Chapter Text
Tubbo shook the spray paint can, frustration slowly fizzling away as bright yellow paint clashed against the white of the hero agency’s treasury.
The grass was horribly green, like it could be plastic but was just that well kept. It was already nearing sunset, but Tubbo didn’t care.
The place was supposed to be heavily guarded, but apparently not.
It was a petty thing, what Tubbo was doing, and he knew it too; after all, didn’t the infamous villain Misfire have better things to do than cosplay a normal-ish teenager? No, no he didn’t.
This was just to let off steam, after all, spraying crude drawings and fake signature, Underscore was his favorite, onto the pristine walls of one of the most important buildings in L’Manburg.
But, during all of this, he decided to wear his green noise cancelling headphones, just to keep the noises out of his head, so he didn’t realize his predicament until he was being grabbed and held up by the scruff of his shirt, dangling above the ground.
“Hey kid! Don’t you know this is private property?” The man, Warden, chided. He was one of Tubbo’s preferred heroes, since all he did was make the stuff for them.
As Tubbo shook off his headphones, his eyes glimmered just a little, taking in the high tech mask the hero wore; it seemed to be made of metal and had magnets that kept it attached to his face, and looked very sleek.
“Oh, um..” Tubbo remembered to speak. “I.. didn’t know?” It sounded more like a question and Warden probably rolled his eyes under the mask. “This is one of the most protected buildings in the country and you didn’t know? Sure. Likely story.” The Warden spat back.
“Alright, you’re coming with me. I don’t need any troublemakers running around,” he looked at Tubbo’s beautiful artwork critically, “and now someone has to clean off the.. ahem.. inappropriate drawings you made.”
And before Tubbo could even plead stupidity, he was being dragged away into the parking lot into the passenger seat of a cop car, which he hadn’t seen often due to heroes taking over, with Warden driving. Though, Tubbo did get something good from the manhandling: a little machine clearly supposed to be a communicator for the heroes, score.
“Okay kid, so you’re going to be sent down to the police station ‘till your guardians can get you and pay the fine.” Tubbo rolled his eyes at being called ‘kid’, he could probably fight and win against Warden, who was only a 4 level hero, while he was an 8 level villain. “What about if I don’t have any?” Tubbo asked calmly, eyes narrowed.
“Well, then that’s up to the state.” Tubbo could tell that Warden was underestimating him, considering he got to ride shotgun in the cop car. If he wanted to, he could probably hijack the car and get back to his apartment before dinner, but he wanted something first..
Very casually, he leaned closer to the Warden, before silently reaching into his pocket and grabbing the instructions for the communicator, which unfortunately was in Ender code, as the hero was busy with watching the road. “Hey Mr. Hero?” Tubbo asked, perhaps too innocently for his facade but still functional. “Yeah kid?” Warden responded, tone slightly warm and clearly comfortable.
“Don’t underestimate me.” Tubbo warned, suddenly grabbing the steering wheel as he opened his side of the door, yanking the wheel in the opposite direction as he sent the car skidding against the busy road while he jumped out. He could hear the older man yelling at him to ‘stay right where he was’ as he bolted.
Tubbo’s legs felt like they were on fire, as he often relied on his ‘wings’ to transport him. He dashed through alleys, ducked underneath dumpsters, and after about half an hour, he was back to his crappy apartment.
He panted as he walked up the cracked, uneven steps, careful not to damage them more. The blinds, dead plants, and crumbling bricks didn’t paint a very pretty picture, but it was home. He kicked the door, which unlocked it and walked inside, doing up each of the locks that scaled up the wall for protection.
Tubbo kicked off his red converse and immediately rushed to his desk, setting down the communicator, a little box that had multiple screen options in different colors and little buttons all written in Ender. After glancing at the instructions and poking around the tech, he quickly learnt that each screen color meant a different field to message, with the white screen representing individual conversations.
After prodding around the gadget for a better while of a few hours, Tubbo realized that he had been hungry since he got home, and microwaved some cheap ramen. Realistically, he had hundreds of thousands of dollars from the villains who bought his tech, but realistically, a supposed 18 year old wouldn’t have that kind of money, so he kept it in a private fund, kept safe by the Villain Institute of Allyship.
After he threw away the styrofoam container, he immediately went back to tinkering, this time with his wings, a machine that acted as a backpack with hidden metal wings in the fabric that unfolded and could be controlled like real wings. It was just a routine checkup on them, to make sure they were okay for combat, before he changed into his night clothes, a too-big red plaid shirt and black basketball shorts.
It was about 4:00AM, so he finally got into bed, yellow spray paint still on his fingers, and fell asleep.
That night, he had a night terror, common for him.
…
“Tubbo?” Someone called out, and Tubbo flinched, recognizing the voice. His horns were shooting out from his head, growing longer and sharper until they were as long as tree branches, sharp as a blade.
“Oh Tubbo? Come here, I got something for you.” Suddenly, Tubbo was only ten again, short and stubby, hair chopped unevenly, but the horns were still too long. “Coming Papa!” He heard himself call, young and timid. He suddenly switched perspectives, seeing a small him run by, down the stairs, hooves clopping against the wooden planks.
“Papa?” He heard himself call, and he was back in his young body, shaking like a leaf as he searched the house for his dad. He heard a knock at the door, still merely ten as he rushed to open it, knowing it would be his dad.
Instead, all that was outside was the inky sky, black but not a star in sight. As he wandered outside, checking outside the door for his dad, the sky erupted in fireworks, and Tubbo, feeling half of his body be covered in a sharp pain.. He screamed bloody murder.
…
When he woke up, light shined through the cracks of his blinds, and as he came to his senses, he realized someone was loudly knocking on his door.
Tubbo rushed up, scrambling out of bed, had someone finally caught him? How had they found his identity? He shoved on his green sweater and quickly made his way over to the door, looking through the peephole. Why the fuck was Crow Father, the number 2 hero, a level 9, knocking at his door?