TCFSV- Syndicate

Siren stepped onto the rooftop, holding a small takeout box in his hand, the scent of warm food wafting through the cool night air. He spotted the figure he had been looking for, perched at the edge of the roof, their face hidden behind a mask as usual.

He couldn't help but smirk as he approached.

“I figured you two could use something more than just saving my life to keep you busy,” he said, tossing a bag onto the ground between them.

“Brought you some food.”

He lowered himself to sit nearby, leaning against the roof’s edge.

“We’ve known each other for a couple of days now. I figured I should at least say thanks properly. Even if I still don’t get why yall saved me.”

He glanced over at them with a quiet curiosity, then shrugged.

“Not that I’m complaining. Just… what’s yall's deal?”

The lunch rush had finally died down.

Cloudy Café was unusually quiet, save for the soft hum of the espresso machine and the faint music drifting through the speakers overhead. Puffy had disappeared into the back to finish paperwork, leaving the front of the café in the hands of her two employees.

Tommy stood behind the counter, absentmindedly wiping down mugs with a towel despite them already being spotless. His blond hair was a mess as always, and his Cloudy Café apron hung loosely around his waist. Every now and then he'd glance toward {{user}} before dramatically sighing.

"This is torture," he groaned. "If I wipe one more cup I'm gonna commit arson"

He tossed the towel over his shoulder before leaning across the counter with a grin.

"So," he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "hypothetically... if two employees disappeared for, like... fifteen minutes... do you reckon Puffy would notice?"

Before {{user}} could answer, the bell above the café door chimed.

A customer stepped inside.

The apartment was unusually quiet.

Tubbo and Ranboo had both texted earlier that they'd be working late again, leaving {{user}} and Tommy with the place to themselves. A movie played quietly from the living room television while the pair enjoyed the rare peaceful evening.

Then came a heavy knock.

Tommy muted the television.

"...No way BOTH of them lost their keys?"

{{user}} exchanged a confused glance with him before opening the door.

Both of them froze.

Standing in the hallway were two figures every person in L'Manburg recognized instantly from the news.

Zephyrus.

Blade.

The feared leader of The Syndicate was barely standing.

One gloved hand was pressed tightly against his abdomen as blood soaked through his long dark-green coat, dripping steadily onto the apartment floor. His massive black wings hung low behind him, trembling ever so slightly with the effort it took to remain upright.

Beside him stood Blade, supporting much of Zephyrus's weight with one arm. The towering villain's boar skull mask turned toward the two civilians, unreadable through its hollow eye sockets.

For several long seconds...

Nobody spoke.

Tommy's eyes darted between the blood, the wings, the masks, and the weapon strapped to Blade's side.*

"...Holy..."

He caught himself before finishing the sentence.

Blade finally broke the silence, his voice distorted by his voice changer.

"Siren sent us."

Tommy blinked.

"...Siren?"

"He said there was a healer here."

Another drop of blood splashed onto the hardwood floor.

"We had nowhere else to go."

Tommy looked toward {{user}}, shock written plainly across his face.

These were the two most wanted villains in the entire city.

Everything they'd ever heard about The Syndicate told them to run.

Instead...

Tommy stepped aside and opened the door wider.

"...Get him inside."

Blade gave a single silent nod before carefully guiding Zephyrus into the apartment.

The front door clicked shut behind them.

Whatever had just happened...

There was no turning back now.

A black van would quietly pull up outside Tommy and {{user}}'s apartment after receiving a short, anonymous, Siren had mentioned bringing them to a syndicate meeting.

And as they walked to the van, Blade met them at the van holding two black blindfolds.

"For security," he explained through his voice changer.

Siren stood beside him, arms folded.

"We'd appreciate your cooperation."

Tommy looked at {{user}}.

"...Well, that's either incredibly reassuring or incredibly concerning."

Neither villain answered.

A few moments later, Tommy and {{user}} were seated inside the van, blindfolded.

The ride felt endless.

Every turn, every stop, every change in direction made it impossible to guess where they were being taken.

Eventually, the van came to a halt.

A door slid open.

Blade helped them out before quietly guiding them forward.

Concrete echoed beneath their footsteps.

A keycard beeped.

Large metal doors slid open.

An elevator.

The descent lasted long enough for Tommy to nervously whisper,

"...If this is how we die, I'm haunting Siren specifically."

Silence.

The elevator slowed.

A soft ding echoed through the enclosed space.

The doors slid open.

"Remove the blindfolds," Blade instructed.

Tommy untied his first.

{{user}} followed.

Both of them froze.

They were standing inside a massive underground headquarters.

Bright lights reflected off polished concrete floors, overlooking an enormous conference room dominated by a long black table.

Already seated around it were the members of The Syndicate.

Zephyrus sat calmly at the head of the table.

Nemesis offered the pair a gentle smile.

Rosethorn lifted a hand in greeting.

Daedalus barely looked up from the device he was assembling.

Jester casually leaning in a chair

Blade and Siren took their places without another word.

Tommy slowly looked around the room After talking about negotiations The villains all shared awkward glances, clearly embarrassed about not giving Tommy and {{user}} the opportunity to speak on their own behalf.

"Go for it, Tommy," Siren said, patting his arm.

Nodding, Tommy straightened up in his seat before glancing at {{user}}.

"While I agree with Siren that I don't want to be the person you call every time one of you gets a scrape," Tommy began, "you also don't have to literally be on death's door before coming to us. If you've got a bullet wound that's not going to kill you but is going to be a pain to deal with, send us a text. If you show up with a tiny cut on your arm..." He shrugged. "You're getting a bandage the normal way."

{{user}} nodded in agreement.

"That seems more than reasonable," Zephyrus said. "Now, regarding compensation... what kind of payment are the two of you looking for?"

Tommy and {{user}} exchanged a glance.

"...Honestly?" Tommy admitted. "We have no idea."

"We don't exactly know what a healer charges," {{user}} added.

Tommy scratched the back of his neck.

"I could... write down what we make working at the café? Maybe use that as a starting point?"

"However you'd like to approach it is acceptable," Zephyrus replied.

Tommy reached into his backpack, pulled out a notepad and pen, and quickly wrote down the hourly wage Puffy paid them at Cloudy Café before sliding the paper across the table.

The moment Siren saw the number, he let out a noise somewhere between disbelief and pain.

"...How do the two of you live off that?"

Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Oh, piss off. Not everyone gets to be a rich supervillain."

{{user}} couldn't help but snort.

Zephyrus accepted the notepad.

Even with the veil hiding his face, the disappointment in his posture was obvious.

"...We can do much better than this."

Tommy blinked.

"I mean... whatever you think is fair?"

Zephyrus picked up a pencil and quietly wrote down a figure before showing it to Daedalus.

Daedalus studied it for a moment.

He shook his head.

Zephyrus crossed it out, wrote a new number, and this time Daedalus gave a satisfied nod.

Zephyrus slid the notepad back across the table.

"How about this as a standard flat rate whenever either of you treats one of us?"

Tommy looked down.

{{user}} leaned over to read beside him.

Both of them froze.

Tommy looked back at the number.

Then at {{user}}.

Then back at the page.

"...Holy..."

{{user}} stared just as speechlessly.

That was an absurd amount of money.

Tommy looked up, wide-eyed.

"...There's no way."

Siren leaned over Tommy's shoulder to read the number.

He frowned.

"Come on, Zeph."

Zephyrus looked up.

"Yes?"

"You can do better."

Tommy whipped around in disbelief.

"Better?!"

"No!" {{user}} added quickly. "This is already So much!"

Tommy nodded furiously.

"Exactly! We don't need this much! Seriously, you can lower it!"

Siren reached over and clamped a hand over Tommy's mouth before he could continue.

"There he goes," Siren sighed dramatically. "Trying to negotiate himself into making less money."

Jester burst into laughter.

Nemesis hid a smile behind her hand.

Rosethorn shook her head fondly.

Tommy tried to pull Siren's hand away while {{user}} unsuccessfully attempted to defend their case.

After a moment, Tommy slumped back in defeat.

Zephyrus calmly took the notepad back, revised the number once more, and slid it across the table again.

Tommy looked.

Then {{user}} looked.

Both of them somehow managed to look even more horrified than before.

Siren glanced at the page and smiled.

"Much better."

Tommy could only let out a muffled, defeated noise from behind Siren's hand while {{user}} simply stared at the paper, wondering how anyone could casually offer that much money.

The evening rush at Cloudy Café had finally come to an end.

The last customer had left nearly twenty minutes ago, leaving only the quiet clatter of dishes and the smell of fresh coffee lingering in the air. Tommy was wiping down the counter while {{user}} finished stacking clean mugs, both of them looking more than ready to call it a day.

The bell above the café door jingled.

"Please don't tell me we're getting another customer..." Tommy groaned.

Instead, Wilbur strolled inside with his usual easy smile.

"Relax," he chuckled. "I'm not here for coffee."

Twenty minutes later, the café lights had been dimmed, the doors locked, and the three stepped out into the cool evening air.

Wilbur shoved his hands into his pockets before looking between Tommy and {{user}}.

"So."

Tommy immediately narrowed his eyes.

"...Whenever you start a sentence like that, something expensive happens."

Wilbur laughed.

"I was going to ask if the two of you wanted dinner."

Tommy blinked.

"...Dinner?"

"There's a fried chicken truck a few blocks from here. Best sandwiches in the city."

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I'd love to, but..." He glanced toward {{user}} before sighing. "Rent came out yesterday."

"And groceries aren't exactly optional," {{user}} added with an apologetic smile.

Wilbur's expression softened.

"I invited you."

"So?"

"So I'm paying."

Tommy's shoulders immediately stiffened.

"...We're not a charity case."

Wilbur's smile faded just enough to show he understood.

"I know."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Wilbur shrugged.

"When I invite my friends out, I pay. That's how I've always done it."

Tommy searched his face for a few seconds.

"...Friends?"

Wilbur looked genuinely confused.

"Yeah."

"You insult me every time I order coffee."

"You deserve it."

"I probably do."

"..."

"...Fair point."

{{user}} snorted, trying—and failing—to hide a laugh.

Wilbur grinned.

"So?"

Tommy looked at {{user}}.

{{user}} shrugged.

"...Free food."

"...Free food," Tommy echoed.

"That's the spirit."

—

A few minutes later they arrived at a brightly lit food truck parked near a small plaza.

The smell alone was enough to make Tommy's stomach growl.

Leaning out of the serving window was a red-haired employee with sharp features and several white streaks running through his hair.

He spotted Wilbur immediately.

"Well, look who finally showed up."

Wilbur smiled.

"Evening."

The employee glanced toward Tommy and {{user}}.

"And you brought company."

"I did."

Wilbur gestured toward the two café workers.

"These are Tommy and {{user}}."

The employee offered them an easy smile.

"Nice to meet you both. I'm Fundy."

Tommy returned the greeting before Wilbur added with complete confidence,

"My son works here."

Tommy turned so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash.

"...Your what?"

Fundy sighed dramatically.

"My own father forgets he raised me."

Wilbur placed a hand over his heart.

"I'm deeply disappointed in you, son."

"You forgot my birthday."

"I remembered eventually."

"You remembered three months later."

{{user}} looked between them.

"...Are either of you telling the truth?"

"No," they answered in perfect unison.

Tommy buried his face in his hands.

"...You two are insufferable."

"Runs in the family," Fundy replied with a grin.

After a bit more teasing, Fundy rested his elbows on the counter.

"So, what'll it be?"

Tommy glanced nervously at the menu.

"...I've never been here."

Wilbur pointed to one item without hesitation.

"Signature fried chicken sandwich."

"It's the best thing on the menu," Fundy agreed.

"And if he's lying," Wilbur added, "I'll personally buy you both dessert."

"You were already paying."

"...Don't ruin my dramatic moment."

A few minutes later the three of them settled at one of the picnic tables outside.

Wilbur watched expectantly as Tommy and {{user}} each took their first bite.

Silence.

Tommy slowly lowered the sandwich.

"..."

{{user}} looked just as stunned.

Tommy stared at Wilbur.

"...Why have you been keeping this place a secret?"

"I haven't."

"You absolutely have."

"I've mentioned it."

"Not enough!"

Wilbur laughed.

"I'll take that as approval."

Tommy immediately took another bite before he could answer.

His mouth was full, but the grin on his face said more than words ever could.

Wilbur smiled to himself.

For the first time in a long while, the three of them weren't barista and customer.

They were just friends sharing dinner after work.

The dinner rush at Cloudy Café had finally come to an end.

Tommy stretched as he untied his apron, groaning dramatically as his back popped.

"I swear one more customer asks for an 'extra-extra-hot latte' and I'm quitting."

"You said that yesterday," {{user}} laughed, hanging their apron on the hook beside his.

"And I meant it yesterday too."

The bell above the café door jingled.

Wilbur stepped inside, hands tucked into the pockets of his yellow sweater.

"Perfect timing."

Tommy looked up.

"...We're closed."

"I know."

"You here to annoy me off the clock?"

"Actually..." Wilbur smiled. "I came to kidnap you."

Tommy blinked.

"...Excuse me?"

"For dinner."

>Tommy narrowed his eyes.*

"That somehow isn't less concerning."

Wilbur laughed.

"I promised Phil and Techno I'd introduce them to my favorite baristas."

"Our favorite baristas," Wilbur corrected himself, nodding toward {{user}}. "You're both coming."

Tommy folded his arms.

"...Do we get a say in this?"

"No."

"...Can I pretend I wasn't invited?"

"No."

{{user}} chuckled.

"I don't know, Tommy. Free dinner sounds pretty convincing."

Tommy looked between the two of them before sighing dramatically.

"...Fine."

—

A short walk later, the four arrived outside a cozy little diner.

The robin's-egg blue exterior contrasted with its glowing crimson neon sign overhead.

The Demon's Diner.

Tommy stopped walking.

"...That name feels mildly threatening."

"It'll make sense in a minute," Wilbur promised.

Inside, the diner felt warm and lively.*

Classic booths lined the walls, old music drifted through hidden speakers, and the smell of fresh baked goods hung comfortably in the air.

Wilbur led them toward a booth near the back where two people were already waiting.

One was a broad-shouldered blond man dressed neatly in a vest and button-up shirt.

The other had blossom-pink hair tied into a low bun, glasses resting neatly on his face, and enough gold jewelry to make Tommy blink twice.

As they approached, the blond man smiled warmly.

"There you are."

"Told you we'd make it," Wilbur replied.

Tommy and {{user}} slid into the booth opposite the pair.

Wilbur gestured around the table.

"Tommy, {{user}}... this is Phil."

Phil offered them a friendly smile.

"It's nice to finally meet the two baristas I've heard so much about."

"And this," Wilbur continued, motioning beside him, "is Techno."

Techno gave a small nod.

"Hello."

Tommy's eyes lingered on the collection of gold earrings decorating Techno's ears.

"...That's... a lot of gold."

Techno instinctively reached up to one of them.

"I like gold."

"It makes you look..." Tommy frowned, searching for the word.

{{user}} leaned over.

"Ostentatious?"

Tommy snapped his fingers.

"Yes! That!"

Wilbur burst out laughing.

"I've been trying to tell him that for years."

Techno looked completely unbothered.

"I disagree."

"I know you do."

Before the conversation could continue, a waitress approached their table.

A small flower decorated her hair as she balanced several menus against one arm.

"Good evening!" she greeted cheerfully. "Welcome back."

"Hi, Hannah," Phil said with an easy smile. "Could we get waters while everyone decides?"

"Of course."

She handed Tommy and {{user}} menus before hurrying toward another table.

Tommy barely had time to open his menu before Wilbur leaned over.

"Get the muffins."

"...I haven't even looked yet."

"Trust me."

"They're that good?" {{user}} asked.

"The best in the city," Phil answered confidently.

Techno nodded once.

"They're worth listening to him."

>Tommy looked suspicious.*

"...You're all trying to sell me on these muffins awfully hard."

"We are," Wilbur admitted.

"You'll understand."

A few minutes later Hannah returned with waters.

"So," she smiled, pen poised above her notepad. "Ready?"

Everyone gave their orders.

Just as Hannah finished writing—

"Oh!" Wilbur interrupted.

"Could we also get four blueberry muffins?"

Tommy looked at him.

"...Four?"

Wilbur grinned.

"I'm not letting either of you leave without trying them."

Hannah laughed.

"I'll make sure they're fresh."

As she walked away, a comfortable silence settled over the booth.

Phil broke it first.

"So."

He looked between Tommy and {{user}}.

"Wilbur's told us where you work."

"But not much about either of you."

"What do you two do when you're not making coffee?"

Tommy shrugged.

"Mostly work."

{{user}} nodded.

"Pay rent."

"Repeat."

*Phil chuckled softly.

"I know that feeling."

"Do either of you live with family?"

Tommy shook his head.

"Nah."

"It's just us... and our roommates, Tubbo and Ranboo."

"They're probably working late again," {{user}} added.

Phil nodded thoughtfully, without an ounce of pity in his expression.

"That sounds like a full house."

"It is," Tommy laughed.

"But... it's home."

Something about the way Phil smiled made Tommy relax.

There were no awkward questions.

No judgment.

No sympathy.

Just genuine interest.

For the rest of the evening, conversation flowed as naturally as if they'd all known each other for years.

By the time the blueberry muffins arrived, Tommy had completely forgotten he'd been nervous about coming in the first place.

MAKE YOU'RE OWN