Chapter Text
Wilbur would bemoan to any who listened that he had rotten luck. His brother argued it wasn't luck but rather poor decision making skills. Perhaps Techno wasn't completely wrong even if Wilbur would never openly admit it.
Fighting the Nightmare Team singlehandedly was a horrendous decision on his part. If the two most dangerous villains in the city didn't kill him, Philza certainly would once he got his hands on Wilbur.
"Where's your team, Maestro? Flying solo today?" Dream chuckled. Slung over his shoulder was a duffel bag, bulging full of money and valuables from the jewelry store with the busted windows below him. Behind the villain lurked his partner, Wildfire, also laden with a similar duffel and puffing smoke lazily out through his nose like a dragon.
Tendrils of regret poked around in Wilbur’s gut like the inquisitive tentacles of an octopus. Damn, he should have just waited for the rest of his team before leaping into this fight. As much as his choices might point otherwise, Wilbur was no idiot. Despite being one of the top heroes in L’Manberg and able to hold his own in a fight against most villains he encountered, he knew he was more of a talker rather then a fighter. He was the distraction, flashy and annoying, as to draw criminals eyes to him, while his team-mates went about the actual punching and such. So Wilbur fighting a two on one against L’Manberg’s top villains? That was a near death wish.
Now, he was faced with the choice of running away like a coward or highly probable death.
Well, let it never be said Wilbur was known for his stellar self-preservation instincts.
"Why hello to you too, Dream. I see you brought Puff the magic dragon with you today for your heist," he smirked.
A thumping rattle echoed as Wildfire's duffel bag hit the roof they stood on. Wilbur lazily tucked his hand into his sash and rested his fingertips on the handle of his knife. He smiled cheekily. Sapnap, or “Wildfire” as he was more commonly known as, was almost too easy to rile up.
Dream however, was a different story. Wilbur never really knew what to expect of the man, unpredictable as he was. Clad in an eyesore of a neon green hoodie, black combat pants, and various belts carrying his arsenal of criminal supplies, one could say he looked ridiculous or perhaps casually underdressed for a top villain. Dream’s appearance and signature smiling mask didn’t spark terror because it was intimidating per say, but rather the reputation of the man who wore them.
Dream cocked his head, smiling mask completely concealing any expression behind it.
"You know," he began, voice light and unthreatening. "I think you might just let us be on our way, Maestro."
Wilbur rolled his eyes.
"We both know your manipulation doesn't work on me, just as mine doesn't work on you.”
Dream shrugged and subtly took a few steps back.
Oh. It's one of those days then, where they'd be playing cat and mouse over the city rooftops.
As it is, Wilbur is not in a running mood, now or really ever, despite the fact that seventy percent of his job consisted of chasing criminals down. Phil liked to joke that the other twenty-nine percent was paperwork with the remaining one percent of time actually spent fighting. As it happens, Wilbur knows just the thing to make Dream mad enough that he'll stay to fight.
"Have you found George yet? It's been what, two years now thats he's been missing?"
Any movement Dream had been making to leave stopped immediately as the man visibly stiffened.
Bingo.
Okay, so Wilbur would be the first to admit that bringing up the missing hero was kind of a dick move. It was an extremely effective dick move, seeing how Dream was rapidly advancing towards him with his signature axe in hand, duffel bags all but forgotten.
After dodging three separate swings of the axe intended to behead him, Wilbur decided it was perhaps too effective.
"A bit touchy are we?" Wilbur gasped as he dodged a flaming punch from Wildfire. Dream's axe blade screamed as it scraped against the cement Wilbur had been standing on seconds prior. He only barely managed to catch a glimpse of Wildfire's eyes flashing in anger as he focused on avoiding Dream's wordless attacks.
"A bit of a low blow for a hero to bring him up, isn't it?" Wildfire snarled back. Dream remained terrifyingly silent.
The second he was out of their range Wilbur grinned and readjusted the grip on his knife.
"Perhaps, but no one said I was a 'nice' hero."
That was a bold-faced lie; ask any journalist or reporter who interviewed him and they would practically sing about how polite and courteous and charismatic Maestro was. His "boyish charm" as Techno once put it. It was no accident that Maestro was always the one to answer questions from reporters and civilians alike. "Maestro" was the nice approachable hero, especially when compared to his team-mates "The Blade" and "Crowfather".
Wilbur, well, he was just the asshole who played him.
An asshole who was about to be very dead if his team-mates didn't show up soon.
“You really going all out today, huh?” Wilbur gasped, heaving a breath of air into his tired lungs. Heat flashed across his cheek as he dodged a wall of flame directed towards him.
Wildfire grinned cockily. Behind him stood Dream, panting heavily with his axe in a white knuckled grip.
“Don’t pick a fight if you can’t take the heat, Maestro.” Wildfire chuckled.
Wilbur groaned at the lameness of the pun. That was almost a Karl-level of lame dad joke. He had to listen to enough of his jokes back at HQ. Usually the same ones too, seeing the man often forgot which ones he’d already said.
But jokes were good in this case. If they were joking, that meant that they were no longer trying to kill him. Or at least, Wildfire would be less aggressively trying to kill him. The jury was still out on whether Dream was still in a homicidal mood or not.
“Alright,” Wilbur smiled as he straightened his back and stretched his arms out. Wildfire’s eyes widened behind his mask. Wilbur’s smile turned into a grin as he snapped his hands out and started swinging them as if conducting an orchestra.
“How about we let Dream have a turn taking the heat then?” Maestro said.
Dream snarled as he leapt back from Wildfire who advanced towards him with flaming fists.
“Do we have to do this every time?” Wildfire groaned loudly as his limbs swung of their own accord, out of his control and under Maestro’s.
Wilbur barely paid Wildfire’s comments heed as he focussed on maintaining his control and keeping an eye on Dream.
“Sorry king, it’s just part of the game I’m afraid. It’s my namesake after all.” he replied. Already Dream was maneuvering out of Wildfires reach and towards Wilbur, axe drawn with one hand. Dream’s other hand twitched in the air like a puppeteer pulling at strings.
Wilbur readied his knife in one hand, and directed Wildfire with the other.
To the unknowing bystander, Dream and Maestro’s powers could be seen as the same. Both could manipulate others to do as they wanted, and both generally gestured with at least one hand as they did. It was also true that Dream and Wilbur couldn’t control each other; their own powers cancelling each other out. That was where the similarities ended though, especially if you asked someone who’d experienced both sides.
Wildfire probably had the most experience out of anyone. For him, it was a regular occurrence to be fought over by Dream and Wilbur.
Even now Wilbur could feel his grip slipping as he dodged a blow from Dream’s axe, and tried to hold Wildfire still.
“Can we not play pass the-“ Wildfire’s jaw abruptly clamped shut as Wilbur’s control over him snapped and Dream took over.
Now he was done for.
“I swear,” Dream finally gasped as he twirled his axe in his hand. His partner silently followed behind him, eyes glowing ominously green and body too rigid in its movements to be anything but unnatural.
“You’re being a real pest today aren’t you, Maestro? All to stop a little jewellery theft?” Dream continued.
Wilbur backed up carefully, mindful of the edge of the roof he was quickly approaching. If he had to pick between the business end of Dream’s axe, and jumping, he’d choose death by gravity. It would be less messy, and probably quicker too. A much less painful way to die.
Still, that thought held little comfort as his heart raced in his throat.
“Aww, I’m touched. I put in extra effort to be extra annoying just for you. I’m so glad you noticed.”
Dream must have seen his shaking hands by how the villain stopped, and his voice curled into a smile when he next spoke.
“How about I cut you a deal, Maestro? You let me cut off your hands, and I’ll let you live. That way you don’t need to hurl yourself off a building, and I don’t need to worry about you causing anymore trouble. That and the city won’t have to scrape your body off the sidewalk, entertaining as that might be.” Dream offered.
Instinctively, Wilbur’s gaze darted to Wildfire to see his reaction to Dream’s offer. Disgust flickered across Wildfire’s face before it was wiped away, his eyes brightening greener momentarily.
Wildfire remained silent.
“Huh. That’s interesting.” he thought. Wilbur stored that little tidbit of information away for later, when he wasn’t fighting villains. Instead he focussed on buying time.
“Wouldn’t cutting off my hands defeat the purpose of sparing my life? I mean, I would probably bleed out and die anyways. Jumping just expedites the process. Less messy.”
Dream cocked his head. Wilbur imagined he was smiling behind his mask. He looked predatory as he stepped toward Wilbur.
“Who said I’d let you die? I’d tie them off, make sure you don’t bleed out. The idea is humiliation. Not death.”
A shudder ran through Wilbur’s spine.
When a massive, feathered shadow flew across the pavement behind Wildfire and Dream, Wilbur almost cried out in relief.
Instead he looked behind him at the three story fall and the cars rushing below him. Then he looked back at Dream.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’ll take death.”
Wilbur then flung himself off the roof.
Not a second later, strong arms caught him, and he was surrounded by his father’s giant wings, flapping against the weight.
Relief washed over him instantaneously.
He really wished he could have seen Dream’s face when he jumped. Especially seeing how Phil’s expression was the definition of absolutely furious.
Oh yeah, Phil was definitely going to murder him when they got home.
The ride back to HQ was mostly uneventful. For one, Phil didn’t utter a word as he carried Wilbur, only looking at him when readjusting his grip. And when they did meet eyes, Wilbur really wished he hadn’t as Phil’s expression was angrier then he’d seen in a long time. His blue eyes that normally crinkled in laughter were narrowed in anger, and his brows furrowed till they almost touched. His lips too were sealed tightly shut, pursed and tugged down in a frown and not letting a single word slip out of them. The only time he opened them was to give curt replies to Technoblade, whose voice crackled through their earpieces. Wilbur stayed quiet and didn’t bother adding any input into the brief conversations.
“Alright, I’ve got the duffel bags, and given them back to the owners. And uh, gave a statement to the police-though I didn’t have much to really give ‘em. Just basically that it was Dream and Wildfire who did it. Probably would have been better had Maestro done it, seeing he was y’know here.” Techno’s voice rambled through Wilbur’s earpiece.
Wilbur wisely stayed silent as above him, Phil answered with a grunt. “Yeah well Maestro is currently unavailable right now. I’m sure whatever you said was fine. Most important part was getting the bags back.”
Techno grunted in response. Wilbur knew Techno would have rather caught the Nightmare team to finally bring to justice but it seemed his twin had caught on from Phil’s tone and clipped responses that now wasn’t the time to go into speculations and would rathers.
“Just get back to HQ, Blade. There, we can regroup, discuss what went wrong and how to fix it for next time.” Phil murmured with a quick glance down at Wilbur.
Oh yeah he was definitely in for it back at base. They always talked after patrols to better critique their plans and go over improvements; it was one of the things that made them the top hero team. But whenever Phil said it out loud like that, even cutting a patrol short to discuss it immediately rather then waiting till after, it meant it was serious. It usually was reserved for when someone was grievously injured or messed up big time.
And much to his regret, Wilbur was not seriously injured, meaning it was the latter option.
“On my way.” Techno monotoned back.
Yeah, he was totally screwed.
By the time Techno arrived at the hero agency, Wilbur and Phil had already changed out of their hero gear and into their casual civilian clothing. Wilbur had slunk over to the couch, while Phil paced, chewing on a nail in thought. Every once in a while, he’d turn and open his mouth as if about to say something, but would then realize Techno wasn’t yet there, so he would close it and would resume pacing. It was usually after three turns or so that Phil would absentmindedly begin chewing on his nail again. Wilbur pretended to sleep and instead tried to think of a defence as to why he jumped without hesitation into a suicide mission. He wasn’t having much luck even as Technoblade arrived.
“So, uh, you guys wait for me?” his brother awkwardly asked, already unclipping his cape to hang up.
“Yep.” Wilbur said, popping the “p”.
“Great.” Techno mumbled, unenthusiastically.
He was still fumbling with his mask when Phil decided to finally speak.
“What the hell were you thinking, Wilbur?” he groaned, part exasperation and part anger. “You could have died today-probably would have if we hadn’t got there in time!”
“Isn’t that just part of the job description? Possibility of death?” Wilbur half heartedly tried.
Phil strangled a squawk but his wings flared nonetheless. He spun to face Wilbur so fast his unfurled wing knocked an empty mug off his desk, which Techno narrowly caught with his freehand. The other held his newly detached boar skull mask.
“PART OF THE JOB DESCRIPTION-?! Wilbur, that not, that’s just- no.” Phil breathed heavily through his nose to calm himself. It only worked partially if his still floofed wings were any indicator.
“Risk is part of the job. Injury? Yeah. Oftentimes that too. But death? It shouldn’t be something you leap to, to stop a jewellery theft,” Phil sighed. “Death or even permanent injury is a last resort, Wilbur. You can’t just jump in to dangerous fights and claim it was heroism instead of stupidity. Cause what you did today? That was stupid. Really fucking stupid.”
Wilbur jolted to his feet at that, a scowl written across his face as he did.
“It was not! You would have leapt in just the same if it were you rather then me,” he argued.
Phil leveled him with a long stare. Techno busied himself in the background by fiddling with some belt buckle on his suit. Wilbur rolled his eyes at his brother’s complete avoidance of the conflict right in front of him. Typical.
“No. I wouldn’t have and you know that, Wil,” Phil sighed, finally sinking into a nearby armchair. Faintly scarred hands rubbed over his face and through his blonde hair. “Mate, I know you want to prove yourself as capable, and you are, but that stunt scared the life out of me. I thought you were going to die- Techno thought you were going to die, you should have seen him running to get to you. I’ve never seen him so desperate as just then. Wil, we were scared shitless and it wasn’t even something that had to happen.”
Behind Phil, Techno huffed in agreement, still not turning around the face them. Now he had moved on to rearranging their bookshelf, crammed with folders on various villains, organizations and people of interest. From what Wilbur could see from his spot on the couch, it appeared he was currently re-alphabetizing them..
Wilbur fidgeted with his hands, not having anything better at the moment.
“Look I know it was stupid, can we just forget about it?” he grumbled. Wilbur knew he would be very happy if they could all forget about this little incident. Philza looked less inclined.
“Forget about it?” Phil croaked. “Wil, I’m not going to be able to forget about this for a long time-I’m going to have nightmares about Dream cleaving you in two with that axe of his for weeks!”
Wilbur sunk back into the couch, guilt hot in his chest. Looking back on it now, if it had been Techno or Phil jumping into a suicide mission like he had, then he would have probably felt the very same. If not more angry. He would have chewed them out for days about it.
But right now his dad just looked tired, formerly angry lines on his face beaten back into exhaustion. It was rare to see Phil like this, he’d seen it only a handful of times since he was just a kid.
“Sorry…. I guess I wasn’t really thinking,” Wilbur sheepishly said as he stood, scratching his neck. “I won’t do it again, or well, I’ll try to avoid it the best I can.”
Philza sighed in relief. Half a second later he was squeezing Wilbur in a death grip of a hug, wings boxing around him in a wall of feathers. Wilbur held back a sneeze as his dad buried his head into his shoulder.
“Good,” came Phil’s muffled reply a belated second later.
“Good to see you guys uh, bonding. Glad to be included in the moment,” Technoblade’s monotone voice rumbled out behind them.
Wilbur snickered as one of Phil’s wings shot out and smacked Techno into the hug. Soon all three of them were bonking heads, boxed in by Phil’s wings in near complete darkness. Wilbur choked off a giggle as Techno elbowed him in the ribs. Or perhaps it was Phil, Wilbur couldn’t really see seeing it was dark and they were squished. Technoblade was more plausible though.
“Stop laughing at my misfortune.” Yeah the elbow was definitely Techno. “Can we like, go now? I’m hungry and want to take a nap.” asked the piglin hybrid.
Phil sighed and tucked his wings back, allowing both freedom and light to the boys. Wilbur plucked a feather out of his hair as Phil straightened his casual robes.
“Yeah, you two can go. Make sure you drag Wilbur to eat when you do Tech, I’m going to be caught up here doing some paperwork. Otherwise he’ll forget to eat and just fall asleep.”
Wilbur opened his mouth to argue that he was not some child needing to be reminded to eat but Techno was all but dragging him away to the elevator.
“Will do, have fun with the paperwork, old man.”
The doors of the elevator closed just in time for them to hear Phil’s squawk before shutting with a pleasant ding.
Wilbur turned to his brother with a grin. “Did you have to insult him?”
Technoblade shrugged as he hit the button for the ground floor. “Eh, if I didn’t you would have. Let’s just hope I didn’t forget the car keys up there.”
After a brief disagreement over where to eat, it was decided they’d pick up Subway sandwiches. Mostly because Techno weirdly had like three different gift cards for it, and they could each pick out what they wanted. Wilbur went with a salad. Techno went with a monster of a sandwich. Both waited till they got home before eating because they weren’t heathens who ate in cars and dropped food everywhere.
“You know,” Techno suddenly said, chewing thoughtfully around his sandwich. “Phil was like, really scared back there when he heard it was just you against Dream and Wildfire.”
Wilbur stabbed his salad with perhaps a bit more force then necessary. He had thought they were done with this conversation, and had been plenty glad to leave it that way. Techno raised an eyebrow at him but continued on.
“You remember the time I fell out of that tree? Like, when we were maybe eleven? Been with Phil for a year or so?”
Wilbur scoffed at the memory. “Yea. You were saying I couldn’t throw, so I hit you with an apple. I didn’t mean for it to knock you off balance. Man, I thought Dad was gonna kill me.”
Techno nodded thoughtfully. “Uh, I’d kinda forgotten that part but it’s a moot point. You remember how scared he was that I’d broken something? And that he’d have to take me to the hospital? And then have to explain why the Angel of Death had two random kids living with him?”
Wilbur put down his fork and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “Yeah I remember. He was literally molting from the stress. I don’t know what he would have done if you had actually broken something,” he murmured. “I think that was the point where I realized he really did care for us, seeing him so worried about you. He was probably just as scared as I was.”
Technoblade silently stared at his brother, waiting for him to connect the dots. When Wilbur only went back to eating, he let out a deep sigh and spoke.
“Wilbur, that’s what he was like today.”
At that, the brunettes eyes snapped up, wide with surprise.
“You’re joking.”
Techno remained silently staring, the picture of unimpressed.
“Techno we were kids then, of course he’s going to worry. But now? We’re heroes. He knows it’s part of the job, and besides that, we’re much better off then we were back then. We can take care of ourselves.” Wilbur argued.
Somehow amongst the talking, Techno had finished his sub and was now bunching up the wrapper in his hands. Wilbur’s salad remained nearly untouched. Techno sighed as he stood and easily tossed the wrapper into the trash bin across the room. Of course, it landed perfectly in the bin. Wilbur’s scowl deepened.
“Wil, I was scared back there. And I’m not a worrywart like Phil. If I’m scared then there’s probably a good reason for it.”
Wilbur pushed his food around his plate limply. He may hate to admit it, but his brother was right. If Techno, renowned hero and fighter, “the Blade” was scared, then you knew you were in real trouble.
“Sorry,” he mumbled in apology. Techno huffed as he shook his head.
“I’m not asking ya to apologize. You already did that at the office. I was just letting you know that Phil wasn’t completely out of place worrying. I get it, it’s annoying. But he wasn’t wrong.” Techno said. He then shook his head, sighed, and met Wilbur’s eyes, his tone a pitch lower in seriousness. “He worries one of us might end up like George, you know.”
Wilbur groaned and promptly stood up, abandoning all hopes of finishing his salad. He’d probably just raid a tub of Phil’s ice cream from the freezer later. If Phil later asked where it had gone, he could always just blame Techno.
“I know, I get it. I’ll be more careful,” Wilbur promised. “But, speaking of them, did you notice anything off with Dream and Wildfire when you fought them?”
Techno continued wiping the table free of bread crumbs. Wilbur frowned at how he didn’t even bother to try to stop them from falling on the floor. His brother quickly caught his gaze.
“I’m not done, gonna sweep after. Just easier this way.” he grunted. “But yea, I did think it was kinda weird how Dream kept puppeting Wildfire even after you left. Normally if you’re not there, he doesn’t really bother. Makes more sense to have two fully capable fighters then one good one and one controlled one.”
Wilbur hummed in agreement as he perched on the back of the couch. His long fingers drummed a beat on his knee in thought. “I think Dream might be tightening his leash on him. He wouldn’t even let Wildfire control his own expressions or speak. Thought it kinda weird, if I’m honest.”
His brother, ever eloquent in his words, grunted in agreement. “That is weird. Better keep an eye on them.”
And with that final statement, the conversation was over, Techno strolling off to no doubt nap, leaving Wilbur contemplating the Nightmare team’s goals by himself. Well, himself, Phil’s tub of ice cream he had stolen from the freezer, plus the sleepy narrator on the tv talking about penguins. Let it never be said Wilbur wasn’t efficient with his time.
“I think I want to retire from being a hero.” Wilbur calmly said as he cut his baked potato.
Techno promptly started choking on his before managing to swallow it down with a copious amount of water. Wilbur glared at his brother in disgust as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Techno’s eyes were wide like saucers and Wilbur was pretty sure his eyebrows had shot off his forehead in surprise.
“Could you say that again? You’re not just saying this cause of earlier right?”
Wilbur chuckled, shaking his head in response. “No, it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. As much as I like being Maestro, I think I might do more good in the legislative department of things.”
“You want to go into politics?” Techno rumbled skeptically.
Wilbur shrugged, taking a bite out of his potato. Despite the fact that it seemed to be the only thing Techno could ever cook, today he was glad for it. Because if they were eating anything else, that would mean Phil was home and Wilbur would not be having this conversation if that were the case.
“I was thinking about it,” Wilbur admitted. “Moreso, I want to pursue my music career. But I was thinking that I could help write legislation that would keep criminals behind bars, seeing as now, it’s pretty catch and release.”
Techno nodded in agreement as he stabbed another potato onto his plate. “That’s true. You gotta pretty much murder someone if you wanna be kept in jail nowadays. Even then sometimes people get away with it still.”
Wilbur smiled and snapped his fingers. “Exactly! So I thought, why don’t I retire from the hero stuff, and work on making sure criminals stay behind bars? You guys can bring them in, and I can make sure there’s a proper system in place to make sure that they don’t just get released the next day. Unless they’re innocent of course.”
Techno thoughtfully rubbed his chin, his other hand drumming his fingers on the table. Gold rings glittered and quietly clinked together as they sat in silence. Wilbur waited anxiously to hear his brother’s thoughts.
This wasn’t a new idea for Wilbur. For months now he had been contemplating a career switch and to what he would switch to. Being a hero was fun, don’t get him wrong, and Wilbur was good at it. But there was a difference at doing something you like and are good at, compared to doing a job you’re made for and love.
He had a talent with words. It was what had made him a successful hero, always the charmer with a tongue of silver. And despite all the good he did as a hero Wilbur knew it wouldn’t last. His actions would die with him. At least this way, if he were to write legislation and even music, these things would outlive him and still help people even when he’s gone. A legacy.
Besides, he wasn’t the first hero to switch mid-career to go into politics. Though Wilbur hoped he wouldn’t ever end up like the previous one to do so.
Needless to say, he had been thinking about this for a long time. It was all the more reason he anxiously wanted his brother’s approval. Wilbur didn’t know what he would do if Techno shot it down.
“It is a good idea,” Techno slowly admitted. Wilbur’s smile widened as a breath of relief swept through him. “But what about Dream? Right now, you’re really one of the only ones who can combat his power. We actually kinda need you, if I’m being honest.”
Exasperation quickly overshadowed the relief as Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Technoblade. Real nice there. But I’ve already got that covered! Or well, an idea to get that covered.”
“Arrest Dream?” his brother hopefully suggested. Wilbur scoffed. Of course that would be Techno’s all-solve. Techno liked to see a problem and simply solve it. Or, punch it until there was no more problem. He didn’t “do” the whole big picture thing. That was Wilbur’s job. And while arresting Dream would help their city, it wasn’t a permanent fix.
“If it was that easy, I would. Trust me. But no, I have a longer-term solution in mind.” he said. Excitement swelled in Wilbur’s belly as he stood, hands flat on the table and grinning ear to ear. Techno warily watched from behind his third potato.
“I,” Wilbur said, pausing for dramatic effect. This time it was Technoblade’s turn to roll his eyes at his brother’s theatrics.
“-am going to get an apprentice!” Wilbur declared proudly.
Techno blinked twice before responding.
“Heh?! That’s your big plan? I mean great, it’s about time, but like, how is that supposed to help? That sort of thing takes years.”
Wilbur scowled and crossed his arms. Techno was vaguely reminded of a petulant child who was just denied candy before dinner.
“I wasn’t done.” he huffed. “I’m going to find someone that can be my replacement!”
Techno snorted, attention focused back on his potato. “So are you going to let the hero agency know tomorrow? Get one of the recruits to train up?”
Wilbur’s grin reappeared. This is where his months of planning came in. “No.”
“Heh?!”
“I am going to look for one on the streets,” he said confidently.
“What, a vigilante? Why not the hero agency? They already got like, fifty applications. Not to mention they screen them all with criminal record checks and stuff. And they have to pass the fitness test too before they even apply.”
Wilbur shook his head. “No, too many bad apples. First way back then with Schlatt, then Dream and Wildfire, not to mention Warden, I don’t trust that there won’t be people looking for just fame and fortune. I want to find someone to replace me, and I’m not going to risk picking someone who turns out to be some jerk who wants to just, legally beat up people.”
“Wil, isn’t that technically just what we do? Legally beat up people? And then write paperwork about it.” Techno argued. He went quiet however under a scalding look from Wilbur. “Alright I get it. You got a point. But a vigilante? That’s literally just a criminal who illegally beats up people. And sometimes not even for a good cause. And how do you know they won’t be a bad apple, just looking for a way into the hero agency through you?”
If it was even possible, Wilbur’s grin became even larger. Techno was pretty sure his cheeks would be aching something fierce later if he kept it up. At the sight of Wilbur all but vibrating with excitement, he regretted asking.
“That’s the thing Techno-they won’t know it’s me! At least, not as Maestro.”
In a grand gesture of showmanship, Wilbur leapt upon the chair he had previously been sitting on, and then hopped on the table. His plate, once again abandoned, slid to the corner of the table with a clatter and hung precariously over the edge. Wilbur continued on, careless to the mess he was making.
“I am going to become a villain!” he announced proudly. Technoblade gaped. Maybe his brother had hit his head in the fight?
Wilbur was quick to see his disbelief. “Now I know what you’re thinking. ‘How is becoming a villain supposed to help you find an apprentice?’-”
“Actually I was wondering if you hit your head earlier-“
“-but I have a plan!” said Wilbur, carrying on as if Techno had never even spoken. “To find an apprentice, someone with a good heart and the potential to be a great hero, I’m going to dress up as a villain and sees who comes to stop me.”
“This sounds like a horrible plan.” Techno interjected. Wilbur levelled him with a glare.
“Shh. I’m not done. But anyways!” he said with a clap of his hands. “I’m going to pretend to be a villain and commit small crimes. Nothing crazy, I still have my morals after all. But enough to catch a vigilante’s eye. And when I find one that I think would be suitable, I can start to train them without them even realizing. All of my ‘schemes’ will be literal training exercises! This way, I can see what they’re really like when they think the heroes aren’t watching, and see if they have good character.”
Techno cocked an eyebrow. “Right. Because the illegal vigilantes who are often thieves and robbers are the cornerstone of morality. I’m sure it’ll be easy to find one of those here.”
Wilbur scowled down at Techno, who had reclined in his dinner chair to better look up at him. With a huff, he hopped off the table and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. Techno winced as the plate previously precariously balanced on the table hit the ground with a “thwap”. There goes his hard work of a fantastically baked potato onto the floor.
Wilbur merely stepped around it to start pacing.
“You say that, but what better way to find someone good, truly good I mean, then someone risking their freedom to do the right thing? I mean, anyone can apply to be a hero, but it takes a special type of person to do heroic things, even if they might get in trouble for doing it.” Wilbur chewed a nail as he paced and thought. “I don’t know why you’re so hung up on the vigilante thing, Tech. Dad was a vigilante who became a hero.”
“Yea, and do you remember how we met him?” Techno shot back.
Wilbur winced as the memory.
“Alright that’s fair. Technically a good point. But do you have to shoot down every idea I have?”
Technoblade put up his hands in a placating manner.
“I’m not trying to.” he said defensively. “I’m just logical. And logic says one good deed, doesn’t outweigh a thousand bad deeds. It’s going to be really hard to find a vigilante that’s going to meet this list of yours.”
Wilbur jutted his chin out, eyes sparkling. “Well, I should start looking, shouldn’t I? I’ll need a name and costume…”
Techno groaned. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re not planning on telling Phil about this.”
Wilbur spun around. His eyes were wide and panicked as his hands comically waved in front of him. “No, no, no you can’t tell Dad yet. He’s so stressed as it is, I don’t want him to worry more. Once I have my replacement all trained up, then we can tell him.”
Technoblade snorted as he shoved the broom into Wilbur’s hands. Wil was rambling again. He tended to do this when he was too busy trying to plot out new ideas or schemes to try. And conveniently for Techno, a rambling Wilbur was a distracted Wilbur.
Almost immediately upon being handed the broom, Wilbur began absentmindedly sweeping up the spilled dish of food as he spoke. Taking that as a silent victory for himself, Techno turned on the tap to start the dishes and added soap to the water.
“You really think hiding something like this from Phil is a good idea?” Techno grunted from his place in front of the sink. Wilbur whirled around to frown at his brother.
“Were you not listening to what I was saying? I just finished explaining that. Also why do I have the broom in my hands? I thought you were going to sweep.”
Wilbur watched Techno’s shoulders shrug, pink hair in a thick braid down his back. It looked like a frayed rope with how messy it was. His restless fingers itched to fix it, but he doubted that Techno would want him braiding his hair right before a nap.
“Not really,” Technoblade answered. “I kinda tuned you out. You started rambling.”
Wilbur sighed heavily in exasperation. “And the broom?”
A dish clinked as Techno tucked it into the drying rack. “Well, you see, I just handed you the broom. I didn’t actually ask you to sweep, but you did it anyways and I wasn’t about to stop you. So uh, good job.”
“Thwack!” sounded the broom as the bristled end came down on Techno’s head. Dust immediately flew everywhere. Within seconds, Techno was sneezing and Wilbur was holding his stomach from laughter, broom long forgotten and abandoned on the floor.
“You’re the worst!” Techno complained, wiping dust and dirt off his shirt and shoulders.
“If I was the worst I wouldn’t have helped you sweep. You’re the worst cause you took advantage of my poor trusting self,” Wilbur whined. He promptly quit whining due a sopping wet, dirty dish rag hitting him smack dab in his open mouth.
After vehemently spitting it out and aggressively scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his sleeve, Wilbur narrowed his eyes at his attacker.
He would definitely not be braiding his brother’s hair now. Not after that stunt.
The culprit, his brother, smirked back at him. “If I was the worst, I would just not help you with your stupid villain costume.”
Forget the rag, now that took him by surprise.
“You’ll help me?” he gasped.
Techno rolled his eyes as he set the last dish away.
“Someone has to help keep you alive and if you’re not telling Phil, then I guess it’s me. Do you even have a proper costume or idea? A name?”
A cocky smile graced Wilbur’s features as he tipped his chin up.
“I have one. Call me Soot.”
Technoblade snorted.
“Alright. There’s worse names out there. You know what kinda person you’re looking for? You want a melee fighter or ranged one? Anything you got in mind?”
Wilbur cocked his head like an inquisitive dog.
“Is this you volunteering to look through files for me, Technoblade?”
The piglin hybrid shrugged as he picked up the forgotten broom. When no other admission came and only silence, Wilbur continued speaking.
“To answer your question, I’m not really sure what I’m looking for. I’m more interested in personal character. The other things like fighting style and skill, I can fix. I can’t do much for bad character.” he explained.
Ideas swam through his head as Wilbur paced. Long fingers tapped his chin as he rambled through the traits he had spent hours picking out.
“I need someone honourable, but smart, and willing to take the moral high ground, despite it being potentially harmful to themselves. Courageous, clever, and pure of heart. A true hero”
At that, Technoblade laughed outright.
“Yea sure, where are you going to find one of those?”