Come Home, Tubbo

From our perspective, things are fast. In reality, potatoes take about three months to grow. In reality, it takes a while to refine iron and bend it into the shape of armour. In reality, it takes years to hone skills enough to fight.

In reality, it's been a very long time.

They're not ready.

They need to strike before it's too late.

Tommy is a grown man. Wilbur has his first grey hairs from pure stress. Techno is tired. Just tired.

They were just children when they left. Even Wilbur, the founder of a nation, was still relatively young.

-

Strike at night. The cover of darkness and the still of sleeping guards.

They take out the few patrolling with swiftness and ease, and sneak within the walls of the president's home.

One is still awake.

Tommy freezes, but the soldier doesn't hesitate. He knocks Tommy down and holds him at sword tip - the threat upon the young man's neck being the only thing stopping the other two from jumping forwards.

They recognised each other's eyes, but one was scared and scared so different than before, and the other had been slowly brainwashed since the day everything went wrong.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Tommy feels his eyes well up. He can't speak for fear of sobbing. Wilbur speaks for him. "Tubbo..?"

"Wh-" the soldier growls and presses the blade closer. "How do you know that?! Who are you?!"

"It's me," his brother whispers, "It's me. It's Tommy."

There's a split second, but, with a glare, he spat: "I don't know anyone called 'Tommy'."

Tubbo recognises them faintly from wanted posters. Dead or alive. And alive would only be so Schlatt had the pleasure of killing them himself.

The traitor looks up at him with pitiful, watery eyes. An expression of hope that he doesn't understand. He says his name, but Tubbo doesn't care. Those posters are background noise. He has a nation to care for.

He growls under his breath, meeting each stranger's worried expression. He draws a breath. They freeze.

"INTRUDERS!"

His split second of weakness was all they needed. One lunged forwards, their blades meeting together. The battle lasts but a few seconds before the attacker gets a clear shot, and hits Tubbo upside the head, knocking him clean out.

-

The damp hits him first. Then the dark, filled with artificial light. It's not night - there are no stars above or air to feel on your skin. No, he's underground. Somewhere hidden. Somewhere bad.

The man is waiting. The one who knocked him out. He watches as tubbo shifts, feeling the ropes binding him to the chair.

He studies the man's face. He doesn't look quite human.

"You really don't remember me, do you?"

At the lack of response, he just nods, and leaves the dank room.

Next, the second man appears. Taller but not as honed into fighting. He asks several questions but Tubbo refuses to answer any. Eyes straight, lips sealed. Just as he had been taught.

Last, the boy. The one his age who had looked so desperate.

The boy doesn't ask anything.

All he does is meet Tubbo's eyes and cry.