"Alright people! Gather around!" Sapnap screams, standing with the cliff behind him, a few feet from the edge. He looks unstable, and Tommy is mildly worried for him.
But if he falls off of the cliff, that's his fault.
He doesn't fall off, but when he moves over to let Dream speak, he trips on a rock. Patches, with her head out of his backpack, growls slightly. Sapnap coos at her, George appearing next to him to give her a small pet on the head.
Dream, in his now normal neon pink smile mask, stands in front of everyone, somehow looking both annoyed and very amused. His uniform is torn, just like everyone else's, and there is blood on his mask, but he looks kind. He's the same guy who sings love songs to George, the same guy who adopted a stray cat that is now held in a backpack because the cat looked sad.
"Okay! The plan is pretty simple! We go down the cliff, and then fight! Now, some of you—Tommy—have already been down the cliff, but that doesn't mean it's not still dangerous. The goal is to go quickly-" Dream shouts.
"We speed running this bitch, Grape boi!"
"Shut the fuck up."
"No."
"-but still stay alive! As of now, we only have three medics, and this battle will be considerably harder to fight! They have better equipment and weapons than we do! We are, to them, inferior. Show them that this is not the case!"
Everyone cheers, voices hoarse from screams earlier in the week. They are all bloody, with torn uniforms and dirty guns, but everyone seems genuinely excited.
They're motivated.
"Wait, there are three medics?" Sykkuno yells, sounding both extremely excited and confused. In the night that they (forcefully) spent together in the little pit, Tommy has come to the conclusion that he is basically a puppy. He's excited quickly, likes to follow Corpse, and is just genuinely happy.
"Yes!" Dream yells, then turns his head to Tommy and Puffy, in turn. Puffy walks up, giving Dream a gentle hug, to which his body language makes it look like he's annoyed. Tommy refuses to move, standing next to Purpled silently.
"Tommy, go."
"No."
"I'll hit you."
"No you won't."
Purpled moves so that it looks like he's going to give Tommy a hug, which Tommy gets extremely excited about.
He then proceeds to knee him.
"Ow! What the fuck?!"
"Get up there. Now."
"Fine!"
With many eyes on him, considering the whole shouting spree with Purpled, he drags his legs up to Dream.
"In case anyone needs new introductions to our medics, here they are! This is Puffy, with the white hair. In the red mask, we have Tommy, or favorite feral raccoon. And finally we have Sykkuno, with the...with the cat ears? Wait, why do you have cat ears?"
"It's a-a," Sykkuno stutters.
"It's a bet," Corpse yells, and Dream, though confused, ignores the cat ears.
"Okay, go eat and get ready, then we'll move out!"
Everyone cheers even louder than before, like the crappy MREs they get actually taste good. Some of them do, especially some of the desserts. Specifically the marble pound cake, which is Tommy's personal favorite. The only problem is the fact that he has to fight with Purpled to actually get it, which has resulted in more than one scolding from a giggling Sapnap.
A couple people come up to them with matching grins, excitedly chattering. One of them wears a baseball hat, dirty blond hair cut short. He looks excited, though not nearly as excited as his friends.
His shirt has some sort of blue creature that Tommy really doesn't understand the point of.
"Tommy!" He yells, putting his hand around Tommy's shoulder. Tommy, surprised, growls and bites his arm, causing the man to jump back.
"What's wrong with him?!" He yells, shaking his arm.
"Nothings wrong with him," Purpled replies, smiling.
"He literally just bit me!"
"Look, he only bites people when he's scared. You scared him."
"No wonder he doesn't have friends."
"We checked him for rabies, he's fine. But seriously, he only bites people when he's scared. He's very nice on the inside."
"Sure he is."
Tommy smiles happily, though the mask covers it. Purpled, of course, can easily tell.
"He's nice, I promise. He's kinda like a sad puppy."
The glare Purpled gets is as strong as one would get from a sad puppy.
"Okay, sure," the guy says, still rubbing his arm.
"So, who are you?" Tommy asks happily.
"Jimmy. Uh...Mr. Beast."
"Oh, you make those chocolates!"
"Yeah. Why do you have a mask?"
"That's kind of insensitive, Jim." Purpled says, glaring.
"Bit one too many people, I guess. That's what the authorities said at least," Tommy chirps, stumbling a bit over the word authorities.
"What?"
"What?"
Mr. Beast looks perpetually confused, but doesn't question it all that much.
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad you're alive, and what you did was brave, so you can have some feastables," Mr. Beast says, seemingly shrugging off the confusion.
"Really?" Tommy asks, grinning when Mr. Beast nods.
Mr. Beast, naturally, walks away, leaving Tommy in awe.
"Purpled, it's feastables!"
"Dude, I heard that."
"But feastables?!"
"Yeah, Tom, I know.
"Feastables," Tommy whispers again, completely in awe. "Fucking feastables."
Purpled just sighs.
Sometimes Tommy is just so Tommy that it's hard to believe someone isn't acting as him. But that's just Tommy.
"Tommy! And Purpled! How are you boys doing?" Sam yells, green hair covered in grime. He sits next to them, opening his MRE as the boys do the same.
Purpled and Tommy swap after Purpled's turns out to be chicken noodle soup, which he hates with such venom it's a wonder he hasn't killed the people (monsters, he calls them) who created it.
Purpled, excitedly, responds, "Well, I'm doing pretty good. Tommy fell off a cliff, but that isn't really my problem. Your weapons ideas are incredibly helpful, too!"
"That's good! Not that Tommy fell off a cliff, of course, but it's good to hear you're doing good," Sam says, ignoring the way that Tommy kicks at Purpled in annoyance.
"Yeah, it's good. Are you ready to move out later?"
"To be honest, not really, but I think we'll be fine. I just wanted both of you to know that if you ever need anything, even just a look out for the night, I'll be here for you. You boys are very important to me, even if we haven't talked much."
"Aww, thank you Sam!" Tommy says, holding out a fist for a fist bump, which Sam reluctantly does. Purpled just mumbled incoherently and hides his face. "Don't mind him, he gets shy when happy."
"Oh that's alright! Do you mind if I eat with you guys?"
"Go right ahead!"
They eat their 'food' (Tommy and Purpled had theorized that it's the bones of Essempi's war criminals) together, grimacing in sync.
Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, it's better than what they ate at Pigtopia. Usually, they would be forced to eat a mixture of rice and beans, with the occasional fruit or vegetable on the side. The caretakers, which they called 'wardens', got to eat steak and nice vegetables.
As a joke, but really not, they called their once daily meal of rice and beans flavor, as that was quite literally the only way to add flavor to it.
The MREs are just barely better than that. And that was only three out of the thirty something meals.
Another lovely day of crappy food and battle plans.
Yay.
-/-/-/-/-/-
"Phiiiiiiiiil!" A short boy with brown hair tucked under a green bandana yells, running into a door on his way to greet the older man.
"Yeah, Tubbo?" Phil replies, fixing his somewhat obnoxious bucket hat.
"I think I found what you're looking for, about that kid I mean."
"Oh! That's good!"
"Ok so-"
"Wait, I'm going to grab Wil and Tech real quick," Phil says, interrupting Tubbo and running off into the house. Tubbo rolls his eyes, flipping down onto the couch with the drama only a teenager (and Wilbur) can possess.
He hears Wilbur before he sees him, mainly because he crashes down the stairs. Techno comes down considerably more graceful than Wilbur, though his pink hair is ruffled from sleep. Behind Phil, a tall boy with split dyed hair trails, immediately peeking up when he sees Tubbo.
"Hi Ranboo!!" Tubbo yells, Ranboo greeting him with a slight hug.
"So....tell us about the child," Wilbur chirps, taking a seat on the floor.
"Theseus." Techno huffs, a correction that Wilbur already seems annoyed by.
"Okay, I'm pretty sure that I got the right guy. His name is Tommy Innit, he's sixteen years old. He's trained with elite Essempi forces, finishing at the top of his class along with Purpled. Both of them were left at an orphanage at a young age, Purpled at age ten by his brother, whose name is unknown, and Tommy at age seven by authorities after being found crying by his dead parents and sister." Tubbo pauses for a minute as Phil's face turns angry.
He's got the face of a frustrated parent, and that never ends well for someone who doesn't want to be adopted.
"I despise orphans."
"Shut up, Techno," Wilbur says offhandedly.
"There is a note in his file that says he refuses to kill, though he is incredibly good at all types of combat, which is why he is a special forces medic in specific. Purpled, who doesn't have a documented last name, excels at all combat, and is unbeatable by anyone in their military."
"I could kill him," Techno mutters, though Tubbo hears him.
"I would say not to. It was recorded that, and I quote, 'Innit and Purpled would break any and all laws, morals, and ethics to see each other if only split up. If one of them is to die, the other would likely fight and kill the enemy until either he is the last one standing or is dead.' They seem pretty confident that if either one of them were to die, especially if they lost their last life, there would no longer be a war to fight."
"You really think they could cause that much damage?" Wilbur asks, staring at Tubbo.
"If I died again, do you think anyone would survive against Tubbo?" Ranboo asks, and that is answer enough for everyone.
(The last time Ranboo died, half of a country was destroyed before they could stop Tubbo, and he was so coated in oil and soot from bombs that he was hardly recognizable.
Purpled and Tommy, they can bet, will be a hundred times worse.)
-/-/-/-/-/-
Apparently, it's time to jump off the cliff. Well, that was said by the generals in considerably more words, but that's what Sapnap had decided to say. The plan is to send three waves, each with about fifty people.
The first wave is the best short distance fighters. Both Tommy and Purpled are included in that, as is Sam, which both of them inwardly (outwardly, and incredibly loudly) cheer about. Their job is to secure a safe way down (Purpled has to remind Tommy that jumping off will only cause death) and then fight off the syndicate while protecting the second wave. While they climb down, the snipers from the second and third wave will be watching over them, though they still have to protect themselves.
The second wave consists mainly of the mediocre soldiers. They're the ones who can't fight well, can't climb well, and need the most protection.
The third wave is the long range fighters, though many of them are told to stay on the top of the cliff in order to best help. More troops will eventually come in and likely make a small base on the cliff, where they will be relatively safe.
"Honestly, it's not that bad of a plan," Purpled remarks as he straps his backpack on tightly. One of his all purple guns (now all seven of them have some form of purple, though his purple accented pistols are definitely the favorites) is strapped to his chest, and he wears fingerless gloves.
"We're literally jumping off a cliff, Purps," Tommy says, strapping his own bag on. His mask has been fixed, a bunch of jagged red stitches down the middle, and he now keeps multiple weapons on him at all times. His blond hair is tucked under a hat, and his jacket is buttoned all the way up to account for the missing buttons.
"Red, you literally got thrown off."
"Shut the fuck up!"
"By a pig cosplayer!"
Tommy growls, though it's mostly playful. Sam looks at them, clearly amused, and says "Tommy, Purpled, be nice."
"Only if you give us candy," Tommy chirps, Purpled nodding in agreement.
Surprisingly, Sam pulls suckers out of his pocket, giving each of them two. Tommy tucks them into his bag, as does Purpled, both clearly happy for the gift.
"You know, Tommy, it's not as bad of a plan as the one when we went into town to try and sell clothes," Purpled remarks, one of his suckers in his mouth.
"I think it is," Tommy replies, chewing on his sucker like an absolutely psychotic raccoon.
"No, I think that one was worse. What did you call it, 'Clothes POG'? But with clothes spelled wrong because you couldn't spell it?"
"Shut up."
"Clothes POG boy."
"Not Pog of you to say that, grape boi."
"Says the guy who uses the word pog."
"It's a perfectly reasonable word to use!"
"It literally isn't!"
"Yes it is!"
"That's enough, boys," Sam says, and they both look at him with twin pouts.
Sam just laughs at them, like a jerk.
The three of them head to the edge, planning to climb down together in the hopes of surviving. Sam, looking mildly embarrassed, lunges towards them, giving first Tommy and then Purpled tight hugs.
Tommy, at first, freezes up, confused and surprised by the sudden surge of affection from a man he's barely known for two weeks. But then it sets in that he's getting a hug, that he's safe and someone cares, and he'll be okay. He melts into it, nuzzling his head into Sam's neck, which is definitely uncomfortable for both of them. But it's okay, because it's Sam and Tommy, and neither of them care.
For Purpled, it's a little different. He's frozen solid, scared and happy and excited and so heart shatteringly confused that he can't breathe. But Sam breathes, and suddenly he can, and he's okay. He's not scared, should've never been scared because this is Sam. Sam, who spent hours teaching him about guns, listening to his quiet, excited rambles. Who sat in a dug out with him, reminding him that he was okay and that he's better now, that he's out. It's Sam, who has destroyed every single preconceived thought of adults. He's taught him safety, and comfort, and that he has more than just Tommy. It's Sam, who is family. (And he's not supposed to have a family besides Tommy.)
So he melts into the hug, like gold waiting to be molded into something more beautiful, a glittering and precious trophy of all the things he could ever deserve.
"You better stay safe, okay?" Sam mumbles, pulling away from the hug and staring at them. They nod in unison, and begin the climb down.
-/-/-/-/-
Sometimes, the little house Techno has is incredibly peaceful. Currently, he's laying on his soft couch, right in front of the fire, a book in his hands. When he looks around, he feels a certain sense of pride upon the sight of his frankly obscure amount of books. Bookshelves quite literally line the walls, a few spots empty.
The photos on the wall are also a nice thing, though he hates admitting it. When questioned, he says it was a forced decision, but the only person who actually forced him was himself. Pictures of Wilbur in his band, of Phil and Kristen on vacation, and of all four of them together smile back at him, and it brings him a sense of peace.
The knowledge that his family is okay always soothes him.
Naturally, that peace demands to be broken.
"Techno!" Wilbur shouts, running up to him.
"Yes, Wilbur?"
"Are you absolutely sure we shouldn't kill Tommy? Because he, and a bunch of other people, are climbing down the cliff right now. So I figured now would be a good time to just...do some bullets, you know?"
"Do some...? Wait, they're climbing down?"
"Yeah!"
"Wilbur, why don't we try and kidnap him at the bottom of the cliff?"
"I don't know. We should do that. I'll get Phil!"
He runs off to get Phil, leaving Techno to mourn all the time he's lost. The book on his bedside (The Art of War) is sad, lonely now that he's no longer able to read it.
Sighing dramatically, he gets on his fighting outfit, throwing his cape over it for good measure. By the time he's at the door, Wilbur and Phil are waiting, already dressed.
The three of them make a weird group. One tall, buff guy has bright pink hair, a uniform from the days of kings, and multiple swords. A second tall man, though a pole, wears a trench coat and a beanie at all times, for no apparent reason. And the third man wears a black cape that almost looks like wings, along with a bright striped bucket hat.
They look like psychopaths.
They aren't.
(They haven't been tested yet, but whatever.)
-/-/-/-/-/-
The sky is considerably lighter than it was the other time Tommy ventured down the cliff. In all fairness, though, this time it's on purpose. It's kind of pretty, when he leans back and looks, but it's the kind of pretty that makes him want to look away.
Yes, the river shimmers in the sunlight (but there are streaks of red). Yes, he can see the ocean in the distance (ships line the horizon). And yes, Purpled is with him (preparing for a battle they might not win), sticking his tongue out as they climb down in relative peace.
The shooting doesn't start until they're halfway down, trying to ignore the rope burn through their gloves. Before it, all the noise is just idle chatter and quiet gasps, but then there's an explosion of noise.
Bodies drop, laying suspended midair. Some of them disappear immediately, which Tommy is thankful for, but some of them stay. He can't tell if they're still breathing, or if they are well and truly dead.
Blood drips over them, like some sort of cursed rain, and it's hard for Tommy to breathe.
But he has to, so he does.
"Fuck! Purpled, we gotta get down!" Tommy screams as chunks of rock chip off all around them.
"Yeah, Tom, I know! One of us needs to climb up a bit and release the carabiner!"
"The one that makes us go slow?!" Sam yells, panic evident in his voice.
"Yeah!" Purpled replies.
"I'll do it, I'm the best at climbing!" Tommy yells, climbing up immediately to where the purple carabiners are clipped. They make the climb down slow, and taking them off will only cause them to drop quickly, though still relatively safe. As long as they can direct where they want to land.
When he gets there, his helmet rings, a dent hitting his head.
He shakes it off.
"Alright boys, don't shit yourselves!" He yells, unclipping their carabiners after a short struggle. Then he unclips his own, relishing in the free fall. He's moving too fast for the bullets to hit him, but slow enough that he'll survive the landing.
It's kind of fun.
(For a moment, he wishes there wasn't a line stopping him from hitting the ground hard.)
He lands, a few seconds after Sam and Purpled, and hides a whimper as he gets up. His leg is killing him, but he's fine, especially when Purpled gives him a tight hug, nearly strangling him.
"I'm fine, Purpled. We need to find cover," He whispers, looking at Sam. Sam nods, moving towards a small trench with surprising stability.
The gun shots grate on his ears, the random bits of fire from explosions annoying him, but he can't stop them. Purpled's shots next to him make it hard to hear, but he pushes himself, trying to listen for the screams and yells for a medic. The second he hears one, he pops up, yelling for cover, and sprints over.
It's a man in a Syndicate uniform, a wound making his pants red. He's bald, with blue and red goggles that Tommy decides he needs, for no reason other than the fact that they look stupid.
The guy does not seem too happy to see him, and immediately starts swearing.
"You fucking bitch, leave me alone! I'd rather die than be taken as a prisoner!"
"Dude, I'm not gonna take you. I don't wanna move your ugly ass anywhere, I'm just gonna help you out."
The guy keeps yelling, and his voice is probably one of the most annoying things Tommy has ever heard, and he's heard a lot of crazy things. So, as an obvious act of retaliation, he takes the guy's glasses and puts them on, winking obnoxiously.
"How do I look now, bitch?"
"Get the fuck away from me, you fucking child!"
"You know what, baldy? I'll fix you up, and then you'll have to tell everyone that you got saved by this damn child!"
The guy screams as Tommy pours antiseptic over his wound, bandaging it quickly. While the guy is screaming his head off, Tommy carefully rifles through his pockets, grabbing money, the guys wallet, and some of his ammunition.
When he's done, he pats the guy's leg (right next to his wound) and stands up.
"Bye, you fucker!" He yells, running off to help other people. A few of them are his own, but most are Syndicate soldiers, indicating that they're winning.
His legs are sore from running so much, even though the second wave hasn't even come down yet. He's so monumentally exhausted that he wants to cry, but he can't because there are people screaming for him.
So he pushes through.
"Help! Fuck, my leg is stuck!" Someone with a distinctly accented voice yells, clearly in pain. They're far away, but no one is helping them, and even though they are clearly a Syndicate soldier, he had to help.
Sighing, he runs over, Purpled on his tail.
"Why are you following me?"
"Tom, we're so far past enemy lines right now it's a miracle you're still alive!"
"It hasn't been that long, the second wave hasn't started yet!"
When they get to the person, a blond with a stupid hat, Purpled just looks at him. Purpled hair is matted with dirt, his face smeared with soot and blood, and his eye black from a punch. "Tommy, look behind you. The second wave has already came."
They look like puppets against the cliff wall, strings cut, bodies loose. It looks like it's raining crimson on the rocky surface, and Tommy chokes back a sob when he sees a white-pink puff of hair.
They hadn't even made it down the cliff.
He has someone to fix.
That's all he can do.
Purpled has a gun pointed at the person's head, and Tommy kneels down.
"What's your name?" The guy asks, completely ignoring the gun at his head.
"You don't need to know, asshole."
"Why are you helping me?"
"It's what he does, he can't help it. I'd say to kill all you fuckers, but Tommy's against that shit," Purpled snaps, kicking him lightly.
"You guys are Tommy and Purpled, right?" The guy asks, and Purpled cocks the gun. Tommy lunges forward, pressing the knife he was using against the guy's throat.
"How the fuck do you know our names?" Tommy growls, knife creating a thin line of blood on his throat.
"I'm Phil, mate. My son has told me quite a bit about you, Theseus. And you're ours now."
"I'm not anyone's!"
Purpled shoots, and it echoes in Tommy's ear.
-/-/-/-
"Technoblade!" Jack yells as he limps, glasses gone.
"What, Jack?" Techno growls, fighting off a group of people half heartedly. Honestly, he doesn't really want to kill them, but they're just so annoying.
"I met your raccoon guy! He stole my fucking wallet! And my money!"
"Where is he? And why do you carry your wallet with you, this is a battlefield!"
"I don't fucking know where he is! And I might need it!"
"Jack, find him! And take him, or get someone else to!"
Jack makes the smart choice not to argue, and limps off, trying to find someone to help him. Techno is pretty intimidating at the moment, blood darkening his pink hair, boar mask glistening in the sunlight. Obviously, he's not scary enough, as he keeps getting attacked.
"Phil! Fuck, Techno, do you know where Phil is?" Wilbur screams, and Techno knocks out the last of the guys fighting him.
"What do you mean?"
"I can't find him! And he's not responding!"
"Wilbur, I'm sure he's fine!"
"Tech, he's not responding! And he hasn't for almost half an hour!"
"What?" Techno screams, finally feeling the same panic as Wilbur.
"He hasn't responded!"
The two of them look at each other, then run deeper into the battle.
-/-/-/-/-/-
Purpled kneels down, his hand on Phil's head. The shot hit his ear, and he's obviously hiding a grimace.
"If you ever even think about implying that Tommy is yours, I will put so many bullets in you that nothing will be left," he says, voice even in a way that scares even Tommy.
"He's gonna be my family, kid," Phil says, head bleeding badly.
"I'm Purpled's family, not yours," Tommy says, mask covering his smile as Purpled helps him up.
"Phil, do you want to see what will happen to your family if you touch Tommy?" Purpled asks, tilting his head and smirking.
Phil is silent, but Purpled takes it as an answer.
Rifle to his shoulder, he squares up and takes aim.
Ten soldiers are down in ten seconds, and he reloads. Ten more down. Reload. Ten more.
"How long do you think it'll take me to get to your family, Phil? Do you wanna stop, or should I just keep shooting?"
"I would tell him to stop, Phil. And don't think about trying to hurt him, because whatever he does? I'll be ten times worse. You touch him, and I'll kill every last person in your pathetic life," Tommy whispers, winking.
"Stop. Stop!" Phil shouts, and Purpled stops shooting.
"Tell your men to retreat."
"Why?"
"All those people over there, on the cliff? Those were my friends, and they need to be cut down," Tommy says, voice barely shaking.
Phil nods, typing something in on his comm.
All the shooting stops, and the Syndicate's forces move to the river.
Tommy turns around, leaving Phil without a second glance.
Purpled looks at Phil with a smile on his face, waving his pistol around jokingly. "Better behave, old man," he chirps, then runs after Tommy.
Phil is left in silence, his legs no longer stuck.
He stands, walking towards the river.
-/-/-/-/-
The two boys get back to the trenches, watching as some of the bodies disappear from the cliff face, meaning that they've only lost a life, and aren't dead. Tommy smiles when he can no longer see white hair, and Purpled clasps their hands together.
"We did good, Tommy, right? I didn't...I didn't go too far?"
"Purpled, I promise you, you didn't. And even if you did, even if you did something unforgivable, I would forgive you. I will be by your side, and nothing will stop that, okay? I love you, and I'm not gonna leave you."
"I shouldn't have...fuck, I'm a monster!"
"Maybe you are."
"What?"
"Purpled, all of us are monsters. How do you think we're alive?"
"But I—"
"We'll be okay, Purps. We're okay, because every ounce of guilt means you're human, and loved."
"What if I stop feeling guilty?"
"You'll still be loved."
And at the end of the day, all that matters to Purpled is that.
Tommy's love, his undying support.
After they're done with the bodies, and neither of them can get the smell out, and neither of them can cry, they sit side by side, brothers.
Sam called them the golden duo, once, as a joke, and it stuck with Purpled. If they are golden, they are both sides to it.
They are the beauty, the preciousness that everyone thinks of when they see gold. They are royalty, a sign of everything, fixing every crack in the wall. They are moldable into something better, changed by every soft touch and happy smile.
But they are also the glistening edge of a blade, covering everything with blood, a defense against anything. They are the fiery heat, burning and destroying everything around them, like a medival torture. They are blinding and strong and infallible, like monsters hiding behind a beautiful disguise.
They are everything, and they are nothing.