When Jimmy wakes up, it is to a horrible headache splitting his head in two. He can't connect to his senses, he thinks, his eyes seeing but no image registering, fleeting his memory right the next second. His ears are ringing, his arms and legs are numb and wrists sore, something within the gap between his heart and lungs distinctly repressed. What in the world happened?

Like a flash flood, memories flood into his head. No, that wouldn't be a good word for it. Feelings. Feelings and emotions entangled in a thick web of black. Fearful, ensnared and driven into a corner by an enemy he could neither see nor hear. The stress sends blood pumping into his head, neck suddenly scalding hot and flashed as his skin temperature takes on the bubbling lava underneath.

A door creaks open and he winces as light comes through. He can't see where he is and he doesn't know why he'd be in a house of all places. Trying to move his arms to shield his face, he finds that he is unable to move; unable to defend himself or attack if need be. Fucking Hell, he is right in the wolf's mouth and he's yet to be chewed and swallowed.

It begs the question: why? And his brain can't boot up fast enough to provide an answer in T minus (x amount of seconds).

"Oh, he's awake", the voice sounds vaguely familiar but he can't quite put his finger on who it could be.

"Still can't peg a random cashier to be The Listener, though", another replies and Jimmy sucks a deep breath in. The air catches in his throat and he swallows down the urge to cough and then the urge to gag at the tingling sensation running up his esophagus– it takes all of his willpower to do that.

The words swim in his head and then drown. The ringing has faded somewhat by the time the people who have come into the room have approached him but it is still slightly there, thrumming against his eardrums.

"We should let him go", speaks a third voice, this one even more familiar. "This is a fucking kidnapping and we're heroes for fuck's sake!"

"Dream is right. This isn't– why are we going along with this?!"

Jimmy blinks, eyes blurry but finally, the world around him is registering in his senses. Still a little indiscernible at the edges but he can finally see and not just listen. Sapnap and 404, standing right behind them is Dream, for once looking timid rather than self-assured and confident.

Ah, right. Jimmy is a hostage. He's been kidnapped, right, and the heroes are to blame for him still being here. If word gets out –and trust him, it will get out–, the heroes will be in a whole lot of trouble.

"Where am I?", he struggles to say, his neck feeling so restricted, he thought there was rope tied around his head too! Thankfully, there is nothing tied around his throat.

The heroes shriek in terror, all of them a different tone of deinitely-(not)-manly, and then they fall silent. A zap of a distinct something crackles through the air. Jimmy can't tell what it is but he can see the form it takes: golden and green threads that circle around the room he's in. Looking around, he can see the room– that's all. He can see it; he can see the four walls enclosing him but everything else is a muddle in his head.

He can't tell if he feigns his fear or if it's real. He shouldn't be scared; Grian is on his tail, he just knows it, with Martyn and every other villain there is around possibly. Wait. Oh crap, that's why they're doing it!

He's bait! The cheese on the mousetrap!

Cold sweat drips down his forehead, catching on his brow. He can't let anyone come near this house, not even on the same street. The heroes seem to be unsure of his Listener form, however, and he can't risk them finding out, so he can't turn and teleport and go about his day. He is pretty sure he can't do that even if he wanted to; not with the godly power encircling him in shiny threads that are invisible to the human eye.

"Who are you?!", he shouts, acting frantic and wild-eyed and he can see it's working by the way that Dream surges forth. His touch zaps him like the electricity on the surface of an iron cart of a big supermarket.

"Hey, calm down! I'll explain–"

And then, out pops a... is that a golf ball? straight out of the neckline of the man's hoodie.

"You don't need to explain anything to him", the golf ball says, turning on its own. The more it twists, painfully slow and heart wrenching, the more the carved, black lines are unveiled on the white surface. "He knows. He listens. He knows everything. Do not untie him lest you want a taste of my wrath, mortals"

Jimmy feels like he's swallowed his tongue. He knows who he is. He knows who he is. They all do and frankly, Jimmy doesn't want to know why the god has him tied up here.

"Now, answer my questions"

*

The day the children leave is perhaps the best day of Phil's life. Children meaning the ones he had to babysit for Grian whilst doing The Watcher's bidding. Darn favors, man; he swears he'll never ask such a big favor out of an incredibly elusive and mysterious individual again! Or not. It depends on what lemons life will give him, to be honest. Spying on the Dream Team is maybe the lightest sentence he could've got for having a whole ass building restored!

He still wonders if The Watcher would've restored the block of flats regardless, since lately he and his team of troublemakers have been trying (and succeeding) to paint the Hero System in a red light. He still wonders if the man was simply waiting for something like that deal to happen just so he could get this indirect way of achieving his goal... It does sound like a very risky gamble, though. The Watcher is too cunning, his eyes too calculative to rely on mere chance.

Frankly, Phil can't bring himself to feel bad about dumping the trio into his sons' unwilling arms yesterday because it was a necessary evil. If they knew what he was doing, he's pretty sure they would've disowned him without letting him say a word. That's what he gets from two stubborn boys who have taken nothing but his stubbornness all these years they've been alive!

Grian called ridiculously early in the morning, informing Phil that Pearl would come by to pick the kids up sometime before noon hits and that is perhaps the most relieved Phil has felt from a phone call. He has planned his own revenge, however. No one makes him babysit –unpaid, mind you– and gets away with it!

From the talks he's had with Grian and the times he's been invited over or visited his apartment, Phil knows exactly where and how to strike.

"Ranboo, come here for a sec, I want to show you something!", he calls from the bathroom, a bar of carved soap resting in one hand and a sharp blade in the other.

He is ready to indirectly vanish all of Grian's hand soap from his house! ...That thought probably shouldn't make Phil as happy as it does.

Not too long after he's called for him, Ranboo pops his head in through the open doorway, curiously peeking in. Phil beckons him over with a warm (mischievous) smile and the sharp razor in hand, the teen approaching at the sight of the multicolored soap. Red and green, Christmas-themed.

Two more heads peek from behind the door but Tommy and Tubbo can't be trusted to hold a knife and not hurt themselves somehow. If he's going to prank, he'll use the most careful one out of the three.

"What is it?", the kid asks, hands gripping the edge of the round sink as he leans on it.

"This", Phil stresses with a jolt of the hand holding the soap, bringing the blade right at the edge of it. Inwardly, he cringes at the mess he's about to make for some measly revenge but in the grand scheme of things, it's necessary. "This is the most satisfying thing you'll ever see"

The kid makes a noise of interest and the shuffling of footsteps can be heard as the other two attempt to watch over Ranboos shoulder. Phil puts some strength behind the tool and cuts through the first layer of soap, cubes of red and green falling into the sink with the tell-tale sound of triiiiiic. It puts his own mind at ease more than he'd like to admit and when he looks at the other three, he finds Tommy with his eyes wide and glued on the remaining bar, Tubbo already reaching to fondle the cubes and Ranboo's hand twitches.

"Here", and he hands the soap and blade to the enderborn, stepping away so he can have his turn.

Just as he'd guessed, Ranboo doesn't accidentally cut himself when he pushes the razor edge through the bar, even going for a second layer and then a third. The boys are satisfied by the soap cutting if Phil has to take a guess and he can't deny that he is also transfixed on the falling giblets for some weird, otherworldly reason that only biologists and scientists can explain.

"Woah", Tubbo finally breathes. Tommy joins him in bunching and crushing the remains in his hands, absolutely ruining the sink. It's worth it.

"Do you have more?", Ranboo asks, finally taking his eyes off the soap. The hope in them makes Phil want to laugh at what he's done.

"Actually", he holds up a finger, signaling them to wait as he retrieves a basket of soap curls from within the bathtub, where he'd hidden them so the children wouldn't go wild with them the second they'd come in. "These are for you to crash in your hands"

"Yo! How did you make these?", Tommy demands more than asks but Phil is happy to steal Techno's beloved potato peeler anyway.

"Oh, let me show you!"

Grian is going to be so pissed. Phil can't find it in himself to care. An eye for an eye, isn't that the saying?

*

An hour or so before Pearl is supposed to arrive, the trio is still crushing soap in the sink and playing with the leftovers. It is so fun, Tommy can't stop his hands from moving and he doesn't think he can muster the will to pull them away either. It's like someone has put superglue on his fingers and the soap– or actually, it's more like the soap is magnetizing him somehow.

That would be a more plausible explanation. What a fun concept: magnetizing soap.

Phil has told them that The Watcher was caught restoring their home, which was to be expected, even if Grian was stalling. His nerves were on fire before Phil called for Ranboo in the bathroom, thinking of what could've possibly happened to Jimmy. Tubbo told him when they awoke in the waiting area of the SBI HQ that he'd been kidnapped. Grian and Martyn are suspecting the Dream Team, or the god that is supposedly with them, and Tommy doesn't know what to think.

Especially after finding Horny Guy roaming the meeting room and then Warden picking the goat up. The fucking Warden. Of course, the hero tried to explain that he was simply goat-sitting but who the fuck would buy that? It's literally the same goat as the one that popped up out of nowhere when Goatfather tried to blow up the city with the World Eater 2.0. Honestly, Tommy only got up to grab a muffin and a glass of water from the buffet that was simply calling to him with its delicious smells and food.

Horny Guy was then promptly taken away from the heroes and cuddled with on the couch until The Blade woke them all up.

Tubbo was shocked when Tommy explained to him that Doc's goat was with his top favorite hero. The poor boy was heartbroken... until the three of them found a way to blackmail the man. They took him aside to a more private area (more like tailed him when he went to the toilet) and blackmailed him in his face.

"We know who that goat belongs to", Tubbo said, having jumped up and dragged the man down by the collar and looked him dead in the eye. Warden had obviously recognized them. "And you'd better keep that thought in mind"

"Are you threatening me?"

"I thought I made that obvious"

Angry Tubbo is scary. To learn that his favorite hero is associated with a crazed doctor who has left a sour taste in all of their mouths isn't a reality one can easily take in. Hell, even Ranboo was shook at that revelation! Well, at least they have an alternative method of contacting Doc if they need it.

All of that explains why he is currently addicted to the crushing and cutting of the red and green soap, which Ranboo is still taking his sweet time carving through. He is already making plans with every bar of soap there is in the block of flats, happy with the fact that no one can stop them from stealing their soap bars. Grian has a stash of red bars in one of the bathroom cupboards; surely, he wouldn't miss any of them!

Pearl and Gem have some with glittery soap too! Tommy silently forms a plan of how he'll distract them long enough for Ranboo to teleport into their house and steal some. Maybe they can put in some starch too like The Crowafather showed them not too long after he introduced soap curls to them.

"Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, can we talk to you for a minute?", comes Ghostbur's voice from down the hall, loud enough to be heard from the next town over! Sadly, for him, they're busy.

"No!", he responds, proceeding to squeeze the mush of lather fragments in his hands. So cool.

"Fukin'" –there is some faint muttering and out of the corner of his eye, Tommy sees Phil put his hands over his ears– "Fuckin' come 'ere!"

Aw shit.

Being unable to control your body is scary. Sure, it isn't as scary as the first time because the first time, Tommy was in his vigilante get-up, being chased and about to be apprehended by a hero rather than being forced to attend whatever conversation said hero wants to have with them. He dislikes the smug stance Ghostbur has taken on and Tommy swears he'll wipe his grin off of his face if he has one tugging at his lips underneath that stupid drama mask!

"Sit down"

They sit. The Blade is already sitting down, his head in his hands and expression hidden under a curtain of pink hair. He isn't wearing his crown nor the cape just like Ghostbur has declined his yellow sweater for a blue shirt and a trenchcoat. It appears they have only just returned from the messy skyscraper.

'Messy' because the moment the trio found out they'd been drugged to save the heroes the trouble of watching after them (pussies, Stress never complained about them! ...much), they more or less turned the whole thing upside down. Xornoth would be proud of them and their level of chaos if he witnessed it.

The moment Ghostbur sits down, Tommy feels his limbs tingle and he flexes his fingers, reveling in the fact that he has regained control of his own arms and head.

"The fuck do you want, asshat?", is the first thing he utters. Tubbo huffs a laugh, his cheeks looking like a balloon about to burst. Tommy resists the urge to laugh and Ranboo hides his own amusement behind a fake cough.

Ghostbur flounders like a fish out of water for a moment, shaking his head so wildly, you'd think it'd snap or crack or something but it doesn't. He directs a finger at Tommy, stern and disciplining.

"You– You fucking child! Don't insult me in my own–", The Blade kicks him in the shin with his boot before he can finish, "–OW! What was that for?!"

The trio bursts into laughter as the two of them hold a staring contest through their masks. It's funny, actually, how one side of the room is rolling in the ridiculousness of the situation and the other couldn't be bothered!

"Shut up!"

And the room returns back to normal volume. Silence. Tommy dislikes it. Telling him to shut up is like telling a toddler it can't have chocolate! Or like telling Grian he has to ditch his red sweaters for a day! It's sacrilege!

Thanks to Ghostbur's annoying, fucking mind control, he can't snap at him with a nice, offensive counter-argument. Instead, he resorts to glaring at him. How pitiful; Tommy hates it.

"Okay, now that we're all calm", The Blade finally speaks, having put a hand on the other's shoulder to shove him against his seat's back from where he was leaning extremely forward. "We have a few questions for you three"

Okay. Not weird at all. Just a few heroes having questions. Questions that could be tied to Warden tattling on them or questions tied to their vigilante personas. Either scenario isn't good and Tommy can feel ire rising under his skin; the sort that always bubbles up when an adult throws him a pitiful look as he and Tubbo wash the windshield of their car. Those adults give the most tips, though, so Tommy can't exactly be mad. He wants to be mad but he can't be.

This isn't that sort of deal, however, because the heroes are more likely to shove them in juvie and let them rot for conspiring with the enemy. Treason and whatnot. They fucking need a lawyer ASAP– where the fuck is Cleo when you need her!?

"Um... what is it?", of course, Ranboo accepts the questions without a second thought. Tommy swipes at him with a hand but the bastard somehow predicts it and ducks!

If he didn't have teleportation powers, Tommy would swear that Ranboo has got some form of telepathy going on.

"Who are your parents?"

Oh. Oh, how did they figure that out? That Grian and Stress aren't actually their parents? Honestly, Tommy was happy with having the heroes think the wrong things about Stress and maybe Grian, too –lies have kept them safe for so long without fail! Why fail them now?

Tommy opens his mouth to speak, to maybe dissuade this conversation but his vocal chords are still refusing him. He glares at Ghostbur. The hero looks back at him. Fucker–

"We're adopted"

This one doesn't seem to shock them as much as Tommy thought it would. So, they must've had some suspicions beforehand. Hm, might not be as dangerous as Tommy thought. Hell, the only one who looks remotely close to Grian is Tommy and he's a raccoon! And then you have the fact that Stress is a human and that Grian has fucking wings! Honestly, why have they thought that the trio were the biological children of a human and a half-bird?

Or that Stress cheated one too many times. That misunderstanding still makes Tommy laugh. Sadly, he still can't open his mouth. Damn Ghostbur!

The Blade heaves a heavy sigh, like the world has been lifted from his shoulders.

"By who?"

"It's unofficial, actually but yeah", Ranboo continues, missing how both of the heroes reel back like the boy has caused them emotional damage because that is probably earth-shattering information that he shouldn't have shared. Which, it isn't, because that means that they've been kidnapped from a fucking orphanage or something–

Oh no. This is the moment they're thrown back into the home for parentless children, isn't it? The damage has been done now, though, and Tommy can't quite change it. For fuck's sake, why is Pearl taking so damn long?!

"UNOFFICI–", the hero duo voices aloud, at the same time, at the same volume.

"By Grian and Stress and Pearl and Gem and Impulse!", having picked up on his own mistake, Ranboo has apparently decided to give the heroes a heart-attack by info-dumping on them. "The whole complex, really! We're fi–"

"THE COMPLE–"

Tubbo, being the chaotic little (but loveable) shit that he is, pipes up, much to Tommy's amusement.

"We live in the attic!"

There is a squawk that comes from the entrance to the hall and looking, Tommy finds the Crowfather frozen in a pose similar to Edvard Munch's The Scream. The racoon can't hold it in anymore and he falls over laughing. While laughing on mute is completely weird and out of a sci-fi TV show, no one pays any attention to it– not even when Tommy almost falls off of the couch! Assholes, the lot of them!

"THE ATTIC?!"

Obviously, Phil is hit with the brunt of the emotional damage, knees bending and falling backwards, wings framing the walls like a drama queen. The other two aren't faring any better but none of the kids could care much about that.

A car honks outside and without a second thought, they've got up to their feet and walked straight to the front door. Tubbo is hauling a still-laughing Tommy over one shoulder, exhibiting strength that he admittedly shouldn't have with his short frame. Physics be damned, Tubbo must be ripped under all the non-existent evidence of muscle. Perhaps his strength comes from being half-Shulk or it's just pure spite.

Tommy would know. He's pulled off shit he normally couldn't have out of pure spite and stubbornness before. He is too preoccupied with The Crowfather's shocked expression to care much, however.

"Pearl!", Ranboo is way too enthusiastic. They all are, really. The suspicious, black van is parked in front of some trees, hiding it from the view of any neighbors, orange lights flashing.

"Shotgun!", Tommy shouts, Ghostbur's power failing, peeling himself off of Tubbo and almost face planting on the ground. The other boys groan at him calling dibs on the–

The tinted window of the front passenger rolls down to reveal that the seat he'd just called dibs on is actually taken... by a demon nonetheless.

"Get in the back, children", Xornoth commands putting his arm out of the window and gesturing nonchalantly to the rest of the van.

That is just unfair.

*

After getting situated in the back of the unassuming, black van, Pearl has informed them that their attic is back to its original form. It isn't really a surprise but the affirmation is very much appreciated. Xornoth remains quiet for the most part, only vocalizing his inner thoughts when he sees an animal or a human he doesn't like outside of the window.

The kids don't say a word about what Phil showed them in the bathroom. The soap stuff. All so they can sneak into each apartment and satisfy their brains with a bunch of otherworldly shit.

"Pearl, what is the situation with Jimmy?", Tubbo asks once they turn on the main road. They can't see clearly outside thanks to the back of the van not having any windows (initially, it was intended as storage space, like all other vans but you have to transport villains somehow) but they can feel every dip and bump that can only belong to the roads of this city.

The villain hums, glancing at the three of them through the rear-view mirror and through the screen that separates the front from the back. A wheel falls in a deep dip of the road, sending Tommy face-first into Ranboo and they both fall over with a scream. The only man standing is Tubbo, who apparently defies the laws of physics just because he's that good.

No one comments on the ridiculous scene anyways.

"We're still looking for him-"

"We have found him"

Silence.

"So, which is it?", Ranboo sasses. Pearl sighs.

"Why do you bother with hiding it from them? They'd have found out eventually", Xornoth, casually and nonchalantly, tells the woman, who in turn glares at him.

"Yes but they'll try to go find him themselves now", she whispers –more like hisses– at him through gritted teeth. Because whispering in front of children with naturally enhanced hearing has always turned out to their favor! Both in and out of costume.

"Okay, can you two stop arguing and tell us details?", Tubbo asks, annoyed. There is another pause. What is it with everyone being so cryptic today? Sheeeesh!

"Grian has some speculations of where Jimmy might be", Pearl starts. "He's contacted The Crowfather about it, I don't think the hero knows who he is actually looking for, though"

Wait. Wait a minute. Oh, that makes so much sense! That's why they had to stay at Phil's for more than one day; Grian was planning on weakening his target from the inside! Sneaky. Very sneaky... and very not interested in keeping his friends' sanity intact by the sound of things.

Well, that is the only disadvantage of having Grian in your friend circle. The moment any of the people in the apartment building and the SBI were put on his friend's list, they signed a waiver.

*

Later, Phil finds himself in front of the Dream Team's house. Dressed in casual clothes, a crow perched on his shoulder and his signature bucket hat resting on his head, he is about to do the craziest, most perplexing shit he's ever done: conspire with a villain. Well, conspire might not be the word for it depending on the view point but Phil doesn't know what else this could be called.

Wilbur stands beside him, wild curls falling over the round rim of his wire glasses, a lack of crows evident but he has his beanie pulled over the back of his head. He is the necessary sacrifice and if Phil could ask anyone else for this shit, he would have because owing to his sons is perhaps the most risky thing he could do.

Which he did. He has yet to regret it but he is certain that fact is bound to change the moment the plan is set in motion.

"You still haven't told me why you need me to search their house", Wilbur mutters, his face remaining neutral as he rings the doorbell. Immediately, there is some shuffling heard from inside, as well as a 'coming!' that is too loud and curled for it to not be George.

Of course, when he told Wilbur that he needed to search the Dream Team's house for some undisclosed reasons, he left out that the higher power that asked him to do it was The Watcher and not the CEO of the other's hero association.

"That is because it's top secret", Phil reminds his son of the fake information he fed him, "I can't go telling people about it"

Wilbur, though, isn't very pleased by that response. "We are about to investigate another hero team's house and you can't tell me about it?", he raises an eyebrow. "Not to mention that George would rather sleep on the couch rather than doing terrorist work"

A loud bump comes from inside, followed by a shout of pain and a colorful string of curses. Oop, someone stabbed their toe. The crow on Phil's shoulder caws like it's a laughing matter (it is), the little sadist. Phil loves his crows, they are so mature and good-hearted... That was sarcasm, by the way.

"I wish I could tell you, Wil. Really, I do" –but if he does, he risks losing his sons forever because of an unclear misunderstanding– "But as things are now, I can't. Just do as I told you and we'll be leaving before you–"

Right then, the door is pushed open, a very messy case of bed hair and an equally sleepy face to match greets them. Some crashing sounds come from inside– not an uncommon occurrence when you put Dream and Sapnap in a house together. This team of heroes is so tight-knit that one of them putting the other in a chokehold is strangely common. It reminds Phil of Wilbur and Techno and he is very glad that he hasn't added a third son to the equation.

"Oh, hey, Wilbur!", the man pipes up, sleepiness disappearing momentarily from his features. "Hey, Phil. How come you two are here?"

"This is no way to treat your guests, Gogy", Wil teases, pushing past to enter the house. Phil will never understand the boundaries his sons have with their friends but he has a whole murder of crows, so... he can't really speak about boundaries when he has at least one bird cawing in his ear.

Hesitantly, he follows Wilbur into the house, a sleep-deprived George following them after closing the door.

The first thing he notices is the lack of people in the house despite the scuffling that was heard previously. Normally, Phil wouldn't even bat an eye, having The Watcher's words in mind, he is suspicious of why it is so quiet. If they are hiding something, they sure make it too easy to make themselves look at fault.

The kitchen is visible from the spot Phil is and he can see at least two bowls, one full of cereal and the other without milk, on the smooth kitchen table. Where had the other two disappeared off to? So quickly too. Did they rush to change and greet their guests? Such professionals! If Phil could care more, he'd praise them more but he doesn't, and so he remains as he is: definitely not calm, definitely not relaxed but darn set on appearing to be the exact opposite.

"It's so early, why are you here?", George all but whines. Wilbur ignores him, chuckling at his childishness. Phil eyes the door off to the side, leading to the garage. He hasn't visited many times before but he remembers that door always being left open just a smidge and always smelling of smoke because the garage was turned into Sapnap's smithing workshop the moment they bought the house.

Now, the door is closed, which should be normal considering Sapnap isn't in there and has presumably gone to his room but for some reason... Phil can't tell why... he feels this sort of unsettlement in his chest. The fluff of his black wings bristles. He forces himself to calm the F down, clenching a hand at his side.

The crow on his shoulder caws when George collapses on the couch, pulling a blanket over himself.

"Can I not visit my Gogy-Wogy?", Wilbur proceeds with a babying voice, pinching the other's cheek as if he were an actual child. The chi– the adult in question swats away his friend's hand, almost biting a finger off.

"Stoooop, Wilbur!", his cries go unanswered as Wilbur all but falls ontop of him, pulling the blanket over the man's head instead, muffling any other attempts at calling for help. If Phil wasn't on this super secret mission, he would've laughed.

"Where are the other two?", he asks when he sits down. The crow on his shoulder scratches its feathers and then gets comfortable on his shoulder, snuggling up to his neck. The tickling sensation does little to calm his nerves.

Just then, a head pops out of the hallway. It's Dream, recognizable by his mask and lime green hoodie and Phil offers a little, tired wave.

"Oh, it's just you two", the hero sighs in relief, sagging against the back of the couch. Wilbur raises an eyebrow as Sapnap follows the other, already in his hero gear and attire and hand smoking.

"What the fuck are you doing here?", the ravenet asks, reasonably confused.

"I just stopped by to discuss some boring HQ things with the three of you, mate", Phil easily lies through his teeth. No one other than Wilbur appears to notice. "Wil just tagged along"

The crow caws again, alarmed by something that Phil can't see. More caws sound from outside, although considerably muffled with the windows and front door closed. It was going so damn smoothly, too! He looks at the bird on his shoulder displeased but the crow is gawking at something in front of them. When Phil traces the bird's gaze, he catches something moving under the collar of Dream's hoodie–

"Speaking of!", his son exclaims loud enough for the bird noises to be covered. He grabs the TV remote that's resting on the coffee table beside the couch. With a click, the TV has been turned on and Phil covers his ears, "How about you pay attention to the TV? Don't move and don't ask questions"

The ambush works perfectly. None of the heroes were prepared for Ghostbur's set of moves, especially since they are friends. The three hypnotized heroes stare at the TV, though Phil doubts they're oblivious to what is happening and Wilbur's hold might not last as long as he hopes.

"Go"

Wilbur doesn't need to tell him twice before Phil is heading towards the rooms, sending a thankful nod his son's way. He doesn't linger in the living room, instead rushing down the hall and opens the first door he sees. There is a study; an office with a couple bookshelves on the wall and a plant next to the door. The crow flies off to perch on one of the books lying forgotten on the top of the bookshelf.

The drawers are opened with little grace, papers slightly crumpled as he pulls piles of files out and onto the desk. Skimming through, he doesn't find anything that could possibly belong to The Watcher; no written agreement, stolen documents or anything else that screamed that it belonged to an infamous villain.

"Fuck, this won't do", he mutters under his breath, brushing hair out of his face as he leaves the office in a hurry, leaving the room runsucked. The flapping of wings follows him, accompanied by a displeased and annoyed caw.

The rest of the doors are bedrooms and a bathroom and a spacious storage closet, which hold nothing of note if one ignores the many expensive trinkets put on display in the heroes' rooms. Phil doesn't steal anything but the crow following him has a new ring around its leg that somehow doesn't fall off. The man doesn't chide it, knowing fully well that the bird will simply tell him to kindly fuck off and only waste time in the end.

He huffs in annoyance as he clears another room, presumably Dream's –the walls painted in bright green and white speak for themselves– throwing yet another blanket over the bed to look under it. Dust collects at his fingertips when he swipes at a suspiciously dark spot, thinking it's blood (in the worst case) but ends up being a rough spot on the wooden flooring.

Where? Where is your damn– what did they even steal from you? A fucking feather?

What could they even steal from him? No one knows where the guy lives, he wasn't missing any sort of accessory the last time he saw the guy and he sure as hell hadn't lost a shoe, either! What else could he have lost to a team of heroes–

The answer hits him like a sack of bricks and for a moment, he feels light-headed. Almost falling backwards and clutching his forehead in his hand like he'd actually been hit, he turns sharply on his heel to make his way to the living room again, where the three heroes are unmoving statues in front of the TV. A random comedy sitcom is playing on low volume.

An ally. They stole an ally.

He stops short of the closed, inside garage door.

Wait, why the Hell do I care so much?

He shakes his head and promptly ignores Wilbur's questioning looks that are thrown at his distressed state. The handle of the door rattles as he tries to push down on it. It's locked. Fucker. They must be keeping whoever it is they kidnapped in the garage.

Now, normally, Phil wouldn't be mad about a villain going missing only to turn up in jail a few days later. Normally, Phil knows when a bad guy is apprehended in the streets or in some blown-up bank. This is straight up kidnapping and God knows if those three have done more than interrogate some random dude under a heat lamp. Civil rights are still a thing, afterall.

"I'm breaking the door"

"Wha– Phil!"

Phil is ramming into the wooden surface of said door with his arm before Wilbur can convince him not to. In unison, the crows caw in the distance and wind splashes as black shapes fly off of the trees. Something distinctly crackles; not electricity, no, though he can't tell what it is.

His eyes fall upon a dark smithing area; Sapnap's smithing area. It's dark, little slivers of light filtering through from behind him. If he didn't have the eyesight of a crow, he wouldn't have picked up on the movement in the back wall. There is someone there; Sapnap never stored furs, did he? So that must be hair– the hair of someone's head.

In that moment, he feels adrenaline rushing through his head, straight to his fingertips while simultaneously, the floor is disappearing from under his feet. He fumbles for the light for a second, then flicks the switch to bathe the room in a yellow-hued, white light.

...He doesn't expect to find the kind, meek and timid cashier of the video club next to Grian's house. He especially doesn't expect to see him tied on a chair with duct tape over his mouth, words that are already a struggle to give, being muffled further.

"Found him!", he doesn't know who he yelled that at but there are no crows cawing outside and the crow that's been with him so far has flown to the wide garage door, scratching against the metal with its little claws.

He ignores Wilbur, who peeks his head in through the door with a very confused "What the fuck is he doing here?"

"Hey, Jimmy, right?", Phil approaches, gently placing a hand on the hostage's shoulder. The man nods and The Crowfather turns to his son for a second. "How long?"

It takes a second for a response. "Like, two more minutes? At best"

Holding in a breath, Phil turns back to the guy, who is looking back at him with pleading, mortified but relieved eyes. "I'm sorry, mate", he starts, momentarily tightening his grip on the shoulder he's holding. "Trust me, this will hurt you more than it will me" and with no further warning, he rips the tape off of the man's face, wincing at the shout of pain.

Look. He didn't intend to lie to the guy. So, he didn't– let's just ignore how sadistic his words sounded.

"Sorry, if I had more time, I'd have used a less painful method but–"

"Untie me!", is the first thing Jimmy shouts at him– and, well, Phil can't see why not to do that. "Untie me now, please!" Still, he can't begin to fathom why The Watcher would be allied with an apparently powerless, mortal man! Is he an informant? An assassin? A friend from– well, not from work but outside of work?

Right as he gets behind the man and begins to tug at the ropes binding his arm, chest and wrists, Wilbur yells from the entrance to the garage. His son flies in, hitting the floor chest-first and wheezing, jolting on his side the moment the impact registers.

"What the fuck!?"

He knows, at that moment, that they are all more or less fucked. Dream is standing at the doorway, silhouetted by the light behind him, face masked and hands glowing gold like most things he makes with his Creation. Jimmy goes stock-still in his seat, breath hitching as he eyes the hero.

"Dream, what the fuck?", Phil questions, glancing at Wilbur, who is steadily recovering from the blow, already on his way to standing.

"I'm sorry, Wilbur! Had to get rid of your effect somehow", Dream says, voice sheepish for a moment. "I swear, we can explain!"

That's when he catches it: that same movement he'd spotted under the collar of the lime green hoodie. A– a something pops out, the size of a golf ball and with the initials 'XD' and a cone-shaped body like a chess piece. It hops out of hiding and sits right on Dream's shoulder.

Phil doesn't know what to make of it.

*

"Look", they hear Xornoth say behind the screen separating the back from the front of the van. The three of them are sprawled out on the floor of it, seeing as the bumps and dips can't harm them if they don't allow their bodies to bounce up and down on their bums.

"What is that?", Pearl responds with a sort of awe that makes Tommy's ears perk up. As normal as hearing Pearl coo and awe at every little animal that passes by, Tommy doubts that Xornoth has the same interests. The guy barely bats an eye when a squirrel passes by and no one does that!

"What is what?", he asks, sitting up on his knees and looking through the screen. Woah, okay, that is definitely not normal.

There is a cloud in the distance. A dark gray, almost black, and if he didn't know any better, he'd have thought that it was about to rain on a sunny day. He does know better, however, and he knows that that cloud is definitely not normal. He also knows that there is no villain in this city that can control the weather, unless another noob is making their grand debut.

Which he doubts. That shit is too big to be caused by a noob. Especially when there is a white and blue lightning strike that thunders loudly despite the unnatural stormcloud being far away. The sound jostled Tubbo, who was having a nice time crushing poor Ranboo's lungs with his head, using the taller boy's ribs as a pillow.

"What the fuck was that?!"

Ranboo stands too, hunched over so he can look through the screen. "Okay, why is there a stormcloud there?"

"Gods", Xornoth scoffs with the tiniest bit of amusement in his voice. "Your friends are at war"

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

Pearl giggles, manic and disturbed like that one time she stayed up past her bedtime to draw up some architecture blueprints. Or that other time when she didn't sleep at all and terrorized Fundy with a knife. 5AM Pearl –as that state of the woman has thus been dubbed– is scary as fuck.

"Buckle up, boys, we are taking a detour!"

That is the only warning they get before Pearl steps on the gas pedal, flinging the van into kingdom come and causing a bunch of crashes in her wake.

It really shouldn't be this adrenaline inducing but the speed is exhilarating.

*

"That is what you want me to help you with?!"

"It's no big deal, really, Quackity", Scar deflects with a smile, charming but deadly all the same.

The day was great. It was great until some magic in the air decided to ruin it. Scar cringes as the sun is steadily being hidden by the forming clouds that had no means of transport to begin with. This is just unfair. Scary but mostly unfair. Grian didn't tell him that the god they were chasing could summon lightning!

Or that the god had more control than they should over a foreign dimension. It is troubling how easily that cloud has formed...

"I agreed to help you with The Watcher but anything beyond that isn't my problem", the avian huffs, arms crossed and golden wings fluffed up.

"But this is helping me with The Watcher", Scar insists. "We really need all the help we can get to resolve this problem. Even the Goatfather has agreed to help!"

Quackity looks at him with a bewildered face.

"Goatfather?", the salesman nods, the smile never leaving his face. "I guess that fucking madman is mad enough to get involved in this shit"

"Yep! Maybe you'll get a close up on his World Eater too! Maybe strike a deal or two with him? I hear he's got some amazin' world-ending machines in the works"

Quackity waves at Slimecicle, who is silently sitting in the driver's seat, observing his boss and Scar from the rear-view mirror. The limousine silently starts, the bumps on the road barely registering. Why Quackity chose to visit the poorer side of town (in relevance to Las Nevadas' glory and wealth), Scar doesn't know.

What he does know is that his behind and waist won't suffer the awful roads they'll travel through and he can be grateful for that. Grian hasn't called upon them yet, meaning that they have time to prepare some and scavenge for mercenaries in Las Nevadas.

It's not time for war just yet.