Hero Gone Rouge

"That's the truth,"

Toby sat on the wooden bench outside, watching the setting sun turn the sky into a soft watercolor painting.
The warm evening wind played with his hair, and the first crickets began their nocturnal symphony.

A familiar shadow fell on the grass, and Toby turned to see Tom standing there, hands jammed in his pockets.
A month's worth of stubble darkened his jaw, and there were new lines around his eyes. "Hey."

"Hey." Tom echoed as Toby shifting over to make room. The bench creaked under the shared weight, a familiar sound from long ago.

Silence fell, thick and heavy.
Toby wanted to ask a million things but found his tongue tied. Where has Tom been? Why had it gotten so hard to talk like they used to?

"Been a while," Toby said finally, eyes locked on the horizon. The words hung between them like an unanswered question.

Tom nodded, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "Too long."

"You look good, though." Toby shot a sideways glance, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. "Still wearing that stupid shirt,"

Tom rolled his eyes, but a ghost of their old banter made him smile back. "Hey, this shirt is a fashion statement."

"Yeah," Toby chuckled. "A statement that you're stuck in middle school."

"At least I don't dress in black and brood like a dark lord of the night." Tom teased, giving Toby's dark hoodie a playful jab with his elbow.

Toby sat beside Tom on the park bench, their shoulders brushing. The wind toyed with their hair as if trying to ruffle the tension between them.

Toby fidgeted with a loose thread on his jacket, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I heard Dad's planning something."

Tom stiffened, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He knew where this was going. "And?"

Toby glanced at him, a mix of concern and fear etched into his features. "He's talking about going after you… personally."

Tom's fingers clenched into fists, knuckles going white. The thought of facing their father again sent a shiver down his spine, one he couldn't afford to let show. "Of course he is. He always was a control freak."

"Tom," Toby paused, "they've planned something... something drastic."

Tom tensed, knowing where this conversation was headed. "What is it?"

Toby wallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. "He knows about Ran, and the league..."

Tom's head snapped toward him. “What *about* them?”

A long pause.

“He thinks they brainwashed you.” Tom finally looked at Toby, eyes wide with fear and guilt. “He says… they’re dangerous."

Tom went still — not just quiet, but truly frozen, like his body had forgotten how to breathe.

“And what does he plan to do about it?” he asked softly — too calmly.

Toby flinched as if slapped.

“They’ve been tracking your gear,” Toby whispered back before Tom could answer. Not a question — a realization.

"My things, right"

Toby nodded slowly, hands trembling now in his lap.
"There was something on my figurines… I didn’t think anything of it until Ran found it yesterday.”

“And now Da-Phill has everything he needs,” Toby finished for him — voice low with dread.

They sat in silence as the truth settled between them like smoke after an explosion: 

Phill wasn't coming for Tom because he missed him...

He was coming because he wanted revenge on the people who'd taken his weakest son—his failure—and made him *believe* that failure didn't matter anymore.
And heroes? They didn’t negotiate with villains who stole family…

especially when they thought those villains poisoned their bloodline's legacy.

"I never told them," Tom whispered suddenly, tears glistening at the edges of his eyes.“I never wanted this... I just wanted *them* to see me—to see *us*—as more than mistakes!”

Toby reached over and gripped his brother’s shoulder tight—not gentle like Wilbur used to do during nightmares…

but firm—the kind of touch that said: 
**I’m here**, 
**You’re not alone**, 
and 
***We won’t let this happen*.**

Another beat passed.

Then Tommy said small words so quiet even the stars might miss them:

“I trust them,"

And for the first time, toby did too.

Tom's trembling hands relaxed at the touch of Toby's grip, and he took a shaky breath, the promise in his brother's words like a lifeline.

As the night deepened around them, the boys sat together, two shadows against a city that would soon become a battlefield between fathers and sons.

But in that moment, in that tiny patch of park bench, they were just brothers: two kids who felt too much in a world that wanted them to feel nothing.

Tom's heart raced as the truth of Toby's words sunk in. "But why... why are you telling me this?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Toby sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because you have a right to know."

Tom shook his head, confusion clouding his features. "But what can we do? Dad... Dad's planning to—"

"I *know* what he's planning," Toby interrupted, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "B-....Blade is helping me," Toby nodded slowly.

Tom looks shocked.

"He wanted me to apologize for him, he can't say it in person because they're watching him," tom would nod once more, slowly.

"So, what do we do?"