Chapter Text
Out of all of the possible jobs you could get in the beautiful city of Manburg, the best you could possibly hope for would be a position in the hero’s tower. Though being in the town square, close to the town hall and other villain targets, it’s oddly peaceful inside the tower. There could be a villain-hero fight just outside the doors, hell, even in the lobby and nobody aside from those in the fight could be bothered. The security is fantastic, none of the staff (aside from the heroes who get into fights) ever get hurt. Good hours, great pay, amazing benefits, it’s the perfect job!
At least that’s what the brochures sat on the counter said, from the parts Tommy was able to read from his spot behind the cash register of a trendy-looking bookstore. Don’t be mistaken, Tommy loves his job, he thinks it’s amazing, and his boss is very kind.
The job just gets a bit… dull. Bookworms aren’t much of a talkative bunch, an unfortunate truth for the extroverted teen. Dull can be good though, he reminds himself as he huffs and walks around from his place behind the register, shaking out his wings in an attempt to fend off the soreness seeping in.
“Oh! Tommy, just the man I was looking for!” his boss, coworker, and friend- Eret- beams at him. A tired look in his eyes, likely from staying up reading, keeping their usually blinding smile down to a warm glow. She really needs to focus on a better sleep schedule. “I can take the register for now, could you dust the shelves and help the customers? I really don’t think I can handle many conversations at the moment.” they explain, an apologetic tone covering the miraculous blessing that is the offer to move around during his shift.
“Eret, king, you are the only person ever. Of course I will.” Tommy sang, a warm grin on his face. “Those bitches won’t know what’s hitting them until it’s too late, they’ll already find me incredibly charming and handsome. That’s how I got my many wives, you know.” he boasted as he grabbed his favourite duster from the back and headed to the ladder that allows him to dust the top of the shelves. He could reach up from the ladder and dust the way Eret does it, the way he should… or he could pull a super epic gamer move and stand on the shelf tops. Obviously he decides on the latter.
“Mmhm, yeah, do you even know more than one woman?” Eret playfully leered.
The well-aimed copy of Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K Jerome that flew through the air and whacked the elder’s head was not Tommy’s fault, though he may have appeared guilty of the action when he was moving that book so he could dust under it a few seconds ago, and the fact that the book is no longer there now, instead a cackling teen in its wake, precariously balanced on the edge of the semi-tall shelving. It may have seemed like he did it, when you take into consideration everything about the situation, but he’s an innocent bystander, honest!
Eret decided to discourage the action by ignoring it, instead checking out the book they had been assaulted with. “Interesting book choice, Tommy. 3 chaotic guys sharing a single brain cell and a boat traversing the waters and destroying towns does sound like a story you’d like. Shame you don't know two other guys, that would be the perfect night out for a devilish child like you”
“What, now I’m supposed to know more than one woman AND more than one man?! You don’t count as either! I didn’t know you were going to judge me for not being a socialist!” Tommy squawked indignantly, feathers ruffling behind him defensively.
A soft sigh “Socialite. You mean a socialite. You work around all these books, would it kill you to pick one up? Expand your vocabulary a little? And get down from there, you’re going to fall again.”
A defensive gasp “FUCK YOU, BASTARD, MY VOCABULARY IS MASSIVE, LIKE ME, I DON’T NEED TO EXPA- OH SHIT” the incredibly epic comeback and equally sick roast came to a screeching stop as the blonde was startled by the bell to the shop door ringing, promptly jolting the boy from the safety of the shelves to the harsh reality of the floor, wings sprawled out uselessly. Those flight feathers couldn’t possibly come in fast enough, he grumbles to himself.
With the power of spite, and his eagerness to be a good employee, Tommy manages an even customer service tone, paired with his classic smile, as he calls from the floor to the newly-entered customer “welcome to Crown Novels! I’ll be around to help you in just a second.”
Ignoring the excessive giggling from behind the counter, which is quickly dissolving into desperate hyperventilation from laughing too hard, Tommy huffs and sits up, rubbing his head. Probably not a concussion, but definitely a headache , he appraises. As he quickly feels around for potential injuries, finding nothing aside from a few new bruises that are already starting to form and a headache, he shifts his attention to the new arrival and potential customer.
What he doesn’t expect to see is what he would consider to be the human lovechild of a heavily guarded fortress and a fucking tank standing in front of him, offering a terrifyingly large hand to help him stand up. There’s no way he got like that without steroids .
“Quite the fall you took there, Theseus” a gruff voice commented as he stood, declining the hand mainly out of concern for the safety of his own hand, should mr. ‘roids over here accidentally squeeze too hard. He needs those hands, you know?
Dusting himself off, Tommy takes a chance to better gauge his new customer, now noticing his soft pink hair tied into a careful braid, various articles of gold jewelry, pristine poet’s shirt and open poncho/cloak. He makes Tommy’s current outfit for work look like something a homeless person would wear. And he was wearing his good hoodie!
Only one conclusion could possibly be made by the teen. “Oh for fuck’s sake, I bet you think you’re all soc-ist-ifated with your fancy clothes and the fact you know about the greek heroes, huh?” he manages to lash out before he could put his singular braincell to work, earning a mildly puzzled stare from the weird guy, who was now discovered to actually hold the title of mr. ‘roids, the nerd. This of course was to be known in all legal documents and not just Tommy's head, obviously.
A very pained, very tired sigh resounds from behind the counter “sophisticated, you mean to say sophisticated. And yes, I’m pretty sure he has more sophistication in a strand of his hair than you’ve ever demonstrated in your life.”
“Yeah, kid, do you treat all potential customers like this?” Fort Books scoffs, incredulous. Despite his tone, he does notice when the blond slightly stumbles and reaches to catch him.
“No, just the rich bastards who call me a kid” Tommy rightfully startles when what must be 15 tonnes of weight in pure muscle and brains reaches for him, growling out a warning “don’t touch me, I’ll fucking bite.”
Eret attempts to amend the situation, clearly exasperated. “Sir I’m so sorry for his behaviour, he usually isn’t this bad. Maybe he hit his head too hard, I’m not sure if he’s broken or just needs a nap.”
Mr. Nerdy ‘roids gives an amused huff, and Tommy feels the pressing need to defend himself. “You can’t break what’s already broken, king. And I’m a devout believer in the idea that everyone could use a nap, at any moment, even if the moment is directly after another nap. Naps aren’t exclusively for babies, you know. I think the elderly would be a lot less cranky if they had let themselves take naps, at least one a day. Some people need less than that though, and some people need more. Some people need a nap right now, even. More specifically me. I need a nap. Now what can I help you with, big guy?”
The great wall of nerd gives him an amused glance before pausing to process the sudden question. “Oh. right. I’m looking for a gift for my brother… I don’t know what to get him though…” he trails off, obviously beginning to regret his blind trip.( A book shop?! He screams to himself internally, you’re going to get a book for Wilbur? When did that ever have the undeserved opportunity to sound like a good idea? Does he even know how to read?)
“Alright big man, that’s a start, how old is he? How often does he read?” Tommy asks, beginning to lead Ajax’s nerdy cousin towards the complicated novels and biographies, perfect reads for rich nerds.
“Well” prince harming grunts, carefully wording his answer in his head. “He’s about my age, but mentally he’s about at the low, low level of a sixteen year old, you know? Very immature, and incredibly annoying. You two would probably get along pretty well. He doesn’t read much, I’ll be honest. He doesn’t like many books.” Tommy visibly grows offended but perks up at the last comment. A challenge. Perfect!
“First of all, bossman, that feels like a personal attack on all sixteen year olds. Second, you came to the perfect place, I’m a god at finding people’s book soulmates” the blonde boasts happily, his bright grin once again lighting the room, making the grim reader squint at him before looking back over to the counter for a correcting statement.
“He’s actually right, unfortunately, I think I’ve only seen him match the wrong book to a person once, and that was because they’ve already read it” Eret fondly recounts, a hint of a playful tease rising from their tone.
Professor Tank gives a mildly impressed grunt before turning to the teen, who is currently scouring the young adult novels, murmuring unintelligibly under his breath. The man takes in a sharp breath before addressing the worker. “My name is Techno, by the way. What do you need to know for this talent to work, Theseus?”
Tommy didn’t think anything could make him pause in his search for a benchmark topic, but the biggest men are capable of admitting when they are wrong, like right now. All thoughts and motions come to a screeching halt as he processes what he heard.
“Techno?” he questions, receiving a nod in response. “That’s a stupid fucking name, a music genre? I thought rich parents could afford to like their children” he mumbles as he resumes his search, earning a surprised snort in response.
“I thought you were a bird, don’t you like music?” comes a complaint that immediately sweeps past deaf ears, Tommy has his priorities elsewhere…
Fuck yeah, here’s a good start
“Okay indie rock,” Tommy starts, earning a tired sigh from Techno. “Would your brother gravitate more to romance, adventure, or action in a story? It’s okay to answer in specifics, by the way, it helps the process along faster.”
Techno mulls over the question, before deciding. “Not really a romance guy, he loves geography for some reason, so I guess adventure, though he loves an accurate fight depiction, so action would be okay too.”
“So what you’re saying, jazz, is that he likes geography and violence? How would he feel about murder?” Tommy asks with a mischievous grin.
A flash of incredibly muted panic reaches Techno’s eyes, it was so fast that Tommy questioned if he actually saw it, before he carefully responds. “I mean, I don’t think he would kill anyone-” he nervously and awkwardly starts before pausing and processing the context. “I think he would not be bothered by any crime you could throw into a book though” he murmurs.
Tommy’s previous confusion quickly shifts to glee as he happily bounces on his feet and promptly drags Techno over to the historical fiction section, surprising both adults in the shop, before quickly scouring for and spotting his incredibly specific book of choice. Victoriously, he drags out the book, True Grit by Charles Portis. His grin brightens at the look of mass confusion in the unreasonably brutish nerd’s eyes. Truly, Tommy notes to himself, the lad looks both like the nerd and the bully. It’s just unnatural.
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“True Grit, dear bluegrass,” a resigned sigh escapes Techno “is the perfect book for your ridiculous sounding brother. Here’s why. A lot of people get confused by this book because they do not understand the geography of the location they’re traversing. Not a problem for him, if I understand correctly. There’s also a whole lot of crime, my favourite pass-time… for legal reasons I’m going to specify that I am joking. It’s got unlikely pairs, criminals, sheriffs, a murdered parent, repressed trauma and a 14 year old with far too much rage for a child. It’s perfect, trust me, because I’m never wrong” Tommy elaborates, eyes full of an unbridled sense of glee and certainty that Techno just can’t bring himself to turn down. Truly, it would just be an evil act for the sake of being evil.
“I guess I’ll be buying Will this then, thanks for the help, runt” he chuffs, patting Tommy’s golden curls, finally. He’s been wanting to do that since he saw the shining gold catch the light in the shop window, he was finally able to satiate his instincts by touching the hair, despite the panicked rattle, and squawk he received from the winged boy, only stopping when he notices sharp teeth embedded firmly into his wrist. He lets go immediately but the panicked teen’s fight-or-flight instincts don’t seem to process that bit of information.
Curious, Techno decides to raise his arm, sure enough the boy lifts with it, feet clearly off the ground. He wiggles his arm around, the boy digs partially developed claws in beside his teeth but otherwise dangles like a wet cloth. Techno can’t find a negative thought about the boy in him, unless you count his growing concern over the intense response to a friendly touch. Though, he supposes he was warned about this particular danger.
“Oh no, not again. Tommy!” Eret exclaims as she quickly closes in on what they now identify to be their employee and a very much bitten customer. “He really doesn’t do well with touch, I’m so sorry sir I should have paid more attention so I could prevent this, are you okay?” they ramble while methodically prying the teen off the man, like a practiced motion.
“Yeah, I’m fine, thick piglin skin. I’m more impressed by his grip strength than anything, the kid was hanging by his jaws.” Techno explains, still half surprised, before processing. “Wait, but he’s an avian, aren’t fledglings supposed to need touch?”
Eret gives a small sigh while throwing a blanket over the teen’s head. “Not all hybrids are afforded the luxury of safely indulging in their instincts. For him, falling into flock instincts or being vulnerable means immediate danger in his head, so his little bird brain puts him into a life-preserving mindset. It’s not good, obviously, but he needs to sit down in the dark for a bit to reset, he’ll be okay.”
Techno hesitantly lets out a comforting chuff to the boy.“Are you sure? He seems out of it.” He carefully notes as he studies the teen for any body language that would suggest this is the same kid that managed to make him let out a rare laugh on a rather bad day. When he sadly can’t find any signs, he looks back to Eret.
A sad smile appears on their face. “If there’s something that’s even marginally possible for him to achieve, he holds enough spite and determination to do it. I promise, a panic attack is nothing.” The smile on her face grows more fond, while Techno’s blank look grows slightly more concerned. “Let’s let the songbird rest, how about we get you checked out?”
The checkout process was incredibly fast, as both parties involved wanted to be done with the interaction, and soon Techno was out the door, with a book for a gift and instructions to return with his brother’s opinion on the book.
“That wasn’t terrible” he grunts to himself, wondering how a fledgeling managed to drag his instincts out so fast. More importantly though, how is he going to explain to his family why he, the one who named his sword the orphan obliterator , the villain with a penchant for murder, no less, wants to protect a citizen. (Maybe he’ll forget to mention it’s a child.)
Halfway down the street, he pauses. The sun is starting to go down, and he doesn’t have to be back for a while… maybe he should make sure his favourite runt gets home safe. Not because he’s attached or anything, he just wants to get matched with a book if Wilbur’s goes well. Yeah, that’s why.
He keeps an eye on the back of the shop, the employee entrance, from a distance. He doesn’t want it to be clear that he’s watching the kid, he just needs to keep a close enough eye. After a while he watches a disoriented blond teen step out into the alleyway, wiping his hands over his face and shaking out his wings. Techno has to physically bite back a protective chuff when the boy lets out a pained coo. The boy does not look aware enough to handle himself on the street, Techno observes mentally, keeping an eye on him was a good idea, then.
Despite his disgruntled nature in the alleyway, Tommy was surprisingly calm in the quiet streets, singing softly to some theatre soundtrack playing loudly in his ear. Not the best defensive technique , Techno finds himself mentally chastising, but he won’t judge the need for music, he’s not sure how songbird instincts work, so maybe he needs music to calm down. Wouldn’t be the weirdest instinct issue he’s heard of.
Protect! Runt! Danger! Almost in response, his instincts start screaming in his head. He was almost annoyed by the resurgence of the voices, but then he processed what they were saying. The concerning words mixed with the lack of gentle singing snapped him back into reality, and sure enough, his runt ( when did that claim happen?) was being yanked into a tight alleyway. Not ideal, is it worth stepping in?
Watching from a distance, he was able to understand the interaction thanks to his hybrid abilities. He notices a few things, Tommy is being held at knifepoint against a wall, the person holding Tommy to the wall is awkwardly tall, this was apparently a mugging, and the mugger to be does not know how to hold a knife properly. The kid wouldn’t have a way to know that last part , he thinks grimly.
“Is this your first mugging, man?” he hears a familiar voice quip. That’s… not how victims typically react to being mugged. “You’re not holding your knife right, if I fought back, you’d be more likely to get cut than I would. And you know that would be embarrassing, just look at my arms? Imagine how long it would take to fix your street cred after losing a fight to a scrawny avian? Yikes.”
The mugger looks much more nervous and significantly angrier as their grip tightens on the knife. “Shut up! Give me your money or I’ll take your worth in feathers.” they growl, obviously annoyed by the kid’s rambling.
“No thanks, you’re not really skilled enough to mug a toddler.” Tommy smugly comments before he effectively snags the now failed criminal’s weapon. “Honestly, my day was going great before this and I’ve already obtained my injury for today, so no more knife privileges for you.” he tucks the knife away into a hard to reach pocket, before turning back to observe his attacker with a shocking level of confidence. “I can get you help though! Obviously you’re not cut out for this crime thing, so you probably just need money for something, right?” he grins as he throws his hand onto the knifeless mugger’s shoulder, leading them out the alleyway and down the street.
The mugger, who now in the light looks barely older than the boy, shrunk in on themself before whispering. “How-?” they cleared their throat before speaking again “I- I need money to afford my sibling’s medicine. They’re really sick and jobs around here don’t like ender hybrids like me.” they mutter softly, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.
If Techno ever had doubts about liking the kid, they definitely were invalid now. Any authority figure would have fought on site, they maybe even would have killed the kid, given the weapon in the hands of a “dangerous” hybrid, and the value of an avian’s feathers. Many believe an avian’s feathers can contain magical properties, especially in fledgelings. The only people Techno could think of, aside from Tommy, that could possibly walk out of a situation that “dangerous” with the victim and scared teen “attacker” unscathed AND on the way to help the actual problem at hand… would be a small group of vigilantes. Now, Techno has nothing against displays of power, he knows all about the thrill of the dramatics, but he’s not a fan of the whole killing innocent people who are struggling because of a system that is supported by those in power. The heroes really fucked up with that policy. That’s partly why he became a villain. The other parts would be his anarchist tendencies and his family starting the syndicate, but that is debatably less important.
Tommy confidently kicks open the door to what seems like a rehab or youth center. “Ohhh Niki! I have a surprise for you!” he calls into the quiet building, the other teen flinching at the loudness. That is a familiar name, Techno thinks to himself, that means I know someone the runt trusts. That’s good.
“Did you find another stray?” an amused voice calls back, followed by footsteps approaching and a soft gasp. “Oh goodness you found a baby!” the voice corrects, sounding more distressed and eager to help.
“The fucker’s gigantic, what do you mean a baby?” Tommy scoffs. WHACK . “ Ow! Fuck! Okay, you made your point. Fucking hell. Violence isn't the answer, you know.” Techno will deny the snicker that crawled out of him until the day he dies. “I’ll get going then, I’m quite tired and you already seem perfectly fine with helping this sad mug out. Have a good night!” Tommy chirps out as he leaves the door, in a fashion much more tactful than his entrance.
Techno keeps himself well hidden as he follows the rest of the way to the boy’s apartment building. It definitely doesn’t look wonderful, it’s not where he would prefer to see a runt staying, but it’s a shelter that probably won’t fall in the next few years, so it’s not horrible. The boy can stay there, at least for now, he concludes, as he begins his journey back to his own house, where his brother eagerly awaits his gift. If Niki receives a call asking for information on a specific blond, and mentioning a certain piglin’s claim on the teen, nobody has to know.
Untrusting eyes watch the piglin hybrid from afar. Techno may have been well hidden from the blond, but he didn’t think to look for the watchful eyes that had promised Tommy safety on his walks to and from his work years before the piglin hybrid met the boy. The rogue stood from their spot on the rooftop once they were sure the man would not be returning. Black Dahlia sends a quick message to the teen’s roommate, warning of a suspicious piglin that had followed the boy home before leaving.