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Let it be known that president Tommy was bad at following rules, even if he was supposed to be a prime example for the rest of his people. Really though, what was Wilbur thinking when he handed the reins of his leadership down onto the teenager? A disaster in waiting really but Tommy's been behaving as well as he possibly could with the help of his fellow cabinet members to assist him. Being a president is tough but Tommy was never the type to back down a challenge when he sees it.
Now back to his current situation at hand, he was currently stuck in a cave system with no way out. How and why did he decided to go mining at the middle of the night, he has no absolute idea. Call it stress-mining because the only way he can blow off steam now whilst being productive with it is to mine the hell out of a ravine. Win-win situation, everyone goes home happier and richer. No problem there. Absolutely fine, he's the president of a fucking nation, he's free to do whatever he wants baby.
Now with a broken pick and zero sticks in his inventory to make a new one, Tommy decided that maybe, just maybe he should've considered on his life choices better. He could, of course, tower upwards but it would take a hellishly long time to mine his way back up with his fucking fists like some barbarian... Thus leading to him having to retrace his pathway back up to the surface.
Tommy stupidly didn't bother to track his earlier x, y, zees so he can't hope on the F3 coordinate feature on his comms. For the first time in months (or was it years?), he wished that Techno was here to help guide him because that madman is suspiciously good at directions. Too good. As if there's someone telling him in detail on where to turn. He swore that he had once saw the pigman locate the blaze spawner immediately after entering the fortress as if he had already memorized the blueprint of the place.
Last he heard from his estranged brother, the guy was still sticking around their dad in some distant foreign lands. Wilbur was talking about how he managed to get in contact with them despite how far away they were and how they were planning to visit. He hoped Techno had changed from his bloodthirsty no-goverment mindset because that'd be hell waiting.
Pushing himself upwards onto a small opening of what he hoped to be the same pathway he had used earlier, the president had instead discovered a strange-looking room that was covered in moss and dark oak. Despite being more than ready to drop dead into his comfy bed back in his shared cottage core house with Tubbo, curiosity had taken ahold of him- guiding him to move further into the unfamiliar space.
He had expected to hear at least the screeches of bats, or the pained moaning of a passing zombie. What he did not expected to hear was the heavy breathing of another living being.
"Hello?!" He had shouted out before cringing internally, feeling like he's some horror story protagonist for calling out foolishly like that. But the damage has already been done if the shuffling of footsteps were to hint at anything.
Heart beating loudly in his ears in anticipation, Tommy waited as the sound grew closer and closer until--
Oh.
Holy shit?
Tommy Innit, the beloved president of L'Manburg finds himself staring at a rougher, more tired version of himself. Not-Tommy wore a shirt that had seen better days and a coat stained suspiciously of dark splatters with the flag of L'Manburg stitched to the left sleeve.
On the right sleeve however, there was another flag of what might've been an alternative design to the L'Manburg flag. The crosses were gone and a yellow heart has replaced the spot near where the red X used to be.
Huh.
No armour as well whatsoever, Tommy noted with confusion. Whoever this doppelganger is, they're either dumb or brave as hell to be going out without any protection. The weirdo doesn't seem to be holding any weapons at all with the absence of a quiver nor a scabbard by his side, further making him more and more troubled. Surely this guy would at least own a knife or two for his own protection? Motherfucker looked like he can get shanked in a dark alleyway by his own grandmother with how defenseless he is.
He looks like he has seen hell and survived it multiple times so maybe he can survive a mugging from the elderly. Possibly.
"Hello," the other Him said in greeting, seemingly as shocked as he was with the predicament, "you're a hallucination."
Well that's just offensive.
"Shit no, you can't turn this on me. You're the one not real here bud." Tommy accused him back with a hurt expression, already deciding that this might be some sort of mind trick. God, maybe he shouldn't have eaten those secret brownies Big Q cooked for himself. Mans really do be seeing shit now.
"I can't believe I am so lonely that I resorted to talking to myself," Not-Him replied offhandedly as he looked at Tommy from up to down with a calculating look. Whatever he was searching for, he didn't seem quite happy with the end result. "So what are you supposed to be then? A business man?"
Feeling a twitch in his eye, Tommy shook his head at the insult. Really now, his netherite armour might've somewhat covered up parts of his presidential uniform but you can still clearly see how suave he look compared to the normal business man. Man, his imaginary-self need glasses.
"I'm the president of L'Manburg dipshit, I ain't no lowly business man."
There's a strange glint in his eyes that seemed... pained?
"... huh. That's real... interesting? How'd you get that position?"
Feeling a bit weirded out with the conversation, Tommy briefly pinched himself before answering, "Got it after Wilbur handed the crown down to me. Fucker's living in Boomer Ville as if he's some old geezer now."
"... ah. Okay. Uh." Not-Him coughed a dry laugh that seemed more like a wheeze of a dying goose. It was not a pleasant sound.
A round of awkward silence crowds them until Tommy finally decided to just continue on this weird conversation. He really can't be bothered with this crazy drug trip.
(despite never actually trying them out, oh the irony of being an ex-drug dealer)
"Right so my turn hallucination, what's your deal?"
Not-Tommy tilted his head. "Pardon, my deal?"
"Yeah yeah, the whole homeless thing you got going on? Is that a new style or something, should I be worried if this might be a message from my subconscious?"
"I don't have any change of clothing." Not-him replied with a half-hearted shrug. "They didn't give me a chance to pack up before sending me off to exile. I had to wash and wear the same clothes repeatedly."
"Exile?? You were exiled? Holy shit, your life sucks man." The president said with clear ill-intent, wanting to provoke the hallucination for the funsies. "Couldn't be me."
It seems to work. The doppleganger had actually started to tear up a little- much to Tommy's surprise. He feels a little guilty now, despite being 99% sure that other-him isn't even real in the first place.
"Yeah well, that's because you're not me. Like, really? Me being president? What about your discs man? You can't be a leader while prioritizing another thing." His sadder pair pointed up with a frown, disbelief painting his tone.
"Oh those old thing? I burned em ages ago."
The way that Not-Tommy seemed ready to fight him right there and there was pretty fun to witness.
"Oh you didn't. You did fucking did not!" His doppleganger cried out, pinching the bridge of his nose like his brother would often do whenever he misbehaves. "Why, why man?"
Tommy briefly wondered if this was the way he used to act back when the discs was still alright. Ever since he had gotten rid of them, life had been so much easier for all of the members so he wouldn't really count it as a loss entirely.
(even if the discs meant a lot to him.)
"That's cuz Dream's been using them as leverage against L'Manburg so I was given a ultimatum: risk losing L'Manburg into another senseless war or destroy my attachments to the discs."
Not-Tommy gave him a look of pure disgust before replying, "... yeah that's such a shitty cowardly way to fight back, couldn't be me."
Now it was his turn to shrug. "Hey now man, if it means saving everyone from another era of fighting. Then I'd gladly burn down everything really."
"Anyway, the hell you do to get into exile anyway? Griefed George's house?"
"It's as if you were there!" Not-Tommy said with a strange mocking tone in his voice, mouth stretching up into an empty grin. "Yeah, I pretty much partially burned George's house and got in a load of trouble because of it."
"Really? To the point where they collectively agreed on exiling you? A bit of an overkill don't you agree?"
"Tubbo. Tubbo agreed to it and he is the president of L'Manburg. Can't say no to that ey? It's for their own good really, I was a liability as he said."
Tommy wished he wasn't such a chatterbox but he really can't stop being rude. Its kinda shamelessly therapeutic in a way because being a president entails being forced to make pleasantries with assholes like Dream for the sake of politics so this is a good outlet for his aggravations.
"... holy shit, your timeline is so fucked. What about Wilbur, did he at least defended you or something? I'd be mega pissed if he didn't stand up for me even in hallucination-world."
Once again, the teen felt a stab of guilt as he watched his carbon copy shake in anger.
"Wi--Wilby's--" A hitch.
A pause.
Something tells Tommy that he isn't going to like this answer with how suffocating the room seemed to feel now.
Finally after a few minutes of awkward silence, he whispered, "...Wilbur's fucking dead and Phil wouldn't tell me who killed him but I knew. I knew who killed him."
Earlier the hallucination's eyes were near dull and empty. Now? Now its blazing with crystalline pain.
"Who?" Tommy forced himself to ask despite tasting ash in his mouth. "Who could've killed him?"
Not-Tommy gave him a dangerous look and that made him wince. "Right, nevermind."
Another round of awkward silent ensued as they both struggled to find something else to say until-
Tap, tap, tap, tap--
Footsteps.
Someone is here with them.
They both traded alarmed looks.
"Stay behind me." Tommy commanded as he brandished his netherite sword and shield. "You're near helpless."
Not-Tommy scoffed in indignation but didn't complain as he quickly stood defensively behind him.
Whoever this person was, they sure are in no hurry to reach them face to face. In fact, this motherfucker seemed to be even whistling in carefree glee.
For the third time this day, Tommy has experienced another surprise of the decade as another Him appeared around the corner.
"Oh." Said Also-Not Tommy, wearing an actual business suit that looked quite expensive but not as much as his. "This is a predicament, innit?"
The two of them traded another alarmed look.
Seeing how none of the two was going to speak up anytime soon, the New Tommy pointed at them with a huge grin in his face in an attempt to lighten up the mood.
"Gentlemen, looking good might I say! Tell me, did Techno hired you goons to troll me or something because damn, you got high quality disguises there. Weird choice of clothing though."
"I really need to lay down, this is getting too out of hand now." The president complained, still holding out the sword threateningly in case this brand of hallucination would turn hostile on him somehow.
The newcomer merely scoffed, looking at the sword that Tommy had painstakingly grinded hours for as if it was a piece of twig. "Pah! I bet you can't even land a hit on me with that thing. Haven't you heard..."
Also-Not Tommy pulled out a weird-looking contraption from a small, near cylindrical pack that hangs by his hip. It looked like it might be a comm device but shaped to have a handle to fit into your grip.
"Never bring a sword to a GUNFIGHT."