Archive of Our Own ^beta

Techno can’t say that the fall of Hypixel wasn’t something that he had personally rooted for. 

Literally, he can not say it. Legally. Techno isn’t sure if a non-disclosure agreement can be held up after the organization that issued it has been exposed and dismantled— (corruption and playing both sides of a fabricated conflict that had cost not only lives but billions of dollars in public property damage )

— but it’s not something that he felt like testing the waters on. Techno had been left alone; which he appreciated. Most of the villains that were made and created by Hypixel were pardoned; trialed, if not. Techno liked to think that they were too afraid of the Blood-God to try to put him in a courtroom. Reputations— crafted, or not— followed, after all. 

Techno supposed that made him luckier, then the others. 

Phil’s wings were clipped. Techno knew that Niki had to wear a blocker; he thinks that Sam does too. Being just ‘left alone’ was to good of a let off for him.

It came with the fear, the reputation. Stoppers didn’t work, he wasn’t exactly very killable; leaving him alone was the wisest way to go about him.

Alaska was nice. 

In all honesty, he’d take it any day over the business of L’manberg. Over the fights and the demolition and the death and the blood— 

Alaska was nice. Quiet. Away. Properly off the grid. 

Technoblade doesn’t even have a mailbox. His house doesn’t even have a legal address. He didn’t get paper mail. Phil sent birds, sometimes. Techno hadn’t gotten a bird in a while— they mostly communicated through a burner phone, now.

So, a mail truck at the bottom of his very long drive-way at six in the morning did just not make sense.

Techno never really shook off the sleeping schedule Hypixel had them on; no matter how much he had slept the night prior he was up at five, every morning, like clock-work. Which was fine. Techno had mastered the art of functioning on minimum sleep. 

He had just stepped out to feed his chickens when he saw the obnoxiously painted truck; the bright head-lights and the stranger walking up his drive-way. 

“Uhh— Mister… Mister Technoblade?”

Techno blinks, wondering if he’ll have to kill this man. “Yeah?”
“I got uhm—” He fiddles with an envelope, and a clip-board. “A message— will you sign?”

“No.”

“Uh— okay,” The mail-man has the nerve to laugh. “That’s ok. Here ya go.” 

The envelope is shoved into his hands, the mail-man halfway down the driveway before Techno could even look-up. 

Huh.

That was weird. 

But Techno ignores it until he gets the chickens fed. 

It’s easier to get a proper look at the letter inside, under better lighting. The odd mail-man at the odd hour makes a lot more sense when he gets a proper look at the stamp. 

A duck sigil.

He wastes no time in dialing the phone number of Alex Quackity, the only man with the guts to send a mail-main to his very private little farm in Alaska.

The ringing halts. “Quackity.” 

“What the—“ Quackity yawns. “What the fuck , Technoblade? Do you know what time it is?”

“Do you ?” Techno asks, genuinely. “Why are you sendin’ me your messengers at six in the morning?”

“And you couldn’t have waited until eight to call?”

“Quackity.” 

“Alright— alright, yeah. You didn’t maim him did you? Because I swear Technoblade if I have to hunt for a new one—“

“He left in one piece.” Techno assures, flatly. “The envelope, Quackity.” 

“Yeah— yeah that. What about it?” 

“Do you want to play this right now?” Techno says. “Because I bet I could catch up with your guy if I left right now.” He probably— (actually, with the way the mailer had sped off down the road, he mostly definitely) couldn’t, but Quackity doesn’t know that.

“Okay— okay!” Quackity yells, voice cracking through the speaker. “I don’t know! It was this kid! Wanted to get it to the Syndicate.”

Techno might kill him. He might actually kill him. “Did you send me fan-mail?”

“Do you really think so low of me?” 

“I do, yeah.”

Quackity scoffs. “He’s been workin’ for me, asshole . Got him out of some shady shit. Jobs for one of my safe houses. This was a favor.”

Quackity hangs up before Techno could interrogate further. 

Quackity’s trade was messages and secrets. A spider's web that Techno had been careful with. Him having his exact location could be a problem.

He respected the man enough; anyone who had a hand in bringing down Hypixel had a nice green check mark in his book. Quackity was how he had gotten in contact with some other Hypixel villains in the past.

Techno ignores the envelope for the rest of the day. He lets the hounds out and he waters the green house and he ignores the envelope until the sun is setting and he has nothing else to do.

He’s tempted to throw it away, or burn it. Burning it would be a more permanent solution.

It’s after dinner when he finally rips it open.

It’s a picture.

Techno isn’t one to freeze but this— ( this makes the world stop, makes the crickets silent and the wind still) makes Techno feel unmovable. 

It’s a grainy, blurry photo. Techno remembers it because he took this photo of Wilbur and Tommy. Wilbur had stolen a camera he found, discarded after a fight at the mall. Sneaking it into HQ was a hassle, but Wilbur treasured that thing until it ran out of film.

This was just one photo, of many that they had taken; all of them burned with Hypixel HQ. All of them should’ve burned, this one especially, since—

Tommy had it on him when Techno killed him. 

Techno knew Tommy had it on him. He carried it in one of the inner pockets of his suit— 

Numbly, (and if that isn’t a sight,  Technobladed, numbed) Techno realizes that there is dried blood on the corner of the polaroid.

That’s not— that shouldn’t be possible. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Tommy Innit is dead. That is Tommy’s blood, that's Tommy’s picture.

Techno flips over the polaroid. There’s messy handwriting on the back. 

COME FIND ME. 

The next phone number Techno dials is Phils. 

“Are you prankin’ me?” Is the first thing Techno says.

“What?” Phil has the decency to sound offended. “What are you on about—“

“Pranking me. With Quackity.”

“You know my opinions on Quackity.” 

Techno does.

“Do you remember that— that stupid camera that Wilbur used to hide?” 

There's a silent pause. They don’t really talk about Wilbur anymore, or Tommy, for that matter.

Phil breathes. “Yeah. I remember it.” 

“Did you keep any of those photos? Any of them?”

“No? I don’t think so? Will kinda hoarded them all, if not—“

Techno hangs up before Phil can finish his sentence. He knew what he was going to say. If Wilbur didn’t have them then Tommy did. 

Phil calls back. Techno tries not to feel bad for ignoring him. Phil was a shit liar, and Phil didn’t play games. 

He calls Quackity, again, who is not happy to hear from him, again. It takes a bit of grilling and threatening to show up in person to get actual details from him. 

The kid with the blood-stained polaroid Quackity was in Germany. He tries to pry a description out of him, but Quackity claims he never met him in person; everything in Quackity’s business is done mostly second-hand. 

He doesn’t expect a lot from Quackity; but his fear of Techno is greater than his loyalty to those he employs because he gets the address pretty easily. 

Part of Technoblade really, really doesn’t wanna do this. He was retired. It was over. No more fighting and no more acts and no more villains and heroes. He was fine with the hermit styled life. 

Phil wrote, and visited; but mostly wrote. Phil was better at integrating into society— he was more social then Techno. A lot more social than Techno, because in two years that Hypixel had been gone Phil had gotten properly engaged . Somethig that Techno hadn’t really thought the Angel of Death was capable of in the years that he had known the man. 

It was difficult to imagine; a quiet, homey, life was never supposed to be in the cards for them. Not the villains, not even the heroes from Hypixel. You fought and you died; retiring wasn’t an option. 

Families were not an option.

Families, friends, personal relationships weren’t allowed. Against the rules. 

It was an easy rule to follow, until he started getting teamed with Phil. 

Philza, to his credit, was just as stand-offish as Technoblade. He was equally unhappy as Techno to be assigned a partner; neither were the tag team type. 

There was a lot of arguing, back then. Too much back and forth that should’ve gotten them killed. (And it almost did; Hypixel was not happy that they lost a fight that they were scripted to win, it’s why Wilbur—)

Siren was a lower-tier, medium-priority villain when he was shoved into Techno and Phil’s little group. 

Wilbur was a change to the dynamic.  A middle ground.  Something they could agree about. It was easier to like Phil when he was taking blows for Wilbur. 

Wilbur was nineteen. 

Or, that’s what Wilbur thought at the time; Hypixel burned his birth certificate. 

Tommy was younger. 

Tommy was newer . Freshly debuted and put up against the Syndicate. Even then, with all Hypixel’s corruption and— and everything, at that time, Techno had wondered what they were thinking.

The Blood-God was fabricated. Fake. A persona. Hypixel created the role and Techno had played it to a T. 

Gyro wasn’t just a role to Tommy. Tommy loved being a hero, loved saving people; and properly hated them , the Syndicate, just like a real hero should.

Behind the scenes, it was tense at worst between the heroes and villains. Fighting wasn’t allowed in HQ, not where there’d be no cameras to record the fight.

Most of them were seasoned enough to understand who the real enemy was; the younger ones, sure, they’d been taught to hate each other. It took Wilbur and Niki— (who had debuted around the same time) months to properly look at each other

It was hard, fighting the kid three times a week and then having to drag him to the med-lab kicking and screaming— (Techno and Tommy, mostly Tommy, destroyed a lot of hallways doing that), 

It was Wilbur who barreled his way into a relationship with Tommy— one outside of kicking each other's asses during the week. 

Techno did what he could to keep the kid alive after fights, but Wilbur, of course, is who brought him out of his shell.

Wilbur was good at that; making people like him. Siren was manic and cruel, but Wilbur was social and bright. 

Techno does not miss Hypixel, let that be known. He doesn’t miss the battles and the blood and the loss. He doesn’t miss their routine or schedule or their careful eyes but— (he misses the brightness. The unity.)

Techno had been fine, not having a relationship with Tommy. But at some point you really get to know someone after spending so much time in the med-bay together. 

Tommy’s death was an accident.

(Or, not-death, if Tommy’s truly been alive all this time.)

It was an accident. Hypixel was getting tight-assed over the intensity of the battles; the stakes weren’t high enough.

Techno was tired; Tommy was pissed. It was the Blood-God against Gyro and Nuke, Phil and Wilbur had been occupied with fighting three other heroes. 

It was supposed to be Nuke. The battle agenda that Hypixel had sent them in the morning gave explicit instructions to kill Nuke. (and Technoblade’s pity, his sympathy, it is something that he doesn’t just give out often— but he felt something for Nuke that morning; who’s abilities were too destructive to be a hero and too powerful to be a villain. He was never going to last long.)

He knew that Tommy was close to the other young hero; he had known that Tommy would have never forgiven him. He should have known that Tommy would have—

Techno honestly doesn’t remember much after Tommy had jumped in front of his sword. Phil said Nuke and the other heroes had hauled Tommy off. Wilbur had been screaming at him and just— wouldn’t. Stop. Screaming.

Techno hadn’t really become aware again until they were back at HQ and it was announced that Gyro had died.

There weren’t any memorials; there was no time. The ones they had made in preparation were for Nuke .

Techno supposes he never really gave Wilbur enough credit; Tommy hadn’t even had a funeral yet when Hypixel went up in flames. He’s not sure how long Wilbur had his— his plan in the works; if it was in progress or if Tommy was just the first domino to fall.

Techno wished Wilbur had included him, included them. Together, they could’ve done it sooner; safer, more effective. Maybe Techno wouldn’t have listened that morning when they told him he was to kill Nuke.  

He shouldn’t do this; dwell on Wilbur, on Tommy; on what could've happened. He can do that later. 

Techno books a flight to Germany— a last-minute one, for the morning. It’s expensive; but it takes only a small chunk out of the government-shush-money. 

Technoblade has never been to Germany. He hadn’t been to quite a lot of places, actually. Techno’s pretty sure Hypixel would have gotten into trouble a lot earlier if they had sent their heroes to fight villains outside of American soil. 

Techno never really felt like traveling after ; if anyone wanted to see him in person they’d have to come to him— (or not see him at all, preferably). He had even only gotten his passport at Phil’s insistence; who had packed up and moved to England. 

He thinks that maybe he should probably visit Phil while he was out there; if Phil had found out that Techno was in Europe and didn’t visit him Techno would never hear the end of it.

 Techno’s never going to hear the end of it, period. Going to Germany to chase a ghost on a lead from Quackity of all people, not inviting Phil while at it? Techno leaves early; the drive to the nearest airport is three hours. He’s lucky that he keeps a full-tank because the nearest gas station was an hour and a half into the drive. 

Techno buys two things when he finally reaches said gas-station; sunglasses, and a cheap baseball-cap that doesn’t really fit on his head correctly. 

He wore a mask, as the Blood-God ; he wasn’t among the ones that had their faces leaked— but call Techno paranoid, cautious. 

Government agents used to tail him, the first couple months after Hypixel. Techno knows that he wasn’t the only one they were watching— he is sure that Phil got the same treatment— but shaking off that feeling of being watched is hard.  

Techno tries to not look like a fish out of water— at check in, through security, boarding. An older German woman sits next to him through out the flight; Techno nods and pretends to understand what she is saying to him. 

Techno doesn’t speak German, its not like Hypixel offered language classes. He speaks some Spanish but not German. 

Tommy doesn’t speak German, either. How and why he ended up there perturbed Techno greatly— it was certainly a place to hide. 

(It’s another bullet-point on the list of reasons that point to this not being Tommy. )

The address that he had dug out of Quackity was seven-teen minutes outside of Berlin.  

The building itself is… not all that impressive. Techno wasn’t sure what he was expecting from an apartment complex owned by someone like Quackity, but he suspected something a little less normal looking.

The only security is the key-card-locked door; Techno waits a total of six minutes for a local to leave so he can catch the door. (She gives him an odd look; she doesn’t know if she had come out four minutes later she would have caught him breaking down the door.)

This is too easy, Techno thinks as he climbs the stairs to the third floor. Doing this, finding Tommy— it should have been more difficult. Tommy is smart; clever— that’s Techno’s fault. If Tommy really survived Techno; survived the fall of Hypixel, then he would be hiding in a dark corner of the world much harder to reach than Germany.

Apartment 3A is unlocked.

The door creaks when he opens it; the apartment is unassuming. It’s lived in, sure. The TV is playing reruns of some old kids show; there is a pair of sneakers disposed by the door. The breeze from the open windows flutters the curtains.

Techno wonders if maybe Quackity had made a mistake; this doesn’t feel like aan information master's safe house. It doesn’t feel like Tommy . Techno is to caught up in debating whether he should call Quackity again that Techno almost missed the gun pointed at his head. 

Almost. 

Techno is stronger, Tommy’s faster; Techno disarms and Tommy kicks it away before Techno can turn it on him. 

(Not that Techno would have shot Tommy, but he’s not completely convinced Tommy feels the same, especially when—)

Tommy throws his full weight at Techno, sending them both to the ground. Techno is recovering when Tommy scrambles for the gun. 

Techno grabs his foot and drags him back. 

Tommy thrashes, trying to kick his face. Tommy’s taller now; stronger, too, but Techno can still haul him up and pin him. 

Tommy screams, yelling unintelligible curses and clawing at Technoblades face.

“Stop it — Tommy stop.” 

Tommy does not stop. Tommy slams his forehead into Technoblade’s nose. 

Something cracks, and sharp pain explodes across Techno’s face. 

His nose has already started healing; Techno will have to re-break it later, probably. Definitely. He can already feel it setting wrong. 

Tommy pulls himself up, and Techno watches his nails scratch against the counter. 

Tommy looks at him— glares at him, wiping Techno’s blood off the side of his face; it’s a couple of seconds before his gaze shifts to the knife-block sitting on the counter.

The one that he grabs is big ; a chef's knife. If he throws it at Techno he’ll probably miss anything major; not that he doubts Tommy’s aim, but Techno knows knives. ( Tommy knows knives. Techno thinks he must be trying to prove a point— Tommy wants a fight.)

Techno ducks when Tommy swipes at him, backing away as the younger advances. 

(Techno has come in peace, so he won’t use his powers on Tommy; not even if that would be the easiest option to put him down.)
Tommy’s blocking the kitchen; trying to get him into a corner. 

Techno looks— there must be something ; the coffee table is littered with junk. Magazines. Paper-plates. A book —

Tommy plunges the knife into the book; the hardcover is the only thing between the tip of the knife and Technoblade’s face. 

Techno throws it to the side, the knife discarded—   it’s easy to take Tommy to the ground with him, after that. Tommy scream s, sounding like a wounded animal as he scratches up Techno’s arms. 

Techno does not let up the chokehold, not until minutes after he’s started wearing Tommy down.

“Are you done?”

“Fuck…” Tommy rasps. “.... You .”

And of course that is the first thing that Tommy says two him in two years.  

“If I let you go are you going to try to stab me again?”

“Fuck you! Fuck— you motherfucker! Let me go!”
Techno does, only because the scratching at his arm was really starting to get annoying. 

Tommy scrambles away from him, getting to the other side of the room as soon as possible. 

He rubs his neck, choking on a cough. He stares at Techno, eyes filled with venom— 

“ What are you doing here?” Is what Tommy asks, and Techno’s composure breaks with a genuine blanch.

“ What? ” 

“Do ya’ need me to fucken’ spell it out or something?” Tommy snarls. “Why are you—”
“You called me!”
“The fuck I did!” Tommy hisses, pulling the discarded chef's knife out of the book he had stabbed it into. “I wanted Wilbur— I told Quackity to get Wilbur!”

Ah. That makes sense. That makes a lot of sense. 

“Tommy—”

“And where the fuck is he ?!” Tommy gestures wildly— and Techno wants to tell him to put down the knife, but that’s probably a bad idea— “Did he send you? Or— or is he hidin’ in your— your stupid fuckin’ getaway car or something?” Tommy stomps over to the nearest window, ripping the curtain open. “Where the fuck—“ 

“Wilbur’s dead.” Now, Techno know’s that there was a better way of telling Tommy that. But he can’t think, not with Tommy screaming in his ear. Not when Tommy is supposed to be dead. 

Tommy freezes, his demands on knowing the whereabouts of a deadman halting.

“You’re lying.”

“Do I lie, Tommy?” Techno asks. “Have I ever, ever, lied to you?” 

Techno isn’t a good person— and frankly, neither is Tommy. But honest is something that their little group could be with each other. It was something they had at least expected of each other.

Tommy’s shoulders drop, the tension draining out of them. 

The knife clatters to the floor.

The silence makes the air in the room thick . Heavy. Techno kinda wants to make a joke about cracking open a window when—

“How?” Tommy asks, quietly.  

“After— you, ” Techno says. “Wilbur— Will was sittin’ on some stuff.” Stuff was the way to put whistle-blower documents. “He got into a fight—”

“A fight? ”

“He started burnin’ down Hypixel, Tommy,” And that was a way to put it. “They put him down.” Which didn’t even have the chance to be publicized; Techno couldn’t blame Tommy for not knowing when Wilbur didn’t even get a grave. 

“Put him down, ” Tommy mocked. “Is that how you describe Wilbur? Some… something to put down— ”

“That’s what they did, Tommy! That’s what they did to Wilbur— that’s what I thought they did to you—”

Tommy punches him, Techno’s head snaps to the side. 

“Did to me? ” Tommy rasps. “You. Killed. Me. You did!”

“You say that like you were actually dead.”

That was a low punch, Techno knows that. 

Tommy falls quiet, something that a few years ago Techno thought was impossible.

Techno continues for him. “Tommy— you— died. You were dead. I thought you were dead. ” 

Until approximately, forty-eight hours ago, Techno not just thought but knew that Tommy was dead. 

“You should go.” Is what Tommy says, and that—

(— and that alone, after everything, after his broken nose and after the knife and after being dragged all the way out here being told to go away is what pisses Techno off—)

“You’re kiddin’ me right?”

Just as easily as it slipped away, the anger that Techno was so used to trickles back into Tommy. “I didn’ fucken’ ask you to come, Techno!”

“Really?” Techno drawls, reaching for the polaroid in his hoodie pocket— slamming it on the counter. “Then what was the point of sendin’ this?”

Tommy stares at it, at the faded, grainy photo.

“That was meant for Wilbur.” Tommy states. “I wanted Wilbur.”

“And you got me instead.” Techno says. “Wilbur’s dead—”

“So was I.”

“And you have yet to explain how.”

“They…” Tommy hesitates. “Took me. Off site.”

“That doesn’t really explain anything, Tommy.”

“Fuck!” Tommy dragged his hand down his face. “The fuck you want me to say Techno?” Tommy takes a deep, shaking breath. “I was dead. Fucken’ dead. They— that’s that they said. ” Tommy tapped his chest. “Heart stopped and everything.”

 Tommy takes a breath, collapsing into the kitchen chair that he has. 

“They pumped me with something.” Tommy continued. “I— I dunno what the fuck it was.”

“But it brought you back.” Techno says; it isn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Tommy scoffed. “Yeah. Sure. You can call it that.” He lifted his hands, wiggled his fingers. “It— it killed my powers.” 

Ah. That explains it; Techno went through that fight not using his powers on purpose, while Tommy couldn’t use them at all.

“How’d you get out?”

“Quackity.” Tommy says. “Had his— his people raid some left over Hypixel bases, ya know?”

Yeah, Techno knows, and he’s going to be having words with that man.

“And he took you here?”

“His people did— they didn’ know who I was. He sends them shit to do, and then they send me shit to do, its a good gig ya know?”

Techno doubts that anything related to working for Quackity is a ‘good gig.’ Techno doesn’t have to ask to understand what kind of stuff Quackity has him doing. 

“I could get you out.”

“I don’t need out. I’m not bein’ held hostage.” Tommy scowls. 

“Then why did you call—”

“I called Wilbur—”

“And he is gone. Why did you call?”

“I missed him!” Tommy snaps. “Fuck— I wanted him to know that I was alive. I wanted him , Phil, you—”

“And I’m right here, ” Techno stresses, feeling like a broken record. “I got your message. I did. I showed up. You said come find me and I did. Come back with me.”

Tommy falls silent, his face scrunched up in thought. 

“Quackity won’t be happy with me.”

“You said you weren’t being held hostage.”

“I’m not. He just won’t be happy.”

“Then I will handle him—”

“Don’t kill him.”

“I’m not going to kill him—”

“You killed me.”

“Tommy.” 

Tommy laughs; a genuine one, straight from the gut. A sound that had started to fade from Techno’s memory. 

“Sorry— sorry man, that was so easy.”
“You’re sorry?”

“Are you?”

He thinks about Tommy, his body being dragged away. He thinks about the blood— Tommy ’s blood, washing it off his hands. He thinks about the nights where he couldn’t sleep because those images replayed in his mind on loop.

“I am. I’m sorry. ”

Tommy won’t look at him. That’s okay; Techno didn’t chase a ghost across the world for forgiveness. 

“Is Will really dead? You’re sure?”
“I saw his body.”
Tommy dragged his hand through his hair, tugging at it. “And Phil?”
“England. Got a wife, and everything.” 

Tommy barked a laugh. “Of course he did. Did you stay in New York?”

“Alaska.”

“Alaska?”

“At least it’s not Germany .”

“Ughhhh,” Tommy groaned, standing up. “You are just unbearable as I remember. You are the same exact prick—”

Technoblade is not a hugger. Physical affection is not a language he spoke well but…

He hugs Tommy anyway.

Tommy wasn’t expecting it, obviously, Techno can tell by the way the boy reaches for a gun that is not there. 

“You tore my hoodie,” Tommy grumbles against his chest.

Techno can’t help but laugh. “You broke my nose?”

“Yeah but I liked this hoodie.”

“And I liked my nose?”

“Your nose will heal. My hoodie will be like this forever.”

“There are seamstresses in Alaska. And more hoodies. It’s cold there.”

“I dunno big-man,” Tommy sniffs. “Not really sure if I want you draggin’ me all the way to Alaska so soon.”

“How about England, first?” Techno offers. “I promise I’ll keep Phil from shootin’ you in surprise.”

“Not if I shoot him first.”

“You will not. ”

“No promises.”
“Tommy.”

“Fine.” Tommy groans. “ Fineee . Whatever. 

It was fine; whatever came after would be fine ; okay.  Technoblade could convince himself of that.