Tommy's Ultra-Important Keychain

Chapter 36: Reunion and Rehabilitation

"Where are we going," Tommy whined into the silent car. His two supervillain mentors exchanged a look through the rear-view mirror, and he knew he was in for some dumb shit. They had been plotting and planning all week for this day. Whispers could be heard late into the night, and breakfasts were pushed aside in favor of scribbling notes on napkins.

It was beyond annoying for every member of their household – which didn't consist of just four supervillains anymore. Kristin was an active participant in every aspect of their lives, including their schemes. She was sick of her meals being disrupted, and pushed for Wilbur and Techno to, "Please just get it over with already."

Tommy really liked living with Kristin.

She had moved into Phil's room a week prior, bringing with her a sleeping bag and a couple of suitcases. However, the second she realized they were the filthy kind of rich, she stepped up her game. She brought an entire tent, pitched it next to Phil's bed, and forced him to fork over every comfortable blanket in the penthouse. She had dubbed it her "crows nest," and only people that had experienced the shame of their card being declined were allowed in.

Wilbur was especially glad about her presence, because it meant he no longer had to act as a human translator. Kristin was fluent in four languages, one of them being Spanish, and she loved the drama of Phil's favorite telenovela. Late at night, they could be found painting each other's nails and braiding hair.

They were such a perfect pair that Techno was already putting money on who would propose first.

The hero agency had made zero attempts at contacting Kristin in her time away. Phil said it was likely the fault of the mysterious jackass that was stalking her – he knew that the agency's receptionist was under the protection of the Corporation. If the news decided to brand her as a traitor one day, none of them would be surprised.

Tommy's second sign that he was in for a bad time was the distinct lack of Phil in the car with them. The older man had taken to working from home recently, tied down quite literally by the stubs he called wings and his need to keep Kristin occupied while she was still a target. Tommy was a bit worried for his health because of this. Techno and Wilbur tended to be a bit reckless in their father's absence.

He missed Tubbo. His best friend would never do this to him. The vigilante was out of school for a few days, nursing himself back to health. According to their phone calls and text exchanges, he'd fractured two ribs and had a small break in his wrist. Tommy wanted to beat the shit out of that fucking mind controller the next time he showed up. No one hurt Tubbo and got away with it.

The apprentice pressed his face against the expensive car's windows, eyes surveying his surroundings to the best of his ability. To his surprise, he actually recognized their route. He sat up straighter. "Wait, why are we going to the warehouse?"

"For the same reason we always go to the warehouse: training," Wilbur hummed. It was laced with hidden smugness. Grimey bastard probably thought he was being so suave and mysterious by keeping shit vague. Tommy wanted to shove a foot through his teeth.

He wished he'd known they were going to train. His costume wasn't with him, and he usually preferred practicing like that — although he had yet to visit Eret and get it repaired after the mind controller fucked with it. The tears and chinks in his armor plating wasn't good for future fights.