Chapter Text
If there's someone you could describe as funny, its Technoblade.
Now, it's not like he's funny in the classical sense of the word. His dry sense of humor doesn't appeal to everyone and it's cost him more than one friend, but it gets you laughing your ass off every time you hear him.
It's great.
And look, there's a reason you're friends. It's not like you don't share a sense of humour - actually the very opposite. The dry cracks at random things that might be classified as dark humour are a characteristic that you share.
Plus, horror movie nights are always something you can laugh at (the guys running away? looks so fucking ridiculous, right?)
So when Techno cracks a joke at the fact that Dream looks like a fucking train wreck after that fight with the vigilantes labelled as The Syndicate during one of your work-hangouts, you should be laughing. You know that. But although you share Techno's dark sense of humour, you can't laugh about the fact that your friend was the one stumbling back into headquarters with a broken rib and an expected recovery period of three weeks.
If you ever see those vigilantes again, you'll go up against them yourself.
Even though you aren't really... used to fighting against real life people.
Yes, you're a superhero, but you stick to the sidelines. Your powers - at least the way you've learnt to utilize them - are more suited to subtle manipulation anyway. A trick of the light here, a flash there, and the vigilantes your team are going up against are distracted, and thus easier to incapacitate. The best part? You're sitting in a chair at headquarters, doing your part from the sidelines. You're vital, but you don't need to put yourself at risk.
It's easier to live a normal life that way too.
You frown, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. You notice that Techno's staring, toying, perhaps, with asking you if you're okay. If he does, you'll say you just zoned out. Its not a lie.
"Y/N?" He asks.
"Hmm?"
"You good? You didn't uh... laugh," Techno says. Then, he adds: "That sounded desperate."
"It did," you confirm, laughing slightly. Your little mishap forgotten, Techno laughs too.
"So," you pause, steadying your breath, "Do you want to work on the English project now?"
Techno smiles, nods. "We had an idea, didn't we?" He pauses, pulls out his notebook (the cover's decked in doodles, not all are good, but the man gets so incredibly bored in class that it makes sense). "Ah, right," the page he flips open too has a large drawing of a trojan horse in the center, and the rest of it is covered in his indecipherable scrawl. The project idea you had comes to you.
"Right. The uh... trojan horse allusion thingy."
Techno snorts, "Yeah, the trojan horse allusion thingy."
"Jerk."
"That's a weak-ass insult Y/N, you can do better," he teases. Instead of rising to the challenge with words, you leap forward, crashing into him and effectively pushing him into the pillows. He laughs loudly as his pink hair flies into his face. It's an adorable sight - your heart warms in your chest.
You slowly get off of him, sliding backwards so that you're leaning against the opposite wall.
The bed you guys are sitting on is Techno's, and like everything else in his room, it's been put in a place that's weird, but somehow makes sense. He has this little nook in the side of his room (well, not so little) which is right by the bay window looking out towards their backyard, and apparently when Phil was putting the bed in, he noticed that it looked like it would fit, and boom, it did (perfectly, in fact). You still believe that they had it made with the measurements, if you're being honest. It just fits too well.
While Techno's still adjusting his hair (the man's a diva in disguise, you swear you've seen him walk - no, run - in heels before) you grab his notebook, scanning the page for any other notes you guys made in class. There's a little note in your handwriting next to the trojan horse. Allusions? it reads. Beneath that, Techno's written something about deeper layers.
"Techno," you say, drawing his attention to you, "Can you decipher what you wrote here?"
"Where?" He asks, leaning in towards you.
You point to the note.
He narrows his eyes and then says: "Yeah I was talking about how we could think about the message Homer himself meant to deliver with the Trojan Horse. Deeper levels beyond just disguise."
You nod, raising your pencil to your lips and chewing it. It's a habit you've developed when you're thinking. Some people stick their tongues out slightly, some have a weird expression on their face, and some, like you, chew sticks made of wood and graphite. "It's a good idea. And we could in theory combine it with the allusion one, considering they're similar enough topics."
"Mhm," Techno agrees.
"Yeah, let's do that," you say, and then you start working.
---
Hours later, you guys finally pull yourself out of the work flow. In the time, you've researched allusions and deeper meanings, and it looks like the project's coming along well. Your professor wants a visual and written explanation of the subject chosen however, which means you'll still have a heavy workload this weekend.
You grab your stuff and walk down the stairs, Techno following you. It's 3:40, which means you'll be late for training. Shit.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs is Tommy, with Wilbur standing behind him, smiling in a way that can only mean trouble. From behind you, Techno says: "Oh for fuck's sake."
You don't want to get sibling-bullied right now because you're already late as it is, and thus you just try to brush past them. However, at that moment, Tommy has the audacity to say: "What were you guys doing in there for so long?" And Wilbur the courage to add, "With the door closed too?"
You blink. Behind you, Techno's cheeks go pink.
"Studying," he says.
"Mhm, totally studying."
"Guys," you say slowly, raising an eyebrow.
Wilbur smiles innocently, "Yeah?"
Techno can probably tell that something needs to be done before you or he ends up getting violent, so he yells at the top of his lungs: "PHIL!" The father of the group comes walking in within seconds, a cup of coffee in his hands.
Tommy is quick to say he is innocent. Techno is quick to disagree. Either way, the debate does not last long. You're here, after all, and you could never lie.
So within minutes, you're out the door, saying bye, smiling, and already dreading hero practice for the next, you check your watch. Four hours until you have to be there.
---
"Dream, nobody gives a shit about the fact that you're in love with George. It's obvious," Sapnap says as he climbs over the bookshelf border you've set up in the shared space in an attempt to maintain order. It seems like it's purpose has been uh... denied. Now it's just clutter, you suppose.
Sitting on the floor, Dream glares at the formerly mentioned superhero, who snickers and then leans his hands on the back of your chair, peering over your shoulder.
"What you doing?" The singsong voice he uses irritates you beyond belief.
"Uh... sending an email to a news network that wants an interview with Dream... and telling them no?"
At this, Dream perks up and you roll your eyes. For fuck's sake.
"I never said-"
"The network's funded by Schlatt's party."
"Ah."
"Yeah."
None of you like Schlatt. He's self centered, egotistical, and he's only presented ideas that will restrict the Hero Council. What he does isn't ethical, yet somehow people support him.
Sapnap breathes out beside you, scrolling through your emails slowly. You bat his hand away, but not before he can tap on an email labelled confidential.
He skims through it quickly and then says: "OH!" In the loudest voice he can. Dream's ears seem to perk up.
But before he can pursue what he's seen, Mushroom Man himself walks in.
Wearing his ridiculous hat, of course.
Dream, in all his glory, is standing in front of the door when George, the only one of you whose face and identity are openly available to the public, enters the room, and of course the former has to crash into the door. Sapnap's cackle is so loud you'd wince if you weren't laughing your ass off too.
George frowns as he walks in, and says: "What is fucking happening here?"
Dream scowls at you two. "Nothing. I mean, we're working but like not anything important... uh... that makes it sound like we're not doing anything actually, so it is important, it's just not important for you to know."
"That's suspicious," George comments.
You'd swear Dream was blushing under the mask with the way he stutters over his next words (he probably is): "Uh... it's really not supposed to be."
There's a moment where Dream is tense and awaits the next words, but as soon as a smile spreads across George's face you can tell that the former relaxes. He smiles at you too, beaming, as soon as George looks away from him. It's adorable, really.
"So," George pauses, "What are we actually doing, considering Dream isn't telling me anything."
"Nothing really," you reply, adjusting your mask so that it sits better, "it's just a routine-"
The building shakes violently, and you leap to your feat.
"What was that?" George asks, his voice panicked, and Sapnap shakes his head, signaling he doesn't know.
"Y/N, stay here, cover our bases, okay?" Dream says. You nod. Odds are its an attack, but one at headquarters themselves? That's... brave, even for vigilantes.
As you tug on the headset another quake rumbles through the building, and you grimace at the things falling to the ground. With a click, the footage from Dream, Sapnap and George's cameras transfer to the big screen and the sound transfers to the speakers, and you have the freedom to sit on the ground and focus.
With a thought, swirling dark glimpses of your power flash in the edges of your vision.
"Dream?" You inquire.
"It looks like a vigilante attack," he supplies, "but it's bold and-"
He's cut off by someone crashing into George, too fast for you to see who. As he rushes forward, your eyes flash to Sapnap, who's fighting against another assailant. Eager to help, you let a glimpse of black flash into their vision, which causes them to look at you.
Long pink hair flows down the man's back, and his primary features are covered by a hog's mask. From there, he wears lose, somehow kingly clothes that allow him to move swiftly and fight beyond human capability.
The Blood God.
The fight continues on, and as it does you learn who your team is fighting against.
It looks like the entire Syndicate is attacking you. Philza's black sword flashes as he raises it against Dream's own weapons, Phantom phases in and out of existence each time one of George's attacks comes even remotely close to him, and Apollon watches from the side lines, healing every one of their wounds each time they gain one. It seems an impossible fight. But you've won against them before.
"Dream, do you need backup?" You speak into the microphone.
His voice is breathless when he replies with a short: "Yeah."
But when you call for support, the Hero Council doesn't reply.
And your screens cut out.
And suddenly, the sounds of fighting are so close you can hear them.
Your eyes widen as you're faced with the idea of the fight making it all the way here, and without a second thought you tie your mask up tighter and grab a weapon from the wall. It's a blade etched with silver markings, runes supposedly affecting its ability to fight - making it stronger. It seems to glisten in the light with the enchantments placed upon it.
The sword feels heavy in your hand but the adrenaline rushing through you lightens it.
But as you open the door into the hallway, everything goes quiet.
The clashing of weapons and the yelling stops. You frown.
Then the pain comes. It starts in your right arm, and you wince as it magnifies throughout your entire body. It's too late once you notice that it's Apollon standing in front of you, manipulating the way your body moves. But you have to do something.
So you lash out blindly, striking for something and hitting, in a wild stroke of luck, Apollon's leg with the hilt of you sword. It distracts him, and gives you time to burst up and disable him with a quick kick of your foot.
For your first time in a year, you're pretty good.
As you go up against your next opponent, Philza, you realize that you've blown something. Simply because he says: "Who are you?"
It is in that moment that your world comes - for fear of sounding dramatic - crashing down. It serves as a distraction for the so-called Crowfather, and he slams the hilt of his weapon into your stomach, throwing you backwards.
Scratch you being pretty good.
You suck.
But you need to keep going, right? So you get up and dive out of the way of Philza's next blast, scrambling towards coms. If you can just get there, to the the central processing unit (where any blockers they have on electricity won't work) you can contact the hero council, and you'll be saved.
Before you can press the button though, the sharp blade of a sword presses against your throat and you freeze.
"Stop," the Blood God says, his voice gravelly and low.
You do as he demands, your finger still reaching out for the button.
There's nothing you can do.