Tommy's Ultra-Important Keychain

Chapter 23: A new power

It was Sunday. Tommy hated being up early more than usual because of school. It was supposed to be his break, but villainy waited for no one, as Phil liked to remind him. So, there he was, standing in a warehouse at eight in the morning in full costume.

He was running on three hours of sleep and a cup of gross healthy yogurt.

His brand new PC setup was to blame for his fatigue. He could practically see the sun rising by the time he realized he needed to clock out. In his honest defense, the thing ran like a dream and it would be a crime not to utilize it.

He recognized his mistake, of course. He should've valued his health over his video games. As he grew towards adulthood, he would benefit from productive habits and a regimented schedule.

But he wasn't an adult.

He downed two cans of the nearest energy drink and trash talked twelve-year-olds until five in the morning.

Admittedly, he wasn't ready for his sparring sessions against some of the strongest motherfuckers in the city. His built-in shock absorption only worked for so long. Wilbur landed several hits on his bruised limbs before catching on.

"You got no sleep," he observed like a prick.

"What gave me away," Tommy snarked.

Phil placed a hand on his shoulder, and he couldn't disguise his wince. "You're in no shape for any of this, mate."

Tommy sighed, "I don't understand how you lot are doing just fine. Those heroes hit hard."

Techno hummed from his place by the far wall. Wordlessly, he rolled up his sleeve and displayed a nasty wound. Tommy wrinkled his nose in disgust. The pink-haired villain huffed, "The Devil got me with my own axe at one point. Trust me, it doesn't get easier."

"Somehow, that doesn't fill me with confidence," Tommy replied. "I'm not used to having this much throbbing, constant pain."

"Should we see Boomer and Hannah about this?" Phil checked over some of the visible bruising. "It would be an easy fix for them."

Tommy shrugged him off, though he secretly appreciated the worry. Wilbur shoved his hands into his pocket and exhaled, "Either way, we can't continue today's practice."

"That's not true," Tommy said. "We could practice with the keys."

"Are you sure you're in the state for that," Phil asked. "Without a decent night's sleep, you won't have the necessary attention span."

"Well," Techno spoke up. They turned their eyes to him. "He could always experiment on the new item. That one can't be too draining."

Phil's shadow wings bristled. Tommy could practically feel the disdain that rolled off him in waves. He hated the very thought of Ace. Techno had a point, though. They'd been putting it off, and this was a perfect opportunity.

Tommy reached into his backpack and removed the stolen object from its pocket. It felt foreign in his hands.

A week prior, when he had originally taken it, he was too shocked to process his own actions. He was more focused on beating the shit out of the guy who hurt his best friend. It wasn't until he mentioned it to the Corporation that it sank in.

Hyperion had stolen Ace's magic item.

But it wasn't any old item.

It was a key.

It shouldn't have surprised him so much to learn that the heroes also had access to keys. Tommy knew they were a set, and the agency had an unlimited budget. Naturally, they'd get their hands on some of the most powerful objects.