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There's a clock ticking. There always is. Ranboo isn't sure how much longer he can stand here and listen to the same tick-tok-tick-tok over and over without going insane. He doesn't know how Tommy's done it.
His communicator rings and Ranboo barely slides the call to Accept, dodging a swipe and bringing his staff down. The monster vanishes with one good thwack, disappearing in a plume of smoke. If Tommy was trying to hurt him, Ranboo would be dead. Ranboo's fought a lot of monsters, a lot of creatures like Tommy, ones that hid in the shadows until their power awoke with a startle that shook the world, but he's never fought one with as much power as Tommy. He's out of his league, he's in over his head, and he doesn't know what he's going to do when Tommy gets tired of him and decides to really try and hurt him.
"This a bad time, mate?" Phil asks from the com, and Ranboo pulls it over so it can float around him as he fights. "Oh, on a mission? Is it not going well?" Philza's tone is sickly sweet but he might be Ranboo's last option.
Ranboo grits his teeth. The Syndicate, the biggest monsters around, know him. He was assigned as the official ambassador between the hunters and... them, but they didn't particularly like him either. They just didn't kill him.
"You could-" Ranboo grunts and smashes another monster to dust. "You could say that."
The clocks tick, but they're running backwards. Ranboo knows.
"What are they having you clean up this time?" Philza's voice is falsely casual, saccharine and sickening, but he's. He's the only option. The last Hunter backup Ranboo had called to the scene were dead.
Their bodies have vanished by now. Ranboo can almost see their faces swirling in the monsters, in the dust piles below his feet, and he's not sure why he isn't joining them. He doesn't want to, but they're never seeing the end of this. Their families will have nothing to bury.
"He's grieving," Ranboo gasps out. He looks up and the com shifts with him, showcasing the clock tower at the centre of the once-lively town. The people dance like puppets in the shadows, Ranboo's old comrades in their faces. He can see the strings. "He lost- he lost his friend. The only one part of his... his pack? His flock?" Philza makes a crooning noise. It's monster in origin and Ranboo fights back a shudder.
"He must be young for it to have such a big reaction." Philza says.
"He's created a time loop," Ranboo admits. Philza goes silent, goes still, and both their eyes are fixed on the figure on top of the stage, at the body cradled in his arms. There's magic swirling around him, the kind of desperation that comes from willing to do anything but failing anyway. "He's killed everyone in the surrounding area for at least 200 kilometres. They were a pack of two- and his two is gone. He's alone." Ranboo forces his way forward, but the clocks are ticking backwards, and every step feels harder. "He's trying to save his friend."
Tommy buries his head into Tubbo's jacket and screams. Tubbo's life runs out, again, because Tommy's power isn't enough to send them back for more than fifteen minutes. It isn't enough to undo the sickness, isn't enough time at all . Ranboo thinks he knows and just doesn't care.
The clocks tick backwards and Ranboo is blown backwards, away from the stage. Golden eyes open, threads attach, and the clocks spiral to fifteen minutes before this all happened.
-
“I can’t get-” Ranboo swears under his breath as his staff is torn away. The piles of ash reform - he’s pretty sure that’s Nook’s face under the latest one but don’t think about it don’t think about it - “I can’t get close-”
“What do you know about him?” Philza has dropped the pretending, dropped the false sweetness. He is moving, rustling coming from Ranboo’s com.
“He’s sixteen,” Ranboo says. He lunges for his staff, comes up in a roll, and the monster hits him harder than any have before. Tommy is losing himself. “He’s alone and he’s lonely, and whatever he is, he passed well enough for human that he was raised here and raised by humans. He had a brother. His brother is dead.” Ranboo dodges a swipe, smashes the monster- it doesn’t dissolve. He has enough time to think that’s not ideal before it punches him square in the nose. He staggers backwards, blood dribbling down his face, and he wonders how he’s going to look reflected in the monsters’ eyes.
“...we’re on our way,” Philza says. He isn’t asking permission. “Where are you?” Now, theoretically, Ranboo could lie. The Hunters wouldn’t want him giving away such a powerful weapon to the Syndicate. But Ranboo is alone and injured, and Tommy is just a kid. He’s younger than Ranboo, and Ranboo’s the youngest of the Hunters. Ranboo knows what the Hunters do to kids like Tommy. Kids that are passed off as human and so powerful. He’ll be used as a weapon, as a tool.
“Snowchester,” Ranboo says, after a beat of heavy silence. “It’s a real shame- that I’m so occupied by fighting these monsters that you guys snuck in undetected. And since my com isn’t picking up any Hunter calls and I have no backup, there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop you from getting Tommy out of here.”
He hopes Philza picks up what he’s putting down, but judging by the snort, the man’s gotten the message loud and clear.
“Such a shame,” he muses. His voice is distorted as the clocks start to tick again. Ranboo uses his staff to vault onto the rooftops, getting a better look at Tommy. The kid passes as human because his body is, or at least- the host of him is. His magic is everywhere the loop is- in the ground as sigils burning the soles of Ranboo’s feet, in the blue-rimmed eyes that watch him from every corner, in the golden towers of sand that fall upside down, each grain spiraling to the sky. “I suppose we have to take him into our custody.”
Ranboo smiles. It’s not quite… happy, he doesn’t think. But it’s better than the alternative. “I suppose you do.”
---
It takes another loop until they arrive and the monsters are only hitting harder. Tommy is still curled around Tubbo's body, desperately trying to turn back time on what Ranboo thinks was a genetic illness. There wasn't any saving Tubbo, but Tommy is the kind of loyal that follows you to hell whether you want him to or not, and Ranboo knows that Tommy will try until he's exhausted of all his magic. Until he dies.
The air shimmers, the ground ripples, and a dark shape passes overhead.
Ranboo will never get used to the sight of Philza descending from the clouds. The official diagnosis of his species was just eldritch - something Ranboo thinks they'll classify Tommy as too - because he didn't quite match up with anything they knew of, and every time someone pressed him for information, he dodged the questions.
Dark wings shield Ranboo from the next blow, white diamond tips glowing as the monsters scatter into dust from the force of Philza's landing. Ranboo gasps, trying to catch his breath- it's been a long, long hour and a half. Philza inclines his head, pupils slitted into thin tallies. It's not the friendliest greeting Ranboo's ever received, but the… man? Cryptid? Creature? Just saved his ass, so he'll take it.
"Nice weather?" Ranboo wheezes, leaning on his staff to try and support his shaking knees. Philza snorts a bit, turning his head to the centre of the town- to where the magic is the thickest.
The veil ripples again, with the smell of seawater and blood, the sound of a lyre and war drums. The twins are here.
"He's over there?" Wilbur appears behind him, silver-tongued and musical, his fins rippling around his ears. "His energy is all over this place. He's hard to pinpoint."
The Blood God grunts.
"Technically he is this place," Ranboo points out. He stabs at a sigil, gestures vaguely towards the blue-rimmed eyes. They've snapped to attention, pupils slitted and fixed on the newcomers. The sand towers pause, the grains stopping their slow fall, but then resume. Are they falling or lifting? Ranboo thinks they're falling, just upside down, but maybe it's a matter of perspective. "But his body is over by the clocktower."
The twins' heads snap over in sync, but they've been here too long. Tommy lets out the same, blood-curling wail Ranboo's been hearing all night. He isn't affected anymore, but the cryptids still recoil like they've been burned. It probably means more to them- Ranboo imagines it's a call of come home, come back, I'm lonely. Something that should be answered and that for Tommy, won't ever be again. Philza sucks in a breath of air as the magic intensifies, shuddering gold, but even Ranboo can see the cracks. Tommy won't be able to keep this up much longer.
The clocks shudder and spin, the ticking getting louder, and Ranboo braces as he's thrown backwards. Wilbur shouts when he's thrown and Philza makes a startled chirp noise, but Ranboo just waits for the nauseous pinch-pull of the teleport, for the blackness to scatter off like stars from the edge of his vision, and then he rolls with the momentum, dodging the first swipe of claws. There's six monsters. He'll hit one, turn to hit the other, get smacked across the back and see how Tommy's feeling-
The monster dissolves into ash as the Blood God's axe buries itself into its head.
Or… that. That works too.
“We don’t have time to waste here.” The Blood God grumbles, and jerks his chin, jumping off onto the roof. Ranboo scrambles to follow, staff at the ready, but the Blood God throws his axe at the heads of the monsters, blade spinning. It goes skittering across the rooftop, but vanishes in a flurry of red sparkles, and another appears in the cryptid’s hands. Ranboo’s pretty sure that that was the most amount of words the Blood God has ever spoken to him at once- what was it- seven whole words? Ranboo feels special.
They take off across the rooftops, the Blood God’s eyes alight behind his mask. He snarls and bodies his way through a pack of monsters, red slashes appearing around his body and cutting through them like paper. The eyes are watching him, and although they’re trying to look angry, Ranboo gets the distinct sense that they’re impressed, too.
Finally, they land right behind the body. As soon as Ranboo’s feet touch the wooden floorboards, he can hear a… really aggressive, kind of annoying peeping sound? He looks up and blinks- there’s Wilbur, the famed Siren cryptid, hanging onto Philza’s leg with his own legs curled into his chest. He’s out his mouth open, and he’s-
“Peep peep peep,” Wilbur peeps. If shit-eating had a face- “Peep peep pee-” he cuts himself off with an unholy shriek as Philza puts on taloned foot on his head and pushes down, forcing him off. Ranboo just steps to the side as Wilbur falls ass-first onto the floorboards. They break under his weight and he shrieks again, hands coming to brace himself from falling through the floor. Betrayed, he glares upwards. “Phil! How could you! My ass!”
Ranboo’s pretty sure his ass is the least of his worries. Philza lands and whacks Wilbur with a wing, but lets the cryptid grab it to help himself get up. They’re bickering and Techno’s watching them, but that’s not what Ranboo’s focused on. Tommy’s shoulders are shaking.
“Tommy?” he whispers. He comes around the front of the body, kneeling and trying to catch Tommy’s eyes, to see how aware of his body he is. The kid isn’t here, but all the eyes are focused on Ranboo. Tubbo, in Tommy’s arms, is wheezing out dead-breaths. The kind you have to fight for, the kind that mean your lungs are seconds away from giving in. Ranboo’s heard it before. “Tommy? Hi, I’m Ranboo. I’ve been here for a bit.”
Tommy’s fingers curl tighter into Tubbo. There are golden cracks leading up his face, into his eyes- his eyes themselves are a mess of golden magic. He’s giving everything he’s got. The cryptids have stopped their fighting and have approached, but Ranboo knows that they’re not going to help here. Tommy needs the truth.
“He’s dead,” the words are out of his mouth before he can really think about them and Philza hisses. Wilbur snarls out a warning and Techno takes a step forward, but Tommy’s head snaps up to stare at him. The eyes around the city fill with tears. “And you can’t save him, Tommy. You know he’s dead.” Ranboo takes a more comfortable seat, gestures to himself, and swallows his fear. He has to get through to this kid. Tommy was raised by a human, raised with humans. This will be the only thing that might work. “Humans die. I’m human- we see it all the time. It happens, we’re not like cryptids. We’re not like you guys. We die, but we move on.” Ranboo pats Tubbo’s arm. “It was slow right? It was creeping. It came out of nowhere, but he’d been sick more often and more frequently for a long time.” the tears spill over. Water soaks into Ranboo’s shoes, but he doesn’t look behind him to see the eye that’s probably staring down his back. “It happens and I’m sorry. But you can’t save him- your magic isn’t strong enough. You’ll die with him if you keep this up.”
Tommy curls his fingers tighter, as if to say yes. If I can’t save him, then yes.
“He isn’t a cryptid,” Ranboo reminds, gently. “He wouldn’t want you to treat him like one. You’d be breaking your pack-bond with him.” Tommy visibly recoils, fingers uncurling. Tubbo shifts out of his lap, chest stilling. The clocks stop ticking and Ranboo holds his breath. “He would want you to treat you like you were human, and that means moving on. Mourning him, burying him, and remembering him. But not destroying yourself for him. He would want you to be happy,” Ranboo gestures behind him, and he knows the eyes have shifted to the cryptids. “And they can make that happen.”
There’s silence. The water has soaked through his pants, but he knows Tommy’s thinking about it.
Philza clears his throat. “I know quite a bit about human funeral rites,” he offers. He steps forward, wings fluttering. Gently, so gently, they curl around Tommy’s shoulders. “We will give him nothing but the best to send him to Trix-” he glances up at Ranboo. “-to his afterlife.”
The sands recede and Ranboo steps back. Tubbo’s body falls out of Tommy’s hands as the little cryptid returns to himself. He starts sobbing, magic still burned into his skin. Ranboo isn’t sure if it’ll scar. Philza wraps his wings around him. They look soft and Ranboo hopes they are. Techno lays a hand on his shoulderblades, quiet, reassuring, and Wilbur hums gently, magic laced into the notes. It gives back some of what Tommy’s lost and calms him down, until he’s sleeping in Philza’s arms.
“We owe you a favour, Ranboo.” Philza says. He’s all business again, like Ranboo didn’t see him fawning over his new kid.
Ranboo just shrugs. “Nothing I could do,” he picks up his staff and turns around. “No backup and you guys made off with the cryptid before I could intervene. What a shame.”
And it really was. Ranboo walks off the stage to the sounds of Philza fussing. It was a shame that he was indebted to the Hunters and that he'd signed a contract before understanding what he was really signing up for.
All he could do was walk away.
---
Three months later, what had been dubbed the Clocktown Incident had been mostly swept under the rug. Dream, the lead Hunter and the man Ranboo personally reported to, was suspicious of the circumstances surrounding it. Apparently there had been teams of other Hunters around the city, but Tommy had been keeping them out. None of their detection drones were able to get in either, and the little cameras they did toss into the city and collected when Tommy's barriers went down were just filled with static with the sounds of Tubbo's death-rattles repeating on loop.
Officially, Ranboo's report was that he couldn't recover the Clocktown Cryptid. He arrived on scene and was the sole survivor of his team. His requests for backup were not filled. He was being dragged back to the start every fifteen minutes and was not able to approach the cryptid before the Syndicate showed up and made off with him. At that point, Ranboo was able to rendezvous with reinforcements. He didn't know the cause of the cryptid's awakening.
Unofficially, Ranboo was lying off his ass and Dream knew it. He was being put on more and more solo missions. His communicator was fucking up and his requests for backup were going ignored. His missions were getting more and more dangerous, too, and Dream was ignoring his reports and requests for an actual team. Even at the base where Ranboo slept and ate, people avoided him like the plague. They didn’t spend a lot of time with him before, but now they actively avoided him. His table at the mess hall was empty and his weapons were always returned unrepaired.
They knew he was a traitor. They were trying to get him killed, and there was shit all Ranboo could do about it.
Which led him to here- in the middle of an enormous fight with three out-of-control cryptids. These guys weren’t the usual cryptid they dealt with. Ranboo wasn’t even sure they counted, but at least this time, there were other Hunters involved. Dream and his own team were here too, Sapnap’s fire gauntlets causing the burn-patterns across the cryptid’s swollen skin. These guys used to be human, and then were exposed to some kind of poison that turned them into mindless creatures. Ranboo was calling them zombies.
They were distorted and swollen, skin puffed up in weird places and they liked to bite. Ranboo had watched Dream take a bite to the neck and stifled his chuckle, although, judging by the sheer fury emanating from Dream every time the older Hunter glanced in Ranboo’s direction, he’d have to guess that he didn’t quite stifle it enough…
The three cryptids approached from Ranboo’s one, five, and nine- he backed up, trying to keep his eyes on all three of them. Well this was- not good. The cryptids had some crazy increased strength and Ranboo was going to get killed if he tried to fight them on his own. George and Sapnap were right beside him five minutes ago, so where did they-
Ranboo chanced a glance upwards, and froze. Dream stood on a small cliff face, out of the cryptids' line of sight. His cape flapped dramatically behind him, face hidden behind his mask. Ranboo could still see the blood splatter on the fabric. George and Sapnap flanked him, and although they were fidgeting, nervous, they weren't intervening.
The betrayal felt like a sinking stone in his gut. While it was one thing to be left for dead out on a mission, it was a whole other to be… abandoned in the middle of one.
Ranboo's delay was costly, and while he hadn't been looking, one of the zombies approached with a lunge. Ranboo yelped, and made to leap backwards, but time seemed to slow down.
Time seemed to-
His eyes slammed open as the zombie glowed a faint gold and it rewound backwards. Sigils burned under his feet, thrumming with the butterfly beats of Ranboo's heart, and this time, under control.
Distantly, Ranboo watched Dream spin around as the tick-tock started, eyelids appearing slowly around the landscape, fluttering open. The one nearest to him dragged its lashes on the ground, leaving harsh indents in the dust. Ranboo leaned into it, finding it solid and almost fuzzy, sort of like the skin of a peach. If he concentrated hard, he could hear the sounds of Tubbo's death-rattle, but it was overtaken by a short guitar line, a clinging of jewelry, a rustle of feathers.. The pupil flickered to him lazily, and he knew he was being watched through it.
"Tommy?" he offered. The eye nearest to him blinked.
Ranboo heard another startled shout and then something fell on him. He tried to look up, but all he saw was gold- and then the spots of sand started appearing across the battlefield.
As the sand hit Ranboo's skin, it tingled. He looked down at his arm - he'd gotten bit earlier - and a little clock was floating over the bite mark, the hands ticking backwards. It faded, the imprint of teeth leaving a white mark, a red mark, and then nothing. The rest of Ranboo's injuries followed a similar pattern, clocks appearing around his body. The aches and scrapes and bruises faded, time ticking backwards on his hurts.
The sand abruptly stopped, and when it did, there was a little hand in his. Ranboo looked down, and Tommy's body was leaning against him, eyes lazily half-lidded. He was still transferring the rest of himself into the landscape, into the towers and the clocks and the sand. Ranboo squeezed at his fingers and Tommy leaned into him more.
He looked better. He'd shifted into a younger form, appearing closer to seven or eight, if Ranboo had to guess. He was wearing a large knit sweater with a cow on it, a little cow plushie hanging from the hand that wasn't occupied by Ranboo. His hair wasn't greasy anymore and the bags under his eyes were gone- he was healthier. He'd gained weight, and there was a glow to his skin that had nothing to do with his powers. There was an emerald sitting on a beautiful woven gold chain.
"Who's your friend?" Ranboo sat down, wrapping his arm around Tommy's shoulders as the kid leaned against him.
"..." Tommy had to think about it, eyes blinking open before closing again. "Henry."
"He looks fuzzy."
"Mhm."
Distantly, Dream screamed and there was a wet sound, flopping somewhere near him. Something splashed on his shoe but he didn’t turn to look at it.
“Thanks for coming for me,” Ranboo gave Tommy’s hand a little squeeze as Sapnap’s shouts cut off with another wet noise. “I would’ve been toast.”
“You didn’t give up on me,” the eyes shifted, staring. Ranboo knew from the minute he started down this venture that there was no going back. “I’m not giving up on you.”
Dream dies. Ranboo was pretty sure it was to the Blood God, but he wasn’t certain. Something hit the ground and he knew it was Dream’s body, but he wasn’t going to turn around and look.
“Ranboo,” there’s a shuffle of feathers and dragging footsteps, and Ranboo knows that Philza’s only letting him hear him because he wants to. He’s being polite. “This counts as your favour repaid, yes?”
“Yes,” Ranboo says. “Thanks.”
“Now that you’re not bound to the Hunters, where will you go?” Philza comes into view. His talons and wings are stained with blood, dripping off in red globs. The crows that were circling overhead had vanished and Ranboo has a feeling they’re eating the bodies.
He shrugs. “Not sure,” he says, honestly. “Maybe travel a bit? I’ve never been anywhere else… not that I can remember, anyway. Maybe once I find a place to settle down, I’ll open a bookshop. I like books.”
“I want to keep him,” Tommy’s little hand curls in his jacket. There’s a rip, giving the cryptid leverage. The eyes have slitted their pupils, staring intently down at him. “He reminds me of…” Tubbo’s raspy breaths suddenly become clearer in the tick-tocks.
“You want to keep him, sunshine?” Philza descends to dote, cupping Tommy’s cheeks and leaving bloody trails on his face and in his hair. Ranboo opens his mouth, but then there’s slimy hands curling around his shoulders and a fin tickling his neck as the Siren whispers Be silent. Be still. Ranboo is intimately aware of how close Siren’s teeth are to his throat, but he can’t move.
“You want him? You can have whatever you want, darling,” Philza fusses, curling his talons into Tommy’s hair. The little cryptid leans into the contact with a happy sigh. “Are you sure you want him? He’s human.”
“You can change that, can’t you?” Tommy almost whines. “I want him to be mine, Dadza.” The high tone seems to do something to Philza, because his pupils suddenly dilate and Siren’s fins rattle against Ranboo’s neck, leaving little scratches in their wake.
Philza makes an inhuman coo, quickly crushing Tommy to his chest and burying his bloody mouth in Tommy’s hair. He starts mumbling to himself, staring Ranboo down. “I supposed I could… he certainly has potential. I could bind him to you, darling, so he would be yours. Is that what you want?”
Tommy nods. “Please, please?” he asks, and Philza’s pupils dilate so hard that Ranboo can’t see their original colour. Just dark.
“Of course, love, sunshine, heart of mine-” Philza crushes Tommy into his chest like he’s trying to merge the smaller cryptid into himself, wings mantling around the pair. He stretches an arm out towards Ranboo, eyes trained on his head. “Just let me-”
The Siren’s spell means he can’t even wriggle or scream when the pain starts. His eyes roll back in his head when he passes out, and Ranboo hopes against all odds that they haven’t just killed him.
---
His name is Ranboo and he belongs to Tommy.
His memory isn’t great- he forgets a lot of things, but they always forgive him. Tommy doesn’t mind. Techno brought back a journal, bound in some kind of leather. Ranboo asked what it was and Techno said it was human and belonged to a man named Dream.
Ranboo doesn’t know if that’s important enough to write down in his memory book, but he does anyway. He twists his talons, accidentally cutting a hole in his shirt. It’s a common problem here- he, Phil, and Wilbur all have claws. There’s a lot of sewing that goes on.
Tommy’s presence brushes against his and Ranboo stands, tucking his book in his bag and rushing out the door. He belongs to Tommy, so if Tommy wants him, he has to come quickly.
The youngest cryptid is sitting in front of the fireplace, a giant mirror reflecting his closed eyes.
“I want to braid your hair.” Tommy says and Ranboo sits. He purrs and vroops as Tommmy braids, brushing through his hair with the kind of gentleness Ranboo almost doesn’t expect from him. He pulls his book out and writes Tommy is gentle. It seems important.
Behind Ranboo’s split, half-black and half-white skin, Tommy is smiling. It’s hard to braid around Ranboo’s horns, but he still tries his best and doesn’t touch the base of them. They’re still sensitive and Ranboo can’t remember why, but if he didn’t write it down, then it wasn’t important.
“All done.” Tommy murmurs. Ranboo curls his tail around Tommy’s wrist and the golden eyes floating lazily around them close in contentment.
They lay together in front of the fire. It’s warm and safe.
It’s nice.