Chapter Text
The best time to use the training facilities at the Hero Association is right before sunrise.
That's when things are quietest. When the chaos of the day hasn't fully set in yet, and the scent of sweat doesn't make Techno cringe as soon as he walks in. A few other heroes might be messing around with the equipment, but never enough for him to be bothered by the eyes that land on him. And the ones who do show up that early are usually veterans anyway. They've seen Techno before. After breakfast, rookies start their classes, and Techno has to make sure he's far away from the gym. He doesn't like other people gawking or staring at him while he's practicing his powers, or worse, actually trying to talk to him. Or sometimes, people visibly shudder and look away when in the same room as him, and while the lack of social interaction is something he'll never complain about, it definitely makes him a little self-conscious.
He takes off his jacket and throws it over a bench in the corner. Techno is wearing a tank top beneath, and long sweatpants that he keeps reminding himself he should replace because they're stained in patches of rusty brown. Combined with the bandages that run from his elbow to his wrist on his left arm, he does look a bit like he escaped from the hospital against medical advice. Or maybe like a serial killer.
The idea almost gives him a chuckle.
Before he starts, he ties his hair up into a bun, messily enough that some strands slip loose. He could spend more time on it, but again, Techno wants to make himself scarce when new people show up.
He exhales through his nose, then inhales deeply again. He pulls on his powers.
Techno feels them stir inside him, coiled up in his chest as if they are a tight ball of wires all pushed together. When he first started his training to become a hero, untangling them was the most tricky part. Even now, it takes effort, though not nearly as much as it used to. He needs to concentrate. He needs to see them as part of himself.
And then he yanks on them.
Normally, that's when they unfurl. He'll feel every inch of his skin, every bone in his body, every single nerve ending for one agonizing second, before he gains full control. But it's supposed to be quick, painless.
Techno gasps and almost folds double, grabbing at his chest as pressure builds inside him.
The more he attempts to use his powers, the worse it hurts. He wrenches on them, but they keep catching on something indescribable. It's frustrating, and it's been that way for a day or two, ever since-
"Techno! I couldn't find you last night."
Techno straightens at the cheerful voice behind him, forcing a smile on his face before he turns towards Niki, who walks up to the bench where Techno threw down his jacket earlier to put away her own stuff.
"You were looking for me?" Techno asks, tone faux casual since pain continues to ripple through him. But Niki thankfully doesn't notice.
"We were supposed to have dinner together yesterday." She raises an eyebrow, more amusement than genuine anger. "Did you forget?"
"Oh," Techno says. "Uh, no. Definitely not."
Niki laughs. "Hm, sure, definitely not." She brushes part of her hair behind her ear, using a bobby pin to keep it in place. "Not like I'm personally offended or anything."
"Noooooo," Techno wails in mock dismay. "Don't be upset with me, then I won't have any friends left."
Shaking her head, Niki stands next to him while she also pins the other part of her hair up. "How sad." Then she chuckles. "But nah, you're not getting rid of me that easily. It took three months to befriend you, you know? Nobody else thought I'd be able to do it."
Ouch. Okay, maybe Techno does have a bit of a reputation for how hard he is to approach, how vehemently he pushes people away. But still.
"Are you even allowed in here again?" Niki asks suddenly. Techno shifts under her gaze, avoiding her eyes.
"What Sam doesn't know won't hurt him."
"But it might hurt you," Niki says pointedly. "Did you get cleared early?"
"Sure," Techno lies, though he can tell Niki doesn't believe him. She'd be so much more pissed if she knew he forgot about dinner plans last night because he went on an unscheduled patrol.
"I'll just ask Ponk later," she threatens.
"Fine," Techno admits. "Maybe I wasn't officially cleared yet. But I feel good, there's nothing wrong with me."
"Hm," Niki replies, disbelief still shining through in the noise. Which is probably more devastating than any words she could have said. Techno ignores her and walks to the bench again. He can't keep practicing with her around anyway.
"Ah, all this hostility after I got you a gift and everything," he laments loudly.
"You got me a gift?" Niki asks, turning from where she was about to start her stretches.
Techno riffles in the pocket of his jacket and throws Niki the squishy little ball he pulls out. "Catch."
She does, easily. "Is this a stress ball?"
"Yeah, you said you needed more fidget stuff, and it reminded me of you," Techno says, watching her examine the toy. It's pastel pink and round, with little cat ears that bulge out when you squeeze it.
"Pfft." But Niki is smiling. "Thanks, Techno."
"Dinner tonight?" Techno asks, putting on his jacket.
"Yeah. I'll pop by your room, okay?"
"You know where to find me," Techno says before heading out. Unlike Niki, he actually lives in the Hero Association building.
His dorm is small but cozy, and Techno isn't a very materialistic person, so it suits him well enough. Even better, the Hero Association charges extremely cheap rent withdrawn straight from his paycheck. Techno isn't the only hero who has taken them up on the offer, but he's probably the one who has lived there the longest.
More like he hasn't lived anywhere else since he was twelve.
Back in his room, he stands in front of the mirror. A bruise on his cheek has mostly faded in color, and he doesn't look any different. He should be fine. He feels fine. The villain he lost against has been detained, and the fight was days ago. Techno's injuries were relatively minor, some blood loss, contusions, and most pressingly, exhaustion because he pushed himself to the limit while using his abilities, regardless of the strain it caused.
But his powers don't come easily when he's already hurt.
Techno knows it makes sense, considering how much his particular powers are directly tied to his physical body. That doesn't make it any less frustrating. What good is he as a hero if he can't recover quicker, if the smallest thing can put him out of commission? Does he just need to work harder to exceed his limits so he won't reach them as quickly next time, like he used to do during training as a kid?
He closes his eyes and feels for those tangled wires again, knotted up inside him. He pulls, pulls, pulls, the pressure increasing between his temples, before radiating down. Almost as if it's trying to push outward but is hitting a wall made of his own ribcage and flesh. Techno grits his teeth, bearing the uncomfortable sensation, unrelenting. Sweat prickles at the back of his neck, but he ignores it. Suddenly, warmth stains his upper lip, wet and thick. Opening his eyes, Techno wipes the back of his hand across his nose, smearing himself with blood, and sighs. Drops of red have fallen onto the sink's porcelain, staining starkly against the perfect white.
At least the feeling is familiar enough to bring him some comfort.
Techno's powers are terrifying. That's simply how it is.
They've never felt scary to him. Even as a child, the first time he tripped and skinned his knee open on the playground at school, and then watched blood bubble to the surface with wide, wet eyes. When he felt that blood outside his body was part of him, just as much or even more so than the blood inside him. When he drew more out of the cut, drops floating up in the air, controlled by a flick of his fingers. When he showed it to his teacher, who looked disgusted and turned away from him, before muttering that she'd call his caretakers to report it.
None of that was ever strange or weird to Techno. If anything, it was less upsetting to him because he discovered his powers so young.
Other people are grossed out by blood-bending. Techno supposes it's not really the most sanitary superpower to have. He mostly uses his own blood to manipulate, since it's what he has the most control over, and that can be an odd sight to those around him. Techno keeps the cuts on his arms open so he can draw on his blood easily when needed, but covers them up out of consideration for civilians.
Controlling other people's blood is also something he can do, but mostly when it's already outside their bodies. He's only been able to properly wield the blood running inside a living person's veins once or twice in a pinch. The Hero Association is still in talks with the ethical committee to see if it's something they want Techno to train in further.
"Are you going out alone?" Ranboo asks. He's dragging his feet a bit, and Techno thinks he's about to offer to come with him, so he gets ahead of that by holding up a hand.
"I'm patrolling sectors twelve and thirteen tonight," he says.
"Alone?" Ranboo presses.
"As usual."
Ranboo's lips come together into a thin line, but he doesn't protest.
The way it works is that the Hero Association doesn't assign heroes to do specific jobs, usually. They simply indicate what danger level each sector of the city is at, and then heroes can pick and choose where to patrol. Whether they want to do that alone or in a group is up to them, as long as the number of heroes patrolling in any given sector matches the minimum based on the danger level.
Ranboo, not yet out of his recruitment phase, isn't allowed to patrol in any sector with a danger level of orange or red. Those happen to be the sectors Techno prefers. He'll often be bored out of his mind if he has to walk around all night somewhere that reports indicate won't see anything more exciting than purse snatching or vehicle theft.
"What?" Techno asks, seeing Ranboo's expression. "Are you jealous I get to fight all the exciting criminals?"
Ranboo manages a half-smile. "Maybe a little," he says. But he leaves the second part unspoken.
Like Niki, Ranboo has the honor of counting himself among the handful of people Techno actually would call his friends, ever since the younger man hunted him down in the cafeteria to ask for an autograph, and then pretty consistently kept trying to talk to Techno without being scared off by his evasive attitude. Sadly, that means Ranboo also gets up to silly things, such as worrying about Techno. And taking it weirdly personal that everybody else at the association steers clear of him.
Techno's theory is that Ranboo got bullied during middle school or something, and has construed that as a sort of kinship to Techno's situation.
"How about," Techno says, "you head to sector ten. And if I do need a hand, I can text you. Recruits are technically allowed into orange and red sectors if they're paged."
"Sounds good," Ranboo says. "Stay safe out there, yeah?"
Techno laughs. "Yeah, yeah, don't insult me."
It's not that he doesn't appreciate the concern. It's sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet.
It's more so that Ranboo doesn't understand that Techno prefers to patrol alone. He has been trained for it, shaped to be a perfect solitary unit capable of functioning on a pro hero level by himself with no backup, ever since he discovered his powers at the age of seven years old. Simply, it's what he's used to.
Because that's what sets Techno apart from other heroes, even more than the creepy blood-manipulating powers do. The fact that he was made to be a hero - literally. He was created within the association's walls, then given to a couple that could raise him until his powers would present themselves. His caretakers were nice people, though they passed on a while ago. Techno still talks to Simon, their only son, on occasion. Simon was already out of the house when Techno was put under the couple's care, but he came by frequently enough. Techno was moved into the association itself when he hit puberty, so he could pick up training full-time.
As far as he knows, he's the only homemade superhero the association ever had. An experiment in genetics that has since been shut down by that same ethics committee with whom they're still arguing now regarding the use of Techno's powers. There was a whole messy court case when Techno's existence became public.
Techno has never once minded that he's different from most other people, the recruits that arrive at the Hero Association fresh out of high school in the hopes of joining the force if they can nail the tests. But it has led to those other heroes avoiding him like the plague. And somehow, Ranboo has taken that personally.
Again, probably bullied kid solidarity.
Techno watches Ranboo catch up with a few of the other rookies so they can patrol together, and wonders if he'd be anything like them if he grew up normally. If he wasn't taken out of school after his powers manifested. Maybe he'd be more social, but somehow Techno doubts it.
The life he has is more than enough for him. At least it has given him a purpose.
Most of the late patrol passes by peacefully. Techno would usually grow bored rather quickly, but can't find himself minding tonight. He's tired, and hasn't slept too well with the full-body aches. He'll settle for a quiet shift for once. Then go home, shower, collapse into bed, wake up around noon so he can eat. Sounds perfect.
And then he hears the shattering of a window.
Right, because the universe is exactly the type of vindictive to bring him excitement on the only night that Techno has ever wished for anything but.
He jogs towards it, sliding by civilians running in the opposite direction. Techno is wearing black joggers, a black hoodie with the sleeves bunched up around his elbows, and a mask that is breathable but covers the lower half of his face. Not the most heroic outfit, but the Hero Association doesn't enforce a uniform. And black clothes are simply the best choice, knowing you'll need to get blood out of your outfit later.
When he arrives on the scene, three people in dark clothes are already hurrying to load a bunch of electronics into their van. The store's shrill alarm makes Techno's head hurt worse. Pretty straightforward burglary from what he can tell. He draws on his powers, forcing through the knot with a bit more urgency this time. The sensation makes his veins burn, but it works. A thin trail of blood slips from between the bandages, pulled from his arm into his hand, solidifying into a long, whip-like shape. Techno uses it to slice both front tires on the van. Not having noticed his approach, the nearest burglar startles and drops what looks like an expensive laptop onto the pavement.
Techno winces sympathetically as the device's screen gets smashed by the impact. "Careful now, that thing is probably worth more than what your bail will be."
The man takes a step back. Another step. Techno sees the exact moment they decide to make a run for it.
He lashes out with the whip, curling it around the man's ankle and tripping them to the ground. One of the others has jumped behind the wheel, but while the engine rumbles to life, the van is too damaged to drive away in. That only leaves the last one.
The one who just pulled out a gun. "Don't move!"
They aim it at Techno, finger clutched against the trigger. Techno calls on his powers again, willing them into action even as they hit that wall inside him. He forces through, the muscles in his shoulders locking up as he extends his arm. It burns. It tears. It rips into him as if it's shredding his organs to pieces.
But it works. Because the man pulls the trigger, and Techno yanks on their wrist. The man shouts out in alarm, having their body moved against their will. The shot grazes Techno's side.
He hisses as he brings another trickle of blood out of his arm, this time shaping it into a throwing knife and lugging it at the man. It lands in their foot, making them drop the gun and scream as it effectively pins them in place. It won't last for long though, so Techno hurriedly grabs for the handcuffs hanging off his belt.
But he ends up not having to worry about it. Before Techno is even done arresting the first guy, a shadow descends upon the man who tried to shoot him.
"Phil," Techno greets, tersely.
"Techno," the older man returns, wings fading back into his body while he pins the criminal down. "Need any help?"
Techno doesn't answer. He hauls the robber he was busy with to their feet and reaches for his communicator.
"You're bleeding," Phil observes.
"You must be new here," Techno says flatly.
Phil laughs a bit. "No, I mean- Did you get shot?"
Techno glances at him, and he can see the conflict in Phil's expression, every part of him that wishes to rush over and check Techno as meticulously as he'd do for any of his other kids when they get hurt - his actual kids. Techno shifts awkwardly.
It's not the same. Just because he shares Phil's genes, that doesn't mean anything. He doesn't-
"Hold on," Phil says suddenly. And Techno realizes he completely forgot about the third robber. The man has exited the van and is trying to make a break for it while they're distracted. With a snap of Phil's fingers, an inky pool of darkness opens beneath the man's feet, and they fall into it. A moment later, they emerge from the shadows next to Phil, practically falling into the vigilante's arms.
Techno snorts at the sight.
"Are you going to claim bounty again?" he asks. Vigilantes are more or less tolerated by the Hero Association, despite vigilantism being considered illegal in the broader sense, if they keep to certain rules and don't interrupt hero work. And for their troubles, they can claim a small reward for any criminals or villains they turn over to the official channels.
Techno, on the other hand, doesn't like that having vigilantes steal his arrests looks bad on his monthly report cards.
"You can have them," Phil says, indicating the two men he's put on the ground with their ankles and wrists now tied with zip ties. Techno puts his guy next to them. "If you let me look at your side."
While made a little uneasy by Phil's request, Techno nods. "Fine." He allows the other to approach and pulls up his shirt, checking on the shallow wound.
"Your nose is bleeding too," Phil points out, inspecting the graze but apparently not finding it serious enough for concern. That's good. "Did you run into a wall or something?"
He's clearly aiming for levity, but Techno swallows away the snarky response that wants to slip out. They haven't really talked since… Since Techno found out the truth.
Before, he used to be close to Phil. To all of them. Techno can't wrap his head around why they didn't tell him sooner.
"Nothing like that," he says eventually.
"And your ears?!" Phil says, reaching up without warning to brush Techno's hair to the side. Techno didn't feel it before, but at the touch of Phil's fingers, he does realize there's a trickle of blood there, too. "What the fuck have you done to yourself, mate?"
"You know how my powers get," Techno says, backing off a step. "I've got it covered, Phil."
Phil's face contorts, rapidly cycling through guilt, anger, regret, before finally settling on a sort of troubled acceptance. "Yeah, I'm- Sorry, I know."
Techno clenches his jaw. "How are Wilbur and Tommy?"
It's the closest he can get to an apology. And he can tell it works from how Phil instantly relaxes a bit, face lighting up at Techno's apparent interest in how the other two are doing.
"Nothing new with them, eating me out of a home and breaking all of my furniture. Tommy's finishing up high school this year and still has no clue what he wants to do after. I think he has half a mind to run off and join the circus."
"Sounds like him," Techno says, smiling.
"I keep telling him vigilantism isn't a proper profession and he should at least go to trade school to learn something, but he's not having it," Phil sighs.
Techno hums and fidgets with the edges of his bandages a bit, grateful when the light thrumming of his communicator gives him an excuse to pull away fully. "My backup should be here any moment."
"I'll get out of your hair then," Phil says. Again, vigilantism is technically illegal. Phil is smart not to outwear his welcome with the association. But then again, he knows them well, being a former hero himself and everything.
"Uh, Phil," Techno calls after him, as the other man is about to step into one of his shadows. "Maybe we can meet up again sometime, like we used to?"
Phil grins. Techno wishes it wouldn't make his entire insides feel so stupidly caught on fire.
"I'd love that, mate. You can call me anytime," Phil says, before disappearing alongside the first sound of sirens on the corner of the street.