Tommy's Ultra-Important Keychain

Chapter 39: Countdown

The cup in Tommy's hands was hot. Enough to burn an unprepared victim, or at least force them to jerk back in surprise. But Tommy wasn't unprepared. Never could be with the constant numbing of his senses brought on by his powers. It'd been a long time since something as feeble as a burn had affected him. That morning, the scalding heat acted as nothing more than a pleasant buzz against his palms.

When the contents of his cup touched his tongue, the lack of flavor jolted his taste buds, stung in a way that was beyond physical pain — the bitterness of black coffee, a welcome resource. Tommy needed the extra boost to ready himself for what the day would bring.

The hospital was quiet during the dawn hours. Birds chirped with the rising sun, and the clock flashed with an ungodly truth. Wilbur was asleep on the couch, exactly where he'd collapsed the night prior. Tommy was careful not to wake him as he passed. The halls were always empty, no matter the time of day. Thankfully, there were never enough patients to fill them. The silence provided a perfect blanket for his every step.

Somewhere within the twisting labyrinth, Phil and Techno dozed soundly in their chosen rooms. Tommy had been offered a cot of his own as well, but hadn't utilized it. The circumstances and the setting played a significant part in keeping him alert through the darkest hours of the evening. Too many nights had been spent within those very walls, pain ridden for one reason or another. He feared that closing his eyes here while in fine condition would curse him.

Hannah and Boomer were nowhere to be seen, even as he strolled further into the depths of their home. Tommy reasoned they were likely awake – their professions both requiring them to be early risers. Usually they could be spotted flitting from place to place, searching for equipment or remedies in the gardens. For the time being though, they too were absent from his path.

Tommy's socked feet padded lightly on the hardwood floors of the upper hallways. They creaked beneath him, the only sign of his approach towards the otherwise-unassuming door. A caution sign hung from the front of it, warning against entry without preparation, and declaring that he was in the correct area.

Running on no sleep and a singular cup of bitter coffee, Tommy felt he couldn't be more prepared. He pulled a house key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He cracked it open, just enough to hear the hinges screech, and immediately there came a loud shuffling. Tommy paused, knowing the source before he'd even peered inside.

He wasn't surprised to find that the patient was awake. It was an unfounded hope to expect anything less. Gingerly, Tommy called out, "Chill, Ranboo. It's just me."

The shuffling stopped within a second.

Tommy let the door slowly creak open the rest of the way. Through the muddled light of the frosted glass window and the heavy curtains, he could make out a figure waiting inside. Tall, tense, and shaking slightly.

Ranboo was familiar to him, in the most vague sense. Logically, Tommy knew him. Tommy could look at him and recognize the person he'd befriended over the last couple of years. On a deeper level though, there was a stranger waiting in the room for him. A stranger with wide eyes, a deadly secret, and too many injuries to count.

He stepped inside the room, locking the door from the inside and returning the key to his pocket. The last thing they needed was a hero on the loose in the villain hospital.

"Hey," Tommy said.

He watched Ranboo open his mouth, and part of him prayed for a voice he didn't know to emerge, "Tommy?"

His prayers were unanswered. If he held any reservations before, they were forced away now. Without a doubt, this was the Ranboo he knew. The Ranboo he loved. And it was the same Ranboo that had tried to kill him mere hours before.