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Tommy couldn’t breathe.
His skin felt like it was on fire—probably because it was—and it took every ounce of strength to crawl into the back of an alley to hide. He had to hide, because he was over-manifesting, and any person who touched him would erupt into flames.
Tommy couldn’t let that happen. He was Theseus. He was a hero.
But would a hero have over-manifested in the middle of a villain fight, instantly killing a dozen citizens? He was lucky Rams had been far enough away, otherwise the Hero Committee would have killed him for taking out their precious Number One Hero.
I might still be dead anyway , he thought wildly. Not because of the flames licking up his arms, but because of the sick throbbing in his skull. The wild thumping of his heart. He gritted his teeth and a helpless whine slipped out of his mouth at the horrible feeling of pain pricking his skull and hissing down his spine. He was on fire from the inside out, and every atom buzzed with overwhelming energy. His only hope was to sit here, trembling, until the manifestation subsided, so he could go find Ponk, find a medic, find anyone—
Someone appeared through his half-closed eyelids and he desperately waved his hands. No. No. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—kill anyone else today.
“Hey, kid,” the voice said carefully, and Tommy was going to scream. His eyes flew open to take in the villain Blade, crouched in front of him.
“Get—get away,” he said, but even to himself his voice sounded garbled and terrified.
“Over-manifestation,” the Blade muttered, seemingly to himself. He reached a slow hand towards Tommy, who flinched so violently his head throbbed. “Kid, I’m not going to hurt you—“
“I don’t care.” Tommy hissed. He had bitten his cheek at some point, and he was sure he was a sight, with his shucking figure and bloodstained teeth. “I’ll—I’ll kill you, bitch.” He meant it. If anyone touched his skin, they would instantly implode on themselves in a fiery ball of flame. He was sure Rams would be screaming at him to let Blade touch him and die, but Tommy didn’t want to kill anyone else today, screw him.
“You won’t,” the Blade said simply, and even though his face was disguised by his boar skull mask except for two gleaming eyes, Tommy couldn’t help but believe he was telling the truth. But how could he? Tommy was an active volcano, waiting for the final stone to crumble.
“Get—get away,” Tommy said again. He was scrabbling at the brink wall behind him desperately, trying to escape the throbbing pain within him. It felt like every bit of his blood was being leeched out to keep the flames on his skin alive, he kind of wished they actually burned.
The Blade ignored his frenzied pleads. He shuffled carefully forward, still crouched on the ground. Without a single word he wrapped a hand around Tommy’s wrist. Tommy sucked in a rattling breath.
There were no flames. The villain didn’t erupt into fiery flesh and bone. He just held Tommy’s wrist, looking up at him.
“Your mask is meltin’ off,” he said quietly, and Tommy lifted a hand to his face. Sure enough, he could feel the synthetic cloth and metal of his red mask dripping, squishing, falling off his face in pieces and turning ashes when they landed on his lap.
“Don’t—don’t—“ Tommy didn’t even know what he was asking the Blade not to do. He had no time to figure it out because the last chunk of his mouth crumbled away, and the Blade sucked in a breath.
“You’re a kid,” he said sharply, and Tommy mustered up enough energy to scowl.
“‘M not a kid, bitch—“
“You are ,” the Blade said slowly. His grip on Tommy’s wrist was slightly stronger. “You’re just—how are you a hero? Is that fuckin’ allowed?”
Tommy snorted despite himself. The flames up his neck shuddered. “You think they—they care?”
Something in the Blade’s red eyes shifted. “Okay, get up. We’re going.”
“What the—what the fuck?” Tommy coughed. His entire body shook, and the flames surrounding his body only grew. “I’m not going anywhere. ‘Specially not with you.”
The Blade considered him. “How long do over-manifestations last?” he mumbled to himself.
“Uh, ‘bout an hour,” Tommy said offhandedly, and the Blade narrowed his eyes.
“Wha—this isn’t your first?”
Tommy blinked. “The fuck? No?”
With the hand not still (ever-so-gently) holding Tommy’s wrist, the Blade dragged a hand down his face. Or rather, his mask. “Theseus, those are caused by overworkin’. You’re like, twelve.”
Tommy scowled. “The grind n-never stops, bitch.” The pain in his head was starting to subside a little bit—he guessed there were about fifteen minutes or so left of his misery. He had timed himself a few times, and his record was an hour and twenty minutes. He hoped this one was quicker. He didn’t need the Blade taking advantage of his position.
Why hasn’t he already? the traitorous voice in his head whispered. Tommy ignored it.
“You—“ the Blade exhaled with frustration. “We can talk about this later.”
“Later?” Tommy squawked. “Later, bitch, I will be back in the Hero Tower.”
“Not if I can help it,” the Blade said darkly, and a dark feeling curled in Tommy’s gut. Uh. The villain tilted his head at Tommy. “You got any allergies?” He misread Tommy’s bewildered look—perhaps deliberately, Tommy wouldn’t put it past him—and added, “My dad’s a bit of a stress cooker. He’ll take one look at you and bam,” the Blade snapped his fingers, “seven different mashed potato varieties. It’s a bit of an issue.”
“I—what?” Tommy was completely, utterly lost, and he couldn’t even blame it on over-manifestation delirium.
The Blade snorted. “Kid, you think I’m lettin’ a twelve year old go back into the hands of the Hero Committee? They’ll work you to dust, Theseus.”
Tommy glared. “I’m fourteen, bitch.”
“That’s not much better.” The Blade gripped his wrist a little tighter. “Theseus, you’re tellin’ me you like being overworked? You like over-manifestin’ every goddamn week?”
His stomach throbbed in response. “No,” he mumbled. He really didn’t, and Rams—Rams had never said anything, had he? Let Tommy believe it was his powers that were fucked up.
The Blade was still looking at Tommy patiently.
“Will you make me a villain?” Tommy mumbled, feeling like a very small child.
The Blade’s red eyes gleamed. “No. That’ll be your choice, and when you’re actually an adult.” He said this last part with an almost animalistic growl. “We might be villains, but I don’t think we’re the bad guys in this scenario.”
Tommy couldn’t help but agree, but he was still incredibly torn. Could he throw his life away? Could he leave the Committee, for good?
“What do you say, Theseus?” The Blade’s voice was achingly gentle in a way no one else’s had in a long time.
Tommy made his choice.
“Tommy,” he said quietly. “My name is Tommy. Y’know, cause you’ll be saying it a lot more.”
The Blade tipped his head back and laughed, relief trickling through. “Then I’m Techno,” he said, unclasping his mask. His lips were upturned in a genuine grin. “Welcome to the Syndicate, kid.”