Comfort is a luxury for those who are able to afford it or too dumb to realize they cannot. Foster kids turned street kids turned illegal workers like Tommy will never know comfort in their lives, especially in the context of resting at night. They are lucky to get a designated place to lay their weary bodies down to rest, let alone blankets or pillows that might cushion the floor or the hardened mattress. The temperature, too, will never be within their own control. Adaptability is key both in coming to terms with one's circumstances and with the heavy heat or the crisp coldness of a house with people who have ready access to blankets controlling the thermostat. Even the boutique is kept at a consistent temperature that feels too thick on the warm summer night and unbearably cold as a slow chill winds throughout the streets during the falling autumns.

Tommy knows all of this, so when he feels a pleasant sensation against his skin, he knows that something is inherently wrong. It isn't wrong enough for him to jump to his feet in a whirl of panic. It is a soft sort of trouble that fuzzes around the edges because of the perfectly curated temperature and the way the surface underneath him both supports and somewhat molds against his body shape. There is even a soft, steady heartbeat that echoes in tandem with his own, reminding him of a cradle that rocks precariously in a windy treetop. Tommy frowns, feeling the curl of a lullaby twirl at the edges of his mind. His first instinct is to assume that Wilbur is the one singing to him, but the voice is a little too feminine. Bright and airy, like a night sky stretching out in front of him.

The vague touches of a memory is what brings Tommy further into the world of the aware. Tommy's eyes flutter open, the song slipping between his fingers. All he is left with is a strange line about a cradle. Tommy blinks slowly, feeling eye boogers crumble out of his eyes. He pulls a hand out from under a really soft blanket, lifting the heel of his hand to wipe away the sticky material that makes Tommy feel like keeping his eyes shut. This motion transitions into Tommy stretching both of his arms in front of him, stretching out his fingers towards the rooftop.

Although Tommy hasn't memorized the ceiling he always wakes up to in Madeleine's boutique, he is conscious enough of it to know that he isn't looking at it right now. The color is far warmer, and the pattern is completely different. Tommy frowns, tracing his memories back to figure out why he isn't looking at the boutique. Tommy comes to the conclusion that he must have fallen asleep while watching a movie with Wilbur and his family. Tommy feels a touch bad for falling asleep and missing the movie, but something moves underneath Tommy to let him know that he isn't alone.

Tommy shifts slightly, putting one hand on the cushion of the couch. His hand sinks, and Tommy feels a rather cool body brushing against his wrist. Tommy twists his body, staring up at Wilbur's slumbering expression. Because Tommy had fallen asleep on top of Wilbur, the brunette decided that he would simply fall asleep there, too. Tommy is a little surprised that Wilbur didn't shove him off in the middle of the night to get back to his own room- his own comfortable bed. There is also the possibility that Wilbur fell asleep before he could even think about going to his room, but the loose arm wrapped around Tommy's waist makes him feel a little like Wilbur didn't mind him being there.

Tommy smiles to himself. In the quiet of the distant morning, in the darkness of the abandoned living room, with no one around but Wilbur's unconscious self, Tommy allows himself a single moment to soak in the moment. A somber brand of happiness saunters into his heart, settling gracefully among all the wretched demons of despair and loneliness. For a moment, Tommy even has the fleeting idea that he might belong here. Not here, necessarily, not in Wilbur's arms on his family's couch, but in approximation of this, a metaphorical version, like he belongs with Wilbur and his family. It is the thought that nearly every foster kid has when they're too young or too naive to realize that 'belonging' is a made-up term, that no one belongs, not even the biological kids of the parents, not even the parents themselves, but the heart is never a rational creature. It never learns. It only wants and pleads and aches and rewards the mind for giving into selfish impulses.

All of these feelings are lost like the wisps of the lullaby Tommy thought he recalled when he remembers that he has somewhere else to be. While 'belonging' isn't a real term, Tommy does have work. He is a committed employee, and after all the recent problems, Madeleine deserves a competent worker on her payroll. Tommy doesn't want to cause more issues, and he doesn't want to give her a reason to fire him. She probably wouldn't, but Tommy doesn't know. He might be more trouble than he's worth to her, and this realization bleeds into Tommy's feelings towards the Craft family. He actually is more trouble than he's worth to them.

Tommy turns his body around, facing Wilbur with his breath held tightly in his lungs. Tommy pulls his legs up, squatting down between Wilbur's body and the back of the couch. Tommy pushes up, and he stands on the couch. He feels off-balance as his weight easily influences the weight of the couch. Wilbur's body falls an inch, his hip against the sides of Tommy's socks. Tommy stretches his arms out on either side of him. He feels a little wheezy from not breathing, but he refuses to fall as he steps down from the couch onto the carpet. He nearly falls over as he wretches his other leg over Wilbur's body and onto the ground. Tommy breathes in deeply, feeling the heat slowly disperse from his cheeks.

Tommy makes a little effort in keeping his footsteps quiet, even sliding across the hardwood to save both time and reduce noise, but Tommy is definitely a little hasty in his rushing around. Tommy nearly drops his communicator as he yanks it out of his pocket. He uses one hand to pull his shoes on, hopping around to maintain balance, and he uses his other hand to look up nearby buses or trains that can shorten his time back into the city. Tommy's knee slams against the ground harshly as he discovers that nothing will be here in time to get Tommy back to the city before his shift starts. Tommy sighs heavily, straining his powers for Wilbur's heartbeat.

Wilbur's heartbeat is fine, still slow and even. It is the other heartbeat that appears alongside it that worries Tommy. The blonde looks around, shoving the light of his communicator against his chest. The door to the kitchen opens, and Techno steps out with a bottle of some pink-tinted liquid in his hand. He is shaking the bottle as he turns toward the mudroom. His eyes lower down to Tommy, staring at the blonde as if he's just another pair of shoes in the room. Tommy gives an awkward smile, wincing because of his knee as he rises back to his feet.

"I'll take you," Techno says softly, not actually whispering but his voice is built for quiet moments. Techno steps around Tommy, slipping on the shoes he wears when he's working out. His entire outfit shows that he's going to work-out. Tommy feels a little bad. He usually wakes up early enough to do his morning stretches and exercises at the boutique. Tommy estimates that even with Techno taking him, he won't have time to do all of that. It shouldn't be deal-breaking to skip one day, but Tommy doesn't like breaking the habit Wilbur and Techno have been trying to get him to build.

Techno opens the door. He steps outside, leaving the door open for Tommy. The blonde hurries out. He's careful in closing the door, hoping that he doesn't wake Wilbur up. When Tommy turns away from the door, he's struck with an emotion he's never felt before. The flatlands surrounding the Crafts' house are lit up like an ocean of emeralds as the sun starts to rise above the horizon. The sky itself has been painted by divine hands in streaks of fiery red and rosy pink, clashing against the fading royal purple and navy blue of the night's celestial display. A large, gleaming star continues to shine despite the sun's all-encompassing presence. The air is crisp, cool against his skin, and gently coaxing him to the side. Tommy has never seen anything so beautiful yet simple, profound in its uniqueness yet graceful in the singular fact of how common a sight like this should be. Everyone should wake up to see this, and Tommy feels terribly sad for the person he was a few minutes ago, a person who has never seen nature so lively and complete like this.

"Come on," Techno commands. He stands on the bottom step of the porch. He is looking up at Tommy in the opposite direction of the dew-kissed grass reflecting back the golden beams that fall across the world like curtains. Tommy feels a flare of anger inside his spirit. How could someone choose not to look at this? Tommy would say a word about it, but the exact details of Techno's expression stops him. The color of his eyes shimmer red as the changing sky frames his body, pushing through his hair to give it the appearance of a waterfall. There is something about Techno's face that reminds Tommy of the view stretching out right behind him. Techno looks like he's part of the image, and Tommy presses this new one in the confines of his heart.

Tommy moves to the steps. When he looks back up at Techno, the man's eyes are back to their usual brown shade and his hair looks exactly like that. Tommy frowns, wishing to step back in time, but he accepts the brief second he got of such an appearance. Like the fields around the house, Tommy has a feeling he might be one of the few people to ever see an expression like that on Techno's face.

"I usually take my motorcycle, but since I've got you, we'll take Wilbur's car," Techno explains, pointing the clicker at the royal blue car parked in the drive. Tommy looks around for Techno's motorcycle, realizing he should have known someone like Techno would have a motorcycle. All Tommy sees is a closed garage where the motorcycle most likely is, and the absence of the gray car Tommy arrived at this house in.

As Tommy opens the passenger side door of the royal blue car, he asks, "Where is Philza's car?"

Techno adjusts the seat and the mirrors. When he's finished, he glances over at Tommy. The blonde hurries to shut the door. Techno and Tommy stare at each other for a long moment before Techno reaches forward. Tommy is a little surprised, whirring to the side. Techno reaches so far that he pulls on the seatbelt. Tommy rolls his eyes with a snarl, but he buckles into his seat. Techno nods, buckling himself into the car. He turns the keys to the ignition, and he starts speaking, "My parents have fluctuating work hours. I am sure they took the car earlier this morning."

"What do they do?" Tommy asks curiously, leaning onto the center console to get closer to Techno. The man doesn't seem bothered as he puts the car into park. Techno looks over both his shoulders, and he starts to pull out of the drive, turning the car around. Tommy considers for a moment asking Techno to teach him how to drive, but he decides that very quickly. He's never going to have a car. He doesn't have the paperwork to get a license. There isn't really a reason for him to drive. He doesn't want to bother Techno any more than he already has since Techno's forced to teach Tommy how to fight nearly every day after Tommy's work. It would be better not to encroach on their carefully created boundaries just because he thinks it would be nice to drive.

"Dad works in construction. He designs a lot of the buildings and manages the workers. Mom is a private investigator," Techno answers, voice bordering on listless as he answers the question. The answers feel rehearsed, too, but Tommy supposes that Techno has just answered that question a lot in his lifetime. Tommy snorts to himself as he imagines Techno participating in small-talk at some party for rich people. For as intimidating as Techno is, he is awkward. A party involving small-talk might actually kill him.

"I can understand why Kristin works weird hours, but why would a construction manager get up at the asscrack of dawn?" Tommy asks as they pull into the main road that should lead them straight into the city. Tommy shifts back, leaning against the back of his seat. He keeps half his attention on Techno, but he allows the rest of it to wander as it pleases all around the nature view coincidentally provided to him. The forest looks so much better during the early morning. Tommy wishes Shelby could be here to see this. She would like it.

"Dad just likes taking Mom to work. They think it is romantic. I think Dad is going to destroy his back taking naps in that car," Techno responds. Tommy laughs with his entire body, letting the sound race around the confines of the interior space. Techno glances over at him. Even with humor in his eyes, Techno says, "It's a valid concern."

Tommy shakes his head, his laughter spilling over and then receding back into the corners of his mind. Tommy feels lighter as he leans against the window. The light spills between the trees in momentary sparkles that pass by too quickly for Tommy to adequately describe their shape. The green takes on an entirely different shade than it did the night prior, a healthy glow pirouetting across the morning chill. "Well, your parents must be pretty successful at their jobs to have a property like this. Even a Big Man like me has to admit this place is beautiful, and I usually only use that word to describe my favorite wife."

Techno hums noncommittal. Tommy glances over his shoulder at Techno, and there is a cloud that passes across the man's face. Tommy frowns, wondering if it was about his joke. Techno glances at Tommy from the corner of his eye. He shakes his head, a firm, singular motion, and Tommy finds himself wondering if Techno's twin-telepathy includes people moderately close to either of the twins. Tommy snorts at that thought, looking out the window again.

"Thank you for letting me attend your family dinner," Tommy changes the subject, hoping to brighten the mood. This has the adverse effect of reminding Tommy of what he agreed to do. It turned out a lot better than he thought it would when Wilbur first mentioned inviting Tommy to a family dinner. Really, Tommy doesn't think it could have turned out better, save for the handful of moments Tommy was going to cry in front of the Craft family.

"I didn't let you," Techno remarks, his face clearing up but his voice retaining an odd quality about it.

"I'm grateful that you didn't stop me," Tommy amends, rolling his eyes. He knew Techno liked literature, but he never took Techno as someone who cared so deeply for semantics.

"You're always welcome," Techno confirms with such sharp conviction that Tommy nearly jolts in his seat. He glances over at Techno. His body language exudes calmness and self-control. His facial expression shows a hint of boredom and thoughtfulness. It is his eyes that seem to shine with something Tommy vaguely recognizes. Tommy wants to say Wilbur sometimes has that same look in his eyes, but he isn't able to confirm it as Techno looks toward the road beside the car as they enter into the city, effectively keeping Tommy from seeing his eyes. "If you want free food and to cuddle with Wilbur, you can stop by any time."

"I did not fucking cuddle with Wilbur!" Tommy denies immediately. His face burns bright red with indignation, anger, and embarrassment. Tommy had momentarily forgotten how infuriating Techno was. The early morning atmosphere is confusing Tommy- that's all.

"I saw the two of you cuddling," Techno tells Tommy, his eyes flicking over to Tommy for a moment. His eyes return to the road, and there's this way Techno is holding his lips that makes Tommy think he's smiling. He isn't actually smiling- his lips are straight, even a little down-turned- but Tommy knows that when he recalls this moment, Techno will be smiling in his memories.

"I see no fucking proof. Therefore, you are wrong, and I am right," Tommy declares, leaning back in the passenger seat. He crosses his arms over his chest. He glances out the window. The view of the city is completely different from the leaves. Tommy can't even see the sun with all these tall buildings and the barely noticeable smog that seems to be getting thicker every day. The boutique isn't that far away at this point. The air will be a little cleaner there, but Tommy fears the smog is enclosing around his workplace.

"Bruh," Techno states, voice rough around the edges and a little deeper like a bucket of water turning into a basin.

Tommy snorts at the sound, and he allows the silence to blanket them for a moment. It eats away at their conversation, returning them back to the beginning. Tommy shifts in his seat, trying not to see Techno even in his peripheral vision. "But thank you. You know, for the hospitality, not... Whatever."

"Sure, Tommy," Techno agrees without sounding like he's been listening. Tommy rolls his eyes, lips twitching with a smile, though he isn't sure what type it is- happy, sad, sardonic, awkward. It is none of these emotions, or maybe all of them, but whatever it is, the smile doesn't last long. It's gone by the time Techno pulls up to the boutique.

"How the fuck do you know where the boutique is?" Tommy asks, glancing sidelong at Techno.

"I've had some clothes made by this shop. On top of that, Wilbur told me in case of an emergency," Techno answers Tommy, clearing up the loosely held suspicion in Tommy's heart. Tommy let it go immediately, and it fell like a leaf towards the slow-moving river down below.

"Wilbur is a worrywart."

"Anything can happen," Techno shrugs with one shoulder. Tommy stares at him. That was true- anything could happen. Tommy stumbled upon a supervillain bleeding out once, and now he's mixed up in the affairs of all sorts of villains and vigilantes. He accidently caught Wilbur up in that world once. He's risking getting the rest of the Craft family involved in all of this. Tommy is selfish, and the thought kills him more slowly than any of his fears does, more painfully than anyone who covets Tommy's powers would.

"Goodbye, Techno. Thank you for the ride. I'll see you later," Tommy says solemnly. He unbuckles and steps out of the car. He considers his next few words carefully, but he doesn't get around to saying them. He lets them die on his tongue. He lets everything drop away as he smiles faintly- another smile of mixed emotions or a brand new one- and he shuts the door. He takes a step back, staring at the way the skyscrapers reflect inside the royal blue metal. Techno remains parked there, and Tommy drags himself away from the car. Tommy has to climb up to the second floor, but the car is gone by the time Tommy pulls himself into the room.

Tommy drops down onto his mat. He pulls his one blanket up to his head, wrapping it around his arm. He rests his head on his arm, curling his legs against his stomach. The mat isn't nearly as comfortable as the couch was, and this simple observation directs the flow of Tommy's thoughts. He could do nothing, but he also has the option of getting a couch for the second level. There is even the available option of looking into a new place to sleep. He can't rely on Madeleine forever. She showed him kindness in the beginning because of pity, and she gave him this job out of necessity. She values his work ethic, so she'll keep him as an employee, but it might be time that Tommy becomes self-sufficient, like Azrael wants him to.

Tommy's thoughts are immediately shut off by the slow beating of a heart inside his fingertips. A moment later, Tommy can hear voices as Madeleine starts listening to voicemails. Tommy grumbles to himself, pushing off his mat. He rises to his feet, stretching his body. He walks over to his work station, preparing everything and getting started with the day's activities.

The day stretches on like that, interspersed with peaceful moments to recall the atmosphere of the morning. Those moments are cruelly interrupted by work or the other tailors, but Tommy enjoys the fleeting secondary breaths as they come and go. The end of the day seems to come quicker thanks to Tommy's high-spirits. The other tailors leave as their shifts end, complaining about the workload but knowing they will be coming back tomorrow. Tommy remains behind, pulling out his special sketchbook when he no longer feels any heartbeats in the boutique, not even Madeleine's. He does feel a heartbeat a few moments later, though, one coming from the window.

"You don't know how long it took me to find this place!" Pulverize complains, folding his arms on the windowsill and resting his chin there. Tommy can hear the whirring of his hoverboard, so Tommy assumes that's why Pulverize looks like he has super long legs that stretch to the ground despite this being the second floor. "Salamander wouldn't tell me where you were until I did a dozen favors for him! He finally caved and told me, though, so we can finally work on my suit, couturier!"

"Stop fucking calling me that," Tommy hisses, narrowing his eyes at Pulverize. The vigilante gives him a cheeky expression. He crawls into the second floor, his hoverboard rising upward to help push him inside the room. As Pulverize reorientates himself, Tommy says, "To be completely honest with you, I have to finish a suit for Ravager before I can finish your suit."

"Not a big fan of being second on the list, but you know what? I know that I can't beat Ravager in a fight," Pulverize acknowledges with a touch of laughter that spins around with his voice like the inside of a washing machine. Pulverize leans forward, and Tommy tips his sketchbook towards the vigilante to show him the design he had been thinking about using. Pulverize's eyes widen underneath his goggles, and happiness radiates off of him. He grabs the sketchbook, pulling it close to his face. Tommy finds himself smiling instead of getting annoyed, though he does feel a flare of it when Pulverize tosses Tommy's sketchbook at him. Tommy catches it, smoothing out the pages.

"I have been working on some schematics for some machinery I've been working on for this suit," Pulverize explains, tapping away at the electronic brace around his wrist. Pulverize tilts the screen towards Tommy. After a second, a short beam of light shoots out of the brace. It expands into several little beams, and all these light beams fold around each other instead of stretching to the either side of the room. They start to form shapes and colors, and Tommy realizes immediately that he's looking at a hologram. Now Tommy is the excited one, leaning forward with raw wonder stretching his lips into an open-mouthed smile. Pulverize sheepishly laughs, "Don't be too excited. I didn't invent the hologram. The heroes created holographic technology, and I stole it."

Tommy's excitement dims at the mention of heroes and thievery, but he can't force it away completely when he starts to take in the schematics Pulverize brought for him. There are multiple designs for jetpacks and propelled wings. There are a few designs for technology enhanced weapons like a gun that shoots electricity. The armor incorporates ways of quickly spreading a poisonous gas, and Tommy decides that he was correct in giving Pulverize a gas mask. "You would have eventually been able to invent holograms if you were planning on inventing this shit."

"I quite like the narrative that I was doing this to save time," Pulverize offers with a cheesy lilt to his voice. "Regardless, I have the holograms now. I should be able to do most of the stuff I showed you here, if I haven't already done it. Do you think it's possible to implement it?"

"I left a lot of room for it," Tommy notes, gesturing to the open sketchbook. He imagines what the design will look like once he and Pulverize start curating what exactly will go on there. While Tommy did leave space, there is only so much of it available for use.

"I'm so excited!" Pulverize cheers, flipping through his designs with his fingers on the screen of his bracer. He starts throwing the designs into different categories, going too quickly for Tommy to fully process what each list is supposed to be.

"You should be fucking excited. You are getting a suit made by me, after all," Tommy gloats, looking over at the box that contains Ravager's suit. It is almost finished. There are only a handful of details Tommy wants to double-check. He thinks the design is fine, but he wants to test the durability one final time. On top of that, though, Tommy has made note-worthy suits for a number of people at this point.

Pulverize laughs. It sounds remarkably natural for someone under the effects of a secret charm, so Tommy glances at the vigilante. While he can't tell what color Pulverize's eyes are or the shape of them, he can see a twinkle in those eyes, equal parts humor and respect. "It's so refreshing to meet a civilian who doesn't hate or fear vigilantes."

"I don't think I count. All the villains I've been spending too much damn time with have toughened me up," Tommy admits, patting a fist against his chest. On top of his danger sense fraying around the edges like a well-worn blanket, Tommy has been working out with Techno. He's making progress. Tommy feels stronger than before, and he knows how to throw a solid punch. Tommy still isn't on par with vigilantes who have been trained by the cruel teachers called experience and necessity, but Tommy thinks he might be there one day. If his powers decide to be a little more combative, but that is a possibility. Slim, but Tommy is the hopeful type. At least, he is about this. His outlook is fairly bleak in other regards.

"Oh, most definitely, but I don't think we should dismiss my point entirely. I rarely get to talk to people while I'm in this uniform," Pulverize mentions, looking away from his bracer. He meets Tommy's eyes, and there is a touch of something sad there. Tommy can't contextualize the sadness further than that because of the secret charm, but he has a feeling he already knows.

"We could talk more often if you work with me," Tommy murmurs.

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Oh, well, fuck..." Tommy whispers, realizing that Pulverize overheard him. He now has Pulverize's full attention on him, so Tommy sighs and explains, "The villain Azrael told me that I should work with you to add technology to my future suits. You don't have to think about it. Just some bullshit I-"

Tommy stops when he notices the way Pulverize is leaning towards him, eyes sparkling behind his goggles and the thickness of the secret charm working overtime to keep Tommy from recognizing whoever is behind the mask. Pulverize declares, "Azrael is one of my role models, along with Parasite, of course!"

"Should a vigilante really be fucking idolizing villains?" Tommy asks, eyebrows drawing together in confusion and disbelief.

Pulverize leans back slightly, looking two seconds away from breaking into a choreographed dance. "It can't be helped. Azrael and Parasite are just so awesome! They were the ones who inspired me to become a vigilante. I wanted to join the Syndicate, but they wouldn't let me until I got a few more years of experience. That's why I became Pulverize, and Salamander took me under his wing- er, tail? I don't know. Doesn't matter."

"Is everyone and their fucking mother trying to join the Syndicate?" Tommy asks, irked with Pulverize's confession. How many times is he going to end up making suits for a member of the Syndicate? He might as well become their private tailor.

Pulverize laughs again, and Tommy finds the sound more enjoyable than irritating even though Pulverize has been laughing throughout this entire experience. Even when he isn't laughing, there is also a touch of it hidden in his voice. Even as he sobers up, somberly explaining, "There aren't many options. The heroes are corrupt. The Hunters is a good organization, but they go on dangerous missions and work with the heroes on occasion. There are a handful of other groups floating around, like the casino, Las Nevadas, but even then, Jester and his people are close allies with the Syndicate. Being a vigilante is good, but with the Binary Killer and more of the heroes becoming lethal, most vigilantes are pledging their allegiance to someone they hope will protect them. Nemesis chose the Syndicate, and I want to do that, as well."

"What the fuck is Salamander doing?" Tommy asks, mulling over Pulverize's words.

Pulverize sighs, glancing away towards the window like he can see Salamander through the glass. "Salamander will probably stubbornly try to remain unaffiliated. He hates the heroes. He dislikes the Hunters. He can't stand Las Nevadas. He has mixed feelings with the Syndicate after what happened with Nemesis... Why do you want to know?"

"I owe Salamander a suit," Tommy answers honestly. The day he found out Nymph was turning to the Syndicate, Salamander showed up to the boutique. They had an argument. Tommy almost killed him but healed him afterwards. By the end of the exchange, Tommy offered to make Salamander a suit. Salamander refused, but the offer continues to stand. On Quesadilla Island, Salamander will eventually find his way to Tommy's windowsill, asking for a suit because of an unfulfilled debt. "I want to know what group he'll be affiliated with when he shows up."

"That's actually pretty smart. You want to know what organizations you might end up dealing with. As far as I know, I'm the only unaffiliated person you've made a suit for, and I have intentions to join the Syndicate. Since Azrael personally came to see you without maiming you, it must mean you have his blessing. Other groups might not be as kind," Pulverize remarks. He looks down at his brace. A tight expression ripples across his face. "I have to leave. When you finish Ravager's suit, we'll start working together on my suit."

"You don't tell me what to fucking do, but sure, we'll go along with that," Tommy responds, but the touch of humor in his voice isn't lost on Pulverize. The edges of his eyes crinkle with a smile. Pulverize waves as he shimmies out of the window. Tommy laughs, waving back.

The second Pulverize's heartbeat stops being in range of Tommy's powers, the blonde is left alone with his thoughts. He leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. He wanted to stay out of the affairs of superpowered people, but Pulverize isn't wrong. The city is becoming more dangerous. Not only that, Tommy has other people to care about now. Wilbur has already gotten hurt because of Tommy, and his family and friends- people Tommy has been getting close with- might be next. When it was Tommy by himself, he wouldn't have even considered officially joining an organization. As it stands, however, Tommy can't get away with protecting himself and the people he cares about all by himself. He refuses to let anyone get hurt because of him ever again, and that might mean doing what he swore he would never do.