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This was it.
Months of planning. Months of research, stakeouts, calling in every favor they could, all culminating in this. One single hour of action.
Assuming nothing went wrong, of course.
Wilbur was confident that they were prepared, though. Phil and Techno had stayed up late many nights over the past few months, going over every variable, creating backup plan after backup plan, and Techno probably had enough of them memorized to carry out this entire mission by himself, twice. He wouldn’t have to, though. He wouldn’t be alone for something this important.
The whole Syndicate needed to be here for this.
Phil let out a soft hum, leaning over the map one last time. “Okay, let’s go over the plan again.”
“We went over it ten minutes ago,” Wilbur pointed out, adjusting the lapels of his trench coat.
“Wil.” Phil’s voice was short, clipped, in a way that told Wilbur he was more stressed than he was letting on. “Just… one more time. Please.”
Techno leaned against the table as well, fidgeting with one of his rings. He was nervous too. “C’mon, just for the old man’s peace of mind, Wilbur.”
It said something about how worried he was that Phil didn’t even seem to notice the light jab. “Techno will cause a distraction at the southern entrance. He’ll retreat, draw out as many guards as possible, make it a spectacle. Tech, your route?”
“Follow this road,” Techno recited, tracing a path along the map with a finger. “Cut through here, around this buildin’, and take out any guards that followed me. If Chat and Niki say I didn’t draw out enough, I’ll go back and pretend to break in again, but not a third time. Then I head back this way” - he traced a different route - “and wait for you at the rendezvous.”
“Good,” Phil said with a nod. “Wilbur, you and I will head in the western entrance with our stolen override keys.”
Wilbur glanced over at the fourth member of their team and smiled slightly; she was staring off into space, her eyes glazed over. She was focused elsewhere. “Do you want me to get Niki’s attention so she can go over the plan too?”
Phil shook his head. “No, she has a job to do right now. And so do you. What happens next?”
This was because Phil loved him and was concerned about him, Wilbur reminded himself with a sigh, and dutifully recited “We follow the hallway down to the elevator, you’ll fly us down the elevator shaft, we find the room we need, and then it’s up to me to do what I’m best at.”
“If you need me in there, I will punch through the doors with my bare fists to come get you,” Techno told them seriously, with all the intensity he always had when he was vowing to protect them. It was comforting, knowing that he meant it, and they had backup ready and waiting.
“Alright.” Phil tapped at the map almost absently, then pushed away from the table and slid on his mask. The carved bird skull hid his face, but Wilbur could hear the grin in his voice as he said “Let’s go break into a Vault.”
Pandora’s Vault was the most secure prison for enhanced in the world. It boasted top-notch technology, a truly staggering number of guards, and a perfect record of no escapees. Ever.
According to the rumors, there was a new prisoner locked in there. A powerful one. And the Syndicate had never liked the idea of an impregnable Vault, anyway.
Wilbur smiled, remembering Techno’s rants about the Vault, as Phil took out the last few guards in front of the highest security cell in the whole building.
There’s no oversight and no transparency. They think they can just lock up threats to themselves and get away with it because no one knows what actually happens in there.
Phil looked around, checking for more guards, then turned and nodded to Wilbur. “Go ahead, Siren.”
Wilbur stepped forward, keying in the override code and smiling as the door hissed, signalling it was unlocked. He twisted the handle and stepped inside.
There was -
What?
No, no, that -
The cell was barren. Concrete walls, floor, and ceiling, with a tiny toilet in one corner and a cot on the far wall. A single book was open on the floor.
And sitting on the cot, shaking just slightly, was a child with the biggest, brightest blue eyes Wilbur had ever seen, wearing a worn orange jumpsuit.
Okay. Abandon the plan. The plan no longer mattered. Wilbur knelt down and asked very gently “Hey, kiddo, are you alright?”
The kid stared at him for a second. Then tears began welling up in their eyes, they let out a sob, and then they were hopping off of the cot and running over to him, practically throwing themself into Wilbur’s arms.
Wilbur immediately pulled the kid into a tight hug, holding their head against his chest. His breathing hitched as he realized just how small they were. Malnourished, almost certainly, and… if he had to guess, he would say they couldn’t be older than five or six.
No oversight, Techno had said. But surely even he couldn’t have guessed that a lack of accountability could lead to this.
Wilbur didn’t care who was responsible for this. He would find them, he would make them watch as he tore the Vault apart brick by brick, and then he would make them suffer.
For now, though, he had a sobbing child to comfort.
“Shhh, shh, it’s alright, I’ve got you,” he murmured, starting to very gently card his hand through the kid’s golden blond curls. “I’ve got you, you’re safe now.”
The kid wailed louder.
“Siren?”
Phil. He must have heard the crying and come to see what was wrong.
Wilbur stood up, shifting the kid onto his hip and turning to show Phil this so-called dangerous prisoner.
Phil’s expressions were hidden by his mask. But Wilbur knew his dad well enough to know when he switched from confused and worried to downright murderous.
“Later,” Wilbur said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of the kid’s head. They were still crying. “Let’s get out of here first.”
Phil took a deep breath, then nodded. “Of course.”
Getting out was easier than getting in, with Niki in their ears telling them that the heroes were inbound, but not close enough to stop them.
Techno was waiting at the rendezvous point, though he did a double take at the sniffling child in Wilbur’s arms. “Is that… ?”
“The prisoner,” Wilbur confirmed, gently bouncing the kid on his hip.
“… I see.” Techno had gone very still, his hands shaking ever so slightly at his sides, in a way Wilbur recognized but rarely saw. Chat must be howling at him. “Well, the heroes will be showin’ up soon, we need to get out of here.”
The kid let out a very soft whine.
Wilbur held them a little closer, shoving away the urge to pick a fight with the nearest hero. “Shh, it’s alright. You’re safe with us. They’ll never lay a hand on you again, I promise.”
They buried their face in his coat and held onto him even tighter.
Home first. Home first, and then they could tear apart every inch of this horrific prison. Wilbur pressed another kiss to the kid’s curls and followed Techno away from the Vault. Toward home.
As soon as they got back to the base, Phil started delegating.
“I’m going to make us some dinner - soup, probably. Techno, can you find the kid some clothes? And Wilbur, he seems pretty attached to you, why don’t you give him a bath?” He gave a meaningful glance to the kid; the ‘and find out what you can’ was implied.
Wilbur nodded and headed for the bathroom.
“Okay, kiddo, do you want unscented shampoo or apple scented?” he asked, closing the door behind him with one foot.
The kid blinked up at him, his grip tightening on Wilbur’s coat.
Wilbur pulled off his mask and set it down on the counter, giving him the kindest smile he possibly could. “Do you not want to talk?”
He tentatively shook his head, like Wilbur might be mad at him.
“That’s okay.” Wilbur hesitated, then whispered “Can I tell you a secret?”
The kid nodded slowly.
“I used to have times where I was scared to talk, too,” Wilbur admitted quietly. That had been a bad period of his life, when his powers were strong and getting stronger, but he didn’t have the ability to control them just yet. He had gone weeks at a time without speaking because he was so afraid of messing up. “So you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, alright?”
The boy’s eyes widened, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
“How about this? We’ll come up with a system.” Wilbur set the kid down on the tiled floor, then knelt in front of him. “Hold up one finger if you want unscented, two if you want apple.”
After a long, hesitant pause, the boy cautiously held up two fingers.
“Apple it is.” He’d been hoping the kid would pick that one; that was the kind Wilbur used, and it would be another mark that the kid was theirs now, under the protection of the most powerful villain organization in the country. “Do you want to take a bath by yourself, or do you want my help?”
He very tentatively held up two fingers again.
Wilbur nodded, pleased, and stood up to go turn on the water. “Alright then, let’s get you out of that jumpsuit, shall we?”
The kid was worryingly well-behaved as Wilbur got him into the tub. Five year olds were supposed to be a nightmare to bathe, right? But this one seemed very content to do as he was told, though he did gasp at the temperature of the water and pat the surface wonderingly.
Had he ever had an actual bath before?
No, no, bathe child first, murder later. He let the kid help as he wiped him down with a soapy washcloth - he was more greasy than dirty, so thankfully he didn’t need to scrub.
“Alright, kiddo, I’m going to get your hair wet, can you close your eyes and tilt your head back for me?”
The kid’s breathing hitched, but he nodded slowly and tipped his head back, eyes squeezed shut. He was stiff as a board.
Gently, gently. Wilbur picked up a nearby cup, scooped up some water, and very carefully poured it over the boy’s head, keeping one hand on his forehead to keep the water out of his eyes.
The kid made a soft little questioning noise.
“You’re doing great,” Wilbur assured him, setting the cup down and popping the cap of the shampoo. “Keep your eyes closed, I don’t want you to get shampoo in them. It doesn’t feel very good.”
He nodded, relaxing just a little.
Wilbur’s heart ached for this boy. “You’re such a brave kid, you know that? You’re doing so well.”
The kid opened his eyes in surprise at that, though he quickly squeezed them shut again.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Wilbur assured him gently. He squeezed some shampoo into his hand and started carefully massaging it into the boy’s scalp.
And oh, wow.
The kid practically melted, leaning back into Wilbur’s hands with a little sound in the back of his throat, new tears starting to drip down his cheeks.
How long had it been since someone actually bothered to touch this kid? Just run their hands through his hair?
“I’ve got you,” Wilbur whispered, scratching in gentle circles all around the boy’s head. “I’ve got you, kiddo, it’ll be okay now.”
He was never going to let go of this kid, he decided right then and there. This was his kid now, his little brother, and anybody who tried to take him away or hurt him ever again would pay for it dearly. Wilbur was going to protect him and love him for as long as he wanted. As long as he needed.
He didn’t say any of that out loud, though. Not yet. He would later, when it wouldn’t overwhelm the poor kid so much. He just focused on washing his hair, making sure to keep all of the soapy water out of the kid’s eyes as he rinsed off the shampoo.
“There we go, we’re done, and you did so well,” Wilbur praised him, draining the water and carefully drying the boy off with a towel, the fluffiest one he could reach.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Wilbur, I’ve got clothes.”
“Bring them in!” Wilbur called back, wrapping the towel around the kid.
Techno opened the door, set the clothes on the counter, and quickly ducked out of the bathroom again, grabbing Wilbur’s mask as he went.
“That’s Techno,” Wilbur explained, grabbing the pile of clothes. They were his old ones from when he was ten or so, so they would dwarf this five year old, but they were better than anything else in the base. “He’s big and looks kind of scary, but he’s a softie, I promise. The guy with the wings is Phil, he’s my dad. There’s a lady you haven’t met yet, she has pink hair, her name’s Niki. And my name’s Wilbur.”
The kid just blinked at him.
“Do you have a name?” Wilbur asked gently. “You don’t have to say it, we could figure something out.”
Slowly, he shook his head.
“You don’t?” Wilbur asked just to be sure.
Another head shake.
“… Well,” Wilbur said through the rage suddenly blazing through him, “that’s alright. We’ll just have to give you a cool one, how does that sound?”
The boy blinked again, and like the sun breaking through the clouds, he gave Wilbur a tiny little smile.
Wilbur suddenly decided he would do just about anything to keep that smile on the kid’s face. “Let’s get you dressed and introduced to the family, okay, sunshine?”
They introduced the kid to the others over soup. He seemed genuinely startled at the smell and taste of the soup - something canned Phil had heated up on the stove, nothing fancy - and managed about two thirds of a bowl before hesitating.
“Eat as much as you want and no more, sunshine,” Wilbur told him, carefully wiping the corner of the boy’s mouth with a napkin. (His own soup was going cold in front of him, but the kid was more important, in his opinion.) “We won’t run out, and you shouldn’t force yourself if you aren’t hungry.”
Cautiously, the boy set down the spoon, glancing at the other three around the table, then back at Wilbur. When Wilbur gave him an encouraging smile, he very tentatively smiled back.
“So,” Phil said gently. He was in full dad mode, and Wilbur was admittedly more than a little smug that despite Phil’s best efforts, the kid only seemed to want to hang onto him. “No name, you said?”
“Nope.” Wilbur rested one hand on the kid’s back, then started eating his own soup before it was ice cold.
Phil was better at hiding his emotional reactions to information than Wilbur was. The only evidence that he was currently planning mass terrorism and possibly murder was a slight tension in his jaw.
“Is it okay if we give you one, then?” Niki asked. She had changed fully into civilian clothes, unlike the rest of them, and her soft pink sweater and warm smile made it very difficult to tell that she was a villain.
The boy nodded slowly, shifting a little closer to Wilbur.
Wilbur bit back a smirk. “Wilbur Junior.”
Phil snorted. “Absolutely not.”
“William, then.”
“Wilbur, we are not going to name him after you,” Niki told him, lightheartedly pointing her spoon at him like a weapon. “That would simply be cruel.”
Wilbur gasped, putting a hand over his heart in mock offense. “How dare you, my name is wonderful -”
“Focus,” Phil said lightly.
“Theodore?” Niki suggested.
Wilbur shook his head, easily letting the argument go. “That’s on the right track, I think, but not that one.”
Surprisingly, Techno spoke up next. “Theseus.”
“Of course you’d want to name him after some Greek hero,” Wilbur grumbled, but… it wasn’t a bad name, really. “He’d need a nickname.”
Phil hummed thoughtfully. “Theseus, and then Tommy as a nickname, maybe?”
Wilbur glanced down at the child leaning against him, trying to match the name to the face. “Well, it’s your name, sunshine. What do you think?”
The boy - Tommy - nodded, another small smile on his face.
And that was that. The Syndicate, a family before anything else, became a five member group.
Tommy fit right in. He was a curious kid, it turned out, and once he felt comfortable enough to move out of Wilbur’s line of sight, he was always following one of them around, watching what they were doing with wide, curious eyes.
They all indulged him, of course. Techno read out loud to him, Phil showed him how to preen his wings, Niki let him help her bake, and Wilbur brought out his guitar and sang whenever Tommy so much as glanced at the case.
Naturally, there were hiccups. About a week and a half in, Phil tried asking Tommy - very gently, and very surface-level - about his powers. Tommy immediately sprinted to Wilbur’s room and refused to come out for two days, and when he finally did emerge, he stuck to Wilbur’s side like glue for the rest of the week.
He still hadn’t said a word to any of them.
But even with the hiccups, it was honestly nice, having a child running around. Tommy was such a bright spot in their lives, a true ray of sunshine, and having him in the base was like a breath of fresh air.
Tommy crawled into bed with Wilbur one night - a somewhat common occurrence. He just wriggled into Wilbur’s arms like he belonged there.
“Hey, Tommy,” Wilbur murmured with a smile.
Tommy hesitated, and then, in the softest little whisper, said “… Wilby?”
Oh.
Wilbur blinked back a sudden wave of tears, trying not to sound too choked up as he replied “Yeah, sunshine?”
“I love you,” Tommy whispered, burying his face in Wilbur’s chest like he was trying to hide the words away.
“Oh, sunshine.” Wilbur pulled him tighter against his chest, pressing a kiss to those golden curls. “Oh, Tommy. I love you too. So, so much, alright? Don’t you ever doubt that, no matter what. You’re my little brother and I love you.”
Tommy took a deep breath and repeated, very slowly and carefully, “I’m… I’m your little brother. And you love me.”
“So much, sunshine.”
“Okay,” Tommy whispered.
And if Wilbur cried a little after Tommy fell asleep? If he felt a bit overwhelmed by the honor of hearing Tommy’s first words to them? Well, that was his secret.