Chapter Text
February 19th is the date. It’s when all hell breaks loose. Fire, explosions, and screaming. That's all you can hear from miles away, in the secluded area S505T used to call ‘home’. S505T, a 15 year old boy, is a survivor… but at what cost?
Seven months ago…
S505T was 8 when he was first taken to the Sanctuary, as everyone called it. The Sanctuary was an illegal facility where parents could send their children to train to be heroes that normally lasted until they were 18. Or until they, well, passed away from how intense it was.
S505T’s name before he was sent to the Sanctuary was Theseus Innit. He doesn't remember his parents well, other than the last memory he had before the pitch white rooms and bloodshed. That of his mother smacking him as he cried when he had just arrived at the place he was supposed to spend the next decade at. It wasn’t the most ideal memory to have as a last but it was better than not remembering anything from before.
He found out from the elders there, them being 16-17, top heroes had gone there as well. He knew of Ember, Snooze, and Dream but he was sure others came from here as well.
For a while, he didn’t talk to anyone. He didn’t want to risk anything. But that all changed when a new guy came up to him. He was 12 at the time, the other being 13. The kid’s name was Grey, preferring Purpled though, he told him. Subject number 739 (S739G). Theseus, or S505T, finally felt like he could let his guard down. They became friends after about a week but because of his decision of talking to him, he would regret it for as long as he lived. Which in all fairness, won’t be too long, he hopes.
About two months after S739G and S505T became friends, S739G had… disappeared? S505T didn’t think that was the appropriate word to describe the situation but it would work, since, that of course, is practically what happened. After about a week of not seeing him, he had nervously asked one of the higher-ups about his friend. Thinking about it now, maybe he shouldn’t have asked in the first place, but foolish him did anyways.. As a response, the higher-up, Punz, led him to a dimmed down room that he’d never seen before. It smelled like something was rotting down here so why didn’t he get the sign? A bright light finally shined in the dark, wretched room to reveal the now bloodied body of his friend who was now rotting away in that god awful room. His past bright purple eyes that used to be painted in hope and encouragement now were a grey color, nop signs of life or feeling left. His past silver-blond hair now painted with a red, blood color. Obvious that he’d been hit over the head. Horrified and shocked, he threw up (rightfully so that is). Punz just smiled, “I hope you take this as a lesson, S505T. You know friends aren’t a good thing to have. And do you really want anyone else to end up like S739G did? Not even making it to the ripe age of 14? Now let's get you back to your room, shall we?” From that point on, Tommy didn’t talk to a single person
He stayed top of his age group until he was 15. February 19th, something went wrong with the majority of peoples powers. Whatever had happened caused all hell to break loose. It was then that the fire had spread, burning the entire facility and everyone in it.
Tommy was the only survivor from that. Having healing powers actually can be helpful he now realizes. But right after that dawned on him, he froze. Where was he supposed to go now? He doesn’t even know where he is. Shaking, he looks around at the burn corpses spread among the burnt down building. What was a 15 year old supposed to do in that type of situation other than start to cry?
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Present timeline…
September 26th.
No ones POV
*thud*
“Fuck!” Tommy, formally known as S505T, Theseus, and Theo(as his deceased friend had called him), screams, as he wakes up in a cold sweat. He's not lying in his sad excuse of a bed. No. Instead, he's laying on the ground of his small apartment. He looks at the alarm clock sitting on his dresser that had come with the apartment when he bought it five or so months ago, it had said ‘4:25 AM’. With a sigh, he knows he can’t go back to sleep since he has a 5am to 9pm shift. This may seem a bit too early for a 16 year old to be working but legally, he’s 19. With his lengthy height and his matured features, he doesn’t even look his actual age. And hell, he doesn’t act it as well. Having been trained to mature faster than other kids his age, he hasn’t been a kid since he was 9, maybe 10. Despite his body protesting against it, he decides to take a shower, get dressed, and start his treacherous walk to work.
He works at Niki’s Coffee Shop, which is District 4, only about a 15 minute walk from his apartment. This early it could be dangerous walking around by yourself due to muggings and low life villains but Tommy makes due. He knows how to fight so it’s not much of a problem. If there was an attempt, the offender would be the one who comes out injured, and more miserable than before. No matter how dangerous or powerful they are. Tommy never loses. That was a lesson he was taught that’s stuck with him all these years. At about 4:41, Tommy arrives, greeted with the warm smell of freshly baked bakery items and coffee. It’s not overpowering however. It's almost soothing– but it shouldn't, no, it doesn't affect him. He can’t afford to drop his guard. He can’t risk it. Not again. He can’t let anyone go through what Pur– he had to go through.
He sees Nikita, also known as Niki, behind the counter, almost done setting up all the baked goods. Tommy greets her as he goes behind and starts turning on the coffee machines. It’s almost time for her to leave, since she doesn’t actually work there anymore. She doesn’t really need to since Tommy’s there. He’s been working there for almost half a year now so he knows how just about everything operates. Meaning that he’s fully capable of running the place. He’s the only other worker other than Niki so he was taught how to run the place almost as soon as he was hired. And if anything were to happen, he can just call her if he needs anything.
As she finishes up Tommy puts his apron on that has a little coffee logo on it with a name tag saying ‘Tommy;He/Him’. His name tag also has a tiny moth sticker on it, just to give it more character. Niki grabs a quick cup of coffee with french vanilla creamer right before she leaves. “I’m off now Tommy! Let me know if you need anything, I’m always just a call away! And make sure to not overwork yourself. Feel free to get yourself coffee as well. You look exhausted.” She says, flipping the sign to say ‘open’ before leaving through the front door. Tommy sighs and decides to make himself a black coffee. In the middle of making it, a ding comes from the front door. With a sigh, he decides that today was going to be a long day.
The day has been boring to say the least. He had a few angry customers complaining about stupid things and a few weirdos that would just stare at him. It wasn’t pleasant but there wasn’t much you could do about it. But since it’s pretty late, there wasn’t anyone there other than the occasional college kid who needs to pull an all-nighter. About an hour before closing, a tall, lanky guy walks in. He’s wearing a mustard colored sweater with a pair of black ripped jeans and a trench coat. He had brown, curly hair that covered his right eye partially and had a dark, maroon beanie on. He walked up the counter like he owned the place. Just from that, Tommy knew he was a pretentious motherfucker. Probably from District 3, one of the richest districts, Tommy thinks. He already doesn’t like him.
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T POV
“Hi, welcome to Niki’s Coffee Shop, what can I get you?'', I said with my amazingly good yet fake customer service voice. He just stared at me, what a dick. Not even a simple reply. Rude if you ask me. Especially since he’s been blessed by my presence. “Are you gonna order or not dickhead?” I say with a fake grin on my face. “Who the hell would let a child work here?!” The motherfucker had the audacity to say. Like, what the hell?! “I’m not a child asshole. Now what do you want?” “Are you sure about that? You look like you're 15 or 16.” How the fuck did he know that? Whatever whatever, don’t react Tommy, big man innit. “I- I don’t know what youre talking about, prick. Nope, not me. Never. Me? 15? Nope. Been there, done that. I’m 19 dimwit” I say, awkwardly smiling at the ginormous man in front of me. “Whatever. Anyways, can I get an iced coffee with 3 shots of espresso?” What the fuck. Who the hell drinks iced coffee?! “You’re a wrongun, you know that? But fine, I'll get that for you. That’ll be 2.79.” He passes me exact change. Literally everything about him makes him a wrongun.
As I start working on his coffee, he’s still standing at the counter, not saying literally anything. It gets too quiet for comfort so I decided ‘why not make some small talk like the amazing person I am?’ He’ll be grateful for my talking to him. “You know you’re a walking red flag big man, right?” He perks at this. “What do you mean ‘walking red flag’?! I haven’t even done anything.” he shouts, clearly catching him off guard. “And that's where you're wrong” I mutter under my breath, but just enough so he can hear it. “Anyways, name for the order?” I probably should have asked that beforehand but it slipped my mind. Can you blame me though? I’m exhausted. “I'm literally the only person here though, why do you need one?” Ugh, this ass. Has he never ordered coffee before? “It’s policy big man, what can I say?” he’s just staring at me, what the fuck. “It’s Wilbur.” Another thing that makes him a wrongun. What kind of name is that? “Like the fucking pig from Charlotte’s web?” I say, hoping I heard something wrong. No way someone would name their child that. “Uh… I guess?” …I have no hope for society.
Eventually, he sits down. Which I'm glad for. He was getting on my nerves. As I finish up, I call his name. He makes sure to take his time coming up to me as well. What an asshole. “Have a good day. Now get the fuck out.” He just smirks. “Bye gremlin child.” the Wilbur guy says, walking out of the cafe. What. the. Fuck.
W POV
As I walk out of Niki’s holding my cup, I see surprisingly a lot of writing where my name should be? Order for: Wilbitch. If you’re reading this, I want you to know that you’re one pretentious motherfucker. That fucking child.
Word count: 1968