Chapter Text
Technoblade was a little bit peeved. Just a bit. He had spent weeks on the walls around his base, clearing out the zombies and putting a ten foot tall wall of their bodies wrapped around his space so nobody could get in, all leaned on more simple walls in a ditch attempt to keep the smell out. And yet, with all that work, the preparations so he could live peacefully without any other survivors being pesky neighbors, someone was here. Somewhere.
After all, that jacket stuck to an old bench was not his. The jacket was worn, he could see, and the jagged bit of metal on the bench it had caught on was bloody. Fresh blood, not the old muck the zombies he had long since cleared away from his home had. Technoblade didn't know if that was better or worse. Probably worse. Zombies were predictable. More friendly than most people, at least. No backstabbing, no dying when you least expect it, just simple attempted murder at any chance they got. Maybe the person got scared, left. But Techno knows better than that.
There's no blood on the ground, no trail leading him to the intruder. That means they probably survived. More work for Technoblade! Fun.
He goes on his usual patrols, keeping an eye out for scheming people. He's got to check on his walls, too. If he can't find where the weakness is, he'll have more problems in the future. Who knew, a wall taller than he is made up of old, rotting corpses wasn't a good deterrent. Even with the cracked gas mask Techno had found, the stench still seeped into his bones. He's used to it by now. He had to be. The walls have been there for years, now. Old flesh and older bones, wrapped up it ratty, blood-soaked clothing. A few old pipes in there for good measure. And someone brave or foolish enough to go in and face the man who made them.
Techno leaves all doors closed. Always. Every building in his corner of the world, at least every one that even had a door to begin with, was closed. It wasn't for any real reason, mostly just habit, but it was a fact that Technoblade kept the doors shut. Except for, apparently, the toy store just out of view of the walls. The door was cracked open, dusty darkness peering through the windows. Barely light enough to see into, with all the dust thickly coating the place, never to allow sunlight to breach it.
Technoblade readied his gun. It wasn't the best tool for zombies, what with the noise being their main way of finding dinner, but that was a problem Techno hadn't faced since he settled down here. Not since he'd meticulously cleared out his land, firing shots in the park in the center to gain the attention of the last few stragglers. He hadn't seen a moving zombie in months. He'd be fine to keep it that way.
The toy store hasn't been touched since Technoblade started having nightmares he could remember. He may be an adult, but a good stuffed animal can do wonders for bad dreams. It's almost like he left it, nothing looks wildly different. Except for the panicked scrambling he can hear from the soft toy section. That's new. That's something Techno would rather not have in his home, thank you very much. He goes to investigate whoever thinks they have the right to invade here. They don't.
There's a splotch of blood on the floor. It would be hard to see, if the floor hadn't been white once. Technoblade crouches down to look at it, and it's wet. As he's getting up, he looks forward to one of the bottom racks the toys had been messily laid out on.
He meets eyes with a child.
And then a small cow plushie hits him, square between the eyes.
"... Good shot. Any explanation for why a random orphan is in my territory?" Techno deadpans, sufficiently confused. The kid scrambles back, well, as far back as they can go in such a small place.
"Fuck you! I'm not scared of you! Fuck off! I'm fine right where I am. Go away."
The kid is crying. They are most definitely afraid. Technoblade shrugs, and leans back a little. Not far enough the kid could escape, but the way their shoulders relax is good enough.
"Ok, you're not scared. What an accomplishment. Doesn't really explain why you're in my land."
"I'm not in your land. This is mine. You're too old for toys."
"Am I going to have to drag you out from under there? Where's your people, kid. No one in their sane mind would set a kid into a place like this alone."
"... No one. Go away."
Technoblade loses patience, grabbing the kid and dragging him out of the little cubby. At least they're not screaming. Technoblade feels blood under his fingers, and can now see the bloody wound on their arm. The kid seems to be doing their best to pretend it doesn't hurt. Their best isn't very good. Techno pulls his backpack off and grabs a small kid of medical supplies. The least he can do is keep this brat from getting an infection. He's had enough in his lifetime to not wish that on anyone.
The kid doesn't pull away, at least. That would make this a whole lot harder.
"So, does the trespasser have a name?"
"I'm not a trespasser! I'm a big man," The kid says, frowning. At least he seems less afraid.
"Alright, guess I'm calling you brat from now on," Techno says, smiling underneath plastic.
"Excuse you! It's Tommy and I'm not a brat!"
Technoblade laughs. Tommy deflates, grumbling. Tommys wound isn't too bad, just a long scrape along his forearm, but it's still bleeding. Technoblade cleans it up quickly, slapping a bandaid patterned with farm animals overtop of the thin wrapping. Tommy smiles at it, before remembering he doesn't like Techno and scowling. Techno rolls his eyes.
"So…. Why are you, a child, here with no adults? Not a one? I'd expect you to be screaming for them by now."
"Um…. I'm the only one small enough I didn't get stuck on the zombies, so Dream had me go in to get stuff. But I don't like him and he doesn't wanna find Wilbur so I'm not going back."
Well. That's a problem.
Technoblade rolls his eyes. "Yes you are. You're not staying here-"
"Fuck you!" The kid shouts, interrupting him, "You can't make me do shit!" And Technoblade wouldn't care, but- This is a kid, and as kids are famously known for their ability to keep their emotions in check, he's about to start sobbing. And Technoblade is- he's soft, alright? He takes care of the little dog that's still too scared of him to let him do anything but catch glimpses as it runs across a corner, for god's sake. He sighs.
"Well, I guess I can't." He says, biting back a chuckle from seeing the kids face twist from fear to confusion, shock, and then a smug look that doesn't fit the few tears that had started slipping. He nods decisively, wiping his eyes before picking up the toy he'd thrown. He's skittish, following Technoblade out of the store but keeping a good distance between them. All the way back to Technoblade's home. For once, Technoblade leaves the door open. The kid walks through into the neat apartment.
Everything is about to change, huh?