𝙸𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝙸𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚁𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

|𝟐𝟎| 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

Trigger warning: dissociative behaviour (how would you say that), slight panic attack 

im just assuming that if you've read this far you're fine with fighting, blood, etc, so im just gonna stop putting it as a warning 

The next twelve hours were a blur. Final details. The last training drills they might ever do. Finishing what they started. 

Darryl was a mass of stress and nerves. He was dissociative, staring at the ceiling for minutes on end; not even thinking anymore, just in a constant state of disbelief. His emotions were running high. This, in turn, caused his powers to malfunction. Hypersensitive senses flared, and he jumped at every soft rustle of his twin walking behind him, or something passing by the window. His wings unfurled and folded back into himself, shielding his face from the world. The light in his room was so bright it felt like he was overheating. Everything was too much, and he couldn't handle it, this was too soon, he needed more time. 

Philip cautiously stepped into Darryl's room, leaning against the doorframe with papers clutched in his hands. Darryl looked at him, squinting against the bright, and motioned him inside. His brother didn't make a move forward, but he did switch the lights off. 

"That better?" He asked softly. His voice sounded like he was just barely keeping it level. Darryl gave him the smallest of nods, and nestled into the comfort of his wings that made a sort of tent around him. 

"We were never ready." Darryl had meant it to be more of a question than a statement. Philip sighed in response, taking a moment to find a way to properly depict what he was thinking. 

"No. And we probably never will be. That's why we're going to pull this off. Two years of preparation or two hours, I am not letting them hurt anyone else." His voice was hard, so low and threatening that if Darryl was the Hero Council, he would've given up and let Philip take over months ago. "I'm done holding back, and hoping they'll change so we don't have to interfere. It ain't doing shit." 

The swear didn't even register. Darryl just looked blankly at him, a realization whispering in the back of his mind. "You're terrified." Philip flinched, but held his stare. 

"I am." 

Darryl nodded grimly, knowing more than anyone that if his brother— the cold, unemotional man he was— would admit he was scared, they had a lot more coming than anyone could say out loud. 

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

The morning came swiftly and without warning. He got a blink of sleep; closing his eyes for not even a second only to open them again and for it to be time to get ready. Breakfast was light. His stomach couldn't handle anything more than toast and apple juice. Everyone was quiet as they ate, the usual chatter of the daylight faded to nothing but nonchalant comments and planning. Bad had his part of the plan. So did everybody else at the table. 

When they all finished stomaching as much food as they could, Techno led them all to the basement, where he offered them equipment Bad didn't know they had access to. Light armour. Some sort of potion gallery. A weapon section Bad cringed away from, scared of most of the items Techno had stored. Philip did nod him over to a sword, though, the diamond in rusted handle gleaming and calling his hand forward to hold it. The bright blue brought old memories of Skeppy out of the cloudy fog of his mind, and he pushed them back down, not needing reminiscence if it was going to take up more time. 

The hilt was steady in his grip, and the blade was level as he gave it a couple of test swings. Bad wasn't that good with a sword. He had mediocre training, and an underwhelming amount of it, but something in him calmed. Like a bump in a road had been smoothed over. "I like the sword." 

He couldn't handle much more talking than that. Philip understood, the brotherly bond between them discarding the need for voicing anything. "I thought you would." 

Bad strapped up his boots, the heel making a hiss of machinery when he stepped down. The shoes would cushion if he fell too hard, with tiny springs and metal bits at the bottom. They also hurt a lot if you got kicked in the face by them. His black and red bomber jacket had secret compartments for smoke bombs, listening devices, a small radio to keep in touch with Tubbo and Techno, and it was made from a material called Flowse, which is light and flexible, but also fire resistant and strong against blunt force, and had holes for his wings to pop out of. As he pulled on his leather gloves, Philip walked over, already finished putting on his outfit, and gave him a silver bracelet that matched his own. Bad raised an eyebrow but complied, slipping it on. 

Everyone was suited up in fifteen minutes. It was the first time all of them had ever been in their villain attire at the same time. Maia was still helping people with adjustments on certain parts; George's goggles weren't showing the right page when he blinked twice (because, turns out, his glasses were actually equipped with tech that helps him on operations), the mask she had made for Dream had a stitch becoming undone, and Sapnap's shirt was catching on his bow. When she had finished, they turned to Philip, who took a deep breath. 

"You all know the plan." No one spoke. The air fizzled with nerves and pent-up excitement, becoming sharper with people's powers warming up for what was to come. "We have two objectives. Destroy everything. Help people." He eyed them all individually, with such a cruel stare that Bad shivered. "Chase after two rabbits and you'll fail to get one." 

Everyone knew what he meant in an instant. "Isn't this marvellous? Just us again. Ruining everything. May I see you tomorrow, when the sky's lit on fire." 

"May we all live to die another day!" 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ 

It was all in how they fixed this. As soon as the videos of the "training" the Hero Council put all those people through, the naive society of simple, good heroes and bad villains would crumble and hopefully the government would all get arrested or something like that. To be completely transparent, Bad wasn't exactly sure what would happen if they won. Just that they had to. 

The last words Skeppy said to him hung in the back of his mind. Now, of all times. Before he was going out into what would soon be a battlefield, his thoughts were centred around his old best friend. 

"I still like you. Even though you're a villain. What kind of fucked up world is this? Oh, who cares. Goodbye, Darryl. May I never see you again." 

Had he meant more than just like? There had been an unmistakable tinge of love in his voice. He almost didn't want to hope. But if it got him through today, the tiny string of belief keeping him together, then he might as well let himself be a fool. 

"Okay, test test, can you hear me?" Tubbo's frail voice came through the tech curled around his ear, clear and sharp. Dream fell into pace next to him as they walked through the empty streets. They glanced at each other once, nodding as a silent acknowledgement of what they were meant to do, then kept their eyes trained on the tall, clean glass building two blocks away but very clearly visible. 

"Affirmative. Nightmare and I are approaching Council One." Bad said back to his tiny microphone. They had ordered the tech from someone online that Tubbo knew, a guy who went by 'Pundy' or 'Funny' or something near that. Dream chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"All of the codenames, and I got a nightmare?" Bad shrugged absentmindedly, putting a hand above his face to keep the reflection of the sun out of his eyes. 

"Dream the hero, Nightmare the villain. It's stupid. But it works." He glared at the blonde who was still so nervous he was giggling. 

They were three buildings away now. 

Two. 

One. 

And the front doors were only a handful of steps away. Dream slipped into the alleyway, walking through to the back like it was the most casual thing ever, and they weren't planning on breaking in. He touched off the ground, lifted up a couple feet then held out a hand covered with shreds of white silk, stitched together with black string that looked like feathers of pale flames. "Shall we?"