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Circumstances aside, Tommy has always been a spitfire. Being needed the way he is makes it hard to submit and roll over the way they clearly want. Caged, manipulated, watched – none of it matters when those that house him require his powers.
And he gives it freely, most of the time. It's expected to receive some mocking when you come stumbling in with a slice to your achilles tendon, or when you whine about a chip out of your ear from a knife. Things that any good villain should be able to avoid.
Tommy knows the limits when it comes to his snark and toes the line of acceptable behavior near constantly. It's almost a game to see how much he can push when his keeper is so painfully bipolar.
“Well, well, well, look what the Harpy brought in!” he taunts from his bed, swinging his legs off the side and padding towards the open door. “What'd he do to you this time?”
Rapture, the villain alias of his captor, has a hand pressed to his stomach with a grimace. There's crimson spilling from between his fingers as he practically holds his innard, well, in. His other arm is thrown over Hellfire's shoulder as the blaze-born hurries them in, carrying nearly all of Rapture's weight.
Tommy motions them over to the cot on the ground, moisture cover already placed and medical equipment at the ready. Hellfire aids the lime-green villain onto his back, the man groaning with pain. “Harpy took us off guard. Sliced through Rapture's stomach with his blades.”
The blonde hummed, “Yeah, I could've seen that a mile away the way hes fuckin’ bleedin’out. Did you atleast pack some cloth in the wound, or is he holding his organs in there himself?”
The way Hellfire's head flinched away and his fist tightened told Tommy all he needed to know, sighing disappointedly as he forcefully removed Rapture's hand from his own bloody torso.
A hand fell to his shoulder and squeezed painfully tight. “I could kill you right now. I don't appreciate the attitude.”
He shrugs the hand off, scoffing while grabbing the rag and bucket from the side. “As-if. If you can't see over that stupid matching eyewear, the life of your buddy rests between me and my ability to live, fuck ass.”
Tommy hit a nerve but knew he was right. The villainous duo – used to be a trio but they don't talk about that – tried their damnedest to beat the snark outta him, but found it was practically impossible when their victim knew he was important. The kid at least knew when to stop, pushing the boundaries a bit, but some topics were left alone.
The rag swept over the bloodied flesh, absorbing the red and leaving a clean surface to work with. Every motion brought a hiss of pain from the villain under his hands, but Tommy couldn't give much of a fuck.
“Hurry up!” The hot-head barked.
He ignored the command and instead took just a little longer to survey what he's working with. What little of Rapture's exposed skin was getting pale, but Tommy could pretty much see how much life was left in the dude – he'd be more than okay, the whining baby.
“Gonna getcha all rightened up there, big R. Maybe after, you could get me some coke and fries as thanks.”
His eyes glazed over as he hummed a tune under his breath, calling his power. The palms of his hands began to warm and just as the temperature got too hot, Tommy shoved his hands into Rapture's open wound.
The man screamed at the intrusion, jaw clenching painfully as Tommy dug around in his open stomach. He pushed the misaligned sections back in place, mending the torn intestine and liver before pushing them back into their designated spots. When everything was sorted, he pulled his bloodied and stained hands out slowly as to heal the disconnected veins and produce more blood cells.
As he lifted his hands out of the man, the skin over Rapture's stomach stitched itself closed with a neat little scar. A rush of vertigo hit the blonde immediately after, knocking him back on his ass.
Hellfire paid him no attention, immediately going to support Rapture in sitting up. Tommy’s hands were covered in blood and viscera and it felt absolutely disgusting and itchy on his skin, though familiar. “You did good. I’ll get you that coke.”
Rapture regarded him coldly, eyes unseen but piercing anyway. His villain outfit – a lime green hoodie, bullet proof vest, and plethora of gear and weapons – was stained red where he was previously wounded. It looked significantly better like this, Tommy thinks woozily. “Go get cleaned up and I’ll have it delivered for you.”
Tommy smiled wirly at his keeper, feeling appreciated for the first time in months.
His situation wasn’t the best, but it was still significantly more stable than before Rapture took him. He wouldn’t exactly say he was homeless but also wasn’t not homeless, if you catch his drift.
Couch surfing, but a bit more crude than that. Tommy would often exchange himself – labor, healing, or even his meager earnings – on a place to stay for the night. It wasn’t exactly the safest and sometimes he’d wake up with less items in his backpack than he fell asleep with, but it was better than sleeping behind dumpsters or in alleyways.
There were even a few houses and couches he remembered enjoying staying at. People who were painfully kind and offered him more than he was worth, sometimes even giving him a warm meal. Some were even close enough he considered them friends at the end of the day, which is frankly insane for someone like him.
Tubbo and his roommate Ranboo come to mind, but so does this weirdo Wilbur; people who saw his trashy clothes and poor state and decided he was worth more than the streets.
While Bee and Boo – a nickname given to them by a neighbor's kid Ranboo often babysat – wanted nothing more than to invite Tommy to stay with them, they just didn’t have the room in their small flat. Tubbo worked so much and Ranboo, with his mental disability, couldn’t work as much as he wanted (memory was wack, or something like that, and it made it impossible to hold a regular job. Hence him watching that next door’s kid for cheap). Even if Tommy could make a stable living to pitch in on the bills, which he couldn’t right away, their place already only had one bedroom and a Tubbo on the couch. It just wouldn’t work.
Wilbur lived independently but always had the saddest look on his face when he had to kick Tommy out, something about his family coming over that prevented the teen from staying. Tommy more than understood, even if it hurt to be kicked out after feeling the most relaxed he had ever gotten. He even had a guest bedroom Tommy was able to stay in when he needed a shower and a place to sleep, but that didn’t mean it was his.
It just so happened that, when both of them were busy, that Tommy had tried to stay with the third and final trusted party. Dream was a funny man, very secretive while also oversharing way too much. He constantly had a story to tell and a kettle laugh to follow. He had a few dollars to spare whenever Tommy was over and even went out of his way to get the kid his favorite meal for his birthday, singing him into his 16th for the first time in years.
It also just so happened that this Dream was also the villain Rapture and was in search of a healer. Tommy also just so happened to be a healer and outted himself to help the dickhead one night.
From there, the rest was history.
It’s been at least four months by now. He’s been threatened and starved and gaslit and kept as a trophy, and it's still better than the streets. He technically could leave whenever he wanted seeing as how the room's door is hardly locked and he's just in the basement of Dream's house, but – again – it's better than being cold and hungry.
There's something to be said about the state of the Nation when being a villain's unwilling healer is better than homelessness.
The days tended to blend together in a mixture of staring out at walls and healing nasty wounds. As villains, Hellfire and Rapture got more than enough deadly wounds for a lifetime of healing – beating Tommy's normal rate of every other month. He had to get good at his anatomy and power quickly, but it was a small price to pay for housing and food.
Two days after healing Rapture, Hellfire was once again calling on Tommy. This time, instead of having his space invaded by wronguns, Hellfire had grabbed him by the arm and forced him from his room. “Wha- where are we going?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Quick and to the point, Tommy snapped his jaw shut with a click. There was an air of no-nonsense to Hellfire's tone that meant business.
Lead up the stairs and to the living quarters, Tommy was able to see the upstairs for the first time since that fateful day. Absolutely nothing had changed beyond a few weapons, bloody rags, and a communicator on the kitchen table. He was dragged over and forced into one of the seats, rubbing at his aching arm. Hellfire collapsed in the seat across, head in his hands as his fingers thread through his messy, oily black hair. “They got Rapture and are demanding our healer.”
As much as the news should've shocked him, it really didn't. Rapture and Hellfire were way too casual about coming back from near-death. They've been getting a bit too cocky after having Tommy's healing at their disposal.
Tommy nodded, quirking the side of his lips in a smirk. “What's the plan then, Big H? Any sorta negotiations here or is it too late.”
Hellfire lifted his head, shoulders bunched to his ears as he sighs. “They're agreeing to the release of Rapture if we turn over you.”
“Great! I get to go on over to the heros and you get your buddy back. Sounds like a win-win in my book.”
“We can't be without a healer again, Tommy. You know this.”
“And you can't do shit without Rapture.” Hellfire growled, throat rattling much like his nether counterpart. “Calm down, Gods. You and I both know you work better as a team is all I'm saying! Without Rap, you're basically a goner.”
The man sunk into the chair, once again threading his fingers through his hair as flames flickered across his skin. Agitation lined his very being. “You're right. I have no choice then.”
They found themselves, stereotypically, on a rooftop meet up. The air was chilly but so refreshing after months in a musty basement. Tommy was strangely calm about the situation, feeling almost passive about it all.
Heros didn't really need healers the way villains do. Most citizens with healing powers are more than willing to work for the Hero's Agency, especially with the high pay rates and benefits. The only reason Tommy never signed up was because of the hours and loss of freedom licensed healers get; their hours are extreme and are nearly always on call. It's just not something Tommy was willing to part with.
Though he's really contemplating it now.
Hellfire fastened cuffs to his wrist and a bundle of cloth over his mouth, silencing any comments Tommy could've made. A bruising grip was wrapped around his forearm, keeping him in place.
There's a few quick wingbeats before the hero Harpy lands. His feathers are ruffled from the flight and by the breeze as he looks to his side. In a shimmer of purple particles, another hero and a bound Rapture appear. The villain has looked better and, had Tommy not been bound, he'd say so. As it were, he couldn't, so he only snorted a little behind the gag.
“I've got our healer, now give me Rapture.”
Harpy makes no move to speak, only looking the supposed healer before him over. The kid – cause surely he's no older than 18 – is scrawny and pale, bags under his eyes and knobby knees. His pale blonde hair is stringy and greasy, no doubt a sign of poor living conditions.
He grabs the villain from his partner's hold. His talons curl around the man's bicep and yank Rapture in front of his body. Harpy's feathers fan out across them both, a gilded feather tip positioned under the villain's throat, poised to slice. “Allow the kid to speak.”
They are at a stand still for a few moments before Hellfire rips the gag from Tommy's jaw, slobber absolutely drenching the cloth. “You arse! Gods above, you could've been more gentle.”
Harpy can feel a smile tug at his lips as the boy continues muttering under his breath, no doubt cussing out Hellfire and the world around him. “And this is your healer?”
The kid's eyebrows furrow, face wrinkling in a frown. “Uh, yeah? Why else would I be here? It's not like they kidnapped me and forced me to heal– oh wait!” He dragged the last syllable out dramatically. “They did!”
He'd get along so well with Wilbur, Harpy thought with glee, already feeling the tell-tale puff of his feathers. Holding the villain in his hands tightly, he pressed them forward a few steps closer. “This is how this will work: You're going to give me your healer and once he's to me, I will leave Rapture behind.”
“How do I know I can trust that?” Hellfire's tense, nails digging a little too deeply into Tommy's skin.
“You don't. But it's the best bet you have at getting your partner back.”
It seemed the villain was thinking over his options– the very few he had. Tommy was a liability as he knew both of their identities. He could always cut Tommy's tongue out, taking the organ with him so he couldn't heal it back, but there's more than just verbal communication for him to spill with. There’s the idea of knocking the kid out so bad he gets brain damage but then the heros would have no reason to pawn him off.
Shit outta luck and upstream with no paddle, Hellfire shoves the kid at Harpy. Tommy stumbles for a second before another set of hands grab him gently by the arm and tug him behind them. He goes without issue, using the hero as a human shield against the villain's fire powers.
“Alright, hand over Rapture.”
Tommy can just barely see the smile slowly pulling at Harpy's face from being his veil, smug and taunting. “Nah mate, I don't think I will.”
In less than a second, the person to Harpy's right grabbed Tommy by the wrist and Harpy by the shoulder. A nauseatingly dizzy sensation and thick vertigo hit like a train as the floor under his feet fell. There's a sudden shout that sounds so far off while being right next to his ear, as if the sound was bouncing around the void that made up his sight.
Suddenly asphalt meets his knees and palms as acid burns in his throat. Tommy coughs a few times to dislodge the feeling while fighting against the sensation that the ground below him was wobbling. “What- the fuck.” He cruses, drool spilling from his parted lips.
There’s some sort of warble-y breathing close to his ear, the hand grabbing his arm having fallen off immediately after they touched ground again. It was hard to get his bearings but eventually felt stable enough to lift his head.
Beside him was the partner that Harpy had brought along, she was panting roughly and garbling something. The hand that was on Tommy’s arm was now wrapped around something sticking out of her torso, fingers slowly being overtaken by blood.
Without thinking, with his hands cuffed, Tommy crawled over to the bleeding woman on the ground. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He mumbled, hands wrapping around the – it’s a knife, familiar too – handle of the knife. “I’m gonna help you. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll get yah all fixed up, good as new.”
There’s some sort of commotion behind him, but Tommy pays it no attention seeing as how he’s got a new patient now.
Tommy yanked the blade from under the hero’s ribs, blood flowing quicker without the knife to staunch it. The woman under his hand yells out. “This is about to feel real fuckin’ weird. I just need to- yeah, no. Not going to warn you. Here we go.”
He plunged his hand into the wound, bracing the other against the opening with the limited movement from the cuffs. There’s another one of those weird shrieks as the flesh around the wound tears a bit more to fit the boy’s hand.
“Okay, okay, okay, calm down, almost done.”
There was a slight glow under the girl’s skin as Tommy made quick work of mending the severed muscle and once again needing to heal a punctured liver. He was slow to pull his hand out from the wound, ensuring all of the damage was erased and replaced with new, healthy organs. The skin around the slice slowly stitched itself closed, signifying the end of the healing.
“All better, big wo-man. Better than ever.”
Tommy smiled, feeling the effects of power usage and malnutrition take hold. He was woozy as he sat back on his ass again, a weird parallel to just a few days ago. This time, instead of being left to lay on the cold floor to sleep off the after-affects, there were hands propping him up. “Hey now, it’s okay. Let me just-” There’s a granola bar, sealed, shoved against his chest. “I hope to Gods above you’re not allergic to anything. Please just eat.”
The blonde ate like a ravenous animal. Crumbs fell with each bite until half of the bar was on his clothes and hands than in his mouth.
Harpy, having restrained and arrested Rapture, had another hero take over the prison protocols for the villain to make sure his partner was fine, only to find the healer kid they saved healing the knife wound Hellfire gave her. The moment it was thrown, it felt like his life flashed before his own eyes. He didn’t even have a moment to shout out her name before being teleported quickly away. In Osiris’s distraction, they were teleported right outside of the Hero’s Building instead of inside like they planned – not that he blamed her, with a knife sticking out of her torso.
To watch the scraggly kid work was something else. He was violent yet gentle– a contradiction of behaviors as he healed. The intricacies of how his powers worked was lost on Phil, but that hardly mattered when the kid took no time at all to heal one of Phil’s own. He couldn’t help but to feel his heart warm as Osiris handed the boy one of their granola bars and held him gently by the arms.
Harpy moved over to the two, crouching down on one knee and pressing own hand against the blonde’s back. “Thank you. How are you feeling?”
“As good as an underfed kidnapping victim can, I guess.”
Harpy couldn’t help the snort, and neither could Osiris, rubbing his hand up and down the back of the kid. “That’s good to know. Let’s get you inside and taken care of. How’s food and a shower sound?”
The kid looks at him with the widest smile he’s seen, blindingly bright and shutting his baby blue eyes with the force of it. “Big man, you are speaking my language now.”