A Guide For The Outsiders

What makes a vigilante (fire rain and acid pools, I'll do whatever it takes)

TW: war, violence, death, major character death. Gore
Please let me know if I missed any.

Tubbo watched the sun rise, it's rays slowly cresting over the hills breathing light, and with it, life, to the city, bit by bit the light spread from building to building, casting shadows where there was only darkness before.

Today was what really counted, and whatever happened, Tubbo knew the final decision was his.

A small fizz and pop came from his right where Ranboo now stood. A grim look across their face. The two were all suited up in their gear, their masks thrown aside. Because whatever happened today, their lived would never be the same, whether hailed heros, or thrown in prison. Or dead.

Tommy was the first to appear, or maybe he was last to appear.

He looked sad, or maybe indifferent. Maybe a glassy dead eye stare. Tubbo didn't know anymore, he didn't even trust his own perception.

There was never really a call to war, declaration of anything. Someone just threw a smoke bomb, and suddenly, they were locked in combat. It was gut wrenching to watch people he's trained beside, be felled at the merciless hands of their heros. The people they were meant to entrust their lives with, were the ones to take them.

How ironic.

The streets slowly turned red as the death toll rose, pedestrians within the mix as well.

He saw people with their throats neatly slit, fatal stab wounds that left them dead on the street, scratches raking down shredded clothing and dried blood coating the body. It hurt the bee to watch people die for their battle. Unwillingly, or willingly. He shyed away when a mother and her daughter tried to run across the street, only for the mother to get impaled by an arrow. The child trying to keep their parent running, only to collapse to the ground as the red stain on a green shirt grew larger.

Tubbo sent a silent sympathy to the poor child before being drawn away by a ear splitting shriek.

"I fucking trusted you to not give in again!" Ranboo screamed, "and you had to pick the easy way out!" Ranboo struck Tommy's side with the hero's metal staff, and he shrieked again, a distorted double voice layered over his own.

Tubbo saw Techno in the midst of a battle against Peregrine, all while shouting, "This isn't you!"

The bee watched the world be torn to shreds around him. What would be left when the battle ceased? If there was a winner, what would they win? And if not, would the two sides tear each other to pieces before anyone would win?

The heros were fighting to kill, so were the gang members, but many vigilantes were using nonleathal weapons, including Ranboo.

They were fighting a losing battle, with almost all the heros on Marionette's strings. They were too synchronized.

Tubbo sat and thought for a moment, the only real way to break them from their hold was to kill Marionette. The shifter had wormed his way into their minds over the course of almost half a year. It would break most of them if they only severed the contact.

The beeling knew how this had to end. He has watched it end this way many of times, in his dreams, in his imagination.

"It's us against the world Tommy. It always has been, and always will be." He lit up his hands, his power thrumming through his veins. "I will follow you to the ends of the earth." The light in his hands grew larger, and he flew to the center of the battle. Tubbo could feel the light starting to burn his hands. "I'll see you both on the other side."

The light enveloped him, burning his hands and arms as it grew. Tubbo wanted to make sure no one survived this. He would flatten the city and blow everyone to smithereens, including himself.

This would be the end.

As the burning reached his face, and his lungs, his wings slowed to a stop, he free fell and let himself have a moment of peace, and tranquility. It was not joy, a giddy thing that comes from enjoying oneself, but it was nothing negative either.

"I'll see you on the other side," he whispered, letting go of the burning ball of nuclear energy.

The searing white became black.