Tommy you idiot you can't just melt though the bars oh my g-

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Tommy's head was fuzzy when he woke up. He groaned miserably from his bed, scratchy sheets doing the opposite of helping him fall asleep once more.

Wait a moment, scratchy? Tommy Big Man Innit didn't have any scratchy sheets on his bed? He was too good, too amazing, he deserved only the softest materials for all the crime he commited.

With a start he flung himself into a sitting position, his head spinning wildly at the sudden movement.

This was not his bedroom. This was not his bed. But hey, at least these were his clothes!

The room he was in was obviously some kind of private prison cell, annoyingly empty, a terribly uncomfortable metal bed tucked away in the corner. The walls were all white, and one wall was simply replaced with thick metal bars, giving him a view into a single hallway.

There were no other cells in that hall besides his.

In the corner was a privacy wall with a toilet tucked behind it. The privacy wall was just tall enough that he could use the bathroom in peace without having to worry about anyone seeing. But it was still gross.

There was also a sink/water fountain, but Tommy could care less about this fucking room right now. He was trapped in a fucking prison.

He recalled the events of... yesterday? An hour ago? How long had he been unconscious?

He remembered seeing those stupidly familiar eyes in the reflection of that stupid fucking window, his whole body going limp, then another person knocking him the fuck out.

"Gogy is a fucking bitch." Tommy muttered, standing up from his bed and checking his pockets. He could move now, which was an absolute relief.

He was still wearing what he was during the heist, which meant that his captors, which could only be the dream team, probably deemed him containable.

Sadly, he found that all of his pockets were completely emptied. No bobby pins, no small bits of trash, his entire utility belt of weapons and devices and shit was gone obviously, but they didn't even leave one his fucking candies in his pockets! He wanted a fucking jolly rancher right about now!

Tommy grumbled and made his way towards the front of his holding cell. The bars were spaced pretty close together, but... well, he was a raccoon hybrid. Surely, if he tried, he might be able to squeeze through.

At that thought, he brought his hands up to his face in a panic, and panicked even more when he realized that his mask and bandana were gone. Meaning that the heroes had seen his fucking identity now.

Tommy cursed silently, shaking his head as he angrily shoved one arm through the bars, followed closely by his second, and started to attempt to squeeze himself through.

-----

"Tubbo no!" Ranboo grabbed Tubbo just as the boy tried to launch himself in the air, his face panicked, "you can't go back in there! We'll get caught!"

As if on cue, even more heroes rushed by, running worriedly towards their headquarters just as they were supposed to. Ranboo pulled Tubbo into his chest, backing them both into the darkness of the alleyway.

But neither Tubbo nor Ranboo could enjoy their victory. Tommy was fucking gone without a trace, and they had no idea if he was still in the building or not.

"Tommy is going to be fine!" Ranboo whispered, still holding them both against the wall as more heroes passed, "he's a slippery guy, I don't think anyone can actually contain him."

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