Tommy's Ultra-Important Keychain

Chapter 33: Putting the "crisis" in identity crisis

Tommy hated going to school.

Why shouldn't he?

He was a world-class supervillain's apprentice. He could steal everything he needed, and spend the rest of his days lounging about the penthouse apartment of a multimillion dollar family.

And yet!

He was stuck, languishing in the back of his math class. His teacher droned on, but since being made aware of a certain power he possessed, paying attention didn't matter. The Memory Key was strong enough to factor in background noise. He took advantage of that heavily. Tommy hid his phone behind his textbook to try and keep busy, but it was only serving to make him more frustrated. His leg began to bounce obnoxiously beneath his desk.

Currently, Fortress and Icarus were causing massive outrage by spraypainting the Corporation's name on every bridge in the city. All while he was learning fucking algebra.

How was that fair?

The heroes were scrambling to try and predict their movements, but it wasn't working. There was no rhyme or rhythm to the vandalism. They were quick to appear on opposing sides of town mere moments apart, likely a result of Phil's wings or Wilbur's driving — both of which posed a threat to the general public's safety. It was a wild goose chase around the city, except the geese had knives and more bloodlust than usual.

The agency was running low on heroes. Speedrunner, Devil, Aesthetic, and several others were on the case, but they couldn't safeguard everything. Judging by flashes of news footage that Tommy found, the agency's higher-ups had obviously made the decision to focus their attention on the visible threat. Major and minor heroes alike were stationed at various bridges around town in anticipation.

Unfortunately for them, Tommy knew this meant that more important places were currently standing empty. He was certain that Phil would be silently taking advantage of their sparse security. It wasn't like him to pass up on such a worthwhile venture. The villain would likely drop his compatriots off beside their next conquest, and then zip to the nearest bank or something. The string of robberies would probably be reported on the evening news.

Tommy hung his head, tapping his finger against his screen. Live tweets and video footage were great, and a few months ago he would have settled for just that. Preferred it, even. Back then, he was a fan. Nothing more, nothing less. Spray paint and criminal activity wouldn't have crossed his mind as an option.

Since that time, he'd gotten a taste of the real deal. Hyperion was infamous. He was infamous.

Algebra did not make him feel that way.

He stretched himself out on the desk in a feeble attempt to become more comfortable. The students around him looked close to falling asleep, and he wasn't far behind them. Tommy probably would've let himself drift if not for the buzzing of his phone. He checked the notification and had to hold in the groan that bubbled up in his chest.

A text from Wilbur contained a selfie of two well-known supervillains in front of yet another bridge. The caption read, "Onto our next target."

Tommy was sure the news outlets hadn't caught up to them yet, meaning he was the only person in the city who had a clue where this dastardly pair may strike next. It should've made him feel special. Instead, he could only hear Wilbur's snobbish voice teasing him in his head.

"Really? Math class," the jackass mocked. "Hard to believe that basic algebra is about to be the downfall of Hyperion."

Even Fake Wilbur was a dick. He silently wondered how much brain damage it would take to fix that.