'Apartment B5 opposite dreams at visvang. interview occupant tommy on theseus'

So, Sapnap was just dumping the dirty work on him? Of course, he was. George sighed and put the goggles back on over his eyes. The mushroom hat weighed securely on his head but he reangled it a tad to leave his office door. He took a left and it didn't take long for him to reach the door at the end of the corridor, facing the hallway like an ever-watchful, omniscient presence. A petty part of him wanted to kick Sapnap's door but the biomagician was out on a shift. It wouldn't even annoy him.

The next best thing to do would be to kick the Blood God's door but he had seen his "plummeting to his near-death" incident last night on the news and felt that the last thing he needed for full emotional recovery was George taking out petty anger on his door. So he settled for a slightly aggressive knock on the Inbetweener's door and waited. He didn't wait long because the door suddenly appeared open with a bright green flash, like always.

The Inbetweener was sitting behind his desk, organising papers. The point of the green swirls fixed themselves on George's face and it was impossible to tell if he smiled in greeting. "Hello, King," He welcomed, a warm tone in his voice. "You're unexpected."

"Who would've been expected?" King asked, walking in and trying to ignore the flash of green that closed the door behind him.

"Jubilee Line," the number one replied, calmly. "I put him on probation for a week and... well, he's usually knocking on my door desperately by now."

King hummed thoughtfully, mind flickering back to yesterday evening: the bright blue tears, the screaming trains - had all that just been about the probation? "Well, I'm certainly not here to bail him out of his problems," began the biomagician, fiddling with his thumbs. "I'm here for an interrogation warrant."

"Whom for?"

"Someone named Tommy - lives at Visvang Flats in Apartment B5. I have been given a tip-off that he might know something of Theseus that he's withheld."

The Inbetweener nodded soundly. "Makes sense. Can you give me any more?"

King shrugged. "Wish I could. The tip-off wasn't helpful."

His superior's spinning eyes narrowed a little, more thoughtful than angry, but he pulled out a warrant and began writing upon it. He signed it off and handed it over to King, who took it with a pleased nod. "Will you need back-up?"

"Maybe for the interrogation," he began, "But not with picking him up; a vehicle and driver should do. I can handle myself in small spaces quite well."

"I know," the Inbetweener answered, with a light laugh. "You wouldn't be my number five if you couldn't." King smiled respectfully and started to stand up when the Inbetweener raised his hand. "Oh, and one more thing!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Your fight yesterday. With that... creature. You handled yourself well!" This time, he was definitely smiling, his two masks wrinkling a little. "How did you know restraining would work?"

King paused and took a moment to think. "It had sloppy coordination but good strength. If I could stop it from gaining momentum on its attacks, it wouldn't be able to cause much damage. So I restrained its joints, mostly, so it couldn't get enough leeway to attack."

His boss hummed, appreciatively. "Good thinking. Well, when you bring in this "Tommy" fella, take him to interrogation room four, please. I'll have another hero waiting for you in there."

King bowed. "Okay, sir."

"Goodbye."

The door appeared open in another colourful flash and George turned and walked out. He heard it close behind him but didn't turn, slipping the warrant into secret folds in his cloak. He breezed through corridors, yawning occasionally, and tried to ignore the way normal officers or low-ranked heroes stared at him. They saw him almost daily but they still seemed so stunned about a hero in their midst. It was almost like they didn't think they'd see him at his job.

George left through the front doors and found a normal police car waiting for him. Since the C.H.A had joined the police force, he now had to deal with going around in normal patrol vehicles instead of cool and sleek, black limousines which had guns built in. Public services sucked. However, George didn't tell the driver that as he sat down in the passenger seat and wound the trail of his cloak up on his lap.

As he closed the door he instructed, "Visvang Flats, quadrant eighteen."

"Yes, sir," Answered the driver with a stoic nod, then she started the engine and off they drove.

Tommy woke up, almost startling himself awake with his snoring. He rolled around in his bed and picked up his phone, glancing at the time. It was two in the afternoon. Maybe that was just a tad too late. He slowly sat up and dragged his feet slowly out of his room, groggily. Ranboo's bedroom door was still firmly closed so he was definitely still asleep. Tubbo wasn't in the living room but, upon further inspection, Tommy saw him sitting at the tiny table in the kitchen with his laptop and a coffee mug.

For a moment, the blond considered ignoring him. He could head out for a walk and they could just avoid all of... that completely. He even took a step forwards until he suddenly thought better of it. Slowly, begrudgingly, and a little grumpily, Tommy walked into the minuscule kitchen and leaned half on the wall and half on the door frame.

"Hey, big man," He greeted.

Tubbo looked up, blank-faced. "Hi."

Tommy flinched a little and a hand went up to rub at the back of his neck. "Look, about the other day," he said, glancing away when Tubbo cocked an eyebrow. "That fight about the heroes and that murder thing-"

"You mean the thing where you attacked my caution and assumed facts about people we don't even know?"

He winced but forced himself to look at a now glaring Tubbo. "Yep. That's the one..."

Tubbo sighed loudly and dramatically, closing his laptop, and turned to give Tommy his full attention, one eyebrow unamusedly raised. "Well?" He asked sharply. "What about it?"

"I'm sorry," Tommy apologised, dropping the arm from his neck. "I was tired and still kinda scared from what went down with Jubilee Line. I took out a lot of negative emotions on you and I continued the fight when you tried to stop it. I was in the wrong and I'm sorry."

There was silence from his friend until Tubbo sighed, rubbed his temples and then opened his laptop again. "God, it's hard to be pissy when you make your apologies so honest 'nd shit."

Tommy tried an amending grin. "It's why you gotta love me, innit?"

"Yeah. Wanna sit? It's been quiet all morning and I need someone screaming like a moron."

"Alright, sure." Tommy pushed off from the wall and pulled up a seat next to Tubbo, sitting down. "What're you looking at?"

Tubbo turned the screen so Tommy could see it. "It's the information I pulled from some of the computers in those two warehouses. Looking for more locations and more information."

"Are you learning anything?"

He shrugged. "Not really. The first warehouse had a basement too, though."

Tommy tilted his head. "It said that in the files?"

"No," answered Tubbo, switching tabs. "It said that from 'cha' surveillance." He showed Tommy images thrown into a Google Docs of the first warehouse they had infiltrated. Most of the pictures had been pulled from social media, and showed teams of low-ranked heroes moving rubble and taking out large boxes labelled 'classified contents'. It seemed quite well-guarded and the challenge in that set something alight in Tommy's mind.

"Do you think that all the warehouses have a basement?" He asked, eyes absorbing the scenes scrolling before him.

"Well, so far it's two for two but I don't think so," Answered Tubbo. "From some of my digging, they bought these properties and it said on the websites about how it came with basements for storage and stuff."

Tommy tilted his head. "If they bought the properties, why don't you just check the credit card number? Surely you can trace that?"

Tubbo made a face. "You think I'm going to put a bigger target on my head by hacking into banks? That'd raise so many alarm bells. The security services for most major companies have tracking stuff installed. I'd be busted!"

The taller tsked quietly and leaned back in his chair. "Fuck. So, we can't even trace that?"

"No. I bet the 'cha' is tracing it, though."

Tommy made a face. "I hate it when our greatest rivals are government-authorised."

"Same," agreed Tubbo. "The fact that they could literally throw us in prison even if we slip up just once doesn't help-"

There was a knock on the door.

Tubbo looked at Tommy. "Are you expecting guests?"

"No... You?"

Tubbo shook his head. "Ranboo hasn't told me to be expecting anyone."

Tommy shrugged. "Might be the post. You get it, I'm still in pyjamas."

"Alright," The shorter stood, closing the laptop. "Go get dressed, then."

The pair left the kitchen, Tubbo heading to the door and Tommy slipping away into his room. He changed into a blue t-shirt and tan jeans: it didn't need to look good, he'd get bitches anyway. With a yawn to fully shake himself awake and a long stretch, he left the room and looked up to see Tubbo standing frozen at the door, not speaking. He was facing someone whom Tommy couldn't quite see. Slowly, Tubbo reached up and took something - a sheet of paper - and stared at it in shock.

"I- I'm sorry," the brunet was muttering, "This is... okay."

"Tubs?" Called out Tommy nervously.

Tubbo jolted and turned to look at him, wide-eyed and pale. "Tommy, you-" He began softly, almost in horror.

"You're Tommy?" Said the voice at the door. It was a hero. Not just any hero. It was King. Tommy's stomach dropped to the floor. "I need you to come with me to the City's Coordination of Heroic Activity headquarters, please. We need to interview you."

Slowly, Tubbo shuffled over to Tommy, sliding the paper silently into his hands. It wasn't an arrest warrant - yet - but it was certainly official. The blond swallowed, glancing up. "A-about what?"

"About Theseus." King smiled. "Would you please follow me?"

He could feel Tubbo staring at him, terrified, but he tried not to make eye contact. He felt like he couldn't move, like his muscles had frozen up on him. Suddenly, he felt fifteen again, clinging to Tubbo as they took him away from them. He hadn't frozen, like Tommy had now: no, he went down with guns blazing, quite literally. Tubbo had opened the door that day too. Tubbo had clung to him later, as well.

If King's eyes moved behind his goggles, they couldn't see it but he coughed awkwardly, pulling the pair out of the past they were both thinking of. "If you don't follow, I will have to restrain you to bring you in." He tried a business-like but joking smile, which came off slightly more threatening than probably intended. "The Inbetweener's orders."

Tommy took a step forwards but Tubbo instinctively pulled him back. He turned to the older and finally looked into his eyes. "Tommy," Tubbo tried, grip tightening.

"Toby," began Tommy softly, "Go to Ranboo's room. I'll be back before you know it, yeah?"

"Don't say that," Tubbo answered, shaking his head, "Because then you fucking jinx it, Tom. And he jinxed it - he said that exact shit, almost to the letter and-!"

"Toby," Tommy interrupted. "Go to Ranboo's room. Please."

Tubbo stared. He swallowed. He let go. Tommy hesitated himself but he didn't want to waste much more time. He headed over to the door, making sure to glare venomously at King, and grabbed black-and-white converse. He pulled them on, not bothering too much with the laces and turned to the hero. "I'm ready," he muttered, casting a look back to Tubbo, who was near Ranboo's door.

King put a hand on Tommy's back, pushing him along. "Come on, drama queen. I don't have all day."

Tommy stumbled a little before walking properly, trying to stride with confidence and bravery despite feeling so small. King's footsteps were light and measured. He carried himself like he was drowsy, shoulders slumped and head tipped at a slight downwards angle, but there was no doubting he was easily alert. Even if his movements seemed half-hearted, they were purposeful and poised. Was the sleepiness a facade or were the heroes at the highest level so well-trained that exhaustion meant nothing?

Speaking of 'the highest level', it hit Tommy suddenly that King was a higher rank than Jubilee Line. Just one rank above him.

It didn't seem like much, especially after his most recent encounter with the Crowfather - the longest reigning number one until he relaxed - but it still hit a part of him that sparked terror. Other questions began to run through his mind. If King was a higher rank, did he know about that breakdown? Or the red tears? No, those were silly questions. The C.C.H.A operated through total privacy and confidentiality, even amongst colleagues. It was famous for that.

King took him down the stairs, wordlessly, and Tommy noted the way his cloak billowed. The red was a brighter colour than the Blood God's. While the hybrid had a darker, royal colour, the biomagician before him had a certain shade of red, like a rose caught in sunlight. Both had white fur lining the inside, but the Blood God's fur was thicker and longer, while King had short fur. It was a small difference but Tommy couldn't help noticing it. He didn't manage to notice any of the well-hidden pockets and compartments that he knew lined the cape, no matter how hard he stared.

As they left Visvang, he spotted a police car, waiting for him. There was no extra security, no legions of heroes waiting to grab him. Just the car and King.

The hero stepped forwards first, opening the back-seats door for him. Tommy hesitated.

"This isn't a trick," promised King. "This is just an interview based on a tip-off we received. You're not in trouble."

The blond flushed a little. "I know. I'm not fuckin' scared."

With a dramatic and pointed huff, he clambered into the back. There was no one there to arrest him, no one with handcuffs and no sounds of whistling trains. Just the driver who glanced at him curiously in the rear-view mirror. The passenger door opened and King climbed in, hat twisted at an awkward angle. "Sit behind the driver," he instructed Tommy, who hurriedly jumped to do so. He sat down behind the driver and clipped his seatbelt in while glancing up.

King had turned around to watch him, his face blank while the driver started the engine and pulled away.

"What's your full name, Tommy?" He asked as they drove. "Our tip-off only referred to you by nickname."

"It's Tom Simons," he said. As an afterthought, he added, "Sir."

King blinked. "Tom... Simons?" He echoed. "That sounds quite familiar."

Tommy paused, wetting his lips. "That might be from, uh, the Devil's Ram case, sir."

The white goggles moved as King raised his eyebrows. "You're connected to that?"

"In a way. Sir."

"Hmm." King nodded, still not turning around. "Well, that must wait until the interrogation. Please note that from now on, anything you say can be used in a court of law, either in your defence or prosecution. You have the right to remain silent until the interrogation begins. Any questions?"

"Uhm. No, sir."

"Alright."

King continued to stare at him and Tommy swallowed, "Uhm. One question, though. Sir."

The biomagician seemed to give a dramatic, silent sigh but didn't seem genuinely all that bothered. "Yes, Mr Simons?"

"Why are you staring at me?"

"It's protocol," Replied King with no hesitation. He rested his hand somewhere amongst the fabric of his cloak and then pulled out a handful of seeds that he rested on the chair like a threat. "We don't want you getting any ideas while we escort you. Do we?"

Tommy paled. "No, sir."

The rest of the drive was in silence and King didn't look away once, even when he decided to put the seeds back into the apparent void that was his cloak. When they parked, someone was waiting to open the door for Tommy. He scurried out, with a hurried thanks, and turned to see at least two well-dressed officers waiting to not just open King's door for him, but also to bow in greetings. He waved his hand at them and the pair dispersed. "Follow me, Mr Simons," he said to Tommy when he neared. "The sooner we ask the questions, the sooner this is done." Tommy only nodded in response.

He had never been inside the C.C.H.A headquarters before. He hardly even dared to get near before. It was just how it seemed on television - police officers mingling with masked biomagicians or fully transitioned hybrids: the latter type of people must've been heroes but Tommy didn't recognise them if they were. Middle ranked, probably. Or they were in the top hundred. The reporters only particularly cared about the top twenty as a rule - documenting all two thousand of the heroes was a task no one wished to endure.

Tommy snapped himself out of it, trying to follow King through the crowds. He led him to a small side door, which led out into a grand corridor, lined with numbered doors.

Room one approached and they walked past it, same with two and three, but they stopped at four. King opened the door. "After you, Mr Simons," he said.

Tommy swallowed and walked in.

It was mostly a white room, with a cold, bright light on the ceiling. There was a table with three chairs, two on one side and one on the other. The Crowfather was there as well, sitting in one of the two chairs. He smiled with a soft, omniscient presence: a smile that, if Tommy were a bit younger, he might believe would come from Santa Claus. A smile that spoke so much warmth and so much knowledge.

"Hello," the hybrid greeted. "Please, take a seat."

King closed the door behind them as Tommy took the chair that sat alone, face trained towards the Crowfather. "The Inbetweener sent you for assistance in the interrogation?" He said. No amount of apathy hid the frown on his face, even with the goggles.

The Crowfather looked at him, relaxed and unflinching. "He was going to send Eret but she was apparently occupied. They couldn't make it, so I did instead."

"Alright. I had just assumed Phoenix would be back from shift."

"Occupied also," said the older hero, green eyes shooting a sideglance to Tommy. "You'll be informed in due time."

King asked no questions after that, settling for a respectful nod and settling down in the last empty chair. The Crowfather pulled out a recording device and tapped a button. It beeped and then fell silent, aside from the softest of whirring.

"This is King, currently ranked number five, and the Crowfather, currently ranked number four, during the interrogation of Mr Tom Simons-" the Crowfather's wings tensed "-date and location will be attached to the file," King began, leaning back with a hunch in his back.

Next to him, the Crowfather sat up straight, and said to Tommy. "Mr Simons, all you say now can be used in the court of law. During this interrogation, you must answer all questions and answer them honestly - refusal to do so can result in a fine or imprisonment. Do you understand?"

Tommy hesitated but King gestured with his hand that he was allowed to speak. "Yeah. I mean, yes, sir."

"How old are you, Mr Simons?" Continued the Crowfather.

"I'm nineteen, sir."

"And do you know the topic of this interrogation?"

"Something to do with Theseus, sir."

King cleared his throat. "Mr Simons, you have been brought here because of connections to the vigilante criminal, Theseus. We are told to believe that you may have knowledge about his identity."

A brief silence followed until Tommy filled it with an awkward, "Okay."

"Have you ever met Theseus before?"

He hesitated, wetting his lips. "No," he began carefully, testing the waters.

"Mr Simons, our informant is highly reliable. Be honest," King instructed, crossing his arms.

The Crowfather smiled comfortingly. "We understand you must be nervous. That lie will not be held against you."

Tommy tries to smile back weakly. King asked, "Mr Simons, our information says that you were saved by Theseus once, in your youth. Could you tell us what he saved you from?"

Oh, Sapnap, that fucking bastard.

"It was," Tommy fumbled, mind jumping to the black-haired police officer at Dream's flat, "uhm, it's hard to talk about."

"Take your time," said the Crowfather.

He was floundering for ideas now, desperately trying to figure out some sort of story. "I was, like, fourteen or so. Uh, it was a pretty dark time for me. Mentally, I mean. And Theseus, he-" a brief moment of clarity entered Tommy's mind and he found the truth tumbling from his lips before he knew it. "He stopped me."

"From doing what?" Asked King.

Honesty and sentimental value be damned, lying was the best way to deal with this. "Um. Killing myself, sir."

"How did he stop you from doing that?" Pressed the biomagician.

Tommy licked his lips fleetingly, mind racing four steps ahead. "Uh, I tried to jump off a building. He stopped me. Caught me, I should say. Before I fell."

The Crowfather hummed softly and King nodded. The two heroes glanced at each other and the hybrid lent forwards, saying, "And what did Theseus look like?"

"Oh, y'know," Tommy leaned back, tilting his head up to avoid eye contact nervously. "A bit younger than he does now. He had a balaclava instead of the whole mask thingy. He had a jumper too, and no techy stuff."

"Did you see his face?" Asked the winged one, leaning forwards a tad more. "Do you have anything about him that might help us identify him?"

Tommy opened his mouth and nothing came out. His mind raced for something - anything - to tell them. If he told them, they'd be bound to leave him alone. And if it contradicted his appearance, then... Then maybe...

"A birthmark," He said. "I remember Theseus had a birthmark from here-" he tapped his left temple, "-to here," he finished, finger finding itself near the farthest corner of his right eye.

The Crowfather finally frowned. "Impossible. We've had many interactions with Theseus, the majority being up close. He has no such birthmark."

Tommy shrugged stiffly. "Make-up exists. He probably has some concealer or something." Thank you, Ranboo, for all the times you talked about make-up for no reason.

The two heroes considered this possibility. "Alright," King said. "Well, we have a few more questions. Do you mind?"

The vigilante looked at the pair of them apprehensively. "Not at all, sirs." He said. "Ask away."

"He's Theseus, isn't he?"

"Yes."

The green spirals over a blank sclera narrowed. "And you're saying I do nothing?"

"I'm instructing you to do nothing. You're not going to let him be arrested until I say so or until there's no other choice. Understand, timey-wimey?"

The computer scene that showed the live footage of Simon's interrogation sat before him and he didn't dare look away, even at the person behind him. "I understand."

"I don't think you do." Someone was now breathing in his ear - the person had leaned in close, to whisper conspiratorially the greatest threat. "C'mon, now, you know I could destroy your life. Doxxing; stalking; what you saw all those years ago... I put you here; I'm the reason you get to sit in this very office. I need you to understand that you owe me a favour."

"I said I understood," he snapped, resisting the urge to give the other a sharp side glance. "I know what you'll do. You remind me every time. I haven't forgotten."

There was a 'hmph' of either approval or dismissal. He still didn't look up when the person pulled back. "They've been keeping an eye on you, y'know."

"Yes. She takes any opportunity he has to remind me of that."

"I'll tell them to stop."

"Why?"

"I need her to look at someone else."

He didn't answer that.

"Are you not going to ask who?"

"I'm not going to get myself involved in any more of your business than I have to."

He could hear the shrug that followed. "Suit yourself. I could make you rich."

"You know I don't care about the money."

"You did once."

"Not anymore."

Hands fell on his shoulders - the other was behind him now. "You can't deny the past, though, Beta One. It'll come back to bite you when you'll find it most inconvenient."

"And I guess it'll be the most convenient for you when it happens?"

The laugh was so condescending. "Oh, really, now," teased the other, tightening the grip on his shoulders, "you say the most outrageous things sometimes, Karl."

"That's all the questions we have, then," said the Crowfather, finger hovering over another button on the recording device. "The interrogation ends here." He clicked the button, there was a beep and then the whirring stopped. Tommy fought back the sigh of relief.

King stood up, with a small nod. "Mr Simons, thank you for co-operating. You're free to go. Crowfather, may you escort him out?"

"I can," the other hero answered, nodding. "Shift?"

The biomagician made a face. "Paperwork."

Tommy tried to make a sympathetic face, even though he was incapable of sharing whatever feeling of pain there was - that might've been due to the fact he couldn't read, but he was trying his best to empathise. "Good luck," he attempted. King gave him a polite nod in return and left the room.

The Crowfather turned to him. "Well," he said. "Let's go."

Tommy nodded, taking a deep breath and standing up. "Yeah. D-do I get a lift back home?"

"You can," answered the elder, standing as well, with a large stretch of long wings. "If you live far enough."

"Visvang Flats?"

He thought about it. "Yes, you can get a lift. Only just, though."

They left the room together, in mostly silence. The hybrid paused at the door out of the corridor and turned to Tommy. "About your father-"

"He wasn't my father," Tommy interrupted. "He just looked after me for a while."

The Crowfather raised an eyebrow. "How do you know whom I'm referring to?"

"It's who everyone 'refers' to," he muttered. "It's always him."

"You have visiting rights, don't you?"

"I don't go. Not really. Toby does."

The Crowfather smiled. "You're still in touch with him?"

Tommy nodded. "He was like my brother."

"But the Devil's Ram wasn't your father?"

The vigilante shook his head. "He didn't want to be, I think. It made him feel guilty."

"Ah," the hybrid looked away. "That doesn't mean you don't need to visit him. I think he'd like it."

"You say that like you'd know," Tommy scoffed, reaching out for the door handle.

"I do know," the Crowfather said, making the other blond freeze. "I'm the one who visits him weekly. Check-ups, he calls them. Always goes on about how I'm actually a psychiatrist in disguise, trying to make him admit he's mad."

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek. "He's not mad-"

"I know. I don't think he is, either." The Crowfather's kindly face changed and Tommy felt thrust back to the rooftop, when he fought the man before him, disguised as Theseus. "Tommy, I'm about to make an important offer to you, and Toby if you reach him."

"Toby doesn't work with heroes," shut down Tommy, quickly. He hesitated, wetting his lips for what felt like the billionth time, and said, "I do, though. Work with heroes, I mean."

The Crowfather nodded, but it felt more businesslike. "He's insisting he's innocent. Mostly innocent, at least," he added after hesitation. "Said some of the crimes he was listed for were things he never committed. Call's it the dirty work of the 'cha' that they're dumping on him."

Tommy felt some loyalty-filled rage swell in him. "Oh."

"I need you to visit him. Talk to him for me." The Crowfather looked him in the eyes. "Not only will I pay you for it, but I'll try to get time off his sentence."

"Why won't he tell you?"

"Because I'm a hero. Part of the problem, he says."

Tommy paused, uncertain. "I'll think about it."

The Crowfather nodded. "Alright then. If you decide against it, don't come back. If you do," he handed over a small card with a symbol of wings in dark green on the white background, "come to the headquarters and hand this in. I'll see you when I have the chance."

Tommy pocketed the card. "Alright, sir. Thanks. I think."

"No problem." The warm smile came back. "Now, let's get you home."