Chapter Text
Mecha was bleeding on his kitchen floor.
Tubbo was bleeding on his kitchen floor.
Tommy tried to control the rapid breaths as they left him, but they refused to concede. His mind raced. His heart pounded. Every little lie he’d told himself was falling apart at the seams.
Tubbo never kept huge secrets for long.
Tubbo would eventually confess who he was sneaking out to see every day.
Tubbo would never hide something like this from him.
Except he would. And he did.
This was worse than an intruder breaking into his home. This was worse than having some stranger’s blood staining his carpet. This was worse than any possible scenario he could’ve imagined.
Tubbo was Tubbo. He was amazing with his gift, but he was always content to stay in the background. He never wanted center stage in anything they did. He was introverted, downright shy at times. He was only comfortable around Tommy, and that was because of years of friendship.
Mecha was a loud vigilante. He actively put effort into attracting attention. The camera would always be on him during fights. Even his fighting style was flashy. To an untrained eye, he was practically perfect. Tommy only found faults recently because of his training, but even then he could never hope to beat the vigilante one on one.
Was he really supposed to believe they were the same person?
The jacket could’ve passed as just a lookalike, but the goggles were indisputable. People on reddit had tried to recreate them, and some believable replicas had been produced, but for those without a technologically-related gift, it was nearly impossible to perfect.
The lenses were one-way mirrors, and the rims buzzed with assorted wires and lights. From the angle in which Tommy stood, he could see within the goggles, and realized there had to be a mini-computer built in. It was extraordinary, and it set its creator apart from the rest.
Tommy had always enjoyed watching Mecha’s battles because of his use of technology. Heroes were licensed, specially trained, and usually in possession of a magic item. Mecha had only his mind to help him. He viewed the vigilante as someone who could’ve realistically been anyone.
Except for Tubbo. For some reason, that was the one person he had not expected, but that shouldn’t have been the case.
It was his own prejudice that blocked out his best friend as a suspect. With each passing second, he connected more dots that he hadn’t noticed before; Tubbo was never around to witness Mecha’s fights live, always sneaking out during his free-time, carrying around the suspicious bag, and finding a sudden interest in fitness.
All the while, his roommate must’ve been meeting with Blink and kicking ass. Tommy couldn’t wrap his head around everything.
A groan from Tubbo shoved him back to reality. His best friend was bleeding on their kitchen floor, halfway between conscious and dead.
Tommy knelt beside him, going over everything he knew about first-aid. Tubbo flinched, and Tommy whispered a silent apology for any pain he might cause him. He removed Tubbo’s battered jacket as quickly as possible.
His shirt underneath was torn, but his back was not the wounded area. The blood was very obviously seeping from his stomach, which meant he had to turn Tubbo over. Tommy braced himself.
All at once, so as not to prolong the pain, he flipped over his best friend. Tommy didn’t like what he saw.
At least four bigger cuts covered his torso, and hundreds of little scrapes colored his torso. They looked almost like slashes of some sort. As long as it wasn’t a stab or bullet wound, he didn’t have time to overanalyze the cause.
He remembered Boomer. The doctor with a healing gift would know exactly what to do, but Tommy couldn’t take Tubbo to a hospital for villains, nor would he suggest such a thing. They didn’t know Mecha like he did, and he definitely didn’t have the money to introduce them.
His home-grown knowledge would have to do.
Tubbo’s shirt was already beyond salvation. Tommy cut it off with their good kitchen scissors, cringing at the sight of the fully exposed crime scene. He left Tubbo for a brief moment to grab their first aid kit in the bathroom.
Inside, he found everything else he needed. There were gloves, which he slipped on quickly, bandages, disinfectants, painkillers, and assorted other medical thingies. He hesitated upon noticing that the kit’s contents had been used before.
The roommates bought it while moving in, and Tubbo said it was just for emergencies. Until that moment, Tommy had fully expected it to be untouched. His heart broke at the thought of his best friend secretly bandaging wounds that he would never know about.
He wet a towel and cleaned Tubbo’s injuries. Without dried blood covering his torso, old scars were visible all over him. Tommy grimaced when he cried out. The larger wounds were hard to clean without pain. Luckily, they weren’t as deep as he originally feared.
The smell of blood burned his nose. He added disinfectant to the towel, and Tubbo groaned. Each pained noise struck Tommy’s heart directly. By the time all of the scrapes were cleaned, he was close to tears.
Tubbo didn’t react while he wrapped his wounds. Boomer taught him to properly tie bandages once, but Tommy hadn’t expected to use it. His kitchen floor was a mess of medical supplies and dried blood.
It was difficult to pick up a completely unconscious vigilante, but Tommy managed to get Tubbo to the couch. He fell into a nearby chair, breathing heavily. His eyelids weighed down. He didn’t realize he was tired until he had already fallen asleep.
~~~~
By the time he reopened his eyes, the sun had begun to peek over the horizon. Tommy drearily stood and stumbled to the bathroom. His phone was nearly dead in his pocket, and the time read seven in the morning.
His neck was stiff from sleeping upright, but there was little he could do about it. Tommy lamented his good night’s rest and walked back to the living room. He startled at the sight of Tubbo sitting straight up.
His roommate was running a hand over his bandages, and frantically looking around for something.
“If you’re trying to find your costume,” Tommy started. Tubbo’s eyes shot up to meet his. “I put your jacket in the sink to soak, and your goggles are on the kitchen counter. It’s gonna take a few washes to get all that blood out.”
“T-Tommy,” Tubbo stammered. “I swear it’s not what it looks like. I was cosplaying, that’s all!”
“No, you weren’t,” Tommy sighed. His roommate flinched. “I’m not that stupid.”
“Why are you so calm?” Tubbo was pale, shaking. Tommy needed to change his bandages. “Did you know?”
Mecha had been around for months. He debuted when Tommy was still a civilian. At that point in the boy’s life, he couldn’t imagine anyone around him being a hero or a villain. He knew they all had their secret identities, but his chances of encountering them were one in a million, right?
And yet, here was the person closest to him, doing the impossible.
When did he start to figure everything out? When did Tubbo’s late nights at work start catching his attention? When did his weird backpack and secretive movements spark his curiosity?
Was it the time Tubbo cried himself to sleep over an old news report? When he locked himself in his room on the day Mecha’s robots were destroyed on live television? Before then?
Maybe he’d always sort of known.
He wasn’t stupid, as much as his bullies tried to convince him he was. He always noticed the weird happenings around him, especially the ones that revolved around his best friend. Tommy shrugged it off every time, because Tubbo hadn’t directly told him.
Instead, he made excuses; Tubbo was secretly dating someone, working late at the garage, going for a night walk, anything besides what was really going on. He never fully convinced himself, though.
That was why he always took the extra care to record Mecha’s fights, and why he paid more attention to him and Blink, despite there being dozens of other interesting vigilantes. He possessed an unconscious fondness for them even when he denied knowing.
“Yes,” Tommy answered. “I’ve known.”
Tubbo hung his head. The blonde grabbed the bandages from the kitchen and sat next to him on the couch. Neither said a word as he replaced the rushed wrapping he’d given the night before. The scrapes looked significantly better with the few hours difference.
Once he was certain everything was clean and covered, he sighed, “I’m sorry.”
Tubbo’s head shot up. “What? Why are you apologizing?”
“If I were less stubborn, you would’ve been able to confide in me,” Tommy said. He buried his face in his hands. “You’ve been dealing with this shit alone the whole time.”
“Hey, no!” Tubbo grabbed his wrists, tugging them away so that the other boy’s guilty expression was in full view. “That’s not your fault at all. I’m the one who wanted to keep this a secret. Even when I didn’t tell you what was going on, you still took care of me!”
Tommy fell silent. Tubbo wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t have the energy to accept his words. He was exhausted. There was a lot to process, and he didn’t have enough time to do it. He excused himself and made both of them some bagels.
They were out of most of their usual toppings, so butter was the best they could do. If Tubbo was upset by this, he didn’t say anything. They didn’t speak at all until they’d both almost finished their breakfasts.
“Why’d you do it?” Tommy knew that the awkwardness would leave faster if he got his questions out of the way. “Why’d you become a vigilante?”
Tubbo set his plate on the coffee table. “At first, I just wanted an excuse to use my power. I fucked around on the east side of town for weeks before my debut. It was really fun, and I realized how limited I was by only working on cars.”
“One day, I watched a shop getting robbed, and it took the police way too long to arrive. Two people were injured before I could bring myself to step in,” Tubbo said. His eyes were distant. “After that, I realized that the east needed some protection, and I started working on my debut.”
Tommy figured it wasn’t the right time to talk about how awesome he found said debut, with the giant robots and flashy fireworks, so he stayed quiet.
“I met Blink on patrol, and we kinda just clicked,” the brunette hummed. “He said he wanted to be a vigilante, so I helped with his debut too. That’s really all there is to it.”
“So, I guess you know his secret identity right,” Tommy said, checking his nails. He missed the way Tubbo flinched. “He must be the person you were sneaking out to go on dates with every night.”
When he received no response, he glanced up. Tubbo stared at the floor with every emotion possible playing across his face. Tommy felt twenty times as guilty. He meant it as a joke, but if some semblance of it were true, he was in deep shit.
“If he was, you know, I totally support that,” Tommy scrambled. “Be who you are and stuff like that, you know?”
Tubbo deadpanned. “What the hell are you saying? He was just my partner.”
“Yeah!” Tommy clapped his hands together. “Partner, buddy, boyfriend, I support you no matter what words you use.”
“What the fuck,” Tubbo scoffed. “We aren’t fucking dating!”
“Ah.” Tommy stopped, his expression falling. “Right. You broke up. I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t miss the slight hint of annoyed amusement that flashed through Tubbo’s eyes. “You are the dumbest motherfucker I have ever met.”
Tommy wiped a fake tear, feigning hurt. “How could you say that to me? I care about my best friend’s relationships. Is that so wrong?”
Tubbo punched his arm lightly, and they both softly laughed. Tommy didn’t like how easily they fell back into silence, but it was clear his friend was debating saying something. This was their first time addressing such a major secret. He’d already come to terms with the fact that he would never fully know everything about the other.
“It was Ace,” Tubbo blurted. Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Ace attacked us the day that I came home all depressed and shit.”
“Oh,” the blonde whispered. “Is that bastard the one that broke your robots? I knew you’d hate that.”
“I did that,” Tubbo said. “I destroyed my own robots. Ace hacked them and made them attack us.”
“That’s even worse!” Tommy felt anger bubbling in his stomach.
Ace was a hero that reeked of bad vibes. He was scarred and rude. He used a modified hat as a mask, hiding his hair successfully from the media since he was licensed years ago. Tommy would bet all his money on Ace looking like a hairless cat under the mask.
A professional hero approaching two vigilantes was a strange occurrence. Tommy was surprised to hear about it. Heroes like Alien might go after them during periods of time where there was less crime to keep them busy, but Ace was closer to the Dream Team’s level.
“Blink switched sides so that Ace would call off the drones,” Tubbo admitted. “We had a huge fight about it.”
“Was that his only reason?”
“What?” Tubbo frowned.
“That’s a pretty big decision to just make on a whim,” Tommy explained. “Did he not say anything else?”
“He said he wanted the perks of being licensed,” Tubbo choked out. Whatever had been said during this argument was clearly still affecting him. “He didn’t even listen to me when I tried to explain why it was stupid.”
Tommy curled his hands into fists. “I’ll beat him to a pulp.”
Tubbo’s face morphed from confusion to a soft smile. “I don’t think you could take him, Big T. We sparred for a while so I could teach him the basics, but he caught on so fast that it looked like he already knew everything.”
“He won’t even get close to me, Tubster,” Tommy huffed. “I’ll beat him up with my super awesome powers. I promise.”
“I appreciate it,” Tubbo snickered. “Imagining you as a superhero is really funny. It makes me feel a lot better.”
Tommy bit his lip to refrain from spilling his biggest secrets. Tubbo would never know how serious he was, and it was better that way. He would make Blink pay.
“Oh.” Tommy snapped his fingers. “I forgot to ask why you were bleeding all over our apartment last night.”
Tubbo tensed, his smile noticeably more forced. “Ah. That. Right.” Unconsciously, he raised a hand to his bandages. Sadness filled his eyes. “I was trying to fix one of my bots. I didn’t realize that Ace added an extra measure to their programming.”
“No,” Tommy gasped.
“He added a feature that would activate their attack mode if I tried to modify them,” Tubbo confirmed. “I wasn’t prepared, so it got a few good cuts on me before I could disable it.”
Ace had done this.
Ace was the fucker who hurt Tubbo.
“I’ll kill him.”
Tubbo nodded, paying no mind to the serious expression on Tommy’s face.
He wanted to shout it out at that moment. He wanted to yell that he wasn’t as incapable as Tubbo thought he was. He was able to protect the people he cared about now. He had friends powerful enough to help him.
But he couldn’t. Tommy couldn’t let Tubbo know his identity. Not yet. Not ever. Telling his civilian roommate would’ve been difficult enough, but a vigilante ?
Mecha was created by Tubbo’s urge to protect the innocent. He fought against criminals. He had a moral compass, and set goals. If he didn’t turn down Ace, he could’ve been a full-fledged hero. Tommy was his enemy, a villain apprentice. He would never approve of this choice.
Tubbo had his goals, and his reasons for starting in the first place. He did everything himself. He built his name from the ground up, and he would likely defend the east side for as long as he could. That was the kind of person his best friend was.
Tommy got lucky. He accidentally caught the attention of the Corporation. He was never anything special before that. Did he have goals? Aspirations? Motivations? Why was he a villain?
He recalled Boomer tending to his wounds, telling him about the time he’d nearly died to save a hero’s life. He remembered Hannah, whose flowers were dubbed inadequate by the agencies. He thought about Glitch and the Devil, who were too consumed in their fight to see a civilian on the verge of dying.
He thought about Tubbo, whose partner had been stolen by a hero, and who could’ve been killed by his own drones.
Tommy made up his mind then.
He wouldn’t tell Tubbo, because that was doomed any way he looked at it, but he needed a moral code. He was already aware that he wasn’t as evil as the typical villain, but he would have to act like it to survive around the Corporation. His code would have to be more of an unspoken rule to himself.
Tommy made a mental note to write a list later, and returned to the present with Tubbo. The mood was somber. Ace had unknowingly made a powerful enemy by going after his best friend. Hyperion was gonna wipe the floor with him.
He just needed two weeks.
~~~~
A shorter man sneezed, adjusting his beanie. His scarred face drew attention wherever he went. The person next to him looked like his exact opposite. He was young, tall, and sweet. For each glare his companion shot, he made up for it with a kind smile.
Despite his positive disposition, Ranboo had a sour taste in his mouth. Quackity’s excuse to parade him around town was coffee. He wished he could tuck his chin and hide his face. On the off chance anyone recognized him, even in his civilian disguise, he didn’t want to be seen with the other hero.
While the crowds happily accepted his smiles, Quackity knew full well that there was only malice behind them. He acknowledged it with a hum, “At least try to appreciate my presence.”
“I should be working right now, you know that right?” Ranboo turned a corner, leading them towards a coffee shop he’d been recommended once before. “My mom doesn’t like covering for me. Especially not for this.”
Quackity discreetly elbowed him. “This is your job, man. You don’t have time to slack off in your little froyo store anymore.”
Ranboo dropped his smile completely and stopped walking. Quackity stumbled to avoid bumping into him. The younger’s death stare would’ve unnerved anyone else. He spoke through clenched teeth, “I don’t need your help to debut. We both know that.”
“Oh? But you needed Mecha’s help,” Quackity taunted. Ranboo winced like he’d been struck. “What happened to wanting to go on your own? What happened to sticking to the shadows? Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that why you left?”
Something snapped in the younger’s mind. He wanted to shout that Mecha was a better partner than Ace had ever been. He wanted to scream that the two couldn’t be compared, but he couldn’t. His hands curled into fists.
“Get your own damn coffee,” Ranboo huffed. He stormed off, focusing on his breathing and the sidewalk beneath him. He couldn’t afford a breakdown in public. Not over this. Not when Quackity was completely right.
Thankfully, the older hero hadn’t followed him. The city closest to the agency was far too loud. He needed an escape, and he knew how to get it. Ranboo dreaded the existence of the item in his pocket. He hated how efficiently his gift responded to it. Addictive was the only way to describe the feeling.
The item heated up as he pulled it out. He pinned it to his shirt, a tiny crown brooch that fit him disgustingly well. Ranboo side-stepped into an alleyway and inhaled once. What should’ve taken multiple minor teleportation attempts only took one. The feeling of free-falling filled his senses. When he exhaled next, he was standing inside of a familiar warehouse.
The convenience of the power-enhancer both impressed and enraged him. The downtown area nearest the agency was an hour away from the east side of town. He’d covered that distance in a split second. Aside from Speedrunner or perhaps Midnight, Ranboo was the most mobile of all the gifted heroes and villains alike.
He was infinitely more comfortable with the newfound silence. From the first moment Mecha had dragged him into the warehouse, to the last time he’d bid his partner farewell, it had been a comfort to him.
The air was thick with rusting metal and ocean spray from the nearby ports. The walls provided privacy without being claustrophobic. Dozens of stray inventions leaned against concrete as they waited to be useful.
Ranboo was hesitant to turn around, because he knew what he would see: Mecha’s workbench.
He’d never visited alone. The warehouse belonged to Mecha afterall. It felt strangely forbidden to be there without him, and out of costume. Ranboo knew it would become real the moment he looked over his shoulder.
The workbench was rarely empty. Mecha was always there, always inventing. He’d mentioned a handful of times that it was hard for him to not be doing something. His was the kind of gift that never turned off. If his brain saw something with potential, his thoughts would be flooded with ways to use it in a machine.
That was one of the things that fascinated Ranboo about his partner. There was a constant pile of discarded creations beside the table. They were little, with hardly any functionality. Those were the inventions that Mecha would half-heartedly make while speaking with Blink, just to keep his hands busy.
Ranboo shook his head, ridding himself of fond memories for a moment. He was stupid for not being able to turn around. He was weak. It was a simple action, so why was he still struggling?
He squeezed his eyes shut and whirled on his heel. One beat passed, then another. His nails dug into his palms as he forced himself to look.
Ranboo’s face fell.
A drone was crushed against the table and there was evidence of a struggle. What was left of the machine looked to be modified from Mecha’s usual design. It had sharpened claws at the end of its grabbers.
Claws that were covered in dried blood.
Ranboo stumbled back. His breathing quickened. The power enhancer reacted to his emotions, ready to teleport him at the first sign of a threat. The bot was clearly out of order, but he didn’t care in the slightest.
There was no doubt in his mind that the blood belonged to Mecha. The very partner he was trying to protect. The only gifted person he really cared about anymore.
Leaving was supposed to take the spotlight off of Mecha. The heroes were after him, he knew that. To them, Mecha was an exploitable weakness. As long as Ranboo wasn’t around, he was supposed to be safe.
This attack had Ace written all over it. That sketchy hero had a horrible tendency to destroy everything he touched. He toyed with anyone weaker than him, and used his gift to his advantage whenever he could. Ranboo wished he would disappear.
If he touched Mecha again, Ranboo would assure it.