Chapter Text
“What the fuck.”
Everything was in pieces, completely destroyed. In the midst of all the chaos, Tommy stood frozen in place, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks as he saw his own father holding a sword directed to his older brother’s chest.
“WILBUR!” he screamed, desperation clearly heard in his voice. Wilbur turned his head to the scream in surprise, and when he saw Tommy – tired, weak Tommy, fighting in a war his own brother dragged him into – he couldn’t help but smile. A crazy, creepy smile crawled on his face, while he looked straight in the younger’s teared up eyes – a smile that Tommy knew so well, a smile of a man who had lost his mind a long time ago –, and that was something that Tommy didn’t want to see again. Not after they'd won, not after they had finally regained their freedom – Wilbur’s freedom.
And just like that, with a last salute, and with a final fucked up message – that his brother was still the same broken man – Tommy saw Wilbur get stabbed right in the chest by their father ( not their father not his father no he killed him he killed Wil no no nononono -), tears falling down from his eyes.
“NO!” Tommy launched himself forwards, only to be stopped by arms around his own. “Let me go, you bitch!” He didn’t even bring himself to try and recognize the person, too caught up in trying to reach his brother.
“Tommy, stop! This isn’t the time for this!” Quackity’s voice. Why was Quackity trying to keep Tommy from Wil? Wil was dying, did he not understand that? He still loved his brother, he still wanted to protect and save him.
Quackity’s attempt to reason with the teen was interrupted by Tubbo running up to them. “Tommy,” the goat hybrid said, trying to catch his breath while raising his voice to top over the colorful and loud explosions that could be heard in the distance, “He wants to talk to you.”
Tommy stopped struggling almost immediately, and looked at Tubbo with a defeated look in his eyes. When he finished processing who Tubbo was talking about however, that quickly turned into anger — an emotion Tommy was becoming too used to hide and bottle up. But not anymore.
Tommy wiped his tears and nodded in silence, following Tubbo through the remains of their home. After a while, Philza joined their walk, already fully geared-up. He and Tommy exchanged glares, one of pure regret and sadness, and another of pure undirected rage. They kept walking, sticking close to each other, until they reached a small clearing at the edges of L’manberg’s borders, safe from the destruction and fights that were happening all around it. And in the middle of said clearing, there was a certain someone standing, firework-crossbow loaded, ready to strike anyone who got too close.
“Technoblade.” Tommy stopped to look directly into the piglin hybrid’s eyes from a safe distance, separated from each other by a big crack on the ground, probably created by the TNT explosions. Most of his face was covered by a boar skull mask, though his blood red eyes were still clearly visible underneath it, and his soft pink hair and red cape were swaying in the wind. Behind him stood two soul sand made crosses, menacingly, as everyone there knew what they could do with a slight addition of three Wither skulls above them.
“Tommy,” Technoblade said, no emotion being heard in his voice, as always. “Do you think you’re a hero? Is that what this is?”
“I-I just… I just wanted L’manberg. I just wanted my home back.” Tommy stuttered, a weird headache starting to kick in. And you’ve taken it from me, Tommy thought, clenching his fists until they white-knuckled. As did Wilbur. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
“You just wanted power.” Technoblade said, sounding as if he was completely sure of what he was implying. “Tommy, you just did a massive government takeover and instantly installed yourself as the president. That’s a tyrant, Tommy!”
“I never wanted this to happen! You betrayed us, Techno, not the other way around.”
"Betrayed you?! Who betrayed who now, really?” He said, looking slightly to the right at the now destroyed speech podium in the distance. There, a body laid, slashed across the chest.
Tommy refused to look, only fixating his gaze to the ground. Philza remained silent.
Technoblade continued his speech, never avoiding Tommy’s gaze. He went on about a Greek myth of someone named Theseus, and how his tale was similar to Tommy’s story or something like that. Tommy wasn’t really paying attention, trying to overcome the strong headache that made his head pound, and the fiery rage that ignited in his chest. Why was he feeling like that? He didn’t know — he’d never felt this before. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the fights. Or it was because Techno didn’t really care for what he’s done. He’d never cared.
His train of thought was interrupted by Technoblade raising his voice. “But if you want to be a hero, Tommy, that’s fine,” the hybrid said, turning his back to look at the soul sand crosses. Tommy hadn’t realized before, but Techno was holding a Wither skull.
“Technoblade, don’t do this,” he pleaded, almost begged. “Please. ”
“You want to be a hero, Tommy?” He slowly turned his head to look at Tommy, smiling.
“Then die like one!”