Assumption's and Falsehoods

Chapter 1: A love letter to not being broke anymore

Tommy smoothed out stray bits of hair as he walked into The Headquarters, the place was cleaner and bigger than any house he had ever lived in, and this was only the lobby. Tommy marveled at the room, the velvet chairs to sit on while you wait for the front desk lady to call your name, the polished floors (Tommy prayed he wasn't trailing grime in, he did not want to pay for that tiling), the massive pillars that went all the way up to the high ceilings, Tommy almost felt bad for even stepping foot into there.

He waved the woman at the front desk, who he only now realized was the number eight hero, Captain Puffy. You would think her only power would be her physical one, the ram horns and ears, but you'd be wrong. Captain Puffy had very powerful earth magic, it could topple buildings and split cities. Tommy was glad that she was a hero as opposed to a villain, even if he had insurance, he didn't think they would pay for that.

"Theseus?"

Tommy suddenly felt his hands begin to shake, but he knew he needed this job. He needed the money if he was going to even make an attempt to leave Dream.

"Ayup. That's me."

Captain Puffy seemed to laugh at his unprofessionalism, and Tommy unclenched his jaw.

"Good, you'll be going up to the thirty-fifth floor. You are actually the Watsons' last interview. I wish you luck."

Tommy walked to the elevator and pressed the button. Now he had enough time to ponder if this was even worth it. On one hand, being paid above minimum wage and meeting THE Philza Minecraft seemed pretty poggers. On the other hand, there were so, so many things that could go wrong. He really did not want Philza to think he was a bad dude, he couldn't give two shits about what The Blade and Ghost thought. Tubbo said Ghost was a prick. Tommy contemplated literally any other options. Maybe he could sell drugs?

The elevator dinged and the door opened, welcoming him to a beautifully designed hellscape. It was obvious that this was their living quarters because it looked filthy, and Tommy would know filthy. The sink was stacked with gross dishes, flies gathering above and inside of them. It was clear that instead of doing the dishes, these esteemed rich people had run to Dollar General and bought some paper plates and plastic silverware. Paper plates littered the kitchen, as well as the plastic cutlery. Food wasn't put away, clothes were on the floor. And it smelled like someone died up there.

A brunette that Tommy recognized as Ghost walked into the room with earbuds in and without a mask, clearly not noticing Tommy as the heathen walked over to the cupboard and grabbed himself a paper plate.

"Oi isn't there enough of those laying around??"

Oh. THAT was a mistake. Tommy shifted awkwardly in his spot as the un-masked Ghost stared at him, unblinking. Ghost squinted at him, and Tommy squinted back. This was a competition. And Tommy's mother didn't die for him to grow up to be a bitch. Wilbur squinted harder, removing an earbud that was still playing loud music. Something about an interstate paved with memories.

"Who ARE you???" Ghost said incredulously, putting his paper plate down on the counter.

"Theseus. The guy you were supposed to interview?"

Ghost seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment before he stood up straight again.

"OH! Yeah Puffy gave you the wrong floor. Follow me."

The lanky man led Tommy back into the elevator, pressing the twenty-four button.

"So, why do you want the job?"

"Oh, it would just be an honor to work with Philza." He needed the money. Desperately.

"What about me? I'm the number three hero."

"Eh, you are kind of irrelevant to me. Philza is the only man ever actually."

Ghost hummed and the elevator door opened, the two men stepping out. This room was an office, it was smaller than the other rooms in the building that Tommy had seen, a lot less intimidating too. Ghost led him to the desk where Tommy met the man, the myth, the legend..

Philza Minecraft.

He looked exactly as he had on the news, longish blond hair tied in the back, the signature bucket hat and kimono combo, the socks and sandals. He was everything Tommy had looked up to and more. He was incredibly excited and also horrifically anxious. What if Phil hated him?

"Ah, there you are, mate. Puffy must've given you the wrong floor as well. I'm beginning to think she does it on purpose. Take a seat."

Tommy sat down, crossing his legs awkwardly.

Two hours and lots of questions later, Tommy had finished the interview. Phil was a cool guy, going out of his way to keep Tommy from feeling uncomfortable, trying to keep the questions as impersonal as possible.

"Well Tommy, I think you are pretty suited for the job."

Wait what?

"Really??"

"Yeah, I mean you don't have to do much. I just don't have the time to clean up anymore and the boys are always making a mess of things. You said you had a lot of free time on your hands and if you are going to need anything to clean up that hell, it's time and a bit of bleach."

Tommy was reeling, he leaned back into his seat.

"I'll take the job then."

"Wonderful, I'll see you on Tuesday at nine."

Tommy walked back to the elevator, high on his success. At this rate, he could have enough money to move out once he hit eighteen, and all he had to do was what? Keep some rich people's houses clean? It was easy money. He saw the Blade as he stepped out, and waved. The pink-haired man's expression only hardened as he looked at Tommy, his eyes narrowing. Tommy could take Ghost, but The Blade looked like he could snap Tommy in half.

Tommy brushed past him and stepped outside, after the shit show that was the night prior, Tommy wouldn't be going to Dreams, but to his second home. All he had to do now was tell his best friend (and Ranboob) the good news.

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"I like him, he seems like a good kid," Phil said with a fond look on his face.

Wilbur scoffed, "That's some random kid. You want to adopt again don't you?"

"No Wil, you shits are enough."

Techno took a sip of his coffee. "Also that's definitely the vigilante we've been chasing."

"What?!"

"What makes you say that??"

Wilbur and Phil said in unison.

"He has a nasty bruise on his arm, I saw it when he waved to me. That's where I grabbed the vigilante last night. It's Boo, I'd bet on it."

Wilbur rolled his eyes.

"You're just paranoid."