Tommy sits on the floor of his shop. The machines are quiet around him as he threads the remaining details of the suit with his hands. Slivers of moonlight slide through the glass windows, but the silvery light is chased away by the yellow-white fluorescent bulbs illuminating the room from where they're affixed to the ceiling. Azrael sits on one of the plush couches set in one corner of the shop near the door that leads up to the second floor. It is an area reserved and designed for guests that might wish to spend time in the shop or are waiting for the final product.

"How is it?" Azrael asks. For some reason, these days, the secret charms have grown far more intense in its pursuit of keeping the identities of villains a secret. Tommy can hardly hear anything human about Azrael's voice. The dark wings sprouting from his back and the green magic pulsating around his talons don't exactly project an image of humanity, either. Despite both of these facts, Tommy is comfortable around Azrael. Tommy could never beat the supervillain in a fight, but Tommy's certain that if he remains useful and on good terms with the other Syndicate members, Azrael won't kill him. It would be better if Tommy made up with Phantasm, but Tommy will leave such thoughts for another day.

"It's so fucking awesome! I've never really had a place to make my own," Tommy notes, looking around the room. The Craft family helped Tommy put up some photographs. The stairwell and the second floor are covered in images of Tommy, his family, and his friends. The downstairs is a little less detailed, but it's no less personal. Tommy got several pictures of cows, spiders, chickens, moths, and other animals that he adores to hang on the walls. A few of them are cartoonish while others are realistic, but Tommy thinks they are all equally adorable. Other than the pictures, Tommy put a couple of magnets on the machines of movies Wilbur has gotten him into. On Tommy's professional desk, he has a wooden carving of two crows, a pig, a fox, and a racoon all huddled together on a platform. Tommy has no idea what it means, but Techno gave it to Tommy so it must be important enough that Techno decided to be sentimental. There are other random gifts from his friends scattered around the place. Shelby brings him flowers once a week to put in a vase on his windowsill by his radio. Niki gave him a blanket to throw over the back of the couch Azrael is sitting on. Everything about the space is exactly how Tommy wants it without anyone else telling him he can't or he shouldn't.

Azrael chuckles, looking around the room with terrifyingly blue eyes. He settles on each photograph with no discernable shifts in his expression. "You are doing a great job so far at furnishing the place in your own personal style. I've never been in a professional location quite like this one."

"There's still work to be done," Tommy notes, glancing up from the suit he was working on to cast his eyes around the space. Tommy wants to get a couple more plants to freshen the place up. He thinks he could get some thicker curtains for the windows, and he wouldn't mind a few more security cameras in the corner. Aesthetically, Tommy wants to paint the walls and he wants more gifts from his loved ones to fill the place up with.

"You have plenty of time to do it," Azrael assures Tommy. The blonde snaps his eyes to the villain, making direct eye contact. While Azrael's posture and tone are lighthearted, Tommy can see the threat vaguely hidden underneath each word. Tommy only has enough time because Azrael is allowing him to have it. Azrael isn't going to kill Tommy immediately, so Tommy should get comfortable. He should treat this place like a home.

Tommy laughs awkwardly, tearing his eyes away from Azrael to steady his rapidly beating heart. Even after growing comfortable around Azrael, he shouldn't kid himself into thinking things aren't the way they are. Tommy shakes his shoulders, getting rid of the odd feeling weighing down his stomach. "The list of people I'm making suits for is growing. Soon enough, I won't have any free time."

"You have all the time in the world to work on suits without your usual day job," Azrael counters. His voice is still light, however, no matter how inhuman the edges of it are because of the secret charm and Azrael's general disposition.

"I can only hope I don't get done too quickly. I need this to be a sustainable business, Big Man. How else will I be the biggest of businessmen and pay for my many wives' expensive tastes?" Tommy raises an eyebrow at the villain as if he's posing a genuine question to a villain with a body count higher than the people Tommy has met in his entire life... probably.

"I think it will be fine. You're offering laundry services and mending when the suits are torn up in battle. That is enough to get you by for the rest of your days," Azrael explains. He thinks for a moment, raising a talon up to his chin to tap it. "And I know that a few individuals will want to get their suit updated frequently. Variety is the spice of life, I suppose."

"I hope my suits don't get fucking torn up," Tommy grumbles with a pout. He goes back to finishing the suit in his hands. He's worked extremely hard on all of these suits, and he doesn't want them to get so easily destroyed in the heat of the moment.

"I promise that I will be careful... I can't say the same for my teammates," Azrael says, putting a hand over his chest like he's making a proper oath.

"Of-fucking-course," Tommy agrees. He knows that Azrael and Shadow Girl will be careful with their suits, but Ravager is too bloodthirsty and Phantasm is too dramatic for their suits to be fine at the end of the day. There isn't enough Netherite in the world to protect those two from themselves. "I'm done!"

Tommy leaps to his feet. He hands the suit to Azrael. The villain languidly stands up from the couch, taking the suit from Tommy as he balances on his feet. Azrael steps toward the dressing rooms. The exposed light bulbs around the mirror on the stage all light up with a golden-yellow light as Azrael disappears behind the closed door. Tommy waits impatiently at the foot of the stage. He clasps his hands together, torn between his anticipation for the suit and his excitement over someone using the dressing rooms for the first time.

After a few moments, Azrael opens the door and steps onto the stage. The light falls across his body, allowing Tommy to look at every detail. The base of the suit is a dark cyan pants with even darker teal patches sewn into the fabric. This material continues up over his chest and arms, but it is covered by a black breastplate. A mint green tunic with a deep neckline and golden edges covers the breastplate. The tunic is closed around Azrael's waist by a thick belt closed together by a maroon buckle designed to emulate Azrael's signature pattern. Two sheaths for daggers are attached to the sides of the belt along with a few extra pouches for potions. A forest green shawl with golden embroidery of crows in flight covers his shoulders, and his wings spread out from underneath the shawl. He wears thick black socks with golden pieces attached to them that resemble the talons of birds a little more than his clawed fingers do, but the fingerless gloves that blend the ashen look of his fingers to the rest of his hand do wonders to make him look more materialistic. A green velvet bird mask nestles over his face, embroidered with golden thread once more. He wears a green and white hat over his hair, affixed to his body by some gossamer strands unnoticeable with a passing glance. The secret charm ties the whole look together, really making his blue eyes pop.

"Look at it! You look so fucking awesome!" Tommy cheers, leaping onto the stage. He nearly falls forward, but he catches himself in time and spins around Azrael. He stands between the supervillain and the mirror. Part of him should be scared of interrupting Azrael's moment to examine himself, but Tommy cannot stop himself from looking at the outfit from every angle to make sure there are no deformities. This one took a considerable amount of planning since Tommy needed to account for multiple factors including weight, safety, and style. Tommy takes this moment to relish in his completed work. "I think I've really outdone myself this time!"

"Do I really look that great?" Azrael asks, looking over his shoulder at Tommy's excited face.

"Don't try fishing for compliments, good sir," Tommy notes, crossing his arms over his chest as he resists the urge to move different aspects of the outfit around to make sure they will work underneath different kinds of pressure. Tommy knows it won't work out the way he wants it to, but he has nothing to say in that regard.

Tommy freezes when he feels another heartbeat underneath his fingertips. Tommy frowns to himself, looking around for the source. Tommy doesn't need to look long as a voice leads him exactly where he needs to look, "I'm glad someone is deflating Azrael's ego."

Parasite is standing on the windowsill on the other side of the glass from Shelby's flowers and Tommy's radio. He is leaning against the glass with a smirk on his tiny face. Although Tommy can't see much of his outfit, he estimates that Parasite is just wearing a hoodie over a biking uniform with a flimsy excuse of a mask bought from some Halloween costume shop. Parasite nods toward Azrael, more precisely, his new outfit. "It does look sick, though."

"Thank you," Tommy responds. He isn't the most terrifying villain Tommy has encountered, but there are still plenty of reasons to fear Parasite. His size manipulation is his most-used power, but it isn't his only one. As his name implies, he can turn himself into a mental apparition that burrows deep into the subconscious. He will ride his hosts for days at a time, learning everything about their lives and planting the seeds of ideas in their mind. Tommy doesn't doubt that Phantasm's trick of possessing a person and making them commit suicide was inspired by Parasite. There are a few cases of Parasite pushing that idea so deeply into someone's psyche that even people with no history of suicidal ideation will be found dead in their homes. It was all for the greater good, Tommy supposes, remembering the words of Nemesis and Vulcan, but he still finds the idea extremely off-putting.

"Will you give me permission to enter?" Parasite asks. Before Tommy had moved in, Azrael and Pulverize installed all sorts of security measures. Azrael enchanted this place with wards that would only allow the people Tommy gives permission to enter the building. Tommy thought it was overkill, but he does acknowledge that he's making suits for supervillains and vigilantes. Protection is more than necessary in this line of work.

"Come on in."

Parasite's smile widens as he pushes the window open with his hands. He slides under the crack, leaving the window half-open. He leaps off the windowsill. The air around Parasite pulsates with blue energy as his size increases back into a man. He stretches his limbs, cracking his neck. Tommy winces as he realizes that he was right about Parasite's outfit earlier.

"All you have to do is take away Parasite's permission with your willpower when he leaves," Azrael adds, confirming Tommy's assumptions about how the wards worked. Tommy has never seen a ward until Azrael put them in the building. He was only vaguely aware of their existence before this. It was one of the lost arts of magic, little more than a fairytale that everybody acknowledges used to be part of the world but no longer is. Azrael is the only known person who still uses magic.

"You can take away Azrael's permission, too, unless you've secretly been a falconer this entire time," Parasite adds, a half-smile spreading across the visible part of his face. The secret charm is starting to give Tommy a headache, but he endures it for the sake of determining how Parasite is feeling right now. It won't do for the villain to get upset.

Azrael glares at Parasite as he says, "Yes, that is also possible. I didn't give myself a backdoor with these wards. You are completely in control."

Tommy nods, trying not to fully process those words for fear that he will misconstrue them. He glances back at Parasite, ignoring the sudden throb in his head. "What are you here for, Parasite?"

"Lady Necrosis asked me to check up on Azrael, and one does not say no to her," Parasite explains, giving Tommy and Azrael a knowing look. Azrael nods slowly, agreeing with Parasite. Tommy shrugs, not sure if he's allowed to agree even though he completely does. Parasite chuckles, shaking his head to rid himself of his former expression. "More importantly, I'm here to preorder my suit."

"Azrael should just preorder the entire fucking Syndicate's suits," Tommy murmurs with a half-laugh, running a hand along the side of his face.

"That isn't a bad idea," Azrael responds to Tommy's mumblings seriously.

Tommy perks up with a shocked expression, meeting Azrael's eyes head-on. "I'm not the Syndicate's tailor."

"Not exclusively, but I think it would be good to have all of our suits done by you. I have seen for myself the quality of your work," Azrael says, gesturing downward to his outfit. His wings flare out, giving him an imposing figure. Even though Tommy is pretty sure he isn't about to die, he feels a wave of apprehension slide through his body as he stares at Azrael.

"As long as I get my suit first," Parasite notes, drawing Tommy's attention away from the horrific image of Azrael right beside both of them on the stage.

"I still have to make a costume for Nuzlocke and Vulcan," Tommy interrupts, shaking his head.

"I should have found you first," Parasite complains. All of a sudden, his eyes narrow as they look at Tommy. Parasite leans a little closer, crossing a line that Tommy knows shouldn't be crossed. Although Parasite is still smiling, there is something dangerous in his eyes that not even the secret charm can mask. "Speaking of, how did Phantasm find you?"

"What?" Tommy whispers slowly, unsurely.

"Well, in the beginning, you didn't seem so happy making suits. You understandably didn't like supervillains all that much. You still might not. So, why did you make Phantasm a suit? Was it for the money? And if that's the case, why did Phantasm offer an exchange instead of taking what he wants as he usually does?" Parasite asks, his voice low and firm. It reminds Tommy of an undercurrent he hadn't noticed before. Tommy knows that undercurrent is threatening to take him down, pulling him along the river without a moment to reach the surface for air.

"I don't have a fucking story for you, okay? Phantasm just appeared in my life. He offered a deal, and I took it," Tommy lies, doing everything in his power to keep Parasite from finding out. Tommy really doesn't want any of the leaders of the Syndicate to know about his healing powers. As far as Tommy is aware, Azrael, Lady Necrosis, and Parasite are the most likely candidates for leader. Tommy would rather the three of them not know anything more about Tommy than strictly necessary.

Parasite leans back with a shrug, seemingly accepting the answer. Azrael's hand slides onto Tommy's shoulder, drawing the blonde's attention away from the shrinking supervillain. Tommy meets those sterling blue eyes as Azrael changes the subject. "Could I put in an order?"

"Uh... yeah, shit— um, of course. A suit for Parasite and Lady Necrosis, right?" Tommy asks. From what he remembers, those are the final two members of the Syndicate's named forces, not including any henchman who work underneath them.

"Yes. I would also like for you to design a uniform for the underlings. It doesn't need to be as complex or personalized as our suits, but I would like it to unite our forces underneath our banner," Azrael confirms. Tommy suddenly feels like he's talking to a general trying to acquire resources for his army.

"It will be a little difficult—"

"I'm willing to pay double."

"Oh, he rarely argues in credits. You should take the deal," Parasite pipes up, slinging an arm over Azrael's shoulder. He pulls the villain closer to him. When side-by-side, the magnificence of Azrael's newly designed suit outshines the ugliness of Parasite's cobbled together look.

"Fine, I accept. Who wouldn't say no to some nice credits? I'm a businessman, remember?" Tommy lightly jokes, earning a soft smile from Azrael and a snort from Parasite. "After I finish Nuzlocke's suit, I'll make one for the remaining members of the Syndicate and a uniform for the underlings."

"Thank you," Azrael says even though he really doesn't have to. Azrael looks up, out the window. "We should be leaving now."

"I hate it when you're right. We have so much fucking work to do," Parasite complains again. He pushes off of Azrael. As he takes a step back, he shrinks with another pulse of blue light. Parasite leaps onto the windowsill, sliding out of the window like a baseball player sliding into home base.

"Goodbye," Azrael waves as he leaves out the front door. Tommy responds with his own wave. He almost wants to ask them not to hurt anyone, but they're villains. He knows they will, and he knows he can't stop them.

With the two of them gone, Tommy grabs onto his sketchbook. He plops back onto the floor. He starts sketching designs for Nuzlocke's suit while trying to figure out a way to make her come down so he can get her measurements.