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Tommy dodges quickly, unable to identify the threat yet aware it has momentarily been thrown off by his quick actions. In the dead of night with his goggles cracked and useless, he can barely see three feet in front of him let alone the dangerous figure trying to attack him.
He scrambles to his feet, rough and worn converse dragging on the asphalt as his heart pounds in his chest. Whoever his adversary is, they’re not defeated as easily as Tommy had hoped- recovering from Tommy’s dodge and turning to follow. The dark figure is briefly illuminated by the light of a nearby streetlamp, and the face of Siren turns to greet him with a snarl. It doesn’t take a lot of brainpower for Tommy to arrive at the only logical conclusion; fucking run!
The light stomping of his boots thud as he runs with everything he’s got. Tommy’s never been particularly smart at school, nor exactly obedient, but he was the fastest goddamn runner they had. He could beat any of the boys in sprints- however, a few could outpace him in distance. But Tommy didn’t need distance right now, he just needed to get out of sight and hide as quickly as possible, because if Tommy didn’t get away soon Siren would start using his charmspeak and then he’d be truly and utterly fucked.
Still running for his goddamn life, Tommy fiddles with the pouch on the left side of his belt, hurriedly pulling the ear plugs from the leather compartment- slotted there for this exact reason, on what was supposed to be an incredibly slim chance he ever ran into the Number 3 hero.
When Tommy signed up for being a villain, he was thinking something more along the lines of fame, money, power and much less being hunted down by a maniac endorsed by the government. He’d seen what Siren did to people- People he had known, people who didn’t deserve it. Tommy had first hand witnessed what unchecked power did to people, and he knew there was no Justice involved in being a superhero. Fucking hell, he’s done more for the city than those heroes ever had. Tommy, or more accurately, Red had been the one who organized food shelves and volunteered his time at the local vaccination center. Red was the one stopping petty thieves, people with bad intentions. He was considered a villain because he robbed a few banks, because he did things without the permission of a fucked up legal system.
If you asked Tommy, he reckons Red is much more of a hero than any of the shit Siren did, maiming and severely injuring anyone the law permitted him to.
Which makes running from him all the more important, and stuffing these earplugs into his fucking ears even more important.
High-tech silencing earbuds are unceremoniously shoved into his ears, leaving the world around Tommy to fall into silence. Complete and utter silence. It’s nearly suffocating, the fact he can hear nothing even as he continues to run for dear life. Before, he could hear the sound of a pursuer, was absolute in his knowledge that he was still being chased- now, he’s thrown off the deep end of sensory deprivation. He can still see, still smell, but his hearing is gone.
Tommy crashes into an alleyway on his left, hoping he made enough turns that Siren was too far back to see him heading into the back-street.
Surveying his environment leaves him with little to work with. There’s a garbage bin, some trash and nothing else. It’s a dead end, and he needs to turn back.
Cursing under his breath the entire time, Tommy continues running even as his lungs protest viciously. He’s been moving for so long, and he hasn’t been caught, a part of him wonders if Siren was even still chasing him.
Maybe Siren saw him put the earplugs in and figured it wasn’t worth his time. Maybe he just had better things to do.
Carefully, Tommy removes just one of the earplugs, listening to the night sky and the ambience of the city. Most importantly, he waits for footsteps. For the telltale signs that he’s still being followed.
There’s nothing. There’s a car honking in the distance, some dog barking, and the sound of his own labored breathing.
The earplug is still suspended just in front of his ear. Maybe Siren really did lose interest.
“ Stop.”
God fucking dammit.
Tommy’s limbs and muscles freeze, arms falling limply to his side as the earbud goes crashing into the pavement- out of reach. He’s simultaneously relaxing and tensing in a way that leaves the blond feeling suspended in air. He has no clue where Siren is, and assumes the “Hero” must be in a blind spot. He can turn his head, blink, and move his mouth- but that’s all the bodily autonomy he currently possesses.
“Come out, you fucking freak!” Tommy shouts in the middle of an empty street that’s not really empty at all. When the only response he receives is the sound of the car alarm still going off, he adds onto the insults. “Fuck you! Go back to your cushy fucking penthouse and let me go!”
Fear creeps down Tommy’s back. What if Siren leaves him here? To stand in the cold all night until morning finally breaks and another hero eventually drags him back to prison? It wouldn’t be the first sick and twisted thing Siren’s ever done. He tries to ignore the way his heart’s pounding, and purses his lips while looking back and forth wildly.
“Show yourself, you stupid bitch!” Wilbur is probably wondering where he is right now. He promised Wilbur he would be there at eight, it has to be at least eight thirty by now. The other has always been scared for him, being out in “that part of L’Manburg” like he hadn’t lived on the streets for two years. He wonders if Wilbur will forgive him for getting murdered, if he’ll despise Tommy for secretly being a villain all this time.
He doesn’t know if he could stand it if Wilbur hated him.
Blinking back slight tears, Tommy doesn’t scream anymore. He takes to a form of mumbling, pleading- “Please, just let me go.”
“You’re hard to track.” Siren calls from behind him, where Tommy can’t see. “I’ve just caught you, and you already want to be released? Where’s the fun in that?” He’s moving towards Tommy, where he’s vulnerable and he still can’t move. “Red, I think our fun is just beginning.”
“No.” Tommy says weakly, the mask protecting his identity also making it harder to breathe as he panics. “No, I don’t want to end up like…”
Tommy feels the other earplug fall to the ground. Siren’s right behind him now. “Like who?” Siren asks again, and Tommy feels the hot breath on his ear. “Like Ponk?” Ponk, one of the most powerful healers known on earth, was working for the villains in the shadows. Healing them during fights, most well known for bringing The Warden back to life when the Angel of Death had slit his throat, was found with his arm ripped off in a warehouse a few years back. He never recovered, and retired into anonymity ever since.
Selfishly, Tommy only wonders if Wilbur would still love him even if he only had one arm. Wil could never teach him guitar, then.
The villain weakly shakes his head.
“Eret, then? Ender? Vulpis?” Siren continues, listing off vigilantes or villains who have been severely injured or disabled by Siren. The hero seems unsatisfied with Tommy’s lack of an answer, moving past to finally enter his line of sight. He wears his same costume; thin, black body armor covered by a thick, billowing brown trench coat- his face obscured partially by the hood of the coat and by a phantom mask covering only half of his face. He meets Tommy’s eyes through the broken goggles.
Villains aren’t supposed to be scared. Red isn’t supposed to be scared. But Tommy is, and Siren knows, and he’s going to die here.
Childishly, foolishly, Tommy snaps his eyes shut. The enveloping darkness leaves him more vulnerable, but it helps to make him less aware of the situation.
“You know nobody I catch escapes, Red.” Siren says tauntingly. Tommy can’t help but wonder how many people he’s done this to; waving somebody’s life in front of their face while they’re powerless to do anything. “Nuke would be so disappointed if he knew you’d fall to the same fate as him.”
“Fuck you!” Tommy shouts at him. “You’re- you may kill me, or whatever you’re planning to do, but at the end of the day you’re just a murderer playing god. And you’ll have nothing except the weight of the people you’ve murdered. Sad and alone.”
Siren laughs, like Tommy just told him a stupid joke.
“The young ones are always so fun when they’re scared. What are you? Twelve?”
Red says nothing. The silence dregs on, Siren walking back behind Tommy.
“ Anyone waiting for you, Red? Anyone who will notice when you’re gone?” He asks, but it’s not like his other questions and the words fall out before he can consciously choose to say them.
“My brother.” Tommy replies, unable to correct himself. Wilbur isn’t technically his brother, but they’ve been friends for over a year now. They’ve made so many jokes between the two of them about being related that it just stuck. “I was supposed to be at his house thirty minutes ago.”
Tommy swears that Siren hesitates for a second. “ Anyone else?”
That’s the easiest question he’s asked all night. “No.” He says, and he hates how small his voice sounds. Tommy never bothered with a voice changer, always figured he’d spent his entire life being invisible and didn’t see how it would stop with a costume. Of course he regrets it bitterly now- it leaves him feeling far too vulnerable, more than he already is, immobilized and at the mercy of someone who shows none.
Siren moves silently, and with Tommy’s eyes still clenched tight, he doesn’t notice how close the other gets until a gloved hand latches on the younger’s chin and forces him to stare directly into unforgiving eyes. There’s a dark glint of something Tommy doesn’t understand, can’t comprehend because he hasn’t lost his mind yet.
Tommy’s breathing so much faster now, the bruising hold on his chin growing stronger. A million emotions run through him like a stampede; Anger, at the government for allowing someone like Siren to remain in power. Fear, because after everything- after every funeral for every vigilante and villain just like him, Tommy’s still afraid to die. The beginnings of grief, as he mourns his own lost life.
“Wilbur must be so worried about you.” Siren says finally, tone dripping with false sympathy. “Selfish brat decided to play the villain and left him all alone.” Fury seeps into every word, so misplaced for such a distant, brutal person.
The overwhelming feeling of wrongness nearly consumes Tommy. Moments before, he couldn’t gasp enough air to keep conscious, and now it’s as if the function of breathing has been ruled out entirely. Tommy can barely manage to stumble out a response.
“How do you know his name?”
And Siren grins. In seconds, the phantom mask that covered his face, that left Siren anonymous falls to the ground.
No.
Siren’s hand moves from where it held Tommy’s chin, reaching to pull down Tommy’s mask, and push up his glasses.
No.
Wilbur tilts his head to the side, staring down at Tommy.
No.
Tommy can feel the beginnings of hot, ugly tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. His lips quiver, his heart beating so fast it’s the only thing he can hear in the silence of the city at night.
“Why?” He asks quietly.
Wilbur runs a hand through Tommy’s hair, and it feels like every other time he’s done it. At home, at a movie theater, an ice rink, a bakery.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Wilbur replies. He moves closer, enveloping Tommy in a hug. It’d be nice if it.. if it was different. If this wasn’t happening. “Phil and Tech are really disappointed, Toms.” The older murmurs. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”
Despite being so grounded to the point where he cannot move, Tommy still feels like everything’s spinning. He’s sick to his stomach. It reminds him of the rollercoaster that Wilbur had the two of them go on, except this whole thing feels like it’s been one long drop into someplace he’ll never get out of.
“Are you going to kill me?” He asks weakly.
Wilbur tightens his grip, crushing Tommy slightly. “Never. You never get hurt. By me, by heros, by villains. Not yourself.” He seethes. “Baby brother wants to do what the heroes can’t, huh? You don’t get to do anything if you’re going to hurt yourself.”
Tommy closes his eyes. If he thinks really hard, he can imagine they’re just in Wilbur’s room. He pretends like this is normal, and his family is still normal, and that Phil isn’t the Angel of Death and Techno isn’t the Blood God and that Wilbur isn’t Siren.
“Then what are you going to do?”
Tommy is tucked against Wilbur’s steady, beating chest. He’s heard this sound thousands of times, he’s practically memorized it. If anyone walked by right now, they’d think it was probably just two people hugging.
“Keep you safe, whether you like it or not.” His older brother finally says.
Tommy barely registers the droplets that begin to fall on his arms. It’s begun to rain. He’s been shielded by most of it by the person above him.
Tommy is powerless. He didn’t become a villain because he had some special power he had to share with the world, he did it because Nuke- Tubbo- Was his friend and because of Wilbur he’s gone. Same with Ponk, Eret, and Ender. Everyone else who’s fallen at the cruel hands of somebody he thought was good.
Distantly, Tommy realizes the command is wearing off. But Siren commands wear off slowly, taking twenty minutes to fully recover from, and it’s only been ten. He can move his fingers, but that’s it. It’s too little, too slow, and Tommy doesn’t think Wilbur’s going to wait any longer.
“I hate you.” Tommy says finally. It reminds him of every time he’s said the exact same words, but with a smile on his face. When the two of them knew he didn’t really mean it.
“I know.” Wilbur replies. “We’ll work on it.”
Tommy tries to shake his head, tries to weakly move his fingers in a useless attempt to grab the earplugs on the now wet pavement.
“ Go to sleep.” Siren says finally, sealing Tommy’s fate.