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‘The Undertaker. He is of the most feared villains, and for a good reason. The villain is known for being impulsive and reckless, and puts himself in danger more than he puts others in danger. He’s the son of infamous villain Pandora, supposedly. And the most important thing to note is his power. He’s able to make his voice deafeningly loud, and disorient people with a simple scream, which can rock the ground and push even the strongest off of their feet. His opponents have been seen falling to their knees with bleeding ears more times than anyone can count. Not much is known about The Undertaker’s powers. All that is known is that you should beware if, god forbid, you run into the villain.’
Deo scoffed at the newspaper in his hands.
“They’re shit talking you, again!” Deo calls out. In response to that, his roommate and long time friend, Tommy, comes from the other room.
Tommy is buttoning his white cloak, and has his entire outfit ready for tonight. The entire getup, white cloak with a single red stripe running down the sides, white pants and boots. His dark red, fake metal wings folded up behind his back and his vulture skull mask is on top of his head, ready to be pulled down.
Deo doesn’t really know what the deal is with Tommy’s fake wings. He knows his dad, Sam, made them for him and that he used to have real wings but that was all he could get out of the younger boy. He doesn’t understand how Tommy can just control them but. Whatever, he guesses.
“Really?” Tommy asks with a slight laugh in his voice. At Deo’s nod, he breaks out in laughter. “They should be shit talking the fucking heroes, they just sit on their asses all day! I actually go out and be productive!”
You heard it here, folks. The Undertaker is not bad because he spends his time being productive.
“But didn’t you blow up three buildings this past month?” At that, Tommy’s face turns red.
“Shut up.” Apparently, ‘being productive’ is terrorizing civilians to Tommy.
Deo breaks out into laughter, Tommy scoffs and brushes past him to go towards the front door, turning around to face his older friend as he adjusts his mask over his eyes. Deo watched silently laughing as Tommy got his hair stuck, fumbling with it for a few seconds. Eventually, he got his hair out and looked up back at his older friend and spread his arms wide in a dramatic pose.
“Alright, how do I look?” Tommy asked. His stupid mouth was visible so Deo could see his stupid smile that he wore.
“Fucking ugly. And the smile is unflattering, never do it again.”
“You suck!”
“Fuck off, go do evil shit or whatever it is you do.”
---
Deo smiled to himself as he watched the news. Currently, the coverage was on some chaos that Tommy caused. Apparently, the kid ran out into a busy intersection on the road and screamed loudly, which caused people to get scared, which caused heroes to get alerted, which caused a little dance.
It wasn’t actually a dance. More just Tommy having fun and the heroes enabling him by chasing him around.
As he watches Tommy get slammed into the wall by The Blade, a hero that was in the famous hero group ‘The Syndicate’ which included several stuck-up assholes, he wonders how everyone forgets Tommy’s a minor.
The kid’s even said it before! Several times! Though it was probably not taken seriously.
Deo winces as Tommy seems to struggle to get up, but not even two seconds later the kid gets up and screams, effectively fleeing once everyone was preoccupied with covering their ears and praying that their eardrums didn’t just shatter. The glass in all buildings around them shattered and created an even bigger distraction.
Sighing, Deo get’s up and goes into the bathroom and snags the first aid kid out of the cabinet. Tommy’s gonna need some medical help, that’s for sure. Going into the small kitchen, he sets the kit down on the counter.
He really wants some mac and cheese. Deo stands there for a moment, unknowing of what to do with his hands or feet. Before he suddenly remembers how to walk and goes over to the cupboard, and grabs a box of Kraft mac and cheese. The only acceptable mac and cheese.
Getting out a pot, pouring water in said pot, and putting the pot on the burner and turning it on. Those are the motions his body does instinctively. Because he and Tommy like mac and cheese.
He sits atop the counter, and listens with anger boiling in his stomach as news reporters praise the heroes.
As If.
---
Tommy storms down the hallway, shoes clicking against the marble floors. Guards follow him silently, like always.
He’s injured, he’s sad, he’s pissed, and he wants his fucking dad. Tears build up in his eyes as he moves his back awkwardly turning the corner. No doubt there's a bruise there, maybe even something worse. He was thrown into a wall for crying out loud! Of course something is going to be there.
He finally gets to a big, metal door. His dad’s office. He pulls his vulture mask up and off, and his hood comes down with the motion. Golden, fluffy hair puffs up, and his small ponytail springs out. With a simple press of a button, the doors come up and there stands his father.
Sam, or Pandora to the media. The villain who can create explosions under the ground he is standing on. The villain who has shown mercy to no one. The villain who protects his son with everything in his whole being.
Sam turns around, his gask mask isn’t present on his face. Long, dark green hair falls in front of his face, probably obscuring his vision. His eyes soften as they land on his son. Opening his arms, he smiles as Tommy runs into them.
Tommy feels warm, firm arms wrap around him as he snuggles into his dad’s chest. The aching in his back and head and everything seem to go away for a moment. Just a moment. And tears fall freely.
“Oh my, hello dear. I saw the broadcast, are you alright?” Though, Sam already knew the answer. It looked like it hurt, of course it would’ve been horrendously painful to go through it. If he was being honest, he was so angry when he saw Tommy being thrown into a wall as if he was some pest. Like some annoying fly. Sam would’ve stormed out there himself if it wasn’t for Tommy running away shortly after.
“Hurts,” Tommy whines, voice raspy and rough from using his powers. Sam’s lips quirk down at this, quickly forgetting his anger in favor of helping his son. His son always came first, always.
“Oh, I know, love. Dad’ll make it all better, I promise,” Sam whispers, guiding Tommy down to the comfier couch in his office. He finds a blanket and drapes it over Tommy’s lap.
“Where does it hurt?”
Tommy points to his back and head, and Sam nods. “Can you turn around for me and take off your shirt, lovebug?”
Tommy sighs and turns around and unclips his cloak, before slowly taking off the tight, dark red shirt underneath. Sam helps get Tommy’s metal wings off, jaw clenching at the broken bones of what used to be beautiful wings that were under them. Checking the bone, nothing seemed to be aggravated nor hurt, not like it would matter though.
He winces and hisses at the forming bruise on his back, he worries about the possibility of a pulled muscle. Checking his head, he finds no damage other than a few tiny scratches on his neck. Thinking about the footage, Tommy held his head away from the wall the best he could, though that meant his back took most of the damage.
“Good thing, you won’t die. Bad thing, this bruise looks nasty. I don’t want you going out for a little while,” Sam mutters, motioning for a guard to bring him a first aid kit. Tommy jumps at that.
“What? I can still do shit just fine!” The teen argues, obviously disgruntled at the thought of not being able to do anything fun.
“I don’t question your performance, I question your health. If you continue to go out and cause chaos, you will hurt your back further. And that is something I don’t want you doing.”
“Dad! I’m fine! I can do everything I could before!”
“Listen to me, it will not be safe. People will figure out and take advantage of you, and who knows what can happen to you when you aren’t 100%!”
“It’ll be fine, I promise!”
“No, listen to me,” Sam says, quite firmly, “I am your father, and when I say you will not go out for your own safety, you will not go.” He leaves no room for argument and it shuts Tommy up. A pout resting on the teen’s face.
A guard comes in and hands Sam the first aid kid, their eyes landing on Tommy’s back and they scrunch their face up in sympathy.
“I’m going to apply some bruise cream, it’ll be cold. Alright?” Tommy nods and he squeezes it on his hands. Gently, he rubs the cold substance on his son’s back with so much care, you’d think he was healing a broken baby bird. And in some way, he was.
But he didn’t want to think about that right now. Not right now. Not ever.
---
Tommy made his way out of the building that was his father’s base. Two guards followed him out, sticking to him closely for his protection. He gets to the edge of the rooftop and waves a goodbye at them, smiling brightly. The guards wave back and he jumps.
He falls
And falls
And falls
Before his metal wings catch him, and throw him back up into the air. A cheer comes from his throat as air rushes past his hair, his face, his body, his everything.
He smiles, so genuinely happy to be in the air. And he flies in the direction of his and Deo’s apartment.
---
“Sup.” Tommy greeted, walking into the apartment he shared with Deo.
“Where the fuck were you? I’ve been worried sick!” Deo shot up from his seat on the couch, running over to his friend and looking him over.
“Sorry, Deo. Dad kept me for a bit.”
“Are you okay!?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Bruised back. But get this, Dad isn’t letting me go out and have fun for two weeks!” Tommy complained, though the ache in his back was beyond grateful.
“Seriously?” Deo took Tommy’s cloak as the younger unhooked it, letting only his red shirt and fake wings remain. He turns around and hangs it up on the jacket-holder as Tommy walks towards the living room.
“Yes! Seriously! He said if he finds any reports or sightings of me outside, he’ll ground me!” Tommy falls onto the couch dramatically, retelling the tale of his father saying ‘fun bad no more exercise’.
“Ugh. That sucks, really.” Deo took the spot right next to Tommy, sitting right next to the kid’s head.
“It does!”
“You think you’ll be able to watch me still when I go out patrolling?” Deo asked, twirling a strand of golden hair in his finger.
“Maybe we can put a camera somewhere on your outfit and I can watch?”
“No, that’s dumb. We aren’t fucking Twitch streamers.”
“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry.”
“That’s right, now go get cleaned up. You’re ugly as fuck.” Deo laughed out, chuckling as Tommy took on an offended look on his face and sat up. He faced Deo and glared.
“You’re uglier, Freeze Frame. Seriously, who names themself Freeze Frame? Dumb name.”
“You’re ugliest, Undertaker. So stupid, where did you even get the name? The Halloween store?”
“Hey! A vulture species is nicknamed The Undertaker or some shit-” Tommy gets cut off as Deo falls back into the couch cushions, being a dramatic little fuck.
“Stealing from birds, low blow.”
“Oh, fuck you, Deo.”
“Love ya too, Tommy.” Deo drawls out sarcastically, and huffs out a laugh when Tommy flips him off.
He turns on the TV and the News is blaring in his face.
“Infamous Villain Pandora has gotten into a scuffle with the hero group ‘The Syndicate’. Rumors can only speculate that he is looking for The Blade, as nobody knows how much damage was caused to The Undertaker during their fight earlier today-”
“WHAT!?” Tommy yells, running back into the living room.
Shit.