Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Going down with the ship.

The metaphor, of course, originated with boat captains and their duties to stay on a ship until everyone else is off. Or, in a different, morbid time, go down with it no matter what. Honorable, to some.

Not to Techno. And not on this hunk of metal masquerading as a planet the size of a flea and a million times more parasitic. Especially because he is not the captain, if this ship even has one at this point.

It’s none of Techno’s business. He wants it to be none of his business. Except that he is still on the planet and the obvious state of its decline is too much to ignore in this situation. He came here as a favor to try and do some good. It notably did not work, Techno can admit through any bruised pride. But he tried and it failed and now he wants nothing to do with the obvious soon to be death.

But no one cares what Techno wants. No one even listens to his good sense, not where it matters. They'll pick apart the things he offers, taking what they want and leaving the rest behind. It doesn't matter how much of Techno's blood they try to shove into this 'country' or whatever, it'll never live without its own bones. And Techno's "How to Build Bones for Dummies" is no good apparently.

Figures. It always does.

Techno sends a kick towards the permanently jammed door, stepping into the tiny holding bay. It's abandoned basically, with only a mostly broken escape pod inside. 

Well, if Techno manages to fix something out of all this. It probably would have been easier to steal a better ship on some other planet vying for his ‘talents,’ but this one works. Enough to get him away before the metaphor finishes itself.

Extra pertinent, now that Phil's been roped into this too. 

It shouldn't be surprising that Phil is here. After all, Phil's son being the one asking after Techno was most of the reason that he agreed. How well that has worked out, for all of them really…

Phil isn't in much of a state to think rationally about dying planets. Even if he isn't undone by death like many people—they did meet on a battlefield—he's rightfully caught up in some aspects of it. And now it seems he's trying to salvage something that Wilbur started. Which is ironic, considering the biggest thing he started was an inevitable end. Wilbur was no anarchist, even if the man had giggled over the idea, but he had a way of poetics. And proving Techno right. Techno can appreciate that in someone.

When the time comes, Phil will see reason. And Techno has drifted the idea by him, the few times they've been able to meet up. Techno's not exactly on good terms with the people strangling part of the planet, and specifically the one Phil spends most of his time. They want him on their side, but not in any way that Techno will put up with. He’s done working for nothing.

It's fine. Techno and Phil have never been a clingy pair. Can't expect that from an immortal drifter.

The escape ship is mostly fixed at this point, as far as Techno can tell. That's good. Sometimes Techno doesn't expect this place to last till morning. He's seen other things go down faster.

And, sometimes Tommy's more eager to bounce than Techno is. Because, somehow, Techno has ended up with that additional stowaway. 

The man is in his own mess, but Phil's on good terms with him. Even when apparently much of the planet isn't. If anyone is wracking up enemies, Techno can sympathize. And, sometimes outcasts make good allies.

Better than no allies.

All that is really left is collecting supplies and double-triple checking that everything is in working order. Then they’ll be able to leave at any time. That’s good. Being far, far away from here will be for the best. For all of them probably.

Maybe Techno’s tired of all the endless fighting. Do you have to be a technical adult to retire? Whatever. He can still say screw the system while retired illegitametly.

It sounds like half a plan, Techno smiling derisively while flicking on all the different dodads. He thinks that if he words it right, Phil might go for the whole retiring thing too. The man is known for disappearing to who knows where for lengths of time, seemingly not partaking in any wars or endless fighting during those times. Techno might have called him old for it when they first met, but it sounds nice now.

Phil had talked about a quiet planet, where he’s all alone and just builds. He has the company of birds, for some reason, and someone he only calls Death. It’s enough to make Techno worry for his head, but… there is an appeal for sure.

Maybe they can go somewhere like that with the escape ship. Tommy might make peace difficult, but they might be able to find a planet big enough for it not to be a bother. A planet with an open sky and land unbarred…

The musings are why Techno doesn’t hear it at first. Footsteps.

They’re not super close, his ears twitching before they can even think to sneak up on him. But obviously they’ve stumbled in his direction.

Techno thinks it’s Tommy at first. He stomps down on the hope that it’s Phil, and instead tries to come up with something sufficiently snarky to say to the annoying man. But then a voice echoes around the ceiling. Another one answers.

It’s not Tommy. Or not just Tommy. Which unless Phil has also decided to pop over—far too rare to rely on—can’t be anything good.

That’s what Techno gets for thinking so positively.

Setting his hand on his sword’s hilt, Techno quickly steps out of the repair room and closes it behind him, walking towards the voices. When he’s near enough to make out the choppy, urgent voices, he sighs silently and pulls out his sword fully.

Nothing good will come from the supposed "L’manburg" crew visiting Techno.

They don’t see him before he sees them. It’s all the better for it. Sloppy and untrained as they are, Tubbo, Quackity, Fundy, and a tall rando, are all holding axes. Suddenly, Techno is glad that they were terrible students when he tried to keep them from cutting their fingers off when he first got here.

But battles are usually won by numbers anyway. Four v one. Not the worst odds. Techno tries to ignore that he’s not in the best of shape. No one ever is in war.

Techno is practically passed upon by the time that he’s spotted. He locks eyes with a pair of strikingly mismatched ones, raising an eyebrow at the seeming terror that goes through the lanky man. He definitely would have remembered someone so snively being about during the so-called 'revolution.'

“Uh, guys,” The stranger says, outright pointing at Techno.

The others break from a heated conversation, turning to Techno all stupid like. It’s kind of funny actually. No one was ever this humorous in the past conflicts he rubbed elbows with. Then again, most of those people died much more quickly, so. Something about false equivalencies.

“Technoblade,” Quackity barks, stepping forward, axe first.

“Yup,” Techno says.

A twitch runs through the man’s eye. It also makes his axe twitch. Not exactly a stiff grip. 

“Technoblade—” 

“You said that already.”

“—After all the shit you stirred, I thought you were aware of the agreement,” Quackity growls.

“The only agreement I remember making was voided pretty hard. You know, both because the terms were broken and the person I made it with di—”

“Can you stop talking, mate,” Tubbo says, tilting his head slightly so his eyes get even further covered with bangs. Can he even see his own axe?

“Sorry, I’ll let you finish,” Techno drawls.

“Thank you,” Tubbo says.

“Cut the shit!” Quackity yells. “This is serious!”

“You’re right. Technoblade, we heard that you’re making moves to undercut our cause. Is this true?” Tubbo asks.

“Nah, you guys seem to have that covered yourselves,” Techno says.

“Enough!” Quackity shouts.

At the same time, the man starts forwards, swinging his axe at Techno. Eyes widening slightly, Techno ducks and swings his own sword upwards. It hits Quackity’s arm guard, which nearly sends him recoiling enough to drop the axe. 

Not quite, but it might save Techno the bottom few inches of his hair. Quackity was aiming for his upper shoulder.

The pained yell that Quackity lets out is a little overshadowed by the others converging on him. Well, Tubbo and Fundy. The rando stands there looking like his eyeballs are going to pop out.

The scuffle isn’t exactly elegant. The space they’re in is tight and the others practically flop at him like worms. But all he has is a diamond sword and an exhaustion migraine that hasn’t left him in days (weeks?). Plus, he doesn’t exactly want to lead the others closer to his ship. It took enough time to fix it the first time, there’s no way he’s going to risk that.

It seems that it’s a moot cause. Fundy trips mid-swing, barreling into Techno’s legs and making him fall backwards hard. The fox hybrid has enough sense to grab onto his legs immediately, screeching as Techno starts stabbing his sword downwards and slices into his upper body a bit.

But Techno’s wrist is snatched up quickly as well. At least Tubbo doesn’t seem too worried about painstakingly prying his fingers off of his sword, since Techno is not letting that happen.

“Enough,” Tubbo hisses, sounding winded.

“I thought he was exaggerating or something, since you’re supposed to be smart or whatever, Blade,” Quackity spits with ire. “But you fight as guilty as ever.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. You took all my stuff, now leave me alone if you want my help with whatever problems you inevitably cause,” Techno says.

“Like you need stuff to tuck tail and flee,” Quackity says.

“What?” Techno asks, heart hammering in his chest.

“We heard about your ploy. Run off with your friends and our things,” Tubbo says.

“It’s my things,” Techno says back, scowling.

“Nope. You’re a citizen of L’manburg, which means you actually have to follow the rules. I’m sure that’s tough for you, but—”

Techno kicks upwards with all his force, breaking Fundy’s sloppy hold. The man squeaks, but he’s not worried about him. Instead he’s aiming the tip of his boot right towards Quackity’s dumb flapping lips. The man had the gall to lean towards Techno during his speech, so he just about manages to hit some jaw.

It’s not even a good kick. But Quackity shouts and Tubbo shoves him into the ground hard. From how unbalanced the kick left Techno, his head hits the ground with a thud.

He doesn’t let the reflexive tears slow him any. With everyone grappling over him, it’s difficult to do anything proper with a sword. A dagger would be better right now, but his options are limited! Tiny jabs and swings snag skin more often than not, but never enough to really break free properly.

Not until Quackity leans over his side to yank on his sword. Then, Techno’s able to shove his whole weight to the right, right into the sword. And the tip sinks an inch and then two into the upper meat of Quackity’s cheek, right past the curve of his ocular bone.

The shriek that rings out makes Techno’s stomach fall right to his toes. Not because of the graphic scene, honestly he’s done far worse to people’s faces before he could properly talk. But somehow, Techno knows this is not quite well for him. After all, as wimpy as this crew is, leaders usually aren’t the strongest. It’s still wise to not go around stabbing them until he’s certain he’ll come out on top.

This is not one of those situations, embarrassing as it may be.

So, Techno chooses to try and run.

Look, back against the wall, sometimes it’s the best bet. Live to fight another day and all that. And Techno still has a life ahead of him, full of ships far away from here and possibly with other people. Possibly not, since his brain can’t help turning over the fact that he has certainly been sold out by a very select few people despite how it is not useful right now to think about that!

In fact, it is even less useful when he bolts down a long stretch of hallway away from the shouting at his back. Perhaps he should have listened to what they were saying, because it’s then that something hard and heavy smacks into his flank and sends him smashing onto his face. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have stopped for that anyway. That would have been even more embarrassing.

Though, as a sharp pain starts to bleed into his back, Techno realizes that he’s been shot with something. At least it means nothing is pinning him down. Except the lack of air in his lungs and pain smashing into his spine.

With a wheeze, Techno shoves onto his palms and forces himself to stand. No matter how much he wants to keep laying down and maybe take a nap on the nice comfy floor. The quickly advancing footsteps and screaming is good enough motivation. He’d never get good rest with that.

“Aren’t we trying to take him alive, guys?” The rando asks, right as Techno slips slightly in his blood before getting to his feet.

“Fuck that! Fuck him!” Quackity yells, like a man with a stabbed eyeball or something.

“Yeah,” Fundy laughs, sounding somewhat sideways.

“No, we need him alive!” Tubbo, somehow the brains of this operation. Maybe they weren’t even that wrong making him the dictator. Then again, wasn’t it Tommy that did that?

Squinting through the blood rush, Techno peels around a corner while squeezing his sword tightly. This has all gone terribly. All of Techno’s plans and careful goals. Nothing can ever just turn out right for him, can it? Used up too much luck on the battlefield, except for this one, since Techno has one sword and nothing.  

He swears to all that’s Bloody, he’s never fighting on another backwater empty planet where he can’t even scrounge up some armor ever again! Screw good causes and trying to do the right thing! 

Techno takes a deep breath before smacking his back into a wall, watching as Fundy flies past him. It’s not too hard to trip Quackity, the man can hardly see through the blood and gash in his pupil, but once again, Tubbo seems the most with it. 

The end of Tubbo’s shoddy little gun is quickly shoved into his face, held together with screws and sweat. Honestly Techno wouldn’t be surprised if it exploded into a shrapnel mess right now. The thing isn’t the best of weapons. But, there’s plenty of blood cascading off his back like a sloppy cape to not freeze at it.

“Now. Stop this. You’ve gone far too far again,” Tubbo says.

“This is lame,” Techno mutters, flicking his eyes over the scene.

There’s no outs or allies hanging around to help him. There rarely ever is, but usually his preparedness can be relied on. This little crew has stripped that from him too though. Everything within his body burns, overheated machinery a day away from crashing.

Quackity scoffs. “Lame?! You fucker—”

“Enough! Bring us to where you’re hiding all our stuff, then we’ll deal with this,” Tubbo says.

It takes a lot not to stick his tongue out and denote this situation lame again, because it really truly is. There’s a bit too much acid and ache simmering within his chest right now though. Like walking into an ambush. 

Or being led into one.

Kind of his own stupidity to blame if that’s the case. Loose lips sink ships. And Techno seems to be going down, down, down with this one. Sweat drips off his face, splattering into the ground alongside the large drops of blood creating puddles. If he couldn’t win the fight before, no way he can now.

“... Fine,” Techno acquiesces hesitantly.

In this situation, there’s not much else to be done. It reminds him of every failed scheme he came up with in the past. Those always hurt worse than the fair failures and losses. No one is infallible, but to be undone due to a lack of intellect…

Techno’s not some stupid fist for hire, no matter what everyone seems to think. From the way that Tubbo shoves his gun against the back of his head and Quackity hisses like a snake looking for a place to pounce, he knows that’s what they think though. 

Perhaps expecting different at the start was Techno’s real flaw here.

The sword is yanked from his hand and his arm is grabbed tightly, as he leads the others down the winding corridors of the planet. This part isn’t used much, since there’s not much to use. Not like the rest of the planet is drowning with good space. Probably, there wouldn’t be stupid squabbles over nothing if there was. Who would ever stay around these miserable people if they could leave?

With a sigh, Techno kicks the door to the maintenance room so that it pops open. The force sends him tripping forward, pace quick as he slips into the room. The others follow, slower, looking around with scowls.

“How’d you find this shit?” Tubbo asks.

“I looked,” Techno says plainly, backing towards the tiny escape ship. He leans against it, gravity too heavy with its artificial pull. “There might even be more.”

“Yeah, well they’re ours. They’re all ours! Didn’t you get that through your mind last time? We won leadership, fair and square, and that means shit around here!” Quackity paces closer to Techno with his speech. It gives Techno reason to scooch down the length of the ship, towards the hatch.

It’s hard to hold back a snort at the irony. Certainly nothing means anything here. It’s all fake. A sham. Just a few weeks ago, and it was some other claim to it all. Righteousness? Now it’s winning that makes it their’s.

Well, Techno thinks he’s the one that won it, at least in good part. But all he gets is the opportunity to be a hilt in a hand. Again.

“Lame,” Techno murmurs.

Then, he kicks Quackity right where his breastbone ends so he falls on his butt, skidding. No point staring at winded faces, or how the others jump into action towards him. Techno pulls the handle of the ship’s door up with all his might, falling backwards as it slides open.

His fingers shake and black spots dance all around his vision. But, at the very least Techno had the brains to memorize this. Even if he was stupid enough to fall for the rest, to grow soft and share with the wrong people—

Even in this world with nothing, Techno managed to find a little bit of TNT. He can taste the gunpowder as he flicks the ignition and then scrambles to get the ship out before the room blows. It’s difficult, since someone is leaning in and grabbing his leg. But, right as his hair stands on edge, the floor of the room falls open like a trash shoot and sends the escape ship into freefall.

Till a massive ball of light and heat expands outwards anyway, propelling him down, down, down, and away. 

The door is still open and he’s not strapped in, so it’s no shock when his whole body smashes into the ceiling. Stars burst around him and he starts to doubt his calculations on how moderate the explosion would be. Then, the pull of it all starts dragging him towards the empty gaping mouth of a hatch and he kicks and claws at the buttons and levers that only listen to him sometimes.

The taste of ozone and iron and knives in the back flood his mouth as the ship around him clunks and his brain snaps away from him.

Chapter Text

When Techno was young, as young as he can remember being and when he didn’t know much about what existence even was, he was awed by the idea of going.

It was in the stupid way that children are. He saw the ships and portals and hubs and all sorts of things that can take people off of planets and to whole different ones, run by different servers and filled with different people. Well, it sounds a little mystical, doesn’t it?

The planet Techno came to be on, or at least the first one he remembers, wasn’t anything to dream about, so dreaming outwards really does makes sense. It was a war planet, one of the little hunks of rock bought by servers to play out skirmishes and disagreements. Usually over better territory, or resources, or sometimes nothing. A lot of times nothing. Though, even when Techno eventually escaped, it was to nowhere better. More fighting for people he’d never see or know.

Forever and ever, that seemed to stretch on. And Techno was good at it all, so it really didn’t matter. Most people that snap into creation or are made on planets like those, they’re nothing. They die. But Techno got good and he didn’t die.

Maybe, if he’s being really honest with himself, Techno can acknowledge that despite the renown and successes and sometimes even respect he’s gained, he’s still stuck in that cycle. Born into fighting. Certain to die in it.

It’s quiet now, at least. Like a battlefield after everyone has died. Everyone but Techno…

He’d thought for a while that he had it figured out. That it was all better and he wasn’t only that anymore. Because, someone did know Techno.

Someone knew Techno for more than just his ability to fight and survive. More than just a body standing next to or across from them. Phil could fight and survive too, maybe even better than Techno in the last regard. Apparently he’s lived forever, long enough to make friends with Death. 

Funny, that Techno expected someone stuck in their own forever to help him escape his. Maybe he is still some dumb kid, stupid in all ways but holding a sword…

There’s a horrible creaking noise, like a metal beast dying. In that analogy, Techno is in the very belly of the thing, and he’s pretty certain he’s going to be crushed when it explodes. With heavy, shaking eyelids, he peels them apart and looks around.

There’s a red glow, turning everything to smears and shines. Techno squints and groans, barely able to bear looking through his eyelashes against the light. Though, from how little he can see, logically it must be dim.

When he finally finds the source of the scorching in his skull, a blinking mass of red neon, he reaches out towards it, set on making it disappear. Except that his arm doesn’t want to obey him. It wobbles and shakes, limp like a noodle that’s been boiled for ages. Gross. He sticks the tip of his tongue out of his sticky, iron soaked lips, and pushes past the pain trying to hold his arm down.

Eventually his fingers smack into the bulb, slipping a few times before he wraps his hand around it. The light dulls, finally, closed out except for the few beams escaping his fingers. It’s enough to allow him space to think and breathe at least.

Which he does for so long that he starts to slide to the side, hand drifting off of the lightbulb.

With a jolt, Techno straightens up and holds onto the light with all his force. This is not optimal operating behavior. He needs to straighten his mind out and figure out what’s happening. That, or surely he’ll be ambushed and killed in his sleep, which is definitely one of the top most embarrassing ways to die. What if someone is around to see too? Awful.

Thoroughly motivated, Techno glares around the entirety of the area. Which is not much, if he’s being honest. 

The metal walls are close to him, with only a single tiny door pressed into one and a large hatch on another. It’s a familiar place, at least. But how did he get here, into his ship…

Oh right, a ship. 

Turning around, Techno looks through the wide, thick pane of glass. Before him, a black void stretches on and on. And it seems that he is suspended within it. In the escape ship, at least.

As he wakes up more, pain starts to bleed back in. While cataloging his injuries, he just about remembers where they came from. Shot in the back, hit to the head, ache all over from the unfortunate interaction of human beings. Lovely things to have, when he's not quite sure where he is or what he has with him. How far did he get from the old 'Planet of Dreams,' or whatever the posters called it?

A bit stupidly, he leans closer to the windshield and looks around, as though he’ll be able to see the planet floating nearby. Luckily he doesn’t, because he would definitely have been brought back in if that was the case. With a sigh, he crawls off the floor and into the old, slightly hole-y chair before the display.

Most of the things are dark, which doesn’t fill Techno with a lot of hope. Could the ship have already broken this soon after leaving. That’d be… bad. Dying in space sounds boring.

Which makes his back twinge painfully. Even if he’s not riding in a dead hunk of metal, his health isn’t really assured right now. 

Okay, figure out the ship, then fix himself up. That’s doable.

When he peels his fingers off of the emergency light, it’s not so bright to feel like acid in his eyes anymore. It also helps him find the row of little levers that are only half flipped on. That’s not good. Obviously the ship is partially turned on, but Techno didn’t know that was even possible. Let’s hope he hasn’t broken it completely.

“I possibly exploded like three people yesterday, come on Blood God, give me a win,” Techno whispers, throat dry and raspy.

Turning everything off so that the cabin is cloaked in darkness and the faint humming dies, Techno counts to a hundred before slowly flicking the levers in the correct order. The display comes to life, then the dials, then a sucking vent, and then finally the lights. Techno looks around the ship, half expecting to be the next victim to an explosion, but no. Everything seems fine.

“Oh, thank you,” Techno sighs. “Quackity’s eyeball was for you.”

Feeling more secure in having oxygen for the next little while at least, Techno rubs at his eyes and flicks through the different menus. A problem with the ship that he has been unable to solve is that it isn’t hooked up to any systems or anything. So, any “navagation” that Techno wants to do all has to be off his noggin.

Which, Techno has not come up with a solution for yet. Kind of late to start brainstorming though.

He rubs at his aching eyes once more, then taps a few random buttons till the ship starts moving. Somewhere is better than nowhere. And it’ll be away from that wretched planet and all the people on it. That’s good. Everyone…

Shaking his head roughly, Techno turns towards the first aid kit he obviously stocked first, because he’s not too stupid. The ship is sorted, so now he has to sort out his physical state. The pounding pain on his flank is starting to grow unbearable, so that seems like a smart idea.

Though the second that he lifts the edge of his shirt, a wild hiss leaves his lips. If he thought the wounds burned before, it’s nothing compared to now. Whatever sticky scabs have attached themselves to the fabric of his shirt scream as they’re torn away, and hot liquid drips down immediately. When he gets the wet shirt over his shoulders, his entire body is soaked in sweat and shaking minutely.

Techno should have given Tubbo more credit for that crappy little gun. Turns out it’s a pretty good pain maker, even if it can’t take someone down very well. Lovely.

Now that the shirt is out of the way, he’s faced with the problem of having to clean and bandage his own flank. Luckily he has had to fix back wounds on himself before, because obviously. But for the past couple years, well. He supposes he got used to the help.

Techno’s stiff as he turns and starts dabbing at the raw area with disinfectant.

It burns worse than ever, sharp teeth of the cloth and sour liquid sinking deep within his muscles and spine. It almost hurts worse than actual stab wounds. At least those cover a relatively small area of skin. A good quarter of his back is cut open and exposed with little chunks of metal. Shrapnel bomb wasn’t a bad descriptor for the gun either.

With a scapel positioned awkwardly over his shoulder, Techno starts painstakingly jimmying the little pieces of metal out of his flesh.

It hurts terribly, but he manages to get into a sort of mind where all he’s focused on is the process. Fingers twisting and sinking below his skin, only to flick upwards. He knows it’s successful when a little spout of blood pours from his back afterwards. Really, with how his eyes start to go distant, he could probably pry a vertebrae out of his back and not notice.

The last time that he went through something like this, well, it wasn’t like this. An arrow slammed into his shoulder blade, shattering the thing to pieces. It was the middle of a fight of course, so he finished up the battle with a length of wood sticking out of his back and one usable arm. Not the worst odds, since he wasn’t alone.

Phil was actually there. Afterwards, the man had chided him goodnaturely while cutting his skin till the arrow could be shimmied free. Except, the tip had somehow broken too. On his broken bones, funnily enough. It had been a sort of agony, with Phil going silent as he sorted through the pieces of bone to try and find the invading metal. 

This isn’t as bad, Techno doesn’t think. Yet, heat and ichor bubbles through him, till he feels close to puking. If not for the dryness of his mouth, maybe he would.

Phil will be fine. He’s on good terms with L’manburg, and everyone really. Despite having killed Wilbur, even Tommy is on good terms with the man. 

Techno’s face furrows as the scalpel sinks deep within his back.

It must have been Tommy. The man was supposed to be on bad terms with L’manburg, worse than Techno even! Yet, he went back to them? And told them about Techno’s plan? Why would he do that…?

Maybe that’s how he managed to get back on their good side. It’s possible, but still doesn’t totally add up. Then again, Tommy was going back and forth between spitting ire at Tubbo to singing his praises. Obviously he’s not reliable.

Yet Techno let him in on the plan. That was pretty dumb. Dumb enough to deserve this maybe. It’s not like Techno trusted Tommy when they were on the same side of the ‘revolution.’ What persuaded him to change that?

When Techno really thinks about it, he thinks that it was Tommy’s proximity to Phil that did it. Trusting anyone Phil does, it became a bit of second nature during their time fighting together. But, Techno supposes maybe that should have ended when that partnership did.

His face burns.

Stupid. All of this. 

With a rough jerk, the scalpel looses a large chunk of metal before slicing a line around his rib. He throws the scalpel to the ground with a hiss. Goes to show.

It’s almost impossible to get his hands to cooperate as he shoves cloth against the open, weeping wounds, and then winds bandages around to keep them in place. As tight as he can, he tugs them till his ribs ache. Then, he tugs a little tighter. Like it’ll force his blood to stay inside. It feels a little like he’s keeping himself together this way.

It’s fine. This is all fine. Techno is still on his ship, still going away. Just because Phil didn’t come, well, there was no reason to think he would. Off with his other allies. Maybe he was the one to tell L’manburg about his escape plan.

Brain burning like molten lava in his skull, Techno pulls his legs to his chest and curls up within the chair. A couple springs poke out, but with how heavy his body is, he practically sinks into it like a proper bed. Then again, doesn’t he have more experience without beds than with them? Of course he feels at home.

With a crooked smile on his face, Techno lets the darkness envelop him once again, hoping that sleep will let him escape familiar faces too.

—

The supplies on the ship are worse off than Techno had hoped. Heck, they’re worse off than he feared.

The water concentrator is slow and seems to stop far too often, making him fear taking too many sips. Food and medical supplies are even worse off. Even with his strictest, dead-of-winter-in-a-war rationing, he’ll probably be out in a couple weeks.

What’s the chance of coming across a planet before then?

Techno honestly doesn’t know. He’s realizing that maybe getting into this was a bit short sighted. It’s not like he’s ever driven a ship before. He’s only ever been on a couple, alongside other hands for fights far away.

But also, what else was he supposed to do? Give up all his hard work to people who just sat around for it and then continue to do their bidding whenever they certainly cause more trouble? Techno’s done fighting for other people, especially for causes like that. He technically thought that going to help Wilbur with a revolution was him breaking free and doing good, but whatever. Things don’t work out, big whoop.

A sharp pain racks up his spine, settling in his skull. It’s pounding there, every one sending a shockwave through his vertebrae and back. His injury, but also probably some hunger. Honestly, he hopes it’s hunger making him feel so sick and loopy, because otherwise his wounds might be more concerning than he’d thought.

Pulling the tiny blanket around himself even tighter where he’s curled in the steering chair, Techno stares blankly into the void of space. There are some dots scattered about now. Stars? Planets? Techno hopes they’re planets.

What will a world far away be like? He hopes there’s clean water, lots of food. An open sky and plants and animals. No people.

That would be nice. Then, all of this would be worth it. Finally, Techno will get what he’s always wanted.

Sleepily, he smudges at his eyes before squinting. One of the odd lumps outside the windshield almost seems… bigger.

A jolt runs throughout his entire body, leaving behind an afterimage of pain. There’s no time to even think about that though, because whatever the dot is, it is definitely getting bigger. Bigger, and closer.

Slapping his palm against the control screen, Techno stares as dark spheres zip close to his ship, and then past it. Near misses, but only because of luck. They seem like rocks of some sort. Asteroids? Are asteroids real? No one ever thought to tell Techno that asteroids are real and that they are going to be a gigantic problem in his life?!

There’s a clunk as the entire ship rocks to the side, obviously brushed against by one of the asteroids. Techno holds his breath while smashing blindly at the screen even faster, half expecting a hole to be torn through the metal and suck him straight out. Then, he’ll probably be brained by a freaking asteroid before he even suffocates to death! 

Only Techno, truly.

Finally, warnings and such are popping up over the display, screaming about different things that Techno doesn’t really know. With his eyes mostly on the chunks of death rock, he taps on any button that looks like an agreement. The ship probably knows what to do with asteroids, right? More than Techno at least.

It’s obvious when whatever he was agreeing to goes through, because Techno goes from leaning forward nervously to his back smashing into the chair. Momentum, similar to riding a sprinting horse but a million times more, grabs onto his insides and squeezes them. A trail of his squished up and liquified insides is probably being dragged behind him, left through the void as the ship blurs around him with speed.

Just barely, a gasp manages to get into his lungs. It’s scant and burns, lungs struggling around it. 

In between his lungs, his heart flails uselessly. It takes every ounce of effort within his body to lift his hand and clutch at his chest, clawing to try and find his own pulse. But, it’s as though his heart has been struck still by the violent speed too.

The next gasp that leaves him squeaks like breaking metal. If somehow they’ve avoided the asteroids with whatever speed mode he’s turned on, then maybe he’ll be the thing breaking apart instead of the ship. That’s good. His corpse can float through space well protected at least.

Good. That’s— good. 

Wheezing, Techno slams his eyes shut and folds back into the seat as much as he can. Moisture is being dragged out of the corners of his eyes and nose. He half thinks his brain is going out of his ears too. It hurts enough for it.

It hurts, it hurts, it—

A violent screech rises up around the ship, yelling in time with a blinking red light. Seems that the ship too is going, in the end. How lame and stupid. 

Maybe he should have just put up with the endless stupid fighting like he always did before. At least then he’d live. Well, at least everyone will think he got away to live another day, as his own person, right?

Probably, they won’t ever think of him again. Not even Phil…

With the last part of his mind, Techno kicks at the screen before him where animations and pop ups and buttons are shining. It’s not much of a fight, but he won’t curl up and die, even here. Not totally. Even if exhaustion is tugging at his brain and limbs. It’d be so easy to fall asleep, even with the noise—

His pointed heel clicks something that kills the noise. At least it’s quiet. At least he’s alone. That’s not bad. It’s not—

The ship seems to stutter, slowing so quickly that Techno feels weightless. His lungs fill to bursting, all the oxygen rushing into his brain. Then, somehow, the momentum around him shifts and he starts hurtling distinctly downward.

How’s it even possible to go downwards in space? Isn’t there not supposed to be any up or down? Is it just his perception? Probably that. After all, there’s a great smear of colors streaking before his eyes.

Blinking blearily while his spine practically folds in on itself, his pupils dilate desperately, trying to take in what is before him. Something is blocking the expanse of black and nothingness that should be there, that has been surrounding him this whole time. It’s a bunch of different colors, dizzingly so. But, blue and green and white stick out the most. Then, he catches sight of a curve.

Oh. It’s a planet. Or something similar enough. Fancy button…

As Techno cheeks start to lick with heat and orange starts eating at the windshield, he scrambles to close the seatbelts around himself. He’s not sure how well this thing will land itself, but he should at least try to hold on. With how everything is starting to shake and shutter, he doesn’t exactly think it’ll be a soft one.

More breathless than ever, Techno closes his eyes and grabs onto the arms of the chair tightly. Every jolt of the ship around him has him convinced it’s going to explode or is crashing into the ground. His blood is thrumming even quicker than the gravity pulling him down, ringing in his ears and veins.

Unbiddenly, his mind races as much as it can too. For one, Techno is convinced that he’s going to die. Which completely goes against his life motto to keep living, so that’s embarrassing. But possibly worse than that is the images and yearning rising up. He sees all the times with Phil, the man’s kindness and laughter and thunderous sharpness.

Don’t think about how he was the first person to go out of their way to protect Techno, even if he didn’t need it. Don’t think about how he looked at Techno like a real human being, and treated him like one. Don’t think about how Phil treated Techno like he was special and good too.

Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think—

As the heat of the ship grows unbearable, Techno gets his wish. The ship plummets into the ground, far too quickly to do anything but send his body pulling against the straps till they snap. His head hits the windshield, and then he can’t think.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, when Techno was younger, he would go to sleep laying on whichever side was the most injured. He can’t say if it was good for healing, but it did make his sleep light and easily broken. And when he would wake up, the burst of pain would have him waking up faster than anything.

It wasn’t a bad method for a kid on a battlefield, trying to survive with no one to watch his back. It saved him more than one time, that’s for sure.

But, eventually he outgrew it. Maybe his mind got better at sleeping lightly, or his way around battlefields more refined, enough to spare his back most nights. And, eventually, he did find someone to watch his back, at least for a bit.

Waking up engulfed in pain sends a terror through his being, so strong that it reminds him of childhood.

Techno hates that feeling, like he’s small and useless. Almost more than the feeling of all his nerves, scraped raw and flayed to bits. Though, as he tries to move, the hands that wrap around his brain and squeeze become pretty good competitors.

An annoying high pitched sound reaches his ears through the fog of agony, making his fingers twitch with the urge to bat it away. As his mouth unsticks and falls open, laced with clots of iron, he just about notices the vibrations on his teeth. His jaw locks closed and the noise dies, just a little.

Oh, it’s him screaming.

His weakened lips try to knit themselves shut again, since even when he’s more pain than person, he knows that the sound is bad. Someone will hear, someone will come, someone will finish him off or make him hurt worse.  

The stupid noises leaving his chest increase in volume.

If it was difficult to open his mouth because of the blood sealing it, that’s nothing compared to his eyelids. The lashes are clumped together with the tacky substance, making the world darker than it should be even with his eyes shut. Some of them tear out with bright bursts of pain when he manages to jerk his lids open, desperate to see.

Not that there’s much to see. When he gets the burning chunks of blood out of his eyeballs, because of course there’s some there too, everything is smeared and shiny. Techno keeps on blinking, searching for sight and then squinting away from the stabs of pain that light brings. It’s an endless sort of pattern, till it’s finally forced to pause by a cough smacking out of his chest.

Spasms run through his lungs and all the muscles wrapped around them, set on unearthing whatever is in the fragile organs. In a bid to get oxygen into his body again, he rolls onto his side while grabbing at a rib. 

Only, that was a huge mistake. His head has to tip to the side too, and the second that his forehead taps to the ground, a shriek leaves his lips as blackness shutters over his eyes.

Techno has never seen a supernova or star implosion or anything of the sort, but he knows this must be what it feels like. Right in the middle of his brain, resting on his skull. It’s as though energy itself is bursting and splitting apart, pinging around within his head.

The tips of his fingers dig into the space above his left eyebrow, which really just makes the pain so bad that the sound in his throat cuts out all together. Instead his body bows slightly, freezing within the pain. But that just makes his fingers dig in harder.

It’s the embodiment of uselessness, laying within excruciating pain as it ebbs and flows over him. Not for the first time in his life, but maybe the first time in a while, he contemplates if this is how he dies. Blood and brains leaking out of his skull, broken body twitching in a nest of crumpled metal.

Techno must fade off into unconsciousness of some sort, since he comes back to himself fuzzier and covered in cold, acrid liquid that he thinks might be bile. At least it’s not more blood. And at least when he caresses his temple this time, it only makes him hiss.

Though, when he looks around the space with the smallest amount of control over his brain, there’s nothing to see. It’s dark, even beyond the blurred vision. It’s only when a flickering light blinks on that he can see at all. 

The cockpit is far smaller than before, crushed in like a tin can. Techno supposes that’s how he got hurt. The ship got destroyed when it… crashed?

Is he on a planet right now? That would make sense, considering that the only thing moving is his churning stomach and twisting brain. And he’s alive enough, at least for now. Alive and on a new planet.

Techno doesn’t know if it’s the fact that his skull feels stuffed with broken glass, but he kind of doesn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t exactly expect to make it this far. At least not this quickly, and not like this. 

Shifting again, a groan leaves his lips. There’s not a single part of him that doesn’t hurt right now. That can’t be good after a spaceship crash. Though certainly if he’s alive at all, there must have been safeguards in place. Maybe some of them failed.

It’s hard to think through logically, since the crux of his pain is in his head. And outside of it. Just, generally all around the noggin area. Seems like a good place to start.

Health. Health is always the first step. Then everything else.

Except that the darkness of the ship is sure to make that difficult. He can’t even find his medical supplies strewn about the debris and broken things. 

His eyes land on the ship hatch, still sealed and sitting pretty. Well, it’s bound to be brighter outside. Unless he’s ended up on a planet with a black atmosphere or something. Then he’ll have to adjust to seeing in the dark anyway, so might as well start now.

When he pushes up on his arms, the world spins around him so violently that his stomach jolts up his throat and chokes up inside his throat, making him wheeze. His sinuses burn with dregs of acid as the entirety of his body shakes. This is not good. Getting to his feet in this state will be impossible.

If Techno can’t stand, he’ll die.

It’s not the first time he’s reminded himself of this fact. Probably, that’s how he taught himself to walk at all. Walk and pick up a weapon, that’s all Techno needs to live. Always been that way.

When his leg snapped clean in half, or when his nose shattered into his brains, or when every rib in his chest broke so supremely that his lungs filled with liquid. He had to get up and keep moving. Keep fighting. It’s either that or die.

Techno licks the salty blood off his lips and stands.

He blacks out so supremely that he wouldn’t doubt he actually passed out again. But when he comes back to himself, painting and painted in gray, his knees are still locked. A wobbly, bared smile spreads across his face, showing off his tusks where they’ve just about grown past his lips.

Not too bad. He’ll live. 

Just like every time before now.

Not exactly in line with that statement, Techno leans forward and shoves the hatch upwards with all of his might. After a bit of sticking, it opens. Too smoothly for a ship that just crashed into the ground honestly. 

Then, light brighter than a billion scorching fires beams into the doorway. As it scorches his eyeballs, he falls backwards into a whimpering ball of failure. Even his skin burns below the assault.

Which… Grumbling through the pounding pain, Techno claws upwards till he finally wraps his hand around the rebreather secured beside the door. It probably would have been smart to put that on before opening himself to the world of who knows what, but better late than never!

As he clicks the mask in place over the lower half of his face, the recycled oxygen that hits his lungs feels cool and refreshing. It clears his head enough to look around and catch his bearings a bit more. Though when he’s distracted this time, it’s by awe.

Above his head through the hatch is a wide expanse of bright blue. A few wispy white clouds dot the sky, but it’s mostly a beautiful unmarred color. 

Techno doesn’t know how long he lays there, watching the sky roll past. Long enough that blood drips into his eye and makes him blink. Oh, right. Injuries.

The light at least makes it easier to find a roll of bandages. Something on his head is still leaking blood, and the entire left half hurts like it’s an inch away from exploding. Awkwardly, he wraps the cloth around the area as best as he can, pulling it tightly till he hisses. Then, he ties the loose ends up in some sort of knot on the other side, making sure it doesn’t obscure his eye too badly, but not much else.

Good enough. It does hurt a bit less now with the bandages holding everything in. Even if the nausea and dizziness and intense feeling that he’s going to hit the ground doesn’t fade, he’s better off now.

With shaking limbs, Techno sets about crawling out of the wrecked ship. He slips and falls a bit too much, but as his heeled boots hit the ground, he goes wide eyed at the grass.

Really there’s no reason for Techno to be this impressed. The land around him is beautiful, objectively. But he’s been on servers and planets with open skies and nature before. Maybe because it’s been a while, or this place really is just nicer. He squints through his painful eyes, intent on taking in the trees and flowers and buzzing freaking bees.

Limbs feeling light, Techno pushes away from the ship and takes off in one direction. Finding a clean water source would be good, as well as getting a lay of the land. Figure some things out before he sets up base.

Nighttime will bring challenges, as well as getting everything that he needs to live all on his own. But, Techno thinks he’s almost hopeful. Once his injuries heal and he gets established, this place could be nice. Peaceful.

Techno smiles a little bit, before stumbling out of a treeline. The expression dies on his face, swift like a cut through the carotid.

There’s a massive, stretching building sitting in a clearing.

The materials are ornate, sandstones and a strange turquoise color. It’s nestled within a little dip of a clearing, surrounded by hills and trees. Techno sways on his feet, grabbing a branch to stop him from falling right down one of the slopes.

The building, like the rest of the world, is beautiful. Someone carved it into being, putting effort into the aesthetic and style. The color palette is slightly foreign, blocks Techno has never even seen before. The person who built this has talent, skill.

They’re powerful.

Even if it’s not with fighting, whatever kind of person that can make something like this is strong in some sort of way. And well equipped. 

Nervously, Techno’s eyes search the horizon and his heart sinks further.

Just barely visible is a building of some sort tucked into the side of a small mountain. It’s nowhere near as impressive or refined, but someone was able to build it there at all. There’s also some sort of tall building, far away and blurry, but definitely there. 

Techno is not alone.

What are the chances of landing on a planet taken up by other people? Surely the universe is filled with uninhabited planets that he could have crashed into and spent eternity alone on. Would that have been too much to ask?

Then again, this place is nice. How many wars have Techno fought over far worse chunks of land? Of course it’s taken.

He sighs, acceptance and bitter defeat bleeding into his mouth. It’s laced with a metallic taste too. Suddenly, the sun is too bright and he wants to lay down.

This will change plans. Techno needs to do some surveillance, find out how many people are here and where they’re all at. With luck, he can stay hidden, at least for a while. Till he’s fully healed and re-equipped with supplies. At least then he won’t be slaughtered right away.

The trail back to the ship is slower, sloppy as his feet don’t want to cooperate. The pain running through him is mounting again, fingers tightening to a breaking point.

As Techno crawls into the broken down chunk of metal, curling on the broken seat so that his shattered head is protected by his arms, he realizes that his hopes of getting far far away from other people have failed. 

He’s still running.

—

Admittedly, Techno hasn’t even had a chance to glance over the ship to see if it’s fixable. Repairing the ship and flying off again would definitely be the easiest solution to his problems, but there’s some more pertinent things requiring his attention.

For one, the deep itching burn that has settled into all of his wounds.

He knows that it can’t be good. Especially considering the utter exhaustion and malaise paired with it. But Techno really doesn’t have the energy to go poking at the wounds on his body when they’ve just started to clot against the bandages. Blood loss is equally bad as infection, right?

Some part of him screams at the idea, even below the thick fog. But it’s easily lost to the ringing in his ears.

Honestly the only pain that he turns his mind towards is a sharp chewing below his ribs. Hunger is nothing new to him, he can handle it. But, when he stands and his vision starts disappearing, he knows it can’t be ignored for much longer.

The chill settling within his core is only spurring the urge to soothe his hunger on even more.

Techno is certain that if he falls into hibernation right now, he will certainly die. There’s nowhere near enough food in his system or fat on his bones. It shouldn’t even be cold enough to shut his body down like this. But his sluggish heart leaves his muscles cold and unwilling to move without the entirety of his effort.

It’s all working against him. His injuries and hunger and the freaking cold. He’s close to collapsing and can’t get anything done in this state.

The only idea he can think of seems really stupid. But less stupid with every passing hour.

There’s probably food inside that fancy building.

There’s probably also people inside the building, which is why going there is a horrific idea. But where else can he find food? Everytime he’s tried to hunt and forage has gone horrifically. In this state, he’d probably eat poisonous berries and drop dead anyway.

Is there another option? Not if he wants to live…

With a sigh, Techno sets out with a resigned feeling. It’s not the first time he’s going to steal to save his life, and he doesn’t think it’s morally reprehensible or anything. But he has a feeling that this is going to go terribly.

At least his stuttering mind means that he doesn’t have much time to ponder. Instead, he blinks and finds himself at the edge of the hills surrounding the cream and pale blue building.

Sloppily, Techno crouches in a bush.

He has yet to see anyone, end of sentence. Which is good, but also unnerving. He knows that there are people around, capable, far more equipped people than him. The scalpel in his pocket doesn’t feel like a great defense, especially when his mind wanders off to unconsciousness randomly.

That’s all the more reason to steal the food though. The faster he recovers, the better he can protect himself.

Swayed but not enthusiastically, Techno sets about declining downwards. Or, slipping downwards would be more accurate. His feet immediately lose traction and it’s all he can do not to fall on his face or rip his wounds open.

Of course his head and back pound when he reaches the bottom of the hills, panting. This is already going so well.

As Techno walks closer to the building, he feels a bit more impressed by it. It’s not quite the size of a castle or anything, but it’s bigger than a typical base. Plus, far prettier. Techno could imagine a king or something living inside. Better than a rugged warrior at least, even though he's unfortunately beat more warriors than kings. It’d be a good time to change that if walking didn’t take all of his effort.

A tall sandstone door is cropped into the side of the building, allowing him to slip inside. He tries to keep his back pressed to the wall as he slowly creeps further inside. But everything is quiet and still. Seemingly just as empty as the world appears to be.

Maybe the person that lives here also likes to be alone and mind their own business. Techno could take one half of the planet, and they can take the other. Never seeing each other and living in perfect peace till they die.

Techno thinks the musings count as dreaming about dessert when you’re starving.

The emptiness of the building is off putting as he walks about. They’ve got to have food somewhere around here, right? He might be willing to fight someone to get to it at this point.

Tusks slightly barred behind his rebreather, Techno practically stumbles into a room full of chests. He blinks in surprise, confused and thinking that he's seeing double. Or, ten-tuple. But the chests stay put no matter how long he blinks dumbly at them.

When it finally sinks in that the chests are real, he jolts back to himself and starts digging through the closest one.

It’s mostly gray blocks inside, though there’s some random items inside. Techno doesn’t feel clear enough to see if any of it is useful, simply moving on to the next chest. 

All the chests have slightly different items within, but his hands get haphazard the more that he goes through. Is there really no food in this entire building? That can’t be true, right? What will Techno do then?

Desperate, Techno shoves the next chest open so roughly that it bangs into the wall. He’s almost ready to slam it closed too, but then he catches sight of pale, waxy paper. Forcing his fingers to cooperate, he pulls out the bundle, peeling it back and sighing at the sight.

Laying on the paper is a couple shriveled, salted fish.

It’s nothing close to appealing, but Techno’s practically drooling at the sight. If he didn’t have to worry about taking off his rebreather, he’d probably take a bite of it right now.

Instead, he gathers his patience to slip the fish into his inventory and stands. Maybe there’s other useful stuff in the remaining chests too.

Just as that thought crosses his mind, Techno closes the chest sloppily, releasing a loud clicking noise. At the exact same time nearly, he hears a faint whistling sound, followed by the thunk of metal hitting ground.

His entire body freezes, hand still on the chest.

Then, the thunking metal starts growing closer and Techno takes off in the opposite direction as quickly as he can. Obviously, it’s footsteps. Louder than his own heels, though he’s extremely cognizant of the sounds he’s making now. He swears that he hears the footsteps pick up, followed by a distant shout.

Techno runs faster.

A snatch of blue catches his eyes, the sky outside a window. There’s no glass on the window, and he could practically start thanking a certain violent deity as he hurls himself over the sill.

The air in his lungs gets snapped out as his body crashes into a bush. 

Techno wheezes weakly, trying to hold back coughs as pain courses through him. Darkness is playing at the corners of his vision, trying to pull him down. Too much to try to stand and run again. He just about presses a hand over the mask as footsteps clank past the window over his head.

They don’t pause, but the slight curling of words make their way down to him. Obviously it’s an unfamiliar voice, sounding fancy and strange. Kind of like Phil. Techno smashes his eyes shut and breathes out as slowly as he can. Then he repeats while breathing in.

The footsteps are long gone, the voice even more so.

Techno pulls himself out of the shrubbery, hardly holding back a groan at how battered he feels. Saliva swells within his mouth, and he almost doesn’t want to eat the food at all anymore. Hopefully his appetite will come back over the walk back to the ship.

Disappearing into the trees, Techno vows to never go anywhere near that building ever again. He’s not stealing from it, or any other nearby. If he can’t take a fight to get him out of being caught, he can’t risk being caught.

No matter what, he’s not doing that again.

Chapter Text

Techno does it again.

He does not go back to the sandstone mini palace. At least not often. It’s the closest building, so he tries to avoid it, but… The hunger and pain makes it hard to venture far.

When he feels well enough to, he does though.

It’s then that Techno realizes just how much is out there. More strange, fancy buildings, like nothing he’s ever seen before. And also things that definitely can’t be considered buildings, but are still obviously made by people and skilled hands.

It’s odd, but not hard on his eyes either. If he wasn’t constantly on the lookout for people, then it would almost be enjoyable to explore.

The desperate need for food and anything else he can get his hands on also dims the experience.

Today is one of those days when he is feeling… responsible. Let’s call it responsible. Because he is not visiting the building where he nearly got caught by who knows who, but is instead sneaking past the forest altogether in hopes of finding slightly less occupied dwellings. Ones with food at least. He had explored a strange hollow tree that had signs about cookies before, but there was only a zombie slouching behind the counter. Techno denies feeling any disappointment at that.

Beyond the tree of lies is a couple of other builds, all of which appear empty as he stares at them from his hiding spot. The sun keeps glaring into his eyes and making him have to rub away a stubborn shininess, but he feels pretty confident that no one is around the small house with a tower.

It’s odd as he approaches, looking less refined than the palace-like build he looted before. There’s far more textures and colors smattered over the thing. Not messy or ugly. Though his eyes do squint against his will at it.

Undeterred, Techno walks into the front door with little fanfare. Only to sneeze as dust invades his face. 

Groaning brokenly as the bones around his sinus absolutely ache at the abuse, he stumbles further into the little living space. Obviously no one has been here for a while, which is good for not getting caught. But it seems like someone actually lived here at some point. Hopefully that means there’s stuff like food and medicine and blankets and clothes…

A little of any of that would be enough for Techno right now.

He starts at the piles of chests, since that seems to be how people store supplies on this server. And upon first glance within one, he’s almost hopeful. There are some building materials, but also loads of other stuff. Miscellaneous junk, where hopefully useful items have been thrown in among it all.

And maybe there is some useful stuff in there, but as he tries to sort through it all, his eyes practically cross. Did someone just empty their entire inventory into here every time they came home? It’s truly a monster.

It’s not like Techno can say he would be much cleaner, but with his current pounding headache, it’s groan worthy.

The rest of the chests aren’t any better. It’s so bad that things have started to get tangled and broken among each other. No wonder this place was abandoned. It’s a lost cause.

Before Techno can cut himself on the sticky glass, he pulls away with a sigh. What a bust. He should have just risked getting drawn and quartered over at the palace by the spaceship. At least there wouldn’t be such a long walk back to base full of disappointment.

Not even bothering to search the upstairs of the building, since he doesn’t trust his luck on a ladder right now, Techno sluggishly steps out of the strange magic looking house, feeling more down than ever. This has to count as false advertising or something, right? There was no magic inside. Only disappointment.

Shivers wrack his body, forcing him to stop and wrap his arms around himself. While he catches his breath, Techno looks across the wide river that cuts off this chunk of land from a bunch of other buildings. There’s even a big boat bobbing on the water in between them, waterwheel on the back and letters sprawled across the side. Though, Techno has to tilt his head to make out what it says.

S.S. Hermit-ssippi?

Strange… Techno’s eyes continue to drift from the letters, past the end of the boat. Then, they land on a small smudge on the edge of the opposite shore. He can basically only make out a bit of bright turquoise, popping out from the rest of the dull, blurry area.

Then the smudge of turquoise shifts. Steps closer. The shorter distance makes the figure just a little clearer.

Oh. 

Uh oh.

Techno turns on his heel and starts sprinting as fast as he can away from the messy wizard house. It’s perhaps not as fast as he would be normally, but the explosions and whistles of fireworks in the distance, growing infinitely closer, are good motivation nonetheless. 

Those sounds can only mean that the person has an elytra, which is terrible news. For many reasons. First, the flying with rockets, obviously increasing their speed and all that. But also it means that they have gotten to the end and killed a dragon and done enchantments and farms and a bunch of other junk that Techno has only really heard about from players that don’t spend all their time sharpening and dulling swords.

Jumping the last little distance, Techno falls as he reaches the treeline into the forest. He doesn’t slow even on the ground, crawling awkwardly through the brush and plants. Little branches scratch his exposed skin and catch on his clothes, like the world itself is trying to get him caught.

“Hey! Creepy stranger from Grian’s house!” The words curl down from above, making Techno freeze, stupidly.

When he finally has the sense to move again, he stands and takes off into a weaving zig-zag run. Techno’s not sure whether the person still has eyes on him or not. It doesn’t really matter, since they’ll certainly find him soon enough with the inequality between their gear. What a lame way to go!

“I don’t think you should be here. Unless you’re Herobrine, but he got patched in the last update!”

The slightly confusing shouts are further away this time, which Techno can’t help sighing in short relief at. The cover of the foliage is working to his advantage, at least for now. He has to get as far away as he can, while he can.

Though as he weaves back in the direction that he knows his ship is in, he pauses slightly. Should he go back to his ship? That might lead people there, and it’s the closest thing to a base he has. Not to mention that if he wants to get off the planet once he’s better, a broken ship is still better than no ship. 

Hesitantly, Techno turns ninety degrees and starts heading parallel to the river instead of directly away from it.

He doesn’t see the sandstone base, but the more modest wooden and stone brick house he looked through a few times passes by him. He keeps running, as quickly as he’s able to. It's difficult, when the burning that usually resigns itself to his wounds has spread throughout his limbs and face. Every breath just spurs the fire on more, but he can’t even go a fraction of a second without gasping in more air, feeling like he’s drowning.

More and more, he has to lean against the trees that he passes to stop himself from hitting the ground. As he past the rising hills that signal the beginnings of a mountain at his side, more fireworks sound from behind him. They’re back by the edge of the river, where the person originally spotted him. But it’s definitely multiple people flying over there. A forest this small will be combed over quicker than he can escape it.

Panicked, Techno looks around as though something will pop out to save him. His only weapon is his scalpel, probably not sharp enough to cut through thick clothes, let alone armor. And hiding will just make him a sitting duck.

What should he do? What can he do?

He keeps running. 

Though it’s generous to call it a run at this point. His knees keep folding in and his palms are smacking into the dirt, barely able to push him back up in their shaking weakness. Half of it is the exhaustion, but the other half is the fact that the world seems to be violently spinning all around him.

Even just standing up right now would be difficult, with how his balance seems to have dripped right out of his aching spine. But running in a straight line is proving an impossible task.

Techno pinches his eyes shut and forces himself to keep moving anyway.

He can’t have made it this far only to fail. Even if he already failed his goals by ending up here, he was just going to try again! Keep clawing at the universe until he makes it somehow. He can't fail. Not now that he's really trying to do something different!

A startled shout from right behind Techno, followed by the whistles of rockets, has him whipping around. Only, the person seems to have sent themselves flying directly in his direction. Before he can even pull out his scalpel, the person smacks into him roughly and sends him flat into the dirt.

It’s fine, except that the back of his head hits the ground. That typically wouldn’t be enough to make him even slow as he would tug out a weapon and slash the person away. Instead his body lets out a weak, pitiful little gasp, locking up entirely as his skull seems to explode. Surely, his bones and brains have splattered all throughout the leaves. It’d be a bit too autumnal for the season, but otherwise probably fit in.

From how the person on top of him simply sits up and starts shouting out to others, Techno doubts that anything quite so graphic has occurred. Either that or this person is even more brutal than Techno. In either case, he desperately begs with his arms and legs to start fighting again.

His right arm pops up long enough to deliver the weakest punch Techno has ever seen to their scarred up face. 

“Hey, rude! I could have Hot-Guyed you from fifty meters, but instead I just gently pushed you down. Show some thank yous,” The man blabbers, knees very ungently digging into every sore spot on Techno's ribs.

Hissing wetly, Techno tries to gouge even deeper lines into his attacker's face with his fingertips. The man has the gall to smile back.

“Like some sort of cat!”

“Scar! What’s up man?” Someone shouts while landing nearby. 

Techno can’t turn his face to look at the newcomer, which somehow makes his heart flip more than the person pinning him down.

“I found them!” The Scar guy announces.

As if celebrating, Scar lifts his arms up. It also drags along Techno’s trapped hands, seemingly tearing every organ in his abdomen from the movement. With an involuntary yelp, Techno shoves his feet into the ground before bucking with all his might.

Despite the fact that the man perched on him is quite tall and muscular, he’s caught by enough surprise to lose his balance. Which is all Techno needs to kick him and start squirming. He manages to get a couple feet away, but it’s nothing. Not far enough. Far, far too close to the people.

Yanking the scalpel out of his pocket, Techno rises onto his elbow as much as he can and glares upwards. The new stranger, sharp eyes behind glasses and a white coat, is standing before him, leaning down slightly like the weapon is of zero concern. Or that Techno is.

A growl forces itself out of Techno’s mouth, half offense and half fear. He feels horrifically stupid like this.

“You know, I thought it was just a Hermit dressed up strange from the messages, but this is definitely not a Hermit,” The black haired man says.

“I know right! Well, I believed it from the start, Cub,” Scar says back, chipper as he stands wobbly.

“Did you message the others?” Cub asks.

“Oh, right.”

As Techno shuffles backwards with his free hand, Cub starts forward quickly, as though to grab him. Techno kicks at his ankle while swiping the blade, aiming for the man’s eyes regardless of the glasses. At the very least, Cub flinches back a little.

“Come on, dude. It’ll be easier if you just give up and come peacefully,” Cub says.

Another growl leaves Techno, feeling as involuntary as any of the pained noises now.

His heart is beating so fast that it hurts in his chest. He can feel every individual chamber squeezing with all the life left in him. It sends stabbing pain down all of his limbs, leaving them near impossible to control.

As if noting the shaking, Cub reaches out for the scalpel without much preamble. Techno obviously tries to stab him, but the man's shiny black shoe is kicking his hand almost quicker than he can see. He stomps down on his wrist, pinning it to the ground while the blade pops free. The hand was just for show, and enough of a trick for Techno's slow as strays brain.

Techno tries to grab it back up, despite being stuck in place both by the pain and the shoe. But the Cub guy picks it up with deft fingers quickly, twisting it between a few of them with fanfare.

“They say unethical use of medical equipment is against HIPPA,” Cub says.

Before Techno can even be confused, Scar is piping back: “Who’s a hippo?”

Cub sighs. “Do you have rope?”

Eyes widening, Techno starts struggling again. He kicks at the man pinning his arm down and tries to push the foot away with his free hand, but it’s no use. His body refuses to cooperate well enough, everything far too uncoordinated and weak to overpower anyone.

“Relax, it’s just so you don’t run off again,” Cub says, as though that isn’t totally horrifying.

“I should have brought Jellie’s carrier,” Scar says, happily handing over a length of what looks like measuring tape. 

“Somehow I don’t think that would have helped,” Cub says.

Techno squirms harder.

But Cub simply leans down and starts manhandling him with his hands too, and it becomes all the more impossible to get an inch away. Especially when he gets pushed mostly onto his stomach, a knee planted on his spine to hold him down. Then, the snake of measuring tape starts getting wound around his wrists and forearms, tighter when he tries to pull against it.

“Careful of the rope burn,” Cub says, tugging an obvious knot.

“Well, metal-burn. It is lined with metal,” Scar points out. “It’s a measuring tape.”

“Even more reason,” Cub pats Techno's wrist. The edges of the metal dig into his skin through the cloth exterior. 

Then the man is hoisting him up by said connected wrists, dragging all of his body weight upwards. It takes every inch of Techno’s will to hold back a pained noise as his head absolutely plummets, everything wavering with agony. He almost faints, but gasps instead.

“Where are we meeting up?” Cub asks.

“Xisuma’s base is close and big,” Scar says. “I wouldn’t want a stranger around my grandmas…”

Techno’s head is simmering with confusion, but it’s overshadowed by the everything else. His pulse is going so fast, that surely that’s the only reason he’s still awake. Because even being held upright is leaving his entire body shaking and exhausted. Swallowing down the panic, Techno grits his teeth and resigns himself to going through whatever is about to happen. He can’t fight his way out, obviously. Even if that thought is far more terrifying than it should be. Everything he does is to avoid stuff like this, and he hates it.

Yet here he is again, even on the other side of the universe.

Through bleary eyes, Techno gets dragged over to the sandstone not-quite-palace. There’s another person standing out front. From the bright blue of their shirt, Techno presumes they’re the one that saw him. There’s an @ sign scrawled across it. Weakly, Techno pushes a glare onto his face.

“Yup, that’s definitely the cryptid I saw,” The man says.

“Are they a cryp-cryptoid?” Scar asks.

“That’s the only thing that makes sense,” The man says. He leans towards Techno more. “Not sure how a someone could find us, after all.”

“Xisuma will figure it out. Let’s get them inside for that,” Cub says, lifting Techno slightly towards the stairs.

It’s even worse trying to get up into the building. The others probably think that he’s being annoying on purpose, but his legs just aren’t listening to him. They’re nearly as numb as his arms. The turquoise shirt man comes around his other side and helps Cub drag him along.

The slightly familiar halls go by, till they come to a pause in what almost seems like a bedroom. Techno’s deposited into a chair, bindings quickly transferred to hold him tightly to it. He doesn’t bother struggling, arms and shoulders hurting too much to try.

A tension is obvious now that they’re in the room. Everyone remains quiet, seemingly waiting for others. That definitely means bad things.

Techno’s heart is starting to hurt in his chest, fluttering more than beating.

Metal thunking footsteps eventually hurry towards the room, just a bit familiar to Techno. The person that almost found him the first time. 

As they step into the room, Techno almost has the energy to flinch back into the chair. A person, dressed head to toe in metal to the point that they look more like a robot than a person, takes up most of the doorway.

“Joe, did you—” The lilting voice starts, before they obviously see Techno. “Oh. Did you tie him up?”

Someone snorts.

“We restrained them cause they kept running,” Cub says.

“Ah, I see.” 

The robot man walks into the room. It’s not just Techno tracking him, but the others too. Maybe this is the Xisuma everyone keeps mentioning. Of course Techno broke into a robot’s house. His head hurts.

“We should have a chat so that some things can be sorted out. You shouldn’t be here, after all,” Xisuma says, sounding slightly perplexed.

Techno forces himself to keep his head upright, even though it wants to fall limply onto his shoulder. He’s not sure how it’s possible to be this exhausted while his insides are so hyped up.

“We try to mind our own business and everything,” Xisuma says, stopping right in front of Techno. “What’s your name then?”

Silently, he squints at the plate of glass where a face should be. It’s half to scare away the black dots around his vision.

“It’s really not worth it to do the silent treatment. Let’s just talk and then you can be untied and fixed up.”

As though in time, hushed voices reach them from the hall. His eyes flicker over to the door for a second, only to stick there as multiple people walk in. Three, four. He thinks another might be out in the hall.

The people don’t seem quite like the sorts Techno would see on the battlefield. They all look healthy, well dressed, clean, and strong. They all tower over him while he’s in the chair, and they probably still would be if standing. Especially the tall creeper hybrid that walks behind Techno, standing over his ear. It makes him twitch in the chair.

Talk about outnumbered. What a showing. These people know what they’re doing and that’s awful for Techno’s odds.

“What server do you come from?” Xisuma asks, drawing the attention back to him. Everyone is mostly quiet, but there’s a buzzing in Techno’s ears.

“How about how you got here? Through a portal?”

Techno tries to shake his head at that, because really why does it matter? He can’t remember if it should. Talking about that awful planet he escaped to get here seems bad, but the ship ride here was only a small disaster.

His breath hitches against his will, making strange warmth spread about his face.

“A ship then? How many others were on it,” A blonde woman cuts in from where she’s blocking the door. A diamond sword shines on her hip. Almost as sharp as her glare.

“Yes, did you come here with others?” Xisuma adds, leaning closer.

Techno tilts his own head back, shaking it a little again. That actually seems like a bad thing to answer, but he was mostly trying to clear the tingling out of his skull. It only gets worse.

Heat spreads out of his nose, dripping down his lips. Wet. It tastes salty, and Techno feels shame when he thinks it’s tears. But then a faint hint of metal reaches him.

“You didn’t get here alone, that’s impossible,” Someone argues.

Techno shakes his head more. The blood pours faster out of his nose. It starts pooling at his chin where the rebreather mask digs into his skin. Then, the thick liquid starts building upwards.

Automatically, he tries to free his hands to swipe away the cloying liquid. Everyone around him jumps as he does, inching closer. Techno can only flinch away from the creeper hybrid, swallowing a mouthful of blood. It’s quickly replaced.

“If you tell me what server you’re a part of, and your name, this can be finished quickly,” Xisuma says. “We’re just worried about safety is all.”

Techno honestly doesn’t have enough of his brain left to know if that’s true or not. To know what’s the most strategic thing to do right now to stay alive. 

His mouth falls open to say something, but it’s instantly flooded by a sea of blood.

Coughing when the iron hits the back of his throat, Techno jerks forward in the chair. He can no longer see how the others react, since all of him is convulsing around the blood trying to invade his lungs. A bit makes it past his tongue and he gags, then chokes. It simply makes the blood pour faster into him as he struggles.

Between the ringing and voices and raging pulse, Techno feels like he’s fully submerged under the fluids drowning him too. Fighting as hard as his useless body allows, blood splatters out of the tiny crease of the mask onto the tops of his cheeks.

The sounds grow louder, and then a hand is grabbing his face. Techno weakly struggles away, but the fingers keep him still. Till, finally, the rebreather is yanked off of his face.

A cascade of blood falls down, splattering all over his lap and the floor. Techno tries to breathe in too quickly, and gets dredges of blood in his windpipe. He starts coughing again, violent but far more productive. The oxygen is cold and burns, but in a good way.

“Mojang above…”

“What’s happening?”

“They weren’t that hurt—”

The hand grabs his chin again, pulling it slightly upwards. Techno breathes raggedly, leaning away from the touch. But the creeper hybrid that glares down at him doesn’t seem swayed by it.

“Did your ship crash on the way down?” The creeper man asks.

Techno huffs, before breaking into another round of violent coughs. His head is starting to spin enough for him to appreciate the rough fingers.

“Look him over, Doc. Make sure he’s not too badly injured,” Xisuma says.

The creeper sighs—the doc-tor?—before kneeling in front of Techno. A cloth comes from somewhere and the man starts wiping at the globs of blood on his face. If there was any blood left in his veins, Techno would be red in shame. Instead, he just keeps breathing wetly.

“Telling me about your injuries would be useful for your health,” The Doc says. “If you want to live.”

Techno manages to press his lips together and support the weight of his own head again. But that’s about all he can do, as blood continues to trickle from his nose. His chin dips repeatedly.

Doc sighs, and then reaches towards the bandages, giving up on the mess of blood apparently. Probably because it’s still spreading. Techno flinches slightly as the gauze is peeled off of his face and head.

It hurts, breaking open scabs and clots and probably some other things. He turns a whine into a hiss, biting down on his tongue. At least no one notices it, given the continued murmurs all around. Hopefully, at least. He’s already tied down, whining before he dies would be so embarrassing.

Doc throws the bandages onto the ground quite roughly, pulling Techno’s wavering attention back outwards. The man harrumphs before wiping at Techno’s face again. It’s extraordinarily odd.

So much so, that Techno peeks at the others. When he accidentally meets eyes with Scar, the man gasps and go all wide eyed. Are his injuries that nasty?

“Oh Jellie, please tell me you’ve got a worse case of baby face than even Bdubs,” Scar says loudly.

Everyone glances at Scar, before following his eye line to Techno. How does it feel more intimidating than when he was being interrogated?

Doc shifts away from his front, starting to poke at the painful spots on the left side of his head. It’s distracting, almost too much to even breathe. But a tense silence has overcome the room and it’s making Techno’s urge to puke stronger.

“Is it a baby face? Or are you an actual baby—please say not that one,” A man with dog ears asks.

As harshly as he can, Techno glares. He doubts his messed up face looks that young, not enough for this reaction. Though, everyone here does seem old enough that Techno would make fun of them in a different situation. Not that that really matters, baby is ridiculous no matter the context. Techno thinks he wasn’t even born a baby. Babies are lame and weak.

Something similar to “he’s definitely a baby” reaches Techno’s ears, spurring him to open his mouth. Only, Doc takes that moment to press his finger tips directly into his temple. A distinct clicking sound resounds through Techno’s head, followed by an explosion of pure agony.

Vibrations rise through his mouth and jaw as the rest of his body stiffens frozen. His eyes are stuck open, though he quickly can not see as his eyeballs roll away into darkness.

As the agony envelopes him completely, he’s glad to be lost to the darkness.

Chapter Text

Techno is embarrassed to recall the first time he slept in a proper bed.

Up to that point, even bedrolls and other military rations were a luxury to him. But after Techno and Phil managed to lead their little army to victory and take over the entire palace of the Antarctic, it’d be silly not to use the accommodations available till they redistributed them.

He couldn’t fall asleep in that huge, plush bed for hours and hours. Yet he just kept lying there, awed by the mattress trying to swallow him. For once, it was with a gentleness that was attempting to pull him down into unconsciousness. Definitely odd, enough to keep him awake.

When he did sleep, it wasn’t particularly deep. After all, it was the first time in months he was sleeping without Phil watching his back, and a castle is a great place to be assassinated. But he still woke up horribly fuzzy. Some of the feathers must have migrated from the pillow into his skull. Beds, for all they are nice, are not very good at helping a person stay alive. Perhaps there is logic for those lumpy bedrolls being so uncomfortable.

Now, it’s not the exact same situation. 

The pain is all over his body and pounding in his skull terribly. To the point that it seeps into his sleep a little bit. He’s aching and burning and agonized all over. That’s the normal part though.

Below it all is a slight warm fuzziness. Similar to a fever, but not quite. It’s spurred on by soft blankets and pillows beneath his head, instead of infection.

He peels his eyes apart as quickly as he can, squinting through the light that sends knives through his frontal lobe.

Where is he?

“You’re awake,” Someone says.

Techno swings his legs over the edge of the bed, leaping up before his feet touch the ground. Not that it matters much. His limbs are completely numb, and his vision floats away with the elevation. Probably because he’s falling.

Rough hands wrap around his arms, yanking him upright and backwards. It leaves Techno reeling even more. Through the loopy wheelings of his brain, he tries to punch the person across the face. Instead his hand lands gently on a warm chest. It's not even fully curled into a fist. Lame.

“Alright, sitting back down. You know you've got a head injury, right? Don't get another.”

Through the blabbering, the person pushes Techno till he sits on the bed. He refuses to lay down to any extent though, pressing his palms to the mattress to stay upright. Eventually, the person lets him go and steps back.

Somehow, sitting down does slowly allow Techno's head to clear. Probably just a coincidence there. But as he blinks quickly and swipes at his eyes, he's finally able to see who's before him.

Not that it's a comforting sight. The man before him is tall, like, ridiculously so. He's also plenty wide, in a strong and healthy way. The little horns sticking out of his head are the perfect bow on the likely-to-be-able-to-kill-Techno present.

He hates people like that. Worst types of people for sure.

“Are you feeling alright?” The man asks.

Techno shoves a glare onto his face, refusing to look away. Even if this situation is objectively not one he can easily slip out on top of, he can't just roll over and let it happen.

For some reason, the man chuckles a little.

“I'm Impulse. Not a doctor, by the way, just here to make sure you don't fall—”

Yeah, sure. More likely to make sure Techno falls if he tries to flee. His arms and legs are notably free of rope.

“ —What’s your name?”

Jolting slightly, Techno pulls a hand away from his eyes and tries to figure out if he lost a bit of time there or not. Must be the fuzziness from the bed below him. It's clean and straightened out, like someone made it right before he laid there.

Why does that make a thread of guilt curl in his stomach?

Impulse tilts his head to the side while looking at Techno, face open and unlined. That almost makes Techno more nervous. Where are his true emotions?

“Can you talk?” Impulse asks.

“Obviously,” Techno snaps.

Or he tries to, before breaking into a coughing fit. It forces him to lean over as his nose runs a little. A hand touches his shoulder, before retreating when he flinches away.

When he finally finishes, his face feels close to bursting into flames and everything hurts just a pinch more.

“Not obviously. That's the first time you've talked. Is your throat fine?” Impulse asks.

Throats are important for interrogations, Techno supposes. He touches his throat that feels stuffed full of razor blades for a second, before looking away.

“I'll go get you some water anyway. Don't stand again, please. Doc said you're real beat up.”

And then Impulse tromps out the door, no room for replies. Not that Techno probably would, but it'd be nice to have the opportunity to throw in a ‘you should see the other guys’ or something. Instead, he tries not to lay down on the mattress no matter how much he wants to.

Instead, he should be standing and trying to find a way out. If they don’t want him to be doing that, there’s probably a good reason to be doing it. That makes logical sense to Techno.

Unfortunately, when he sets his feet on the ground again and tries to stand, his head swoops equally violently. Landing on the bed slightly roughly, he breathes through a heavy wave of nausea and pain, bleeding down from his wrecked head.

By the time the sweat on his face cools, Impulse is walking back into the room with a bottle of water. And the robot man Xisuma behind him. Techno squints harshly at them.

“Hey, I’m back,” Impulse says, like that’s not obvious.

He holds the water bottle out for Techno, smiling a little bit. Xisuma stands behind him silently, just watching Techno. Is this some sort of trick or interrogation tactic? His throat spasms as he swallows, dry as sand. Hesitantly, he reaches out to grab the water.

Only for his weak fingers to stop working the second that the bottle is placed into his hand. All three of them watch in silence as the bottle drops down to the ground, shattering there. Then they all blink at it.

“Whoops. I’ll go get you another one, I guess,” Impulse says with a laugh. “Be right back. Again.”

Once again, Impulse leaves. But Xisuma stays in the room, shifting about in a way that seems almost nervous. He’s in charge to some extent, right? What could that be about?

“We can wait till Impulse gets your water, but we do have to discuss some things now that your health is sorted out,” Xisuma finally says, slowly dragging a chair over to sit. Though he still keeps shifting while sitting down. “Sorry we didn’t realize how injured you were to begin with.”

Not exactly swayed one way or another by it all, Techno glares up at the man. After a second, Xisuma clears his throat behind his visor. So he does have lungs and a throat at least. Good to know where to aim if he ever pries all those metal plates off.

“Let’s just start with your name, please? I’m Xisuma, you met Impulse. There’s plenty more of us around, but I’m sure you’ll meet some of them eventually,” Xisuma says.

Well, he’s already figured that all out. If only to feel less exposed while perched shakily on the bed, Techno pulls his legs up beside him. It’ll make jumping up harder, but that doesn’t seem likely to succeed anyway.

“You could just tell me something to call you. A nickname?” Xisuma asks, sounding a little exasperated.

Could he? Is there really a reason to hold back his name other than stubbornness (which is a decent reason in this situation, he stands by it)? It’s possible that they’ll try to find information about him after getting his name, and Techno doesn’t doubt that there’s some. People hearing about The Blade is how he got here, isn’t it?

But, they might find out anyway. Techno sighs a little, head aching.

“My name’s Techno,” He rasps. Just barely, he doesn’t cough.

“Okay, great,” Xisuma says with a sigh, sounding a little relieved. Maybe he thinks he’s gotten through to Techno. Is that much different than being resigned? “What about your server?”

A frown pulls on his face at that question. Most people are involved with a specific server, a home server it’s usually called. The whole L’manburg mess would technically count, but also not traditionally. People don’t traditionally live like Techno does.

Before either of them can say anything else, Impulse walks back into the room with two water bottles. Presumably in case Techno drops it again. How considerate.

“Here. Is your hand injured?” Impulse asks while carefully setting the bottle fully into Techno’s palm.

He shakes his head while carefully taking a sip of the water. It doesn’t taste odd, not that that means anything. But he’s far too thirsty to care, draining the entire bottle even as his fingers shake.

“I was just asking Techno about where he came from,” Xisuma says significantly, still wanting an answer.

“Does it matter?” Techno asks, grimacing.

“It matters if any of your friends are going to show up. Or why you’re here to begin with,” Impulse says lightly.

Techno shakes his head. “No one should know I'm here, because I don’t even know where I am.”

The second the words leave his mouth, he wants to swallow his tongue. Great, way to make himself look difficult to get away with murdering. They wouldn’t even have to hide his body at this rate. Both of them look slightly shocked, so obviously they didn’t suspect it either.

Grand. Great. Lovely.

“How did you get here then?” Xisuma asks. “You said a ship.”

“Well, I didn’t say that,” Techno says while looking at the ceiling, ignoring the unimpressed looks. “But I crashed the ship here on accident.”

“You crashed on the planet?” Xisuma asks, sounding shocked.

“I don’t really know. The ship just was going through space, and asteroids, and then I kicked the screen and got here… It was a real blur,” Techno trails off.

“How did you even hit a planet? You’re so lucky,” Impulse says, eyes wide.

“Yup, super lucky,” Techno snarks, head pounding and wrists rubbed raw.

“You really are,” Xisuma reiterates. “But either way, do I have your word that no one else is here with you then? Or on their way?”

“... As far as I know.”

Are they after him? Techno has no clue. It’d be stupid considering the state of their own failing planet, but they also are all about making shows of things. And Techno is useful on a planet of people with little to no fighting experience.

He shoves his fingers into the bridge of his nose, pain from the broken bones feeling like it’s stretching out over the surface. His eyes are quickly becoming blurrier too.

Impulse and Xisuma glance at each other, seemingly deciding whether to believe him. There’s not exactly any good reasons to, but Techno doesn’t know why they’re all so worried about it anyway. Maybe they have secrets too.

“How old are you then? And what’s your comm info?” Xisuma asks.

Way to jump into it. Techno scowls.

“I don’t know. I don’t exactly give it out to strangers,” Techno says, looking to the side.

Which, all of that is very true actually. He doesn’t know his exact age, and the estimate really doesn’t matter. No one asks for age before murdering someone on a battlefield, and that’s basically what this is. A long, drawn out battle. Where he’s been given medical treatment and a bed…

“You’re the stranger on my planet, mate,” Xisuma says. “I kind of need to know at least that while you’re here.”

And that part. Techno wishes he could blame that fully on the whole dsmp fiasco, but his communicator was thoroughly messed up before he got there. He’s honestly not sure if it ever worked properly. The sorts of places his visited didn't exactly give access like that away for free.

“Know what? I gave you my name,” Techno says instead.

Xisuma sighs, and for some reason Impulse smiles in a sharp way that doesn’t really look happy.

“You’re extremely suspicious, you know that?”

Techno shrugs. “You seem suspicious to me, so.”

Gods, he wants to lay down. And be alone. And on another planet with no living beings. That would be so nice forever.

His throat is still dry when he swallows compulsively.

“What’s your plan then?” Xisuma says evenly.

Techno squints at him.

“You nearly died from brain trauma, apparently from crashing a ship. Now what?”

Good question. He scrabbles over the vague things he’s been holding on to guide him forwards. It was mostly related to not dying and not getting caught. Partially successful After that…

“I need to fix my ship. Then I’ll leave,” Techno says.

The two men are staring at him so intently. Not like they’re mad or watching to make sure he doesn’t attack. Just intent, like they’re seeing through all his layers. Techno wants to kick them in the nose so they blink.

“With the concussion, or…” Impulse says, to add insult to injury.

Techno scowls. 

“Yes. I was fine till you all bothered me; smashed my head into the ground and all.”

“Stealing all our food like a little mouse sounds very fine,” Impulse says with a smile.

“It’s not my fault this planet is a barren wasteland!” Techno shouts.

Silently, Impulse and Xisuma turn to look out the window. The trees and plants are swaying slightly in the wind. An actual butterfly floats past. Techno glares at it.

“N-not there.” 

When the two of them turn back, they simply stare at him. Silently.

It is a million times worse than yelling.

“Whatever,” Techno mumbles, crossing his arms.

Xisuma sighs.

“Well, we really don’t know if we can trust you, and you are still at risk of your head wound getting worse, so someone will have to stick around you at all times.”

“I was alone before and didn’t do anything, did I?” Techno asks, mostly just to voice his discomfort without actually voicing it.

“Except break my kelp farm. Somehow,” Xisuma says, voice flat. Techno blinks pointedly at the wall. “Plus, your brain could start bleeding or something, you’re not well enough to be alone. So it works out all around.”

The man sounds tired as he stands with another sigh, stretching awkwardly within his robot armor. Techno watches him from the corner of his eyes, trying to figure out just how annoyed he really is by all this.

“Impulse is staying here for now. Rest for a while, then we’ll see about that ship, I suppose.”

With that, Xisuma turns and leaves the room. His metallic footsteps echo for a long while, which leaves them sitting there awkwardly and listening to them. Then Impulse chuckles, at the situation or something else, who knows.

“Do you need anything else?” He asks.

Techno slowly shakes his head, trying to keep his eyelids open and level. He might not do a great job at it, since Impulse tilts his head towards the bed.

“You should probably sleep or something. I heard it’s good for healing.”

As if he would sleep around someone like that.

But, as though set on making him an idiot and hypocrite, exhaustion drags his limbs downward. Techno tries to fight against it while Impulse starts cleaning up the glass on the floor. By the time that most of it is picked up, he’s leaning to the side more than upright.

His head hits the pillow, wringing pain throughout it. With a furrowed brow, he tries to sort out his jittering thoughts.

At the very least, no one seems to want Techno for anything. Which means that they don’t want him here. Leaving should be easier if that’s the case, right? 

Maybe if they want him gone that badly, they’ll even help him get away without expecting too much in return…

As if.

Chapter Text

The sun beaming lazily through the window and onto Techno’s eyelids doesn’t even begin to chip through the deep fuzz of sleep. If anything it just leaves him cozier. It wasn’t often that he indulged in naps in the sun when he was younger, but it was probably the best he ever managed to sleep.

Until a door slams open, hitting the wall with force and being paired with a greeting. Techno is confused, though the shot of adrenaline that goes through him has him jumping up anyway.

“Wow, Impulse was right, you really pop right up,” A light woman’s voice reaches him.

It tells Techno where he should be facing at least, squinting hard through a sheen of colors and knees bent in preparation. Not that it’s very steady, but it’s better than standing stock straight or laying down as someone unknown comes to slice his neck or something.

Though he already feels like a knife or two has been dug into his skull, mixing up all the soft spots till they’re screaming at him too. A wavering breath leaves his mouth as he tries not to whimper at the intense pain.

The smudge of orange and green that Techno is forcing his eyes to focus on enough to make out her form, starts closer to him. Techno backs up two steps for every one that she takes. Till his back hits some sort of table, clattering items and nearly making him fall to the ground. Instead, he sinks his hands onto the bedside table and holds on, baring his tusks for lack of anything better coming to mind.

“Woah, take it down a notch, won’t you? You look like you’re going to fall,” The woman says, holding her hands up a little. “I just brought you some food, to be nice and all.”

Quickly, Techno flicks his eyes around the rest of the room. It’s starting to come back to him now, that this is where he’s being kept by the server. The only person here is the woman, looking not particularly imposing. But Techno knows that doesn’t mean much. The antlers towering over his head and hooves propping her up a few inches alone could easily be made dangerous. The rest of her is an unknown.

Just as Techno lets his shoulder relax a little bit, prepared to push off of the table, something hot drips over his lips. The woman makes a noise as he swipes at his nose, confused. His fingers come back red.

“That’s not good! Did you hit something?” The woman asks, once again walking closer to him, faster than ever.

Techno tries to shy back again, but the table. She easily grabs his wrist, tugging it away from his face. The blood drips out of his nose unimpeded, falling from his chin. At least until she pulls a small cloth from her pocket and shoves it against his nose.

“You can not bleed out within the first five seconds of me watching you, that would be very uncool.”

With her brusk words, she pulls him upright fully and starts pushing him back towards the bed. Only, the thing that Techno notices is that she is a couple inches taller than him, not even including the antlers. What the heck?

Looking down, Techno notices that he is quite obviously missing his shoes. He bought those special made and it took forever to get used to fighting with the extra height. A sharp frown crosses his face as he’s shoved back down.

“There. Tilt your head back a little, would you? You’re practically draining yourself,” The woman chides, tapping his chin.

Finally brought out of his annoyed musings, Techno lifts his chin a little and jerks away from the touch. He can handle a nosebleed on his own… When he’s not being tied up and left to drown in it.

“Well, that was exciting. Are you feeling really sick or anything?”

Techno blinks at the woman a few times as she waits with her hands on her hips. Her ears are furry and flop slightly with annoyance. 

“Who are you?” Techno asks. He’s almost certain he’s never seen this woman before. Another one of these people.

The woman rolls her eyes, but then smiles. “You can call me Gem, since I’ll be watching you for a while. You go by Techno?”

Techno nods a bit, off put by the reminder. Though Gem doesn’t seem as intimidating as a robot man or giant creeper hybrid, that doesn’t mean anything. Especially when he’s completely useless. The thought makes him want to flop back into the blankets forever.

“Fine. I did bring you breakfast. But maybe you should wait till your nose stops bleeding… Or maybe lay down while I grab Doc,” Gem says, looking at Techno funny.

“I’m fine. It’s just a headache,” Techno says, straightening slightly.

“Headaches don’t bleed!” Gem says. Her sudden loudness makes Techno jump a little.

All he can offer is a shrug. Maybe it’s the concussion, but this interaction is leaving him a bit befuddled. He’s not a fan of the feeling. It’s too close to feeling like he’s the dumb one.

Though, in a strange, awful way, it almost reminds Techno of when he first met Phil and the man left his brain mixed to pieces.

Furrowing his brow roughly as though that could physically shove out those thoughts, he looks around until he catches sight of the food placed on the end of the bed. When his nose remains dry for a couple seconds after pulling back the cloth, he grabs the tray of food and pulls it onto his lap. There’s a couple slices of toasted bread and some fruit, which looks shockingly fresh and well made.

It forces past his hesitancy to take a bite. Which is a good call regardless of possible drugs or whatever. The toast somehow tastes like one of the best things Techno’s had, or at least in a good long while. There must be something else on it than butter, but whatever it is is delicious. A pleased noise leaves his lips against his will, mirroring his wide eyes.

Gem laughs across from him, sitting down. Techno looks purposefully at only the plate, face totally not growing hot. If it is, it’s internal bleeding or something.

Instead he just eats the food while he has the chance. It’s all good, enough that he doesn’t care when he starts to feel a little nauseous. Usually he can push past that sort of thing without getting sick. Throwing up food is such a waste after all.

By the time Techno polishes off the plate, he shockingly feels better than before. Slightly less weak and wobbly at least. Turns out not having to steal the few morsels of food that he can find does him well.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Gem says. She doesn’t sound like she’s barbing or making fun of him, and there’s a smile on her face.

“Thanks… for the food,” Techno says belatedly.

“Sure! You’ve got some meds you’re supposed to take too, after eating. Doc said you have an infection… and a bunch of other stuff. I’m really not a doctor.”

As both a small glass cup of sparkling potion is handed to him, alongside a handful of actual pills, Techno finds himself tilting his head to the side. The potion, he’s had many before and doubts it could even hurt him unless he drank too much. But this is a small dose if anything. 

The pills on the other hand are something that tends not to be common on servers, or at least the type Techno frequents. “Proper” medicine exists obviously, considering people need it for illnesses or disabilities or those sorts of things, but he’s hard wrought to find people that can make it.

These people can, apparently. Or buy it somehow. Just one more weight on an unbalanced scale.

Techno takes the medicine and washes it down with the potion, which makes Gem snort for some reason. It does tingle oddly, but he’s downed enough potions to hardly notice. He definitely has infections of some kind, and if the meds can help him knock it out and get his strength back faster, the better. If they make him pass out or something… Well, at least he’ll be getting his rest.

“Doc was all huffy about it, but we are allowed to walk around a little if you’re feeling up to it,” Gem says.

Is Techno feeling up to it? He almost fell earlier, but what’s a little tripping between a man and his head injuries?

Plus, seeing where he is and looking around the server would be useful.

“Sure,” Techno says.

Gem fetches him a jacket and a pair of flat shoes, the first of which is taken appreciatively and the second with an unimpressed look. He ignores the murmurs of high heels and head injuries that Gem gives him, because it really isn’t relevant. It’s not like he tripped over his heels and brained himself.

Regardless, they are soon actually leaving the room and building behind, and Techno focuses back on his surroundings. 

It is not the sandstone structure where he was first taken, that much is obvious. It seems like they’re in a different place altogether. A house, though still fancy and well built, is small and strangely shaped. As they step outside, it only takes a little searching for him to catch sight of the giant eagle statue, so at least he hasn’t been dragged off to a different side of the planet while he was unconscious.

“This is Impulse's starter base.  He at least bothered to build some bedrooms and a kitchen, which is better than most of us can say. Plus, he didn’t mind giving up his starter base, he doesn’t use it much anymore,” Gem explains.

Techno remembers the big man—imp? hybrid?—from his gut sinking introduction. So it’s good to know that he made a fool of himself in front of the man whose house he’s staying in. The place is nice with cool purple sparkly stuff. That's a bonus.

“Starter base?” Techno asks, taking in this side of the river for the first time.

“Don’t know if you noticed that there usually aren’t many people over here, if this is around where you crashed.” That part of the sentence seems pointed. Techno squints at a bridge that he missed before. “But, we’ve all moved on to our mega bases like a year ago at this point. Stuff we can work on for longer and such.”

That does make sense, considering how many people swarmed Techno after he was caught. There were never that many people in the empty buildings lining the river. Just the couple Techno near missed. Or, didn’t miss and got seen by.

He wonders what their long term projects could be. Especially since the small town here already seems more impressively built than just about any Techno’s seen. Maybe except the Antarctic Empire’s palace, but even then. There was a depressing air to that whole kingdom. Even after they liberated it.

“I’m sure we’ll run into some Hermits along the way,” Gem says, starting down a path.

Hermits? Well, Techno supposes trying to find a planet without any people on it is hermit activity, so who is he to judge?

They end up walking in the direction of the eagle statue, passing by a building with a giant pie on it and a forest that is somehow covered in cobwebs. The only reason he can force himself through it is that there don’t seem to be any actual spiders. And, Gem seems completely unaffected. Even when spiderwebs tangle up in her antlers.

“So, I’m pretty partial to the building side of things. What do you do when not sneaking around foreign planets,” Gem says casually.

Techno face twists a little, sending a sharper spike of pain through his frontal lobe. His feet trip over each other, but he’s righted by Gem’s hand on his elbow. He cringes away while squinting off in the distance.

“Um, I don’t know. Sneaking around familiar planets?” Techno says.

Gem laughs.

“Well, good to know that we’re not special, I guess.”

“I’m usually better at it when my brains aren’t leaking out,” Techno says, a bit too defensive.

“Just the other life threatening injuries?” Gem snipes right back.

“Eh, that just helps with focus.” Which is only half a lie. Of course being fit and healthy is the best way to fight, but sometimes giant showers of adrenaline do a fine job.

Gem hums at him, looking through the corner of her eyes. Her nose twitches slightly, like a deer trying to scent danger on the wind. Though she doesn’t seem particularly scared of him. Then again, she has the sword and armor, not him.

“Ah, over here!” Gem chirps, shooing him out of the woods and towards a river. A new one, presumably. This one cuts them off from seemingly a whole different civilization.

Giant, towering buildings fill the entire place, more than even the starter town was. And there’s other animated builds all around too. Something that can only be described as a ginormous factory is the closest, taking up an entire island. He can smell sawdust and hear whirring.

“Is this the mega bases?” Techno asks, eyes wide and aching.

“Oh, no. This is the shopping district.” Gem starts crossing over the river, closer into the belly of the beast. “It’s just shops.”

Which as Techno stumbles onto what can only be called proper roads, it does seem to be true. Most of the buildings are open to the streets, with wide windows showing off lots of things. The animated exteriors likely advertise the same things, though he’s just blinking dumbly at the bright colors.

He’s definitely feeling the concussion right now, but he thinks it would be overwhelming even without one. With, he has to focus really hard on not falling over.

“It’s pretty great, right? Honestly I’m still kind of impressed by it all,” Gem says. “I do have a little shop for prismarine. But it got kidnapped by the king.”

“The king?” Techno asks, feeling like a bubble around his head pops a bit.

“Oh, yeah. We had a king for a while. Might still have one. But, we all overthrew him and shamed him till he stopped, you know how it goes.”

A king that needed to be overthrown. That, Techno actually does know about. It’s weird that she doesn’t know if there is a new king or not though. Could that be an issue with trying to get out of here unscathed?

“Is it… that Xisuma guy?” Techno asks.

Where Gem was sitting down below a pretty tree with animal sculptures around it, she suddenly leans over and laughs. He feels off balance.

“Oh, no, definitely not X. He’s just the admin of the server.”

Again, that makes sense. From how he was the one interrogating Techno and such, it seemed like he was in charge in some way. But how could someone who isn’t the admin be the king? The admin usually has the most power on a server. Though, the last planet he was on wasn’t quite like that, and look at all the trouble it caused. Knowing the one person that needs to be taken down is so much easier…

After a few seconds too long standing awkwardly, Gem pats at the grass next to her. Techno sits a few feet away, suddenly feeling the exhaustion and dizziness hit him. He wants to close his eyes, but doesn’t let himself.

It’s good that he doesn’t, since it’s not long till the sound of rockets going off fills the air. Techno ducks slightly, looking around the skies. Gem doesn’t seem concerned, just perking up.

He doesn’t have to look far, since there’s suddenly a body smacking into the ground right in front of them. Techno jumps, adjusting his legs in case he has to jump up or something. But the person just peels themself off of the ground while Gem watches with a wry expression on her face.

“Bdubs,” Gem says.

“Gem! Hey,” The new guy, Bdubs, says as he walks closer without even dusting off.

The man is pretty short, similar to Gem maybe. But he seems far less… refined than her. He has a few visible bruises on his body, and dust on his skin. It seems like more than just rough elytra landings.

“And the baby cowbird!” Bdubs suddenly yells, pointing at Techno as he jumps again.

“What?” Techno asks, glancing at Gem.

“I have no idea,” Gem says. “Bdubs, what are you talking about?”

“The cowbirds, their babies are… well as the kids say, imposters.”

Bdubs starts petting the sculpture of a horse nearby, as though it’s a real animal. It’s still less confusing than his words. It seems like he’s insulting Techno. He thinks.

“You sound incredibly lame,” Gem says flatly.

“Hey!” Bdubs says.

Techno looks at the woman with a bit of appreciation. He can only concur. It does sound lame.

“You know, I came over here to visit and give you stuff—”

“Fine, fine. What?” Gem says.

“Well now I don’t want to tell you,” Bdubs crosses his arms.

Gem groans and smacks a hand to her face. Though she keeps looking out between her fingers. From how the edges of her lips are twitching, Techno thinks that she’s amused. But it’s hard to tell.

“Then leave, why don’t you?” Gem says.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Bdubs says, before flopping onto the floor too. “Plus, I have a task.”

“Oh?” Gem asks.

Bdubs turns to Techno, eyes wide and intense. It makes his fingers itch for the hilt of a blade. Or maybe something to hide behind. He lets his bangs fall before his face a little more, squinting back.

“Scar said he sat on you.”

“Heh?” Techno squints harder.

“You know, when he caught you,” Bdubs explains.

“Oh, I guess so.” 

There was a guy named Scar, right? Or just a guy with a lot of Scars. No, his name must have been Scar if Bdubs is saying it. There are way too many people on this planet, it’s making his head hurt.

“Yeah, he wanted me to tell you that he doesn’t think he cracked your skull any, but in case he did, sorry,” Bdubs says while waving his hand.

Techno opens his mouth to respond, only to close it again. 

Slowly, Gem leans over and smacks Bdubs on the back of his head. Said man starts squawking loudly, grabbing his head and yelling. He’s so loud that Techno looks around like someone or something might hear and pop out. 

No one does, though Techno does see someone within the window of a nearby shop. He’s pretty sure they’re watching them. 

They’re probably watching Techno, in case he does something. Unless they’re an enemy of Gem or Bdubs.

“You’re so cruel, while I’m trying to do a good thing! Tek— It’s Techno, right?” Bdubs pauses to look at Techno. Slowly, he nods. “Right, Techno! You appreciate it, right?”

“Erm, well…” Techno watches the figure in the window disappear. “He did smack my head into the ground till I heard a crack.”

The silence that falls over them makes Techno turn away from the possible threat to see what’s happening. Gem and Bdubs are both looking at him, but slightly more tense. Did he say something to make them mad? They don't seem to be about to yell or grab weapons, but maybe they're the silent types. Though their eyes and eyebrows are awfully wide.

“What?” Techno asks, squinting. 

“Scar's real sorry, man. We thought you were someone up to no good—” Bdubs stumbles.

Techno's face scrunches further. It's half from how the light is digging through his eyes into his brain. But before he can point out that their admin still thinks he's up to no good, there's movement at his side that has his head snapping over so quickly that his vision disappears.

As he blinks wildly to try and strangle his sight back, a figure standing on the edge of the nearby road becomes obvious. Techno scooches back a bit, closer to Gem. 

A woman wearing overalls and fluorescent yellow work gear blinks at them, before smiling.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Pearl,” Gem says, sounding friendly.

“Pearl! You sneaky sneak up!” Bdubs shouts.

Pearl laughs, not sounding apologetic. When she peels off one of her yellow gloves, she has chipped red nail polish underneath on her calloused, scarred hands. 

Is she some sort of worker? That would maybe make sense. And Bdubs too? He looks kind of rough. Techno supposes that it's not much different than what he's done before, working for people.

“What are you all getting up to?” Pearl asks.

“Nothing, but I should ask you,” Gem says.

“Oh, cleaning. Cleaning Lady,” Pearl looks to the side with a smile.

“Mhmmm,” Gem hums.

It seems like Pearl isn't a threat. Not to the others, probably. Everyone has seemed relatively friendly with each other up to this point.

Interesting. Not like they'd show weaknesses to an outsider though.

“Oh, hey, did you still need that moss for—”

As Bdubs begins to talk to Pearl about something, a strange sensation falls over Techno. At first he thinks it's normal fight or flight, that some sort of danger has popped up. But as it grows, it becomes obvious that it is something else. Or, more accurately, everything becomes so out of focus and far away that nothing is obvious.

The fogginess drips throughout his, trickling like water. It engulfs his brain and trickles into his fingers. As it rests there, a tingling sensation begins biting at the digits. It's unpleasant, but not painful. Like a limb falling asleep. 

Except, the sleepiness is all throughout his body and only tingling in his hands and arms. Weird…

“ —ey, hey!”

The shouts coupled with persistent snapping right before his face makes Techno jolt back into himself. The fuzziness and water retreats so quickly that it hurts like electricity. But he can only blink in confusion, struggling to make out the face before him.

“Techno? What's up?” The deer woman asks.

Gem. Right, he's with Gem. And there were others…

Looking around, he finds that Bdubs is gone and Pearl is standing a little ways away, though she seems to be looking back in worry. Did something happen?

“What?” Techno asks, tongue feeling dumb.

“You zoned out and weren't responding. Are you feeling sick?” Gem asks.

“Um,” Techno pauses, feeling disconnected to his body. Though it's definitely not good feelings running through him. He wants to squirm and lay very still at the same time. “A little. Just, tired.”

“Why don't we head back to Impulse's place? It's nearly time for lunch anyway.”

After standing and dusting herself off, Gem offers a hand to him. Techno is almost confused by a gesture, but automatically takes it as she shakes her fingers. The woman easily pulls him up, taking more of his weight than him practically.

Somewhere in the back of his fuzzy mind, Techno categorizes how calloused Gem's hand is. It's the same one that rests on her sword hilt. Techno knows the exact pain and blisters that lead to such hardening of the hand.

She may play kind, but there's a reason they stuck Gem with him. And other people popping over, watching them…

Techno blinks thickly, wishing himself back to sharpness. He doesn't manage it, but his chest twists a little.

This situation is dangerous, he can't forget that. Techno doesn't think he's able to, but they're also not following the rules and behavior he's used to. Maybe that's why he's getting lost?

Well, he can't. It's not allowed.

Techno has to get gone before his debt gets too high and these people cash out in the ways they're obviously capable of.

Chapter Text

Techno would not be surprised if the only reason that these people are having the creeper hybrid treat him is as an intimidation method.

Despite apparently being named Doc, and not just a title, it's strange for someone so imposing to be primarily involved in medical stuff. Sure, it's important. More so than any individual fighter. But anyone smart wouldn't throw away a giant hulking creeper hybrid who is part robot. Even Techno in his prime shape would be hesitant to fight him.

Without a couple strength potions.

Probably the fact that Doc grumbled something about not having enough schooling for this added to that inkling. So far he hasn't made anything worse as far as Techno can tell. But he did almost puke when Doc shined the penlight into his eyes, so who can say?

“You should sit still and not move for the next month,” Doc says after finishing his exam.

Techno gives him a skeptical look, touching lightly at the new bandages. At the very least, Doc can wrap up Techno's head better than he can. Having use of both eyes, iffy as they are right now, is nice.

“I walked around fine the other day,” Techno says.

Doc sighs. “Unfortunately. Because no one listens to me.”

“You did say you don't have enough schooling,” Techno points out. 

Because arguing with giant armed men when he has brain damage is a good idea. Might be the damage speaking.

“You want Grian or Xisuma to help you? They're the only ones with licenses, because they give those out to any admins apparently.”

Blinking at the little tangent, Techno watches closely as Doc starts packing up his things. He's surprisingly not very rough with any of it, gently putting everything into place. Maybe he's just annoyed and not actually mad? Hard to tell, but Techno's sure to be more ire inducing right now than some random objects, so he tries not to move.

It's interesting to hear that the admin on the server has a medical license. They don't actually give those out to anyone that’s an admin, it's optional. And plenty of people don't go to the trouble of properly becoming admins when they make servers anyway, let alone the extra stuff like first aid classes.

Also, there's at least one more admin on the server. Having more than one admin isn't exceedingly odd, but no one else has spoken of them in such a way. Only about Xisuma.

What does that mean? Conflict of some sort?

Regardless, Techno tracks Doc silently till his tools are all packed away and he straightens his white coat absently. When Doc’s eyes skitter over to Techno’s, the man’s eyebrows rise before he looks away quickly. Techno tilts his head to the side in confusion. It’s a little chilly in the room, but Doc’s sweating anyway.

“So… that means you should—”

Before Doc can finish his sentence, there’s a knock on the cracked door. The man glares at it, before sighing.

“Xisuma?” Doc asks.

“Are you finished?” Xisuma’s voice comes through the door.

“Yeah,” Doc grumbles.

Tentatively, Xisuma pokes his face into the door. As tentative as a robot man can be. Though Techno's starting to think that it's more of a strange armor situation than a true robot type of deal. Still weird.

“Is everything okay?” Xisuma asks, nodding his head at both Doc and Techno while walking in.

“No,” Doc says flatly.

When Techno raises an eyebrow, the man looks slightly twisted over it.

“Well, he'll be okay. But none of his injuries look good. I'm shocked he's awake,” Doc clarifies.

“Oh, so should he not come to his ship today then?” Xisuma asks.

Techno perks up at that majorly. If they're going to check out his ship, maybe they're moving forward with booting him off the planet as soon as possible. That also makes sense why Xisuma would be asking after his health, since he had brought up Techno healing first and then leaving. Or that's how Techno took it anyway. Maybe he just needs to be healed enough to give back first, but seeing the ship and how it's doing is still one part of getting that done.

“Definitely not,” Doc says.

“I'm fine. I can go,” Techno says.

Xisuma glances between him and Doc. “It's not dangerous for him to be walking, is it? He wouldn't be alone.”

Doc sighs. “Why does no one understand rest?”

“Including yourself in that group, Doc?” Xisuma says, sounding ironic. “You apparently don't listen to anyone else's advice and always say you're fine.”

“That's different,” Doc says.

“Not really. You've done worse.”

“Yes, but that's what I chose to do. You know this is up to you.”

“It’s up to him more than me,” Xisuma says with a shrug. Like he really thinks that’s true. Techno finds the idea a little baffling, even if he agrees that it obviously should be true.

“He’s a child,” Doc says flatly.

“I’m not a child,” Techno cuts in, rolling his eyes. It hurts his head terribly, but gets the point across.

“How old are you? Xisuma said you wouldn’t tell him,” Doc says.

Techno shrugs. “Old enough.”

“Infant behavior,” Doc says, pointing at Techno like something has been proven. “Xisuma.”

When it seems like the admin might be wavering, Techno sighs in annoyance.

“I've literally fought in wars. And won wars. If I'm being kept from something as a prisoner, then fine, but age shouldn't affect that.”

It's silent for a second, long enough that Techno's tail whips back and forth. It's been practically limp or curled around him lately, so the fact that it's reflecting his annoyance means something. He grabs the tip of the tail and twists it between his fingers to make it stop anyway.

“Well, I will urge you to listen to Doc, since he has the most experience with recovery. But the choice is up to you, I think,” Xisuma says, still sounding hesitant. But the words make Techno sigh in relief, even if Doc sighs in annoyance.

“I can show you my ship, I'm fine,” Techno says.

“Everyone that enters this server is a self-destructive mess,” Doc groans, shoving his face into his hand.

“Including you,” Xisuma says, sounding a little amused. “Are you coming with us?”

“Might as well,” Doc says. “Be around when someone has an emergency.”

“Come fix the spaceship, Gigacrew or whatever it’s called,” Xisuma says.

“That’s not even my bit,” Doc turns to leave the room.

The two of them almost leave Techno behind, until Xisuma turns and seems surprised that he’s not following. When he’s motioned to stand, Techno does so quickly. In fact, so quickly that his knees buckle and he casts forward with upended balance so that he just about doesn’t crash into the wall. 

Even through the visor, Techno thinks that Xisuma might be grimacing in regret.

Totally cool and measured, Techno clasps his hands together and walks resolutely to the door. The others don’t comment, as they all walk through the inside of the purple roofed house. Starter houses surround them, as Techno squints in the sun.

“Which way is your ship?” Xisuma asks.

“Didn’t you find it?” Techno asks. It’s not far from Xisuma’s base, let alone everyone else’s. With elytras, they could probably find it easily.

“You’d know best,” Xisuma says with a shrug.

Some sort of test, then. They definitely know where the ship is already. Not that Techno was even thinking of leading them somewhere else, he wants to get off this planet and obviously he can’t currently do that alone. If it backfires, there’s likely nothing he could have done to change that.

Pointing across the river, the three of them start across a small bridge that Techno missed before. It’s slightly up the river from where he spent a lot of his time, but with the visible builds around to guide him, he thinks he takes them in the right direction.

“What redstone experience do you have?” Doc asks. When Xisuma doesn’t answer, Techno realizes he was asking him.

“None, basically.”

Not exactly the most flattering thing to admit, but there’s no way to dress it up while still being honest. Phil knew a little redstone for things like farms, but even that was out of Techno’s reach.

“You flew a ship without knowing redstone?” Doc asks. “What if something broke?”

“... The ship was broke when I found it, but I just fixed all the physical stuff and it was okay.”

It gives away a little bit too much, but sharing about the ship is probably going to be necessary if he wants aid with it to any extent. No one needs to know about him, but this is fine. Basically unrelated to him, if he thinks about it.

“You flew in a broken ship without knowing redstone?”

“Yup,” Techno says flatly.

“That is certainly unadvisable. If you try to take off from this planet like that, the ship will probably explode,” Xisuma says.

“Not the good kind, I’m assuming?” Techno mutters.

“Explosions around an aircraft are never good,” Doc says.

Humming a little, Techno thinks about the explosions that were certainly the only way he even got to take off. But they also weren’t exactly gentle towards him. His brain got rattled up good partially from that, he’s sure. The ringing in his ears from explosions have long since lost its annoyance to him.

“How do you expect on fixing the ship this time then?” Doc asks.

A frown pulls at Techno’s lips as they step into the forest past the house. The ground is uneven and littered with plants and such, so he has to watch his step not to fall. That’s why it takes him a moment to respond, of course.

“There was a repair book thing with the ship. Follow that again.”

A sort of skeptical sound leaves Doc, but Techno suddenly recognizes the woods around him. Quickening his pace, he weaves his way through the heavier brush, till he finally breaks through into the small clearing that the ship crash had made. 

The crushed tin can of a ship looks just about the same as the last time Techno saw it. At least no one has stolen it, so he doesn’t have to go looking for another one. It was annoying enough the first time.

“Here,” Techno says, for lack of anything better to say.

“Mhm,” Xisuma hums.

The admin doesn’t seem to examine the ship in great detail. That means he’s definitely checked it out before. No surprise there. At least it means that there likely won’t be any big dramatic reveals that would cause a fight or something. But maybe this is a trap for that express purpose. People love to pull dumb stuff like that.

Instead, Doc starts walking around the entirety of the ship, looking all over it. His nose is slightly scrunched up, as though he’s seeing something very unpleasant.

“I take it back, your injuries aren’t that bad,” Doc says eventually.

Not dignifying a response, he rolls his eyes instead. It’s then that rockets pierce the air nearby, making the others look up as Techno bends his knees and gets halfway to covering his head. But he drops his hands before anyone can see.

“Who’s coming?” Doc asks.

“Tango maybe? I asked if anyone wanted to help look over the redstone, and he said maybe,” Xisuma says.

A twisting pain pulls at Techno’s stomach as he stands rooted in place. He thought it was anticipation, or anxiety. One of those things. But it grows worse and makes sweat dot at his hairline, suddenly feeling ill. He doesn’t think he’s going to throw up, but it’s a semi similar sensation. Either that or poisoned.

He doesn’t think anyone has poisoned him. Then again, he takes any medicine that these people have handed him. It wouldn’t be impossible. Doc is mad.

The new person touches down—or more accurately, hits the ground and immediately falls onto his front. In the couple seconds it takes him to stand, Techno takes in how he seems entirely drenched in blue, glowing slightly. That might have to do with the pointed features, but he can’t quite put it together in his head right now. It’s started to swirl with the rest of his body too much.

Swallowing hard, Techno turns and walks up to the open hatch of a door. It’s slightly elevated, considering the whole ship is sunk into the ground. But no one calls out to him or comments as he climbs up the side and practically chucks himself into the broken ship.

The voices of the others feel like biting bugs. Every little nip drives venom into his skin, worming beneath the surface. He sways, before leaning against the wall with his hand. It hardly affords him a shred of balance though.

Right when Techno starts to become convinced that he is going to vomit, all of the joints within his body go watery. It’s the weakness of infection and dehydration and death that drags him downward. 

But then he seems to blink thickly through the sticky darkness and it’s gone as quick as it came.

Well, not gone. Techno feels wrong all over. Sick maybe. His limbs and torso feel too weak, buzzing and squirming like the nerves inside are displeased and trying to escape. The rest of him too, it just hurts.

He touches the side of his head where it’s pounding with every racing heartbeat and he’s shocked to find it pressed to the ground. When did he lay down?

It doesn’t make sense, though the ship around him is familiar. Right, he was visiting the broken ship to fix it. So he can leave again?

The whole hunk of metal looks dead around him, small and crushed to nothing as he struggles to sit up. None of his body wants to obey, not till he bites his tongue hard. Even then, it’s a struggle.

This feels different then the sickness he has been facing from his infections and such. It could be from the head wound, he supposes. But there’s not just the fog and slowness of a concussion sticking to him. It’s an intimate sense of doom and wrongness.

As footsteps and voices draw closer to the opening of the ship, fear has Techno’s heart flipping over in his chest. If sitting up was hard, then standing makes him look like a baby deer with an arrow struck through it. But he sinks his fingers into the bent up metal and drags all of his weight up, forcing his knees to lock.

He can’t be seen like this, exposed and useless and something wrong with him. That weakness would be ripped to shreds immediately.

There’s a decent glare on his face when the blue stranger sticks his head through the opening, smiling with his sharpened teeth. They’re even more pointy than Techno’s. A dangerous hybrid of some sort.

Against his will, Techno presses a hand to his face. The skin there feels like it’s melting, only without the heat. At least touching things makes his fingers less numb and tingly.

“Hello. Can I come look at the control center?” Tango asks.

Techno shuffles closer to the wall, pressing against it so that there’s plenty of room for Tango to get through. He does so, giving Techno as much of a wide berth as is possible.

“Is there a manual with this thing?” Tango asks.

Frowning, he points towards the little drawer where it’s kept. For some reason, giving away the manual feels bad. Like it’s frightening. But it’s better than being obstinate towards the people with such control over him. Techno thinks he would normally shove a scowl onto his face when feeling like this, so he tries.

Tango whistles when he sees the little booklet. “This thing is ancient. Must have given you trouble.”

His fingers have traveled up to his eyes, rubbing at them. There’s moisture clinging to his eyelashes. When did his eyes water?

“Was there something you were looking for or trying to do?” Tango asks, making Techno jump a little. His whole body throbs with the movement, feeling like his insides are gritting together.

“Um,” Techno mumbles, looking around.

His eyes land on the little corner where he was keeping his stuff. Not that it was much stuff he managed to find since landing on the planet, but it was some. Techno leans down and grabs the blanket, length of string, and couple sticks. Wrapped within the cloth is the tiny green gem, hanging on a broken chain.

He wonders if the matching jewel is also broken, or even still attached at all.

“Guess you lived here for a while,” Tango says, painful looking smile on his face. Maybe the man is thinking about Techno sneaking around their stuff again.

While looking at the door, Techno shrugs absently. His arms tighten around the blanket, till the slightly burnt up edges dig into his skin.

“Alright. I’ll keep poking around here, then,” Tango says with a wave.

There’s a pause. Techno realizes that he’s being dismissed with a jolt. It’s a relief though, to stumble out of the cramped space with a stranger. This whole planet feels like that, but they always do. Too many eyes and wills, trying to take Techno apart till he’s forced to bow to them.

He wants to disappear into this little forest again. The only marks of him are the blood stains and broken ship. But no one dares to let him out of their line of sight.

—

Despite the fact that his fever is supposed to be lower, Techno finds himself practically dead to the world for long, unceasing chunks of time. The sleep is deep and murky, though not quite peaceful. His head hurts too much even in his sleep to claim that.

The one thing that can still always be sure to wake him up is someone stepping into the room. It helps that just about everyone knocks before coming in, but Techno hopes he’s not rusty enough that footsteps wouldn’t be enough. He’s always sitting up and blinking wide by the time whoever walks in.

Which today happens to be someone new.

This isn't too odd, since Techno has realized that he is always being watched by at least one person. Xisuma said as much, but he thought he meant it in the typical prisoner way. Instead the people usually come in and talk to him, bring him food or books that he can't read. Sometimes they'll sit beside him, or somewhere else in the purple roofed house. But he's never actually alone.

How relaxing.

Today it is a tall, well built woman with strikingly orange hair and pallid green skin. She looks dead, and Techno almost thinks it's one of those nightmares that make him wake up full of adrenaline, but she comes close enough for him to realize she's just a zombie hybrid. 

When his hackles lower from that scare, he can actually take in a bit more about the woman. Like the fact that she's carrying a giant teal bag with her, clasped shut. Another doctor?

“Hello, I'm Cleo. You are?”

“Techno?” He tilts his head in confusion. 

Most of the people on the server seem to know his name already. Is she supposed to be here? 

Is it his job to make sure people are where they're supposed to be? No.

“Right then, guess we're hanging out for the afternoon,” Cleo says, sitting down in the chair that has been swapped for an actually comfortable looking armchair at some point. “Anything you please to do?”

“... No?” Techno says, hesitantly.

These people love offering options he's not quite sure to do with, but so far Cleo's been even more befuddling. 

“Fair enough. I have some work here. You can rest or whatever.”

Then she snaps open her bag.

Techno is curious, but also wisely cautious as he watches what she takes out of the bag. The thing could probably carry a sword, after all. Not that she'd need to, since there's one strapped to her hip. But still.

There doesn't seem to be any weapons inside the bag, as she instead pulls out little fiddly things. A case that rattles and a limp measuring tape. A notebook. Techno's tail wraps and unwraps around his ankle with nervous intrigue.

“Do you know how to sew?” Cleo asks.

“I can sew up a wound okay.”

Cleo looks up, unamused. “That's not sewing.”

“It uses a needle,” Techno points out.

Cleo snorts. “That it does. But I meant clothes, cloth, fabrics… more words for those things.”

Sitting within the silence, Techno only shrugs when she looks up at him. Again, he can close holes in his clothes obviously. But it's nothing pretty. Maybe even less pretty than the wounds.

“Can you?” Techno asks. Cleo’s eyes flick back up quickly, disbelief obvious with the pile of sewing supplies on her lap. As his face heats, he looks away. “I meant, do you sew clothes or what?”

“Clothes and what,” Cleo answers, appearing amused.

On the arm of her chair, Cleo sets a small red ball. But as Techno squints hard through the blurriness in his eyes, he makes out the tiny green top. A tomato! Cleo sticks a pin in it like it's nothing.

“Any interest in learning?” 

Torn from his ponderings, Techno searches the woman's face for what she is asking. But she's back to rummaging through her bag.

“I'm not opposed,” Techno says, noncommittal.

“Mm, well, your clothes,” She points. Techno lifts his arms a bit, showing off the too long and too big sleeves. “I can show you how to tailor them to size.”

“They're not mine,” Techno says.

It's true. He's not sure where his clothes—or shoes and cape, much more unfortunately—are. When he woke up in this building, he was wearing mostly different things. Though from the bandages around his back and torso and parts of his legs, it seems for good enough reason.

These clothes are slightly too big, but are well enough for the situation. Maybe when it's time for him to get moving, he'll reevaluate something tactical. But it's not even cold enough for the looseness to matter.

“And they're fine,” He adds.

“They're hanging off you,” Cleo chides. “And they're just bits and bobs Hermits gave up, no one cares for a couple basic pieces of clothes like that.”

The clothes he's wearing certainly aren't poor enough quality not to care about. Then again, the ‘Hermits’ seem to have odd clothes in general. They must have a lot.

“Might as well wear them properly. Stand up and come here.”

As Cleo waves at him, Techno just stares hesitantly. Mostly at her sword and tomato full of pins.

But she sets them aside and lofts her notebook and measuring tape instead as she stands. Leaning heavily on the bed, he follows suit.

“I'll grab your measurements and then we can do up all the pieces without pinning over and over.”

As Techno stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed and feeling awkward, Cleo sets a hand on his upper arm without preamble. Techno flinches so hard that his teeth click.

“Oh, sorry. No touching?” Cleo asks, backing off.

No touching? What sort of question is that? What does she mean by that?

Techno squints hard, remaining quiet.

“I can manage it. You wouldn't imagine how many Hermits still run to me asking for a sweater cause they didn't realize living in a snow biome would be cold,” Cleo laughs. “Better than being cold, I suppose.”

She loops the measuring tape into a circle, holding it out before his arm. Slowly, Techno puts his hand through. At his wrist and elbow and upper arm, she takes measurements before pulling it off.

“I think we'll leave an inch on the hems and seams. Won't look as sleek, but you'll be able to take the stitches out after you grow a bit.”

It’s slightly awkward as Cleo tosses the tape around to measure Techno with minimal touching. He finds the charade a little embarrassing, but it’s appreciated especially when she reaches his throat. The slightly sharp edge of the belt pressing on his skin and thrumming jugulars makes him shiver.

It wouldn’t be too difficult for the woman to tighten the loop around his throat until it dug into his esophagus. His skin would split to let blood drip free. But the worst part is being unable to breathe. Being unable to think as the blood swells within his skull till it feels close to popping—

“Are you cold?” The voice is loud, too near to him despite feeling far.

Techno blinks and jerks his hands to his chest, staring a little widely at Cleo. She just narrows her eyes at him, seemingly peeling him apart with her eyes. Dropping his hands quick enough to lose some fingers, Techno steps over to the bed and picks a blanket up as he sits.

“Yes, I’m… cold.” Way to be smooth. He wants to swallow his tongue.

“Mm, that was, that was very convincing,” Cleo says, an obvious lilt in her voice.

Before Techno can decide between throwing the blanket over his head and jumping out the window, she sits back down in the chair, scribbling at the book. Despite seeming like she’s practically poking holes through his exterior with her little needles, she also doesn’t seem very intent on pursuing it. Seem.  

“I think I’ve got what I need though. Well, except your clothes, which is kind of important. Where are they?”

“I’m wearing them?” Techno questions.

“Your other clothes,” Cleo says with force. He blinks blankly at her. “You’ve got other clothes, don’t you?”

Before he can try to explain the whole situation, which is that he doesn’t even know where his actual clothes are, Cleo stands and walks right over to the closest dresser to throw it open. A couple things are folded at the bottom, which she picks up.

“I think those are the person who own the house’s,” Techno says, nervous as Cleo practically lines them up to cut apart.

“These are not Impulse's,” Cleo chuckles. “They’re for you. They’re in the room you’re staying in. So by that logic…”

With flourish, the woman unrolls the pair of pants. Just from sight alone, Techno can tell they’d be too big. But he supposes that’s what the sewing is for.

“You should probably not jump right into actual clothes, since that’s a recipe for disaster. Here, you can try to hem on some of my scraps.”

Soon, a needle, spool of thread, and small piece of cloth is being shoved into his hands. Though the piece of cloth hardly seems like a scrap. There’s a fancy, swirly design on it. It’s not a pattern though, since Techno can feel that it lays on top of the fabric. It’s done with thread.

“I don’t want to ruin this,” Techno tries to shove it back. If he touches anything this pretty, surely it’ll be ruined irreparably. 

“It was just for practice, I messed up on it. Might as well put it to use,” Cleo says, leaning over and folding the edge of the cloth over itself.

After pinning the fold in place, she slowly sticks the needle through the fabric and makes a stitch.

“This is called a backstitch. It’s stronger than a normal stitch, which is good for the hems and parts of clothes that get a lot of use. You just overshoot and then double back on yourself.”

The woman repeats the movements a few times, and then hands it over to Techno. She doesn’t retreat to her chair yet though, sitting over him and watching his shaking hands. With as much concentration as he can manage, Techno tries to replicate what he’s seen.

“Your stitch is too small, go a little further.”

The correction makes his shoulders rise a little, glancing at Cleo’s face. But she’s still just looking at the sewing, seemingly not moved at all.

Techno tries again.

“Just try to stay in a straight line. You’ll get it.”

Then she does leave him to it, fingers and stitches still sloppy. The crook that he puts between his eyebrows in an attempt to stay steady also seems to stab his brain with something far larger than a needle. It digs in and twists, more adept than he is at the motions.

It hurts and Techno swears that his lines only look worse and worse. Just as he feared, the cloth warps a bit, as though wilting away from his touch, dragging along the pretty design with it.

Letting the work fall onto his lap, hands still tremoring a little bit, Techno chooses to observe Cleo from across the room. For once, looking at a person is less grating on his eyes than an inanimate object. Though from how focused she is on her work, she’s not as intimidating as people usually are. It would take her a second to jump up and attack.

The way that Cleo pulls the thread so confidently and almost with flourish, it’s kind of mesmerizing to watch. Techno’s eyes go blurrier than they’ve been stuck, watching the rounds and rounds of thread through cloth.

His head seems to simmer down under the repetitive ease.

“... Do you do clothes?” Techno asks, mouth feeling overly loose.

“I don’t do clothes.” There’s a sharp smile on her face as she laughs a bit. “Didn’t I already say I sew clothes and other stuff.”

“I meant like your job. You seem… good.”

It doesn’t appropriately get across what he means. Cleo seems to attack the clothes with such grace, equal to how Techno slices his sword through people. Maybe even more so. After all, she’s not slipping up and getting clobbered in the process.

Cleo looks up and meets his eyes, a smile on her face playing between amused and warm.

“We don’t really have jobs like that. There’s shops, I’m sure you’ve seen, but they’re optional and run on the honor system.”

Techno almost doesn’t understand what she means. After all, what does honor have to do with shops? But then he remembers all the wide open doors on the empty shops with Pearl flitting in and out of them. Do they just trust no one to steal?

The thought is laughable. 

There must be people that steal from the shops. If there’s anything useful in them—and from the look of the outside of the shops where they’re shaped like rockets and endless other fancy things, there must be—then there’s no way honor stops anything.

Something else must stop them. Fear? Who enforces that will?

The tentativeness pulls a small frown on Techno’s face, lost in the musing till Cleo snorts at him.

“I have no clue what I could have said to get that reaction. Are kids these days that into the, the economy or whatever?”

“No… N-not that even—” Techno’s mouth seems to trip over itself, the same as he would if standing and flopping onto the floor.

As Cleo’s laughter rings out, an unamused look drops onto his face. His ears are not warm at all. And if they are, it’s from ire. His tail fluffing up and wrapping around him is too.

“To be fair, my shops are a bust more often than not anyway, so I’ll be glad for not having to stay employed anymore. Though as for what I do all day, yes, clothes. That’s just practical. But I also do armor stands, figures, interiors, all those little ends, you know?” Cleo says, sitting back as she talks. “Big builds too, but that’s more of a means to an end. Fun enough still.”

For some reason, the words feel impressive. Not much has been said, and it’s not of great importance. But Techno’s tail has frozen in his hand and he’s blinking in perception.

“So like, decorations?” Techno asks.

Cleo laughs, one side of her smile drooping more than the other. It’s the side with big stitches.

“I mean, you are not wrong.”

“Sorry,” Techno says, feeling like he said something wrong.

“No, no, it’s accurate. I just focus more on the storytelling than just decorations. There’s definitely others on the server that can do pretty better than me. But looking nice is always a plus too.”

The smile of her face seems real enough, slightly sharp canines and all. Techno drops the end of his tail and lets it flick, taking in the words. It seems… strange.

Not just worried about looks, but worried about the story that’s being told. Imagine that. Techno looks down at the slightly crooked embroidery, delicate and beautiful. They could ring the edge of a dress or something. Doing nothing but sitting there.

“What do you do then? Jobs, as you said?” Cleo asks.

“Oh, uh, fighting,” Techno says simply.

“Fighting?” Cleo asks, sounding skeptical. “Lot of money there?”

“For some people,” Techno says, not bothering to hide the scorn in his words. Cleo’s eyes narrow at it, making him shift. “But, you know. Food, shelter, supplies. Have to keep people alive for them to fight.”

A light hum leaves Cleo, though her eyes are far more intense. Nothing that Techno’s said is particularly unknown knowledge or anything. There’s nothing to be learned there other than the fact that Techno’s been a soldier. Which he can’t help but think is obvious. He can often tell when others are, after all.

“Doesn’t seem very fun,” Cleo says finally, like it’s simple.

Techno’s eyebrows rise on his face. “Don’t think that’s what they were going for. But I’ll let the next guy know.”

Cleo snorts. “Well I have fun with my job. You should think about it, before you catch an early grave.”

The morbid phrase is paired with Cleo setting a hand below her chin. It highlights the pale, green skin pulled over the bones and fat there almost visibly. Techno wrinkles his nose a little, making Cleo laugh more.

“Wow. You know, you don’t look good enough right now to be judging me, Techno.”

“My skin will grow back,” Techno says simply, crossing his arms.

“Wooow.” Cleo’s eyes practically glitter. “I don’t know enough about piglins to dish it back.”

Techno doesn’t know enough about piglins to know if it thoroughly dished him.

“You said it yourself, said that sewing is good for stitches. I did help Doc and the others sew up your back after he pried all the shrapnel out. It looked like swiss cheese,” Cleo says, sobering a little bit. “If you’re not careful, you won’t grow back either.”

Halfway to shoving his hair behind his ear, Techno pauses and lets it stay covering the bruised, broken half of his face. It hurts always, all the time. Like something is still in there, eating at him constantly.

“I’m working on it,” Techno says simply.

Chapter Text

The footsteps trampling the field, smashing the bodies strewn across it, kick up the smell of dirty blood and guts. Techno can taste it with every inhale, thick and acrid. It practically pours down his throat, coating it. He wants to cough, but he’s far too busy to try.

For one, someone has to litter the ground with the bodies to begin with. And it’s not going to be Techno joining the gaping empty things. No matter that his body is painted with blood too, it just makes his skin sing. He thinks that he can hear the Blood God there too, pleased at the flowing ichor. Techno’s and everyone else’s. It doesn’t much matter whose.

Not to the God anyway, but in that case, Techno will stay living. He stretches his arm upwards a bit too much to protect his chest, but it allows his sword to slash across an exposed throat. It drenches a pained scream into gurgles and splatters.

Techno closes his eyes for a fraction of a second, breathing through it. He can’t tell if the heat hitting his face is that or not. 

When he opens his eyes, the body is on the ground too. He doesn’t try to walk around them as he keeps running forwards. Cross the enemy lines, make more progress, kill more. It’s almost like a game, when he thinks about it that way.

Hop over the bodies that are too large, duck below the slashing blades, stab the tip of his sword into the gaps in armor. Run, run, run. Techno can’t feel the burning throughout him when he’s focused on this.

Not till a gasp forces itself into his lungs, face jerking backwards a fraction of a second before the rest of his body. His sword is up, but it does little against the blur of black and gold. Techno can only stare with wide eyes, watching as someone is plucked from the ground and dragged into the sky, dripping blood like a leaky cloud. Some of those do hit Techno.

It forces him to squint as he looks up, eyes struggling over the flitting form. It’s large and jerking, tearing at the body like a bird of prey. An impatient vulture…

Though eventually the thing has to still a bit, to grapple with the body. It’s then that Techno makes out arms, legs, a face. It’s a person, though that doesn’t mean much considering how the body doesn’t flail as it’s dropped back to the ground. The bird person takes back off, a smudge of black in the perpetually gray sky.

Techno doesn’t care that they fly slightly away from him and that there are dangers far closer. He feels like a mouse being stared down by something with claws and sharp teeth. None of these bodies waiting to hit the ground could touch him like that, he’s certain.

Without looking, he swings his sword to the side and hears a shriek answer him. Not that he bothers to listen before taking off, eyes flickering between the ground and the sky. Techno needs to do something before he’s taken out. Either that or his entire side of this battle, since surely he’d remember a beast like that on their side. Not that sides matter much at this point in the fighting. Everyone is painted in too much blood to see colors.

Though the weapon Techno is searching for is shockingly clean, still clutched in a stiffening hand. He yanks till the fingers pop open, leaving fingerprints behind on the grip.

Techno layers his hand over the imprint, before setting about notching an arrow. He’s not one for bows really, they’re better for long distance situations. But there’s no way to stab someone in the sky. Maybe no way to stab someone with wings at all. Able to fly away from any blade… He imagines that, as he lifts the bow and pulls back the string, searching for his target in the sky.

It’s not hard. The man’s wings are huge and black. They wouldn’t have to be too close to blot out the sky altogether.

He aims for one of them as he looses the arrow.

It follows his target almost surprisingly well, soaring through the sky easily. Almost as easily as a bird man. And it would have speared the wing it was heading towards, if only the figure didn’t snap his wings inwards and start plummeting, faster than the eye can even catch.

Techno watches, confused and agape for a couple seconds. But then he realizes that the man is definitely soaring downwards, towards him.  

Startling, Techno instinctually goes to turn and run away. His mind luckily kicks back in just in time, since he realizes that running would only expose his back to being sliced open. Instead he raises his sword and tries to strengthen his stance.

Before the man reaches him, Techno starts to swing. It doesn’t matter though, since it’s the blade of his sword that ends up getting the brunt of the avian’s weight as they crash together. Techno’s knees bend, hardly cushioning him as he hits the ground hard.

Wheezing slightly, Techno’s body tries to move on its own. To fight the hold, to break free, to attack somewhere that will give him an opening. His body knows the motions better than his mind does.

But the avian on top of him is like a statue, face cool and sharp, glaring down at him. Techno tries to glare back, even as his own sword is pressed to his throat.

There’s a faint sound, as the wind blows through the man’s feathers. It rings through his throat too, as the blond hisses slightly, head tilting to the side. Techno feels the smallest shift in the weight above him, and throws his entire body into the barely there momentum.

Techno rips himself free, shoulders nearly jerking out as he stands so quickly that his eyesight turns black, but the sword in his grip doesn’t budge. It ends up within the avian’s hands, and then Techno is weaponless, standing a couple feet away. His chest is moving too fast, exposed and feeling stupid.

“Phew, quite the move there, mate,” The avian says, voice shockingly light and lilting. 

Techno shuffles backwards, trying to find a sword on the ground without taking his eyes off his enemy. The bird man sits up, twirling Techno’s sword in his hand like it was made for him. The glare on Techno's face grows sharper, watching.

“Suppose there’s always something new to see, no matter how long you live. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you?” A wry smile crosses the man’s face as he slowly stands.

The words spin within Techno’s head. A threat? Or a promise? One that will be broken, Techno refuses to die.

“Maybe you never will. You’re bleeding.”

A flinch runs through Techno as a finger is pointed towards his throat. On reflex, he bares his teeth, expecting them to be more offensive than they are yet. How pitiful. 

Techno feels shaken and broken up in a way that he rarely ever is. Maybe never. Is this how people feel when faced with threats bigger than them? Techno must have felt this way once upon a time then. But he can’t remember that. Can barely remember a second before this moment.

However, he can feel the heat dripping from his throat. It’s coating the front of his shirt. Guess he didn’t keep the sword away from him so well.

“Maybe you should take care of that,” The avian says, still smiling.

“Don’t give advice to your opponents,” Techno growls. His voice is gravelly, low with dryness and pain in his esophagus.

“The fight is over.”

Again, Techno is offended, thinking it’s a slight. If he still had his weapon, it wouldn’t be close to over. But then his ears flick, trying to pick up any sound around him. There’s nothing but far off birds, crowing as they get closer.

For a sparse second, he spares a look around. The field is empty of anything but corpses and the two of them.

When Techno turns back, the man has lowered the sword. He’s just watching Techno, unworried, maybe a bit of interest in his eyes.

“Most people don’t survive to this point,” The avian says.

“I do,” Techno says firmly, forcing his tongue not to waver. “I never die.”

The blond tilts his head back, and lets out a loud laugh. It rings too loudly in the silence, spooking Techno worse than screams and cries ever could. He kind of wants to run again. His knees shake a little, fingers cold from lack of blood.

“How arrogant. You’re young,” The man says, not sounding swayed any way by the observation.

Techno turns his attention back to the field of corpses. He thinks that crops must have grown here once. But now the gore and filth of death will mar it, will kill every sprig of life that once sat here. No feelings rise up at the thought.

“No,” Techno says simply, quietly.

A sword, coated with so much blood it’s nearly black, sits by Techno’s feet. He leans over and picks it up. His hands feel better with a weapon in them. It’s easier to breathe again, no matter the weakness of injuries or blood loss.

The bird man is still watching him, closer now. Preparing to attack, maybe. Techno decides to wait for him to start, for some reason. There might be something to that. Letting a bird come to you instead of chasing after it.

“You might be right,” The blond eventually says, simple too. Then, he steps closer. “Let me close your wound before you do die.”

“I don’t need that,” Techno nearly growls, offended, stepping back and bringing his sword up.

When the man draws near, he will attack. Of that, Techno is certain. And even if not, the other options are equally sour. Worse, he thinks.

“Anyone will die with their neck sliced open. You’ve seen it enough, I’m sure.”

The distance between them closes, as Techno can not walk backwards faster than the avian walks forwards. It’s an unfair refrain, and again, he wishes to turn and flee. But he stands his ground.

“Probably even me. If you cut me through my neck.”

The space between them gets eaten, shrinking. Techno shivers, the blood dripping from his body feeling cold.

“Though you went for my wing. Why’s that?” The avian reaches Techno, stands right before him. Waiting.

“If you can not fly, I can kill you,” Techno answers honestly.

A pause. Then the avian laughs again, face twisting with amusement. This time, Techno doesn’t feel offended, though maybe he should. His fear, too, drops to his feet. Instead it’s his turn to wait.

“Maybe.” There’s a smile on the man’s face. He reaches out for Techno, hand stopping a couple inches away. “I’m Phil.”

Slightly confused, Techno tilts his head at the offered palm. Slowly, he sets his stolen sword into Phil’s hand, and then goes to grab his own. Phil laughs again, for some reason, but lets Techno take it.

“Now is the time that you give me your name, if you won’t shake my hand.”

With an unimpressed look, Techno sheathes his sword, not caring that the blood ruins the scabbard. “Technoblade.”

“I think it’s nice to meet you. Let me give you some bandages.”

Techno doesn’t feel like going back to the camp and finding it likely empty. There might be survivors, but they’re never right after things like this. That’s even worse to face, than nobody.

None of that anguish and madness seems to fill Phil after the scene. He stands among corpses with a smile on his face, and not one stretched too widely.

After weighing the options, Techno shrugs.

“Okay. But if you try to kill me with my guard down, that’ll be lame.”

Again, Phil laughs. 

“You have my word. I won’t try to kill you.”

There’s no reason to believe it, not from this man especially, since he might be able to. But, Techno almost does.

Crimson ripples around his ankles as he walks across the field, following after the wide wings. Sometimes, following is easier. Isn’t that what Techno always does? Even though he always ends up utterly alone, still walking after no one.

The water ripples, slightly fogged red. Though the clay slowly starts settling to the bottom of the river. Techno blinks, and finds that it's much closer to clear than any other color.

When Techno sees the little boat on the edge of the water, he can’t help openly cringing at it. The thing is small and looks slightly rickety, like it’ll be pulled under the water in a second.

“Thought you wouldn’t want to walk all the way to my base, so I’ll row us!” The large man says, smiling while his pointed tail wags behind him.

Impulse, that is. Techno squints at the horns on his head and the yellow “I” on his shirt. Is he actually an Imp? Techno doesn’t know much about all the different hybrids, but there’s arguably more kinds than not. That would make his name either a pun or a mighty coincidence. He doesn’t know which one is worse.

“What do you think?” Impulse asks, looking a little more sweaty and nervous.

“Heh?” Techno looks up from where he’s glaring at the front of the man’s shirt. Oh right, the boat. “I guess.”

He does not want to get into that boat. Even a little bit.

But he also doesn’t want to get into trouble with the army of overgeared people on this planet when he still can’t stand or see straight. So Techno supposes that he’s getting into the boat.

“Great! It’s not a long trip. I’ve been looking at some of the paneling with your ship, you can help at my base, if you want.”

Spending some time building with his hands doesn’t seem awful, despite how tired and unsteady he still feels. Techno never really has the luxury of just resting in bed doing nothing, even when he’s injured. It feels weird now, even when surrounded by potential threats at all times. Like the strangest mix of anxiety and boredom.

All's to say, moving might be good for both of those fronts.

Impulse climbs into the boat with a nod, before holding out a hand to Techno. It takes perhaps a bit too long of Techno staring at it to realize that he’s being prompted to grab it and climb in. Though he’s more tentative than not, half expecting to be dragged into the boat. But Impulse simply steadies him as he climbs in like a horse with broken legs, practically holding up his entire weight like it’s not much.

The surface of the boat, which wobbles with the waves, does not feel very stable below him. Techno collapses into a seat, grabbing onto the edge of it with straining fingers. His joints feel close to popping out, though he simply squeezes harder to try and tame his spinning head.

“Alright?” Impulse asks.

“Yup,” Techno says.

“Oookay,” Impulse says, smiling slightly smaller than earlier. “Then just hang out and hold on.”

Techno is already holding on, but as the boat jolts into motion, he feels like he’s not holding on tight enough. His stomach seems to fall out of his body down into the water. The fish must be eating holes through the organ. At least that means his insides all leak out so he won’t throw up.

“Have you come down this way yet?” Impulse asks, somehow making Techno jolt from his mind again. How is he so zoned out lately? He’s going to get killed.

“No, just the… shops,” Techno says, squinting around.

“Ah, with Gem, right? She actually lives above me.”

“Above you…?” Techno looks to the sky, like Gem would be up there or something. “Like, an apartment or floating thing?”

“I live underground!” Impulse says, laughing.

That does not raise Techno’s opinion any. Who lives underground? Like a mole or something.

“Like a mole?” Techno asks bluntly.

Impulse laughs again. “Hey! Like a dwarf. Much more respectable, of course.”

Does that mean he’s not an Imp? Or is that something that can stack? Techno’s not sure it’s appropriate to ask. But Impulse ends up saying more anyway.

“We’re kind of doing a theme in our little corner of mega builds. Gem’s an elf, I’m a dwarf, and Pearl’s… Well, an alien/science person of some sort… It’s more of an emotional theme.”

His voice stays light throughout the description, hardly tempered from the rowing or catch ups in his words. When Techno looks towards his face, he smiles more. It’s kind of odd, but not necessarily in a bad way. Just a weird way.

Even Phil would turn serious or sharp pretty often, regardless of his kind patches towards Techno…

“I don’t think Gem or Pearl would mind you looking around, if you want. Not sure if you’re into building,” Impulse goes on.

“I’m not a builder,” Techno says, taking in more of the surroundings now that they’re away from the small starter area. Tall builds still tower around them, but further in the distance now.

“I’m actually not much of a builder myself, or not until more recently, I’ve been trying to get into it. Redstone is my main thing. But, being around the Hermits is pretty inspiring, I wanted to give it a try.”

There’s an earnestness to what Impulse says that feels unarming. Like maybe this is some true part of his existence or something. But it’s not good to let things like that away from your chest. 

Unless Impulse is that confident in his power.

“I’m probably less into redstone,” Techno says instead.

“Oh, yeah. Cleo mentioned that you’re into fighting. PVP?” Impulse says without pause. Techno shrugs, half nods. “I’ve been trying to get better at that too recently. Gem still schools me a bit too often.”

“She’s good at fighting?” Techno asks, curious if he’ll tell the truth. He’s near certain that Gem is a fighter of some sort.

“Oh yeah. One of the best on the server, I think anyone would say. She even scares Doc.” Impulse laughs.

That’s an image. The slight deer girl versus the hulking creeper hybrid. Then again, true proficiency often beats pure hulking mass. Not that Techno would like to face either. Simpering idiots are the best opponents, and neither seem like that. 

Or, well, no one would be the best. But when does he ever get that?

“I guess you’d rather talk to her about sword stuff than builds. But, I’d encourage you to pick her brain about that too, if you ever get the chance. She’s great at crafting these beautiful pieces. Pearl too, of course.”

There's almost an edge of pride in Impulse’s voice. Techno supposes that they're in a group, so that makes sense. Or maybe they're just friends. It doesn't often work that way though.

Soon, the river they're boating down becomes smaller and more winding. It makes his head swirl within his skull, till his eyes fall shut. If he's pushed into the water now, it'll just have to do.

Always a good time to try and learn how to properly swim, right?

“We're going to get out here and walk this path to my base,” Impulse says, driving a paddle into the ground as he climbs out. “It's not far.”

Once again, Impulse leans over and waits until Techno takes his help to get out. Techno probably needed it, considering that the boat starts to cast away a little bit and he almost goes tumbling into the water. But Impulse plucks him out in time.

“Whoops,” The man laughs.

After a slightly too long second for Techno to find his balance, they start down a rough path through a forest. It’s slightly colder over here, shown by the large taiga trees. Though the climate on this planet seems strange compared to many that Techno’s been on, where biomes stretched over whole pieces of land or even the whole planet. Usually the artificial planets on that last count.

He wraps his hands around his elbows, shivering slightly all the same. The jacket that he’s being lent is warm, but it doesn’t do much for the chill that seeps into something deeper than his bones.

Luckily, the further that they walk into the forest, the warmer that it grows. Weird climate coming in handy for Techno, it seems. Those thoughts are overshadowed as the trees start to grow more sparse and buildings pop into view. Techno stutters at the sight, eyes widening in awe.

“Pretty good, right?” Impulse asks, having paused since apparently Techno had first without realizing.

It is pretty good. The green needles of the pine trees around them are replaced by strange ginormous orange, pink, and yellow things. He thinks that they might be trees too, since they’re vaguely tree shaped. But it’s nothing Techno’s ever seen before.

The trees aren’t where it ends either. The terrain is practically warped and everything is a vibrant color. When his eyes move on to the actual buildings, they almost seem like acts of nature too. Huge, hulking pieces of glass and stone and metal and tile and probably other materials Techno doesn’t even know.

At one point, Techno was sure he would never see something more impressive than the castle in the Antarctic Empire—before the battles, of course. But this is far prettier and more breathtaking than those meager bricks.

“Mine is through Pearl’s biome,” Impulse laughs. “Come on.”

Upon closer inspection, the trees and plants don’t seem to be alive the way that the normal ones are. But you’d hardly know it from far away, and it doesn’t really take away from the impression walking through either. Techno’s chest feels jittery, nearly excited, as they walk through the landscape.

The buildings seem almost dirty in contrast. Clinical, maybe. But in a way that is equally measured, he thinks. Techno feels dumb to look upon it all.

They come across a river, across which is a sprawling castle and a gaping stone maw. There’s a bridge to cross at least, so they don’t need the boat again. Techno would probably actually fall with the combination of the dizzying sights and the water below him.

“How long have you guys been making all this,” Techno says, staring up at the carved cliff face Impulse is leading him into.

“We’ve been on this season for a few years now, I think. Mega bases take up most of that time, but we all have other projects too.”

It seems impossible, these sorts of creations made in such little time. And most of it by individuals or small groups. What allows for so much time? So much creativity? Something has to give, right?

“Not everyone enjoys building either, though most of us have been giving it goes lately. Tango built a giant castle and put a game into it.”

Again, Impulse sounds impressed. Though it seems that the cave-like building that they’re walking into is the man’s, in which case, Techno doesn’t understand any inadequacy. The place is cavernous, and filled with sparkling metals and jewels inside of the most detailed walls. Techno doesn’t struggle with claustrophobia too much, but he doesn’t think it would be a problem here either.

The lights of the lanterns reflect warmly off of the gold that seems implanted into every nook and cranny. Techno’s eyes are drawn to them a bit too stubbornly, making it difficult to look away. His tail flickers quickly at his back, winding around his leg with the excess energy.

“I was thinking of heading down and— Hey, Techno?”

With a bit too much willpower, Techno forces himself to look at Impulse. The man seems amused, smiling.

“I was going to say, we could go down to my forge and look over some of the redstone for your ship?”

“Sure,” Techno says, squinting to keep his eyes from straying.

The sharpness of Impulse’s teeth look nearly inviting to Techno, under the light of fires. Strange. He licks at one of his tusks as Impulse leads the way.

“You know, Gem and some others have mentioned that this place is a little creepy or too close to a cave to feel comfortable in, but I find it cozy. What do you think?”

“It’s nice,” Techno answers honestly. “Like, warm.”

“Thank you,” Impulse stresses, as though Techno’s answer has proved a point.

The coziness of the space arguably increases as they walk down into a room that has lava pouring thickly out of spouts in the walls. A giant well in the middle of the wall is filled with the stuff, turning everything orange and cloying warm. Techno could lean closer to it.

“Now, quite a few people around the server are trying to poke at the redstone on your ship, but so far there’s been little luck in fixing it. It’s old, outdated, and arguably shouldn’t have worked even before you crashed it into a planet,” Impulse says, walking over to a work table with metal and wires and redstone.

Techno frowns at the mess of the sight, not totally sure what is what. If people that can make giant builds like this and arguably have more time to work on redstone properly can’t figure it out, Techno definitely can’t. He barely had to fix any redstone with the first ship repair, and even that much was almost too much for his brain to process.

“So it can’t be fixed?” Techno asks, things within his stomach scratching at him.

“I’m sure it can be made functional, but I don’t know how safe it will be.”

At that, Techno shrugs. “As long as it works.”

“Hey, it’s not like some automated potato farm that will mess up your storage system if it breaks, you’ll be moving through space!” 

“That’s kind of how ships work, yeah.” Techno resists the urge to lay on the ground. His limbs feel shaky.

“Safety is kind of important then,” Impulse says, sounding like he’s scolding.

Again, Techno just shrugs. It’s not like he can make anything better. And it’s not like there’s any other options for him. He doubts that there’s any portals hooked up to the system on the planet, or else the Hermits wouldn’t have been so shocked to see Techno here. They’re not too difficult to hack.

Why’s it so hard to find a lonely little hunk of rock that Techno can hide in for the rest of his days? This all feels like a scam. Life is truly the biggest scam.

Impulse sighs. “I’m starting to think self preservation is a myth. Do you want to help me try to look this over?”

“I did tell you I don’t know redstone, right? Or is my head injury causing me to make up memories instead of losing them?” Techno drones, feeling slightly distant.

Impulse laughs anyway. “Fair enough! How about… enchantments? Most people that do PVP know how to carve those into tools, right?”

Techno nods at that. He could probably do basic enchantments in his sleep. Though the more advanced ones, he’s not sure that his shaking hands would be the best for them. With how Impulse smiles and directs him towards a corner of the forge with sparkling golden tools, Techno decides he can try.

The tools are in various levels of proficiently made, with some not even being attached to the handles. But others are fine enough and well balanced. Maybe this is just the place Impulse throws all his practice creations.

That makes Techno feel better about picking up the tiny diamond carving tool and taking it to the edge of a pickaxe. There’s an enchantment book laying on the table too, but the letters smear before Techno’s eyes more than they’re meant to. He decides to give it a go from memory. 

Hopefully Impulse doesn’t really need them to be too efficient.

There’s silence in the workshop for a little while, time pulling out with the bubbling of lava and clicks of whatever Impulse is working on. Techno zones out a bit too often, but the pile of enchantment free tools slowly shrinks.

Towards the bottom of the bin is a small, iron knife. It’s honestly so crude that Techno thinks it’s a piece of broken shears or something, but it definitely has a distinct handle and blade when he picks it up. 

It’s small enough to slip into a pocket, or shoe, or hem—

A cacophony of sounds and colors explodes from behind Techno. In fact, explode is the correct term. As he swings around, tiny chunks of the ground burst into the air, alongside vibrant flashing colors and dust. 

Techno stares at the mess of a scene, terror swelling in his chest that is urging him to run and take cover. Or maybe even fight. Instead, he’s stuck stock till, seemingly having lost hold over his muscles. They’re tight, so much that they shake.

Just as Techno notices, the darkness at the corners of his vision fizzle over the entirety of his vision.

There’s swooping and shouts all around Techno, made foggy by the smell of smoke. Something is burning. That means something to Techno, way back in his mind, but it’s out of reach to him. As he tries to grapple for it, his eyelids flutter open in search of anything that will help.

It doesn’t, though the gray and white drifting through the air explains the smell. Something must be on fire, giving off the smoke, nearby. That makes sense.

Though Techno’s face scrunches at the realization. If something is on fire, then he needs to get out. No matter how much his head is pounding and the room is spinning slightly where he’s laying down, he’s certain that he has to get away if he wants to save his life.

Not that the deep impulse manages to sway his body as much as it should. His limbs flop and shake against the floor, revolting as he pushes up a few inches. Exhaustion and sweat pours over him, thicker than the smoke burning his throat.

As he swallows, it burns worse and tastes like acid. Maybe something else is tearing up his throat then. Techno can’t remember why there’s bile on his lips.

Techno manages to crawl backwards a few steps, recoiling more than anything. But just as he thinks he might have gathered himself enough to stand up and take in the scene, a figure emerges from the cloud of fog before him. He squints at how they float towards the ground, large things on their back flapping.

Almost like wings…

No, exactly like wings! Is that—

“Phil?” Techno tries to call out, voice cracking.

Phil touches down on the ground, wings becoming even more obvious in shape as they fold up. Though, they look slightly wrong. Is he hurt?

“Techno?” A voice replies, lilting slightly. But… not right. Too high and too twangy. Techno’s face furrows in confusion. “What are you doing?”

Phil—the person? N-not Phil? They walk closer to Techno, reaching a hand out. Long chunks of brown hair frame the blurry face, too long and thin— Techno gasps as he jerks up right and starts stumbling back.

His heart is pattering so quickly that there’s nothing in his ears but rushing blood. That just makes his panic worse though, because the person before him’s mouth is opening and closing, and they’re still drawing closer.

Techno is certain that he knows this person now. They’re familiar. But he doesn’t know who they are, and that’s terrifying. Are they an enemy? Is that why he knows them? Have they hurt him—

A hand lands on his shoulder from behind, curling around him a little as though to hold him in place. A flinch runs through Techno so violently that his vision turns to black again. When his wide, wide eyes gain their sight again, he’s looking at a tall, hulking form over him.

Impulse, his mind whispers to him. The same part that recognizes that it’s the Pearl woman from the shopping district walking up beside Impulse. But most of his head is stuffed to the brim with screaming, so he can’t quite make that out.

He strikes forward, gray knife seemingly popping into existence in his hand. It slashes across Impulse’s hand, making him flinch backwards. Which is all Techno needs to turn and run, out of arm’s reach and grabbing distance.

Even after he gets that far, his body keeps running. If before he couldn’t get his body to move, now he can’t get it to stop. But Techno thinks that might be good, considering that his surroundings seem as foggy as his head. Not to mention the aching over every inch of his body. The hurt just fuels him on, faster and faster.

Breaking out of the humid underground feels like being slapped. Techno stumbles, confused, and just barely catches onto a railing before falling down into the churning water.

After sparing that one gasp, Techno looks around quickly. Impulse and Pearl’s bases are no goes, but there’s a sprawling castle above him. Surely he could hide within the buildings—

But, no. That’s Gem’s base. Techno remembers the innocent front that never fully covers up her danger, and how Impulse spoke so highly of her skills.

Surely, Gem would kill him.

Techno turns and takes off across the bridge. He can get lost in the forest, thick with trees and plant life. Even if Pearl knows the land better than him, surely he can find somewhere to hide?

It feels like a useless thought, deja vu. Hadn’t he done this before? His head hurts with the thought.

Getting swallowed by the forest feels better than being out in the open. Techno grabs onto trees as he passes them by, pushing off of them to stay upright. Just about the only capacity he has in his mind is getting far away as fast as he can, so that’s what he does.

His mind is so one track that he again doesn’t notice that he’s reached the end of his path until nearly falling into water. Except, this time there’s nothing to catch. His feet slip over each other till he sinks into a river’s edge, all the way up to his knees. The slippery mud below his feet coupled with the icy cold slapping into him unends his shaky balance. 

Techno falls backwards, backside sinking into the slushy mud and splashing frozen liquid all over him.

Shivering hard, Techno glares around him while climbing out of the river. It’s good that his eyes are squinting, since before him is a wide plane of white. Snow. That explains some of the chill.

In the center of the snowy hills is a ginormous black castle, looking spooky and violent. Techno blinks up at it, before shivering so hard his tusks nearly break the skin above his lips. He needs to get out of the cold and turning back to the bases behind him isn’t really an option…

Standing on shaking legs, Techno slowly picks his way across the water. He does slip a couple times, but it really doesn’t matter. He’s already wet and freezing. Which is probably part of the reason that walking without falling is so hard.

The snow burns his skin as he steps into it.

It’s not till Techno’s trudged a distance into the field that he realizes how open it is. His eyes flicker to the sky, expecting something to swoop down and attack. Birds of prey— No. It’s elytras. Right.

The shivers have become so consistent and all consuming that his brain feels like it’s vibrating. Maybe going further into the snow wasn’t a good idea, since the breeze is sharp and fast. His skin starts to feel like it’s peeling off, burnt up by the cold. As he closes his eyes, streaks of moisture escape his eyelids, drawing hot lines over his cheeks.

Every step in the tall snow takes too much effort. His legs aren’t working properly. Is it because they are frozen? The burning on them has died down and now they’re practically numb.

That’s not good, he doesn’t think. Though it hurts less than the freezing. Maybe it’s better…

“Woah, what the what are you doing, otter pop?”

Before Techno can peel apart his eyes to face the voice, something big and heavy is dropping around him. He struggles with it for a second, almost falling over again, but then a hand is pulling him up by his elbow. A bit more forcefully, he manages to open his eyes.

A frozen man is standing in front of him. Techno blinks, half thinking that he's fallen into an ice coma and is meeting the other wintery victims. Then the blue person parts their lips enough for Techno to see sharpened teeth and he remembers this strange person from a while ago.

“Tango?” Techno tries to ask.

Try is a keyword, because his tongue hardly moves within his mouth, causing his word to slur almost incomprehensibly. Tango’s face scrunches a bit further.

“What are you doing here? Trying to catch frostbite to go with the concussion?” Tango asks, tightening something around Techno.

Fuzziness rubs on his cheeks, drawing his attention downwards. A large, furred coat is wrapped around him, suspiciously similar in color to the rest of Tango’s clothes. That explains the faint heat still sticking to the cloth, seeping into his frozen skin.

“Uhmm,” Tango murmurs, snapping Techno out of the thick molasses in his skull. The man looks more concerned and lined up than ever. 

It takes far too much effort for Techno to remember what the question he was asked was.

“I’m just walking,” He tries to answer. It comes out like soup and sludge instead of understandable words. Oops.

Techno would be more concerned about it, except that he’s kind of listing towards the ground even with Tango’s hand still holding him. The numbness in his legs is steadily working upwards, seemingly having already invaded his good sense. His brain is as empty as his mouth.

“Oh! Just— falling into hibernation, apparently!” Tango chirps, yanking Techno up more roughly. “That is not good so soon after a head injury!”

Important information shared there, perhaps, but Techno just blinks blankly in response. Tango apparently wasn’t waiting for an answer this time, since the world is made into a blur as he’s physically hoisted up. The dizziness forces Techno to close his eyes, breathing large puffs of fog into the frigid air. Though it’s notably more warm at his side.

Peeking towards the large source of heat, Techno takes in his state of existence. His limbs are dangling towards the ground, with his body only being held up by a single arm looped around his middle. In fact, Techno would say that Tango is carrying him quite similarly to an old duffel bag. When he tries to move his body to perhaps kick away or stand up or do literally anything but dangle there like a limp lump, all of his limbs simply twitch a little.

What a predicament.

At the very least, Tango is carrying him towards the large black castle, which Techno thinks was his goal at some point. Though probably his goal in general is pretty moot now. If there’s no strength in Techno to move his legs, he really doesn’t have the strength to think deeper into that. He focuses on trying to shiver some warmth back into his body.

The castle’s doorway is large and open, similar to Impulse’s cave, so there isn’t a huge difference in temperature as Tango lugs him in. Though there is still the dancing of fire light reflecting off of everything, giving a faint warmth. Only, this fire is blue.

Techno locks eyes with a vibrant blue lantern, not too far from him. His pupils shrink fast enough for him to feel it, as he squeaks and starts trying in vain to squirm away. It’s made all the more difficult by the painful exhaustion and vertigo that is crashing into him, trying to make him faint or throw up. Probably both.

“Wha—?” Tango asks, lifting Techno a little to look at him. Then the pointy man looks around while hissing a bit. “Uh oh. I forgot about…”

Practically picking up into a jog, Tango continues to carry Techno deeper into the castle. Now he’s being held more like a twitching, angry cat though. Which would be offensive if he wasn’t hissing and growling a bit. Considering that his brain feels like it's fizzling away to nothing, it’s not his fault, he decides.

Adding to the metaphor, Tango shoves Techno into a column of bubbling water that shocks him frozen. Still stuck in quite the state, he’s spit out into a room, where he promptly trips and falls onto his face. Techno lays there as shockingly warm air blows down on him. His brain feels like it’s dripping out of his ears.

“Maybe a bit too warm,” Tango chides, before grabbing Techno and actually dragging him across the floor. 

Techno opens his eyes and sees the sky above him. Disorientation and confusion shoves his thoughts further from reach. Falling into a mini coma right now maybe wouldn’t be too bad.

“I’ll only give you blankets or something warm if you show that you won’t fall into hibernation. Bet you want that, huh?” Tango says loudly, patting Techno’s cheek over and over.

A tiny glare manages to cross Techno’s face, but Tango simply smiles at it. What a jerk. Still shuddering with shivers, Techno sinks his fingernails into the man’s arm and starts pulling himself up. It earns some loud squawks and no more smiles. His nails have grown quite a bit since landing on this planet.

But if Tango is going to play dirty and talk to him like a child, then that’s what he deserves. Acting like Techno would follow his commands for some blankets…

Well, he does want the blankets really really bad. Enough that the hair on his tail bristles and stands up. But it’s still stupid that Tango talks like he knows that. He doesn’t know anything. 

Once Techno’s sitting upright, not having a pout on his face no matter what anyone says, Tango sighs and sits back. The man’s own ears and tail notably relax. Interesting. Techno watches with confusion.

“Okay, that wasn’t too difficult. Now I’m officially allowed to yell at whoever lost you,” Tango says. The glare drops back onto Techno’s face.

“I’m not lost,” Techno says, words only slurring a little… A moderate amount.

“Uhuh. Where are you?” Tango asks, raising an eyebrow.

Slightly more critical, Techno looks around the space. It’s more obvious that he’s not actually under the sky or outside. It’s a pattern on walls and the ceiling. The room around him is drafty and filled with seemingly inane objects. There are no windows.

Measured, Techno says. “In a room.”

“I suppose you are correct,” Tango says begrudgingly, pulling up his communicator with an easy flick of his wrist. Jumping a little, Techno stares with a bit of awe. How did he… “You’re in my Deep Frost Citadel, also known as Decked Out 2, also known as specifically the Hermit Daycare. Which is… fitting.”

Tango murmurs the last part of his statement, smiling a little bit like he’s making a joke. Again, Techno glares. It’s broken by a yawn as he rubs his eyes.

“Ah, just in time. Impulse is in chat crying about losing you. Perfect,” Tango says happily.

It’s quite discordant to the bolt of fear that runs through Techno, bringing the sleepy growing warmth to an abrupt stop. Somehow, he’s certain that if Impulse learns where he is and comes here, it will go very bad for him. The shivers wracking his frame grow worse, more violent.

When Tango glances up, he seems surprised.

“What? What’s wrong? Please tell me you aren’t going into shock, because I already held it over Impulse’s head enough that it would be embarrassing.”

Instead of answering, Techno looks around like an escape route will pop out to him. But there’s no doors or windows in sight. He feels trapped and soon to be cornered.

“That was a joke. If you feel sick, please tell me, I’ll cry to Doc for you,” Tango says, raising his hands and inching closer. 

Instead of answering, Techno pulls the hood of the oversized coat over his head. The heavy fur edge droops over his eyes, holding in heat to his face. Logically it should make him feel even more closed in and cornered. Instead, it feels more manageable, somehow. His headache at least gets a bit better.

Breathing heavily, he yanks the hood over his face even further.

“Oookay, or we can chill silently while not looking at each other. Honestly it’s a hobby of mine, I would say,” Tango says. “Well, I guess I’m not being silent. That’s probably pretty annoying, huh?”

“Yes,” Techno says.

Tango laughs. “Man, teenagers are mean.”

“Getting bullied, Tango?” Impulse’s voice calls from behind them, prompting Techno to shove the hood up and swing around. The man is stepping out of the water stream, wind making him squint. “And after you were giving me such a hard time?”

“No! We’re having a grand time, actually. I’m sure someone of your sort could never comprehend how good of a time we’re having,” Tango crows.

“That sounds awful considering you were just messaging me about Techno possibly having hypothermia,” Impulse says, starting closer.

Straightening, Techno watches the man intently. It’s not one sided though, since Impulse is looking over him closely, eyebrows knitted together. As much as Techno wants to shrink away again, he forces himself not to. He’s not sure how steady his glare looks.

That doesn’t seem to impact Impulse’s searching though. His eyes rove over Techno a couple times, before turning back to Tango.

“Everyone alright then?” Impulse asks, less amusement in his tone.

“I think so. I’m sure Doc won’t be pleased about Techno’s tromp through the snow, but he’s dry and warm now, so it should be fine,” Tango says.

“Your utter confidence is comforting,” Impulse snarks.

Tango makes a sound like “m-mm” while shrugging overexaggeratedly. But apparently it means something to Impulse, since he sighs and then lowers himself to his knees with a smile.

“Well if that’s the best I’m going to get, I suppose it’s fine.” Impulse turns to Techno, holding his hand out. “I am going to need my knife back, I think.”

A bit of horror runs through Techno as he stares at the piece of cloth tied haphazardly around Impulse’s hand. There’s some red smudged on it, showing the blood leaking through. Did he stab the man? In his own home while outnumbered and out-weaponed??

Why would he do that—When did—?

“Oop, this?” Tango asks, leaning forward while pulling a small iron knife out of his pocket with two fingers. There’s a bit of crimson smudged on the blade, making Techno cringe. “I found it right before finding Techno.”

“That’s the one,” Impulse says, something forced in his voice as he takes the knife from Tango and slides it into his pocket.

“Jeez, Impulse. Are you just going around giving injured teens weapons? That’s not very safe,” Tango scolds.

“Wha—No! That’s not what happened—”

“Uh huh, then what did happen? Because I was wondering how he ended up knee deep in the snow to begin with.”

“That—Well, I don’t know how he got into the snow, but Pearl pranked me by setting off an explosion—”

“Why are you setting off explosives near someone with a brain injury?!”

“It was Pearl, not me!” Impulse stutters, leaning away from Tango. “L-let’s be happy that it wasn’t Scar or someone. You know what the people on the server are like.”

Tango sighs, lightly bapping Impulse on the top of his head. The fact that Impulse has to lean over a little bit to let it happen makes it more comical. But Techno is watching the back and forth with too much shock to really compute that.

When the attention of the two men turns back to Techno, he thinks about laying down and disappearing into the cloak again. It’d be slightly more comfortable maybe. Instead he just squints back. And crosses his arms. 

“I think you have shown that you won’t spontaneously hibernate, so I’ll hold up my end of the bargain,” Tango says with a crooked smile, standing and walking off.

Which leaves Techno and Impulse alone. 

Pointedly, Techno stares at the wall. The clouds painted on there sure look cool. Like fluffy cartoon sheep or something. That’s pretty cool.

Impulse presses his palms together, making a soft clapping sound.

“I’d like to properly apologize for the whole prank thing. Sorry that that happened, Pearl was just trying to get me.”

A frown tries to make its way onto Techno’s face. He's not sure where this is going. Is Impulse trying to make a point? Or get something out of Techno?

“Sorry for… stabbing you,” Techno says hesitantly. 

He does mean it, as much as he can. It seems like Impulse wasn’t trying to hurt him, and he still attacked him. It’s not out of character for Techno, but…

“It was more of a slice than a stab, thankfully,” Impulse chuckles. It sounds so much like a correction that Phil would make that Techno cringes. “But it’s alright. It seemed like it wasn't your intention to hurt me.”

His intention. How many people think about that? Sometimes not even Techno. It's easier to do certain things without thinking about it.

Or, it's not really about easy and hard, is it? Techno doesn't mind doing hard things. It's often more rewarding.

But this... Like Phil but different, kinder. But it's just—

“I’m back!” Tango announces, tossing something at Techno. It hits his legs harmlessly. “Your blanket.”

Unfurling the cloth, Techno finds that it is in fact a blanket. Large and warm looking. He rubs it between his fingers and hugs it towards his chest, something inside him curling at the feeling.

There should be no comfort in trading a knife for a blanket. Techno wants to bury himself under so many that he never feels cold again.

Chapter Text

There’s nothing that makes Techno feel more stupid than when he tries to dress up. 

Okay, maybe that’s exaggerated, but he at least feels that way when he’s in the middle of the dressing up part. It doesn’t matter how much people have ridiculed him for wearing his fancy cape and everything, that feels different. There’s no intention to appear a certain way to others, it’s just comfortable to him.

The clothes he pulls on right now aren’t uncomfortable, but his stomach still hurts as it twists itself up.

Gem had popped by a few minutes ago, carrying clothes that Cleo apparently finished tailoring for him. They fit nice and are warm, on top of not being worn for multiple days in a row, so he’s not complaining.

It’s just the fact that Gem has also come by to bring him to a “dinner,” whatever that entails.

Food, probably. Hopefully. It wouldn’t be the first time that Techno has gone to an event that was named after food and then didn’t have any. One of the worst parts of being co-emperor during the transition period of that server a few servers ago. Phil was the one that did all the talking and looking presentable for those things anyway.

There’s no one for Techno to hide behind here. 

His stomach twists harder, starting to shake within his abdomen. With a frown, he raises his hand to press against the organ, as though it will settle it beneath his skin. But if anything, it makes the spasms harder.

Taking in a sharp breath, Techno stumbles backwards towards the bed, intent on sitting down or something as he thinks he’s going to be sick. Instead, he hardly has a chance to reach out towards the mattress before he feels himself start falling. Only he never hits the ground, just tumbling and tumbling as his brain turns to mush.

A whine leaves his lips, making something drip out of the corner of his mouth. He can’t tell what it is, and his hand refuses to move to swipe at it. So he just lays there as the sweat on his body cools, shivers violently wracking him.

After blinking blankly at the wall for… a while, Techno again goes to wipe at the tacky liquid on his lips. Only this time when his arm actually obeys and tries to move, sharp pain shoots all the way up to his shoulder. A shocked gasp leaves him as he clutches at his pounding left arm.

“Techno? Are you ready to go?” A woman’s voice calls through the door, making him jolt.

How long has he been here? He was getting ready for something, right?

It's hard to sort through his brain with how foggy it is. Plus his arm is pretty distracting. Sure, his head hurts too, but in a way that he's had time to get used to. Techno doesn't even know where this pain is coming from.

“Techno?” The voice comes again, with some knocking.

“Yea—yes,” Techno calls, swallowing when his voice shakes. “Just a minute!”

Soft murmurings, too quiet to make out, slowly fade off with footsteps. Somehow it's the clopping of hooves that makes him put a face to the voice. Gem. Right.

He was getting ready…

Slowly, Techno sits up using his uninjured arm. A glance down shows that his clothes are slightly rumpled, but otherwise unmarred. And wiping his mouth shows that it was just drool. Ew. But a better outcome than anything else.

There's not much time to give his arm a look over, but that's not unusual. Pulling back his sleeve and poking at his limb is familiar. As long as his arm isn't falling off, then it's probably fine. He can face battle.

With that, Techno stands. Or he tries to, anyway. His legs wobble quite bit, not wanting to lock properly. He has to bite his tongue hard and lean on the bed to get himself up, hot under his skin by the time he manages it.

This is slightly wrong, he realizes. It's not normal for him to fall and pass out, to injure himself like this. Is it from the head injury?

Techno touches at the fresh bandages around his skull. Already, the burning that invaded his wound is gone, fading with the bruises. His injuries are on the mend, properly.

So why is he still having these… episodes of weakness? Techno's had head injuries plenty of times before, and it was never like this. It doesn't make sense!

Footsteps outside the door make him jump. Right, he's supposed to be doing something.

Before Gem can knock again, he walks over and opens the door. She stands a few paces away, looking slightly surprised by his appearance. He must have been stalling in the state for a while.

“Are you alright?” Gem asks, tilting her head at him.

There's stuff in her antlers. Strings of shiny things that dangle and clink together pleasantly. Techno wishes he had something like that to hang shiny things on.

“Fine,” Techno says, voice a bit too paper.

“Are you sure? You look a little…” She trails off, face indicating that she's trying to come up with something not offensive to say.

It clashes with her nice clothes. For the dinner. That she's ready for.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go.”

With as much confidence as he can muster, Techno starts walking forwards. Only to be stopped when Gem juts out a hand into his path.

“With no shoes?”

Techno looks down, socked feet meeting his gaze. Oh. Oops.

“After shoes maybe,” Techno says, turning around as giggles meet his ears.

The shoes he’s borrowing are simple, with only basic ties on them. Not like his heeled boots that he had to zip on nearly to his knees and padding inside. Because there are tactical advantages for being taller, of course. 

Regardless of his overqualified history, tugging on the shoes is far too difficult. He struggles for a few seconds, before sighing and just shoving his feet in without tying the laces. Hopefully he doesn’t have to break into any more sprints…

When he reappears, Gem is still smiling at least. 

“Missing anything else? The hair on your head?” She asks.

Automatically, he touches his head. His hair is quite messy, since he hasn’t had the energy to sort it out and braid it in ages. Is it that much of a wreck?

“Oh, no—” Gem laughs again. “It’s just a saying. You’re fine. Let’s go!’

By the elbow, Techno is tugged out of the teapot house. Usually he wouldn’t really appreciate the literal guiding, but with how he still feels a little like he’s floating, it makes following the winding path easier. After a few minutes too long, he realizes that they’re heading towards the shopping district.

“Is the meeting at the shops?” Techno asks.

“Right past it at Joe’s base. It’s more of a potluck with a meeting beforehand. Though I’m not sure how a giant pinball machine is more appropriate for that…”

Confusion tries to prick at Techno, but he simply shakes his head till it’s gone. More often than not, the Hermits say things that Techno can not comprehend. It’s better to just let it go, especially when he’s so tired.

“Are you sure I should be going to that…?” Techno asks instead.

A meeting or a party type of thing, Techno doesn’t think he belongs there. He’s pretty sure that they’d be talking about him at a meeting anyway. Or at least something about someone invading their planet. That seems like it has to be discussed and all that. Plan for attack.

“Nah, they’re usually not super serious or anything. Plus you need food.” Gem shrugs.

Things of equal importance, apparently. These people are strange. But the cold air outside is making him feel better, so whatever.

The bright lights of the shopping district in the evening catch on his eyes as they walk through. He spends a bit too much time looking around, not even trying to find tactical things like hiding spaces or escape routes. It’s just pretty in a dizzying way.

Gem has to keep tugging on his arm, pulling him down the roads to keep up with her quick pace. Techno thinks he got the short end of the stick by not getting hooves from his hybrid status. They seem to add quite the spryness.

“Joe’s base is in the middle of the ocean. I told Impulse to leave a boat…” Gem says as they walk down onto the beach.

And. Well. There sure is a giant thing in the middle of the ocean. Techno’s assuming that it is a pinball machine, but it could just as easily be anything else for all he knows. He blinks up at it in the distance, standing among the fog like some sort of sea beast.

Gem giggles. “He has a bit of a theme, huh?”

It sure is thematic. Techno lets himself be shoved into the little boat, closing his eyes as they start rowing closer. The waves seem to stir up his nausea more than last time. Trying to tame it, he keeps his breaths shallow.

“Will everyone on the server be there?” Techno asks quietly. The question had been nagging him earlier. Nothing goes well in the presence of a whole server.

“Probably not everyone,” Gem seems to be looking at him closely. Suspicious? “It’s technically optional to go, but, you know.”

Techno doesn’t know. But he nods anyway.

The pinball machine becomes more towering and impressive the closer that they get. It has to be one of the tallest things Techno’s ever seen before. And it’s plenty huge width wise and all that too. A giant box on stilts. He feels a bit hesitant as they row beside it. What stops the legs from giving out and toppling over?

“I don’t think anyone has ever gotten into Joe’s base without an elytra,” Gem murmurs, coming to a stop beside the leg. “This should be interesting.”

“That is not concerning at all,” Techno says.

“Nope!” Gem chirps, hopping out of the boat and offering him a hand.

Climbing out of the boat is plenty wobbly and unsteady, even with the help. Gem is equally unyielding as Impulse was, but the fact that they are stepping onto a thin barricade between the ocean, and a giant drop off to deep-slate is far worse. Even with someone holding onto him, Techno feels like he’s going to slip and fall, to the point that he squeezes his eyes shut at the vertigo.

“Hmm…” Gem hums, looking up at the post. “I could give you a piggyback ride?”

“A what?” Techno asks, voice bewildered as his eyes pop open.

“A piggyback,” Gem repeats, like he didn’t hear her. When Techno's face only twists in more affronted confusion, her eyes widen. “Do you not know what a piggyback ride is?”

“No?”

Is this a joke about him being a piglin hybrid? He doesn’t understand it if it is, but he squints at her just in case.

Gem gasps. “That needs to be changed immediately. Here, climb on my back.”

“Heh?” Techno asks, more confused than ever. Perhaps he’s cracked his head open again and is currently without brain.

“A piggyback ride is when you climb on my back while holding my shoulders and I hold your legs.”

“What does that have to do with pigs?” Techno mutters.

Gem laughs. “Well, if you’re involved—”

“Ugh,” Techno groans, having walked into that one a bit.

Gem laughs again. “Okay, okay. Let’s go up now, I’ll carry you.”

It doesn’t persuade Techno much, as he looks up at the tall swaying scaffolding. Could Gem even carry him that far? What if he squishes her? Or they both fall to their deaths?

“I might pass…” Techno says.

“Ugh, come on, don’t be a chicken. It’s not called a chicken-back ride,” Gem goads.

It doesn’t even make sense, and Techno keeps his face impassive to show. There’s no way something like that could sway him… But he also is not a chicken, so.

“If we fall, I’m landing on you,” Techno says flatly.

Gem smiles. “Considering how poorly the last fall you took was, I am not concerned.”

Techno scoffs, nearly snorting in shock. Geez, a man can’t even crash his spaceship without being mocked. Now he almost hopes that they fall.

It’s awkward as Techno walks closer to her and he realizes that he actually has to touch her to get carried. How embarrassing. At least it’s not as bad as when Tango threw him around like a half deflated ball. But he still considers jumping into the ocean.

“Here,” Gem says, reaching over her shoulders and grabbing Techno’s hesitant hands to pull them forwards.

All fine and good, except that Gem squeezes his left wrist and yanks on it slightly roughly, making him gasp and trip into her with pain. Gem stumbles too, before catching the two of them.

“Woah. Alright?” She asks, still holding his hands while looking over his shoulder.

“Fine,” Techno grits out, trying to catch his balance again.

Finally, Gem lets go of his wrist. His hand still shakes, though his wrist quickly feels better. In his relief, he hardly notices when Gem crouches and then picks him up below the knees.

It is thoroughly jarring, enough for Techno to yelp. Gem laughs to herself as he struggles to hold onto her shoulders and not feel like he’s falling so much. Whether his nails sink into her skin, she doesn’t seem to react. Techno definitely feels the pain in his wrist again.

“Finally, we go up,” Gem announces, taking him over to the pillar with no further shenanigans. 

Which really brings the next problem to Techno’s mind. How can Gem climb if he’s on her back? That seems like a bad idea.

Gem seems to not have any of those reservations though, since she lets go of one of his legs and starts climbing one handed. Techno digs his fingers into her shoulders tighter, feeling like they’re going to soar to the ground at any time.

It seems to be going well, considering everything. You could not convince Techno that Gem hasn’t climbed a ladder one handed before. She’s too proficient. Though he can only be soothed so much as they start getting some distance up from the ground.

“Don’t look down,” Gem chides, not even looking at him. And yet she knew.

“It seems like a pretty important place to look,” Techno says.

Gem snorts. “It’ll just make you dizzy. Close your eyes or something.”

“No!” Techno says, scandalized. Gem laughs in response. It’s not a good sound considering how it makes them sway a bit.

While Gem doesn’t seem to be cowed by the climb at all, Techno’s face scrunches up a bit as the pain in his wrist starts to grow worse instead of better. The muscles or tendons or something ache from squeezing onto the woman’s shoulder. It starts sending shocks of pain upwards and his hand shakes like it’s about to pop off.

“Are you alright?” Gem asks.

Techno makes a sound like “Mm.”

“Please tell me if you’re going to pass out. If you fall off the pinball machine, I won’t be able to make fun of Impulse anymore.”

Breathing out something between a sigh and a laugh, Techno slowly wraps one of his arms fully around Gem’s neck. Then he shifts his other arm too, tightening his arms till he feels more secure. Gem doesn’t comment on it.

He’s glad for that, because if she did, he’d probably let go and plummet to his death right then. The close proximity to the woman, it almost feels like he’s hugging her or something. Which is a mortifying thought.

Techno’s never hugged anyone, that’s totally lame! And the few times Phil pulled him to his side or slung an arm around his shoulder, well…

He shoves his face into his own shoulder, intent on disappearing. Now wouldn’t be a bad time for one of those random blacking out spells or whatever. It’d be less overwhelming than this.

“Almost there,” Gem says, sounding a bit winded now.

Before he can get concerned, a questioning sound resounds from above them. Techno looks up, squinting at the glaring light and dark sky. A head is peeking over the edge of the pinball machine, quickly joined by a hand reaching towards them.

Gem snorts at the sight, but pauses as a hand wraps around her elbow. The pair of them start being pulled over the edge, Techno practically strangling Gem as he feels completely weightless. She doesn’t comment.

“Mojang above, Gem. What are you doing?!” Impulse says once they’re on solid ground.

“Coming to dinner,” Gem says simply. Then she turns in the direction of a group of people. “Joe, your base is not accessible to people with brain damage!”

A man with a suspiciously familiar turquoise shirt shrugs at Gem, as Techno scowls in his direction. He decides to turn his ire towards that certain man instead of Gem yelling about his apparent ‘brain damage.’ Though he’s not exactly pleased by that… She did just carry him up a giant pillar.

Which reminds Techno to start squirming and trying to push away from Gem, since he is now on solid ground and does not need to be carried any longer, thank you very much. Gem makes a sound of surprise before practically dropping him on the ground. Pretending that it doesn’t hurt, Techno stands without allowing any emotions to cross his face. Not even the redness of shame.

Impulse and Gem are both staring down at him, along with a few other people scattered around them. Crossing his arms, Techno meets the eyes like nothing has happened. Because nothing has. Mhm.

“Why didn’t you message me to help or something?” Impulse asks, turning back to Gem.

“We were fine. Plus, I give better piggyback rides than you,” The woman says with a smile.

“I… refute that claim,” Impulse says.

“Wanna try it?” Gem asks, challenging. Techno believes that she will throw Impulse over her shoulder the same as she did with him. Maybe even more forcibly. In equal parts, he’s intrigued and intimidated to watch.

Luckily, Impulse backs down before it can come to pass. The man sighs and shakes his head, palming his face.

“Gem! What did you bring?!” A man yells from across the wide open space. He has lots of brown hair and dog ears. Techno’s pretty sure they’ve met before, but he can’t remember his name. “You’re late!”

As the dog man starts walking closer, Techno actually looks around the space properly. It’s pretty wide open with an extremely high ceiling, with a very long, slightly crooked table. There’s stuff set across it. Food, presumably.

Techno kind of wants to sit down there, but he turns to the dog man instead.

“Our ward,” Gem says flatly.

At the same time, the woman slings her arm across Techno’s shoulders. Luckily she doesn’t lean any of her weight on him, cause he probably would have folded into the floor if that was the case. 

“Oh, right. The real fulfillment of friendship,” The dog man answers.

He also makes a move like he’s going to wrap his arm around Techno too. Which, no. Ducking under Gem’s arm, he quickly puts the woman between himself and the dog man.

The dog man simply laughs a bit and wraps his arm around Impulse’s shoulders instead. He’s significantly shorter than Impulse, so it’s quite the sight.

“Sorry, dude. But at least you’re giving Gem an excuse this time, I’m sure she appreciates it.”

“Hey!” Gem snipes.

“You can’t do a soup-group project with Pearl and Impulse every time, Gem,” The dog man says, lifting his palms in surrender.

“Oh yeah, what did you bring, Ren? Gigapies again?”

“Of course. I can’t let the fans down,” Ren, apparently, says with a smile.

Gem groans. That makes Impulse smile. Probably because their reactions were opposite just a couple minutes ago. 

“Wanna come say hi to everyone?” Impulse asks.

While still looking miserable, Gem nods. Then she turns to Techno, who is standing slightly behind her. Everyone kind of stares at him for a second while he feels uncomfortable from it. Nice.

Maybe there’s still time to jump off the pinball machine…

“Let’s see if we can get this started before it’s an hour past starting time,” Ren says with a clap of his hands.

The little group starts walking towards more of the people, Techno following hesitantly behind. Quite a few people look over and give greetings as they close in. And he doesn’t think he’s making it up when he notices that the eyes stick to him a bit too long. Internally, Techno fights over standing up straighter and hunching over. Without his boots, trying to appear bigger isn’t quite successful.

Meeting in the middle, Techno lets his bangs fall over his face.

“I have brought the Lady Gem,” Ren says, flourishing his arms as they reach the group.

“You did not bring me anything,” Gem says.

“I thought we agreed friendship was the most valuable item?” Ren cocks his head to the side, ears flopping like a dog too.

“No,” Gem says flatly.

A couple people chuckle, while Ren overexaggertedly pouts. Like a kicked dog, he stoops over to a short man dressed in green. Bdubs, if Techno remembers right. Though there’s far too many people and names to remember, so he might not be.

“Look at this poor man. For shame!” Bdubs says, patting Ren on the back.

“Thank you, Bdubs.”

Techno was right. What a win for the having a concussion community.

Unfortunately, the concussion community has stood for more than fifteen minutes, which is about his max amount of time before he starts feeling pukey. Or maybe that is all the people in touching range. That’s also a pretty vomit worthy ordeal.

Backing up for a couple steps, Techno turns and walks over to the long table. A couple people are sitting at the far end, people he has seen from afar or that stayed downstairs while watching him, but they don’t really look up as he sits down. It’s a struggle to not set his head in his arms, but the paranoia of being surrounded keeps it up.

That and the fact that he feels eyes itching into his soul practically. It’s so palpable that he shivers a little bit, before looking around for whoever is dissecting him. Finding whoever it is is more important than looking chill and cool. 

No matter how many people he scans, he can’t find who it is. A few people are looking at him, but it’s in short glances. A couple smile and wave when they meet eyes. 

Face scrunched in focus, Techno jumps as someone bangs down onto the table across from him. A plate in their hands drops on the table kind of heavily, to the point that Techno is surprised it doesn’t break. It seems like the other person is surprised about that too, since they look down with wide eyes.

“Uh…” The white pointed ears atop the man’s head wiggle a bit as he looks back up at Techno.

The two of them stare at each other. Techno’s face blank. The man’s face possibly blank underneath the mask covering the bottom half. Silently, they go far too long just staring at each other.

It’s so intense, there’s a good argument that this man is the one making Techno feel like he’s being watched, but he doesn’t think so.

“Etho, what are you doing?" Cleo asks, walking over with crossed arms.

“I… don’t know,” Etho replies, sounding genuinely a little lost. Techno can sympathize honestly, and not totally because of the head injury.

“Mhm. And what do you have there?” Cleo asks, pointing down at the somehow not broken plate.

“Cream puffs?” It sounds like a question.

“Lovely. Give the poor child a cream puff.”

With a wavy motion of her hand, Cleo guides Etho into picking up one of the circular pastries and dropping it onto the plate before Techno. Then, Techno and Etho can look at the singular cream puff sitting there instead of at each other.

“There we go,” Cleo says, looking kind of proud.

“Why are you doing this?” Etho asks, laughing as he places his forehead into his hand.

“Why are you doing this?” Cleo shoots back.

“Oh, right,” Etho says, looking back up. “It’s Technoblade, right?”

Before Techno can open his mouth to agree, it clicks within his head that the man has addressed him by his full name. No one has done that since he left the DSMP behind. Or before.

Because he didn’t tell them his full name. It wasn’t a real decision or anything, but he feels kind of exposed.

“Do you two know each other? That would be the weirdest thing ever… But also kind of make sense,” Cleo says.

It’s Techno’s impulse to say no, but then he realizes that he doesn’t actually know. He doesn’t know this Etho guy, but he seems to know him somehow. As far as names and faces go, Techno isn’t great at it all. But most of the people he’s met and doesn’t know are usually dead now.

“No, I just heard of him through the grapevine. That’s you, right?” Etho says.

“Yes,” Techno says tentatively.

“What, you’re famous or something?” Cleo asks, though she has a sharp look in her eyes.

He huffs a little. “That’s not really the word that I’d use…”

“I heard you’re quite the fighter and all,” Etho says.

“I guess.” Techno gives glaring at the cream puff another go. It’s better than trying to dissect his feelings towards everything when his brain feels stuffed with whipped cream too.

“What do you know about fighting, Etho?” Cleo asks, snorting.

“I know a thing or two!” Etho says, voice raising in a bit of offense.

“Right. Yes.” The smile in Cleo’s voice seems to make Etho wilt further.

“Who’s making fun of Etho?!” Bdubs voice shouts from across the room, far too far away for apparently having heard them

“Oh, gosh,” Cleo groans.

“Hey, who’s making fun of you Etho?” Bdubs asks as he stomps closer, apparently leaving Ren behind to fend for himself.

“Cleo,” Etho spills immediately, pointing at the zombie hybrid and everything.

Bdubs gasps so loudly, it makes Techno jump a little. “Cleo!”

“He really walked into it himself this time,” Cleo defends, a not at all apologetic smile on her face.

“Oh, why I oughtta—”

As Bdubs starts on a tirade about something called a “flip-flip,” Techno turns his attention down to the plate before him. Slowly, like it’ll avoid detection, Techno goes to grab the pastry sitting before him. Unfortunately, he had tried to use his left hand, which is mighty angry when he twitches his fingers.

With an annoyed huff, Techno drops his useless hand back into his lap and switches to the other one. All he wants is to possibly be poisoned while eating a weird orb of a pastry. Is that too much to ask?

Honestly Techno has it in pretty good regard that it won’t be poisoned, since Etho had grabbed it seemingly at random off of a community plate. But when he looks up from popping the cream puff into his mouth and finds Etho watching him, he starts to reevaluate.

“Whaff?” Techno asks, voice muffled by the dessert.

“How is it?” Etho asks. Possibly like a paltry cat or pitiful assassin.

He pauses to actually chew and swallow the food anyway, mostly because talking through a full mouth when his tongue is uncoordinated from a concussion seems unadvisable. And because the dessert is very good.

“Good,” Techno says when he finally finishes.

“Really?” Etho asks, literally perking up.

“Yeah, really?” Cleo asks, looking skeptical.

“Mhm,” Techno nods.

“See, I told you he’s on the way to being the best chef in the game on top of the redstone, you always doubt, Cleo,” Bdubs babbles, before taking a bite out of one of the cream puffs.

From how his entire body freezes up and practically pales, he must have got the poisoned one. It’s enough that Techno almost reaches out to offer the heimlich maneuver. But luckily Bdubs starts shaking all over, very healthily, so Techno doesn’t have to stoop so low.

He also doesn’t know the heimlich maneuver.

“Bdubs?” Cleo asks, actually looking concerned behind her flickering lips.

“AACH—!” Bdubs shouts as he leans over, dropping the pastry onto the table. The neon white filling inside doesn’t budge even an inch, but it does look a little sad. Techno frowns at the sight.

“Hey,” Etho protests, as Cleo breaks out into uproarious laughter. While she’s patting on her knees, Bdubs wraps his hands around his throat and makes more choking noises that no one seems concerned about.

Deciding to follow suit, Techno keeps his mourning to the pastry.

“This is starting to get offensive,” Etho says, though his eyes squint like he’s smiling.

“It’s, it’s—,” Bdubs coughs into his elbow before whipping around to Techno. “How did you eat that?”

“It was good,” Techno says plainly.

“You— you don’t have to lie, Etho’s got a lot of prospects, it’s true.” Bdubs eyes water as he looks down at Techno.

A small smile pulls at Techno’s lips, mostly out of confusion. He just shrugs.

“I liked it. It was sweet.”

“Thank you, that’s what I was going for,” Etho says. “Finally, someone with good taste. Cleo, would you like to try?”

“Mm, I’ll pass. I think dying once was enough,” Cleo says.

“That’s just rude,” Etho says. “Bdubs, tell her.”

“Uhm, well… Everyone is subject to opinions…”

None of them try to hold back laughter at that, even Etho. It’s interesting to watch, the obvious snipes that everyone tosses out and tanks like it’s nothing. They don’t really seem serious about it all, but still.

“You don’t seem like you’d be much better at cooking,” Techno says, looking at Bdubs judgingly. The man is currently wearing what looks like overalls made out of grass. Techno's had enough grass in his food to know that it doesn't taste amazing.

“Hey! I’m a great cook!”

“Great is a subjective term,” Etho murmurs.

“You can not talk on this,” Bdubs says.

“Lot of practice cooking for your horses, Bdubs?” Cleo asks politely.

“Oh! All of you!” Bdubs growls. “No one appreciates…”

“I like horses,” Techno says. Because they don’t deserve the disrespect.

“You do?” Bdubs asks, looking up with eyes full of hope.

“Don’t be a nice one, Techno,” Cleo chides.

“I’m not,” Techno says seriously, earning some amused snorts.

“Please save the snarking Cleo, we’re talking about horses,” Bdubs says, equally serious, though smiling.

Before Cleo can follow through with the miffed look on her face, someone starts clapping very loud and metallic-y. Everyone turns to look at the armored man standing towards the middle of the room. Xisuma isn’t standing particularly tall or imposingly, but most people’s attention are caught anyway.

“I think that everyone who said they were planning on coming is here—well, almost everyone,” Xisuma says.

From how a few people chuckle, that statement must mean something, though it goes over Techno’s head.

“We can get started anyway. Tango wanted to begin, I think.”

“Right, yes—” Tango says as he stands and starts talking.

While the guided conversation continues, Techno tries to follow along but mostly zones out. This is obviously a meeting that is continuing off of many before and most people know what is being talked about without much preamble. Aside from the occasional thing Techno picks up on, like the general existence of Decked Out or the Shopping District, he’s pretty lost.

Instead he takes time to scan the people standing and sitting around. There’s a lot to see and not just because there’s a lot of people. No one seems shy to pipe up with quips or ideas, and little side conversations and shenanigans are plentiful.

Blue slime in the shape of a person tries to creep up a man in a black bandana, but gets caught before making it anywhere near him. While Techno is sure that the slime hybrid is a player, the way that he falls into a pile of goo on the ground makes him rethink that idea. Then again, it's really not much stranger than people that can fly.

There are some of those people here too. Someone who Techno is certain is named Grian from stories alone will occasionally climb on top of something and drop down, using his rainbow colored wings to glide. It somehow looks like a basic nervous gesture on him. The same way that False—a woman Techno would not turn his back on, even if she acts plenty polite when she's been over to watch him—flips her sword over and over in her hand while wrinkling her nose at the pops of chaos. When she drops the sword onto the ground with a loud clatter, her face turns as pink as Techno's hair.

Tango spends a good portion talking at the start, which also seems to be the time everyone else pays the most attention. Especially Etho, who leaves the table to walk closer while tapping on his communicator without looking. Impulse spends the entire meeting writing intently, so presumably there's not much reason. No one else seems to be going to the trouble, except Cub, but Techno's not totally sure if he's writing notes or something else that warrants amused smiles.

Most calm is probably an old man sitting in the corner, who Techno is certain he's never seen before, but who looks unthreatening even while paying sharp attention.

Techno scratches the back of his neck as the feeling of being watched continues to bore in. 

Overall, the event seems to stay lighthearted. Doc seems all intense while talking about something to do with “redstone chunks” and Xisuma is equally serious while leveling the questions. It never seems like it's going to come to blows or anything, and from how little Techno knows, it seems like Xisuma gives in.

The admin gives in. Sure, Doc's a plenty intimidating creeper hybrid, who seems to have redstone knowledge on top of the first aid stuff, but that's no reason for an admin to fold to a player.

It's the fact that Doc chose to bring whatever he's twisted up about here. Even if Xisuma seems more pliant than most admins, it seems wrong. Dangerous. Far more so than planning a coup or killing some people or whatever. If that fails, at least there was a good try beforehand.

Except that Xisuma taps on his stupid little comm while Doc sits down, neither looking particularly overjoyed in victory or distraught in defeat. 

There's only one person sitting between them, Ren. He looks flat out bored, not feeling any tension, if there is any.

Why did it go like this? Why did Doc know it would go like this? Why wasn't Xisuma surprised or upset that it did?

Then, Techno thinks back to being caught and tied up and interrogated by these people. He hardly remembers the blurry scene, but the adrenaline keeps some memories sharp. No one was scared to threaten him and look like they could and would kill him.

But they also didn't hurt him directly. Maybe because he was already hurt, there wasn't a point. It seemed like everyone was shocked by his injuries, so they likely didn't know at first. They could have been waiting to hurt him till later.

It seemed like Xisuma was equally as open to talking back then, if not far more tense and cold. Techno doesn't know if things would have changed if he gave all the information right away. Would they have killed him? Let him free? Imprisoned him in this weird way where they take him to dinner?

He's not dead right now. Even though keeping him alive isn't helping them, he's not exactly giving them much more information or help. Yet they're helping him stay alive.

There's pain behind his forehead, cutting in like blades. Swords or sharpened eyes. Who's staring at him? What are they going to—?

“Hallo, fancy seeing you here,” An artificially twisting voice says.

Techno blinks back to awareness, confused about when his eyes fell shut. It's off-putting with how close the woman beside him is. Though when he squishes up his brow in focus, taking in the tall woman in a navy colored suit with red ribbons, she doesn’t seem too intimidating. Her limbs are willowly and long, and her clothes aren’t made for battle. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It's possible that the most dangerous people on this server are the ones that look the least like it.

“What?” Techno asks.

“You know, cause, fancy, based on the last time we saw each other,” The woman says with a smile. When Techno stares on uncomprehending, she laughs. “In the shopping district right over there, so we’re kind of in the same place again... I'm just kidding.”

“Oh,” Techno says. Then he actually thinks about what that means. Squinting hard, he looks over the woman more closely, actually paying attention to her face “Pearl?” 

“Oh, you do remember me,” She chuckles, sounding relieved. “That’s crazy good, because that joke was bombing so hard I’m not sure I could survive it.”

It’s a bit of a relatable statement, Techno has felt close to dropping dead during just about every social interaction on this planet. But also Pearl is the one who engaged him in this one, so no sympathy.

“It was the different clothes. You look fancy now,” Techno defends anyway. “And the concussion.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment then.” Pearl places a hand on her chest with flourish.

“What? How?” Techno asks.

“Wha?” She repeats back at him, using that fake voice again.

Techno blinks blankly. Hm. 

“Nice to meet you. Properly,” Techno says politely.

“Nice to meet you too! Properly-properly,” Pearl says, happily.

The smile on her face seems pleasant and real, not like she’s trying to jab at Techno about anything despite her joking tones. So he offers a small smile back, only feeling moderately awkward and hit over the head. Which is less awkward than normal, honestly. And far less bonked over the head than normal.

“Howdy, ya’ll!” A chipper voice says from behind Techno.

It is, unfortunately, not the first time Techno has heard that voice from behind him. He turns, not bothering to keep the pout annoyed look off of his face. The polite smile of the man, with neon green glasses and that suspicious turqousie shirt, that gets leveled on Techno does not feel as inviting.

“”Did ya’ll need anything? Food look good?” The man, Joe, Techno is pretty sure, says.

“Looks absolutely lovely. Well, most of it,” Pearl laughs.

“That’s great! Grab a plate, take a load off,” Joe says, waving towards the dishes across the table.

“Mm, maybe not from over here,” Pearl says, eyeing Etho's plate of cream puffs.

“That would likely be for the best,” Joe says.

Techno squints his eyes at the man more.

“I think they're good,” Techno says.

“Oh?” Joe sounds surprised.

“Yes.” Techno nods resolutely.

“That's great!” Joe says, pressing his palms together. “Please try anything that looks good, there's plenty!”

In his attempt to squint further, Techno's eyes fully close. Then it just looks like he's having a really long and clumsy blink. But he thinks it gets the point across still.

It doesn't seem to phase Joe an inch though. He looks as pleasant as someone who just got told that the assessment that the sun is about to explode is actually false and they've got a toasty couple million years left. He kind of wishes that he could make the sun explode right now, just to dash his hopes.

“You okay, Techno? You look a little peaky-pecky,” Pearl pokes.

“The sun isn't exploding,” Techno says sadly.

“Huh?”

“Oh, would you look at that,” Joe says, looking upwards like he's double checking. If anything, he looks happier now.

Darn.

“Well, I'll leave y'all to it,” Joe says, as someone calls his name. “Enjoy yourselves!”

Far after the man wanders off to a group of men holding playing cards in their hands, seemingly talking about them instead of actually playing, Techno tracks his movements. Joe turns back to them briefly after sitting down, waving openly at Techno. 

Techno pouts scowls further.

“I’ve gotta catch up with the bonkers flavor of drama,” Pearl murmurs, watching the ordeal go down. 

“What?” Techno asks.

“Oh, nothing. Though I swear I miss some of the crazier stuff when I’m offworld doing our little yearly-biyearly-somethingyearly competition. I swear the rest of the Hermits hold back the shenangians till we’re gone to get back at us,” Pearl laughs.

“Offworld? How do you go there And back?” Techno asks, skeptical. There’s not many planets that are hooked up to hubs for easy travel, and this one doesn’t seem like one.

“Oh, er— We do have some portals hooked about, but they’re not the kind that can get you anywhere you want. Just to Grian’s server and a couple other special places that we’ve gotta work to set up. If it was stellar easy, we’d pop you off to a community server lickity.”

The line of questioning does make Pearl look a little like a caught dog. The kind with the really long snouts and suspicious eyes. It doesn’t seem like she’s totally pulling his leg or anything, but she seems kind of uncertain talking about it. Maybe just taken off guard.

If the Hermits had a choice of not keeping Techno around, someone they obviously don’t trust, they probably would do that. Even if they don’t seem immediately inclined to murder.

That thought makes Techno feel… weird. Chest turbulent and uncomfortable.

Silently, he turns back to the table before him, watching as people slowly fill into chairs and start grabbing food without preamble. Now that the meeting is over, everyone seems to be in a better mood. They weren’t even in a bad mood during the meeting, they’re just more jovial now, laughing, having boisterous conversations. Like being around each other unrestrained is exciting.

It’s a little similar to when soldiers would drink and be rough after victories, but also… so different.

Techno always felt so uncomfortable in those spaces, like everyone was holding a blade to his back. This should feel worse. But it doesn’t.

“Sorry if I upset you somehow, love. I didn’t mean to,” Pearl says, more gently.

Techno jolts as if she had yelled, face feeling warm at the gooey pet name. If this concussion doesn’t kill him the normal name, the inability to control his freaking face will.

“No, I just—” Techno casts his eyes around, brain fumbling. “Was thinking about the food!”

“Oh?” She looks skeptical, amused. A smile stretches over her face. “Don’t think too hard or you’ll psych yourself out. The trick is not to look to hard at anyone’s cooking.”

As Techno rolls his eyes, he reaches out and plucks another one of the cream puffs off of the platter. It visibly makes Pearl cringe. She reaches out as Techno takes a bite.

“I didn’t mean Etho’s food with that slight, don’t poison yourself now!”

Distantly, Etho shouts, “Hey!” Perhaps sensing that someone is slandering him.

Techno grabs another pastry before he finishes this one, holding it close to himself in a way that distinctly shows he is not going to give it up for anything less than having his hand chopped off. Pearl is laughing, but somehow still looks concerned.

“Can someone stop the child from eating Etho's suspicious concoctions?!” Pearl shouts over her shoulder.

“I'm not a child,” Techno says through a mouth full of pastry.

“You are doing the equivalent of shoving your fingers into a light socket right now!”

Someone vaguely shouts back, but Pearl just huffs and grabs the platter off of the table. While watching, Techno can’t help frowning, even though he doesn’t make a move to stop her.

“Please eat literally any of the other numerous desserts,” Pearl says. Though it sounds more like bargaining.

“... But I like those ones,” Techno says quietly.

Pearl’s eyes grow wide, staring at Techno intently. They almost seem to waver a bit, filled with moisture, like she’s internally fighting something. When Techno tilts his head to the side a little, she closes her eyes and makes a bubbly, drowning noise.

“Your pathetic cuteness will not manipulate me!” Pearl shouts, before turning and striding away with the plate above her head.

A bit of concern fills Techno as he watches, though when everyone simply smiles and chuckles while when she runs past them, he lets himself turn away with a huff. An interesting woman. Then again, she did say something about trash creations, so what did he expect? Not much, if anything, honestly. He's had enough people to worry about other than ones who show up, act silly, and then leave.

Regardless, Techno shrugs it off and tentatively starts grabbing food out of the dishes nearby like everyone else is doing. No one seems to mind following the screeching cream puff incident. In fact, the trays and bowls get passed to him with polite looks and smiles. It’s odd, like he’s not sure what to do with his face or hands.

So instead of trying to parse it out, he eats his food. It’s as nice as anything he’s eaten on this server. Which apparently there’s plenty, everywhere except chests in the starter bases.

The feeling of eyes digging into him never quite goes away. With everyone sitting at the same table, he tries to search them now, like someone will pop out this time.

No one does, too focused on their own conversations and such. Techno frowns as a disarmed shudder grabs at him. When he peels his eyes apart forcibly, it takes a moment for Techno to realize that he’s meeting someone’s face now. Just a little ways down the table, the man with rainbow bird wings sits, purple eyes now trained on Techno casually.

The gaze doesn’t really feel casual though. He has the urge to shiver again, and he’s certain that the unnerved feeling is this Grian guy. How he didn’t notice when he’s so close, he doesn’t know.

With two fingers, Grian waves breezily, not as intense as his eyes would make one believe. 

“Yo,” Grian says, voice not particularly loud, but still traveling well enough.

“Hello,” Techno says back, still slightly confused.

“You seem like the entertaining sort,” Grian says, which sure doesn’t clear anything up for Techno.

“Heh?”

The man snorts, and shakes his head a little. During the amusement, his eyes slide shut. But Techno is pretty sure he’s being observed equally as much.

The smile on Grian’s face is a bit easier now.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. They definitely wouldn’t give you up, you’re too… interesting.”

While he’s pretty sure that his being lost isn’t totally due to the head injury, but that might make more sense than whatever nonsense is being talked about. The obvious bewildered look on Techno’s face makes Grian’s smile widen even further. It looks slightly cheeky. Maybe he’s trying to confuse Techno.

“Are you messing with the concussed guy?” Cleo asks, shoving her hand in front of Grian’s face. Seems useless considering his seeming… ways.

“Nope. Tech is all good in my books,” Grian says, shrugging.

“Really? This is the first time you’re actually meeting him.” Cleo sounds skeptical.

“I’m a friendly guy!” Grian says, half offended. “Plus, I can tell when someones a wrong’un. He doesn’t have the look.”

Cleo scoffs. “You’re annoying on purpose and we can all tell too.”

“That implies I’m doing something successfully.”

“I guess!” Cleo throws her palms up as Grian laughs again.

Very weird. But, no more than anyone else on this server. Techno shrugs and turns away, feeling a bit better about the sense of someone staring into his soul. It could technically be a worse person. And it doesn’t seem like Grian is bluffing in his indifference towards Techno, which is good.

Far fewer people seem to be eyeing him up at this point in the night. It’s either that or he’s just getting tired, but he’s inclined to think it’s the first option. No one jerks their faces over when he makes a sudden move anymore.

Almost like they’re getting used to him or something.

Techno thinks he should be offended that he’s being written off as not a threat, but he’s honestly not. It’s almost nice. Like with everyone being more relaxed towards him, he can feel more relaxed in general. Which is very well an awful thing to be, but even Techno gets tired while healing from head wounds.

He lets himself sink into it, just a little bit. Eating till he’s full, even if it makes him a little more sluggish. And turning his body towards someone if they address him, even if his back is too exposed.

Nothing bad happens, and he almost expects it that way.

The strangeness of these people may be contagious.

Around the time that people start pushing away their plates, a sudden burst of fireworks fill the air overhead. Techno jumps a bit, tracing the sound till it finally lands outside with a less than gentle sound. There’s a few seconds before someone in a wheelchair rolls into the room.

“Phew, sorry if I’m a couple minutes late, there was a whole ordeal with Jellie and the minecarts— What did I miss?” Scar says, recognizable after a bit of internal searching on Techno’s part. The man had been walking last time, but then again, so had Techno and he hadn’t been able to get up the pinball machine on his own.

“Scar, we’ve been done for ages,” Grian calls, sounding far more exasperated now.

“What?” Scar asks. “I brought cookies!”

A couple laughs ring around the table, nobody looking too surprised. Even for his part, Scar doesn’t look the most taken off guard. Tardiness must not be a stranger.

“Just read the meeting notes tomorrow,” Impulse shouts, wagging his communicator in the air like it’s nothing.

“This is absurdity,” Scar murmurs, but then he rolls over to the table where someone is shoving a chair out of the way.

Everything drifts back into the good cheer of a couple minutes before, now with Scar telling an overexcited tale about a cat. Techno’s unsure if the cat is metaphorical or not, but they sound like quite the handful. Though Scar caused at least half the issues himself, in Techno’s opinion.

As the evening draws later, a few people start to wrap everything up and head out. Luckily, Gem says she has to go to bed pretty early on, and she carries Techno down the scaffolding while he ignores that it is happening. There’s also the boat ride back to land and the walk to the teapot house for Techno’s face to lose the heat at how many people giggled at him having a “piggyback ride.” And also everyone saying goodbye cheerfully.

“I’m going to relax in the other spare room for a bit, if you need me. And then I think Hypno is going to stay here overnight,” Gem says as Techno steps into the room he’s staying in.

“Okay. Goodnight,” Techno says.

“Goodnight!” Gem chirps.

He closes the door with a soft click, listening as Gem’s hooves tap away on the floors. Then it’s mostly quiet in the house, aside from some kind of animal croaking outside. A frog? Techno’s never seen a living one.

Careful not to break the silence, Techno starts to get ready for bed. His head feels fuzzy, tired already. Over and over, he has to rub his eyes to clear them.

Not that it helps him stay awake, since he starts to sway slightly while pulling off his shoes. The exhaustion hits him so quickly that he’s dizzy with it. Grappling, he kneels and presses his palms into the ground. 

It’s like the floor is moving too, practically made of liquid. Techno’s heart flips over as panic floods his mouth. It’s happening again. He’s—he’s falling? Down into the water, off of the ladders—

Pain smacks his body as he hits the water, drowning and dripping into nothing and pieces of kelp. Fish must be nibbling the left over bits of him.

It tastes like torn open wounds when he blurrily blinks back to himself. Confusedly, he looks around where he’s on the ground. Hadn’t he gotten up? No, it’s nighttime now… What had happened?

Before he can think that through, a violent hand squeezes around his chest. Violently, he curls forward and starts coughing. As he tries to cup a hand over his mouth, spit slicks over his lips, spattering downwards and between his fingers. But as he parts his blurry eyes, he notices bright red streaked across them.

Techno inhales sharply at the sight, which just lodges the fluid deeper into his lungs, unearthing more coughs. He has enough sense to try and muffle the sound, since being loud is never good. His fear over the sight is not tempered any though.

Coughing up blood isn’t good. It follows stabs to the chest or ages of sickness. Techno swears that he’s had more blood splatter on his face from other people coughing after he’s popped their lungs than his own.

Not now though, with no one around to watch as he writhes on the floor as blood collects in his palm. Just Techno and his lungs pushing up the fluid of his life. He can practically feel the blood tingle on his skin, his God pleased at the first sacrifice in a while. It’d be comforting, not to be alone in this, if only they were truly here.

Techno hears a squeak from behind him, making him jerk around and scramble a few feet backwards. No one is there, but he stares at the wall for a few seconds anyway. The sound comes again, like someone shifting.

Oh, right. He’s not alone right now. Not really.

Chest shuddering, Techno imagines Gem on the other side of the wall. Dragging him around the server and carrying him and laughing at others. Blood plops off of his chin, and he thinks about calling out to her. He’s certain that she will come.

Before he can, he bites down on his tongue. The taste of iron grows stronger.

This isn’t good, something happening to him. It’s making him weaker, sicker, more injured. And while he’s certain that if most of the people on this server saw him like this, if Gem did, they would reach out and help stop the emergency, he’s not sure what after.

What does it mean that he keeps losing consciousness? Like he’s too useless to even stay awake and standing.

If Techno can’t even stay upright and hold a sword, what is he worth? It’s not like Techno’s staying here forever, but as long as he does... He wants the Hermits to keep looking at him like a person. A stranger, a potential enemy, but still a person the same as them.

Their kindness shouldn’t matter beyond it keeping him alive. But in this moment, Techno stifles his coughs further and realizes that it does.

He lays on the floor, long after the coughing stops and the floor spins around him, convinced that he’ll simply fall down again.

Chapter Text

It’s worse to wake up before a disaster is about to happen than right in the middle of one.

When Techno wakes up to a knife at his throat or hands yanking his hair or a foot digging into his ribs, his body knows what to do. The exact ways to twist and escape and fight back to stay alive. Surviving a life threatening moment is simple, in a way.

When there’s minutes till it all comes crashing down, enough time to panic and be forced to come up with a plan to stop everyone from dying, that’s far worse.

The smell of smoke, horse hooves hammering on the ground, or the worst of the worse: screaming.

Techno wakes up to screaming.

It’s faint, muffled, but audible enough to be close. His hands move purely on autopilot as they search his hip for his sword. It’s not there, not on the mattress as he searches further, eyes wide and looking around the dark room. What’s—

“HEY!” A loud shout comes from far too close, a single wall away from Techno. He freezes where he lays, as though playing dead will help him stay alive. What a stupid impulse. 

Following the shout is a loud thud, slamming right against the glass beside Techno’s head. His arteries sting at how the blood jumps within them, trying to run since apparently his body is deciding not to. If it wouldn’t bleed him dry, he’d probably encourage it, so at least part of him can survive.

Instead of a projectile or person breaking through the window and trying to help his blood along, a few more thuds follow. 

And the shouting: “HEY! BEAUTIFUL DAY! PLEASE WAKE UP!”

Blinking in confusion, Techno slowly pulls himself out of bed, knees shaking a bit too much for the bedroom around him being still and quiet. He’s equally tentative as he peeks through the window, half expecting an arrow to fly through his skull immediately.

Instead, when he looks outside, a short man is standing below the window, looking up at the second floor. The man drops his hand, as though he was preparing to throw something before Techno showed himself. That explains the thuds.

“OPEN THE WINDOW!” Bdubs shrieks, because Techno has realized that the clump of mostly green moss must be said man.

He’s not totally sure if he should open the window, considering the shouting and throwing things and memories of blood sticking to his eyelids. But none of the other Hermits have shown themselves, so he kind of has to listen to this one.

Fiddling with the window, Techno is shocked when he’s able to turn the slightly sticky lock and push it open. It hadn’t been locked from the outside or with a key. That’s interesting. Even with a concussion, Techno could probably climb down from the second floor like this.

There’s no climbing involved yet, as Techno leans over the window sill and looks down at Bdubs.

“There you are, goodness sakes!” Bdubs stomps a little and sets his hands on his hips.

“What’s happening?” Techno calls down, voice cracking slightly.

“I was knocking on the door for ages, and you never answered!”

“The bedroom door?” Techno questions, turning behind him to check. It is in fact closed, but not even locked. Nor thick enough to stop him from waking at knocking.

“No! The front door!” Bdubs shouts back.

It’s a little odd Techno didn’t wake to that. Then again, he was kind of exhausted when he went to sleep. Honestly, he’s been exhausted lately in general. Almost more so than right after he got injured, but it’s a difficult comparison. And not only because that period of time is quite fuzzy in his mind.

Still. “Why were you knocking?” Techno calls down.

“Wh— Because you knock on doors! That’s what people do!” Bdubs yowls.

“It’s unlocked though,” Techno says.

For a good few seconds, only the breeze and some chirpy birds fill the air around them. Bdubs is frozen solid. Techno’s almost worried that he’s had his heart ripped out or something and is about to flop over dead.

Right when Techno’s thinking about going down there and checking his pulse, Bdubs leans back with a groan. Then he takes off around the side of the house, leaving Techno hanging out of the window all alone. Kind of rude.

Techno doesn’t bother closing the window before stepping back inside and taking a deep breath. He thinks that everything is okay. Unless Bdubs was going to tell him that the world is exploding or something…

Chewing on his mouth, he hurries out of the bedroom and down the stairs as he hears Bdubs slam into the house.

The man looks equally as ruffled as he did outside, if not more so from close up. While he’s huffing and puffing, Techno prepares for what’s to come. Not that it’s easy, considering he has no clue what it could be. Monsters? Murderers? A secret third thing that starts with M?

Bdubs growls and leans over till his hands are resting on his knees. With a furrowed face, Techno steps closer.

“You look like a drowned fish. What are you on about?” Techno finally asks.

“I can't believe the door was unlocked!” Bdubs shouts.

Techno raises an eyebrow. "I don't think it's ever locked. I'm to be kept in, not to keep others out.”

“Kept in, yes… Except! I have a very important task for us!”

“What?” Techno asks, skeptical.

“Horsing.”

“... Horsing?”

“Horsing around.” Bdubs nods.

Mouth dropping open, just a little bit, Techno brings his fingers to his chin as though deep in thought. And in some ways he is. About horsing and horsing around and horse hooves on the ground. Also about how his bare feet are pressing against the cold ground. He's cold.

Turning around, Techno starts walking back up the stairs towards the bedroom.

Laughter sounds from behind him and he can hear Bdubs following after.

“Wait, where are you going?” Bdubs calls.

“To get dressed,” Techno says plainly.

“Oh, okay. Wear something you think the horses will like!”

With that ominous piece of advice, Techno closes himself in the bedroom. Then he practically collapses against the door, limbs shivering with unused adrenaline. It’s the worst, feeling like this. Like he has to get the energy out or he’ll die. Though at this point, he mostly just feels like he’s going to puke. Running and puking go hand in hand, so it's fitting.

He doesn’t much feel like doing that right now, even as his skin squirms. So instead he turns to the dresser half full of clothes that Cleo has dropped off here and there and tries to find something appropriate for working with horses. Shoveling will surely make his head ache, but at least it’ll force his muscles to relax.

With that thought in mind, Techno quickly gets dressed and glances at his hair before giving up without trying to touch it. That might be a lost cause that no amount of horse spit can make worse. 

When Techno walks back downstairs, what he thinks is only a few minutes later, he finds Bdubs splayed across a counter, typing at his communicator. The man doesn’t seem to notice him, so Techno simply stops where he is and stares till he does. It is, in fact, a very appropriate and normal type of human interaction, actually. As shown when Bdubs glances up, widens his very wide eyes even further, and promptly falls off the counter.

“Sheesh! You’re quiet!”

“The concussed are renowned for their dexterity,” Techno drones.

“I suppose that’s true…” Bdubs nods, like he’s said something really wise. “Well, anyway. Horse time!”

With an absent swipe of his hand, Bdubs flicks away his comm screen where it’s still floating, semi-tangible. It seems like everyone on the server can summon their communicators like that. Techno’s never been on a server that worked like that.

“You did say you like horses, and I take all horse-girl accusations seriously,” Bdubs says. Seriously.

“I do like horses,” Techno says, deciding to ignore the parts of the statement that he doesn’t understand.

“For good reason!” Bdubs chirps. “I’ve got a whole horse course for racing them, I’m sure you’d be better than most of the chumps on the server! But it’s pretty far, so you’ll have to wait till flight or Nether travel is safe.”

That’ll be a bit, till Techno’s head is fully healed that is. He doesn’t think learning to use an elytra before then would be advisable, even for him. Not that there’s any reason that the Hermits would give him an elytra, that seems kind of risky.

Then again, they all use them to get around the server, so it’s not as scarce a resource as it is on most servers. Or maybe that makes it more scarce? More valuable at least. Or maybe less?

Techno frowns as it all gets mixed up in his head, like his shoelaces with too many knots. It doesn’t matter, he thinks as he shakes his head. He’ll probably be gone before that ever comes up.

That’s what he wants, after all.

“You have ridden before, right? Or do you just like them?” Bdubs asks. “Horses, that is. No shame either way. Don’t judge a man and his horsing.”

“I’ve ridden,” Techno cuts off the rambling. “I’ve kind of had a horse before. I’d ride him everywhere.”

Horses are almost inconvenient on the battlefield, unless you know how to use them. Which of course Techno learned, mostly before he brought the animals into harm's way. Keeping Brick alive for as long as he stayed on that planet was probably his proudest moment. He wishes he could have brought that dumb with him when it all collapsed.

“Oh, good,” Bdubs says.

Perhaps Techno should have expected the giant horse head next to the shopping district to have horses there, but he honestly didn’t. Which just makes the experience of walking over a hill, slightly dizzy from said walking, and seeing a field full of horses frolicking around a little more magical. Is this a devine reward for keeping most of his horses alive?

A horse raises its head, seeming to look at him like it’s agreeing. 

“Take it all in,” Bdubs says, splaying his hands out at the sight.

For once, the man is not exaggerating much. The sight really is beautiful, with a carved horse head and a cathedral looking building and a giant castle that is across a river, so probably not connected to the horses, but it’s still prettier than all the castles Techno's seen that were owned by actual rulers.

“Did you build this?” Techno asks.

“Why, yes! This part of the land, and trust me, if you saw it before the landscaping, you’d know what a feat that was.”

“It’s cool,” Techno says honestly.

“Really?” Bdubs asks, sounding a bit taken off guard. Then he recovers and slaps a smile over his face. “I mean, that’s what I was going for.”

Techno snorts, taking off towards the fields proper. Even if he’s going to be shoveling manure in shoes that don’t quite fit him, he doesn’t much care. He would like to pet the horses.

“Oh, I’ve got a spare apron, if you don’t want to get dirty,” Bdubs says as he jogs down the hill. 

“I don’t really care.”

And he doesn’t. As he reaches the fences, a couple of the nearby horses look up and walk over curiously, huffing towards him. Techno smiles and offers a palm slowly.

A white horse blows air onto his hand, before tentatively sticking his nose against it. The feeling of the slightly fuzzy, slightly wet, surface makes Techno jump. The reaction earns laughter from Bdubs.

“They're all nice, don't worry.”

“I'm not scared of a horse, it just surprised me,” Techno says flatly.

“Mm, maybe be scared of old Ripper over there. He thirsts for blood.” Bdubs points at a horse that seems to be failing to eat grass below it's own feet.

“Maybe your blood.” 

“Hey! They all love me!” Bdubs shouts, incensed.

The fact that none of the horses startle at the yelling says more about Bdubs’ proclivities than the horses, Techno is quite certain. Instead of sparing the man any more time, Techno grabs onto the fence and sets about climbing over it. 

“WHA— There’s a fence gate right over there!” Bdubs yells some more. 

“You’re being boring,” Techno says, arms shaking as he hefts himself upwards.

“Boring! You said I’m cool.”

“I said your horses are cool.”

Then Techno has to focus really hard on not falling or exploding or something. Obviously he has to get back into climbing fences, since he’s the definition of rusty. Who knows when he’ll have to take off over a fence to escape someone. Or to pet a horse.

After tripping onto the ground, Techno turns and watches as Bdubs somehow seems to flail over the fence with even less elegance than he did. It’s impressive, how Bdub’s jacket gets wrapped around his head and he nearly starts choking himself. Silently and still as the horses, he watches the sad scene. It’s like a video someone would take to talk about pathetic animals in need of donations.

Techno does not have any money, embarrassing as it may be, so he just turns away and starts eyeing up the horses. A couple of them look skeptical, but most do seem to be friendly. More friendly than the war horses, that’s for sure. Not that Techno blames them. They had to be tough to survive.

Softly, Techno makes a clicking sound, holding out his palms again.

Immediately, the closest horses walk closer. They’re not shy to nuzzle into his clothes and pockets, searching for treats seemingly. It nearly sends Techno falling over, but he just huffs in amusement.

“Greedy little ingrates. You’d think I didn’t feed them,” Bdubs says, finally righting himself.

“Maybe they’re hungry,” Techno says.

“Don’t spoil them, they’ll never leave you alone.”

That doesn’t sound too bad to Techno. He pets at the horse noses and heads that aren’t focused solely on nipping at him. One pushes past and nuzzles against his face, making him jerk before giggling at the ticklish feeling.

“You’ve already fallen victim, I’m afraid,” Bdubs says grimly.

Techno scoffs. “We’ll make you fall victim.”

The squawking scream noise that Bdubs lets out makes the horses stop nibbling at him in annoyance. Techno can’t blame them. The noises are very loud and sudden. That just seems to be how the man is.

“Do you have supplies to take care of them?” Techno asks.

“In the barn,” Bdubs says. While pointing at the cathedral. Because that’s what barns look like here, apparently. “You don’t have to do any hard labor though, I’ve got it covered. Don’t let them guilt you.”

Before Techno can disagree, one of the horses promptly smacks their head into his front, knocking the air out of his lungs with an oomph.   If not for the amount of horses around to grab onto and catch his weight, he would have fallen onto his butt.

Bdubs' snickers go ignored.

This time, Techno follows the path out of the fence gate down towards the “barn.” There’s horse hoof impressions in some of the dirt, like they’ve been led up and down this way a bunch of times. It makes Techno smile a little bit.

The barn has a few horses in the stalls, resting and laying down mostly. Techno walks down the inner aisle slowly, taking in the different animals. 

A few of them have bows and braids and different pretty things like that on them. It strangely springs something up in his mind. It had never occurred to him that he could actually do something with horse hair. Most of the war horses had short hair, cropped to keep it from snagging or getting yanked.

“I don’t play favorites, but these are my favorites,” Bdubs says.

At Techno’s unimpressed look, Bdubs snickers again. At the end of the barn is a slightly larger stall, which a large dark brown horse is curled up within. When the two of them draw near, the horse looks up, ears flickering.

“And this is Mi Amore, who is my amore. Etho gave her to me, actually,” Bdubs says.

When Techno offers his hand to the horse, she simply snorts towards him in disdain.

“I think she’s tired,” Techno says flatly.

“Oh, yes. She could use some exercise I think,” Bdubs says, amused. “Come on, Mi Amore!”

The horse seems to practically sigh, before she stands with a sort of elegance. Unlike the other horses, Mi Amore appears casual, like she’s moseying closer by pure chance. It’s so purposefully refined that Techno can’t help laughing at the sight. Though he covers his mouth to try and muffle it, so that she won’t see.

“Do you want to take her for a walk? Or, you could ride her, if you wanted,” Bdubs offers.

“Really?” Techno asks, surprised even though it is a logical progression.

“Yeah, sure! Mi Amore plays tough, but she has a soft streak if you win her over.”

“I think I need some apples for that,” Techno says, keeping his palms visible and movements slow. If it works on skittish horses, it’ll probably work on these more tamed ones.

“Nah, don’t let her push you around,” Bdubs says while opening the door to the paddock, looping a lead over her head. “If she seems too rough, I can take over.”

Techno rolls his eyes at that, not cowed at the idea. He’s not going to be scared off by a horse. Or lose the chance to at least lead her around, or actually ride her. It’s the closest thing he got to fun on the battlefield, if you don't count trick shots with the bow. Which he doesn't really. That was all business of course.

“If she lets me, I'd like to ride her,” Techno says.

“Sure, sure! Just introduce yourself,” Bdubs says.

It feels like he's being teased or something, but aside from narrowing his eyes a bit, Techno turns to the horse.

“Hello, Mi Amore. Nice to meet you.”

“She says nice to meet you back,” Bdubs says.

“No she did not.”

“She did!” Bdubs laughs.

Mi Amore sneezes, obviously in agreement with Techno. Techno nods his head back at her, showing his support. Her sparkling eyes seem to glimmer at him a bit more.

“Don't look into her eyes, she'll hypnotize you,” Bdubs warns.

Techno scoffs. “No she won't.”

Carefully, he reaches out and sets his hands onto Mi Amore’s neck. She seems to eye him up for a couple seconds, before lowering her head so she's easier to reach. Watching her body language closely, Techno risks scratching her behind the ears. They flicker in response, but she doesn't seem displeased.

“What the— Apparently you're the hypnotizer!” Bdubs says, shocked.

“Isn't that the guy with the bandana?” Techno asks obtusely.

In what Techno thinks is a laugh, Bdubs blows air out of his lips very loudly. Like the horses, Techno's ears only twitch a bit. Guess that's how they became desensitized.

“Can I ride her then?” Techno asks.

“Yeah, she'll probably be fine for you it seems. Just don't dig your heels in too hard, she's got gentle skin,” Bdubs says, going off and collecting the gear off the walls after passing Techno the lead.

“Pretty sure all horses have gentle skin,” Techno says, rubbing Mi Amore's nose.

“That's true. Except this one horse I had, Old Snow Cone was it, I think. I swear, I could call his name for ages, and he'd never even twitch! Densest horse you'd ever meet, but you can't be mad.”

That description reminds Techno of Brick dead on. Well, hence the name. Not that he could ever be harsh to the horse anyway. He was stupid and stubborn, but sweet.

Smiling, Techno leads Mi Amore out easier than most of his horses would go.

“You know how to put the tack on?” Bdubs asks, arms full of saddles and such.

“Yeah.” Techno takes the saddle from him.

It's heavy, made of nice leather. There's colored thread around the edges and seams. The stitches are neat and nice despite the thing looking well worn. He wonders if Cleo helped make it, or Bdubs, or someone else. 

Gently, Techno tosses the saddle onto Mi Amore's back, humming softly at her. She doesn’t seem bothered by it. Techno will have to snag apples for her anyway.

“Where'd you learn to do all this stuff?” Bdubs asks.

“Kind of just over time. Watching others and stuff,” Techno says. “It was a useful skill.”

“Indeed. Horsery is an underrated skill,” Bdubs says.

Techno snorts, but doesn’t make a move to disagree. While being a novice tripping over a horse is obviously a detriment, once you’re skilled enough, it’s quite useful. And fun.

After Mi Amore gets all geared up, Techno pets her neck before grabbing onto the cantle to climb up. It is inarguably much harder than climbing a fence, and yet it seems to come to Techno more naturally. He only wobbles a little bit while perched on the saddle.

The horse nickers, standing tall and boosting Techno far above the world. He can see the whole field from up here, the other horses spread out like swipes of paint across a green canvas.

“There’s a basic path around this whole area. Feel free to lap around it,” Bdubs says.

Techno doesn’t have to be told twice. Firmly, he presses his heels into the flanks of the horse, tugging on the reins till Mi Amore takes off. And she sure does take off, trotting quicker than Techno expected. But he simply readjusts his grip and holds on a little tighter. If she wants to run, who is he to stop her?

Well, as the rider, he's technically the only one to stop her, but he doesn't really want to either. His head and limbs and body have been so sluggish and useless for weeks at this point. Even before getting hurt, he wasn't anywhere near top shape while L’manburg was practically trying to keep him weak. Keep him unable to fight back. Which is a stupid thing to do to their supposed weapon, but it's not like he would take it lying down if he was well enough. Not anymore or ever again.

Pressing his legs into Mi Amore's sides and leaning forward, the two of them take off a little faster. It's not a sprint or anything, but they're going far faster than he could run. For once, his head and limbs feel light and clear.

Very light and clear. Maybe too light and clear. The inside of his skull starts to feel… empty.

It's like all the thoughts in his head are trickling out behind him. Through the wind and the clip-clopping of hooves, he can feel his brains streak backwards like his and the horse's hair.

The sense that something is wrong manages to beat its way into him, but by then he really can't stop. His hands squeeze the reins and his legs tighten uncontrollably. If the horse notices, she doesn't respond. Not as far as Techno can tell, but even his skull seems to be shattering apart now.

As darkness starts to drag him down, his eyes flicker upwards. All he can see is the blue, blue sky. It seems even more endless than the void.

Then it hurts.

Like his body is being pulled till he's the bundle of tangled thread at the bottom of Cleo’s sewing bag. Fraying and peeling till surely he's nothing. Except he must be something, since all of him is being scrunched up, ever more tangled.

Slowly, the threads are picked at and tugged on. Pulled till the knot is tighter, but occasionally they'll pop free. Lopsided and breaking, Techno feels a tightness behind his eyes.

His eyelids are sewn shut, skin buckling between the too tight stitches. It must be Techno's handiwork. He always ruins the fabric…

“ —echno? Can you hear me?”

The voice is loud, screechy like an angry bird. Techno raises a hand to try and flap the offending animal away, though the limb feels overly floppy. He screws his face up even further, making it pound more.

A calloused hand wraps around his twitching one, squeezing so hard that it hurts. More annoyed than anything, Techno finally pries his eyes open.

The face above him is far too close. Techno tries to flinch backwards, but he ends up squishing into the ground awkwardly. Or what he thinks is the ground, though it's more plush than he would imagine, especially with how sensitive and painful his head feels.

“Are you alright? Do you know who I am? Do you know who you are?!”

The person above him speaks so loudly that Techno automatically makes a move to smack them away again. But his hand is trapped and the other is too sluggish at his side to try with it.

Which just leaves him picking over the words with difficulty. Is he alright? He feels… weird. Kind of sick, kind of bad. But he thinks that might be normal.

And of course Techno knows who he is, how could he not know himself? Is the man stupid? The man who… Techno squints up at him.

He is certainly familiar, but somehow, Techno can't quite put a name to him. But he's just not good with names, so that's not that unusual. Except, he's kind of laying in the man's lap, so he probably knows him well enough to know his name…

As Techno's eyes dance away from the not quite unknown man, he sees a horse stomping and pacing with agitation nearby.

Painstakingly, he raises his free hand and points at it.

“Horse.”

“Oh god, I broke him!” 

The man is still shouting, and he looks genuinely upset. Which is not good, Techno is certain. But he thinks yelling is a normal state for him, isn't it? Is something wrong or not?

“Bdubs?” Techno asks, head hurting worse as his confusion becomes more obvious. “What's wrong?”

“WHA—” Bdubs cuts himself off when Techno cringes. “You fell. Don't you remember?”

Techno shakes his head slowly, cognizant of how it makes his brains feel mixed up and watery. Did he hit his head again?

“You were shaking a bunch and unconscious! I messaged Doc, and Xisuma, and Etho, but, well— Doc should be here soon.”

That sounds… serious, Techno thinks. Though he’s not sure how to sort through the churning in his chest and ringing in his ears. He presses his hands into the ground, pushing himself up roughly.

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t move around!” Bdubs grabs onto his shoulders, trying to push him down.

He’s almost successful, honestly. Because his muscles feel far too weak and wimpy for some reason. Probably related to the fact that he is on the ground, minutely shaking and feeling like he’s going to puke. And also that he passed out again.

Shoot.

As subtly as he can, Techno tries to look over his shoulder at Bdubs’ face again. It’s kind of screwed up, though his eyes are wide with panic. Definitely not good. There’s probably no way to talk himself out of this one.

Techno really jinxed himself to get caught this quickly with all his fainting junk. Just his luck.

“I’m fine,” Techno tries to say anyway.

“You most definitely are not!” Bdubs shouts.

Again, Techno cringes away. That seems to make Bdubs furrow up further, holding onto Techno harder. Like he might get up and run away. Which, he wouldn’t not do, so. He can’t tell if it’s offensive or not.

Before he can parse it out, there’s explosions of fireworks above their heads. Techno looks up, only to be blinded by the sun, hissing a little. It's not till the bulk of a man lands right before them that he's able to peek through his eyelashes at whoever it is.

It shouldn't be surprising that it's Doc standing there, but somehow it still is. The man is standing like he’s about to enter battle, face dark and cloudy. Techno would like to point out that he is in fact not in his top condition, so his confidence in this situation is based on logical assessment. That and the foggy bewilderment that refuses to leave his head yet. The one that is making thoughts more than a couple words long nearly impossible.

“What happened?” Doc asks, voice not much more than a growl.

“He fell off a horse and was shaking on the ground and wouldn’t respond,” Bdubs tattles before Techno can even take a breath.

“Why the he— heck was he riding a horse?” Doc growls, somehow even lower. As someone with a low voice himself, Techno is concerned. And also shying slightly towards Bdubs, for no reason.

Bdubs makes waffling noises, but Doc is crouching before them and reaching out, once again before Techno can even breathe. Which is more inconvenient now. His lungs feel stagnant as he’s grabbed by the creeper hybrid. A flinch jolts Techno’s joints and muscles till they burn, but Doc just huffs softly in response.

“Any other symptoms?” Doc asks.

“Uh, it took him a bit to wake up and he looked confused, but seems to be getting better,” Bdubs answers.

“I’m right here,” Techno says defensively, crossing arms even though it makes sitting up more difficult.

“Good. How do you feel?” Doc asks.

Blankly, Techno blinks in response to the question. How can he explain that? He feels bad and sick and like his head is stuffed full of cotton. But also kind of distant and okay? The explanation turns to sand within his brain, grains draining down over his tongue.

Aside from his lips parting, no real words leave Techno’s lips.

“We’re going to Impulse's place,” Doc growls again.

Then he surges forwards. Techno’s mouth clicks shut and he drives his hand upwards on instinct. It smacks against Doc’s cheek, missing his nose where he was aiming. The man's face is supremely unimpressed.

“I—I’m—” Techno stutters.

Doc does not wait for whatever Techno was going to say. Probably good, considering he has no clue what that was going to be. But less good in how the man wraps his arms around him and yanks him up.

Not upright, just up. Like held within his arms.

Techno blinks and blinks, dizzy and not sure how to best protest this as Doc starts walking off. Bdubs trails behind them.

“This is worse than Gem,” Techno mutters for some reason.

“Another thing I’m worse at than her. Good to know,” Doc says. 

“It’d be easier to count the things you aren’t,” Bdubs says, voice a little too grim.

“You are not allowed to say that. You’re apparently the worst at not dropping concussed children,” Doc says flatly.

“For the record, it was a horse, not me!”

“Whose horse?”

Bdubs silence perhaps says more than words. Said words are all confusing, so Techno doesn’t know.

He doesn’t really want to be awake right now.

“Hey, no closing your eyes right now. Talk about something,” Doc demands, jostling Techno slightly.

“No,” Techno says back. If he had an inch more energy, he would push away from the man. But as is, he squishes his eyes shut further.

Doc sighs, pace obviously quickening. It makes Techno feel far sicker than the rough ride on the back of the horse. He wishes he was back there now. Things were better, for a whole couple minutes. Maybe this is what he gets as punishment for that.

As they near the starting town, Techno opens his eyes despite feeling almost more drained than ever. Everything seems a bit less blurry, more solid before him. 

“I can walk,” Techno finally voices, finally thinking through the words he wants to say.

“Not till we double check your head wound,” Doc says.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I just fainted,” Techno says. He has half a mind to just shove himself out of the arms carrying him, but he’s unsure if he could stick the landing. And his body still hurts.

“Off of a horse. Not that fainting spontaneously when you have a concussion is normal.”

“It also didn’t look like normal passing out. I’ve seen Scar hit the deck more than a few times… It never looked like that,” Bdubs pipes up. Like a traitor.

“Didn’t Doc tell you to be quiet?” Techno mutters. Doc snorts in response, but his face doesn’t look amused.

It’s not till they reach the purple roofed house and Doc stomps right up to the room where Techno is staying that he finally gets put down. On the bed, onto his back, which is far too awkward when others are in the room. He sits up as quick as he can, so fast that his eyes get covered with dark spots. He doesn’t let his face flicker.

“Watch him,” Doc tells before marching out of the room. “And maybe tell X to get here.”

“I already did,” Bdubs murmurs, but he pulls up his communicator anyway.

Techno’s eyes stick to the sight a bit too closely. The whole thing shines and exudes light in a way that none Techno’s ever seen have. Let alone his own. Not that he’s seen that very often.

“I’m really fine. You don’t need to bother the admin,” Techno tries his case again. “You’re all making a big deal out of nothing.”

“We’re really not, this is serious. I shouldn’t have let you on the horse.”

“I wanted to.” Techno rolls his eyes, even though it stings. The frustration welling inside him stings more. “It wasn’t even the horse.”

“I’m kinda thinking that it was, now that I’m thinking it through!”

“It wasn’t. Sometimes I… pass out. It’s fine,” Techno says, defensive.

“What do you mean you pass out?” Doc asks, shouldering into the room with an armful of a bags and supplies.

“Starting to doubt your credentials if you don’t know what passing out is,” Techno says.

“Not that. How often do you faint? When did it start? What are your symptoms during it?”

The flood of questions seems to make Techno’s brain stutter, falling dumb once again. His silence seems to turn Doc’s face stonier.

“I don’t know,” Techno spits, crossing his arms again. “Sometimes? I’m guessing it’s the whole concussion thing, but I’m not a doctor.”

Doc sighs. “It started after your head injury?”

“Which one?” Techno asks, for no reason other than the fact that the blood in his head is rushing.

“Which—” Doc repeats, looking more and more miffed. He wonders if creeper hybrids can explode or not. He’ll probably be finding out soon. “Which one?”

“The second one, if I had to guess,” Techno says evenly.

It’s the wrong thing to say, obviously. The man's face practically grows grim, sharp as a blade about to run through a person. 

“That’s not normal! This sounds like seizures, do you know how serious that is?!”

Techno frowns, looking away from Doc. Even though you really shouldn’t look away from someone who is angry at you. That’s a good way for the stabbing to be successful. Bdubs is standing near the door, looking awkward and not helpful at all. There’s no one between Techno and Doc.

“Why didn’t you tell someone? That’s so—so irresponsible!” Doc’s voice raises to a shout.

Again, Techno flinches back from the noise, convinced that it will come with some sort of strike. Either that, or some other terrible thing. Because the man is obviously very mad, and that can’t be good.

He tries to scooch back on the bed, but it’s too soft below his fingers. Just like all beds are.

“You could choke on vomit or crack your head open! You do realize that your skull is already broken, right? The shards could have broken right into your brains and killed you!” Doc raises his hands as he yells. They’re shaking a bit. Or maybe that’s Techno's eyes shaking, making his sight jitter.

When the man’s hands close into fists, they stop shaking. It paints Techno’s mind with the images of bright white bone scattered throughout chunks of red and pink all the brighter.

“Are you crazy?!” Doc shouts.

The silence that falls over them is heavy. Ear ringing after all the yelling. That might also be from how fast Techno’s heart is thrumming. The blood rushing throughout his whole body is drowning everything out.

Everything except for Doc’s angry face.

There’s a couple reactions that Techno would consider appropriate for this situation. Screaming back or maybe punching the man in the face, properly this time. Even jumping over Bdubs and running out of the room would be a pretty good option right now. Or the window, still left open. What’s another concussion in Techno’s screwed up head?

But instead of all of those really, really appropriate life decisions Techno could make, he blinks. And then promptly bursts into tears.

It’s not loud sobbing or anything, but it sure is louder than when Techno usually cries. Usually when he cries, it’s reflexive pain tears, which hardly count. And honestly that might be what this is too. His head sure hurts, but more than that foggy, fuzzy mess, his chest feels like it’s being torn apart.

Wheezing slightly, Techno’s shoulders jerk with quiet sobs. Large tears drip down his face, feeling more like hot blood than water. Maybe that’s what tears feel like, but he’s pretty sure he’s close to dying in some way right now.

Doc makes a sound like “ah”, but Techno’s eyes are nearly pinched shut and too smeared to see if the man is moving or looking more peeved.

To try and do anything other than sitting there looking pathetic, Techno raises his hands and covers his face. It’s supposed to keep anything important from being knocked in, but it just ends up with his fingers covered in tears.

“D-don’t—” Doc stumbles over his words, sounding equally tense, if not quieter.

“Good going, Doc,” Bdubs murmurs, hardly audible.

It causes a big bubble to hiccup within Techno’s chest, wet and popping. He almost breaks into coughs, but it’s like his chest feels too weak to force them out. His lungs can barely breathe at all.

His body feels like it’s out of reach, distant as his brain is at this point too. Maybe he did smash chunks of his skull into his head. At least he won’t have to face the aftermath of this then.

“Where’s Xisuma? Or someone emotionally competent? Pearl?” Doc hisses.

“He said he’s stuck. And Pearl can't save us, she's even crazier than the kid!” Bdubs says.

Doc groans. “Go get him.”

Heavily, Techno looks up just in time to see Bdubs practically booking it out of the room. He feels a little betrayed, but he’s completely gone before he can call him back. A hitch grabs his chest at the realization, loosing more tears.

“Relax, it’s, it’s fine,” Doc says. He mumbles some words afterwards that Techno can’t make out, but he doubts it’s good.

When a hand tentatively touches his elbow, he jerks back as though struck. He half expects that to be what follows. Yet he doesn’t do anything proper to fight it off, still too muddled to act right. It’s almost equally as terrifying.

“Look, I’m sorry for raising my voice. That was dumb, especially since you have a concussion. See? We both made bad choices about that, so it’s fine,” Doc says.

It almost sounds like Doc is desperate or something. Which doesn’t really make sense. Why’s he apologizing anyway?

Painstakingly, Techno opens his eyes till the tears clear enough for him to see the man. He’s bent forward, slouching till he’s slightly less ridiculously tall and his ears are drooping. His face is panicked and awkward, and both of his palms are held out slightly towards Techno.

“How can I make you stop? Money?” Doc asks.

Techno’s automatic thought is yes, but his mouth refuses to cooperate and say that. Lame. 

More tears seem to fall at that thought, causing Doc’s hands to fly around more.

“Fine, fine, I’m sorry, that’s—that’s enough.”

Doc’s furry, non-mechanical arm lands on Techno’s shoulder. It seems like he’s trying to be gentle, but it still nearly knocks Techno over. Perhaps it’s that or the shock, he’s silent for a second.

“There, see, sorry. No more crying please…”

Now, Doc is definitely begging. Like the emotions are grossing him out. Which, for once, Techno can agree with. Great time to pull it together. 

But when he rubs at his face, his eyes seem to refuse to stop.

“I can’t,” Techno says stupidly, faint.

“Does it hurt? How bad is the pain?” Doc asks, squeezing his shoulder tighter.

That almost hurts, his bones getting squished. But not enough to really be painful. It’s almost centering in a way, like pushing on a bruise. 

Searchingly, Techno raises a hand and grabs his chest, bunching up the cloth right in front of his breastbone.

“Your chest hurts?” Doc asks.

Techno nods his head. Then he shakes it. It does and it doesn’t. More tears follow at that uncertainty.

“No need, uh, no need for that—” Doc practically growls again, but he’s shoving his hand into his own face. A long sigh leaves him. “Okay…”

Almost in slow motion, Doc leans forward with both of his arms held out. Techno’s not quite sure what he's doing. It’s far too strange a move to be an attack of any sort. Unless Doc is going to pick him up and throw him over his shoulder, which seems impractical. Especially since one of those arms is robotic and could probably do real damage instead of just wrapping around Techno gently.

It takes a few solid seconds of suffocating into Doc’s shoulder to realize that he’s being hugged.

Techno’s been hugged before, now and then. Well, by Phil. The avian isn’t overly touchy-feely, but he’s casual with touch. Usually it’s just an arm slung across shoulders and stuff like that though. This feels horrifically formal, like an actual hug.

It’s warm and too loose and very embarrassing. But definitely a hug.

“What?” Techno asks. Muffled by shoulder. And snot in his throat.

“Is this helping?” Doc asks, sounding equally choked with awkwardness. “Or were you actually having a heart attack? In which case, I need to go get so much medication.”

Something between a snort and a dying animal croak leaves Techno, all drowned by plenty of tears. Instead of answering, he sort of shrugs. Because he honestly doesn’t know.

Doc grumbles, before patting his back mechanically. 

“There, there.”

For one of his first proper hugs, it’s not very good. Which makes the fact that his insides feels like clumps of viscera dissolving into water not make sense. For a few seconds, he fears that he’s going to fall out of his brain and pass out or seize or whatever it is he does. And isn’t that terrifying.

Unwillingly, he reaches out and grabs onto Doc’s coat, like that will stop whatever it is from happening.

Maybe it does, or maybe he’s just out of his brain, but he feels himself fall apart without any medical emergencies. Or hopefully not any. His insides feel sickly in a strange way. It’s not normal or good and he wants to push away and disappear.

But he also… Makes no move to do so. As though being brought to this state could ever be acceptable.

Techno sits in a hug and cries into a shoulder until the salt starts to irritate his face and definitely has forever ruined the article of clothing.

“Ah, is something happening?” Xisuma’s voice comes from the doorway, sounding harried.

As though disappointed, Doc sighs. Techno’s too busy being a piece frayed thread held together by awkward, horrifically gentle arms, to react beyond the sense that he’ll never live this down. 

How lame.

Chapter Text

“Bloop.”

All of Techno’s features scrunch up as something soft presses against his cheek. Cleo had silently walked up beside where he’s laying in bed, before yanking something out of her bag to shove into his face. Literally. He kind of waits for pain or understanding of what is happening to sink in, but it never does.

Instead, the soft surface gets rubbed into his cheek some more, till he lifts his hand and grabs at it.

Cleo chuckles, relinquishing whatever it is without any fuss. 

Techno stares at the lump of white, fuzzy cloth, meeting the gaze of two black buttons on either side of a black nose. It’s a… polar bear. Made of cloth and fur and stuffing.

“A toy?” Techno asks.

“Excuse you, a stuffed animal,” Cleo corrects. “They’re different.”

“Are they?” Techno asks, skeptical.

“Of course they are. For one, I made the stuffed animal, so obviously it is very cool.”

“Of course,” Techno echoes.

“And it's a polar bear. Pretty cute, right?” Cleo says, voice turning earnest.

Once again, Techno turns his attention back down to the stuffed animal. Its eyes stare back at him, wide and unblinking. The glossy finish only makes the effect more overwhelming.

It's adorable.

“I guess so,” Techno says flatly.

Cleo scoffs and shakes her head, but there's still a smile on her face.

“Well, he can keep you company at least. It's sometimes nice to have things like that around.”

Things like cute stuffed animals? Techno doesn't understand the purpose. He's seen young children walk around with them in their arms, and he assumed they were like any toys. Except softer, easier to break. It almost makes Techno nervous.

But only in a dumb way. The rest of him is cognizant of the fact that it doesn't matter. Because he's not a little kid that would be carrying around the toy to begin with. Or the type of person for things like that in general. It'd be weird. Just, not right at all.

And even if he did, who under the Blood God could find comfort in a lump of cloth and cotton? If he wants to be comfortable, he'll carry around a sword, thank you very much.

Except… It is cute.

It's soft beneath his fingers, more so than the blankets or the clothes they give him. And those are already pretty soft. The fluff is probably close to comparable to the softness of actual animal fur.

Tentatively, he brushes his fingers across the top of the bear’s head. It's just as soft. The bear seems to nod at him.

“You're thinking way too hard about a stuffed animal,” Cleo says.

“I'm not.” Techno drops it into his lap, pointedly not looking at it.

“Well, good. You're on strict no thinking hard or getting stressed out watch. Doc will have my head more than he did Bdubs'… Well, probably not more.”

“I'm fine,” Techno says weakly, for the millionth time. His gaze drifted over to the window. “And Bdubs was fine too.”

“Oh, don't worry about him, he's not in real trouble or anything. Other than Doc's lecturing, but he deserves that a little. If not for letting you have a seizure on a horse, then for all the times he's annoyed me.”

That assessment makes Techno chew on his lips. When Doc said he had a seizure, had probably had multiple, it doesn't sound right. It's too serious.

Not too serious, just serious in the wrong way. Techno's used to stab wounds and arrow punctures and broken bones. All things warriors and soldiers have had a dime a dozen times. He's handed out plenty to earn them.

But seizures sound… serious. 

The way Doc described seizures---and suspects that it has gone for Techno, since they can't one hundred percent know until someone knowledgeable sees one---it's not a pretty sight. Worse than blood and guts. 

It's like when someone gets hit in the head so hard that their eyeballs pop out and they shake all the way to the ground. All the way to death.

Techno stands up after his injuries, grave as they may be. Things that make him go unconscious and get confused and emotional and sluggish and messed in the head... That's not right. That sounds plenty like death.

He doesn't like it.

Doc said they need to know more and he has to heal a bit physically, but there's treatments. It didn't sound like the sort of thing that's just sewing a wound shut and burning the bacteria out though. It sounded long and cumbersome and serious. 

What's Techno supposed to do with all that?

“If you don't like the bear that much, you can just say it,” Cleo says. When he looks up, finally pulled out of his mind, she’s raising an eyebrow at him.

How long had he been staring into the eyes of that polar bear for?

“Or just pretend that you like it. That's what people usually do with gifts. And that's what it is. A gift I made for you—”

“I do like it,” Techno cuts her off. His face heats with the honesty. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Cleo says.

Before the conversation can continue on any further, the door to the room clatters open as a streak of green practically falls onto the ground. From the very distinct squabbling noise that the thing makes, Techno has a good guess on who it could be.

“Bdubs,” Cleo says flatly, confirming the suspicions.

“Cleo,” Bdubs says right back, though he sounds like his teeth have been knocked in.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Cleo asks.

“Visiting a friend. Not something that you would understand,” Bdubs stands inelegantly.

“Mhm. I was here first.”

“Always got to show me up.” Bdubs sniffs. “Anywho. Techno.”

Not at all propping the stuffed polar bear up in front of him, Techno meets the ruffled man’s face. He looks a bit more serious than normal. Maybe more than Techno’s ever seen, except when he fell off a horse and almost fried his brains in front of the man.

Probably not correlated.

Walking closer, Bdubs leans against the bedside table before digging around in the pocket of his big green jacket. It must be a big pocket, since he nearly gets up to his elbow in there. Either that or he has bendy forearms.

“Ah, here we are,” Bdubs says, flourishing his hand out of the coat.

Inside of his scuffed up hand is a chunk of shiny something. Very shiny something. Techno starts reaching out for it before he even recognizes what it is.

The circular object is smooth under his hand, like the metal and glass that he thought it was. He’s almost certain that it's gold wrapped around most of the thing. It almost feels warm within his hand. Swiftly, he places it behind the stuffed polar bear.

“What is it?” Cleo asks.

“A pocket watch. Everyone needs one.”

“Uh, Bdubs? You know people with concussions usually can’t read clocks, right?”

“Uh, erp— Uh,” Bdubs stutters. Almost physically, he seems to snap back. “Well, perfect opportunity to practice again. Work on getting that mind sharp.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how concussions work,” Cleo snorts.

“Oh, what do you know?”

“To not throw people with head injuries off horses?”

“You two are giving me a headache,” Techno says simply, lifting the pocket watch up by the chain so it hangs before his face.

His hand is closed around it tightly still, in case anyone tries to snatch it away. But he allows himself to look over it closely. A white face with hands do stare back at him, and he can read the numbers regardless of what Cleo says. Though putting the big and small hands together… The gold case around the entire thing is prettier to look at anyway.

When Bdubs shifts beside Techno, his tail flicks and wraps closer around his hips. As though it can also help keep the trinket within his hands. But Bdubs doesn’t make a move to touch it.

“Use it as a paperweight for all I care, it’ll tell the time regardless,” Bdubs says flippantly. At the same time, Cleo murmurs:  “That’s what we say about you too.”

“I will not,” Techno says confidently.

“Ah yes, the inability to read,” Bdubs says.

“I can read,” Techno says firmly, finally cutting his eyes away to glare at the man. He also drops the pocket watch back to his lap, safe in both of his hands.

“The watch is working already,” Bdubs says with a smile. “Which is good, because it’s also a gift from my Mi Amore, who is ever so sorry for the whole sit-chee-ation.”

Techno snorts and rolls his eyes.

“I don’t think it was Mi Amore’s fault,” Techno says. “... She was okay, right?”

“Oh, fine as a fickle,” Bdubs waves his hand.

“Fiddle,” Cleo corrects.

“She’s a horse, Cleo,” Bdubs says, raising an eyebrow. “Keep up.”

Slapping her face, Cleo groans so deeply that she sounds like a proper zombie. Impressive, even with her hybrid status.

“If you do not—” Cleo mumbles through her fingers before Bdubs cuts her off.

“Yeah, yeah. I am also sorry you got hurt under my watch, definitely should have thought that through better.”

The man looks a little guilty, even underneath the smile. Interesting. But if it got Techno a pretty gold thing, who is he to complain?

“It's fine. I wasn't really hurt during it anyway. And it was fun for a bit.”

Ignoring Cleo’s equally amused and disappointed shaking of her head, he flips the watch in his hands as Bdubs looks skeptical.

“Doc said you hit your head again, and sprained your wrist and stuff. That's not exactly unhurt.”

“Well… The wrist wasn't really from the horse,” Techno admits, if only to uphold Mi Amore's honor. And also cause Bdubs looks constipated.

“What do you mean?” Cleo asks.

“I fell during the… things before,” Techno says.

“And didn't tell anyone you broke your arm?” She asks, leaning closer to disappointed.

“It wasn't broken,” Techno defends. "Sprained."

“Gods, you're as bad as any of them,” Cleo sighs, but chuckles at the end.

“Fit right in truly,” Bdubs snorts.

There's no time to parse that out before someone knocks on the ajar door. It's starting to not become a surprise when Xisuma pokes his face into the room. That admin is always poking his visored face into everything. Everything involving the technical intruder that is Techno, but semantics.

“Are you all busy?” Xisuma asks.

“Yes, very,” Cleo says. Bdubs adds: “Terribly!”

“Mm, shall I go then?” Xisuma asks.

“Please do.” Cleo nods, inciting Bdubs to do the same. “Yes, please.”

Xisuma hums some more at the door, pushing it open like he's going to step out, till Cleo sighs and stands. Over her shoulder goes her big bag, now void of stuffed polar bear. Her dress also gets straightened, despite not being messed up.

“I guess now is a good time to steal food off someone.”

“You can steal off me,” Bdubs offers.

“No.” Cleo doesn't even pause to think.

“Hey! I'll have you know, I'm a great—”

“See you later, Techno,” Cleo throws over her shoulder, waving as she exits the room with a rambling Bdubs.

Which leaves Techno with only Xisuma.

“Shall we chat?”

“We are chatting,” Techno says flatly.

Xisuma laughs, seemingly taking it as an invitation to come in. Which it wasn't not, so he supposes it's okay. Technically everything on the server is his, right?

“Alright. A few things have happened that I think we should discuss.”

That brings a purse to Techno’s lips. It logically shouldn’t be anything involving his head and the seizures or fainting or whatever, since Xisuma was present for a lot of the stuff with Doc. And he talked to Techno a bit afterwards too, asking if there was anything he needed or if anything was wrong. It was weird, but the other shoe never dropped, so he was beginning to think that he was being honest.

Unless that other shoe is coming now.

“A few of us have been working on your ship and all that, but Tango actually found some information about the model on a forum. Apparently it was linked deep within the repair manual or something, I’m not sure. But that has definitely simplified some things for us.”

“Oh,” Techno says simply, almost not comprehending it. “So that means…”

“We think that we can probably fix it! Though, with how much is being completely replaced, it’s more like rebuilding it from scratch, but some of the important parts are intact, so that helps a bunch. The padding is interesting actually— But anyway, we think we can get it done pretty quickly now,” Xisuma says, seemingly getting lost a little in his rambling, before snapping back in.

“That’s good,” Techno says, squeezing his hands. The metal cuts into his skin a bit too much, so he drops it and grabs onto the stuffed animal. “... Thank you.”

Just barely, he can see Xisuma smile a bit behind his visor. Purple tinged and slightly shiny.

“Do you have any plans of where you’ll go after? I, at least, will have to know to enter the coordinates and such,” He says.

“Uh…” Techno trails off, mind going blank.

What was this all for again? It feels like a million years ago he had a plan to drag Phil along to some nowhere planet where they could retire. And Tommy too, for some Bloody reason. What a plan…

“Even in peak condition, I doubt that the ship will take you far. It’s for emergencies, you know?” Xisuma prods further.

Cutting his eyes away, Techno shrugs. 

“Away. Anywhere.”

That’ll be enough, he thinks. It has to be. Alone, away, safe. As much as he can be.

If the stitching on the bear was any worse, he’s sure it would have split below his strangling fingers.

“Just… whatever,” He adds.

“That… doesn’t seem very sound,” Xisuma says.

Again, Techno shrugs.

“What about your medical stuff? It seems likely the seizures will continue for a little while, if not indefinitely.” From the corner of his eye, he can see Xisuma leaning closer. “You’ll need medicine, at least.”

That’s sure a development on Techno's plans. You’d think from how vague they were, he’d be ready for anything thrown at him. But he’s never been the most comfortable with things getting messed up from how he planned. Backups and overpreparedness, those he always tries to have. Then it’s like the plan never got messed up at all.

Something like this, what is he supposed to do? Medicine. Indefinitely.

Faintly, he shrugs. Again.

There’s a sigh that somehow spurns on his indignation as his stomach drops. Maybe the annoyance is painted on top of said pit for organs. But that’s none of his business.

“You know, I really hope this is just you being tight lipped and stubborn with your information again, because I don’t think you’ll survive out there off of whatevers,” Xisuma says, not sounding accusatory, but also not like he’s joking.

“I survive just fine,” Techno says firmly. He has his whole life.

“Till you cracked your head open on a planet.”

If black holes exist, they’re eating his intestines. It’s almost painful. So much so that his hands are shaking where they numb around the stupid stuffed toy. Some part of him instinctively wants to reach out for the gold watch again, like that will make him better. But he can’t move beyond tremors.

“I didn’t mean it in a mean way,” Xisuma says, a little softer and more awkward. “Don’t cry again, please. Doc will say ‘I told you so,’ cause I did tell him off for making you cry befor—”

“Please shut up,” Techno chokes, face feeling hot as his hands shake harder.

The man listens, but the silence might be worse. It just leaves him with the echoing words, which are frustratingly logical. As he leans back against the pillows, feeling winded, he throttles the bear to his chest. The ceiling seems to swim a bit above him.

What else can he do?

It’s not like there’s anywhere for Techno really. He doesn’t have family like some players do. His home planet is long dead, destroyed by the war he was born into and abandoned to nothing not long after. It’s like Techno’s an anachronism, wrong in having left.

But he did survive, because he had to! And he kept on living for so long after, on places just the same. 

Now he’s on a place so different from all that, with people so different, and he just doesn’t know. Where does he go from here, when he doesn’t want to go back to what he was before? Is it his only option?

The longest place Techno has ever stayed, as far as he can remember, was that collapsing server that he met Phil. Reason to stick around, even beyond when the first opportunities to run presented themselves. For a little while at least. It was fun, playing revolutionary. And Techno stands by his actions.

But it was that same war where he met Phil. It destroyed everything. Every inch of peace that they managed to grab—

“There are other options. You do know that, right?”

Blinking through the sheen over his eyes, Techno turns to meet Xisuma’s face. He wishes it wasn’t covered. Not that he’s ever been good at expressions, but maybe it would help. At least he’d feel more present in the room.

“What?” Techno asks.

“You don’t have to leave, at least not right now."

“It doesn’t seem like you guys take guests,” Techno says, scrunching his nose.

Xisuma huffs a little.

“We don’t. This server is for offering protection to the Hermits, first and foremost.” Techno nods at the words, unsurprised. Xisuma tilts his head to the side, seemingly thinking, before he continues. “This situation is unorthodox for sure, and I don’t think any of us prefer it. But none of the Hermits have objected, since you’ve been vouched for.”

“Vouched?” Techno asks, more confused than ever. Tossed off planet? Totally makes sense. Vouched for? Why would someone do that?

“Yeah, Doc felt really bad for making you cry,” Xisuma cracks a smile.

When Techno stares without comprehension, the man laughs awkwardly. 

“That was a joke. Sorry.”

“You all don’t make sense,” Techno murmurs.

“That is something we’re used to getting told,” Xisuma says. “If you go forward with sticking around, you will need to be completely honest and give me all of your information. Just so you know.”

“I really didn’t lie about anything. There’s not much to tell,” Techno admits, setting his chin on the bear’s head.

“That’s good, I suppose. Let me know what you decide, then. We’ll sort out what is left over.”

With that, the man stands with a squeak of the chair. It feels inordinately loud, like tnt detonating on a silent battlefield. Techno only stifles a cringe from all his experience keeping his eyes open in such situations.

No attack follows. Just Xisuma’s lame little hand wave.

“You should rest. Shout if you need anything.”

Techno does feel a little like screaming. But somehow, he knows he couldn’t really call out, even if someone wicked in through the window and disemboweled him right there. Despite the fact that a large part of him believes that most of the Hermits wouldn’t just sit there and watch it happen. Or at least they wouldn’t react with too much upset at being bothered.

Odd people. On an odd planet.

Techno lifts his stuffed polar bear so that he is looking into its eyes. He has to make a decision, but his head hurts too much to think through all the many things he has to. For now…

He’ll call the bear Steve.

Chapter Text

“ —and you can eat it on bread, but I just think it’s cozier in a stew,” Ren rambles while swinging a spoon in his hand, splattering a bit of broth on the counter.

How a conversation about sausage came up, Techno doesn’t know. Though it’s honestly closer to a lecture. He certainly doesn’t have much to add. Nowhere near as much as Ren seems to.

In fact, Techno doesn’t really know how he got corralled down here. Ren had been knocking on his door, talking about sausage with so much fervor that Techno ended up on a cushioned chair before a tiny table. At least Ren hasn’t made any attempts to get Techno to help cook. His go-to is usually burning the meat till there’s no way he can get sick from it. But that doesn’t really taste “good” by many definitions.

“Then again, who doesn’t have some bread with their stew?”

Ren turns to Techno, as though waiting for him to argue. Or perhaps agree. In the end, he gives a noncommittal shrug.

When Ren turns back to the stove, he clears his throat. “Exactly!”

Simmering with slight amusement at the ordeal, the strange scene is broken by a bunch of loud pings. Ren quickly flicks his hand so that his communicator forms into being before him, glowing and slightly transparent. From the angle, Techno can’t tell what expression he’s making to the urgent messages. But if he had to guess, he doesn’t think it’s good.

“Hmm, it seems that Scar is having some trouble,” Ren says.

Scar seems decently able to take care of himself, considering he did catch Techno originally. But from how everyone talks about him, he is apparently accident prone. It would explain all the scars and the possibly cruel nickname associated, if that’s where it comes from. 

It’s not like scars necessarily denote that someone isn’t good at combat though. Techno has plenty of his own to show off, and he doesn’t usually suck.

There could be a bigger issue though. Something one person can’t feasibly fight. That would be… not good.

“Is he okay?” Techno asks, a little nervous. For tactical reasons of course.

“He’s fine. Have you heard about his cat, Jellie? Hard not to,” Ren smiles a little, turning towards Techno. “Apparently she got out and he can’t find her.”

“Oh.”

That’s definitely not the world ending emergency that he was starting to spin up. So that’s good.

Except, not good for the cat probably. Sure, the cats he’s seen wandering around towns or the rare city have always been pretty tough, but they’re little animals. Something bigger could pick them off, or they could get hurt, or something. A frown pulls at his lips.

“I wouldn’t worry. A few people around here are looking for her,” Ren says, apparently noticing Techno’s feelings.

“Is she around here?” Techno asks.

“She was at Scar’s tree last he saw.”

“The cookie lies…” Techno murmurs, vaguely remembering a weird giant tree that made him feel scorn.

“Exsqueeze what?”

Not bothering to explain, Techno glances towards the front door.

“Can we help?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure…”

“Please?” Techno cuts him off. He tries to sort his face into something imploringly, even if he’s half certain that it’s impossible for him. Some sweat seems to dot Ren’s brow anyway. “What if she’s nearby here? No one will think to check this side of the river.”

“This is emotional manipulation, my dude. Doc will have my butt,” Ren crosses his arms and looks away. But his tail is swinging back and forth quickly, uneasy.

“Heh?” Techno asks, somewhere between confused and humored by the phrasing.

“I shan’t let you get injured or sick under my watch. We’re having stew. The others will deal with the kitter.”

“It’s not like I’d be riding a horse,” Techno says, rolling his eyes at how the protective words make his chest squirm. “Or be alone or anything. Can’t we walk around and help?’

“Mmmm—” Ren hums, trying to turn away more.

“Walking is good for concussions anyway. It’ll help me and the cat.”

“I don’t know enough about head wounds to know if that’s true!” Ren spins around to face him. Techno tries to exude honesty. Again, he doesn’t think he’s capable of such expressions. But Ren droops anyway. “I suppose we can look around this little area. Just for a little bitty while.”

“Alright,” Techno agrees, feeling a little better at the idea of actually being able to do something to help. It’s better than sitting around not knowing or doing anything at least.

Ren grumbles a bit as he puts a lid on the big pot, moving it off of the glowing red stovetop onto one of the other ones. While he sorts that out, Techno stands to go and wrangle his shoes on. He passes by the mirror on his wall while doing so. The rat’s nest of hair on his head sticks out to him, looking like a mess of pink. With a shrug, he grabs a ribbon off of the dresser.

When he descends the stairs, his hair mimics the big fluffy ponytail hanging on Ren’s back. Usually, Techno’s hair wouldn’t be so big to look as poofy as the man’s does. At least the tangled knots don’t rub on his face this way, even if braids are nicer.

“Ah, sweet, ready to go,” Ren says with a sigh.

From how the man’s ears and tail are drooping, he seems begrudged by the situation. Techno’s own tail wraps around his leg in response, even as he tries to keep his face straight. Something about his demeanor makes Ren sigh again, then smile and reach right out for Techno.

His eyes squeeze shut as the man rubs his palm on the top of his head. If his hair was salvageable before, surely it isn’t now. Ducking down from the hand, Techno yanks the door open and hurries out as laughter follows him.

The trees and plant life around the purple roofed house stretch around prettily, where the river is just about visible. A bee buzzes by nearby, but he doesn’t see any other animal life.

“What does Jellie look like?” Techno asks.

That earns him a snort. “She’s the size of a cat. Gray, white, and green eyes. Oh, and she has a collar with her name.”

“Why not start with that?” Techno rolls his eyes.

“All aspects of a person are important, Microchip.”

Again, Techno rolls his eyes. His head yells at him for it, but it’s worth it.

“What does that even mean?”

“Like, Techno. Technology. Microchips are small technology. It was either that or Pigsqueak, and I don't know if that lands as well.”

“Heh?”

“Like pipsqueak, but pig. See, I knew it didn't work.”

“Bruh. Why are those the only options?” His concussion is holding back his ability to glare as much as he would like.

Ren sighs. “I'll try to think of more, but we're short on time right now!”

There’s a faint streak of fireworks as someone flies through the air, right around the ginormous trees that he thinks might be Scar’s. They’re too far away to make out who exactly they are, but it seems they’re searching too. Unless they have really good eyes, being up in the sky seems unoptimal in searching for a tiny cat though.

“Let’s look around over here,” Ren says, pulling Techno in the opposite direction from the river by his elbow.

The forest is thicker behind the row of builds on this side of the river. Probably would have been a better place to hide. For him, or for the cat. Techno looks under brushes and between plants, trying his best to keep his footsteps unheard.

Not that it seems like Ren is on the same page as him.

“KITTER! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

It’s so loud that Techno’s ears flatten towards his head. Surely the cat will take off running the second she hears it. Any smart animal would, since it sounds like an incoming earthquake or something.

“KITTER!”

“You’re gonna scare her,” Techno scolds.

“Jellie knows my voice. She’ll run right towards it if she hears,” Ren says confidently.

Techno isn’t so sure that is true. Even if Jellie knows Ren, if she’s run off into the woods and gotten lost, she probably won’t be thinking logically enough to know to follow a loud noise. When afraid, even humans act on instinct. Let alone a tiny animal who is so much smaller than the world around them.

If possible, Techno tries to crouch down closer to the ground as he searches. He’s about a single step away from getting onto his hands.

The forest is a little crisp, but spilling with life it seems. Surely if Jellie got into this area, she should be okay. Or is the signs of life an indication that there’s more things around to eat her? He’s not sure.

“Do you have a pet?” Techno asks, mouth loose with nerves.

“Not really on this season. I’ve had some before, and when I was growing up and stuff,” Ren explains, looking around a bit more calmly. “I’m a bit of a dog-person. Badum ‘tss.”

Techno scrunches his face up. “Isn’t that weird?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Owning dogs since you’re part dog.”

Ren laughs. “Would it be weird for you to own a pig?’

While it might have been a joke, Techno pauses internally to think it over. Would it be weird? He’s heard of bastions having paddocks for hoglins, which are basically pigs.

“I’m part piglin, not pig. So, no,” Techno decides.

“A fair assessment. But I’ve liked having dogs, they’re fun little guys. Kitters too.”

The only dogs Techno has been around weren’t the most fun. But they had to be kind of tough to survive. They weren’t pets anyway.

He could see the dogs on this server being nicer. Softer.

“Have you had any pets?”

“Not really pets. I sometimes took care of the horses and they’d let me ride them easier,” Techno says. It feels a bit too impersonal for the kind relationship he had with a few horses, but they also weren’t his pets. He supposes they were more like brief friends.

“Oh, like a farm?” Ren asks.

Techno is genuinely confused for a second, before realizing what the question means. Happening to exist around horses is probably weirder than owning horses for most. He looks at Ren through the corner of his eye, before guiltily restarting his cat search.

“No. You know, war horses and stuff.”

There’s a pause in the footsteps beside him, but he keeps walking.

“I suppose those aren’t pets, my—my dude.”

Techno shrugs.

“Uh, erm.” Ren seems to trip over a tree root or swallow his tongue. “Well lots of the other Hermits have pets. You can meet them if you'd like!”

At the short glance that Techno throws at him, the man smiles wider, tail quick again. But quick in the way Techno knows doesn't mean excitement or happiness, as much as the man tries.

“Probably even pigs! Beef has llamas and sheep I think, I'm sure someone has pigs.” His arms fly through the air almost as quick as his tail.

The silence that falls isn’t much less tense than it was before the conversation. But he’s not sure what else to say. Talking about pets or whatever is far too mundane for Techno to have anything to add. A rustle of some bushes draws him from his mind. Is it…?

“Hey! I see something up there!” Ren shouts, enough to make Techno jump. 

When he whirls around, Ren is pointing up at a tree, ears pointed straight up on his head. At the very top of the tree is something gray and white, moving about on the branches. Techno tries to squint the sight into focus, but all the leaves and distance keeps it blurry.

“Is it Jellie?” Techno asks.

“I think it is! The kitter must have climbed up and got stuck!”

“How can we get her?” Techno asks, stepping closer with a furrowed face. What if she falls or is stuck?

“Don’t worry. I’ll climb right up and bring her down safe and sound.” Ren smiles and slings his arm around his shoulders for a second. After bodily shaking Techno, Ren lets go and grabs onto the tree trunk. “You stay right here, on solid ground. No falling!”

Admittedly, Ren is a little impressive in how he climbs the tree. It’s not his first time doing it for sure. Perhaps because of the scaffolding and stuff all around the server, better chances for practice. When the branches below the man’s hands start to grow thin, Techno can’t help frowning.

“I’m almost there I think! Has she moved?” Ren shouts down.

The little gray blob is more hidden among the leaves now. But he can see it when it hops up and down a little, moving down a branch

“Yeah. To the left,” Techno calls up.

Ren gives a thumbs up, shimmying in that direction with only one hand. That seems unsafe. Ren doesn’t seem moved by it.

“Don’t you have an elytra?” Techno asks, but apparently not loud enough for Ren to hear.

If it’s none of the man’s worry if he falls onto his head, then it shouldn’t be Techno’s. Instead he tries to track the cat on the treetop. Only, the longer that he looks at them, the more that he grows suspicious. The gray lump seems small, and almost… fluttery.

“Hey, I don’t think it’s—” Techno starts to call, before Ren makes a loud noise of triumph.

Much smaller now, Ren is perched far too high up in the tree. Right about in reach of the probably-not-Jellie. That doesn’t stop him from reaching out and grabbing at the thing.

A piercing chirp fills the air, nearly as loud as the screechy scream that Ren lets out. It’s certainly a near thing, considering that what Techno is pretty sure is a bird starts flying right towards Ren. The flurry of wings is flapping away in his face, violent.

The man starts yelling louder, grabbing at his face.

“Oh my sated Aunt Judy!” Ren screams, before the bird seems to send him falling backwards.

Techno gasps in shock as Ren topples upside down, on a straight path to smashing his head into the ground. As someone who has cracked their skull on this here planet, he does not recommend. But he scarcely has a chance to do more than take a step closer before Ren’s legs hook around a tree branch so he’s hanging by his knees.

The bird does not give up its assault.

 “Oh my geez! It’s not—not Jellie! It’s a—It’s a AAAAAAA—”

The bird must go for whatever keeps the sunglasses up on Ren’s head, since the shiny blue glasses fall through air in the path that the man was likely to take before. It hits about ten branches on the way down. The glass explodes when it hits the dirt.

Wrinkling his nose, Techno pokes the broken glasses with the toe of his shoe. Not a nice fall to take for sure.

“It’s—It’s all under control, but—IT’S GOING FOR MY EYES!”

While Ren continues screaming for his life, Techno suddenly whirls around as he hears rustling behind him. The leaves of the bushes are shaking as though something is slinking through them. He squints hard and steps closer, only for a flash of gray to jump from one bush into another.

This animal does not have any wings or feathers. In fact, there’s even some time to catch a green collar around its neck.

“Jellie,” Techno whispers. Again, the cat jumps out of the bushes as Ren shrieks louder. “His voice did attract her. But only the pained sounds…”

“What did you say?!” Ren screams down. “I can’t—AAAAAA, IT’S EATING MY EARS!”

As if a rat following a silly fellow with a flute, Jellie jumps fully out of a bush with a meow. She pauses and looks up towards the treetop where Ren is fighting for his life. Cutely, she meows again.

Slowly, so as not to startle her, Techno starts reaching out towards the cat. Jellie barely spares him a glance, too caught up on the rumbling above. Entranced.

Only, that’s when Ren goes quiet. 

Techno looks up briefly, finding the bird pecking at Ren’s lips. In a bid to keep his tongue from being eaten, the dog hybrid has fallen quiet. A soft, displeased hiss cuts through the air. As Techno whips back around, Jellie is taking back off through the foliage.

“No, wait!” Techno calls, taking off after Jellie immediately.

“Hey, where ar—ACK,” Ren’s voice grows faint as he’s left behind, still hanging among the branches.

But Techno has already nearly lost sight of the slippery little cat. She’s quick and far more dexterous than Techno is. But she also probably doesn’t have a head injury, to be fair. And she is a cat.

It’s all Techno can do to keep one half of his mind on the fleeing animal and the other on dodging trees. That means he hardly gains any ground on her at all. In fact, she seems to be getting further away from him.

Stomach twisting, Techno looks up and then gasps. The sight of a hole jutting into the base of a mountain forces him to stutter in place. Not Jellie though, since she takes off into the cave.

Fear for the stupid little cat makes Techno follow, even if running into a cave with no gear and injuries seems even more stupid. But luckily the cave actually lights up as he heads deeper into it. There’s thick ice supports up to the ceiling, with lanterns set into the wall and a straight snaking path. This seems to be a man made cave. Dumb luck, but the good type.

Still, the cat skitters off down the ice path far too quickly. His shoes slip and slide all over the place as he runs after her. Perhaps his experience in running and fighting through the Antarctic is keeping him upright. The active war zone and constant risk of assassination only seem a tad more dire than his current task.

As Techno takes the sharp turn where Jellie had disappeared from sight, the end of the tunnel comes into sight. The light is brighter than the sun should be and the breeze that blows in is freezing, more than the ice tunnel even. Wind is blustering roughly as he skids out, eyes pinching shut against the burning that all the stimuli brings.

Techno blinks exaggeratedly till the smeary tears clear. But when they do, he’s almost stunned even more by the sight.

It seems like he has ended up in the middle of a ring of mountains, snow covered and glistening. But the small space all around him is even crazier than the starter village. There’s a bunch of small, colorful, and oddly shaped houses. All the pointy trees are decorated and there’s giant striped hooks lining all the paths. The amount of red and green and ribbons is enough to make Techno’s brain stall.

As a snow filled gust blows through the area, a bunch of bells tinkle and ring. Like a million cats dancing about. Shivering with a grumble, Techno sets back off down the path, trying to find Jellie again.

It’s a task easier said than done. Possibly harder than even among the forestry, since there’s so much stuff stuffed in here for Jellie to hide among. Like three separate plush animals in the windows of buildings make him do a double take. There’s too many cute things in this world.

“Jellie,” Techno mumbles, spinning in a circle in the center of the little jolly village. “Where are you?”

"Mrow."

“You.” Techno jerks about, pointing at where Jellie is sitting in the middle of the path. “Don’t move.”

Jellie meows at him again, tilting her head.

“Please?” Techno begs.

After a short pause where Jellie seems to think it over, the cat hops up and turns tail. Then she takes off in the direction of the opposite side of the village.

Techno doesn’t even think before taking off after her. With all the snow piled around and the cold mountains closing them in, it feels more pertinent than ever to grab her. The weather here is far too harsh for a cat to be wandering about. Even when his body protests, he runs faster.

The cat hops through the pathway like she’s made this trip a million times. Meanwhile every brick and bump tries to yank Techno down. At top speed, he just about closes the distance between them, before Jellie jumps straight upwards onto a giant red boat looking thing.

“What the Bloody what?” Techno groans, breathing quickly.

Jellie meows from the top of the… sleigh? But he can still hear her walking off, ready to jump off the other side.

With a larger groan, Techno jumps onto the sleigh after Jellie, though far less impressive height. He does not have the legs of a pouncing predator, thank you very much. But he is glad that Ren is not around to watch him skitter up the side, since it’s arguably more embarrassing than Ren climbing that tree. Which really can’t be known by any person, place, or thing. He hopes Jellie wasn’t looking.

Muscles spasming, Techno throws himself over the edge of the sleigh, landing on the floor heavily. There’s a bunch of wrapped presents and a strange bulletin board type of thing in it. But Techno only has eyes for the feline daintily licking her paw in the center of the floor.

With only a pause to sigh, Techno lunges towards Jellie with his hands held out before him. His stomach skids across the last few inches before he scoops up the cat. The second that he grabs her, he yanks her to his chest, holding the slightly squirming animal tightly.

“Me-owch,” Techno mumbles into the wooden flooring.

Jellie meows back at him.

“I’m going to kick Scar in the chest. Right where he cracked my ribs,” Techno tells Jellie.

Jellie meows.

Tiredly, Techno peels himself up from the bottom of the sleigh. His legs wobble, far too weak for a nice little jog-sprint through the woods and Santa’s village. When he wants to actually be functional again, it’s going to be a very long grind to get where he used to be. How annoying.

There’s no point thinking about it right now, so he simply takes a deep breath and steps closer to the edge of the sleigh, cat held securely in his arms. Techno glances over the side, measuring the sizable distance down, before he reels back sharply. 

It suddenly feels as though he’s falling. Not even that he has tipped over the side and lost his balance, but just the entire world below his feet has disappeared. Either that, or it is spinning terribly quickly, to the point that it feels the same. He stumbles where he stands, unable to stay upright against the torrent.

What is happening?

He’s confused as he falls onto his knees, trying to sit down to catch his breath and brains. But it’s all out of his reach with everything still spinning. He feels like he’s being turned upside down and inside out.

With a groan, Techno lays on his back. Unbiddenly his fingers come apart, grappling at the wooden floor below him like that will help. Everything solid under his fingers, yet still shimmering in his head. Even when he pinches his eyes shut, it’s still too much. He feels close to throwing up.

Is this one of the episodes? The—the seizures? Is he about to have one right now?

Why’s it so much scarier to know something is coming than to reflect on it? If he knows what’s happening, he can deal with it. Even if there’s not much he can do, he can figure something out. Right?

As his insides riot and try to drip through the gaps in his bones, it very much does not feel like that. There’s nothing to fight or struggle or hold out against here. What is he supposed to do when his own body is his enemy?

A shiver of terror runs through his body, forcing the spinning in his head quicker. A distant part of him feels Jellie jump off of him. It’s but a tiny bit more disappointment in the mess of emotion. The fear is far more overwhelming, to the point he can hardly breathe or think. Oh Gods…

Techno makes a raspy struggling noise, before something rough drags across his cheek. He jolts a bit, raising a hand to blindly bat at whatever is touching him. It retreats, only to meow and push at his fingers.

“J-Jellie?” Techno mumbles.

The cat meows in response, running her sandpaper-like tongue across his hand. When he doesn’t push her again, she moves on and starts licking his cheek. It’s slightly more gross than the cold sweat that was across his skin before.

Whatever else Techno tries to say to the cat is lost to his numb lips. Instead, it sounds kind of like “mrphm.” Jellie seems to mirror the sound, surprisingly accurately. Then she goes on to licking at his nose. His face scrunches up at the feeling, nose going all wrinkled. It earns him a meow of annoyance, before Jellie finally gives up trying to lick his face clean.

Instead she climbs up onto his collarbones, curling up below his neck. Confusion crests over him, right as Jellie begins to rumble. It’s a warm, heavy weight pushing down on him, sending vibrations out through his whole body.

Similar to shivers, or maybe the pin pricks of a sleeping limb, the purring shakes his skeleton inside of his skin. It works its way up to his brain, till it feels like it’s being kneaded away. But in a less scary way than the seizing episodes. He can still feel Jellie on his chest, keeping him stuck to the ground with her weight.

Techno reaches up and sets a hand on Jellie’s back. She doesn’t pause in her purring, simply melting into him even more. Her fur is soft, though shaking slightly with the rumbling.

He still doesn’t feel quite right, but the terror and sense of doom has receded some. Which helps him feel a bit safer. Like maybe he won’t lose himself to the fitting. Right now.

Shakily, he breathes out and begins petting Jellie with long motions. That helps even more, rhythmic and distracting his hands some.

It’s only because the dizziness abates a bit that Techno notices the sound of rockets above him. They’re a bit distant, screeching all high pitched. Just different enough from the ringing in his ears to make out. Through his eyelashes, he looks around the blue sky above him, searching for any little flying people.

Not that he's sure what he would do if he saw them. But when you hear a sound, you look towards it, he supposes. The sun hurts his eyes a little, and the moving clouds almost restart the spinning in his head. But, eventually he picks out the vaguely person-shaped fleck flying across the sky.

Techno hums, watching as the person flies about in what seems like a wide circle. Though they’re shooting forwards and doubling back often. Almost like they’re looking for something.

Oh, right. The Jellie search. Techno nearly forgot when his brain tried to flee his ears.

Sitting up still feels a little dangerous, but he rests his hands on the ground to test it out. Jellie meows in annoyance, not pleased to lose the pets. It means that she stops purring, so they both are disappointed. He picks up one of his hands to itch below her collar.

“I’ve got to get you back to Scar,” Techno murmurs.

He gets a headbutt to the chin for his effort. He supposes that it’s not much effort. So, valid.

“It’s not safe outside for a little cat,” Techno scolds.

Jellie mrrs at him, sounding annoyed. Maybe little cats don’t know what’s good for them. He itches behind her ears till she starts purring again.

Very distantly, Techno hears the flying person let out a yell. They shoot a firework, and spin in a very tight circle, looking close to crashing to the ground. Techno cringes, as they steady into something closer to normal flight. Though, they’re flying directly over him now. Perhaps they’ve spotted Jellie. And him too, probably.

Quicker than it looked like they were flying, the person streaks to the ground beside the sleigh. Techno can hear them hit the ground, and it almost sounds painful. He cringes again, trying to roll over to see. But Jellie flexes her little paws so that the claws rest on his skin, like a warning. He can appreciate the gesture and goes back to lying still, sighing heavily.

“You.” A voice says plainly.

“Yes?” Techno says, though it comes out like a question. 

Footsteps draw nearer, plodding up the side of the sleigh. He squirms a little bit, uncomfortable in being unable to see who it is. The voice is familiar, but not enough for him to quite place who it is. Which could mean that it’s just about anyone. Not great, considering his track record with people.

An unimpressed face steps into view, not obscured by the glasses. Their hands are shoved into the pockets of a white coat, similar to the type that Doc wears. But funnily enough, Cub has never helped with any of his medical stuff. Maybe he’s not that kind of doctor.

“I found Jellie,” Techno says.

“That I can see,” Cub says. “You’re a hard man to get a hold of.”

“Heh?” Techno squints up at the other man. He looks slightly ruffled, though not emotional in any direction. “You’re not going to tie me up again, are you? That would be cringe.”

Jellie meows, in agreement obviously. He scratches behind her ears again.

Cub sighs, running a hand through his hair. Though there’s a wry sort of smile on his face as he pulls up his communicator and starts typing on it. 

Laying on the ground during this conversation is starting to get awkward, so he finally sets about sitting up. It’s more difficult than it should be, but what isn’t now-a-days? He’s slightly more sweaty and shaky sitting up, Jellie clutched to his chest. She squirms until she’s curled against him more comfortably, but she doesn’t try to escape.

“You know, it’s a little understandable why Jellie doesn’t reply to my messages, but I don’t think you have the same excuse,” Cub says without looking up from his screen.

“I don’t have your comm info,” Techno says. Like that’s the relevant argument here, but whatever. It is true.

“I sent it in the main chat, my dude. Beside, like, a hundred messages from Ren, but you know.”

That makes a bit of sense, considering Cub wouldn’t know that Techno wasn’t with Ren otherwise. But he still frowns.

“I don’t have that chat either.”

“What do you mean?” Cub asks, looking up from his communicator.

Under the scrutiny, Techno tightens his fingers within Jellie’s fur. She squirms in response, butting him in the chin again. He can’t quite force himself to go back to soothing her though as he chews through the question.

“What do you mean?” Techno asks back.

Cub scoffs, but before he can answer, there’s the very quick flurry of an elytra firing in their direction. Both of them turn to watch as someone dives over the curve of the mountain. They barely slow before hitting the ground. Ouch.

From the yelling that immediately follows, Techno can tell that it’s Ren.

“ —and where the heck—!” Ren sprints over to the sleigh, hoisting himself over the side. Though, he nearly slides back down before Cub grabs his elbow and pulls him over. He hits the floor.

Ren looks up at Techno quickly, eyes wild behind his broken sunglasses.

“Techno!”

“What?” He asks, flinching back.

“Um, let us start with: where did you go and why did you go and why weren’t you responding to me?!”

Blinking in surprise, Techno is struck frozen until Jellie meows. He looks down at her.

“Looking for Jellie.” He lifts her slightly. “I found her.”

“Wh—I—” Ren stutters. He shoves his hand against his face, pushing the broken glasses up. “That does not answer the questions, my dude!”

“... It kind of does,” Techno says hesitantly.

“You disappeared and then didn’t respond to me! I thought you fell into a hole and broke your legs or something!”

The volume makes Techno cringe back again. Sitting on the ground below Ren as he yells and throws his hands about makes him feel slightly backed into a corner. Techno squeezes Jellie to his chest a bit more, tucking his chin behind her with a blank face.

Pointedly in Ren’s direction, Jellie hisses. 

Ren deflates a bit, shoving at his glasses again. It seems to be a nervous thing for him. Hence putting them on even when they’re broken. The man sighs and flops down onto the ground across from him, tails and ears drooping. He looks a little pathetic, but not enough to stop Jellie from practically glaring at him.

“Geez, you freaked me. Please send a message or something next time,” Ren says, a little calmer.

When Techno looks to the side, he happens to catch Cub’s gaze. Who looks relaxed, but intrigued.

“He said he didn’t have the main chat.”

“I don’t,” Techno reinforces.

“What? Everyone has the main chat,” Ren says. The man turns towards Cub. “Right?’

Cub shrugs. “Should be.”

Ren turns back to Techno with a frown. Like he thinks Techno is lying. Jolting slightly, Techno shakes his head while trying to search for a way to explain.

“Can you show me your comm?” Ren asks.

“I don’t have it,” Techno says.

It’s silent for a few seconds, only the sound of bells on the wind. Then Cub snorts and palms his face.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Ren asks. Then the man seems to really process it, doubling forwards. “Why did you run off with no comm? That’s—That’s so much worse!”

“I saw Jellie running…” Techno murmurs, petting her nervously.

Ren sighs, hands back at those glasses. Beside them Cub seems to be thinking, holding his communicator in his hand. As though he can feel Techno’s eyes on him, he turns.

“You can’t summon your comm?”

Techno shakes his head. He doesn’t think it’s ever worked like that before. This server is really the first time that he’s seen anything like that.

“What if you fell in a hole?” Ren says quietly, sounding horrified.

“I would climb out,” Techno says simply.

Ren groans, shoving his glasses over his hands this time. To cover his eyes.

“This does explain how Impulse lost him a bit more…” Cub says thoughtfully.

“Impulse lost him because he’s a chump! This is a completely different situation!”

“Ehhh.” Cub looks unconvinced.

“You were being attacked by a bird. Not not chump,” Techno points out quietly.

“You’re going to kill me,” Ren says seriously. He’s leaning forward so much that he’s nearly on the ground, making pained noises. “Why did Xisuma not tell me?”

Silently, Techno pets Jellie with long motions. She rolls over in his lap, exposing her belly. When he goes to pet the soft fur there, she snags his hand with her paws, not quite biting him but setting her teeth on his skin.

“Did Xisuma know?” Cub asks.

“He asked for my communicator info and I declined. For the earlier mentioned reasons,” Techno says.

Disappointed sighs ring out, but Techno's too busy petting the cat to look into that. Who can't determine the cause really?

“Okay, so we're dealing with this now then,” Ren says after a slightly inappropriate amount of grumbling. There's a determined look on his face and he slaps his thighs as he stands. Uncertainly, Techno watches.

“What about Jellie?” Techno asks.

“Jellie first, then communicator!” Ren announces. “Up, up, up with you!”

A part of Techno thinks that if he mentions how he got all dizzy and possibly almost had an episode, Ren would feel bad and make squawking noises about yelling at him to stand. Which would be kind of funny. But also this whole situation has gone on for too long and he'd like for it to be over sooner rather than later.

It's a tough ask, standing without his hands while he's all unsteady. But his arms are thoroughly occupied with cat. When Ren makes a move like he's going to grab Jellie, she hisses at him again. Which is also funny. Techno snorts at him a little.

“Oh good, I'm being ganged up on by a cat and a child who isn't even old enough for a comm,” Ren complains. 

Techno rolls his eyes. “That's not how it works.”

“It sometimes is,” Cub says, slouching casually while flicking through his own communicator still. If Ren hides behind his glasses, maybe Cub hides behind that screen.

“What do you mean?” Techno asks.

“Gotta be a certain age to summon your comm. Babies can't do it.” 

Again, Techno rolls his eyes.

“Well, that's definitely not it. I've had my communicator before, it was just— There was a no communicator rule on the last server I was on.”

When Cub looks up, his eyes almost look bright blue from the light of his screen, even though Techno's pretty sure they're black. With a flat look in response, Techno starts scooching over to the part of the sleigh where the wall is shorter. He might be able to climb over, even with no hands. Should he close his eyes while he does it, just in case?

“That's a weird rule,” Ren comments. 

Cub mumbles something about ‘weird meaning sus.’ Techno is busy sparing a look towards the ground, relieved when his dizziness only picks up a little.

“It was pretty lame. Hence why I left,” Techno says.

Which isn't all untrue. There were a million reasons before no comms that made Techno want out. And he's still pretty sure that the ease of access to communicators is an unusual aspect of this server, not the other way around. Right?

Before Techno can throw himself off of the ledge, a hand lands on his elbow and gives it a conspicuous tug. 

“No falling with the cat,” Ren says seriously.

“Only falling without the cat?” Techno asks.

“I want to say yes, but from your track record, I think you would take it seriously.”

If Techno didn’t have a concussion already, all the eye rolling and unamused looks would give him one. But he lets Ren jump over first and hold out a hand for him. Techno shifts Jellie in his hands so that she's tucked to his chest and secured with one arm around her. Then he overly carefully climbs down. Because he doesn’t want to fall on her.

“Jellie seems to like you,” Cub says, still on the sleigh.

“Of course. She can smell our cool vibes over here,” Ren says while practically lifting Techno onto the ground.

“That explains why she wants to claw your face off?” Cub asks, sounding amused.

“Jellie loves me. She’s just all hissy over Computer Chip here, cause he looks like a wet kitter,” Ren says.

A sound distinctly similar to Jellie’s hissing leaves Techno as he looks up judgingly at the man. Truly, the slightly amused look that bleeds through on the dog hybrid’s face is despicable. Techno thinks about shoving Jellie at him to do said clawing, but it would be too cruel to the cat. He pets her in comradery instead.

“None of that made sense,” Techno says firmly.

“Actually, that’s the first thing Ren’s said all day that makes sense,” Cub says, jumping off the sleigh elegantly.

“Thank you,” Ren says.

“Ugh.” Techno shoves his face further into cat hair. She mews at him softly. “Where is Scar?”

“That man will never save you from anything, trust me,” Cub says happily. “But he’s heading back to our base. The tree.”

Pointedly, Techno starts walking in that direction. The others are forced to either follow or lose his tail again, since they can’t communicate over comms, as established. He really doesn’t care either way. Not even when laughter follows him as well.

The sparkling village and strange ice tunnel go by around him much slower, allowing him to take in the sights. They’re pretty and sculpted, like everything in this world is. Because the people take time to make things pretty and look for lost cats.

Weirdos.

Techno only feels a little itchy with the two men walking behind him, loudly talking and tromping about. Jellie’s little face is poking over his shoulder anyway. Watching his back.

Chapter Text

“It’s really quite odd, isn’t it?” Xisuma’s voice comes through Tango’s communicator. Somehow.

When Techno leans closer, he can see Xisuma's face too, slightly grainy. He watches the video with wide eyes. If past experience didn't make it obvious that these people don't have normal expectations around comms, then this does. 

“Yeah. That's why I called you. And Ren and Cub before…” Tango says, looking a little put out.

“Of course, of course. I've been looking into it. That's how I know it's odd!” Xisuma says, with none of the severity that Tango holds.

“And have you figured out how to fix it?”

“Now that's more complicated. It's related to his code and all—Actually, it's not that surprising considering...” Xisuma presses his fingers to the chin of his helmet, like he's thinking.

Tango groans so hard it goes squeaky at the end. Techno spares a glance away from the video to look at his pinched face. Very pinched.

“So, what? He can't be without a comm, it's dangerous,” Tango says.

“I know. That's why he's supposed to be staying with someone at all times. One of the reasons, anyway.”

Tango makes a noise like he's a drowning fish. Then he turns to Techno.

“No more running away till you have a comm."

“I never ran away,” Techno says, rolling his eyes. “Jellie was getting away and Ren was very engrossed in that tree.”

“But you ran away from Impulse,” Tango argues back. Though Techno's almost sure that he's holding back an amused sound.

Perfect timing, if Tango is playing dirty.

“Looking back, I'm like ninety percent sure I had a seizure somewhere in there, so that hardly counts. If we're keeping score,” Techno doesn't at all pout at the reminder of his impromptu snow-hike-turned-almost-hibernation.

All the glowy bits on Tango, which is most of him, flicker slightly as he blinks. Then he turns back to Xisuma who was watching passively. Assuming he can see them too.

“So update on getting a comm for the seizure prone flight risk?”

“I told you I'm working on it as much as I can. It's complicated. And not exactly in a fun way,” Xisuma says.

“It's really fine. I've never used a communicator for anything anyway,” Techno says. Then he squints his eyes. “Not in a lame way. In a like, paper and pigeons way.”

“Pigeons?” Xisuma and Tango exclaim at the same time, though Tango is far closer to shouting.

“How are pigeons less lame than comms?” Tango asks. Though it's more like demanding.

Techno gives him a dubious look. “Birds are cool.”

“Is this all…?” Xisuma asks quietly. At the same time, there's a sound similar to an explosion behind him. He doesn't look, but Techno sure does.

“No, the comm!” Tango cries.

“I'll see about getting him a spare, old fashioned model, but they're hard to get a hold of. Just make sure he stays close to someone with a comm till it gets sorted out.” Xisuma starts waving as he talks.

Again, Tango lets out a sound like he's sinking into a river and drowning. But Xisuma happily continues to wave and hangs up, video disappearing completely. Tango makes a vague movement with his hand that makes the screen disappear.

But, if anything, the loss of the communicator just makes Tango fully flop over in his seat. He looks like a deflated balloon or a particularly sad animal. It’s really good that Tango’s the one looking this way, because last time Techno was all floppy, Tango dragged him around like an actual deflated balloon. Which was rude. At least if it happened to Tango, it would be deserved.

“I think you're making it a bigger deal than it is,” Techno points out. 

Tango harrumphs, peeling his face up and eventually smiling. “You're a bad judge of this stuff… but maybe a little.”

The man runs a hand through his flaming hair, looking slightly more lined and worn out than is probably usual. Techno squints at him.

“It's something happening?”

“Wha—what do you mean?” Tango asks, snapping back up suspiciously.

“I don't know. Space aliens, assassination attempts, famine? Stressful things.” Techno's tail whips back and forth on the little couch. Tango took the chair beside it. They’re still relatively close though. More than Techno would often be comfortable. He thinks about scooching back, but doesn’t.

“Nothing like that, geez,” Tango snorts. “Or I hope not. You honestly never know with the Hermits…”

“They cause a lot of trouble?” Techno asks.

“Oh, loads. It's hard to phase Xisuma aside from random children invading the planet at this point. Hence his nonchalance. I don't think he even processed that Grian and Scar dragged Doc into a war… again.”

There's a lot to unpack there. Starting with an apparent war, which Techno’s eyes widen slightly at. He hadn’t seen anything like that around here. Perhaps that could be a past tense altercation, but he doubts that there wouldn’t be permanent scars and consequences from something like that.

Techno hasn’t picked up on that kind of tension between anyone. Did he miss it? He had been looking in the beginning, but recently…

“The admin?” Techno asks.

“What?” Tango asks, looking confused.

“Grian. He's an admin.”

“Oh, yeah? What's that matter?”

What does that not matter? It seems self explanatory to Techno. But he tries to parse it out anyway.

“You said he started a war.”

“Oh, yea—” Tango blinks, going wide eyed. “Not like, a real war! It was a prank war! I mean, mostly. There were some explosions, but you saw Pearl and Impulse, that’s kind of how the Hermits are!” 

Techno frowns at the babbling, not sure that he believes it. Even if they say it’s just for fun or something, that doesn’t mean that it is. Why does he feel so off put by the idea? Hadn’t he assumed it was this way?

“And Xisuma just lets that happen?” Techno asks.

“It’s not really up to him,” Tango says with a snort.

“Cause Grian’s an admin,” Techno points out, feeling like he’s got it.

But then Tango says: “No, no! Cause it’s Grian. And cause it’s Xisuma. I feel like you probably got him at his most serious, but he’s really rarely like that.”

Absently, Techno picks up the end of his tail where it had wound around his middle a bit uncomfortably. He fiddles with the fluff, thinking despite no solid thoughts entering his head. It just feels like he’s being surrounded on all sides.

Tango groans and tugs on one of his own pointed ear.

“I’ve explained this all wrong, it’s—it’s not—” The man stumbles over his words, before taking a deep breath. “Grian’s not an admin on Hermitcraft. He was an admin on some servers in the past, and occasionally creates servers for games and stuff. Xisuma gets help from some of the other Hermits with experience, but he’s our only admin. And everyone is fine with that.”

Techno squints at the man. “Even Grian is okay with that?”

He doesn’t believe it. No one would go to the trouble of being an admin without being a certain kind of person. And those sorts of people are never satisfied with being just one person among many.

“Yes,” Tango says anyway. “In fact, I’m pretty sure Grian would hate being the admin of Hermitcraft. Maybe he’d do it for us, but he wouldn’t like it. And he’d complain to Hels and back!”

“Really?” Techno asks. 

“Yup! I actually play on his game servers. They’re all about fun, and he’s a fine enough admin where it counts, you know. But something like Hermitcraft just isn’t his thing.”

Just for fun. That’s what it sounds like he’s saying Grian is an admin for. And Techno supposes most admins find pleasure in their job, ruling over the players. But not by making games or playing with them.

It’s just… not how it works.

“Then why does he start wars?” Techno says, trying to finally point out how it can’t be the way Tango explains it.

“Cause he’s Grian!” Tango breaks out in exasperated laughter. “He loves to cause problems on purpose and then flies away like a pathetic bird till he stops getting chased. Then he flies back till they chase him again!”

“That makes no sense,” Techno says. “He just bothers people?”

“To some extent, yes. But people base around him on purpose, cause they enjoy the chaos just as much. Doc built his Perimeter next to the disaster trio knowing full well what would happen,” Tango says, shaking his head with a smile. “The Hermits are not normal people. But, you know, it’s like a dysfunctional family.”

Finally, Techno is silenced.

What else can he say to that? All of his experience itches at his head, still screaming about betrayals and coups that are sure to sprout up at any second. Techno is certain he’ll be dragged into it somehow. He always is. It’s all he’s good for.

Even if Tango is saying other things… He might as well be speaking another language. He’s speaking nonsense.

“Did I break you? Grian is known to have that effect, but Doc will fend him off of you with a stick, there’s no need to worry,” Tango says, tilting his head and smiling with all his sharp teeth.

With a huff, Techno lets go of his tail where he was strangling it. His wrist hurts from the rough treatment too, but he just turns away with a blank face. Or as blank as he can keep it while thinking hard. Which is pretty blank, but now that his tail is free, it thwips back and forth. Traitor.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re all…” Techno waves a hand in the man’s direction.

Tango makes a noise of offense, and probably holds a hand to his chest too. How dramatic.

“That is very rude. I worked hard on this aesthetic!”

With a roll of his eyes, Techno squints at the obvious signs of exhaustion and anxiety clinging to the man. It could be normal, he doesn’t know him well. But he knows about people being stressed and all messed up because of it.

It seems to build on people, when the servers start falling apart. Or if they were never together, then when their side starts to go south.

Even though Techno doesn’t say anything more, he does bring judgement to his face. Tango starts to squirm at the heavy silence and staring. A point towards everything Techno is assuming.

“Eek, you’re so intense for a kid! Like, jeez!” Tango melts into the chair and then snaps upright. Techno simply crosses his arms, unimpressed. “It’s nothing that you’re thinking, though. Since apparently you think the most morbid things in the universe—which should probably be explored, by the way. Not by me though—”

Now it’s Techno’s turn to sigh, tail thwacking into the couch. “You can stop talking. I’ll just assume you killed someone and hid the body badly.”

Tango makes a noise like he’s the one being killed, but his face is the normal blue shade. Blue like ice and frozen skin. Or skin without oxygen. It’s more unpleasant to look at than normal skin.

“Why would you—! Nevermind, actually. I’m just sleep deprived and stressed from making Decked Out. Normal adult things, though I fear you don’t know what that means.”

“You’re stressed from making a game?” Techno asks, skeptical.

“Well, when you say it like that.” Tango snorts. “But, yes. Nothing serious, see?”

It sure sounds less serious than anything else. Maybe too much? Is Tango just trying to cover something up?

But, why? Even if there is some sort of conflict or disaster happening, Techno couldn’t influence it really. Not if he wanted, since he’s being watched, though he doesn’t want to. What else could it be? If it involves Techno more directly, he supposes. But there’s nothing there that quite makes sense either.

There’s no other reason. Except… to spare Techno’s feelings?

The thought is laughable, but these people are also pretty laughable. And they point out Techno’s age plenty often, like it matters a lot. If they see him as a little kid for some reason, he supposes that could make them want to keep him not stressed out?

That sounds like the least realistic option.

“What’s stressing you out about that?” Techno asks, suspicious.

“Uh, nunya?” Tango says with a smile. When Techno blinks, uncomprehending, he sighs. “Just normal things. I want it to be good and fun and stuff. No big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal, then why are you stressed?” 

“If the little prank wars we have aren’t a big deal, then why are you stressed?” Tango shoots back.

Techno’s mouth is agape as the question sinks in. There’s an audible click as his mouth closes, tusks pushing into his lip at the force. While his mind stumbles, the rest of him feels slightly scorned. He makes a noise like ‘hmph.’

The loud laughter that Tango breaks into is inordinate for the situation. Techno holds back another ‘hmph,’ which would be appropriate.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tango snorts. “You looked befuddled.”

“I’m not befuddled. I just don’t think it’s a fair comparison,” Techno says.

Tango sighs. “Yeah, yeah. But that reinforces my point anyway.”

That doesn’t make sense. The end of Techno’s sleeve nearly covers his hand, even with the tailoring. Cleo had noticed and chimed in about having room to grow. It’s not inconvenient right now, so he doesn’t mind. Maybe he should. It’d be harder to hold a sword right. One slip of his hand, that’s all it takes. Techno’s seen it a million times, sometimes even caused by him. Lucky, that he didn’t turn out like the people at the end of his sword.

Techno’s eyes fall shut at the images. Memories, more like it. They’re unpleasant, but too familiar to be horrifically so. Is that what Tango means? Something about bias.

But it isn’t bias, it’s experience. Techno knows that it will go this way. It always does and it always will, which is why he has to leave.

Xisuma said he didn’t. Not till they’re finished with this world. Perhaps Techno could get the world after, so lovely and lush. But he’ll be surrounded by people till then. And his head, with the seizures—

Tango blows air between his lips, jolting Techno’s eyes open.

“I suck with kids.”

“I’m not a kid.” Techno rolls his eyes.

“You’re a kid to an old man like me. Tired and wrinkled from working on some games, that’s how it is when you age.” The man smacks his knees when he talks.

Techno watches, nose wrinkling a little at the sight. The urge to poke fun at such flagrant elderly-ness is pretty strong, but he holds back. If only because it’s too on the nose. And that it’d feel too similar to words he said in the past.

For his part, Tango looks around before turning back with another sharp smile.

“Now, do you know what old people and kids like more than bringing up trauma that would probably get them stomped by Doc for aggravating your concussion?” Tango asks.

“Heh? That doesn’t—”

“Cookies!”

Techno blinks. “We’re making cookies?”

“Yeah, sure! Kids like sweets. You liked Etho’s dessert, so hopefully you can survive my cooking—” Tango swipes his hair out of his eyes. “You do like cookies, right?”

“Yes,” Techno says. 

It reminds him of something sour, at the back of his throat. He has to squint his eyes to chase after the feeling. What do cookies remind him of? Poison? A funeral?

No. Betrayal…

“What is that face? That is not the face of a kid getting cookies,” Tango says.

“The tree,” Techno murmurs.

“What?” Tango tilts his head, bird-like.

“There were cookies in the tree.”

“Oh. Oh! Scar’s tree! Have you been?”

“Yes,” Techno says cooly. “There were no cookies.”

“Guess Scar hasn’t been keeping on top of restocking. Well, not too many people frequent this part of the planet anymore…”

Techno just frowns further, scorned. It was probably the starvation at the time speaking, but his hurt over that empty cookie shop never quite left him. If there were cookies inside, he probably wouldn’t have gotten caught that day. And, well, technically it’s turned out okay so far, but that could always change. 

It was also super embarrassing how it went down.

“False advertising, more like,” Techno finally sniffs.

The laughter that follows is totally unfounded. 

“What? You were going to buy them?” Tango asks.

“Maybe. The offer should have truly been there if offered.”

“Wow. I suppose from that point of view, it is pretty rude…” Tango says with a large sigh.

“It is.” Techno closes his eyes and nods solemnly. 

“In that case, let’s go get your cookies from Scar!” Tango says.

Opening his eyes, Techno looks up at the man standing triumphantly before him. There’s a quite heroic look about him, like he just announced that they won’t surrender. Techno supposes that this does kind of count as not surrendering…

“How so?” Techno asks.

“How do you feel about… heists?”

“Legally, I can not weigh in,” Techno says seriously.

Again, Tango laughs, ears and tail twitching. The man seems overly open with his gestures. Almost comically so. It makes Techno want to squirm uncomfortably instead of laugh himself though. It’s weird.

“A double negative makes a positive, right? Hm? What do you think?”

There’s nothing but amusement and excitement skittering over Tango. Nothing too nefarious, seemingly. If Tango has some problem with Scar and is trying to throw Techno at him to deal with, it doesn’t seem obvious. 

“We can just make cookies here, but it’s up to you,” Tango says, calming slightly. But still smiling.

“... Let’s make things right,” Techno says delicately, standing too.

With a triumphant noise, Tango laughs and slings his arm around Techno’s shoulders. It takes him off balance, both mentally and physically, so much so that he hardly reacts beside taking some reflexive steps. Tango doesn’t seem to mind, simply patting him before pulling back slightly. But he still keeps a hand on his shoulder, as though guiding him.

Of course Techno could throw him off, especially after he fully blinks back to himself and starts walking properly. But for some reason the clawed fingers sitting on, and ready to dig into, his brachial artery don’t feel too intimidating. 

It’s not exactly good to feel anything close to comfort around such things. Maybe Techno needs the proximity to danger to feel at ease. Danger does remind him of home, in the metaphorical sense. This doesn’t feel like that though. Far stranger. Like a lack of danger, but not because of incompetence or weakness on the other’s part.

Shivering slightly in unease, Techno scooches away as they reach the front door. He thinks he must hide it well enough, since Tango simply smiles before putting on his giant, albeit very warm, coat.

As they walk out of the purple roofed house and Tango begins leading him down a path, Techno begins to think over their idea. Because an idea without a plan is a good way to get killed.

“I have come up with a tiny problem,” Techno says.

Tango turns around. “Yeah?”

“How can we heist a place that is completely empty?”

If Techno expected Tango to be stumped or disappointed, he expected wrong. A devious smile crosses his face instead.

“Oh, no, no, no. We’re not thieving the cookie tree.” Tango pauses for dramatic effect, long enough to earn an unimpressed look from Techno. “Scar has many builds, far more dear to his heart. And rich in cookies!”

“His megabase?” Techno asks.

“Mm, it could be called that. By some. It’s more like the creation of a mad genius in whimsy and pain. Lots of cookies!”

None of those words describe a building where they could be heading, but Techno simply shrugs and follows along. Might as well see for himself. That’ll probably be the clearest answer he gets.

The path they follow is familiar, bringing them through the shopping district. Everything is just about unchanged from the times Techno has been through before. Though, there are some cartoon lemon and lime signs that he can't figure out what they must stand for. The food, maybe. But it’s in front of a shop selling cards.

Tango brings him down a different path from normal, though. Towards the back of the cluster of builds, where the terrain is more extreme.

Techno really starts to notice it when it feels like they’re climbing up a mountain practically. His knees ache with every slightly inclined step and his cheeks start to heat up with exertion. Obviously he needs to start retraining soon, but till then, he’s too wobbly for hiking.

“Where are we going?” Techno asks, voice clipped.

“Just over to Scarland— Ah! I forgot this walk might be a bit much! It feels so much shorter with an elytra,” Tango says, looking over at Techno with concern. “Do you want— I can carry you?”

“Nope,” Techno says and keeps marching onwards.

“Wha— Don’t hurt yourself! I don’t mind at all,” Tango squabbles after him.

“Nah.”

“Nah? What is nah?” Tango’s voice goes slightly squeaky.

“It means no.”

“No, I got that. It’s just—” Tango makes a drowning noise, enough to earn a glance from Techno. The man only looks a little drowning. “Just don’t get sick or hurt, please. Someone’s going to start a list…”

“What list?” Techno asks, forcing his knees to not drop out below him.

“At this point it’d be shorter to list who hasn’t had you get hurt under their watch…” Tango mutters.

Since Techno was busy giving the other a dirty look, he almost misses the top of the mountain and the very spindly bridge reaching off of it. With a jump, Tango manages to grab Techno’s arm and pull him away with an “eep”. Staring down at the very far off water, he feels slightly nauseous. Hm, Techno’s not contemplating how this relates to the list.

This place seems like a murder waiting to happen. Or maybe already happened. That’d be quite the way to go. Fitting of these Hermits, he thinks.

Slowly, Techno’s eyes drag upwards from the swells below and he’s jolted again. But this time, it’s from the sight before him. There’s another small mountain thing across the bridge, but from there, it’s enough to actually drop his jaw a bit.

There’s a castle, more beautiful than any he’s seen before.

And Techno’s lived in a castle for a little bit, and took out more people in other ones. They didn’t even compare to this work of art. The whole thing sparkles like ice during a sunset and it’s gigantic. Techno could imagine a whole town fitting right inside it.

“Woof. Pretty magical, right? No one can say that Scar can’t build,” Tango says, still holding onto Techno’s arm.

All Techno can say is a faint: “Yeah…”

It’s not like the other builds he’s seen haven’t been beautiful. They too had been the prettiest, most impressive things he’s laid eyes on. But something about the scenery and buildings and the way the sun is in the sky, it’s dazzling.

Techno almost feels dizzy with it.

“Alrighty, let’s get down there and do the deed before the world does you dead,” Tango says, giving Techno a tug.

After crossing the perilous bridge, the decline downwards is slightly less steep than the one up. Techno is surprised to see that the pathway seems to go straight through the castle. It grows bigger and bigger the closer that they get, and Techno’s practically gawking when they walk inside and see the pretty everything.

If Tango giggles at his side occasionally, then that’s that weirdo’s business.

The street outside the castle is equally intricate and wild to look at. Techno’s experience with Scar is quite limited, basically to the cookie slight, getting sat on by him, and little glances here or there. The guy seems a little strange and everyone seems to laugh in his vicinity. But this just makes Techno think he’s more considerable.

While Techno is staring at cat shaped balloons with befuddlement, the characteristic sound of fireworks fills the air. Tango grumbles in shock, grabbing Techno and pulling him down behind a bench. But it’s a bench, so it’s not really good cover.

Techno turns his attention to the sky, squinting through the painful light and slight dizziness.

“Of course he’s around now, and not any time I actually need to see him, the right jerk,” Tango mumbles to himself, sounding quite burnt over it.

“You’re bad at stealth,” Techno says bluntly.

Tango sqwuaks in offense and then snorts in laughter. Yeah, not subtle.

The fireworks draw further away, just long enough for Techno to think they might not be caught. But of course, they double back. On reflex, Techno shifts onto his feet, trying to make his crouch slightly less sloppy. He’d rather not get his ribs cracked by Scar again.

There’s little time to think on that now, since someone is hitting the ground with a bit of force. Usual for the Hermits, Techno is coming to see. All of their knees will be wrecked by forty. Or maybe the lack of walking due to the elytras will make up for the rough landings? Much to think about.

Tango has gone quiet and then makes a noise of acknowledgement. And stands up right then and there. Techno groans in annoyance. This dude would get captured so fast on a real mission. Tango laughs at him.

“It’s not Scar. Plaid ain’t Scar’s color,” Tango says, hopping over the bench. His coat catches on it a little, making him trip and windmill.

Before Techno can react, the other Hermit has pulled themself off of the ground and grabs Tango’s arms, jerking him upright. There’s a wide smile on the guy’s face and he doesn’t let go of Tango right away. Techno peeks over the back of the bench.

“Careful, you almost fell on your sweet face!”

“You surprised me! We’re on a super totally real mission,” Tango responds airily.

“We? Who we?” The guy perks up, looking around. And right towards the bench, probably because Tango popped out from behind it. Useless man. “Oh! The little space invader!”

Techno stands fully, because he knows when he has been caught. But he keeps the bench between them and an unimpressed look on his face.

“If I invaded, things would have gone much worse for you all.”

“Ooh, spicy.” The guy blinks at him before smiling warmly. 

Tango coughs behind his hand, looking suspiciously like he’s laughing. But it must be a trick of the light.

“Techno, this is Keralis. I don’t know if you’ve met him yet,” Tango finally introduces.

“No, I was too busy to sign up for babysitting duty,” Keralis says, nearly whining.

Techno’s face can not possibly get flatter. He decides to climb over the bench.

The bench is pretty, like everything here, but that does mean that there are less footholds than normal. Still, Techno’s not intimidated. He skitters over it with all the grace and strength within him. Which isn’t too much, since he did bleed out a lot of it, but still an above average amount, he would say.

While he’s focusing, his audience decides to let out snickers and ee-ing noises respectively. With a heft, he vaults over the back of the bench and rolls down the wood, landing flat on his back on the seat. It’s a shockingly comfortable bench.

Keralis had hands cupped over his smile and Tango is grinning like a demon from hell, fire flickering and all.

“You guys are making Scar look not so bad, and he totally broke my ribs,” Techno says, totally not pouting.

That does wipe some of the mirth away, replaced with wobbly lips. But Tango perks back up quickly, throwing an arm in the air.

“Oh, right! Heist!”

“Heist? Are we robbing someone?” Keralis asks, smile back on his face.

The man’s eyes almost rival Bdubs’ in size, but as Techno sits up and gets closer, he’s a little put off in a way that Bdubs does not seem capable of inciting. Techno realizes that Keralis’ irises are black. Like, not super dark brown, straight up inky black. It’s a little spooky, but Techno doesn’t like staring into people’s eyes, so he just looks away and stands up.

Right, the mission.

“Scar has wronged me and must pay,” Techno says seriously.

“Wow-ohs. For the broken ribs?” Keralis asks.

“Nah.” Techno flaps his hand dismissively. “Cookies.”

Keralis breaks out into laughter, but then he nods. “Serious as butts business, I understand.”

“Serious as super butts,” Tango agrees.

With a squint, Techno tries to figure out if he’s being made fun of, but the two men look too earnest to tell. Deciding on just reluctantly nodding, he turns back towards the street before him. There's some suspiciously giggle-like sounds behind him, but that must be a coincidence. 

Though Techno has to slow enough for the others to reach his side once they make it to the buildings. The street isn’t huge and there doesn’t seem to be many buildings beyond it, but he still doesn’t know where anything is. And a cookie in a haystack…

Well, Techno can obviously find it no prob, but it’d take a bit. And his legs are already a bit wobbly, so better to get it done now than later. Strategic, too, to take advantage of the knowledge of those around you. Yes, of course.

“Let’s see, there’s like five stores that sell food here, surely one of them has cookies?” Tango says, looking around openly.

“Ah, I know,” Keralis says, grabbing Tango by the hand and dragging him in the direction of a slightly off kilter building. Before Techno can follow, Tango grabs his hand too and pulls him along.

Nearly dizzy from the manhandling, Techno blinks thickly as he looks around the overly decorated building. There’s a bunch of armor stands dressed up like people, and it’s a little bit creepy. He edges away from a tiny child stand with a stitched smile and hops over the counter. Well, he would have hopped over, but he’s still feeling watery from the bench, so he walks around it instead.

“I found some!” Tango shouts, pointing at an obvious cookie display. “Wow, there’s, like, different flavors now. Who does he get to make these?”

“You don’t want to know,” Keralis says ominously, stalking closer to Tango.

“Huh—What does that mean?!’

“You know, you know… grandmas.” Keralis wiggles his fingers while Tango cracks up.

While the pair prods at each other, Techno examines the back of the counter. There’s some diamonds just tossed there collecting dust, but that’s not his goal. Today.

“What the—? How are his stores here not stocked? He lives here?!” Tango shrieks.

Resigned but not surprised, Techno starts kicking at the wall blatantly.

“Woah, Teschny, no need to tear up his detailing,” Keralis says from behind him.

A confused look crosses Techno’s face at the unique butchering of his name as he glances over his shoulder at Keralis. At the same time, the tip of his boot pops open the hollow panel of a wall, showing the small closet-like space behind it. 

“Productive violence,” Keralis says, clapping a little while Tango goes “oooooh.”

Smothering a few amused giggles in his hand, Techno turns back to the chests of supplies on back stock. The first chest that he opens is chilled, but filled with slightly sloppy rows of dessert cookie somethings. Why they are stocked here and not out front? That man…

“Jellie Bellie ice creams!” Keralis cheers, leaning over Techno’s shoulder, making him jolt a little. He didn’t hear the man sneak up.

“Jellie? Like the cat?” Techno asks, picking up the ice cream.

“Isn’t the resemblance uncanny?” Tango asks.

The ice creams may be most generously described as cat shaped, but as someone who has become intimately familiar with Jellie, there are some features lacking. Like the devilish evil smile and adorable cuddly paws.

“Nah,” Techno says blandly, taking a bite of the cat’s ear.

His blase expression is quickly blown away as the taste of the treat sinks in. For one, the thing is sweet. Sweeter than Etho’s cream puffs, and probably anything Techno has tried before. It also has flavor beyond the sweetness, which is admittedly kind of new to Techno. No wonder everyone was bullying Etho for his sad cream puffs if they’re eating sweets like these.

The free hand at his side flaps a little bit as he bites off the other ear.

“ ‘s it good or what?” Tango asks, draped across the counter with his chin in his hands.

“I’m wishing I had a grandma,” Techno answers seriously.

Keralis openly laughs in his face, but Tango just smiles with all his sharp, too long teeth. It looks horribly inviting, and Techno has to turn away. Just in time to see Keralis slip in and start going through the chests too.

The ice cream begins to melt in his hand, so he sets in on eating it proper. It’s just as pleasant as the first bite and he has to keep grabbing his tail to stop it from openly wagging. It’s not comparable to dogs’, he swears. Tango still looks at it with a giddy look, but Techno just glares at the man’s very obvious sneaking of diamonds into the register, so neither of them mention anything.

A man with his eyes on the prize, Keralis emerges with an armful of treats. Techno’s respect for him grows.

“I believe I’ve figured that Scar’s secret plan is to annoy Doc to death by giving all the Hermits stomach aches with this sugar.” Keralis dumps the sweets on the counter.

There’s no sympathy within Techno’s heart as he looks over the beautiful golden colored treats. That Scar can bake, at the very least. Maybe he deserves forgiveness… If he actually makes it so his desserts can be bought and/or stolen by Techno.

In one hand, Techno grabs a chocolate chip cookie—the only dessert that seems somewhat familiar—and in the other, a long sparkly stick of what seems like bread. With the few fingers he has left, he tries to grab another cookie with something shockingly purple decorating it, but Keralis shoves it out of his reach.

“No-no on teleporting cookies for babies with brain damage, sorry sweetface,” Keralis says before Techno even has the chance to pout.

And there’s really no time to pout afterwards, because his brain is being completely frazzled by just about everything that Keralis just said. Baby—sweet—heh?

Face frozen in befuddlement, Techno takes a bite of the stick thing. It is similar to bread, but softer and covered in sugar and cinnamon. It soothes his soul while Tango laughs at him.

“Do they not have sweets on your home planet, little space invader?” Keralis asks.

With a scolding noise, Tango elbows the man. But Techno doesn’t bother himself with the question, since the answer is kind of dependent on which planet they’re talking about. None of them are cute shapes or this tasty though. When the cinnamon sugar stick disappears, Techno shoves himself up onto the counter with one hand. His legs swing a little, shaking a bit less now that he’s sitting.

“Have as much as you want. I’m… not amazing at cooking,” Tango says.

The man punctuates his words with an honest to gods ruffle of Techno’s hair. He also shoves a cookie into Techno’s hand at the same time, so his hand is saved from being bitten. The cookies certainly taste better.

“Ren left loads of stuff at the house anyway,” Techno says hesitantly.

“Pfft, what a softie,” Tango murmurs.

“With pie?” Keralis asks.

It takes Techno a second to understand what the question is asking. Oh right, Ren’s food.

“No, soup and bread and… sausage?” Techno says, voice trailing a little.

His hands have started to sweat and shake, so he sets the cookie left in his hand down and wipes at his fingers. They’re tingly.

“What a meanie. Look, you get a discount at my wood shop whenever you want, Teschny,” Keralis says.

“Isn’t that shop yours and Ren’s?” Tango asks.

He makes his face all silly with the question, but Techno’s eyes are caught up in how his hair flickers and shines. It makes the space behind his eyes hurt, but he can’t make himself look away or blink. A convulsion goes through his throat when he tries to swallow.

“Seman-shics,” Keralis waves his hand, just about managing to catch Techno’s eyes and draw them away. It’s a little better than the lights, but not enough. Still too fast and move-y. The hand drops and a face invades his vision. Such big, black eyes… “Hey. Are you alright?”

Techno opens his mouth to answer, but finds that his lips are already parted. He tries to close them instead, but they’re out of reach. In fact, everything is starting to be out of reach: fingers long gone and toes out of this universe. Everything is on the way as he feels his brain tip backwards with his eyes.

Shouts garble within his ears, but those drip away even faster.

Darkness, prodding, constantly until he wants to roll away from it. But it’s somehow impossible, fingertips brushing against his ligaments, but unable to curl up and pull. Though there’s not much brushing either… His face curdles.

Which makes something quite literally prod into his face. His skin seems to solidify beneath the touch, but Techno also realizes that there’s prodding in his ears. Banging on his eardrums till they hurt.

In fact, everything touching his ears hurts too. Especially his brain. And all of his muscles cascading down from his head. With a violent jerk, Techno shoves upwards at whatever is touching him and at the pain, presumably.

His arms do in fact listen, flailing wildly with a burst of pain. But the voices stop at least, since that’s what they are. Unfortunately, something wet and sticky rubs all over his hand.

Nose wrinkling further, Techno makes a whiny noise against his will. 

“Gross,” He murmurs, but it comes out like grmphsh.

“Are you back with us, sweetface?” A voice responds, far too close. And paired with fingers on his forehead.

Face nearly snapping with tension, Techno aims his palm upwards again, but this time towards the voice. It’s semi-successful, he’s certain, since a shocked noise exits someone. But his hand doesn’t make contact, someone scooping up his wrist instead.

“No thank you, very yuck right now, maybe laters,” The voice says back, pushing his arm down.

Finally, Techno’s able to peel his eyes open. It’s super bright, squeezing his brain further. As he tilts his head to the side, he takes in that his head is pillowed by soft, slightly damp fabric, and a face shoves into his line of sight. At least it blocks some of the light.

“Is he conscious now? We have to check, um, like, ahhh—” Another voice babbles in, paired with more light. Annoyed, he squints till the features come together.

Ah, right, Tango. And… Techno searches the much closer face. Big eyes, but creepy not pathetic.

Keralis. Is currently holding Techno in his lap with some sort of big fabricy thing. Interesting development.

Again, Techno tries to jerk his hand up to push away for some space, but it’s still caught up. Keralis squeezes it, tight but not painful. It kind of helps with how his hands feel like nothing but tingles and gross something.

“Ah, there you are. Do you know where you are, Techno?” Tango asks, shifting closer on his knees.

That one is a bit of a thinker, but right when Techno squishes his eyebrows together to start thinking, his mouth pops open on its own. 

“Tango.” Factually correct statement, isn’t it? That is Tango.

The man smiles kindly. “This is true.” Nailed it. “Can’t say this is my place, though.”

A singular glace around shows a lot of show lights and no gothic icicles.

“Obviously,” Techno mumbles. Keralis giggles above him, while Tango huffs, looking breathless and peaky.

It takes a bit of wiggling to make Keralis let him go, but when he does, he wipes at his face in confusion. It’s wet and sticky. Confused, he pulls his fingers back and finds them covered in yellow-y slime. What?

“You got sick while you were fitting,” Keralis says.

“Gave me a hundred gray hairs, which thank you very much because it goes with my aesthetic—” Tango gets cut off.

“You don’t have real hair, you bald,” Keralis says.

“ —and you don’t have a soul—but I think we made sure none got into your lungs.”

Techno blinks blankly at the back and forth. Too much to dissect. He decides to sit up.

Keralis makes clicky noises behind him, but does help him sit up. The support is unfortunately helpful, and when wet hair falls onto his face, he can’t help being glad when it’s pushed away.

“Do you feel alright, though? Doc said he’d come over later to check on you, but I can totally call him sooner, especially if your lungs feel pukey,” Tango says quickly.

Faintly, Techno shakes his head. He doesn't feel much except uncomfortable and achy and a bit fuzzy, but that's clearing at least. Right, they were at Scar’s place, getting cookies. That explains the lovely taste of acid and sugar. 

“Aw, man,” Techno mumbles.

“Aw, man what?” Tango asks sharply, leaning closer.

Another blink at the man, silent and drawn out. “I puked up all my cookies.” It comes out more mournful than he meant. 

A suspiciously snort-like sound leaves Keralis while Tango stares slack jawed. It is a funny expression, which is good because he feels a little bit wobbly behind the eyes, and Techno is never going to cry again in his life, especially not over barfing up cookies… even if it is sad.

“Tango, dearly, go get some napkins,” Keralis says, calm and amused. That helps too.

“Did I fall?” Techno asks quietly, honestly kind of just processing. His brain seems to be stuttering back to itself in painful little jerks.

“I caught you before you could!” Keralis says.

“Oh…” Techno pushes back from the other, muscles shaking a little. But he can see Keralis’ face. Not super plussed, but kind enough. “Thank you…”

“Don’t even worry your ruffled bittle head over it,” Keralis flaps his hand a bit, before grabbing Techno’s arm when he droops. “Getting squashed and puked on isn’t even close to the worst thing that most of the Hermits have done on me.”

“Heh?” 

“Good question,” Tango says as he putters back over. He has a mountain of napkins.

“Mm, my lips are zipped for yous, Tango, don’t start sassing,” Keralis says.

“I’m scared,” Tango says. Then to Techno: “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” 

“Surely,” Tango chirps.

“Surely, surely,” Keralis chirps back.

Techno grabs a napkin with shaky fingers, clumsily trying to wipe the bile off his fingers. Now that he’s going through the process, embarrassment is starting to prickle up within him. Did he really get sick all over himself? It mostly seems to be on the floor, so hopefully he didn’t literally throw up into someone’s lap. He would die.

And when he thought passing out and seizing was bad enough. Now, getting sick. If his face didn’t feel peaky, surely it’d be glowing red. Currently, he just feels hot in a different, uncomfortable way. Maybe related to puking.

The abused napkins get plucked out of his hands easily with how in his head he is. And the brain fog. 

“Such a mess,” Keralis chides. Then he gently grabs one of Techno's hands and starts wiping off his fingers. 

Like someone is being disemboweled in front of him, Techno can do nothing but stare, practically gawking. No, actually, he knows for certain that he'd react better to the disemboweling. That'd make sense to him at least. 

“Messy mess-ter, scourge of the Cleaning Lady. Hide the mess before she kills you,” Keralis sings to himself, moving on to his other hand. 

Befuddled, Techno looks towards Tango like he'll have some answers. Or perhaps some sanity. But Tango just raises his hands and shrugs, smiling all the way. 

“That's just how he is.”

“Just how whose is?” Keralis snipes. He points pointedly at Tango. But he's still holding onto Techno's hand, so both of them do the pointing. 

“Gods know,” Tango sighs. 

When Techno's hands are clean, Keralis finally lets him go. What a relief, may he be free and enter logic land again. 

Except for how Keralis immediately starts reaching towards his face with a new napkin. 

“I can do this myself!” Techno shouts, finally gaining his breath back.

“Not very well, and I wasn't joking about Pearly’s ire, she's known for murder,” Keralis tsks, poking Techno on the nose so he goes cross-eyed and dizzy.

Obviously calculated. The man starts cleaning his cheek.

“Keralis, can't you have an itty bitty bit of mercy on the new guy?” Tango asks, exasperated.

“Who's that? Joe?” Keralis asks, pinching Techno's ear when he starts to lean away. It does force him still, but only because his brain's goopy enough right now.

Tango laughs, too amused to have true sympathy. Techno sends him the best glare he can behind the manhandling. It just makes Tango's mirth softer.

The song Keralis starts to sing this time is too close to hums to make out, but maybe that's for the best. At the same time, Tango fishes the fabric out of the man's lap, starting to fold it up. It's then that Techno notices he had been laying in Tango's coat when he came around and also that there's obvious streaks of biles on it.

“I'm sorry,” Techno says with a grimace, the shame seeming to triple within him. 

Gods, this is so, so— He should really be dead. Anywhere else and he would be. Or he'd have so much held over his head that he'd want to be. Is that what he has to look forward to? 

“Huh? Sorry wha?” Tango asks, eyes flickering over Techno's face before following his line of sight. “Ah. It's just a coat, don't worry about it. Probably needed a wash anyway.”

The damp hair around his face gets run through with a cloth, before Keralis is swiping it away and sitting back.

“All done and perfect.”

There's really no words to reply to that, so Techno just looks up at Keralis flatly, lips slanted. It earns some laughter and a pat on the head that he's too slow to avoid.

“Alright, enough torture,” Tango rests a hand on Techno's shoulder. “Think you're well enough to head back so you can rest? I can carry you.”

“With all the Blood God's power, no,” Techno groans, grabbing onto the counter to pull himself up.

He manages it, of course. But his legs do a little wobbly and colors twinkle before his eyes. But he's got it.

“I think the Blood God's wanting you to be carried.” Keralis smiles like a, well… Techno wants to say bird. For some reason.

“He definitely isn't.”

Techno removes his hands from the counter to hold them out, but his balance unends further and he has to grab back on. 

“Are-nt,” Keralis drawls, smiling wider.

“What?” Techno asks.

“It's either him or me,” Tango says bluntly.

Drooping, Techno sighs and curses how all the blood he's shed lately isn't enough. Apparently only his spleen is working overtime for him. The only reliable one…

“You,” Techno says glumly, pointing at Tango.

“Aw, that's kinda offensive, Tango's so scrawny,” Keralis complains.

“Scrawny?!” Tango sqwuaks.

“Yeah, like, little stick arms and legs from a baby bush.” Keralis wiggles his fingers.

“Hey, wha–I literally have built more than you this season! I've hauled so much stone!” Tango’s voice cracks.

“Yeah, but just for your redstone. All redstoners are puny.”

“That is, objectively false?”

“False is way buffer than you, she could kick your butts.” Keralis shakes his head.

“SHE COULD KICK YOUR BUTT TOO!!” Tango yells back, shaking all of his body except his head.

“She could kick anyone's butt, what's that matter?” Keralis asks.

“Bwah, you, wha— ugh!” 

While Tango mimics a choking rodent, Keralis turns to Techno and smiles. And then winks. Whatever that means.

“Can we bring some cookies to the house, at least?” Techno asks, turning to Tango and blinking up at him slowly.

“Ehhhh—” Tango draws out, looking nervous.

“Yes, of course,” Keralis chimes.

“Keralis, he literally had a seizure immediately after eating them,” Tango groans.

“Exactly why he deserves them. Cover pain in sugar on spoon, or whatever,” Keralis says breezily, before turning to Techno. “Anywhos, that’s why I’m the nicest and buffest Hermit, Teschny.”

“Mm, sure?” Techno says, not dumb enough to push it when he’s possibly getting his way.

“Beautiful. Tango, carry this boy home!” Keralis claps.

“I thought you wanted to carry him,” Tango murmurs, before turning and doing that awkward little crouch so Techno can climb on his back.

“Thought you were buff enough, jeez.”

“Ughhhhhhh—”

Chapter Text

Techno is sewing a very tiny pillow—one that would likely only be useful for mice or something—as Cleo watches over his shoulder, when the front door bangs open.

Techno jumps, for obvious reasons, pillow soaring through the air out of his hands. It’s a shame, because he hadn’t sewed it all the way closed. The stuffing flies through the air like snow. An appropriate sight, because he had just been thinking about giving the pillow to Steve. Rude. And uncalled for.

For that reason and no other, Techno glares at the intruder. He also jumps up, slightly crouched, and starts grabbing for weapons that he no longer has. Revenge for Steve’s pillow too. Of course.

“Scar, what the heck are you doing?” Cleo asks, looking slightly ruffled where she’s still sitting on the couch next to him.

It’s a good question, and also helps Techno’s heart slow enough for him to realize that it is just Scar. Perhaps obvious, since he is again using a wheelchair, but, well. You never know who could be trying to sabotage sewing projects these days.

“Cl-Cleo! I brought the stuff!” Scar announces, still sitting in the doorway.

“Why must you say it in such a shady way?” Cleo laughs. “And also, why are you out of breath?”

“There was a—” Scar makes a garbled noise, before folding over himself. “Oh my Mojang.”

“Do you need help?” Cleo asks.

“Not in a way that you could offer,” Scar bemoans. The man nearly looks deflated, before he snaps back upright startlingly quickly. “Why’re you on the floor, Techno? You look like you’ve been kicked by a bull.”

“Mm, more of a walloping panda,” Techno murmurs, standing not shakily at all.

“Ugh, even worse,” Scar says, apparently not noticing his own self-burn.

“Scar, did you bring the stuff I asked for?” Cleo asks.

At the same time, the woman grabs the tail of Techno’s shirt and tugs on him till he flops down onto the couch. As he bounces on the cushion a couple times, he squints at her through the corner of his eyes. From how her lips flicker in amusement, he thinks that she notices, but she doesn’t acknowledge it so he can’t call her out.

“Of course, of course,” Scar says, taking one more grand breath before calming. Not offering answers.

“You both sound shady now,” Techno accuses.

Cleo simply laughs, unoffended at the prospect of being a shady fellow apparently. During which, Scar comes closer and pulls a bag onto his lap. It clinks and makes noises like hard things are inside. With suspicious eyes and a furrowed brow, Techno watches it.

“On behalf of Cleo, and due to the very sorry state of your hair, full offense, I have graciously brought over my hair stuff,” Scar says.

“What?” Techno asks, face twisting.

“Why doesn’t your personality soften for disabled children, Scar?” Cleo sighs.

“Does yours?” He shoots back. From how she hums, it seems unlikely.

Techno’s a bit too caught up on the casual use of the word disabled, because— Well— 

He’s just not. 

With how old everyone here is, he kind of understands why they could see him as a child, even if the idea is foreign to him. But there’s no way that he’s disabled. He fights wars! He destroys servers! And he gets injured plenty, but he gets back up before the pain even has time to set in, and doesn't let it slow him down a bit.

Because if Techno slowed down, he would die. He would be dead.

“I’m not… disabled,” Techno cuts Cleo off where she’s talking to Scar about something. He wasn’t quite following, with how his heart has picked up.

She looks up at him, slightly confused. But when she opens her mouth to say something, Scar simply throws the bag into her face, smiling with all his teeth.

“Ow, what the hell?” She rubs her cheek.

“We’re doing hair, right? No talky, talky,” Scar says.

“What I would do to make you stop talking,” Cleo glowers, but then her eyes shift back to Techno. She frowns with… something. It’s broken by Scar elbowing her with a wink and wobbly eyebrows.

“Help me transfer to the couch.”

After Cleo helps Scar sit on the corner of the couch, Techno grabs a lock of his hair to tug at. Though the feeling does make him cringe. At this point, he basically just avoids touching his hair, it’s in such a state. But that still doesn’t explain this.

“What do you mean about my hair?” Techno asks.

“It’s gross,” Scar sings. Cleo elbows him back.

“Fine, I can see that much, I crashed a spaceship on top of it,” Techno rolls his eyes. “And someone rubbed it all in the ground in the forest.”

“Hey! You can’t keep using that story for everything, at this point you’ve blamed me for breaking every bone in your body!” Scar whines.

“You were very thorough.” Techno can’t quite keep the amusement off his face, even as his voice is flat.

It simply makes Scar whine more, wordless this time. 

“This is lovely, I very much approve. But your hair might actually be at risk of becoming a bird’s nest very soon, so we have to—” Cleo pulls out a hairbrush. “Have to sort it out.”

“I can do it myself.” Techno covers his hair with his hands slightly, pinching his lips. He’s not useless. Or, like. He’s just not.

“Why haven’t you done it yet, then?” Cleo asks, raising an eyebrow and leveling a perfectly dead look.

If lips can pinch further, Techno does. He grabs at his hair a little, pulling on it. The tangles snag immediately, making his scalp sting. And the hair barely budges at all.

“Been busy,” Techno lands on.

“Don’t go with that excuse, Techno. That’s the excuse of the guilty, around here,” Scar says.

“The excuse of the sleep skippers and meeting missers,” Cleo says.

“Mm, well, partially my been busy has been the sleeping and meeting, so. All good.” Techno slouches on the couch. Cleo snorts.

“Guilty,” Scar stage whispers.

“Look, I’m not going to hold you down like a—like a Scar tackling a child in the woods—”

“Hey!”

“ —And forcibly brush your hair, but if it isn’t fixed soon, it will be too matted to detangle and we'll have to be cut,” Cleo says.

Techno keeps slouching till his back hits the couch cushions. His practically mostly healed wounds share their displeasure at the position, but he doesn’t budge.

There are certainly no good memories associated with getting his haircut. And, he does know that his hair got pretty messy as a kid, to the point that it hurt. Logically, his hair now is getting close to that. But at this point, it’d take hours to tame.

Scar is pulling out brushes and combs and bottles of things, stacking them on his thighs and then Cleo’s. The woman blatantly tips them over with a finger. He sets them back up even more forcibly.

“I don’t know…” Techno settles on.

“I figure, it’ll be easier and less painful with us helping.” Cleo shrugs.

“Plus, I won’t even make you pay for my expertise,” Scar says.

Techno raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “You have short hair.”

“Right now! I’ve had long hair before, only a few months ago actually. Hence:” He waves his hands over the hair stuff.

“You must not be good if you cut it off,” Techno accuses.

Cleo breaks into laughter as Scar sputters.

“I cut it for style! And because short hair just fit the aesthetic better, and when you’re building under the sun— I’m not explaining myself to you!”

“You just did,” Techno points out.

“Cleo!” Scar turns to said woman and clasps his hands together.

“What would you like me to do? You walked into it.” Cleo pats the man’s head.

“You always play favorites,” Scar complains.

“You benefit the most. Don’t complain.” She moves on to pinch his ear, which makes him complain more.

“I suppose you can help, but not cutting,” Techno eventually says, face scrunched up like he’s tasting something bad.

“Oooh, yay,” Scar claps, obviously not caring. “My biggest terraform yet!”

Suddenly, Techno hesitance wavers even further. But Cleo’s already grabbing his arm and manhandling him on the floor before them. He gives resistance a go, but the woman has some real persistence in there. They compromise by Techno kneeling awkwardly, so he can at least jump up easily.

“Now, now, there’s no need to fear. We’ll be gentle,” Cleo crows, running her fingers over his head.

With a shudder, Techno ducks down a little. “This is even more disconcerting!”

With little clicky noises, Scar grabs a chunk of his hair and picks it up, luckily stopping when there’s resistance. Cleo’s sifting through it all like she’s dissecting a corpse. It’s really hard for Techno to decide what to do, other than glowering.

“Mm, there’s definitely blood in here,” Cleo says, luckily not sounding excited by that.

“I’m shocked Doc didn’t just chop it all off. He has no discretion,” Scar says.

“Oh? Unlike you?” Cleo asks, setting Techno’s hair down and putting a hand on his shoulder instead. “Alright, we’ll have to go piece by piece, starting at the bottom. You: keep sewing.”

“Seriously?” Techno asks, doing his best not to squirm when Scar’s still tugging at him.

“You can’t get out of your lesson that easily.”

“Are you going to warn your customers that you use child labor, Cleo?” Scar asks.

“Techno’s my biggest customer, I don’t know what you mean,” Cleo chortles.

Below the eyes and the fingers and words, Techno squirms a little and droops. Picking at his fingers, he peeks over his shoulder, feeling tense.

“Sorry,” He says. Not quite sure what for, but it feels right to say.

Cleo clicks. Then she shoves a little pillow into his hands.

“Close it up. If you do good, you can graduate to a proper throw pillow.”

Frown wavering on his lips, Techno stares down the pillow till there’s a sharp pull at his hair. An absent apology follows it, but Techno just unsheathes his needle from the little tomato and sets it upon the folded inner edge of the baby pillow. He can destroy this baby and then demolish the proper pillow. Natch.

The challenge of his head getting jerked back every three seconds and the heat of close contact where he can’t see is an added challenge. But Techno’s great at challenges, so it’s fine. Natch.

“I’ve never seen anyone with pink hair before,” Scar says, while spraying something oily and flower scented onto his head.

“Uh, Lizzie?” Cleo says flatly.

“Oh, she does, doesn’t she?”

The pause in Scar’s yanking makes Techno fall out of the pattern and stab himself in the thumb. Ouch. He pauses to press the bleeding digit into his mouth, slyly looking over his shoulder.

Both of the others have concentrated looks on their faces, but that doesn't stop Scar from smiling or Cleo from rolling her eyes. When he turns his head too far apparently, Cleo gently cups his temple and cheekbone, turning his head forwards again. He blinks a couple times before checking that his thumb has stopped bleeding before restarting his sewing.

It’s a little bit easier to keep his eyes on the sewing, even as the pain on his head gets worse, if anything. The chance of anyone slitting his throat or stabbing him in the back during this ordeal seems unlikely. If they haven’t taken the chance so far.

Plus, with the itchy sort of pain in his hair, he wants to squirm pretty bad. Generally a discouraged action when any type of detailed work is happening to a person. Which makes the fact that squirming is most appropriate at those times all the worst.

Scrunching up his features, Techno forces his muscles tense till he’s perfectly still. Then he painstakingly sews a straight line into the pillow.

“Should I grow my hair long again, do you think?” Scar asks.

“I don’t know. Do you want to?” Cleo asks.

Scar sighs forlornly.

“That does not sound like an answer," Cleo says.

“I was asking your opinion on it.”

“I do not care, Scar. Do whatever you want to your hair.” Cleo laughs.

“But I don’t know what I want!”

Techno ears flick at the loud noise, but he knows well enough to stop moving now to avoid stabbing himself. Good impulse, around Scar, it seems. Though honestly the man doesn’t get loud half as much as a bunch of the other Hermits. The other Hermits just haven’t yanked his hair while yelling yet, so there was no need for such preparations.

Thinking on it, Bdubs honestly might do something like that. Good to keep in mind…

“Probably figure it out before making a decision about it then, you dunce,” Cleo says.

Scar sighs again.

“It looks so cool, but in action, it’s so—” Scar makes a vague mouth noise. “You know what I mean?”

“No clue.”

Despite his harrumph of distaste, Scar smoothly pulls a comb through a lock of Techno’s hair. The lack of pained tugging is the real shock. His annoyance turns to triumph, as he tosses the hair over Techno’s shoulder.

“You probably know what I mean, right, Techno?”

Techno drags his fingers through the lock of hair. It’s slightly greasy and somewhere between straight and awkwardly wavy, with plenty of frizz. But his fingers get through without too much work. It feels amazing.

“I’ve always had long hair,” Techno says, brushing through his hair with his fingers a few more times.

“Oh, really?”

“It’s gotten chopped off a few times, but other than that.” Techno pulls on the bottom of the hair lock so it shows the couple feet of length. “Long.”

“Who’s going around chopping people’s hair off?” Cleo asks, voice scornful. 

It pulls a short chuckle out of Techno. “I don’t know if it was anyone’s main intent. But I’m sure there’s some hair cutting freaks out there.”

“Lovely. I’m glad that fear has to be a part of my life now,” Cleo says.

“Honestly, it seems like something someone on this server would do,” Techno says.

There’s a beat of silence, then Scar laughs.

“You’re not wrong.”

“They would. They really would.” Cleo sounds disappointed.

“Who would even— Zedaph?”

“I don’t want to think about what that man would do with a piece of someone’s hair. Nothing ethical.”

“No, definitely not. But I’d probably give him some if he asked.”

Cleo sighs. “You would.”

That sounds concerning. Techno doesn’t think he wants to meet anyone named Zedaph. If he’s hopefully not met him yet.

“You guys are concerning,” Techno decides to voice. Because it must be said. It just earns more laughter and sighs.

“I know. Don’t worry about it, it’s all fine,” Cleo drags out.

See, Techno really wants to disagree, because it does not sound fine. But proclaiming that everything is fine when he’s got, like, a stab wound, or is about to have a stab wound, is kind of his thing?

So he embraces the fine-ness and makes sure that his pillow is better than fine.

It nearly seems to be, as he ties off the end of the thread. At least, no filling is spilling out of it. That’s half the job of a pillow, right? He inspects the thing all over and is vaguely. Pleased.

With the pillow resting in his lap, getting squeezed by his fingers every few seconds, Techno tentatively closes his eyes. It makes dealing with his hair being messed with easier. And, as the snarls are pulled apart and the combs tins reach his scalp, it almost starts to feel nice.

Less and less his whole head gets yanked backwards with pulls of a brush. The slight headache his concussion stirred up from all the manhandling improves too. He leans his head back slightly, feeling locks of untangled hair collect on his shoulders.

Eventually, more hair than not is sorted out. His limbs have taken on a fuzziness that means he doesn’t pull away immediately. Might as well let all of his hair be fully fixed, they’ve gone this far.

That’s about what he’s thinking when Cleo’s fingers settle on his scalp below his ear and start lightly scratching.

Considering that his scalp hasn’t actually been touched in at least a month filled with much head bleeding and falling in dirt, it feels nice.

Not quite noticing, Techno lets more of his weight rest on the fingers that continue to scratch through his hair and scalp. His tail flicks leisurely and his head grows heavy. The drop into sleepiness is so quick that he could almost be afraid, except that the nice feeling hasn’t fled yet.

A faint rumbling rises out of Techno’s chest.

A quiet gasp sounds from behind Techno. 

He squints his eyes open, confused and indeterminate as the vibrations in his chest stutter. What is even? He jerks forward out of the touch and the noise cuts off, awareness seeping back in.

“Scar,” Cleo complains, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean it, I was just shocked,” Scar says, slight shocked chuckles in his voice. “I’ve rarely heard a person purr.”

Purr? What does purring have to do with this situation? There are no cats involved or anything else of the similar sort.

With one hand on his chest and a quickly heating up face, Techno turns towards the others with a glare.

Scar holds his hands up in surrender, but he’s still giggling. For Cleo’s part, she just rolls his eyes and holds out a brush again. Techno does not lean back into it, because he doesn’t want that at all. That would be weird. Enjoying having his head touched would be weird.

“I’m sorry, it reminded me of Jellie, which made me all surprised,” Scar says. To Techno.

The glare on Techno’s face grows sharper, as does the heat. Of anger, obviously. Nothing else, nope.

“What?” He asks, voice cracking slightly.

Scar laughs at him and even Cleo snorts. But when Techno shifts behind his bangs slightly, her face softens.

“He’s not really teasing, are you, Scar?” Cleo elbows the man in the side.

“No, no, of course not! The purring was adorable.” His hands go up in surrender again.

Techno’s too busy gawking, mouth actually falling open.

“Purring?!”

“Yeah, all content and feline like.” Scar makes cat paws with his hands.

“I do not purr! I’m not a freaking cat,” Techno shouts, face glowing like a fanned ember. In anger. Obviously.

“More animals than just cats purr. I hear dragons do too,” Scar says.

“I'm not that either!” Techno says. Calmly. And not at all spiking up. Even more, at Scar's laughter.

“Aw, it’s probably just a piglin hybrid thing. Leave him alone Scar, it’s sweet and natural,” Cleo says, voice turning chastising and teacherish. “Don’t listen to him.”

The woman makes a move to grab at Techno’s hair and ears again, which he ducks with a glare and a pout. He wants nothing with her nature inducing hands or rudely soft touches for how calloused her fingers are. Steadfastly, he scoots away and sets about pulling his nearly tangle-free hair back.

“I do not purr, you all need your ears checked,” Techno reinforces.

He can just about hear Scar murmur something about “denial being big with this one.” Another mishearing, surely.

“Fine, fine. Let me just pull your hair back into a braid real quick so all my hard work doesn’t go to a waste,” Cleo says with a sigh.

Skeptically, Techno looks up at her to try and decipher her hidden intentions. There doesn’t seem to be any more than normal, as she raises an eyebrow at him.

“No petting,” Techno says, before scooting back towards her legs.

She snorts, which he graciously ignores.

Luckily, it seems like she’s getting back to business by separating his hair into locks for braiding. He almost lets himself relax again, before the front door suddenly slams open, making everyone jump. Techno a few inches more than the others, perhaps.

“SCAR!” A voice yells. Techno’s on his knees before he recognizes it as Bdub’s. The man continues: “CLEO!”

“Jesus, Bdubs. What are you doing?” Cleo asks.

At the same time, she grabs Techno’s shoulders and pulls him back onto the floor before her. His limbs feel too jittery, and his attention pointed elsewhere, to stop her.

“Exposing the traitors!” Bdubs continues to shout.

“Exposing your what?” Scar asks, sounding a tad shaken up too.

“My supposed family, though I can hardly call you that when you’ve gone behind my back like this.”

Bdubs crosses his arms and turns around. Which is a funny thing to do during a confrontation which he has initiated completely on his own. It gives time for Techno to set his hand on his chest and let out a breath, double checking that there are no actual threats. The door and windows seem clear besides the dramatic focus.

“Wrong server, Bdubs,” Cleo says. She doesn’t seem anywhere as affected by this as the rest of them. 

“Apparently. Though only for me. I knew I was the least favorite child.”

“Well, if we’re all on the same page. Close the door, will you?” Cleo says.

Bdubs gasps loudly, finally turning to face them again. His gaping mouth matches his large eyes. He’s got the kind of face made for being wacked on the back of the skull.

Slightly, Techno leans back into Cleo’s shins more heavily.

“I’m confused about what’s happening, but I think I’m winning, so that’s nice,” Scar pipes up.

“You two went behind my back for family bonding activities! I’m very hurt!” Bdubs says, pointing directly at Techno.

Which earns an eyebrow raise of his own. Techno is not a family bonding activity. He’s a family destabilizing activity, thank you very much.

“We’re detangling the spicy kitten, Bdubs. Important work,” Scar says. He earns the eyebrow raise too, even glowery for them all.

“I honestly didn’t think to invite you. Or like, I continue to not know why I would invite you? You don’t know anything about hair,” Cleo says evenly, finally beginning to braid again.

Bdubs gasps. Actually, he literally says the word “Agasp!” instead of inhaling.

“I’m great at hair!”

“You’re bald,” Techno says judgmentally.

“Hey, you!” Bdubs points again. “These locks are luscious and enviable, especially coming from someone who’s been walking around with sticks in your hair for a month!”

“Pretty sure the sticks were a recent addition, from when you let your horse stomp me into the ground.”

Bdubs makes a face like he wants to gasp, but he doesn’t make a sound. Cleo’s laughing enough for the both of them. A far preferable reaction. A sly smile crosses Techno’s face.

“Oh, ha ha.” When Scar starts to laugh, Bdub’s cuts him off quickly. “Half the sticks were yours’ from smashing his head into the ground yourself!”

“Ughhh, why is everyone bringing that up? Techno, it was just Bdubs’, right?” Scar asks, linking his hands in a begging gesture.

Techno thinks about taking pity on the man, if only to further the offense towards Bdubs. It would be warranted and funny… But it would also be double funny to drag both of them.

“Nope, I definitely had to pick out the sticks pre-horse tromping from you, he makes a point.”

Once again, Cleo chuckles at the misery of the two men. A pleased warmth rises up within him, only added to by the end of his newly braided hair being tied off and thrown over his shoulder. He rubs his fingers over the only slightly raggled locks, not pulling away from the woman just yet. He’s very comfortable and doesn’t feel like wasting energy.

She pats the top of his head, staying acceptably clear of his ears.

“See, this is why you’re both not my favorite children,” Cleo says, breaking off the groans and arguments of the men. Though they both make plenty of offended noises, so it’s hard to discern. Subtle whining differences. “Techno’s my new favorite.”

In time with the words, she leans forward over his head and squishes his cheeks between both of her palms. His eyes get squeezed shut by the motion, and the fat sticking to his bones getting forced upwards. Truly, he tries to react in a way befitting the offense of the display, but his brain stutters supremely.

Even when snickers prick at him. All he can do is whip his tail agitatedly till she lets go and he takes a big, deep breath.

Too much pleasure is sticking to everyone’s should-be guilty faces. Techno squints at them and evaluates his targets. Well, picking off the easy ones is tried and true.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing. I’ve known the woman for like a month, bled all over her, destroyed her sewing projects, and I still outrank the two of you. Pretty lame.”

Bdubs simply laughs some more, but Scar does deign a slightly offended, though exaggeratedly overly so, look at Cleo.

“It is a little offensive.”

“Says more about the two of you, really,” Cleo says, nonplussed. “Work on yourselves.”

“Oh, whatever. I’m still getting half your estate,” Bdubs says, apparently flipping his emotions on his head. “Be warned Techno, her loyalties are fickle.”

“Mine? Mine?! Excuse you—”

“And that, my friend, is why Bdubs isn’t the favorite,” Scar leans over and whispers to Techno with a wink.

Techno rolls his eyes, but a smile refuses to leave his lips.

Chapter Text

No one is around to watch Techno.

Which should be the norm, or at least shouldn’t be a Thing with a capital “T.” Techno’s been alone as long as he can remember. Which considering the specifics of his birth server, probably means he was actually literally alone when he popped into existence. Players with actual birth parents are weird and overrated, for the record.

Regardless of how awesomely he raised himself and has been doing on his own, before the crashing into a planet debacle, none of the Hermits are free to watch him today. Because of a card game tournament.

Which he is now being dragged along to due to the no one to watch him Thing.

Techno is protesting through a scowl and crossed arms, purely out of principle. Taking a nap during a card game or in the middle of some Hermit’s infodump about redstone really isn’t any different to him. He’d have gone if someone poked him into it for reasons other than this, probably.

So. The principle of it all.

The build he’s brought to is odd, as always, though far more functional than most of them. In fact, it’s a tad familiar looking to Techno.

It’s an arena.

Not the bloody sort, at least as far as he can tell. And he can usually tell in regards to blood quite easily. So they either clean real good, or have bloodless arena engagements. What could that even be? There’s usually at least a little bleeding within these places.

The smooth, shining quartz everywhere on this arena doesn’t line up with the more familiar dirt or half rotted wood from his memories either. This server continues to be so strange.

“Everyone is late, of course,” Doc sighs, leading Techno inside the building.

In contrast with his statement, or perhaps actually explaining it, the creeper hybrid tromps over to the panels on the wall. It seems all tech-y, and in fact there are a lot of mechanical bits all around. Those would break super easily in a real fight. Doc seems plenty focused on them, like they’re the main attraction. 

Techno doesn’t think that eleven minutes before the hour is a time anyone would set for a meeting. They’ve definitely come early so this dude can be nerdy.

Huffing, Techno walks over to the nearest bench and sits down. He’s a little bit tired from walking, not quite to the point of feeling like he will pass out, but there’s no point pushing it.

Doc’s right hand summons his communicator absently, scrolling through it and even typing while barely glancing at it. The sight looks effortless. More so in the way that the man has surely done it many times before than any sort of grace. The guy’s too big to truly be lyth, especially with the hulking metal arm grafted to his side.

Does he favor his flesh hand? It’s likely more senstive, with better reaction times. Most people are right handed, but after an amputation they often adjust to the other side. So left dominant likely.

Except the prosthetic eye is on his left side too. That’s a real disadvantage, it might even override any reflex advantages with a flesh hand—

“Fan of redstone?”

Techno flinches hard, barely able to turn it into a productive action. Which means that he only manages to turn towards the voice while kicking himself backwards.

His butt slides off of the back of the seat, sending him bouncing onto the ground.

“Oop— That is unfortunate.” The newcomer leans over the bench a little bit, looking down at Techno.

Techno’s forced to squint up with him, forcibly stiff to stop from fleeing or lashing out. Nerdy glasses and white jacket, oh. That Cub guy.

His skin feels slightly aflame as he grabs onto the bench, pulling himself up to standing. If he wasn’t winded before, he is now. Wow, he actually feels a bit dizzy. That’s so cringe. He pretends to wipe his pants off to hide the shaking in his hands.

“You alright—?” Cub asks.

“Hey! What is going on over there!” Doc shouts, hands on his hips while glaring over at them.

“Greetings,” Cub says back.

While the eyes are off of him for a moment, Techno properly releases a breath and straightens himself out. Yes, it was stupid to let himself get so lost in his head and snuck up on, but it didn’t get him a knife to the back this time. He’s lucky this server is so softie.

Good reminder to straighten out, though.

“And that involves falling and knocking about?” Doc asks sternly.

“Y’know how it is, man,” Cub shrugs.

Doc seems to know how it is, since he sighs in disappointment and deflates. One could almost feel bad for the hulking goat man. 

But then again, one also gets the sense that perhaps he has it coming.

“Anyway, we’re setting up to play cards? Did you ban the kid from helping?” Cub asks, walking over to stare at some tech stuff too.

“What? No—” Doc gestures to Techno. “He doesn’t know redstone.”

“It’s a little rude to assume,” Techno says, crossing his arms.

Then he uncrosses his arms so that he can balance well enough to climb over the bench. Cub snorts, though he’s mostly sure that it was in response to his words instead of his actions.

“You said you couldn’t!” Doc says.

“Mm, well, I can’t,” Techno says. “But still, it was hurtful.”

Doc sputters, waving his furry hand in the air a bit. Cub is watching with an amused smile, glasses shining a tad over his eyes.

Once more, Doc sighs and shakes his head.

“Fine. I am sorry.”

“I will think about forgiving you,” Techno says.

When Cub chuckles now, just about all of the embarrassment and panic feels like it has left Techno's body. Much better for other people to get laughed at instead of him. And have the attention on them.

Approaching footsteps have him turning towards the door, watching people actually walk in this time. It’s the man made of blue goo, very recognizable, and a man who is so plain he is easy to overlook, thus worthy of special attention so they don’t slip a guard. Jevin and Beef, Techno thinks. He hasn’t spent much time around either, but others have talked about them enough.

They’re chatting about something and carrying boxes. What did Cub say they’re here to do? Cards?

Well, that should explain the lack of blood. Though gambling never is fully safe from murder attempts depending on who loses. 

Techno hopes that the slime loses. Getting punched by him probably doesn’t hurt. Then again, is it possible for someone to drown within the slime of a hybrid?

Techno’s nose squishes up at the thought. Definitely not. Surely.

“Hey, guys!”

“Hello!”

The two men call out in greeting, earning similar responses. Though there’s not much small talk before they start buzzing about the redstone and cards once more. All of them seem inordinately excited about it.

Perhaps this whole thing is more similar to the fighting pits than he thought.

“Are you going to play, Techno? I can give you a spare deck,” Beef offers, turning towards him.

Doc mutters something like: “Cheating…” He gets an elbow to the side from Beef.

“Play… poker?” Techno guesses, twisting on the end of one of his braids.

“That would be fun,” Jevin notes, Doc humming interestedly too.

“Not poker right now. This is a game I invented,” Beef explains. “You didn’t explain it to him, Doc?”

“He wasn’t even supposed to come until— Everyone is getting on me today! Leave me be!” Doc blusters.

Everyone snorts and chuckles at the creeper cyborg’s expense. The poor flunk.

“It’s a trading card game based on the different Hermits and the bits we’ve done and stuff. All the cards have different rules and you build a deck to optimize them,” Cub explains.

The end of that sentence peaks Techno’s interest. A hand of cards is held out in Techno’s direction, showing off a collection of pictures. He catches sight of a sword and potion. 

Interesting, is it based on combat? Fictional combat, but different rules and methods. All interacting and interplaying until someone comes out on top. That sounds a lot like combat.

“That’s not self absorbed,” Techno says sarcastically, looking down at the drawn version of the Mumbo man with the mustache. It’s a good drawing.

“Hey, self love is important!" Beef says.

“Did you draw them too?” Techno asks. He said he made them. Would explain the offense, he thinks with amusement.

“Drew them, created the rules, and all the different descriptions,” Beef says. “It’s nothing revolutionary, but it’s not bad.”

“Hey, no one else here did it, that counts as revolutionary to some extent,” Jevin says, patting the guy on the back.

The goo hand does not go through his clothes. Good to know.

“Yeah, man,” Cub agrees, tucking his cards back in the deck. Then, he pulls out another small container. “Here, it’s an old deck of mine.”

He tosses it into Techno’s hands. A few dozen cards seem to be slotted inside, seemingly a different assortment. How many are there in total? And presumably they’re different rarities based on their worth. And depending on how the cards work together, in decks.

A strategy game, Techno realizes. Although there’s always a bit of strategy to card games, or so he’s told by people who like losing their money, it’s mostly luck. Techno wonders how much luck goes into this. It seems like less than stuff like poker.

“Don’t steal my thunder, Cub. I’m the card guy,” Beef scolds.

The man turns to Techno, reaching into his stained apron with flourish. Then, he pulls out another pack and presents it to Techno.

But Techno happily takes it, a little excited to see if the cards are different from each other.

“That would have been cooler if Cub hadn’t done it before,” Techno says, pretending to be complimentary.

Beef sighs pointedly.

Before he can think up more questions to ask that don’t sound too nerdy, eager, or stupid, a soft whistle comes from above. Techno recognizes it enough to not react beyond bending his knees a little, just in case. Though the sound is quieter than the rockets often are with the elytras, which might help a little. Techno’s ears are buff, sue him.

It becomes obvious why it's quiet when the person lands right in the center of the arena, full power rockets not necessary. The wings on their back flap, very large and slate colored, before they start folding inwards.

Real wings.

The person turns towards them, long blonde ponytail swinging between the feathered appendages. Are all avians blond? Possibly. Techno doesn’t think he’s met anyone that’s broken that streak yet. Phil’s hair used to be nearly that long too, before he chopped it all off. Techno got mad at him, and the man promised to grow it back out again.

He frowns slightly, before shaking his head. This is, oh right. 

False. He thinks.

“You all standing around writing your obituaries?” She asks flatly.

“We’re explaining the game to Techno,” Doc calls back, face unamused.

“Oh,” False’s eyes slide over to him. 

They’re as sharp as the long grey feather on her back. Avians and their stares… The woman’s seeming proclivity to swords also doesn’t make him feel any less on edge.

Then, a small smile cracks her lips.

“Lucky you found a kid to help you write them. Would’ve been sad to see you all crushed twice in one day.”

Surprise pulls a laugh out of Techno, even as he gets half hearted glares and exaggerated groans for his effort. His shoulders rise a little and he raises his palms a couple inches, mostly joking surrender. 

“You’re going to beat us without even min-maxxing your deck?” Doc asks, sounding skeptical.

“Mhm,” Cub agrees politely for False. Doc palms his face.

False obviously is satisfied with her declarations, since she just turns away and starts going through her cards. The feathers on her back fluff up a bit before smoothing back down.

Everyone seems to be heading off to prepare for the matches properly now. Must actually be time to start, then. Somehow, Doc’s complaints about lateness have disappeared. Strange that.

Techno starts to head back over to the benches. Althought he’s intrigued now, he’d like to watch a few rounds before poking in at all.

Before he can lower himself down, a final person walks in late. Actually late. Techno sets a glare on his eyes, face souring.

Perhaps he’s prepping himself up for a seizure. Would be just as well.

The man with the teal shirt and an @ sign strolls in through the door.

All of the cards in Techno’s hands fall to the floor, his tail thwipping back and forth in displeasure. Of course. Him.

“Howdy, ya’ll!” Joe Hills says, waving politely.

“Joe!”

“Hey, dude.”

Hey, Joe. More like, hey Joeser. Joser. Loser. Techno thinks so intensely that his head pangs a little.

Curse his head wound trying to stop his hating.

From across the arena, he notices False watching him, eyes drawn over from the slap of his cards on the ground. She turns to Joe, and then back to him. Raises an eyebrow.

Techno grumbles, crouching and scooping up the cards.

“Alright, first match is Cub versus Jev. Scatter to the splash zone, I’m reffing,” Beef announces.

Techno crosses his legs where he’s on the ground, looking through the deck of cards on his thigh while flickering his eyes upwards to watch every couple of seconds. The other deck he was given is mostly different. Interesting.

His close attention is why he notices Doc and Joe moseying over to him right away. Once more, Techno squints. But he stays silent and starts laying out the cards in front of him. 

“Howdy, hey, Techno!” Joe says as he sits on the bench to the side.

“You already said that,” Techno says.

“Well, the more the merrier,” Joe says. Then he lays a hand on his chest nobly.

Techno doesn’t even try to suppress the annoyed tail wiggle at that. Real stuff, tail.

A burst of music starts playing then, thoroughly drawing Techno’s attention back out. The song is short, mostly clapping. In fact, Joe does clap along with it. Normal enough of an occurrence not to draw any attention apparently. Though considering that the voice singing on the record isn’t the most musical thing he’s ever heard, it’s not too much of a clash. And in fact, he starts suspecting that it literally is Cub singing by the end.

Honestly, he’s kind of just impressed by the recorded voice. Most music he’s ever heard is just from the note blocks and records. He’s not sure how they got voices on those things. These Hermits are always up to anything other than putting in place protections.

It should be anxiety inducing, and in a way it is. But then the mechanical things up front flicker to life, looking quite similar to the comm screens, and Techno’s attention is taken.

“Jev’s first. Who are you playing?”

The slime man picks up the cards spit out from a machine before him, seemingly a fraction of the total cards he put in. Separate decks that get pulled from for the players? Makes sense.

Then Jevin sets a card down on the table-y look machine and the panels up front really spring to life. Or more accurately, he supposes, the card gets projected up there somehow.

“Oh,” Techno says quietly, kind of dazzled by the sight.

They definitely didn’t have anything like this in the arenas he’s been to. Though the people in the back rows might have liked a closer look at the fight, even if the fighters weren’t small as playing cards.

There were far more of an audience at those sorts of places. And far more blood that they wanted a good look at. Would've been well used.

“The first person that goes gets to set their active cards up, but they can’t attack yet,” Joe explains, leaning slightly closer.

Techno looks up at him for a moment, then huffs.

The player cards are being paired with the type thingies. Techno squints down at his own collection of cards. There’s a picture in the corner of all of them, tiny and hard to see from the slight, persistent blur in his eyes. The colors are enough to tell that they line up with the type cards.

Some kind of powering system, he thinks. Like water, food, supplies for the troops. What do the item cards do, then? Arm them?

There’s a short dull flash when Jevin hits something, and then Cub starts putting down his own cards. They’re shone up on the screen too. A tiny sheep man—Zedaph?—facing a tiny Pearl. 

The paintings are really quite good. It gets across the chaotic personalities well.

Cub does attack with his card, apparently controlled by how much of the type cards he has, not the items. Interesting, but technically accurate. And when Jevin attacks back and uses a sword to do some extra damage, it starts to make sense in Techno’s head.

And none of that, even a little bit, is helped by Joe prattling in his ear.

“The double type cards are rare items, since most of the bigger attacks are worth two or three of them. But, since you actually have to pull the type card to play it, there is strategy in still putting some single type cards in there.”

Techno figured that out on his own. Or he could have in a couple more minutes. He’s not dumb…

“Oh, and that type is strong against the other, so it does extra damage!”

Ah, that’s what the types are for.

Obviously. Quite obvious. Didn’t need to be said. Obviously.

It gets pretty close towards the end, but Cub ends up knocking out a third player card on Jevin’s side. The beacons flare to life alongside a shower of fireworks. Techno pinches his eyes shut, covering his ears with his hands.

“Is it too loud? We can probably turn them off,” Joe says.

“No. I’m fine,” Techno says firmly.

“Alright.”

Doc gets up, laughing evilly as he walks over to the mechanical table. All the cards have been spit out for Cub and Jev by now, the two of them chatting as they walk off, examining their cards.

Neither of them seem upset, though Jevin appears slightly annoyed, groaning a few times. But he lets Cub pat him on the shoulder and give him the participation coin. When the pair of them turn to watch the new game between Doc and False, Techno lets his attention fall away from them.

The game seems to follow a similar pattern to the last, just with different cards. And more evil laughter. Doc sure has a dramatic side to him, despite all the complaining and pathetic gripes… Actually, that’s pretty dramatic too.

Completely unimpressed, False wins the third coin flip in a row.

“You can sit on the bench, if you want, you know?” Joe says, looking down at him instead of at the game. 

Bad moves, cringe man, those are his future opponents. He’s letting good intel pass him by.

“And you can sit on the floor, you know,” Techno says back, a little snark slipping in.

“Huh, you’re right.”

Joe slides down and sits on the floor next to him.

Techno scowls harder, eyes nearly pinched closed from the force of it. 

With all the attention in his head, Techno zeroes in on the game before him. No hand holding required to understand it at all. Or to ignore the casually sitting man beside him.

One of these things takes more effortful focus.

After a close match, Doc squeaks out on top. From the impressions of everyone around him, he gets the impression that the creeper hybrid is a tryhard. Which is something that Techno is regretably appreciative of. If someone is going to be lame while playing a game, then they better try hard and win. Or in Techno’s case, do the latter things without being lame.

“Wow, great game, guys,” Joe comments, sounding terribly sincere despite the bland words.

“Yep. Come do your own good game now, Joe,” False says, sticking her tongue out at him.

Once again, the woman seems annoyed at having lost, but not like she’s plotting anyone’s death. For the best, Techno ranks her over the slime man on the danger scale. Though some attempted murders would help him make that scale more accurate, his first impulses usually aren’t too bad.

Joe stands and walks over to the playing table. When he passes False, he puts his hand up for a high five. Initially, she looks far too peeved to give him one. But when Joe doesn’t give up, she snorts, cracks a smile, and high fives him back.

Another soldier falls…

“I’m against you, Beef?” Joe asks, checking that the card machines are empty.

“Yeah, well. Unless Techno wanted to play,” Beef says.

Everyone turns to glance at Techno. He straightens his shoulders instead of crawling beneath the bench. He doesn’t even have a cool sword like False to hide behind…

“Uh,” Techno says eloquently.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun!” Joe says.

Techno sees the nefarious man dip his hand into his pocket, pulling out a different deck of cards than he was originally going to use. An easier one? Or harder? He squints at the sight. Somehow he thinks easier.

Fine. He should make the man regret it.

“Alright,” Techno says, standing with the help of the bench behind him.

Everyone seems to perk up a little at the prospect, cheering a little. Yup, definitely worse than if he had a sword in his hand. But he pulls out the deck of cards that he shuffled into being between the two.

It’s not great, but he might be able to make it work.

“Let me check your deck to see if you have the right cards.” Techno gives Beef his cards.

“I’ll let you have some pointers and help from Beef, for your first match,” Joe says, smiling behind those neon green glasses.

“You may cry for help when it’s acceptable,” Techno says back.

Beef hands him back his cards, laughing alongside the others.

It makes him jump a little as he sets the cards into the machine, watching them get sucked away and shuffled and spat back out at him. Even more exciting from up close. The hand he gets isn’t bad. He inspects Joe’s face through his eyelashes, but the man appears absently cheery, as is typical.

They splay out their starting cards and start clicking between the rounds. Beef stands over his shoulder, guiding him through the rounds and giving him short pointers. As do most of the others, though they try to be more subtle with their help.

Every little comment and point and correction makes Techno’s cheeks feel a little warm. Only worsened by Joe’s quiet, occasional commentary and unwavering good mood.

It’s impossible to find anything hidden in his expression.

When Techno's second player card is knocked out, a small growl slips out of him. It hurts around his tusks, just about peeking over his lips.

Joe looks up at him, eyebrows raising slightly.

“You’re quite close to knocking out my—”

“Beat me for real, you newb,” Techno says.

The quiet around them grows starker, everyone blinking in surprise.

“Technically, you would be the newb here,” Joe Hills says lightly.

Then he sets an axe card down and kills Techno in one turn.

“Good game!” Joe says.

Techno blinks once, a tiny wiggle goes through his tail. Then he leans over and pulls the shoe off his foot, chucking it across the table at the still smiling man.

Shouts of exclamations ring around the arena, laced with shocked laughter from the target of the shoe-ing himself. And possibly from Cub, but such seems only right. Regardless, his ears perk under the noise as he crouches quickly to peel his second shoe off.

“Hey! Hey!” A closer shout precedes arms closing around him from behind.

His focus was so zeroed in on his shoes and pummeling them directly into the pointy green glasses that he is yanked straight off of the ground before his body can even begin trying to free himself.

With his own tiny shout, Techno tries to break from the arms with a typical burst of his arms out and upwards. The furry flesh arm loosens a little. The metal arm tightens further.

Doc, Techno realizes. Made even more obvious when he’s held several feet straight off of the ground.

Fully baring his teeth, Techno changes tactics and starts slamming and shoving his elbows into the gaps in the man’s ribs.

“Hey! You little shh—!” Doc grumbles. “Relax! Stop fighting!”

Techno lets himself still, just long enough for Joe to stand up and for a bit of everyone’s attention to shift to him. Including Doc’s.

He shoves his elbow directly in the space where Doc’s prosthetic meets his chest.

With a high pitched yelp, Doc drops him abruptly. Techno falls to the ground in a heap.

“Do not worsen your concussion!” Doc shouts down at him.

Techno growls in displeasure.

“Oye, hey!” Doc scolds.

The creeper hybrid is rubbing at his prosthetic, looking close to exploding himself. A terrible casualty, but no longer an innocent one considering his involvement. Techno begins to peel himself off the ground, glaring supremely.

“What is happening?”

“What even—?”

“No throwing fists in the TCG arena!” Beef yells, waving his arms between Techno and Joe.

“Only shoes,” Techno promises.

“He does have a point, it was a shoe” Joe says, rubbing a shoe mark reddening on his face. Glasses finally askew.

“No, not allowed, minus 100 TCG points!” Beef says.

Are TCG points a thing? Techno pauses long enough to look at Beef through the corner of his eyes. From the man’s pouting lips and hands on his hips, Techno’s pretty sure he’s lying.

He starts reaching towards his shoe, slowly sitting up.

“Why in the world do you hate Joe of all people?” False cuts in.

Surprisingly, or maybe not, the woman seems the least moved out of everyone here, still slouching with her arms crossed.

“That’s a good question,” Joe says, raising a singular finger. “I would like to know.”

“Yes. Good question.” Doc grabs Techno by his shoulders, pulling him up again. Techno hisses at him through his tusks, but he’s set firmly on his feet and not released. “Nones of that. Out with it.”

All eyes are certainly on Techno now, and despite his blustering anger, they’re pointy looks. His ears dip towards his skull, fists balled up tightly. The shaking isn’t noticeable against the rest of his body.

“He’s the one that got me caught,” Techno mutters.

There’s a moment where it obviously sinks in for everyone. Like a bug having fallen into a web and stilling in its twitches as understanding dawns on it. Techno holds back the urge to swipe his hands and destroy the web completely. And some faces.

From the skewed glasses, Joe’s slightly surprised blinking is visible.

“Gotta respect the ability to hold a grudge,” Cub says.

“I guess,” Jevin says, before breaking into surprised laughter.

“Didn’t Scar literally crash into you and physically catch you? And Cub tied you up,” Joe says.

Techno blows air through his lips. “Scar crashes into people and small animals like twice a day, it’s hardly offensive.”

A couple hums go around. It is a good point.

“Hey! I catch people doing weird stuff all the time too,” Joe defends. “It wasn’t personal.”

“Well now I don’t feel special,” Techno says.

“But it was personal with you, if you think about it,” Joe defends again.

“Well then I’m personally offended.”

Joe sighs and shrugs. “Can’t argue with that. Shall we have a go with the other shoe?”

Techno starts to crouch once more, but Doc jerks him back up. “No. No fighting with concussions and untreated epilepsy.”

“Maybe a little fighting,” False says.

“Not in here!” Beef protests.

“We can go outside. If it would help,” Joe says.

“Outside,” Techno grumbles, tail thwiping.

He hasn’t beaten anyone up in a while, but he’s had solid meals everyday for weeks now. He only needs one shoe.

“No one is going outside,” Doc says.

“I might go outside,” Jevin says.

“This is not—!” Doc hisses. It really does sound more intimidating coming from a creeper hybrid. Techno takes notes and doesn’t let his tail droop. “Why are you still angry about getting caught? It turned out well, didn’t it?”

“No,” Techno says.

“You would have died out there in your stupid, little, very bad, redstone ship!” Doc yells.

Turning as much as he can in the hold, Techno examines Doc closely. Then he starts kicking Doc with his remaining shoed foot.

The yelling starts up again, though it’s only Doc this time. Everyone else just stares on, shocked laughs leaving them. Not the most stellar of responses to his battles, but worthy in some ways. 

Worthy of his opponent.

“Stop it. You, you— You’re gonna be grounded!”

“I’ll put you in the ground second,” Techno says.

“Am I first?” Joe asks, raising a hand.

“Yes,” Techno says.

“Nice,” Joe says.

“Stop being amicable!” Techno rains down his balled up fists on Doc’s half metal chest.

“Why are you hitting me!” Doc shouts.

Firmly, the man pushes him backwards. His socked foot slips across the shiny floor, upending his entire body. He reels for a moment, and then falls onto his butt.

The back of his head knocks into the card table.

“Ouch.” Techno rubs his head.

“Stop. Concussion,” Doc groans, hands held out before he grabs his face and starts sinking to the floor.

The anguished man is quite the sight for everyone. He truly looks pained, and he doesn’t even have the cracked skull. His dramatic skills are respectable, almost.

The group gives him a solid few seconds.

“Okay, everyone out,” Beef says.

“Can me and Cub stay and play another game?” Jevin asks.

Beef sighs. “Fine.”

“Hey, what did I do?” False asks.

“Fine, you too,” Beef says.

“Why me?” Doc groans, face still covered up and muffled.

Beef picks up Techno’s discarded shoe and drops it into his lap. Techno picks the shoe back up, looking over his shoulder at Joe.

“Do not. In here,” Beef says, waggling a finger.

“Hmph." Techno slips his shoe on and stands.

“I’ll walk you home. Cleo is watching you later, right?” Joe says politely.

Techno growls again, but that just makes Doc slouch more. He truly looks close to crying. Guess that’s a no-go, and while Techno does not need to be watched, a certain person made it obvious that it is not allowed for him to be alone.

“Hmph.” Techno repeats, turning and starting out of the arena.

He can hear Joe following him behind.

As they step outside and start towards the starter village, quiet falls between them. The scowl on Techno’s face fades, mostly because it was giving him a headache. Still, his chest feels itchy. It makes his tail swing back and forth, and his jaw feels set.

“Listen,” Joe starts in, obviously starting up some dumb polite talk. “I want to say that—”

The next step that Techno takes, slightly distracted by turning to Joe’s approaching form, sinks too far. His knee overbends as his face twists in confusion. Joe’s face reflects it too, hand reaching towards him as he’s cut off.

But Techno’s leg keeps right on dropping. And the rest of his body too.

He falls directly into a hole in the ground.

His body twists, brain whirling angrily. 

Before Techno can hit the ground, his body crashes halfway through the tingling chill of a purple, warping portal. Then, all of him is lost in the dizziness.

Until finally, he hits the ground hard. And it's hot.

Chapter Text

A groan falls out of Techno as he twitches. Systematically, he internally examines his limbs, finding them all in one piece and the right places. And then slightly less important, his organs for any signs of deadly damage. They seem in one piece enough for movement. But man, his head is aching like he’s been punched something crazy. And his abdomen isn’t much better.

What happened?

Forcibly, he starts pushing himself off of the ground. The floor is crumbly, and hot to the touch. His cheek feels burnt where it was scrapping against it. Hot sand, or—?

Techno blinks discordantly, looking around while trying to get his legs below him. It’s. Red. He’s in red?

“Heh?” Techno murmurs, fully confused.

He’s in some sort of forest, unfamiliar, but everything is stained red. The leaves on the trees, and the bark, and the ground. Even the particles drifting through the air are crimson. It fits well with the heat plastering to his skin immediately, but it’s still like nothing he’s ever seen before. This place hardly seems real at all, and he has been to some wild places. Nothing about it seems like a slice of good.

Wasn’t he just walking around outside? He was with some of the others and then. Nothing. Here.

Techno rubs his head, fully standing. His legs are wobbly and there’s a strange feeling on his tongue. Kind of like he’s had a fit. Has he? And then was he moved here?

His musing is abruptly cut off by a screeching sound, slicing through the air and obviously heading in his direction. Techno stiffens, before jumping out of the way and covering his head. The normally paranoid instincts come in handy now, since as his belly smacks into the ground, the earth behind him explodes. He scrunches up tighter in the rumbling and shower of debris. A few bits rain on his anyway.

Hard breaths leave him for a scant second, stunned and struggling to connect what’s happening.

“Hey!” A voice calls from above.

That’s a good motivation to unstick.

Techno claws himself back into a standing position, though that may be a generous description, and he takes off into the more wooded section of the sweltering biome. Cover, he needs cover. The explosion came from high up too. Though, they can fly, so that makes sense. Who exactly…?

The terrible crumbly ground gives way against the next slap of his foot into it. He shoots his arms out, already shifting his feet to work for better balance. But it does little when the ground giving way turns into the ground literally crumbling to nothing directly below his feet. 

And he starts to fall.

With a gasp, Techno grabs onto the ground as he slips past it, scrambling to pull himself back up onto it. The hole—or as he’s seeing now, the gaping maw—is expanding below him quickly though, so every grasp of ground his fingers take falls away just as fast. And even worse, when he glances down to know where to kick his feet for traction, his eyes widen even more.

Smears of yellow light dance amongst the red. Lava. Literal lava. And considering that the pieces of ground that he can see below him are sparse and just as crumbly as this stupid chuck he’s grabbing at, there’s a massive amount of it. A whole lake of lava.

All directly below him.

Gritting his teeth, Techno allows his hands to stop ceaselessly scrambling to keep him up and instead swings his momentum to the side. As he begins to slip, he swings the other direction, and shoves his left leg up into it.

Techno hooks his heel a few inches onto the lip of the expanding cliff’s edge. His thigh burns with the stretch, but he pays it no mind. There’s bigger freaking worries right now.

His upper body has continued to fall and as his top half begins to swing down, his insides riot. Not good, this whole about to fall into lava thing. Cause he’s about to fall, head first and spinning and bad.

Forcibly, he shoves his nails into the rock's face, making his fingers sink in. His hands and arms scream, but after a few more inches, the fall slows. It doesn’t stop, but now Techno can lever himself back up onto the edge. He just needs to pull up with the three limbs he's managed to attach to it. Really, he could do it with only one. Easy work! Clenching his legs, he bends his elbows forcibly. All of his limbs begin to shake, core overtaken by a tearing pain. But Techno pushes through.

The good news is, Techno has been in worse positions before and forced himself to push through. He can do it, even in his decommissioned state.

The bad news: a loud screeching celebrates him getting his chin right above the edge. Then something smacks into the ground by his leg and explodes.

Techno’s limbs, then body, go flying off of the ledge like a cat blown off of a couch by a barrel of gunpowder.

All the bones in his inner ears go flying out of his skull with him, as his body spins through the air. He pinches his eyes shut on reflex, and a full second passes before he remembers to pry them back open and desperately try to look around for something to grab. Everything is blurring far too much to make out more than red and orange and yellow and his own pink hair wrapping around his face. It's a mess of fire, all around.

Kicking his legs, Techno’s insides scream, right over his brain. He needs to— needs to—

Before he can blink again, Techno slams into something hard. The air pops out of his lungs, winding him, which only adds to the blind scrambling within. As he waits for the pain to smash into him, as hard as the ground when he crashed into it before, something wraps around him and squeezes.

“Woah, okay—!” A voice yells right into his ears.

Desperately, Techno tries to grab control over his body once more and squirm free. The arms are holding him down and the pain is biting in, aching over bruised muscles—

Once more, his body hits something, though it’s far more solid than the body. The impact is cushioned by the person between him and the surface. His insides jar, but the rest of him doesn’t feel quite so smacked through. And, finally, his diaphragm allows him to suck in a breath.

“Ahck, that is, dan-dy.” The person holding Techno wheezes, as finally, the dizzying roiling slows to a stop. Close to a stop. His inner ears are still going.

Smacking his hand upwards, Techno hits something distinctly face-like—earning another “Ahck!”—and starts trying to push away. Ache and bewilderment makes his movements unsteady, but after planting his knee somewhere distinctly spleen-like, he manages to roll onto the hot red stone. Far better than a body, even if it crumples to dust below him again.

A hand closes around his wrist. Techno bares his tusks and yanks on his arm, trying to extend the limb grabbing him so that he can break it with a kick to the elbow.

“Wait—ow—wait, wait! You’re gonna fall and I do not think I can catch you again, I am not skilled at flying or generally anything!”

The yelling is panicked, nearly disorienting with the annoying waspish quality of it. But Techno does look up, still trying to push backwards as he breathes quickly. The hot air burns his throat.

There is.

“Joe?” Techno asks, wheezing a little himself. Not his fault, he’s gone through a lot.

Joe Hills also looks like he’s been through a lot, as he very slowly releases Techno’s wrists and raises both of his hands. He displays them for Techno, though is obviously watching him closely. Possibly to see if he needs to leap on him again. His long hair is askew and his green glasses are nearly off of his nose. Seeing his wide eyes do not help, they are far too intense.

The elytra on his back looks like a beetle that’s been crushed beneath an uncaring boot. Not good. Or very inclined to further flight.

Oh. That.

Techno grabs on his forehead and rubs at it while looking around sharply.

“Where are we? What happened?”

Joe sighs, seemingly relaxing a fraction of an inch. Believe it or not, but the man wearing lime green fishnet fingerless gloves does not seem particularly chill-y. But then again, the pair of them have just almost fallen to their death. And also the longer that they are in this place, the more Techno realizes that it is not just hot here, it is scorching. Overall, an uncomfortable and disconcerting situation. Not ideal for chilling of any sort.

“I am not entirely sure, actually,” Joe says. “It appears that we fell through some sort of stray portal that someone buried in the game district, for some reason.”

Techno blinks once, twice. Then he opens his mouth, but is promptly cut off.

“Actually! You fell into a hole and I thought you had fallen to your death! But then I looked in and you were gone. But-but, there was a tiny messed up portal, and while cursing whoever put it there, I jumped in after you!”

“Are you done?” Techno asks, shocked look falling from his face in favor of annoyance.

“Not really, but we can turn it into a Socratic seminar if you’d like,” Joe says.

“Wha—” Techno bites his tongue. A strange screechy noise from far off makes him duck a little, looking about. “We’re on another planet?”

That is. Bad. Techno thinks that is very, very bad. Especially since this planet looks like it might actually make the top five worst planets he’s ever been on, and that is a really high bar, trust him.

Any calming that has gone through Techno at realizing that he is on slightly more solid ground starts to flee at the thought. A tiny outcropping over the giant burbling pool of lava— Yeah, that’s not helping either. New planet, new people, new lava to burn to death in.

“No, no. Or at least, I hope no, or else Doc has some real big explaining to do,” Joe says, waving his hands soothingly. “We’re in the Nether.”

“The Nether?” Techno asks, looking around.

Of course he’s heard of the place now and again, it’s a near universal story anywhere he goes. Hell, the underworld, my mother-in-law’s house harhar. But Techno wasn’t totally sure if it was real in the way that it was always described. A parallel dimension, linked to a planet in the way that portals are. Or something like that, Techno hardly knows, he was too busy trying not to die on planets far too shoddy to have fancy alternate dimensions.

“Yeah! Lovely place, isn’t it?” Joe chirps. “Let’s leave.”

The man stands, looking shockingly within one piece despite his mighty tumble and blown through demeanor. He leans down, offering a hand to Techno.

Techno’s bottom lip sticks out slightly, just because of his tusks of course, and he sets his own palms against the ground to push upwards by himself.

A breathy noise leaves Joe and he keeps his arms held out and hovering over Techno like he might explode. But like a horse that knows it will be a goner if its leg is broken, Techno manages to stand. Then he leans over himself, hands on his knees, and chokes back a groan. He is dizzy and nauseous. A lot.

“Actually, let’s just—You can sit back down all tight, I’ll call someone. Take a seat— take a seat, bud,” Joe says, trying to grab at his elbow.

“What was that explode-y thing?” Techno asks, pulling his arm away and taking a step back.

If anything, Joe’s eyes seem to widen even further. Physically, he seems to hold himself back from grabbing onto Techno, flat human teeth on display.

“It was a ghast. Giant floating jellyfish creature? Is it a jellyfish? I actually never counted the tentacles, it might be an octopus.”

Techno’s face screws up in confusion, eyesight practically shimmering. 

Joe shakes his own head to break from his musing.

“Anyway, they do shoot explosives and we’re actually in a really bad spot right now if it moves so that our piece of cover is gone. Uhhh, any opinions on who I call or are you more focused on progressing that sitting back down thing?” Joe finishes.

“We can’t just sit here and wait,” Techno says, looking around.

“I already messaged everyone, sorry,” Joe says, communicator held before him. “What was that?”

Techno shakes his own head while trying to straighten up. But perhaps that’s a mistake. His balance goes soaring right out of his ears. Popping down there in the lava. Melting into blobs. Oh boy, does his brain feel kind of wet and drippy, thick like lava.

“Right, so, that 'portals being bad for head wounds' thing is true, huh?” Joe remarks.

When Techno doesn’t even have the strength to respond with an annoyed look or sound, a gentle hand presses against the back of his arm.

“It's looking super true. Did you have a seizure?” Joe asks. “Or hit your head?”

Those are probably some good questions, if the portal thing really is bad for head injuries. And Techno doesn’t like people getting all involved in his head injuries, it’s really a private matter for him. But he can find some logic in sorting it out when they seem to have dropped into hell itself. 

However, when his lips part, nothing comes out. Any attempts to spit up words in any which direction fall completely flat. Instead, the stretch of his esophagus seems to grow tight, all the way into his abdomen.

“... buddy?” Joe asks.

As his hand tightens around Techno’s elbow, something within his chest pops. He flinches, retching.

“Ah, crud.”

The words are far off in the distance as Techno is lost to the pain and ringing in his ears. And also the revolting in his stomach. He coughs violently, struggling to open his eyes, let alone see.

Finally, he can pull in a breath. His arms are wrapped around his stomach and his knees have fallen to the floor once more. Joe is crouching before him, one hand holding back his hair and the other keeping him up by the shoulder. The thumb is rubbing little circles.

“I got vomit on your shoes,” Techno mutters, staring at the ground through smeary eyes.

“Hey, that’s alright. Better out than in,” Joe says kindly.

“I’m not sorry,” Techno sniffles.

“Well. That does make me feel a bit worse, but I appreciate your honesty!”

Again, Techno sniffles. He rubs the back of his hand against his nose.

Carefully, Joe pushes Techno so that he falls backwards onto his butt. Further from the puddle of sick. Then, he pulls a small cloth out of his pocket and hands it Techno, gesturing at his face. Techno wipes up his chin, before glancing down at the embroidered square.

“Why do you have such a fancy thing for blowing your nose?” Techno asks, trying to steady himself. Even though he’s sitting on solid ground. Mostly solid ground.

“It gets washed when it’s done with. If I’m going to have something, it might as well be a worthy quality that will last,” Joe says, shrugging.

One of his hands is still hovering right over Techno’s shoulder as he pulls out his communicator again. He starts scrolling through it, whistling out a note. There’s lights moving over the screen, messages, Techno thinks. But he doesn’t bother looking cause it hurts his head worse. Let old Joesph puke-shoes handle it.

“Who’d you bet on that portal belonging to?” Joe asks conversationally, still scrolling.

“What?” Techno asks right back.

“Ooh, so close. It was actually Doc,” Joe says. “Obvious if you’ve been on the past planets, trust me. He’s always trying to break the corners of reality.”

A vague hum leaves Techno. He shoves his forehead into his knee.

“Do you think you’re going to have a seizure now? Before we try to get up again, seems like a good thing to know," Joe asks.

“It’s not something I can tell,” Techno says hotly.

“Just asking. We’ll try and play it safe, in case you get sick again,” Joe says, hand patting his shoulder again.

Techno can only shake his head. The logic parts of him are screaming that they need to get to better cover, Joe said that ghast thing could be back. And also higher ground, away from the giant pools of lava that they are so close to. He’s near certain that there is no more land between them and the lake.

But, the rest of his feels like a peeled open nerve. That should be fueling his ability to stand and run, injuries always have been his best motivation. For some reason, his body just isn’t obeying. He wants to curl up in a corner.

A strange feeling is pooling inside his chest. Nasty feelings. It makes him hunch in, away from Joe.

The man glances at him scantily, before focusing back on his communicator.

“It was definitely Doc. Apparently some sort of transporting loading thing-a-ma-bob,” Joe says. “He knows where we fell through, so hopefully just a couple minutes now.”

“Mm.” Techno pushes his face further into his knees, trying to breathe the illogical paralysis in his body away.

He’s fought through much worse. Hours and hours on broken bones, stab wounds, head injuries. Somehow, this head injury is different. Such a stupid thing to take him down like this. The heat simmers around him like shame, and he hates that the man sitting close to him is seeing it.

A soft “Are you kidding me?” from Joe pulls Techno’s eyes back up. For perhaps the first time, the man’s face is twisted with upset.

“What?” Techno asks.

Joe sighs. “Something’s wrong with the portal stuff. They have no clue where we are.”

“Oh,” Techno says. He looks vaguely upwards. “Do you remember where the portal was?”

“More or less,” Joe says, standing.

“Then we’re walking?” Techno asks.

“Then we'll just have to wing it,” Joe corrects, trying to smile.

Techno is so busy being disgusted over the pun that Joe gets the chance to grab him by the elbows and pull him up, all the while looking around. At least there's a tiny chance they won't die here while Techno's brain is burning out. He's not used to not being the one to make that happen. Being the dead weight...

“I'm going to have to carry you when we fly up,” Joe says, carefully pulling Techno into what is basically a hug.

Techno's face squishes up before he pushes away.

“Your elytra is broken. Can you fix that first?” Techno asks.

“Broken?” Joe asks.

Blinking dumbly behind those neon glasses, the man finally looks over his shoulder. At the very limp and broken wings that likely caught their fall and stopped Joe from breaking his spine. But they aren’t flying with that, no matter how pro-spine they are.

“This is really, really bad!” Joe says, turning back around with a strained smile.

“Just catching up to that?” Techno says, frowning. “I suppose we climb?”

“Can you climb?” Joe asks.

“I’m fine,” Techno says.

When Joe looks at him skeptically, Techno’s shoulders hike up.

“Gotta be fine,” Techno says, turning and walking off to examine the place where the outcropping connects to a wall.

Whatever comedy quip Joe cooks up to respond to that is deftly ignored, before the man joins him. It’s pretty sparse down here, crumbling red stone and craggles. But, the smallest amounts of foliage are sticking to the wall. Strange vines crawling down. Techno gives them a tug, finding that they’re pretty well rooted into the surface.

“Well, it’s no redstone elevator, but it’s better than we had back in my day,” Joe says.

Techno scoffs. But, it is probably the best option for them getting up on the main platform where Techno fell originally. Techno scoots over until they get to a part where the vines crawl up onto that upper levels. It’ll be a strain to get over the hanging crumbly edge, but should be manageable. Gotta be.

“You first. In case you fall, aim for me again,” Joe says, patting his back.

“Seriously? You’ll break your back,” Techno says.

“Better than me landing on you, you weigh less than me. And I have slightly less brain trauma, so I think that means you go first,” Joe says, smiling.

Techno shakes his head. The man is making a good point though. And if Techno’s body actually obeys him, he can make sure that nothing deadly is waiting for them up there. Usually, he’d be able to run properly from whatever exploding jellyfish are around. And fight them off. Right now, hopefully he can stay unseen.

Let’s see if his brain allows him to manage it this time. He sighs and grabs onto the vines, pulling himself up.

The climb is a bit slower than it should be and his muscles absolutely burn. He’s got to get back to doing stuff as soon as possible, before he melts into a bowl of jelly. Right after they get out of this death dimension.

“Take your time!” Joe shouts as he reaches the lip of the outcropping.

It’s doubtful that his muscles have much time left in keeping him hanging like this. But he’s also not stupid enough to jump blindly at such an awkward corner transition. Blowing air out of his clenched teeth, Techno painstakingly shoves his foot into the wall and moves it until he can transfer his weight to it without slipping downwards any. Then he searches in the same manner for a hand hold.

Every noise of the world around him makes him twitch. Not useful when he’s a hair’s breadth away from falling and shattering all his bones. And all of Joe’s bones. The guy already broke his tailbone for Techno once, it’d be too far to do it a second time, even for the bit.

A crying noise from above and to the left makes Techno downright flinch. It makes his fingers clench too. And thus slip over some rocky edges. He starts to slip down, knee bending quickly.

“Hey, yo!” Joe yells below him.

What a stupid thing to yell! Techno grabs onto the vines with one hand and absolutely jabs his fingers into the ledge with the other. His nails crack further, skin splitting, but it sticks.

As he releases a breath, he can hear his heart hammering quickly. Here’s his cardio for the week. Month.

“That was a stupid thing to yell,” Techno calls down, letting Joe know.

“Came from the heart,” Joe croaks. “Focus up.”

Setting his face, Techno restarts the climbing process. This time, he simply does not allow his bones or ligaments to bend, no matter how much his stupid muscles want them to. He is getting on this ledge, and he is not falling like a loser. He’s done harder with less.

With that last shove of encouragement—or shaming, more accurately—Techno tosses his body up over the edge. His belly and arms scrap against the rough rocks, but he keeps squirming until all of his body is laying on solid ground. And then he inches over a few more inches to be safe.

“Nice! All good up there?” Joe calls.

“Yeah,” Techno says. Sitting up, he’s a little winded, but he looks around with a tense eye. It’s clear, as far as he can tell. “Come on up.”

Techno kneels beside the edge as Joe pats his own knees, stretching to touch his toes once, before walking over. Bit much, but pulled muscles kill, Techno supposes. When the man starts climbing, audibly hefting, Techno looks around to secure the area once more.

The place truly is hellish. There’s thick red debris drifting through the air, and even Techno feels a tad overly warm. Considering that he is often colder than not, it must be ridiculous for a human. Makes sense, Techno supposes. He is a piglin hybrid. They’re apparently from the Nether, right? Techno kind of thought those things about pigling hybrids spit at him were full on crap, but if the Nether itself isn’t, so maybe not.

“Use your legs,” Techno calls down.

“All two of them are firmly occupied, thank you,” Joe heaves.

“Use them more,” Techno encourages.

There’s more of those strange crying noises behind him now. It sounds pained, but high pitched and loud. High up. Ghasts, he fears, eyes dancing upwards and then down at Joe.

Quickly, Techno lays down onto his stomach. He hangs his arms down over the side, reaching them as far down as he can.

Joe looks up at him, face confused and flushed red. Techno waggles his fingers.

“You shouldn’t—” Joe starts.

“I hear something. Hurry before we die,” Techno warns.

Reluctantly, Joe reaches up towards him. Techno grasps his hand and wrist. He braces his knees, feet, and hips into the ground, before pulling upwards. Now it’s Joe’s turn to start scrambling, free hand going for the crumbling edge and feet kicking off the wall.

Although Joe isn’t a huge man, smaller than quite a few of the Hermits, he is also not small at all. And he’s certainly not smaller than Techno. A few months back, it would have been a strain, but not a sweat. Now, he strains, sweats, and starts shaking as his legs dig painfully into the ground to not tip over.

Finally, when Joe gets pulled high enough up, he takes on some of his own weight and helps push himself upwards. And then he is fully up, crawling on all the way.

Techno flops back down, ribs aching around his breaths. He presses the backs of his hands to his cheeks.

“Are you—okay?” Joe asks, also winded. Somehow not as much as Techno. Very rude.

“Mrph,” Techno says.

He rolls over, shoving up onto his hands and knees. The protests from his body are deftly ignored. And even Joe can’t give any verbal ones, since he’s staggering up and looking around with his own uneasiness. They can’t stay here any longer if they want their limbs to stay attached and out of lava. No coddling allowed. Should be like going home, in one way or another.

“I think I fell down a bit more,” Techno says, looking up and over.

“This way,” Joe nods, setting a light, guiding hand on his elbow.

Techno draws in a bit at the touch, but he is simply directed back into the red woods. When he makes a small movement to pull away, Joe allows it. But, he sticks close still, glancing at Techno nearly as much as their surroundings.

Oh, right, the whole fainting and seizing stuff. Perhaps logic. His head is pounding.

“You know, I always avoid the Nether in the name of taking the path less traveled and enjoying the journey and all that. But this is some pretty good motivation too, don’t you think?” Joe says.

“I’m down for making my first time here my last,” Techno says. “Ideally not due to living capabilities dictating that. Or anti-living capabilities.”

“Yeah! Ideally!” Joe says, voice squeaky.

As Joe slows down and starts looking around for the exact place they came down, Techno instinctively turns his back to the man. And then is very glad for that, when he catches sight of something moving behind them.

Quickly, Techno whips around and grabs Joe’s shoulder, dragging him back towards a thicker thicket of trees. If they can get below the leaves, maybe they won’t be seen—

“Wha—chu grabbing!” Joe yelps, nearly tripping flat over.

Whatever moving thing that was moseying around the brush freezes momentarily. And then turns right towards them.

“Great,” Techno hisses. “Something!”

He spins the man around so that he is facing the approaching animal. Because that does seem to be what it is, looking like an oversized and very angry pig. And not in the cool way that Techno does. Instinct has Techno pointing over the man’s shoulder to direct his eyes, like he would a fellow soldier.

From how Joe bodily trips and splays his arm out in front of Techno, shoving him backwards, that’s where the similarities to that end.

“Shoot a wriggling fish in a bear’s hold,” Joe grouses. “Get back, behind a tree.”

Finally, the man pulls a sword off of his hip. Techno takes a few steps backwards, stumbling from the shove. Joe puts himself even further between him and the approaching beast. Then he moves closer to the huffing animal.

Grabbing onto the trunk of a shimmering tree, Techno watches the scene before him with a furrowed brow, jaw and shoulders tight. His knees drop alongside his heart, both preparing him to fight. 

But there’s no weapon in his hands and Joe told him to get back—

With a wide swipe, Joe slashes at the hog creature. It clips the nose of the thing, but aside from squealing angrily, the animal is not impeded. Joe dodges back a bit, but takes a bruising tusk hit to his stomach. Joe's subsequent attack that he was preparing falls weak and off center. The hog rears back with an angry noise, far more ready to take advantage.

Shoot a whatever the heck the man said! Techno’s eyes fly around the area, brain tumbling. It nearly feels like a seizure, a terrible struggle. He should know what to do already, would if he wasn’t useless now—

Jumping forwards, Techno grabs and yanks down a thick vine as he runs. It takes a large pull to tear the vine out of the tree, his shoulder almost going with it. But he throws his body around a tree, using it as leverage. The vine tears with a grotesque noise, prompting Techno to run faster, weaving back over to the little battle.

Still moving, Techno gets both ends of the vine within his hands, the rest of the vine now making a loop. It’s long and loose. Good for this.

Techno throws it over the fat head of the animal while he runs up on it, keeping to its backside. Its blind spot, hopefully. The vine almost gets caught on the tusks, but luckily get past them as the hog shakes its head.

One large breath in, ignoring Joe’s shocked and confused freezing, Techno throws his body forwards once more. And upwards.

He tries to jump onto the back of the pig.

It’s a hard and rough thing. Techno gets three quarters of the way up it in the jump, but that’s not enough to be on it. And now the hog is squealing and thrashing. Techno is forced to drop one hand to claw at the bristles of fur, and try to swing a leg up on it like a horse too. Not graceful, clean, or strategic at all.

But Joe runs closer then, shouting something at Techno. The hog is forced to still its body to snap at the man. It’s enough time for Techno to get fully on its back.

Okay, step one done. Now, the rest.

Up onto his knees, and then his feet, Techno can barely keep his balance. Even standing on the back of a well trained steed is terribly hard—and considering how he recently fell off of a horse while sitting on it, his hopes of success may be lower than he likes. But that’s what the vines are for.

Techno pulls back with all his might.

Where the vines are looped around the hog’s neck, they pull upwards. There’s a few inches of slippage, but they get caught around the bottom of the head, the jaws. Techno pulls harder, gritting his own teeth. And finally the hog’s head starts to tip backwards, upwards.

As though Techno is actually sawing through its neck, the beast goes crazy. The noises may even be worse than a ghast, and the bucking is just as explosive. Techno barely stays on his feet, arms unyielding, though they shake.

“Get it's neck!” Techno shouts.

His entire body is tilted back on his heels, all his weight pulling the ropes taught. Yet he’s still struggling to keep the wild animal contained with all that.

Joe must make out his words or intentions. The man charges forwards, steadfast despite the dancing tusks. His sword swings, and then jabs, and then cuts sloppily. But when the worst of the panicked fighting passes, Techno knows that the carotids are clean through.

Arms instantly going as floppy as the vines without tension, Techno drops. He barely gets his muscles under control enough to land on his butt and slide down the pig’s side. When he jumps away from the still kicking legs, his knees buckle below.

“Herobrine above, kid! That was not hiding behind a tree! Not-hiding on a hoglin is the opposite!” Joe yells, scurrying over. “Are you okay?”

Techno blinks a few times. By then Joe is upon him, grabbing his hands and pulling him up. The man dusts him off of the red powder coating him. Though they're both covered, so it does little. At the same time, the man scans him head to toe.

In fact though, Joe seems particularly red in a few spots.

“You're bleeding! Apply pressure,” Techno says, leaning forwards to do so.

But Joe stops him, pushing his hands back into his own space.

“I’m alright, merely a flesh wound. Or two. Or three,” Joe says, shoving at his broken glasses. “You didn’t fall on your head, did you? Again?”

“No. You literally saw me. I was cool as heck,” Techno says.

“I blinked when the tusk hit my spleen,” Joe says. “You seem kinda like the type to slip in a concussion during that lapse, y’know?”

Techno scoffs, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“Stick your fingers into the spleen wound, they bleed out in minutes,” Techno says.

With a look of enlightenment, Joe shoves his hand to his side and squeezes. No blood spurts out, so his spleen is not actually punctured. Probably.

“We are—okay—we are getting out now. Then. Then then,” Joe nods resolutely.

Techno can agree with that.

Sword clutched in his hand now, Joe marches forward, squinting through his shattered neon glass.

“Ah, this slope looks just like where I saw your body tumbling down. Let’s go,” Joe says.

Slope is a very ungenerous description of the… steep slope. Very steep slope. Anyone would fall down it.

Apparently Joe thinks so too. He grabs Techno’s elbow and starts pulling him up bodily. Though he slows and braces when Techno stumbles over the disintegrating ground. It’s obvious that the man is biting through his tongue to not hiss in pain through it. Techno tries to stay steady, but it’s more difficult than it should be. He’s aching and shaking worse now after the impromptu strain.

“And here we are… at the dubious black box. Um…” Joe says, dropping his arm and kneeling before the small thing.

“That’s the portal?” Techno asks.

“It should be. Obsidian and all, but it’s small. And no purple stuff,” Joe says.

Watching the man poking at the mechanics, Techno breathes out heavily. He takes a few steps back so that he can lean over and set his hands on his knees. How had all this even started? Doc dragging him to some card tournament and then Joe Hills… Probably not his fault this time, but he did start it all way, way back. If only he minded his business, then Techno could be suffering alone in the Overworld right now. Arguably better.

Or he’d be dead. Bled out in his skull. That would be lame. Could still happen if Doc’s stupid portal doesn’t—

Techno shouts and jerks as his body is lifted off of the ground.

Limbs tighten around his middle and arms, squeezing roughly until the air shoves out of him. His body doesn’t need oxygen to burst both of his arms forwards, trying to break the hold around him, like he has a few times before when grabbed like this. But even when bowing his spine backwards to put more force behind it, the hold only grows tighter.

“Tech—HEY!” Joe yells as he whips around, running towards them.

While trying to writhe free, Techno catches sight of the creature holding him. It’s a tall person-like form, except for the fact that it is covered in pink fur all over and has features like a pig. A similar looking pig-man is beside them, moving before them as a block, brandishing a golden sword at Joe, and another has a crossbow aimed right for him. Techno slams his head backwards, but it only hits the pig-man’s collarbones. His jamming elbows are similarly ineffective.

“Let me go, bro!” Techno shouts, kicking his legs. Why is this thing so big? “Fight me!”

Appropriately, the pig-man behind him makes a rumbley pig noise. It practically shakes Techno’s bones, considering how tightly he is being held. And also the goo inside his skull. His nose scrunches as his eyelids waver.

Oxygen deprivation? Is he being held tight enough for that? Techno tries to aim a kick at the thing’s knee, but he can’t manage it.

“Put him down!” Joe yells, swinging his sword at the piglin who has run to meet him.

The golden sword is worse than Joe’s diamond one, and he almost manages to overpower the pig when the golden sword is the only thing defending a blow. But an arrow soaring towards Joe's head forces him to duck to the side. Which leaves his side open for a returning swipe. He takes it to the forearm.

The pig-man holding Techno grunts something like words out. Commands, Techno is near certain. He wilts smaller in the large arms, trying to slip free. But the words this time were directed to the other pigs, since they close in around Joe. And the one holding Techno starts backing away.

Not good. Techno tries to fight harder. Somehow the arms squeeze him tighter without managing to hurt much more. But even worse, the rumble that the pig lets out is so sharp and deep that Techno’s body locks up.

What? Is it—Concussion?

He blinks quickly, trying to look around and do more than twitch.

That desire grows far stronger when he sees Joe struggling before him. Joe can do little more than block the pig-man swiping at him with the sword while also trying to dodge arrows. Just barely, Techno can see him start to edge around the sword pig, trying to use it as a shield for arrows.

But then Joe glances and sees the pig-man dragging Techno off.

“Hey! Unhand that child!” Joe shouts.

At the same time, Joe bends slightly to the side as a sword slashes at him. But he doesn’t move to get away from it, taking the slash to the back as he takes off running. It leaves his form wide open, enough that Techno can stiffen and kick his legs through the paralysis, a soft squeal seeping out of his chest.

Joe's going to—

The pig-man with the bow gets halfway into the man’s path. And sinks an arrow into his chest when he makes no move to stop running.

Slashing sloppily as his run trips a little, Joe just barely gets around the crossbow creature. With a shockingly furious yell, the man sprints, before throwing himself forwards.

Joe falls more than actually strikes. But his sword soars down with the rough motion, slicing through the front of the pig-man’s forearms that are around Techno. The pain makes the creature flinch, jerking his arms back. Techno bucks with his entire body, bursting both arms up. It’s painful for him and is paired with a squeaky scream, but finally he drops out of the hold. The ground hits him hard, but he’s already crawling forwards.

Also on the ground now, Joe is twitching upwards, almost halfway there while using his sword as a brace. It’s impressive, considering how he’s half blinded by blood from his hairline and the red blooming around the arrow wound. Sliding right over to him, Techno presses himself to Joe’s side, and swipes the sword into his own hands. It forces Joe to drop back down with a groan, but Techno is pressed over him now, pointing the sword before them.

A growl rolls out of Techno, between his exposed tusks. His tail thrashes angrily, hitting the pained Joe. He doesn’t waver as Joe struggles to get up once more.

The pig-man stands over them, towering, blood almost steaming where it’s falling from his arms, and looking deadly. Techno strengthens his glare and widens his stance, even if he’s kneeling. The sword doesn’t shake in his hands.

Something like consideration passes over the pig-man’s face, as he huffs a noise out of his nose. Techno’s ears twitch, but the rest of him doesn’t move. Then the pig-man looks at Joe, and back at Techno. Why is it pausing—?

“Get down!”

Techno turns as he drops, body landing on top of Joe. The man had made it a quarter of the way up again, so he groans when Techno collapses on him. But Techno is more focused on spreading his limbs over Joe’s body anyway.

Well decided, since the crack and explosion of a firework strikes right behind him. The sound of squealing pigs fills the air. Techno flattens himself further.

More rounds of fireworks explode around them, the slight burning of embers showering on his skin for fractions of seconds before the sparks die. Techno feels a hand wrap around his wrist, squeezing lightly. When the scuffling ends, he peeks out and sees the pig-men disappearing back into the trees.

And Doc running over to them, decked in gear to the nines.

With a relieved sigh, Techno drops onto his back, panting. This place might be where Techno originates from, and it makes perfect sense really, but it frankly sucks.

The feeling is supremely similar to the servers he was used to before. Constant danger.

Doc drops at their sides, reaching out for them with a wide eye. The ability to feel relief at that is new. With another deep breath, Techno sits back up.

“Joe’s hurt, I’m fine,” Techno says.

A critical eye roves over Techno, but then Doc turns to Joe. The guy is covered in more blood.

“I’m a bit banged up, but Techno’s head was worsened by the portals, make sure you check on that,” Joe says, looking peaky as he’s helped into a sitting position.

Techno frowns, ready to protest any inch of attention on him away. Because he is not hurt, unlike freaking Joe ‘runs into arrows’ Hills!

But, another figure crouches beside Techno, setting a hand on his elbow where he had been tilting slightly. The shiny visor is familiar. Xisuma. The man is here too, apparently. And he sees False walk back over from the trees, back facing them. Watching the retreat from the pig-men. Good form.

Multiple allies. If that ain’t a new one.

“I’m fine…” Techno mumbles once more, voice quieter.

“How are you hurt?” Techno hears Doc ask Joe.

“Uhhhh, let’s see. Fell off of a cliff and had a medium sized child fall on me, got headbutted by a hoglin a few times, sliced and diced by some piglins, and I definitely pull a muscle climbing some vines,” Joe lists off, smiling with bloody teeth. And then coughing bloodily.

Techno’s eyes widen slightly where he’s watching. That’s not good. It’s either a puncture to his lungs, stomach or esophagus, none of which are good at all. If the bleeding isn’t stopped promptly, then he’ll bleed out in somewhere between two minutes and three hours. But Techno can’t help if a retaliatory ambush is being planned—

“Doc has Joe. They’re going to go through ahead of us. Is your head alright?” Xisuma asks.

Oh, good. Injured people retreating. That’s good. Techno watches them disappear behind a corner, before blinking when Xisuma pokes his cheek. He turns to the man and then looks around.

Is it…? Techno thinks it might be fine, but he still feels confused. Aside from the racing heart, that’s too familiar.

“Hurts a little. Can we go?” Techno asks.

“It’s not going to be safer to wait here, X,” False says, watching them over her shoulder for a moment.

“Ah, you’re probably right. Alright,” Xisuma says, head tilting to the side slightly. “Alright. Let’s try to go through.”

Techno takes the hand offered to him by the man. When his knees wobble a bit, Xisuma makes a move like he’s going to take the sword from Techno’s hands. But he tightens his hold on it and straightens up as much as he can.

The point isn’t pushed, Xisuma leading him towards the portal instead. It’s once more not glowing, but Xisuma does something to it quickly and it lights up purple. Cringing back, Techno squints at the light.

“Going through might make you feel sick or worsen any concussions,” Xisuma says.

“I figured that out already,” Techno says, rubbing at his eye.

With a slightly awkward noise, the man pats his shoulder once. And then clasps his gloved hands before him.

“Uh, well… False said we should go through. Don’t you think?” Xisuma says.

Snorting, Techno nods and takes a step closer. At the very least, he is not made to say anything further or to ask for help, though maybe he would if it would get him out of here. He very much wants a bed and to be in the Overworld once more.

Xisuma grabs his elbow and helps him through the small portal.

The feeling is like falling, slippery and cold and the burn of rubbing alcohol evaporating. He can barely breathe in a second before he is tumbling, tumbling, tumbling forwards.

A pained noise escapes him. Did he hit the ground? He didn’t feel it.

Arms shift around him, making him flinch hard and shove with weak limbs. There’s a couple murmured noises, and then he’s properly on the ground. Yes, that’s much better. Where one should be when they fall. Discordantly, he rolls onto his side and curls up around his middle.

Someone is petting his neck. He shivers, before reaching back and grabbing it. A hand, for sure. When it tries to retreat, he squeezes harder.

“Oh my,” A voice says.

“Did the unconscious child actually overpower you?” A woman’s voice asks.

“Yes, well. Partially conscious,” The voice responds. “Techno, are you there? You are pinching my fingers quite supremely.”

Someone gently pulls his shoulder, until he rolls onto his back. It’s quite a bad place to be, or else the movement is. His head spins dizzier. A low growl lays in his chest.

“Oh my,” The voice says again.

Slowly, Techno peels his eyes open. Though he can hardly see a thing, considering how bright it is. Is the sun two inches away or something? Squeezing the hand harder, he tucks his chin in with discomfort.

“Ouch, jeez, ouch,” The voice says.

Finally, the light above him is dimmed enough to start putting images together in his brain. The first is that the thing that blocked all that light is a person. Someone is standing right over him, behind his head. He sees long blond hair and wings, and relaxes on instinct.

The second comes when the fingers in his grasp wiggle. He looks to the side and sees a robot beside him. 

Robot?

“Do you know where you are, Techno?” The robot asks, sounding pinched behind his mask.

Head tilting to the side, he feels grass on his cheek and sees a wide swath of blue above. Ah right, the sun.

“Ou’side?” He says, tongue feeling a tad clumsy.

“Factually correct!” The robot says.

“I don’t know if that counts as a right answer for this sort of thing,” The blond above him says. Though that sounds like the woman? A woman? But he thought—

Blinking quickly, Techno groans and rubs at his forehead. Xisuma hisses when his hand is released. Must be Xisuma, because he is a robot and also a limp noodle. Yeah, that all seems square in his wobbly circle brain.

“Who needs rules in medicine, it’s hardly redstone science,” Xisuma says. False groans as though pained. “How are you feeling, Techno? Thank you for letting go of my hand, I feared I’d lose my fingertips.”

Techno looks at him sluggishly. Then the man's hands, massaging each other. They are covered in gloves.

“Tired,” He lands on.

“That makes sense. You had a short seizure and were unconscious for a couple minutes after. I quite think Doc should check you out after he is done with Joe—”

Techno jerks up into a sit, vision blacking over. He hears a sputtering fish noise, and then hands press to his back, holding him up. But he hardly notices, looking about.

They really are outside, on some sort of path. There’s no one else here except for Xisuma and False though.

“Where’s Joe’s spleen?” Techno asks urgently.

“Well, in his body, I would hope,” Xisuma says.

Techno shakes his head. “It got stabbed.”

“Doc’s treating him now. Let’s just leave them to it, worry about yourself,” False says.

Techno shakes his head again. He sets his palms against the ground and sees about standing. Any protesting noises and grabs can’t stop him.

“Don’t go hurting yourself now,” Xisuma says. When Techno shoves past him and fully stands, slightly comparable to a baby horse, the man sighs. “Alright, how about we go see Doc now?”

Techno nods, turning. Though he does not know where Joe and the creeper hybrid actually are…

When he takes an uncertain and wobbly step, he’s grabbed around the arm and stopped.

“Let someone carry you before you fall on your butt,” False says.

“I can walk,” Techno mutters, looking down. He takes in his shaking knees and the smears of red dust all over him.

“Mhm,” False says, tone judgmental. “You’ve got him, Xisuma. My shoes don’t deserve being vomited on.”

Xisuma sighs, labored, before leaning over. And then scooping Techno up into his arms with not even a stutter. Techno kicks in surprise, accidentally punching the man's throat a little. The armored man glances at him shortly, somehow flat faced even though his expression is completely covered. Techno can’t exactly feel bad, it’s a good impulse, throat punching...

They do likely get to the building faster than if Techno was walking with his head so unsteady and painful. Past a glass building, then Tango’s creepy house, and past the purple house Techno’s been staying in. A similar style house is beside it, and False opens the door without knocking.

“Doc and Joe?” False calls out.

“Back here!” Doc’s voice calls back.

When they step inside, Techno starts wiggling once more. Xisuma shifts him easily, like he could keep holding him, but Techno is done with stupid big arm people holding him in place. He wiggles harder and gets put down with an appeasing noise.

Immediately, his legs buckle and he knocks into a side table. But then he’s back up and walking just fine, ignoring the looks.

“What was that noise? Is Techno… okay?” Doc asks, lowering his voice as they walk into the room.

It is a bedroom, obvious due to the bed. Which Joe is laying on. Techno’s face furrows as he walks closer.

“Hiya, Techno. Feeling okay?” Cleo asks, sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the bed as Doc is.

Joe’s eyes are closed, glasses finally off of his face. It makes him look even weirder. And pale. Apparently unconscious. Right? No, definitely… Right?

Techno reaches a finger out and pokes his cheek.

While Cleo laughs, Doc grabs his wrist and pulls him away, maneuvering him until he is sitting on the edge of the bed further down. “Okay. Keep the kid’s fingers out of my operating theater, how abouts?”

“His spleen?” Techno asks.

“What? His spleen is fine. The arrow was on the other side of his chest,” Doc says, exhausted look on his face.

“A tusk hit it. The hog…” Techno says.

“Of course,” Doc sighs.

“I think Techno was worried about Joe. Oh, and he also had a seizure from the portal,” Xisuma says, walking into the room.

“Of course,” Doc says again, sighing even longer.

Carefully, the man starts pulling out items from his medical bag. A lot of the things seem half used up. Probably from whatever happened when Techno was lost in the void of his broken brain stem.

“Joe’s fine, probably just unconscious from some blood loss and medicines. But, he’s clotting up, stabilizing. He’ll be fine,” Doc says.

Techno frowns at the words, looking at Joe with a close eye. Something like that can go bad pretty quickly, can’t it?

His eyes are forced to close as a big hand drops onto his head, musing up his hair. When Techno shoves it away with a rumpled noise, Doc simply smiles at him lopsidedly. At least until Cleo breaks into laughter and the man glares at her instead.

“That was just adorable,” Cleo says, voice slightly mocking.

“No it was not! He was thinking too hard!” Doc says.

“So you had to pet him to cheer him up? Very sweet,” Cleo says.

“You do not care about the intricacies of brain damage and in fact—”

“Wasn’t it your machine that caused it this time?” Cleo asks.

“AND IN FACT HE NEEDS TO CALM DOWN—!”

“What are we making fun of Doc for?” A mumbled voice says.

Everyone turns quickly, looking to Joe where he’s tucked into the bed. His eyes are slightly beady, half open, but looking between them all. A small smile is playing on his lips. Techno leans a little closer, earning a wider smile when their eyes meet.

He turns his eyes to the blankets.

“There, see? Your worry-man is fine, you can go away now, child,” Doc says, turning and crossing his arms, absolutely fuming.

“Did you even check his injuries? He had a seizure,” Cleo says.

“And fell and got exploded and thrown off a pig and almost got murdered by piglins, I know—” Doc is cut off.

“They actually were only trying to murder me. They grabbed Techno and were trying to bring him away,” Joe says, raising a finger. And then tucking it back under the blankets. He is tucked up to his chin, only his fingers showing where he’s holding the edge of the blanket. Very cozy looking.

“Wah—?” Doc stops, confused.

“Grab him? Why would they do that?” Xisuma asks, head tilting as he finally steps into the conversation. “Piglins attack to kill, or sometimes scare off. But they don’t take prisoners.”

After a moment of squinting, Doc’s eyebrows go up. Then he turns to Techno. And laughs. Not a good thing from that man.

“Oh. Piglin hybrid. They were trying to baby snatch,” Doc guffaws.

“Heh?” Techno intones, unimpressed.

The others in the room laugh in a shocked sort of way. Not exactly like it’s funny, but also not not funny. Maybe just because it is ridiculous.

“Piglins take care of their babies. They must have seen Techno and thought he was a tiny baby piglin,” Doc continues.

“Thank crawfish I managed to get him back,” Joe says, shaking his head.

“They might have taken him to a bastion. Wouldn’t have been easy to find him,” Xisuma agrees.

“That is so not what happened!” Techno says.

But… In some ways, it might make sense. The piglins didn’t hurt him, and were taking him somewhere. They could have hurt him a little if they were just trying to take him prisoner. It would have been easier. Maybe they would have succeeded if they did. And the piglin paused when Techno slipped free and protected Joe…

Everyone seems to think so too. Now it’s Techno’s turn to cross his arms and look away. His bottom lip is sticking out too.

“My head hurts and I’m sleepy,” Techno says softly.

Doc makes a noise and starts digging through his bag again. Cleo leans across the bed and pets his hair, down his back a few times. Techno lets her, because moving is too much.

As Doc starts pouring a medicine into a little cup, Joe turns to his slightly.

“Does this mean you like me now?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Techno says.

“Oh, come on, dude. We’ve got to be even now for all that happened,” Joe says. “I gave my spleen up for ya.”

“Doc said no spleen…” Techno murmurs, taking the glass of medicine. “I suppose we’re even though.”

He quickly downs the medicine after saying that. But Joe smiles widely.

“A proper reward! All worth it,” Joe says.

“Aw, now that is sweet,” Cleo says, turning her fingers the cheek pinching type.

Growling, Techno shoves away from the zombie hybrid roughly. It sends him right off of the bed onto the floor. Into a loud clatter and heap. Doc stands and shouts.

“Stop! Hitting! Your! Head!”

And so it is an unfortunate reality, that Joe Hills is responsible for this all.

Chapter Text

“You guys need to fix your shops,” Techno says.

“What’s wrong with them?”

Techno turns to look over his shoulder. Which is quite awkward, since he’s leaning over the lip of a large bucket-shaped building. Because that truly says all that there ever could be to say.

The avian standing on the ground simply smiles up at Techno, not even bothering to take his hands out of his pockets. Techno is beginning to understand why some Hermits expressed reluctance over the idea of Grian watching him. The man seems dubious in general.

“That one’s Joe’s shop,” Grian says, pointing at the bucket.

“You said he would like an axolotl,” Techno says, groaning.

“Well, yeah. Cause he sells them,” Grian says.

As Techno starts trying to climb down from the stupid building, Grian chortles behind him. Yeah, that’s a familiar sort of laugh. Stupid birds with their stupid bird laughs.

That is presumably where the differences between Grian and Phil end. Both men have wings, but where Phil’s are ichor black, Grian’s are a rainbow of colors. And both men apparently like laughing at people’s misfortune. With their creepy eyes… Okay, maybe they’re a bit more similar than is comfortable.

The stupid, very inaccessible shop, slips below Techno’s hands, sending him falling from a dozen feet in the air. A gasp grabs his chest as he grapples uselessly. He plummets a few feet, stomach soaring right up into the air—

Two hands grab him below the arms, yanking him back up. His shoulders jolt slightly, but it’s not too bad. Grian flaps his wings to slowly set his feet upon the ground.

“Wow, they really meant it when they said you’re an injury magnet,” Grian says.

“Wow, they really meant it when they said you’re a menace,” Techno mimics.

“Do people say that about me?” Grian asks.

At the same time, Grian flaps his wings harder so that Techno’s feet are pulled off of the ground again. When Techno kicks with the universal sign for ‘put me the heck down,’ Grian lowers him a little bit. Before yanking him back up.

“Yes. Put me down,” Techno says.

Grian giggles evilly, only amused when Techno kicks faster. Reaching up, Techno grabs blindly towards his wings for feathers to yank out. The bird squawks, very quickly lowering him down to the ground. The first second that he can, Techno jumps away, turning with a glare.

There is no remorse on the man’s face. In fact, he outright shrugs with his tongue stuck out. 

“You should maybe lie to appeal to your captors if you get kidnapped for real next time, you know,” Grian says.

“Counter point, you obviously would be far more flattered to know that people say those terrible things about you,” Techno says.

“What? No… Who exactly?” Grian asks.

“Ughk,” Techno says, rolling his eyes.

He walks away from the man and the failure of a shop. Speaking of actual kidnapping situations, Techno is a polite man and thus would like to show Joe some kindness for taking an arrow and sword in the process of keeping him un-that. So far it’s been horrifically unsuccessful. And even though Grian offered to pay for a gift for him, he’s been zero help at all so far.

It’s like Phil’s mischief streak but worse. Must be a bird thing…

Rubbing his elbow at the thoughts, Techno is nearly taken off guard when Grian literally bounces up beside him.

“Who?” The avian asks. When Techno only wrinkles his nose in response, he continues: “Who? Who? Who? Who? Who? Who—?”

“Oh my Gods, Doc!” Techno says, wacking the man with said elbow.

But Grian just laughs. “Classic.”

“Ughk,” Techno repeats. “Don’t make me commiserate with Doc, it’s gross and bad for the soul.”

“Very, very true. My condolences,” Grian says.

Sighing, Techno pauses as he looks around the entire shopping district. The clash of styles of all the buildings—historical and chic to cartoonish and bright—is nearly overwhelming. But in a cool way, he thinks. Somehow it all works together.

Then again, Techno has zero taste for it. Phil was always the more decorate-y one between them, but even that didn’t mean much. Techno rarely bothered with full blown houses, let anything more tasteful. Neither of them did. Not great for being mobile, strategic…

As he squints hard at a flat, paved field with some redstone screens behind it, it clicks in his head that it’s a small TCG arena. So the shop that it is attached to must sell TCG stuff!

“Joe likes TCG cards,” Techno says, pointing.

Feeling slightly relieved, Techno beelines over to the shop. This is perfect. The one thing he knows for a fact that the man likes, other than smiling and odd fashion, is TCG. Plus, he learned during the tournament that the packs are random, so he doesn’t have to be beholden to which ones the man ends up getting. No risk, all reward.

The perfect way to make things even and make Techno not owe the dude. Sure, the gift is a little small, but also Techno did not ask Joe to help him, so it’s fine. Really, Techno’s the one being charitable here. No debts to pay, more than whatever is building for his medical care, food, and not murdering him fees.

Definitely don’t need whatever weird stuff Joe could come up with to add to the pay back.

The inside of the shop is slick, with a cat sleeping across the counter. It has a name tag hanging from its collar, but Techno is too afraid to wake it to check. Or pet it. Sad.

Otherwise, there’s only more of the redstone machines, with some of the card packs displayed inside.

“How does it work? You should buy one for me, for shaking my concussed brain up,” Techno says.

Grian strolls into the shop, looking around like maybe he’s never been in there either. Bad sign.

“Let’s see then,” Grian says, leaning close to one. “Oh, right. The TCG coin things.”

“The what things?” Techno asks.

“They give out coins for playing. That’s what’s used to buy packs,” Grian says. The man stands straight while raising a finger, all explaining-like.

“Informative. Now I know I was scammed out of coins the same day I fell into a hole to hell. Please buy one,” Techno says flatly.

Grian snickers. When Techno makes a shooing motion at him with his hands, he does turn back to the machine. Even reaches a hand out like he’s going to use it.

But then his arm drops and he droops.

“I don’t have any either.”

“Seriously?” Techno asks.

“Nope. Only diamonds,” Grian says. Shrugs. “And by ‘have diamonds,’ I do mean stealing.”

Instead of groaning again, Techno points silently at the machine. Grian holds his hands up in surrender and laughs.

“I can’t steal from that. I don’t know how to do it with the machine! It will probably explode, and then you’ll fall down the hole again. And trust me, a mess of redstone is the same as hell.”

“Ughk.”

While Grian seems wholly unbothered, and in fact thoroughly amused, Techno looks around the little shop quicker. It really does seem like it’s only these redstone machines. And while Techno is starting to doubt Grian’s insight on many things, it seems about right that if he touches any of it, it will be destroyed. Story of his life.

Giving up with a sigh, Techno turns and trudges out of the store. Strike two.

“Maybe you should just make him a card or something,” Grian says.

“That would be horrifically lame,” Techno says.

“Aw, come on. It would be all sweet and stuff.”

“Would you make someone a card like that?”

“No,” Grian says simply. “But the point still stands.”

Techno rolls his eyes. It lets his gaze land on a huge wasp placed on a big building in the distance. Some sort of statue. For a shop selling… wasps?

“For one of the younger looking guys around here, you’re a real crotchety old man. I thought you’d be more fun,” Techno says.

“Hey! What the heck? That’s so offensive!” Grian shouts, wings fluffing up. “I’ll take ornery, but crotchety is just straight up foul!”

Techno shrugs. He offers a head tilt to the side, before scanning more shops absently.

“Now I know why Cleo and Gem like you…” Grian mumbles.

It’s phrased like it’s not supposed to be a compliment, but those two are probably some of the ones with the most sense on the server. 

“Now there’s someone that I would write a card to. Mumbo,” Grian says, pointing to the toothpick looking fellow.

Grian starts to flutter over to Mumbo with a grin, before he physically pauses. Techno thinks that he’s just being waited for, you know, politely and all. But when Techno reaches him, Grian grabs his arm and physically yanks him into the space between two buildings. It’s neither here or there whether he lets out a squeak at falling into feathers and pavement. But he does.

“Hush, quiet,” Grian hisses.

“The heck are you doing? Trying to kidnap me? Because you’ve kind of already got that one in the bag, no need for any further grabbing,” Techno gripes.

“No, no, none of that,” Grian says, pulling a red feather out of Techno’s hair. “I can’t stand for how you’re misrepresenting my character, so I’ll show you something to make your snide little teen comments about.”

“Your tired old slump?” Techno asks.

“No! Dude! We’re going to pull a prank on my good friend Mumbo Jumbo,” Grian says, moving his hands and wings a lot. “My specialty.”

“I don’t know how that’s going to help me get a gift—”

“Pah, who’s the boring old man now? Come on!”

Again, Techno gets grabbed and yanked further down the bend in the alley. It’s quite disconcerting, actually. Not the location or the whole being possibly kidnapped thing, but that Grian is able to do it so easily. The guy is only a few inches taller than him. Definitely shorter than him if he was wearing his boots, which is his true presentation. And he’s got a real force to his pulling about.

When Techno shoves his heels into the ground hard, Grian simply stops walking and turns to him. Mischievous smile on his face.

“Do you see what he’s working on?” Grian asks.

“Working up his nerve, I would think,” Techno says, looking at Mumbo's frazzled and unconfident pose with judgement.

Grian laughs. But then he pokes Techno in the arm and points more directly.

“No, the fiddly machine back there,” Grian says.

“Something with redstone,” Techno near guesses. An educated guess, but still.

“The Button,” Grian says.

“Mm, sure. A… button,” Techno says.

“Not a button, The Button,” Grian stresses. “It’s a torture device slash social experiment. You get more rewards the closer to the end of the timer that the device is, but if it gets to zero then it explodes with all the rewards.”

“And the purpose is…?” Techno asks.

“To flex superiority over your closest friends and eternal enemies,” Grian says.

“Hm.” 

That is a good purpose, Techno can’t argue.

“But that’s later. He’s trying to get the redstone working right now. Which you know what that means,” Grian says.

“No. We’ve established that I’m not proficient at redstone,” Techno says.

Forcibly, Grian shoves Techno on the arm. The fact that Techno is forced to step to the side earns the man a side eye.

“A prank,” Grian says.

“Right,” Techno says. “Obviously.”

Creeped around, the pair of them are now behind The Button. Though really there’s a whole lot of not-button in the thing for the name to be what it is. Maybe they can prank Mumbo by popping a creative writing seminar on him. Give him some experience to come up with better names.

The box of supplies that Grian pulls out of his bag doesn’t seem like it’s for that idea. There’s a bit too much gun powder and fire starters.

“Mm, destroy his hard work before it even fully works, very friendly fun,” Techno whispers.

“Yes,” Grian giggles. “But no. Not destroy. Just make him think it’s exploding from the noise.”

“What, like bury it?” Techno asks.

“Yes, perfect,” Grian says, grinning widely.

“How do you think we should—?” Techno is cut off when Grian shoves a shovel into his hands, and then point in the ground.

“Let’s say two feet deep,” Grian says.

Groaning, Techno turns and starts digging the dumb hole. It is utterly ridiculous that he’s been dragged into this. Or at the very least, that he doesn’t even get to play with the explosives. What a rip off.

But when he glances back at Grian fiddling with the explosives, there’s such a delighted gleam in his eyes that they actually shine purple. Yeah, Techno ain’t getting involved in that.

The muscles in his arms begin to burn with the exertion as he quickly digs. Well, he’s been meaning to start getting back into shape. Why not now?

Maybe because it’s making his skin very warm and his head spin just a little bit. Furrowing his brow in focus, Techno forces himself to keep going unimpeded. He’s not going to let a little shoveling beat him. That’s way too pathetic. He’s killed people with shovels before, very probably likely. A little hole? He can do a little stupid, not faint worthy, hole—

“Eek!” A noise possible from Grian, who quickly comes from behind him.

Before Techno can collapse on his own, he gets shoved roughly to the side. Tripping wildly, his arms spin through the air and the shovel goes flying. His brain seems to go flying out of his skull with it too. Or at the very least, his spinal cord does. 

His body starts hurtling towards the ground very quickly. Techno’s body tightens up on some weird reflex, refusing to move in any skillful way that could stop him from shattering to bits—

Much like falling into a pile of uncooked spaghetti, Techno hits someone hard. Seemingly unwittingly, the person catches them, and just barely keeps them off the ground. 

“Oh my goodness! Wha—What even?!”

A voice appropriate for the very long and spindly man in a black suit. What’s up with these gangly guys and their business wear? Techno tries to pull free, but his ears go dizzy and he’s too tangled in all of the long limbs.

Though, Techno does get a visual sweep of the space before him. Grian is notably completely gone. The damn bird.

“Coincidence to see you here, Mambo,” Techno says.

“Er, on my spleen? Is that the here?” Mumbo stutters, somehow bending his tangled up limb enough to point towards his spleen.

“Sorry about that. I fell,” Techno says.

“No, no, it’s fine, totally fine, just—”

Mumbo struggles uselessly while rambling, honestly making Techno think that he is not as fine as he says and is in fact trying to strangle him in anger. But it seems to just be incompetence and lack of coordination. When he ends up slapping Techno in the face, Techno snaps and starts wriggling violently. Mumbo yelps, but finally pops away from him.

Both of them end up splayed on their backs across from each other, staring up at the sky. There’s a cloud that looks like a horse…

“Goodness. Were you, uh, doing some digging?” Mumbo asks.

Techno sits up and sees that Mumbo has righted himself and is now pointing at the shovel a few feet away. Casually, Techno glances at it before stretching his arms above his head. The burn and stretch is familiar. Almost pleasant, if he hasn’t been done to death with pain lately.

“Looking for a gift for Joe,” Techno says.

“Underground?” Mumbo asks.

“Nah, just the shovel,” Techno says.

“A gift of a shovel? That’s, that’s… thoughtful,” Mumbo says.

“I know right?” Techno says.

He gets up and grabs the shovel, slinging it over his shoulder and walking over to the street. Mumbo follows. Unwillingly, Techno sees Grian perched in a tree. The avian holds a finger over his mouth and then makes a shooing motion. Techno rolls his eyes, but starts leading Mumbo a bit off.

“So, I said thoughtful, but I actually meant weird,” Mumbo says.

“I thought it fit quite well, considering how the man almost got himself killed. Useful,” Techno.

“Oh, that’s… grim,” Mumbo says.

“Realistic.” Techno shoots a finger gun at him.

The guy chuckles, slightly nervously. 

“Right.” Mumbo says, still trailing behind Techno. He tries to stop at some point, but when Techno keeps walking, he follows. Convenient. “Aren’t you supposed to be with someone, Technoblade?”

“Oh, yeah. I was with… Grian, I want to say. He was supposed to help me find a gift. But he disappeared.”

“Lovely. Let me help get you back to him— Wait. Grian?” Mumbo asks.

This time he stops in surprise. They’re a few buildings away, so Techno pauses and turns to him. He tilts his head to the side, tail thwiping in question.

“Sorry, it’s just that: Grian? He’s not exactly… nurturing,” Mumbo says.

“Really? That doesn’t sound like how Grian acted when he was with me. A real mother hen, if anything,” Techno says, blinking innocently and placing his fingers on his chin. If these weirdos seem to think that he has pitiful eyes, he might as well use them. “You know, with the wings and all. Quite fitting.”

“That’s really, really surprising. Like, seriously, seriously surprising,” Mumbo says.

“Hm,” Techno says, shrugging a little.

Mumbo holds up a wavering finger while summoning his communicator. Probably messaging Grian or the group chat or something. For the best, get Grian moving. Is Techno supposed to do all the hard work?

When Mumbo looks back up with wet, beady eyes and a quivering mustache, the feeling only compounds. Oh to be working on highly dangerous explosive devices right now.

“Grian said that he got lost while walking around… somehow? He’ll meet us here,” Mumbo says.

“Sounds about right,” Techno says. “Do you really think that the shovel is a bad gift?”

“Oh, no, no. It’s sweet,” Mumbo says.

Silently, Techno stares at the man. Really he just keeps his face blank, slightly imploring. For some reason, it makes the old weasel start sweating, just like half the people on the server. A strange but useful skill.

“It’s totally epic!” Mumbo shouts, voice cracking.

Techno sighs, shoulders slumping. He throws the shovel on the ground, kicking it away. “How stupid…”

“No! It’s nice! It’s super lovely and, and cool?” Mumbo scrambles, tossing his limbs about. Techno has to duck around one that flies too close. This dude is a concussion risk.

“What do you think I should get him instead?” Techno asks, looking up through his eyelashes.

“Me? Uhhh… diamonds?”

“That’s a great idea. Can I have some?”

“What? That’s not really what I meant—”

“I don’t have any, and Grian already spent all this money on this shovel, and really he thought it was a good gift too so I can’t offend his generosity like that. Great guy, you know. And Joe, well, he literally stopped me from being kidnapped. And with all the seizure stuff, Doc says that if I don’t keep taking the medicine, like if I got kidnapped without it, I could actually die for real, so it’s a bit of an anti-dying gift too—”

Mumbo cuts off his long spiel. “Okay! Okay! I’ll give you ten diamonds.”

“Twenty,” Techno demands.

“Seriously?” Mumbo asks, exasperated.

Techno shrugs. With a grumble, Mumbo starts digging through his pockets, pulling out supplies. Gives Techno a good chance to see Grian flying closer, right up behind Mumbo. Freaking finally. Techno does not look pathetic enough to keep this thing going long. No, seriously. Seriously.

Quickly, he pockets the diamonds that Mumbo pulls out. Right in time for Grian to jump up and grab Mumbo by the shoulders, shouting in his ear. The long guy fumbles while screaming himself. Dry spaghetti goes cooked.

Overly large, Techno takes a step back.

“Wha—Grian?!” Mumbo shouts.

“Hey, Mumbo,” Grian says, settling back down on the ground. “Thanks for finding my ward.”

“It’s more like he found me, really,” Mumbo says, sounding winded.

“Yeah, he does that,” Grian says.

The avian walks over and pats the top of Techno’s head. Glaring roughly, Techno’s pointed ears angle down and his tail thwips in agitation. It only seems to cheer Grian up more. Of course.

“But Mumbo! Did you show our dear Tech your Button machine doo-hickey?” Grian asks, spinning around.

“Ah, no, I did not. Did you want to check it out, Technoblade?” Mumbo asks.

“I’m dying to see it. Redstone is my passion,” Techno says.

“Oh, well, great! Yeah, let’s go check it out,” Mumbo says, turning and plodding off to lead the way.

Like a canary that has eaten a cat, Grian turns to Techno shortly and gives an evil wink and smile. Even though Techno knows the plan of the prank, he genuinely fears for the safety of Mumbo’s Button machine. Who knows what that bird has done to it?

But might as well see whatever happens, and Techno did dig that hole, so he hurries to follow. Invested interest.

“It’s quite simple, really. Just a timer that can be reset when this button is pressed. I want there to be more incentives the lower that it goes though, so that people don’t just press it every time that they walk past. I mean, unless the timer is super short, but that’s too many big rewards—”

Standing right in front of The Button, Mumbo’s endless nerd rambling is cut off by a rumbling through the ground. Techno sees Mumbo’s mouth part to let out one of his wacky shouts. He doesn’t get to hear which yelping noise he chooses this time, because Grian leaps forwards and claps his hands over Techno’s ears. His eyes widen in shock and confusion at the touch, jerking his elbow backwards slightly. But then the ground straight up jerks and he hears a bunch of muffled explosions.

Mumbo looks utterly befuddled as he looks around wildly. The man even covers his head slightly like something might fall from the sky on him. But instead there’s just the explosions, Mumbo’s muppet routine, and Grian’s evil laughter. Well, Techno can’t hear that, but he feels the jerking of the avian's arms.

“What? What?! By heavens! What is happening? Oh my word!”

Techno can hear Mumbo’s fast rambling as the explosions stop and Grian removes his hands from his ears. But mostly, he just hears Grian’s crazed laughter.

It’s honestly half of the reason that Techno’s lips start to pull upwards, giggling slightly. It's contagious. Mumbo is looking back and forth between them and the lights on The Button. It does luckily still appear to be working, shown off when Mumbo smacks the button and it fills back up all the lights.

“Grian?!” Mumbo shouts. “And Technoblade??”

“I’m as lost as you. Poor Grian would never do such a thing,” Techno says, covering his mouth as he giggles a bit more.

“Yeah, Mumbo. How could you accuse me? Let alone poor, innocent, little Tech,” Grian says, pinching his cheek.

Techno smacks the hand away. “Watch it.”

“Grian, how could you drag the kid out here to prank me? You’re so stupid, mate,” Mumbo says, laughing. “And you got him to lie, too.”

“Nope, that one was all him,” Grian says.

“Someone made me improvise,” Techno mutters.

“But it was some great work! I only broke like two redstone lines. Much less than usual,” Grian says, wings aflutter.

“Wait, what? Where?” Mumbo shouts, looking back at the machine like a zapped cat again.

Of course, Grian just breaks back out in laughter. Techno rolls his eyes as Mumbo groans in defeat. But Techno's lips do stick upright. It’s just so stupid. They’re both so stupid.

“Since you fell for that twice, you owe us lunch now,” Grian says, still laughing.

“How–how is that fair? And I already gave him twenty diamonds!” Mumbo points at Techno.

When Grian turns to him with an imploring look, Techno shrugs with his hands up.

“That was for a gift. Charitable work…”

Instead of looking annoyed or upset, Grian looks absolutely pleased by the prospect. Then again, the avian had talked about stealing a lot. And playing pranks on people. Mischief… Yeah, okay, that checks out.

“They grow up so fast…” Grian says, setting his elbow on top of Techno’s head by stretching upwards awkwardly.

“I’ve been pwning newbs since you were in diapers,” Techno says, grabbing the feathers on Grian’s wings and pulling. Not hard enough for them to come out, but enough for him to feel.

With a squawk, Grian jumps away and flutters back down, a bit more sulky beneath his wings. Humbled. Good.

“I’m at least a decade older than you, probably closer to double that,” Grian says.

“Old,” Techno says blithely. “But my point still stands.”

Scoffing, Grian shakes his head. But then he breaks into short chuckles again. He turns to Mumbo and clasps his hands below his chin.

“Wha— Fine,” Mumbo says, sighing. “Let’s go.”

“Horray!” Grian cheers.

The group of them end up crossing a bridge over to a huge factory-like building on an island. It’s kind of loud and busy inside with a bunch of moving machinery, but Mumbo says it’s mostly just for show. But the place does make pies, and lots of them. Techno gets some sort of chicken pot pie thing and classic pumpkin pie. Or apparently it’s classic, Techno has never tried it before.

“Thank god Ren isn’t around to hear that. He would drown you in the stuff,” Grian says.

When Techno takes a bite of it, he decides that that would be an okay way to go.

As they're finishing up their food, a faint noise from outside draws their attention. It doesn’t sound too dissimilar to more explosion pranks, and Mumbo actually sends Grian an accusing look. But even someone as destructive as Grian couldn’t have set more thing up in those few minutes, so Techno isn’t too hesitant to follow Grian back outside. In fact, he’s mostly just confused and intrigued, not really worried at all.

That’s where Techno went wrong. His whole life he has known that something will always go wrong, and in fact multiple things everyday if possible. Something disastrous and dangerous and murderous.

Like a giant, screaming, sickening beast in the middle of the shopping district.

“Who the heck brought a warden here?” Grian asks.

“I reckon someone having a very bad day,” Mumbo says, blinking in shock.

A warden? Techno has never heard of it, but considering the fact that even bumbling Mumbo pulls a short sword off his belt, it’s something serious.

“We’re about to have a very bad day if we don’t get out of here,” Grian says, wings puffed up as he takes a step back. “Uhhh, let’s go this way—”

The sound of a squeaky toy being strangled cuts the avian off, and draws all of their eyes up to where Tango is screaming while flying away. Though his haphazard flight is brought to a swift end when the warden monster shrieks and a visible ripple goes through the air. When it hits Tango, he crumples and starts falling through the air like a rock.

Drawing a sharp breath in, Techno feels all of the muscles in his body lock up. His eyes feel dilated to pinpricks as they dart around. They take in Ren at the monster’s elbow, trying to slash at it before getting smacked away. Xisuma isn’t too far away either, holding his sword like he hasn’t used one before in his life—or maybe that’s because most of his attention as turned to Tango. The possibly competent Pearl is running through a portal to join the fray, but she’s not close yet and she isn’t even wearing any armor.

They’re going to die, Techno realizes. They’re all going to die, and then, and then—

His heart clenches with fear, all of the stiffness and a freeze of fear stabbing directly into it. Right out of the rest of his muscles into it, so that they can kick back into action.

As Techno takes off sprinting back into the shopping district, right towards the warden, he hears both Grian and Mumbo shout behind him. But hopefully the pair of them are smart enough to stay well away, neither of them seem particularly suited for combat. The type of people Techno would see coating the first layer of a battlefield. Thin limbs, delicate wings. He sees it in all of them.

The Hermits who give medical care to an intruder and treat each other like family and would sacrifice themselves for someone that they see as a child—they’d all die in real combat, Techno is certain. His heart squeezes harder and his legs hit the ground faster, fueled by the type of speed that comes with running for one’s life.

Even if it’s not his own, this time.

Xisuma has dragged Tango behind one of the buildings, but that has left Ren running from the warden’s undivided attention. Instead of chasing after Ren though, the monster pauses and swells with something. A ranged attack?

Throwing himself forwards and sliding across the ground, Techno tackles Ren away from the path. They roll a few feet away, but Techno still feels his bones rattles and his ears pinch under the onslaught of the scream. Concussive. Dangerous.

Does it only disorient, or does it do physical damage? Can it kill? Better to presume that it can and avoid it, full stop.

Techno is already pushing himself back up when Ren fumbles over, blinking in confusion. He’s bleeding from his nose.

“Techno?” Ren asks distantly.

A firm push at the man and then Techno is standing again, turning towards the warden as it has settled enough from the attack to face him. Immediately, he squints and scans it, walking in a semi-circle while categorizing it.

The head is gnarled up with horns and so much growth that Techno can’t even make out any eyes. Does that mean it has any? Can it see at all? The real movement on the beast is the chest, a grand, gaping maw of a thing. It’s as though someone has sliced two swords into the thing and pried them apart, cracking the ribcage right open. But the organs are still thrumming and working. Glowing.

Especially the heart, overly large and expressive. 

Techno swings his head around quickly as the warden begins to wheel its arms back again. Ren has stumbled mostly into a stand, but is now a dozen feet away, mouth open and speaking quickly. Xisuma is still on the other side of it, and Pearl is halfway to reaching them. Tango is nowhere in sight. Tucked somewhere behind or close to Xisuma? He has to be. The man wouldn’t abandon him, even if that would be the logical thing to do. Xisuma might be the one admin Techno has ever met who seems to deserve the title.

No one is behind Techno now. He stills, aside from bending his knees further. The increase in voices all around is cut out by the first notes of the screeching.

Techno throws himself to the side, rolling across the mostly even ground. The pavement burns his skin, but it leaves him moving quickly without any bumps or collisions. He ends up on his feet with his palms pressed behind him, ears pressing down and jawbones clenching in a ringing pain.

But he has no trouble moving as he pops up and takes off running. Perfect.

As fast as he can, Techno pushes himself. He hates his shoes, the baggy clothes that he’s wearing. They all drag at him, but he refuses for them to slow him down. Beside the warden now, he needs to get behind its shoulder at least before it recovers from the ranged attack. He is three quarters of the way there before it starts to turn and Techno cringes—

He’s going so fast that he almost runs right into Xisuma, who is for some Bloody forsaken reason is running right towards him. The man reaches out for him, but Techno dodges below the arm, hand smacking into the ground, before he keeps going.

Xisuma stutters far worse, reeling in how he had been trying to slow to grab Techno and overthrown without the weight he was prepared to take on. It means that the warden pauses in its turn, focusing on Xisuma’s slower form now, twitching, before its focus solidifies solely on the admin.

The attention on Techno has disappeared already? It can still see him, or it can before Techno manages to get past its shoulder now that its turning has stopped.

No sight, he decides. It’s all sound based, or vibrations, or something. And Xisuma, dressed in a clanking metal suit, is far, far louder than even a wildly sprinting Techno.

But that does mean that the next attack that the warden charges up is heading right for Xisuma. The clanking, loud, bulky, stuttering-movements, Xisuma.

Gritting his teeth, Techno overshoots the warden by a few feet, before turning on his heel and running just as fast as before right towards it. But when he’s right behind it, he lets his knee bend twice as far than it should, before shoving upwards.

Techno leaps. The warden is well over double his size though, so he’s forced to make land before he gets up as high as he needs. The front of his other foot lands on the creature’s leg, right where it bends under its own weight. At the same time, he reaches upwards and shoves even harder as he feels the warden jolt at the contact.

Luckily, the jerking motion of the warden sends its scream askew, barely skimming Xisuma. And even better, it sends its shoulder back and down slightly, right within Techno’s reach. He sinks his fingers in hard, kicking for a foothold on the oversized ribs.

The skin of the monster is a bit too thick for that, but he gets enough traction for another shove upwards with the help of his hand now too. The shoulder is oddly bony, which just makes it more solid and unyielding.

His next grasp goes for the protruding horns. And once again, the dumb warden trying to look towards him while crying out sends the growth ever closer to his range.

That’s all that he can get, though, a single hand wrapped around the horn. With an enraged yell, the warden shakes its head back forwards.The motion yanks on Techno’s shoulder, before the rest of his body gets swung around with it. He very nearly has the urge to let go or scramble for a better hold, but he grits his teeth against the painful, but not concussive, yelling and forces his body to turn in the air.

One last time, he pulls upwards with all of his might. Alongside the swinging sending his body around in an arc, he finally crests over the back of the warden’s shoulders. Perfect.

Letting go of the horn with a shove, Techno lets himself fall backwards over the warden’s shoulder, down its front. He bends his legs, so that they hook around the creature’s shoulders and neck enough to hold his body. At the same time, he lets his arms drop down where he’s hanging upside down, plunging deep into the gaping open chest.

Techno doesn’t stop until his fingers are around the pulsing, pounding heart. Then, he squeezes hard and yanks.

The entirety of the heart does not end up being ripped out in his hand. But most of it does, tearing sickeningly. The meat of a leathery fruit pulling away from the core or a chunk of half-mellted wax off of a candle. His fingers break through and crush it as he rends it out of the chest.

Disconcertingly cold and dark blood sprays up his arm and across the ground. Techno has enough time to feel a lick of disgust, before the creature absolutely shrieks like the dying beast that it is.

And then it explodes.

Not in a combustion way. Which is quite good, considering that Techno was still perched on its shoulder. But with a boom and clap of the vibrating sound waves, the creature collapses.

And Techno goes flying through the air from the force.

There’s no time to do anything strategic this time, just flung and twisting like a ragdoll. Far too quickly, right towards the ground. Not even any time to brace.

Techno’s eyes just about close, before his body hits something hard. Pain pangs through him, ringing his head like a bell. His mouth falls open as he struggles to draw air in, diaphragm paralyzed. When limbs tighten around him, that helps quite a bit. And also lets him start wildly squirming, hitting at the hold with all of his elbows and knees and heels.

The arms around him barely loosen, but he manages to pop free. He rolls a couple times, before shakily getting onto his hands and knees. He tries to stand, before falling back down.

This time, hands close around him instead of arms. They grab his forearm and upper arm, pulling him up slightly. But they hold him in place.

Techno squints while jerking back, eyes finally settling enough to make out flattened dog ears, and pulled back lips that show off sharpened canine teeth, and angry eyes behind knocked askew glasses.

“ —crazy, dude? You could have died!”

With a painful pop, his ears stop ringing long enough for him to hear the man before him. Though maybe that’s the fact that he can see Ren’s flapping lips now. Slightly more difficult when the man shakes him.

Sluggishly, Techno presses his hand to Ren’s chest and pushes away. With the few inches of distance, he looks over at the warden, now flat on the ground and unmoving. The rest of their surroundings make Techno’s shoulder tense a bit, but he recognizes everyone hurrying over towards them.

None of them look pleased.

“Is he hurt?” Xismua calls.

“Are you okay?” Pearl asks, practically sliding the last few feet to them.

“Was that the only one?” Techno asks.

He moves to rub his face, looking around another time. But his wrist is grabbed by Pearl, pulled away. Confused, Techno looks back at her. And catches sight of his blood-goo covered hand. Oh, right. Not the sort of thing he cares about in combat.

“The only—? What the what?” Ren yells, starting to shake Techno again.

Pearl physically wrests Techno away from Ren, supporting him with a hand on his arm instead. A noticeable decrease in how much he’s being shaken. But Techno's brow is still furrowed as he looks at her, Xisuma clanking down beside them only makes him jump a little.

“Are you alright?” Pearl asks.

“...Yes,” Techno says, blinking. For some reason, Pearl pulls his arms out so that she can examine him all over. Ren even leans in to sniff his head. “Are you all? The monster—”

“Are you serious right now? Why did you go out there like that? It was incredibly dangerous,” Xisuma says, leaning closer.

“To fight the monster,” Techno says, face twisted in confusion.

About then, Grian and Mumbo stumble over to them where they had been running. Even Tango is poking over now, standing in the background and looking over at him intently. It doesn’t clear anything up for Techno as he frowns and crosses his arms.

“What on earth, you brat! Why did you run off like that?” Grian shouts, reaching out to grab his ear in a scolding pinch. “I couldn’t even help you without risking hurting you too—”

Before he can pinch him, Techno pushes away and stands up. His head absolutely turns over within his skull, the sound of his rapid and hard heart is right up between his ears too. It’s a wash of faintness, but Techno locks his knees and refuses to waver. A scowl crosses his face.

“Like I said, I was fighting the monster. You all were losing, so I killed it. Pretty freaking simple,” Techno says, crossing his arms even tighter. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?!” Grian starts physically puffing up with his shout, feathers doubling in size behind him.

None of the others seem far off from it either. Ren’s face is still all twisted up, a soft growl in his throat. Mumbo looks close to fainting, covered in sweat. Pearl just exudes disappointment where her bottom lip is stuck out. And Xisuma, well. His face is the ever unchanging visor.

Until he stands too, facing Techno straight on. 

“The big deal is that you could have died,” Xisuma says, voice calm but serious. From this close, Techno can make out a deep frown on his face, and a faint shaking in his hands.

“So could all of you! And I actually knew how to fight it, apparently. So how about get off my back,” Techno says, taking a step back. 

His shoulders are up to his down-angled ears and he can’t help the flicker in his eyes now. The adrenaline is starting to run through him anew. It’s screaming at him to look out for enemies, to keep his defenses up. Like the threat hasn't been put down.

Has it?

“It matters because you only have one life. You could have died for good!” Xisuma says. “That was reckless of you! We have a responsibility over you, you can’t just run off into danger where we can’t help you—”

“That was really, really uncool,” Grian says, body still as tight as an overstretched rubber band.

Techno’s mind is running a bit too fast to get in order. All of him is rejecting the words, the scolding, the guilt being thrown onto him. 

“You don’t have a responsibility over me,” Techno mutters.

“We do,” Pearl says firmly. Ren nods, backing her up.

“At the very least, I do. I have a responsibility for everyone on the server, but you’re a child. There’s more—there’s extra—” Xisuma stutters, looking much like a robot glitching.

“That’s kind of the whole point of us signing up to watch you. So that someone has responsibility over you,” Grian says. “I don’t have much of that, but you were way irresponsible with your life there!”

“They were losing. What did you want me to do? Let them lose?” Techno asks, taking another step back.

Strangely, the urge to run is starting to fill him now. His mind should be pushing him to bare his teeth, to find a weapon. Stand his ground, because he will definitely be attacked if he turns his back. But even though a defensiveness and… fear is rising up in him at all the harsh words and postures, the urge to lash out is only wrapped around his heart.

His crossed arms squeeze harder around his ribs as he squints.

“It was whatever, dude, we’d have gotten it eventually,” Ren says. “Safety is more important.”

“Not if you die first!” Techno shouts, stomping his foot.

That at least makes all of them pause, blinking at him. They glance at each other, or quite a few at Xisuma, actually. Techno feels his hackles rise higher, his pulse thrumming uncomfortably.

“Techno… we have respawn on this server,” Xisuma says, voice quiet and body stiff.

“What?” Techno asks,.

“Respawn? After we die, we—” Xisuma starts explaining.

“I know what respawn is. It just doesn’t exactly help when I don’t even know how many times you’ve all died before,” Techno says.

Of course Techno knows what respawn is. All the fancy, wealthy servers have respawn. Which of course means that Techno has never had it. He’s a body to throw at problems, and those being able to die is all the more worthwhile to whatever cause he’s fighting for. Basically everyone on those war planets and servers are like that, fighting for their only lives. And definitely everyone born on them just has the one.

But that’s not that uncommon. In fact, it is almost certainly more common for a person or a server to only have one life. One of the big appeals of the last server he was roped into, and artfully fled from, was the three respawn system.

Though Techno wasn’t privy to it. That’s not the sort of thing that can really transfer for people like Techno.

Still, dying isn’t pleasant. And for all Techno knows, any of the people in the battle could have been down to their last life and would have died for real—

“Our respawn is basically infinite,” Xisuma says.

Now it’s Techno’s turn to blink. “Infinite?”

“We couldn’t keep Scar around if it wasn’t,” Mumbo says, a flat joke in his tone.

“We wouldn’t do so much dangerous stuff all the time if we could permanently die. Well, most of us. Some of us,” Ren says.

“But I haven’t been able to link your code to the respawn yet! You would have died for real, and—” Xisuma looks close to crumbling dust under the boulder that seems to hit him. 

No one around him looks much better. Everyone is frowning hard, really shook up by the thought that Techno could have died permanently.

He supposes that for people that somehow have infinite respawns, the prospect of him dying is pretty startling. Though they’re still being a bit overdramatic about it. There’s rarely been a day that he hasn’t had his life in danger. He’s had it put in danger for way less.

“Well… I still don’t know what the big deal is. I killed it and am fine. Who cares?” Techno says. He shrugs and turns away.

But quicker than light, Ren hops back up and yanks him back around. “Us! Literally all of us! And basically probably anyone that exists, because that was freaking life threateningly dangerous!”

Techno only levels him with a flat look. That is a feature for Techno, not a bug. And he’s half glad that he can’t live forever, since he would certainly be thrown into even worse situations, eternally…

“Just, be careful until I get your respawn fixed, please, dude,” Xisuma says, palming his visor.

“I don’t think my respawn even can be fixed,” Techno says.

“Your code is all messed up, but we’ll figure out how to fix it eventually. It was edited by someone who obviously seems to have never touched code before. But we're working on it," Xisuma says.

“Edited?” Techno asks. 

“By multiple people, actually. That’s why it’s such a mess,” Xisuma says. “And I can’t go touching it until I have all the solutions perfectly mapped out and tested, or else it will break you more. Which is why… why… What point exactly were we making?”

“This conversation is a mess…” Grian says, head in his hands.

Pearl pushes herself up off of the ground slowly, towering over all of them—except Mumbo who’s standing awkwardly in the corner. She walks right over to Techno, and sets her hand on his head. Slouching slightly under the weight, Techno looks up at her through furrowed brows.

“It was sweet of you to try to help us, but you’re injured and a child and able to permanently die, so just worry about your own safety. Okay?” Pearl says. She tilts her head so their eyes meet, her large pupils making her eyes look a bit like a puppy’s. Impossible to disagree with.

Hesitantly, he nods an inch. But that seems well enough, since she smiles and shifts forwards. Techno flinches backwards, but Pearl only pulls him into a hug. Her hair tickles his face and her arms engulf him completely, even though they should be quite noodle-y. Instead, his body freezes completely at the soft press against the front of her body, tight but not restrictive or painful.

“Oh thank god,” Ren murmurs quietly.

“In Pearl we trust,” Grian murmurs back.

“We can hear you,” Pearl says. She pulls out of the hug so that she can face the other, though her arms still stay around him.

“I would like to change that by leaving,” Mumbo says, raising a finger.

Pearl scoffs and rolls her eyes, but then simply shifts to pet the top of Techno’s head. Like he’s a dog. He’s too stunned to do anything.

“I’ll take Techno and make sure that he doesn’t have any hidden injuries beneath all the blood,” Pearl says.

Everyone seems very agreeable to the prospect. Except for perhaps Techno, though he doesn’t really have the tongue or mind to protest it. They all give him a good hard look over as they say goodbye, and tell him to be safe with the weight of a threat.

Except, he’s not sure that it’s a threat in the way he’s used to. That would make more sense. Instead they seem… worried.

“Alrighty then, let’s head on back,” Pearl says, slinging her arm around his shoulders.

Looking down, Techno squeezes his fingers into a fist. The blood on his hand and arm has begun to dry, and thus flakes off around his knuckles at the motion. It’s itchy. Feels less normal and familiar than the wet blood had. Or maybe that’s just his skin after the strange scolding he just went through.

Pearl claps her hand over his dirty, bloody one, clasping it without care for how some smudges on her.

“Don’t look so glum. We’re just worried about you. But we can’t get too mad, since your self destructive streak makes you fit in. Give it a rest for now, though. That won’t kill you,” Pearl says.

Techno can only frown at that. He’s not sure why it makes his chest feel so rocky. Why hearing about Xisuma and the others trying to fix his code makes him feel so off balance. Why anyone caring whether he lives or dies—to save them—would make them care at all, except for how it serves them.

When it was Phil, he watched his back. But Techno watched his back, equally as much. That’s just how they did things, especially as time passed and Techno’s skills at the very least equaled Phil’s. If one excludes the wings.

These people are just different. And Techno doesn’t know how to face that.

“Now that face is even glum-er. Come on, I said don’t be glum,” Pearl coos.

The woman reaches out and pinches his cheek, pulling him closer by the neck. With a shout, Techno shoves her away and tries to get out of reach of her long, grabby limbs. But Pearl giggles and grabs him back around the shoulders.

For some reason, Techno doesn’t pull away from the casual touch as they walk back to the house.

Chapter Text

“Hello!”

Squinting furtively, Techno eyes the man before him. He’s familiar, like just about everyone on the server is now. But he’s not one of the main people that comes around to watch and bother Techno. He’s pretty short, only a bit taller than Techno—finally, he’s been meeting giants lately. With floppy ears and yellow hair, he seems to be a sheep hybrid. 

Zedaph. Right.

With his exclamation, the man raises one arm over his head in a wave. His oversized lab coat droops over his hand.

“Hello?” Techno asks.

“Is it Tango?” Impulse calls from deeper in the house. Impulse's house, technically, but now Techno’s using it so everyone’s in and out.

“Impulse? Oh, perfect,” Zedaph says.

The sheep hybrid sweeps past him, leaving Techno to close the door behind him. He does so while rolling his eyes. If the guy didn’t look incredibly unintimidating and also wasn’t on this server where everyone was friendly, Techno might have kicked him in the face for tromping on in.

Instead of violence, Techno follows behind Zedaph into the living room. Impulse looks up at them, packing away some sort of equipment he was messing with.

“Zed? What are you doing here, dude?” Impulse asks.

“I may have turned off Tango’s alarms. Even his super secret sneaky ones,” Zedaph says, smiling mischievously.

“And why did you do that?” Impulse asks.

“Because he needs to actually sleep for once,” Zedaph says.

“That’s true…” Impulse says. “But I had plans with Pearl. I promised I would help with a redstone problem. Too many chances of explosions, can’t bring a baby there.”

“That’s fine, I can do the sitting on the baby duty,” Zedaph says, smiling wider.

Nose scrunching, Techno pipes up: “Or I could just sit here alone and do nothing.”

“Mr. ‘seizures, brain damage, and self destruction, oh my?’ I don’t think so,” Zedaph says, waggling his finger and little ears.

Techno only scoffs.

“Are you… sure, Zed? I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t know if I trust you to not get Techno into another wacky and lifethreatening-tastic adventure,” Impulse says.

“Me? How could you doubt me?” Zed asks, perhaps trying to look innocent with how he brings his hands up below his chin. But the cuff of his coat is stained with a suspiciously red substance. Not quite the right color to be redstone. A palpable cringe crosses Impulse’s face, showing off his pointy teeth. “Yeah, okay. But for real this time! I was going to go work on my cubby at Decked Out that Tango has been subtly-sadly asking us to finish.”

“You’re not doing any runs, right? Techno is definitely banned from those,” Impulse says.

“I wouldn’t want to traumatize the poor babe with having to see one of my runs,” Zedaph says, making Impulse laugh.

“You’re not that bad, I’m sure—”

Techno cuts Impulse off, flopping back onto the couch. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Decked Out. Tango’s game this season. The big, spooky castle,” Impulse explains.

“Oh, yeah… Deepcut Citadel or something,” Techno says, setting the tips of his fingers on his chin in thought.

Again, the pair of them laugh, though for no good reason. That’s definitely close to the name.

“I’ve been,” Techno says flatly.

“Yes, right, that time I accidently lost you. Good times,” Impulse says.

“I can guarantee I will lose him less than you, ethical vow,” Zed says, eyes closed and finger raised.

“Ethical vows don’t mean much with you… but you will probably be statistically right. So okay,” Impulse says.

“I am feeling so secure,” Techno says flatly.

“Very good!” Zed says.

Somehow, Techno is goaded (or should he say goated. Good one. But Zed is a sheep, so he’ll save it for Doc) to go put on a jacket that he got from somewhere or another. It’s slightly oversized, so it falls over his hands. But he doesn’t bother doing anything more than shove the sleeves up sloppily. His mind strays to strategic finger availability, but only for a second. It strays to how he's going to be matching with Zed for more than a second. Embarrassing.

By the time that he’s back downstairs, Impulse has left and Zedaph is poking through a cabinet in his kitchen. 

“No, make yourself at home,” Techno says sarcastically.

“This was Impulse’s house before, I crashed here all the time,” Zed says. “Your dishware is nicer, though.”

“It’s not mine,” Techno says.

"Hopefully you made Impulse pay for it," Zed says, with a smile.

"I don't know who bought it all. I don't have money," Techno says, shrugging.

"Now that's a great strategy! I don't think I have the pathetic watery eyes necessary to make it work, though," Zed says, frowning.

"I'll have you know, I intimidated the one and only Mumbo Jumbo into giving me like fifty diamonds the other day," Techno says.

"Scaring Mumbo is about as hard as scaring a little lamb, no offense."

"Did you say 'no offense' to yourself?" Techno eyes his sheep ears.

"Yes, indeedy. Now I have an appointment with an inanimate object, very time sensitive, which means you're contractually obligated to come along." Zed wiggles his ears.

"I've signed no contracts," Techno mutters.

"Because you're too baby sized to legally hold the pen, hey-o! Alright, let's go."

Zed grabs Techno's hand with his coat covered one—luckily the side with less mysterious red substance on it—and pulls him out of the house. There's a very decent chance that Techno could chuck the sheep man over his shoulder and get away, considering the guy isn't much bigger than him and seems pretty nonthreatening. But that seems bad for his health in other ways. Techno's not up to date on contact poisons and psychological warfare.

Bodily, he gets dragged all the way over to Decked Out, the giant castle towering over them. He shivers slightly at a blustering blow of the wind, snow sticking to his hair. But Zedaph pulls him inside before he can get too cold.

Which of course brings him all up close to the creepy soul fires literally everywhere. Techno shivers way worse at them, eyeing them with disgust.

"Oh, yeah, piglins are scared of soul fire, aren't they? That trait carries into hybrids?" Zedaph asks, eyeing him a bit like one would a mouse. If they were wearing a white coat and the mouse was in a creepy lab cage, anyway.

"It's not fear, it just feels gross," Techno says.

Naturally, he leans closer to the sheep hybrid. Because it brings him further away from the fire. And closer to the actual warmth.

"How so?" Zedaph asks, not reacting when Techno accidentally bumps their shoulders together.

"Like: eughhhh," Techno says, wiggling his fingers in show.

Zedaph watches with rapt attention, before laughing when he's done.

"I think you just described fear in one word. Or sound, more accurately."

"It's a physical and biological weakness," Techno says, rolling his eyes. "The superstitions came from that. People die from it and stuff. This is quite piglin endangerment core."

"Don't say that so loud, I'm trying to stay off the child endangerment shame list," Zed says, cringing hard. "Let's get you out of here."

Instead of leaving though, Zedaph pushes Techno further into the building. They pass a giant blue fire in the center of the room, which makes him watch with wide eyes and walk with his arm pressed flat to Zed's. It's disconcerting, just sitting there. These people have death wishes, like they want their souls to be absorbed or something.

Then again, they're supposed to be able to respawn or whatever. So maybe it doesn't matter. Or maybe their souls were already stolen many deaths ago…

His line of thought seems to pop as Zedaph shoves him into a small cubby of a room, heated and lighted with columns of lava. It's far warmer in here, and feels way safer. Even with the carpeting next to the lava withheld only by glass. Fire hazard.

"Here we are. Our task today is…" Zedaph rolls his hands in suspense. "Finish my cubby!"

"Seriously?" Techno asks, unimpressed.

"Deadly serious, little piglet in a blanket," Zed says, throwing an exaggerated hand in the air.

"What does that even mean?" Techno asks, confused.

"Exactly!" Zed says, walking to the back corner of the small space. "Now I'm thinking the piece de resistance of my cubby will be a woolen tapestry in the shape of my face, riiiight here."

Watching with disbelief as Zedaph gestures at the entire back wall, he shakes his head a little. But he does walk further in, because it brings him closer to the lava. And onto the soft, pink and yellow carpet. And towards the sheep man's body heat, because Techno's still cold.

At the uproarious gesturing, Techno picks up one end of the strange, coarse fabric laying on the ground, helping him hang it up there. The wall is largely made up by a blank white canvas, tightened at the bottom by Zed too. Techno doesn't know why. Until Zedaph pulls out a knife.

Belatedly, Techno flinches backwards.

"What was that?" Zed asks.

"You startled me," Techno says, eyeing the knife. That actually looks more like a hook thing on further inspection. Huh.

"You didn't jump for like a full three seconds," Zed says.

"Two." Techno corrects.

"Two and a half," Zed says. "Now which blue looks more like my eyes?"

He holds up two spools of blue yarn. Techno points at the one with purple undertones.

The tapestry turns out to be a very cartoon representation of what is arguably Zedaph's face. The man draws it out with a paint marker, before handing Techno his own hook.

Literally not knowing what to do with such a thing, Techno holds it in front of his face. Then drops it to his side.

"This is the worst knife I've ever seen."

"That's because it's for the murder of the most artistic of ventures. The woolen arts," Zed says, sleeve covered hand over his heart.

"That actually made me more confused," Techno says.

Zed laughs a little. Perhaps his intention then. "I'll show you."

Slowly, Zedaph shows him how the couple inches of yellow yarn can be wrapped around the bottom of the hook, stabbed through, and then pulled back in a way that catches and creates a simple knot. Then the length of wool hangs securely from that section of the gridded canvas. He does a couple more beside it in a neat row, showing how the color begins to fill out in a block. Seems simple enough with the design already mapped out.

Honestly the process is kind of methodical and satisfying. Like planting seeds in a row, except that the results are right there immediately, even if a terrible famine crosses the land so bad that the conquerors don't even bother to salt the land. Techno sits down criss cross on the ground, doing the bottom half as he listens to Zedaph hum happily.

Like a melting chunk of ice, he drifts slightly down. His hand stabs knots into being slower and slower, but he keeps petting the tufts straight. His cheek squishes against the warm column of lava, making him wish that he could phase through the glass completely.

"—and woah, you are real smushed up on that lava, let's lean away some before your skin boils off."

Paws grab at Techno, pulling his away from the pillar of warmth. Noooooo.

"Noooooo," Techno whines.

"I know, I know, second degree burns are all the rage with kids these days, but Tango's dungeon insurance doesn't cover it," Zedaph says, petting his shoulder while still dragging him away.

"Your insurance doesn't cover it," Techno mutters.

"That's true too, but all the more," Zed says. He tries to sit Techno upright, but he starts to wilt back down immediately. Zed props him back up, but it repeats. "Okay, those abdominal muscles are not doing their part here."

"You're not doing your part," Techno mutters.

"That was funnier the second time, but I'm sensing some diminishing returns with it," Zed says.

"I wanna wool on the bottom layer," Techno says, turning into a noodle. He spills out of Zedaph's arms. Like a noodle. "While laying down."

"That's reasonable. A reasonable demand. But just not directly on the lava," Zed says, desperately trying to prop him up. But now Techno has learned that the sheep man himself is also warm.

"Noooooo," Techno says, leaning against him.

"Uhhhhh, you don't have any headache or other brain bleed symptoms do you? No? Good, good," Zed says, pushing him backwards and looking into his eyes. "Just checking. Your personality is just showing new layers."

"Like the layers of a sheep," Techno says, rubbing his eye after Zedaph pulls the lid back.

"Sheep don't have layers, that's offensive, actually," Zed says.

"The layers of wool," Techno says. Like it's obvious. Because it is.

"Hm."

Just as there's a flash of light from Zedaph summoning his comm, a loud whooping from outside draws their attention over, with matching ear twitches. He didn't think that anyone else was here. And apparently Zedaph didn't either, because his eyebrows are raising.

"Someone must be playing Decked Out. How about a walk over to see who it is and if that peps you back up. Or if I should call Doc," Zed says, starting to stand.

"No Doc," Techno says venomously. "Goats are not as cute as sheep."

"Very true, thank you very much," Zed says.

The sheep man helps him stand, which he does with only half of a frown. He is very tired, but it seems like he's getting dragged along to somewhere else. And by then they're stepping back out into the rest of the building filled up with all the gross soul lights everywhere. Techno grumbles at it, which makes Zedaph's ears perk up.

"Did you just growl?"

"No…"

Those almost purple eyes look back at him. An above average amount of people on this server have purple eyes. Maybe they're all related.

"Are you an admin?" Techno asks.

"What? No," Zed says, laughing. "Is that your way of asserting your rights to silence? Fair play!"

While Techno is trying to sort through that mess and the new wrench in his theory, he holds onto Zedaph's elbow as he walks hesitantly through the room. And thus arrives quite swiftly to a much more open and less flame-y room. With other people in it.

They're vaguely familiar folks, from the different Hermit meetings he's been to. A man with a short dark blond pony tail and a bandana, beside a very normal looking man—aside from the gills on his face. Techno couldn't say their names if his life depended on it. Which maybe it does, depending on how this encounter goes.

Techno buckles down a bit more behind Zedaph. Squinting.

"Hey," Both of the men say, waving casually when they catch sight of them.

"Hello fellows," Zed says, waving back. "Playing some rounds?"

"Jev's in there right now," One says, pointing with a thumb at the ominous doorway. "Did you want to skip the line? I suppose we could make an exception…"

"Oh no, we were just decorat-doing the cubbies," Zed says, flapping a hand. "Plus, I am saddled with the:" Zedaph gestures at Techno.

The men tilt slightly to the side to see him, humming.

"Who are these people?" Techno asks bluntly.

Zedaph chuckles. "Hypno and xB."

"Hey, man," xB repeats, while Hypno nods in greeting.

"Hello," Techno says, squinting. Then his eyes close as he sneezes, drooping against Zedaph completely.

"Child germs," Zedaph murmurs, before pulling Techno further into the room.

"How far down have you gotten, Zed?" Hypno asks.

"Just the second level. I'm more of a creative consult than a star player for things like this," Zed says, scratching his cheek.

xB chuckles while Hypno smiles in what could probably be described as a smirk. Zedaph doesn't seem offended by it though, simply bouncing up to them.

"Have you two decorated your thingies?" Zed asks.

As the pair launch into a short discussion on storage and something about "run diaries," which Zedaph actually seems keenly interested in, Techno's attention drifts off. He really would rather be back in the cubby, sleeping on the carpeting and listening to soft humming. Everything is so drippy, at least inside Techno.

Between one blink and another, he finds himself practically hanging off of Zedaph's arm. The man keeps looking down at him with pushed together eyebrows, to the point that the next time he does it, Techno sticks his tongue out at him.

Zedaph laughs in surprise. Not his intention, but whatever.

Suddenly, the big closed door on the side of the room begins to glow and shake, making Techno jump. Zedaph makes a noise from the jolt, before stabilizing Techno.

The door slides apart with a spooky noise. Though almost anticlimactic, a blue man in a hoodie steps out.

"Sup," Jevin says.

"Jevin!" Zedaph cheers.

"How did your round go?" xB asks.

"Pretty good, but I got taken out on the way back up," Jevin says, rolling his eyes. It looks kind of weird, considering he's a big clump of jelly. "Who's going next, after it resets?"

"Not me!" Zedaph says.

"Not I," Techno echoes.

"Was that you correcting my grammar, or giving your answer?" Zed asks.

"Yes," Techno says.

Then his knees give out a little, and he slides down Zedaph's arm further. His face ends up resting in the man's elbow crook. His sweater is almost warm like carpeting.

"Uh, why is Techno acting like… that?" Jevin asks, pointing a thumb at him.

"Is that not how he normally acts?" xB acts.

"I definitely do not think so, from what I've seen," Jevin says.

"Yeah, he just started acting like that…" Zedaph says, finger on his chin. "Is this a seizure thing, Techno?"

Techno peels his face out of Zedaph's arm, looking up at him. Then he shakes his head.

When he goes to tuck his face back in, Zedaph shakes him away. The man keeps his hands on him in support, but forces him to stand up and take a step away. It's so, so mean. And everyone just watching and not helping his injustice. So cruel.

All the slimy eye contact too, Techno frowns at Jevin. Or he would if his face muscles didn't feel oh so heavy.

Absently, he notices that Hypno is flipping through a hand of cards. Well, not absently, exactly. But with rapt attention, that is not on the main conversation that picks up, he notices.

"TCG," Techno says, pointing at the cards.

"Not quite," Hypno says, flipping a card around. "They're cards that give power-ups for Decked Out."

"Well that's confusing," Techno says.

A few people snort at his words.

"Not really," Hypno says. He holds out the card more invitingly.

Techno walks over and takes it, looking at the art on the front of the card. It does look a lot different from Beef's card art. More jagged and neon-y. Still pretty cool looking.

"They do look different," Techno admits, turning the card back and forth. It's very shiny.

"Mhm," Hypno says, an amused smile on his face. "Your tail, uh, having fun there?"

Techno looks down. His tail is wiggling between his legs.

"It is a shiny picture," Techno says knowledgeably.

"That it is," Hypno says.

"I like it," Techno says.

"That's nice, man," Hypno says, raising an eyebrow without losing his smile.

Still looking at the picture, Techno sits down on the strange stone platform things behind them. It works pretty well as a seat, actually.

Until something suddenly moves right behind him, rising up.

"What's happeni—"

Techno shouts and falls forwards off of the seat, plummeting down to the cold, hard stone floor at the words. Until a different set of cold, hard things catch him. Or, Techno plummets into them. One of those two comparative metaphors. All metaphors are comparative.

Hypno catches him. Techno's face smashes into his shoulder, so he makes a muffled pained noise, until he turns his face out onto the chest.

"Did Techno fall again? That's an abnormal amount of falling," Zedaph calls, trailing into muttering.

"Hup, okay then. That's Wels, he was sleeping behind you," Hypno says. "Wels, you scared the local child."

"The wha—?" The man behind the stone pillars says. Wels, apparently.

"Did you sleep through us getting a whole child?" xB asks, chuckling.

"Who, Mumbo?" Wels asks, yawning widely. Then he turns and blinks at Techno. "That's not Mumbo."

The men in the room laugh. Except Wels, but he just seems confused. Relatable.

A glance shows that the man is, in fact wearing pajamas. A silvery blue color, all the way up to the pointed sleep hat on his head. Except for the brilliant red feather at the end. Huh. Techno's never seen someone dressed like that before. It really calms his heart quickly. And also just, the weird goopy tiredness running through him too. Maybe that Wels guy has the right idea, sleeping here.

He turns his head back to the side. Which smushes his cheek into Hypno black turtleneck-ed shoulder again. Well, except for the very center of his chest, which Techno gets a very good view of from this angle.

"You have the same shirt cut out as my best friend," Techno says, mournfully.

"What?" Hypno asks, before laughing and pushing him back towards the pillars.

"The what is quite obvious," Zedaph says, gesturing at Hypno's front, the cut out of his collar bones. xB makes a noise of agreement, before chuckling some more. He's a giggly man. "The far more pertinent part of that is 'who.' As in, who do you consider your best friend? I need leverage. Preferably over Bdubs, please say Bdubs."

As Techno opens his mouth to answer, he remembers all the mess of before. With Phil and everything that happened at the end.

Like how they might not even be friends anymore.

Tears swell in Techno's eyes as he sniffs. And then hiccups.

And then the tears break free.

"Oh crap."

"What the—?"

Noises of confusion and shock ring out around him, but Techno can do little except for raise his hands to his eyes as he cries. Shoulders jerking and weird squeaky noises leaving his chest. Techno feels like a pin hole has been poked in his brain and he's all falling down. Except, instead of seizing, it's dread and sadness left behind.

"I'll never see his weird shirt hole again," Techno croaks, before sobbing. "I think he cut it in for his wings but realized it was on the wrong side, so he just went with it!"

"I would say that this is getting too personal for me, but y'know what, it's actually getting too weird for me," Hypno says.

"Kinda harsh, man," xB whispers.

"You were thinking it," Hypno does not whisper back.

"Why is Not Mumbo crying?" Wels asks, blinking discordantly in the background.

While xB chuckles in shock, Techno slips off of the little stone pillar onto the floor. Better to cry into his knees there.

"Something is obviously wrong here, and I probably shouldn't be the one pointing that out. Who's in charge of him?" Jevin asks.

"Zedaph," Hypno and xB say, pointing.

"Zedaph," Jevin says, turning to said sheep man with his hands on his hips. How does that even work, he's made of slime.

Techno sobs into his knees.

"Uhhh, uhhh, uhhh, Tango is the closest actually responsible Hermit to here, I'm going to go get him!" Zed shouts, turning with a big flap of his coat. "Watch him!"

"Can't you just call him?" Jevin calls back.

"I turned all of his electronics off!" Zed yells, as he literally runs out the door.

Techno watches with another sob.

"Now even he's leaving. Strange, possibly evil man I formally met a couple hours ago…" Techno cries.

"Yikes," Hypno hisses.

"I know, he totally had blood on his sleeves… Just like Phil!" Techno sobs.

"Good going, you frickin made him cry again," xB says, lightly slapping Hypno's arm.

"What the heck, do I have to be the responsible one here?" Jevin asks.

"I think that would be for the best, as I'm starting to think I missed a few people joining the server. Because I have also never heard of this Phil fellow," Wels says, raising a finger.

"No, you're good, we don't know him either," xB says.

"Oh, good," Wels says.

Techno squeaks very high pitched and pathetically with his next sobs.

"Okay," Jevin says, walking over and crouching before him. "Uh, it's okay. Don't cry, dude, you're too cool for that."

"Crying isn't lame. Emotional intelligence is an art," Wels says, hand on his heart. Before he yawns again.

"But we don't want him to be crying," Hypno mutters.

"Well maybe he wants to be crying," Wels says. "Think about that."

It's awkwardly silent aside from the sounds of Techno's cries, presumably as everyone thinks about that. Including Techno.

"I don't want to cry, it's lame," Techno sobs.

"Good going, Jevin. You instilled him with harmful views on emotion," Wels says.

"Just what we needed. More emotionally constipated people on this server," xB says, chuckling nervously.

"You all are useless," Jevin says venomously.

Techno sobs harder, making everyone jump and look around at a loss. They look like they are juggling a live bomb, or at least that they would rather be. Which just makes Techno curl up into a smaller ball, the miserable feelings practically engulfing him.

"Don't—Well, I guess cry if you want to, but don't be sad," Jevin says. His soft hands press against Techno's arms, rubbing. "What's wrong? Talk it out, come on, man."

"I'm unsure whether my closest ally sold me out to my enemies," Techno says, sniffling.

"Oh, that's way easier than emotional stuff," Hypno says, sounding relieved.

"And, I can't help still missing him even if he has," Techno cries.

"I think I jinxed that one," Hypno says, not sounding relieved anymore.

"Stop with the color commentary and do something to help," Jevin spits out.

"I can assure you, this is more helpful than anything he would try to do," xB says.

"Speak for yourself," Hypno says.

There's a shuffling as the men join them on the ground, crouched and kneeling in awkward forms. Someone places a hand on his back, before pulling back stiffly. There's a lot of movement in the air, as though everyone is making a lot of gestures above his head. Techno slowly peaks out with one eye, finding that Jevin has wrapped his hands around Hypno's throat and is now shaking him back and forth, while xB is waving is hands around.

Shocked, Techno huffs out a couple surprised laughs.

Jevin lets go of Hypno as they look back at him, raising eyebrows. And goopbrows.

"He likes violence?" Hypno asks, rubbing his throat.

"Thank Mojang," Jevin says, sighing. "That's way easier."

Then he punches Hypno across the face.

It makes a wet squish noise as Hypno flops back dramatically. The force of it sends his bandana slipping down over his eyes, which makes his nose wrinkle. Techno giggles again in surprise, blinking at the strange scene.

"Fighting? Seriously?" Wels asks, still tucked behind the pillars.

With a weak and kind of pitiful battle cry, xB jumps over onto Jevin's back, grabbing him around the neck. Which Jevin responds to by promptly slumping back, squishing xB into the ground.

Like a crushed beetle, xB scrambles with his limbs out, making little croak-y noises. When one of his shaky, reaching hands extends in Hypno direction, the man straightens his bandana and gets up. Hurrying to his comrade's aid.

By grabbing Jevin around the ankles and spinning him in a circle around the ground. Which drags xB along too, much to his screaming shock.

The whole scene leaves Techno watching with wide, blinking eyes. His tears really have come to a stop, because he is so utterly distracted by the random, very odd and ineffective, brawl that has broken out. Techno has been in enough wars to know that the 'licking someone's hand that is over your mouth' trick does not work. And yet it gets ample airtime in this battle.

"Plebeians," Wels mutters, before finally standing from the ground.

The man brushes off his pajamas, as though they are proper finery, before pushing his long, low ponytail over his shoulder. Then he takes a few paces back to a shadowed corner, before grabbing something with grand and exaggerated pomp, like it is Excalibur itself. Wels heft it over his head before charging over at the fighting man pile with a battle cry.

And promptly starts smacking them all with a broom.

All of the fighters begin screaming as they are pelted with broom bristles, taking the long hairs to the face and back. And while he is raining down the terror, Wels laughs manically, somehow even louder than all the screaming combined.

At least until Hypno gets a hand on the broom and yanks it down.

Wels cries out as he falls, landing on them all heavily. The broom scatters away harmlessly, like a weapon spent fully.

"Why'd you pull him down onto my liver?" xB croaks, buried deeply under three layers of guy.

Suddenly, Techno bursts out into loopy laughter, far more proper than the shocked things of before. He's still utterly befuddled by what has come to pass before him, but it's so random and exaggerated that he can't help laughing at it. And when the men all start squirming and crawling out of their pathetic pile, they watch him with relieved smiles.

"Phew, who knew you jerks were useful for something after all?" xB asks, rubbing his jaw. It makes the strange fish fin-like ears shake on his head. Techno giggles at it, wiping at his wet eye.

xB smiles back at him, before crying out dramatically when Hypno punches him in the shoulder.

"Mhm, think you were thinking about yourself with that one," Hypno says.

"I'm always thinking about myself," xB says, smiling with his teeth for the first time. They're very sharp.

"I have fought many a duel for sport and honor," Wels says. Except that he is still face down, so it comes out extremely muffled.

"Don't make us fight to fix you too now, Wels," Jevin says, patting the man's back.

Slowly, Wels reaches out towards the discarded broom. But he doesn't really get close, so no one reacts. Well, Hypno pushes it a bit further away with the tip of his boot, but he really did take a lot of those bristles to the face.

Techno giggles.

"That's my workout for the week. Who even needs Decked Out?" Jevin asks.

"You definitely hit like a ravager when you were squishing me," xB says, chuckling.

"You're welcome," Jevin says.

While tears are still glittering in Techno's eyelashes, his attention is caught up in the shifting of the slime man's being. It's really such a bright blue, but not the off putting kind, like the fires. It's more mesmerizing, like an ocean or something.

A loud crash of fireworks sounds, right inside the doorway to the hall. Everyone freezes and looks over to it.

They need not, though. Barely a second passes before Tango storms into the room, shimmering hair mused to high-heck and a very uncharacteristic glare on his face. Techno outright flinches back a little, feeling like he's about to bitten by a lizard.

"One time a lizard bit my finger. But then its tail fell off," Techno says.

Without pause, Tango marches up to Techno, swoops him off his feet, and carries him in a princess carry, right back out towards the front of the hall. Techno squeaks oddly, before grabbing onto Tango's ear for leverage. Tango barely flinches at the tight fingers.

"Uh, where you going, dude?" Hypno asks.

"Soul fire is bad for piglins!" Tango shouts.

"He's not a piglin, though," Jevin says.

"Ow, my ears," Techno mutters, before setting his cheek on Tango's shoulder.

"Yeah, well, this trait carries over to hybrids apparently. And I need to make an actual server wide announcement about it, so we've all screwed up. Go back to playing, I'll take it from here!" Tango calls, before whispering at Techno. "Sorry."

"So loud, lizard," Techno mumbles.

"I'm going to pretend that is just the soul fire talking," Tango says.

"It's not," Techno says, closing his eyes.

With a breathy sort of laughter, Tango carries him back outside to the freezing cold. Techno makes a disgruntled noise, before shoving closer to Tango. He's even warmer than Zedaph, like the shimmering, fire-like parts of him are real. That's nice, Techno missed the lava.

But it's still way too cold outside. Snow drifts through the air and sticks to his skin. It melts there, freezing the skin below.

"It's so cold," Techno mutters.

"I know, sorry. But we've got to get you somewhere less toxic for you, before you skedaddle into a coma," Tango says.

"I'm always skedaddling towards comas here," Techno says. "Maybe you guys are the toxic ones."

"I will take that constructive criticism to heart," Tango says.

He dozes off for what seems like a moment, but when he opens his eyes, they're back home. The big purple house. Well, small compared to the builds on the rest of the server. But big to him.

Tango walks into the building backwards, still holding Techno in his arms.

"Honey, I'm home," Tango calls sarcastically.

"Tango! Did you get him?" Zedaph calls, running out to them. He sighs slightly. "Techno."

"There you are," Techno says, raising his head up a bit. "I thought you died."

"Wha—? No, I went to get Tango," Zed says.

"Tango's right here," Techno says.

"Yes, because—Okay, you are, very silly right now. I made up some blankets, out here," Zed says, leading the way quickly.

The floor of the living room is full of blankets and pillows and cushions. Techno makes a strange churring noise while kicking his legs. Tango guffaws before setting him down in it, patting his back. Techno feels his tail wag back and forth, face down on the blankets. Clumsily, he tries to pull them over himself.

While snickering sounds over him, someone starts pulling the blankets out. But they layer them over his back, so he doesn't need to murder anyone. Nestling down, he curls up with a hum.

A hand lands on his back, rubbing. Techno turns his face enough to peek up.

Tango is sitting directly beside him, but Zedaph is still close too. The sheep man is frowning, which seems very discordant for him.

"Hmph?" Techno asks.

"I'm sorry for bringing you close to the soul fire, Techno. That ended up being very irresponsible, I should have thought about it," Zedaph says, pulling on his fingers.

Techno blinks at him. Before picking up a pillow and throwing it at him.

"Hey!" Zed shouts, taking the pillow to his temple. The cloth ends up getting caught on his little horns. The man shakes his head until it falls off. Techno giggles. "Does that mean you're mad at me, or just think that's funny?"

Techno only snorts some more, smiling while his tail thwips quickly.

"Seems like he finds your dumb smushed face funny," Tango says.

"Okay, punk," Zed says, chuckling a bit.

"Do you want something to drink, Tech?" Tango asks, rubbing his back again.

"Oh, yes, I have water. Or I could get juice," Zed says.

"Mmph," Techno says, turning back into the pillows.

"I guess that's a no," Zed says.

Wiggling, Techno squirms until he's under the blankets better. It's a good–good nest. Yes, nest. That's exactly what it is. He rumbles softly, tucked in well.

The fingers return to his back, petting. They rise up higher, closer to his neck. And then slowly they reach his hair. They drag through the locks, gentle and untangling. The pointed tips scratch against his scalp, scratching, but not anywhere near painful.

Techno… doesn't mind the hands. The people close to him. Touching. It should make him feel less safe, but it doesn't. It feels… nice.

His eyebrows push together, confusion budding in his skull. Some of the fuzziness bleeding away, leaving him tired in a different way. But more clear. That instinct makes no sense—

Quick knocking on the door at the front of the house makes Techno jump, trying to look up. He gets slightly tangled in all the blankets and comfortable fog.

A familiar shout matches the door opening.

"Impy?" Tango asks.

"Weren't you doing stuff with Pearl?" Zedaph asks. Wow, that feels like a decade ago.

"Well, I was, but…" Impulse walks into the room, scanning them all before smiling. "But I had an inkling that this wouldn't go totally according to plan."

"I would be offended, if you weren't totally right," Zedaph says, ears pressed to his head.

Impulse huffs, showing off his sharpened teeth. He pauses at the edge of the nest, leaning down slightly.

"Permission to come aboard?" Impulse asks.

"It's a ship now?" Tango asks sarcastically.

Impulse laughs, but shrugs. Techno's tail wags a couple times, which Impulse seems to squint at before climbing in. He sets a hand on both Zedaph's and Tango's heads, before leaning closer to Techno.

"Those pupils are a little blown. Feel seizure-y, Techno?" Impulse asks.

"I already said no," Techno huffs.

"Okay, sassypants," Impulse huffs back. "You need some fluids and sleep, then."

"Sleep," Techno agrees, going face down.

Impulse laughs. "No, let's get you something to drink first."

"Nooooo," Techno complains, muffled.

He hears a soft conversation and movement around him, before someone grabs his shoulders and starts pulling him up. All of his grumbling is deftly ignored, and he's got a solid glare on his face as he's propped up. Until Impulse returns, mug in hand.

When he holds it before Techno's face, moving it encouragingly, the smell wafts up. It smells sweet and rich.

Techno grabs the mug and takes a sip, tail wagging behind him. The chuckles around him can not deter his drinking. It's delicious, like liquid chocolate. He thinks he loves it.

"And that's how you get stubborn patients to drink fluids," Impulse says, smug.

"I offered juice," Zedaph says, pouting a little.

"Hot chocolate is way better than juice, man, he showed you up," Tango says.

"Whatever. At least he's happy now," Zed says, crossing his arms.

Quietly, he drinks the mug of hot chocolate. An ingenious name, the drink is both hot and chocolate. It might be the most perfect creation ever.

As the cup empties, he begins to finally feel warm throughout himself. The stubborn cold that he had attributed to the snow was actually much deeper, down to his core. Like his bone marrow was going gray and frozen. The drink helps.

And, he blinks back to himself more too. The world grows less fuzzy. This is unfortunate when it's the nes—the blankets around him that lose their extremely comfortable edge. And when the embarrassment always held within him comes back full force too.

Techno lowers his empty mug, looking to the side. Now he's just tired, a vague headache in his skull.

"What were you upset about earlier anyway?" Tango asks.

"I don't… remember," Techno says, squinting. "Really. It's blurry. Uhm…"

"That's a great sign for his brain after being exposed to soul flames," Impulse mutters.

"Shut up," Tango and Zedaph say together.

"You just mentioned something about your friend Phil and betrayal," Zedaph says. "Just so you know what I know."

"Oh, that's…" Techno says.

Way worse than he was hoping for. And vaguely familiar. Oh no.

He groans into his hands, falling back into the blankets. The shame has replaced any last inklings of the chill and drain on him. But he almost wishes for it back. At least it didn't let him face the prospect of crying—did he cry in front of them??—about Phil.

Someone knock his skull in again. Even harder this time. Please.

The concerned noises and reassurances only make it worse. Someone at least bully him if they're not going to take a hammer to his head. That would be the merciful thing to do.

"That didn't happen, actually," Techno says, sitting up and crossing his arms.

"What?" Impulse asks, looking somewhere between amused and concerned.

"I never talked about that and you never heard it and that's all, good talk," Techno says firmly.

"Denial game strong," Tango says.

"What game strong? The only strong game that I know is your game, which was strong at poisoning me," Techno says, glaring.

"Hey! I was going to play jigsaw puzzles with you until Zedaph hacked my freaking comm! And also, it's not poison, it's—"

"Hardly consider sneaking into your room as hacking," Zed says.

"Breaking and entering is arguably worse!" Tango shouts.

"Is it really breaking and entering if your room was unlocked and also you were sleeping in the public Decked Out building? If you want to be alone, go to your freaking house," Zed says.

"Decked out is my property," Tango says.

"Technically this is all Xisuma's property," Zed says, crossing his own arms.

"And now you get to see the yellow on yellow creature violence before our eyes. Very healing," Impulse jokes, leaning back beside him.

"Tango's blue," Techno points out, eyebrows pushed together.

"He's usually yellow, he's just goth this season," Impulse explains.

"Hey!" Tango yells, hair going even more blue.

Zedaph laughs, which makes Tango go off on a whole new tirade against him.

Well, it's no confusing wrestling match, but it's something. When Techno yawns, Impulse wraps a blanket around his shoulders. And then keeps a hand on his shoulder. Warm and solid.

Tentatively, Techno leans against him while nodding off. It's warm.

Chapter Text

The fluffy end of Techno’s tail thwips back and forth, back and forth. The quickness of the movement would denote agitation, if not for the faint smile on Techno’s lips. And the fact that his tail is smacked down as Jellie pounces forwards onto it once more.

Giggling softly, Techno reaches out to withdraw his tail from the tiny paws.

“—not serious, and does the sad-orable giggling baby need to be here for this? Isn’t this a hippo violation?” Scar asks, drawing Techno’s attention away from the cat, unfortunately.

“Do you want him not to be here?” Doc asks.

The creeper hybrid is screwdriver deep on some sort of metal brace system. Apparently, they’re supposed to go on Scar’s legs when he needs them, but they’ve been sticking lately so he just hasn’t been wearing them. And according to Doc’s twenty minute rant, it seems like Scar hasn’t been just using his wheelchair instead.

Techno doesn’t really understand how Scar can need a wheelchair some days and walk others. But he’s pretty sure that would be rude to ask, so he just sends the both of them a dirty look and yanks his tail free.

Jellie leaps after it, right off of the table he’s sitting on. Unwittingly, Techno giggles again.

“It is distracting,” Scar says.

Doc harrumphs in response, though the fact that he keeps peeping at Techno’s business does not dispute it. Both of them, nosy and annoying.

“Well, I don’t want to be here for your boring doctor’s visit either,” Techno says, flopping onto his stomach on the table. The side of his body overhangs it some. Which gives him a good angle to dangle his arm down towards Jellie.

With a tsk, Doc leans back in his chair and pushes Techno fully onto the table. Like some sort of pot of boiling water with the handle sticking out. Techno levels him with a flat look, but Doc seems unimpressed.

With a pounce, Jellie grabs at his trailing fingers. Techno giggles.

"This is impossible to focus through," Scar mutters.

"For once, I cannot blame you," Doc says.

Techno rolls his eyes. These guys are being… stupid. Blasé, he swings up into a sit on the table, scooping Jellie up into his arms as he goes. The cat goes limp and allows herself to be held like a baby, purring instantly. Scar looks slightly offended by it.

"Can't you just give him a cane or whatever he needs?" Techno asks.

"It is not that simple," Doc says.

"Why not?" Techno asks.

"Cause my body likes being a wittle prankster," Scar says.

"Because he can get injured and stress his joints," Doc says flatly.

"That too." Scar nods.

"I don't get… it," Techno ends lamely when he realizes that it might be offensive. His face goes mildly warm at it.

"It's just what I need to do to accommodate my disability the best that I can," Scar says, remaining positive. Somehow. "What pray tell are you confused about? I can illumin-ninate you."

"That won't be confusing," Doc says.

Scar flaps a hand at the man. "Fix my braces, chop chop."

Grumbling, Doc turns around and starts fiddling with something or another. That leaves Scar and Techno facing each other, an absent, yet somehow too knowing, smile still stuck to his lips.

"Well?"

"Uhm," Techno says, blinking widely. Jellie bats at his hanging hair, drawing his eyes down. Much easier. "I just meant like, I don't know how it works. Like, walking sometimes, but apparently needing the wheelchair or braces and stuff? Why wouldn't you just… walk."

"Ah, yes. Cause it hurts!" Scar says cheerfully.

"Your legs?"

"My legs, my back, my tookus. The whole shebang."

Techno's nose wrinkles a little at the terminology.

"Then why do you walk sometimes? It can't be that bad if you can make yourself sometimes."

Doc starts to turn around, but Scar flaps a hand at him until he turns back around. Grumbling again.

"Some days are worse than others. It's partially dependent on what I did before. You know, I can run around catching stray children one day, but the next my everything hurts to shetooky and back! So then I need to use my wheelchair to not make me even worse and bed bound.

But it's also, uhm, preventory! If I use my wheelchair or braces everyday, I won't be in too bad pain the next. So if there's some fun shenanigans coming up, I'll be a good fellow and follow Doc's orders to a tee!"

Scar crosses his arms and leans back, eyes closing in a smug type of smile.

"And then other times it's completely and utterly random. I wake up and everything hurts!'

"Oh. You're… what's wrong with you?" Techno asks, frowning at the description. His stomach feels heavy and leaden.

"It's just how I was born." Scar shrugs. "All natural me! Though it's gotten worse with time. Must be my huge muscles weighing me down!"

"But, you could just walk normally if you ignored the pain then?" Techno asks.

"Well, Not to make Doc hiss and upset Jellie, but yes, kind of. That's what I did when I was younger," Scar says. Doc really does look growly at the explanation. When Scar pokes him in the shoulder, he lets out the tiniest hiss. Scar giggles. "But! It does long term permanent damages, so I shouldn't. And anyway, I'll end up with more days stuck in bed or collapsing somewhere very embarrassing. Like the pooper! So really it's just better this way, even if it begrudgingly makes Doc right."

"Har har," Doc mutters, seemingly to himself.

A frown still stays stuck on Techno's lips. The explanation, he guesses that it makes logical sense. But it feels wrong. Or at least, it makes him feel not right. The thing Scar's describing, it definitely wouldn't slide most places.

His fingers scrunch up in Jellie's fur a bit too tight. She squirms until he lets go. He gets sadder when she flips out of his arms, but she still stays in his lap, loafing there.

"If you really needed to though, you could, right? Run and stuff?" Techno presses.

"Probably? I wouldn't know until it happens." Scar shrugs.

"There's no point testing it out. Don't be another bad influence on him," Doc says, finally undeterred from Scar's flapping as he turns around on the stool.

"It's better to know that sort of thing," Techno says stiffly.

"It is not. Do not." Doc points at Scar.

"It's better to be in pain than die," Techno says firmly, face warm.

"What?" Doc asks.

"Who's dying?" Scar asks, blinking.

"You! If you can't run or fight" Techno says, looking away. He tangles his fingers in his hair and tugs at it.

"I can fight," Scar says. "It's mostly my legs that suck a little. I caught you, didn't I?"

"That—"

"And it doesn't matter because it is safe here," Doc says loudly.

"Oh, that too," Scar says.

"For now. That's not forever," Techno snaps.

It's quiet for a moment. Long enough that shame eats in at him. He—gently—pushes Jellie off of his lap. She lets out a loud 'mrow' of annoyance at losing her seat. But jumps off the table to go curl up under Scar's chair instead.

"You don't need to worry about me," Scar says, not adding any flourish to his words. "I can handle myself. I just… accept help. Because it makes life easier."

"It's--it's all of you. Someone's going to attack here or kill your oblivious admin, and then you'll all be screwed," Techno says, eyebrows scrunched up.

"That is not going to happen. We won't let it," Doc says.

"Someone invaded your planet and you didn't kill them on sight. Instead you sent him to capture them and drag them into your base," Techno says, throwing a hand towards Scar.

"Hey! Now I'm getting a little feelings hurt, I'm a good fighter," Scar says.

"You shouldn't be one of the best on the server. Because some people can fight every second of every day, and if you let down your guard for a moment, you'll die!" Techno says.

His chest rises and falls quickly. Too quickly. It leaves his head swimming with it. Little black specks flit around his vision, make his eyelids flutter.

"You're exerting yourself too much, calm down—"

"I'm fine!" Techno says, jumping up from the table.

Only, his brain isn't on the same page. It doesn't want him to be fine. It wants him to be killed. That's the only explanation for it sliding out of his skull, legs upended and all of him dizzy.

A hand wraps around his upper arm quickly, catching his weight. Techno only notices when he's already on the ground, sitting with legs askew and eyes wet. Doc is crouches beside him, holding up his weight and balance. Techno jerks away. The man sighs, but doesn't move.

"I am Gods awful with children," Doc says bleakly.

"Don't feel bad, Doc. You're bad with all people," Scar says, leaning towards them in his chair with a concerned expression.

Again, Doc sighs.

"Obviously we can't account for everything, but we're safer than you think. Xisuma is pretty oblivious, but he's the best there is. And most of us aren't useless at fighting. We'd fight together, and leave if we needed to. Together. We are mostly competent adults with ways to protect each other."

The whole speech seems much like pulling teeth to Doc. But he spits it all, with little of the grumbling or begrudging he usually litters his words with. Instead, he seems to be… plain.

Like he's just speaking the truth.

Though that's hard to believe. Or at least, Techno thinks that Doc believes it. That maybe they all believe it. But it can't hold up in a real situation.

"Yeah, and for the record, like half of my friends are long-living species unlike little human me, including Xisuma. So I'm really set for life!" Scar says.

Doc turns to the man with a scathing look.

"Just, you know, if you were worrying about me," Scar says, smiling sweetly.

Sniffing, Techno quickly wipes his nose on his sleeve. It's not wet, but the dumb emotion makes his face swelter. Then he plucks up his tail where it's wrapped around his middle, fiddling with it.

Why does the thought bother him so much? The knowledge that the Hermits will surely all die and be treated awful when the real world hits them. It's like, he cares if it happens. Doesn't want it to happen. Whether Techno is with them or not when it does.

It's like puppies in a cardboard box. Knowing that it's not what they deserve.

Techno could trust Phil and let him in because, even now, he doesn't have to worry that the man is badly hurt or dead. He just won't be. And surely it was the same the other way around. The kind of relationship that works and is good, for as long as it was, because of that security. They don't have to hover or worry about each other. They just know that they'll be okay. That must be why Phil…

The frown on Techno's face hurts. He breathes slowly, trying to calm his stupid insides.

"You're safe as long as you're here too," Doc says, huffing.

"I'm not worried about myself," Techno says.

"Well, maybe you should be," Doc says.

"Yeah, because there's a ferocious predator about to pounce on you right… NOW!" Scar shouts.

Techno's confusion is dashed away as the small body of a cat tackles into him.

Considering that Jellie is a cat, and not even a big one, he does little more than jolt forwards a bit. The tiny claws that she pricks into his back while climbing up his shirt are less fun. He hisses while leaning forwards to give her better traction.

"You menace cat," Techno mutters.

Scar just laughs, unaffected by his suffering. The menace cat gets it from her owner.

After quite a lot of shuffling and tiny pricks of pain, Jellie settles herself right around Techno's shoulders. Draped right over then all comfy-cozy. Techno sits up tentatively, worried about her slipping off. And taking half of his skin with her. But she keeps her balance easily, set on staying there for however long she pleases.

"Aw. Jellie will protect you," Scar says, clasping his hands together.

"I don't need protected," Techno says, glaring.

"Sure, sure," Scar says, flapping a hand. Like he did at Doc. Rude.

Before Techno can say that, no, really he doesn't need protection, Jellie leans forwards and starts licking his ear.

A high-pitched squeak leaves him as he tries to jerk away, ear twitching violently.

Again, Scar laughs. Though this time even Doc chuckles.

"Aren't you supposed to be stopping his legs from snapping off?" Techno asks with a huff, tail waggling furiously.

"Ah, right," Doc says. As he stands, he groans loudly, and his knees make awful popping noises. "If I get down on the ground anymore, I'll need the braces."

Scar laughs at him too. Good.

"You can't use mine. My calves are way stronger and more toned than yours'."

"I don't want anything to do with your calves."

"Uh-huh. Not what you said last week…"

Techno's nose wrinkles in confusion at the bewildering turn to the conversation. Though he's glad that the attention has left him. And his… line of worries.

It's logical, but maybe he shouldn't think about it. Soon, he probably won't even be with them anymore. And then. It's none of his business what happens.

And what happens to Techno won't be any of their business either…

Jellie meows in his ear, shifting like she's going to lick him again. He raises his hand and scratches under her chin. She leans into it and purrs.

"Naww," Scar says quietly.

Techno sends him a flat look.

"Just talking about Jellie, of course." Scar raises his hands in the air.

Techno does not un-flat his look. Scar snickers.

"Alright, bruiser, try these things on. I have to do some maintenance on my arm before the meeting tonight too," Doc says, standing from his stool with the newly joint-something-ed braces.

"You seriously waited until today?" Scar asks.

"What does that say about you?!" Doc shouts back.

"Augh, my tailbone," Scar groans exaggeratedly, flopping limply in the chair. "Doc, please…"

"Your freaking something on your backside," Doc grumbles, helping Scar sit up and lift his legs enough to put the braces on.

"Oh, now you speak fondly of my… calves," Scar says mischievously.

"Stop with the calves!" Way too defensive, Doc.

Techno ignores whatever that is and scritches Jellie some more.

After getting the braces on, Scar walks around a bit before asking Doc to tweak them. The creeper hybrid doesn't make any of the snarky and annoyed remarks that Techno would expect, instead fiddling with them a bit more before giving them back to Scar. This time they must be good, since Scar tries to jump for joy.

And ends up on his face.

"You idiot! Are you trying to join the brain damage squad over there?" Doc yells.

"How dare you! Jellie's brain is pristine and sharp," Scar says. The offended one in the room, for som reason.

"I wasn't talking about the cat," Doc says.

"Mean…" Techno mutters

With a scoff, Doc turns away back to his work table, setting his metal arm on it. He sets out all his tools.

"Are you leaving or staying? And are you taking the child?" Doc asks.

"Leaving. Not taking the child," Scar says, sighing. "I have to go be responsible."

"First time for everything," Doc grunts.

"Hey, now! Coming from you?!" Scar shouts.

"What does that mean?" Doc looks up, looking ready to argue. As usual.

Techno groans. "Enough of it. Go stock your shops."

"Hm, what? What's that? Bye now!" Scar says, hurrying out of the lab. He scoops Jellie out of Techno's arms while he goes.

A pout totally does not pop up on his face.

With another huffy noise, Doc sets his attention on his arm. He starts unscrewing some tiny pins in it, on the shoulder panel. Once it's open, he messes with some things in it.

And then it falls limp.

"Uh, was that on purpose?" Techno asks, concerned.

"Yes. It's not safe to work on stuff like this when it's on," Doc explains.

The very large metal arm looks even more out of place on his frame now. It really is bulky, almost oversized, even when accounting for how Doc is an exceedingly large man. Without any of the movements or tension that it usually holds, it might as well be a spear of metal sticking straight out of him, primed to tear his shoulder off.

Techno's nose wrinkles up at the thought. It can't possibly do that. Right?

"Can you take it off?" Techno asks, never having seen him without it before.

"No. It's attached to my nerves, muscles, and bones," Doc says.

Techno blinks. "Like a real arm?"

"Kind of. But, metal. Obviously."

Techno rolls his eyes.

"I meant the functionality. Obviously."

Doc grunts. But it sounds like a covered up chuckle. "There is more functionality than the typical prosthetic. But it has some downsides."

"Like what?"

"Like the sort of things one would expect with experimental surgery," Doc says. He gestures with his tool. Only for a stream of light to crackle onto it. He jumps as though shocked. "Like that…"

"Lightning?"

"Electroshock," Doc corrects. "Nerve pain, inflammation, strain on my shoulder and spine from the weight, infection, osteoporosis—"

"Why the heck do you have that thing?" Techno asks, cringing with concern.

"Because it is extremely cutting edge and genius technology never before seen. It is a testament of modern science and redstone!" Doc says, raising the tool again.

Sparks trail after it again. With a hiss, Doc shakes it out violently. It's left smoking a little, and the fingers of his metal arm twitch. Quickly, he does a few more things to the inside and the little lights on it blink dead.

That's… quite the thing. Bit more intensive and scary than a wheelchair or some braces, that's for sure.

But, it is also more functional than a wheelchair. Doc can probably do more with his jacked metal arm than a normal one. As long as it doesn't get infected or explode, apparently. Techno tilts his head at it, chewing on the inside of his lip. Shortly, the creeper hybrid glances at him.

"… And, ah, you know. You are not the only one that worries about functionality at the time of disaster," Doc says, avoiding his eyes.

Far more understandable to Techno.

"I thought you said it's safe here." His pink tail hikes up a little.

"Safe as it can be. But I did not always live here. And I have a compulsion of a sort to keep it this way. Perhaps I am a tad… paranoid, at times." The last words die into a grumble.

Techno opens his mouth to say that it isn't paranoid at all. It's good sense. Then he takes a mental step back. And realizes that it's Doc. Saying that would be agreeing with Doc. That's real craziness.

What does that say about Techno? He blinks, coming to terms with that. It's rough.

Instead of saying any of that out loud, Techno just hums. He feels a tad uneasy, in his guts. Just, about everything that has been discussed today.

"This is all about your epilepsy though, is it not?" Doc says bluntly.

"What? That has nothing to do with anything involving your stupid arm," Techno blusters.

"Smart arm," Doc corrects, wagging his sauter thing-y. "But I meant discussing disability. How it makes you feel unsafe."

"You're making things up," Techno says, crossing his arms tightly.

"Sure. That's why you needle-y Scar about his abilities."

"I can be worried about you losers. It's a valid worry…"

"The Hermits are all crazy, reckless, sometimes stupid. But we make a good team, even I can admit that. We look out for each other. And you, as long as you are here."

"Still trying to figure out why," Techno mumbles.

Doc turns to him, arm hanging at his side, weighed down by it and spilling wires. Like this, maybe Techno could actually beat him.

Then again, Techno has an utter inability to feel any fear towards the man, regardless of his large size or creeper origins.

How did that come to pass?

"Because you are just a child. And you need help. That is all."

Sharply, Techno looks down at his shoes. They're a bit scuffed up, but still nice. Hand-me-downs from Bdubs. Still in one piece, good, hearty, close-ish to his size.

Not borrowed, or loaned, or to-be paid for. Given.

"And you know, if you want to join the server, we could probably move forward with that process," Doc says nonchalantly, turning back around.

But Techno couldn't feel less different. His eyes blow wide, not even blinking at the shock. Just the stunned, empty surprise, all through him. Like getting punched in the face really, really hard.

Except that would make more sense. Not, not this.

"We have rules about no one under a certain age joining, but we can probably make an exception. Mumbo was around your age when he joined anyway, so it's not like—"

Doc's babbling turns to static in Techno's ears. He's not—It's just—

He wants—

Blinking, his head jerks up. Doc's metal arm is making a fist, moving this way and that. When did he power it back on?

What were they talking about?

Techno wipes some drool off of his chin and stands, shakily and using the table.

Once the spots leave his vision, he breathes out and pushes away. Luckily, his legs stay steady enough. He rubs his sweaty palms on his pants. Then turns towards the door, finding the windows letting in light from a soon to be setting sun.

"Are you finished?" Techno asks.

"Just about," Doc says. "Ready to go to the meeting?"

"Sure," Techno says.

As they leave the lab behind, Doc keeps his furry, flesh hand on his shoulder, making sure that he doesn't fall off any ledges probably. The elevator creaks a little bit, but raises them out the pit easily. It's an interesting piece of technology, he hasn't seen much like it.

This week's meeting is at the Scarland castle. When they walk in, it makes Techno pause. The room is full of yellow light, suspended candles and stained glass and lacquered floors. Wow.

It's beautiful.

Doc chuckles behind him, making Techno furrow his brows and turn his head away. But Doc just nudges him further in, towards the giant table piled with covered dishes.

"Resident infant is accounted for. Who is clocking in?" Doc calls.

"I'm not a thing in need of being supervised—"

"Me! I brought costumes!" Pearl shouts.

"Ooh," Ren says, notably wearing what seems to be a proper nobleman-like outfit.

"Good luck, little one," Doc says, smiling and patting his head.

Then he abandons Techno to the whims of the theater kids. Blood God help him.

Pearl comes over and snags his arm, pulling him towards one of the side rooms. Ren follows after, looking far too interested. His freaking tail is wagging.

"Now, it may not be a real ball, but that's no reason not to dress up," Pearl says. Gesturing at her dress—mostly black, a lot of ruffles, long in the back with some pinned up parts in the front that bring it above the knees. The corset is good taste.

Predictably, Cleo is in the room, sorting through the piles of clothing. Alongside Keralis and some man that Techno has never seen before in his life. He has very long blonde hair in a ponytail, a gnarly scar across his face, and a mask over his nose and mouth. Squinting, Techno steps to the side more away from him. He really thought he met everyone on this server already.

"Ah! The babiest sweetface is here!" Keralis calls, waving at Techno from across the room.

Half awkward, Techno raises his hand and waves back. That other guy waves too. Seriously, who is he? And why is no one introducing him?

Dropping his hand, Techno beelines over to Cleo. Pearl follows him.

"Ah, another victim delivered to me," Cleo says, turning to Techno with a bared smile.

"Heh?" Techno asks.

Giggles drifting through the air, Techno looks upon the clothes before them. They're certainly fancy garb. Dresses, embroidered coats, shiny, shiny metal.

Techno feels his pupils dilate in his eyes, physically pinching from the quick change. But he doesn't blink to let it adjust. Too busy looking at the pretty gold with jewels inset. Real, he knows it.

One of his hands reaches out on its own, grabbing the brightest piece. He tugs it to his chest, squeezing it. Cold but warm.

"Found that old thing, did ye?" Ren asks, setting a hand on his arm. "A piece with many a tale…"

It sends a jolt through Techno, breaking him from the intense focus. Enough to push the crown a bit away from himself and notice that it is, in fact, a crown.

"You already got to play a megalomanic this season, Ren. Paws off until the Life games," Cleo says.

"I would never! Just, giving scene dressing for the little piglet," Ren says.

"Uh huh," Cleo drawls.

"That's offensive," Techno says simply. "If I have to wear something stupid, can I wear this?"

"Now you're the one being offensive," Cleo says, quickly grabbing his ear and pinching it. Techno's face squishes up violently. Again, giggles profuse. "But sure. Are your ears pierced?"

"Course," Techno mutters.

He takes a stiff step back. Which makes him step directly into Pearl's front. Her tall frame leans over, bringing her pointed elbows to his shoulders, and chin to his head. Once more, he is stunned still. All these touchy people. There's not enough violence lacing it all for him to know what to do. So he stays beneath it for a moment longer than he really should instead of escaping.

"Hello there." Pearl smiles.

The crown gets clutched back to his chest as he blinks.

"Perfect. Earrings, maybe some hairpins. Dress or pants?" Cleo asks.

"What?" Techno asks.

"Dress or pants?" Cleo asks, holding up a dress that looks like it weighs as much as him. His nose must wrinkle a little on its own. "Let's just go with pants. Your's are already black, so we can just grab a shirt and coat—"

Back to her rambling, Cleo throws articles of clothing around. Then they start pelting him, right in the face. Yelping, he would probably bow over if Pearl wasn't still all drooped around him. She giggles, plucking the clothes out of the air and setting them in his arms. They pile up, almost over his face.

"—That's a few good options. Go on in there and pick some out," Cleo finishes.

Not quite getting off of him until the small closet-like door is closed behind him, Pearl practically shoves him inside. He heard her walk away from the other side.

After a moment of reeling, Techno sets the things on a bench. He picks through the clothing with less fervor than Cleo used. Lips pursed, he grabs a short corset, an exceedingly lacey and frilly dress shirt, and a red coat that cinches in the middle. It has golden embroidery on it, which makes him bubbly in his chest.

With a chuff, he sets the crown on his head.

When Techno steps out, a few cheers and claps rise around. Which is utterly embarrassing, really. He crosses his arms and rolls his eyes.

"Very galant!" Pearls says.

"A king of the castle!" Ren cheers.

"Yeah, really cool, dude," The stranger says. Except—

Techno jumps, whipping around. "Xisuma?"

The man, possibly Xisuma, looks up and blinks at him dumbly. Then tilts his head the side.

"Yes?"

After a pause, laughter breaks out around the room. A bit of heat rises in Techno's face at that, though he still stands by his heady shock and confusion.

"Oh, Teschny hasn't gotten to see your sweet face yet, Shishwam?" Keralis asks, swinging an arm around apparently Xisuma's shoulders. It almost seems to knock the guy over. He's way twiggier without the armor.

"I suppose not. I didn't think about that," Xisuma says, blinking his purple eyes.

"His fleshy face is quite the different ones to see," Keralis says, chuckling. Pinching Xisuma's fleshy face.

"I kind of thought he was a robot," Techno mutters.

"Not too far off," Cleo says.

Xisuma pouts. Or Techno assumes he does. Only his eyes are visible, with the big black mask stuck to the bottom half of his face. The sad dog look implies it. Maybe the vibes are more similar than he thought.

"Well, apologies for… not introducing myself again?" Xisuma says.

"It's whatever," Techno says, rolling his eyes once more. "Am I released?"

"Not with that hairstyle you're not," Cleo says.

Grabbing his arm, Pearl yanks Techno over to the couch, shoving him down onto it. Surrounded on both sides by Cleo and Pearl, it's a little intimidating. Especially when Pearl plucks the crown off of his head.

A soft growl rumbles out of his chest, tusks bared and tail thwiping.

The pair freeze next to him.

"Angry kitten," Cleo mutters.

Pearl giggles, setting the crown in his lap. He wraps his hands around it quickly. Tucking the gold to his stomach. Though shame flickers within him, no further mentions are made.

His hair is quickly brushed out, locks tugged and pulled about. He feels like a pile of sticks being pecked at by two birds. Twisted up into a nest on his head. There's not really anything he can do against it, or at least that's how it feels. From across the room, he watches Keralis put a very small crown on Xisuma's head. It's silver, and thus uninteresting. But Ren cheers and nearly tackles the admin.

These strange, happy people. Dressing up for a meeting, for no real reason. And just to be together.

Very quickly, Pearl pops the crown onto the top of his head.

"Naww, so cute," Pearl says, clutching her hands together.

Techno levels her with a flat look. But that unfortunately means that he turned his head to the side to look at her. Leaving his back totally exposed. Which Cleo takes advantage of by pinching his cheek, cackling when it makes his ears twitch.

"You two are evil," Techno says, trying to shove away.

"That's actually, that's actually what I was going for with my character today," Cleo says, evilly.

Probably should have seen that coming, considering that she is wearing knives to go with her teal dress and corset. But that's just good fashion, can't blame Techno for not picking it up. He wish he had more knives.

Jumping up, Techno runs across the room towards the door. He can hear footsteps behind him, chasing after him like a dog. Which gives Techno a good idea.

He shoves Ren back into his path, blocking it. The poor dog man yelps and he can hear Pearl call out too. Then a crash. But Cleo is laughing loudly, so they're probably fine.

Without looking back, Techno slips back out into the main room of the meeting. It's substantially more filled than earlier. Half of the people are not dressed up at all, while others are in various levels of display. Probably, the boring talking part will be starting soon. Once Impulse, who is fluttering around trying to shoo people into sitting, finally succeeds.

Instead of heading into the swell and facing any of those raging pomeranians, he slinks around to the edge of the room. There's carvings on the walls, around the windows. Techno still doesn't know much about architecture, but he can appreciate that it's pretty.

Maybe he'll ask Scar about it. The man might be silly, but he's real skilled at this stuff. And he's pretty easy to talk to, even when Techno is… asking nonsense questions.

"Ah, a fellow monarch looking to take over the castle."

Techno jumps a little at the sudden words. When he turns, he finds False behind him. She's wearing a sizeable crown, alongside a dress with poofy sleeves and a skirt that only covers a single leg, over sleek black pants. Quite the ensemble, especially for the woman who seems to be one of the most practical of the bunch. All of her jewels are blood red. Techno appreciates the aesthetic.

"You wouldn't catch me dead as a monarch. I just have style," Techno says, electing to not mention that he was kidnapped into the dress-up closet.

"Just a peasant of many then. Awed by the finery?" False says, smirking. "Can't relate."

"You sound like Ren," Techno accuses. False snorts. "And I've actually lived in a castle before. For realsies."

"What? Really?" False asks. Ignoring his for-realsies. Cruel.

"Do I not look the type?" Techno asks, hand on his hip.

"Frankly, not really. You don't scream royalty. Well, usually," False says, looking him up and down with amusement.

Techno rolls his eyes. "I wasn't royalty. I dethroned the king and lived in the castle after. Until the wealth distribution could be sorted out and all that junk."

"Literally when? You're like five, aren't you?" False says, still with that sharp, amused smile.

"No! And a couple years ago. It only took a few months, barely even hard with me leading the charge," Techno says. Technically, him and Phil, but, well.

"Yet you're here now. They dethroned you next?" False asks.

"I'd like to see those losers try," Techno scoffs. "But we didn't become rulers there. Probably why it all fell apart, from greedy factions and the admins being mad we dethroned them. But, you know, values or whatever."

Finally, it seems like Techno might have said something that exceeds the woman's sardonic expectations. But then her eyes sharpen and she squints.

"…We?"

"Oh. Sure. Can't overthrow most monarchies on your own," Techno says, brushing at his bangs. He looks to the side. "And, I guess I had a partner, you know."

"A partner? What happened with that?" False asks sharply.

"Uhhhhhh—"

Techno's waffling is cut off by the sound of a cartoon character yelping like a squeaky toy. Turning, he sees Impulse holding Tango over his head, shaking him around to gain attention.

"Oh, thank the Bloody God," Techno mutters, before walking over.

Even though False makes no move to pursue him any further, he still feels sliced through by her pointy eyes and smirking amusement. Now, she would make a fabulous evil monarch. Even Techno would think twice before usurping her. But, only two thoughts, of course.

Plopping down on one of the chairs at the table, Techno sets his chin on his hand and glances around. The others are finally coming over too.

Most people whose eyes he meets wave or nod at him. Mumbo tries to raise a hand and somehow falls out of his seat, bowling into Grian and taking him down to a pile on the ground. Techno laughs quietly.

With a thump, Pearl falls into the seat beside him. She squints real good, lips flickering.

"Fancy seeing you here," Techno says innocently.

"Uhuh. You know, naughty children have to do community service and help me pick up trash."

"Thank the Gods I would never dream of being anything but perfect," Techno says, wiping fake sweat off his brow.

Pearl scoffs, but it turns into laughter. It's strange, but Techno kind of expected as much. She's not really the type of person to get upset with him for real.

Most of the Hermits aren't. Maybe all of them…

"Okay, is that everyone who said they would be here?" Impulse says, looking around the table. "Except… Joe. Where's Joe? He's never missed a meeting before, how is he the one not here?"

"Joe accidently split his pants at the seams and they fell off. Start without him," Jevin says, waving a hand.

Cleo audibly slaps her forehead. Poor, evil fellow.

Impulse laughs. "Alright. On that note, let's get started working on the agenda. Xisuma is first up with some notes on the server status."

As Xisuma stands up and starts talking about nerdy nerd stuff, Techno spares half an amused moment to glance at his silly outfit—a cape now matching his tiny crown. Then he kind of just zones out, keeping one ear on the conversation in case it turns important, but it rarely does.

In fact, there's only one thing throughout the whole meeting section that catches Techno's attention at all.

Xisuma mentions that there were some blips on the edge of their monitoring software.

No one seems super concerned. Apparently it happens, and apparently it's rarely anything of note, or even close to the server. Space debris, broken up planets, portal interference. Things Techno doesn't understand.

A ship, maybe. Techno understands that.

Nervously, Techno frowns, tugging on his fingers. Even if they say it's unlikely, all the nerds knowing the signs or whatever, he can't help thinking about it. Could it be someone? And if it is, will they be bad news?

People always are.

Except, well, these guys are okay. Even when they had every right not to be and Techno was nothing but dead weight and a liability.

Maybe it will be okay, somehow?

"Hear ye, hear ye! The one and only Etho Slab has some words for us!" Bdubs shouts, climbing on the table.

While laughter and a few cheers and whistles rings out, Etho abashedly stands and raises an awkward hand in greeting.

"Thank you, Bdubs," Etho says. "As many people were anxiously awaiting, hoping, praying for—"

"You finally replaced your old underoos?" Tango interrupts, looking ruffled where he's sitting well away from Impulse.

"No, not yet," Etho says. Laughter follows. "Some would say even better. I have a new baked treat for everyone to try!"

Any levity gained is blown out ike a candle. A few people groan or boo, heads falling on the table. Tango does a very realistic choking impression.

"I know, I know. But don't be too greedy, there's enough to go around," Etho says.

When he reveals a serving platter, inside is a… lopsided, brown, thing.

Everyone seems to pause to take it in. Really reeling in it.

Silent.

Until:

"What the fuck is that?" Cub asks.

Instantly, everyone in the room begins jeering. Throwing their napkins, and a few overly enthusiastic shoes. The people closest to Cub grab him, shaking him back and forth as he laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. But it does little to end the uproarious racket.

"What even—?" Techno mumbles, covering his ears and blinking in surprise.

"After an event, which shall not be named to spare your innocent ears, there's a strict ban on cursing. Now Cub must face consequences," Pearl leans over to say to him.

"Consequences?" Techno asks, still baffled.

"Don't worry your lovely little mind over it," Pearl says, smiling sweetly.

Oh dear.

While he's doing some solid not worrying, Cub is thoroughly badgered and mused up by the aggressive gibing. And Techno gets the distinct impression that Cub may soon be losing his net worth or a couple fingers. Huh.

"Okay, okay. For the very excited questioners," Etho says, dodging a stray shoe. "It's chocolate cake!"

"Oh, yummy," Techno says.

"Yummy? Why thank you, Techno. Would you like the first slice?" Etho says, turning towards him instantly. Somehow hearing him from quite a bit away.

Then he holds the platter out in Techno's direction. Techno can now really take in how the cake is strangely shaped like a used bar of soap. There's piles of frosting in what can't be described as designs. And the entire thing is the same shade of brown.

Techno starts reaching towards it, but Pearl slaps his hand down.

"Oh no, not on my watch again!" Pearl says, waggling a finger.

"But I want it," Techno says sadly, lips sticking out and eyes going wide.

Look, it's not a purposefully pouting expression, of course. But if it is the type of expression that makes all of the people within ten feet of him soften and shift nervously, well. That's just tactical.

"Let the poor fellow have some cake, Pearl, jeez. So criminal," Etho says.

"I'm trying to save him!" Pearl says.

"I might die of sadness without it," Techno sighs sadly, blinking slowly.

"You little bush rat! You can't—I won't—" Pearl struggles.

Techno blinks slower, sadder. His eyelashes get a little damp and his eyes shine. Even his ears droop down when he focuses really hard, tail clutched in his hands.

"Oh my goodness, fine!" Pearl breaks.

Amused noises ring out, but Techno's to happy getting his cake to pay attention. His tail waggles behind him as he takes the plate passed down to him.

"Pearl is so failing her poison tasting responsibilities for the king," Ren whispers, like a gaudy noble. Typical Tuesday.

"Has anyone confirmed that the kid's seizures aren't from Etho's poison?" Jevin asks, nowhere near as subtly.

Pearl drops her head into her folded arms on the table, groaning.

With a smile, Techno takes a big bite of the cake.

And he chews it.

And chews it.

And chews it.

With work, he manages to swallow.

"The texture could use a little work, but you're really coming around to this chef thing, Etho. You get better every time," Techno says, nodding in appreciation.

"Why, thank you!" Etho says.

Disbelieving chatter picks up all around. A few people, suspicious or won over by the nice review, hesitantly take pieces of cake from Etho. And they try much smaller bites of the dessert.

Before leading to a round of sputtering, coughing, and chugging of water.

Bit dramatic of them. Techno eats another bite.

"How did you even create this, dude?" Beef asks, somewhere between laughing and choking into a napkin.

"What? You all are so dramatic," Etho says, scoffing at the signs of possible death induction in his friends.

"No, you're just a bad cook," Cleo says flatly. Notably, she did not taste test the cake. Or any other food that Etho has ever made, as far as Techno has seen.

"Now, Techno likes my cooking. You guys just have bad taste!" Etho shouts. "And Bdubs, you like it too, right?"

"Uh, I'm allergic to eggs, you know," Bdubs says.

"There's no eggs in it," Etho says.

"I meant flour," Bdubs says.

"I'll have to cut that next time…" Etho says.

A palpable cringe goes through Bdubs' face, but he covers it with a smile. Techno shakes his head in amusement. And takes another bite of the food.

"You can stop eating it now, you've made whatever sick and twisted joke you're making," Tango rasps, rubbing his throat.

"I'm not making a joke, I just want cake," Techno says.

"There's other desserts here, don't go to these lengths for 'cake'," Tango says, making finger quotes.

"It's good." Techno shrugs.

"How can you actually like it? You concern me," Pearl says, frowning at him.

"I used to eat, like, raw lizards. Etho's cooking is pretty good compared to that," Techno says, snorting.

"Raw lizards!" Pearl shouts.

Tango eeps. Probably in offense. Lizard man.

"Among other unseasoned, and arguably cooked, meats. I'm probably a worse cook than him," Techno says.

The pair of them just frown. Which is kind of rude, it was very vulnerable of him to admit that he's worse than anyone at anything. Especially Etho, the failure of a man.

As he nibbles on the crunchy frosting, Pearl and Tango make eye contact. And then begin piling foods onto his plate.

"Hey, I wasn't asking for more food," Techno protests.

But Pearl just shoves the plate before him forcefully, poking the Etho cake away from him. Techno rolls his eyes, but picks up the spoon to dip into the golden orange pumpkin pie. It is good too. Maybe even better.

Okay, definitely better, but it's the principle of the matter.

Everyone has started digging into the platters of food set out, seemingly all the business now well over. He has some pasta, soup, cookies, and a bite of rice that is so spicy that he has to close his eyes to not cry uncontrollably—much to Ren's delight. The dog man finishes his serving for him when Techno glares all drippy eyed.

He's so full that he starts getting sleepy by the end. When his head leans against Pearl's shoulder, he jolts awake. A couple chuckles float around him, but he hardly notices that. More focused on how he could possibly get so tired around so many people. Usually, he's keyed up for hours after being around people.

It's hard to take anyone seriously enough to do that here. Especially when Bdubs trips into a bowl of jello next time he tries to climb onto the table.

Even so, as the night starts winding down, Techno somehow finds his cheek pressed to the table, head heavy and eyes closed. Pearl was supposed to take him home and stay with him overnight, but she got so deep in a conversation with Gem that he hasn't seen her for an hour. Maybe he'll sleep right here…

"Come on, schweinchen. I will take you home."

Gentle hands land on his shoulders, pulling him back slightly. Out of sleep, and right back into the arms pulling on him. As though about to be picked up.

Techno's chin jerks up as he squints his eyes open. He reels around and punches Doc right where his metal arm meets his shoulder.

"OW! MOTHERFU—!"

Nobody leaves that weekly meeting with both shoes on their feet.