The Silence of a Somber Day

Clouds on the Horizon - Philza Interlude

"We don't need that file, Siren. Let's go before we have to deal with someone," Technoblade said in an unamused tone. Technoblade wasn't angry but frustrated. I didn't blame him. I didn't want to fight anyone either. Unfortunately, we jinxed ourselves. A bullet of red light flashed across the air, aimed at Techno's head. I reached a hand to stop it, but I should have known that Technoblade would dodged with ease. My son turned to the man with bloodlust floating around him. I didn't give the hero enough credit because he didn't even flinch as his eyes met Technoblade's, blue clashing against red.

"Well, boys, this is an awkward situation. You're not supposed to be here if the 'Warning: Personnel Only' didn't fucking make that clear enough. Never the mind that, we can get this all settled. Dare I say, we can come to a truce," the hero said with an easy going smile. I scoffed. Did he know who we were? Just another stupid adult playing hero with unwarranted confidence.

I would have dealt with him, but Wilbur darted at him. Another surprise graced my eyes. The hero stepped to the side, hand grabbing Wilbur by the collar, flipping his body to the ground while pushing his knee into Wilbur's back. My son gasped in pain as a glowing red knife was pressed against his neck, a few beads of blood leaking down. Now, my son was second away from death.

Wait. I knew that hero. Sort of. This was Tempest. He didn't kill criminals. His weapons had a teleport affect. After a fatal wound, criminals would appear at a place called Spawn, free of injury but easily detained by police on standby. At least Wilbur wouldn't die. At worst, we would need to break him out of prison. Inconvenient but manageable.

"That wasn't very plus ultra of you," Tempest gave a quiet laugh. I bit my lip to keep from smiling while Technoblade didn't hide his snort and comment about Tempest being a weeb. The hero gave a displeased frown at the comment, eyes fluttering from Techno to me to Wilbur and back again. A constant cycle. He must have been more knowledgeable than I thought. He knew we were all threats. He knows he can't take us on without Wilbur as a hostage. Smart cookie, isn't he?

"I'm a hero and you're a villain. Doing simple math like the big men I know we are, we should be able to understand that I can't exactly let you walk free. With that being said, I'm not stupid enough to fight. So, we're all going to sit here peacefully, and if we can't do that, Siren visits Spawn," Tempest laid down the rules with a soft smile. I looked at Technoblade, mimicking his shrug. With Wilbur at knifepoint, what else could we do?

I plopped myself onto the ground like a child while Technoblade leaned against the wall. Tempest studied us with cautious, observing eyes beneath his mask and hood. Most heroes didn't completely cover themselves but this one did. Even more than that, he didn't look like a comic book hero. He had dark colors with metal armor without any design or style. He was covered in weapons, knives and handguns with a sniper and sword on his back. His mask covered his face completely, his eyes shining through two peepholes that illuminated his eyes. Especially with his hood, I couldn't tell anything about this guy. How old was he? Was he experienced? How well could he handle the weapons he flaunted and hid? He piqued my own curiosity. Maybe he was different from other heroes. Perhaps he would join our cause at reforming hero society to be more about justice and truth than rankings and popularity.

I was about to ask when Tempest gave a low shriek. He dropped the knife, his hands rising to his neck. I didn't know what was wrong, at first. He stumbled off Wilbur, hands pulling back from his neck. I could see the blisters forming and finally saw the smoke. Around his neck was a collar like he was some animal or beast. He finally resorted to pulling at the collar while his whimpers filled the air. I was on my feet, ready to help when Tempest shoved his hands up in surrender at the security camera in the corner. "Yield! Yield! I yield!"

His body melted in relief. I smelled burning flesh in the air. His hands looked terrible. Blots of bruises and burns were covered in white pus and red blood, smearing an ugly pink against the blacks of the destroyed skin. Tempest barely noticed his hands. He didn't notice anything, really. Tempest stood up on unsteady and shaking legs, "Looks like the boys above me don't want Siren at Spawn. Bunch of pussies. I'll be on my way, then."

The heroes did this. I don't know why. Tempest had one of the leaders of the Syndicate at knifepoint! That should have been good news to heroes. Even if it wasn't, why do they have that collar on him in the first place? Why is his skin blistered before anyone cares to turn it off? I wanted to demand answers, but Tempest grabbed the knife with Wilbur's blood on it. Without hesitation, Tempest slit his own throat.

I wanted to yell at him to stop, but he was gone before I could say anything. Back to Spawn he went. Wilbur looked conflicted, hand at his throat while his other hand was touching the spot Tempest once stood. Technoblade was angry enough that it showed on his face, a twitch of his eyebrow while his mask laid in his hands, a snarl pulling at his lips while bloodlust flooded the room. Me? I was worried for someone I barely knew. What I did know, however, is that we needed to save Tempest, and others like him.

—///

Lol
Sorry, Phil, that won't happen... or, not like you hope
Anyways! Thank you all for reading! Please enjoy! Sometimes, I'll write a scene in someone else's perspective just to set up some character building. It'll mostly stay as Tommy, but you never know (Tempest is Tommy if you couldn't tell)