Chapter Text
They close in on the site carefully. Darkness gives them the cover they need to approach, the buzzing static of the comms reminding Wilbur that they’re here on a mission. A mission led by the two heroes in charge of their HQ. It seems an overkill, for seven heroes to be stalking the docks down by the edge of their Empire. To make this situation even more embarrassing, they’re not actually after the drug dealers that have been sending and receiving shipments down here for weeks. No, they’re after the three vigilantes that are trying to stop them.
That sounds bad. Neither Dream nor Phil have intentions of arresting the trio. With growing crime, they need all the help they can get. That led Dream to suggest observing the trio, and eventually inviting them to join their cause. Wilbur can see a future fight breaking out when the heroes bicker over which one of them gets to train the newbies. For now, they’re using a stolen communication device that the three use, to listen in to their conversation.
There’s no sign of them yet. Wilbur glances across to his pseudo-brother, who is taking his duty of monitoring the situation very seriously. With every moment that passes, Wilbur wonders if they’ve been duped. There’s no sign of the vigilantes, but there is sign of the drug dealers. They’ve got weapons, guns holstered at their side as they move around the warehouse.
Then, Wilbur spots their first vigilante. Nicknamed by the public as Bomb, the small man appears at the edge of the water, hidden mostly by shadows. As Dream’s voice filters through his earpiece, warning them to stay alert, the vigilantes’ communication device crackles.
‘I’m in position, boss man. Want me to start laying the traps?’ the man asks, voice rough from a voice changer. His name, Bomb, is an accurate one. His gift, his power, is his ability to create weaponry. Wilbur’s been on patrol before when one of Bomb’s inventions go off. They’re highly effective; they only hit who they’re supposed to. No casualties, usually just buildings. In fact, between the three of them, there’s only been one death. A teenage girl three years ago, back when they first started patrolling.
The fact that it’s taken the heroes three years to get to this point, proves how good they are.
Another voice enters the comms, ‘Get Boob to take you, Big Man.’
Wilbur sniggers at the nicknames. They’re probably young, maybe around twenty. The youngest hero on the team is Ignis, or Sapnap, at twenty-one. Although Wilbur can’t see him from this position, he knows the number 7 hero must be grinning at the thought of not being the youngest.
The second vigilante appears. Boob, or as the public knows him, Walker, teleports in to the situation. His gift is the one they know the most about, considering his “jumps” are well researched. Small distances take less energy, and taking passengers is effort that wears out the gift. But Bomb and Walker almost always come as a pair.
‘Hey, Boo,’ Bomb softly says, picked up by the comms, before the tallest of the trio wraps an arm around the man’s waist. They vanish, probably into the warehouse, and Wilbur sees Dream on his ledge lean forwards to try and follow them.
‘Remember the plan. Get in, place your bombs, and get out. I’ll find the shipment,’ the third vigilante says, clearly in charge of the trio. Wilbur wonders if the leadership comes from age, or from skill. For the group of heroes watching, the position of number one is shared. In the public’s eye, their leader is Angelus, or as Wilbur knows him, Philza. His popularity means he is the one that soothes the public, while the other leader, Tempus, or Dream, has the skill set. There’s little issue between the two, they’re both content to share the role. It’s the other positions that are fought for, Wilbur’s determined to overtake Techno for his position of number 4.
A shout from the warehouse is followed by spluttering gunfire. Wilbur winces when a breathless voice speaks up, ‘Shit, they saw me and Boo. Explosives are in place.’
‘Get to the front of the building, and set the first—‘ the third vigilante is cut off with a gasp, his two companions both speaking up and demanding answers.
‘I swear, I’m coming back in if you don’t fucking answer me, dick,’ Bomb threatens, before a shaky breath takes over the crackling silence.
‘He’s here,’ vigilante number three says quietly.
Vigilante three is the one they know the least about. To the public, he is called Guillotine. Not for his ruthlessness, or cold heart, or kills (because there’s only one). His name is because of his methods, his effectiveness. He never loses his head, that’s the joke that the public love. It makes Guillotine the most loved vigilante in the Empire; he even rivals the heroes for popularity. From rescuing cats in trees, to walking around the city and assisting long into the night, anyone that meets him says that he’s carefree.
‘Fuck, T- boss man, are you sure? Which one?’ Bomb stutters out, and Wilbur watches as both boys make a move to go into the building.
They don’t get a chance. People come swarming out in their direction, and Wilbur gets to witness firsthand their fighting style. There’s easily fifteen men running at them, but neither seem too worried. Bomb starts firing at them, while Walker teleports a car in front of them to give them cover.
‘I lost him. Most of them are tied up, can you detonate the east side of the building?’ Guillotine asks breathlessly, still unseen to all heroes observing.
A loud bang, accompanied by fire stretching over one half of the building, tells Wilbur that Bomb listened. Beams begin to screech in protest as they collapse inwards, momentarily halting those attacking the two vigilantes. However, when the shock dims, they’re angry. At the Bomb, mostly, who gasps wetly into the comms.
‘Theseus, we need you here, now. Bee’s injured,’ Walker calls into the comms, catching his friend as Bomb falters. Wilbur hears Dream question Phil as to whether or not they should be interfering.
Phil doesn’t get the chance to respond. A figure appears on the roof of the second building, Guillotine. He scans the scene around him, fire lighting him up enough for Wilbur to get a good look at him. He’s dressed in red, with a black mask covering his face. Unlike his companions, Guillotine’s power is unknown.
‘I’ve cleared the building, but I can’t find—‘
Someone steps out of the entrance to the building. Wilbur can’t see them very well, but whoever it is, the three vigilantes know them. Guillotine leans closer to the edge of the building, watching the scene unfolding below. Wilbur copies. The person moves with purpose, unlike the others who are too busy to trying to flee. A sword is drawn, the man walking purposefully towards Walker and Bomb.
‘Theseus—‘
‘Detonate the second half, and get Bee out. I’ll handle it.’ There’s something in his tone that makes Wilbur hesitate. Anger, barely concealed. Walker hesitates for a moment, staring to Bomb, who groans.
‘Don’t you dare do anything stupid.’
‘Go.’
Then, the man jumps from the building. As he does, the second half goes up in flames, and Dream’s voice cuts into the explosion.
‘Angelus, can you catch—‘
Phil doesn’t need to catch Guillotine, because before the man can hit the floor, wings spread out behind him.
Guillotine is an avian. It shouldn’t be possible, because Phil is the only avian left alive, but there’s a set of golden wings that break his fall. Not very well, he clearly doesn’t have much experience in flying, but he lands in the ground without breaking anything.
Walker and Bomb vanish in a flash, and the sword-wielding man turns to Guillotine. In the distance, the sirens tell Wilbur that the police are almost here, ready to deal with the captives the vigilantes have managed to tie up. Some, the ones that fled from the front, are trying to escape into the wilderness. They won’t be much threat, and Wilbur knows the police will pick most of them up.
‘Hello again, Theseus,’ the sworded-man calls, swinging the blade lazily as he approaches Guillotine.
The vigilante holds his hand out, and Wilbur watches in confusion as a blade forms in his grip. He’s clearly injured, blood and soot staining his suit, but he doesn’t hesitate to challenge the other man.
‘Stay away from them,’ Guillotine calls, then seems to remember his comms.
He takes out the earpiece. The crunch is the last thing they hear, as his boot breaks the earpiece. Bomb swears, and Walker sighs, before their comms fall silent. It leaves Wilbur to watch as two swords clash. They’re both good. Good enough that Wilbur reckons Techno might have to break a sweat to fight them.
The swordsman says something, and Guillotine falters. His sword is knocked aside, and Wilbur watches in horror as the blade swings towards the man. They’re all too far away, they’re not going to make it, but they don’t have to.
Red mist covers the blade, halting it mid-swing. Slowly, Guillotine rises to his feet, the hand that had been holding his blade twisting. The red mist moves with it, until the swordsman falls to his knees. When Guillotine grabs a dagger from his belt, Wilbur isn’t going to stop him. He watches the vigilante press it to his neck, hand trembling.
He doesn’t make the cut. He steps back, before hitting the man on the side of the temple hard enough to knock him out. Cars pull up in front of the burning building, officers seaming the site but not threatening the vigilante. He’s well known for working with cops to assist in investigations, but it’s still strange to see it happen. Even they struggle to listen to cops, sometimes, but Guillotine steps back and listens to the commands being shouted out.
When he’s released, the vigilante begins to walk back in the direction of the city. A nod from both Dream and Phil tells them the next stage of the plan.
It’s time to follow.
**
Tommy’s going to have one hell of a headache in the morning. Potentially combined with a death threat from Tubbo, if he manages to actually make it back to his home. The fire is still roaring behind him, but the sirens keep piercing his enhanced healing, making it difficult to deal with the throbbing pain.
The walk home is going to take a while at this rate, but he’s being followed, so it isn’t a great idea to lead them directly towards his housemates. Instead, he moves around the edge of the dock, briefly pausing at the edge to kneel down in the sand. He removes his gloves, ignoring the shaking in his hands as he reaches out for water. He lifts his mask, just enough to get it over his nose, then raises the water to his lips.
‘That’s not clean,’ a voice says from behind him, as Tommy continues to hungrily gulp it down. His healing will stop anything from killing him, hopefully.
When Tommy lowers his mask, adjusting the voice-changer, he looks over his shoulder. Of all the people he thought might be following him…
‘Holy shit,’ he blurts, before he can stop himself.
Tempus laughs. His mask is in place, the smiley face staring down at him with green eyes behind it. They glow with his gift, and Tommy takes a moment to stare up in awe. To make the fanboy moment worse, Tempus is decked out. His full armour, with a green cape that lightly sways in the wind.
‘Hello, Guillotine,’ Tempus greets calmly, hands by his sides as Tommy scrambles to his feet.
‘You… you’re like the best of the heroes! Your manipulation of matter into a dormant state is like, the coolest thing ever!’ Tommy rushes out in a hurry, remembering the fact-file he keeps stored on the hero.
Tempus blinks. His head cocks to the side, before he chuckles. ‘Not many favour my skills, over that of Angelus,’ the time-hero says conversationally, as his eyes focus on Tommy’s side. Right. He’s bleeding. All over his suit, and the ground, which isn’t ideal. Tubbo’s going to kill him if he gets blood on the furniture again.
‘The overgrown bird? He’s like, last on my list,’ Tommy huffs, thinking to the stupid joint-leader of the Hero group. Dream’s chuckle turns to a laugh, a wheeze that makes Tommy study him.
‘Not many agree with you,’ Tempus points out, taking a step closer. His power isn’t a fear of Tommy’s, he can beat it. He can probably defend himself against most of the hero members, as a one-on-one.
Tommy doesn’t care if people don’t agree with him. He doesn’t care about anything to do with the Heroes, as long as they stay away from him and his friends.
‘Out of curiosity, who’s your second favourite?’ Tempus is moving closer to him. Tommy takes a step backwards into the water, pressing a hand to his side when it flares in protest. He was injured from the blade, and from the fire, and from Tubbo’s bomb.
‘The Blade.’
Tempus smirks, ‘That’s not his name anymore.’
The Blade used to be a villain, before Tommy was old enough to be a vigilante. Well, not necessarily a villain, but he was an anarchist. Tommy could respect that. ‘Still pretty pog. Have you seen that sword? I’d steal it, if I ever had the chance,’ he tells the hero, who pauses.
Then, he glances behind him. Out of the shadows, comes none other than the fucking Blade. He’s easily a foot, if not two, taller than Tommy is. A red cape hangs from his shoulders, half-concealing the sword that hangs from his side.
‘Blade,’ Tommy whispers, flicking his gaze between the sword and the man.
The hero raises an eyebrow. He’s wearing a mask, the pig tusks looking terrifying in the low light. ‘Guillotine,’ he returns the greeting, though his is less friendly than Tempus’s.
‘Is there any reason I’m being visited by two heroes?’ Tommy questions, wondering why he still feels like there’s more people hiding in the shadows. If he had said someone else, would they have appeared? There’s so many of them he wants to talk to. Well, maybe not actually talk to. Tommy’s been spending a long time hiding from the heroes.
‘Aside from visiting an adoring fan—’ Tempus says smugly, making Tommy blush under his mask, ‘—we wanted to talk to you about the potential for a… mentorship.’
Holy fucking shit. Oh my god, oh Prime. Under his mask, Tommy’s grinning like an idiot.
‘For you and your friends,’ Tempus adds, and that douses ice down his spine.
Friends. They know he has a soft spot for Bomb and Walker. They know that Tommy’s protecting them. This isn’t a friendly meeting between a hero and a vigilante, this is a trap.
Before the Blade can react, Tommy’s got a knife, the knife he just held to that stupid bastard’s throat, pointed in Tempus’s direction. The green eyes widen in shock, but Tommy doesn’t hesitate to snarl, ‘You stay the fuck away from them. If any of you get close to them, I’ll kill you myself.’
Tempus looks surprised. Even the Blade, or his stupid new name of Gladius, stares at him like he’s not sure what has just happened.
‘We mean you no harm, Gu—’
‘That’s your last warning, Tempus. I’ll strike you down if you touch them,’ he promises, before he sidesteps around both heroes. They make no move to stop him, so, with one hand holding his dagger and the other on his side, he takes off in the direction of lower town.
There’s still someone following him, so he sticks to the shadows and blends in to the maze of alleys. Eventually, when his senses tell him he’s safe, he makes his way to the front of his apartment building. Moving down the side, he climbs up the ladder and reaches the window-ledge, prying it open and rolling in through the open space and onto the floor.
‘Fuck,’ he groans when his back hits the wall, before freezing.
Tubbo and Ranboo both stand over him, one glaring, one looking mildly concerned.
‘You broke my comms, you prick.’