Falling • OriginSMP TommyInnit

26 - Nowhere To Run

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"-ocking him out! Seriously, jackass, it's not cool." Tommy learned to identify the voices by a different name, not liking the way just thinking of them made him paranoid. He called the first, the one who had just spoken, Dickhead. The second, Shithead.

Shithead was the one that liked to hurt him physically, never going th at far other than knocking him out.

Okay, maybe knocking him out is a little far. But it's better than shredding his skin and making him suffer and pass out from blood loss, right? We ignore the first time. And, we pretend this logic is perfect. Tommy knows best.

Anyways, Dickhead was more concerned about Tommy. It was like he wanted to keep him here, but he didnt want him to get hurt. Of course, Shithead and him werent a good pair to do that with, so Tommy was often forced to listen to (and occasionally jump in) a few fights.

"What? It was funny! I only did it like, three times." Shithead made a 'pfft' sound, acting like it wasnt a big deal.

"Funny?" Dickhead let out an irritated sigh. "He's a kid, he can't handle that like you could."

"Actually, speaking of that," Shithead sounded as if he had tilted his head curiously. "When was the last time he ate?"

"Shit!" Dickhead cursed, the sound of scrambling coming from Tommy's left. The Avian wanted to roll his eyes or show some sign of 'you just now considered that?', but he knew that wouldn't work under the blindfold. "What do ghosts even eat?"

"Yeah, Tommy, what do you eat?" Shithead sounded like he was trying to stifle a laugh, audibly turning to the boy.

"I eat ghost animals, what do you think?" Tommy scoffed. 

"Aren't you an Avian, though?" Dickhead asked, "I thought they were bound to plants."

"You can't eat dead plants, they don't have a ghost." Tommy said it as if it was obvious. "They may be living, but there's a big difference between plants and animals, that being one has consciousness."

"How the hell do you expect we get you ghost animals?" Dickhead asked, pressing one of his claw-like fingers to his face. He shot Shithead a glare, because the man was taking off Tommy's blindfold.

"He can hunt them." Shithead was careful with his movements, not wanting to ruin the boy's delicate wings or his fluffy hair. Untying the tight rope, he winced at the marks it left. "Ouch."

"What, did you hurt him? Damnit, you tiny fucking worm, that wasn't the plan!"

"Hey! Kidnapping him isn't any better!" 

"Actually, kidnapping me and not tying me up would've been nicer. Then, maybe I could've shouted for help or beaten you up." Tommy flexed his wings, relieved when they still worked. They were flattened and matted where they had been tied up, but it was better than them being clipped or something awful.

Of course, he had been let out occasionally to walk and stretch and keep himself entertained, but when they left, they didn't trust him. He hated being tied up, where was he even going to go?

"Yeah, but then our entire plan wouldn't work." Dickhead's fangs showed as he spoke, glinting dangerously in the light. 

"What even is your plan?" Tommy said, not bothering to push the venom and anger from his voice. He reached over his head, his wings extending fully, the boy stretching and yawning. Shaking his wings and shoulders, he ran his hands through his hair, feeling alot better now that he wasn't forced still.

"You'll see tomorrow." Dickhead said plainly, eyes shining like copper. Shithead scoffed, climbing onto a large pot. 

"Now," Shithead said, standing wobbly on the edge of the terracotta pot. "How do we let him hunt without letting him be known?"

"Let him go, we'll keep a distance." Dickhead studied himself in a mirror, fluffing his hair slightly. 

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"Schlatt! Schlatt!" Tubbo called, running after the man. The American turned around, his russet eyes landing on the boy. Sighing, he tilted his head.

"What?" Tubbo couldn't help but notice the dent on his right horn, the one from Tommy killing him. Wincing slightly, the boy hurried to answer his question before he walked off.

"Um, well," Tubbo fiddled with his hands. "It's about Tommy."

"What about him?" Schlatt asked, pausing. "Oh, is this more of your Wilbur bullshit?"

"No! It's not bullshit! He really is- why is everyone so difficult? Tommy's dead, yes, but he's a ghost now, and that's what killed you before, and he's lost, and you need to believe in him so you can see him and find him!" Tubbo rushed, watching Schlatt slowly and subtly inch towards the forest.

"Tubbo, I do believe in him." This sparked hope in Tubbo, instantly vanishing when Schlatt continued. "And he's dead. He's gone, alright?"

"But-," Tubbo started. 

"Leave it, Tubbo. I have to get going now, I'm low on food." The ram-horned arachnid stalked through the forest, vanishing from sight. 

Tubbo let his ams fall to his sides, shoulders hunching slightly. Damn it, he thought, I told them I'd convince Schlatt!

Speaking of 'them', his friends were a little ways away. They talked to Niki about Tommy, watching in surprise when suddenly her memories were filled with the boy. She now knew that Tommy had been there, waiting, watching, when Tubbo asked her those questions.

They wondered why Phil didn't react like this, maybe he just showed no signs of it. Or he still didn't believe him. Or he knew the entire time.

The last two options weren't very likeable to Tubbo.

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"What is the kid so focused on?" Dickhead whispered, creeping silently behind Shithead. The second almost screeched in surprise, but was quick enough to realize that it was just his partner.

They couldn't see what Tommy saw, so they didn't fully understand why the boy was positioned the way he was.

He was bent at his waist forwards, knees dropped into barely a crouch. His wings were frozen, standing straight up and arching over the sides of his torso. His jaw was set tightly, and his eyes were settled on something they couldn't see.

"A ghost, duh." Shithead rolled his eyes. 

"No shit."

"When do we let him go?"

"Soon."

"How will we do it, though?"

"We'll figure it out when its time."