Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It’s winter in the Dresmpii; snow covers the sidewalks and the roofs of each building, the frigid wind bites at everyone's skin, and it's only going to get colder until March finally comes around.

A figure with the name Cryptic sprints across the concrete buildings; sirens echo through the once quiet streets, lights flashing blue and red follow the figure, and helicopters gush wind down upon the buildings. Cryptic stopped running as the trail of the buildings ended, and now he was stuck between a long fall and the whole police force. Cryptic, with blood still clinging to his suit, sighed and turned around.

Three detectives stood in front of him.

“Give it up, Cryptic.” The one in the middle speaks with a gruff voice from running so much. The man’s name is Clay; the top detective in the country, and he was one of the detectives that were assigned to arrest Cryptic.

That was almost 9 months ago.

“Ugh, but I love this game of cat and mouse.” Cryptic sneered at three detectives; one of the trio, Sapnap, stepped forward with a glare.

“You're surrounded, and there is nowhere for you to go. You can come with us willingly, or we can simply drag you to Pandora.” Sapnap threatened, and Cryptic made a hm sound while tapping his finger on his chin as if he was considering his options.

“Nah!” Cryptic laughed, and made his way toward the edge. The detective's eyed his movements warily.

“Cryptic, you have killed more people than I can count. Do you think you don't have to pay for those lives? Those poor people's bodies left out on display because of your bloody hands?” The last detective, George, stated. His voice cracked at the end due to the obvious battle of emotions within his heart. Cryptic just looked at them; his expression unknown to the trio because of his mask. But if they could see his face, they would shiver at the killer's smile.

“Do you think I care?” Cryptic asked, tilting his head as a giggle slips through his words. The detectives seemed shocked at his question, and the killer giggled some more.

“Oh my XD, you do think I care!” Cryptic’s giggles turn into laughter; a very disturbing laughter. It sent chills down the spines of the detectives.

“Look, I understand that it might be insane to you that I don't feel guilt for those people's death, but I kill with a purpose.“

“… What is that purpose then, Cryptic?” Clay asks cautiously, and all Cryptic could do was stand there thinking about every single reason why those people don’t deserve another breath.

Cold rooms.

Bruises.

Training.

Fighting.

Running.

Blank stares.

Empty faces.

Empty bodies.

Death.

So much death.

Cryptic stepped back further, and fell off the roof.

The detectives run towards the ledge and looked over it seeing… nothing. No movement. No sound. Nothing.

Clay stepped back with his face blank, but his mind swirling with emotion and tangled thoughts. What was Cryptic’s reason for killing all those people? What do all those people have in common? What does Cryptic want from this?

“Why is he doing this?” Sapnap mumbled to himself, but it gained the attention of Clay and George. Clay hesitated before answering.

“I don’t know, but if it’s big enough for him to kill all those people...” Clay started, his hands clenched onto his sleeves.

“Then it’s a reason that none of us could imagine.” Clay finished, and all he got was silence and worried glances.

~

“BREAKING NEWS: The killer, Cryptic, was spotted late this night in Mayor Puffy‘s house. 15 guards were found dead within her home, but Mayor Puffy was unharmed during the break-in. In an interview with Mayor Puffy, she stated that Cryptic did not touch or enter her room, and nothing was taken out of the house. The mysterious Cryptic has once again escaped the scene before Mayor Puffy’s son, Detective Clay, could apprehend him. Why did Cryptic take the lives of all those guards and spare Mayor Puffy? Is this a warning or an unexplained hatred for the guards? Will Cryptic ever be arrested for his horrendous crimes? Stay tuned for an interview with the detectives on the case.” The news channel cuts to an advertisement, and a boy named Tommy sits on his couch smiling to himself.

“Fat chance, if they ever catch me it's because I finally died of old age.” Tommy chuckled to himself, and threw a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

The blonde had already changed out of his suit, and was in his lounge clothes. He took a shower to wash off the stench of blood and sweat; he will wait for tomorrow to come before he tackles the hard job of getting out those pesky blood stains in his suit. For now, Tommy sits there for a second, and thinks about what the detective asked. He wonders would have happened if he actually told him the truth. The reason to all his effort…

Never reveal your true intentions.

Tommy knows he shouldn't have even hinted that he has a reason to kill all those people, but there isn't anyone telling him what to do anymore. He’s his own person now with a hobby he’s skilled in. So it should be okay... Right? There is doubt sitting in his stomach. He knows he is becoming weaker and softer due to the conditions the blonde has become familiar with.

Tommy has only escaped his past a few months ago, and yet, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he hasn't fully escaped the tight grasp on his mind.

The blonde ceased his thoughts and turned off the TV, making his way toward his bedroom. He tries to ignore the lingering memory of cold hallways, and colder figures that walked beside him.

~

“We need a new plan.” Clay stated, slamming his hands onto the wooden table. The other two just stared at him with tired eyes, coffee being the only thing that was keeping their brains from cutting out on them.

“Clay, we have run out of ideas. We’ve stormed, surrounded, trapped, and pulled every trick in the book known to man. We don't have any other plan to work with, and the rest of the police force is starting to get pissed off at us.” George clarified, drinking his coffee slowly. Clay sighed, and looked down at the very thin file of Cryptic. This file shows the very little information they have on him, and all they can conclude is that he is a 6’1 bitch with no mercy. Clay looks back up at the two with regret already sinking into him.

“Then we need to close the book, and try… our last option.”

“No!” Sapnap yelled, slamming his mug down which sent droplets of coffee onto the table. He already had an idea of where his friend’s mind was going to, and it set a fire in his bones.

“We are not doing that, that's fucking crazy! There are so many risks with that plan! We can't risk the safety of the country for one guy!” Sapnap growled, his tone filled with hatred. Clay couldn't blame him after the incident.

“Sap, I know this is the stupidest fucking thing we could do, but what other choice do we have? We have nothing else to stop him, and if we don't do something soon... I fear someone close is going to get hurt.” Clay spoke with a soft voice, and tears threatened to fall. The other two detectives looked at him with pained looks.

“You’re talking about your mother, aren't you?” George questioned, Clay could only look away to prevent himself from crying. Sapnap let out a frustrated sigh.

“Fuck- fine, fine. We'll go. But this better not backfire on us.” Sapnap warned, Clay looked back at him with hopeful eyes and nodded to his friend.

Sapnap couldn’t help the discouraging sigh that slips through his lips.

The detectives arrived at Pandora’s Box the next morning; it’s a high-security prison made of pure obsidian that holds a special place for the worst people out there. Clay likes to nickname it the “Syndicates Home” since the only people in there is the Syndicate... for now.

The feeling the prison gives off just from standing in front of it sends a wave of dread and misery. Clay swallowed down those uncomfortable feelings, and made his way into the prison with his partners.

Unfortunately, those feelings resurfaced as soon as he walked through the doors. Clay could tell his coworkers can feel it as well with the way George is fidgeting with his rings, and Sapnap’s worried expression.

They were quickly examined for any unauthorized weapons, and their cell phones were taken from them without a second opinion. They ended up taking Sapnap’s bandana too since it could be turned into a weapon; he didn't like it but didn't fight it either.

After their thorough examination, they were told to wait for the Warden. So, they sat in a cold room with deafening silence for what felt like hours.

Clay’s thoughts were beginning to betray him as he sat. They kept repeating that this was all a mistake, he needed to get out, and the Syndicate is too dangerous. If this doesn't go right, it will cost him his job, his friends... His family.

His foot began to tap, making the sound of his shoe hitting the obsidian flooring echo off the walls. Everything felt so small and hot, and the feeling of a looming presence surrounded him. Everything felt so wrong.

A firm hand grabbed his shoulder, snapping him back into reality. His foot stopped tapping, and Clay could tell his breathing was a little too fast. George’s hand rubbed his shoulder to comfort him, and Clay gave a warm smile to signal that he was fine. George gave a concerned look back.

The door opened, revealing a large man covered in enchanted netherite armor. His hair was cut in a military style, and a gas mask covered the bottom half of his face. The man was a creeper hybrid; the way some of his skin turns into a fine green, his gas mask was letting out smoke, and his nails were sharper than a human's nails gave it away. That doesn't make him any less terrifying though.

“ Hello detectives, my name is Sam. In here though, I'm known as The Warden, and you will address me as such.” Sam demanded, sending a chilling glare at the trio. The fear of the man suddenly dissipate when The Warden started laughing.

“I'm just messing with you, you guy’s can call me Sam.” The man clarified, Clay only gave an awkward laugh before reaching out his hand.

“I'm Clay, and these are my partners: George and Sapnap.” Clay explained, Sam gladly took his hand.

“It's nice to meet you all. Now, let's talk about what's going to happen while you are here.” Sam announced, walking out of the room and gesturing for the men to follow.

The halls were eerily quiet, even the guards that stood around the prison are like stone statues.

“As we all know, you guys will be having a 30-minute meeting with the Syndicate about the current situation with Cryptic. During that time, I will be monitoring through the other side of the glass. If you begin to talk about anything that I find suspicious or anything that is outside of what you wrote down on your paper, then I will remove you from the interrogation room immediately.” Sam explained, and suddenly stopped in his tracks in front of a door with two guards next to it. He turned around with a serious look in his eyes.

“Am I clear?” Sam asked, the detectives nodded. Sam turned back to the door, and used a key card to unlock it. The man opened it, allowing the trio to step inside. As they went inside, the door closed and locked behind them.

The room was small, and made of metal. The three detectives freeze as they spot the other unnerving men in large chains.

Wilbur Craft, Technoblade Craft, and Philza Craft.

The Syndicate.

Wilbur Craft is the third member of the Syndicate; He’s a phantom hybrid, meaning he has a pair of wings made of transparent skin and bone, and his vision is better in the dark than a human. Before he was captured, his civilian identity led him to become a great hider in plain sight. He could mimic accents, speak in different languages, and his acting skills were beyond words.

It makes Clay wish the guy would have pursued a life of acting than crime.

Wilbur had many connections within his work; the only “connections” he has admitted to were being very close “friends” with the former Vice President, Quackity, after a friendly game of poker; as well as with President J. Schlatt after too much wine. Both of them claimed that Wilbur was lying about them even knowing each other, but it's still under investigation.

Technoblade Craft is the second member of the Syndicate; his hybrid type is a piglin which has given him extra strength plus durability, and a frightening amount of resistance to fire. He was the fighter of the group, and could easily beat 20 people in a fight with his arms chained behind his back; Clay has witnessed it first-hand. Technoblade was very skilled with his weapons, making him one of the most terrifying people in the group. The man's downfall was his love for gold, it was the one thing he couldn't resist even during a serious moment.

After the trio’s arrest, it took days for the police to clean out the house of all the weapons stashed in furniture, walls, bookshelves, the floor, and even the ceiling.

And the final member...

Philza Craft, the top leader of the Syndicate; he is an elytrain hybrid which gives him the ability to fly at incredible speeds with his dark crow wings, which made him the hardest to catch. He was the organizer; he planned every move, weapon, place, time, and person that was involved in the crimes they committed.

Though he was not regularly seen at one of the scenes, he would sometimes show up at the last minute to save his sons.

That was his weakness.

His family.

Clay once thought of using Cryptic’s possible partners or family against him. But after some digging, no one has ever even had a word with him unless he was being snarky or mocking them.

Clay buries the feeling of shame for even considering it.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, and they all glanced at each other. Clay wanted to speak up, but Wilbur beat him to it.

“Phil, I thought this meeting was with important people?” Wilbur asked his father in a not-so-quiet voice, a grin appeared on Philza’s face.

“I don't know, Wil, it seems as though they're terrified of us even when we are in chains.” Philza answers, giggling through his words. Technoblade snorts at the remark, and it didn't sit well with Sapnap.

“Something funny, Blade?” Sapnap growled, crossing his arms with an evil glare.

“Um... Yeah. Phil said a funny thing.”

“Huh, I didn't know a murderer can have a sense of humor.” Sapnap accused, Technoblade only smiled.

”Sapnap…” Clay warned, but his friend didn’t hear him.

“I didn't know you would be such bitch about a joke. A Twitter user for short.” Techno responded, Sapnap stood up and slammed his hands on the table. The room went silent and all eyes were on him.

“I can get you on death row, just like how you did with my fiancé.” Sapnap admitted, his hands curled into fists. Technoblade, on the other hand, only gave a blank stare.

“… who are you talking about?” Technoblade questioned, Sapnap stuttered in shock; he seemed to be insulted by the fact that Technoblade didn’t know his fiancé. Clay knew he probably shouldn’t have brought Sapnap, but they are a team.

He regrets it now.

“Quackity, you dumbass!” Sapnap blurted, and a moment passes.

“Ohhh, the casino owner. He deserved it, he tried to send his goons to kill me. He should be thankful I didn’t kill him right where he stood.” Technoblade explained.

“You little-“

“Sapnap,” Clay interrupted, his voice cold with annoyance. “Sit. Please, before I have to make you leave.” Clay spoke in demanding tone, and Sapnap flicks his glare between the pink-haired criminal and his best friend. He sighed and sat back down, looking towards one of the metal walls.

“Sorry about that gentlemen, he’s um…” Clay paused, trying to come up with an excuse. “He just woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.” Clay awkwardly laughed, the rest of the room is silent though.

“Yes, so hilarious.” Philza hissed, giving him a look of “I’m going to gut you if I ever get out of these chains.” Philza admitted, Clay swallowed thickly before talking.

“You’re probably wondering why we are here-“

“Well no,” Wilbur spoke up, crossing his arms and leaning further into his chair. “You’re partner threatened to kill my brother because of something my dad said. So no, whatever you want to talk to us about is now unimportant to us. Hey Sam!” Wilbur yelled at the glass mirror.

“Don’t call me Sam, we’re not friends.” Sam’s voice appeared through some speakers.

“Whatever, Sammy, we’re done here.”

“Hold on.” George spoke with a flat tone, yet it still caught the brunette's attention.

“We have a proposal,” George started, “A type of proposal that you wouldn’t want to refuse.” The man with round glasses added, and it seemed to have made Philza hesitate.

“What could you possibly offer us?”

“Freedom.” Clay spoke, the room went quiet until the blonde father smiled.

“Fine then, you have regained our attention. What do you want?” Philza asked, and Clay couldn’t help but feel hopeful at the question. Sapnap pulled a thin file from his coat, and tossed it on the table.

“Cryptic,” Sapnap began, “Or that’s what we call him since he’s never given us an official name. He’s an assassin who has killed many different people, whether it’s the lowest of the low or the best of the best. We weren’t able to find a pattern, nor anything on him. No associates, no pieces of his identity, we’re not even sure what he sounds like since he keeps changing his accent every time we get him to speak.” Sapnap illustrated. The Syndicate members open the file, only being able to find a few blurry photos and one paper of information that’s not even half full.

“He’s crafty, sneaky, and for some reason so fucking annoying.” Sapnap added, Wilbur giggled lightly.

“Sounds like me when I was younger.”

“It’s still is you.” Technoblade responded with a small smile, and Philza cackled at the remark.

“What the fuck!” Wilbur yelled, only encouraging their father's laughter. George cleared his throat, and the men looked back over and stayed quiet.

“Anyways, he started appearing on March 27th, a couple of months after your guy’s arrest. We’ve tried to set him up, trap him, fuck, we even tried to negotiate with him. But he always gets away no matter what we do.” George clarified, the men looked at the photo for a moment more before Technoblade started to speak.

“He looks… young.”

“What do you mean?” Clay asked, meeting Technoblade eyes.

“My eyes have been trained to pay attention to details, and this guy, based on these pretty bad pictures and what you guys have said about his personality, this guy is likely someone who is still in his teenage years.” Technoblade explained, and the room just eyed him wearily.

“So what your saying is… is that we have been possibly fighting a kid this entire time?” Clay questioned, his voice wavering. Technoblade nodded.

“But I could be wrong, I have been out of the loop for about for almost a little over a year now.” Technoblade added which seemed to help the room relax a little.

“So, overall, if we help you get this guy then you’ll grant us freedom?”

“As long as you don’t go back to your criminal ways, yes. You get to have your life back without having to worry about the law knocking on your door.” Clay clarified, Philza hesitated.

“I… I don’t trust you. I don’t think you’ll let me and my kids go that easily. Not after all the messes we have caused.” Philza admitted, glaring at the detectives.

“Philza Craft,” Clay began. “Do you care about your kids?”

“Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

“Then you’ll know this is the best option for you and your kids. You don’t want them locked in here for the rest of their lives, right?” Clay challenged. Philza didn't answer, but he already knew that his children meant everything to him which means he’ll do anything for them. Anything.

“You know how to pull my strings, Clay.”

“People have always said I’m a great puppeteer.” Clay grinned, and it was moments like these that the detective had a nice feeling of power course through him. It made him feel untouchable in a way, but he knew he has to take out those feelings as soon as they arrive. Otherwise, he might just lose himself again.

“Well detectives,” Philza started, bringing out his right hand. “I think you have yourselves a deal.” Philza finished, and Clay was about to shake the criminal's hand until the blonde pulled it back.

“As long as we get everything back: our associates, weapons, vehicles, and our old base.”

“What base?” George asked, Philza chuckled at the question.

“I guess you haven’t found it yet, then.” Philza added, bringing his hand back out.

“So, how about it?” The blonde man asked, his tone sweet but laced with venom. The detectives could only look at him questionably.

“I don’t think we can do that.”

“Then make it work because then our deal is off.” Wilbur stated, Clay sighed and nodded. He knew he wouldn’t have complete control over the situation. They didn’t need him, and he didn’t need them; however, they both benefited from this arrangement. He grabbed the father's hand and shook it.

“It’s good doing business with ya, mate.” Philza smiled, Clay could only think about how this is what making a deal with the devil is like.

~

Tommy wakes up with sore bones, and a heavy feeling of sleep on his eyes. The blonde got up despite feeling exhausted from last night. He cringed at the sound of his joints popping as he sat up. He makes his way to the bathroom to throw cold water in his face, it doesn’t help how sleepy he is, but it at least makes him more aware of his surroundings.

Specifically the person in the mirror.

A blonde with empty blue eyes, and a thin form. The scars on his body contrasting with his pasty-white skin. Tommy turns away from the image as he can’t stand how that is him. You would think with the life Tommy has he would be tougher looking, but instead he looks like some scrawny street rat.

Tommy moves to the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal, and moves to the living room to watch the news. He sits down on his old but comfy couch, and grabs the TV remote to turn on the TV. The blonde expected his mask to be the first thing to show up, but he was so… so wrong.

The Syndicate’s faces were on the news today.

“BREAKING NEWS: The former Syndicate leaders - Wilbur Craft, Technoblade Craft, and Philza Craft - have been released from Pandora Box earlier this morning. The detectives who have led to the their release said that it was due to “good behavior” and that the Syndicate have agreed to never do crime again. Is their promise true? Was this all an elaborate scheme for the Syndicate to terrorize the city once more? Or is this truly a redemption story for the once great mafia? Only time will tell.”

Tommy blankly stares at the screen, trying to comprehend what the lady just said as his bowl of cereal hits the floor with a thunk. Though he had so much to say, only one thing was able to slip out.

“Fuck.”

Chapter Text

Tommy’s swearing turns into frantic pacing in his living room with the TV still on. His bowl of now soggy cereal spilt on the floor; he doesn’t bother to pick it up. His main focus was the fact that The Syndicate was released from Pandora’s Box, a place where no one is allowed to leave. Some even say the guard’s that work there live in the walls.

The Syndicate has terrorized the city for years before Tommy ever arrived, and yet they let them out. Common sense has been completely thrown out the window when it came to letting the Syndicate out for “good behavior”.

“Good behavior” his ass.

There is something deeper as to why the government has let them free, and it has to be something big since they let out the country’s biggest threat out of prison.

Tommy doesn’t like it.

“In other news, Mayor Puffy’s birthday party will be hosted tonight at the Pogtopia Town Hall where the Underscore family, friends, and invited members of the public will be gathering tonight. Mayor Puffy will be making her grand speech tonight about what’s in store for the great town of Pogtopia, and possibly our country as whole. Stay tuned for more information at 11.” The lady stopped talking, and the TV switched to a commercial that Tommy was slowly tuning out. A plan was forming inside his head, and the whispers of thoughts he dare not turn to began to speak louder.

Kill them, kill them all.

None of them get to live.

They are all evil in one way or another, might as well get rid of them.

The voices turned to silence when Tommy shut them down, telling himself he cannot do that over and over again. That is what they want from him, to go rogue and to kill everyone. He wasn’t going to give them anything their selfish hearts desire. He’s not a service boy anymore.

The blonde sighed to himself, and got his thoughts together. He obviously couldn’t just show up and kill people left and right, that would be too easy. He’ll need to look over the guest list before choosing someone to kill. While he’s there, he can figure out what is the purpose for The Syndicate’s release.

The blonde grabs his laptop, and starts to scavenge the internet for people attending. He’s not going to leave that party without an answer, and another dead name crossed out on his list.

~

“Here’s the plan,” Clay began, gaining the attention of his friends, and The Syndicate. “Wilbur and Techno will be in the crowds watching out for any odd behavior from anyone in the audience. Philza, you will stay on the top balcony to watch for anyone who is slipping out of the crowd. We can’t risk Cryptic making his way out of where we need him to be. George, Sapnap, make sure once everyone is in they can not leave. Even the guards are not allowed to leave the building. And Puffy…” Clay’s words die out looking at his mother.

She looks anxious as she fiddles with the rings on her fingers, and her expression is… saddening. She clearly wasn’t all too thrilled about using her birthday party as a way to trap Cryptic if he even comes, but Clay can already predict his arrival.

Cryptic pulls out a gun and holds it up to his mother's head, his psychotic laugh filling the room as he pulls the trigger.

Puffy hits the floor and the people around began running out of the building in fear for his life, and Clay could nothing but stare at his mothers blood forming a puddle on the floor.

He finally moves to grab her, holding her tight and begging her to wake up. Footsteps appear behind, and the sound a gun being loaded fills his mind.

The barrel of a gun being pressed to his skull as he says his last goodbyes.

Clay escapes his imagination and shakes off the nasty feeling of dread, he can’t have regrets now. He looked back at Puffy with a confident look.

“Keep Toby and Schlatt safe, you know those two like stirring up trouble.” Clay jokes, Puffy laughs making her fluffy white and brown hair bounce. The looped earring on her sheep-like ears shining in the yellowish light.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t let those two out of my sight. Can’t risk Schlatt getting to the drinks and Toby getting near something electric.” Puffy giggles in between her words, and Clay can’t help but smile.

“What happens if this plan doesn’t work?” Philza questioned, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. Clay stayed silent for a moment before responding.

“It will work.”

~

The room around Tommy is decorated with elegant floral arrangements, crystal chandeliers, and expensive artwork. Soft music playing in the background, adding to the ambiance.

The rich guests around him are dressed in formal attire, with men wearing tuxedos and women wearing elegant gowns and jewelry. They mingle and socialize with each other, sipping on champagne and enjoying hors d'oeuvres that are being passed around by waiters.

Their conversations centered around topics such as luxury travel, high-end fashion, and exclusive events. Guests also discuss their latest business ventures, investments, or philanthropic endeavors.

The entertainment is just a bunch of people who know how to pull a string or push a button just right to get a melody. The party also is serving very fancy finger foods with fine drinks being poured throughout the evening.

Overall, the fancy birthday party is filled with a bunch of stuck-up bitches who probably wipe their asses with 100-dollar bills. AKA: the type of people the blonde wants to put bullets in their skulls, but cannot because it would destroy the purpose of being here.

Tommy himself has put in the effort to dress up for the occasion; a simple black and white suit with a red tie that makes him just a tiny bit different. Of course, this type of clothing isn’t for him since suits aren’t specifically designed for comfort. However, he came to the conclusion that showing up at a fancy birthday party in a hoodie and jeans wouldn’t let him blend in as easily.

He walks through the crowd, looking for his target of the night: Alexander Barker. A rich man who is respected by his co-workers, and his family. But despite how much money he shows to others around him, it still can’t hide how deep of a hole he is in. He’s now paying it all back by doing really shady stuff.

He really should have considered how much he was taking from them before deciding to dig himself his own grave. The man should thank Tommy for killing him off and releasing himself from his debt, his family will most likely not be as thankful though.

As he walked through the crowd for his target, he caught a glimpse of the man he’s looking for chatting to other people. His eyes remained on him as he kept walking, trying to see if the man has anything on him. The blonde then ran into someone taller than him, getting him to move back with a small grunt. He looked at the man who he had run into with a glare.

His body froze at the face, and his face returned to an emotionless expression; there was genuine fear behind his eyes.

Wilbur fuckin’ Craft.

The hairs on the blonde skin stood up, the world around felt just a tad bit colder, and it seems as if his breath was ripped out of him at the view of the man.

And then that haunting memory appeared.

“Oh come on,” Siren began, twirling a knife in-between his long, gloved fingers. His brown trench coat gently sways in the wind as blood silently drips onto the concrete roof. “I didn’t even hit you that hard. Get up.” Siren demanded, but the blonde on the floor with blood leaking out of his side refused to listen. Only focused on the heartbeat ringing in his ears. Siren scoffed and slammed his foot into the boy’s stomach, causing him to gasp for air. He began coughing, trying to remove the awful taste of blood flooding his mouth and getting caught in his mask.

“You know what?” Siren said smiling, the top of his face covered with what looks like a masquerade mask; it’s royal blue with small diamonds decorating the corners, and the eyes are covered with a piece of black fabric. The mask itself is beautiful, but the thing that lies behind it is a monster.

“I’ll spare you since you are the first of your kind to come and mess with us.” Siren stated, the blonde could do nothing but lay there and continuously thank the man in his head.

“But,” the boy takes his thankfulness back . “I won’t let you go without a little scaring.” Siren smiled, that God-awful smile that makes the blonde's fingers twitch. The brunette noticed it.

“What? You thought I was just going to let you leave? No, no, no, someone has to pay for all the disgusting shit your little group have done to this country.” Wilbur explained kneeling next to the boy, the boy did nothing. “I’m a fucking gang leader, and yet, I wouldn’t do the disgusting shit that you guys do.” The blonde could only say in his mind, ‘I was forced to’; not a noise left his lips though because no matter how many excuses he could come up with, he still did it.

“So consider this a part of your payment, pillock.” Before the blonde could think, a knife was drawn into his arm, and pulled down. The pain burned, and his muscles cried out with the urge to jerk away, but the blonde made no move. He just laid there as he was given what he deserved.

A lab rat that needed to die.

Tommy looked back over to his target, who has unfortunately gone missing. “Shit…” he muttered under his breath. He looked back over to Wilbur who was silently judging him.

“My bad, sir Craft. I didn’t see you there.” Tommy calmly apologized, slowly backing away.

“It’s fine kid, just watch where you’re going.” Wilbur sighed.

“I’m not a kid, sir.” Tommy explained, a little offended that he’s going through all this trouble to kill someone just to be called a pathetic kid.

“Please, you don’t look a day over 15.” The brunette chuckled, Tommy wasn’t laughing.

“No, I am not.”

“Okay then, how old are you?”

“20.” Tommy says, the lie slipping easily off his tongue. He turned 17 just a couple of months ago, but despite his age, he is most definitely not a kid. He assumes a normal child doesn’t know how to kill someone with a sniper from 1,540 yards away. The man stays silent before speaking.

“Alright, I believe you.” Wilbur explained, grabbing two drinks from a server passing by.

“Then you wouldn’t mind joining me for a drink?” Wilbur asked, holding one of the drinks for Tommy to take. The blonde stood there for a second, not sure whether taking the drink or possibly being murdered is worth it.

“First of all, I don’t drink.” Tommy stated, gently pushing the drink back to the man. “Second, I am not the type of person to have a drink with a murderer.” The blonde glared, Wilbur simply chuckled before taking a single step closer.

“Then you are greatly mistaken; I do not kill anymore. I am good person now or whatever.” The brunette stated, taking a sip of his alcohol.

“Liar.” Tommy muttered under his breath.

“Wilbur!” A very familiar voice spoke, the two boys looked over and saw a definitely stressed-looking Clay walking over. Clay stood next to the tall brunette and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I am so sorry to interrupt but I need to Wilbur real quick.” Clay quickly explained before pulling Wilbur the opposite direction. Tommy quietly giggled to himself, knowing that the narcissistic fuck has to do something he doesn’t want to. He then stopped laughing, realizing that would have been the perfect moment to get some information about the Syndicate and the police teaming up. He gave himself a respectful face, and started juggling about how stupid he is before moving on.

Tommy glanced around again for his target, but the man had seemingly disappeared out of thin air. The blonde groaned and began searching for his target once more.

To no avail, Alexander wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Tommy checked the place from the top to bottom; he checked every room, every floor, and every group of people. But he disappeared like a needle in a haystack. Tommy though doesn’t care how long it takes to find him. He will eventually find him again.

Unfortunately, his time was cut short as a booming voice filled the room from the top of the balcony.

“Ladies and gents! Thank you all for coming, Mayor Puffy will make her grand speech in a couple of minutes.” The man walked away, and everyone went back to chatting. Tommy took this moment to head to the bathroom, and try to think of a different plan.

He entered one of the bathrooms and shut the door and immediately heading to the sink, not even bothering to check if someone was in the stalls. The blonde turned on the sink and letting the cool water flow on his hands, eventually rubbing it on his face. The room outside felt stuffy and hot, and the noise of people constantly talking and laughing only made it worse.

Tommy took a deep breath before looking at himself, he freezes. There stood a reflection of someone he hasn’t seen in forever; the same looks as his own, but a different purpose possesses the body. He is cold, silent, and nothing close to merciful. The blonde could only see the reflection as Death itself. Tommy takes out his pocket knife, planning on killing the thing that should have never been born.

The door next to him began to open, and in a panicked manner, Tommy quickly shoved his knife back into his pocket and took a quick glance at the mirror.

He was gone, thank XD.

He turned his attention back to the door, revealing a person smaller than him. A brunette who’s hair is so close to going over his green eyes, his outfit being a white button up shirt with black pants. Horns curl around his sheep-like ears, scratches litter the brown horns. This very special guest is Toby; Mayor Puffy’s nephew.

From what the blonde has read about the boy, he is extremely intelligent when it comes to technology and machinery, and has a strange interest in bee’s. His father is J. Schlatt, the president of this country; his cousin was none other Clay, the idiot detective that has been chasing him around the city. The kid was basically born into money and fame, what a lottery.

The boy strangely looks him up and down before taking in a deep breath, a shaky breath coming out.

“Can I talk to you?” The brunette asked, sending Tommy’s thoughts to a halt.

“Well, I-“ Before Tommy could finish, the boy walked in and shut the door behind him, standing next to the blonde as he laid his head on the sink counter.

“This party is supposed help chill everyone’s nerves since they released the Syndicate from prison, which is why they are here. To let everyone know they aren’t going to try anything.” Toby explained, Tommy internally groaned at the fact that the Syndicate members are all here. It was enough to literally run into one of them, but the fact that they are all here makes this situation even worse.

“So this party means everything to my aunt, so it needs to go perfectly. If anything were to ruin her party, then we will lose the publics favor and the war between good and evil.” Toby stated, running his sleeve over his eyes to get rid of the few tears that escaped. Tommy looked at him confused, and Toby glanced at him before looking back down at the sink.

“I believe there is something hidden, something bad that is brewing somewhere and it’s going to end up hurting everything I love and care about. I also believe…” Toby hesitated for moment, before continuing with his sentence.

“It has something to do with Cryptic.” The words make Tommy freeze, the blonde doesn’t allow Toby to see the ugly feeling growing in his stomach, but it’s there.

“Whatever reason Cryptic has for killing all those people has to be for some reason, right? No one kills people for no good reason, unless they were psychotic. And I don’t think Cryptic is psychotic. Yes, a serial killer but,” Toby pauses, looking back at Tommy's gray-ish blue eyes.

“I think he might be able to help us, and who knows… he might actually can be the hero of this story.”

“You are no hero, ⟒̵̢͓̲̱̩͙̖̗̯̩̥̣̖̮̊ͅ☊̴̤̦̾̽͗̃̍́̀̇̄̋̈́́͠͝⌰̸͎̍̅̽̽̇̅̇́̈́͘͠͝⟟̶̧̮͍̤̜̤͈̪̤̮͓͙̟̱̩̭̱̎͘͜ͅ⌿̵̨̨̫̠͇̘͓̰͓̭̂̆̆̉͑̔⌇̴̖͇̯͙̩̥̜̝̣͚͛͂̆̋͘͘̚͜⟒̸͕͙͔̙̩̍, you are a cold. Blooded. Monster.” His instructor spits, the blonde keeps his head down and not daring to look the man in the eyes.

“A freak of nature, a thing that puts fear into those who dare mess with it, and most importantly,” His instructor roughly grabs him by the chin, forcing the blonde to look him in the eyes. The man was large, clothed in white, and his face covered by a mask.

“Something to be controlled by those who are much stronger than it.”

“He is no hero.” Tommy spoke into the quiet gaining Toby’s attention, he looked up at him with wide eyes.

“He kills people, that makes him a monster.”

“But the reason is important.” Toby adds, giving him a light glare.

“There has to be a reason why he is killing these people-“

“There is no reason, and even if there was it doesn’t change the fact that he did it.” Tommy says, shutting Toby down but the boy keeps pressing.

“Do you really believe that he’s just killing people willy nilly for no reason?” Toby questions, and Tommy was going to answer with a simple yes - a simple lie. But, he hesitates, for some unknown reason he hesitates.

“You don’t even believe it yourself.” Toby stated, giggling in-between in words.

“Of course I do.” Tommy scoffs, looking away from the boy.

“Mhm, sure.” Toby says sarcastically, grinning a little.

“Anyway, for someone like Cryptic, these kills are chosen with a common reason. That reason also has to be so big for the guy to start going around, and killing people. It might help us to achieve a common goal.” Toby asked, looking at him as if he were to answer. This boy definitely matches the rumors of the media; he’s intelligent, and catches on quickly. So far, everything he has stated is true, but Tommy can’t let him know that.

“Who knows what his reasoning is, but it’s best to stay out of that type of stuff. It will get someone hurt.”

“Why do you say that?” The young brunette questioned, looking at him with a suspicious look. Tommy stays quiet, and begins to walk out of the bathroom.

“I’ve met people like you Toby; young and innocent, trying to prove their point is right. But people who run their mouths end up getting shot.” Tommy threatened, exiting the bathroom. He knows he might have been a bit mean, but the guy was digging far too deep.

Especially since he won’t know what he will uncover if he ever goes too far.

“Welcome everyone,” Mayor Puffy starts, her voice confident and her eyes calm but a spark of a fiery passion burns bright in her blue eyes. Her outfit being a simple but dazzling red dress that goes well with her split brown and white hair, her horns sticking out of her magnificent curls.

Tommy stands in the back, away from everyone else but close enough to not make him stick out. He’s turned off the security cameras, and is out of any guard’s line of sight. A plus being that everyone is distracted as Mayor Puffy gives her speech. Now, all the blonde has to do is to throw the knife, that is still placed in his pocket, at Alexander, who is also supposed to make a speech, just to give everyone a scare and then dip.

Easy peezy, though it might be a little harder than Tommy anticipated.

He sees the Syndicate placed around the room who are also keeping an eye on the crowd. Why though? Tommy’s not sure. To be guards? To protect someone? To find someone? That someone possibly being Cryptic? The blonde understood that the police force was desperate, but he didn’t know they were that desperate to let the big guys out on the streets again. So he needs to be discreet about this ordeal, but it still needs to be extravagant enough to be recognized. But, he supposes a murder unraveling before their eyes is enough. He watches, and listens to Mayor Puffy’s speech.

“I am thankful for you all for being here for this event. I understand that today’s news is.. shocking, but I promise you that the Syndicate are not here to cause harm, they are here to help. In fact, this is another reason for this party… to congratulate them to joining me, and the police force to stop the assassin; Cryptic.” Whispers are heard all across the room; peoples eyes squinted in disgust that mafia leaders could turn good, but Tommy… well, he’s trying to think of a way to leave.

Alexander is gone.

The Syndicate is looking for him.

Clay’s henchmen are also possibly here.

Now that he’s actually looking for an exit, they are all blocked off by guards.

This… this isn’t good.

“Now, I know it’s a big change that I know you all are hesitant on embracing. But, think of all the people Cryptic has killed; my personal guards were murdered last night because of him.” That’s because they were going to kill you, Tommy thought bitterly as he glared at the mayor. “Has this town suffered enough death and destruction? Should we not have peace?”

“My job as Mayor of Pogtopia is to protect my people, even if it means to go to extreme measures.” ‘A bit too extreme’  Tommy thinks. He still searches for an open exit from where he stands, but not a single one was available. He looked up at the side of the balcony to look for an open window, and he stopped. There laid a person covered in black clothing with a silenced gun is their hands, their finger close to pulling the trigger.

Tommy instinctually grabbed the knife from his pocket.

“So on that note,” Tommy watches the person’s finger grow tighter on the trigger.

“I would like to introduce…” They’re aiming for Puffy’s head.

“My dear friend…” Tommy waits patiently. That’s what he was taught to do.

Wait for your prey to fall in your trap.

“Alexand-“ The trigger is pulled, and the bullet starts flying. The blonde was quick to throw the knife. It was now up to a game of chance, what weapon will hit its target first.

The knife hits the wall, barely grazing Mayor Puffy’s hair. It sends everyone in shock, but Tommy is just thankful blood wasn’t pouring from the mayor’s skull.

“Oh my XD! Who is that on the balcony!?” Tommy yells, pointing at the person with the gun. Everyone began to gasp and scream, making their way to an exit.

“Let them out!” Mayor Puffy commanded, and the doors were opened as everyone began to pour out of the building. Tommy stood back a little to see what would happen to the assassin, and thankfully Wilbur already had the killer on the ground with their hands behind their back. He continued running to his motorcycle, quickly hopping on it and heading straight for his apartment.

He can’t stop thinking about the killer: how close they were to killing that innocent Mayor, how his suit is so similar to Tommy’s old one, how easily they were able to sneak in with such a weapon and get to their position. How Tommy was almost too late to realize the assassin.

The blonde decided he needs to go to bed early tonight.

 ~

The party is officially over, which was rudely interrupted by an assassin assigned to kill Mayor Puffy. Clay curled his fists at the thought of his mother being killed. Thankfully, Wilbur took the guy down before he could get in another shot.

The assassin was Alexander Barker, the man who mysteriously went missing a little while before his “grand speech”. At first, they assumed it was Cryptic, but upon further investigation, they were not the same person. Their height and body shapes were different, and especially how they act. Alexander was too quiet, and accepting of going to prison. Clay knows that Cryptic would have ran his mouth till the very end.

Clay walks to a spruce door in the capital building, he took in a deep breath before walking in. Hopefully, Clay thought, this meeting can give him some answers.

Sitting in the room is his mother, his friends, and his partner’s in crime; The Syndicate. He takes a seat next to Puffy, her leg repeatedly bouncing causing a light tapping sound. He grips her hand gently, it seemed to have brought her out of her trance as she moves her head to meet his eyes. She smiled at him, telling him “I’m okay”. He frowns, “I know you aren’t”. She looks away after that, and Clay didn’t realize until now how similar they are.

“Thank you, Syndicate, for joining us for this meeting.”

“No problem, seems like we have a lot to talk about anyways.” Philza says, his sons nodding in agreement.

“Okay, let’s start with Alexander.”

“Oh yeah, the traitor, how could we forget? Seems like the guy was looking for a grand entrance when he was about to shoot Puffy.” Wilbur adds, and Clay could feel his mother's hand flinch at the statement.

“But what would he get out of killing her? Power? Money?”

“He inherits nothing from Puffy,” Clay explains. “The only thing I can think of why he would try to harm her is so he can take her position.”

That doesn't make sense though.” Puffy mumbled, but it was clear enough for the room to hear.

“He’s never wanted a role like mine, he told me.” The room fell silent for a moment before Sapnap spoke up.

“Well, either he was lying or…” Sapnap hesitates with his words for a second before continuing. “He was told to.” Clay's breath is caught in his throat, something about that just doesn’t sit right in his stomach.

“So you’re suggesting he was paid off?” George asked.

“It would make sense,” Techno speaks up. “Rumors have been spreading that he’s having a financial crisis at the moment, constantly having to take money out of the bank to pay another debt.” Clay sat there for a moment, thinking of what their next step should be.

“George, find some of Alexander’s bank information and figure out how much money he was pulling out of the bank.” Clay ordered, George opened up his laptop and started typing things into his keyboard.

“Did anyone find the knife?” Puffy questioned, and Wilbur grinned at that. He threw a bag onto the table, inside containing the knife. The blade was sharp and clean, the handle being a simple black rubber with markings in it for grip, the only shocking thing was the bullet stuck on the end of the knife.

“Seems like someone knew of Puffy’s little killer before we ever saw him.” Philza added, crossing his arms together.

“So why would they go stop it?”

“To save her.” Wilbur butted in, rolling his eyes. The people in the room became confused on the whole situation, specifically who.

“Actually, I have a good idea who it is.” Wilbur pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture, laying it on the table for everyone to see. It’s a picture of Crpyitc, holding a very similar knife in his hand.

“No… no, no, that doesn’t make sense! He would have let Puffy get killed-”

“I seriously doubt that since he broke into Puffy’s house last night, killed 15 guards, and didn’t even stick around to steal anything. Why would he kill Puffy now after having a chance to do it when she was basically alone in her room? And if you’re saying this guy is as smart as you say he is, then he knows what he’s doing.”Wilbur stated, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

“That doesn’t add up to me.” Clay stated, but despite that, he knew Wilbur was right. He knows Cryptic, and Cryptic wouldn’t do something that wastes his time.

“So… Cryptic saved me?” Puffy asked, and Wilbur nodded. She looked away, staring blankly at the floor. The room was silent till George spoke.

”… Did anyone see where the knife came from?” Everyone shook their head, another dead end.

”It could have been from the crowd most likely, not unless there was a secret hiding spot Cryptic managed to find.” Philza explained, no one spoke up and it seemed like this conversation was going nowhere. Puffy stood up quickly, looking down at the table.

“I think that’s enough discussion for tonight, everyone go home and get some rest.” With that, she left the room closing the door behind her. Clay could only imagine what his mother is feeling: guilt, fear, confusion, distress.

Clay can only hope that this will be the last interaction between Cryptic and Puffy.

~

“BREAKING NEWS: At Mayor Puffy’s party that was hosted tonight, an assassin has been arrested for attempted murder against Mayor Puffy. The man is identified as Alexander Barker who was invited to this event as a special guest. Alexander almost shot Mayor Puffy with a gun, but thanks to a mysterious knife, that perfectly hit the bullet, Mayor Puffy was able to leave scene unscathed.

Who had thrown this knife?

Who saved Mayor Puffy’s life?

Why was Alexander Barker trying to murder Mayor Puffy?

We have a clip of a brief interview with detective Wastaken-“

Tommy turned off the TV, and sinks into his couch letting out a tired sigh in the quiet. They have one of his weapons now, which isn’t a problem since he had gloves on, but it’s not good to lose perfectly good knives.

He looks up at the ceiling, playing through all the events of the night, but his mind continuously returning back to the same moment… Toby.

The blonde has heard that the young brunette was strange, but to completely dump a whole bunch of stress onto an individual that you have no idea who they are? Now that’s a new pack of crazy, and Tommy knows crazy.

…”I think he might be the hero of this story”…

Something cringes in his heart; on one side, he despises Toby for ever saying such a thing about a monster, a killer, who is no hero of anyones story. On the other… he doesn’t know, it’s a fuzzy and blurry and feeling he can’t grasp. Was it good? Was it bad? Tommy has no idea, but he’s never felt like this before so it’s most likely a bad thing he assumes.

Tommy’s mind traced back to when he saved Mayor Puffy, when he risked himself getting caught by Clay and the Syndicate, and then losing his knife. The blonde wasn’t sure why he saved her, he could have let her die and Clay would then be the least of his problems. But something took over him, beckoned him to save the woman’s life. Like a string snapped, or something was broken, or something changed?

The blonde decides not to think about it that much.

He runs his hands over his face with a loud sigh, deciding that now would be good a time to go to bed despite the amount of thoughts, questions, and bullshit that’s going on in his head. He can deal with this all tomorrow.

Tommy got up and headed straight for his bedroom, not even bothering to do his night routine. He dropped into his bed and immediately started drifting off into sleep. Maybe tonight he can have a good night sleep, he deserves it, of course, for being a- never mind.

Chapter Text

A fierce battle erupted.

Puches were thrown in every direction, their impact leaving bruises on the flesh of the competitors. Both fighters display impressive skills of combat, acquired through relentless training and unwavering dedication. Yet, a singular truth loomed over the fighters: only one could be victorious, while the other would have to face not only their defeat, but their last breath as well.

The relentless battle raged on, and fatigue began to spread across their weary muscles. The need for rest had to be ignored, for they were under the watchful gaze of their higher ups; every movement, and every breath was judged mercilessly by silent eyes. In some cases, it wouldn’t matter if one came out on top, the higher ups could decide for them both to die because of a lackluster performance. So, bound by the never ending expectations of their superiors, they persisted, even knowing that bone-chilling truth.

One opponent, with blonde locks and piercing blue eyes, deflected an incoming attack with ease. However, his triumph was short-lived as a sudden strike from his foe's leg sent them straight towards the ground.

The impact struck through his skull, leaving him disoriented. Seizing the opportunity, his enemy swiftly closed in, and loomed themself over his fallen figure. They gripped their hands on his throat, applying an intense pressure around his windpipe. As the seconds ticked away, the air grew scarce and the pressure on his throat only got stronger. The desperate need to survive started to rise in the blonde’s mind as he tried to pull the hands away; it was proven futile.

As his panicked gaze fixed upon the face of his enemy, a chilling realization took hold: the face that loomed over him is hidden In a veil of darkness. A cold shiver coursed through his veins, he could not see the features that should be etched into his memory.

Who are they?

Why couldn’t he remember their face?

Why can’t he see?

He needs to remember.

He reached out his hand. The world began to become static in the corner of his eyes, the figure above him glitched and shook, and yet his face refused to be revealed to him. He needs to know. He has to know who they are

Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. Those dreams have always been a common occurrence, as if to tell him that even in the world of freedom he’s still stuck there… rotting. It always feels so real, as if he’s living it all over again; He could feel his fight or flight sense coursing through his body.

He looked over at his phone as he tried to calm himself, and the time was currently 7:02 AM. Despite feeling exhausted, Tommy knew he needed to get up and start his day. He sat up in the bed and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He looked around his room, taking in the familiar surroundings, and reminded himself that it was just a dream. It had to be just a dream.

Still feeling a bit shaken, Tommy decided to go for a walk to clear his head. He got dressed, slipped on his shoes, and headed out the door. The fresh air and sunshine felt nice on his face, so he kept walking to hopefully get rid of the rest of his nerves.

He strolled in the streets for what seemed like only half an hour, but it was only when his legs started to ache that he realized that he’s actually been walking for hours. He looked over near his right to see a small park with an old wooden bench worn down due to the elements. Looking out, all he can see is parents playing with their children, owners playing with their pets, and the sun shining high above it.

Tommy has always pondered on the idea what his life would like if he had a family. Would he be more loving? Caring? Maybe he would have obtained some allies- friends. He also wondered if he would enjoy school since it’s required of all kids to go. Maybe, but only for English since it was the easiest subject that the blonde learned during his time in hell, or “human training” is what they called it. Since the assassins weren’t considered human, they were treated like machines most of the time. When they would need to blend into society for a mission though, they would need some type of class to train them on human interactions and basic human knowledge such as writing.

Tommy never realized how messed up the whole class was until recently, but it was truly the most valuable thing he got out of all the shit he’s been through. Besides learning different techniques on killing people.

He shrugged his shoulders to himself before sitting down, and for once he tried to relax and forget all his worries in life. It didn’t last long though when a voice appeared behind him. 

“Are you the boy from the party?” The voice made Tommy jump as he swiftly turned around on the bench to grab the person by the shirt. Tommy’s eyes widen in realization of who he grabbed.

“Toby?” Tommy let go of the brunette's shirt, and the boy quickly fixed his plain green shirt.

“I didn’t know asking a question would get me assaulted.” Toby chuckled before sitting down next to the blonde. Tommy scoot over a little to give him and the brunette space.

“Sorry, I’m just… on edge a little.” He wasn’t just on edge, he was on high alert for everyone and everything now. He’s even aware of the squirrel in the tree next to them.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Absolutely not.” Tommy exclaimed, giving him a small glare. The brunette raised his hands, as to prove himself harmless, with a smile.

“If that’s what you want,” Toby states, bringing his arms back down.

“I never caught your name at the party.”

“That’s a good thing then.” Tommy replies, looking over at the brunette who had a pouty lip.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. You know my name-“

“That’s because you’re the president's son.” Tommy pointed out, and Toby sat there for a minute possibly trying to find a good comeback.

“Well- I still think it's fair if you tell me your name. I’d rather not keep referring you to as ‘blonde boy’.” Toby encouraged, Tommy sighed and stared into the brunettes eyes. The blonde pondered for a moment if he should tell this… stranger his name, or to stab him.

“It's... Tommy.” Tommy mumbled, and Toby perked up with a spark in his eyes. It set off a long list of questions and personal interests that the brunette could talk about for hours. All Tommy could do was listen, and speak whenever he had the chance. It didn’t bother him much, in fact, deep inside his shallow heart, a small flame lit. Of course, Tommy would never admit that to himself. Even if the endless rambling about bees or machinery did make his tense muscles relax, and his worrying mind finally at ease.

‘This boy is strange’ Tommy thought to himself; the way he acts is nothing compared to what he thought he was like. He is not some uptight snobby guy who only talks about his money and celebrity-like status, but more like a dog with a case of the zoomies. The blonde wondered how someone could be this excited over a conversation with someone.

One of the world’s greatest mysteries he supposes.

The sun begins to set as shadows start to stretch over the now empty park. Tommy noticed the change in light, and stood up from his spot on the bench.

“It's getting dark out, and that's my cue to leave. See ya, Toby.”

“Hold on, Tom’s,” Toby exclaimed as he grabbed the sleeve of Tommy's hoodie, making him stop completely and look the brunette in the eyes. Usually, Tommy would freak out if he even felt the breeze of someone moving behind him, but Toby seemed to have put a shift in his behavior. For some reason, the blonde feels calmer than usual and his losing track of time was something new to him. What is wrong with him?

“If you wanna, you can spend the night at my place tonight. We could play games, and I could introduce you to some of my little inventions. Oh! I could also...” Tommy felt his grip on reality start to slip, feeling himself sway threw emotions and memories. He felt wrong- like this was wrong. The rules made him feel wrong.

Attachments are weaknesses, weaknesses will kill you.

A ringing formed in his ear, his hands began to sweat, and his heart beating at the speed of a bullet. What is happening? As Toby rambles, he is quickly cut off.

“NO!” Tommy yelled, seeming to not have realized he yelled that out loud until Toby gave him a concerned look. The blonde cleared his throat.

“I mean… sorry, big man, can’t tonight. Just not in the mood for that type of… stuff. So, maybe some other time, yeah?” Tommy stammered awkwardly, trying to act as calm as possible.

“Okay, well…” Toby pulled out a knife from his pocket, the blonde's body tensed immediately at the sight of it. He prepared himself to kill the boy at any moment, even if it meant the entire country was going to be on his ass.

“Would you like to carve our names on the bench with me?” The brunette pointed to the back of the bench; Tommy looked between the bench and Toby a couple of times before speaking.

“Why?”

“Because I do this with all my other friends!” Toby explained, Tommy took another glance back to the bench.

“But there’s no other names.”

“That’s because you are my first friend.” Tommy, deep inside his heart, wished he could say the same.

“I don’t know… we haven’t known each other long enough to be considered friends, more like associates. Also, the first time we talked, I pretty much threatened you.” Tommy tried to explain as nicely as possible, but it seemed to bum Toby out more than anything. This wasn’t on the blonde though, the ram boy was trying to push this “friend” narrative too fast.

“Oh- sorry, Tommy, I was a little excited about finally hanging out with someone my age. Though, I'm technically supposed to be at home right now.” Tommy felt the smallest amount of empathy for the boy start to sink in; he understood that feeling of longing to be with someone- anyone. He's changed a lot since that feeling was ripped out of him, and he does not want the same for Toby.

The blonde sighed. “I... Don't mean that,” Toby’s face lit up once more. “I just mean carving our names in the back of the bench is a bit much since this is only the second time we've talked to each other.” Toby stood there for a second, processing Tommy’s words.

“You make a fair point, I got carried away. It’s not every day you meet someone who is willing to listen to you ramble on about mechanical engineering, and the science behind bees that often.” Toby replied, placing his knife back in his pocket.

“Wait- why do you even have a knife on you?”

“I'm the son of the president, duh.” Toby laughed a little, it sprouted a small chuckle from the blonde. When was the last time he laughed at something besides at some dumb detectives?

“Well, Tommy, I gotta go. I can't let my dad know that I left without a bodyguard. See ya later!” The young brunette quickly dashed off in the opposite direction, soon fading into the distance. The blonde raised his hand gently, giving a small wave goodbye.

“See ya...” Tommy quietly spoke, standing there for a moment before walking away. For the first time in a while, Tommy finally felt a small smile creep on his face and a new tune in his heart.

When did his cold heart become so warm?

~

Toby rushed home from his meet with Tommy, though he wasn’t expecting to see him so soon. even though his first conversation with the blonde guy went south very quickly, he’s glad this time went better. Maybe they’ll hang out more in the future, that’s at least what Toby wants.

The brunette made it home without a minute to spare. He rushed up the secret latter that hung from his bedroom window, tripped over the edge of the seal, and fell flat on his face straight into his bedroom floor. A loud thud sound was made from his embarrassing fall, but no rush of foot steps could be heard. Toby sighed in relief. He got up and was walking towards his bedroom door-

“Toby.” A firm voice from the darkness of his room appears without warning, causing the young ram to jump out of fear. The strange voice turned on the light revealing… his father, Schlatt.

“You snuck out again, huh?”

“Oh- hey, dad! How- how are you? What I’m doing? I’m- I’m just chilling…” Toby stuttered, kind of worried if he already knew he has been sneaking out for a while now.

“Toby, we need to talk.”

“If this is about me climbing in through the window, I… fell out of it so I climbed back up. That’s it. Definitely did not sneak out-“

“That’s not what this is about, it’s something more serious.” Schlatt spoke, a sense of regret flickered through his eyes. Toby noticed, and suddenly the world seemed a little bit more terrifying. Schlatt started to walk out of the room, and his son quickly followed behind. The adult ram stopped in front of his personal meeting room, and he turned his head to face his son.

“You ready?”

“For what exactly?”

“To be a part of something big.” Without warning, Toby's father opened the doors revealing a harsh white light. When his eyes adjusted, he felt his blood run cold and his breath caught in his throat. The feeling of dread became overwhelming, as well as the natural instinct to run. He was guided into the room by his father with his hand on the boys back, and the doors closed behind him before he even got the chance to leave. The Syndicate, all dressed in formal attire, were sitting down at the end of the table farthest away from them. He can feel how his heart thumped harder in chest, and his skin felt icy cold.

“Dad, what the fuck is going on?” He spoke harshly through his teeth, trying to bury the feeling of fear rising in him.

“We’ll talk more when your cousin shows up.” Schlatt replied, giving the brunette a ruffle to his hair to assure him. The kind touch didn’t change anything though, it only fueled his worry and frustration. ‘This isn’t good’ Toby thought to himself. A light knock was heard behind the door before it was opened, and Clay walked in; his expression is serious, yet you could still see the restless feeling of worry behind his facade. His cousin gently closed the door behind them, leaving Toby stuck in the room again. Toby met with the eyes of his cousin, and he saw the was Clay’s face flickered to an expression of shock before returning neutral. ‘Was he shocked that I was here?’ Toby questioned in his mind, he decided to ignore it.

“Why did you want to meet us, Syndicate? I don’t understand why we couldn’t do this sometime during the day? Or why my mother or partners couldn’t come?” Clay asked, taking his seat at the table. Schlatt decided to sit as well, but Toby stayed standing just so he can leave as soon as possible.

“… Are you not gonna sit, Toby?” Wilbur questioned, completely ignoring the detectives questioning. Toby shivered as the man calls him by his name, yet, the young brunette shook off his fear and met the mafia leader’s eyes with a glare.

“I think I’ll be just fine.” Toby answered, Wilbur gave a simple shrug before looking away.

“Anyways, we’ve been doing our research of what has changed since our captivity, and we have discovered that there is a genius under the Underscore name.” Philza explained, and everyone’s eyes landed on Toby. The young ram saw his father grip his seat tightly.

“Yeah? And?” Schlatt spoke up, his face showing his concern for his son.

“We thought he would be a great addition to our little alliance that we have going on.”

“No.” Clay and Schlatt spoke in unison, only giving each other a glance before looking back at the Syndicate. Toby felt relief to know that his family wasn’t just going to shove him into their affairs. Besides, he already has his own investigation going on.

“I agree with my family, I want nothing to do with this.”

“We thought you might say that,” Techno chimed in, he pulled out his phone. “So, now we have to move onto threats.” He gave a bone chilling grin, building on everyone’s anxiety at once.

"If you refuse to assist us in locating Cryptic, we shall strip Puffy of her title as Mayor of Pogtopia.” This threat puts fear in the three family members; not only is it a threat to get rid of Puffy, but also carries a significant potential to impact the entire family. Any action they take to remove Puffy from her position would be bad enough ignite a riot within, possibly leading to the complete removal of the Underscore family from government positions. Despite Clay not inheriting the family's surname when he was adopted, he too could be affected by this course of action since he is the son of Puffy. What makes matter worst is that the weight of this decision rests solely on Toby, a teenager on the cusp of turning eighteen. ‘How did I find myself in this situation?’ Toby sighed internally, his gaze unwavering from the Syndicates.

“Toby, you don’t have to do this.” Clay spoke, placing his hand gently on the ram’s shoulder. “There’s another way. There’s always another way-“

"Silence," Philza commanded, his wings swiftly spread out as Clay's voice fell silent. The elytrian hybrid turned his gaze towards Toby, his expression being a gentle smile. Toby had never experienced such intense fear just from a smile.

“So, Toby, what will it be? Save your family? Or risk it all?” Philza just kept smiling as his wings settled once more behind his back, and the young ram wish he would stop. Toby felt the pressure, it felt so tight in his chest that his ribs could shatter. He glanced between his father, and his cousin before meeting Philza’s eyes again. He knows what he must do.

"I’ll do it.” declared Toby, his words resonating throughout the room, and it only took a moment for the room to explode with bickering and angry complaints. Amidst the chaos, the Syndicate maintained a relaxed composure, observing the heated exchange unfold before them.

"Toby, as your father, I cannot allow you to do this.” Voiced Toby’s father with a mix of concern and authority.

"This is my choice! I refuse to jeopardize the safety of my loved ones for the safety of an assassin!" Toby argued back, causing the room to turn into silence. His gaze shifted towards Philza, who remained patient and watchful, waiting for his answer.

“I’ll work with you under one condition.”

“Name it.” Philza encouraged, satisfied enough to hear that the young ram is willing to work with him.

“You are not allowed to hurt any of my family or friends.” Toby asserted with a fierce glare, his anxiety gnawing at him as he awaited a response.

"Fair enough." Philza exhaled a deep sigh, rising to his feet and walking over to Toby. As he loomed over the young boy, his presence added an extra layer of uneasiness to the tense atmosphere. Schlatt instinctively got up from his chair and positioned himself slightly in front of Toby, a small but meaningful act of protection. Toby felt grateful towards his father, finding comfort in the gesture.

Ignoring Schlatt, Philza extended his hand towards Toby, a silent invitation for a handshake. Toby hesitated, his mind racing with doubts. ‘Is this my only option?’ He wondered, glancing once more at Philza's outstretched hand. ‘For my family...’ With determination, the young brunette firmly grasped Philza's hand giving it a firm shake. Philza’s sickening smile brightened.

"I have no doubt that you won’t succeed, Toby.” Philza complimented, and the man’s grip tightened a little on the young rams hand. Toby felt fear swell in his throat because he knows the man is right. What the Syndicate didn’t know though was that he already has a clue to who Cryptic is.

Chapter Text

Wilbur has never been a fan of working in a team for as long as he can remember. Since he has been alone since he was put into the orphanage, there was no need to have anyone involved in his matters. That's how his mind worked, until his view on life was completely shattered when met a man named Phil.

It was a warm summer night, and the streets were quiet except for the occasional stir of trash being dug into and the howl of stay dogs. Not a lot of people go into this neighborhood due to the sketchy activity that goes on, and they were unfortunately right. Wilbur didn't move here by choice; he was only 15, and he ran away from the orphanage a few months ago which meant he had to lay low. Quackity, his friend whom he met at a coffee shop a couple of weeks ago, said that he could hook him up with a place to stay. Quackity though just turned 14, and his only income was his monthly allowance from his father for his "work". So, the place had to be cheap for his father not to get suspicious of his spending, and Wilbur had to get a job. Not a lot of places would be hiring his age though since he wasn't sixteen, and his pay wouldn't be good if he did find somewhere they would be willing to hire a runaway. Wilbur begged Quackity for a job, it took half an hour for Quackity to finally give in. Quackity though warned him that this job that he had was on the shady side and that he couldn't save him if he were to screw up. Wilbur agreed eagerly.

Wilbur's job was to transport illegal "goods" from Quackity's father's place to their secret buyer's warehouse. Unfortunately, he didn't heed his friend's warning. Since he started, he has been stealing small amounts of the cargo and then selling what he had at double the cost. Sometimes, he would even keep some for himself. He only stole enough for it to not be detected, and for a while, he got away with it due to his amazing acting skills to appear as a higher-up. That was until both parties of the exchange found out about the small openings within the packages. Of course, Wilbur didn't know that they found out until after he encountered two large men standing in his path.

"Hello gentlemen, how can I help?" Wilbur questioned as he took a step back out of fear. Neither one of them spoke and proceeded to hit him across the head and put a bag over his head. When he regained consciousness, he found himself tied up to a chair in a large, cold room. That was when the brunette screwed up his life for the last time and cursed at himself for thinking that he could get away with something like that for so long. But he does feel a sense of pride for being able to trick an entire drug industry. The loud creaking of a door echoed through the room, causing Wilbur to raise his sore head. The burning light that fell upon him made it hard to see the figure approaching, and it made the situation all the more scarier.

"Hello, little actor. I have heard that you have been stealing some of my valuable goods. Is that true?" The man asked, his body still hidden in the darkness. All Wilbur could see was those icy blue eyes piercing down at him. The brunette nodded anxiously, preparing for a bullet to go straight through his skull. What he wasn't prepared for was the man to break out into laughter and snorts. The teenager just stared in bewilderment, not certain as to why this guy was laughing. Was he laughing at his pathetic attempt at stealing his drugs?' Wilbur questioned in his mind. The laughter finally ceased, and the man stepped forward into the light. The man was... less intimidating than he expected. He had medium-length, blonde hair. He was for some reason in a suit, as if this was some fancy meeting or trying to shove the fact that he has money down Wilbur's throat.

"You are very intelligent, and your ability to act as someone else is outstanding. Why didn't you join theater in school instead of working for my business partners?" The stranger interrogated, and Wilbur decided to stay quiet. He wished not to share his endeavors with some rich looney-bin. After a few seconds of silence, the blonde man spoke up.

"Oh! I probably shouldn't be asking personal questions without telling you my name. I'm Philza, and what is your name?" He asked with a bright smile, Wilbur wasn't buying this innocent act he was trying to play. More awkward quietness filled the room, and the blonde sighed in disappointment.

"It's fine if you don't want to talk about yourself, I've already done some research on you, Wilbur Soot." The man grinned, and it only pissed Wilbur off more.

"Then don't ask me about shit you already know, jackass!" Wilbur yelled out of frustration, and he immediately regretted it as he closed his mouth out of fear. 'Stay calm' Wilbur repeated to himself. It earned him a small laugh from Philza.

"There we go, just had to ruffle your feathers to get you to talk, huh?" Philza beamed, seeming to enjoy the way that Wilbur's anger started to boil underneath his facade. The young brunette scoffed at the comment and looked away.

"What do you want?" Wilbur grumbled, just wanting this to be over with. The restraints are starting to dig into his skin, causing his skin to burn.

"I just want to talk, is that too much to ask?"

"Yes, it is if you planning on killing me." Wilbur admitted, and for a split moment, Philza's smile faltered. But it returned as quickly as it came.

"…. How old are you?"

"Why are you asking me that? You already have everything you can know about me."

"Because I want to chat to the kid who has managed to fool both parties." The man laughed a little, his eyes full of excitement and wonder. Wilbur just gave him a bored look.

"Whatever, I don't have time for this bullshit. Just cut off my head and we'll go on our separate ways."

"I want to chat."

"And I want to die, you wanker!" Wilbur fumed, feeling his frustration start to bubble under. 'Stay Calm' Wilbur said to himself, but it was starting to get a little harder to contain.

The cold phantom feeling started to appear on his back. Looking at Philza, he looked disheartened as if he was upset at Wilbur's comment.

".. I- Please don't say that. There would be people who would miss you too much." That single sentence alone managed to send Wilbur over the edge, the fuzzy feeling started to grow in his back and the brunette knew he couldn't stop it.

"You don't fucking know me!" In an instant, a pair of translucent wings erupted from his back with bones floating within it. His iris' turned into a fair gold, and his teeth and nails grew sharp. Wilbur hated this form he was cursed with, it was the reason why he was abandoned and alone in the first place. He wished the man would just shoot him down now so that he could be freed from his wretched body. Yet, he never felt a cold barrel press against his head. Instead, he felt the warmth of a hand gently being placed on his hair. He looked up at the blond stranger, seeing not disgust nor fear but a pure smile.

"You're eyes are very pretty." Philza spoke and gave a gentle pat on his head. It confused Wilbur, the man didn't mention his claws, his teeth, or his horrifying wings. He noticed his eyes.

"Are... are you not disgusted?" Wilbur managed to get out without crying, Philza shook his head.

"No, I think you look very cool with or without your phantom parts." It was a simple reply, but never got such a reaction before. There are not a lot like him, and people still don't understand why some potential elytrian hybrids turn into... this. So, for most of his life, he is an outcast. But this Philza guy seems to be making Wilbur feel more like a person, than a monster. It was a nice change despite the circumstances.

"You're such a bad liar."

"Maybe that's because I'm not lying." Philza's expression was gentle and kind, something he had only seen with Quackity, Wilbur couldn't bring himself to trust it.

"What do you want?"

"To talk, I want to know about you. I only know you through government files, I want to know who you are outside of it." Philza explained that seemed to be his only answer. So, Wilbur talked. Talked much more to him than to anyone he had ever encountered, and it felt nice to the brunette. For once, Wilbur felt the slightest sense of acceptance.

"Wilbur?" Philza began, looking into his brown eyes as he spoke. "You are a smart kid. You got talent far beyond anyone I've ever hired, and I think this could be a benefit to both of us." Wilbur felt suspicious of this, but he allowed the man to continue to speak. "You come with me, and you get everything you need or want for free. When you turn eighteen, you can start working with me if you want to. But you can still live with me without worry." The man's words were enticing to say the least, but Wilbur believed that there was something else he wanted from him.

"Are you trying to scam me so you can test on me?" Wilbur questioned, concerned for what the future holds.

"No, I just want you to be a part of my family." The man smiled, and the brunette hesitated. He didn't like the idea of family, especially since every family he'd been placed with hurt him or tried to get rid of him. But free rent? Free food? Free everything? It sounded too good to be true, and Wilbur could run if things got crazy. He can be a completely different person, and start a new life once he steals enough money from this guy. Wilbur sighed and met the blonde's icy blue eyes with his.

"Fine, but if you get fucking weird. I'll kill you."

"Fair enough." Philza moved closer to him and began to untie his restraints. Wilbur rubbed at his burning wrists, seeing how inflamed his skin was.

"Sorry about all of... this, it's just procedure." Philza apologized, and Wilbur decided to stand up. After being hungry and sitting so long though, it caused him to be light-headed and stumble. Philza reached out for him and stabilized him with his hands under the brunette's arms. The touch was gentle and felt warm against his icy skin. But, he swiftly pulled away when he didn't feel dizzy. Philza gestured to follow him as he walked out of the light, and Wilbur followed closely behind.

"Oh, and I forgot to mention. I have a kid that's a year younger than you, his name is Technoblade. I hope you guys become good friends." Philza noted, and Wilbur scoffed mentally, he would never get along with a guy named Tech-no-blade.

Now it’s been nine years since then, and Wilbur has become close with both Philza and Techno. He was able to learn how to work with people and learn how to be a part of a family. He used to hate the idea of being a part of a family, but now he’s willing to blow up this useless country just for someone daring to hurt them. This Cryptic guy has recently been causing trouble for everyone which is dangerous, so he has to go to keep his family safe and let them have a new chance in life.

But the planning is a little… slow.

“Do either of you have any idea how we’re gonna trap this guy?” Philza spoke in a groggy voice, he’s been up all night researching about the killer raccoon. Techno got some of his men to go threaten anyone who’s ever interacted with Cryptic, besides the detectives, to give up information on him. Yet, to no avail, nothing was found. Just some badly taken photos, and some basic information on the guy. The group thought that the detectives were just bad at their job, but this was starting to seem a little harder than they thought it would be.

“No, we don’t have a clue as to what could lead him to us. Also, this guy has been inactive for three weeks now. We probably won’t find out more about him till he finally crawls of it of the hole he’s hiding in.” Wilbur claimed, sighing as he took another sip from his coffee.

“He might be laying low because of what happened at the party.” Techno chimed in, currently trying to fix his long, pink hair into a bun.

“Fair, but shouldn’t we have at least the smallest information on him?”

“All we do know is that he saved Puffy’s life that night. But why? Could be anything! The guy is a bit unpredictable. I mean, look at all his victims. None of them have any consistencies with each other.” Philza sighed as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“At least we know he’s inclusive.” Wilbur chuckled which earned him an elbow into the side from Techno. The brunette gave a small “ow” before giving a glare to his brother, but his stuck-up brother only rolled his eyes before looking down at his laptop.

“We could always visit the guy we arrested that night, maybe he’s connected to Cryptic in some way.” Techno suggested, turning his laptop around for his family to see. It was a news article about Alexander Barker and his arrest. He was charged with attempted homicide and has been sentenced to fifteen years in prison. The group thought the man was going to get the chair since he attempted to kill a politician, but they suppose a few things might have changed since their imprisonment.

“That would be our best option.” Philza chimed in, standing up from his spot at the table. Wilbur was glad they were able to get their old house back, and it felt amazing to not feel the presence of cameras or people watching him 24/7. The brunette wished that he and his family could enjoy it without having to worry about some anonymous villain-wannabe being their only key to freedom.

“But we need to be careful, this is something serious and should be treated as such.” The blonde man added, and there was a moment of silence before all three started bursting out laughing. Who were they kidding? This was child’s play.

“Alright, Techno and I will head to the prison Alexander is being held in. And Wilbur, you will go check up on this list of allies and see if we can rekindle any relationships with them.” Philza announced, sliding over a piece of paper to his son. The brunette groaned but took up the paper and placed it in his pocket.

“Why do I have to do it?” Wilbur whined, leaning on the table with a sad look. Philza laughed a little at his son’s small tantrum.

“Because you are our connections guy, remember? Or has the weakness potion fumes from the prison got to your head?” Philza joked, packing some papers into a bag. “Also, Schlatt called earlier this morning. He needs somebody to go find his son.”

“Babysitting!?” Wilbur yelled, obviously frightening Philza as he seemed to have flinched. “But Phil, I’m not cut out to deal with children. I’d be too tempted to kill him. Also, doesn’t he hate us? Shouldn’t he send one of his guards or something?”

“He does, but he said that somehow his kid has gotten a little too good at evading his bodyguards. He thinks it might be because he’s made a new friend with some blonde kid.” Philza explained, walking with Techno to the door. “Thanks so much, Wil, you’re a lifesaver. Bye!” Philza rushed his words and quickly moved out the door. Wilbur, watching his brother, sees him mouthing the word “loser” as he walks out. The brunette gave hi Mr he finger before the door was completely shut. Wilbur groaned, knowing that this was going to be a long day.

After Wilbur argued with himself a little, he finally began to tackle the list his father gave him. The first place Wilbur stopped by was a little shop called “Retro Railway”; the name is a bit cringe to the brunette, but whatever his friends were thinking when making this place was none of his business. He approached the door with a sense of uneasiness, maybe they would want nothing to do with them now that they were working with the law instead of against it. That was the one thing that brought them together: their burning hatred for how that sad excuse for order is constructed. Wilbur took a deep breath before walking through the door.

Upon walking in, he smelt a subtle, yet noticeable, smell of cinnamon and pine. The shelves were stacked with vintage vases, glass dishware, and other old things. In the corner sat a section of records dating back to the 1920’s. It was impressive how the owners were always able to get their hands on things like this, the brunette wouldn’t doubt if some illegal transactions were going on behind the scenes.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” A female voice emerged from the back of the shop, hidden away by an “employee only” door. Wilbur waited at the entrance just in case they started calling him a traitor while throwing radioactive clocks at him. Finally, the door opened revealing a woman with long black hair that had a small chunk of white in it.

“Welcome to Retro Railway, how can I…” the woman’s words died in her throat as she stared at Wilbur with wide eyes. After a couple of seconds of awkward silence, she spoke.

“Oh. My. XD.”

“Um… hey…” Wilbur gave a shy wave at his friend, noting how her hair was no longer a light pink. The brunette likes the new look.

“JACK!” She yelled, making Wilbur flinch at the harsh tone.

“WHAT, NIKI!? IS IT THE FUCKING RACOONS AGAIN?” A man shouts back at her from the employee room, after a moment the door opens once more. A man with a buzz cut appeared, and Wilbur’s eyes locked with his.

“… Wilbur?” Jack just stared at him as if he were some myth that became reality.

“Jack? You haven’t changed at all, still the bald man from all those months ago.” Wilbur insulted, a grin appearing on his face.

“Holy shit! It is you!” Jack replied, smiling brightly as he jumped over the counter to jump onto Wilbur. He brought the brunette into a tight hug, making him stumble a little.

“Aye! Watch the merchandise!” Niki came out from the back of the counter to get closer to them, and a smile started to form on her face.

“We heard you were released, but we didn’t trust that they’d let you guys out of the house.” Niki noted while trying to pull Jack off of Wilbur. Eventually, the bald man let go as he seemed to be crying a little.

“Yeah, we thought so too. But I guess they do need our help if they’re even willing to let us have full control over this case they got.”

“Oh yeah, we saw Puffy’s party speech live on the news. So you’re going to help get that Cryptic guy, right?” Niki asked, crossing her arms as she waited for her friend’s response.

“Yeah, unfortunately. But they said if we capture him, then we’ll be forgiven for all our crimes.” Wilbur explained, and it seemed to bring some relief to his friends as their shoulders relaxed.

“Should be a pretty easy job then considering you guys love a good hunt.” Jack added, chuckling to himself a little.

“We thought so, but he hasn’t made an appearance for three weeks. He’s probably just waiting to see if we make a move first.” Wilbur sighed, the brunette wanted this to be a quick and easy job. But the little assassin is dragging this out longer than it needs to be.

“Well, when he is captured, tell him I said ‘fuck you’ for killing the only employee we were able to get to work here.” Niki said bitterly, and Jack nodded at her statement. Wilbur nodded his head in acceptance of the request.

“Oh, Phil wanted me to be here to make sure we’re still on good terms. Are you guys still okay with being involved in our shit?”

“Of course man! We’ll be happy to assist you guys in whatever business you got going on.” Jack gave a light punch to Wilbur’s shoulder, and the brunette smiled at that. He’s glad that nothing much has changed, even if what they’re doing now is not enjoyable.

“You know you guys can send us out on the battlefield if you ever need us, we’re here to help.” Niki spoke up, and her eyes looked into Wilbur’s with deep concern. Wilbur shrugged off the feeling of her and Jack's eyes boring into him.

“Can’t let ya, you know how my dad is with his whole protection thing.” Wilbur explained, he’s had this same conversation twenty times over. He wishes Phil would just let them, but he won’t allow it for a reason he won’t even tell Wilbur or Techno.

“Ugh, Phil needs to let his inner circle be his inner circle. It’s like we’re kept at an arm's length.” Jack complained, running his hand over his scalp with a sigh. Wilbur couldn’t help but sympathize with him. He also feels like Philza keeps him close, but not close enough to know what’s wrong or when he’s in trouble. The brunette and his brother have pondered on why their father keeps everyone so far away, and they believe it has something to do with his past. Whenever the twins would approach their father and ask to know more about his past besides court case files, he would refuse and change the subject.

“Well, you know Phil. He’s a person to keep secrets, and never tell them.” Wilbur joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Anyways, I should be on my way. I gotta go visit my best friend Quackity-“

“Quackity!?” Niki and Jack shouted at the same time, making Wilbur jump a little.

“What about Quackity?”

“He said to the officers that he didn’t know you and that you were pretending to be someone else.”

“I know.” Wilbur stated, continuing to walk to the door.

“That’s usually a social sign that he doesn’t like you.” Jack quickly questioned, a look of confusion plastered onto Niki and Jack's faces.

“I’m sure he was just trying to cover his ass from the police.” Wilbur had his hand on the door, ready to leave to visit his next ally.

“Are you sure?”

“Well yeah, Schlatt did the same shit, and yet he still tolerates me.” Wilbur reconsiders his statement considering he involved the man’s son in a pretty risky case. The reason how he met Schlatt was because of Quackity, and he was under a false identity when meeting the ram. But he wasn’t entirely concerned with their relationship now that they were forced to work with each other.

“I don’t think-“

“Well, I’m off. bye!” Wilbur rushed through his words as he quickly exited the shop, ignoring the shouts for him to go back and talk about his feelings. Could Quackity not consider me as a friend anymore? The brunette pondered, and for some reason, the mere thought of Quckity hating him stings a little. Wilbur stopped walking in the middle of the street, feeling a sense of regret and worry. He does care for his friends, and to imagine a world without those people next to him is… heartbreaking.

He was so stuck in his mind that he wasn’t able to stop the harsh force that ran straight into him. Wilbur stumbled and a small wheeze, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Who the fuck was that?

“Mother fucker! Watch where you’re going.” Wilbur grumbled, wincing at the pain in his gut. When his eyes met with whatever ran into him, he felt himself completely stop. He sees Schlatt’s son crouched down, helping out some blonde kid. After the brunette stared at the child who ran into him, it clicked. The little nuisance from Puffy’s birthday party.

Wilbur hated kids.

~

Tommy being chased was nothing new, but when it’s Toby it seems all the more fun. Toby introduced the idea of a game named tag where you chase other players till you touch them and say “tag”. Tommy’s played the game before, but the version Tommy learned as a child is a bit more gruesome than Toby’s version of the game. Even though Tommy likes chasing more than being chased, he finds it exciting to see Toby gain on him every once in a while and just barely miss him. For the past three weeks, Toby has been able to find Tommy almost every time he goes out, and they have been getting to know each other very well. Tommy has been able to see what life is like for a normal-ish teenager through Toby’s eyes. It is fascinating to Tommy, to say the least, the way that Tommy and Toby’s life is similar in ways: the rules, the scheduling, some of the schooling. If the blonde's life wasn’t so full of death and harsh punishment, Tommy would have almost lived the same life as Toby.

As Tommy was running and reminiscing these past couple of weeks, his eyes met with a pair of familiar eyes. It immediately caught his attention and he looked back to find who he was looking at. He wasn’t quick enough though to see a person also in his own world before crashing into him. The impact was strong and caused him to fall onto his back. He groaned at the ache in his head and felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder. He recognizes it as Toby’s hand.

“Big man, are you okay?” Toby spoke with concern, but he ignored him. He also heard a voice complaining which he assumes is the person he ran into. Tommy sprung up from the ground and glanced around the sidewalk for the eyes he had seen. But he couldn’t spot them from where he was standing, and he couldn’t go search for them now since Toby might get suspicious. The eyes he saw felt unsettlingly familiar to him, and that scared him. He’s refused to get to know his peers within the organization, and for him to be able to recognize those eyes means it was most likely one of his superiors… or worse. The thought made the hairs on his arms to stick up, and he decided he shouldn’t dwell on it much further until later.

“Tommy? Are you okay?” Toby’s voice broke through his clouded mind, and he turned to face his ally. The ram boy's eyes were full with concern and worry, and the smallest part of Tommy felt guilty for that.

“Yeah, I’m fine Tub. Just thought I saw something.”

“First of all, I’ve already told you to not call me Tub. I’m not a bathtub. Second, what did you see?”

“I thought I saw a cool dog, it wasn’t by the way.” Tommy lied half-heartedly, knowing that Toby will most likely believe it.

“Hello? I’m still here too!” A whiny voice complained, Tommy rolled his eyes before meeting the complainer’s face. Chills of discomfort shot through his back, and his stomach twisted into a knot.

Wilbur Soot. Every fucking time it’s Wilbur Soot.

“Keeping running into me, huh kid?” The tall brunette remarked with a smirk.

“Still not a kid.” Tommy argued, crossing his arms and gave an intense glare at the tall brunette.

“Still trying to argue that you’re 20?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow at the blonde, and Toby gasped which caught the attention of the other two.

“You’re 20!?” Toby exclaimed in shock, bringing his hands to Tommy’s face and moving the boys head side to side. “I thought you were 16!”

“See, I’m not the only one.” Wilbur butted in, Tommy gave a glance between the both of them before moving Toby’s hands off his face.

“Of course I’m 20. Isn't that obvious?” Tommy retorted, looking between the two with a confused look and silence filled the air while Toby and Wilbur gave each other, clearly ganging up on Tommy in this argument. The blonde should have reconsidered his fake age before telling it.

“Fuck you guys, get some glasses dumb bitches. You guys can’t see right.” Tommy spat, his tone full of disdain. Toby just rolled his eyes as Wilbur gave a small chuckle.

“Wait, why are you here?” Toby abruptly changed the subject which moved the boys attention to Wilbur with deep suspicion.

“Your prick of a daddy sent Phil a little message about you having a knack for slipping past his security quite well. He wanted someone to come find you, and I so graciously took up the task-“

“That's a lie.” Tommy blurted out without a thought, Wilbur just stopped and stared at him.

“What?”

“You lied about taking up that job. You definitely griped to your old man about it first.” The blonde clarified, continuing to look the man in the eyes without any emotion. The blonde may look like he knew that he could deal with anything this guy could throw at him, but in reality, he’s screaming at himself about how stupid he is to involve himself in this conversation. A moment passed, and Wilbur started to break out into laughter.

“Oh- oh my XD. You are funny as shit. The way you talk to me even though you’re freaking out on the inside is gold.” The man continued to laugh, but it made the blonde's anxiety rise. He knew that Tommy was just putting up a front to cover his fear, and he was laughing about it. An actual psychopath.

“Anyways, I gotta tell your dad that I found you and he’ll probably send a bodyguard here for you.” The brunette pulls out his phone and starts scheming through his contacts, and Toby immediately starts to beg.

“No, Wilbur! Please, man, I don’t want to go home. Do you know how boring it is being trapped in your house?”

“Do you know what it’s like being trapped in a prison?”

“… no-“

“Then stop whining.” Wilbur replied, and Toby let out frustrated sigh and continued to plead to the brunette to not snitch on him. From Tommy’s perspective, this is what he would imagine what people would call “friendly bantering”; however, these two are most likely trying to not tear each other apart because they’re families are working on the same goal that they’ll never achieve.

“Not my choice to make, I’m not babysitting you or your trouble-making friend. I got actual shit to do today.” Wilbur’s fingers begin typing on the screen, and Toby is starting to feel desperate.

“For fucks sake, mate. I will do anything to keep me from going home.” Toby bargained, and Tommy gives him a “what the fuck” face. The brunette ignored his friend, watching to see how Wilbur would respond.

“Anything, huh?” Wilbur grinned, the man swiped away his message tab and started to type some more into his phone. Eventually, he stops typing and turns the phone around for both boys to see. It’s an image of Quackity. He has dark sunglasses on, a branded beanie covering his dark hair, and some formal clothes on. A thick, prominent scar starts at his forehead and ends near the bottom of his mouth. Everyone knows how the man ended up with such a wound; however, no one likes talking about it. Tommy has also heard the story, and his fingers twitch every time he thinks about it. Not even the organization was that cruel to him.

“You’re good at sneaking around. I need you to find out how to get past his security, including the cameras and any other technology shit he’s set up. I’ll give you two weeks. If you can’t manage to uphold your end of the deal, then I’ll personally make sure you never get to leave your fancy mansion again.” Wilbur smiled, and Tommy felt something snap at that threat. The blonde looked over Toby, and he saw how the ram’s face faltered. Tommy knows what it’s like to be stuck in a trap that won’t let go, and yet, the blonde can’t do much to save him from that. The blonde can’t take on that task himself because if he fails, Toby will be locked away for who knows how long. But if he succeeds, then it would make him suspicious and would make The Underscores might try to wrap him in their dirty work too. So, he watches and impatiently waits for Toby’s answer.

“Fine, whatever. But you can’t ever try to rat me out to my dad if I do this for you.” Toby negotiated, receiving a nod from Wilbur. The man puts out his hand for Toby to shake, and without hesitation, the young ram shakes it.

“It’s always a pleasure doing business with the Underscores.”

“Whatever, get lost. You Crafts have enough business with us Underscores anyways.” Toby retorted with frustration, and surprisingly te man complied. When Wilbur was out of sight, Tommy sighed in relief and turned his gaze over to Toby.

“You know who you just made a deal with, right?”

“Yeah, a bitch who gets his height from his ego.” Toby insulted, and the blonde cackled at because of the accuracy of the remark.

“I’m still worried though, making deals with people like that is a bit dangerous.”

“I’m an Underscore, that’s what we do. Besides, the worst thing they can do is make me stay home for a couple of months, and it’s not like I’ve gone through that before.” Toby admitted, giving a small smile. The blonde has studied the boy long enough to know that he’s smiling to not make him worry, but it’s not effectiveness was very little.

“Anyways, I’ve gotta go now. I have some research to do on Quackity’s casino. We’ll talk later.” Toby almost turned around and left, but abruptly halted.

“Oh! Wait, I forgot.” Toby reached for his back pocket and retrieved an item. He tossed it to Tommy who caught it with his right hand. When the blonde examined the object, he realized it was a phone. A really nice phone.

“I saw that your old phone has cracks in the screen, and was busted up. So I took it upon myself to go out and get you a new one.” The blonde could only stare at it in bewilderment, not sure how to respond.

“Toby, I… I can’t accept this.” Tommy held out the phone for Toby to take back, but his ally slightly pushed the phone back to him.

“I insist! It’s paid off, and the bill is pretty cheap. If you don’t want to pay it, then I most definitely will. I’ve already set up everything too, so you’re good to go. All you have to do is make all your accounts. Oh, and I also added my number just in case you ever needed it.” Tommy stayed quiet, still struggling to distinguish between the phone being a genuine gift, or a potential problem. He’ll have to check the phone later for anything suspicious.

“Thanks Tub-“

“I’m not Tub.”

“-This is… I am in your debt.” Tommy expressed, giving a genuine smile. Toby smiled back and gave a joking bow.

“It’s no big deal, you needed it anyway. Bye, Tom’s!” Toby said before walking in the opposite direction of him, and Tommy was once again left speechless.

His mind though wandered back to the eyes, and his awareness of everything immediately went up as he glanced around the streets. He knows he needs to go out tonight as Cryptic, but the looming threat of the Syndicate coming for him makes him want to drop all his progress and run out of town. Yet, the other part of his mind argues with him about how he came this far and thinks about abandoning it just because of an incident from three years ago. He curled his fist, and proceeded to walk home. He doesn’t like the feeling of someone watching him that he can’t see.

Chapter Text

Tommy sighed as he walked through his apartment door and immediately slumped over on the couch. He is running from Toby earlier was starting to catch up to him.

The room was barely lit with the orange hue from the sunset, and everything felt still. With the small roar of cars outside, the blonde almost fell asleep to the comfort. But then his mind wandered again, and the pressure of responsibilities began to sit on him once more. He gave a frustrated sigh as he tried to ignore himself, but the unbearable feeling of those eyes he saw today still lingered. His skin felt like pins and needles every time he thought about it, so he forced himself off his couch and to his room.

When he entered the small, plain room, he went straight to his built-in closet. He opened the doors, kneeling to open the secret compartment in the floor where a small box lay inside. Tommy knows that this is probably not the best way to hide his stuff, but secret bases cost money, so this will have to do. Besides, it wasn't like he was bringing people over anyway. Opening it, they stared back at him were the red goggles that protected his eyes, and a mask that helped filter the air around him in case he got gassed.

Tommy has reconsidered giving up this part of himself; it’s too risky to be out in public. Especially if they decide to drag him back to hell or to kill him off entirely.

Thinking back to those days, he's never recalled anyone ever escaping the organization. If anyone did, they clearly didn't make it long enough to make an impression. The blonde didn't consider himself special just because he escaped; no, he noted himself as lucky that they hadn't sent anyone after him yet.

Despite his luck, though, it seems to be a curse.

Constantly being aware of everything, having morbid nightmares, and a never-ending feeling of paranoia crawling under his skin. But he is still grateful that he escaped, that he's alive to tell the tale, that he made it out while everyone is still stuck there. Except for him... the whole reason he was able to leave unscathed was because of him.

Coming back to reality, he looked back at his mask and sighed. ‘I’m doing the right thing,’ Tommy repeated in his head. 'All this risk and effort is for the safety of the innocent.’ He grabbed the clothes and shoes from the box and put them on without delay. The blonde reached for his weapons and put them in their designated spots on him. He grabbed his mask and goggles and hesitated before putting them on, pulling up his hood to cover his hair. Someone he recognized was out there, so he needed to make sure that they were not a threat. Quick and easy. He first needs to find whoever this grey-eyed weirdo is hiding.

~

"I'm home!" Wilbur singed as he walked through his front door. His father and brother, who are sitting on the couch with papers scattered on the coffee table, looked up at him with a little shock from his entrance.

When they realized who he was, Techno continued looking through the papers as Phila smiled at him.

“Welcome back, I suppose your task was successful?" Philza implied, standing up from his spot on the couch to come closer to the brunette. Techno quietly continues to look through the scattered papers with confused expressions, taking a moment to write something down on a different piece of paper.

"Yes- well, at least most of it,” Wilbur answered, and his father came up to him and gave him a tight hug, which the brunette happily accepted.

"Oh, that's so good to hear- wait, most of it?" Philza pulled back from the hug in favor of leaving his hands on the sides of his son's biceps.

"I was able to contact Niki, Jack, and Foolish, who are all still willing to do business with us. BBH and Skeppy have gone pretty much radio silent since our imprisonment. And Quackity-"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Philza interrupted. “I’ve already come in contact with Quackity, and we've both agreed that the Syndicate and Lucky Duck Corporations are no longer doing business with each other,” Philza added, and all Wilbur could do was stand there with a look of bewilderment on his face until he felt his anger start to boil up.

"What?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. But it would be better if you guys split for a while, especially with the fiasco that happened right before we got arrested-"

"What the fuck, Phil!" Wilbur yelled unintentionally, and he immediately recoiled back as he gave a hesitant "sorry" under his breath. Philza didn't answer back.

"This is for the best. Your brother almost got killed because he stuck up for you, and he also gave Quackity that scar on his face. Sapnap, the guy who helped us get out of prison, doesn't like us already because of that shit. We are walking on thin fucking ice already, and I'm not gonna risk our freedom for your already tarnished friendship with that duck." Philza fumed, and his black wings began to slowly rise to loom a shadow over his son. Wilbur almost wanted to challenge him, but if there was one thing he knew about his father, it was to never challenge his authority.

So, Wilbur backed up as a sign of surrender, and his father's wings rested once again behind his back. A warm smile fell back on Phila's face.

"Thank you. Now, did you find Toby?" Philza swiftly changed the subject, and Wilbur knew what he was doing, but it was not the time to press further. When changing his thinking about his interaction with Toby, he stopped. 'The deal,’ Wilbur thought to himself. He swiftly decided that it was best not mention it to his father, since he seemed not be in a good mood already. “I’ve... encountered him, and had a brief discussion about him running off before he ran from me." Wilbur lied before his mind, then traced back to something else.

"But there was this kid with him- the blonde kid you were talking about this morning."

“What about him?" Philza's head tilted to one side, and Wilbur took that as a sign to continue.

"I saw him at Puffy's party, but I didn't think much about it. However, he was a little... strange to say the least, now that I was paying more attention."

"Strange how, exactly?"

"While Toby and I were talking, it looked like he was studying me. Watching every little movement as if I was going to attack, or he was trying to remember something about me."

"Well, I wouldn't blame the kid,” Techno spoke up. It made Wilbur surprised that his brother was even listening. "His friend was talking to a widely-known mafia leader as if you were some regular person. I wouldn't dwell on it too much." Wilbur sighed. He supposed it was somewhat predictable that the little guy would stare at him. But Wilbur could sense something really off about him, something somewhat familiar.

"How was your visit with Alexander?" Wilbur changed the subject, trying to move on from the previous conversation. The room became stiff; Philza froze up, and Techno hesitated when grabbing another paper. The brunette chuckled out of awkwardness.

“About that…”

"Guess it didn't go well, huh?" Wilbur speculated. Philza met his brown eyes and gave a frustrated sigh.

"Wil... Alexander's dead." The air suddenly felt heavier than before when those words left his father's lips. Wilbur stood there, stunned for a moment before answering.

"Suicide?"

"We’re not entirely sure,” Phila admitted as he began walking back to the couch, Wilbur taking it as a sign to follow him. "Based on witnesses, his head fucking exploded in the dining hall out of nowhere. They originally believed that it was a shotgun that busted his head open, but we couldn't find anything.”

“However..." Philza reached under a pile of papers to grab a clear, sealed bag. "We did find this." Philza handed him the bag, and inside was a small piece of metal with what looked like a small circuit board inside.

Pieces of skin, blood, and hair stick to it stubbornly.

Wilbur grimaced at the sight of it; he really had been out of the game for too long if that made his nose twitch.

"What is this?"

"It's a chip." His "tech-savvy" brother responded, finally deciding to look at Wilbur. "Yeah, no shit. But what does it do?"

"We don't know, but we plan on sending it to our recruit, Toby, to analyze it. If we had to guess, though, it's most likely a kill switch." Techno added, and Wilbur kept looking at the small piece of machinery before finally putting it back on the coffee table.

"And what are the papers for?" Wilbur speculated, picking up one of the sealed papers. It was notebook paper with words written in pencil, but they looked rushed and jagged. Comparing it to other papers, everything that has been written repeats on another sheet. Numbers can be found at the beginning of each line, leading Wilbur to the conclusion that he was writing a list.

"Some of them are reports on Alexander, and the rest is what we found hidden around his cell." Philza clarified, picking up a piece of paper with the jagged writing himself. His father's face scrunched up at the writing; he assumes Philza is disgusted with whatever is written in such an unorganized manner.

Philza has always been one to prioritize organization over anything. "A disorganized plan is a bad one,” he would repeat every time Wilbur or Techno would complain about the planning part of their next kill or theft. Despite the brothers literally committing crimes, they were raised with good life lessons, which Wilbur hated and loved all the same.

"It's repetitive and rushed. Whatever is written, though, looks like a list of some kind. His fellow inmates said that this was all he would do: write frantically, and stop every once in a while to eat." Philza put the paper down and moved some others to find a different paper that was different from all the rest. A paper soaked in a red liquid that was still somewhat intact due to it being sealed in an air-tight bag, with thin graphite lines barely visible on it.

"So he kept writing his shopping list til’ his last moment?"

"Not a shopping list," Techno interrupted, putting down his pen and holding up what he was writing down. "A list of rules." Philza took the paper in his hand and held it in a way where both he and Wilbur could see its contents.

Skimming through it, it was a lot of dehumanizing rules with a few numbers skipped here and there; the second rule being "Attachments are weaknesses, weaknesses will kill you". A shiver went up his spine at that one.

"I tried piecing the words together since trying to read this mess is almost impossible, but there are still a few that I couldn't figure out,” Techno admitted, standing up to stretch his back to release the tight pain of constantly being hunched over. Wilbur stopped reading after feeling his stomach turn in disgust.

"So how does this benefit us?" Phila added, putting down the paper in his hand back onto the coffee table.

"If Cryptic gives any sign that he might be familiar with this bullshit, then we can relate Alexander to Cryptic. Then, through that, we look through Alexander's social life to find something decently suspicious and try to find Cryptic through that." Techno explained, sitting back down on the couch.

"Sounds too simple, and I'm pretty sure Cryptic has been trained or trained himself to not react." Wilbur added, and Techno replied swiftly with "Rule 17: Never show emotion" as he pointed to it on his deciphered sheet. Wilbur gave a small hm in approval, and his brother gave a small smile at that before going back to his iconic blank expression.

A ringing sound appeared from Philza’s pocket, and he pulled out his phone and answered it without hesitation. He placed it to his ear with a bored look.

"What do you want, Clay? We're busy here." Philza said, a bit of irritation seeping into his words. Some muffled talking replied, and Wilbur saw his father's eyes go wide, and then an evil grin replaced his shocked expression. "Don't worry," he began. "We'll take care of it. And no need to send anyone else, we know your people are unreliable." The muffled voice spoke some more, and the call finished. The blonde man stuffed his phone back in his pocket and looked back at his sons with a look of excitement.

"Cryptic has been spotted out on a rooftop by an undercover cop, which means we can finally finish this." Phila beamed. Techno stood up and started to walk up the stairs. "I’ll go get changed, don't want to bloody up my good clothes."

"Hold on, Techno,” Wilbur announced, his brother stopping with one foot up the step. "I want to do this one alone,” Wilbur added. Philza turned his head in bewilderment, and feathers on the side of his face fluffed up.

"Wilbur." Philza drew out, but Wilbur was quick to interrupt his father's fearful thoughts.

"It's fine, Phil, I'll get the job done. Don't even worry about it."

"I'm extremely worried." His father admitted that the brunette gave a small pat on Philza's shoulder to reassure him. "You should take Techno with you; we don't know enough about Cryptic to send someone in alone."

"But we also know that he works alone, so there's no need to worry about him getting jumped by thirty guys." Techno intruded; Philza gave an unimpressed look. "You just don't want to go out tonight, do you?"

"Yes and no." Philza gave a frustrated sigh, turning his gaze back to Wilbur. He stood there for a moment, looking into Wilbur's dark brown eyes before giving a simple nod. "I guess it's okay if you go do this one on your own, since it's just one guy. But if you need back up," Philza reached into the pocket of his khaki pants, pulling out a small metal device. He tossed ot to Wilbur, who caught it in his right hand.

"Press the button, and I'll send Techno to go help you." Phila finished, and the brunette placed the small electronic device into his pocket.

"Do you always keep random shit on you?" Wilbur questioned, his father giving a small laugh.

"I'm never under-prepared to say the least." Philza approached Wilbur and gave him a tight hug. "Don't get killed, or I'll ground you." Wilbur chuckled and gave a small pat on Philza's back. They pulled away from each other, giving their last goodbyes before Wilbur walked out the door once more.

~

Tonight is cold, Tommy notes mentally. It is getting steadily closer to winter, and the auburn leaves hint at the approaching season. The young blonde never liked the cold: the frosty air turning his nose and ears red or turning his fingers stiff, the snow becoming so thick that a short outing turns into an hour trip, and the absurd amount of layers just to stay warm that restricts his movements. And yet, it was exactly those elements that helped him hide away from the peering eyes of the organization all those months ago.

Maybe it would be a good thing for him to be trapped inside his home for a while with everything that is going on with the Syndicate; he was not intending on gaining such attention, but he supposed it couldn't be helped after the first time he had been spotted.

Another cold breeze flows through, his hood protecting his hair from being moved by the wind. His mind wanders for a moment, thinking about what life would be like after he's completed his mission.

Where would he go? Would he live as a normal civilian, or continue to stalk in the shadows in case another child-soldier factory was to develop? Would he still be allies with the ram boy? His mind paused on Toby for a moment, remembering how Toby had treated him with respect and nothing less. Tommy never even considered Toby as someone he would keep around for much longer, knowing that he isn't involved with the Syndicate's affairs besides being related to the detective, as well as the weird favor Wilbur asked of him.

His mind, for some reason, cringed at the thought of leaving Toby. He is the only person he has talked to who has been... kind to him since the beginning. Maybe he could keep Toby around a little longer before he inevitably has to leave him. Tommy shook away the thought. Toby is naive and could be easily manipulated by the smallest amount of human decency. If the organization were to ever find out Tommy has been talking to the kid, they might try to attack him by using Toby. The blonde would never fall into a trap like that, and he wouldn't even consider saving Toby if they were going to kill him. He should not been so generous to everyone he meets, and he would learn that the hard way. His heart jerks at the thought. He scoffs and focuses back on the world around him.

His task was to find a tall guy with grey eyes; he searched in the government database for every grey-eyed person in the country. Tonight, he'll start in his district, and if he feels like it, he will move on to the Logstedshire district. Only a small percentage of people have been documented to have grey eyes, and if this familiar stranger is a part of the organization, then they'll be most likely out on the streets searching and doing shady shit.

A small wind moved against his back, but it was not the familiar chill of the frigid air. Nature was not the cause of its presence. Tommy whipped around, his gun already pulled out and aimed at his target. He expected to meet gray eyes, but instead they were brown. The whole world shifted as Wilbur Craft stood at the opposite end of the roof with that unforgettable grin.

“Crpytic right?” Wilbur asked, already taking a step forward. “Y’know, I’ve heard a lot about you. But in person… I’m quite disappointed.” He chuckled, the criticism only making Tommy’s nerves worse.

“Could say the same for you, I have to say you are quite ugly.” The blonde retorted, not budging from his spot. He needs to stay focused; he can not let that prick get to him like their last encounter. This time, he will be victorious.

“Was that supposed to be an insult? Cute.” Wilbur mocked, taking another step while staring into Tommy’s soul. “I can’t believe this is the guy who has avoided the police for so long. From one criminal to another, how do you do it? From what I can tell, you run away as soon as things get good.

“You talk a lot for someone who got put in Pandora.” Tommy grinned, but it was short-lived as Wilbur’s cocky look became annoyed.

“You won’t get to laugh long, jackass.” With swift movement, he was instantly in front of him. The man pulled a kusarigama from his trench coat, aiming the fundo for him. He dodged to the side, aiming once more with his finger on the trigger. The sharp kama piece came down, the metal coming down on the barrel. The friction between the causes sparks to fly as it cuts clean through the barrel.

Tommy’s eyes widened, astonished by the precision before focusing back in on the fight. Wilbur’s eyes are wide with adrenaline as he continues to strike at the blonde, who keeps evading. Tommy took a step back, pulling out throwing knives from his belt and aiming towards his opponent’s head. Wilbur knocked the oncoming weapons with his own, but was distracted enough to not see the blonde approach him quickly with his dual bolo-machetes. He was quick block the attack by using the kusarigama as a shield. The metal weapons grinded against each other, making a cringing sound that made Tommy squint. Wilbur took this time to regain his breath.

“So many weapons, it’s a shame you don’t keep up with them well.”

“That reminds me, you wouldn’t happen to know where they took my knife after the party? Oh, I mean the poorly thought-out trap.” Tommy mentioned, ignoring Wilbur’s attempt to mock him.

“So you were the one who saved the Mayor, very strange for someone who usually leaves death wherever he goes.” Wilbur pushed against Tommy’s weapons, but he held his ground.

“You don’t know anything about me; it shows in the way you fight.” Tommy argued, but Wilbur’s smile only grew.

“You should probably focus more on yourself; I might get the upper hand.” Before the blonde could react, a foot met his stomach, sending him backwards. Before he could catch his footing, the thick chain of the kusarigama extended and wrapped around his ankle. The chain pulled tightly, ripping the blonde right off of his feet. His head hit the concrete, becoming disoriented from the impact. He attempted to sit up, but was stopped with a leather boot hitting his chest. He gasped for air as a fitful cough escaped him, his hands pushing at the boot keeping him down.

“Were you saying something earlier? I was in the middle of beating your ass.” The brunnete’s shadows towered over his form, his mocking smile returning. “I can’t wait to rub in Clay’s face that it only took the Syndicate one guy to catch the oh-so-scary Cryptic.”

“Not over my dead body!” Tommy tossed something into the air, and Wilbur’s eyes followed the object foolishly before a bright light shone as it went off.

“AH! WHAT THE FUCK?” The brunnete stumbled back in distress, rubbing his eyes with his palms. Tommy jolted up, circling his enemy as he swiftly picked up his other weapons. He was not going to allow another slip-up like the party. He then pounced on Wilbur, pushing back down into the concrete with his grip tightened around the brunette’s wrists. The man hissed, the concrete rubbing into his cheek.

“Had enough?” Tommy spoke, regaining his own breath. Wilbur stood quietly, a concerning quiet that made the blonde question what he was thinking.

“Rule 17,” Wilbur began, that awful smile returning. “Never show emotion. You seem to do that a lot, don’t you?” Tommy felt his heart sink to his stomach- further past that even. His heart quickened, and his veins felt like they were on fire. He was spiraling quickly, and Wilbur could see it. Before he could get a snide remark out, Tommy’s hand went to one of his machetes and pressed it so close to his enemy’s neck that it was starting to make it bleed.

“How do you know that?” Tommy’s voice cracked, his breathing even more unsteady than before. “Where did you learn that from? Who told you that!? Are you one of them?!” The machete pressed further into Wilbur’s neck, the pain starting to be more noticeable.

“One of whom?” Wilbur asked, wincing from the pain. Tommy’s mind is blank, and all he could bring himself to do was raise his weapon above the brunette’s curls.

Leave nothing behind that can speak.

The blonde swung down the machete, but before it could make contact, he was flung into the air. He landed back on the ground and quickly recovered, his mind no longer falling into a vicious cycle. Looking back at Wilbur, his blood runs cold. Translucent wings have sprouted from his back, bones laying out the structure of each wing. His skin became a light gray as blood dripped down his neck. Tommy had never seen this ghostly appearance up front, but it was both terrifying and fascinating.

Tommy cursed himself; he needed to leave now that Wilbur was probably more powerful in this form. Before the brunette could turn around, he was gone. The phantom looked around with his piercing yellow eyes, his sharp teeth bared. There was no annoying Cryptic lurking around anymore, and his weariness caught up to him. His knees buckled as he dropped back down. He scoffed, his wings drooping down as he hesitantly hit the distress button sitting in his pocket.

~

The front door opened, and Wilbur had his arm around the back of Techno’s neck as his brother supported his weight. His horrifying form is more of a scare tactic than a power boost since he does not practice with his phantom form much. Too frightened of it himself to try to explore his capability with it. In the living room was a nervous Philza who was pacing the floor, deep in his thoughts, before being interrupted by his son’s coming in.

“Oh my XD!” Philza blurted before rushing to Wilbur, grabbing his face to check for damage. “Are you okay!? I sent Techno as soon as the distress signal went off. Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have sent you alone. I’m so sorry, Wil, I’ve should’ve-“

“Dad.” Wilbur interrupted, grabbing his wrists gently to pull them from his face. He saw his father’s eyes widen at the title, the restless fluttering in his wings halting. Wilbur and Techno usually just use his name, but when they need their father’s attention most, they’ll pull the dad card. “I’m fine, promise. I have a small cut on my neck, and I’m just tired from transforming.” Wilbur’s lets Philza go so he could observe his neck, and after a moment, the old blonde sighed.

“Let me fix up your neck first before you go to bed.” Philza made his way to the kitchen before coming back with a medkit, sitting down on the couch, and gesturing for him to sit down. Wilbur let his brother guide him to the couch, sitting him down gently before letting go. Philza worked on stitching Wilbur’s neck as he muttered to himself words of disapproval and frustration. “I can’t believe that prick laid a finger on you. When I get my hands on him, I’ll…” Philza sighs, putting more focus into his work.

“Why so tense? You’re usually mad at me when I get hurt.” Wilbur questioned; he felt his father go still for a moment before answering.

“Just… out of the swing of things, I suppose,” Philza spoke vaguely, cleaning up Wilbur’s wound before stitching it up. “This cut isn’t so small, you know, he actually cut you pretty deep.” Wilbur notices the sudden change in conversation, but he’ll let it slide.

“Yeah, well… I did provoke him.”

“How?”

“Probably with his annoying voice.” Techno pitched in, a man of few words, but with them is so damn irritating.

“Uh, no, actually, I brought up the rule shit.” Techno perked up.

“What did he say about them?”

“Not much, just started freaking out and asked if I’m ‘one of them?’” Philza tugged a little hard on the stitching, causing Wilbur to shout. “Ow! Watch it, Phil.” When looking over to his father, he seemed to be thinking to himself.

“Do you think… it could be them?” The room went cold; not one person dared to breathe.

“No… it can’t be. Didn’t we destroy their facility?”

“Yes, but it could have been just a small base. Or even a decoy so we would stop pursuing them.” Techno added, his leg bouncing possibly due to his nerves. The three sat with Techno’s prediction, the room going eerily quiet once more. Philza finished up stitching, closing the medkit with a small click.

“Let’s hope it isn’t.” Philza stood up. “But for now, we must remain vigilant.”

“What about Crpytic?” Techno mentioned, Philza stood quietly. Before he could even speak, there was a rapid knocking on the door. Philza opened the door, and three slow detectives came pouring in.

“Wilbur! We heard you went after Cryptic. Are you alright?-“ Clay began, but quickly stopped when he saw his form. Not a lot of people have seen Wilbur with Phantom parts a lot; the last time was when he got arrested. He hunched over a little, knowing that they were still disgusted by his form. Philza held up his wing, blocking the detectives veiw from him, and Wilbur silently thanked him.

“Staring is rude, detectives. It’s very funny how convicted felons have better manners than you.” Philza scolded, his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, sorry…” The detectives glanced away, and Philza dropped his wing.

“Anyway, Wilbur,” Clay began once more, this time actually meeting Wilbur’s eyes. “What happened? Did you get Cryptic?”

“Do you think I’d be here if I did?” Wilbur cocked his brow, hearing Clay sighed in disappointment.

“Well, did you get anything else? Anything he managed to slip?” George bumped in, hoping for a promising answer. Philza was going to speak up before Wilbur cut him off.

“Didn’t say a thing, well- unless it was his sad attempt at a comeback.” Wilbur smiled, his father giving him a confused look.

“Damn it…” Sapnap muttered. “Well, it’s not unexpected.” He sent a glare at Clay. “I told you we all didn’t need to get up for this.” He smacked his friend on the back of the head, Clay quickly trying to rub the pain away.

“My bad, I thought we would have something to work with.” Clay sighed once more before turning attention to Wilbur. “Thank you for going out and trying anyway. We’ll be off.” He waved the three goodbye as the detectives went back to arguing on their way out.

“Wilbur, what was that?” Philza looked over to his son, a confused expression taking over.

“I’m just making sure we have the upper hand on them.”

“But we’re supposed to be working with them, what do you think will happen if they figure out that we’re lying to them?” Techno glared, already thinking this is a stupid idea. Wilbur waved off his brother with a hand and charasmatic smile.

“Calm down, they won’t know as long as nobody runs their mouth. Look, if we tell them what we know, then they’re going to want to get involved, and if it’s them we’re dealing with, then they could fuck everything up we’ve done to get rid of them. Let’s just wait to tell them, and after we confirm who we are dealing with, then we can talk. Sound good?” The brunette glanced between his brother and father as they gave each other a weary look. His father was the first to fold.

“Fine, but no going off on your own anymore with this stuff. We work together when we approach Crpytic from now on.” Philza approached Wilbur and crouched down in front of him. “I don’t want you getting hurt again.” The blonde turned his attention to Techno. “That goes for you, too. I can’t have you getting hurt either.”

“Bruhhh, I wasn’t the one who went off on my own, and I still get punished.”

“There’s no ‘I’ in team,” Wilbur smirked while his brother considered killing him right there. Their father shook his head at their small feud.

“Let’s just get some rest, it’s been a long day.” Philza stood back up, heading to his room with his dark wings elegantly following behind him. The boys watch their father disappear around the corner, appreciating his kindness and patience. They never talk about it aloud, but the mystery of their father’s past has always been something they wanted to learn. With the walls he has around him, however, it leads them to never be able to reach him that closely. In some ways, it hurts. But out of respect for their father, they choose not press further on the matter.

Maybe one day the blonde will learn how to trust them with his secrets.

Chapter Text

The door swung open, and the young blonde held his ribs as he limped through the door. He stopped earlier at a stash of clothes he had hidden within a worn-down brick wall, where the bricks conveniently slip out of place. Even though it’s embarrassing to change behind an old dumpster, it’s better than being caught by a bystander on the way home.

When he got into his bedroom, he crouched beside his bed and pulled out a med kit. He began dressing his wounds, thankful that he didn’t get cut a lot and only received some deep bruising. He zoned out at the repetitive steps of cleaning the wound and bandaging the area, and dwelt on what just happened.

He lost himself when he heard that fucker say that rule, and wasn’t able to control the sheer panic and anxiety coursing through him in that moment. On one hand, he felt ashamed that something so trivial could get him to lose control like that; on the other, however, he felt fearful of how Wilbur came across that knowledge.

Did the Syndicate make contact with the organization? Did the organization contact them knowing they are after him? Tommy’s heart stuttered in his chest, feeling his surroundings close in on him. His ribs became tighter as his breathing stutters.

His mind went further back, to the day he first met Wilbur all those years ago under a different name. It reminded him that no matter how fucked the Syndicate was, and still is, they despised the organization. For what reason? He’s not entirely sure himself. That place had always known how to keep its skeletons locked away, and truths that did slip out were because they wanted them to. It might be because the Syndicate sees them as competition, or… something else?

“Someone has to pay for all the disgusting shit your little group has done to this country.”

The way the brunette phrased it, now that the blonde is thinking about it, sounded so personal. As if the organization had personally offended the Syndicate. But from what he had learned while he was still stuck at that place, they thoroughly avoided them like the plague. Any missions that were discussed had the Syndicate in mind, so they do not step on each other’s toes.

The blonde had never questioned it before, but why did the organization try to evade the Syndicate? Maybe he knows something. He’s kept this man in his mind for a very long time, and purposefully avoided him so no harm would come his way. He assumes that the organization had no clue about his involvement in Tommy’s escape, considering that he was still publicly alive.

The blonde knew that he should stay away, but his curiosity was piqued by the fire between the organization and the Syndicate. Once his mind is hooked onto something, he cannot let it go.

He sighed, zoning back in, seeing that he finished cleaning up his injuries. He put up his medkit supplies before getting into bed. He should sleep and heal a little before making a plan to discreetly meet with him. Maybe he will finally understand the organization’s intentions, and maybe a little more about their past with the Syndicate.

There was, in fact, no resting that night. Tommy tossed and turned through the night, not being able to get himself to stop thinking. When he finally would drift off, the smallest noise awakens him, restarting the whole process. It was now morning, and without proper sleep, he turned to the next best thing: coffee.

He left his cramped apartment in sweatpants and a hoodie, making his way to the nearest coffee shop. He preferred his coffee black, unable to stomach all the sugar people put in their cups. He is not used to the sweet taste as he never really got to enjoy sugar in his younger days, most likely the cause why he feels nauseous and wanting to brush his teeth six times over when he eats so many sweet things at once.

After the blonde picked up his coffee, he left and roamed the streets while glancing around for anyone with gray eyes. He needed to find them, it was driving him insane not being able to locate them with the Syndicate always on his ass. He stopped, realizing he ended up at the park. A few steps away sat a wooden bench where he first met Toby… outside of his work.

The boy is strange, but as he got to know him more and more, he warmed up to the ram’s unusual behaviour. What’s more unusual about him is his obsession with Cryptic. Toby has mentioned the notorious killer to him a handful of times; however, he seemed more hopeful in his tone than others. Even inspired at times. It was peculiar to hear someone talk so highly about him, especially about that part of himself.

Another weird thing about him is his distant connection to the Syndicate. He can not tell if he’s directly helping the Syndicate find his alias or if he was only dragged into all of this because of his relationship with Clay and President Schlatt, who allowed and supported the release of the mafia group. It sets Tommy on edge because if the brunette was helping them, then he would probably have to cut all ties with him. It would be easy since the boy meant nothing to him. No attachments. Yet, a small tug at his heart told him otherwise.

He decided he needed a change of scenery and walked past the bench, proceeding to move along the shops. His eyes wandered, trying to find something to entertain him for a while, and a painted window did just that.

“‘Retro Railway’? Cringe.” Tommy walked in anyway, hearing the bell on the door chime as he walked through. The air smelled of cinnamon and pine, and to Tommy it was almost sickening. The blonde hates scented things like candles, it throws off the senses and can lead a person into false comfort. He considers practicing with them would be good for him; being able to pick up the smallest of smells in thick ones like these could prove useful later. Before he could consider leaving, a woman with a gentle smile approached the counter.

“Welcome! Anything I can help you with?” She greeted, and Tommy was almost startled by her cheerful tone.

“Just looking around.”

“Curious or bored?” She asked, propping her arms up on the counter to support her weight. Tommy looks around the store, realizing it’s an antique shop. Lots of glass and very old items lay on tables and are displayed in shelves, some jewelry still shining in the rays of sunshine coming through the window.

“Just bored, your store has a very fitting name.” She chuckled at that.

“Yeah, my cofounder came up with it and it’s stuck ever since.”

“Wait, you’re the founder? What made you want to do this?” The blonde questioned, continuing to walk around the store.

“It wasn’t my initial idea as a career. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. I also had some friends help me get this place, so here I am.” She gestured to the room, glancing around.

“What about your cofounder?”

“He was actually the first person I told, and he loved the idea. Came up with the name, found places that would provide all of this. I’m very thankful for him and his actions to help me. I wish I could pay it all back.” Her voice softened when she talked about her friend, and Tommy sensed the loyalty she had for him.

A part of the blonde yearned to have that, while the other part told him he didn’t need that kind of connection holding him down. “I wish you could meet him today, but he’s out sick. If you come back another time, I’m sure he’ll be here.”

“I’ll think about it. This place is pretty cool.” Tommy did not really mean it; it was a shop filled with old things. However, he enjoys talking to the black and white haired woman. She had a refreshing atmosphere to her compared to Toby’s overexcitement, his nightly routine with the detectives, and unfortunately, the Syndicate.

“Well, while you think about it, we also happen to have a position open if you’re interested. The pay is good, and we don’t get many visitors so people are usually not a problem.” The woman offered, and Tommy took a moment to think about it. He was running a little low on the money he managed to get his hands on from the organization, and he did not have time to steal from corpses after his missions. “No need to rush your decision, just let us know if you ever want it.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind. I should head out now.”

“Okay, come back anytime! Oh, my name is Niki, by the way.” Tommy took a moment to work out if she was a threat or not, and he decided that he could at least trust her with his name.

“Tommy.”

“Nice to meet you, Tommy. See you another time.” She waved him off, and the blonde left with a wave of his own. Tommy believes he would not mind the scent of pine and cinnamon if he decided to go back.

As the blonde began walking back to his apartment, he passed the bench at the park once more. He hesitated, but ended up sitting down. Maybe it was fine to relax, maybe it was fine to entertain the idea of friendship, maybe… he was safe enough to do so.

Attachments are weaknesses; weaknesses will kill you.

He perked up at his phone dinging, when he checked it showed Toby’s name with a little bee icon next to it.

Heyyy

How have u been?

Tommy automatically typed out “I’m fine”, but his finger hovered over the send button. He reconsidered telling him the truth, but they aren’t friends so there’s no point in telling him… but maybe this once he can open up just a little.

Ok.

Just didn’t sleep very well.

The blonde swallowed thickly as he watched the three dots on the screen stay in a loop animation.

Damn

Sorry to hear about that

If u want u can sleep at my place?

Maybe that would help

No.

The response was so quick it was almost instinct, Tommy didn’t trust the boy enough to not stab him in his sleep. The dots appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared before the next text went through.

That’s alright

Would u want to hang at my secret hide out then?

I go there when my dad is trying keep me locked in the house lol

Tommy was almost surprised at the text, he was somewhat expecting a simple “okay” and “talk to u later”, not another invitation to still hang out. He couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his face.

Okay, send me the address.

“Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell are we doing in an abandoned warehouse?” Tommy complained, actively trying to avoid jagged edges of rusted metal. Toby moved through it all with such ease it was a little surprising.

“We’re heading to my hide out.”

“Why is your hide out in an abandoned building?”

“Because that’s where all the cool vigilantes put there hide outs, like Cryptic.” ‘This shit again’ Tommy thought to himself, tripping a little over some broken up concrete.

“I think he would actually hate having to walk through all this shit.” The blonde argued, almost falling again when Toby turned around quickly to support his weight.

“Careful!”

“It’s really hard to be careful when the building is falling apart.” Tommy used Toby’s support to put himself back on his feet, and they continued to move forward through the debris.

“Not all of it. Toby smirked, before walking over to the very back of the building. “We’re here!” The brunette exclaimed, and before Tommy could argue with him Toby grabbed a piece of what appeared to be broken metal on the floor and pulled. A secret opening revealed itself, a ladder running all the way down the dark hole.

“Guests first.” Toby gestured his hand to the hole, and Tommy hesitantly walked towards it.

“It’s kind of scary how you have this.”

“Well I think it’s cool.” Tommy climbed down the ladder, Toby following him down until they finally hit the bottom. Toby went towards a wall, feeling around until he finally found the switch. When he flipped it, the room lit up by soft fairy lights, revealing itself contents.

There was worn down couch in the center, a couple of pillows and blankets thrown on it carelessly. A coffee table that looked like it was on its last leg sat in front of it. There was a large desk push to the side, a bunch of metal and wiring sitting on it with a spot light shining down on the half put together gadgets. A fridge sits on the opposite wall, a whiteboard stuck to it with to-do’s and a grocery list.

Despite how messy the place looked, it’s still a pretty impressive hide out compared to Tommy’s apartment where everything really secret goes in a box.

“What do you even do down here?”

“I just build some tech and chill out, it’s kind of a little get away for me. At least from my dad. He can be really protective sometimes.” Toby admitted, slumping onto the couch as the springs in it creaked. Tommy sat down next to him, his eyes glancing around the room.

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Tommy chuckled.

“Most of the time it is, but I know he’s just looking out for me. He’s also trying to make up for how he was when I was younger.” Toby looked away for a moment, making the blonde aware that his dad’s past was pretty touchy.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Tommy asked awkwardly, he wasn’t very good at the whole comforting thing but maybe he can be for Toby.

“There isn’t really much to talk about,” Toby muttered a little, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. “He was a bit of a drinker, and he wasn’t very present in my childhood. I had mainly stayed with Clay and Puffy when he was like that.”

Toby cleared is throat, and took a deep breath. The memory making him choke. “And then one night… after a bit too much, he collapsed. Thankfully I was still there to call for help. When me, Puffy, and Clay went to the hospital, the doctors said he had a heart attack from all the drinking.”

Toby turned his face away from the blonde, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “After that he stopped drinking entirely, I guess almost dying can really change someone, huh?” Toby smiled, but Tommy can recognize a fake expression from a mile away.

“Sounds like you went through a lot.”

“Yeah…” Toby chuckled, his smile dropping for a moment before his eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot!” Toby jumped up off the couch and started digging through the drawers of his desk, dropping random circuits and tools onto the floor.

“Found it!” Toby sat back down on the couch and held out two bracelets in his palm. “I made these.”

Tommy looked down at them, they were made for some kind of rope and leather. One had red string sewn into the leather to spelled out “Tommy” while the other had green that wrote out “Toby”.

“What are these?”

“Friendship bracelets, because we’re friends.” Toby smiled, this time genuinely, as he handed the red one to him. “If that’s alright of course, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-“

“You made this?”

“Oh, Yeah!” Tommy hesitated on how to respond before clearing his throat and giving a sheepish “thank you”. Toby’s smile brightened more.

“You’re welcome.” Toby replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “And thank you for being my friend.” There was that unfamiliar feeling in his chest, that warmth that he wasn’t ever prepared for before. This time he embraced it though, maybe he was safe enough to finally relax, at least just this once.

“It’s… no problem. Anytime.” The blonde spoke before quickly changing the subject. “Anyways, I’ve been meaning to ask you why you’re so obsessed with this Cryptic fella?”

“Well, you already know the answer to that. He’s gonna save us from that hidden evil.”

“Well, how do you know that?” Tommy asked, not understanding how a serial killer can be viewed as a hero.

“Just that gut feeling, and I’m usually never wrong.” Tommy sighed, still not understanding his thinking. Cryptic? A hero? This guy had definitely lost his mind.

“You act just like your cousin.”

“What?” Tommy stopped, not realizing he said that out loud. He pulled on the collar of his hoodie to loosen it.

“I mean… like how he acts so sure about catching Cryptic and stuff when he gets interviewed, it just- reminded me of him.” He recovered, hoping that wasn’t a suspicious response.

“I’m taking that as an insult honestly, you may call me obsessed but I’m no where near the insanity Clay is when it comes to him. I mean the dude carries around a suit case with all the evidence he has on him all the time.” Tommy laughed at that, but on the inside he was planning. If Clay kept that evidence case with him at all times, then that means that might be where his knife is.

“Never mind then, the whole Underscore family has got Cryptic fever.” Toby laughed, making Tommy chuckle too.

“Whatever, man, he’s cool. You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous of a scrawny guy hiding behind a mask? Yeah, super jealous.” Tommy rolled his eyes with a small laugh before getting hit in the face with a pillow, Toby bursts out in laughter at the impact. His joy was short lived when a different pillow hit the brunettes face.

A signal of war.

The pillow fight commenced, each dodging attacks and striking with their own pillows. Laughter filled the room, and after a while the storm finally calmed.

Tommy, while lying on the couch and his… companion on the floor, thought to himself once more. Perhaps he doesn’t need to be worried anymore, maybe they have finally stopped chasing him. ‘Can I… relax?’ He thought to himself, glancing over to Toby who was now on his phone texting what seemed to be his worried father.

“Maybe…”

“What was that?” Toby looked over with an eyebrow raised.

“Nothing, just… talking to myself.”

Cryptic sat on a rooftop once more during the night, peering into the office window of Clay Wastaken at the Pogtopia police station. Clay was conveniently passed out on his desk, papers sprawled around with half written notes and cases that needed to be closed. Right there next to him was a silver suitcase that held his knife.

Three days ago he talked to Toby, and it just so happened that some important information about where his knife might be slipped in the process, making this the perfect chance to tie up this loose end.

Did he also think to himself about how he can finally relax after so long? Yes. But he was just caught up in the moment, it’s not he can actually give this all up. He has his own mission to fulfill, and he cannot let them get away with any of the shit they put him or anyone through.

But… did it have to be him? Why was it his responsibility to take them down? What a foolish question, of course it had to be him. He was the only one who made it on the outside to rebel against them, this was his responsibility.

Destiny in a way.

Cryptic took a deep breath, letting it go before he jumped down and rolled onto the conveniently lower roof of the station. He made his way to the air duct, ripping off the vent cover before crawling in. He made his way through the ventilation system, and it took everything in him to not sneeze from all the dust which would blow his cover.

After what felt like forever, he found the room he was looking for. He carefully pushed on the cover, making it loose enough to open. He dropped down on the carpeted floor, not making a sound as he approached the desk with the upmost caution. He saw the silver suitcase sitting on the desk, closed and locked with a fingerprint scanner on the front.

Cryptic, thankful he doesn’t have to search through the entire office for it, reached for the suit case. Clay suddenly stirred in his sleep, causing the boy to freeze in his movement. The brunette muttered something in his sleep, snored, and then fell back to sleep.

After he felt confident that the detective is definitely asleep, he picked up the suitcase while making sure he didn’t bump into anything. ‘Mission accomplished,’ Cryptic thought as he pulled out a small book from his belt. Within it carried plastic films with important members of the governments fingerprints on them, and he kept Clay’s just in case he needed it. Now, he finally has a use for it.

He pressed the plastic to the scanner, letting it scan until he felt the soft click of the latches unlocking. He hurriedly opened it, not wanting to waste anymore time. When it opened up, he froze in place. He didn’t find his knife inside, he found a clear evidence bag. Within it is a small, yellow sticky note that had the word “Buzz” with a graffiti style. Cryptic stood there, the word repeating in his head.

“What the fuck?” He muttered under his breath, not sure if he was dreaming or getting pranked. Before he could dwell on it more, the cock of a pistol sounded behind him. He turned around, still holding the case. The once sleeping detective stood in front of him, his gun raised and ready to fire at his head.

“Crpytic, you’re under arrest.” A silent stand off established between them, and for once, Cryptic didn’t have anything to say. A beat passes, then another. The blonde cleared his throat.

“Think fast!” He quickly chucked the suitcase at the detective, hitting him right between his eyes. The impact was so strong it knocked him out once more, sending the man crashing to the floor. Cryptic ran back into vents, shutting the cover before the other officers could come in to investigate. Remembering his path, he came back to the opening he crawled. He bolted as soon as his boots hit the floor, making sure to take the long way home in case anybody was keeping up with him.

On the way back from his retreat, he could only think of the sticky note. The weird word on it, what did it mean? Is it code for something? Was it planted by the Syndicate or the detectives? Or worse… them? This couldn’t be the organization’s work, however, they wouldn’t leave something as random as this if they took his knife or anything at all. It didn’t make any sense in his mind.

All he does know is that someone is fucking with him, and he won’t allow that to happen.