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'Tommy...'
Tommy blinks heavily, shaking his head against the fuzzy whisper at the edge of his hearing. He and Tubbo are exploring the local mall, prowling the stores and window shopping to create havoc, except for the times when Tubbo wants to remind the employees why they're told to fear the short boy with bushy brown hair: by haggling them into the ground. Many fun activities, plenty of excitement, which is why Tommy brushes off the vague feeling that his name has been called. Probably just someone else, or some artifact of the bustling noise around them.
'Tommy...'
But then it comes again, louder. Tommy stops in the middle of the mall while Tubbo moves ahead, intent on picking apart one of those quarter-fueled gumball machines until he can either work out how to scam them or use it as a weapon, whichever comes first. But Tommy frowns, straining his ears for that soft voice. He doesn't think he's hearing things, so–
'Help me...'
Holy shit. That's– That's like something out of a TV show or something, what the hell? He doesn't think he's losing it, but when he turns on his heel and looks around frantically, trying to source the voice. Don't get him wrong, he's not a hero or anything, but. You don't just hear that kind of thing and pretend it doesn't exist, at least, not if you're Tommy Innit.
'Help me, Tommy... I'm in the maintenance tunnels, under the main floor!' That voice calls out again, clearer than ever, and Tommy breathes in sharply. Okay. Okay! He can, he can figure this out.
First: Tubbo.
"Tubbo!" Tommy gasps, stumbling through the crowd and grabbing onto his arm. "Tubbo, hey–"
"Tommy, what?" Tubbo asks, turning with wide eyes at the sudden touch.
"I, there's–" Tommy stammers, before getting a hold of himself. "I need to get under the mall. There's a basement– maintenance tunnels? I need to go there."
"Why?" Tubbo asks, confused, but not upset.
"I just–" Tommy falters. "I'd sound crazy," he admits, "I just, I need to, Tubbo. Please?"
"You are crazy, big man," Tubbo retorts, rolling his eyes, but he also spins on his heel and starts searching for an access door, because he's a poggers friend like that. "Uh– Yeah, this way," he decides, grabbing Tommy's hand and pulling them toward what he's found.
What it seems he's found is a dimly lit staircase hidden behind a closet door. Technically, there was probably some sort of a lock on it, but Tubbo just kind of waved his hand at it and, frankly, Tommy doesn't want to know. Their steps ring out, echoing and overwhelming as they run down the stairs together, but Tommy focuses as much as he can. He's trying to hear any more of that voice, but nothing comes back. Was he too late?
Once they make it down all the stairs and throw open the door, though, it seems they're lucky. Sure, almost all the lights are either off or flickering ominously, and the place definitely looks condemned, but there's also a very obvious white form just laying in the middle of the floor. Both it and the concrete below are streaked with a vibrant, almost nauseating green, and once Tommy runs forward and kneels beside it, he gasps. That– That must be its blood.
The thing itself, underneath all the wounds, is a small white... well, "blob" is the only word he can think of to describe it. It has a cylindrical body and of spherical head, with what looks like a drawn-on smiley face. It almost looks like a plush toy of some kind, but when Tommy reaches down and gently picks it up, he's surprised to find it quite warm.
"Oh, oh hello, oh what happened to you, little one?" Tommy frets, cradling it gently while Tubbo comes over to stand behind him and look down at it curiously. It stirs slightly, looking up at him.
'Tommy... You came...' It whispers again, clear as day now in his mind. Tommy's eyes widen in surprise.
"It really was you," he breathes, staring down at the blob. But the almost peaceful moment is shattered when a deeper voice calls out from down the hallway.
"Get away from It," Ranboo calls, the student who had only transferred to their school recently. Tommy looks up and his eyes widen– Ranboo's usual, rather loserish outfits of a practical hoodie and jeans have instead been replaced by a frilly purple dress of some sort. But far more alarmingly than the, frankly, cosplay-looking getup is the fucking pistol held out in their direction. Or more accurately, pointed at the blob in his arms.
"Fucking– Fucking Ranboob?! Did you do this to him?!" Tommy shouts, standing up.
"Get away from that thing. Don't listen to a word It says," Ranboo warns, advancing slowly. "I'm doing this for the good of the world."
"Shut up! There's no way–!" Tommy shouts, but he's cut off with a yelp as Tubbo throws something forward and there's a bright flash, throwing both of them off their game as Tubbo grabs his arm and pulls them into a run. "What the– Tubbo?! You just had a fucking flash bomb?!"
"Less talking, more running!" Tubbo shouts back. "I don't know what's going on, but that was fucking weird!"
"No duh!" Tommy groans, but they run away from Ranboo behind them, taking every kind of twist and turn they can manage to try and get the other away. They don't even notice when their surrounding start to shift and twist, becoming something otherworldly and terrifying.
That is, until a fucking horror creature jumps out of the wall out of nowhere, and then they yelp and duck to avoid it. Suddenly, the swirling colors and frankly unreal aspects of the world around them click into place, and Tommy would deny with every facet of his being how he clings onto Tubbo in shock.
"What the– What the fuck?" He whispers, then yelps when a loud bang goes off nearby. This one doesn't attack either of them, though, instead sending the nightmare creature flying as its hit with a straight-up bullet.
"Hello, boys," calls a smooth voice, and they turn to see a man with a long blue coat, curly brown hair almost tamed under a black tricorn cap and holding a long, sleek rifle. "You sure are a long way from home, aren't you? It's okay now. My name is Wilbur Soot, but we'll have time for proper introductions later."