TW: fighting, infections, injuries, PTSD, needles, panic attack
Please let me know if I missed any
"Icarus, just give up, we have your partner." Sparrow reasoned as they stood on the rooftop.
"All the more reason for me not to surrender, what kind of vigilante would I be if I were to give up that easily." Tommy spat.
"One who cared about their teammate."
"You know nothing about how teammates work. I'm not going to trap myself because Astin is trapped, that would be dooming us both!"
"Then what? Just give up the way Runa gave up on Phantom?" Sparrow yelled.
Tommy curled his hands in on themselves, the wind billowing around the two avians.
Twins birds with opposite views, controlled, and free.
"You have no right to speak of her like that." Tommy said quietly. Not after everything she has done.
"Runa gave up on her teammate, shrinking back into the shadows like a coward." Sparrow spat.
"There's a big difference between being a coward, and going into a fight you can't win. Then what? We leave the civilians without protection?" Kit walked into the library, deep mahogany framing the entrance.
"Being a leader isn't about being smart, or strong. It isn't invincibility, and Caz and I took that role knowing that it's about making difficult decisions for the good of the majority." Kit said, her fingers trailing across the black shelves of the library. "And living with the consequences."
"But what about the minority? What about friends? What about brothers?" Tommy asked, hands resting on a large table in the circular room.
"Sacrafices have to be made." Kit said, looking down at the floor.
"Caz knows it, Phantom knows it." Her fingers linger on a certain book, "at least I hope so." She whispered, so quiet it might've been the wind.
"You don't have to call yourself out on the lack of impulse control you have." Tommy said, mock pity dripping into his voice like a saccharine sweetener.
"What?"
Tommy's smile curled upwards. "You let your heart make all the decisions, and you head makes none."
With the skill of reading people, comes the ability to pick them apart.
"What do you mean?" Sparrow asked.
"Well, you say the first thing I should do is be captured to be with my teammate. But what will happen to the people I protect? Have you ever thought of that?"
The hero sputtered.
"Oh, right, you think I'm too dumb to think outside of my team." My brothers. It echoed in the silence, and the wind whipping around them.
My brothers, my best friends, my teammates. Have to stay calm and not jump. Everything must be calculated. Everything is calculated.
"I don't understand vigilantes."
"I don't understand heros, but I do understand fights."
It was the first time Tommy had started a fight, but it wouldn't be the last. There was no more trading blows, no more fighting hit for hit.
Heros were awful, horrible people, and they couldn't see shit. Tommy vows to get them all glasses at some point to fix it.
Tommy slammed down blow after blow on Sparrow, never actually hurting him badly.
Never as badly as they hurt Ranboo.
He may have hit him harder than necessary for that though.
But then Sparrow took his broadsword, and pierced it through Tommy's shoulder. He bit back a cry, and put more force into his hits. His battle axe gleaming in the moonlight.
Sparrow combated well, but some of his movements were still sluggish. They each drew blood, they each hit hard. It was a battle that has lasted for centuries, the fight between freedom and control.
In the end, Tommy caught the hero's sword and twisted it out of his grasp. Before flinging it to a lower rooftop.
By the time Sparrow had retrieved it, Tommy was gone, slipping back into his normal patrol.
Logically, Tommy should've gone home, but there was one more place he had to go before that.
He crouched on a roof, watching the boring tea shop. Just as he has every night for a week and a half.
And tonight was the night. The little boy, and, who Tommy assumes is his friend, smash the window of the coffee shop.
He glides down, wincing at the way it pulls at his shoulder. Of all the fucking nights.
He lands, and the friend immediately threw a knife at him.
"Watch it, where's the hospitality?" He grinned.
"Stay out of it, Vigilante." The friend, who was probably older, snarled.
"Ouch, I have a name you know, it's Icarus."
"Alright, Icarus, stay out of this."
"Yeah, I'm not sure when it became accepted to be bossed around by someone younger than you, but I'm already breaking the law, so what's another thing under my belt."
Another throwing knife was launched at the blond, barely missing Tommy's wing.
The original boy held up three fingers.
Three more.
"Now what's your names? I don't really want to keep calling you child 1 and child 2."
"Like we'll tell you." Original boy snarked, playing the part.
"If you say so child 1."
Another knife was thrown at him.
"Listen, how about we stop fighting, and talk." Tommy asked.
"We are talking."
"Alright, how about you stop throwing knives at me?"
"How 'bout you stop pestering us?"
"Once you let me get you out, there's a lot of glass fragments."
"There are about to be more." This time, the friend launched a knife st the glass.
"Lotta collateral damage." Tommy whistled.
Original boy was probably getting impatient, because he switched off his camera, and crept up behind friend, gagging him.
Tommy quickly came forward, grabbed the rest of the knifes, and patted both of them down. Discarding several hidden weapons on the floor from each child.
"Come on." Tommy said, picking up all the weapons, and putting zipties onto each boy's wrists. "It's for legitimacy, and so it looks like I took you prisoner." He said to the first boy's confused look.
"Tubs, I'm bringing home guests, prepare their beds."
Tubbo knew what to do, and hopefully in a month or two, these Two will be training, and maybe even working. Tommy doesn't know who they will go to.
It was quite the sight though, a sixteen year old with a bag of weapons, parading two ziptied children around the streets at 2 am.
They reached the apartment building, and began the precarious climb up the stairs. Most of them were broken, cracked, or breaking.
Kit and Caz were sitting on the couch, Kit had a top with a cropped sweater, and Caz had a tube top with a jacket.
Tommy gave the weapons to Tubbo, and the girls cut the zipties off.
"See you guys later." Kit said, both of them taking the boys, and stepping through the portal. It closed a moment later, and Tubbo started cleaning up Tommy's cuts from the night.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Its been about five days since the fight with Sparrow, and it was all over the news. Someone had somehow gotten a picture of it, and the people of Logstedshire labeled it the fight for freedom.
For Tommy, most things have been normal, besides scheduling interviews with the heros.
For Icarus things have been. . . Less than normal. More attacks, more fights, more everything. And his shoulder still hasn't healed.
Tommy wasn't too worried, he was always in action, since Ranboo is still being held captive, but his shoulder shouldn't hurt as much as it does.
He tapped the med patch over his shoulder with a shutter, it looked terrible, the skin mottled gray and purple, like an alien.
Like an infection.
He shuttered again, pulling on his work clothes and heading out before he missed the train. He hasn't told Tubbo, hoping it would blow over. It hasn't yet.
And his luck got worse.
Yeah, some guys decided to break in and hold him, Tommy fucking innit, as a hostage so the SBI would do something.
And the worst part is? They did it on his fucking lunch break.
"Boys, if you must kidnap me, please have the dignity to let me finish my lunch."
One of them scoffed, "This one's pompous ain't he?"
"I am not fucking pompous!" He roared "I just want to consume my sustenance in fucking peace."
The other laughed, pressing the barrel of his gun closer to his head. "You are so pompous, calling food sustenance."
The elevator chimed and the doors opened. The three heros tensed as they took in the scene.
"Tommy!" Jubilee exclaimed, immediately being interrupted by the first person.
"Not a word, you will hand over the files, or this boy will die."
Tommy scoffed, "I'm eighteen thank you very much. Also, I really thought you were gonna be shit with the whole hostage situation, but you've got the lines right." The second person tried to interrupt him, but he kept on going. "But you forgot to say what you want in exchange for me, and you didn't realize that I'm not worth shit, and the heros could care less whether I live or die."
The three gave him a sad look, but it was partially true, they hated half of him.
"That one seems to like you an awful lot." One said, pointing towards Jubilee.
Tommy scoffed again, shooting Jubilee a look, "I mean, Heros are always pretending things are true, they won't actually give you anything for me, I'm nothing to them."
"We might as well kill him for being annoying." The one holding him muttered, hand tightening around his shoulder and making him wince.
Atlas tracked each movement with frantic eyes, searching for a way to get the blond without killing him.
"Now that won't do anything good for you either." Tommy said coyly, "I'm the only thing stopping them from taking you two in." He said through grit teeth, trying not to wince again.
His head was fuzzy, probably from lack of sleep, but he could focus on this. Just keep focused, pick them apart.
"Give us your key card for the boy."
"You're part of a gang aren't ya?" He said interrupted, and judging from their expressions, he was right.
"Let's see, are you part of a small gang like Cozzbi?" There was no reaction, maybe a bit of confusion.
"No? Perhaps a larger gang like Katteme? Synthe? Esyllumm?" Still no reaction, and Tommy's brows shot up. "Oh, you're from one of the Rivals."
The Rivals were the three biggest gangs, that weren't even considered gangs anymore. The Underground, Hariasa, and Ravana.
One of them stiffened, and he knew he hit his mark. "Are you from Hariasa? Ravana?"
"Ravana, interesting. So what are you here for. Files?" He mused, watching their reactions closely. "No? Information possibly? Scouting? Why would you be asking for the key card." He winced again. He doesn't know why he was ranting, but his head throbbed.
"Access." He shot a pointed look at the heros. "To the computers? To the cells?" He bit down a shutter when one of them inhaled sharply.
"Who are the prisoners there? Possibly a member of Ravana? But they wouldn't be held under the SBI." Tommy edged closer to asking the final fatal question.
Know them to their core, can manipulate their options.
The barrel was pressed closer to his head. "Maybe as a hostage for someone else." He leered.
The smallest hand twitch could be seen, and Tommy knew he hit the mark.
His shoulder hurt like a bitch, and he didn't have enough time, so he brought his foot up, and swiftly kicked back, hitting the person's knee. Derailing the gun as a shot was fired. It hit the ceiling, and the heros jumped in.
Tommy wrestled the gun out of the guy's hand, and held the other in a chokehold pressing the gun to his temple. "Stop fighting!" His head was really fuzzy, and his shoulder throbbed. He pressed the gun further, "or I'll shoot."
The four others stilled. "You will go with them, or I'll shoot your partner in the head."
Ravana works in pairs, who can range from best friends to life partners, it's their biggest weakness.
"Never!" They exclaimed, and Tommy cocked the revolver in his hands.
They stood there for a minute, before the other person raised their hands, and Atlas restrained them. Tommy shoved the other towards Sparrow, and cursed under his breath.
Pushing him made Tommy really dizzy, and he swayed on his feet. His head throbbed, and his shoulder hurt. The pressure that was put on it did nothing to help.
"Tommy!" Wilbur shouted from somewhere, and now Tommy was on the ground. How did he get on the ground. Sparrow and Atlas were kneeling down too. What happened to the Ravava people?
"Tommy, shit! Tommy, can you hear me? Are you alright?"
"Yeah, just- just dizzy." Tommy mumbled, his head trying to put together words.
"Let's take him to the medical wing." Sparrow said. "Can you walk?"
"Yeah," Tommy said, pushing himself off the ground, much to his shoulder's protest. He shuttered, and got himself up, only to be hit with another wave of vertigo. He poked his med patch and nearly yelped from the pain theat shot up it.
A hand took his, and began dragging him somewhere.
He whimpered, "Stop, it hurts." His head was swimming, and every step he took jarred his shoulder.
Now he was sideways, and he couldn't figure out why. "Stop squirming, we're taking you to the medical wing."
"I don't wanna go." He slurred, everything was blurry and he couldn't take it in.
The doors opened and the smell of rubbing alcohol and lemon disinfectant made Tommy wrinkle his nose.
Soon enough, he was set onto something cold, he blissfully wished it was Ranboo, and he could give him a hug.
"What hurts?" That was Jubilee, right? Or maybe Sparrow. Tommy doesn't know anymore.
"Shoulder," he mumbled, pressing his face against the surface.
Someone began sliding the top part of his shirt off his good shoulder.
"Not that one dipshit." He says petulantly.
The hands move to the other side and begin sliding that shoulder off, Tommy bites down a cry, cause that's uncomfortable.
"Is it okay if we take off your shirt?" Someone asked.
If Tommy were thinking straight, he'd say no, but he's not, so he nodded numbly.
"Tommy, my name is Ponk, and I'm going to check out your shoulder."
The person, Ponk, slipped off his shirt, and let out an audible gasp.
"What?" Tommy snapped half heartedly.
"It's just-"
"Ohh, yeah, scars, shoulda warned ya." Tommy slurred in his half numb state.
"If you were to rate your pain from a scale of one to ten, with one being doesn't hurt, and ten being the worst pain in your life, how would you rate it." Ponk said, taking in all of his scars.
Tommy thought for a moment, if he were to put all the times he's been in pain on a scale, this is probably like, a seven.
"Mmmm, 7." Ponk nodded, carefully peeling back the med patch, before his eyes widened.
"Is that a stab wound?" He asked alarmed.
"Yep, it's gonna leave a nasty scar too." Tommy grinned, a little insane looking. His mind knew how to block out pain, and he was slowly slipping into the state of numb bliss. Fucking finally.
"Calm down, stab wounds aren't that bad of you know how to treat them."
The doctor sputtered, "Not that bad? Holy shit that's an infection."
"Well, they're not that bad when you clean them well."
"Do you want to be awake? It will be extraordinarily painful." Ponk asked nervously.
Gonna sneak off, tell people about your scars, especially the shoulder blade ones. There goes any secrecy you ever will have.
"Please, it won't be the worst pain I've ever felt."
Nothing compared to the searing pain after tests. Nothing compared to the weight in his chest, calculated moves, secrets behind closed doors.
"I'll make sure Juvi or Atlas watch over you." Ponk said, rummaging through a drawer.
"No!" Tommy shouted. No no no no no no no no no! They can't know, the looks he gets already are bad enough.
He can't run from judgement. It follows everywhere. He can't run from them, one day he'll fly too close to the sun.
Can't win it all.
Have to lose at some point.
"Okay, okay, okay, okay, just calm down and breath." Ponk placed a hand on his good shoulder, "Do you want someone in the room with you? Or no?"
Tommy didn't really know anymore. His brain was too fuzzy.
"No, but did you know Atlas has a fox?" He asked wildly.
"Really?" Ponk asked, as if talking to a kid.
"Yeah, it just followed 'im home, and when he tried to take it back to District 11, it came back. Kinda like a boomerang."
Tommy giggled deliriously, thinking of the idea of Atlas hurling the black fox like a boomerang.
"Ready?" The doctor asked.
"Yep" Tommy says, popping the 'p', and too strung out to care about jusgement.
A towel is held in his mouth as the sutures are cut open. He whines softly, but the pain is bearable. Hurts like fuck, but bearable. Ponk digs out every little bit of grime from the wound, and it feels like hundreds of glass shards being yanked from his shoulder.
"This was pretty well done." Ponk mused as he cleaned out the wound. Alternating between tweezers, and gauze.
"Disinfecting now." That was the only warning Tommy was given before actual hellfire was poured over his shoulder.
Yeah, if cleaning hurt like fuck, disinfecting hurt like fucking hell.
Tommy may have blacked out for a bit, but now Ponk was done, and he was given a different shirt.
"Rest a bit, you look like you haven't slept in days." Ponk said calmly.
"Y-you won't tell them, right?"
"I won't, now sleep, you'll feel much better afterwards."
And ponk walked out, leaving Tommy to his heavy thoughts. The fuzziness in his head had cleared, and he was so tired.
In the blink of an eye, Tommy was asleep.
_________________________
Do you guys want me to continue this duology?
Or should I start a new book.
I don't really care, it just seems like you guys aren't particularly interested in the book anymore.
Red for start a new book.❤️
Green for keep going.💚
As always, have an amazing day/night friends! 💙💙💙