Chapter Text
“It’s lore time, fellas.” Tommy spread out the big roll of paper across the IKEA bench on his rooftop, with the three most dangerous villains in the city beside him.
Because it was your average Saturday night. At least it wasn’t Tuesday, Tuesdays fucking suck. He's got personal beef against Tuesdays, and the next time it comes around, he and it are going to have words.
Wait, what was happening again? Oh, right.
Philza cocked his head to the side to try in an attempt to understand Tommy's horrible chicken scratch. Tommy can’t read it either, but shhhh, they don't have to know that.
“Mate, I don’t understand. I thought you said we were going to get pancakes?”
“Yeah sure ‘cause an old man like you would love to eat that old people shit at such an ungodly hour,” said Siren, crossing his arms and huffing his breath. This fool. He doesn’t understand the seriousness of the situation. Tommy rolled his eyes and huffed.
“You insolent fool. Not you, Philza Minecraft, only man ever. Wilmblur. Must I explain everything to your microscopic, pathetic mind?”
Wilbur made a noise of offense, but The Blade snorted. “He has a point.” But then he mumbled, “Mind you, his explanation took about 20 minutes longer than it should’ve and involved one too many red lines than I’m comfortable with, but other than that I got the message.”
Tommy looked down at the paper. It looked like some conspiracy paper the Racoons always have hanging on their walls, complete with big red circles surrounding pictures and thumbtacks holding up pictures of cool birds he saw during his walk to the park. No relevance to the plot, they were just cool, and he wanted to fill up space.
“Hey, don’t diss the system. It works.” Tommy huffed. Oh hey, he realized, we haven’t seen Techno for a couple of chapters. Poor guy, getting sidelined despite all the anime protagonist energy.
“I literally see you at the coffee shop every day, what are you talking about?”
Tommy ignored him, rolled up the paper, and threw it down his window hatch before closing it behind him. Ignore questions you can’t answer. That’s his new motto, second to YOLO.
“Alright fellas, move out!” Tommy dusted his pants off and marched off to the fire escape. (Though it's more like a fire hazard, since his apartment building is shit.)
The three villains looked at each other, shrugged, and followed him down the building. Siren tapped Tommy on the shoulder and started being a whiny bitch. Nothing new here.
“Can you just explain it more simply? Please? Not for me, for Crow, he’s kinda slow cause he’s so old-“
“Mate. You’re really pushing it.”
Tommy coughed. “We’re going to IHOP.”
Wilbur tripped, grabbed onto the wrong rail, and nearly fell 5 flights of stairs as it bent under his weight. He caught his balance again, pausing to look at it in horror before going back to pestering Tommy.
“But whyyyyy.”
Tommy said in the flattest tone he could muster, “I need emotional support and someone more confused than me in this situation.”
“Huh.”
“A Foil, if you did your English homework as a kid.”
Techno cleared his throat. “Really don’t appreciate you assuming I didn’t do my homework.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I graduated from college.”
“Fuck.”
Philza sighed, probably tired of his children already. Tommy understands him. He should disown them. And maybe adopt Tommy in the process, but that’s not the point.
Nah, it totally is the point. It has been the real plot all along, all these SBI moments leading up to murdering Phil’s heirs and becoming adopted-
Damn Tommy’s fucking hungry. Too many tangents, not enough pancakes.
“Why do you need emotional support for a trip to a chain restaurant?” Philza inquired, breaking Tommy out of his thoughts (a dangerous place). Finally, someone asking the rational questions.
“Why is an IHOP open at 1 am?” Techno paused his climbing to ask. Fuck now the questions are too rational. Quick! Use evasion!
“Your mother.”
“Heh?”
Philza, the most understandable man the universe has gifted him, came to an odd but correct conclusion. “Ah. I assume it involves issues regarding my wife’s job?”
Tommy threw his arms in the air. “See? Crow gets it! Why can’t Wilbur?”
“Because you keep insisting on being some cryptic horror-“
Tommy waved him off. “It’s funnier without context I assure you. You won’t even die, relax and enjoy the ride.”
Wilbur made eye contact with Techno once before shrugging. “Ah, what the hell, I owe the kid for all the snacks I steal.”
“IS THAT WHERE MY ASSORTED NUTS HAVE BEEN GOING-“
They reach the bottom of the stairs, and Tommy jumps the rest of the way down. Unfortunately for him, he forgot to brace himself and now his feet sting like a bitch. FUUUUUU-
“CCKKKK-“ he groaned, jumping from one foot to another. He felt more than saw the other two hop down from the top while Philza soared gracefully down. Hmmm. Reminder. Invest in wings. If he can get a gift like that from his wife, Tommy’s gonna file a complaint to the Night, demanding worker’s comp.
Phil looked around the empty street. “Where do you keep your car parked?”
Tommy sent him the most criminal side eye he could muster. “Side eye. Bold of you to assume I own a car. We walking bitch-”
Which was clearly the wrong thing to say because Crow pulled up a phone faster than a blink and held it up to his mouth like a walkie-talkie. His old man legs probably couldn’t handle the thought of walking more than two blocks. He would never insult Philza Minecraft HOWEVER-
“Kristin, can we get a car down here please?”
Out of the shadows a sleek black car slowly rose from the ground in front of them, which, what the hell. This is some Solo Leveling type shit that was NOT offered to him when HE was chosen by a deity. This is slander. This is bullshit. This is herasay or however you spell that word. He ain't got time to pull up a thesaurus. He’s going to start a riot in front of SpaceCash.
Tommy’s jaw dropped. “Why do you get a fucking cool wife?! I want one!”
Siren coughed, like the diseased, immature man he is. “The day Tommy gets married is the day the sky will fall.”
Tommy glared at him. “I could have that arranged you fuck. Don’t test me.”
Before Tommy could pull up his several contacts that owe him favors to rub in Wilbur’s face, Techno the fucker pushed him into the backseat of the car.
“Oi-”
Tommy gets interrupted by having two grown ass men squish him in the backseat as both the Blade and Siren join him. Tommy is being crushed. This is abuse. They are beefcakes who will crush his frail skeleton out of existence. He, of course, voices his concern.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME YOU TWATS I SWEAR- PHIL! ~PHIL, THEY‘RE CRUSHING MEEEEEE-“
Phil, the privileged man that he is, sat in the passenger seat. Tommy paused his yelling when the car started driving.
“Wait. Who the fuck is driving.”
He leaned around Techno– who was the middle seat child, and saw the driver seat full of crows. 4 were on the floor pushing the pedals. One was standing on the steering wheel as the lookout. Two were happily pushing the gear shifter stick (because crows were based and hated electric cars and also automatics). A few sat on the chair, reaching the steering wheel and pulling the car out of the street. And they all wore matching little chauffeur hats. Tommy’s jaw dropped.
“What the fuck.”
Phil just smiled and shrugged like ‘what can you do?’. “They all have their license.”
Tommy tapped his finger on his forehead. “I guess this is why they call you Crow.”
Everyone in the car simultaneously slaps their foreheads in sync.
•———•
Tommy told the crows to go to the most fucked up IHOP in town. It was to be quoted, “You’ll know it when you see it.”
And yeah let it be known that crows are smart as fuck because the car ended up right at their destination, no GPS needed. (At some point, two crows pulled out a paper map three times the size of their little crow bodies from who knows where and started cawing at each other.)
And yeah, ok, the villains were not happy with their silly destination.
“What the fuck is that?!” Siren hissed with his vocal cords getting all funny like a pubescent teen.
Ha. Pubescent.
P u b e.
P o o b- (ok he’ll stop.)
“IHOP,” Tommy said, getting out of the car. Ah, sweet leg room, how he missed you. And then his knees started cracking like glowsticks which ok sure they wanna be glowsticks well too bad, they better not start fucking glowing-
“That is NOT an IHOP, that is a HOLE of WHAT THE FUCK-“
Tommy didn’t think it looked that bad. It was an average IHOP; the bright blue non-euclidean roof, the glitching windows that flickered different light levels from void darkness to flashbang light, the way the air around the place bent around to avoid the god forsaken destination, and the grass looking like a corrupted png because who the fuck uses jpg in this day and age.
Ok, so it was a little bad, but he heard the food would be goo,d so he’s not one to judge a book by its cover.
“So we’re… going in there,” Techno said slowly, inching his way back to the car. The crows took one look at the place and probably went ‘yeah lmao, good fucking luck you’re on your fucking own-’ because the moment Phil got out of the car they took off driving. Tommy assumes they went to a Wendy’s instead. Based crows honestly.
“Yup.”
“Is it safe?”
Tommy shrugged. “See, I have plot armor, but I am legit assuming it’ll be enough to protect you all by default, but no promises.”
The Blade glared at him. “I want to eat food without having to fight for my life.”
Tommy shrugged while Siren waved his arms in emphasis to everything. “What the hell even happened here?! Why is the IHOP like this?!”
Tommy patted his arms on the lanky bitche’s shoulder and calmly looked him in the eyes. “I’m not telling you. But I will queue a flashback..”
“The fu-“
“A Flashback… flashback… flashback…” he said, lowering his voice every time he said it.
•—————•
Tommy was sitting on his IKEA bench on the roof, like a normal person at 11 pm. Totally wasn’t because one of the custom candles he made of a crow melted crookedly and set some napkins on fire, and now the apartment smells like fire-
Totally not the reason. Cough. Cough.
He ate ice cream out of spite (as there was no other way to eat ice cream at 11 pm-) and was angrily destroying a cone when a voice whispered in the sky-
“Hey~”
And Tommy ignored it. Because ice cream.
The sound of traffic came from below him. Some stale air and smog flew by him. He wondered if he would hit anything if he spit over the rails of the building, before thinking against it because ice cream.
“…hey?~”
Tommy ate the last of the ice cream and grabbed the hose to rinse off the sticky ice cream residue on his fingers. Not tonight bitch. Hygiene for the win.
And then his phone rang.
“Hey Siri, answer the phone.” He said without looking to see who it was. It’s 11 pm for fucks sake.
“I’m literally whispering into your ear, stop ignoring me,” came the sound of a not-so-godly voice anymore, Night. Tommy rolled his eyes. They both can be petty but using the phone is a dick move. Who still uses calls? Speaking is overrated. Text him and maybe he’ll get back to you in 2-3 business days.
“Jokes on you bitch, I took a nap during the day.” He taunted because the one thing Night hates is people who sleep during the day.
Needless to say, he held the phone away from his ear while the phone speakers strained from all the yelling on the other side. It went on for another 10 minutes, but Tommy doesn’t think any of what was said would be important for the flashback, so he’s going to skip over it.
Like 20 minutes into the call, Night finally got into what the call was for in the first place.
“So I dropped something when I went to IHOP the other day. Can you get it.~”
Tommy shrugged. “Fuck, guess I’m going to IHOP. What did you drop?”
“…Daylight savings time.” The call hung up, leaving the roof in silence.
Tommy looked into the camera like in The Office.
“End flashback.”
•——————•
“-And that’s why it’s fucked.”
Wilbur stared at him. “Literally nothing happened.”
“Shut up or I’ll cancel you. You’re names already on thin fucking ice.”
“WHAT-“
Tommy dragged him by the wrist like a personal kite and opened the door, like a proper gentleman to the elderly he was, because Siren was simply old as fuck with brittle bones. Yes. Bones. (He’s been obsessed with bones lately, what's up with that huh.)
Siren did a full-body twitch when he stood by the entrance. “I am LEAVING, pancakes are NOT worth my life.”
Tommy groaned. “Why the fuck are you backing out now, we are so close to winning!!”
Siren hissed at him like, honest to god, hissed. It seems there’s some point where a human cannot withstand crack humor fuckery.
Threat time.
Tommy sighed. “Do it or I’ll melt the candles you buy from me.”
Wilbur shook Tommy aggressively. “Don’t you dare touch my 18 statues of Philza Minecraft.”
“YOU MADE MORE?!” Techno said in horror.
“YOU BOUGHT MORE??!” Philza yelled in shock.
Tommy pushed the three grown ass men into the entrance while they were distracted. This is where the fun begins. Gravity left to get the milk because the roof became the wall, and the wall became the floor. All four of them started to slide down to their impending doom.
“PHILLLL!!” They all yelled, but the man was already grabbing them all and flying back up to the door. Well. It was a door. Now it’s just a plain wall. The wall that is now the roof. Ugh, this is getting confusing. Tommy did not appreciate the gravity switch; his mind hurts when it's supposed to be funny.
Techno pulled Tommy's waist uncomfortably while Tommy hugged Wilbur’s leg tighter from where Wilbur held on to Philzas' arm, who was trying to keep everyone in the air. The man soared slowly in a circle around the room, slowly descending from the weight of three people.
Below them, the other side of the room was blurry like someone had turned on a fog machine, or turned the render distance down. It looked more like an eternal void to nothing.
“Phil, I don’t trust Tommy’s ability to hold on Please, can you give me your other hand?” Techno pleaded from below Tommy. He responded by kneeing the man in the stomach. Sadly, it did not knock him off, but only hurt his toes. Darn.
“Give me a second, mate-“ Philza strained with gritted teeth, flapping his wings to keep them afloat. He flew towards the now sideways waiting area that jutted out like a cliffside and stood atop the nearest flat surface, pulling them up.
Tommy feels dizzy because flipped gravity is easy to comprehend, but sideways gravity just hurts. Are they looking up? Are they facing down when they look sideways? Are they standing on the left side of the chair or the front side?
“This is annoying.” He complained.
“Stop complaining. It doesn’t help.” Wilbur snarked back.
And then, just to shit on Wilbur (a valid activity many participate in), the place decided complaining does help, and gravity switched back to normal. The four then found themselves squished on top of each other like an ice cream sandwich. Except no ice cream.
“OW-“
“Oh shi-“
“FUUUC-“
“MY HAIR-“
Tommy kicked Siren’s lanky legs off his feet, scrambling to get away from the pile of Limbs™. Having three full-grown ass men in costume was very awkward to have on top of you. He army-crawled towards the fog, which usually would have been like 4 inches of distance, but space was being warped here, so he ended up across the room without realizing. A few more inches and he passed a doorway he didn’t notice at first, before almost bumping into two pairs of legs that emerged in the fog.
He assumed they were The Blade’s at first, but those were Heelys, which he knew the man did not own, since he preferred Sketcher Light Up Sneaker High-Tops. Also, there were voices above him that were speakin,g which was awkward to say the least.
Uhhhh, wait a second. He strained to hear the voices over the ambient soundtrack of groans, creaking, wind whistling, and the Bossa Nova background music playing from who knows where.
“Can you unplug the fog machine already? I can't see shit.”
“I told you it's broken; it's not turn-off-able. Like your mom last night-”
“Ok, look-”
A conversation above him had Tommy staring at the floor in seething anger. The mystery people were being funnier than him. A crime. He was still lying down unnoticed, which wasn't actually that bad in this situation. The perfect eavesdropping while he waits for back-up. Meanwhile, the voices above him kept at it, attempting to sound like the voices in his head, probably.
“Listen, my friend here ordered his omelette without eggs, and instead of doing your job, you're just complaining at us and insulting my mother.”
The other voice that sounded vaguely familiar replied. “It's an omelet. It's SUPPOSED to be made of eggs.”
Tommy heard a scoff come out of the first person. “Puh-lease, next thing you know you’re gonna tell me that a latte has milk.”
The silence was concerning.
And then a third voice spoke up, almost jumpscaring Tommy out of his hiding spot.
“I don't want any pancakes either. Do you have anything else?”
“-IT'S LITERALLY CALLED INTERNATIONAL. HOUSE. OF. PANCAKES. BITCH DON’T MAKE ME JUMP OVER THIS COUNTER-.”
Oh-kay. Violence. Not his forte. It could be, but he's hungry.
If he crawls backwards again, maybe the people won’t notice him and he can have another adventure with the others in some other cursed place-
A foot came out of nowhere in the fog and stepped on his hand.
“OW-” Tommy complained.
“AHHH I STEPPED ON- ON SOMETHING SOFT-”
Tommy felt something grab his ankle ew what, and in horror felt himself get lifted into the air. Someone picked him up by the ankles- what is this, 2003? (No offense to 2003; it was a good year, despite him not being birthed then.)
“TOMMY?!” Oh no, he's been recognised. Whatever shall he do. (<--sarcasm.) He stared at the shins of everyone because if they weren't going to be eye level with him, he was not going to level eyes with them. But he's got to admit, those cargo pants looked pretty snazzy. He saw some like that at Walmart the other day, and he should've bought them now that he thinks about it. Man, those pants probably came in like 6 colors too.
“Oh hey Tommy, I figured you’d show up in the plot at some point.” Someone said across from him.
Oh no.
He did know that voice.
“Can you put me down?” he said to the mystery person grabbing his ankles, who put him down. How nice. Now, if he can only make up for the fact that he got picked up in the first place by self-defenestration, all would be well. He shook off the headrush and grabbed onto the counter to lift himself. Now that he could see everything that was not the floor, he realized he had made it to the main cash register of the restaurant.
And the person working behind it is none other than that motherfucker, Purpled.
Purpled, in IHOP uniform, saluted him. “Yo.”
Another voice came from behind him. “You know each other?” Tommy turned around to look eyes with another mask. Two masks in fact. Two people stood in full vigilante costume in front of him, one being obnoxiously taller than the other. And there was something familiar about the two. Like he’s seen them on the news or something.
Oh, well, duh, of course. Rooftop. It's probably some of his loudass neighbors.
“Woah, uhh hello there.” Tommy started when the other two stared at him. (he couldn't actually tell if they were looking at him from under the masks, but he liked to feel important enough to be stared at.)
“Oh, er- hello random citizen whomst we have never met before. Are you in peril?” The taller one stammered out. Not very heroic. Is this guy really running around in those sweet Walmart cargo pants and acting like that?
“You don’t sound very confident there. Dude. How do you face yourself in the mirror?” Tommy snarked back. Purpled pointed to the shorter one.
“Hey, this guy knows your name, isn't that suspicious?” The two vigilantes looked back and forth between Tommy and Purpled like a tennis match as Tommy shrugged.
“What can I say? I'm a popular man.”
“You were worshipped in a cult.”
“Same thing.”
The taller one choked on air, which gave Tommy a feeling that tall people just regularly choke on air when around him. Maybe his air is musty. Or murderous. He should invest in an air humidifier to save life, perhaps. The shorter one cleared his throat.
“Excuse us, citizen, we need you to exit the building as it is under investigation due to its-” he waved a hand at the wall as it started flashing different colors. “Everything.”
Purpled rolled his eyes. “I told you, stop meddling. The plot ain't moving faster if you kick us out,” he crossed his arms. “Besides, I'm not leaving till my shifts are over.”
The taller one waved his hands around Purpled's personal space wildly. “Seriously, what part of ‘life in danger’ do you not understand? Your life is not worth the company man. Franchises don't care about their employees, you know. It's all a lie.”
Purpled gasped. “You take that back!-”
Tommy turned to the short guy. “Seriously though, who are you guys?”
Short guy froze. “You don’t know who we are?” he stammered nervously. “Not even a little recognition?”
“Not canonically, which is weird cause we’re on like, what chapter ten?” Tommy mused. “In fact, do you guys even have names?”
“What-”
“If we are sticking to the theme of obvious names, they'd probably be like Ender and Bee or something, but that doesn't feel right to me. It's a bit too on the nose, don'tcha think?”
Short guy seemed in a daze when he went, “So you have heard of us- from the news. I’m Bee. The other idiot is Ender.”
Well goddamnit. Stupid hero names. Stupid vigilante names. Stupid villain names. Why couldn't they just go by colors like the Power Rangers or something? It would make life so much easier. Yellow vigilante. Red villain. Yeah. Vermillion or Crimson seemed like a cool name. He should copyright it for another life or something.
Before he could respond, Tommy felt the ground tilt underneath him, stumbling towards the counter as the room decided, yes, 45-degree angle is the best way the floor should be. Purpled just held onto a rope. Tommy realized he had tied around his waist for this exact purpose. Ender was smashed between the corner of the table and a planter that had slid from who knows where in his direction.
Purpled sighed. “At least the painting didn’t rip open the void again.”
And then the painting ripped open the void. Speak of the devil, and the internet will make R34 of it. That's how the saying goes, right?
A hand stuck out of the endless dark area, reaching to the side of the frame to pull itself out, like some horror movie type shit. It was pretty impressive, because Tommy once tried lifting himself over a wall, and that was not easy. That angle looked absolutely taxing on the weight distribution, so mad respect to people who can.
Oh yeah, the arm.
Purpled grabbed a spray bottle, and the two vigilantes (Brazil and Eyeball or whatever the fuck their names were) pulled out some sort of stick-shaped weapon. Mmmm, Tommy knew he shouldn’t've left his Cast Iron Skillet at home, but alas.
Luckily for them (or just Tommy in general), the rest of the body ended up being Philza and his entourage of children. That being, Crow pulling his lazy, useless, dead weight trust fund children dressed in supervillain costumes out of the void.
“Thank you again, Kristin. Have a good day Dear,” Crow spoke to the painting frame as the void folded back up into a regular painting again. Tommy considered switching teams to see if he could get better deals with the Goddess of Death when the stupid idiots behind him started causing a scene.
“You!” Ender slid knives out of his sleeve, which was actually pretty fucking cool in Tommy’s opinion, but hush, he is biased towards people taller than him who do not donate their height to a charitable cause (i.e, himself). Siren fell into a fighting stance, hand reaching for his pocket.
“Do you reckon they're trapped here or should we hit them to see if they’re illusions?” The Blade said mockingly, moving his hand to grab his sword. Bee held something in his hand that began to make a loud, charging-up whirring noise that Tommy was not comfortable hearing.
Great. He wanted pancakes, and now he's got to deal with a boss battle. Fuck no. Time to play mediator.
He rang the bell at the front desk a couple of times to get everyone's attention, as the world should be.
“Ladies, ladies, you're all beautiful. Beautiful enough to love the one and only Tommyinnit, of course– But we have pancakes to annihilate, so take your cat fighting outside after.” he turned to Purpled, who looked bored.
“Can we get a table for 4?” Tommy asked nicely, because he's a nice guy.
“No.”
Damn, so this is what happens when you try to be nice in life. The world just takes and takes.
Bee lowered his ‘now glowing yellow and buzzing’ weapon and looked in Tommy’s direction.
“What do you mean four?!”
Crow looked up at Tommy from where he was standing, trying to stand in the shadows. (‘Trying’, because the entire room kept changing where light was coming from, and what color lighting. It was currently set on a warm blue tone and shone from the floor. Hence, lack of shadows to stand in. Somehow Phil made it work, because he’s Phil.)
Crow pointed at Tommy and said, “We’re with him.”
Tommy pointed at himself to feel involved. “They're with me.”
Ender pointed at Tommy because he's a copycat. “YOU'RE WITH THEM?!”
Purpled pointed at himself. “And I don't let people who are on good terms with god order. We refuse the right to serve and all that. And because I'm petty.”
Tommy rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure that's like, half the people in the room.”
“Being petty or knowing god?”
“Yes.”
The Blade raised his hand. “Not me. I fistfought god once for a cool piece of rock.”
Tommy gasped. “Bro, you have one too?! Cool god rocks go brrrrr.”
Ender waved his hands around and shook his head. “Wait, wait, wait, can we go back to the part where you and them are here together? Is this a kidnapping? A hostage plot? A sort of plot to overthrow the government that involves raccoons? I knew those bastards were not normal-”
“Omg, just shut up. I want pancakes.” Tommy complained, hushing him to silence. And also emotionally traumatizing him in the process, but really, it was getting old. Its been like, 400 words.
Phil was also tired of everyone's bullshit (he was also hungry), and walked up to Purpled. “You're the worker here?”
“No, I just wandered in here for fun and cosplayed as an IHOP employee.”
Crow raised an eyebrow, checked over his shoulder to make sure Siren and Blade hadn't started fighting the poor vigilantes, and put his hands up in a sign of peace. “No need to be like that, I assure you. We aren't here to cause problems. Merely to be served.”
Purpled crossed his arms. “Oh, I can serve. But you'd have to follow me on TikTok to see.”
Phil looked between Tommy and Purpled, trying to figure out if they were twins separated at birth or if he's going to have to deal with another piece of shit gremlin for another chapter.
Siren pushed aside Phil and slammed his hands down on the table. Tommy rolled his eyes. Damatic ahh bitch.
“I know how to handle these types of kids, Crow, just watch-” Siren began, but was interrupted by Purpled.
“Welcome to Wendy's. How can I help you.” he droned emotionlessly.
Wilbur narrowed his eyes. “We’re at IHOP.”
“Are you sure?”
“Uhhh yeah.”
“Try again.”
Wilbur.exe stopped responding.
Tommy glared at Purpled.
“Can we just PLEASE get a table,” Tommy complained as Purpled grabbed a potted plant to avoid hitting his head. (It was floating aimlessly.)
“Maybe. I don't know. Can you?”
Tommy pointed to the vigilante duo who had just been off-screen for a couple of sentences sadly. “Do you really want to keep stalling when these fuckers can eventually start causing problems?”
“HEY-”
“What-”
Purpled grimaced. “Fair enough. Table for how many?”
“Party of four.”
“Can I join?”
Tommy glared at him. “No. Party of 4.”
“I can make it 5.”
“I can make you leave this chapter, but we don’t always get what we want.”
Purpled rolled his eyes. “Fine. Gatekeep all the fun. I was always just a side character anyways. I see I'm not loved. The masses will rue the day I don’t use my deus ex machina powers to move along the plot-”
Ender tapped Tommy’s shoulder while Purpled monologued to literally no one. “Can we join? To like, keep an eye out on the villains to make sure you're safe, not cause we also want pancakes and also it's scary here.”
“Yo Purpled,” Tommy called out. “Make that party of 6.”
“OH COME ON-” Purpled’s eye twitched.
“Customers are always right bitch. Now feed us.”
•—————•
So, having 3 supervillains and 2 vigilantees at the same IHOP table is a recipe for chaos. He acknowledges this. He is aware of this. He doomscrolled for this. But disaster will not strike tonight (morning?) for everyone is too busy focusing on the elephant in the room.
“Listen I get the place is fucked, but why is there AN ELEPHANT ON THE CEILING?!” Siren shrieked, living up to his name.
“Oh, so we are just going to ignore the stream of floating items across the room?” Bee yelled back. They keep pointing out the obvious. It's getting tiring. Like, yes this is a fucking shithole. Could you not tell the first 10 MINUTES they’ve been here?!
Purpled led them all to their table, which had been a long process from the reception desk that included crawling under huge cracks in a rift in the space time continune, having gravity switch up a couple more times but for each person individually (Tommy will admit that holding Wilbur like a balloon as the taller man screamed like a child for his life was pretty funny), playing death stop light with some smiley face that Tommy’s pretty sure lives in the Backrooms –which he did see a hallway that look suspiciously like said room– and also climb down a mountain cliffside.
A cliffside.
At 3 am.
Physical activity at 3 am.
He doesn't get paid enough for this. Those pancakes better be FUCKING worth it.
It also didn’t help that the vigilante duo was obsessed with him and the rest of the villains. It's literally not that deep. Their comments did not go unnoticed.
“Do you even know who these weaklings are?” Techno asked Tommy while everyone walked on a bridge across a river of some bright red liquid that nobody wanted to inquire about.
Tommy grabbed Techno’s shoulder and gave him a wild look. “Canonically no. Surprising, I know, it's chapter what 15? And I haven’t met the legendary vigilante duo.”
Techno resisted against his bullshit, he’s LEARNING– and turned to the mentioned vigilantes.
“How do you know him?” the pink-haired man said with a low voice, sounding almost threatening.
“Well, how do you know him? I daresay it's way more suspicious, seeing as how you are villains.” Ender replied, sending the Blade a glare. Siren scoffed.
“He’s under our protection.”
Bee shook an angry fist at them. “The fuc- what kind of protection could you people offer– no, since when would an innocent civilian be involved with the likes of you?!”
Tommy looked up. “Chapter one.”
“Shut up Tommy,” Beeduo and Twinduo said at the exact same time. Tommy sighed dramatically.
“Oh, so this suddenly isn’t a Tommyinnit conversation. I see how it is– I’m going to go stand in the corner and cry.”
They ignored him in favor of getting into a heated debate. Tommy hopes they fall through one of the random holes that were appearing on the ground to the beat of Rush E.
Siren crossed his arms in frustration. “We claimed his habitation. There was like a whole?? Sign?? If you know him, you would have seen it.”
Bee coughed. Like a fake fucker. “We don’t know where he lives. We aren’t stalkers, unlike some people.”
The Blade loomed above them menacingly. “Is this the part where we're supposed to ignore the fact you knew his name?”
Tommy called out to them. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard.”
Wilbur pulled Bee slightly aside to show the shorter individual Google Maps on the former’s phone.
“He lives here-yeah, the same street as that one Italian restaurant that’s fucking good.”
Ender puffed up behind Bee and looked away. “Not really all that reassuring to know even the lowest of people can still recognize good spaghetti.”
Tommy sighed. “Can we not leak my address.”
“We don’t patrol around there,” Bee said.
“Yeah, people do try to sleep, you know. We center more towards small businesses and streets than residential areas.” Ender added on.
Siren hummed. “Maybe I‘ll tolerate your presence since you may be on the right side of the law, but you aren’t assholes.”
Bee frowned and held up another one of his machines spinning menacingly. “Hey, hey, don't go assuming we follow the law like a rulebook. It's a suggestion.”
“And murder is a reasonable solution,” Ender added.
Techno perked up at that and dropped a significant amount of the ‘will kill you’ vibes. “Would you be interested in joining my cool book club on anarchy perchance.”
Ender looked intrigued. “Tell me more.”
Tommy turned to make eye contact with Purpled and said, “What in the lore did I just experience?”
.0.
They were seated at a table for 6 people in a more normal-looking IHOP room. More restaurant than wall-melting horror. A couple of isolated tables and fake photos of people on walls that look like they had their families threatened into taking the photo. But that's pretty normal.
Oh, except for the pond.
“How longeth doth thee bethink these people shall lasteth bef're those gents giveth up on pancakes.”
“wherefore doth thee has't to beest so negative?”
The snapping turtles seem to be happily vibing as they chatted in Shakespearean English for some reason. Tommy is not one to judge the nightlife of snapping turtles, but IHOP pond does not seem like a fun hangout place in his opinion.
Techno openly stared at the turtles while everyone was sitting down. “Why do they talk like that?”
Ender sent him a look. “You say that as if turtles usually talk??”
“At which hour doth thee bethink those gents shall findeth out we owneth many stocks in the marketeth”
“nay way. Seemeth too close-mind'd to me.”
Crow seemed to have grown tired of this entire place by now. His wings were fluffed up in annoyance. And sand. That desert they crossed a couple of minutes ago was pretty windy.
“Shouldn’t we be fixing this? It doesn’t sit right with me,” he says to Tommy, who immediately rolls his eyes. What a quitter. 99% of villains quit before they get their pancakes. Tommy is the outlier. He's also not a villain, but eh, statistics.
“Nah, let’s eat first. I’m hungry.”
“Hi, hungry. I’m dad.” Phil says automatically. Tommy gasped.
“PHILZA, IS THIS YOU ADOPTING ME? CAN I CALL YOU DADZA?!”
“The blond wench is just desp'rate at this pointeth.”
“Break thee off, johnny. This is wherefore nay one likes thee.”
Philza, bless his Karen ass, shot a glare at Purpled. “Are they going to be like that the entire time?” he said, annoyed.
Purpled looked over his shoulder. “Good question. Anyways, here are the menus if you can figure out how to read them. If you want any drinks, tell me now before I miss the next 30-second window to enter the kitchen.”
Tommy looked down at the menu that was printed upside down, reverse, and backwards. Oh, and just a shit ton of Zalgo text. He sighed and tried his best to remember what he got last time he went to an IHOP.
“Can we just all get water? It's late anyways.” Phil said, like the boomer he was.
“Nah fuck that. I'm having coffee.” Wilbur interrupted.
“Dude, IHOP coffee is shit,” Bee said. “On that note, I’ll also take a black coffee.”
Techno cleared his throat. “Pink lemonade for me.”
Ender looked at him. “Do they even have that?”
“They better.”
Crow sighed, annoyed at his son’s pink lemonade antics, probably. Tommy would usually take Phil’s side to up his chances of getting adopted but on the other hand. Pink lemonade.
“I will also get the pink lemonade,” Tommy added.
And then everyone looked at Ender. Stared at the guy. Really made him squirm.
“...Sprite? Please?”
“BASIC ASS BITCH-” Purpled crackled in his face before leaving them to decipher the menus.
Philza held out the menu like an old man trying to read without glasses. Bee pulled out a notebook and tried to treat it like a decoding project. Siren just shifted his entire body in an attempt to read the menu. He held it up to the ceiling (that could not be seen, as it seemed like it stretched on forever, like that SCP IKEA on Roblox). That menu proceeded to morph into a rubber chicken. Shocked, Wilbur dropped it on his face.
“What the fuck.” Siren noted, staring at the rubber chicken on the table.
“Skill issue,” Techno commented.
“oh ho so thats wh're julius wenteth.” the turtles added. “doth me a fav'r and toss that gent ov'r.”
Siren yeeted the rubber chicken in the worst throw Tommy has the displease of viewing. A snake swung out of nowhere from the bushes by the pond and tossed it onto one of the rocks in the middle of the pond, where most turtles were chilling. They all took to squeezing it repetitively, making the squeezing noise scream over and over again.
“Oh my god, that’s so annoying,” Bee mumbled under his breath. Without hesitation, Ender stood up violently and whipped out a comically large rocket launcher that unfolded itself, pointing it towards the turtles. It started glowing like a giant laser pointer.
The turtles paused from their rubber chicken squeezing.
“Try me bitch. Do it. Do it I fucking dare you.” Ender warned.
The turtles looked at each other and then at Ender.
“Bro, chill. It was just a prank,” one of them said.
Purpled chose that moment to fall from the ceiling. He landed with a flip.
“Sorry about that. Your drinks are lagging behind by 7 seconds, I think.”
He stuck out his hand just in time to catch the tray of drinks, cups, and coffee. Not a single drop spilled. Tommy was almost impressed until he remembered it was Purpled.
He passed the drinks out to everyone, serving the coffee to Bee and Wilbur with a warning of, “If it tries to bite you, stab it immediately.”
Siren and Bee just looked at each other and grabbed the butter knives with their other hand.
Tommy pointed at the menu. “Can I get the strawberry pancakes?”
Purpled glared at him. “I don't know, can you?”
“Ok, that's it-”
Before Tommy could throw hands, Techno looked up from his reading glasses (where the fuck did those come from-) and looked at Purpled dead in the eye when he said. “Can I get the 2 X 2 X 2.”
Ender turned his Menu upside down. Or it could be rightside up. “There's no way that's a real item. Where does it say that?” he inquired. The menu spilled out at least 50 paper clips in response.
Purpled wrote down Blade’s order. “Do you want sausage or bacon with that?”
“Hypothetically, how much bacon can you give me?”
Purpled stopped writing for a second. “Good question.” He nodded for about a good minute or two. Techno stared at him.
“…so you gonna answer?”
“Nah, I just think it’s a good question,” Purpled said.
“Fine, be that way. Sausage then.”
Purpled pouted. “Lame. How do you want your eggs?”
“Dead.”
“Fair enough,” he said, looking towards Siren. Siren pointed at Techno.
“I'm having what he’s having,” Siren said, like a lazy ass. Tommy looked over to where Ender had pulled out an ouija board planchette and was using it over the menu that strangely started glowing. He muttered to himself so low no one at the table could hear, before he stopped and looked up.
“I'm getting this one,” he pointed to the menu confidently. Purpled looked over.
“Nice choice, vanilla plain boy. We have hope for you yet.”
Phil finally got the chance to speak, but he forgot that he was also at a table with menaces.
“Can I get the “
“PHILS HAVING THE OLD MAN PANCAKES-“ Wilbur interrupted.
“Ok, one old man pancake coming up,” Purpled replied. Tommy was afraid to ask what the old man pancakes were.
Bee lifted his menu, er, what was left of it anyway. It seemed to have been ripped in two and melted from chemicals. Whether from the place or Bee is yet to be determined.
“Can i get a whooper?” he said with a straight face. Purpled scrunched up his nose.
“Sir, we are at IHOP-”
“CAN I GET A WHOOPA?!”
“CAN YOU SHUT YOUR BITCH ASS UP-” he seethe, breathing through his teeth. Bee did not in fact shut up.
“Tee-hee, I would like the French toast,” he continued in a posh accent. Purpled flipped him off but wrote it down anyway.
“Bacon or sausage.”
“I don’t eat bacon.”
“I don’t care, get a sausage then,” he said, starting to regret interacting with Bee in the first place, bringing up Bee in the likeability chart in Tommy’s head.
Bee leaned forward onto the table. “Does it come in vegan?”
“Sir, with no due respect, it’s a sausage. If it comes in vegan, it’s probably not safe to consume.”
“I'll take that then.”
The rest of the table had watched the interaction with vague interest, but Tommy held up a hand.
“Is a vegan sausage just an egg roll?” he wondered aloud. Everyone groaned.
“Egg is not vegan.” Crow pointed out wisely.
“Your ass ain't vegan.”
“What does that even-”
Purpled checked his watch and sighed. “I'll be in the kitchens if you need me.”
Tommy sputtered. “What about me? My order?”
Purpled stared at him like he was stupid, which was incredibly rude but not far off. “You literally told me Strawberry Pancakes already.”
“Listen here, you-”
Before Tommy could once again throw hands (and knives) at him, Ender interrupted.
"Wait a second. Are you the only one working here?" he inquired, clearly not using any of his brain cells. Duh, of course, no one is going to be working here. Look at the state of the place.
Purpled glared at the tallest vigilante. "Fuck you, I've 100% Papa's Pizzeria before. This ain't nothing I can't handle."
Ender looked like he wanted to jump on him. he crossed his arms and tilted his head like a bird. "You say that like it's some impressive task. Consider. Papa' freezeria."
Purpled looked like he was going to genuinely kill Ender, something Tommy could not be having with the rated PG-13 vibe he's got going on. Leave the blood and gore for another story. he cleared his throat loudly to capture the two's attention.
"Don't you have a job to do? I'm considering not tipping if you keep this attitude up." Tommy said.
Purpled flipped him off, stuck his other hand out, and grabbed a floating horizontal pole that was randomly floating upward into the abyss, carrying Purpled along with it. Either that was the actual way to the kitchen, or Purpled just wanted to be a dramatic son of a bitch. could be 50/50 with that guy.
The table and Co went quiet from the event. One would think they had gotten used to it by now.
“Ok. This place is really starting to hurt my brain." Siren said, slamming his head onto the table.
"Oh sure, and it has nothing to do with slamming your head onto the table." Bee snarked.
"He probably didn't have much of it to begin with." Ender added, hopping onto the 'lets bully Siren' bandwagon. it was already pretty crowded in there though, Tommy might have to push someone off of it at this rate. He had called shotgun first.
"This is bullying I think." Siren pointed out to the vigilantes, to which the two just shrugged.
"No no, this is basically our jobs." Bee stated, using the butter knife to gesture between himself and Ender. "We vigilante the fuck out of people and then break their morals so badly they cry and maybe answer their mom's calls for once."
"My mom is dead."
Well this just got awkward.
And also complicated. What even is this family tree anymore. Hey he should join this conversation he hasn't said anything for a while.
"Hubert is dead," Tommy added sadly. The two of them just stared at him. good. better befuddlement than talking about childhood trauma in HIS IHOP adventure. Really now. Have some decency.
"Who." Siren asked, probably concerned. Not even necessarily for one thing, Tommy's just a concerning person to be around.
"Some gecko that climbed onto my windowsill one time. He fell off the building. It was truly tragic."
Philza, who was listening to the stupidities his kids and Co were getting up to, frowned. "Don't lizards have zero fall damage?"
Everyone looked at him in horror and disappointment simultaneously. He looked back at them back confused. "What?"
"There is so much wrong with what you just said." Ender pointed out. Siren just shook his head and sighed.
"Knew we should've left him at home."
Tommy threw his hands out to shush the idiot who dared to question Tommy's choice of company. "If Philza Minecraft himself has reassured me that Hubert lives, then I shall await his return someday."
And then he realized that he said Philza Minecraft instead of Crow, the villains current persona. Team SBI aka the villians all facepalmed in sych which was lowkey satisfying if you forget the fact that he just doxed Mr. Minecrafts fun hobby of crime and GTA. How will he ever get written into the the rich man’s Will now?
"I feel like I should know what a pillza monecraft is, but I can't remember why. Wasn't he like on a TV show once?" Ender turned to Tommy as if he was catching up on the weather forecast for next week and not asking for confirmation of a secret identity. Tommy just shrugged. Phil seemed rich enough to star in a TV show. Ender sighed. Bee, on the other hand, connected the dots well enough. a little TOO well if you ask Tommy.
"Wait a second...Philza...Crow...this all makes sense...all those mission timelines and appearances...it all makes sense...but that means... there's so much more to this... the dominoes are all falling into place..." Bee muttered to himself, ignoring his partner's questions.
The Blade not-so-friendly nudged Ender, who had pulled out a phone to Google Philza or something. "Can you just forget that was ever mentioned?"
Ender nodded confidently. "Oh yeah, of course! Here, let me just-"
He proceeded to stick his hand by his head, twist something, and ended up slamming onto the table head down, passed out.
"Damn, he's good?" Tommy asked, poking the guy's head even though he was unresponsive. On the bright side, the hair seemed pretty soft. mmmm texture.
"Yeah, yeah, he'll be fine...more importantly," Bee said offhandly, "The political Iceberg videos on Youtube could be right about several conspiracy theories happening in the city at this very moment..."
Tommy looked at Bee and noticed the other was lost in his mind. He should probably warn the guy or something.
"You should watch out for the pipeline. It's probably dangerous."
Siren smirked. "Ah, yes. ignorance is bliss as they say, now make like a fool and drown in the reality of this cruel world- WAIT, IS THAT AN ACTUAL PIPELINE-"
A metal pipe that Tommy watched slowly rise from behind their booth snuck up behind Bee and redirected itself towards the sound of Siren's voice. Siren's head. It started shooting assorted small hard plastic objects towards Siren, who tried to duck out of the way.
"OW FUCK! Is- is this a LEGO?!- OW- NOT THE EYES-"
Tommy picked up a Lego figurine (the Batman one from 2009, heh classic-) out of his own drink and flicked it over to the snapping turtles. They'd probably appreciate it. Or maybe not. They were too busy side-eyeing the rocket launcher that was still aimed in their general direction.
Rocket launchers make good Do Not Disturb signs.
He turned to Techno, who was suspiciously quiet for more than Tommy was used to.
"Are we leaving you out. Do you feel left out? Do you want to feel included?" Tommy asked him. The former ignored him, too busy doing what Tommy realized was reading the back label of ingredients on one of the syrup containers.
Fine then. Next time he's left out of the shenanigans, Tommy won't help him.
Siren held Techno’s cold drink against his face, now sporting some interesting-looking bruises. “That’s it. This dumb place is going to lead to certain death.” He declared. Tommy rolled his eyes.
“Oh, please. I have an unbeatable method to avoid that.”
Wilbur moved the drink away from his face to stare at Tommy.
“And what is that?”
“You don’t.”
Before Siren can find any loopholes in Tommyinnit’s Unbeatable Method, a voice called out from the side.
“Did somebody say Canadian Maple Syrup?”
The table turned to the sight of Purpled carrying two trays of food, balancing to the point where something should have fallen and probably will within the next ten seconds.
“No. No body said that.” The spoilsport Siren retorted.
“Good because we don’t have any. You get fake artificial and food color corn syrup like a good American.” Purpled stuck out his tongue while practically throwing all of the plates onto the table. The plates somehow slid perfectly in front of each person, each order lining up perfectly with the right person.
“What’s an American,” Crow asked, probably trying to play dumb. Or not. Who knows if America really exists or if it’s just a collective hallucination. People on the internet are known to be liars.
Nobody wanted to answer the question, probably too busy inspecting the pancakes for something that could kill them. Or trying to figure out what to eat first. It was a genuine thing to think about. Tommy was planning on attacking the center of the pancakes first when Ender rose from his coma at the smell of food.
“Oh hey pancakes- what IS this?” He said, making a face at his plate.
“What you ordered,” Purpled replied.
“And what in the four dimensions did I order?”
“Did you just count the aether as a dimension.”
“That’s not what I’m asking you.”
Purpled looked like he wanted to stab someone. Tommy wanted someone to stab somebody. He wouldn’t mind a show while he destroyed his pancakes. He reached for the bottle of syrup, but it was stolen by Siren. The guy had the audacity to stare at Tommy while pouring syrup into his pancakes. Tommy threw his butter knife at him, but was caught midway by Blade, who chose that moment to steal the syrup from Siren's hands while the latter was processing the fact Tommy threw a knife at him.
Meanwhile, Purpled was still dodging the question.
“Seriously, the Aether is a myth; it doesn’t actually exist.”
“Please- why do my pancakes look like this?”
“I know there’s research on the potential of another dimension from the Deep Dark, but usually in reference of 4 dimensions, people usually refer to the infamous Aether dimension-“
“I’m going to throw this plate at your face.”
“That’s so hot.”
Phil started cutting his old man pancakes, ignoring the syrup bottle flying over his head as Tommy stomped on techno’s foot, which caused him to throw said syrup.
“Pass the butter please,” Crow said politely to Bee, who handed it across the table without looking up from inhaling his French toast. Nobody dared put their hands near his mouth for fear of being mistaken for food.
Which Tommy couldn’t blame him for. These pancakes are good. Probably not Food Wars level good, but he also likes his clothes, so he’ll settle for these pancakes. Especially with all the commotion leading up to here, it made the food taste like victory. And strawberries. But mostly victory.
Techno calmly lifted his plate of eggs from getting smashed by Siren, who elbowed the table in an attempt to keep his plate from falling on his frontside. He was a mess, but nothing is necessary new in that department. Like a child eating food. Also, syrup in hair does not look comfortable.
Tommy turned to Techno, who shrugged. “I've had to protect my food from him before,” he simply stated.
Bee was separated from trying to become one with the pancakes to stop Ender from committing homicide.
“Ender, please, can we consider the option of eating your food.”
“Have we considered violence as an option?”
“It’s option E.”
“E? Which ones? D?”
Prupled interrupted with- “Deez nuts-“
Tommy ducked when Ender tackled Bee and Purpled at the same time. The table bumped where they pushed it upwards while Phil started holding his water cup to keep it from knocking down. He didn't try to separate the fight, though. Possibly because he had already retired from being an adult around 1 am.
Wow, what time even is it?
Time…
Oh yeah, he had a job to do.
But first, pancakes.
•—————•
With only ¼ of the food ending up on the floor, chairs, and bodies, everyone seemed pretty much winded down from the pancake fever. Or whatever you want to call that. Tommy, sneaky plotter extraordinaire, needed an excuse actually start his job. So naturally.
“So how hard do you think it’ll take to find the bathroom around here?” Tommy asked. He also needed to use the restroom. The pink lemonade was just too good. And having sticky hands was awful.
Purpled smiled eerily, which was never a good sign. “Fastest method I know will depend on how lucky you are.”
Tommy leaned on his hands. “I always have good odds.”
“Alright then. Traveling table roulette time.”
The table and booth started spinning, making everyone hold onto them for dear life. Despite their attempts, Tommy saw each person get flung off into a different direction, off into oblivion or maybe a Wendy’s.
A few seconds later, his fingers slipped, throwing him far, far away…
Just kidding. He fell like 2 feet from the pond.
“Ow.” He said, because it seemed like something to do.
He got up to his feet and dusted off his pants. There was way too much dirt on the floor to be a hygienic restaurant, but then again. Cursed IHOP.
Tommy turned away from a bright light that shone from the pond, bathing the surrounding area in a sort of green light. It dimmed down, and Tommy stared through the now clear pond water to see a hallway under it. Like underwater.
“Please tell me that’s not the bathroom.” He complained to the snapping turtles, who ignored him. Fuck them, honestly. He knew they were assholes from the start.
He gingerly stepped into the pond, testing the waters.
Ahahahaha- testing the waters. Get it?
For some reason, Tommy did not get wet. He felt the water, but his clothes stayed dry.
“What in the Percy Jackson shit is this?” He muttered as he waded into the water. He’s just trying to find a restroom, damn it.
When he reached the bottom of the pond, aka a new hallway, he felt vaguely disoriented from the effect of water resistance despite being able to breathe and not being wet. It was cool but in a ‘this is wrong’ kinda way. He had to keep his feet below him and keep swimming downward, or he would float back up. Unpleasant. He hopes the bathroom isn’t like this either.
The first door he swam to was green, perfectly square, and made of copper. Looked sus in his opinion. He passed by it without wanting to open it.
The second doorway he passed was a marble archway with heavy, dark wooden doors that were twice his size. The only issue with it was that it was slightly tilted into the ground. Tommy thought of passing it, but decided against it. Not cause he had a feeling that it was the right door, but because his arms were getting tired.
He grabbed the handlebar and then spent about a minute trying to figure out if it’s a push or pull.
“Fucking heavy ass door.” He said, watching air bubbles float out of his mouth. He wondered if anyone else is fairing better.
See, this is the part where the story would cut away, but fuck that Tommy is the main character and that means you’re stuck with him whether you like it or not.
The door ended up sliding upwards (wasn’t a push OR pull WHAT) like a garage door, revealing…
An entire room covered roof to floor in American flags. With fireworks actively going off inside. And the sound–oh fuck the sound. The American national anthem with gun noises and bald eagle screeches blasted into Tommy’s ears and vibrated into his skin. And it sounded underwater too, to boot.
Tommy shut the door.
Waited ten seconds.
Opened it again.
“I just wanna be part of your SYPHONY-“
“This is going to suck.”
•—————•
6 doors, 3 hallways, 2 accidental Backrooms no-clips, and 7 trapdoors later, and there was still no bathroom.
Tommy was starting to get annoyed. He wasn’t underwater anymore, but he’s pretty sure he walked through a mirror because when he moved left, he went right, and it very much hurts his mind.
He walked down the rusted pipe looking hallway and sighed when he reached a dead end. He groaned and stomped his way back where he came from, when a bright light hit him. Which was weird since it was a dark hall. This golden light just came out of nowhere.
Tommy stared at the source of the light. It was a pocket watch. A golden pocket watch. With only one hour on it.
“Aren’t you the fucking thing I’m supposed to be getting?” Tommy asked it.
It did not answer.
Tommy rolled his eyes. The anticlimactic discovery was not on his bucket list. He’s trying to find the bathroom and THEN Daylight Savings. Why couldn’t it wait its turn?
…but while he’s here, might as well.
He scooped up the glowing golden pocket watch, sticking it in The Box™. Do not ask what The Box™ is. Do not ask where The Box™ is from. Do not ask where The Box™ will go. It is not for you to know.
Anyways. Now that daylight savings time has been achieved, he can continue his quest to find the restroo-
He turned around to find himself in a regular IHOP.
Oh yeah. Cursed item retrieve equals no more cursed IHOP. Damn.
Purpled stared at him from the now very normal counter. “Did you end up finding the bathroom?” He asked.
Tommy frowned. “No.”
Purpled walked over, patted Tommy on the shoulders.
“Tough shit.” And then handed him the bill for the food.
“HOLY SHIT”
Purpled grabbed Tommy’s credit card. “Welcome to IHOP fucker.”
Tommy could feel the call of capitalism like a siren luring sailors to their doom. “I should've realized it. Sob.”
Purpled rolled his eyes. “I'm sure youve spent more on Sahara impulse buys. I know i have.”
Tommy stared at him. Purpled stared back. Two guys staring at each other in an empty restaurant at Ass Crack O’ Clock. Wait. empty restaurant. Tommy looked away to look around the place before feeling like he lost children at an amusement park.
“Where did everyone go?”
Purpled pointed to the moon out the window, which figures. “Home. They got vibe checked and sent home.”
“How anticlimactic.”
Purpled handed him his receipt. “Is that that bad. Themes and conclusions to an adventure are not necessary for having a good time-”
“Ok, seriously, I have to use the restroom-” Tommy interrupted.
“Down the hall to the left.”
Text messages from:
Bench trio
I forgor:
Hey Tommy uh
Bee boy:
We got something important to tell you
Big man:
Why tf r yall texting me at 8 in the morning whose soul did you sell and who do I need to gamble it back from?
Bee boy:
Shit up
Ahut*
Shut**
FUCK OFF
I forgor:
Not important
Uh but it’s gotta be live
We wanna tell you in person
Big man:
YOUR GETTINF DIVORCED??
D:
Bee boi:
WHAT
I forgor:
WERE WE MARRIED???
Big man:
YOUR GETTINF MARRIED??? WITH OUT ME?? WAS I NOT INVITED TO THE WEDDING??? OR THE POLY?? TF
bee boi:
NO
WELL
FUCK OFF NO
THATS LITERALLY NOT EVEN WHAT WE’RE TALKING ABOUT
Big man:
OH SHIT
SO
YOUR PREGNANT THEN
I forgor:
TUBBO IS THIS WHY YOU THREW UP IN THE BATHROOM RHE OTHER DAY
WHOS THE FATHER????
bee boi:
SYBAU KYS TS PMO
two people are typing…