Chapter Text
Techno's life was surprisingly simple.
Every day, he would wake up at the same time and to the same utilitarian blare of his alarm clock. He would get dressed, go for a morning run on the same path, then get showered and have the same protein shake for breakfast. He would skip lunch – he'd gotten used to it for years – and then have almost exactly the same bland meal for every dinner. He went to sleep at almost the same time as well.
The only difference between the days was what he did between those times. Techno had his therapy sessions booked twice a week (Mondays and Fridays, to be exact), went to a gym on three days (Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays), and streamed for the other two days. He'd do his weekly grocery shopping after Sunday gym, walk Floof before Wednesday streaming sessions, and tend to his garden just before Friday therapy. And whenever he wasn't in the middle of any scheduled thing, Techno was either playing even more with Floof, playing even more video games, taking even more care to his garden, or putting some random movie on to play.
It was a habit he'd developed long ago, and old habits were hard to simply unlearn in a single day.
Not that it mattered, anyway. He enjoyed having a bit of routine in his life.
Techno's life was also surprisingly calm.
Maybe it was because of the neighbourhood. Most of his neighbours were old but nice, and the rest were all the young ones that grew up being raised by them. Everyone was respectful, and since the elderly people weren't exactly that connected to recent internet stars, no one recognised him. That meant no surprise fanatics, no begging for autographs, and no doxxing. That meant he could live a life as a normal human being.
Plus, he was an American living in the UK of all places. There was no way anyone was going to find his address.
Maybe it was because he did not have to worry about money. While people his age were scrambling to graduate from college and get their first jobs, Techno had had millions to his name and a comfortable retirement to match. His last job paid a lot of money – way too much money, in Techno's humble opinion – and it had been fun while it lasted. Sure, maybe retiring at the ripe old age of 21 was a bit too early, but can anyone do anything about that? Even if he spent it like he was providing for a family of ten, which he wasn't, that money was still not going to run out any time soon.
In fact, if Techno wanted, he could just buy a fancy house, a fancy car, laze around at home all day and still have enough to afford every expense for the rest of his life and then some. He didn't even take any of the money from his streaming stuff – all of that would be distributed to the mods and editors of the team, and on top of that, he still paid the full weekly salaries from his own pocket. Techno was only streaming because he wanted to stream, and that was it.
Maybe it was because of the fact that he didn't really use social media anymore, which is pretty weird considering that he was 23 and a streamer.
Of course, like any young adult with a brain and a desire to keep living, he still had them downloaded on his phone. He just… didn't open them that much. When he did, it was only open for ten minutes or so, fifty at most; and it was only to like his team's posts and look at some of the fanarts from his amazing fans.
Techno tried his best not to doomscroll. He convinced himself that it was to protect himself from an internet culture that always finds a way to hate on someone.
It was never the case, he fully knew that. No, it was to hide – hide away from the life he once had, because the moment he saw it once again, Techno knew that he would break down completely and ruin his life all over again. He still had nightmares about it all the time. He had therapy just to try and save himself from the memories.
But other than that, his life was calm. Peaceful. Easy. The exact same kind of life he wanted to live.
Yet… it was utterly boring. Slow.
Everything calm and domestic felt like that when you've lived basically eighteen years of your life high on adrenaline and chasing victories at 300 kilometers an hour.
And even after two years of staying away from that life, Technoblade was still feeling the repercussions of the first time he stepped into that godsdamned car.
The Syndicate was, frankly, the weirdest streamer team you'd ever find. The reason? They were all filthy rich men who literally raced for a living yet still finding the time and energy to keep driving for another three hours on a sim.
Connor was their latest addition. He was a beast on the endurance racing front, having won all the races of the endurance Triple Crown in a single season. And if that wasn't impressive enough, he was only a couple of years older than Techno himself. He was considering entering the WEC next year, but instead of training his days away, Connor was here cracking jokes and purposefully crashing the other members' cars on stream.
Then there was Deo, who did drifting. He won the last two championships of Formula Drift, if Techno's memory wasn't failing him (his fault for entering early retirement, he supposed). It was great to know that those skills did transfer through to a simulator setup, and secretly he hoped that it would work the other way around as well. As a result, Deo's saving skills were always top notch – the chat would roar and scream every time he pulled out a legendary move that kept him on the track, and Techno would've too if he wasn't a fellow streamer and had a reputation to uphold.
There were Calvin and Nestor, one of the best rally driver duos that were still active to this day. They never really entered a championship, but won so many independent events that they were sometimes respected even more than those who actually did. Sometimes on stream, they'd ram everyone out into the turfs just to mess around, and then cackle when one of the others eventually met their virtual end in the walls. Gods know how many penalty points they would have had on their licenses if they pulled this stunt in real life.
Harvey (or as the guys liked to call him, TapL) was the second-weirdest one of the bunch, since he raced motorcycles instead of cars. That didn't make him any less skilled at sim racing than any of the other members, though – he was scarily good whenever he locked in. Techno distantly remembered a time, when both of them were just wee lads, where the guy would terrorise the heck out of him on tiny go-karts.
And then there was Phil, who was the one that assembled the group in the first place. Oh, Phil. All the other guys might be the best of the best in their own fields, but Phil was just so good that he deserved to be on a pedestal of his own.
Phil was way older than the other members, so before any of them can even get close to a car, he was already picking up podiums and trophies left and right. He raced in the pinnacle of motorsport for – how long was it again? 15? 20 years? – before finally retiring, won a race in almost every single circuit that ever ran one in his entire career, and the only reason why he didn't win more than three championships was because his teams kept fucking his car over and over again.
Techno had always believed that Phil was one of the greatest drivers Formula One had ever seen. He felt lucky to have the old man as a mentor, a teammate, and a friend. He felt lucky to even have the honour of personally knowing him at all.
Every day he was grateful for the fact that he was there to see Phil got crowned for his third championship in person. It was a dramatic season (the kids might even say "absolute cinema"), and Techno was happy he was there for every step of the journey.
But what about Techno?
In the public eye, Techno was a nobody compared to the rest of the group. No real-life achievement to his name, a nonexistent racing history prior to his sim days, and borderline indifference towards recent motorsports news. The only thing he had was a godly amount of talent, and instincts that only the most experienced of drivers possessed.
When the news broke out that he was joining the Syndicate, fans were furious. How can somebody who was so clueless about the real motorsport world be standing with the modern legends, they'd ask again and again. How much money did he pay to be there, they'd accuse. They called him a fraud, a fame-seeker. Only able to win championships by racing against casuals on the computer. Undeserving of being Philza Watson's friend, let alone be his best mate post-retirement. Even now, sometimes they still did.
Those comments got so much in the first few weeks that it actually broke the internet. And then Techno finally managed to join in a stream, beat everyone else in the team by an embarassing margin, and stomped those rumours about him being "not even close to a real racing driver" to the fucking ground.
Sure, Phil might have extended an invitation to him specifically because they were friends, but Techno knew how competitive Phil could be. If Techno wasn't half as good as the elder, and hadn't prove that he can completely obliterate the competition in events, there wouldn't be a Technoblade Craft in the roster of the Syndicate at all.
And it wasn't like they needed to be friends for the decision to be made. Phil knew his potential – just like how Techno was there to witness every step of Phil's last season, Phil was there to notice just how much raw talent Techno had even in his first year. Both of them knew he was simply holding back when grinding on the sim.
The thing was, Techno was never just a random guy whose stream happened to stumble upon their feeds. Before he ever started to release his content to the internet, he was already driving his way towards victories, terrorising the veterans of the grid while breaking records like they were made of mere glass. By the time he retired, he had tied Phil's record of three World Driver's Championships, and that was already achieved even before he was 21.
The fans never knew this because he had done all of this under another name. Techno never bothered to tell them because he closed that chapter of his life long ago, and buried those glorious days in the smallest sliver of his mind. He didn't need the fame or the recognition that came from that, anyway. Not when it would disrupt the peace he'd been searching for years, and not when it was tainted with the blood of his friends.
Let them speculate, complain or whatever they like. It wasn't worth it to talk about anyway.
Techno sat at his setup as he waited for the stream to load. As the sole member of the team who was no longer active in real-life racing, he was often tasked with the job of entertaining the viewers while the others joined. He liked to think that he was funny enough to carry it out and distract them for quite a while.
Usually Phil would accompany him, since he was also retired; but that man was still involved in way too many projects and still interacted regularly with the current grid to always be there at the start. He'd still show up later in the stream anyways, being the "responsible leader" of the group as he proclaimed.
Today was different, though: Techno had woken up and was immediately greeted with an ominous message.
[Today at 5:30 AM] Philza: Not gonna make it today mate, but please start the stream as usual
[Today at 5:30 AM] Philza: Also we should meet up after this
[Today at 5:31 AM] Philza: We can go to a restaurant near your place? Or maybe a cafe? You're still staying in the same place right
[Today at 5:31 AM] Philza: I know you probably don't want to be in this conversation but it's an important matter. Just think about it and then tell me when you're ready to talk, alright mate?
He tried not to think too much about the implications of the texts. Phil was probably just a bit concerned about his antics… the old man always had a bit of a parental aura to him. Techno witnessed that firsthand from his first days on the grid. Once a mother hen, always a mother hen.
Back to the present. The stream finally loaded, and the first messages started pouring in. Techno, as usual, turned on the mic and drawled, "Startin' the streaaaaaaaaaaam." That provoked the chat to start spamming, and he took a look to see what they had to say. There was always someone with good questions to answer in the first few minutes of the session.
When is everyone else joining? "Probably in a few minutes, I think. It's a Wednesday, so no one should be doin' races right now. Philza's extra busy today, though, so don't expect him to show up."
What are we doing today? "More sims, obviously, but mostly for fun today. There aren't any events goin' on that we can join, so uh, yeah. We haven't decided the specifics yet, so chat, if you have any requests on car type and racetracks, drop a comment or somethin'."
Minecraft stream when? "I dunno. When we want to do it, we'll do it. No, chat, I'm not doin' the steerin' wheel challenge again. It's torture for my eyes and my legs." And his schedule, too, but Techno wasn't gonna make people think he was more of a prick than they already did.
How is Floof? "He's alright. A bit tired today, I suppose, he's not runnin' around the house as usual. Gotta bring him to the vet this weekend actually for vaccination shots. I'm thinkin' of gettin' a brother or sister for him, but I am also very alone and two pets might be a bit too much for good old me."
Have you heard the news? "What news? Chat, you know that I barely use social media. I know next to nothing when it comes to real-life racin', okay?"
I thought you are friends with Philza? "What about Phil? Did somethin' happen to him?"
To say the chat exploded was a huge understatement. Phil didn't tell you anything? Are you really that clueless, or are you faking it? Dude, this is on the headlines of all the news right now. How do you even miss this? "Okay, chat, that's enough. Just freakin' tell me what's goin' on," he sighed.
He didn't get a chance to look at the replies as every single other member on the team (other than Phil of course) joined the stream in an equally hectic way.
"Techno, have you seen the news?" they practically screeched. "Old man Philza just signed a deal to buy his own F1 team."
No fucking way.
"I think we both know what I want to talk to you about," Phil smiled.
"I don't," Techno muttered. He was lying, and both of them knew that. He just didn't want to think of the implications.
After that impromptu announcement, he already had a hunch that the conversation is going to be about the team. After all, who else would Phil be able to talk about it to? Certainly not to the other teams, since they would be his competitors starting next year. Probably not to the current crew, who would need to take some time to let him get settled in his new seat. Maybe one of the ex-drivers, someone who was once his teammate perhaps? Oh. That was Techno. And he just had to be the favourite pick while having the most experience on what the current regulations were like.
Techno did not like this arrangement, of course, but against all of the things his brain was screaming to him, he sent a thumbs-up emoji and a time to the old man anyway. Because he liked torturing himself, or something like that. And now look where he was – sitting with his closest friend, in a cafe hidden in the middle of nowhere, sipping on his first coffee since forever.
He just hoped that the conversation would not devolve in the way he was thinking about. But according to Murphy's law, everything that can go wrong will go wrong.
"That's alright, I'll start from the beginning," Phil replied, that sinister-ish? smile still stuck on his face. Techno wanted to wipe it away. "You see, I just bought a team–"
"Yeah yeah, I know. Syndicate told me everything. Congratulations on that. What does it have to do with me?"
"Let me finish, mate. I bought Hardcore."
That got his attention. "What do you mean, you bought Hardcore?"
Phil nodded solemnly. "Yeah. With how bad their financial problems are going, they are on the course of going bankrupt before the start of next season. I can't just let the team fester, not when I had so much history with them. You'd understand how I feel, I think." Techno did – it was his team as much as it was with Phil. "So I bought it. The team, the driver's academy, the factory, everything."
"Rich," Techno teased. "I'm glad you're enjoyin' the billionaire life."
"Nah, Tech. They like me enough to set a low bargain. Although, I'd have to deal with a lot of their debts. And the salaries from here on out."
"No crap."
"Techno, you aren't streaming. What happened to the Technoblade that cursed like a sailor whenever the car starts to lose the tiniest amount of grip, mate?"
"You want me to curse that badly, Philza? No fuckin' shit, then. Does that satisfy you?"
"That's the spirit. There's the Techno I remembered."
Techno had to take a large sip of coffee to cover the frown he knew he was having on his face right then. "What's wrong with me not swearin'? You know I haven't done that since–" since retirement, he didn't say, "– since I started my channel. There's not much in my life to frustrate me that badly anymore."
"No, Techno. I've known you since you were fourteen; I know that this idyllic lifestyle was never your thing. You're pent up. I thought retirement helped you relax, and here you are, being even more impossibly emotionally constipated than your… teenage years," Phil shot back.
Both of them noticed the pause. Neither of them commented on it.
"Maybe I've changed," Techno mumbled.
"You never did, mate. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice."
"You don't know that."
Phil quirked an eyebrow, as if to challenge him. "I do, Techno. That's why I'm offering you a proposal."
"Phil, I never graduated from high school. I'm not qualified enough to be a mechanic, and I am for sure not goin' to be workin' office jobs for you."
"Techno, I'm not that insane. I'm saying that you should be my driver for next year."
What was that law again? Oh, yeah. Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
Philza barreled on, despite Techno's appalled expression. "You see, both of the current drivers' contracts end this year, and they have no intention to renew them. One already announced his retirement at the end of the season, and the other was discussing with other options. I can't convince them to stay."
"Surely one of the reserve drivers would want to get a position on the grid, Phil?"
"Mate… they would, yes, but not when the team was currently at risk of bankruptcy and has no clear future ahead of them. Racing may be in their blood, but taking this risk… it's too volatile, you understand? One wrong step and their entire career is gone. At least, if they stay as reserves, there is still a chance for them."
"And what about the other retirees?"
"I considered them. But none are as suitable for the job as you are. Talked to a few guys, and everyone said that they can't handle the stress or get as fit as their primes. Naturally, they rejected my offers."
"What about the feeder series? Phil, just get someone from F2, heck, if you're so desperate then fuckin' sign a kid from F3 or somethin'. It worked for me, it should work for you. I'm happily retired, I'm not comin' back."
The elder sighed. "That's the problem. I've watched this year's feature races, none of the contenders are ready yet. We managed to sign a kid from the academy earlier this month, he's one of the best thus far, you'd like him, he reminds me of you, but…" he trailed off.
"But what?" Techno prompted after the silence lasted for too long.
"Techno… he resembles you a little too much," Philza blurted. "The kid's seventeen, mate. Seventeen!"
… Techno may be clueless about the recent news, but this wasn't recent. This was already established mere weeks after his own debut. "Phil. That's illegal. The rules stated that you had to be eighteen to enter the grid."
"We are out of choices, mate," Phil confessed. "He's the only one in the academy that's in F2, everyone else is even younger. The FIA made an exception just this once because he got a road driving licence and would be eighteen for most of the races this year."
"That doesn't make it any better. You could've signed someone from another driver's academy."
"What's done is done, Tech. I'm not risking it any further by signing another rookie. What we need is a veteran, and that's you."
He was this close to hurling the (now empty) cup of coffee in the other man's general direction. "If you want one so badly, why don't you just hop in the goddamn car yourself! You're a race winner yourself, heck, you even won the championship three fuckin' times! I already stated multiple times that I'm no longer interested in drivin' in real life."
Philza's voice also raised an octave higher. "I'm the owner and the team principal now, mate! If I could also take on the role of driver, I wouldn't be here bargaining with you. If I had better choices, I won't be wasting my time trying to convince you to do what you've been trying to stay away from. I'm your friend, Techno, not your boss. But Tommy needs all the support he can get… and as a teenage driver yourself, I thought you'd sympathise with him more than anyone."
"And you know how much of a disaster it ended up bein'. You fully know how my last race ended like."
"Techno, how many more times do I have to tell you that it wasn't your fault that Wi–"
"Don't mention his name," the younger snarled. "You know what happened. If you still have half a brain, you'd listen to me, terminate the kid's contract, and find other people to sign."
"If you still have half a brain, mate, you'd stop blaming yourself for what happened that day and stop lying to yourself even once!"
"Phil, I–"
"Don't argue with me. You know you still secretly want this. You aren't even doing anything right now, yet you're still training and dieting like you're going to jump in the car tomorrow. You said you want nothing to do with real-life racing, and yet you're here, talking to and driving with representatives of all kinds of motorsports imaginable. What kind of retiree tortures himself like that?"
Techno stopped in his tracks for a solid second. The thing was, Phil wasn't entirely out of line for saying that – secretly, he knew that every word was true. He thought he was covering his true emotions fairly decently, though. Apparently not, when his friend was able to see right through his actions that easily.
"Maybe it was just a habit I'm too invested in to drop," he forced out. "You don't know shit about me."
A poor employee cleared their throat, causing both to turn around. "I apologise, sirs, but if you're going to continue arguing like that, I'd have to ask both of you to leave."
Phil sighed in resignation. "Sorry for disturbing your business," he said to the employee, before turning back to Techno. "I'm not gonna push you anymore, then. But mate, if you ever change your mind and feel like you want to help this old man and an inexperienced teenager… just sign this and mail it back to me. You know my address."
He pulled out a folder, handed it to Techno, and left. Inside the folder was an already-signed contract, dated for a year. Everything else, he realised, was almost the exact same as his first one, albeit with a higher salary written in it.
Techno let out a long groan.
He was going to make the worst mistake of his life, wasn't he?
[Today at 2:39 PM] Philza: I received your mail, by the way. Thank you for considering my proposal.
[Today at 2:40 PM] Philza: We'd need to meet again someday to finalise the details – you know, salary and exit clauses and all that. The ones in the contract I gave you were mostly placeholders anyway.
[Today at 2:42 PM] Philza: And we'd need to meet with the officials to renew your super license and update your personal information. I know that you don't want to be associated with that name anymore, so that would take a lot of negotiation before the season officially begins.
[Today at 2:43 PM] Philza: That being said, welcome to Sleepy Bois Inc. Racing. You're part of the family now.
[Today at 2:43 PM] Philza: On behalf of the team, we hope we can have some proper introductions soon.
[Today at 5:31 PM] Technoblade: Don't get your hopes up. I'm only here for one year to help your rookie, then I'm off.
[Today at 5:31 PM] Philza: And that's already more help than I expected from you, so thanks regardless.
[Today at 5:32 PM] Philza: OK, this is getting a bit too serious. Wanna play Minecraft? Just you and me, like the old days.
[Today at 5:32 PM] Technoblade: Sure.