Archive of Our Own ^beta

The wind roared in his ears. That wasn’t an exaggeration, up high the wind was loud enough to deafen even his thoughts. That was fine, what he was doing didn’t require thoughts anyways. He knew better than to think twice about his actions. He knew that questions and thoughts only led to disobedience and pain. Tommy clicked his tongue, leaning against a vent as he stared down at the rest of the world. He stared down at a concrete jungle.

People buzzed around like busy bees, unaware of their surroundings. They were unaware of the dangers that lurked next to them. They had no clue of the predators that acted like their friends and family. They were all dressed up, heading from one business to another as they pretended like the world wasn’t breaking down around them. They continued to walk along cement, the sun glaring down at them. Oh to be blissfully unaware.

Rot infected the city's foundation, it seeped into daily life. Billboards with smiling figures did their best to dissuade discord. Those politicians sold sleazy products, lying through their teeth to the general public. Tommy whistled a simple mindless tune as stared at the people. How could they be so blissfully unaware at how their civil servants were doing everything in their power to make the lives of the layman harder?

Maybe that was giving everyday business people too much credit. Maybe it was too much to assume that people actually cared. For what it’s worth he stood on one of the highest points in the business district. The people who worked here, more so the people who could afford to live in the first residential district down the road, were too rich to bother. They were able to pay their way out of any sort of inconvenience.

It wasn’t Tommy’s job to comment on how corrupt their government was. Nor was it necessary for him to understand, though he might understand the intricacies of the legislation better than most. He stepped down from the ledge he had hopped up on, turning around to the unassuming guitar case that he had brought up with him.

He didn’t have a need to understand the world. It wasn’t as though he lived in it. His world… his world was a lot different than the ones of the ants below. He wished he could walk the easy concrete paths to his favorite cafe. He wished the only thing he had to worry about was what projects he had due when.

It wasn’t worth it to complain. He knew the ramifications of voicing his dissent aloud. He continued to whistle an easy tune as he unlatched the guitar case. An earpiece buzzed its horrid melody as he waited for some sort of contact from someone back at Hypixel. Nothing good came from complaining, nothing good came from this life. Then again it was the only one he had.

He started piecing together the complicated instrument. He hummed the tune when his lips chapped from biting winds, brushing his hand over the barrel of the rifle. He smiled to himself, grabbing ear plugs as he pulled out a full magazine. His job wasn’t a glorious one. Tommy also couldn’t say it wasn’t one he would have chosen if given the chance.

He slipped a bright orange thing into the ear that didn’t have his earpiece in it. He stared at the building directly across from him. Looking up into the sky he could conclude that he had about… thirty minutes give or take before his target finished his meeting for the day.

Tommy didn’t bother with names, not really. There was no point in remembering names, not when the target was dead within a week. It didn’t take Tommy long to learn a targets habits, their frequent locations, he had their schedules down in 48 hours or less. He was good at his job. His fingers trailed over cold metal, he didn’t have a choice.

His hair whipped wildly in the wind. It was cold, the air was thin. It should have bugged him, the way that he had to take more breaths to satiate begging lungs. It should have bugged him, how his skin was bright cherry pink. It didn't. He didn’t feel anything. Not really. He wanted too, all he found was a cool pit of nothingness.

Tommy slid the gun onto a bipod and set up his shot. He had killed. The bodies piled up. He didn’t know how many. He didn’t know if he cared how many people were dead because of him. If he didn’t kill, then he would die. All he knew is that maybe he’d be able to get out, and then what?

There was nothing out there for him. No family searching, no one who’d celebrate his new found freedom. He was alone. It wasn’t worth it to escape from Hypixel, not when he knew that his… friends would be the ones to track him down and kill him. That’s another thing, he didn’t really have friends. It was a lonely world, that much Tommy knew.

He laid on harsh, cold cement as the minutes ticked on. His mind was swarmed with swirling thoughts. All he cared to know was that if he wanted dinner, he killed. If he wanted to live, he killed. It’s a cycle of life, one that Tommy knew well. You live to die, and you kill to live. There wasn’t anything else to it. Even the politicians that are buried with bullet holes are aware of the fact.

Someone out there would mourn this life. Someone out there would try to piece together who killed this notable figure. People had gotten close to figuring out what was going on with Hypixel, those who talked got shot. There was no trace of that person left in existance. Government files were erased. Accounts deleted. They weren’t even a ghost by the time that Hypixel was done with them. Social media accounts were wiped, and diplomas deleted.

Someone out there would mourn this life. He had tried to force himself to think about that thought, to summon any strands of empathy that he could. It was futile. All pity, all remorse, it was trained out of them. Maybe that was saying too much. He still felt stuff. He got excited around praise, despite its hollowness at times… he still got giddy when the higher ups rewarded him. He felt things. Just not around his job, never around his job.

The politician came out. He wore a clean white suit, he looked spick and span. He was as clean as the city streets, the fakeness of it all showing in bleached white teeth. The higher districts were taken care of, not a single piece of litter on the ground. Not a single speck of dirt on this guy's suit. There wasn’t a stray piece of lint. Each purposefully planted tree got watered.

Tommy was like a weed, if he had to describe himself. He was hard to get rid of, even when the higher ups had tried too.

He lined up his shot, looking through the scope. He stuck out his tongue in concentration. One deep steadying breath. He fiddled with the trigger. The politician was getting closer and closer and there. They stopped right when they centered in the scope viewfinder. Tommy smiled as he pulled back the trigger.

There was a muffled boom, both from his silencer and the ear plugs he wore. He smiled, watching as the rest of the citizens screamed. There wasn’t a panic yelp, not a word as the Politician’s eyes rolled back and they crumbled to their knees. The panic surged, satisfaction bloomed. The white suit soaked up blood. There were some that tried to stop the bleeding, though their efforts were futile. Tommy hit the heart. He didn’t move.

He stayed perfectly still.

He waited, clutching the rifle as his knuckles turned white. He didn’t move until there was a buzz in his ear, the comm bursting to life through sputtering crackles. Tommy held his breath, waiting for the verdict on his kill.

“Good job,” Punz praised. Tommy let out a sigh. 

He sat up and leaned against his hands. Tension released from his shoulders. The two words echoed in the back of his head. It was a steadying force. He had to hide the building anxiety. He wasn’t supposed to get anxious. He was supposed to keep his composure. On the outside he was. On the outside he wore a perfect poker face, on the outside he looked unbothered. His stomach had twisted into knots as the Politician was carted away in an ambulance.

“Thank you, sir,” Tommy mumbled. 

He packed up his rifle, disassembling it as far as it would go, making it easy to carry. He slid on a bright red baseball cap, and a dark blue zip up hoodie. He slid on the office's visitor pass, grabbing his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Tommy tried to take a meaningful breath, one to calm his pounding heart, the air was too thin. His lungs begged for more.

“As always, brilliant work. I expect nothing less from you, One.” Punz had a way of weaving threats into everything he said. Nothing less . Expect . One. He was the best. He had to stay the best. Failing wasn’t an option. 

Tommy scaled down a series of pipes onto a balcony on a lower floor. There was no direct roof access. It had made things harder. He climbed down with a single hand. Death wasn’t an option. He had to stay alive. He knew that it would have to get better if he could stay alive. There had to be more than routines and work. There had to be more than habits and instincts. There had to be more than the cool grip around his brain.

His hand almost slipped. He gritted his teeth. Readjusting his grip he took a breath. The air was getting thicker, his lungs thanked him. Tommy landed on the balcony with a dull thud. He tightened his fingerless leather gloves and dropped the guitar case. After a moment he bent down and retied his boot’s shoelaces.

One moment. That’s all he needed. He just needed one moment to himself. Whether it be tying his shoe or speeding down busy highways, he sought those moments frequently. Punz had yet to catch on, Hannah had yet to catch on, the higher ups had yet to catch on. He could only pray that no one did.

It’s not like he was hurting, at least he didn’t think so. They didn’t hurt him. Aching muscles and ragged breaths were part of the job. Hypixel brought him in when he was nothing. He owed them everything. Guilt gnawed at uncertainty. He shouldn’t be stealing so many moments. Life was one job after another, breaks meant weakness. Weakness meant death. He had to keep working.

Yet he found himself wanting to stop. He found himself wanting to lie down and stare at the stars when he was supposed to be working on homework. He found himself wanting to stop and smell the roses. To stop was to betray Hypixel, and he would be nothing without their guiding hand. He was nothing without the strict routine and the binding rules. He was nothing without the chain around his neck, pulling tighter.

“Of course, sir.”

“I’ll call you again in twenty minutes with your next targets, I expect you to be somewhere where you can respond.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tommy’s throat felt tight, a lump forming when there shouldn’t be. The comms fizzled out, all that was left was distant buzzing. He ignored the stares from the employee’s of the office. He looked young, he knew that. His face rounder than most. He was tall and lean. He shook off the gazes and kept his eyes in front of him. What other people thought of him was none of his business. He clutched the guitar case a bit tighter as he raced down the stairs.

He didn’t trust elevators. He’d rather take the stairs and waste a few more minutes than be trapped in somewhere so small. He hated the idea of being stuck in there with strangers. It wasn’t irrational, not when the walls of so many had been coated in red, and left smelling of death. Tommy was the one to have sunk the knife into desperate hearts. He had been the one to coat streets in thick blood. He was scared of one day coming face to face with himself in an elevator and dying before he could introduce himself. 

Death. It was such a funny concept. Who decided who lived and died? It certainly wasn’t Tommy. There was some asshole at the top who hired him out, who made him kill because they couldn’t stand getting their hands dirty. It was perhaps hypocritical to judge whoever it was that ruled over Hypixel, after all… Tommy didn’t do anything to speak out did he? He couldn’t talk about death without titling himself a hypocrite. He wasn’t allowed to die. 

It’s not like he wanted to speak out against Hypixel. He got everything he needed from the facilities. He got a good and free education. He had a room, devices, and training. He was fit, strong. What more was there? He got three meals a day for the most part. All of his needs were met. Since he scored at the top of all tests, both physical and academic, he got special perks too. Life was good in Hypixel.

There were some days where he was worked to the bone, left curled up on his bed. He tried to cry those nights but tears would never come. His feet thundered against the stone stairs. Sure there were bad days, where the instructors would shake their heads. They made him train until he couldn’t anymore. Some days his hands shook and his fingers bled, but that was the price for all the niceties they afforded him.

Tommy couldn’t stand the small stairwell, it was better than the elevator but it was still its own death trap. Someone could drop a grenade, they could fill the poorly ventilated room with noxious gas… He bursted through the doors into the lobby. He didn’t stop to talk to the people at the desk.

He had a destination in mind and it was out . He rushed out of the building. He heard the desk people call after him, probably to warn him about the shooting. He paid them no mind. He was the threat. Tommy was the danger that they warned about. There was little left in him to care. His eyes scanned the busy parking lot.

His feet carried him to a familiar vehicle, a sleek black and gold painted motorcycle. Tommy had his license, though the birthday might be flubbed and he might not actually have a last name. He could lie with the best of them, sweet nothings falling from loose lips. He didn’t have the patience to deal with the police.

Police were as bad as politicians, they accepted bribes and turned a blind eye to illegal activity if it got them a fat tip. Money made the world go round, it was also the chains that dragged down society. Then again, what would Tommy know? He technically lived a sheltered life in some ways. In others… well he knew too much at the same time he knew nothing at all.

He strapped the guitar to his back and threw on a helmet with haste. Tommy took a deep breath. Trying to soothe storming thoughts. It didn’t work. It was a bit clunky, his messenger bag and the guitar case, but it would work. He needed fresh air and a light misting spray. There was one spot that he cared about more than he’d ever admit.

He started up the engine, waiting for the small chuffs before he was on his way. He glided down familiar streets. He passed the business district in a blur. Big towers with clunky signs gave way to apartments and suites. Further out was a more suburban area, for those of the rich dickheads who wanted a lawn. 

The buildings shrunk, they spread apart. The streets were just as clean. They were lined with bright wildflowers and neat trimmed grass. Trees were planted every few feet, they stretched up and out. Tommy turned down habitual streets, not bothering with traffic. He weaved through the lanes of cars, going between them as it was faster than waiting. He stopped at lights, and went on green, but he didn’t bother with anything else.

Away from loud noises and curling smoke of factory work was a small but quaint park. Tommy parked on the street. He released the kickstand and took off his helmet. He let his feet carry him to a park bench. He wasn’t really thinking, rather, he was in a state of inbetween. All he knew was that he needed one of those moments of bliss. He had five minutes until Punz called again. He didn’t want another job, he wanted to sleep.

Sleep was not an option though. With tired, groggy eyes, Tommy watched the people at the park. A small stream flowed through the center, a white pristine bridge crossed over it. Flowering trees of deep greens provided shade to the playground. It was expansive, with swingsets and ziplines. Tommy liked to watch the little kids play around, screaming and laughing in the joys of a normal childhood.

He wasn’t jealous. Not at all.

The stream hummed in the background. It was nice white noise as he leaned back. He listened to parents talk about the upcoming PTA meeting, he listened to them drone on about meaningless drama. He liked to get lost in the mundanity of it all. None of it mattered, it made him wonder why they bothered? Everything Tommy did had to be with purpose. Efficiency was the name of the business after all.

The wind was a gentle breeze on the ground, a nice comfort against stinging wounds. It was so peaceful. He got a few stares from the high end parents. Of course they would stare. He was a teenager with scars over his face and hands. He looked like a delinquent. He knew that. It still wasn’t nice to stare.

There it was. The crackle in his ear. “Number One.” Punz said. “Get out your laptop, I’m sending you the files for your next targets.”

“Yes, Sir.” Tommy opened his messenger bag, pulling out his laptop. It was ingrained with a golden H. A reminder of who the laptop belonged to, a reminder of who he belonged to. On that sour note! Tommy booted up the sleek machine. Muscle memory led him to open his email.

Three files, he rifled through them. The Craft family. He knows he’s heard of them before…

“Craft? As in the Craft Family Emporium?”

“You’ve always been one of the quicker ones. Yes. You’ve been hired to take all of them out. The client wants no heirs left.”

Tommy clicked his tongue. Philza Craft was the acting CEO and founder, he looked a little bit like Tommy. His hair was a tad bit whiter, his smile so much brighter. He had two sons, each entitled to a cut of the company. Both were adopted, Wilbur and Techno. Tommy scanned over all three of the files, taking each and every note made on them to heart.

“So it was the chairman that hired the hit?” Tommy knew the answer to the question. He knew it the second he asked the question.

“I’m not allowed to disclose that information.”

Tommy wasn’t allowed to know. It was logical, the Chairman took over after the CEO died. That and the twins would be dead so it wasn’t like there’d be anyone to oppose them. He was smart enough to figure it out. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Still. He was the hit man, he wasn’t the information guy. He didn’t need to know, so he wouldn’t know. Simple as that.

“Right, sorry, sir.”

Punz hummed under his breath. “Think you can handle this job?”

Tommy looked up, walking into the park from the west entrance was the Craft family… convient. “Of course, sir.” He smiled. Piece of cake. In and out before the weeks end. He could do that, easily. The Chairman could take over and it wouldn’t be Tommy’s business.

_________________

It took a bit longer to figure out when to get the job done than Tommy had expected. The Crafts had no clear schedule. It was infuriating. Tommy had followed them around for days longer than he had wanted too. Finally, finally he had gotten a solid day. He scouted out a spot, it was going to be one of his favorite shots.

Despite the thinness of the air at the top of buildings, it was nice. It was especially nice when he got to make the shots at night. He smiled. He had gotten there earlier than normal. Tommy wanted to enjoy the nighttime view of the city before he was forced to commit a murder. He hoped that that was a rational thing. He didn’t mind killing, really, but there’s something to be said about the peace before the fall. He couldn’t explain it. Not really. It was a moment of bliss before nauseating anxiety

He had wanted to take them all down together but he was finding that that was harder than he had anticipated. So, he decided to take them out one at a time. It would make things harder, yes, but marginally so. He couldn’t get the Craft family together in a timely manner, which meant he would have to off them one at a time. Maybe he’d get Techno and Phil when they were mourning Wilbur's death…

The stars shone above him, the cold air infecting his lungs. It was sharp and pleasant, the pain was a reminder that he was alive. He was alive, yes, and Wilbur would not be for much longer. His watch dinged. The meeting Wilbur was in was over, which meant that Tommy would have to get his stuff ready. He didn’t… want to.

His back was pressed into the cold metal of an air vent. He looked out across the cityscape. Few lights were on in the business buildings. The steady drumming of racing cars had died down as the Moon reached closer to its summit. Silver tendrils of light graced only Tommy, below him warm glows from flickering street lamps illuminated the few pedestrians that were still out and about. 

It was peaceful, quiet in a way the Hypixel facilities never were. The Hypixel facilities were quiet, yes, but never peaceful. There was always the silent threat of doom, a looming dark cloud of death. Competition wasn’t healthy, but it was the only thing you knew at Hypixel. Around every corner was both an ally and enemy. Around the corner were supervisors, and higher ups. More importantly around every corner was someone in Tommy’s Age group– someone that Tommy only knew as numbers in a ranked list.

Tommy liked the outside because of how peaceful it was. He could see the start of the forest line in the far distance. He could hear the quiet, low coo’s of owls in the distance. Snow capped mountains danced in the horizon, tempting Tommy with a promise of freedom. He was free, though, wasn’t he? He could go anywhere he wanted to in Essempi, sure he was stuck around the L’manberg area and he always had to be back at the facility by the end of the day… typically… but he wasn’t trapped .

Tommy tilted his head, confusion pounding in the back of his mind. He quieted the thoughts of dissent, rationalizing everything under the guise of work. He had a job, of course he had to stay in the area for his jobs. He rolled the bolt of his rifle and loaded the magazine. There was a small click as he slid on the bipod.

Familiar routines, familiar motions. It kept his thoughts quiet. He liked it better when they were quiet. Life was easier to manage when he wasn’t thinking. It’s why he busied himself so often, if he was constantly doing things then he couldn’t think. His thoughts always got so loud when he was alone. Something about the distant but ever present stars teased him. They drew him into false security, whispering sweet nothings as he nodded off with tired eyes.

And he was tired, wasn’t he? His elbows scratched against the harsh stone of the rooftop as he laid on his stomach.

No one would see him up there, not when he blended in with the night sky behind him. Black hoodie, black beanie… he wore black fingerless leather gloves. He could pretend that he never saw Wilbur. He could lie to the higher ups, say that the bastard must have gone out a different door. He’d get reprimanded but a good night's sleep might be better than soul crushing anxiety.

Of course he’d get that good night's sleep, but he wasn’t allowed rest. Not truly. He’d be back to training, to studying, to working. He couldn’t stop working. The moment he stopped he’d be obsolete. He couldn’t be obsolete, he couldn’t die. The idea struck a chord in him. He was only worthwhile if he was effective and efficient. To stop was to die. He couldn’t die, so he couldn’t stop.

He fiddled with the trigger. The safety was never on. On cue, right when Tommy planned it, Wilbur walked out of the building. Tommy lined him up in the shot. However, Wilbur kept moving out of his direct line.

Tommy grumbled under his breath, “Bastard.” Could he not stand still? There was no one else there, why was he dancing around? Why couldn’t he stand fucking still? The sour note was not something he wanted to end his night on.

He narrowed his eye, staring through the scope. Was the fucker drunk? Boozed out of his mind? He had to be. Tommy didn’t have any other explanation for it. He didn’t take Wilbur for the drinking type. He expected that of high strung politicians and unwanted spoiled teens. Tommy narrowed his eye, Wilbur was smiling sure, but he wasn’t drunk. Tommy knew what drunk looked like… maybe a bit too well… and Wilbur was not drunk. So what the fuck was the idiot doing?

He didn’t even look like he had come out of a business meeting. He wore a yellow sweater over a white collared shirt. He had black dress slacks and a maroon? Red? Red ish beanie that covered messy dark brown curls. He looked as though he was about to go order a triple shot venti americano hold the cream. It wasn’t business professional, maybe bordering on business casual. He looked more akin to an instagram blogger or something.

Deep breaths, deep breaths was all he needed. He had to calm his racing heart, he had to stop his sweating palms. It was with that deep breath that he steadied his growing agitation. He could get this shot done then shower it off. He wanted to go back to the facility, where things and people made sense. He understood what they wanted. The facility made sense because nothing changed. The rules were set in stone, everything was simple. He understood Hypixel. 

Tommy didn’t understand Wilbur Soot Craft.

The cool night air infected his brain, a chilling thing that calmed him down when he focused on it. He focused on the feeling of the air around him, the slight buzz from electricity. He focused on the feeling of the trigger under his finger. He thought back to all his training, the odd calm as he shot his first gun. He let that same calloused grip take hold of his mind.

He steeled his nerves.

Wilbur was lined up.

It should have been a perfect shot.

But then the fucker waved at him.

No. That couldn’t be right. Tommy was a genius. He was the best of the best. Number One . It was his name, his title, it was everything he was praised to be. There was no way that Wilbur was waving at him . He was invisible, or he should have been. He took all the precautions, he went through the checklists. He shouldn’t have been seen. He swore he did everything right.

As Tommy scanned the ground he saw nothing, not a single other person that seemed to approach Wilbur. There wasn’t another ped in eyeshot. Tentatively… maybe he was a bit scared, he sat up. He sat up and pointed at himself, tilting his head.

Wilbur nodded and pointed at him.

Tommy shook his head, he had to be seeing things. He had been in the game for so long that he was actually seeing things. The mundanity of it was getting to him. The countless repetitions, the uniformity of each kill, it was getting to him. He rubbed his eyes and laid back down, looking through the scope to meet Wilburs eyes. Oh gods. He was seen. This… this is bad.

The curling anxiety only quickened his breaths. He needed to get this done and get it done soon, for the sake of his own sanity. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but he knew that this mission would be the death of him… one way or another. Still. He hesitated when he put his finger on the trigger again. Wilbur was mouthing something to him. Tommy couldn’t make out what he was saying, just that he was saying something. 

He was still too small on Tommy’s scope for the words to be anything but gibberish. That’s it. He closed his eyes, ready to pull the trigger. He wasn’t sure why he closed his eyes. He wasn’t squeamish around blood. He didn’t care about witnessing death. Before he could end the life of the Craft Family Emporium’s heir, he heard the faintest noise. One that was all too familiar. He opened his eyes.

In his view was a fucking car. A goddamn, sleek, black limo. Tommy tossed the rifle to the side. He hopped onto the ledge, sitting so that his feet dangled over the edge. The window closest to him rolled down, there was that gold glasses wearing hipster fuck . Worst of all, the guy was sticking out his tongue and holding his fingers out in the shape of an L.

Tommy flipped him off as the car disappeared down the road.

Suffice it to say when he came grumbling back into Hypixel facilities, no one was in a good mood. Tommy wasn’t, and the supervisors certainly weren’t. His feet hadn’t even trailed down the crystal white halls before the PA system was blaring his name. He stopped by his room on the way to the offices to drop off his rifle.

He scanned his watch over the senor, with a ding and a whir the doors opened into a dark and impersonal room.

It was just him. He knew some of the others were roomed together, whether it was because they were assigned the roommate or because they asked… he didn’t know. All he knew was that it was just him in the empty and expansive room. He didn’t need anyone else, it was fine. He wasn’t lonely. That was definitive, he couldn’t rely on others. They didn’t like him anyways. 

He placed down the case on a neat made bed, he ditched his beanie into the dirty clothes bin and swapped the black hoodie for the most colorful article of clothing he owned. It was a red hoodie with white sleeves. He doesn’t remember who gave it to him, but he knew he cherished it more than he could say. 

There wasn’t time to dwell in the room, not like he wanted too. Everything was a shade of beige or gray, ranging from the single dresser he had to the small desk that sat in the corner tucked against the walls. He had a small two by two bookshelf that hosted only a series of textbooks and manuals. That was all. Nothing hung on the walls, there were no trinkets scattered about.

Punz was waiting, leaning against the wall parallel to the office doors when Tommy walked in. He wore a bright white hoodie emblazoned with the golden Hypixel H. A golden chain hung around his neck. Arms crossed and frown tight. He was disappointed…

Hannah sat at the desk. Her hair was pulled back, a crown of wither roses dawning her head. She smiled, sweet and dismarming. Tommy knew of the secret poisons thick in the look. He knew the way that she lured you into a trap, tempting you into weakness only to stab you in the back. Literally. He had seen her literally stab someone in the back.

“Tommy…” she said. 

“I know Ma’am, I’m sorry.” He said. He messed up. He didn’t get the shot. His fingers curled into fists.

“Don’t fail us again. Or else we might get someone else to take the mission… One. Do you understand?” Hannah said so much in that simple sentence. So much in so few words. He cannot be obsolete.

“I understand, ma’am.”

_____________________ 

These fuckers seemed unkillable. Tommy hated to admit it, but maybe he would have to take the L on this mission. It’s not like he wanted to, the thought of failing was like a knife to his heart. The more he thought about admitting defeat the deeper the knife sunk, twisting until his heart was no more. He shook his head, fidgeting around on the tree branch on which he sat.

The three of them were out on a hike, they’d be leaving through the exit Tommy sat waiting at. He’d pick them off in the dense undergrowth of the hiking trail. They’d fall and feed the wildlife. They’d be fertilizer for the plants. Maybe that’s how he justified killing them on such a pretty trail. The breeze was nice, soft, it was gentle in a way that Tommy was unfamiliar with. Like a nice, comforting blanket. He tried to focus on the wind rather than the thick gilly suit he wore.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t have just worn a black hoodie, but it would have made him more noticeable. He was a professional. He was a trained professional. He was 16 and a trained professional. Something about that didn’t sit right with him, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was a professional and that sometimes meant suffering through a thick suit made of fake leaves and painted in camo. He should blend in with the treetops, they wouldn’t be any the wiser when he started picking them off.

They were a little stupid, Tommy thought. He thought that they were stupid for not walking around with body guards when they knew that they had a hit out on them. He had failed about five or six times. He was on his seventh. They had spotted him all six times. It didn’t matter where he had been, what he was wearing, the gun he held, they picked him out. They waved and taunted and teased him.

He scowled. This time would be it. Three quick shots as they were leaving. He had snuck into the tree and sat amongst the leaves. The birds chirped next to him in happy cheer. Their sweet songs a melody of life, it carried in the wind. They flapped around and danced in the swaying leaves.

Tommy must have cringed when he spotted one particular bird return to a nest of chirping, cheaping, babies. He was fine. It was just like everything in life. Everyone had parents… Tommy just never met his. Why he was thinking of something he had never even entertained was anyone's guess. Maybe as his birthday approached he was getting sentimental. He didn’t even know if it was his actual birthday, just that that's when Hypixel let him pick out a single personal item.

He shook his head, refocusing on the trail. The trees grew tall on this particular path, they were dense and interconnected. If you were careful you could walk through the canopy with ease. The forest floor wasn’t much different. Thick ferns and other grasses and shrubs loitered around, the only paths were the ones created by wildlife and the ones maintained by the city. It was truly a marvel.

The hike itself led to a waterfall deeper into the forest. It wasn’t something that many people visited often, most were content with their digital lives at home. If they wanted nature they’d watch a documentary. Not the Craft’s apparently. Tommy could respect them for that. The gentle mist on your face felt nice, it was refreshing after climbing over root systems and ducking under natural arch ways.

It was weird to think that something so beautiful could reside right outside the barriers of the industrialized city. The waterfall created rainbows in summertime light. Tommy remembered fondly when he was forced to survive in the woods for a week. He had the others in his age group, but they all quickly split up. It was easier to take care of one or two people than it was five or six.

He had found another waterfall even deeper, closer to the mountains. Maybe if he had the chance he could go back and check it out again. He doubted that he would, he doubted he would be able to find it again. Then again it was the only freshwater anywhere near where they were dropped off that he could find. When he found it there were deer lapping at the crystal clear liquid.

The crack of a stick shook him out of his daze. He trained his gun on the path. Just as he planned. Philza Craft led the group. He wore a green turtleneck no sleeve shirt. He smiled under the brim of a big green and white striped bucket hat. He called back to the other two who were taking arguably more time to catch up with the CEO. For someone who looked so old he sure didn’t seem tired.

The hike was what? Four? Five miles long? It was long enough to be tiresome by the time you got back to your car. Tommy couldn’t think of a reason that the old bastard would still be so spry. It didn’t matter. He’d be dead before he knew it.

Phil looked content to sit on one of the benches and wait for his arguing sons to catch up. If Tommy squinted his eye it looked like Phil could have been related to him. He had that same blonde hair. Blue eyes were more muted than Tommy’s own, of course Phil was a lot shorter too. But still. His heart panged at the reminder that he never got to meet his own Dad.

Techno Blade Craft was the next one to make it into Tommy’s view. He wore a short sleeved pink tee. His long hair was tied back into a neat pleated braid. Daisies and other flowers were weaved into the tresses. Tommy couldn’t stop the sting behind his nose when he noticed the flower crown around Phil’s hat that matched his son's braid.

Wilbur playfully punched Techno’s shoulder as he held a daisy in his hand. Tommy bit the inside of his mouth. He was close enough to hear their conversations, he really wished he wasn’t. He wished he couldn’t hear the boisterous laughter and teasing insults. It made him long for something he hadn’t earned. It made him long for something he could never have.

“Bruh,” Techno said. “How are you not burning?”

Tommy had to agree. Wilbur was wearing a patchwork trench coat. It wasn’t at all practical in the heat and humidity. He knew better than anyone as sweat clung to his own clunky suit. The sooner he got this over with, the better. It meant that he could go shower and cool down, and maybe get a bit of a break before his next mission.

Wilbur shrugged it off. “I dunno. Maybe I’m just cold blooded.”

“I know a few business associates who would agree,” Techno teased. Wilbur gawked and slapped Techno's arms. It wasn’t hostile, more so playful. Tommy longed for a dynamic like that, to be able to tease without fear of being held at gunpoint.

“No talking about business during family time,” Wilbur crossed his arms. A mischievous glint in his eye. He turned to where Phil was sitting. Now here’s the odd part, both Wilbur and Techno were technically adults. They should have been independent. And Tommy supposed they were. “Daaaaad, tell Techno to stop talking business.”

So why did Wilbur cry for his father? It perplexed Tommy. Why rely on someone like that? Once Tommy was old enough to do things on his own, he was left to his own devices. If he didn’t make it to the mess hall in time that was his fault and he wouldn’t get food. He wasn’t allowed to whine or cry to his supervisors. He was simply forced to cope. The others weren’t reliable. They would stab you in the back, you couldn’t trust anyone.

Phil laughs under his breath. No harsh words, no scolding look. Just unending fondness. Hm. That was… weird. Nice, Tommy could begrudgingly admit. Nice but weird.

“Techno has every right to bring it up, you little shit.”

Wilbur sighed, leaning against a tree. Why wasn’t Tommy taking the shot? He should take the shot. He couldn’t take the shot. He was too… enamored wasn’t the right word… entranced. The whole exchange was familial in a way that Tommy couldn’t comprehend. It didn’t make sense. They were just… hanging out? There was no hierarchy, no underlying threats. Just… kindness, maybe even love?

“My own father, turning on me.” Wilbur cleared his throat and straightened up. “Anyways, I did manage to snag an audio recording that you might want to listen to. But that’s for another time.”

“Now that is business I won’t talk about it.”

Techno made eye contact with Tommy. Or at least, for a brief moment, Tommy thought that they had made eye contact. Techno didn’t acknowledge his existence. He didn’t signal to his family that there was a sniper in the trees; he just turned back to his family and started making fun of Wilbur again.

It seemed nice. To get away from work and pretend. To act as though lives didn't ride on their shoulders. It must have been nice. To be able to afford days off, to be able to afford to be a kid. He let himself fall into the fantasy. He closed his eyes, humming under his breath.

“Nerrd, I bet you put it on a floppy disk,” Techno rolled his eyes.

Tommy giggled under his breath, a true meaningful laugh. One that wasn’t tainted with tormented youth. “Fucking Hipster bitch.”

Wilbur looked up and flipped Tommy off. He did it with shining eyes of pride though. It wasn’t a rude gesture, but rather a playful one. “Okay, yeah. Say that to me on the ground next time. Think you’re so brave, but you’re hiding in a tree.”

“You’re just mad that you can’t climb tree’s old man.”

“Okay, I’m not the old man, Phil is.”

And Phil laughs. He laughs out in the fucking parking lot. He missed his shot again. Tommy climbs down the tree. He reaches his motorcycle and notices a sticky note stuck to the handle. He sheds the gilly suit and trashes it, reading over the note.

‘Better luck next time Nerd- Techno.’

Tommy throws the note into the trash and gets on his way. He has homework he needs to catch up on. He didn’t have time to fantasize about families. He didn’t have time to daydream. Yet he had… and he didn’t hate it… No one could love him though. His hands were stained red and his body count was way too many. He was a monster

_________________

“You’re slipping.”

Tommy took a deep breath, sidestepping the whizzing noise that thunked into his door. He pulled the knife out of the plaster, barely concerned at the attempt on his life. He tossed it back to the speaker, trying to ignore the nauseous way that the sterile white walls made him feel. He hadn’t felt this way before, so why was he breaking now? Why after almost sixteen years of walking these same halls was he only just starting to hate the monotony of it all?

He turned around, leveling Purpled with an even stare. “And what has Punz been telling you this time?” He crossed his arms, trying to not let the sudden conversation throw him off.

He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to slink into his room and forget about life outside his walls. He wanted to pretend that when he woke up he’d be in a house with brothers of his own. His father would wake him up for breakfast which would be homemade pancakes. He didn’t want to bother with pettiness and juvenile threats.

Purpled and Tommy weren’t close, not in the slightest. But they trained in the same age range, they had the same supervisors, the same contacts. They never tried to communicate, Purpled didn’t like him too much anyways, according to Hannah at least. The only reason Purpled would seek out Tommy for a one on one conversation was to gloat something. They weren’t friends, but they weren’t enemies either.

Purpled slipped the knife back into its sheath, one that was hidden in his arm brace. “You’ve had weeks , Tommy. Weeks. They’re starting to think you’re losing your touch. The great Number One…” Purpled laughed under his breath.

“I’m well aware, you’d be surprised. The Crafts are….” So many things. They’re so so many things. Tommy couldn’t even verbalize everything they were. They were a warm summer's day vacation. They were a break from the chaos, a crack in molded porcelain. They were a breath of fresh air. They were a family, it was a more tempting thought than Tommy had ever had before. “Difficult.” Is what he settled on.

“I bet, big rich CEO and his two millionaire sons.” Purpled looked over Tommy, maybe taking in everything that Tommy never presented as.

When he was in communal spaces he carried himself with false pride, he tried to exude noxious confidence. They didn’t like him. They didn’t want to talk to him. He couldn’t let them see how that got to him. Tommy saw the way the others in his age group stared at him, how they whispered as he passed them by. So he made himself more, pretended as if he really was everything the Supervisors wanted him to be.

Tommy didn’t bother with that. His shoulders sunk, his eyes drooped. He was so tired. His feet pounded and his fingers ached. He couldn’t begin to describe with any accuracy how he wanted to go to bed. Working only got him so far. Working was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t have any other life though. It was just after dinner on a Wednesday night, which meant that they had group training next.

Purpled saw for the first time the real Tommy. The one who couldn’t be bothered with quick retorts and wicked smiles of fake enthusiasm. He saw the one that was stuck in a cycle of destruction. He knew what he did was eating at his bones and yet he kept doing it. Tommy was praised to be the strongest one of their age group, he was Number One after all. Yet he wasn’t. He was weak. He was weak for not saving himself, for not being able to talk to the others. He was the weakest one among them. Purpled was perhaps seeing that.

“Listen, Punz gave me the debrief. Your time is limited. Tommy… you’re not my favorite person here.” Purpled took a deep breath, sticking his hands into his hoodie pockets. “But I don’t want to see you go. Kill those motherfuckers.”

Tommy tilted his head, the words not registering in his brain. “Are you sure?” He scanned his watch against his room's door. “I thought you would want the chance to be Hypixels newest Golden Boy?”

“I do. But not if you have to die for it.” Purpled took a step forward. He pulled out a simple looking keychain. It was a little gun. Tommy smiled, taking it as it was offered to him. “I’ll see you in training, Tommy.”

“Yeah. See you.” Tommy didn’t notice Purpled’s two fingered salute as he left. He was too enamored by the gift, it was simple. Just a small gun. It was two dimensional, sleek silver with a few gems on the barrel for aesthetics. It didn’t matter how simple though. The sentiment was there. Gifts were rarely, if ever, exchanged. Tommy slipped it into his bag before changing into his workout clothes and heading to the assigned gym.

The rest of them were already sparring when he got there. Ranboo was a lanky fuck, the tallest one out of the five of them. He had always been the tallest, which was a sticking point considering that Tommy was the second tallest. The guy's hair was naturally black and white, split down the middle as if dyed. It wasn’t dyed. But it looked like it. He wore the same dark blue and gold long sleeve shirt and pants that the rest of them did.

Ranboo was sparring with Tubbo. Tommy liked to think that he and Tubbo had been close once. They weren’t… Not anymore. Once the ranking system was introduced, they hadn’t had as much time and just… they drifted apart. Tubbo’s brown hair was tied in a half up half down ponytail, to keep his longass bangs out of his face. He was the second shortest. You’d think that would mean that he couldn’t hold his own against Ranboo, you’d be wrong.

Purpled had his dark purple hoodie tied around his waist. Blonde hair a bit browner than Tommy’s own. He and Tommy made eye contact for a single moment as Tommy turned up. That allowed Olive to nail Purpled right in the nose. Purpled clutched his nose, eyes watering as he blinked back the pain.

“Concentrate, Two,” Hannah scolded from where she stood towards the back.

“Right, Ma’am,” Purpled said.

“Good job, Three. Go again.” There was the signature distance in her voice as she spoke. She wasn’t attached to any of the people she trained. Maybe it was best that the supervisors didn’t actually care.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Olive said.

Both Purpled and Olive took opposite sides of the mat. Olive… they were interesting, to say the least. They had long ass hair, Tommy didn’t know how else to describe it. Long ass dark brown hair with dyed blonde bits. It was tied up in a messy bun while they fought. They had tried the longest to be Tommy’s friend, but… it just didn’t work out. It never worked out.

There was no indication that they had begun another round. They started. As they always did.

Tommy didn’t move, waiting for instructions. Punz twirled a gun in his hand. He smiled as he walked up to Tommy. “This one's going to be fun, One,” He whispered. It was playful, curling its way into Tommy’s brain. Cruel in ways only Punz knew how to be. He smiled, handing Tommy the gun. “Kill Five.”

Ranboo… well… they couldn’t hate him anymore than they already did, could they? It’s not like he was particularly attached to anyone in the group. It still felt like a betrayal. An order is an order though and as soon as Tommy heard the command his body took action. The scornful looks and poison words weren’t nearly as bad as failing a command. It wasn’t a betrayal. It felt like a betrayal when Tommy closed is fist around the handle.

Lightly he touched the trigger. He didn’t think as he widened his stance. He didn’t think as he raised his arm. He didn’t think as he pulled the trigger.

Those in the room stopped and turned to look at Tommy. It wasn’t a real gun. A thundering boom echoed but no bullet left the chamber. Tommy stared down at the gun, in awe? In disbelief? He didn’t know. He stared at the gun with empty apathy. Punz leaned forward. Ranboo didn’t take his eyes off of them. Tommy had never wanted to hide more than he did at that moment. Bile tickled the back of his throat. He didn’t look it, face as impassive as ever, but tears were stinging the bridge of his nose.

“You’re running out of time,” Punz whispered into his ear. He plucked the gun from Tommy’s numb hands. He rested the gun on Tommy’s shoulder. It was a reminder, a promise. “You’re a well oiled machine, aren’t you?”

Tommy closed his eyes and swallowed back his emotions. “Yes, sir.” The shake didn’t register in his voice and for that he would be grateful.

Punz tilted his head. “I thought… I expected… nevermind…” He let out a huff of air, still too close for comfort. He was right behind Tommy, a reminder of where Tommy belonged– on a tight leash. “You’re our Number One, we can’t have you getting yourself killed, now can we?”

“No, Sir.” Tommy replied. His words were stilted. He was answering out of habit.

“You’re nothing without us.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’re failing us.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“If I say shoot, you say how many, you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Punz straightened up. He smiled. It wasn’t human, it couldn’t be. It was sickening and too sweet. It was coated in honey and sugar and left to rot Tommy’s insides. “Go run laps, you’re not done until I tell you you are. That, or one of the others keels over and we need another body. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

After practice Tommy threw up in the bathroom. Purpled was there to hand Tommy a breath mint. They didn’t talk for the rest of the night. In his room Tommy curled up in his bed. He didn’t cry himself to sleep, he didn’t know if he could. He did lie there and pretend he was in the Craft Manor, falling asleep in peaceful arms.

___________________

Tommy was in a sour mood. Not only was he forced into a subway tunnel, but his time was running out. He didn’t have much grace left, and mercy wasn’t exactly what Hypixel was known for. If he continued to fail he’d be dragged down to the bottom of the ocean, a ball and chain wrapped around his ankle. He had to act quick, which meant no more high place, long distance shots. He had a pistol in his coat and a fucking purpose.

He followed Wilbur and Techno discreetly through the subway system. He made every effort to go unseen. He was an expert afterall. Really. He was. He swore he was. The dim lights flickered as they got closer to the lesser of the residential districts. Tommy could smell the awful scent of thick growing mold.

His shoes were sticky from gunk left at the stations. He slid into the subway car at the last minute. He tugged his black sports cap over his eyes, keeping his gaze on the ground. He’d take them out quick and fast. He just couldn’t do it in the car with so many witnesses. As soon as they were away from the general public then he’d make his shots.

Tommy couldn’t let them escape him once again. The Subway train had the barest hint of acrid nicotine smoke in the air. It was a decent smog that made him feel gross. Sitting in the subway made him feel gross. He was going to reward himself with a nice long shower when he go this stupid mission done.

The desperation was as hot and burning as a gas stovetop. He didn’t have room in him to bother with anything else. Adrenaline buzzed under his skin. This was the closest thing he had gotten to the Craft family during his many many attempts. The knowledge that Punz and Hannah were already preparing his replacement was seared into his mind. His fists tightened as the Subway train continued to zoom through the underground tunnels.

“Hey.”

Tommy tried not to grip the man by the fucking throat and kill him with his bare hands right then and there. The voice was so unique, so identifiable. How? How did these fuckers keep finding him. How did they pinpoint and pick Tommy out of the crowd every single time? Why was Techno tapping his foot to get his attention? Why did he want to talk?

“Hello, sir,” Tommy forced out. He forced out the pleasantries. He forced out the polite lilt. He forced himself through the conversation 

“Why are you following me and my brother?” Techno asked. And oh, to have the liberty to be so blunt.

Tommy slipped his hand under his coat, hand gripping his pistol. If he needed to do a messy and dirty job then he would. He had a few magazines in his pockets, he could kill the entire car if he had too.

He kept his eyes trained on the ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

Techno shifted his weight from foot to foot. Was he anxious? Or preparing an attack? Tommy narrowed his eyes. 

“Listen kid, me and brother have just been having a few issues lately and I really just know your purpose here. You’re following us and I need to know why.”

Tommy did not have the patience for this. “Maybe I’m just going to the same place as you? Ever think of that?” He looked up, meeting blood red eyes. He kept his stance, not backing down. He couldn’t back down, this was the act he was going with, he had to stick with it. “Who are you to act so high and mighty? The world doesn’t revolve around you.” Though Tommy’s did. Tommy’s world revolved around Techno’s destruction.

Techno looked at Tommy, eyes flicking up and down. Was he taking in Tommy? Was he analyzing him? What the fuck was he doing? Techno tilted his head. “You’re younger than I thought you were. Hm.” He turned his head over his shoulder. “Wilbur! Come over here for a moment.”

“No. That is not necessary,” Tommy said through gritted teeth. 

It was too late, because Wilbur had rolled his eyes and made his way over to the two of them. Tommy was two seconds away from pulling this gun out and just murdering everyone. He didn’t like it. He was cornered, everything was so contained. He was in a death machine, he could die. He didn’t want to die. He took a stuttering breath. The white walls made the train seem bigger than it was, something Tommy was grateful for. He was cornered. He was stuck.

“Oh shit, is that the person who’s been trying to kill us?” Wilbur asked. He asked as if it meant nothing . He said it as though the weeks of torture, of agony of failure meant nothing.

Tommy could feel his eyes tearing up. Why did they always find him? Why did they have to make his life so hard? He had never had to fight to live. He had never had to fight to prove himself. He was the best sure, and it took a lot to get there, but it had never been this hard. Now he was tearing his hair out and fighting tooth and nail. He cried himself to sleep for the first time because of them. He couldn’t let them live.

Techno leveled Tommy with an almost disappointed look. “That depends on what the kid has to say.”

Tommy pressed his back against the cold metal seat, desperate for something to ground him. The harsh sting of the cold was just what he needed. He kept his thinking even, as even as the frantic thoughts could be. He looked between Wilbur and Techno, both of them looked to be surprised, more so than Tommy would have anticipated.

“Well don’t look so pleased with yourself,” Tommy grumbled. “You fuckers have found me before.” The bright letters above the doors told him five minutes until the next stop. He’d ditch the train there, he’d run all the way back to the facility if he had too. He just couldn’t stand to be in the train car any longer.

“Yes… but I didn’t think you were a kid,” Wilbur said. He said the words with such care that it made Tommy’s stomach flip. Why? Why treat him like that? He had been trying to kill them, all of them, for the past few weeks. They shouldn’t be so calm, so kind. They should hate hin, But they didn’t

“What does it matter? I have my orders to kill you. I’ll do it right here and right now.” It was a bluff.

The realization knocked the wind out of him. He couldn’t breathe. He was bluffing. He didn’t want to kill them. He wasn’t going too. He was failing. He wasn’t as good as he should be. He needed to snap himself out of it and soon. He couldn’t go soft. He couldn’t die. He didn’t want to die. He was sixteen. He still had so much life, life that he might one day get to actually experience.

Wilbur leaned down, smiling a crooked smile.”No you’re not.” And he was right. “You’re not going to kill us. I’m calling your bluff.” His gold rimmed glasses sparkled in the dim, flickering light. “I’d hazard to say that you can’t .” 

“You doubting my abilities you fucking asshole? I’m a trained fucking professional.” Tommy hissed the words though they came out hollow. There was no real bite. He was starting to doubt himself. 

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Techno said. He crossed his arms. “Considering that we’re still alive.”

“Because you fuckers keep finding me.” The statement hung in the air for a beat. “I’ve been sniping shitty politicians for as long as I can remember.” He huffed in agitation, adrenaline still sizzling under his skin. “I’ve been training my whole life, you wrong’uns.” 

Wilbur took a step back, the news having shocked him or something. Tommy didn’t think it should be all that surprising, wasn’t that what everyone did? “Your whole life?” He exchanged a look with Techno. “Alright big bad assassin, what’s your name?”

“Tommy.” He said. He wasn’t thinking, his eyes were locked on the doors. It would be just a moment until they slid open. He could see the greasy looking tables in the waiting zone. Rusting vending machines were obscured by thin metal doors.

“Alright Tommy, why don’t you-”

He didn’t wait to hear Wilbur’s proposal, nor did he think he was strong enough to take it without bursting into tears. He raced towards the door as soon as he heard them whirr open. He bounded past concerned looking citizens, he didn’t mind the way his brain screamed for him to go back. He couldn’t trust his heart. He couldn’t trust his brain. He clutched his bag tight to his body as he pounded down empty and rotting streets.

The outer districts looked terrible, so absolutely terrible. Each house was covered in a film of mossy green. The streets were kept clean by the citizens, but those same streets were littered with potholes. He didn’t have any other thoughts, just that he had to keep going. He had to get away. He knew he heard Techno or Wilbur or one of them call after him. He couldn’t look back, he didn’t trust the way that warmth bloomed his chest.

Rain pelted him from above. They hit like tiny daggers and drenched him from head to toe. He cursed as he tripped in one of the potholes, he cursed as tears slid down his face without permission. He knew they were tears from the warmth that stung against rosy red cheeks. He didn’t have the option to cry, but no one else could tell.

He grabbed his ankle and checked it over. It wasn’t broken at least. He didn’t think it was fractured, it was at worst sprained. He sucked in a cold breath. He let himself cry as he dragged himself over crumbling sidewalks under some sort of overhang. He sought solace from the aggressive rain, and hugged his knees close.

A dandelion grew next to him where the roots of a tree broke the surface of rough concrete. He tried to calm his racing heart. He tried to stop the voices that told him to go back. He fumbled with the latch of his bag and pulled out the keychain. 

Tommy stared at it, his free hand brushing against soft, waterlogged, moss. His back pressed against rough stone bricks and he wasn’t sure if his hands were bleeding from when he fell. His wrists bursted with short bouts of piercing pain.

The gun almost matched the one unused in his jacket. It didn’t help. The tears came faster. They didn’t stop. He wasn’t the best. He never was. He doesn’t know why he was labeled as such. The label now stood as some sort of leash, a chain from which he couldn’t escape. It dragged him down, choking him.

Hypixel was leeching the life from him and he didn’t know what to do. There would be no escape from bittersweet memories that formed all of his years. There would be no escape into a new world where he didn’t have to kill, kill, kill. He’d die before he got to his twentieth birthday. Maybe it was better to get it done and over with before Hypixel decided to cut him free and let him drown. Maybe accepting failure, maybe accepting defeat, it would be better.

Maybe dying would be better on his own terms. He’d rather put a bullet through his own head then wait for Hypixel to kick the stool and let him hang. He laughed, the irony of the situation not lost on him. He remembered so many lessons, so much training. He remembered so many of the exercises. They were ingrained into his mind, seared like some sort of twisted brand. A binding cloth that he couldn’t escape.

If the Supervisors told him to shoot he shot, unless it was a picture of him. They had pictures of so many people. From people of the upper age groups to the Hypixel maternal ward workers. He pulled the trigger without hesitation each time. He didn’t shoot when the Supervisors showed up, he didn’t shoot himself. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t get some sort of comedical justice. He could try, but his body would not let him.

If he did shoot them, if he shot the picture of himself… well there were repercussions.

To want to die, but to be unable too.

Every inch of his body was programmed to survive. He was conditioned to work. If he wasn’t working he was useless, if he was useless he was dead. He was obsolete, he was going to be replaced. What point was there in drawing out the inevitable. 

There wasn’t. And yet Tommy stared at the moths flying to flickering lights, unable to do anything about his situation. He could try to limp around to find the Crafts, kill them off and save his life in the now. He’d get passed up by the next brilliant kid though. If he lived to be as old as some of the upper age groups… sure he’d get more free time but was it really worth it?

He’d be put on forced leave for his sprained ankle. He knew that. He just… Tommy rested his chin on his knees.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to find the Crafts and beg them to take him in. He wanted to belong. He wanted to belong without the expectations hanging over him like an anvil ready to drop. He wanted someone to tell them their proud without that undertone of how he shouldn’t be praised. He didn’t want cold and empty praise with distant hands wrapping around his throat. 

_______________________

Tommy sat in a simple Coffee shop. It was his favorite getaway when he could visit. Kinoko Coffee was a nice place, a place that was illuminated by warm fairy lights and had a nice fire behind glass. The place was a hotspot for college students trying to get work done. It’s between the edge of agriculture and business. He liked it.

He liked the simple wood trim, the way that vines, although plastic, hung above him. Each seat had its own cushion. Each wall had what seemed like hundreds of outlets. It was perfect. The coffee wasn’t half bad either. He took a sip of the scalding liquid in front of him.

The feel of the place, with its many potted plants, was cottagecore to the letter. It was a family owned business and each of the current bosses were super nice. They never questioned when Tommy asked for three or four shots. They didn’t bother to ask why he wasn’t in school. They knew he was 16, and they didn’t judge him. They didn’t blame him when he asked what should have been the simplest of questions. They were nice.

It was nice. To pretend that he was just like every other high school student as he worked on his math homework. He wasn’t allowed to go out on missions, the task having been handed to Purpled. He wasn’t dead, not yet anyways. Since he got injured he was waived from all work and all jobs in the near future. He had an excuse and so he was excused.

It didn’t make him feel good though. He was stuck in his room, his ankle wrapped up in bandages. He wasn’t allowed at training so he decided to busy himself with homework and lessons. Tommy couldn’t simply sit in his bed for weeks at a time. It made his brain go wild. He had to prove that he was still useful somehow.

He tapped his pencil against light, polished, wood. There were a few water stains that interrupted teh grain, but overall you could barely tell that Kinoko had been around for years. Sure there was a scratch here or there, but it was largely unscathed.

Tommy was tucked into the corner, no one could sneak up on him and he had the perfect view of the door. He picked up his phone and shuffled through his songs until it landed on something that wasn’t a total bore at the moment. He circled his answer, math wasn’t his strongest suit but he was competent enough. 

He continued through the questions on both his computer program and the paper copies he had without interruption. He looked up the few times that the bell chimed to announce a new patron. It wasn’t anyone important so he felt confident in saying that he could let his defenses down just a little.

That proved a mistake.

The coffee shop smelled of lightly roasted coffee and thick cinnamon. It was a perfect blend of warmth that screamed autumn. He swore he could smell some sort of pumpkin and nutmeg that mixed around. The bell chimed and Tommy looked up. For a brief moment all he could smell was fear. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Of all fucking coffee shops these assholes had to order from it had to be Tommy’s safe one. It had to be the one where he didn’t have to bother thinking about work. Now the Craft’s stood in front of him. He wasn’t even technically on the job anymore. He left all his important gear in his room. All he had on him was a pocket knife that he never left home without.

He cursed under his breath. He grabbed a folder and put his homework in the thing. It was without hesitation that he slipped both the folder and his laptop into his bag. Maybe, just maybe, he could slip out without the fuckers seeing him.

Tommy shoved his phone into his pocket, turning up the volume on his phone. He looked up only to meet the smirking smile of one Wilbur Soot Craft. Tommy stood up. It was too late. Wilbur was on his way to his table. Tommy couldn't move fast enough. Wilbur sat down at his table and folded his fingers.

Tommy put pause on the music and tried to calm his racing heart. It thundered in his ears, louder than any crackling fireplace. He wanted to go home. Where that was was debatable. He just couldn’t let Wilbur anywhere near him, he knew his traitorous heart would hope for too much. Tommy couldn’t let himself hope. He was only wanted for his skills, nothing else. There was nothing else interesting about him.

Tommy pulled out an ear bud and stared at Wilbur. “You need something, mate? Or did you just decide to be a right wrong’un and creep around in a 16 year olds booth?”

Wilbur’s smile only grew at that. Tommy needed out, he needed gone. There was something so alluring about the way that the smile promised nothing else other than mischief. Nothing good was coming from this interaction, and it made Tommy want to stay around that much longer.

“Don’t play me for a fool,” Wilbur laughed under his breath. “We both know that you’re too dangerous to be allowed to leave by yourself.”

Tommy reached for his back pocket, but didn’t draw the knife. He hated the way that though meant to be patronizing, the words Wilbur spoke didn’t offend him. He almost… liked it? For them to assume that he’s just like every other person in the world. That he wasn’t the best . 

“Touche,” Tommy muttered.

“You’re not going to try to run?”

Tommy scrunched his nose. “Can’t. Sprained my ankle.”

“When was this?”

Tommy stared down at his hands. “Seventh is kinda shitty, innit?” He didn’t add anything else. Quite frankly it was a bit embarrassing. He tripped in a pothole while throwing a tantrum. He wasn’t three, he wasn’t supposed to cry. Weakness wasn’t allowed. He took a deep breath, meeting Wilbur’s concerned gaze. “So what? Now we wait for Daddy Warbucks to finish ordering his coffee?”

Wilbur leaned back, a huge smile that was too big to mean anything good. He laughed, all breathless and stupid. “I’m telling Phil you called him that.”

“Do it, I dare you.”

“Dare Wilbur to do what?” Phil asked, he rounded the corner and Tommy wanted to cry. He wanted to break into tears right then and there. Phil just looked so… kind? His smile was warm and so disarming. Tommy reinforced his walls but even those were no match for the way that Phil’s eyes crinkled as he asked.

Wilbur shrugged. “Dunno. So–”

Phil stuck out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet. My name is Philza Craft.”

Tommy stared at the hand and did not take it. Handshakes were vulnerable positions, and the Craft family had every reason to try to get rid of Tommy. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been trying to kill all three of them for weeks. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the people in the room. No Purpled, thank god.

“I know.”

Techno seemed to tense at the general disregard, and Wilbur’s mouth hung agape. Phil just laughed, a light chuckle. “I should have expected that.”

“What do you want?”

Techno stood right behind Phil, sliding WIlbur his drink. Wilbur took it and downed it without a care for the steam that rolled lazily into the air. There was quiet for that moment, Phil took a sip of his own drink while Techno didn’t seem to have one.

“You’re so to the point,” Phil said. He held the to go cup in both hands, watching Tommy with great curiosity. He seemed to debate what to say, unsure of how to continue. “I was wondering if you wanted to come home with us?”

Techno rubbed the bridge of his nose, forcing Wilbur over so he could sit down. Wilbur slammed his head into the table and Philza only smiled.

If Tommy wasn’t on edge before he certainly was after the proposition. He reached for his pocket Knife and grabbed it in his fist. He hid it. Suffice it to say that Tommy did not like where things were going. He knew everything came with a price. He wasn’t an idiot, he just couldn’t pin what the Crafts wanted with him. What they wanted from him.

“I’m not a merc,” He said. If they wanted to hire a hit they could go through the lengths to track down one of his supervisors. Tommy knew it wasn't an easy thing to do, but it was something feasible. Even if they didn’t pay Hypixel, they could find someone else.

“I never said you were,” Phil replied. He didn’t lose his cool. His face was pleasant though something maybe akin to pride shone in his eyes as he and Tommy had their back and forth.

It was obvious enough that Wilbur and Techno wanted to say something. They bit their tongues though, which was enough to send Tommy spiraling. They were just going to use him. They were going to use him and it was going to end in his misery. It always did. He wasn’t worth spending resources on and they’d realize that as soon as they brought him in.

“I’m not for hire. You can’t buy my loyalty.”

“I’m not trying too.”

“Then what the fuck are you asking?” Tommy asked.

Phil tilted his head, smile never leaving his face. “Maybe it’s better to explain in detail somewhere more private.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I feel as though we shouldn’t go anywhere with you. We are of no danger to you, Tommy.” Phil’s gaze flicked down to Tommy’s closed fist. “Afterall. I believe you don’t need a gun to kill us.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes. It was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop himself. Something in his chest tugged him towards this weird family. It told him to go, it told him to take the deal. It told him to indulge in the fantasies and ideas. It wanted him to be happy. He didn’t deserve to be happy, not how it wanted to be. He trusted his head more than anything else, and it was telling him to leave as soon as he could.

“Fine, but the second I get uncomfortable, I’m leaving.”

Phil’s smile only brightened. “Of course. We’ll be going to our house then.” He turned around and called out behind him, “Boys help Tommy to the car.”

Techno huffed out but stood up and offered Tommy a hand. Tommy looked at it and didn’t take it. Wilbur tried to slide next to him, Tommy wasn’t having it.

“Touch me and they’ll be pulling a knife from your eye,” he hissed. He didn’t mean it. He just wanted someone to hold him. He just wanted someone to hold him close as if the only thing precious enough to care about. He wanted someone to tell him sweet honey covered lies. He wanted them to tell him that he would be okay.

He couldn’t let them though. They wouldn’t want him. They’d realize that he couldn’t do everything they wanted him too. It was better to shut down before heartache broke him down, fracturing his spirits into a thousand tiny pieces. Tommy took a deep breath and hobbled his way out of the coffee shop. Techno and Wilbur stood on either side of him like some sort of bodyguard.

Tommy didn’t like it. He didn’t like how they stopped him from running. He couldn’t really run anyways, piercing pain shooting up his leg if he tried too, but it didn’t make him feel better.

It surprised him that Phil got into the driver's seat of the limo while the rest of them got into the back. A window was drawn preventing Phil and the kids from communicating. That did little to assuage growing, drumming, anxiety.

“You know, we can help you,” Wilbur said as soon as he sat down.

“You can fuck off, I don’t need your help.”

Techno seemed to pause at the words, doing a double take as he processed everything going on. “Sure. You don’t need our help, but do you want it?”

Tommy chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped at everything going on. He tried to nail in the logical kind of thinking he was raised to default too. He couldn’t though. He couldn’t ignore the small voices in the back of his head that begged and pleaded with him. He was already doomed, why not take the risk? Because at least he knew his fate if he was going to be staying with Hypixel. 

He did want help though. He wanted to not have to worry about if he was going to be replaced. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but they were voicing his desires so easily< They were saying things and they didn’t mean anything to them.

Tommy didn’t say anything, so Wilbur spoke up. “For fucks sake though? Dadza needs like, a switch or something.”

Techno nodded. “I wanted to punch him. Apologies for the formalities. We just came from a god awful business meeting.”

Wilbur’s eyes popped open. “Ten dollars says that Suzie is cheating on Mike.”

“Mike Jones?” Tommy asked, mind racing at about a hundred miles an hour. That was the Chairman on the board of directors. That’s who hired a hit on the Crafts.

“Yeah?” Wilbur refocused his eyes on Tommy. “Why?”

“He’s been cheating on his wife for three years now. Suzie I guess.”

Techno laughed. “Bruhhh, and you just know this?”

Tommy shrugged. He did his research when he went after people, and also on the people who hired him. He wanted to know the scum that he was forced to serve. He didn’t think it was that hard to piece together. Tommy had a nasty habit of figuring out who paid Hypixel the cash.

“Yeah. Lauren from accounting is actually a single mom of three, you should give her a raise.” Tommy leaned back against the plush seat. He sat against the back of the limo, while Techno was on the right and Wilbur sat on the left.

“For real? You’re not fucking with us?” Wilbur asked.

“You also might want to get better encryption.” Tommy rifled through his bag and tossed Wilbur a usb stick. “That thing? It carries all the information I snagged off of your files.”

“You’re a fucking genius.”

Tommy furrowed his brows. Everyone knew basic coding, it wasn’t that hard. It was part of the Hypixel curriculum. “Nope. I mean I’m the best in my age group, but even then I think that the rankings are mostly based on Physical stuff…. T-” Tommy pursed his lips together. He couldn’t give away all of Hypixel’s secrets. He most certainly couldn’t incriminate one of his coworkers like that. “One of the other kids is like ten times better than I am at this stuff.”

“Tommy?” Techno asked.

“What up?”

“Our servers are some of the most encrypted sites out there. We have had professional hackers test our database, almost none of them could get in. An average teen can’t do this stuff.”

“I mean I had too.”

“Had too?” Wilbur asked. Worry dripped from honey sweet words and a silver tongue. Tommy couldn’t believe that Wilbur was actually concerned. They didn’t know each other. They didn’t know him . He was fine.

“Yeah I mean-” the Limo slowed to a stop. He hadn’t noticed the passing scenery, nor the fact that they had gotten to the suburbs of the first residential district. Which Tommy knew had a name, he just couldn’t think of it. It also didn’t really matter to him the name, it was all the same to him.

Wilbur rolled his eyes. He and Techno exchanged a look, nodding at the same time. “I’m on it.” He said.

“Got it.” Techno said at the same time. 

The two of them got out first, leaving Tommy to make his way out by himself. He didn’t have a foot out the door by the time he was picked up. Tommy was being carried bridal style. He looked up at Techno who smiled down at him.

“This is embarrassing.”

Techno laughed, Tommy could feel it through his whole body. It was… pleasant. He’d concede to that. But nothing more. “Trust me, it’ll get a lot worse than this.”

And though the words would have been threatening in any other kind of situation, he couldn’t help but find comfort in them. They felt like a warm promise. Heavy eyelids slid closed. He felt safe, which was stupid. He was being stupid and dumb. He was in the enemy’s house. He was going to the target's house. They trusted him there. He couldn’t blame them.

He didn’t feel all that dangerous or scary. He felt like a little kid, though he didn’t exactly know what that felt like either. He huffed out false agitation at the way Techno carried him through the manor. He wasn’t keeping track of the path like he should have, they twisted down winding walls. Tommy viewed the world through blurry eyes.

Techno placed him down in a study, or an office. One of the two. It hosted a single dark wooden desk with a small lamp in the corner. It had a monitor and a laptop, with scattered papers somehow still neatly lining the desk. Bookshelves lined the walls where windows were absent. They held more odd trinkets than books. He was sure that that was intentional. Small golden chains and coins, even more importantly, were the portraits and frames of family bonding.

Tommy tried his best to ignore how his heart squeezed upon seeing the birthday pictures. He tried to clear the foggy haze from his thoughts. He needed to concentrate, that much was certain. His name was Tommy, he was 16, and he was in deep shit probably. He was sat down on the wrong side of the desk while Phil slipped into the right side.

“I know you little shits were talking trash about me,” he said. His gaze didn’t leave Tommy’s but the words were meant for the shifting twins that were whispering together by a big window.

The window looked out into a brilliant garden. It looked nice. Everything was so nice. Like a fairytale, Tommy never wanted it to end.

Wilbur was the one who rolled his eyes and smiled as innocently as he could. “Whatever could you mean Dadza.”

Phil shook his head. “Go fetch the papers, do more than gossip for once please.”

“You’re just jealous that you’re not a people person,” Wilbur said as he walked near the door.

Techno shoved him out of it, “You’re not one either, Wil.” He closed the door to the study behind him, it thudded closed.

Tommy was alone. He was alone with the guy he had been hired to kill. He was alone. He was going to die. He was really, truly going to die. He didn’t want to die, not like this at least. He’d like his death to be a bit more meaningful. A martyr was better than a homicide, though his death wouldn’t be counted as either.

“Tommy, right?”

He bit his tongue, remaining as pleasant as possible. “Yes, sir.”

Phil softened a little at that. “No need for pleasantries. Phil’s fine.” He rifled through some papers and grabbed a red inked pen. A pen probably meant to sign the check that would get Tommy’s death swept under the rug.

“Sorry, sir– Phil.” He scolded himself. Berating himself for such a grievous slip up. He needed to play his cards right, and he wasn’t doing it.

Though he didn’t know if he knew what cards he even held in his hand. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t fight. He leaned back into the chair. He was in a room that was lit by warm lamps and nice natural light that flooded in from one of the three windows on the walls.

Phil laughed under his breath. “So you’ve been trying to kill us?”

Straight to the point, thank god. “Yes, it’s what I’m trained to do.”

“You yourself weren’t contacted, you mentioned you’re not for hire.”

“No… I belong to a company. Though I couldn’t say their name even if I wanted too… They raised me. That can’t be changed by a sum of money.” He tried to stay fir to his words, though they failed him. They shook with all the things he couldn’t say. They shook with all the loaded threats and burning punishments. They shook. He shook?

Tommy curled his fingers into the hem of his jacket. He was shaking. He never shook. He had held murder machines and still didn’t flinch. Yet in the presence of some old man he could 1v1, he shook. He couldn’t stop it. The anxiety made him nauseous, he struggled for breath. He couldn’t even say why he was scared, he just was.

“I can respect that. But, like I’ve said, I’m not trying to hire you.” Phil hummed under his breath as he pulled something up on his monitor. “You’re sixteen, yeah?”

“Yes?” Tommy wasn’t quite sure why Phil was asking so many questions. He also couldn’t convince himself that Philza Craft was telling the truth. He was an influential man. He had enemies. He had enemies and Tommy could easily get rid of them and no one would be the wiser. Surely, surely , the Craft’s just wanted to abuse that.

Phil clicked his tongue a couple of times. “Right, so, mate, you don’t have any parents.”

“That is correct. Never met them, don’t want to. What’s the point?” He thought that they were getting into the nitty gritty as soon as possible, but it seemed that Phil was still skirting around the issue.

“I want you to stay here, with us,” Phil said. He said it as if it held all the answers.

“Like I said, I’m not going to be doing anything for you.” He didn’t know what job Phil could have needed at the Manor. Maybe a bodyguard? Or a security detail? One of the two. It didn’t matter, Tommy wasn’t going to be doing either.

“I’m not asking you too, mate.”

“You can’t hire me.”

“I’m not offering you money to stay here.” Phil kept his voice level, no matter how long they talked in circles.

“I don’t have anything else to offer–”

Papers were dangled in front of his face. They were too close for Tommy to read, but he knew that they were important. Phil snatched it and read over them. Wilbur laughed from behind them. He did that a lot. Tommy didn’t think that there was that much to laugh about in the world. It was just work upon work, and work was serious so why laugh?

Techno took his place behind Phil, Wilbur leaned against him. They looked like they had known each other since they were born. It’s not true though. They were both adopted. It was in their files. Yet they acted as if they had the same blood running through their veins, like they were actually related.

“You don’t need to offer anything,” Techno said. He seemed lost in thought, not for the first time that day. Wilbur snapped him out of it with a playful shove, prompting him to go on. “That’s not what this is, Phil’s just in a shitty business mood…. He's in business mode.”

Phil slid the papers towards Tommy, smiling. It was a smile that reached his eyes. Something so truly  and wholly, and it was almost sickening. He glanced down and tears started to fall.

He didn’t even have a chance to fully process what the words said. He didn’t have time to bite back the sting, to grin and bear it like he always did. Tommy felt so silly, crying over a bunch of papers that really meant nothing. They really truly meant nothing. He had been presumed dead for years, the government didn’t care if he was alive anymore. Yet there they sat, so innocently, as if they didn’t break years of training in half.

Those pages sat there as if they didn’t crumble Tommy’s world. He couldn’t…

“You don’t know me,” He whispered. He didn’t know what else to say to what they were offering. He took a breath as the tears continued to fall. “I can’t do anything for you.”

“You’re a kid, Tommy, a kid who appears to not have had a childhood that was really worth it.” Phil cleared his throat. “We can tell that you’re just trying your best, we want you to be part of the family.”

“But what if you decide that I’m a waste of resources? What if I don’t live up to expectations? What if-” What if you hate me? He wanted to say. What if I’m just as annoying as they say? His voice failed him. Words caught on thorns as they crept up his throat. He couldn’t possibly explain everything.

“If it makes you feel better, what if we did a trial run? One week. We have one week to get to know each other. If you don’t like it here you can leave whenever. If you don’t feel safe, if you don’t think it’ll work, you can leave and we won’t question it.” Phil slid Tommy the pen. “We’ll revisit it after a week.

Tommy took the pen in his hand. He stared at those papers, and he smiled. “I’ll prove myself to you.”

Wilbur shook his head. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Tommy, worth and love… it’s not dependent on anything. It’s something that each human inherently has and deserves. No success nor failure can determine your worth. You’ve already proven yourself to us, kid.”

Tommy frowned. He didn’t quite understand what they were trying to tell him. But that didn’t matter, what mattered was that he had a chance. He had a chance outside of haunted white walls. He had a chance outside of the thick scent of gunpowder and panicked piercing screams. He had a chance and he was going to take it.

Because he finally had a chance at life.

_____________________

One week came and went faster than he would have wanted. It was the night before they were going to revisit the whole conversation. Tommy had loved every moment of the week. He grabbed the red pen that was kept in his desk's pencil holder.

He had a room, one that was covered in decor he went out with the Crafts to buy. He had his own closet with clothes that he had gotten to pick out. Of course, Wilbur had a lot to say about it all but it wasn’t… well it wasn’t so demanding. He got final say in any and all options. He had posters of the most random things in the world. He didn’t know what half of them were for but Wilbur reassured that it was all cool stuff. Tommy shrugged and went with it as they picked out some stuffed animals. Which were things???

Take a moment to realize how fucking cool stuffed animals were. They were all just little guys that were soft. They were soft and just a breath of fresh air. Tommy kept a moth on his bed, a stuffed moth. He had a few others scattered around the room. He named each and every one. 

He loved his room. He loved hanging out with the Crafts, he loved it all. They were so patient and explained things to him when he needed it. They didn’t expect him to just know . They didn’t get mad when he didn’t know. He had made up his mind days ago.

There was just one more thing he needed to do.

Long after the sun had set and the other residents of the Manor had fallen asleep, Tommy went into full swing with his plan. He slipped on a black hoodie and stuffed his hair into his black beanie. He grabbed his bag and snuck through the halls. He was light on his feet and not even the old wooden floor boards squeaked as he made his way to Philza’s study.

Using the red pen he had grabbed he signed his names on the papers that had been presented to him. He tried to hold back the giddy excitement as he turned to Phil’s laptop. It was locked, but the password was easy enough to figure out. It was the date that Wilbur and Techno had been adopted.

Tommy started rifling through files about the company until he landed on the chairman's information. He had just left the office… Tommy jotted down Mike’s home address and put the laptop to sleep. He scoured through cabinets and drawers until he found what he was looking for, a loaded handgun. He smiled, he knew that a rich fuck wouldn’t have an easily accessible personal office without one.

He broke into Mike's house, making his entrance as undetectable as possible. He turned on the TV and kicked back, waiting for the fucker to get home.

And Mike did. He got home, and didn’t think twice about the TV that was playing in the lounge room. He hung up his coat and his keys rattled. Tommy could hear angered, quickened breathing.

Then Mike perhaps notices the silhouette that rested on his couch.

“Who are you?”

Tommy stood up and smiled. He turned to face Mike, clasping his hands together. The gun rested on the pure white sofa. “I decided to introduce myself. You hired a hit on the Craft family.”

Mike took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do.” Tommy tilted his head. “I’m the one that was sent to kill them.”

“And yet they’re still alive,” Mike slacked. Tension left his tight shoulders. “You’re doing a shitty job.”

Tommy picked up the gun. He smiled, something barely even human. He was happy. He was happy for once in his life. He wasn’t going to let Purpled ruin that. The moment that Mike died the hit would be called off. It meant that Tommy didn’t have to worry about Purpled coming and killing the Crafts.

“Well plans change. You see, my name is Tommy. I guess it’s Tommy Craft now. I should be thanking you really. I’m out of that hellhole that you call Hypixel, and now I have a family. However, I hope there’s no hard feelings.”

Mike stared at the gun. “What are you doing?”

“What I have too to be happy. You understand, don’t you?” Tommy leveled the gun, pointing it at Mike’s head.

A cold bead of sweat rolled down Mike’s head. Tommy didn’t bother with any more pleasantries. He pulled the trigger. He dropped a note on the dead body, one he knew that Hypixel would get one way or another. Tommy stepped over the dead corpse, ignoring the thick scent of iron that filled his lungs. He was back in bed by the time the sirens called early in the morning. He pulled the comforter closer to his chin. He was home, and no one would take that away from him.