear, then—albeit partially—had been one filled with pain, right after Icarus had caught him. Tommy hadn’t lingered long enough to see it change after healing his wing—since the Blade had popped up at that moment and he hadn’t wanted to get arrested for being a vigilante.

How the tables had turned since then.

Thanatos was still waiting for an answer.

“Oh, you know,” Tommy shrugged, his gaze falling away, “just another day at the office.”

Thanatos snorted. “Mate, the last time I saw you—” he raised a hand to make quotation marks “—‘in the office’, you looked like you’d passed out and forgotten to fall over.”

“That’s just what Mondays are like, Thanatos.”

The man huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “What are the chances I can get a serious answer from you?”

He rolled his eyes. Serious answers were overrated, and also super not fun to give.

“I know you spend your business days in an evil lair, Thanatos, so you probably don’t get it. But office work is very serious stuff. I can’t imagine a seriouser thing to talk about.”

“Mate.”

Tommy flashed him a grin, but it faded fast. He glanced out of the alley as a car drove by. “I just need to find him.” he said quietly. “There’s got to be somewhere I haven’t looked, a stone that hasn’t been turned over. You can’t just . . . disappear.”

Icarus did. For close to two years. He’d disappeared so well that even he couldn’t find the place he’d been taken, and he was Icarus.

“The city is a pretty old one,” Thanatos said thoughtfully. “There’s layers to it as systems were made, abandoned, and replaced. Buildings torn down and rebuilt, or repurposed, or added to. Pogtopia itself was added later and then grew so much that the streets don’t even make sense anymore. There’s always more to this place than what any one person can know.”

Tommy snorted, trying not to think about the many places he might be overlooking. “What are you, an archeologist?”

“Naw, I just know my way around. You pick up little details about a place once you’re there long enough.”

“Ah, so you’re just old.”

Thanatos gave a heavy sigh. “I had to know my way around as a hero; and then even more so, now that I’m not. Being a villain sure has shown me some parts of this city I hadn’t known about before. Would have been handy if I had.”

Tommy glanced back at the man. It wasn’t like he could see the look on his face, but his voice had held a note of wistfulness to it. He wondered if the man missed being a hero. The Blade hadn’t been given a choice in becoming a villain, Nemesis hadn’t had the chance to be a hero, but Thanatos—Nightingale—had made a choice between the two.

He wondered if he regretted it at all.

Thanatos must have spotted him looking, because he shook himself a little, straightening as much as one can while leaning against a wall.

“Have you looked much underground?” Thanatos asked. “There’s almost as much going on in this city below the surface as above.”

Tommy shivered at the reminder of his last time beneath the city. “I’ve had my phantoms poke around in a few corporation buildings’ sub-levels, and a bit of the sewage system. I’m not going near the stormdrain tunnels, though, they’re infested with a whole different kind of problem.”

“Ah. Right, I’ve had a brief encounter with them.” The villain nodded. “Weird plants?”

“Yeah. Weird plants.” It was not an encouraging thing to be reminded of. Yet another problem that he had no idea how to fix. Maybe he should try fighting the vines with a sword, or perhaps some fire, just to let off some steam. See just which one out of the two of them could outlast the other. Unstoppable force versus immovable object sorta thing.

Tommy liked to think of himself as an unstoppable force.

“It’s possible he’s been taken outside of the city.” Thanatos said, his voice borderline apologetic.

Possible, yeah. Back when he’d gotten out, Tommy hadn’t known how far he’d managed to go before realizing he knew the streets he was walking down. He opened his mouth to respond, when he was cut off by a gust of cold air.

“Coffee shop! Coffee shop!”

Tommy stilled, turning his head towards the phantoms that suddenly swirled around him. Their voices were urgent, the faint outlines of their expressions even more so. Had they finally found something? At the . . . coffee shop?

He looked at Thanatos sharply, and the man was on the alert, arms unfolding. “Orpheus? What is it?”

“Kristin’s in danger! Coffee shop, hurry!”

Tommy didn’t bother to repeat the words out loud. He snapped his head in the direction of the coffee shop and broke into a sprint. Thanatos followed without question, the ruffling sound of wings unfurling close behind him.

Kristin was closing late. Sometimes she stayed after locking up to count inventory or do paperwork or restocking. Tommy’s mind raced with possibilities that ranged from her twisting her ankle in the backroom to the coffee shop being on fire.

Air scratched his dry throat as he raced towards whatever danger there was. He dropped his other phantoms until the couple that had come to him were the only ones up, speeding ahead to lead the way.

Rounding the corner, he immediately saw what the danger was.

Kristin was in front of the cafe, pressed backwards into the front windows by a yelling mugger who held a gun at her head.

The sight nearly froze him in place.

Thanatos had no such reaction, flying past him like a bullet and diving straight into the mugger. He yanked away the gun as he sent the guy flying. In the time it took to blink, the mugger was barely conscious on the ground without a weapon.

Quickly, Tommy let his eyes flare bright silver as he solidified his phantoms’ forms, hardly needing his whispered command for them to grab the mugger and hold him.

The moment they did, Thanatos turned to Kristin. “Are you alright?”

Kristin’s eyes darted from him to the mugger, and then to Orpheus, probably trying to process their sudden presence. Which, to be fair, was a lot. One of them—and possibly both—was an extremely wanted villain, and she’d only just had a gun pressed against her. She opened her mouth, and then shut it, shaking her head instead.

No, she wasn’t alright.

Tommy didn’t think he was either. That was Kristin, the nicest woman he’s ever met, and the guy had been yelling with a gun—

“Are you hurt?” Thanatos’s distorted voice came out softer than normal.

She shook her head again.

“Do you need me to step back?” The man asked, and she hesitated a moment before nodding. Thanatos nodded back slowly, taking a couple generous steps away to give her space.

She slid down to sit with her back against her cafe, breathing heavily and shaking. Her eyes were staring in an unfocused sort of way. Probably from shock.

Tommy wanted to join her. She probably wouldn’t appreciate that, though, what with him being Orpheus and all. Instead he stood as close as he dared to both Kristin and Thanatos, his gaze bouncing between her and where the mugger was now being dogpiled by his phantoms.

Thanatos’s voice was quiet, calm. “I’d offer to walk you home, but I don’t think you’d find that very comforting. Do you have someone you could call?”

Kristin took another shaky breath, held it, and then blew it out slowly. There was a minute of tense silence, the phantoms keeping the mostly unconscious mugger silent with cold hands covering his mouth. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but Tommy wasn’t going to stop them.

She nodded, at last, and dug out her phone. It looked like a difficult task to navigate her screen with shaking hands, but it wasn’t like she was going to ask one of them to do it. She pressed on a contact and raised the phone to her ear.

There was a moment of silence as they waited.

Thanatos slowly moved a hand into his robes. When he pulled it out, it was gripping a vibrating phone.

Tommy suddenly had the distinct feeling he was watching a train wreck in slow motion. He stood there, helpless to stop it as Thanatos accepted the call and raised the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he said hoarsely, and Kristin’s eyes widened.

“Phil?” she asked, her voice scarcely a whisper.

A jolt ran through him. Phil? As in, regular customer, one black coffee to go, Phil? The guy who had just installed the sound system at the coffee shop? The guy with the ugly orange wall in his living room? The one that Ranboo knew? The one who was Niki’s old friend—

Oh.

Ah.

He probably should have figured that one out, actually.

Thanatos reached up to his throat with his other hand, and when he spoke again, his voice changer was off. “I’m sorry,” he said, and it was jarring to hear Phil’s voice from behind Thanatos’s veil, “I’m guessing you’re not going to want my help. Perhaps there’s someone else . . . ?”

Kristin looked like she was having a really rough night.

She pulled the phone from her ear, pressing the button to hang up. It was hard to tell exactly what color her face was in the yellow streetlight, but it had definitely gone paler than before. She glanced down at her screen and stared at it for a good minute before she switched over to a new contact.

Even with as much distance as Tommy had from her, he recognized the blurry profile picture she’d taken of him and felt a lump form in his throat.

Apparently, he was her second emergency contact.

That was his cue to leave. He went to the mugger and grabbed one of his arms, letting his phantoms get the other side. Together, they hurriedly turned and dragged the guy towards the nearest police station as quietly as possible.

He felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket, but he didn’t dare answer it. He was almost far enough away when she started leaving a voicemail, only catching her first few words from behind him. “Tommy? Hey, it’s Kristin . . .”

The moment he was out of sight, he sent his phantoms to finish taking the mugger to the station as fast as possible and fished out his phone. He couldn’t be seen until he knew he could drop his powers, but he could listen to the voicemail.

“Tommy? Hey, it’s Kristen, I uh, I’m sorry if this wakes you up. Could you call me when you get this? If I don’t answer . . . if I don’t answer I’m going to need you to go to the police. I just closed the shop and I’m having . . . a strange night. Anyway. Uh, call me when you get this.”

A strange night was certainly one way to put it. Tommy turned off his voice changer and immediately called her.

“Tommy?”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He asked, running to the dumpster by the back of the coffee shop, where his nearest change of clothes were.

“Um,” He could almost feel the emotion she was holding back in her voice. “I—I was almost mugged. Do you think you could come to the coffee shop? I would, uh, really appreciate some help getting home.”

He tried to be quiet, considering he was behind the building she was in front of. He grabbed his backpack and hauled it down the alley to a safer distance before digging out his things. “Of course I can come. I’m—I’m getting my shoes on now.” He was struggling with his clothes, actually, his shoes were already on. “I can be there in a few minutes. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

There was silence on the other end, and it made Tommy’s heart rate triple. “Kristin?”

It was fine, she was safe, Phil was there, he wouldn’t let anything get to her. She was okay, she had to be—

A very, very shaky breath was her response, followed by rushed, tumbling words. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I just—I’m—it’s not—it’s a lot, and I could really use a—a—”

“Hey,” Tommy said soothingly, trying to stuff Orpheus’s clothes in the pack. “It’s okay, I’m coming. You’re gonna be fine. Don’t worry, I’ll—I’ll take care of everything. Hang tight, yeah? I’ll be there soon.”

Clementine came racing from the direction the phantoms had gone, giving him a thumbs up. He dropped his powers and ran. He had to loop around so it didn’t look like he was coming from the back alley, but he was rounding the corner in minutes.

He made himself falter at the sight of the villain he’d just been with, and then ran the rest of the distance. He let his numb hands shake from the adrenaline and drain from using his powers as he stepped in front of Kristin, pretending to be afraid as he turned to face Thanatos.

Phil.

The customer who witnessed him electrocute himself. The man who always looked at Kristin with hearts in his eyes when he visited. The guy that pulled Tommy and Ranboo from a storm drain. Phil.

“Get—get back!” he said weakly. Quite honestly, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. What even was the normal response to seeing a Syndicate member standing near your recently-mugged boss?

Thanatos raised his hands placatingly, taking another step away. He could tell the man’s voice changer had been turned back on when he spoke. “I’ll be going. I’m sorry.”

Tommy thought that maybe he was supposed to yell something back, but the way Phil sounded made his chest hurt, and he knew the apology was for Kristin. For probably several things. So instead he watched the fallen hero—villain—Phil—fly away.

Once the man disappeared into the darkening sky, Tommy turned around, offering Kristin a hand to help her up. “Are you okay?”

She held his hand tightly, pulling herself up. “I . . . don’t really . . . know. I was just—Tommy, your hands are freezing! Are you okay?”

“Oh.” Tommy looked down at their hands, a small laugh escaping him. “Sorry. I’m fine, really. Cold hands are pretty easy to fix. I wasn’t the one who was just—that was a member of the Syndicate! Just . . . standing right there! What happened?”

It was an oscar-worthy performance, but he hated it. He wanted to tell her that she couldn’t have been with a safer person. He wanted to say she had nothing to fear.

Were his secrets really worth keeping her in the dark?

Phil hadn’t seemed to think so.

Tommy wasn’t Phil, though. He was barely even Tommy, and he hadn’t been Theseus for a while now. He didn't know who he was, really. Aside from scared.

“I don’t know.” Kristin said, breaking through his thoughts. “They appeared out of nowhere. One moment there’s a—a gun to my face, and the next moment he’s gone and Orpheus is restraining him and Thanatos is . . .”

Tommy waited, watching her face. Her eyes slipped away from him, looking back up to the sky. He waited for her to say it. Thanatos is Phil. He waited for her to tell him what they both already knew, for her to ask him what to do, for her to shake him and demand answers she wouldn’t truly think he could give her because Thanatos is Phil.

“I don’t know what happened.” she said, looking back down at the ground, searching until she spotted her purse. “Sorry for asking you to come, I just didn’t think I could walk home alone after that. I’ve . . . it’s just . . . that’s never happened to me before.”

Tommy blinked at her. “It’s no problem. I’m glad things didn’t, uh, go worse.”

Kristin led the way as they left the coffee shop, since Tommy didn’t actually know where she lived. They were both oddly silent as they walked through the city. Kristin’s eyes stayed wide, her fingers clutched just a little too tightly to her purse to be normal. Tommy tried to remember what he’s supposed to do for people in shock, but the only thing he could remember was to keep them warm, and he was pretty useless in that area. He hoped he wasn’t supposed to keep her talking. He couldn’t think of a way to break the silence around them.

Maybe he was in shock, too.

He probably should have figured out Thanatos’s identity a while ago, it wouldn’t have been terribly hard if he’d thought about it for more than two seconds. He hadn’t felt shocked like this when he realized who Nemesis was.

But seeing someone he cares about being mugged?

Kristin was just his boss.

His boss, who had to have been out of her mind when she gave him a job, no questions asked. His boss, who had kept a stash of snacks in the back to ‘keep his blood sugar up’ a few days after he started working there, long before he had paid off his debts and had money to spare for food. His boss, who had insisted on being his emergency contact, just so he’d never have to lay in a hospital alone.

His boss, who he had tried to hold at arms length, but somehow managed to weasel her way into his heart anyway.

Kristin led them to an apartment complex that looked vaguely familiar, and they went up to the third floor. Tommy waited as she fumbled for her keys, pretending not to notice how they shook. He wouldn’t leave until he saw her safely inside, until he heard her lock slide into place. After that, he would go . . . do something. Maybe buy a blowtorch. Jump into the drainage tunnels. Burn some plants. Scream a little.

It sounded cathartic.

“Here we are.” Kristin said, opening the door. “Home sweet home.”

She did not look like she had arrived at a home sweet home. She looked like she expected someone to jump out of the shadows at any moment. Her hand still gripped the door handle, like she expected she’d need to slam it shut at a second’s notice.

Kristin did not look like she’d be getting any sleep that night.

“C’mon,” Tommy said, stepping inside and finding the light switch. “Are you the sort that drinks tea to decompress? I’ve never made tea before, but it can’t be that hard, right? Find yourself a blanket. You’re supposed to have a blanket when you’re in shock. They’re always orange in the shows on tv, but I don’t think it has to be orange if you don’t have one.”

Had Kristin ever visited Phil’s house? Did she know about his orange wall?

“I have hot chocolate.” Kristin said, shutting the door behind them. “I think it’s more of a hot chocolate kinda night. I’ll make some for both of us.”

Tommy slipped off his shoes, trying not to think about the last time he’d had hot chocolate. He hadn’t had a lot, most of it had splattered across the Captain’s force shield.

“Sure. I’ll, uh, just . . . find you a blanket then.”

“I think I’ll be fine without a blanket, Tommy.”

Tommy walked into her main room. There was a recliner in the corner nearest a window, with a narrow bookshelf right next to it. A throw blanket sat draped over the armrest. “That’s what everyone says when they’re in shock.”

Kristin opened her refrigerator, rummaging around. Her apartment layout felt familiar. The furniture was different, of course, but the layout reminded him of . . .

It reminded him of another apartment he’d been in. One with a tired mother and a screaming baby that he’d put to sleep as Shuteye.

He looked out the window.

Huh.

It was a story higher, but it was the same drop. Kristin lived in the same apartment complex as that mother and child. She had probably been home, sleeping, when he’d jumped out of the window a level below and a few apartments down.

The city was so big and full and busy, but at the moment it felt small and connected. He wondered if Kristin knew the lady he’d helped. He wondered if she’d been told about Shuteye showing up to put a baby to sleep.

He hoped not. The last thing Kristin needed to be thinking about was masked men knocking on apartment doors.

“Tommy?” He turned. Kristin was setting down two mugs on a counter that separated the kitchen from the main room. “Would you . . . mind doing me another favor?” she asked hesitantly.

He walked over, sliding into a barstool at the counter. “What’s up?”

“You can say no.” she said, looking down at the steaming mugs. “You’ve already done so much, I should be fine now. But I, uh, there’s . . . and you would be walking home alone yourself, and it’s so dark out, it’s just not safe, and . . .”

“Uh, Kristin?” Tommy said.

“Yeah?”

“You skipped over the part where you ask me the favor.”

Kristin looked back up at him. “Oh. Right. Would you mind . . . staying? Just tonight, the recliner is really comfortable and you’d be welcome to whatever I have in the fridge and I can make pancakes in the morning and you could watch tv . . .” she trailed off, sliding over his hot chocolate. She took a sip of her own before making herself continue, her voice quieter. “I really hate the idea of being alone right now, and I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

Because Thanatos was Phil.

And Tommy was the other emergency contact.

How did someone like her not have anyone else?

“Sure.” Tommy said. If it would give her peace of mind, then burning plants would just have to wait a night. “I’ll stay.”

Kristin’s eyes shone in the dim kitchen light, relief sagging over her shoulders.

“Thank you, Tommy.”

Notes:

Shout out to the comments on the last chapter hoping that literally anyone who isn't Tommy gets the next reveal, lol. You get your wish! Congratulations!