𝙸𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝙸𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚁𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

|𝟙𝟞| ℍ𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕖𝕤, ℍ𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕤

Trigger warnings: Mentions of not eating, cliffhangers, slight Tommy angst 

"New Heroes?" Bad looked at her, eyes narrowed with confusion. Philip began searching through their very full fridge for whipped cream. Sapnap piled bacon on a plate, stealing three pieces and wolfing them down. 

"That's us!" He grinned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Sapnap was way too excited for the mass hysteria this would cause, then again, he was the one who loved arson. Chaos seemed right up his alley. 

"And how will we do that? We're only eight people." Philip looked away. "We... are only eight people, right?" 

Maia shrugged. "Well, there's someone we might want to recruit. You never know." That didn't answer much. Bad layered the golden-brown pancakes on another plate, clinking as he put it down on their smooth counter. Sapnap took one and; without grabbing any utensils, folded it like a whipped cream taco and ate it in two bites. George rolled his eyes as he walked in the room, casually taking his place next to the food. 

"What exactly are you— we— doing for plan N-H? Is it going to hurt people?" George stole a glance at the closed door of Tubbo's room, wincing sadly. He still hadn't come out. Philip had said he had his own mini fridge in there, though, so he was fine for food. If he chose to eat it, that is. Bad hoped he was feeding himself. Malnourishment was serious. He wondered if he could slip him some muffins somehow, they always comforted him. 

"Well..."

 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇  

Tommy stood alone, behind a rundown corner store. The area was shaded by the juts of roofs, drips of rainwater falling in the small puddles that dotted the pavement, a thin whistle of wind rustling his jacket. His hand fidgeted in his pockets as he waited there, eyes skittering quickly along the street. He was agitated by the loud engines of the cars driving past. He itched to go home, to a place he couldn't return to. Not now. Not yet. Maybe, not ever. 

 Home is where the heart is. And right now, he wasn't sure where that was. Or was he, really? Did he actually know? Was he just too far into convincing himself he wasn't missing anyone? Would admitting who he was at home with be his undoing or a relief? Not like he had enough time to deal with that anyways. 

Soft footsteps came around the corner, and two men came next to him. They held fifty-cent chocolate bars and were sipping those shitty coffees you can get for two cents at cheap store. A real sad sight.

"Tommy." Wilbur spoke first, downing his coffee and crumpling the cup. Philza offered him a fatherly smile, and Tommy couldn't muster anything back other than a half-ass nod. "You okay, big man? We have business to sort out, need you top of your game." 

He shook his head, stealing one of their chocolates bars without them noticing. "I'm alright. Those people at the orphanage creeped me out a bit." Philza put a hand on Wilbur's shoulder, he had started forward like he was going to fight Tubbo and whoever that pig guy was. Tommy didn't want him to hurt Tubbo, and he forgot not to let that show in his face, eyebrows furrowed. Philza gave him a questioning glance, but let it slide, sensing how much he didn't want to talk about it. 

Wilbur looked around before waving forward at no one in particular. That was, until Tommy's eyes sharpened and a shadow shifted into a humanoid figure in the dark of where the streetlights couldn't reach. Philza stiffened, on his guard, and Tommy instinctively steadied his stance to more easily fight. The figure stepped forward. 

The pig guy. 

Pink skin, golden crown, tusks and all. His hair had been left loosely down his shoulders, the strands blowing in front of his stone cold face. Man, playing poker with him must be tough. Tommy hadn't taken a step towards him before Wilbur had held up his hand to stop, glaring at the man. "What do you want?"