Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The date was April fifth when BurgNews went live, the channel turning on to a woman with solemn eyes sitting at a table. There was no familiar background broadcasting the weather, and the lightbulbs were dimmed. Silence stretched out as the broadcast ticked on, and the city of L’manberg found themselves quietening. 

Families gathered in front of their TVs, huddled on their couches. Taverns fell silent as even the drunkest of pubcrawlers turned their attention to the small televisions hung up in the top corner of the building. Couples stopped mid-walk through the park, hunching over their phones with worried frowns. 

The city watched with bated breath as the woman began to talk.

“I wish I had better news."

She lacked the formal tone that came with her job, and a heavy atmosphere settled over the people.

“Hero mentee Pyrite was declared dead last night by the Legion.” Her hands clasped in front of her, resting on the desk as she bowed her head, unable to meet the city’s eyes. “His remains have been returned to his family, and a memorial is being held for him outside of the Heroes’ Tower.”

Not a soul moved as the lady took in a deep breath. There was a collective understanding that the climax of the announcement had not yet been reached. When she next looked up, something ugly shone in her eyes, a rage curling around her shoulders that gripped tightly.

“Pyrite fell victim to the widely known terrorist group that call themselves The Syndicate during his last mission.” A pause. “The Legion swears to avenge their lost hero, and to bring these villains to justice.”

It was a promise. One that the entire city bore witness to, fuelled on by their rage and grief as finally that breath was released.

The world began turning once more.

__________

Quiet. That’s how Tommy would describe the night. Unsettlingly quiet. 

He stalked the streets of lower Essempi, the gentle swishing of his joggers rubbing against each other the only definable sound he could hear. That… never happens. 

Lower Essempi, the outer sections of L’manberg that encircled the city in a wide ring. The further into the heart of the city you went, the wealthier it got. 

Tommy once misunderstood the definition of lower Essempi. He thought that those who lived in the districts near the outer edges of the city could barely afford day to day life, and were scraping by with every paycheck. 

Nope. That was just him.

It was more of a middle class type deal. The majority of L’manberg’s population lived in the wide outer ring. Really, upper Essempi was the odd one out. It’s where the filthy rich live, although there aren’t many of those. 

Upper Essempi was the business front mostly, where stores, malls, restaurants, and plenty more were stationed. If you needed to go shopping for anything that couldn’t be found in a small gas station, then you would be finding yourself making a trip into the heart of the city. 

“Psst, bossman,” Tommy’s attention snapped back into the present when an uncomfortably loud crackle threatened to burst his eardrum. His fingers shot up, curling around the device planted snugly into the entrance of his ear canal.

“What the hell? Get better fucking mics to go with these or else I’ll be deaf by age twenty.” He hissed, annoyance prickling the back of his neck like a hoard of ants.

“Sorry.” A metallic voice apologized on the other end of his comm. “I was just telling you that neither Beam nor I have anything to report. His comm died a few minutes ago so he had to come find ME to relay to YOU that WE are heading off for the night.” 

Of course Beam’s comm died. The guy couldn’t take care of any equipment handed to him even if his life depended on it. 

“You’re both leaving?” Tommy asked, trying not to let the foul taste of jealousy coat his words. It was thick on his tongue, making it hard for the question to come off as casual.

“Raps, I’ve told you that both Beam and I know each other in real life. It’s easier to sync up our schedules than it is with you.” He hated the tinge of amusement he could hear over the line and scoffed.

“Right, I fuckin’ know that. But just because Beam is being a pussy doesn’t mean you have to be, Big G.” Grudge’s raucous laughter caused his ear to ring, and he winced. 

“I’m not gonna tell him you said that.” 

“Thanks.” Tommy grumbled. “And I know that you’re both like this-” he crossed his fingers, well aware that the boy on the other end could not see it. “I guess I’m just bored. There was absolutely nothing to do tonight. I didn’t even see a stray cat that needed saving from a tree, G!” 

“What’s…. -saying?” Beam’s voice got partially filtered out by the background cancellation Grudge installed into their comms, but Tommy recognized the snippets well enough to know who was talking.

“Is that Bitch Boy? Tell him he’s a pussy and a coward!” He huffed, strutting down the street and surveying the various apartments and houses for wrong doers.

“No, I will not tell him that.” Grudge said firmly, before presumably directing his next words at Beam. “And he’s saying he’s bored because there was no crime to stop.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Beam asked hesitantly.

“Fuck you!” Tommy immediately snapped, spitting the words out with as much vitriol as he could. “Tell him I said fuck you!”

“He says you make a good point.” Grudge responded to Beam.

Tommy groaned, running a hand down his face, careful not to drag off the cloth mask protecting his identity from nearby cameras situated on light poles throughout the street.

“You can still keep looking out for criminals, Beam and I are just heading off to bed.” Grudge eventually said after a long moment of silence. “Be sure to stay safe, and don’t do anything stupid while we’re not there to stop you.” 

“I make no promises.” 

Grudge let out a weary sigh. “Whatever you say, bossman. Grudge and Beam out.” 

The line shut off after that, once again stranding Tommy in that insufferable silence. The blond set about scouring every alleyway and backyard he could, searching for any sign of crime or suspicious people. 

The sky was starting to lighten into a dark blue, and he bit his lip. It always sucked to throw in the towel before he had actually done anything. What a waste of time! 

Tommy was a vigilante, which means that he was supposed to be helping old ladies cross the street, or stopping robberies and carjackings! When he accomplished nothing there was always this pit in his stomach. It made him feel like a horrible person, knowing he could have done more. 

Right before he was about to give in and head back to his apartment, the sound of a shuffle in a nearby alleyway caught his attention. 

A grin spread across Tommy’s face. Finally.

He practically skipped along the sidewalk until he was in front of the alley, peeking in. His feathers rustled in anticipation as he made out two figures facing each other. 

Okay, seemed like a classic drunk scuffle. He could stop that, cross out his good deed for the day, and head back home with a weight lifted from his shoulders.

A cry of pain snapped Tommy out of his excited stupor, and he launched into action.

“Excuse me gentlemen,” two pairs of eyes snapped over to him, “actually, I don’t know if you guys are gentlemen. It's kind of hard to see in this lighting, innit?” Silence.

Well, that was rude. Tommy rolled his eyes. Why do criminals never like making small talk with him? 

“Not a talkative bunch, huh? That’s okay. I have enough words for the three of us.” He sauntered into the alleyway, wings mantling wide in a show of confidence. “I couldn’t help but notice that you two are fighting. We can’t have that, can we? Somebody might get hurt. How about you-”

The soft whizz of something soaring through the air was the only warning Tommy got before he was ducking to the side to avoid a dagger. It slammed into the brick wall behind him with enough force that over half of the metal had disappeared into the material.

His jaw dropped open, looking between the dagger and the figure that had thrown it. 

His heart thundered in his ears as he finally took in the sheer height of the person before him. He couldn’t make out any defining features aside from how the motherfucker looked eight feet tall and was bulky as hell. 

The other person made no moves, frozen in place at the end of the alleyway. Tommy wasn't even sure they were breathing. 

“Stay out of this, Raptor.” The low growl sent goosebumps racing down Tommy’s spine. He knew that voice. He would recognize the long, monotone drawl from anywhere.

It was a voice that haunted many people’s nightmares.

Red eyes stared straight into Tommy’s, locking him in place. He hadn’t even noticed his wings retracting behind his back, pressing tightly against his dark red hoodie.

The Blood God was giving Tommy one of the most terrifying glares he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing, the white boar skull mask glinting in the dim street lights.

Movement from the second figure caught both Tommy and The Blood God’s attention, the huge man turning around so fast he was second-guessing whether the man had teleportation powers or not. 

“Not so fast, Flux.” The villain’s lips curled into a snarl, tusks bared in such a threatening manner Tommy thought he was gonna faint right there in that dingy alleyway. “We still have business to attend to.”

The hero, Tommy now recognized, Flux, was heaving and holding their abdomen. They had attempted to inch their way towards the exit while Blood God had been distracted. 

Tommy closed his jaw with a click, taking a stumbling step backwards as The Blood God prowled towards Flux.

To their credit, the hero did not beg for mercy or back down. Instead, they straightened their posture, one arm still cradled over a stab wound on their stomach. Which, oh god, Tommy was about to throw up. 

There was blood everywhere in the alley; splattered against the bricks and pooling underneath the hero.

He should move. He should- he should try to help. Or at least do something other than stand there and be frozen! Come on, move! 

The Blood God dragged his sword across the ground, the hideous sound of metal scraping against cement filling up the night. 

In the blink of an eye, the sword went from sitting at the villain’s feet to being shoved through Flux’s chest. 

The hero’s eyes widened, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as their body convulsed. It only took a few seconds before they fell limp and the sword was swiftly pulled out of their body.

Now there were two.

The Blood God turned around to face Tommy, his stare enough to clog up the vigilante’s throat so no noise could escape.

He understands now why the night was so silent. Nothing would dare make a sound in the presence of such a predator.

It felt like time had slowed, each second taking an eternity as blue eyes met red. Tommy’s chest heaved with panicked breaths, but he didn’t try to step away. It would only take a moment, a blink, for that sword to be sliding through his own ribs and cutting through his heart.

“Leave.”

The voice shocked him out of whatever paralyzation he had been in, and he let out a terrible gasp.

“Wha-”

“Leave now, kid.”

Tommy searched the villain’s eyes, and in return the beast of a man tilted his head ever so slightly. A silent agreement passed between the two.

He found himself turning around and scrambling away, biting down a whimper that threatened to escape his mouth. 

As he ran, he swore he could feel The Blood God’s gaze on him the entire journey back to his apartment. 

It was just his imagination of course, because he had left the monster behind in the darkness of that alleyway. He knew this for a fact since as soon as he neared his apartment complex, sound seemed to return.

The early birds began to sing their songs, and the wind rustled the blades of grass underneath his feet as he launched himself over people’s fences and through their backyards. 

He tore off his mask, entering the building and taking the steps two at a time until he reached the floor where his apartment was. 

Tommy never locked the door when he went out to do vigilante stuff, so he just shoved his way into his apartment and threw his mask onto the couch.

He collapsed onto the cushions and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily.

Fuck.

__________

The mockingly bright blue sky is what drove Tommy to get up from his spot on the couch. He had work soon, and still had to wash the chalk off from his wings. 

Giving them an experimental shake, the boy sneezed when black powder was sent flying through the air. Oh, his poor couch. He wasn't supposed to sit on it when his wings were still colored. 

He’ll clean that tomorrow. For now, Tommy made his way into the bathroom and turned the bathtub faucet on. He snatched his go-to cup from the rim and filled it up with water, beginning the tedious task of washing the chalk out from his wings.

Ever so slowly his wings went from being a dusty black to a bright golden. Well, it was more like an ugly dirty blond color, but his feathers will look bright golden once they dry. For now, he’ll just have to deal with the extra heaviness that accompanies the water clinging to his feathers.

Once all of the chalk was washed away, Tommy went over to the counter to grab his hair dyer and plugged it into the wall. He paused and looked into his reflection, slowly reaching a hand up to touch his cheek where little golden feathers were sprouting out along the sides of his face.

They’re finally starting to grow in . He noted, a smile slipping onto his face. He was starting to look like an actual avian. The thought warmed his heart, and he felt a pressure build up in his chest.

It crawled through his throat until it reached his mouth and he let out a chirp. 

Instinctively, Tommy stiffened, but quickly relaxed. He was alone. This was his apartment. There was no evil lurking in the shadows, watching and waiting to pull him under.

The click of the hair dryer turning on filled up his thoughts as he ran his fingers through his feathers, drying them off and picking away damaged ones.

He’ll have to grab the feathers caught in the drain later.

For now, the entire process was soothing, and before Tommy knew it he was finished and his wings felt cleaner and shinier than they had ever been. 

In his bedroom, he pulled on his work attire. A pair of black dress pants accompanied with a red button-up shirt. It took a bit of maneuvering to get his wings through the small slits offered at the back.

As Tommy grabbed his phone and apartment keys off of the counter, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window beside the tv. It was ironic how similar his work attire looked to his vigilante gear, just more professional. 

It was a ten minute walk to the subway, and when he finally got there he spent the entire trip to upper Essempi running a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to tame his curly locks. 

His nose scrunched when he caught on a particularly stubborn knot, and decidedly gave up on the endeavor that was brushing his hair. 

The train slowed to a stop and Tommy stood up, shuffling along after various other people towards the exit. It was around seven am now, and the city was bustling with people when Tommy stepped out of the subway station.

He quickened his pace, dodging around other hurried citizens just trying to make their way to their jobs, and waiting impatiently at intersections for the crosswalk light to turn green.

Eventually, the sight of Devil’s Diner came into view with its fancy cursive lettering and tinted black windows. 

The teen grinned and opened the door. A bell rang, signaling his arrival. The demon hybrid standing at the counter looked up from the cash register, two long horns jutting out from brown hair on top of his head.

“Bad!” Tommy greeted enthusiastically, flaring his wings wide as he leaned against the counter and looked up with a grin at the ridiculously tall man.

Said hybrid blinked, eerie white eyes locking onto Tommy’s form. They responded with a smile of their own and a, “hey Tommy! How was your day?”

“Oh, the usual.” The blond began, already preparing to bullshit his way through this conversation. “Getting women and getting wives.” His eyes raked over the diner’s interior.

“Where’s Skeppy? Have you two just finished smooching it up in the back? Is he putting makeup over-”

“Tommy!” Bad exclaimed, a long ropey tail lashing over the countertop and smacking the boy in the arm. He squawked, leaping back.

“That is assault! I can have you fuckin’ arrested for that!”

“No you can’t.” His manager’s smile tugged into a frown. “And language.”

He breathed out through his teeth. “Of course, how could I forget? I am so very sorry Bad, I promise to never say fuck again.” Tommy swore.

“Stop!” The man’s voice raised an octave, claw-tipped hands gripping the smooth diorite counters. “Stop it! Language!” 

He laughed. It was a loud thing that shook his entire body. Bad couldn’t help but relax and let a smile slip onto his face once more.

“Get ready for your shift, you muffinhead.” They scolded lightheartedly, reaching out and tapping Tommy on the nose. “Remember, you’re training a new employee today.”

Tommy batted Bad’s hand away, scowling. “Do I really have to? Come on, Bad. I’m an amazing waiter! And quite frankly, I’m the only one you need.”

The demon just shook his head.

“I bet you’re trying to replace me. Is that it? You finally had enough of me? How’s that gonna look to the public? Kicking out a poor orphan boy who ne-”

“Oh. My. Gosh. Just go.” The man sighed in exasperation, leaning down and giving the blond a lighthearted glare.

“Mhm. Yep. Whatever you say. You’re the boss.” Tommy nodded, shuffling backwards. He turned around and rounded the counter, pushing his way through the double doors that led into the kitchen where a certain brunet was working away. 

“Skeppyyyyy,” he groaned, leaning against the wall dramatically. “I have to train someone today.”

“Uh huh.” The male responded, entirely focused on his task of setting up his cutting boards and pots.

“Why can’t Bad just let me be like you? A lone wolf?” He continued.

“Because he needs the extra hands.” Skeppy responded without looking up, a chef’s knife appearing in his hand as he started chopping away at some carrots.

“Well don’t you need the extra hands?” Tommy asked skeptically, slowly doing a once-over of the, quite frankly, messy kitchen.

“No.”

“Well, I don’t see why I need extra hands then!” He exclaimed, pushing himself up and eyeing the circular windows situated on the doors. The new trainee would be here any moment. “Bad knows I’m perfectly capable.”

“Yeah, you are.” Skeppy agreed, and Tommy beamed. “Until the diner starts getting super busy, and you become super stressed, and then you start cussing out the customers when they give you even the slightest bit of attitude.” 

He deflated.

“Skeppy. Big man. It’s not my fault if they deserve it.”

“It’s just not good for business.” The man shrugged, reaching a hand up to readjust the hair net situated on his head.

Tommy opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of the front bell ringing had him turning around. He watched as a man looking to be in his early thirties walked in wearing the diner’s uniform and began talking to Bad.

“No way.” Tommy said. Skeppy glanced up.

“What?”

“It’s the new fucking hire.” He seethed. “He’s old.” 

Sleek black feathers lined the sides of the man’s face, and he was wearing a white and green bucket hat. That wasn't in the dress code, but Bad didn’t appear to be telling him off for it! 

Large black wings were held loosely behind his back that Tommy found himself staring at for a few seconds too long.

“He’s here? You better get out there and introduce yourself, then.” Skeppy commented, completely nonchalant towards this terrible, no good situation.

“Fuck you. I was just going to do that.” He snapped. The man only rolled his eyes and waved him off. He huffed, pushing the door open and stomping his way over towards his manager and his new coworker, wings bristling defensively.

“Oh, hey Tommy.” Bad smiled. “Phil, this is Tommy. I was just telling you about-”

“Hey bitch, you’ve gotta listen to me. I’m like, your new boss or whatever. You do whatever I say, got it?”

The new employee, Phil, just smiled and responded with a, “hey mate,” the same time Bad screeched:

“Language, Tommy!” 

Okay, maybe this would be more entertaining than he originally thought.

The rest of the day went by with Tommy showing Phil the basics. The man caught on rather quickly and began to serve tables all by himself at around midday, which was fucking annoying. He was supposed to be an amateur! 

But no, Tommy watched as Phil talked and laughed with one of the tables. And, he got a twenty fucking dollar tip when they left! 

This was favoritism. Plain and simple. He would not stand for it.

Well, actually he would. Because Tommy was not about to confront the man. How stupid would that be? Instead, he just glared at him from the corner of his eye throughout the day as he served tables and took orders.

Phil was too easy-going. His stupid eyes crinkled every time he laughed, and he hated how he seemed to brighten up the room. 

On more than one occasion, Tommy found Phil watching him. Whenever he caught him, the man was always quick to look away.

The end of their shifts, five pm, was rolling around fast. Tommy was itching to get out of the diner and back to his apartment so he could collapse on his bed and pass out for fourteen hours straight.

Thus was the way of getting zero hours of sleep between patrol and work.

“Tommy, right?” 

He blinked, turning around and being met face to face with Phil. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s my name. Don’t wear it out.” He scoffed, unconsciously pulling his wings closer to his body. 

Phil’s eyes locked onto the movement, and he raised his hands placatingly. 

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Sorry, mate.” He apologized, sounding surprisingly genuine as he took a step back. “I just wanted to talk to you for a bit while the rush dies out.” 

The diner was pathetically empty since it was nearing the hour where most people taking day shifts got out of work. 

“Is that alright with you?” He asked.

“I mean, I guess?” Tommy shrugged, eyeing the sharpened nails on the ends of the man’s fingers. He swiped his thumb over his own nails, clenching his jaw at the dullness.

“How long have you worked here?” Phil asked, tilting his head. Tommy blinked.

“Uh, just a couple of months.”

“Oh, really? That’s cool. I’m just trying out what it's like to be a waiter.” He admitted.

“Well, I mean, you gotta feed the family somehow right?” Tommy asked.

“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. My sons and I actually live in upper Essempi, so we’re well off.” Way to fucking brag about it. “I’m just trying out what it’s like to be a waiter. And I’ve known Bad for a few years, so this was the perfect opportunity.”

Tommy’s brows furrowed. He examined the man in front of him. His black-feathered wings were held a bit more tightly against his back than they had been a moment earlier, and his easy-going smile seemed just a tad strained.

“Oh, you’ve got sons? Plural? I was right about you being ancient then. How many you got?” He asked, his posture straightening as he watched Phil’s reaction closely.

The older blond’s smile fell a bit, a sadness settling over his expression. His eyes grew distant, and it took much longer for the man to respond than it should have.

“I have two.”

So it was what Tommy predicted. 

This job was a distraction for Phil.

He had met plenty of people that started new hobbies as coping mechanisms. Grudge and Beam being two of them, and vigilantism being said hobby they used to cope. It was only a theory, but he was almost certain that there was more to their nightly escapades than they let on. 

He couldn’t say he was innocent of the tactic either. In his apartment, he was growing a clementine tree. Tommy had zero interest in plants, but he wanted to see if he could keep something alive.

Still, the blond found himself feeling a bit more sympathetic towards his new coworker. 

“That’s nice. I bet they’re a handful. Toddlers suck.”

“Oh,” Phil chuckled, “they’re adults. That doesn’t make them any less of a handful though.” 

The avian’s icy blue eyes trailed over Tommy’s face, landing on the too-small feathers dotting his upper cheeks. There was a curious sort of pity in his gaze that immediately washed away any sort of sympathy the teenager felt towards him a moment ago.

He scoffed defensively. “Well, I best be off now. Our shifts are practically over, yeah?” 

Tommy knew his wings had to be bristling, but he could care less as he turned around and stormed off towards the front counter where Bad was sitting and tapping away idly. 

“Oh- well, bye?” Phil called out after him, uncertainty coating his words.

Tommy ignored him.

Bad gave him the go-ahead to leave five minutes early. Never had breathing in the fresh air of the outside ever given him so much relief before. He was away from the prying eyes of the other avian, and he was ready to go home and pass the fuck out.

Chapter Text

“Five points if you can make it into the dumpster across the street.” Grudge said.

“Bet.” Tommy grinned, snatching up a loose piece of gravel from the roof the vigilantes were sitting on. 

His feet swung idly over the edge, and he gripped the corner of the ledge as he leaned forward, eyes locked onto the dumpster Grudge had pointed out.

“I don’t think you can make it.” Beam commented from Tommy’s left, his hands ghosting over his side as if he were afraid Tommy was about to fall any moment. “What if you miss and break a window? Then we’d have to arrest you for crime.”

The blond shook his head with a feral grin, readying up his arm as he closed one eye in preparation for the biggest throw of the century. “You guys would never arrest me. You love me too much.”

“I would gladly arrest you.” Grudge piped up from Tommy’s other side.

“Fuck off. I just said you wouldn’t.”

“Go ahead. Break a window and we’ll see.” The shorter vigilante threatened. He glanced over incredulously, glaring into the dark green goggles situated over Grudge’s face.

“Dude, fuck off. I would floor you if you even tried.” 

“Grudge is pretty strong.” Beam said.

“Oh my god. I’m throwing the damn rock now and ignoring you both.” He rolled his eyes, flinging his arm forward and releasing the stone. 

The trio watched as the rock soared through the air, and for a moment it looked like it was about to make it. But Tommy must have pissed off some god before coming out here tonight because at the last moment he swears the rock veered to the side and smashed into the window of a gas station.

Three jaws dropped as an alarm began to blare loudly.

“No way.” Grudge exclaimed loudly. “You fucking did not! Come on!” 

“It wasn't on purpose.” Tommy hissed, standing up and backing away. Beam and Grudge shared a look before getting up as well and following after him.

All three heads snapped towards the sound of distant sirens.

“I’m feeling really conflicted right now.” Grudge admitted.

“You are not arresting me!” He snapped.

“Grudge, don’t arrest him.” Beam agreed, green eyes flickering between the two of them. “How about we find another part of the city to patrol? I think this area is gonna be covered for a while.” 

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Tommy followed Grudge’s lead in hopping down from the rooftop, wincing when his feet slammed into the pavement. How Grudge’s ankles didn’t break was beyond him. 

Beam, the bastard he was, simply teleported down, sparks of purple bombarding Tommy’s face. He swatted the particles away, scrunching his nose.

“Oi! I have a very precious face, and those purple sparks are fucking hot. Keep your distance, man.”

Beam had the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry, I forgot.”

The quiet tap-tap-tapping of Grudge walking down the street caught their attention, and the two vigilantes scrambled to catch up with their friend. 

“Fuck!” Grudge cursed as the thug they had been pursuing full-on body slammed into him. Tommy barked out a laugh as the shorter vigilante flipped him off. “Don’t just stand there! Get him!”

“Oh, yeah.” Tommy narrowed his eyes, running after the man as he ducked in between two houses, leaping over a backyard fence.

The three had been discussing their favorite animals when they watched a man push over some poor old lady. He snatched up the lady’s purse and made off like his life depended on it.

Beam had stayed with the lady to make sure she was okay while Grudge and Tommy pursued the evil-doer.

Seriously though, who pushes old ladies? Tommy wondered as he gripped the wooden planks and pulled himself over them.

The thug whirled around, his lips pulled back in a nasty snarl. Oh, wow, his breath looks like it would stink with how yellow his teeth were.

“Sheesh, dude. Do you ever brush your teeth?” Tommy asked, striding towards the man. He held out his hands in front of him. “Listen, just give me the purse and I won’t bop you upside the head, yeah? That sounds like a fair trade to me.”

“Screw you.” The man growled.

Quick as a whip, Tommy lunged forward. He smashed his elbow into the side of the guy’s head. It made the guy drop the purse and double over with a groan.

“I told you,” he replied smugly, watching as the thug gripped his head tightly and backed away from him.

He leaned down and snatched the purse, throwing it over his shoulder. “Now, I have to return this to the nice lady that you so rudely stole from. How about you make this easier on the both of us and hold out your hands so I can cuff you?”

“How about you go to hell?” 

One moment Tommy was reaching into his pocket to pull out his totally-not-stolen handcuffs, and the next he was swaying on his feet after the thug had pulled out a knife from seemingly nowhere and slammed it into his stomach.

His mouth opened in a silent “o”, fingers finding the handle and grabbing onto it. The thug seemed just as surprised as Tommy. Did he expect him to dodge it?

After a moment of awkward staring, the criminal turned around and fled, pulling himself over the fence on the opposite side of the yard.

Tommy wasn't focused on that. Instead, he was focused on the hot tendrils of pain in his abdomen licking through his body like burning coals.

“Raptor? Did you get him?” A staticky voice cut into his overwhelmingly silent head, and he blinked.

In one moment he went from standing, to collapsing onto the neatly cut grass, chest heaving as he struggled to pull in air.

“Raptor?” Grudge’s voice became increasingly worried, and he could hear the sharp ring of feedback as the vigilante got closer to him.

“I’m-” Tommy gasped, unable to finish his sentence. He didn’t need to, because Grudge had heard him.

Next thing he knew Beam had teleported beside him and Grudge was heaving himself over the fence, movements uncoordinated and panicked as he toppled into the yard and ran over to the bleeding boy.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck-” Grudge gasped. His voice was muffled by the steadily increasing roar in Tommy’s ears. He stared down at his hand that was held tightly around the handle of the knife. Red dripped between his fingers, landing on his lap and sliding into the green grass below.

“Ra…or?” He could barely hear Beam over his own wheezing breaths. 

No, Beam wasn't here. Neither was Grudge.

He was back in the alleyway, watching a sword slide through Flux’s chest. His eyes caught on the blood splattering the walls. Bright red smeared across the Blood God’s mask as crimson eyes stared into his soul.

The hero was dead. He was next.

He never thought that the Blood God would be the one to kill him, and he never thought he would feel the familiar curling of fear holding him place in front of the man.

Was there blood on the villain’s cape? He couldn’t tell. The red was the same shade as his blood.

No, he meant Flux’s blood. It was the same shade as…

The world became a blinding white and Tommy blinked rapidly, shying away from the light.

“Are you with us, big man?” Grudge asked, voice trembling and coated with an unfamiliar terror Tommy had never heard the boy express before. 

He let out a groan, pushing the flashlight Beam was shoving into his face away.

“Get… fucking get off of me.” He said, sitting up. When had he laid down?

“Don’t move!” Grudge uttered immediately, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “I’ll call an ambulance. It’s going to be okay.”

“What?” He asked, squinting his eyes. “No, don’t call- I’ll be fine. Back off, okay?” 

When neither vigilante moved, he rolled his eyes and sat up, ignoring their protests. Tommy winced at the burning sharp pain that rolled down his spine, leaving a nasty chill in its wake. He tightened his grip on the knife’s handle, pulling it out in a quick motion.

Beam looked seconds away from fainting, and Grudge was now shouting at him and pressing his gloved hands against the wound.

“You idiot! Have you ever been on the internet? You never take the knife out! It’s holding your blood in! Just-” there was a noticeable wobble in Grudge’s voice. “Don’t be stupid, okay? You’re gonna be fine if you just listen to me for once and lay the fuck down.” 

Tommy let out a breath of relief, only partially listening to Grudge’s words as the burning pain switched to an uncomfortable boiling that quickly faded moments later. He opened his eyes, meeting Grudge’s green goggles.

“G, it's fine. I’m fine. Just let me-” he tried sitting up, but Grudge planted a firm hand on his chest.

“Raptor I swear to fucking Prime that if you do not lay down I will forcibly knock you out.” The boy was entirely serious, and there was a warning edge in his tone that said he was one push away from doing it.

Beam stood off to the side, watching the both of them and not making any moves to intervene. In fact, he was holding an old flip-phone in preparation to call said ambulance.

Tommy breathed in deeply, glaring right back at Grudge.

“Stop it! Both of you! Just- lift up my hoodie. It’s gone. The stab wound is gone, okay?” 

Grudge’s lips tugged down into a confused frown. “What?”

“Just do it.” Tommy said earnestly, once more trying to sit up and wincing when Grudge pushed him back down. “See for yourself.”

Slowly, the boy released his death grip over Tommy’s hoodie, flinching at the sight of the blood-stained fabric. He grabbed the bottom of the hoodie and slowly pulled it up. 

Tommy’s stomach was coated in fresh blood. Beam gagged, looking away and placing a hand over his metallic mask. 

Grudge clenched his jaw and gently wiped away the blood, searching for the wound that he thought was there. Tentative concern quickly turned into confusion when he couldn’t find it, and his wiping became a bit more aggressive as he searched the entirety of Tommy’s abdomen.

“What the hell?” Grudge asked, finally ceasing his search and instead looking up at Tommy.

“What? What happened?” Beam questioned worriedly, kneeling beside the two.

“He’s right. There’s no injury.” Grudge said blankly. “But…” he could feel Grudge’s eyes on him, a silent question no doubt on the tip of the vigilante’s tongue.

“I’m a healer.” Tommy admitted. Now that they both knew he was fine, he was allowed to sit up freely, his hoodie falling back over his stomach. “No need to call the ambulance, so you can put the phone away.” He sent Beam a pointed look. The vigilante hastily shoved the device into his pocket.

Grudge opened his mouth, no words coming out. He shook his head, running a hand through unruly brown hair. “What the fuck, man? You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” Tommy grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t see the knife until it was already inside of me.”

“I’m going to ignore that and just be glad you’re alive.” Grudge said. He lifted up his hand and smacked Tommy across the face.

“Ow, dude! What the hell?” He hissed, holding his cheek.

“That’s what you get for almost dying on us.” Grudge spat. 

Beam nodded in agreement. “Deserved, honestly.”

“Oh fuck you guys. Our partnership is over.” Tommy stood up, brushing grass bits off of his pants. 

“Come on, don’t be like that bossman.” Grudge stood up as well with a maniacal grin. “You know you love us.”

“Yeah, and what would you do without us here to get you out of trouble?” Beam added. “You need us. Our partnership can’t just end.” 

“Mimimimimimi, I’m Grudge and Beam and I’m clingy little fucks.” Tommy mocked. “That’s you. That’s what you sound like.”

Grudge gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “How could you? I thought we just had a moment.”

“Well, the moment’s over now. I’m going home.” Tommy crossed his arms, strutting across the lawn and placing his hands on the fence. He pushed himself over, awkwardly maneuvering past the top and landing on the other side. 

Beam appeared a few feet away from him while Grudge hauled himself over the fence as well.

“You sure you’re good to leave? I mean, you did almost just die.” Beam pointed out, his hands wringing together. It was a nervous habit of theirs that Tommy had learned early on about.

Grudge shared a look with Beam, an entire silent conversation passing between the two of them that, quite frankly, Tommy didn’t have the energy to unpack.

“Yeah, I know we don’t know each other’s identities, but at least let us walk you near where you live.” Grudge offered. Tommy was already shaking his head before the boy had finished speaking.

“No, I’m good. And I didn’t almost die. I wasn't even close to it.” 

Grudge frowned, clearly displeased. He opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when Beam placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, whatever. You do you. But I do feel like we have to go over and redo some of our rules if we’re gonna continue working together.” 

“Yeah, sure man. Just let me give this purse back to that lady.” Tommy walked down the street where the lady was sitting on the curb and talking into her phone frantically with teary eyes. She looked up when Tommy approached, and he held out the purse silently.

“Thank you.” The lady said, slowly taking it out of his hands. Her eyes trailed down to the blood soaked parts of his hoodie. “Did you get hurt? I’m so sorry, dear.”

Tommy shook his head. “I’m okay. The guy got away though.”

“Yeah. We recommend calling the authorities and giving them a description of the man so they can try to find him.” Grudge piped up from beside Tommy. “We’ll be on our way now.”

The lady nodded, once more thanking the three. They turned around and made their way through the streets.

Tommy walked along on the sidewalk beside Grudge as Beam trailed behind the two of them.

The street lights flickered, and a feeling of unease crawled up his throat. His companions were unnaturally quiet. Grudge had said something about changing up their conditions regarding working together, but so far the boy had yet to start the conversation.

He cleared his throat, wings twitching uncomfortably. They twinged a bit from when Grudge had forced him to lay on his back, but other than that they were in perfect condition.

You know they’re not. A voice hissed in the back of his mind.

Tommy pushed that voice away, silently swearing at it about how it got no women and had no friends. The voice did not respond, and he gathered that he had won the argument.

“Hey, let's pause here and talk for a bit shall we?” Grudge said. Though it was posed like a question, Tommy knew he had no say in the matter. The trio stopped just short of a street light, the white fluorescents causing his eyes to sting uncomfortably.

He crossed his arms and tilted his head, waiting for one of them to go first.

“About tonight,” Beam began slowly, “it was pretty scary.” He admitted.

Tommy slouched, guilt bubbling in his chest, its grip tightening on his ribs and making his breaths come out shorter.

“I know.” He said. “I was scared too. I’m okay though. That’s what matters in the end.”

“But are you?” Grudge asked, his lip curling as he spat out the acidic accusation. “Yeah, you have healing powers. That made the situation better in regards that we didn’t have to get you to a hospital and you didn’t get arrested, but bossman, you were having a panic attack.” His words were laced with an agony that had Tommy flinching back.

“Who wouldn’t panic if they were stabbed?” He ended up lamely retorting, squeezing the sleeves of his hoodie tightly. “I mean, it's sort of a given that getting stabbed would have a bit of an effect on me. I’m fine now though.”

“I don’t believe you.” Grudge hissed. “There was something more to that. You were terrified. You didn’t respond to either of us, you-”

“Bo.” Beam spoke up, Grudge falling silent when the vigilante shook his head. Bright green eyes flickered with emotion as they stared at Tommy. 

He looked away, skin tingling uncomfortably under the boy’s gaze.

“Raptor, we want you to be all right. Your wellbeing is more important than any patrol. If you’re not, just tell us, and we can renegotiate how this whole thing works.” He gestured between the three of them.

“Renegotiate?” The blond frowned. “What, is this your way of telling me you don’t want to partner up with me anymore?” His words were a bitter-edged sword, and he felt a curl of satisfaction when both boys winced. If they were kicking him to the curb, he was going to make sure they wouldn’t feel good about it.

“No, that's not it.” Grudge shook his head. “We love working with you, and we think of you as a very good colleague. It’s just..” he ducked his head. “I’ve seen this before.”

He bristled, his feathers puffing up. “Seen what before?”

Once again, the two vigilantes shared a silent look, leaving Tommy out of whatever conversation they were having with their eyes. Not that he could see Grudge’s eyes. 

It was a sour reminder that these two were closer together than he was with them. They knew each other. The two have probably gone out during the day and eaten icecream together while they laughed about the latest shenanigans they got up to during their patrols.

All the while there was just Tommy.

It wasn't Grudge, Beam, and Raptor. It was Grudge and Beam plus Raptor. 

“What we’re saying is: Don’t force yourself to do this if it's hurting you.” Beam said gently.

“Part of this line of work is getting hurt!” He snapped. “It means nothing if I’m more concerned about my own well-being than the well-being of innocent civilians. I’m here to help them. It’s selfish and greedy to put myself before others. That’s my job, I know that’s my job.”

There was a flash of green in front of Tommy. He was saying the right things, he had to show him that he understood. 

Once more Beam pulled out a flashlight and switched it on, shining it into Tommy’s eyes. The blond squinted and looked away.

“Dude! What the hell? Would you stop that?”

“Sorry. It looked like you were spacing out on us again.” Beam apologized.

“Well I wasn't! And it isn’t either of your guys’ jobs to fuss over me. I’m completely capable, and to know you guys don’t think so is insulting.”

“Raptor.” Grudge warned, his voice dipping low.

Beam cleared his throat. “I think we should finish this conversation another night, when feelings aren’t running quite so high. We’re all still reeling a bit from the close call earlier, and I don’t believe any of us are thinking straight.”

“But did you hear him, Boo? He’s being fucking ridiculous-”

“Goodbye Raptor. See you later.” Beam grabbed Grudge’s arm and tugged him across the street. Tommy stared after the both of them, swallowing thickly.

He was fine. They didn’t have to get their panties all twisted up over a bit of panic during a high stress situation. Tommy chose to become a vigilante, and yeah there were going to be emotional tolls, but he had known this going in. 

They just had to put more trust into him.

He thought they were partners. A trio of vigilantes working together to stop crime.

That’s all they were. They weren’t friends, they were business associates. That’s the extent of how far their relationship would go. 

He would just have to remind himself of that every time Grudge snuck up on him and scared him out of his mind, his laughter embracing the air like a warm hug. Or when Beam would fret over the smallest of scrapes that would disappear in seconds anyway.

The grins and jokes shared between the three were just a means to an end.

He let out a harsh breath. Maybe one day they would become more. One day he might get to see Beam’s smile for the first time, or get to look into Grudge’s eyes. 

Only when the city was safer though, would he allow such delicacies.

He was in the present for now though. And in this moment Tommy was dragging his feet along the sidewalk as he made the treacherous journey to his apartment. He was going to wash his wings and get ready for work.

Prime, Tommy did not want to deal with Phil today. He could only hope that work wouldn't be so bad.

Chapter Text

Hi all. It’s been awhile.

I know I haven’t been posting much since Technoblade’s death. It’s been difficult for me to write about his character and I know that I’ve said I’ll keep posting and writing, and I have, but not enough for a full chapter. I always find it’s too hard to continue, and I’m sorry.

Onto recent events, I do not find it appropriate to write about Wilbur anymore, even if it’s just a character sharing his name. What Shelby had to go through was truly awful, and no accountability was taken for his actions. Please, if you can, find Shelby on her social media platforms and shower her with support. She is a victim of abuse. She had to go through something harmful and heartbreaking. She needs all of our love.

I will get back into writing these fictions, possibly in the near future, and I plan to completely revise these stories and repost them without Wilbur’s character in it. I’m open to suggestions on ways to change the story while still keeping the original premise. Perhaps I could replace the fourth member of the family with Chayanne? Tubbo? Feel free to share your thoughts.

And again, I implore you to hear Shelby’s story and give her unconditional support through these hard times while things run through and settle. I don’t know what the future will look like, but hopefully it’ll be bright.