Chapter Text
They give themselves a month of planning time. As confident as Dream is about it, they only get one chance. Best to be safe and overprepared, rather than fuck it up for no reason.
But the eve of what they've been colloquially calling "Doomsday," Wilbur doesn't have much to do at home. His place won't be on the field, so there's no point in getting suited up like Dream and Techno are doing with Phil.
So he goes into work that day just as always, giving absolutely nothing away except a couple meaningful glances to the handful of plants they have around the office. He watches as the sun sets through the windows of his office and waits for everyone to go home. He has a few viruses to upload around the computers so that things go properly haywire tomorrow and offices to sweep so he can remove hidden weapons.
Any little precautions he can take... he'll be all alone here tomorrow, after all. No backup if things go wrong, at least until he can get a message off to George. Fuck, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to just have the former hero stationed with him. The closer the clock ticks to go-time, the more anxious he's getting. It's a good thing no one's around, he's probably exuding nervous energy through his power.
"I thought I saw the light on in here."
Wilbur looks up to see Schlatt walking through the door.
"Just got a couple things to wrap up," Wilbur replies sheepishly. Schlatt had checked on him a couple times following that night after Tommy's betrayal, despite his insistence that it was a one-time deal every time. It was... kind, despite everything.
"It's far too late for any real work to be done. Come on," Schlatt orders, but it's kind.
"What if it's not real work?" Wilbur complains, despite pushing back from his desk and fiddling with the thumb drives in his pocket as he stands. He was able to hit a few major computers, but not all of them. And he hasn't even tried to look for hidden weapons yet. What if that's his downfall tomorrow? What if Dream and Techno and Phil do everything perfectly, but he screws up his one job? What if, what if—
"I can practically hear you overthinking. Up, out, come on. I'll drive you home," Schlatt repeats.
"You don't have to," Wilbur murmurs, forcing himself to take his hand out of his pocket and fix messy brown curls instead. No use worrying about it, he tries to tell himself, taking a tighter grip on his powers and making sure they don't boil over. "The train isn't bad. Or I could call my brother." A lie, he wouldn't bother them tonight.
"At the very least I'm watching you step onto that train so I know you won't just turn around the moment I drive off," Schlatt says easily.
"Careful, you'll almost make me think that you care," Wilbur jokes, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and slinging it over his shoulders. "Besides, surely I'm not that bad?"
Schlatt levels him with an unimpressed stare, not taking the bait.
"Oh, come on! I'm not!" Wilbur practically whines.
"And yet, if I didn't force you to take your lunch break you wouldn't eat half the time."
Wilbur rolls his eyes and whacks Schlatt on the shoulder, grinning as they leave the office. "You have no faith in me."
"None at all," Schlatt agrees playfully.
Wilbur smiles, but that smile slowly fades as he remembers what night it is. What's been happening under the surface this whole time. What his place in all of it is. His mind gets wrapped up in all sorts of thoughts as they step into the glass elevator, looking out the window at the night lights of downtown.
Wilbur is the one with a way into City Hall. That means he has to be the one to dispose of the mayor. To turn a villain's raid against the heroes into a real revolution.
Standing here, next to Schlatt, he suddenly doesn't know if he can do it.
"Come on, pretty boy," Schlatt bids, breaking Wilbur from his thoughts. "Time to get you in bed."
Wilbur snorts. "Don't say it like that, the press will get ideas."
"Well, they aren't here now are they?"
"There are eyes everywhere," Wilbur jokes. "Isn't that a saying? The walls have eyes. Or ears. Either or."
"Yeah, yeah," Schlatt snorts.
"Maybe both!" Wilbur presses, before the elevator dings and they step out onto the ground level. "...I'm gonna miss this," he mumbles to himself, barely more than a breath so Schlatt doesn't hear it.
"What was that?" Schlatt asks.
"Ah, nothing," Wilbur returns.
"You sure?"
"I..." Wilbur hesitates before making an impulsive decision and reaching out to pull Schlatt into a hug. "Thank you."
"Oh, so you're that kind of tired," Schlatt teases, but he hugs back anyway, giving Wilbur two firm pats on the back.
Wilbur hums and then leans to whisper directly into Schlatt's ear, so there's no chance of being caught: "Please. Don't fight," he murmurs, pulling back and giving Schlatt a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"
"Wh— Yeah? Is everything alright, Wilbur?" Schlatt asks.
"Nothing to worry your pretty head about," Wilbur assures, tapping Schlatt on the forehead once with a smile.
"Be that way then, I guess," Schlatt chuckles, shaking his head. "Now scram. It's long past bedtime for overworked politicians like yourself."
"Goodnight, Schlatt," Wilbur bids, waving and making his way back home.
"Last call. Everyone ready?" Techno asks, dressed in full Blood God attire. He sweeps a critical gaze across both Dream and Phil, taking stock of their weapons and armor. They're crouched on the top of a roof across from the Heroes' Tower, prepared to handle a fight. George has an earpiece directly to Dream, who in turn has his mental connection with Techno firm. A straightforward chain of effect in case things take a steep turn for the worst. Not that they should. "Once I walk out there, it's on. We're starting this day as villains, and will end it as the rulers of this city."
"I can't wait to kick that fucking tower down," Dream agrees with a nod.
"I think it's about time this city remembers why they feared the Angel of Death," Phil agrees darkly.
Techno smirks and flicks his cape. "I'll gather attention. Then Error will drop Dream in, and Phil will decide when is appropriate for his own reveal," he recaps before hopping off the side of the building and strolling out into the street before the Tower.
Even just that probably is enough to make the heroes inside start panicking, but then Techno presses a button in his pocket and a set of bombs they planted ahead of time shake the plaza, large plumes of smoke billowing as he grins.
Alarms begin to blare, and the public starts to scream even more, the sound of the alarms well trained as sounds to flee from.
Techno laughs and casually dumps a vial of blood into the air, playing with it in a twisted recreation of cat's cradle as he waits for the main event.
He is answered not by screams, but by a wave of fire right in front of him, only a warning from Dream giving him the time to jump back and avoid it.
"Heh. Come to join the fun?" Techno taunts, forming the blood in the air into the long, devastating blade of his old sword— his excalibur. While Dream is playing eye in the sky, it's best to keep to weapons he's familiar with, after all.
"You should have died a long time ago," Sapnap growls, unleashing another blast of fire directed towards Techno's face.
"As if I would make it that easy for you," Techno scoffs, ducking out of the way and dancing forward to take a swing at Sapnap, though not too deadly. Dream would be upset if he seriously hurt the hero without good reason.
Sapnap screams, a loud, wordless, anguished sound as he sends out more waves of fire and sends a flame-coated punch towards Techno's face.
Well, this certainly isn't as easy of a fight as expected. There certainly was a reason he was one of the three S-Ranked heroes, after all.
Techno hisses and reforms his sword into a shield, and though the blood is evaporated by the flames, it protects him from that particular attack. With a flick of his wrist he shatters another vial of blood and reforms his blade, feeling as Dream's watchful gaze tugs his body back out of the way of another blast of fire.
It feels nice. Fighting side by side again after ten years, fulfilling the training that made Albion such a force to be reckoned with.
Now isn't the time for such thoughts, though, not with Sapnap right in front of him, angry and swinging.
"I HATE YOU!" Sapnap screams as he continues to relentlessly attack Techno.
"I know," Techno agrees, smirking as they trade a few blows. "If only you were half the fighter Dream is... Maybe you'd even have a chance at the revenge you so crave."
The fire stops for half a second, and Sapnap goes quiet. He takes a deep breath, and looks up at Techno with blazing eyes.
"You aren't worth the scum on the bottom of his shoe. You were too weak to win against him, and so you manipulated and took him. Killed him. And for that? I am going to put you in the ground right next to him."
‘Might have messed up,’ Techno calls to Dream, wincing from the heat and ducking away as Sapnap sends blasts at him with a cold, single-minded vengeance. ‘ Blaze isn't playing anymore.’
‘On it,’ Dream responds.
A few moments go by, before Dream appears above them all.
"Stop!" He commands Sapnap, whose flames flutter out temporarily.
"You didn't think the Blood God came alone, now did you?" Dream cackles before throwing a punch towards Sapnap. Sapnap doesn't even bother to quip back, just deflecting Dream's punch and punching back even harder.
Techno grins, taking a couple more cursory swings at Sapnap before tagging out with a cheeky high-five to Dream, twirling around and looking at the teams of A and B-Tier heroes that have come crawling out of the woodwork to defend their home turf. "Like lambs to the slaughter," he taunts.
The two fight valiantly, but the heroes outnumber them almost twenty to one, and it seems, maybe, that they won't do too well.
Dream jumps back, away from Sapnap and up into a piece of rubble.
"Is this the best the heroes have to offer?" He taunts.
"Of course it is. We've removed everyone else!" Techno calls back with a grin.
"You took them. You took them!" Sapnap yells, flames flickering erratically as he clenches his fists, shaking. An angry tear slides down his cheek but evaporates halfway from the heat of the flames swirling around his every movement, and Dream realizes— Sapnap isn't just mad. He's teetering on the edge of a level one power break, pushed to his limit from the constant heartache.
Dream makes the decision then, and pulls his mask off his face.
"You think the Blood God would have been able to kidnap me so easily? Oh no no no. I went with him on purpose, and 404 came with me!" He cackles, letting George teleport the sword Dream had been working on into his hand. The particles show that George, for sure, is still working with Dream, and Dream now has a second weapon.
It had been designed to be a blade which used some electrical current on the outside to act as a taser, but with some adjustments it has become a sword with a layer of plasma on the outside, giving Dream a blade capable of cutting through most materials.
Sapnap staggers back, eyes wide. "You— Dream?" He whispers, willing it not to be true.
"I am the Lord of Dreams," Dream declares. "And I will put all you heroes on your knees where you should be."
"No," Sapnap sobs, flames flickering out and dying, unwilling to raise them against his long-time friend. Practically a brother.
"Yes," Techno retorts, laying a possessive hand on Dream's shoulder and grinning darkly. "I've helped Dream to realize his true potential. You heroes were like stones strung around his neck... weighing him down, drowning him in a sea of mediocrity."
"They put a bomb in my neck!" Dream screams. "And we let them! They forced a child to design a prison, and then put a bomb in his neck when he actually did!"
"So you change sides? They're villains, Dream!" Sapnap cries out. "All we ever wanted was to do good together! Was that all just a lie?!"
"This wasn't good! The heroes aren't good. A Commission that knowingly lets a man who mutilated a child be a top hero isn't good!" Dream replies angrily.
"We still helped people! You and me! Or did you forget that part?! All the Blood God has ever done is hurt!" Sapnap yells, flames bursting to life again, but not attacking— instead swirling around him like a shield. "Was it all just a fucking lie?! Oh sure, let's let Blaze tag along, that poor idiot doesn't even know he's playing third wheel to a couple of traitors!"
"I was a CHILD SOLDIER!" Dream shouts. "I was shipped off to the heroes at eleven after being abused for this very purpose since birth! The hero program grooms the children under their care until there is no sense of freedom or choice, and that is not a system I can continue to support. There will be a new order at the end of the day."
"That's enough."
Philza's voice rings out from the roof above them, and everyone's attention is drawn as he spreads his wings and leaps down. He flaps those dark wings once, twice, then lands with barely a scuff onto the mound of rubble that Techno and Dream had so kindly dropped for him.
"The Hero Commission has done many wrongs. It has also made an invaluable impact on the stability of this city. Neither side of these facts can be ignored," Phil states, loud, clear, and in control. "But regardless of this, its use has come to an end. It is time for a new era, a new world to rise in its wake."
There is a moment of silence, before there is chaos.
Civilians who still remember the era of the Angel scream and run, trying desperately to get far enough away for their lives to be spared. Half of the heroes even run with them, leaving a smaller and smaller number actually willing to fight.
"The Commission falls today. Our Syndicate will take up the mantle, enforcing actual justice in this city for the first time in decades," Phil declares. "Heroes who wish to do real good, lay down your arms and surrender. Any left who oppose us will be sent without mercy to the same Vault which held me for five long years... and believe me, mate, half of you wouldn't survive that special brand of hell," he promises, casting a dark gaze across the crowd.
"Lay down your weapons," Dream commands. "This fight is now over."
Sapnap falls to his knees and screams as the heroes around him drop their weapons via the compulsion, scared, confused, and so, so alone. A couple foolish heroes fumble and grab for their weapons again anyway but Techno just tilts his head and raises a hand, clenching it into a fist and wrapping each of them up in ropes of their own blood.
But most of them, whether scared or genuinely taking the Angel of Death's words to heart, raise their hands in surrender.
The chaos in the main city makes news to Town Hall quickly. The building is locked down, and Wilbur finds himself alone in the main office with J. Schlatt.
The mayor is pacing back and forth, smacking his desktop computer occasionally to try and get it to work. Not that it will. The virus Wilbur uploaded yesterday has frozen all inbound and outbound communications— effectively taken off the network until they administer the cure.
Wilbur leans against the wall, watching with a healthy level of detachment as Schlatt tries to fix things that won't even matter by the end of the day.
"Everything is fucked," Schlatt groans as he collapses into his chair. "Whoever put this virus on the computers picked a good one."
"I would be more worried about yourself, Mr. Mayor," Wilbur mentions, pulling a pistol out of his pocket. He twirls it on his finger and then lifts it to point at Schlatt's head. "Hands up."
"Ah," Schlatt hums, surprised but not alarmed. He leans back on his chair and puts his hands behind his head, turning to face Wilbur. "Is this what you were talking about the other night?"
"Wouldn't be much of an insurrection if we left certain prominent political figures in their seats of power," Wilbur remarks, forcing his voice to lilt cold and condescending. "I did find it funny how you were always so concerned about all the legitimate ways I could overthrow you, that you never even considered the more underhanded tactics."
"Well, underhanded tactics aren't as much of a thing you can easily prepare for," Schlatt shrugs. "Like this one, for example. What exactly was I meant to do to prepare for you putting a gun to my head?"
Wilbur shrugs. "Not exactly my problem, is it? Now, here is what is going to happen. You are going to hand over to me the key to the city. If you resist, I will take you to the front steps of Town Hall, and I will shoot you."
"You know the key to the city is symbolic, Wilbur," Schlatt says, though he fishes it out of his desk drawer obediently anyway.
"Thank you," Wilbur smiles darkly, reaching out to pluck that symbol of success from the mayor’s grasp. "You are a reasonable man, Schlatt. I would—"
"Mayor Schlatt! Mayor Schlatt, Mr. Soot, there's—!" One of the Town Hall interns slams open the door in a panic, stopping cold at the sight of Wilbur holding Schlatt at gunpoint. "M-Mr. Soot?"
Wilbur turns and stares at them with wide eyes in return. He was not expecting to be interrupted during this. He hums and turns the gun into them, tilting his head to gesture them in. "Step inside," he smiles, all too innocent for the weapon in his hand.
The intern does slowly step in, but they don't quite close the door behind them. "What— What's happening?"
"Justice," Wilbur assures, taking a step forward and humming and sending a pulse of relaxation into the room through his powers. It would be annoying if they ran off and hit a panic button or something. "Haven't you heard? The Syndicate is the new order in town."
"I..." The intern stutters, eyes flicking around the room. "But you're not... one of them, are you?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Wilbur asks, tilting his head. "This world... it could be so much better. And we are the ones to deliver this new order. Why should we settle for anything less?"
The intern looks around a bit, and takes a step back. Wilbur can feel their heart racing with panic, with fear, but also a flash of determination so aching similar to Tommy that he neglects to notice how they’re moving, reaching for the emergency button just to the side of the door—
Before he can put together what’s happening, the weight of the pistol is gone from his hand and instead in Schlatt’s grasp as the mayor fires twice at the intern, hitting them square in the chest without a second thought. They gasp and fall to the ground, unmoving, but Wilbur only snaps a shocked gaze to the perpetrator himself.
"Want this back?" Schlatt asks, holding the barrel of the gun and offering the butt for Wilbur to take as the smoke clears.
"What— You— But I—" Wilbur stammers, confused. His eyes flick between the gun and the body on the ground, knocked entirely off balance by that particular turn of events.
"He was gonna run and tell someone," Schlatt shrugs, setting the gun down on the table when it's clear Wilbur isn't taking it back. "Want me to pour you a glass?" He asks as he unlocks the bottom cabinet on his desk and gets on some whiskey, not waiting for an answer before pouring two glasses.
"Wha— I shouldn't, I still have to rendezvous— Why did you do that?!" Wilbur demands. "That was— I'm the villain! I'm the one who should have—"
"Now Wilbur," Schlatt chuckles, taking a sip. "Your heart’s just too good, you never would have pulled the trigger. Besides,” he smirks, leaning his cheek against one hand and swirling the glass with his other, “you and I both know there is no one more evil than a politician."
"You... make an infuriatingly good point," Wilbur mutters, crossing his arms. "But I could have done it!"
"No, you couldn't. Just like you couldn't have put a bullet through my head if I had fought back, which is why you warned me not to last night."
Wilbur huffs, crossing his arms. "I take it, then, that you would be willing to work with us?" He asks, trying to reclaim control of the situation. "You're knowledgeable about the city and have a good head on your shoulders. I would appreciate an advisor."
"Sure, beats getting killed by one of your partners," Schlatt shrugs, taking another drink of whiskey. When he finds his glass empty, he doesn't bother pouring a second and takes a swig right from the bottle.
Within an hour of the fall of Heroes’ Tower, a broadcast is sent to every news station and screen within the city. On it, the people watch as their sweetheart Wilbur Soot is rebranded as the villain Chloroform, revealing himself to be the fourth ringleader of the Syndicate. The fate of the former mayor is never announced publicly, but he acts within the shadows as the villain’s immediate political advisor in all matters of state.
A week later and a trio of heroes-in-training find their way before the Syndicate’s leadership, where a blonde-haired and blue-eyed teenager falls to his knees and begs safety for his new friends, the team meant to replace the Lord of Dreams as the top fighters for the Hero Commission. After much deliberation and a couple explanations as to the true depth of the Foundation’s meddling, the Angel of Death extends his mercy to a young hero once more, bringing those children under the Syndicate’s wing.
A month after that, the Lord of Dreams finds his way to the door of a quaint little house on the edge of Sector 3 and finally greets his childhood friend properly for the first time since his abduction by the Blood God. The ex-hero Blaze, now just simply Sapnap, can’t help but let a bit of resentment color his heart at first, but eventually that stinging flame peeters out into the low, aching warmth of charcoal. They embrace, and a story is shared as to the rather painful separation from one fiancé that made just a few too many bad choices for the remaining two to stand behind.
Under the Syndicate’s watchful gaze, the Foundation is shut down for good, funding relocated to more moral avenues of power researching and development. Those kingpins involved are given due punishment, and the Lord of Dreams takes no small amount of pleasure from pushing the bounds of the powers they fashioned for him to be turned back on their creators.
But maybe that is a story for another day. For now, let it be known that there is a family that loves each other very much, and that they moved the world to make it so.