Chapter Text
Wilbur has had a lot of great ideas in his lifetime. This was not one of them.
Pulling an all-nighter had seemed like a brilliant stroke of inspiration yesterday, but now, with the reality of waking up with a pencil stuck to your face and a ringtone blasting in your ear, Wilbur was beginning to regret his decision.
Throwing his arm out, Wilbur grasped his phone and bringing it to his ear, mumbled down the receiver, “Hello?”
There was a pause, and then the voice of his brother crackled back at him.
“So, you’re not dead.”
“What d’you want Techno?” Wilbur’s words were slurred with exhaustion.
“Just thought I’d warn you that Phil is on his way to the office.”
Wilbur hesitated, ah fuck. He had promised Phil he’d be home by 2 am. He hadn’t been home all night. Phil was going to be mad but if Wilbur was being honest, that was the least of his problems right now. The pencil was still stuck to his cheek.
“Oh, thanks.”
“No problem— Oh, and I cracked the Easton case.”
Wilbur froze.
“You— WHAT?”
“Tracked down the trafficking ring yesterday, 67 people awaiting trial at a police station, full evidence to back it up.”
“Dickhead, why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”
“I tried. You wouldn’t listen.”
Wilbur could vaguely remember techno saying something about it… But he’d been too wrapped up in his unsolved case to pay attention.
“You obviously didn’t try hard enough.”
“Heh, ok. Have you got a lead on that case of yours yet?”
“No, and it’s fucking killing me.”
“It’s ok Wilbur, you’ll get out of your slump eventually.”
Wilbur pursed his lips, “I don’t slump.”
“Sure, you don’t.”
“Slumping is not something I do.”
“So just out of interest,” Techno feigned innocence, “How many cases have you solved in the last week?”
“Fuck off.”
“------”
The line went dead.
Wilbur rubbed his eyes with one of his fists and used the other to comb through his knotted brown curls. He felt the desk in front of him, searching for his cracked pair of round glasses. Finding them under a heap of paper he shoved them back on his face, taking in his office that had been ‘wilburfied’ as Phil so graciously called any room that he made messy.
Papers littered every surface; his tablet was shoved haphazardly on a chair and half-drunk cups of coffee balanced on the edge of the table. But apart from that, Wilbur’s office was spotless.
His eyes drifted to the holographic projection against one of the walls, displaying all the leads he had on the case. It was a mess of lines, notes, surveillance photos and articles all leading to nowhere. Wilbur had been working for days and every lead had turned out to be a bust. He was bored, exhausted, and yet had absolutely nothing to show for his work.
Wilbur soot, the secret agent extraordinaire, was not in a slump.
There were a few raps on the door and with a shout of acknowledgement from Wilbur, it was thrown open to reveal Phil framed against the doorframe, an expression of worry plastered on his face.
After registering his son’s presence, Phil walked forwards into the room, levelling Wilbur with a stern stare.
“Next time warn me before you pull a stunt like that.” There was no anger in Phil’s voice, just relief.
Wilbur stared back at him, eyes going in and out of focus with exhaustion.
“Sorry Phil,” He muttered, “If it makes any difference, it was a shit idea.”
Phil’s eyes softened and he moved forward to grab a few of the cups, “Come on, help me bring these back to the kitchen.”
Wilbur groaned, “But Phil, My head hurts.”
“That’s because someone had too much coffee.”
“And that’s because this fucking case is unsolvable,” Wilbur retorted sulkily.
“No case unsolvable, Wil.”
Wilbur covered his ears with his hands, “I am not going to sit here and listen to you spout inspirational shit, I have decided this case is unsolvable. That is until I manage to solve it, then it is allowed to be solvable again.”
“Mhm,” Phil acknowledged, chuckling, his arms overflowing with china of all shapes and sizes.
Then his eyes caught sight of one of the larger mugs. It was balanced on top of Wilbur’s computer, painted yellow and with shaky red handwriting that spelt ‘Best Dad’ around the side.
Phil raised his eyebrows at Wilbur, “Is that my mug?”
It was Phil’s mug. It had been hastily handmade for him by Wilbur and Techno for Father’s Day several years ago and for some reason that Wilbur couldn’t comprehend Phil still hadn’t thrown it out, despite its ugly appearance.
Wilbur turned his head to where Phil was looking and shrugged.
“I was starting to run out of empty containers for coffee. I think I even drank from a bowl at one point.”
There was a pause.
“You drank coffee from a bowl?”
Wilbur nodded sagely, “I don’t recommend though, ended up spilling all over my shirt.”
Phil sighed and muttered to himself, “Why am I even surprised.”
Walking back toward the door, his arms full of ceramic, Phil motioned for Wilbur to follow.
“You are coming with me to the kitchen.”
Wilbur groans in response, “But that involves getting up.”
“Wilbur, if you don’t come now, I will come back in and carry you outside.”
“Argh- fine...” He whined, pushing himself up from his chair and following Phil out of the room.
Wilbur emerged from his office to be greeted by their group ‘apartment’ as Phil liked to call it. He wasn’t exaggerating either, it was a large space with doors leading to each of their offices, a few couches, a kitchen and a wall-length TV. It was a joke between the three of them that these rooms were more likely their family home than their actual apartment. They sure did spend an awful lot of time here.
As Phil walked over to the kitchen, Wilbur collapsed onto the couch, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“So,” Phil called while he began to wash up, “Did you find anything in the end?”
Wilbur groaned, “Don’t talk to me about that fucking case.”
Phil turned to look at his son, who was sprawled on the couch his hair a mess and cracked glasses shoved onto his nose.
“Maybe you just need to focus on something else. That’s the best way to get out of a slump.”
“I’m not in a fucking slump.”
“Mhm.” Phil replied, not convinced.
“Why does everyone think that! I don’t slump. I opposite slump.”
“You pmuls?”
Wilbur shot his father a glare and Phil chuckled, “Ok, ok, I’m sorry. You, unlike the rest of humanity, don’t slump. Please forgive me for thinking otherwise.”
Wilbur ignored Phil and continued scrolling mindlessly through Twitter. It was spouting the same drivel as always, cancelling so-and-so and accusing politicians of one offence or another while still managing to argue over the best way to reheat a pizza.
He rolled his eyes, maybe he should take a break from social media. Now that he was thinking about it, maybe twitter had caused his ‘slump’. It sure did have a way of making his brain go foggy in confusion, maybe it stole a couple of brain cells in the process.
“Wil, could you head down to the lab, Techno’s there and Sam’s just commed me to say that he needs you too,” Phil called from the kitchen.
Awesamdude or Sam was The Syndicate’s leading technician, who could make anything if you asked him for it.
Wilbur had once pestered Sam to make a fake sword for Techno, as soon as he tried to hit anything with it, the sword would transform into a balloon imitation. It had seemed like a very good idea for a birthday present until Techno had decided to hit Wilbur with it anyway. He shivered at the memory, somehow his brother managed to make anything lethal.
“Why didn’t Sam just comm me instead?”
“He did but it didn’t go through.”
Wilbur glanced down at his watch in confusion, before quickly realising what the issue was.
“The screens dead.”
“Oh, well you can ask Sam to take a look at it when you go down to the lab.”
Wilbur sighed, his nap on the couch would have to wait.
“Alright, you can tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
~
Wilbur’s walk to the elevator felt rather like walking to the grave.
His eyes were drooping shut in exhaustion and his neck hurt from sleeping on the desk. The worst part was that it was his fault. Yet another lesson for him not to work overnight.
Glancing out of one of the windows he was met with the same site as every window in the SSS building: a camera operated image of the weather outside.
The Syndicate Secret Service building was built beneath the city, so the only real view you would be getting out of the windows would be rock. Especially as the SBI rooms were one of the lower floors.
None of the Agents knew the exact location of HQ, it had so many entrances that it somehow managed to discombobulate everyone’s sense of direction. They probably had good reason too. It wouldn’t do to have any moles knowing exactly where the base was. This way the engineers could seal off any entrances that were a security hazard.
Once you were out of The Syndicate you wouldn’t be getting back in.
Reaching the elevator doors, Wilbur punched the button for down. A few seconds later a ping announced the arrival of his transport and the doors opened to reveal pink-haired Niki Nihachu, codename Nemesis, smiling back at him. She was the head of the communications and surveillance department and was known around HQ as The Voice due to her constant presence in their ears during missions.
“Morning Ghost.” Ghost was Wilbur’s codename, it wasn’t obligatory to use them around the office, security wasn’t an issue, but sometimes it felt more professional.
Wilbur stepped forward with a grin on his face, “Hey Nemesis.”
“Sorry, you didn’t sleep last night.”
Wilbur turned to stare at her, “How’d you guess that?”
Niki raised an eyebrow in response and gestured to his face.
“It’s hardly a guess, I mean take a look at yourself in the mirror.”
Wilbur glanced at himself in the reflective surface of the elevator and winced. His glasses were crooked and partly broken, his hair looked like it could nest one of his father’s pet crows and his jumper had a coffee stain down the front.
He turned back to Niki, “I don’t see the problem.”
She chuckled and then asked, “What floor?”
“Lab.”
“You got the comm from Sam too?”
“Mhm,” Wilbur acknowledged as the elevator began to descend, “What do you think it’s about?”
“Not sure— Oh, it might be the Junior Applications.”
Wilbur groaned, the Junior Applications was a program run by The Syndicate for young people who wanted a shot at becoming a spy, except they wouldn’t know what they were applying for.
The application was usually written in code within an advertisement in an employment magazine so only the smartest would be able to crack it. If they did, they would find an email address and instructions to send an application video to it. If any passed, which they usually didn’t, then they would become a junior recruit and would tail a department for as long as it would take them to become a fully-fledged agent.
The syndicate had done this process for millennia but the only kid who’d passed in recent years was Ranboo was currently working with Niki in the communications department. Wilbur desperately didn’t want to watch the application videos, they were often too long and very boring, all geeky kids with no flare for adventure.
Niki shot him an understanding look, “You never know we might get some good applicants this year.”
“Yeah right, Frankly I don’t understand why this program even exists, we never gain anything from it.”
“Ranboo’s nice.”
“I know but the chance of getting anyone like him again is so low.”
Niki nodded, before asking, “Where’s Phil anyway? Shouldn’t he be coming down to the lab too?”
Wilbur shook his head, “Nah, if it is for the Junior Applications then he doesn’t need to watch them because he’s too important. Me and Techno just get ditched with watching the shit videos instead.”
The elevator halted and the doors sprang open to reveal the lab.
The entire room was the size of a warehouse, machines dotted around the place like enormous beasts, each invented by Sam and his team of technicians to allow them to create anything from bombs to an invisibility suit, security cameras to private jets. Everything could be made in this lab.
But right now none of the technicians were at work. The entire room was packed with agents, causing a gathering of different departments that only happened twice a year. The visit of the President (or The Captain as most of L’manburg liked to call her) and—
“So, we were right,” Niki said to Wilbur, “It is the Junior Applications.”
Wilbur sighed, “Yes, yes I suppose we were right.”
Wilbur scanned the room for his brother, taking in the chaos that was the laboratory.
Chairs were laid out orderly, grouped into different departments, and people were slowly beginning to take their seats as the projection on the centre wall began to start up. Wilbur picked out Techno, sitting with the rest of the investigations department at the left side of the room. Their department was split into two groups, SBI and Dream Team and there had always been major competition between the two teams over the years, more than once breaking into outright war.
As he took his seat next to his brother, Wilbur punched Techno in the arm to make him aware of his presence. He was taller than Wilbur with bright pink hair and an intimidating glare that could fry a polar bear.
Techno continued to stare at the blank screen ahead of them, “Hello Wilbur, glad to see you’re awake.”
Wilbur fought the urge to swear at his brother in front of the other departments and they sat in comfortable silence, waiting for the videos to begin.
The first few had the same problems as usual; they were boring and average. Wilbur sat through them with his tired mind not taking in a word of what was being said. A few times someone would interrupt to discuss whether they wanted the applicant or not, but then they would fall back into silence and allow for the video to continue.
The entire thing was an exact replica of last year’s meeting. But then they got to the final application.
The video started with two teenagers sitting at a table in a badly lit room. The taller had blond hair, blue eyes and a mischievous smile that caught Wilbur’s attention almost immediately. The other had brown hair and wore an expression of constant intrigue, as though he was about to cut you open just to see how you worked. It freaked Wilbur out a little.
“Um, Hi,” The taller boy started, “I’m Tommy and I’m not exactly sure why we’re doing this—”
The brown-haired boy whispered something in his ear.
“So, I do know why we're doing this. I found some code in a newspaper, Tubbo deciphered it and then decided that it would be a great idea to comply with some dodgy-ass instructions. So, I just want to make it clear that this is Tubbo’s fault.”
The younger boy frowned, causing a couple of people in the audience, including Wilbur, to laugh softly.
“You bitch—” They heard him whisper to Tommy before turning back to the camera.
“Hi, I’m Tubbo and I’m 19,” Wilbur frowned, the boys didn’t look older than 17, “And this is our application video for, uh, well I don’t know.”
The blond kid, Tommy, turned to him, “See! This is such a dumb idea.”
Tubbo glared at his companion, “Shut up Tommy, we’re meant to sound professional.”
That earned several laughs from the audience, the kids seemed to be growing on them.
“So, uh—” Tubbo continued, “I invent things.”
Wilbur noticed Sam sit up a little straighter across the room.
Tommy rolled his eyes, “He doesn’t just invent things… Tubbo created custom fireworks for my birthday with stolen ingredients from the chemistry lab, he made robotic drones the size of bees that can go just about anywhere with components from a DIY store, and he can hack just about anything.”
Tubbo’s cheeks were flushed red.
Wilbur took another glance at Sam to find that the technician was sitting back in his chair, an unreadable expression on his face.
Tommy reached behind him for something and brought it close to the camera waiting for it to focus. The item was a tiny robot bee with such intricate workings it looked like a piece of art.
Within a second Sam is on his feet and said confidently to the room, “We’re taking Tubbo.”
No one said anything in response and he sat down again allowing the video to continue.
It was Tubbo’s time to speak and he adopted a serious expression.
“Tommy can solve any puzzle; he can notice the small things while still taking in the big picture and is probably the bravest person I’ve ever met.”
That was interesting but not ground-breaking, a lot of people said things like that.
“He is also a brilliant actor; he can play any role and make himself endearing to anyone.”
Now Wilbur was interested. A good actor often meant someone quick-witted and calm under pressure.
He glanced a Techno, who was looking at the screen expressionlessly.
“He can also be the most infuriatingly opinionated person you will ever meet.”
Tommy shot his companion a glare.
“I’m not opinionated, bitch.”
“Sure,” Tubbo replied sarcastically, “Remember the time you won the English award by writing an entire essay on the way the school system is fuckin’ awful—”
Tommy launched himself at Tubbo causing him to squeal in fright. The two kids went crashing to the floor and the camera span into the air and landed on the ground with a thud. The audience could hear the sound of rapid swearing, and a sudden shout of, “Turn it off Tommy,” before the screen went blank.
Silence echoed around the laboratory; each person unsure what to make of the chaos that had unfolded.
“The Tommy kid is ours.”
An emotionless voice spoke from beside him.
Techno?
Wilbur turned to his brother with an expression of downright confusion. The department had never taken a junior recruit before as it was just too dangerous to have new people in the field.
“What—”
“Phil will like him,” Techno muttered in way of response.
Wilbur wasn’t sure what to reply to that. It was true, Phil would probably like the kid, but since when was that the basis of hiring someone?
He was about to tell Techno this when someone called his name.
“Wilbur! How’s that case of yours going?”
“Oh, for fucks sake…” Wilbur muttered under his breath, and turning around in his chair, he watched three figures stride towards him.
The one who had spoken, Dream, was slightly ahead of his teammate his mask positioned carefully over his face. George, codename 404 and Sapnap, otherwise known Pyro, followed soon after their leader.
The Dream Team had arrived.
“Dream.” Wilbur nodded stiffly and Techno proceeded to glare at the figures, who had stopped in front of where they were sitting.
“So,” Dream encouraged patronisingly, “Solved it yet?”
Wilbur bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying something he’d regret.
“No.” He spat out.
“Do you have any suspects?”
“No.”
“Any leads at all?”
“No.” This guy had to have some technique to getting on Wilbur’s nerves.
“It’s ok Wilbur, not everyone can solve 4 cases in a week.”
How dearly Wilbur would have loved to punch that permanently smiling mask.
“Fuck off, Dream.”
“You know,” Dream continued undeterred, “Phil is getting on, maybe once he retires, I’ll be allowed to take over.”
“You will never be allowed to run the department.” Wilbur said with barely disguised anger.
“Oh, really and why is that?” Dream continued calmly.
“Because you’re a prick with a massive ego but no skill.”
“Are you willing to bet on that?” Dream retorted maliciously.
“Wilbur, for the sake of your reputation I think you should be quiet,” Techno whispered in his ear.
“Are you suggesting a competition?” Wilbur asked Dream, ignoring his brother.
“Ah, it was worth a try, now Phil can’t blame me for the mess your about to get us into.” Techno deadpanned as Wilbur shot him a glare.
“It depends,” Dream replied, “What sort of competition it will be.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Who can solve a case first.”
“Dream, this doesn’t seem like a good idea,” George spoke up for the first time, concern in his dark eyes.
“Shut the fuck up George,” Sapnap cut in, “This is the most interesting thing that’s happened in a while.”
“So, what case?” Wilbur asked, intrigued.
Dream contemplated the question for a few seconds.
“What about THESEUS?”
Everyone present stared at Dream as though he was a madman.
THESEUS was a case that was renowned not only within the walls of The Syndicate but in the city of L’Manburg itself. The identity of the unknown kid who, 5 years ago, stole a weapon from an auction that was being held by notorious supervillain Schlatt.
When no one answered Dream opened his mouth to speak, “I mean I can understand why you wouldn’t want to take part, only the best could even stand a chance at solving it.”
They all knew that was an exaggeration, THESEUS was unsolvable. Many had tried over the years and yet no one had even got close. Still, Wilbur took the bait. He didn’t have much of a choice, he had a reputation to uphold.
“I’m in.”
Dream tilted his head to the side, “Terms?”
“The title of best agent?”
Dream nodded, “You have yourself a deal.”
They shake hands, and the Dream walks off into the crowd, Sapnap and George following close behind.
“You know Wilbur, I think you finally managed to do it.” Techno was staring after the trio expressionlessly.
Wilbur looked at him questioningly, “Managed to do what?”
“I think you’ve finally managed to make yourself look more of a fool than usual. After the ice-cream incident, I didn’t think it would be possible.”
“See that is where you are wrong Techno,” Wilbur replied, his mood unfalteringly cheery, “I’m not going to make a fool of myself because we’re gonna win.”
“I can’t help but notice that you have somehow managed to involve me and Phil in this scheme as well,” Techno commented impassively, “what makes you think that I’m going to help?”
“Because,” Wilbur stated, grinning maniacally like someone who knew they had the winning card in their hand, “You can’t say no to a challenge.”