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Tommy pulled on his suit for the final time. The red and black hoodie had served him well as did the black pants with tons and tons of pockets for his gadgets and medical supplies. He ran a hand through blonde hair that slowly had been turning to white. Two weeks ago it had begun, spreading slowly through his hair and veins. It had all become too much, he could feel it deep in his bones.
Today was the day.
He looked around his tiny room. It wasn’t a great space, but it was home. His own place of refuge for four crazy years. He had almost bled out on the floor too many times to count. The pale stains in the wooden floors were there to prove it.
He had gained crucial things in this room. In the corner by his bed was where wings had torn out of his back, radiant white and covered in blood. He had hid away from the world until he figured out how to hide them. Hours upon hours were spent in the dusty little room. It wasn’t much, but it was a place he could be safe. It provided him the space to learn, and he learned plenty.
He learned that the safety could only ever be in that place. Anywhere beyond his four walls couldn't be counted on. Ever.
He learned to fly in the room. He learned to fight. He learned how to control the red magic that decided to make its home in his scarred hands. He learned to be good.
And yet he was a fool who knew nothing. Pretending to know everything.
He pulled out the white beanie he had donned once the color of his hair had begun to drain. He had successfully kept it from the public, thank god. The hat worked fine, as the cold weather began to creep in.
He wouldn’t have to worry about hiding much longer.
Wouldn’t have to worry about anything ever again.
He smiled at the thought.
He dug out his mask from the pile beside his bed, quickly putting it on. Next he grabbed the red goggles that had concealed his identity well. They had done well in the years he used them. They had cracked only once, a mistake caused by himself and not others.
He slipped them on letting the world take on the reddish tint. It brightened the room and the slowly darkening sky. He checked his wrist looking at the small watch. 7:49. Almost time. So close and yet so long still that he had to suffer. Yet he didn’t mind.
Tommy wanted to do his rounds one last time, for old times sake. Make his appearance, save the day for someone who needs it. Be the hero for others even if there wasn’t one for him.
No one was saving him. It was a fact that used to make him bitter. It still stung but tonight he was grateful.
There would be no one to disappoint.
There would be no one to try to prevent the inevitable.
There was a slight bounce in his step, as much as a dead man could have.
He slipped out his window.
—
Techno didn’t want to get mugged. Honestly, who does? It was an easily avoidable inconvenience, yet there he was.
Getting mugged.
It wasn’t an impressive mugging. They were too sloppy for it to even be at usually mugging standards. However, they decided to do it in an open area (dumb but whatever) so he couldn’t exactly take them out right away. He was just your average civilian. No powers, no hybrid heritage, just a regular human in the eyes of the public. Just silly little Techno. (Not that anyone would call him that. Well, maybe Wilbur)
No one could know that he was Blade, the deadly phoenix that had the heroes running for their lives. One of the big three in the good old city of L'manburg. A killer, murderer, arsonist, terrorist... to list a few. Really, he thought himself far too skilled to be taken down by three amateur thieves.
It was dumb luck for them.
He had been walking home with groceries in both hands, his phone pressed to his ear while he argued with Phil about his decision to buy the largest bag of potatoes. (It was on sale! Techno eats plenty so really it was worth it) He had seen the three behind him but thought nothing of it. One was shaking so bad he knew they couldn’t do much to him.
Until one of them put a blade to his neck.
“Hang up,” one ordered. They gripped his shoulder.
Phil sighed in his ear having overheard the man behind techno.
“Need back up?” He asked.
Techno hummed, feeling the blade press into his skin. He glanced at the two that walked around him. Neither looked very strong, both scrawny things. He couldn’t imagine the person behind him was that much larger. They had to be teenagers, high schoolers looking for trouble or money. Maybe just out for the thrill of doing something bad on a weekend.
“Nah, I’ll call you back,” Phil hung up for him. He slowly lowered his phone.
“I've got nothing you want I'm sure,” he huffed. The knife kid grabbed the middle of his braid, jerking him back. Honestly, Techno was surprised he managed to pull him back.
“We’ll see about that rich boy,”
He knew there were a few choices he could make. Really, he could reach back and pick up the child playing bad guy, easily. He wouldn’t even break a sweat taking down the three. And hey, he could beat up a child and it would be self defense.
Oh if Phil could see him now.
He could do the natural response a civilian would have of course. Let them think they were in control, and let them take the pocket change. He looked over the two in front of him who had pulled out their own knives.
They were skinny. Their dark clothes hung off their body in weird places. A slight tremor in their hands shook the comically small knives. The black bandanas covering their mouths couldn’t quite hide the paleness of the rest of their skin.
He let them dig through his pockets and take his groceries.
One grabbed for his phone. Wrapping a small hand around his significantly larger wrist in an attempt to be threatening. It was hilarious, but he let them save face by not laughing.
“Drop it,” a new voice called out. Techno felt all three of them tense. He sighed. He tilted his head to see the red and white vigilante cross the street towards them. White wings hung behind him, shining with a soft glow in the dim light.
“Icarus,” he said, fighting to keep the laughter out of his voice. He couldn't seem too happy about his situation. Well, actually he probably could. Not every day a totally average citizen gets to meet a vigilante.
“Icarus,” the boy behind him said. His voice had gone up an octave, probably about to piss his pants. The hand holding his wrist dropped, as did the knife at his throat. Techno rubbed his neck checking for damage.
Icarus tilted his head.
“I think you know your mistake already,” the man said. “Want to move on?”
They nodded hesitantly. Cowering before the vigilante that defended this area. It was at this moment Techno noticed that something was off with the vigilante.
In recent fights the man had held himself with what must have felt like the weight of the world. Techno joked to Phil that he looked like Atlas. Carrying the heavy burden every time they saw each other. He had been quieter too, less quips that Techno and the others had begun to enjoy. His wings had been droopy then too, a fact that Phil would not let go. They all knew something was wrong. Something had happened to the golden boy.
But here he stood, a pep in his step as he made his way over. He looked almost relaxed.
“Good,” Techno could hear the smile in his voice. “Then give him back his stuff.”
Techno shook his head. “They can keep it. I can always get more.”
Still, they put the things on the ground and took off running.
“Have a good night!” The vigilante called, a snort slipping through his heroic composure.
Techno brushed himself off. The man turned his attention to Techno.
“Sorry big man, those three have been out a few times already tonight,” he chuckled fondly.
“They could have kept the stuff. I didn’t mind.”
“Bet you could’ve fought them off by yourself if it was that important, huh?”
“Yep, it wasn't worth it,” and the vigilante fully laughed at that. Slapping his knee like an old man. It was weird.
But it was kind of nice to hear him laugh again. After all the stoniness that had sprung up lately. He wondered if Icarus was only like that to the Syndicate. Maybe they had messed with him one too many times. They didn't go easy on him that was for sure. Maybe he'd have to talk to the others about lightening up on him. The thought of that conversation was hilarious, especially because of Will's hatred for the dude.
“Welp, my bad man.”
“Yeah next time let me get robbed, loser.”
There was a half laugh. And a soft “Yeah yeah, I guess ya’ prick.”
Oh he had the best idea.
“Hey, could I get a picture with you? My brother is a huge fan.”
Wilbur would be so pissed. He couldn’t wait to hear the rant that would surely follow the sight of the picture.
“Yeah sure man,” the vigilante came closer. Techno held out the phone and grinned. He leaned down slightly to be closer to the vigilante’s level. The light flashed. He let the vigilante look at it and the man shook his head.
“Hold on, we can do better than that, one more,” he wrapped an arm around Techno’s shoulder.
A shudder ran through the vigilante, causing him to put more weight on Techno. He realized that he didn't weigh that much. That, and he was freezing cold despite the warmer getup Icarus had donned lately.
He shook his head, standing up a little straighter and making a peace sign with the hand close to Techno's shoulder.
Then something insane happened.
With his free hand the vigilante pulled down his mask to reveal a big smile as the camera flashed.
What. The. Fuck.
He pulled his mask back up seconds later.
“There, that should be a good one,” he nodded. Techno just stared at him dumbfounded. “Welp, I should get going.”
“Pause, what?" He grabbed the wrist of the man.
No. Not man, boy.
He was so young looking, with braces for Prime's sake.
He had been out on the field for what, three years? Four?
He couldn’t be more than 17, meaning he was 14 or 15 when he started. That was far too young. Far too young to be on his own fighting villains in the city.
The top three villains to be specific, at least in his later years.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said with a shrug, successfully pulling his cold arm out from Techno's grip.
He raised an eyebrow at the boy.
“What do you mean?”
He wished he didn't hear it.
He wished he didn't hear the relief in words far too depressing for someone so young.
“I’ll be dead by dawn.”
The vigilante saluted him and flew up into the sky. Techno called out after him but he was met with silence, and the shadow of the golden boy.
—
It was the heat of the moment that led to him revealing himself. It was a moment of ‘fuck it’. Maybe a moment of desperation.
Who else would know what he looked like? Who would remember him when he was gone. He had given everything for a city that didn't know his name. A city that didn't know what he really looked like.
A selfish part of him hoped the man would publish it. Let the world see who they walked all over for the past four years. The one they had depended on when the heroes turned to shit.
Maybe they'd finally see him, understand him.
It would be too late either way.
Another wave of pain ripped through him, causing him to crash land on a flat rooftop. Bits of gravel dug into his wings, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.
With that, he knew it was almost time.
The sun was far gone, he had hoped to find a spot sooner, so he could watch it go down. It made him sad to know he missed his last sunset. A part of him hoped he could hold out long enough to see the sun rise, even just the beginning.
The other part was just ready to be done.
Another wave of pain ran through him, making his body tremble. He curled into himself, trying to get his wings to keep him a bit warmer. It did nothing.
God he just wanted to be done.
He was sick of this.
Sick of the cold, sick of the pain.
They had officially won.
He was done.
There was no audience to see his suffering.
No heroes came to see their victory. No villains watched him fall. No vigilantes bid him farewell.
It was just him. Alone once again.
He had taken off his gloves, revealing patches of pure white skin. It was spreading with each new wave. It hit again and again, lasting longer leaving him feeling weak. He gave up on trying to be warm, desperately wanting to look at the sky.
There were no stars. The moon his itself from him.
Because of course it did.
He lay there limp, the only movement being his body forcefully shaking as he felt himself fading.
Draining, the heroes had called it.
Their newest weapon.
The thing that had blasted him and slowly reduced him to this.
He despised them. Despised them all. For what they did and didn’t do.
He was tired.
He was in pain.
And worst of all?
He was alone.
Fuck, he really didn’t want to be alone.
He had held it together all day. In the morning he had gone out and ran his final errand.
He said goodbye to his boss who never liked him because he was always falling asleep on the job,
He said goodbye to the ducks in the park he liked to feed.
He emptied his bank account and went on a shopping spree for the food shelf.
He wrote a note to his landlord with enough to cover rent for another month, and an apology for the stains.
In the evening he made his rounds even as pain tore through him. He stayed strong. He smiled, he laughed, he joked and kicked butt like old times. It felt freeing.
But now the day was done. That was it.
No more Icarus. It was just him. Just Tommy.
Broken and fading and alone.
Even the stars had abandoned him.
He didn’t have the energy to move anymore, even as tears started to fall. He couldn’t move his hand to wipe them away.
He just stared up at the sky with graying eyes.
He couldn’t look to see when he heard the flapping of bird wings and the thud of someone jumping onto the rooftop. Voices called his vigilante name.
He saw their shadows but his eyes were blurring.
“Oh Icarus” a voice whispered. The voice used to mean danger, but he was too far gone to care.
And he desperately wanted him to know.
My name is Tommy.
The words refused to form.
His head was lifted into something warm, a lap of Angel. His mightiest foe, here to comfort him. He looked down at Tommy, the black veil that usually covered his face was gone, allowing bright blue eyes to stare into empty ones.
Someone gasped.
“Phil, his skin,” they sounded horrified. Any other time, Tommy would be so happy to make the great Siren shocked.
He felt his hat pulled off, another gasp filled the air.
A hand softly ran through his pure white hair, a gesture so filled with love that it hurt. He whined.
“It’s ok, we’ve got you runt,” Blade said. A figure grouched next to him. It was the final thing he saw. Another hand grabbed his cold lifeless one.
It was a nice final moment. No longer alone.
That's what he thought as he drifted away.
And in the distance far far away, a new day began.