Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Techno had, objectively, an awful power. 

He didn’t use it. He refused to—at least, not in the normal sense. Most powers required effort. They were something like sprinkling commands into your voice, to setting things ablaze, to spreading new wings.

He didn’t have anything like that. His required no effort. All it required was a single condition.

He did not enjoy meeting that condition. 

He didn’t even know he had a power until it was too late. Until that condition had been met. 

It was a Monday evening. He was heading home after a long day on campus. He’d worked for a couple hours at the mailing center before attending his classes. He’d been up since four in the morning. He wanted to go home, eat a cup of spicy ramen, and fall asleep.

He didn’t know there was a villain there before it was too late. He didn’t know to watch out for a hero coming and swooping in to save the day.

The hero had set the area ablaze to rid it of the villain.

Burning alive wasn’t the way he wanted to go. The pain was unbearable; he could remember nothing but the pain and the fire in that hero’s eyes. 

He woke up that Monday morning to his alarm going off again.

Going through that day was hell. He was numb. The packages were the same. The lectures were the same.

He took the long way home.

The news broadcasted a story that night about the fantastical, fire-powered hero that beat the evil villain. They sang his praises.

Because of him, only three civilians died.

He wondered how many of them burnt. 

It happened again a few times after that. Over the next two years, Techno earned his PhD in history. Over the next few years, Techno died four times and woke up again. Same day, same morning of his supposed death. One time it even happened on the day of his final, most important exam.

He felt grossly thankful. He passed with flying colors. 

He didn’t die again for another year. It was lucky. Ever since the first time, he thought the world was out to get him. There was no way it was normal for him to be in so much danger.

The world was definitely out to get him.

A few days before his work promotion, the hero drafts started. They called in every citizen and ran them through a test of some sort. 

Techno was sure he’d fail it. How the hell did you measure something like his power?

The hero drafts were an awful concept. If this country had so many villains, maybe they should make some changes to the government. 

He entered the testing room. It wasn’t what he was expecting. Some sort of gadget stood in the middle of the room.

They told him to put his hand to it. He did so. 

Twenty minutes later, he was in a room with some sort of important hero. He didn’t like the look of them. He wore a mask. It was ugly. It reminded Techno of a teletubby. 

He asked Techno questions. First, they were normal.

Did he know he had powers?

Yes.

Did he register them in the association?

No.

Why not?

Techno didn’t think it would be particularly useful to them. 

What was his power?

… 

Techno hesitated on that one. It felt awful. Having to admit he’d died five times already. Twice to fire, once to drowning, one to a fall, and another to electrocution.

He explained it, anyway. The masked man looked intrigued. He looked fascinated, even though Techno couldn’t see behind his mask. 

The man asked him about his deaths.

He told him that all of them were caused by different heroes. 

The room became tense after that. Almost as if the masked hero expected him to snap. But what could Techno do? Die? And then what? Would he go on the run from the government?

He huffed a little as the interview continued. The masked man let him go and said they’d be in touch with him about his drafting results.

Techno once thought they were fools. They were foolish idiots, and that’s why heroes caused the death of civilians. 

Now he knew they were just plain evil.

… 

He supposed life at the association wasn’t all that bad. He had a television, and they gave him access to YouTube and a bunch of subscription services. Ad-free, too. Sure, they kept him locked up, but he had, essentially, an entire ass apartment. Free of charge. 

Well, not really. 

When a battle went horribly wrong, they just… killed him. He didn’t know how. He’d be sitting on the couch or playing the violin, and then he’d just wake up that same morning.

He told them every time it happened. 

They were always grateful. No one seemed to know how to act around him. He didn’t know why he stayed so… casual. Maybe he knew he had no chance of escaping. Maybe he knew he wouldn’t ever see the outside world again.

After all, his power was useless in this situation. Maybe he could keep killing himself over and over to make the perfect escape plan with every new piece of information.

He didn’t want to try that, though.

They didn’t treat him badly enough for him to want to do something like that. (After all, he didn’t even know if it would work if it was self-inflicted.) 

A long time passed. He kept track through the dates on YouTube.

He’d been stuck in the association for two years. His twenty-fifth birthday just arrived.

But maybe it was time for something to change. 

He startled awake in bed, his head pounding. He glanced at the clock. Six in the morning. He’d just been eating dinner in front of the TV.

This was the sixth time he’d repeated his birthday. 

He scrubbed at his face and stood up. He dressed himself in some semblance of proper clothes—they weren’t his style, but he liked it better than the pajamas. It made him feel a bit more normal—and headed for the entryway. 

He passed by the bathroom, the living room, then the kitchenette. A wall stood in front of him. It didn’t look like an entryway at all; not if you didn’t look closely. Once you did, though, you could see the cracks on the wall, a thin line that broke a seamless white.

Next to it sat a little button. Like a harmless doorbell.

He had to press it every single time he came back. If he didn’t, the day would just endlessly repeat itself. He had tried it once. It had just been incredibly boring.

He pressed a pale hand against the white doorbell. He held it for a few moments; his hands were shaky. Maybe he should’ve eaten before this. Eh, whatever. He’d just get interrogated, and then they’d be on their way. Maybe he could even make himself something before then.

Moving towards the kitchen, he glanced at the stove. Still off. That was good. He opened up the fridge and ended up taking out a single apple.

He wished they’d given him a home gym. Then maybe they’d let him eat unhealthy stuff. He missed spicy ramen so very much. 

The door behind him sunk to the floor, and in came the associates. He lifted his head and stalled.

… 

A different man strode in. He wore some sort of military outfit; decked in dark green, gold trims, and metals.

The man’s eyes bored into him. Techno didn’t look away. 

“Can I help you?” Techno’s eyebrows raised, and he took a bite of his apple. What was the guy gonna do? Kill him?

“How many times have you come back?”

Techno paused, taking his time to chew and swallow. “This is my sixth twenty-fifth birthday, if that’s what you're asking. Who are you?”

The man paused, too. He didn’t move his gaze. “My name is Dante. I’m the head director of the Association.”

“Doesn’t seem too good if you came down to visit me yourself.” 

Dante shifted. “Take a seat, Technoblade.”

“Nah.”

The man’s eye twitched. Techno’s lips twitched upwards in response. He hid it with his apple as the man continued, “Fine. We’re changing up how we do things.”

“How’s that?” His eyebrow perked. 

“You’re coming with us.”

Techno couldn’t hide his emotions this time. His eyebrows raised. “...What?”

“I can feel it when you use your powers. A lot of heroes can,” Dante said with a shrug. “So we’ve decided on a plan. Instead of making you sit in here, we’ll have you watch the battle. See what we can do. You’ll tell us what they did, how we can prevent it.”

He swallowed thickly. His pulse picked up. “Why weren’t you guys doing that in the first place?”

Dante rolled his eyes at the apparent bad memory. “The director of the humanities thought it wouldn’t be humane to do so. That you should be kept away from anything painful. I think it’s bullshit.”

Techno licked his dry lips. “Good to know someone’s fightin’ for me.”

The man ignored him and continued on. “We’ll still make your death painless. Your duty is to watch the battle, and watch it closely. Tell us how to improve. Tell us how to win.”

“I’m just some guy, Dante,” he said. He hoped using the military guy’s name would annoy him.

It did. Dante’s eyes narrowed. He stayed quiet for a few moments before he simply settled on, “You’re not. And we’ll do this however many times it takes to get these fuckers into our custody.” 

Techno swallowed once more. 

He was taken out without another word. 

He met a batch of heroes. He stared down at them. Some of them looked far too young. The hero drafting must not’ve stopped. The masked man was there, too. Techno, briefly, just for a moment, wanted him to die.

But Techno was a pacifist. He took in a deep breath as everyone introduced themselves. Everyone seemed uneasy around him. He felt uneasy around them, too. 

Surely he’d see them all die soon.

Chitina. A boy dressed in a bee costume. Techno almost laughed at him.

Obsidian. Another boy—albeit one taller than him—who just wore some sort of… admittedly unsettling suit and mask.

Masked. The masked guy. Techno did laugh at him. 

It would just be the three of them for now. Masked to supervise. They said it was just a scout mission.

The boys would surely die. His heart squeezed in his chest. 

They brought him to the battlefield. A man went with him. A nurse, they’d said. He didn’t quite believe it. 

But they were already on a nearby rooftop. They were already watching the fight below. 

Techno watched closely. He was afraid of the punishment he’d receive if he didn’t. They’d never punished him before, but… 

If heroes could sense the time he kept rewinding, then they might now. At least he could be relieved of his fear, that he was hopping multiverses and killing himself in the world he left behind.

He puffed out a breath as two people emerged. He laughs under his breath. The man shoots him a glare.

Listen, just… he didn’t expect it. The one in the lead wore a literal blindfold over his face. Maybe he was blind; like the Daredevil or whatever. Then he would, admittedly, feel bad for laughing. He probably shouldn’t. Villains weren’t good, either. Right? Yeah, probably. Then again, he shouldn’t be ableist.

What was most definitely a child walked behind the older one. His hair was golden. It shimmered in the sunlight. He was shocked they were doing this in the day. It would’ve been more dramatic at night.

He lifted his head a little, towards the nurse. “Who’re they?”

The man scoffed. Techno’s eyebrows twitched.

“I’m supposed to report everything back after we all die, mate. Wanna keep dying because you won’t tell me shit?”

That seemed to loosen him up. Techno watched his face pale. “...The brunet’s name is Siren. Tiny kid is Apollo.” 

“They’re big names, then?”

“Sort of.” He glanced to the side. Techno kept his gaze on the growing, heated discussion. “They… They work with the Angel of Death.”

“Who’s that?”

“You don’t know who the Angel of Death is?” The man sounded incredulous. He ran his hand through black hair. “He popped up a bit over a year ago. He’s… awful. Siren and Apollo have been out here for years, but ever since that damned old man…”

Techno wanted to upset him further. Scare him a little more. He didn’t know why. Dryly, he said, “I’ve been held captive by the Association for two years. Of course I don’t know who he is.”

The man’s face dropped, his mouth forming a little ‘o’. 

Techno’s attention was dragged back to the fight. He stilled to watch. To take in every little detail.

It looked sort of fun. 

The fight seemed rather evenly matched. Siren did most of the work. “Why isn’t Apollo fighting that much?”

“His specialty is in healing.” The man’s voice was dry. “He can fight, still, but… that’s not what he’s here for.”

“I see.”

The battle continued on. Techno was surprised Siren kept up so well. But, it was practically three against one. Apollo had jumped in to start properly fighting now.

But then the sky went black.

Techno’s shoulders tensed. His eyes flicked up to the sky as the man gasped beside him. The sun was still there. He could see a blue sky not far from here. 

“It’s—” The man gasped, panicked. “He’s coming. ”

“Who?” Techno asked. Purely curious. He couldn’t force himself to be panicked, too. Not even fake it.

“ The Angel. ”

Techno almost wanted to laugh at how dramatic it was. The entrance. The way the heroes below tensed up, the way the nurse started to squeeze his shoulder.

A man stepped out from behind a building. Techno could hear the clicks from up here. He wore a large bucket hat, a large robe. Even larger wings spread behind him.

“W-We… We have to tell the Association that the Angel is back,” the nurse breathed. His nails dug into Techno’s skin from where he squeezed. “That’s why our mission has been failing so often.”

Techno couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

The Angel seemed keen to slaughter.

He opened his mouth to say something. He thought it might’ve been something like… admiration. 

Something stabbed into his neck. 

He woke up in the morning of the same day. 

Dante appeared before him again. He told him everything; every detail. About how the Angel remained hidden until the other two were in trouble. The way Apollo refrained from doing much at all, not until Siren was in trouble. 

They cared deeply about each other, he noted. His gaze flicked to the wall.

So they tried again. 

Dante had gone for a mean sort of plan. To send out heroes meant to weaken. Meant to wear Siren and Apollo out. 

Then they would slaughter them before the Angel could swoop in.

It didn’t work. The only ones slaughtered were the heroes.

Techno woke up again.

He woke up again.

And again.

And again.

And again, and again, and again, and…

He lost track of how many times he’s gone through this day. Every plan Dante or some other director came up with ended up in blood. 

The ends of Techno’s hair kept growing longer. They were starting to turn a different color. Techno didn’t like it. 

His neck started to sting. The nurse—Quackity, he had learned—was starting to get worse at injecting whatever that was. Maybe it’s because, with every loop, he got more panicked. More worried. Less confident. 

It was almost amusing. 

He woke up again.

A new batch of heroes. He would watch them die. He would watch their blood splatter, and he’d try not to stare.

He always stared. 

He woke up again.

If Dante could notice, then surely someone as strong as the Angel had noticed by now. But what could they do? They might feel a sense of deja vu, but he couldn’t put it anywhere. He wouldn’t know what it was. Who did it. How to stop it.

The anonymity was nice. He had a sort of… power over the Angel. This almighty man, one who screamed of death, who slaughtered those who stood in his way.

He couldn’t escape Techno’s powers. Nobody did. 

After all, if he had to stay in the Association’s chains for the rest of his life, he might as well seek power wherever he can get it. 

The fights continue.

Techno knows… so much about Siren and Apollo now. Siren likes to fight on the defensive. He likes to taunt. He guides his opponent into attacking first, and then he slips out of the way just in time, using the heroes’ weights against them. Techno appreciated it. It was fresh. Fun to watch.

Apollo had the exact opposite problem. Techno couldn’t help but assume that Siren must beat him up all the time. He’d fall for every single taunt given. He charges and he screams and he rages and he grins and he laughs, and…

It’s an odd sight. 

He’d been able to catch more glimpses of the Angel. Quackity usually injected him before he could study the man fully. But he watched. Excitement coursed through his veins every time the man appeared. The way the darkness stretched. Every single time, silence washed over the crowd, and all he could hear was the clicking of the Angel’s shoes on the concrete. 

He wanted to know more. He didn’t know enough. He only ever saw the man swing once or twice, with what seemed to be a sword made of sickly, wisping shadows. 

He wanted to know how the man painted the ground in blood so efficiently.

And that’s when it started. 

The voices in his head.

Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy were having a hell of a day. This morning, the three of them would wake with pounding headaches. This morning was filled with deja vu. They were all hit with it hard. 

Phil would say, “I’m going to stay behind—”

“–-until something goes wrong—” Wilbur would chime in. 

“—but I’m sure you both will do fine,” Tommy would finish.

It would make them sit in stunned silence. Because something was off. Even more so than it had been in the past two years. Phil had come home due to the oddities, anyway. 

It had to be due to the hero battle. 

They all agreed on that. But they stuck to their original plan. Phil would scout the area while Tommy and Wilbur fought.

Something in his mind told them that they were tricky hiders. As if he’d looked for them before. 

He’d find the problem. He’d fix it. Or kill it. 

So he scouted. Wilbur and Tommy were getting on fine. He searched, and he searched, and he stopped at a surprisingly tall building.

He could sense something. It was almost like bloodlust.

He entered the building. He slid up the stairs, keeping his ears perked for any danger. Wilbur and Tommy were just fine.

He took the steps quickly. He somehow still appeared graceful. 

The entrance to the roof was locked behind a keypad. He gripped the door’s handle and simply tore it off, his gaze landing on the two figures on the roof. They both peered off the edge of the to watch the fighting below. One sat on the edge, and the other stood behind him, a tight grip on his shoulder.

They both turned to look when the door went flying. 

And he stepped forward. His shoes clicked. The standing man shifted, lifting some sort of syringe. A clear liquid sloshed inside of it.

Phil’s shadows warped, beginning to envelop the sky. A tendril gripped the man’s hand, squeezing so hard that he dropped it. 

The syringe fell and shattered against the floor.

“Well, well,” Phil murmured, stepping forward. “What do we have here?”

The bloodlust had disappeared. His gaze shifted and landed on the man who still sat.

“Who are you?”

The man swallowed. “...No one.”

“You’re always somebody, mate.” Phil’s eyes perked. “What have you been doing to us?”

“No clue what you mean, ‘mate’,” he said, slightly mocking. Phil rumbled with laughter. He didn’t seem to have any fear. 

“This day. It seems to be—”

He cut himself off when the other pulled something out—a gun. His shadows rushed forward, to ensure the gun was aimed away from himself, but— 

The man shot his companion in the head.

And then Phil woke up that same morning.

Chapter Text

Techno woke up screaming.

His head pounded. He clutched it. He sat up, gasping for air as the memory stuck in his head. It had been painful. He remembered the sound, and then the blood and the pain, and then it all went black.

He rocked himself. He tried to breathe, but he could only gasp for air. 

Quackity had shot him when they lost their syringe.

Techno had to throw up. He stood and hurried to the bathroom, choking and gasping. 

He was down for the count for a good twenty minutes. He laid on the bathroom floor, shivering and whimpering. 

He just… hadn’t expected it. Usually, he had time to come to terms with how he was dying. When he went up in flames those couple of times, he recognized his death would be painful. When he drowned, he had a few minutes to think before he lost consciousness. Same with the fall. The electrocution came as a shock. He had a similar reaction that time. 

He sat up a little, now. He took a deep breath. For now, he would just… make some breakfast. He wouldn’t call them yet. He needed some time to think.

He managed to his feet despite the way he trembled. He got to the kitchen and got himself a massive glass of water. He chugged all of it. 

The clock ticked in the background. Techno stood by the sink and stared at his empty glass.

He set it down and grabbed some eggs to cook.

The Angel… the man had found him. That had to mean the Angel noticed the day kept repeating. In fact, the Angel had implied that himself.

Maybe… maybe… 

He licked his dry lips. He hoped the Angel would find them again. And, maybe… the Angel could help him. 

Why don’t you just help yourself? something snarked in his mind.

If his plan failed—if the Angel never came—then he wouldn’t have a safety net. He needed someone. That way, if… if it all went wrong, he could blame it on the villain.

He could blame it on the villain.

He flipped his eggs.

So, what? He just… wouldn’t tell Dante that the Angel had found him. He’ll repeat the same story as he did last time. Maybe things wouldn’t go wrong.

Maybe he could finally escape. …Maybe the villains would use him for the exact same thing.

His head pounded at the thought. He had to try. He wanted even just a semblance of freedom. He needed it.

He took in a shaky breath and slid his eggs off the pan and onto a plate. He took it to the table and began to eat. He didn’t think anything. 

The only thing on his mind was the chance of freedom. 

He took his time cleaning up. Finally, he rang the doorbell.

Dante came, and he lied to the man’s face. He re-told him the story of the last day. Dante nodded and brought Techno out with him.

It was the same heroes as last time. Quackity still stood nearby. Techno shuffled nervously. 

Phil’s head pounded. He could’ve sworn… 

He shook his head as he got out of bed. Wilbur was already up making breakfast. He glanced over as he walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Phil. You alright?”

Phil pressed a hand to his forehead as he sat down at the table. “I’m fine, mate. My head’s just killing me.”

Wilbur seemed a bit put off. “...Mine, too.”

“Today feels…”

Tommy burst out into the kitchen. “What in the fuck is going on today?”

“That,” Wilbur said, pointing at him. “Today feels like that.”

Phil nodded slowly. “I think something is… I…” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I think… there’s someone I have to capture.”

Both of them turned their gazes to Phil, curious. “All of the sudden? Who?”

Phil’s head pounded worse. He ducked his head into his hands. “I don’t know, mate. Someone. I think they’re the cause of this mess.”

“This mess?” Wilbur echoed.

“I think… this day has been repeating itself.”

Tommy and Wilbur shared a glance before Tommy burst out, “So how many fuckin’ times have we celebrated Wilbur’s birthday?? That’s not fair!”

Wilbur laughed, and Tommy seemed pleased. “Sure, sure. We’ll find something special for you to do on your birthday to make up for it.” He shifted and started to serve the table. Tommy sat down. Usually, all three of them helped, but Wilbur wouldn’t ask when Phil looked like… that.

“So how are we capturing this strange person?” Tommy asked, eyes wide.

“... We’re gonna just go with our normal plan today. And then I’m gonna look for them.” They’d have to be somewhere up high. Where they could watch.

Wilbur nodded. “Alright, Phil. Just make sure you’re careful about it, okay?”

“Right back at ya, mate,” Phil muttered. “But… I think that today—”

“—is going to go really well,” Techno murmured. Quackity grimaced.

“You think so? Did you figure something out, ah… last time?”

Techno’s gaze flicked up to the man as they walked up the stairwell. “I did.”

“I hope so. I really want this day to end,” Quackity mumbled. “I woke up with a headache this morning.”

“How awful,” Techno said. Quackity didn’t notice his sarcasm. 

“It is, right? I’m… no offense, dude, but I’d like to never see you again.”

“Same here,” he said gruffly, eyes rolling.

Quackity nodded. Luckily, he didn't seem offended. They got to the top of the stairwell, and Quackity put the code in and swung open the door. Once they were both out on the roof, he shut the door. 

“...I’m excited to see tomorrow,” Techno murmured as he made it to the edge of the roof. He sat on the edge, letting his feet rest on the roof. He simply twisted his body to see.

“Ah…” Quackity shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m sure you are.”

They sat in silence for a while before, finally, the villains showed up. Techno exhaled shakily. He watched closely.

He glanced up at Quackity. “Do you have any powers?”

“Huh?” Quackity blinked. “You’ve never asked me that before?”

“I guess not. But now I’m curious.”

Quackity hummed softly. “I’m a nurse here for a reason. I can heal people pretty okay. Not the best, but… y’know. I had just finished nursing school when the drafting started up, and… now I do a lot of training for other, stronger healers.”

“I see.” Techno’s gaze drew back to the battle. That meant he wouldn’t have to worry about Quackity throwing out some sort of power in the middle of his escape. His kidnapping?

Whatever. Anything would be better than living this fucking day again. 

freedom pog!

Escape escape esc

Techno shook his head to get rid of the voices. They shut up. Every day, it felt like they were growing louder and louder.

“You okay?” Quackity asked, glancing over at him.

“Fine. Just… Apollo made a dumb move, there,” he lied. Siren and Apollo were doing just fine despite being so… outnumbered. He wondered why they had struggled when they were facing just the three heroes at the start.

He took in another shaky breath. His skin crawled with anticipation. Surely the Angel would be here soon? He couldn’t wait any longer. It was almost… excitement. Past his nervousness and fear, excitement had begun to bubble. 

The door swung open behind them. Techno let out a gasp and turned his head as the man walked through. His shoes clicked against the ground. 

Quackity raised up the syringe, just like last time. Techno’s hand snapped forward, grabbing his wrist. 

kill him

kill him!

KILL HIM!

He yanked on the man’s wrist and watched as Quackity toppled over the edge. He let go before Quackity’s weight could pull him down, and the man screamed. 

Techno watched him fall down the building. His screaming started to fade until he landed at the bottom, and the world went quiet.

BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!

He shook his head again. The voices returned to soft whispers.

“Well, I can’t say I expected that one, mate,” came a voice. Techno looked back at the Angel, his eyes wide. “Isn’t he meant to be your ally?”

Techno let out a breathy laugh. The Angel had actually come again. His heart slammed in his chest. “Ally? Absolutely not.” Though Quackity probably didn’t deserve to die anyway. But… he had to. The voices wanted it, and he could’ve been shot again.

“No?” The Angel’s head tilted. His bucket hat obscured most of his face. Techno wondered how in the world he could see.

Techno swallowed. “...Captor’s a better word. Speaking of that, would you mind a favor?”

The Angel seemed rather incredulous by Techno’s nonchalant attitude. “Somebody wants to ask me a favor? Don’t you know who I am, mate?”

“The Angel of Death,” Techno said simply. “Please. Help me escape.”

“Escape?”

“ Please. ” Techno’s voice choked up a bit. “I’ve been held captive by the Association for… two years, now. And you’re my only chance of…”

The Angel moved closer. His shoes clicked. “Two years?”

“Y-Yes.” Techno took in another shuddering breath. He was so close to some sort of freedom.

“Why are you their captive, mate?”

“I can turn back time.”

The Angel towered over him, now. Piercing blue eyes stared at him, his expression unreasonable. He stayed silent.

Techno took it as a demand for more explanation. “But I can only turn back time if… I die. And it only resets the day. So, so, uhm, if a battle goes horribly wrong, then… they kill me to turn back time.” 

“Sounds awful, mate.” 

The words themselves were disbelieving, but the Angel’s tone stayed mild. He stared down at Techno with something like amusement.

Techno cleared his throat.

“I know, right? So, if you wouldn’t mind, please, like, kidnap me or something.” Techno hesitated before holding out his hand.

The Angel laughed. “Sure, mate. I do have some questions for you.”

“I’ll answer ‘em. Do me a massive favor, though, and don’t torture me.”

The Angel took Techno’s hand, finally, and instead of giving him a handshake like he expected, the man tugged him on his feet. “We’ll see, mate. What’s going to happen with Siren and Apollo?”

Techno glanced behind him. “You’ll probably want to step in in about five or so minutes. Siren’s about to start getting sluggish, and he’ll slow down. It’ll make Apollo panic if you don’t come quick enough.”

The Angel blinked before a grin formed on his face. “Noted. Should I intervene now?”

“I don’t see any harm in it. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t just leave me up here.”

“How’s your strength, mate? Could you hold on?” The Angel held his arm out.

“I’ve been forced to eat healthy the past two years. I can manage it,” Techno said without thinking.

“Hold on, then, mate.”

Techno hesitated before he did as he was told. The Angel’s wings shifted and stretched before they started to spread. The sky began to blacken, and the fighting beneath them silenced.

The Angel took to the air, the definition of elegance. Techno squeaked and held on even tighter. He looked objectively stupid like this.

In the Angel’s other hand, a massive sword began to form. Shadows swirled and wisped as the Angel lowered himself to the ground, flying until he was close to Siren and Apollo. Once he touched the ground, Techno stumbled a little and let go.

Siren and Apollo gaped at him, but the Angel simply said, “Keep him safe, alright? And don’t hurt him.” 

The Angel moved forward, then, and began his slaughter. The two villains, though, seemed astonished. “Who the fuck are you?!” Apollo cried out, throwing his hands up.

“No fuckin’ way. You’re the guy who’s been fucking up our plans?” Siren said, eyes wide. “You’re just… some faceless guy. Who are you??”

Techno’s eyes rolled without his permission. “I’m just some guy,” he said dryly.

“And yet you’re the guy Dad’s been looking for,” Apollo said, earning a smack on the back of his head from Siren. “What was THAT for?!”

“You just called Angel ‘Dad’,” Siren muttered. Techno’s lips twitched upwards as he turned to watch the slaughter.

It was a lot of blood. Techno swallowed. Part of him loved the sight, loved the sickly red. But there were certainly some clueless heroes in the midst of that slaughter.

“Well, why isn’t Angel keeping this guy locked up or something if he’s the guy who’s been ruining everything??? He’s the reason that your b—”

“ Apollo! ” Siren scolded. “Shh!”

Techno didn’t react as the Angel finished his slaughter. As the sword of shadows disappeared, the blood left on it splattered on the ground. He turned and moved back to the three of them. “Alright, let’s get going. We have a lot to talk about, don’t we, mate?”

Techno met his eyes. “I suppose we do.”

“Siren? I need him out for this.”

Siren turned. “ Sleep, ” he ordered, his voice woven in song and melody.

Techno fell backwards, caught by Apollo. 

He woke a few hours later in a bare room. But it wasn’t his bedroom; the first thing he could do was sigh in relief. Probably an odd reaction, considering he was tied to a chair. He sat up fully and twisted his neck. It ached. 

morning pog

Technolate 

He grunted softly, annoyed, and shook his head. He looked around properly. The room was empty and blank besides a second chair. No blood stains, he thought with a mild twitch of his lips. 

The metal door sat in front of him, a shimmering silver instead of all the bleary white. He turned his gaze to it. He tried to look behind him. A long mirror stretched on the back wall. He wondered if it was a one-way mirror.

The door screeched open. Techno winced at the sound and looked back. The Angel slipped inside. His wings had disappeared, and his bucket hat seemed to be elsewhere. 

Techno couldn’t help but snark, “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t torture me?”

Amusement sparked in his eyes as he pulled the second chair up, sitting down in front of Techno. “I said we’ll see, mate. I’ve just got a little test for you?”

“A test?” Techno echoed, licking his dry lips.

“Just answer a few of my questions,” the man said, his voice calm. “Can you do that?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

The Angel chuckled. “Sure. What’s your name?”

“Techno.”

“Techno?” the Angel echoed, his eyebrows raising.

“Short for Technoblade. I know it’s a weird name, but, y’know, you could probably find records of me for proof. Technoblade Drite. I was a professor at the local university.”

“I see,” the Angel said, seeming even more amused. Techno didn’t break his gaze. “How many times have you turned back time?”

Techno immediately rolled his eyes. “You think I’ve counted? Hell if I know. It’s been a lot. At least a hundred times.” 

The man seemed to pause at that. “At least?”

“Well, I think I reversed about once a week. Do the math, and you’re looking at one-oh-four.” He said the number as if it meant nothing at all. “Though… maybe closer to one-fifty. We’ve been trying to beat you for a while now. None of my plans, nor Dante’s, seems to work.”

The Angel’s eyebrows furrowed. Techno thought, for a moment, the man must surely be angry at him. “How did they kill you, then? If that was required to reverse time?”

“I don’t know, actually. I assume with some sort of gas.”

“Some sort of gas?”

“Ah, yeah. They kept me in a sort of apartment.” His eyes trailed off as he recalled it. It’d been so long since he’d done anything but eat and work. “I never had any idea of when I was going to die. Some Director had some pity on me, after all. So I’d just wake up, and I’d know. It’s not hard to know.”

The Angel nodded slowly. “Techno. Do you like the Association?”

“No,” Techno said immediately, snorting. “It’s offensive that you’d think I would.”

“How old are you, mate?”

“Eh?” Techno glanced at him again. “Uh. Good question.” He could’ve sworn… There was something special about today. He could’ve… He shook his head a little. “What’s the date?”

The Angel told him, briefly glancing behind Techno as he did so.

“Oh. I suppose I turned twenty-five today. But I’ve turned twenty-five a lot already,” he said with a shrug.

The Angel’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s really your birthday? That’s a… unique circumstance.”

“Heh? Oh. I suppose it’s a hell of a coincidence,” Techno agreed. 

“Are you bugged, Techno?”

“No. At least I don’t think so.” Techno squinted. “Is there a way to check?”

“...We’ve already checked,” the Angel said. “You don’t.”

“Then why did you ask?” 

“Did you forget this was meant to be a test, mate?”

Techno’s eyes rolled. “It’s an interrogation. And that was a foolish question.”

The Angel let out a sharp laugh. “You’re a brave soul, Techno.”

“What’re you gonna do? Kill me?” Techno couldn’t force any humor into it. It almost sounded like a genuine taunt.

“...No,” the Angel settled on after a few moments more. “You’re an odd man, Technoblade.”

“I’ve lost quite a bit of my sense of fear,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t think it’s odd at all.”

“If you’ve died so painlessly recently, then surely you must feel pain.” The Angel’s head tilted. Techno wondered if it was a threat.

Techno’s eyes rolled anyway. “I didn’t learn of my power at the Association, Angel.”

“Then how did you learn of it?”

“A hero burned me alive on accident.” Techno’s gaze flicked up to the ceiling. “Then a hero destroyed a bridge while I was driving to work. I got out of my car, but I ended up drowning, which was really L behavior. I need to get better at swimming. Then a hero sent a shockwave through the area, and since I was standing in water, I was electrocuted to death. Then that same damn hero burned me alive again. Can you fuckin’ imagine that? What are the chances?” Techno chuckled like it was no big deal at all. “Then, about a week or two before I got drafted by the Association, a hero started an earthquake while I was on the roof for a break at work. I ended up falling off it and, y’know. Splat.”

The Angel stared at him with… a sort of befuddled expression. “Mate… What?”

“Whaaat?” Techno dragged out the word. “ You asked.”

“Listen, mate. People die from heroes all the time. But I find it hard to believe that it was a hero every single time.”

Techno shrugged. “I dunno. I think it’s weird, too.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to convince us you hate heroes.”

“Yeah? So you think I’m a spy? You just said I wasn’t bugged.”

“Maybe not. But there could be some mental magic.”

Techno’s eyes rolled even harder. He couldn’t help it. “Sure, man. And I killed my companion just so you’d kidnap me? …Hm. Don’t answer that. I’m fairly certain the Association would do that.”

“Mate. You’re literally making your case worse.” The Angel’s seeming confusion only grew.

“...My bad. Uh, the Association would literally never.”

Techno could’ve sworn he heard muffled laughter. 

The Angel shook his head. “I’m going to get Siren in here. We’ll see if you’re telling the truth then.”

Techno’s eyes raised at the ominous wording. The Angel simply turned and slipped out. A minute later, Siren replaced him, shutting the metal door loudly.

“Hello,” he said, his voice smooth like honey. He sat down on the chair. “ Answer me honestly, would you?”

Siren began to ask him the same questions the Angel had. Techno answered the same way.

Phil stood on the other side of the mirror with Tommy by his side. He watched and listened to the interrogation, rather astonished.

“There’s something super wrong with that guy,” Tommy announced, squinting. “I mean, he wasn’t even scared of you. And you’re… Philza!”

“He is very odd, isn’t he?” Phil agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Do you think he’s a spy for the Association, Tommy?”

The boy paused, thinking it over. After a few moments, he shook his head. “No,” he said, entirely thoughtful. “I just think he’s a little crazy. I mean, Wilbur’s proving that everything he said is true. He didn’t even try to lie to us. He seems… desperate.”

“Desperate?” Phil echoed. He turned his gaze back to the man.

“He keeps fidgeting,” Tommy pointed out. Phil’s gaze focused on it; Tommy was right. “If he isn’t lying and he’s really not scared of you, then… Well, I think it’s desperation. I think he just wants out.”

Phil nodded slowly. “Good job, Tommy,” he said, his voice entirely fond. Tommy perked at the compliment. “I think you’re right.”

“I always am,” Tommy said, beaming. Phil reached over and ruffled his hair.

Wilbur continued the interrogation before, finally, he slipped away and left Techno alone. After a few moments, Wilbur returned to Phil and Tommy. “He’s telling the truth,” Wilbur said with a shrug.

Phil hummed his agreement. “I’m… honestly surprised. I didn’t think the Association would do something like this.” 

“I don’t think it’s surprising at all,” Tommy said with a hint of venom. Wilbur reached over to gently squeeze his shoulder.

“Sorry, Toms,” Phil offered quietly.

Wilbur put his hand up. “So, then. What are we supposed to do with this guy?”

“I’m not sure,” Phil admitted. He glanced back at the window. Techno just looked bored. “I don’t think we can just send him off. The Association will likely go after him.”

“And I think he’d lose immediately if the Association found him,” Tommy said with a snicker.

Phil hummed once more. “I do, too. And… I don’t want to… Techno doesn’t seem like an awful person. He’s been tormented enough.”

“So, what? Should we keep him?”

Phil shot Wilbur a glare. “Keep him?”

“Like we kept Tommy!” Wilbur raised his hands in surrender. “It was a joke, it was a joke.”

“Yeah—WAIT. You didn’t keep me!” Tommy punched Wilbur’s shoulder, who squawked. He turned and hit Tommy back, and the two of them immediately began to tussle.

Phil rubbed at his face, laughing fondly.

Maybe offering Techno a place to stay would be the best thing they could do for him.

Chapter Text

Techno waited for the Angel to return. Or Siren, maybe, if he had to deal with that guy again. He sighed softly and let his head tilt back. Sleeping under Siren’s command hadn’t been very… restful, to say the least. Or maybe he was just absolutely fucked in the sleep department. It felt like he hadn’t slept in days.

Maybe it was the constant rewinding of time. Who knows, though. He could just be crazy.

He let his eyes fall shut. Maybe they’d make him sit and wait awhile, like detectives do for suspects. He might as well be one. They could grill him about all the things he knew about the Association, about all of the heroes. His throat grew tight at the thought. So many people that were far too young had met him and died today. All of these today’s. He lost track of how many. He didn’t want them to get hurt; he didn’t want them to die. 

…Except Masked. That fucker can rot in hell for all he cared. He was the reason Techno was in this mess in the first place, instead of working his job and living a simple life. Gods, did Techno miss his old life.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening once again, and in came all three of the villains. He blinked a little and finally took them in up close. The Angel was shorter than his companions, though his wings were wider than all three of them. He had since taken off his bucket hat, revealing blond hair that almost reached his shoulders. Siren had slipped off his uniform and replaced it with a yellow sweater and blue jeans. Apollo still wore the bottom half of his uniform, though his top half had been replaced by a simple shirt.

None of them were wearing masks anymore. Three sets of eyes, one brown, two blue, bored into him. His throat seized again. …They all looked like losers.

“Well, Technoblade,” the Angel started.

“Techno.”

“What?”

“Just… call me Techno.”

“...Right. Techno,” he continued. “We don’t necessarily disbelieve you, but we’re going to have to take some precautions before we free you.”

“Sure,” he agreed, fidgeting in his seat. His hands were still strapped to the arms of the chair, so he could do nothing but uncomfortably squirm.

“In twenty-four hours, we’ll release you. Just so you can’t turn back time and return to the association.”

“Alright.” He gave a slow nod, leaning back in his seat. “How am I going to be fed, then?”

Apollo raised his hand. “I can do that!” he said with a wide grin. “I don’t want to see you lookin’ like you’re ducking for apples.”

“Bobbing for apples,” Techno corrected without a second thought. “I have to be fed by…” He glanced at the Angel with raised eyebrows.

“I’ll release one of your hands. Apollo will not be feeding you.”

“Why NOT?!” the boy immediately shouted, but the Angel just stepped forward and leaned down. He untied the straps.

“Stand,” he ordered once Techno’s hands were free, and Techno did so. With just a few more moments, his hands were tied behind his back.

“Bruh,” Techno muttered, glaring at nothing. He had agreed, so he wouldn’t complain about the terms, but he would make sure to glare. Especially with Siren literally boring holes into his head with his stare. 

The Angel shifted back, gently clapping Techno’s shoulder. “You hungry, mate?”

Techno regretted moving to Britain. “Yes.”

“You need some meat!” Apollo announced, turning and jumping out of the room. “Philza, what can we make him?”

“Apollo!” Siren shouted, running after him as the Angel sighed.

“So…” Techno kissed his teeth dramatically. “Philza, huh?”

The Angel rubbed at his face and sighed louder. “Just call me Phil, mate.”

“Phil,” Techno agreed, and with that, Phil began to lead him out of the torture chamber and into a scarily, normal-looking cabin. “This is not what I expected your lair to look like.”

The walls were covered in large windows, letting in enough light to illuminate the entire living room. The floors were a pleasant, dark wood, and Techno suddenly felt bad for walking on them with shoes on. The living room had a nice TV with a large couch and a small loveseat next to it. They were on top of white rugs, and Techno winced at the thought of how painful it must be to clean.

“Sometimes a lair is best disguised with something like this,” Phil said with a shrug, taking Techno into the kitchenette where Apollo and Siren were arguing. 

“You can not just say his name out loud like that—”

“I called him Phil za , not Phil!” Apollo protested, only to squawk when Phil reached over and gently swatted at him.

“Enough arguing, boys,” he demanded, though amusement betrayed his voice. “Introduce yourselves. I see no issue with sharing our names with someone in Techno’s position.”

“ See?!” Apollo shouted, jerking around to face Techno instead of Siren. “My name is Tommy. I’d shake your hand if you weren’t tied up.”

“Noted,” Techno agreed dryly.

“Uh… I don’t know if we should be sharing our names,” Siren protested. “Even if he’s… stuck here, he still might be working for the Association. Or he could just go telling random people!”

“Can’t you just order me not to or something?”

Siren sighed. “No. All commands eventually wear off. …If they didn’t, I would literally rule the world.”

“Fair.” 

Phil just shook his head. “No, I don’t think Techno is going to do anything. Especially if the Association is going to start hunting him the moment he gets out of here.”

Techno winced at the thought. “Ugh,” he offered, eloquent. “Any ideas on how to not get immediately caught?”

“We’ll figure something out, mate.” Phil chuckled and slipped away. “Well, you don’t need to if you don’t want to, Siren. I won’t force ya.”

Siren’s face scrunched up.

“Though he already knows your face,” Tommy pointed out. “Maybe I shouldn’t have taken your mask off.”

“Maybe,” Siren agreed, turning a blunt gaze to the boy. “...Fucking hell, fine. My name’s Wilbur.”

“Pretentious name,” Techno said without thinking.

“Ex cuse me?”

Phil decided to cut in with a shake of his head. “Enough. Wilbur, Toms, are you guys hungry?”

“Can we have more cake ???” Tommy immediately asked. 

“We had cake this morning,” Phil said. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Tommy groaned. “What’s the point if you can’t have cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?!”

“...Did you have cake for lunch while I wasn’t looking?”

Tommy froze. “N…” He let out a guilty laugh. “No.”

“Oh my gods, Tommy, I told you not to eat the fucking cake—”

“Yeah, what the hell? That was my cake you ate!” Wilbur joined in. 

Phil groaned where he stood, digging his face in his hands. He turned to Techno as the other two began to fight. “Well, what can I get you, mate? I’m quite a good cook.”

“Uh…” Techno blanked, taking a few moments. “...Do you have cupped ramen?”

Phil blinked once, twice. “I think so. Let me check,” he said, turning and slipping into the pantry. It was a simple walk-in pantry, and Phil flicked a small light switch. “Let’s see… I’ve got chicken, spicy chicken, and spicy beef.”

“Can I get the spicy chicken?” he asked, his fingers starting to excitedly fidget.

“Sure. You that hungry?” Phil asked, holding the cup and shutting the light back off as he stepped out.

Techno laughed softly, watching as Phil leaned down to get a pot. “I have been craving spicy ramen for two years. I will literally die for spicy ramen, right now.”

Phil snorted as he began to boil some water. “Noted. Please don’t, mate.”

The arguing between Wilbur and Tommy began to finally slow when Tommy squawked, “Hey! What about us?!”

“You’re literally both adults. Make your own food,” Phil said with a playful roll of his eyes. “You ran out of time already. My offer’s off the table.”

“Fine! I’m going to have cake for dinner!”

“No, you’re not. That’s my cake!” Wilbur gently swatted at the child. “You’re going to get sick from the sugar. Why don’t I make scrambled eggs, or something?”

“I won’t get sick, ” Tommy protested, but when Phil shot him a glare, he huffed. “Fine. Scrambled eggs are fine.”

Phil nodded, pleased as he worked on the spicy ramen. “Why don’t we all settle and watch some television? We can all sleep in the living room, take turns.”

Take turns to watch Technoblade . 

“That works,” Wilbur said with a nod of his own, sliding past Phil to grab a pan and eggs. “I think I can take the first shift. I’m wide awake,” he said. 

“Sure, let’s do that, mate. Toms, do you want the middle shift?”

Tommy hummed his agreement, staring at Wilbur’s work. “I am a night shift kinda guy.”

Phil’s eyes rolled as he put the cup of ramen aside to finish. He turned to Techno’s hands, sliding behind him to start undoing them. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get up early and take the last shift.” 

“That’s just because you’re old. That’s just your normal sleep schedule,” Wilbur teased, and Phil let out a long, defeated sigh. Phil finished undoing his hands, taking one and trying it to a drawer’s handle. 

He turned back to the ramen, sliding it close and going for a fork. “We’ll have to get something a little healthier for you in the morning.”

“I am literally sick of eating healthy things. That’s a threat to me,” Techno deadpanned. Phil choked on his laugh. 

“Technoblade has a point!” Tommy squawked. “He’s so right. I am also sick of eating healthy things!”

With raised eyebrows, all three of them glanced up at Tommy. Techno said, “You just had cake for breakfast and lunch.”

“And that was just the beginning, ” Tommy said with a dramatic nod, clasping his hands together. Phil handed Techno the fork and fully peeled the cover off for him, so Techno turned his back to Tommy and began to nom. The boy squawked. “Hey! Pay attention!”

“Let him eat, Tommy,” Wilbur scolded, though he smiled at the boy’s antics. “You’ll like your scrambled eggs whether they’re healthy or not.” He glanced over at Tommy.

Phil’s head tilted. “Are you making enough for me, mate?”

“Mmh, no. You refused to cook for me and Tommy,” Wilbur said, grinning wide and entirely gleeful.

“Fine. I’ll just have some cake.”

“ WHAT —”

“My cake!” Wilbur wailed, throwing his hands up. “Fine! Fine, there’s enough for you! I swear.”

Smug, Phil let out a chuckle. “Good. That’s what I thought.” He shook his head at their banter, watching Tommy grumble and cross his arms. “It’s a good thing I like scrambled eggs so much.”

Techno shifted where he stood, still utterly shoving his face full. He never thought he’d taste something so cheap again; it was perfect. The mediocre taste covered by the bland spiciness… Techno thought he might be on cloud nine. The inside of his mouth burned and tingled, both from the spiciness and the fact that steam still floated away from the inside of the cup. It numbed his tongue, but he ate through it.

He stared at the ramen, too. He couldn’t believe it had been two years. He couldn’t believe it had been two years since he ate something unhealthy, since he had somebody make him something (even if all it took was boiling water), since somebody had excitedly bantered and chattered with him. 

He couldn’t believe it was all due to a trio of villains. He knew the trope of the heroes being the bad guys were popular, but it made his throat close up at the thought of it all. At least he could’ve outwardly blamed his prior deaths on weird freak accidents with heroes and tried to ignore the voice inside of him that scorned heroes. Scorned those that had caused him so many deaths. How could he ignore that, now, when they weren’t the ones who saved him?

These three didn’t seem like bad people at all, though. It felt like he was a victim of propaganda, honestly. Like the universe was shoving this family trio at him and saying, “See? Villains are the good guys!”

Watching them bicker and argue, watching them laugh and eat, talking to each other like they had nothing but each other…

Techno’s fork scraped at the bottom of the ramen cup. He blinked and glanced down at it, swirling his fork to try and find any remaining noodles. He was still hungry; he still craved junk. Something sour, something sickeningly sweet. 

He glanced up at the three of them. They were talking, but he didn’t hear them.

“Can I have some cake?” he asked, blinking.

“Cake?” Tommy echoed, taking in a big breath as if getting a scream ready. Wilbur swatted at him, though, earning a squawk and then silence.

“Do you like ice cream cake?” Wilbur asked as he set his plate of scrambled eggs down, moving towards the freezer. Techno hummed his agreement, watching intently as he pulled out a box. “It’s not homemade or anything.”

“I can’t bake,” Phil agreed with a smile, grabbing a plate and fork. 

Wilbur opened up the top of the box. “Do you want a corner piece or a middle piece?”

“Oh, definitely a corner piece,” Techno said, leaning back and licking his lips. “I don’t think I’ve had cake for my birthday in years.”

The three villains seemed to pause in unison. Tommy spoke first. “Wait, is it actually your birthday? I thought you were joking.”

“No, it’s my birthday,” Techno said with a laugh. “I assume it’s not just mine, though.” He peered over to glance at the cake, reading the words. “I sure hope you’re not twenty-five, Wilbur.”

Phil let out a wheeze as Wilbur slid the last corner piece onto the plate, pushing it over to Techno. “Why not?” he asked.

“I’m also twenty-five. We could be twins. And I’d be twins with a British man, and I can’t do such a horrific thing.” Techno dug into the cake without another word, his eyes fluttering shut. It was… so sweet. So cheaply sweet. People really did undermine the sweetness of fruits; peaches and strawberries, apples and blueberries… They were sweeter than anything. He preferred them over actual candy, although sometimes he’d kill for dark chocolate (not that they ever gave him any). But fruit always tasted fresh. Just like with some shitty ramen, shitty cake did something special, too. 

He didn’t even listen to the trio bickering. He licked off the frosting and stabbed a piece onto his fork, shamelessly biting into it. It hurt his teeth, but he didn’t hesitate. Call him a psycho or whatever; he just couldn’t wait to do anything but. The chocolate, vanilla… ugh. He missed it. He missed it so much. He’d always been a fan of ice cream cake; his father always bought it from the store for his birthdays. He didn’t know what started the tradition, but the memories of sitting at the table with a single candle on his cake, with his father ruffling his hair and telling him to make a wish.

But it was all gone. He was free, yes, but he’d never get those years back. He’d lost his father long before the Association took him, but he’d never even get back the silent nights doing work, driving to the university, or teaching a lecture. 

No.

Because he was a fucking fugitive, now.

He finished the slice. His mouth ached from the cold. He rubbed away some chocolate that was drying to the corner of his lips. He blinked a couple of times, just to bring everything back into focus. He glanced up at the three of them. Phil had taken to cleaning up, and Tommy had disappeared off to… well, somewhere. Wilbur had taken a seat at the counter, with one stool separating them. 

Wilbur’s head tilted as Techno glanced at him. “You done?”

Phil turned back. “I can take your plate,” he offered immediately, and Techno hummed as he pushed the plate towards him. “Tommy’s setting up for a ‘sleepover’ on the couch. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Techno said. “Although I hope he doesn’t expect many sleepover activities.”

A snicker left Wilbur as he stood up from the counter. “I think he just wants to watch movies.”

“Good ones, I hope,” Phil said as he put up the rest of the dishes to dry. “You ready to take a seat, mate?”

“I’m already sitting.” He stood up, anyway, clasping his hands together and offering them up to Phil. The man stared at him with a single blink. “...Didn’t you want to tie my hands back together?”

“Are you going to kill yourself?”

“I would very much not like to test whether or not suicide reverses time,” Techno deadpanned, putting his hands back to his side. He turned to follow where Wilbur went, returning to the living room. It had been set up with a bunch of pillows and blankets on the ground, with Tommy coming in at the same time with another armful of pillows.

“We want to know what movies you’re choosing, Toms,” Wilbur said, leaning down to start organizing the pillows. 

Tommy hummed as he took a seat on the ground. “I want to watch Money Plane.”

“For the love of God, please do not make us watch Money Plane again,” Phil groaned as he finally stepped out. He didn’t look at Techno, and after a few moments of staring, Techno turned away, too. 

“We can watch literally any other action movie except for Money Plane ,” Wilbur agreed, snagging the remote before Tommy thought to grab it. He stayed standing as he began to flick through movies, and Phil settled down beside Tommy. 

With a loud groan, Tommy settled back. “It’s not my fault you guys have literally no taste.” 

Phil swatted at him. “Alright, we’re going to do this in shifts of three hours. You still up to take the first shift, Wilbur?”

“Of course.” He settled on a movie before plopping down on the ground. Not willing to ruin the sanctity of their ‘sleepover’, Techno just sat on the couch. No one said anything, so he slowly made himself comfortable. 

“That means you’ve got to sleep soon, Tommy,” Phil said with a hint of humor, and Tommy groaned in distaste. 

“I hate you. You all suck.” He wiggled downwards and kicked his feet properly under the blankets, making himself comfortable. He focused on the television without another word. 

It didn’t seem to take long for both Phil and Tommy to fall asleep. Techno’s attention dragged away from the movie, and instead, he watched the night sky outside. Wilbur fiddled on his phone, the light rather blinding in the soft glow of the TV. Techno didn’t mind, though. He simply watched the moon.

Another hour or so passed until the movie finished. Wilbur put his phone down, searching blindly for the remote before asking softly, “Any preference for the next movie?”

“Hm?” Techno glanced down at the man, who stared up at him, his fluffy brown hair covering one of his eyes. 

“Do you want to choose the next movie?”

“Oh…” He glanced up. “No, I don’t really care.”

“Mmh. Me, neither. I’m not really a movie guy,” Wilbur confessed, simply shutting the television off. He twisted his body slightly to face Techno better. “Are you?”

“No… I like shows. Stuff I can binge.” He tilted his head at the sudden interest.

Wilbur hummed slowly, placing his arms on the couch. Techno shifted back, not interested in touching him. “Me, too. …You want to tell me more about yourself?”

“Like?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you. Not really, anyway. Assuming you’re not a lying prick–” 

Techno let out a scoff.

“–then the only thing we really know is your edgy backstory.”

“My edgy backstory?” Techno echoed with an eye roll. “I suppose you could call it that. …I’m just a regular person. I was a professor, teaching English classes.”

“Then you must like reading.”

“Of course,” he agreed, laughing softly. “That’s half my job. Writing, too. I enjoyed that. Couldn’t really write while in captivity. I had no access to laptops or phones or whatever, and my wrists just couldn’t handle writing so much on paper.”

“They should’ve given you a typewriter,” Wilbur informed, and Techno laughed again.

“What about you?” he asked. “Do you do anything besides this… villain stuff?”

Wilbur brightened at the question. “Oh, I’m a songwriter, actually. And a song singer. And a song guitarist,” he rambled, grinning wide.

“Yeah? I bet you’re good at it,” he offered. “You’ve got the hands for it. And I suppose the name ‘Siren’ makes even more sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Wilbur stretched out. “...What’s the thing you miss the most?”

He turned his head, his eyes finding the large window. “This. The night sky. I haven’t seen it in… a long time.”

“You haven’t?” 

“Not in over two years. There were no windows where they had me, y’know? And the most I saw while trying to beat you guys was the sunset. I am so sick of the sun.”

“You are pale.”

“Says you. ” 

Wilbur laughed, shaking his head as Techno put his chin in his hand. “Do you plan on sleeping tonight?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m tired.” Techno yawned at the thought. “But I’m wide awake at the same time.” 

“Happens to the best of us. You should rest, though. I’ll shut up,” Wilbur offered, sinking back down to the ground.

Techno didn’t respond, and Wilbur took out his phone again.

Another couple of hours passed until Wilbur’s phone buzzed. The man yawned and sat up, leaning over Phil to shake Tommy awake. The boy grumbled before stirring awake. 

Without a word, he sat up and Wilbur laid down. Tommy reached for the remote and chose another movie, and he didn’t speak to Wilbur. They must have a lot of trust in each other, he noted to himself. He would never trust the boy to just stay awake, but Wilbur didn’t even double check.

…Trust like that must be difficult to keep.

Tommy didn’t talk to him like Wilbur did. Techno could feel his eyes start to shut, his gaze drawing from the moon and to the movie Tommy had started.

He didn’t want to fall asleep.

He wanted to watch daybreak come. He wanted to see his hell finally come to an end. 

He just wanted this all to be over with. 

His eyes shut, and he fell asleep long before Tommy’s shift had ended.

Chapter Text

When Techno blinked his eyes open, a bright light blinded him. He groaned softly, squeezing them shut. He strained his ears for a few moments, but… it was silent. 

Was he back…? 

His eyes shot open, and he sat up, looking around rapidly. But, the bright light hadn’t been from a ceiling light like it had always been; the sun was shining directly in his face. 

His chest heaved, panting lightly. He looked around again. The villains were nowhere to be seen. He tilted his head back and shut his eyes.

It was alright. He was alright. Everything was alright.

He took in a deep breath. He held it for a few moments.

He released it.

Everything was alright.

With a slow shake of his head, he slowly climbed to his feet. His entire body ached, but it didn’t hurt. He hadn’t slept so hard to cause that in far too long. He rubbed at his eyes and straightened his clothes, glancing around again.

Where in the world were they?

He wandered into the kitchen, but they weren’t there, either. He frowned sharply. …Well, whatever. Surely they wouldn’t mind if he just raided the pantry. 

Maybe he could make some eggs… surely they wouldn’t mind that, either?

He glanced at the clock on the stove as he moved to the fridge. Ugh… He had slept for far too long. It was almost noon. He yawned again as he took out some eggs, moving to where he saw them get out a pan.

He wondered, distantly, where they were. He wasn’t too worried… This was literally their house, after all. They were probably in their own rooms, doing their own thing. Maybe showering. Gods, he needed a shower.

He hummed to himself as he began to cook up his eggs. When he finally heard footsteps, he lifted his head to see Wilbur. 

“Making yourself at home, are you?” Wilbur asked, his voice croaky. Techno snickered.

“Do you want any?” he asked back instead of answering. “I can make you some.”

“...Yes. Over-medium, please,” Wilbur said, settling down at the counter. “I’m glad to see we’re still here.” 

“No time shenanigans this time,” Techno agreed. Since he would need to make a new batch, anyway, he slid the current eggs onto a plate and slid them to Wilbur, then grabbing a couple more for himself. “I’m glad, too.”

“You slept in quite late.”

“I’m tired.” He rubbed at his face. His cheeks were warm. Probably from the hot stove. “Where are Tommy and Phil?”

“Tommy’s in the shower, I think. Phil’s doing villain stuff.”

“Villain stuff?” Techno echoed with a little snort.

“Well, yeah. We gotta figure out what to do with you. No offense. But… if you’re innocent, then… You deserve some freedom, y’know. It’ll be hard, with the Association, but Phil wants to figure something out.”

Techno glanced back at Wilbur, just for a moment, before he shrugged. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Wilbur agreed, resting his chin on his hand. “So, what do you want to do?”

“What do I want to do?”

“Yeah. With your freedom.” Wilbur gestured blandly at him. “Surely there’s something. Do you wanna see the world? Meet old friends? …Kill some heroes?”

KILL.

Techno flinched at the rush of voices. He grunted softly and put a hand to his head.

“...Sorry.” Wilbur let out a nervous laugh. “Uh, sometimes I make some shitty jokes. I’ll try to not… make them.”

Techno shook his head. Nothing else came, so he let his shoulders relax. “You’re fine. It’s fine. …I’ve already killed one, anyway.”

Wilbur gaped. “Have you?”

“Mhm.” His head tilted as he slid his eggs onto a new plate and turned off the stove. “Just a healer. Nothing special.”

“How’d you do it?” Wilbur asked, leaning forward.

“We were on the roof, by the edge. I grabbed his arm and yanked him. Let go before I went with him, and… viola. Dead hero.” He took a seat at the counter, once again with a seat in between the two of them.

“Oh, man. You’re already really cool,” Wilbur joked. “And you make some good eggs. Better than Phil, I’d say.”

“Objectively,” Techno agreed. He didn’t need to taste Phil’s eggs to know it. He’d been making eggs for two years. “Do you cook much?”

“Sometimes. I know the basics,” Wilbur said with a little shrug. “Do you want a shower?”

He perked. “After I eat,” he said. “I need a hot one.”

“Hot showers are superior.” Wilbur yawned and leaned back. “You should join our villain team, y’know.”

Techno snorted. “I don’t think I’m as skilled as you’re thinking.” He glanced up from his eggs. “...And some heroes are far too young to be killed.”

Wilbur hummed, watching him with a tilted head. “But they’re heroes.”

“So was I, technically.” He shrugged. “We all fell victim to the draft. You don’t really have a choice, nowadays.”

Wilbur hummed yet again, turning his head slightly. “...I suppose you could think of it like that. They could’ve become villains, though.”

Techno laughed sharply. “Oh, I’m sure the meek sixteen year olds I’ve met know they can and should become villains.” He waved his hand dismissively, a signal to end the topic, as he stood up to take care of his and Wilbur’s plate. “Now, I think you owe me a shower.”

“That I do,” Wilbur said, standing up. “You’ll have to take the one in my room, sorry.”

“I think I’ll survive,” Techno said, rinsing off the dishes and setting them to the side for a proper cleaning later. He turned and headed out towards the living room. The sun shone through the window, and he glanced outside. Pine trees covered nearly his entire view. The forest was always so serene; honestly, he didn’t miss city life, even after being held in captivity for two years. He’d always wanted a cabin in the woods like this one. 

A breeze dragged through the trees, and he watched the tips of them sway. The knuckles of Wilbur’s hand brushed past him as he stepped in front of Techno. He didn’t move just yet. The sun felt warm on his skin.

“D’you need soap? I could probably find an unused bar for you,” Wilbur offered thoughtfully. Techno looked over at him, opening his mouth to respond.

The sound of something shattering interrupted him. He didn’t have time to react. All he saw was Wilbur’s eyes widen, tensing up. The world seemed to slow around him. Something shattering? Did a plate drop, maybe? 

His eyes began to move, to look behind him and inspect the sound, but a sharp pain in the back of his head stopped him. The pain exploded out rapidly, and it all went black.

He woke with a sharp inhale, shooting upwards. He gasped for air, touching the back of his head where the pain still lingered. He stared at the wall as his mind raced.

Okay. Okay, evidently, he had just… died. From what? Something had shattered. He glanced behind him. The window… The window had broken. From what? It all happened so quickly. It was probably a gun, right? …The Association. They had already found him. Something clawed at his stomach, and he yanked on his hair.

He needed to think. He was good at just slowing down and thinking.

The Association already found him.

…He needed to tell the villains.

“P…Phil?” he called out, his voice shaking. “Wilbur?”

It took a few moments, but Wilbur popped his head out from the corner. “What’s up? Phil’s busy, but…” He trailed off as his eyes trailed down Techno’s shaking figure. “...You alright?”

Techno swallowed thickly. He squeezed his fists together and exhaled. “Don’t freak out. The Association knows I’m here.”

Wilbur bristled, quickly ducking his head back behind the wall. “What? Did you fucking rat us out?”

“Considering they just shot me in the back of the head? No. No, I didn’t.” He put his hand to his mouth, swallowing down bile again. He began to stand. “Tell everyone to get their masks on. I don’t know if they’re already here, or if they’re on their way.”

“...Okay. Okay. Get away from the window,” Wilbur ordered. Techno took in another deep breath, holding it as he walked towards the hallway. He turned the corner and released it, his head tilting back. Wilbur glared at him, but he didn’t particularly care. “They found us through you. What the hell did you do?”

“Well, maybe I was bugged, and you guys just didn’t notice,” he muttered, touching the back of his head again. A dull headache remained. “Go. Don’t hesitate. We need… We need Phil.” 

He needed the Angel of Death.

Wilbur stayed still for a few moments before turning tail without another word. “Tommy! Phil! Masks on, now!”

Techno didn’t move, watching him move down the hallway, pounding on one of the doors. He leaned his head back and against the cool wall. He inhaled slowly. Okay. Okay. It was just one death. That was it. Just… one death. 

He dug his face into his hands, then. He heard voices, but he just drowned them out as he thought. 

He couldn’t even turn back time to yesterday to prevent this. …Fuck. Fuck.

No. No, no, no. Just breathe. Just breathe and think. Just think.

First off, he needed to figure out where he was bugged. Usually, people had chips implanted in the fatty parts of the body to prevent damaging muscle. Thighs? Maybe. Could be his cheeks, too, but he had a pretty thin face. He put his hands to his cheeks and rubbed at them, as if he would be able to feel a microchip through them. His arms were definitely off limits; he was too skinny there. Maybe his stomach? That felt counter productive; too much movement there, right? Or… no, was that stupid? That felt stupid. 

He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He moved his hands down and stared at them. How would he figure it out? He didn’t want to endanger the villains. They had saved him. They had saved him from dying, from being stuck in that stupid fucking ‘apartment’. 

He hissed, shaking his head rapidly. He lifted his head and saw Phil, with his bucket hat once more obscuring his face, stalking up to him. He spoke before Phil could.

“If I were chipped, where would they chip me?”

“...What?” Phil said, the anger wiping off his face at the sudden question. “Uh. Between the thumb and the forefinger.”

“Can you test that?” Techno shoved his hands out towards the man. “Obviously, they found us through me. Can you destroy the chip? Do you have to cut it out?”

Phil gawked at him before he rapidly shook his head. “Mate–”

“Magnets can fuck them up, right?” He spread his thumb and fingers to try and inspect them. “I need to figure this out for next time.” 

“For next time?”

Techno glanced up from his hands. “I’m probably going to die again.”

“Magnets won’t work,” Wilbur cut in, popping from one of the doors. He wore his mask, obscuring his features. “We could microwave you, or try and crush it with a hammer,” he joked.

“Good idea.”

“Good–? No? What the fuck?”

“That is not a good idea,” Phil cut in, shaking his head. “Let’s get you downstairs. I’ll try to pull up the X-ray machine and get it running. Wilbur, get Tommy and join us.” He waved his hand and grabbed Techno, starting to pull him towards the stairs. “You are not crushing your hands with a hammer, mate.”

“Would an X-ray catch the microchip?” Techno asked instead of answering the question.

He huffed sharply. “Yes. We’ll figure it out. I can numb the area and cut it out.”

“Why didn’t you do it last night?”

“Mate, I might be a super villain, but running an X-ray machine is fuckin’ expensive and can alert some bad people with the sudden uptick in electricity. But, well, if they’ve already found us…” He shrugged.

Techno licked his dry lips. “Will they know who you are since they found the house?”

Phil laughed and glanced back at him as they entered a white room. A hospital bed–or something that looked like it, at least–stood in the middle. “You think I buy my lairs with any way to trace them back to me? Put your hands on the table. We’ll do those first.”

He did so just as Tommy and Wilbur hurried into the room. Tommy squawked at the sight. “What are you gonna do if you find one?” he asked. Techno glanced back at him as the machine slowly powered up.

“I’ll numb him up and cut it out,” Phil said, duly focused on the task. “Don’t panic. We’re going to finish this and run.”

“We’re running?” Wilbur protested. “Why? We should defend this place!”

“We’re not doing that,” Phil snapped. His tone left room for no arguments. “We’re going to finish this, get anything with sentimental value, and fucking run. Do you understand me?”

The two villains agreed quietly, glancing at each other. Techno shut his eyes as the machine continued to whir to life.

“...Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, mate,” Phil said with a snort. “We did this to save you. We’re going to continue to save you.” 

Techno puffed out a breath and shook his head, going quiet. Nobody spoke; the only noise was the machine. It was silent for a good few minutes until Phil finally spoke again.

“Left hand. Between your thumb and forefinger. I was right.” Phil exhaled slowly, messing around on the computer he stood in front of. “Apollo, you’re gonna have to be ready to heal him. This is going to be messy since it needs to be quick.”

“I can do that!” Tommy stood on his toes, moving forward. Phil pulled away from the machine and went for a cabinet, only for a sudden rumbling to make everyone pause. The rumbling grew louder until a crashing noise came from upstairs, and Phil let out a sharp growl. 

“ Fuck!” Phil yelled, running his hand through his hair. “Siren! Watch the door!”

“Got it.” Wilbur turned and ran to the door, hurrying to lock it. 

“We need to do this quick. Techno, I don’t think we have time to wait for the numbing to kick in.”

“Do it,” Techno snapped. “Hurry.” 

Phil turned back from the cabinet with a scalpel, turning back to Techno. “Tommy, hold his hand still.” 

Small hands gripped his hand to keep it still. Techno squeezed his eyes shut as the cold scalpel touched his skin. Something pounded at the door, making Techno jolt. Both Phil and Tommy stayed steady.

“Siren, don’t hesitate. We need this out so we don’t get tracked,” Phil ordered. The scalpel dug into his skin, and Techno hissed in pain. He screwed his eyes shut even tighter, grimacing. 

“Angel! Angel, I can’t keep this fucking door shut–!” Wilbur let out a little yelp as something hit the door again, shaking the entire room. The scent of smoke hit Techno’s nose, so he opened his eyes. The sight of his hand, completely covered in blood, made him queasy, but he flicked his eyes up to the door, where smoke billowed out from under it.

The door slammed open, sending Wilbur flying against the wall with a scream. Phil let out an enraged yell as a man in a green hoodie and the dumbest looking mask stepped in the room, wielding an axe. Techno groaned in annoyance; not fucking Masked.

Phil’s wings spread threateningly as Masked pulled his hand back, ready to throw his axe. Techno’s body moved before he could think. The axe went through the air, and Techno jumped forward. 

The axe had been aimed for Phil’s head. Techno was taller than him. 

It went straight into his neck, lodging it inside. Techno’s mouth opened to scream, and Phil began to curse loudly, but the blood soured his throat and mouth. He gripped Phil tight, his eyes ablaze with anger . 

Techno was going to kill them.

He was going to fucking kill them. 

He glanced down at his hand as his vision blurred. It hadn’t been successfully cut out. If they couldn’t cut it out in time, maybe that hammer idea was a good one.

He could hear Masked screaming in anger, too. Killing him would just reset their progress. But it was too late. He was going to make them regret this.

His vision went black, and his knees finally buckled.

The world disappeared around him.

Chapter Text

Techno didn’t curse very often.

“Damn it… Damn it. Fuck!” Techno shouted as soon as he woke up. He coughed, expecting blood to come up his throat, but… nothing. He rubbed at his neck as he stood up. “ FUCK!”  

Wilbur came practically running. Techno heard his footsteps before he actually came in.

“ Don’t!” he shouted, and the footsteps stopped. “Don’t turn the fucking corner. Do you have a hammer? Something heavy?”

“W-What?” Wilbur asked, bewildered.

“Don’t ask, just fucking answer me,” Techno snarled. 

“Uh… it’s in the g-garage.” 

Techno stepped up to the hallway, turning the corner. “Show me.” He could feel his chest heaving. He needed to get rid of this microchip sooner than later. 

Wilbur stared at him with wide eyes, but he obeyed, turning on his heels and hurrying down the hallway. “Techno, what’s going on?” he asked.

“I’ve got a microchip in my hand. I’m going to bust it, and then we’re going to run,” he said, his voice low. Wilbur threw open the door at the end of the hallway–a thick one, evidently not made out of wood–that revealed the garage. 

“...Wait. You’re going to what—?”

“Go get Phil and Tommy. Get your masks on and get your belongings. We need to hurry,” he said, heading for the tool box he saw. Wilbur stayed quiet for a few moments before he heard quick footsteps.

Good. Good. …He wouldn’t die again. He coughed into his elbow as he threw open the tool box, grabbing the heaviest hammer he could find. 

Good.

He placed his left hand down on the workbench next to the tool box, testing the weight of the hammer in his right hand. He silently lined up the hammer to the skin between his finger and thumb. He inhaled sharply and blinked slowly.

He could do this. 

He lifted the hammer and brought it down as hard as he could. A sharp scream left his throat, his hand jolting as he nearly threw the hammer with how his grip loosened, and he quickly tightened it again. He gritted his teeth and turned his trembling hand, palm up, now, just in case he needed to. He lined the hammer up again, just as footsteps came barreling down the hall. 

“Techno—mate, what are you—?”

The sound of metal meeting skin in a sickening thud cut him off. Techno let out another muffled scream, dropping the hammer and to his knees, keeping his hand high.

“ Techno! ” Phil shouted, hurrying up to him. Stocky hands gripped his shoulders as he whined, squeezing his eyes shut. “What’s going on? Why did you fucking smash your hand?”

Techno let out a shaky breath. His chest heaved as he slowly relaxed his jaw. “There’s a microchip that tracks my location in my hand. I didn’t know until… ah, well, this is my third today,” he tried to joke. He let out a wheeze, his head tilting back. 

“...Tracking?” Phil echoed, grabbing his hand to inspect it.

“We didn’t have time to cut it out last time. I had to break it,” Techno explained, coughing again. “So, now that that’s done, can we get going?”

“...Fuck. Okay. Let me get some ice—”

“ No. ” Techno shook his head rapidly. “We need to leave now. They’ll be here soon. We don’t have time.”

Phil shook his head back. “Fine. Just stay here while I get Tommy and Wil.” He stood up, leaving Techno crumpled on the ground. Footsteps hurried away.

Gods. Gods, okay, it was over. The pain in his hand was beginning to dull. He whined as he tried to move his thumb, to test it.

Hopefully he didn’t break his hand too badly. He let out a weak laugh at the thought.

Just a couple moments later, the trio came rushing out. Tommy squawked at the sight. “Shit, big man! Your fucking hand!”

“I know. Can someone help me up?” Techno asked, his voice gruff. Wilbur hurried to his side and began to lift him.

“Can’t you heal him, Tommy?” Wilbur asked as Techno stumbled to his feet. The world spun around him.

Phil opened up the car door. “Tommy, you’ll be up front with me. Wilbur, keep Techno down. We’re not healing him; if he’s got a broken microchip in him, we have to wait until I can get the pieces out before it’s healed.” 

Wilbur groaned as he helped Techno into the back seat of the small, black car. Wilbur climbed in after him and pushed him down. “Can I put him to sleep?” Wilbur asked.

“N-No…” Techno protested. He clenched his fist as Wilbur put his hands over his eyes.

“Good idea. Sorry, mate,” Phil said, glancing back as he started the car up. “It’ll hurt less, that way.” 

Wilbur leaned down and murmured, “Sleep.”

Techno groaned in protest as the world slipped into darkness. 

He woke up with a start. His eyes began to blink open; a high pitched buzz rang in his ears. Everything was too blurry and too fuzzy to make out; blobs of black and gray. Something wet and hot trickled down his face, and he blinked his eyes to get it out of his eyelashes. He tried to lift his hand to wipe it away, but it was trapped under… something.

He groaned, turning his head. The buzzing slowly faded. He heard the sound of fire crackling, off shouting. Too many voices. 

“— them! I’ll fucking kill them all!”

…Phil’s voice. He could hear Wilbur wailing. He blinked his eyes again, slowly lifting himself up. Wilbur’s hands gripped his shoulders. 

“What’s…” 

“ Dad, stop! Just—we have to run!”

“Wilbur…?” Techno blinked up at the man. His head… hurt. The car… the right side of it was crumpled. Tommy sat in the front seat, but… he was mangled. Something had gone through the windshield and impaled him straight through the chest. His body was crumpled, too, like a ragdoll. 

Phil had left the car, just leaving a screaming Wilbur.

Something had happened… while he was asleep. He squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments before he lifted his free hand. One of them was pinned by another projectile that had come through. 

“Wilbur… Wilbur.” He reached and gripped the man’s chin. “Look at me.”

“W…What?” Wilbur croaked out, his screaming stopping. He turned his head to stare at Techno, his eyes blurry. “Techno—Tommy is—”

“I know.” Techno gripped his chin harder. “Tell me what happened.”

“Ah… they… they followed us. They were right there; they were waiting for us to try and leave. And… And…”

Techno exhaled slowly. That meant that they hadn’t tracked them with the microchip. At least… probably. He glanced out the window. Helicopters, heroes… He gritted his teeth. 

“Wilbur. Look at me,” he said again. The man sniffled and focused back on Techno, his eyes drawing away from Tommy’s body. “Kill me.”

“...What?” he croaked again.

“Kill me. I’ll fix this,” he said, slowly letting go of the man. He shifted his body, reaching back to the projectile in his arm. It looked like a metal pipe. That wasn’t a good weapon for this. He needed something better. “Is there a weapon?”

“Ah… I have a knife.” Wilbur swallowed thickly, letting go of Techno to grab the knife in his pocket. Techno let out a laugh.

“Stab me. In the neck. I’ll bleed out.” He exhaled slowly and shut his eyes. “...Could you make me sleep again, though?”

“...Y-Yeah. I can do that.” Wilbur shut his eyes, too. “... Sleep. ”

Techno woke up with the sun shining in his face again. He blinked slowly, letting out a shaky laugh. He tensed and relaxed his left hand, then he stretched it. 

…Again. He had to do it again. 

He sat up, silent, this time. He headed for the hallway. “Wilbur!” he called. 

It took a few moments, but one of the doors opened from the left. Wilbur poked his head out. “What’s up?”

“Get Phil and Tommy. Get your masks. Meet me in the garage,” he said, walking with a brisk pace straight past Wilbur. “Don’t ask questions.”

Wilbur blinked after him, but without another word, he did as he was told. Techno threw the door open and went for the tool box again. 

Same as before. A heavy hammer. His left hand on the workbench. Line it up. 

THUD.  

Techno gritted his teeth, managing not to scream this time. His hand tensed up, but he simply turned it the other way.

THUD.  

He dropped the hammer again, and he slammed his right hand against the workbench. He ducked his head, growling. 

The pain radiated in bursts. He kept his hand still, trembling and tense. He shook his head rapidly and focused on his breaths. His chest stuttered.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

BREATHE.  

Voices whispered the word into his head. He inhaled slowly, and he exhaled slowly.

In and out. In and out. In and out. 

It was over.

Footsteps sounded, and Phil came bursting into the garage. “Mate? What the fuck is going on—?”

“Microchip. I wrecked it. They’re waiting for us outside; we need to figure out how to sneak out.” He glanced up, his blurry gaze finding Tommy. 

At least he wasn’t a corpse anymore. 

“They’re waiting for us?” Wilbur asked, his fists clenching. “Did you rat us out?”

Techno wheezed. Maybe a laugh, maybe a strangled breath. “Would I have broken my own fucking hand if I had to?”

“...Fair.”

“The car won’t work?” Phil cut in.

Techno shook his head. “They got us in the car last time. Wilbur put me to sleep, so I don’t know the details.” 

Phil gawked at him before quickly shaking it off. Techno laughed. It wasn’t the time to be surprised. 

“We need a distraction,” Tommy offered quickly. “I say I start a fire.” 

“Wildfires are awful for the environment,” Techno informed with a low groan.

“But the smoke will keep us hidden,” Phil said. “Good idea, Tommy. Let me go make a molotov.”

“You’ve got the gear to just fuckin’ make that, here?” Techno asked, letting out another wheezy laugh. 

Phil didn’t respond as he stepped out. Tommy moved forward. “I can heal your hand.”

“Phil said that’s not a good idea,” he said with a shake of his head. “Broken microchip pieces, or whatever.”

Wilbur’s head tilted. “He didn’t say that.”

“He did last time.” Techno slowly sunk to the floor again, grimacing. “Stop questioning me. It’ll make things easier.” 

“...H-How did you die this time?” Wilbur asked with wide eyes.

“You don’t want to know.” Techno reached up to wipe the sweat off his brow. It only took a few moments before Phil came back into the garage with the bottle. 

He handed it off to Tommy. “Quickly. Don’t hesitate. Go toss it.” 

Tommy nodded excitedly and hurried out the side door. He disappeared from sight, and then there was a long pause.

They stood in silence as Tommy bounded back inside with a large grin.

BOOM.  

The explosion shook the entire house, and Techno hissed at the vibration in his hand. “Are we going to be driving through the smoke?” he asked. 

“Nope! We’re going out the back door,” Phil chirped. “We’ve got wildfire masks, anyway.”

“...Why?”

Wilbur pointed at Tommy. “Do you know how often he accidentally starts fires?” he asked with a snicker.

Techno wheezed yet another laugh as Phil went for a cabinet. He began to pull out a few items. “We’re going to wait just a bit for the fire to spread. Then we’ll bolt.”

“How long? They didn’t have an issue with just barging in here, either.” Techno rested his head against the tool box. The cool metal burned his hot skin.

“…Shit. Okay.” Phil ran his hand through his hair. “Five minutes. You think we can last five minutes?” 

“Maybe. Can I have a weapon?” Techno asked, grimacing as he shuffled. “Anything would do.”

Wilbur reached down into a pocket in his pants. “You can have one of my knives,” Wilbur offered, tossing the switchblade next to him. Techno took it without a word and gripped it tight. He pressed the button to make the blade flick outward. It was small, but it would do in an emergency. 

“Where are we going to go?” Techno asked, turning his attention back to Phil. “If this fails, then I need all the information I can get.” 

Phil’s eyes narrowed slightly before he hummed. “...I’m going to get us underground. Underground enough that the microchip won’t be an issue, if it’s still working.”

Wilbur perked. “Are we going to the Countess’s?”

“We are. Hopefully she’ll accept a spare,” he said grimly. “I’m not risking sending her a message right now. Let’s get out under the cover of smoke, and get deeper into the woods.” 

Techno groaned again. “You villains are so vague,” he muttered. “Is she far?”

“We’ll be moving for about an hour before we can properly get underground. It’ll be a long trek,” Phil said. “Let’s get you safe, mate.” 

He shook his head and glanced outside to see the billowing smoke. He bit down on his lip, as if expecting something to come crashing through the window. Maybe Masked. 

…Gods, did he want to kill that fucker.

“They’re probably going to have helicopters. Can you deal with that?”

Phil snickered at his words. “Of course, mate. The woods are thick, and the smoke will be even thicker.” He leaned down. “Let’s get this mask on you.” 

Techno huffed but lifted his head to make it easier. It took a few moments before Phil secured it around his head, adjusting it. 

“Alright. Can you stand?”

Techno grunted and hauled himself upwards. His legs shook, but he ignored it. He stretched himself out and nodded as the rest of them put their smoke masks on.

“These aren’t perfect, but Tommy used his power on ‘em. They’ll be much better than nothing,” Phil explained. “Let’s get going.” 

He moved to the door leading out back, pressing his ear to it for a few moments before swinging it open. They shuffled through, and he quietly shut the door behind them. Pine trees loomed ahead, shifting in the wind. The smoke billowed through the air, thick and heavy. He couldn’t see the sky well, but the sound of a helicopter grew closer. 

Without another word, they began to move. Techno followed behind them, pushing down his shakiness to try and keep up. They moved with ease, dodging every root and nettle like it was nothing. Techno bit down sharply on his lip. 

It was silent.

Everything was silent. 

And so they moved. Every step, every careful glance, everything stayed silent. Techno waited on bated breath for that to change, and…

Well. Nothing ever went well for him. 

They had moved faster than the smoke; it was beginning to clear out. Techno could only hope they had already gone past the surveillance, and the trees were all they needed.

…Nothing ever went well for him.

It started with Phil’s hand flying up, a silent motion to stop. They all stilled, listening intently for whatever he had heard. 

Footsteps. 

Multiple; Masked evidently hadn’t come alone like he thought they did. Phil growled.

“We’ve got a fight,” he warned, his once hidden wings spreading out behind his back. He unsheathed his sword just as the group of four stepped out. 

Techno only recognized three of the four. Masked, Emperor, and Frost. 

The fourth was a man in a business suit. He held a cigar between his lips, and they spread into a smile just as Phil seemed to freeze.

“Angel!” The man took his cigar out of his mouth and raised his arms and hands into the air, as if greeting a long forgotten friend. “I didn’t expect to see you fluttering about like a measly hummingbird.” 

Phil let out a sharp laugh. “I didn’t think I’d find you trekking the woods, either.”

“Well, when I heard that you showed your face yesterday, I couldn’t help it. It’s been, what? Two, three years since we’ve last seen each other?” His head tilted, still with a sleazy smile. “How’s the missus?”

“Lady Death is as stunning as ever,” Phil said with a nonchalant shrug. “How’s the business?”

“As profitable as ever!” The man laughed, his hands moving behind his back. Techno tensed.

“Good, good. Now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way…” Phil lifted his sword, pointing it at the man. “Why don’t we settle our fight, Schlatt?”

“ Gladly.”

And everything delved into chaos. 

Tommy and Wilbur shot towards each other, already getting into the position he had seen them in so many times while watching from that little rooftop. Emperor and Frost went for them, and Masked…

The man walked towards Techno, his axe resting against his shoulder. The battlefield was already loud, with Tommy’s screaming and Wilbur’s woven song, with Schlatt’s explosions and Phil’s shadows.

But Techno heard his words perfectly clear. 

“I know you didn’t like us, Techno, but teaming up with the villains? Really?” he asked with a laugh, moving up just a couple feet away from Techno. “I expected more from someone like you.” 

Techno shut his eyes for a few moments. He reached up with his broken hand, ignoring the screaming agony as he tore off the stupid mask. He let it drop to the ground and let the blade release on the switchblade. He raised it, pointing it at Masked. 

“I… am going to kill you,” he informed. 

Masked stared back at him, only to let out another laugh of disbelief.

“No matter how many times I die,” he continued on, “I am going to come back. I’m going to memorize every single thing you do, and I am going to keep going until I see you choke.”

With a roll of his shoulders, Masked pointed his axe at Techno. “Alright, but I’m not going to kill you,” he said rather smugly.

Techno darted forward. 

Masked laughed sharply, lifting his axe. Techno glanced up at it, and something whispered, step left.

His body reacted before his mind could catch the cause of the voice. …Well, whatever. It wasn’t the first time.

Strike.

He slashed at Masked with the knife, cutting through the man’s hoodie but missing any skin. Then the axe came down on his arm, and he let out a guttural scream, collapsing down immediately.

“See?” Masked laughed, shaking his head as he crouched down. “I told you I wouldn’t kill you.” 

Techno sneered before his face relaxed. His lips spread into a smile as he met Masked’s gaze. 

He stabbed himself through the neck.

THUD.

THUD.

He chose the hammer as his weapon instead of the knife. The knife had been too small to do any real damage. He kept the knife, anyway, and didn’t tell Masked he had it. 

He stabbed himself through the neck again.

THUD.

THUD.

The voices helped him dodge Masked’s incoming attacks. Right, first, then a downward swing. 

He memorized every single move.

THUD.

THUD.

Right, downward swing, right. A stumble back as Techno lands a hit to his arm. Masked yells, more so in anger than pain. The axe glows with his anger, and when it hits Techno next, it burns him.

THUD.

THUD.

Techno learned that his power was enchanting weapons. Just like a video game, he mused. Masked’s favorite seemed to be causing flames with every slash. 

THUD. 

THUD.

His head hurts. His hand hurts even worse. He powers through it. The villains listened to him without a second thought. They knew. They knew this was taking a while.

He wouldn’t stop until Masked was dead.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD. 

Techno had memorized everything. Right, downward swing, right. He stumbles back when Techno hits his arm. He yells, and his axe shines. Techno ducks. He jumps forward and tackles Masked. He lifts his hammer and he smashes the shoulder of Masked’s dominant side. He jumps back off as Masked swings his axe wildly and without thought. 

Again, and again, and again.

And then, finally…

Techno’s hammer came down on Masked’s wrist. He screamed in agony as Techno took the axe and threw it to the side. His broken hand reached for Masked’s neck, wrapping around it and squeezing.

“I told you,” Techno said with a smile. He squeezed harder. It felt like something was ripping his hand apart, but the way Masked began to thrash simply, well… masked the pain. “I told you. I was going to kill you. No matter how many times it took.” 

Masked hand found Techno’s arm. He attempted to scratch at him, but his gloves were too thick for it to do any real damage. Techno laughed at the sight, and he raised the hand that held his hammer. The man squirmed even harder. Fear radiated off of him, like he knew his fate had finally come.

“Goodbye, Masked,” he said sweetly.

And he slammed the hammer into the hero’s head. 

And again.

And again.

And again.

THUD. 

THUD.

THUD.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Techno didn’t stop until his head was caved in. Blood and gore, remnants of his brain and of his eyes, chipped pieces of his mask— 

He didn’t stop until somebody grabbed at his hands. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking. He didn’t realize it was over.

He dropped the hammer with one last thud.

Chapter Text

Somebody peeled the hammer out from his hand despite his vice grip on it. Distantly, he heard voices. They were panicked. Rushed. Loud.

Yelling, he thought.

The sounds all mixed together in one haze. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the dead body he had pinned down. Hands were pulling at his shoulders, waving in front of his face, desperately trying to get his attention.

And then… someone just lifted him up. He let out a sharp gasp, blinking rapidly at the sudden tug. They took him away from the body, from the heroes. He saw two blurry people gather around the dead body, yelling and screaming. Techno wondered if they were Masked’s friends. 

Somebody was talking into his ear, now. Soft and soothing, but still… urgent. Techno glanced down at his hands. They were… red. Both of them. They were wet. It must be blood. He put his hands together, grimacing at the feeling of… chunks. He shook his hands out, ignoring the radiating pain, to try and get it off of him. 

“—o, stop moving your—”

The words drifted in and out of his head. He took in a deep breath and looked up, trying to discern who said that, who was carrying him. He could walk on his own. 

Blond. So much blond. It was either Tommy or Phil. Probably Phil, then. Tommy always looked like a single gust of wind would shove him over, so he probably couldn’t lift Techno to save his own life.

“...Phil?” he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut. The voice came again, a hint of relief. Techno couldn’t take apart the noises to figure out the words, though. He was… exhausted. His body was weary. His arms fell to his side, and his eyes drooped.

He passed out.

When he woke again, it was dark. No sunlight blazed overhead. He was sick of sunlight.

He blinked his eyes open, sitting up slightly. He was settled on a bed in a room with no windows. His hand had been bandaged up. He lifted it up to inspect it, curious about the new pain radiating off of it. He spotted blood; they must’ve taken out the pieces of microchip while he was out.

Good.

He tilted his head back and exhaled slowly. He was still here. 

Techno sneered before his face relaxed. His lips spread into a smile as he met Masked’s gaze. 

His grip tightened around the knife. There were three possibilities, here.

One, he lets Masked take him. He returns to his life at the apartment, constantly dying without knowing when or why.

Two, he stabs himself, and he permanently dies. 

Three, he stabs himself, and he wakes up again.

His gaze flicked to the knife. 

One was worse than all the others. He’d never taken his own life, but…

Anything but returning to that apartment.

Techno quickly shook it off. He was just glad he was still here, he supposed. The voices in his head had gone quiet once more, leaving just him.

He turned his body, throwing off the blankets that had been ever so delicately placed on top of him. He planted his feet on the ground, grimacing. Somebody had taken off his shoes, and the icy cold of the floor sunk through his socks. 

He stood up and moved to the door, opening it up. It just led into a hallway. He grimaced.

“...Phil?” he called. “Wilbur?”

He heard the unmistakable sound of Tommy squawking, and the tension left his body. Footsteps went pattering down the hallway until they turned a corner. He left the room and began to walk towards the trio. Tommy was practically running, and although Phil and Wilbur were walking like normal people, they had a sense of urgency to their steps as well. 

“Techno!” Tommy cried out, throwing his arms around him. He stumbled backwards, barely catching himself. “You’re awake!” 

“So I am,” he agreed, grabbing Tommy and gently pushing him off. “Where are we?” 

“We’re at the Countess’s bunker,” Wilbur said as he stopped in front of them. “Luckily, she let us through.”

“You need some food and water, mate,” Phil cut in. “Tommy can’t heal your hand until you’ve got more energy in ya.”

Techno raised his good hand. “Stop. Slow down. …I could very much use a meal,” he said with a nod. Phil turned with a motion to follow him, and they all did so. “Who is the Countess?”

“An old friend of ours,” Wilbur offered. “She’s in the kitchen, so you’ll meet her in a moment.” 

He nodded slowly, reaching up to rub at his face. “And she’s friendly?”

“As friendly as you can be, in this business!” Tommy joked as they turned the corner, into what looked like a living room. No television, but there were couches and a coffee table. Phil led them past it and into a lively little kitchen. A young woman stood at the counter, sipping on some drink. She had shoulder-length, pink hair, and her gray eyes seemed to pierce right through him.

He swallowed thickly.

“I see your friend is up.” She glanced at Phil before turning her attention to Techno. “Are you feeling better?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

“Uhh… yeah.” 

“They told me you killed Masked.” 

Techno’s body tensed without his permission. A rush of voices invaded his head—sharp, hissing, but pleased. Like they had just been waiting for another death. He quickly jerked his head to shut them up. “...That I did.”

He watched her lips curl into a smile. “I’d say you’re working your way into real villainy.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m the Countess, but you can call me Niki.” 

He blinked at her hand. “...I’m Techno. Sorry, but my left hand’s broken.” 

Niki let out a sharp laugh and pulled her hand back. “Right, my bad. Phil said you needed something to eat before Tommy could heal you.” She turned her head to Phil. “You’re welcome to raid the kitchen.” 

“Sweet!” Wilbur said, dashing forward despite the words not being directed at him. Niki put her hand up and shoved him back, just gentle enough to be playful.

He gaped at her as she said, “You just ate. That was for Phil and Techno, not you. Now, please, go and sit in the living room while Phil, Techno, and I have a chat.” She shot a meaningful look at Tommy, who just shrugged and waltzed out back into the living room. Wilbur groaned but followed.

“Thanks, Niki,” Phil said with a smile, slipping past her and to the pantry. “You have them under wraps better than I do.”

“They want to rebel against their father, and I am not their father,” she joked. She motioned for Techno to take a seat. “I’ve been given the gist of your situation. Nothing too personal, though,” she informed with a nod.

“I see.” Techno sat down at the counter and looked down at his hands. “Nice bunker you have down here.” 

She let out a sharp laugh. “Thanks. It’s where I keep all my illegal things,” she said with a shrug. 

“I assume that’s half your inventory,” he joked dryly. “...You’re a super villain as well, I’m guessing?”

“That I am.” Pans rattled as Phil moved, making her glance up. “Not so fierce or well-known as these three, but I am.” 

Techno’s head tilted slightly before turning his gaze away. “I’ll admit I haven’t heard of you before, but I’m also not one to be caught up on the news.” 

She laughed. “The villains know me more than the heroes. I’m their supplier, usually. Though I do enjoy the occasional secret heist myself.” She twirled her hair around her finger, watching Phil cook. “I’ve heard your power is quite, well… all-powerful.”

“I suppose you could say that,” he said with a small shrug, glancing away. “My research has been limited.” 

She hummed as Phil slid a sandwich to Techno. She turned her attention to the man. “You said Schlatt was there?” 

Phi’s eyes darkened for a moment before he relaxed. “He was. He hasn’t changed. Well, he’s gotten even more cocky, if you can count that,” Phil muttered with a shrug. 

“I feel like he gets cockier every day,” she said with a laugh. “Though I’m sure you’ve knocked him down a peg or two. It’s been awhile since he’s had a real match.” 

“So it has,” Phil agreed. “I’ll deal with him again, anyway. For now…” He glanced over at Techno, who was mid-bite. “We’ve got to figure out what to do with you, mate.”

He swallowed his bite. “Hm?”

“Well, I’m sure Niki doesn’t want to home you forever,” he said, giving her a nod. “But I’m not sure if you’re the type to hang out with us villains all the time.”

Techno promptly took another bite, if just to give him some time to think. What did he want to do with his newfound freedom? He couldn’t do much, really. The heroes knew his face, his name… everything that could be documented, they had. He couldn’t go back to his old life. No grading essays, no lectures, no research papers. He exhaled slowly through his nose and swallowed. “...What are my options?”

“We can try and find you a new country to live in. New identity, and whatnot. We could probably set you up for life, if you so choose. Or…”

Techno’s head tilted.

“Well, Wilbur and Tommy want you to stay with us,” Phil said with a shrug. “Don’t feel pressured. They can handle a ‘no’.”

He glanced to the side, now. “...I don’t know. Can you give me some time to think?” 

“Of course, mate. Niki’s sheltering us for a week, so you’ve got time.” Phil turned back to start cleaning up the mess he made. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you out of here in the meantime.” 

Techno hummed his agreement as he finished up the last of his sandwich. He reached up and rubbed at his eyes. “...Thanks. Both of you.” 

They simply waved off his words like it was nothing at all. 

The week dragged by. Wilbur and Tommy pestered him constantly. They wanted to know his answer, and although Techno had been avoiding it at all costs, the week had to end at some point.

There were two options, and he only had so many pros and cons. 

If he left them, maybe he could be a teacher, somewhere. Probably not a professor, as that gave him too much visibility; he would need to put his name out on research papers, and although he would have a fake identity, he didn’t doubt that someone would notice. However, he could still teach. He could continue to learn and share that knowledge with others. 

If he left them, he could have a chance at a normal life. He could forget about his powers, the voices in his head, his pinkening hair. He could have normal friends, people with the same interests as him. Video games, shitty movies, violins– normal things. Maybe, if he wanted it in the future, he could even have a family. He could go out in public and eat at restaurants. He could see movies in the theater, he could go grocery shopping. He could spend his time at the park, with people passing by him without a second thought. Nobody would know him as the man who can turn back time.  Nobody would know him at all. 

If he left them, he could forget about all of this. He could finally find his peace. Masked was dead, and his revenge was over, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

If he stayed with them, he could help them. He could dismantle the Association with them, and he could tear apart every false hero that had damaged what it meant to be a hero. He could find out who made the order to lock him up. He could find them, and he could kill them. He could smash their head in with a hammer like he’d done once before, he could wrap his hands around their neck and snuff the life out of them. He could complete his revenge. He could quiet the voices down in his head.  

If he stayed with them, he could help them. If something went wrong, if one of them got hurt, he could simply turn the clock back. He could save them from doom. They were good people. They were called villains, and they certainly caused a good amount of harm, but the way they treated the weak squeezed his heart. They had saved him, and they really didn’t need to. They treated him like a person, and they really didn’t need to. They could’ve tossed him to the side, and it wouldn’t have changed this outcome by much at all. Instead, they became his friends.

If he stayed with them, he could continue being friends with them. He could continue their movie nights. He could make popcorn, and he could pass around the bowl as everyone laughed at some awful joke. He could fall asleep on the couch with them, and he could wake up with all of them still there, but with a blanket on top of them that hadn’t been there before. He could continue to laugh at their cooking skills, although he wasn’t much better than them. Tommy could arm wrestle him, and Wilbur could ruffle his hair, and Phil could smile at him in that odd sort of way. The isolation of that apartment seemed to drain away when they talked to him. Here, his revenge was in the past, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

Techno flexed his hand. Although the microchip was removed, and Tommy had healed it, it ached. He had gotten used to waking up in the morning and just massaging it for a few minutes before getting up. When he asked Tommy about it, the boy shrugged and said it was likely never going to go away. 

He would get used to it. He was good at getting used to things. 

The television buzzed on with some cop show. Tommy snored loudly, his head on Techno’s shoulder. Wilbur slept, too, curled up and leaning on Phil, who was awake, still. Techno’s gaze flicked over to him. His and Wilbur’s chest moved in a matched rhythm, like they were two souls, two people, with one purpose, with one life to live, forever intertwined. Techno flexed his hand. His good hand rested against Tommy’s shoulder, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. 

Phil glanced over, and their eyes met. Techno blinked before turning away. A soft chuckle escaped Phil as he asked, “What’s up, mate?”

“How long have you three been together?” he asked, training his eyes on the show. They were in the middle of some sort of hostage situation, and he tried to focus on the subtitles.

“Wilbur’s my blood son,” Phil said with a chuckle. “But he stayed with his mother for the first ten years of his life. Not that we’re separated; she’s just… Well, she’s far away, is all I can say.” He paused for a few moments. “Tommy came later. He was trying to be a vigilante… The Association wasn’t happy about it. I won’t go into too much detail. That’s for him to divulge. He found his way home only a few years ago.” 

Techno exhaled slowly. “You look more like Tommy than you do Wilbur.”

A sharp laugh. Wilbur grumbled in his sleep, and Phil quieted back down. “Wilbur looks like his mother, he really does. I’m glad he does. I’m reminded of her every time he smiles. You know, you and Wilbur actually look alike.” 

“Do we?” Techno’s eyebrows raised.

“You do. Especially your hair. Or, at least… minus the pink parts.” Phil snickered. “And your eyes. You both have the same eyes. Your glares are so sharp they could kill.”

“I’m flattered, Phil, really,” Techno said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t see it.” 

Phil waved his hand. “You people never do. Wisdom does come with age, after all.”

“Your eyesight must be failing you.” Techno shook his head, smiling. “Old man.”

Phil laughed again, reaching for the remote. “I think it’s about time we both went to bed, don’t you? Will and Tommy have the right idea.” He shut off the television, and Techno’s eyes immediately squinted at the flood of darkness.

“Maybe I don’t want to sleep.”

“Too bad. As the ‘old man’, I’m imposing bed time.” 

Techno groaned but let his head drop back. He stared up at the ceiling. Tommy snored in his ear again, and he could hear Phil shuffle as he got comfortable. He let his left hand rest on Wilbur’s shoulder, too. The ceiling fan rumbled quietly, a nice breeze brushing against his forehead. He needed it, with how their body heat radiated. All of them, just melting together in a mass of limbs. 

He had never had this. He lost his family when he was young. He had no parents to tuck him in. He had no siblings to snore in his ear. He wasn’t the type of person to make friends, either. He had no one to watch shitty cop shows with, he had no one to have sleepovers with. 

But here he was. Warm, comfortable, and just annoyed enough to feel good. 

If he stayed with them, wouldn’t it stay this way forever?

Wouldn’t it?