Chapter Text
The world spun and blurred behind exhausted eyes. He couldn’t bear to stand any longer, crashing the second the window shut. His office’s desk was smaller than he was used to, and his chair felt like it was abnormally close to the ground. He struggled to find a comfortable spot with the long legs he had borrowed.
“Fucking Ranboo,” he sighed into the dark. His stamina was nonexistent, the result of utilizing a power that wasn’t his to begin with. Broken ribs wailed from their spots under his heart. He wouldn’t have strained himself if not for that goddamn villain.
The contents of his desk did little to help his mood. Newspapers flooded the surface, headlines screaming malicious words that threatened to disrupt his careful foundation. His gaze – Ranboo’s gaze – trailed unconsciously towards the newest edition.
Hyperion defeats hero in the Blink of an eye!
Anger boiled hot under his skin. He sat up and swiped the papers onto the floor. They glided down softly, relieving absolutely none of his rage. He forced himself to calm, to think rationally, to avoid dwelling on the awful night he had just endured.
At least this loss would not end up on social media. Ranboo would’ve been far more useful if he cared about such a thing. There wouldn’t be hundreds of scandals to cover, and his best asset wouldn’t be public enemy number one. Thankfully, his control would prevent any more trouble from breaking out. He just had to hold on.
God, his ribs hurt.
Not for the first time, he considered asking for George. Their healing department was pathetic in comparison to his gift. Especially since Leapfrog defected. Other powers couldn’t reach beneath the skin, or set bones without effort. Glitch could fix each rib in a split second.
He smiled.
Shame he wouldn’t be an option much longer.
Knuckles rapped against the door. He looked forward to tonight’s report.
“They have been sent,” a familiar voice spoke through the wood. Shortly after, footsteps retreated down the hall. Ranboo’s stolen body sat up and turned on the nearest desk lamp. He couldn’t afford to laze any longer; the adrenaline spiking through his veins wouldn’t allow it. There was too much to prepare.
He got to work, sorting through the papers that gathered in his folders; blueprints, contracts, license forms, and blank checks. Texts came through from others requesting his attention. He hurried to finish some portion of it before sunrise.
In his haste, he failed to notice his window’s open blinds, leftover from his entrance minutes prior.
A singular black feather fluttered down and past the aperture.
He continued to work.
~~~~
Tommy knew he was screwed. There was really no getting around that fact. The Craft’s apartment was on the uppermost floor of a skyscraper. His version of sneaking out had been equivalent to quietly leaving through the front door. Unfortunately, that meant he needed to return the same way.
The entrance loomed in front of him ominously. He checked his watch for the fifth time, as if the hour might’ve changed significantly in the last three minutes. Earlier, his rebellious escape had been possible because of a meeting gone late. Wilbur, Techno, and Phil were not there to witness him coming home, grabbing his backpack, and leaving at sundown.
Tommy took a deep breath, willing himself to stop chewing on his split lip. He didn’t regret his decision. He would do it again in a heartbeat. Even if he was bruised all over, and his costume was shredded inside his bag, he knew going out was a good choice.
“Tubbo needed you,” Tommy whispered underneath his breath. Mecha’s forlorn expression stuck behind his eyelids. His best friend was strong, infinitely so, but everyone had their breaking point. His just happened to always involve Blink.
He dug his fingernails into his palms. Tommy couldn’t afford to relive his battle yet. The thirty-seven missed calls on his phone confirmed that the present held much larger worries for him. He placed a hand onto the doorknob, inhaled, and pushed it open. It was unlocked, and there were coats thrown half-hazardly on the bench in the foyer. Further inside, he heard a smattering of voices.
Shit.
They were actually home.
He was so dead.
Tommy shut and locked the front door. He kicked his shoes off, and proceeded into the home. The sound seemed to be coming from the living room. He crept closer as quietly as he could, but the solid floor transitioned into creaking wood without warning.
The talking stopped instantly. There were pounding footsteps that grew closer. Tommy glanced up, and made eye contact with Wilbur. The older man stood in the threshold to the living room, eyes crazed and mouth dropped open.
“Uh,” Tommy muttered. Two more figures, Phil and Techno, crowded around. They shared similar expressions. There was nothing good about the way Techno clenched his fists, and Phil leaned against the wall to steady himself. “I’m home?”
“Where the fuck have you been,” Wilbur snapped. His tone was sharp and cutting. He was furious. Recollections of angry foster parents flooded his mind. Tommy froze. “Do you know how worried we’ve been?”
“Sorry,” he exhaled shakily.
The crease between Wil’s brows deepened. “Sorry isn’t an explanation.”
“Um,” Tommy struggled. He couldn’t come up with an answer that wouldn’t betray his best friend’s identity. He didn’t want to lie to his mentors, the family that had taken him in when he was in need. “I was out with a friend.”
Phil and Techno shared concerned glances. Wilbur didn’t waver.
“Don’t make things up,” Wil said.
“You’re never out with friends,” Techno drawled. Tommy had a very different opinion about that, but he kept quiet. “And you weren’t working today.”
“You weren’t in your room when we got back,” Phil interjected. His eyes held a deeper level of concern than the Craft siblings could ever achieve. His blonde hair was messy and his clothes were clearly thrown on in haste. He looked like such a father at that moment, and it almost stung.
Tommy didn’t think he would cause such a ruckus just by sneaking out, and he felt slightly guilty. Half of him wished he could have experienced this part of childhood; skipping school, climbing through bedroom windows to go to parties, and meeting up with people he wasn’t supposed to know — not because you were mortal enemies, but because they were regular bad influences. Maybe, if these things had factored into his memories, he would’ve been more prepared for the pressure of parental concern being directed at him.
“We thought the heroes had gotten their hands on you. Especially since we received that letter,” Phil admitted quietly, almost like it was a secret.
Tommy frowned. “Letter? What does a letter have to do with me?”
The mutual glances were back, and he almost didn’t want to know why. Blink getting mind controlled and trying to kill his best friend was currently the only surprise he could process. He was sure the bigger details of the fight would catch up with him later, like how Mecha had called his civilian name on instinct. It was a dangerous thing, something to worry about as soon as he could manage to.
Techno moved first. He disappeared out of the room, returning with an envelope in hand. Tommy took it, but didn’t notice anything weird. The envelope was blank besides a stamp, the intended address, and a return address. Tommy opened it up, finding a significantly more interesting paper within.
It was blue with a metallic trim around the outside. The smell of ink was still fresh. Words were etched along the page in a golden font, which seemed to generate a light of its own. Running his fingers over them, he felt the gentle thrum of imbued magic. To waste a person’s gift on making letters glow had to be expensive, unless one had access to a surplus of magical talents. Who would have the confidence to send such a gaudy letter?
Tommy’s eyebrows raised as he began to read.
To whomever it may concern,
You are cordially invited to join us at this year’s Unity Ball, arranged and hosted by the protectors of our wonderful city. As you may know, this ball is an annual tradition created to celebrate the peace given to us by our first responders. All proceeds gathered on the night will go towards repairing the parts of the city that have been destroyed by villains.
We hope this message reaches you well, and that we might count on your attendance. Please take into account the date and dress code.
Tommy’s eyes jumped over the basic RSVP information. He wasn’t sure what exactly this ‘Unity Ball’ had to do with him, or why it might make the members of his pseudo-family panic. He couldn’t even recall such an event existing. He skipped to the end of the invitation, and he found what he was looking for.
The following individuals will have their names entered on our guest list:
Phil Craft
Wilbur Craft
Techno Craft
Tommy Innit
We look forward to your arrival.
-The Hero Agency
Tommy got caught on his name. The shine felt different from every other word. A hint of rose-gold clashed with the rest of the page, not glowing nearly as brilliantly either. He brushed a finger against the swirling letters. Suddenly, an electric shock struck his skin. It was small, but effective enough to cut through his resistance.
His gaze drifted up to lock onto the other three. Judging by their varying states of unrest, they had already discovered this phenomenon on the invitation. He wondered briefly how much the zap had hurt them. If it could cause him discomfort, then surely it had them writhing in pain.
He didn’t ask that nagging question. Instead, he vocalized another thought, “What is the Unity Ball?”
“It’s a function held annually by the hero agency,” Techno sighed. “They gather all the social elites into one party and beg for charity, basically.”
“We call it the Bribery Ball,” Wilbur huffed.
“Why,” Tommy puzzled.
Phil nodded. “Because most rich folks take this chance to bribe their local heroes into paying special attention to their neighborhoods. Since it’s an event closed off to the public and the media, they don’t have to worry about prying eyes.”
A gathering of the corrupt. Tommy figured that suited the agency. Without the media, the heroes would probably remove their masks for the night. It would give the rich guests a deeper feeling of superiority, knowing the faces of their investments. He could easily picture Ace’s smug attitude, dressed in a fancy suit and holding a flute of champagne. That bastard would fit in perfectly among them.
“It’s weird that we got invited, though,” Techno hummed. Tommy frowned.
“You’re rich,” he snorted. “Isn’t it appropriate to try and mooch off of you?”
“For years, they sent us invitations,” Wilbur said. “But after the first one, we realized it was a disgusting waste. They stopped begging about three years later.”
“Which makes this unusual,” Phil finished. “But I can’t say I didn’t expect it.”
Phil’s expression was serious, more-so than Tommy had seen in a bit. The bags under his eyes and his messy hair made him look far too aged. He took the paper from the youngest and held it up for them to observe.
“The agency’s reputation took a severe dip when they decided to target Tommy,” Phil briefed. “This is how they want to make up for it. If we attend, it will be like we’ve forgiven them.”
“Then why is Tommy’s name imbued with an electricity gift?” Wilbur crossed his arms. His previous anger directed towards the offensive invitation. “Quite a pathetic apology.”
“This is no apology.” Phil tapped his finger against the words, grimacing at the crackling pain it must’ve elicited. “It’s a threat.”
Techno stood up straighter. Wilbur sucked in a breath. Tommy’s heart beat into his throat.
“They want us to know that Tommy’s life is in danger if we keep going against them,” Phil sighed. “What a complicated situation.”
Silence hung heavily upon their shoulders. Up until that point, living in the Craft home was an easy solution to their problems. Now, the agency was knocking on their door, trying to overturn their peaceful existence. Ace was a dangerous opponent on his own, but together with the entire agency breathing down their necks? They wouldn’t be able to get anything done.
It would take one hero with a surveillance affinity to reveal their secrets, and even less to criminalize them from there. They could destroy everything and it would be entirely legal. Alternatively, they could also use their infinite supply of money and trained personnel to catch them off guard. Supervillains or not, the Corporation wouldn’t be able to stop every attempt on Tommy’s life.
The Unity Ball was a little over a month away, according to the invitation. There were weeks between then and now, but coming up with a full-proof plan usually took much longer. Anything Phil could muster would rely on nothing going wrong.
Tommy’s stomach twisted into knots. He already knew there was a factor they couldn’t control. The same, unpredictable fucker that took over the Captain, Minx, Purpled, and Blink.
“There’s one more problem,” Tommy choked out. Wilbur, Phil, and Techno stopped. “He’s back.”
The first time Tommy had brought up his experiences with the mind controller, it had been after meeting with Purpled at his day job. He left out details about the ex-hero that were unnecessary, but mentioned how certain he was that the mind controller had been around for years. The three took it well enough, though none of them could offer feedback. They didn’t know his victim’s personally until Minx.
Puffy was the only one of them to have made direct contact with the Captain. Her opinion on Tommy’s theory would make or break the situation. If she resolutely insisted that the hero was her brother to his core, the data he had gathered would mean nothing. It would be a big coincidence. Until she was in a state to handle such a conversation, they had set it aside.
Tommy couldn’t afford to do that anymore.
They moved the discussion to the couch, but no one dared open their mouth before the apprentice.
“Tonight,” he inhaled. Tommy attempted to form his story ahead of time. If he slipped, and Mecha’s identity was discovered, he wasn’t sure what he would do. “I was out patrolling by myself.”
“Tommy,” Phil started, but the boy cut him off with a raised hand.
“I know it’s dangerous. I just wanted to clear my head,” Tommy said. “Anyway, while I was out, I came across a vigilante fighting a hero.”
Vigilantes and heroes fighting wasn’t news. The unlicensed folks tended to get into trouble every time they were spotted. Whether it be police or the agency, typically someone was called in to deal with them. The others perked up, although it was clear they didn’t fully understand yet.
“It was Blink and Mecha.”
Techno’s eyebrows disappeared behind his hair. “Aren’t they ex-partners?”
“I’ve heard of Mecha vaguely,” Wilbur sniffed. “He debuted with robots, correct?”
“Yes, that’s him.” Tommy ignored the relief he felt at his mentor’s nonchalance. Everything would be much easier moving forward if they kept their opinion of Mecha neutral. “I wasn’t planning on interfering, but I thought it was weird that Blink was being active so soon after I crushed him.”
None of them looked to doubt his story. He crossed his fingers and hoped it would stay that way. He loved them, but he was loyal to his friend.
“I got in the middle of it, because Mecha was obviously losing,” Tommy went on. “However, I realized very quickly that Blink was… not himself.”
Phil pinched the bridge of his nose, dread visibly encapsulating him. Tommy could almost read his mind. First, Puffy – his best friend – had her family targeted by this possible mind controller. Now, his son’s apprentice. To him, it was likely an ongoing cycle of doom.
“It was definitely him,” Tommy said, confirming their fears. “We spoke. I called him a mind controller, and he didn’t deny it. He claimed Mecha and I were ‘ruining his plan.’ Of course, he didn’t elaborate on what those plans might be.”
He bit his tongue to refrain from adding more specific dialogue. He figured the mind controller implying that he wished death upon both of them was not something that would soothe his companions. For the same reason, he tried to block out the imitator’s smug tone after Mecha had accidentally called him Tommy. Nothing good would come of that.
“That changes things, doesn’t it? Fuck,” Phil cursed, and the others agreed. The letter arriving on the same night was too much of a coincidence to not be related. The Unity Ball was suddenly a much bigger threat. “Someone we don’t know how to fight inviting us to an event that no cameras can reach.”
Tommy winced. His answer likely wouldn’t be appreciated, “I know how to fight him.”
“No,” Wilbur reprimanded. “You were lucky to have survived unscathed these past few times, but the body doesn’t react well to repeated trauma.”
“We have a month before this Unity Ball comes around,” Techno said. “Until then, we need to try and figure out what the mind controller’s plan is. Countering it will be much less complex if we can manage that much.”
Phil’s wings ruffled behind him and he groaned, “I’m going to have to call in more favors. Swirl is going to be so fucking overjoyed.”
“Why is that,” Tommy asked.
“He’s already repaid his debt to me,” Phil elaborated. “This will give him a way to get a leg-up on the Corporation. Great for him, awful for us.”
Wilbur fidgeted with his key. His eyes filled with mischief, lightening the mood in the room all on his own. He was clearly holding back a maniacal chuckle as he made his suggestion, “What if we didn’t need Swirl?”
Techno caught on, “Who needs that asshole when we have someone just as capable?”
Suddenly, three pairs of eyes were focusing back on Tommy.
Tommy, who was not getting the memo at all, scowled.
“Who could replicate his shapeshifting ability?” He grumbled, “Dude’s unbearably good.”
Swirl’s powers were in a league of their own. He had his own subreddit, dedicated to pixelated videos of him transforming his limbs into that of an animal, or switching faces to mimic the cops hunting him. He had never been caught, arrested, or even broadcast on the news. He was a perfect key-wielder through and through. The only way to compete with his shapeshifting would be to steal his powers.
Wait.
Oh. Oh.
Tommy couldn’t believe what was being suggested to him.
“I am not going to steal someone’s magic item,” he snapped, dumbfounded that they would imply such a thing. Hadn’t Swirl helped them in the past? Wasn’t he kinda on their side?
“You’re literally wearing Ace’s key right now,” Techno drawled. “And Blink’s brooch is on your bedside table.”
Tommy flushed. “That’s different.”
“It’s really not,” Wilbur hummed, clicking his tongue. “Swirl’s kinda stingy. Definitely a prick. He’s not a far shot from some of those heroes we hate.”
“Wil, don’t call someone a prick just because he refuses to commit crimes for free,” Phil chuckled. His mood was finally looking up, though his smile was tired. “But I agree with them. Training with Swirl’s key wouldn’t be hard, since its secret step isn’t very complex.”
Tommy hesitated. He knew they weren’t going to let up. Once their minds were set on something, it was tricky to change them – living with them had taught him as much. Techno and Wilbur could argue for hours over what to cook for dinner or what movie to watch. Usually, they turned to their father to settle the disputes. Phil was stubborn in his old age, set in his ways, and no one dared go against his word. They were impossible when they fought, but unstoppable when they worked together.
Basically, if this was their conclusion, Swirl was fucked.
He sighed, “Can I have some time to think about it?”
Techno and Wilbur wrinkled their noses in matching confusion, as if surprised that anyone would need to think before stealing a person’s powers from them. They tended to forget that Tommy wasn’t born and raised with villainy on his mind. Phil was calmer now that the initial shock of the situation had passed. Expectedly, he was the one who granted Tommy’s request.
“Of course. Tonight has stressed all of us out. Why don’t you sleep on it, and we’ll revisit this tomorrow,” Phil said. He settled himself against his chair’s cushions. His wings stretched until they spanned the length of the couch entirely. “We should all rest our minds for a bit.”
Tommy noted the way his hand not-so-subtly crept towards the television remote, and checked his phone.
Ah, he realized, it was about that time of night.
The TV switched on, currently in the middle of a commercial break. The advertisers were speaking Spanish, confirming everyone’s suspicions. Phil was nothing if not consistent. Wilbur groaned loudly.
“I’m too exhausted to translate,” the brunette whined. “Can’t you watch your telenovela later?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Phil huffed. “Were you rushing through paperwork all morning so you could cart your two sons around the city with their little bag of spray paint, or were you the one who got to do villainous arts and crafts instead?”
Wilbur sank further down in his chair, but his protests stopped. Soon enough, the telenovela came on, and Phil was lost to it. Techno locked eyes with Tommy, the two sharing a mutual agreement to slip out of the room.
“C’mon, kid,” Techno said quietly, once the sounds of theatrical gasping and people screaming in Spanish had faded into the background. He set a hand on the younger’s shoulder. “You missed dinner, right? Let’s get you something to eat.”
~~~~
Tommy’s room was quiet. Except for the fountain in the corner. Obviously, he hadn’t figured out how to shut that thing up yet. Goddamn rich people.
He stared at the ceiling, his sore back rejoicing against the plush blankets. Neither friend nor foe could break his trance during his first moment of peace. The night’s events had left him with much to think about.
A mind controller was trying to kill him, an invitation to the Unity Ball arrived with his name on it, the hero agency was probably planning something, and now he had to steal from someone who wasn’t an enemy.
Fuck, this was annoying. He had work in the morning!
Tommy exhaled slowly. Usually, he liked his shifts at Ender-Ice. Aimsey got along well with him and it was one of the few places where he could let himself slip into auto-pilot. Unfortunately, those very factors made him even more restless. His coworker was a human lie detector and he was still sporting a split lip.
He wished he could channel Purpled’s energy; that guy was always ecstatic to go to his job. Seeing him behind the counter, buzzing with customer service, made it hard to question anything else about him.
Purpled would probably have insight about the hero agency. If it weren’t such an unreasonable time of night, he would go see him. Purpled would be able to advise Tommy in a reasonable direction. It wasn’t like the Corporation couldn’t do that, but the change in perspective would’ve been nice.
His mind echoed against the silent walls of his room.
A change in perspective.
Tommy sat straight up.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, astounded by his own idea. He tripped over blankets and pillows, snatching the necklace containing two keys off his bedside table. The sudden contact sent shivers up his spine, power flooding his veins. He laughed at the feeling.
Purpled warned him never to view multiple memories in a day at risk of becoming horribly sick, so he couldn’t afford to fuck this up. Tommy slipped the chain over his head and laid back. As he had the day he discovered this ability, he shoved his hands into his pockets to limit fidgeting. He needed total focus.
“Okay, relax,” he told himself. Purpled’s instructions came back to him easily with the assistance of the Memory Key. He willed himself to focus on one face in his mind’s eye. He could do it.
Distractions limited, imagining a detailed person, the only step left was the name.
Quackity.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Tommy knew better than to think it might linger.
Instantly, it flew away, and new air forced itself into his lungs. It was stale, metallic. The scent of oil was strong enough to burn his nose. He would’ve pulled back under normal circumstances, but he wasn’t given that choice here. It felt oddly familiar.
He was in a bland, pale space taken up by large metal contraptions. The ceiling stretched higher than most rooms he’d been in, and light streamed in through special fixtures in place of windows. The hero agency used them underground to make sure their personnel got the proper amount of vitamins. Tommy remembered being told about them, but at this particular time, it was a knowledge that already sat upon the tip of his tongue.
His hand reached up to fiddle with a chain around his neck. It was a habit Tommy developed when he began to wear his keys frequently, but this was different somehow. Distant. It wasn’t his fidget. In the same regard, nothing around him could be considered his. He recognized the machines scattered throughout the place, but also didn’t. He felt safe within these walls, but couldn’t comprehend why.
There were constants that he knew, like how he could tell it was specifically the Memory Key dangling above his heart, and that it couldn’t possibly be any other magic item. He didn’t possess any others — and he was certain he would die if he tried to acquire them.
It was reminiscent of a lucid dream. He felt himself step forward, growing closer to a half-assembled gadget on a workbench. Tommy’s hands searched the side of the metal for a button. When he found it, he switched the device on. It sputtered on the table, sounding barely alive. Suddenly, a hatch on the top clicked and slid open. Inside, a key-shaped slot waited to be filled.
“Of course you are already here. How is it coming?”
Tommy didn’t startle at the voice, although he wanted to. Like everything in this place, it was familiar. His eyes stayed fixed on his machine, mind running a million miles an hour; the door should open faster, the battery would need to be replaced and rewired soon, and it all needed to be bigger.
Before that, he needed to answer his friend.
“It’s been better,” Tommy said, but it was Ace’s voice escaping him. Quackity’s voice. “Damn thing’s still giving me trouble during the start-up. Shouldn’t be too hard to fix.”
“You are so devoted to your work. Playing with inventions during such a big day,” the other man replied. “Rather than being trapped here, should you not be celebrating?”
Tommy glanced over at the newcomer for the first time. To his surprise, this man was dressed head-to-toe in black. A dark hoodie was pulled over some short brown hair, sunglasses over his eyes, hands were in his pockets, and a large grin sat upon his face. Some part of Tommy was annoyed by it — annoyed that he had to cover up at all.
“I’ll celebrate when they give you a license too,” Quackity said, resolute in his words. The strange man’s smile softened, and he slapped a hand against Tommy’s back. “I’m serious, dude. You’ll be able to take that shit off soon.”
Quackity’s friend sighed, “Quit worrying about me when it is your moment. You are achieving everything we wanted.”
“The agency isn’t stupid enough to turn me away,” Quackity grumbled. Tommy felt himself run a hand through his hair. “They’ll be even happier if I ever get this dumb machine to work.”
“I know I certainly will,” his friend agreed, scooting closer to the table. “Not having to fear villain attacks anymore would be pleasant. How long do you imagine it will take to complete?”
“Even with my abilities,” Quackity started, “It could be years. Not being able to test it makes everything tricky. I have plenty of stand-ins, but the keys aren’t made out of a material that I can forge. They’re pure magic.”
“Nerd,” the other teased, smiling cheekily. He propped himself up with an elbow on the table. “May I see a demonstration?”
Tommy shot him a pleased look as an answer and got to work. He opened a drawer containing dozens of iron, gold, and copper models of the magic item that hung from his neck. Unbothered by the options, he picked up the first one he could reach, which happened to be iron.
He slotted it into the open space at the top and turned a dial on the bottom. The hatch closed over. Tommy lifted his hands and focused on his palm, closing his eyes. Visions of a playing card sparked behind his lids, darkness flooding with light. When he allowed himself to look, a queen of hearts had materialized in his grasp. Tommy lowered it to a sliver of an opening near the top, and slipped it inside.
Wasting no time, he pressed his nails into his palm, and the card transformed into a bloom of blue flames. Quackity’s friend whistled, “I will never get tired of this.”
Tommy didn’t let his attention waver, digging his nails into his skin hard enough to draw blood. The heat increased at the pressure, and the faint sound of boiling could be heard. Neither of them made a sound until he released it. The tips of his fingers tingled, and the beginnings of exhaustion worked its way into his veins. He wasn’t done.
He closed his eyes, imagining rugged edges, flashes of blue. When they reopened, a king of diamonds had manifested. Tommy felt his free hand move to turn the dial again. The hatch sputtered and pulled back, revealing a pool of melted iron where the key replica had previously been. The liquid was weirdly reflective, and Tommy got the first good look at his face in a while.
It wasn’t anything like he expected. There were no scars anywhere, and his eyes were shockingly bright. How old was this memory?
Without giving him time to dwell, the world continued on. He was moving, pressing both of his palms against the king of diamonds and willing it to obey. A crystallizing encasement of ice crept up and over his hands. Tommy didn’t fear being burnt as he reached into the contraption and cupped a fistful of the shimmering metallic liquid.
“There we are,” Quackity hummed, pouring it into a bowl waiting off to the side. His friend snatched it up quickly. Wonder was evident in his wide smile, and Tommy felt his chest warm with fondness. “It’s safe to touch now; The magic layer should have been attached.”
Tommy watched as the other stuck a finger into the bowl. Despite it being boiling hot moments prior, he made no noise to indicate pain. “Woah,” the man mused. “All this magic and I do not feel a thing!”
Tommy opened his mouth to respond and then –
“Tommy?” Wilbur’s voice called to him. Tommy processed at a snail’s pace that he was being shaken awake. The boy gasped, feeling slamming back into his body like he was coming down from some good drugs. Everything was too much, too little, too real. “Holy shit. Don’t scare me like that.”
“Wil,” he slurred, disoriented. There were pillows beneath him, and the room was dark. The moonlight coming through the window was the only source that allowed him to see his mentor’s concerned expression. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
“I came to ask you to watch a movie with us, but you were looking fucking possessed,” Wilbur hissed. Tommy shrugged off his hands, too overstimulated to appreciate any form of physical contact. “Eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open, mumbling to yourself. I thought you were going to start climbing on the ceilings. It was freaky.”
The apprentice needed to get his bearings, needed to ground himself in reality. Tommy flexed his fingers, happy to find that the movement was his own. Memory hopping had proved to be just as unnerving the second time. He tried to keep steady as he replied, “Thanks for the invite. I’ll need a few minutes, but then I’d love to join you.”
“Fuck the movie,” Wilbur scoffed. “What happened to you?”
Tommy tried to give his mentor the benefit of the doubt. Wil didn’t know that he was ten seconds away from collapsing in exhaustion, and he didn’t realize that explaining was the last thing Tommy wanted to do. He would talk about it in the morning, but for now, he wanted to be left alone.
“Nothing you need to worry about. In other news, I’ve decided that I want to help steal Swirl’s key,” he said. Tommy hoped the fatigue in his expression would seem more like exasperation. “Why should he get to boss us around when he’s barely known to the world? Might as well put that bastard in his place and save ourselves the trouble.”
Wilbur brightened, taking the bait.
“That’s great! I’ll go tell Phil and Techno,” Wil exclaimed. “Join us when you’re ready!”
The older man ran from the room. Tommy didn’t have the chance to add that he intended to return the key once they were done. Well, it didn’t matter that much. He doubted his mentor would care anyway.
Tommy slumped back against his bed, replaying Ace’s memory again and again in his head. He couldn’t tell if it was helpful or not. Tommy guessed it probably wasn’t, given that it was from before Ace had kidnapped Techno. It was strange to imagine a time in which the hero wasn’t covered in scars and partially blinded. Foolish hadn’t died yet, the Corporation mostly consisted of children, and everyone was significantly less traumatized.
Then, there was Ace’s friend. At no point had Tommy been able to see his facial features, obscured by way too many layers of clothing. He was an enigma; sticking his fingers in boiling metal, calling Ace a nerd, dressing like sunlight would kill him. Don’t get Tommy started on the machine he was obsessing over. There was something about a magic layer, playing cards, and keys. Being in Ace’s perspective hadn’t cleared up why any of those things would go together.
Both the stranger and the nameless machine existed to make Tommy’s mind spin. If his aim was to calm down, thinking of these things certainly wasn’t helping.
He grumbled and stood. No use in staying cooped up. His bones creaked and he had to pop his back, as if he’d aged thirty years in the span of one memory. Gathering the last of his sanity, he left his room. At the very least, Tommy could force the rest of his housemates to join in his suffering by suggesting an awful movie.
“Hey guys,” he called down the hall, a mischievous smile audible in his voice. “I know just what we can watch!”