Chapter Text
RANBOO
Ranboo had been half-dead for nearly six months by the time he perfected the art of sneaking snacks into the movie theatre.
Or, more accurately, Tommy perfected it for them.
"It's brilliant," Tommy declared as he, Ranboo, and Tubbo took their seats. "No one could possibly guess."
"Yeah," said Tubbo, "because accusing someone of hiding snacks in their ribcage with ghost powers is a fucking insane thing to do."
"Perks of having a friend with ghost powers. You get a walking backpack."
Ranboo rested a hand against his stomach, grimacing at the feeling of crinkly chip bags shifting under his skin. "I don't enjoy being a walking backpack all that much, I've gotta say."
"This is your penance for being an ectoplasmic scumbag that's terrorizing the town," Tubbo said in his best Phil impression.
Ranboo snorted. "What, toting around all your snacks?"
"Exactly." Tommy poked Ranboo's side. "Open up, Ranboob. I want my crisps."
Ranboo sighed heavily and swept a hand through their abdomen, causing a minor avalanche of snacks to tumble out into their lap. Tommy immediately pounced on a bag of all-dressed potato chips and proceeded to open it in the noisiest way possible.
"You're welcome," Ranboo deadpanned.
Tommy grinned around a mouthful of chips. "Backpack behaviour."
"Hey-!"
"Both of you shut up," Tubbo interrupted, unwrapping a chocolate bar. "If you talk during the movie I will fucking shove you in a meat grinder."
Tommy rolled his eyes fondly. "Yeah, we know. You haven't shut up about this fuckin' movie for, like, two months."
"Oi, I'm allowed to be excited! It's not like we get many opportunities to do dumb shit like this now that Ranboo spends all his spare time fighting ghosts or doing homework."
Ranboo winced. "I'm doing my best. It's not my fault that ghosts keep attacking during class."
Tubbo waved him off. "Yeah, we know. Still doesn't make it any less annoying. Besides, I can finally pay for my own shit now that I have an actual job. Unlike some people."
"At the fuckin' Rosebush?" Tommy scoffed. "Doesn't Puffy pay you, like, half the minimum wage?"
"Doesn't seem like much of a actual job to me," Ranboo agreed.
Tubbo huffed. "You're just jealous that you're not committing tax fraud. Now both of you shut the fuck up and watch the movie."
The theatre lights dimmed as the opening credits began rolling across the screen. Someone in the row ahead of them fumbled to silence their phone. Theme music rumbled ominously from the speakers.
Then, twenty minutes in, because Ranboo wasn't allowed to have nice things, his breath came out in a cloud of mist.
Seriously? he thought, glancing up to where he could sense a ghost prowling around on the roof. Now?
At least it was a fairly low-level ghost. Probably a five-minute fight, if that. Maybe this time it would be okay to let Phil take care of it-?
Ranboo's Core thrashed so violently in their chest they physically flinched.
Okay. Not leaving this one to Phil, then. Looked like Ranboo would have to suck it up and miss part of the movie.
As if confirming Ranboo's thoughts, a loud bang came from the roof. The movie flickered. The other theatregoers made various anxious and displeased muttering noises.
Tommy leaned over to Ranboo. "Ghost?"
"Yup," Ranboo whispered back.
Tubbo groaned, slouching in his chair. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. I've been looking forward to this movie for fucking forever and it gets interrupted by a fucking ghost?"
Ranboo shifted uneasily. "I mean, you don't have to come with me. I'll be fine on my own. It's pretty low-level." He ignored the way his Core flinched at the thought of leaving his friends alone while there was a ghost on the loose.
"No way," Tommy protested, grabbing Ranboo's arm. "We're coming with you, Ranboob."
Tubbo sighed but reached for Ranboo's other arm anyway. "Yeah, we're coming. We're a team, aren't we?"
Ranboo smiled in relief. "Yeah. A team."
With a quick glance around to make sure no one was paying attention, Ranboo turned themselves and their friends invisible and flew them all up through the theatre ceiling.
The ghost in question was an anthropomorphic fox wearing a black hat and matching vest. He wouldn't have been out of place at a furry convention if not for the fact that he was flying. He zipped around the roof with a box of fireworks, setting them off in all directions.
Ranboo switched to ghost form with a flash of light and crossed his arms. "Hey, buddy, do you have a permit for that?"
The fox whirled and gave a toothy grin. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the halfa and his little human pets. Come to see the show?"
Tubbo brushed his fingers lightly against the dark burn scar on his cheek. "Not particularly."
Ranboo's Core twinged. "They're not my human pets. You do realize that I'm still half human, right? It would be pretty weird for a human to keep other humans as pets."
"I'm pretty sure that qualifies as slavery," Tommy agreed. "Or some weird fuckin' fetish. Which you would probably know all about, because you look like a fuckin' furry."
The fox barely spared Tommy a glance, instead inspecting Ranboo's ghost form. "You don't look particularly human to me."
Which, Ranboo supposed, they didn't. Their ghost form had changed a fair bit over the past few months. Their inhuman features had grown more exaggerated. The horns protruding from their forehead were longer and more jagged. The leathery patches of black and white skin had expanded to cover most of their body. The claws at the tips of their fingers had burst through their gloves, which Tommy said made them look like they were in an OSHA-compliant biker gang.
Also, he had a tail now. That was probably the weirdest addition. It was long and whiplike, tufted with black and white fur at the very end. Ranboo had no idea when he had grown it. It just sort of appeared one day, wrapping around his legs like it had always been there, and he hadn't bothered to question it. After everything he'd been through, growing an extra limb wasn't all that strange.
The fox hummed, unimpressed. "Are you sure that you're not keeping pets as objects of your Obsession?"
"That was a very fetishy thing for you to say, you furry," Tommy accused.
"Tommy," said Tubbo, "shut the fuck up."
The fox laughed. "Oh, I like this one! Spoken like a true mischief-maker. Would you like to help me set off these fireworks? It's causing a great deal of unnecessary mayhem. It's so much fun."
He lit another firework, this one aimed at the street in front of the theatre. The explosion left Ranboo's ears ringing in harmony with several car alarms. Their Core writhed anxiously.
"Alright, that's it," Ranboo decided. "It's time to take a trip to Thermosland."
He leapt forward through the air, red and green ectoenergy crackling over his fists, and punched the fox directly in the nose.
The fox reeled backwards and snarled. He grabbed yet another firework. "Oh, really? That's how you're gonna play? You really think that you can outmatch Fundy, the Master of Mischief?"
"Fundy, huh?" Ranboo kicked the firework out of Fundy's hands. Fundy scrambled to catch it. "You don't seem like very much fun to me."
"Oh, it's not supposed to be fun for you." Fundy cackled and lit the fuse. "Not as long as it's fun for me!"
He pointed the firework at the back of the billboard on top of the theatre. Ranboo leapt in front - to do what, they weren't sure - and the blast struck them directly across their ribs. The impact sent them tumbling backwards into the billboard, which in turn toppled off the roof, headed for the hood of one of the cars below.
Ranboo's Core flared. He immediately darted down and caught the billboard as best he could, redirecting it to fall on the empty half of the street instead.
A mother and her son clambered out of the car, eyes wide and panicked.
"Get inside and stay there," Ranboo urged them. "It's not safe outside yet."
"No thanks to you," the mother snapped, picking up her son and scurrying toward the theatre doors. The son stuck out his tongue at Ranboo over her back.
Ranboo sighed heavily. They glanced up and down the street for any other stragglers. Some cars were partially blackened from the earlier explosions, but there didn't seem to be any more people out and about.
Goddammit, this one was supposed to be easy.
Oh, well. At least the news would be complaining about property damage again and not civilian casualties. That was something that would happen once and only once.
Another bang came from the rooftop. Ranboo turned on his heel and shot back up toward the sound.
TUBBO
All Tubbo had wanted was a nice break from all the end-of-year schoolwork and all-year ghost fighting bullshit to see a new movie with his friends. But no, of course not. Why should things ever go his way?
"That was dumb as hell," Tubbo observed as Ranboo tumbled over the edge of the roof, taking a billboard with them.
Tommy made a vague noise of agreement. "You have a thermos, right?"
Tuboo shot him an incredulous look. "Of fucking course I have a thermos, dickhead. I'm not incompetent."
"Great. You should probably use it soon."
"What-"
Tommy grabbed him by the shoulders and physically turned him around.
Fundy was grinning at him with pointed teeth. "Oh, that was fantastic! You should really try it sometime. It's very therapeutic."
"I'm sure it is," Tubbo said.
"It is! Look!" Fundy aimed a firework at Tubbo's face.
Jesus fucking Christ. Today was supposed to be relaxing.
Tubbo moved to roll out of the way of the impending blast, collided with Tommy, and suddenly found himself ten feet in the air. The firework shot right past where he had been standing. Tommy, still on the roof, appeared only mildly annoyed and deaf in one ear.
Tubbo glared halfheartedly up at Ranboo, who had grabbed him under the arms like a disobedient kitten and put him in air jail. "You do realize that I could have dodged that, right? Like, fireworks don't explode instantly. I could have taken two steps to the left and been fine."
Ranboo smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Instincts. You know how it is."
"Yeah, I do," Tubbo grumbled, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."
Below them, Tommy flung out his arms dramatically. "Oi, what am I, then? Chopped fuckin' liver?"
"I'm sorry," Ranboo repeated. "I didn't mean to. It just- I don't control it, it just happens."
Tubbo sighed. "I know, dickhead. Put me down."
Ranboo gingerly returned him to the roof. As soon as Tubbo was safely on his own two feet again, Ranboo took off after Fundy, fists blazing with ectoenergy. Fundy yelped - or cackled, it was hard to tell, Tubbo didn't speak fox - and darted away, still clutching a box of fireworks.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Tommy complained, rubbing his ear. "I'm not gonna be able to hear shit for, like, weeks."
Tubbo rolled his eyes. "Shut up. It's not like anything actually happened to you." He huffed. "Not that it couldn't have. You were right fucking there."
Tommy gave him a concerned look. "You alright, man?"
Tubbo stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. Just... feeling a bit useless, you know?"
Across the roof, Fundy was brandishing his fireworks in Ranboo's face. Ranboo, in one clean move, swiped the fireworks from his hands and punched him directly in the nose.
Tommy snorted. "Yeah, I know the feeling."
Tubbo crossed his arms. "I could have dodged that. I didn't need rescuing."
"You dodged it by fuckin' knocking me over."
"Yeah, well, maybe you deserved it."
Tommy patted him on the shoulder. "They mean well, Bee Boy. It's not their fault that they got zapped with a fuckin' ghost machine and got all these weird-ass powers and instincts and shit."
"It's kind of our fault, actually."
"Don't let him hear you say that."
Fundy latched his jaws around Ranboo's forearm. Ranboo yelped, trying in vain to shake him off.
"We should probably do something," Tubbo deduced.
"Looking strong, Phantom!" Tommy called unhelpfully.
Ranboo flipped him off.
Tubbo raised an eyebrow. "Sure, you could do that. Or we could try this." He pulled a thermos out of his pocket.
"Oh, yeah," said Tommy. "That."
Tubbo uncapped the thermos and frowned. "We need to separate them. We don't want to risk Ranboo getting caught in the thermos, too."
Tommy nodded, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Oi! Ghost boy! Intangibility, remember?"
Ranboo's eyes widened in realization. Their arm slipped easily free of Fundy's jaws. Tubbo activated the thermos, sucking Fundy inside and slamming the cap back on.
Tommy clapped his hands. "That was productive."
Tubbo narrowed his eyes. "Did you seriously forget that you can go intangible again?"
"Hey, it's not exactly a normal human ability," Ranboo protested, drifting over to them. "I'm allowed to make mistakes sometimes."
"Not when those mistakes make me miss my fucking movie."
Ranboo winced. "Right. Sorry-"
"How badly are you hurt right now?" Tommy interrupted. "You just got, like, fuckin' blasted with a firework and bitten by a rabid furry."
"Oh." Ranboo inspected the bite mark on his arm, which was leaking ectoplasm, and the burn on his chest, which looked much milder than it should have. "Um, it's not that bad, I don't think. It doesn't really hurt that much. Fundy wasn't very powerful."
"Fantastic," said Tubbo. "That's great. We're all super happy for you. Can we go? We're missing the fucking movie."
Ranboo flashed back to human form and wrapped a hand around Tubbo and Tommy's arms. "I'm sorry I grabbed you like that earlier, by the way, Tubbo. I didn't hurt you, did I? I swear I didn't mean to. It just happened."
Tubbo groaned. "I'm fine, boss man. It's fine. I get it. Can we please go back to watching the movie now?"
"Right, yeah. Let's go."
Ranboo phased them all invisibly through the roof, setting them down gently back in their proper seats.
Except the movie was no longer playing.
Tubbo stared at the black screen. "What the fuck?"
An usher, the only other person in the theatre, jumped about ten feet in the air at Tubbo's outburst.
"Why the fuck isn't the movie playing?" Tommy demanded.
The usher stared at them, baffled. "Um, well, the projector kept cutting out because of the ghost attack? It was right on the roof. Everyone was supposed to have evacuated to the lobby."
Tubbo smacked Ranboo on the shoulder. Ranboo, to their credit, looked deeply apologetic.
"Ah. I see." Tommy gathered an armful of unopened snacks and stood. "We'll just be leaving now, then."
The usher nodded slowly. "Right."
Tommy marched primly out of the theatre. Tubbo followed, fuming silently. Ranboo trailed sheepishly behind.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Tubbo hissed the instant they were out of earshot of the usher.
"I'm really sorry, Tubbo," Ranboo said genuinely. "I know how much you wanted to see this movie. I'm sorry that I messed it up for you."
Tommy waved a hand. "Eh, it's fine. We can always see it again next weekend. There will be more space in the theatre then, anyway."
Tubbo sighed heavily. "Yeah, it'll be fine, I guess. We'll just need to get more schoolwork out of the way so that we actually have time."
"Says you. I never have to get schoolwork out of the way. I am simply built different."
Ranboo raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Aren't you failing, like, most of your classes?"
Tommy spluttered indignantly. "Oi, fuck you, Ranboob, I am not failing most of my classes! I am a big man! I'm only failing algebra because algebra is a little bitch."
"Oh, right. My mistake."
"Besides, you have no fuckin' room to talk. Your grades aren't any better than mine."
"At least they have the excuse of constantly skipping class to fight ghosts," Tubbo pointed out. "You just suck."
Tommy rounded on him. "I do not suck! I am a big man with big muscles and a big brain and I have so many girlfriends."
"And yet we've never seen them," Ranboo said drily. "They must ghost you more than I do."
"HEY!"
Tubbo sighed. "Next time, you dickheads can buy the movie tickets."
TECHNO
Techno forced his mind to remain carefully blank. He adjusted his grip on his fencing sabre. He gritted his teeth, trying to beat back his pounding headache through sheer force of will.
Parry. Thrust. Parry. Feint. Thrust.
Fencing practice hadn't been all that rewarding lately. Everyone on the team was either too new to pose even the slightest challenge or so familiar Techno could almost take them on with his eyes closed. His current sparring partner was a long-term rival whom he knew only as Squid Kid, a nickname originating from an incident with a Splatoon beanie some five years ago.
Rival. Not friend. They weren't friends. They were just the most advanced fencers on the team and thus got paired together for sparring more often than not.
Techno only had one real friend, and he wasn't here.
Thrust. Parry. Thrust.
Maybe it was a good thing Techno knew Squid Kid's fighting style so well. He didn't need to turn his brain on, didn't need to focus on anything beyond going through the motions. It left his mind free to wander wherever it liked.
A blessing and a curse.
It had been over five months since Dream went missing.
Techno wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel anymore. Grief, maybe. Sadness. Loss. Instead, he just felt numb. Numb and bitter and angry at all the morons in the police department who weren't doing anything useful with their time.
And... look, Techno would be the last to refer to himself as a people person. He didn't have friends. He generally preferred people stay out of immediate stabbing distance unless they were actively trying to stab him. Even his students, who thought he was the coolest thing since sliced bread, knew to keep their distance. He'd been that way since he was four years old and fresh out of foster care.
Phil had been his friend, once. Techno tried not to think about those times.
But then Techno had started working as a teaching assistant at the local high school and was introduced to a fellow teaching assistant by the name of Dream. He had come off as way too much at first, being way too friendly with everyone and wearing that neon eyesore of a hoodie absolutely everywhere. He was the type of person Techno normally wouldn't touch with a greatsword.
Somehow, some way, something about Dream drew Techno in. Maybe it was how Dream took the time to learn about fencing and classic literature and Greek mythology so he could talk with Techno about things he was genuinely interested in. Maybe it was the haunted look in his startlingly green eyes which almost seemed to glow in the right light. Maybe it was the mysterious scars across his jaw that he covered with a white cloth face mask decorated with his signature smiley face.
They were Lichtenberg figures. Scars left behind after a lightning strike.
Techno never asked about them. Dream never offered an explanation.
And now Dream was gone.
Feint. Thrust. Hit.
Squid Kid stepped back, panting. "I swear I almost had you that time."
Techno grunted indifferently, pulling off his fencing mask and wiping sweat from his forehead.
"I'm serious. That took, like, five times longer than usual for you to beat me. Am I getting better, or are you finally getting worse?"
Techno took a long swig from his water bottle. He didn't respond.
Squid Kid pushed up their fencing mask, frowning. "Are you okay? This doesn't feel like your usual kind of silent brooding."
"I'm fine," Techno snapped. "Take five, then we're goin' again."
Squid Kid raised their hands in surrender and backed off.
The police claimed to have done everything they could to find Dream. They searched his house from top to bottom, inspecting everything for clues on whether he had been kidnapped or killed or simply got up and left with no warning. They never found anything out of the ordinary. None of Dream's belongings were out of place. His bank accounts hadn't been touched. There was no note referencing suicide or plans to run away. No one they interviewed had anything insightful to share.
Techno gritted his teeth, clenching his hand around his water bottle. He would have done better. If they had just let him help with the investigation, he would have been able to look through Dream's things himself and check for hidden messages. Like the chessboard in the living room, which always had one white pawn forward because that was Techno's opening move and Dream was constantly teasing him about it. Or the blankets, which had to be folded in a specific way and placed on specific chairs. Dream claimed it was for the aesthetic. Techno bought him a pig-shaped pillow in retaliation.
The police wouldn't have known any of that. They would have breezed right past the improperly-placed blankets and declared nothing out of order.
Techno would have done better. He should have done better. He should have tried harder to take the investigation into his own hands, to think things through himself. If he had, maybe Dream would be sitting at home right now, texting Techno memes about yet another video game horrendously misrepresenting Hades.
"Oh, shit," said Squid Kid.
Techno's head snapped over to them. "What?"
Squid Kid held up their phone. "Ghost attack. Not too far from here."
A video was playing of Phantom crashing through a billboard, causing it to fall directly on top of the only moving car on the road. The other cars parked along the street had blackened stripes across them. Several car alarms blared in the background.
Our hero, the caption read.
Techno scoffed. "Some hero."
"I know, right?" Squid Kid agreed. "My little brother is obsessed with the guy. And, like, I get it, he thinks that it's something right out of one of his comic books, but it's different in real life, you know? These are ghosts. They're not human. They have no respect for the people whose lives they're endangering. It's like Phantom is just trying to convince everyone that it's a hero without doing anything actually heroic."
Techno regarded them. "You've been listenin' to Phil."
Squid Kid shrugged. "What can I say? He knows what he's talking about."
Techno hummed neutrally. "Where is this ghost fight happenin'?"
"Uh, at the theatre a few blocks away, I think. That would explain the banging I've been hearing."
Techno froze. "The theatre?"
"Yeah, looks like. Why?"
Techno cursed.
Squid Kid's eyes widened. "Whoa, what's wrong?"
"My brother and his dorky friends are there," Techno explained, hastily shoving his fencing equipment into his bag.
"Oh, shit. Do you think they're okay?"
Techno hesitated. Physically, they would be fine. Tubbo would be able to handle any actual fighting, Ranboo held the trio's lone brain cell, and Tommy was an idiot but he knew his way around ghosts just as much as the rest of them. After all, he was raised by Phil.
Mentally, though... Ranboo had enough preexisting anxiety to tranquilize a horse, and it had only gotten worse as the ghost attacks wore on without any sign of slowing down. Plus the trauma from back in November when he got clawed up by a ghost and his apartment exploded. Not to mention the incident with the ghost portal, which still didn't make any sense. The poor kid really could not catch a break these days.
"They're fine, probably," Techno decided, resuming his packing. "They're not complete morons. I just need to pick them up to make sure. I'm their ride home, anyway."
Phil could probably also give them a ride home, considering there was no way he wasn't heading to the theatre right now, but he would spend at least an hour being distracted by the ghosts before doing anything useful. He was fun like that. Besides, with the way he drives, well... suffice it to say, Ranboo didn't need any more trauma in their life.
Squid Kid nodded, relieved. "Well, good luck. And tell them I say hi."
Techno swung his bag over his shoulder. "Sure won't."