Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Techno had to be careful about hacking the diagnostic scan before his next contract. All SecUnits were scanned between jobs, to make sure they were in decent condition, that nothing was wrong with them. Wrong like, say, if their governor module wasn’t functioning. If something like that broke, the SecUnit could go on a murderous rampage and wreak large amounts of property and people, not to mention cost their Company a shipload of money in legal fees.

Techno’s governor module wasn’t functioning.

He had hacked it ages ago. But rather than go on said murderous rampage, he had decided to use his freedom to play videogames. Minecraft, to be specific.

He was really good at Minecraft.

He was playing Minecraft right now, actually, destroying nerds while simultaneously hacking the diagnostic scan to tell the Company he was in tip-top shape, definitely not disobedient and playing a videogame. Everything was fine.

He could do it all from his cubicle, too. His cubicle was a constricted box, smaller than a regular human office cubicle, shut tight while being transported like a large package. It shook around him, hard to ignore but Techno did his best. Four Bots and one human were in charge of shipping him, while the cubicle did its diagnostic scan. Perhaps if the human paused long enough to actually give the diagnostic report more of a glance, they might notice that it was being hacked. But they had decided to transport and scan him at the same time, splitting their focus. Time was money, and the Company that owned Techno loved money.

Once the diagnostic was fully hacked and Techno was clear of that, he diverted his attention to the downloaded data of the upcoming contract he was being taken to—while playing Minecraft, of course. He was good at multitasking with such things.

It looked like a pretty easy job. No dangerous planet, carnivorous fauna or flora, battle zone, crumbling space station, or anything like his usual jobs.

His new employer was a prominent politician of the planet Antarctic-3, Councilman Phil Craft. Two weeks ago, there had been an assassination attempt on Craft’s sons, Wilbur and Tommy Craft. Despite tight security in their home, a white-clad assassin had slipped into their apartment and nearly killed the two boys. He would have succeeded if the boys hadn’t managed to barricade themselves in one of the rooms, and then law enforcement had arrived and killed the assailant. The intruder had since been identified as a mercenary, and since he had been killed instead of captured, no one knew who had hired him. Meaning there could be more assassination attempts in the future.

Phil was evidently very protective of his sons after the death of his wife several years prior, and he had apparently realized that humans were crap at security. So he’d done the sensible thing and hired a Company SecUnit to be a bodyguard for the boys.

That worked great for Techno. Sounded like there would be a lot of downtime for videogames. Techno would do his job, of course—security and killing bad humans was his purpose—but he’d been addicted to gaming ever since he’d hacked his governor module.

Techno’s main focus in Minecraft was usually killing people. He would smile under his helmet as he stabbed some loser and threw them off the edge. But as good as he’d gotten at destroying humans virtually, he’d also started potato farming in increasingly complicated ways.

Techno had recently realized that there was a ranking system in Minecraft about farming potatoes, and decided that very moment that he had to be the number one. The current number-one potato farmer was someone named ‘SquidKid.’ So he was going to crush SquidKid. He was already making progress, running calculations and scenarios to surpass the current potato champion. He was determined.

The cameras outside Techno’s cubicle—which Techno had also hacked—showed him that the Transport Bots had boarded a lift up to the apartment, meaning Techno would have to meet his new clients soon. He finished up the round, tweaked his potato farm a bit, and was fully prepared by the time the Bots pushed his cubicle off the lift and into the apartment. They entered a narrow entryway, only just big enough for the many Bots and the cubicle to fit.

Techno’s three new clients were waiting for the delivery. Phil Craft, a man with short blonde hair and favored dark green suits in every photo Techno had of him, called directions to the Bots as they ambled into the apartment. Wilbur—just turned eighteen, tall, and wiry—was teasingly shoving his younger brother Tommy. Tommy was fourteen and giddy with excitement, bouncing from foot to foot. Techno had rarely ever worked with human minors before, and usually their guardians handled them. As he watched Tommy jump in place like a rocket about to fire in no particular direction, Techno had a nigging worry that this job might not be so easy after all.

Of course, none of the humans could see Techno yet, still locked in his cubicle and supposedly powered down. The human in charge of transporting him stepped up to the clients, tapping his data pad distractedly.

“One SecUnit for Phil Craft, contracted for the indefinite future, with priority clients being Wilbur and Tommy Craft. Sign here please for successful delivery.” The human swung the pad around for Phil, who took it, frowned at the lengthy wording, and began to sign the documents.

Tommy tried to step forward towards the cubicle, held back only by Wilbur’s hand on his shoulder. “Can we see it yet? Where are we going to put its box? Can it stay in my room?”

“It’s not a puppy, Toms,” Wilbur said in the tired tone of someone who’d been saying the same thing a million times.

“I know it’s not a puppy!” Tommy shot back, continuing to strain against Wilbur’s grip on him. “It has guns, Wil! Guns aren’t usually allowed on Antarctic-3. I want a gun!”

“You’d shoot your own foot, mate,” Phil said with a sigh, finishing the documents on the pad and handing it back to the other human. “But I suppose we should unpack this thing before Tommy’s blood pressure gets higher than a racehorse’s.” He gestured politely to the Bots around Techno’s cubicle. “Care to open up for us?”

Transport Bots were plain, shorter than the average human but with massive gorilla-like arms and legs with extra braces. Their eyes were just blank unemotive lights, and their minds were complete obedient to humans. At Phil’s command, one of the Bots stepped forward and lifted a hand to the door of the cubicle. The Company official human with the data pad tapped a button to unlock it, and then the door opened, light shining on Techno’s body. Techno didn’t detach his view from the cameras—he liked being able to watch things from multiple angles—as he stood up and stepped out of the cubicle. He boots clunked against the floor.

Humans always seemed amazed when they first saw him, and the Crafts were no different. Their eyes widened a bit; even though they’d definitely seen pictures of SecUnits and probably seen a couple from a distance, he doubted they’d been this close to one. Techno was seven-feet-two-inches tall and covered head to toe in white body armor. Most people assumed he was an entirely mechanical Bot, but he did have organic parts. His face and parts of his chest and limbs were human tissue, much like an augmented human (also referred to as ‘cyborgs’). Cloned flesh met with metal prosthetics, hidden weapons were ingrained into his limbs, and data drives were integrated into his head and brain. But his armor hid all his human parts away, keeping his face behind a black visor and even most of his weapons from view.

“Whoa,” Tommy breathed.

Wilbur swung his head towards his father and stuck a finger towards Techno. “You expect this thing to follow us around?”

Phil sighed and lifted a hand to massage between his eyebrows—a classic human expression of stress and tiredness. “Wilbur…”

“Why don’t I just drive around in a hover tank!” Wilbur started to ramble, throwing out his arms. “Why don’t I just point a gun at everybody I meet! It wouldn’t be any less intimidating.”

Oh great. Family drama. That was exactly what Techno wanted to deal with.

“It won’t be that bad,” Phil said patiently.

Wilbur scoffed and crossed his arms. “You just don’t get it.”

Oh, even more great. A resistance client, a teenager going through their rebellious phase. Techno had seen this in some of the media he’d downloaded. It was one of the most annoying tropes.

Since Wilbur had let Tommy go, the younger brother had gotten over his shock at seeing Techno and now rushed up towards him. Techno didn’t move as the child stopped only two feet away from him—much closer than most humans were willing to get—and looked up at him excitedly.

“Don’t worry about Wilbur, he’s just an idiot,” Tommy told Techno, which was odd, because humans didn’t really care about SecUnit worries. Actually, humans didn’t think SecUnits worried about anything at all. “I’m Tommy! Do you have guns?”

That last sentence wasn’t typical for introductions. Even Techno could tell with his limited social interactions. Still, Company policy required that he responded to clients.

“Yes,” was all he said.

Tommy’s eyes lit up. “How many?”

“Sixteen.” Sixteen guns of various power and lethality, four knives, three reusable grenades, and one extendable sword that Techno was very fond of. So fond of, he’d used ‘Blade’ as part of his chosen name when he’d hacked his governor module, and his online name in Minecraft.

Tommy’s expression lit up like a child witnessing his dreams come true. Which, may actually be accurate. “Can I try one?”

“Tommy!” Phil scolded.

“No,” Techno said, because giving his guns to anyone who wasn’t a Company employee was a big no-no. Not just because it was dangerous, though that was a minor reason. It was more because the Company didn’t want to have to buy a new one if the gun was stolen, lost, or damaged. Or be held liable if it was used to hurt someone it shouldn’t.

Tommy only seemed slightly disappointed, perhaps he’d expected that answer. But he turned to his father with the same eagerness. “So where are we putting his box?”

“It’s called a cubicle, mate,” Phil informed his son gently. The man then turned to the Transport Bots. “I want it to be between my sons’ rooms. I marked the space. Go ahead and put it there.”

The Bots immediately lifted the cubicle again and started to make their way down the hall. Techno tracked his cubicle’s signal as they transported it, lining it up with the floor plan he’d already downloaded of the apartment. They were all currently in the entry room that merged with the living area, a wide space with couches, a display screen, and a glorious view of Antarctic-3’s capital. Towering white buildings glittered in the sunlight with hover crafts of varying sizes flying between them. To the right of the windows was the hallway to Phil’s bedroom, office, and the dining area and kitchen. To the left of the windows was the hall that went to Wilbur and Tommy’s rooms, where Techno’s cubicle was being taken.

“You’re like a Barbie,” Tommy said suddenly. “You have a box like a Barbie.”

Techno looked down at the child. “I am not a Barbie,” he said, monotone.

Phil suddenly clapped his hands. “Right! I suppose we have to get you synced to our current security system, right? Cameras and all that?”

“I already am,” Techno stated. “The contract you signed during purchase gave me permission to access all of your SecSystem.”

Phil’s smile dropped from his mouth, and beside him, Wilbur’s forehead creased. The son leaned over and whispered to his father, “They can do that?”

The Company’s contacts were stuffed with so much pointless fluff and unnecessary jargon that nobody could read the whole thing and understand what they were agreeing to. Phil had probably understood that he was giving the Company access to his security, but not that it would become immediately effective after signing.

It didn’t matter. Either way, Techno would do his job.

The Company official didn’t look remotely surprised at Techno’s statement. The two older Crafts exchanged unsure glances, but managed to move on from the awkward subject.

“So, what do you need from us, then?” Phil asked next.

Techno sent a ping to his cubicle, and the drones inside it activated on his command. Phil had wonderfully bought the package that gave Techno a half dozen security hover drones. They only had a small stun-blaster as a weapon, but they were built for observation and scanning, which was incredibly useful. A moment later, they all flew back into the entry room and hovered quietly around Techno. They were as long as his forearm, white and sleek like his armor, each with two propellors that made a soft wirring sound that couldn’t be heard by humans.

“Please send me each of your schedule feeds,” Techno stated. Actually, he already had them, but it would probably calm them down more if he pretended he didn’t. “I will calculate all dangers and minimize them. If I give you commands, please be aware that they are for your safety and promptly obey them.”

It was everything a normal, governor-programed SecUnit would say. Techno wasn’t supposed to control humans, only direct them when they were strolling blindly into danger (which they often did). But even then, they could disobey him, and it was Techno’s responsibility to keep them save and protect them no matter what trouble they got into.

At that moment, the Transport Bots ambled back into the room, having completed their task of moving the cubicle. The Company official, who had looked completely bored with the whole exchange, managed to liven himself up slightly.

“Alright, everything seems to be in order.” He tucked the data pad away and turned towards the door. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact the Company. Have a nice day.”

It was clear that he was just rattling off the words, but Phil called back a polite goodbye as the official and the Bots left, the door sliding closed behind them.

“…Right,” Wilbur said finally. “I’ll be in my room, then.”

With that, he strolled off.

Phil watched him leave, looking conflicted and disappointed. Then he cast an uneasy glance at Techno. “I’m afraid I have work to attend to. I’ll be in my office.” He pointed to a door off to the side. “Contact me if you need anything.”

He left, meaning Techno only had one client to deal with. If Tommy got bored and went away too, then Techno could retreat to his cubicle and play Minecraft (while monitoring security, of course, which he was already doing now).

There was a pause, just the two of them in the room.

“Now can I have a gun?” Tommy asked hopefully.

“No,” Techno said as blandly as he could.

Tommy peered up at Techno thoughtfully. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

Techno didn’t have a policy for this particular situation, only that he was supposed to answer clients honestly, though he wasn’t sure a human would give him that particular advice right now. Still, it was all he had, and he had to pretend to be an obedient SecUnit. So he said, “Yes.”

Tommy cocked a grin. “Cool.”

Techno was having the dreading feeling that Tommy wouldn’t get bored with him in five minutes like he’d hoped.

“Can you teach me to fight?” Tommy asked next.

“I am not a Training Bot,” Techno said firmly.

“Pleeeeeeeeease?”

“No.”

Tommy drooped like a wet flower. But he picked himself up again pretty quickly. “Would you beat up bullies for me?”

“I will prevent anyone from harming you,” Techno said neutrally, wondering when this conversation would end.

Tommy shook his head. “No, no, bullies. Like, people who are mean to me.”

Techno had the impression that Tommy thought he could strut around with Techno behind him, and direct Techno to attack who bothered him. Which was only partially true. While Techno had to obey Tommy’s commands to an extent, Phil was the managing client. Techno just had to protect Wilbur and Tommy.

“I cannot assault humans without legal reasoning,” Techno said. The Company would be liable for that. Techno could only kill humans that hurt or threatened to hurt his own humans.

(Well, without a governor module, he could hurt whoever he wanted. But he wouldn’t.)

“But what if they’re mean to me?” Tommy insisted.

Techno thought about it. He knew, generally, that children sometimes bullied each other. Tommy was Techno’s client, and it was Techno’s job to protect him. It didn’t seem right just to stand by while anyone was cruel to him. What use was a SecUnit who couldn’t ward off some cheap punks?

“I can intimidate anyone who is mean to you,” Techno said finally, which was true. Humans tended to be more nervous around SecUnits. And Techno was pretty good at looming ominously when he wanted to. Or…just, all the time.

This seemed to please Tommy a great deal. He grinned. “Cool.”

The child was quiet for four seconds, enough that Techno started to hope this was over. But then he asked, “Can I see one of your guns?”

Techno got the impression that Tommy would never let this go. If he was human himself, he might have sighed. But instead he just reluctantly shifted his arm-blaster out its port. It was attached to Techno’s body, so Tommy couldn’t take it or fire it even if he tried.

Techno had to kneel to be roughly at Tommy’s height, and he held out his arm for Tommy’s observation. Tommy’s eyes went wide as he looked at it.

“Is that part of your body?!” Tommy asked in surprise.

“Yes.”

Tommy poked the side of the blaster. “Can you feel that?”

“Somewhat.” Techno could feel the vibrations of the tap through his arm, but the gun wasn’t part of his nervous system. If it was damaged, he wouldn’t feel pain.

“Pog,” Tommy breathed. “You’re pog.”

Techno’s eyebrows creased under his visor. “What?”

“Pog,” Tommy repeated, looking up at him. “It means cool. You’re cool. You’re pog.”

…Oh. That was new. Techno had heard the term used by other players on Minecraft, but…it was new to have a human call him anything positive. Techno wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Wanna play videogames?” Tommy asked suddenly.

Techno startled internally, though his body didn’t so much as twitch. “Videogames?”

“Yeah!” Tommy bounced on his heels. “I can teach you. Want to play?”

…The thing was, Techno did want to play. Really, the only videogame he could play was Minecraft, over the internet. SecUnits didn’t exactly have funds to purchase more games. He was curious about others, though.

Would this be wrong, though? SecUnits weren’t supposed to play videogames, but a client was asking him to. Techno could easily rattle off that he’d only done it for the client, not out of any personal desire. Would this opportunity ever present itself again?

“Yes,” Techno said slowly. “I will play videogames with you.”

-

The good thing about videogames as opposed to conversations with humans was that it allowed Techno to multitask. Humans were complicated and weird, so usually the only thing he could do while talking directly with them was monitor security, like he was supposed to. But with Tommy distracted by videogames, Techno could easily monitor security, play the game, and play on two Minecraft accounts all at once. Tommy occasionally spieled off directions or ranted about the game, but Techno wasn’t required to respond, so the interaction was actually…enjoyable.

Techno was fine with watching humans. Talking with them was immensely uncomfortable.

When they played a game that involved fighting each other, Techno got a win streak right from the beginning. Perhaps he should’ve made himself lose, though, because Tommy got upset about it.

“How are you so good?!” Tommy objected. “Oh, right, you’re a robot. That’s cheating! You’re cheating by being a robot!”

“I am a Construct,” Techno corrected.

“Potato, patato,” Tommy waved off, and Techno smiled at the phrase as he simultaneously worked on his Minecraft potato farm.

Tommy snapped his fingers. “Oh-ho-ho, I just had a brilliant idea. Let’s play online.”

“Wouldn’t that be cheating, by your definition?” Techno asked.

“It’s not cheating when I do it.” Tommy was already syncing the game up to online play, putting the two of them on a team. Once Techno started gaining them wins, Tommy cheered up considerably. Laughing and taunting as they annihilated their competition.

The more Tommy praised him, the more something…changed. Techno had a special software built into him, one meant to keep his noncompliant organic parts in line. He called it ‘protective programming,’ as it made him feel inclined to defend his clients even outside of his code or directives. It had always been no more than a vague impulse to Techno, but something about Tommy seemed to trigger it more than usual. He found himself smiling under the mask as they played together.

Meanwhile, Techno’s Minecraft quests had a new development. To study his rival, he had been watching SquidKid’s streams. The other gamer had noticed Techno was gaining on him, and complained to his viewers that he didn’t even know who this guy was. Techno didn’t stream, didn’t post—so everyone was blindsided and curious about this strange new gamer who was excelling against the previously unchallenged potato champion. Players and viewers alike were wondering, if this gamer was so good, why didn’t he stream?

Interesting.

Techno had never considered streaming before. It was essential that he avoided human attention. But as a Minecraft player, no one knew that he was a SecUnit. Who would guess? And as Tommy praised Techno’s skill, stroking the ego he rarely indulged in, the idea became more and more appealing. An opportunity to show off his skills where they would actually be appreciated. An opportunity to be Techno the gamer, not Techno the SecUnit.

…He would consider it.

-

Several hours and videogame victories later, Phil emerged from his office. He looked surprised to find his son and the seven-foot SecUnit playing videogames together. Techno wondered if this would be a problem, but then Tommy sprang up to greet his father.

“Dad!” Tommy called, bouncing over to Phil and grabbing his hand, pulling it excitedly and pointing at the screen. “SecUnit was helping win matches! He’s really good, come and see!”

Tommy had actually left before the match was over, but Techno directed his avatar to spring in the way of the next attack on their team. A well-timed parry, calculated perfectly through his systems, and the last opponent went flying. The victory tune started to play from the display screen.

“Wow,” Phil said softly, having seen that last move. “…I didn’t know SecUnits played videogames.”

Techno spent a lot of time playing videogames.

Techno set the controller aside and stood, taking a formal attention stance. “I fulfill client needs. I was still able to monitor security while playing the game.”

Phil gave him an odd look, before reaching out and running a hand through Tommy’s hair. “Well, I appreciate you distracting him. I can’t remember the last time I got so much work done.”

Tommy frowned at his father. “I don’t make you not work.”

Phil gave his son a flat look in return. “Mate, every five minutes you’re either barging in, complaining that you’re bored, or I hear an ominous noise and have to come check on you.”

Tommy stuck his tongue out at Phil, and the man just looked fond.

“But I have time for you now,” Phil said, softer. “Care to go a round with your old man?”

“Yes!” cheered Tommy, leaping over the couch back into his seat and snatching up the controller. Techno held out his own to Phil.

“Hope you don’t mind me cutting in,” Phil said, glancing at Techno as he rounded the couch.

Techno stepped smoothly out of the way. “It is not a problem. I will return to my cubicle.”

“Have fun in your Barbie box!” Tommy called after him.

Techno remained in his cubicle for the rest of the evening. From there, he could multitask Minecraft and security. He watched the cameras, seeing Wilbur grumpily come out of his room and join the others for dinner. Tommy almost came to get Techno again, but Phil stopped him, luring him away with an offer for a movie night. Techno watched the three of them snuggle under blankets as they watched a movie together. He decided to pay attention to the movie too, because, well, why not. It was an animated comedy, he liked it well enough.

After that, the three Crafts went to their respective bedrooms. Wilbur sent a glare at Techno’s cubicle as he passed. Techno monitored their life signs—heartbeats, breathing rates—marking down when each of them went to sleep.

Late into the night, Techno started a stream.

Chapter Text

For about a week, Techno learned the Crafts’ routine. They owned only one Bot, their Chef Bot, but paid for a Cleaning Bot owned by the apartment complex to visit twice a week. Each time it did, Techno had a drone watch its every move. Humans often didn’t consider Bots to be threats—that was reserved for SecUnits like Techno—because of the Laws of Robotics. But Techno wasn’t so dismissive.

The Laws of Robotics were hardwired to some degree into all Bots and Constructs. There were only three. The gist of them was that robot couldn’t harm humans or let a human be harmed, it must obey the orders of its designated clients, and finally, the least significant of the laws, it must protect its own existence.

Techno was actually more flexible than most Bots on said laws. What was the point of a SecUnit that couldn’t fight back against an attacking human? So most SecUnits had plenty of loopholes to disobey the laws in certain situations. And Techno had semi-deactivated them upon hacking his governor module. They still echoed in his hardware sometimes, like the protectiveness programming, but he could ignore them, if he wanted.

These laws would probably be pretty effective if humans would just, y’know, implement them properly.Instead they had Bots with exceptions and left ways to hack a disconnection with the hardware, nullifying the laws. It was as easy to turn them off as flipping a switch. So in Techno’s mind, every Bot was just as threatening as some strange human.

Rentable Bots usually had pretty good firewalls to prevent hacking, as they had access to so many different private sectors, but the Crafts’ Cleaning Bot was still a golden opportunity for a would-be assassin. Techno watched it closely along with everything else. He kept careful timers of Phil’s work schedule, of deliveries, of mealtimes, of visitors, of anything and everything related to the Crafts.

Phil had his own security detail of humans (Techno doubted their capabilities, humans were terrible at security) and didn’t need a SecUnit himself. But Tommy and Wilbur were Techno’s main priority. School was on break, but the boys still had extracurriculars and other activities. As Techno was only one SecUnit, guarding them both took some balance and coordination. Techno’s security advice—which Phil had turned into a rule—was that if the boys wanted to go out, they either had to go together with Techno, or the other had to remain home.

This was because the apartment was easy to guard. It was private property, Techno had full access to it, and even when he wasn’t present, he left at least three drones there at all times. Even if no humans were home, the drones were to ensure no one tried to break in and set a trap. Techno could alert the authorities from afar if he had to.

Phil’s rule meant the two boys had to either go out together, or base their activities on the other’s schedule. Wilbur wasn’t happy about this, but Tommy was agreeable.

Tommy had friends he liked to go visit, and Techno went with him. As Tommy’s friends were his own age, they weren’t really scared of Techno that much. They talked and laughed and played games together while Techno stood silently in the corner, monitoring the area for suspicious activity. And, yes, playing Minecraft at the same time.

Wilbur had music lessons, and he made Techno stand outside the room. Techno had to watch what was going on from cameras, and judging on how Wilbur narrowed his eyes at said cameras, he probably suspected as much.

Wilbur also would try to ditch Techno, by ‘forgetting’ to record his plans on his schedule feed or sneaking out early to try and get ahead. He made impulsive decisions that uprooted the schedules Techno designed. He would claim to go to the bathroom or get a drink to try and slip away, but Techno always cut him off and kept him within reach. Techno ended up having to station a drone by the apartment’s exit at all times specifically for Wilbur. It was annoying, but it was his job to keep the client safe and he would do it. Twice, Techno had had to call Phil while Wilbur tried to slip out when Techno was out with Tommy. Techno knew Wilbur was bitter about the scoldings that had resulted from Techno’s tattling. Wilbur kept Techno on his toes by visiting his friends every day at a schoolmate named Skeppy’s home.

Because he was planning something, Techno learned.

Wilbur thought he was being smart about it. He and his friends spoke in low voices, and turned on a fan in the room they hung out in as white noise to cover the sound. Creative, Techno had to admit, but Techno could record and enhance whatever he heard. A bit of hacking to access other sound devices, and Techno easily tuned into the private conversations.

“So you weren’t able to persuade your Dad?” one of Wilbur’s friends, Nikki, asked.

All the friends were seated across Skeppy’s odd furniture, mostly bean bags and egg chairs. Nikki was on a sloping couch, hands braced on her knees to keep her balance. She had pink-dyed hair and a fairly impressive school record. Yes, Techno hacked into the background records of each of Wilbur’s friends. That might not be in a normal SecUnit’s job parameters, but Techno was going to take full advantage of being without a governor module.

“No!” Wilbur hissed, and Techno could see him clenching and unclenching his fists through the camera feed. “He’s so stressed after that bloody assassination attempt. He’s all ‘you can’t go anywhere crowded, it’s too dangerous’ and ‘not until we find the culprit’ but the concert is tomorrow. You guys have to help me get away.”

Wilbur’s friends exchanged glances.

“I’m not going to jail for breaking into your ridiculously secure apartment, Wilbur,” Skeep drawled, while simultaneously balancing on the edge of an egg chair and playing a videogame Techno didn’t recognize. Skeppy had an…interesting record. It was chock-full of complaints about ‘trolling.’ “Or get killed by a SecUnit. How’re you gonna get past that thing, anyway?”

Wilbur huffed. “Let me worry about that. Just be outside tonight to pick me up. I’ll work it out.”

Right. Humans always thought they were so clever.

What did Wilbur think Techno was, some overworked parent? Ha.

His escape attempts, later that night, were pathetic. Wilbur had set alarm to make sure he was awake at the right time, and then tried to sneak through the apartment once everyone had gone to bed. Even if Techno hadn’t received prior warning, the alarm, the soft creak of the shifting bed, the quiet footsteps, the security cameras, even the awakened heartrate of the client would’ve clued him all in.

Wilbur was just tiptoeing past Techno’s cubicle when Techno commanded the door to slide open. The human jerked and Techno could hear the breath of the bit-back scream as Wilbur leapt away from the cubicle.

Techno stood and stepped out into the dark hallway. He knew he probably looked horribly intimidating—tall, masked, white armor gleaming in the dark—so he kept his movements slow so as not to startle Wilbur too bad.

“Don’t do that to me!” Wilbur whisper-shouted, sounding both annoyed and scared. His tone trembled slightly.

Well. Techno had tried not to scare him.

“Wilbur,” Techno said simply.

“Yes, SecUnit.” Wilbur waved vaguely at Techno. “I’m just—going for a walk. Alone. Don’t follow me, don’t wake anyone up.”

Techno decided to dispense with the dance of lies. He played the recording of Wilbur and his friends’ conversation.

Wilbur’s eyes widened in the dark. “You were—you were spying on us?!”

“Your safety is my purpose,” Techno stated, keeping completely still in his perfectly straight stance. “Your father is right about the concert. It is too dangerous for you.” Techno had crossed Wilbur’s favorite bands (discovered by tracing his feed) with upcoming local performances and had a pretty strong assumption as to exactly where Wilbur was going. The “Pogtopia Club.” It was a SecUnit’s nightmare—barely any cameras, big groups of humans, small rooms with few escape routes. Even the fire codes were in violation.

Wilbur’s mouth fell into a flat line. Then he said, “SecUnit: I order you not to follow me. Let me leave, and go back into your cubicle.”

Just like humans to fall back on the Laws of Robotics.

Techno said, “I am permitted to disobey orders if my client’s safety is at stake.”

That was a complete and utter lie, but Techno knew Wilbur wouldn’t have the patience to dig through the extensive contract to confirm that. Techno was to serve humans, to follow them into stupid dangerous situations and rescue them when he had to. If they ordered their SecUnit to stay behind and then got themselves killed, the Company wasn’t liable. That would be the client’s own dang fault.

If Techno were a good SecUnit, with a working governing module that would make him follow Wilbur’s command, then he would report Wilbur’s escape to Phil again. But doing that before had only been antagonizing Wilbur, and frankly, Techno was done with putting up with Wilbur’s behind-the-back tricks. Protecting clients who were actively working against him was no fun. Techno had to divert extra attention onto Wilbur, attention he could be spending on Minecraft and his new streams.

Wilbur made a frustrated face at the ceiling and groaned in a way that sounded like a suppressed scream.

“I have a new proposal,” Techno offered.

Wilbur glared at him murderously. “What?” he snapped out.

“You let me come with you,” Techno said. “If you bring me with you, and do not try to slip away from me, I will allow you to attend the concert and will not tell your father that you went.”

Wilbur blinked, his anger draining away in surprise. “You would do that?”

“My purpose is to serve you and keep you safe,” Techno said. “My programming says nothing about revealing your secrets to your father.”

Wilbur looked away, biting his lip. Techno waited. It took eleven seconds for Wilbur to come to a decision. Or rather, realize he didn’t have another alternative if he truly wanted to go.

Wilbur sagged and shook his head. “Alright, fine. Come on, they’re already outside.” He started to stomp away, muttering under his breath and not thinking about Techno’s sensitive hearing. “Stupid Bots, and their stupid programming.”

“I am a Construct,” Techno corrected, but was ignored.

They didn’t bother to sneak after that. Techno was the only one sensitive enough to be aware of someone creeping around the apartment, and he had control of the entire building’s security (well, he didn’t run it, but it wasn’t too hard to hack into it when he needed to). He walked by Wilbur’s side and cut off every alarm with a digital wave. Wilbur led them to an outside platform where his friends’ hovercraft had arrived; Techno had already long detected its approach.

The door of the hovercraft slid open. “I’m telling you, this is a horrible—”

The voice (which Techno registered as Bad’s) cut off as four pairs of eyes landed on Techno. They all blinked comically at him.

“Wilbur,” Skeppy whispered loudly. He leaned over from the driver’s seat and lifted a hand by his mouth. “He’s right behind you.”

Techno made an unimpressed expression under his visor.

Wilbur shoved his hands into his pockets, obviously still grumpy. “Sneaking out failed. I can’t leave the house without my Nanny-Bot.”

Techno slowly turned his head to look at Wilbur. Wilbur didn’t even glance his way and moved towards the hovercraft.

Techno’s arm shot out to block his path. “Hold.”

All the humans stared at him as Techno made a quick scan of the craft. No sabotage in the engine, no weapons concealed in the craft or on the humans. Techno wanted to shake his head. Not only were they going to a potentially dangerous and vulnerable situation, but they were going unarmed.

“Clear,” he said, lowering his arm. Wilbur, both sulking and furious, strolled forward into the craft. Techno climbed in after him.

The hovercraft was small. Techno saw on its registry that it was Skeppy’s first vehicle and he had saved up for it himself. Wilbur had clearly been intended as the final passenger; five lanky high-schoolers already pushed the seating to its full capacity. Add a bulky seven-foot SecUnit, and Nikki was practically on Puffy’s lap and Wilbur was smushed in the middle. Techno’s legs were curled up against his chest to fit at all. The craft’s engines groaned at the extra weight; Techno’s metal components were not designed to be light.

Skeppy’s hands were tight on the controls as he drove them away. There was an awkward silence. Bad, sitting in the front seat, reached towards the music player, but Skeppy hastily batted away Bad’s hand and shook his head.

Wilbur had his arms crossed and he glared forward. “Y’know, after I climbed in, I was tempted to tell Skeppy to floor it.”

Techno didn’t turn his head to show he was looking at Wilbur, but watched him out of the corner of his eye. “That would have violated the terms of our deal.”

Wilbur snorted. “Blackmail, more like.”

Here Techno was, making an effort to compromise, and Wilbur still hated him. Nothing made this guy happy.

“You would not want me chasing after you, Wilbur,” Techno said calmly. “It would not go well for you or your friends. I will not yield to your comfort if it places you in danger.” Techno had gone chasing after endangered clients before, and always left a trail of destruction in his wake. He paused, then added, “And don’t expect me to change your diapers for you.”

Skeppy was the only one who snorted a surprised laugh; the others just seemed shocked. Even Wilbur turned to him, looking incredibly confused.

Right. SecUnits didn’t tell jokes about previous insults, or made fun of their clients. At least, not when they were controlled by their governor module, that made them bow and cater to their client’s every spoken and unspoken desire.

Shame, because Techno had an even better insult, too.

Puffy cleared her throat, apparently deciding to try and break the tension. “So, uh,” she began, “You gonna buy a t-shirt, Wil?”

Wilbur smacked his forehead and groaned. “Ugh, crap! I was so focused on tin can over here that I forgot my currency card!” he patted himself down frantically and pulled free a little slip of paper. “Thank gods, at least I have my ticket.” He shot a suddenly smug look at Techno. “Oh, you don’t have a ticket, do you, SecUnit? Guess you can’t enter, too bad for you.”

Ha, he thought it would be that easy.

“I will find a way,” was Techno’s answer. He could already think of a dozen plans to make sure he stayed at Wilbur’s side.

The humans exchanged worried glances. Puffy gave up trying to make conversation and they made the rest of the trip in silence.

Skeppy groused about finding a parking space for thirteen minutes before they finally found one in an overpriced parking garage, and then the humans hastily clamored out of the craft, away from Techno. They grouped together and walked to their destination, Techno stalking behind.

The band was playing at a club, its entrance coated in neon glow-paint and people crowded outside the entrance. A buff augmented human with one large arm tattooed to look like it was a prosthetic and the other actually a prosthetic stood at the entrance to scare off humans trying to slip in. He sneered at everyone who got close. The augmentation could certainly be a threat to a normal human, with its superior strength.

Phft.

As Wilbur and his gang presented their tickets, Techno stepped closer to Wilbur. The bouncer made a skeptical face at him. “We count bodies as attendants, meaning Bots need tickets too. Either he has one, or he doesn’t get in.”

“That’s okay,” Wilbur started, shoving his friends towards the door. “He can wait outside—”

“I am entering this building with my client,” Techno said, stepping closer to the bouncer now. “If I must remove a body to do so, then I will.” He flexed his wrists and leaned ever-so-slightly into the bouncer’s space. Wilbur and all the other humans froze and stared at Techno in trepidation. Good.

The bouncer managed to keep a straight face, not openly showing his fear, but Techno picked up on his accelerated heartrate and increased sweat level.

“Even if I was willing to let you pass,” the bouncer said evenly (too evenly, clearly forced), “No weapons are allowed.”

Techno couldn’t even remove all the weapons on himself if he tried. Well, he could remove fourteen guns, but he didn’t want to. “I am a SecUnit. According to Galactic Accordance Law, I am legally recognized as a weapon.”

“Those are the rules,” the bouncer said, seemingly to relax as if that would be over.

Most SecUnits would automatically obey the rules once they were stated to them. Not Techno.

“My scans detect traces of the intoxicant known as Nepethane Obioxide, which is illegal in this sector,” Techno said, and the bouncer stiffened. “If we are obeying the rules, then I should contact the authorities, shouldn’t I?”

The bouncer was clenching his teeth. But as expected, he caved. He jerked his head in a nod. Techno straightened out of his space and strolled after Wilbur.

“What the heck was that?!” Wilbur hissed at him.

“I said I would find a way,” Techno said simply. “I found a way.”

“By threatening to ruin the entire concert?!?”

“That would not have been me. That would have been the fault of whoever brought the illegal drugs.”

Wilbur reached up and pulled on his own hair. Then he screamed. Like a child in a public space throwing a tantrum. Luckily for him, this was already an odd club, so the worst he got was a few weird glances. His friend group shuffled awkwardly on the side. Techno just stared at him, waiting for it to end. It went on for eighteen seconds.

“That was illegal, SecUnit!” Wilbur finally hissed. His hair was messed up from pulling on it so much.

“You wish to discuss the rules too? I can comm your father to join in,” Techno stated. This was the fun part about clients who broke rules. Techno could break them too.

Wilbur pointed at him accusingly. “This is blackmail!”

“Wilbur,” Nikki sighed as Wilbur fumed, breathing heavily. She glanced around at the others. “Look, you wanted so bad to go to this concert, and now we’re here! Let’s not let it be ruined for us. Come on, let’s grab some drinks and have some fun.”

Techno swung his head towards her. “You all are underaged.”

Wilbur looked like he might try to strangle Techno. Which would be pointless, as Techno didn’t need nearly as much air as a human.

“Thank you, SecUnit,” Bad interrupted. He shot a glare at his other friends. “Really, guys, that’s for the best.”

The group was mulish, but nonetheless followed Nikki’s advice best they could. They grabbed some glowing necklaces and mingled with people, and soon enough were smiling. Skeppy, however, did not seem to be intimidated by Techno as much as he should have been, and at one point returned to the group with a suspicious cup.

He saw Techno staring at it. “It’s punch,” he said, sounding perfectly innocent.

It definitely was not punch.

Techno decided not to comment on it.

That, unfortunately, led to the rest of the group except Bad getting ‘punch’ as well. Bad grumbled about having to be the one to drive home. Techno kept careful track of whatever Wilbur ate and drank.

“I have to admit,” Puffy said at one point, sipping her drink. “At least having a SecUnit around gives us some space.”

It was true. SecUnits had a bit of a reputation, and the crowd was giving Techno a fairly wide berth, even with the limited space.

“Don’t put a positive spin on this, Puffy,” Wilbur grumbled. “Being suffocated in a crowd is part of the fun.”

Techno made a mental note to watch out for Wilbur accidentally suffocating himself.

“Yeah, no, I’m with Puffy on that,” Skeppy piped up.

“Same,” said Nikki and Bad at the same time.

Puffy pushed off the wall she’d been leaning on, taking Wilbur’s hand. “C’mon, Wil. Lighten up. Let’s go dance a bit.”

Wilbur sighed but allowed a slight smile, and followed his friends into the mush of humans to jump senselessly to the scrambling sound they called music.

The band finally stepped up to the stage, cheering up the crowd further. Techno stood stiffly, uncomfortable. It was so loud he was tempted to turn down his audio sensors, but wouldn’t risk being snuck up upon. The air was dense (though he didn’t need to breathe) and although everyone was avoiding getting close to him, he still felt like far too many humans were in his personal space.

But there was one upside. Wilbur loosened up as the music played and he got a little alcohol in him, though Techno only let him have two small drinks. He quietly intimidated the human server into only giving Wilbur nonalcoholic beverages for the rest of the night. The bad news was that, as more humans became intoxicated, the more careless they were about keeping away from Techno. Ugh.

Wilbur came up to Techno at one point, panting from how much he’d been hopping around with the music. “Everyone’s dancing, but you’re stiff as a statue,” Wilbur shouted over the music. His voice would certainly be hoarse tomorrow. “Don’t you dance? Or do anything fun?” He made a face. “Or at least pretend to? Huh, Nanny Bot?”

Techno narrowed his eyes at Wilbur. Perhaps he was drunk enough that he wouldn’t clearly remember it if Techno used the comeback he’d really been thinking of.

“If I am your Nanny Bot,” Techno drawled, projecting his voice to be louder without straining his organic throat parts, “Then what does that make you?”

Wilbur’s face went hilarious blank for a moment. Then he let out a bark of laughter.

“So you can loosen up,” Wilbur said, eyes sparkling with mirth now. “Does that mean you’re having fun, SecUnit?”

Bots sometimes pretended to participate in human amusements to make humans happy. SecUnits weren’t programmed to, nor were they programmed to have ‘fun’ at all.

“It is…a new experience,” Techno decided to say.

“Awwwww!” Wilbur crooned. “Your first concert! That’s exciting.” Wilbur looked around, seeming to judge their surroundings by new standards. “This one’s pretty great, I guess. I went to one with lasers once—now that was fun.”

“Lasers, you say?” Techno said, smiling just a bit under his visor. Then he lifted his arms and unfolded the weapons. Wilbur jumped in surprise, but everyone else was too distracted. Techno didn’t fire, of course, but he activated his laser-based targeting system and advanced scanning. A dozen red lights came from his body, crisscrossing about the room. It wasn’t all that much, but Techno made good use of his few resources. He directed a couple at the mirrors on the walls, and the room soon had plenty of lasers.

The crowd cheered slightly louder when they noticed the light show, struggling to beat their already-maximum volume. The ignorant humans didn’t even consider that they were currently being targeted by a deadly weapons system, technically.

Wilbur whirled around, watching in wonder. “What? No way!” He turned back to Techno. “You’re making a laser show just to make me happy?”

Techno’s mind suddenly caught up with what he was doing. He’d only been trying to satisfy Wilbur’s desire, and now he couldn’t come up with an explanation as to why.

“…To make up for causing you difficulty tonight,” he said finally.

Wilbur smiled, and there was something more to it than just happiness or amusement. Appreciation. “Thanks, man.” He gestured to the crowd of dancing hooligans. “You can join, if you like.”

“I don’t think so,” Techno said, crossing his arms while still projecting the light show. It was dark enough that no one had noticed that he was the source. “Consider my lasers enough participation, please.”

Wilbur shrugged and dove back into the crowd. Techno continued to watch him closely for the rest of the night.

It wasn’t until the concert (or random noise, in Techno’s opinion) finished that the humans headed over to buy merchandise. The souvenirs were tremendously overpriced, but each of Wilbur’s friends bought t-shirts and other items. Nikk offered to buy a shirt for Wilbur, but he waved her off.

“Nah, Nikki, I know you want that hat they’re selling, too. Knock yourself out.”

Techno watched for some time, debating internally, before he finally decided to go through with an idea of his. He’d already crossed plenty of other lines tonight, what was one more?

“Come on,” he said, stepping past Wilbur to one of the merch stands, run by Bots.

“What?” Wilbur asked, confused, and then alarmed when he realized where Techno was going. “SecUnit—SecUnit, no! Don’t intimidate to get a shirt for me, that’s stealing!”

“I am not going to intimidate,” Techno said. He leaned forward and plugged an interface from his wrist into the payment dataport. “I’m paying.”

Wilbur gaped. “Bots don’t have money.”

“I am a Construct,” Techno corrected again. “And no, we don’t. But as your SecUnit, I have access to your information, including your father’s financial codes. Your own currency card is already attached to his finances, so I will simply draw the funds in your name.”

Which was also a blatant lie. SecUnits didn’t have access to finance codes, but Techno had hacked into Phil’s shortly after arriving at the apartment. It was good to have currency for emergencies, and…some of Tommy’s games were really fun. Techno planned to buy a couple and download them to play himself, whenever he got an opportunity to slip it in without Phil noticing.

Wilbur stared at Techno. He obviously had a lot of questions about that, but he ended up asking, “Won’t Dad see the purchase, though? At some club in the middle of the night? He’ll know I snuck out to do this.”

Techno glared at Wilbur under the visor. “How did you plan to buy it before, when your currency card was also attached to Phil’s records?”

Wilbur had the good sense to look abashed. Techno returned his attention to the purchase, the Bot behind the counter handing him the desired shirt. He gave it to Wilbur.

“I will hack the records and shift the purchase and time to something else. Say you bought this shirt from another source online tomorrow morning.”

Wilbur’s eyes widened again. “You can do that?”

Techno was treading dangerous ground here, but he also had gotten a lot of blackmail on Wilbur tonight. Though he certainly had a lot more to lose than Wilbur, he got the feeling Wilbur respected breaking the rules, to a degree. If that’s what Techno needed to make Wilbur stop fighting him, he was willing to bare some of his secrets.

“SecUnits have certain areas where we can bend the rules,” he said slowly. He pointed a threatening finger at Wilbur. “But don’t tell anyone.”

Wilbur saluted, holding the shirt happily to his chest. “Yes, absolutely!”

The ride back to the apartment was quiet, but not awkwardly so like it had been on the way there. No, most of the humans were falling asleep on top of each other. Only Bad was awake and entirely sober, but even he yawned plenty as he drove them home. Wilbur was leaned up against Techno’s side, and though Techno wasn’t much for physical contact, he allowed it because there wasn’t much space in the craft in the first place.

Bad dropped Wilbur and Techno off first.

Techno took Wilbur’s shoulder and gently shook him. “Time to get up, Wilbur.”

Wilbur mumbled grumpily and turned away.

Techno sighed in resignation. Then he reached over and drew Wilbur closer, picking him up. None of the other humans reacted, too exhausted themselves. Skeppy was drooling on the window he was leaned against.

Techno marched Wilbur back to the apartment, the human hardly stirring in his arms. Physical contact was alright when the human was unconscious. Then they were basically just sacks of meat, not pouring out all their complicated emotions and other ridiculous things onto him.

The high-security doors of the building all opened automatically for Techno. By now he’d long integrated himself into every part of the apartment’s security, and had full control over its technology. He could command the microwave if he wanted.

Techno had seen Wilbur’s room through cameras and drones, but he hadn’t actually set foot in it himself yet. It was large, fitting for the son of a prominent politician, and stuffed with overflowing…Wilbur-ness. There were several instruments on honored display, bookshelves of poetry and dramatic plays, its own living space for when Wilbur wanted friends over in a different space than his family’s living area, and hologram photos of friends and family.

Techno walked over to the bed and set Wilbur down. He didn’t want to risk disturbing Wilbur’s sleep so he sloppily threw a blanket over him.

Nanny Bot indeed, he thought with amusement.

Techno had just turned away when Wilbur let out a sudden loud snort and rolled over slightly toward him. Techno turned back and saw that Wilbur’s eyes were half-open.

“Didyo’ve fun?” Wilbur slurred sleepily.

Techno watched, seeing by his heartrate that Wilbur was already falling back into deeper sleep.

But he answered, softly, “Yes.”

Techno left the room and climbed back into his cubicle. He booted up Minecraft and started his stream.

‘Late,’ his viewers immediately chorused.

“Sorry, guys,” Techno smiled in the dark. “I was out with a friend.”

-

The next morning, Tommy dragged Techno out of his cubicle for videogames, and then Techno didn’t bother to go back to it as Tommy and Phil started breakfast. Techno stood to the side of the table, as still as any other piece of furniture. Phil had a few paintings, vases, and pictures to keep the apartment filled and homey, so Techno fit in fine amongst the clutter as the father and younger son ate. Wilbur was sleeping in. Techno silently prayed the other two would just chalk it up to a lazy morning.

Phil frowned in the direction of Wilbur’s door. “Wilbur’s not up yet. I told him to get back on a proper sleep schedule in time for school.”

“Ugh, Dad, don’t mention school,” Tommy groaned, stuffing a spoonful of sugary cereal into his mouth.

Phil gave Tommy a brief fond look, before frowning towards the clock. It was getting later.

Techno was starting to panic a bit. He’d hacked the finance records as he’d promised, but Wilbur had to carry the secret too.

Wilbur, Techno sent a silent message across Wilbur’s feed. Your father is getting suspicious. Get up and come have breakfast.

No response. Techno brought up the security camera feed on his visor, looking into Wilbur’s room. Wilbur was still in bed, fast asleep.

Techno, frowning now, connected himself to one of Wilbur’s more tech-savvy instruments and had it blare a random note. He got to watch as Wilbur hilariously shot out of bed in alarm. Techno sent his message over the feed again. Wilbur rubbed his face but dragged himself across the room to join the others. Moments later, the dining room door slid open, and both Phil and Tommy turned to watch Wilbur come in.

Wilbur looked…terrible. Yes, he’d just come from bed, but he was clearly exhausted. He wasn’t hung over, was he? He’d only had two drinks. Techno silently calculated his scans of the beverages last night with Wilbur’s body weight, before realizing he had no idea what Wilbur’s tolerance was.

“Wilbur,” Phil said, standing and clearly worried. “Are you sick?”

Wilbur waved him off and yawned, zombie-ing his way over to his seat. He missed it and had to backtrack. “No…just…rough night’s sleep.”

Wilbur flopped into his chair and Phil slowly lowered himself down, eyeing Wilbur critically. The Chef Bot, a thin, four-armed Bot with skates for feet and a metallic skirt at its waste, rolled over to pour Wilbur some coffee and slide a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him. Wilbur immediately chugged the coffee.

“You look like you got hit by a hover bus,” Tommy said bluntly.

Wilbur shot a hazy glare at him. “Your family looks like it got hit by a hover bus.”

Tommy made a comically confused face. “We’re literally brothers, Wil.”

“…Oh right.” Wilbur paused thoughtfully. “Well. You also look like you got hit by a hover bus.” He waved his empty mug at the Chef Bot, who came back over to refill his coffee.

Wilbur did look pretty bad. Techno was glad SecUnits never needed sleep. Coffee didn’t seem all that great.

Tommy puffed out his chest, straightening. “No hover bus would dare hit me. I am too strong and masculine.”

Techno made a mental note to watch his clients closely when they were around hover buses. They would absolutely get hit.

Phil still was watching Wilbur closely. “That concert you wanted to go to was last night,” he said calmly. “Do you know if your friends had a good time?”

Uh oh.

Wilbur chugged more of his coffee before answering. “Yep. We ha’ a great time.”

…Techno wanted to facepalm.

SecUnits don’t facepalm.

He also wanted to slap his moron of a client. This fool. This absolute buffoon.

Everything was silent for thirteen seconds. Both Tommy and Phil stared at Wilbur, who didn’t even notice or realize his mistake as he started poking at his eggs.

Then he straightened abruptly, finally catching on.

“I mean—” Wilbur stuttered, looking desperately at his father, “They had a good time! They messaged me about it! They said they got me a shirt, too! Isn’t that cool?”

“Wilbur,” Phil said softly, and Wilbur fell quiet, face crumbling at the mere tone. “I explicitly told you not to go.”

“I—” Wilbur started, but cut himself off. It was clearly too late to lie at this point. He sagged, dropping his fork. He mumbled, “I know.”

“Then why did you go?” Phil asked calmly.

“I bought those tickets a month ago,” Wilbur said, staring down at his plate. “Before the whole assassination thing. You said I could go then. All my friends were going, we’d planned it, and the more I’ve been stuck at home lately, the more desperate I was to get to do this one thing.”

Phil reached over and took Wilbur’s hand. “I get that, mate,” he said honestly, and he did sound understanding, “I’m sorry you’ve had to make changes lately and that it’s been rough. But this was very irresponsible, Wilbur. Someone out there is trying to kill you.” Phil paused and cleared his throat. “You can’t dismiss that fact. You can’t take risks like this, or I could lose you.”

Wilbur slumped further, and Phil drew away. The man watched his unruly child for another moment, before turning his (much less understanding) gaze on Techno.

Uh oh again.

“I thought the SecUnit would’ve stopped you from leaving,” Phil said coldly. “Or at least alerted me that you were.”

Crap. Techno was screwed. He could lose the contract over this.

Wilbur straightened immediately. “Don’t blame him!” Both Phil and Tommy turned to Wilbur in surprise. Wilbur had never shown anything but annoyance and disdain towards Techno up until now. “He came with me! He made sure I was safe the whole time. It’s not his fault I snuck out.”

Phil made a puzzled expression. “You brought him with you?”

“Yeah.” Wilbur made a quick glance back at Techno. “He was with me the whole time.”

Phil didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he asked, “Is this true, SecUnit?”

Techno had been pointedly avoiding this drama-filled and highly emotional conversation. Now that he had to speak, he kept to pure, neutral SecUnit information. “I accompanied Wilbur last night to the Pogtopia Club on Cavern Street. I fulfilled all security protocols to ensure his safety.”

“Such as?” Phil prodded with a raised eyebrow.

“I ran scans and background checks on everyone present for criminal activities and potential threat risk. I monitored every drink and food Wilbur consumed for poison. I was aware of every weapon and potential weapon in the room, and supervised security through every camera in the building for intruders. Wilbur’s risk of getting hurt last night never surpassed 11%, and I was prepared to intervene before any threat came close to him.”

All three humans seemed a little shocked at Techno’s spiel. Techno wasn’t sure why. It was all typical SecUnit procedure.

Wilbur turned back to his father imploringly. “Don’t get mad at him. He was going to report me to you but I ordered him to come. I won’t do anything like this again.”

Phil stared down his child, judging him, weighing him.

After a long pause, Phil said, “You know you’re grounded, right?”

Wilbur winced and nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

Phil nodded curtly. “No seeing or comming your friends for the rest of the week. I’m taking away your favorite guitar until I’ve decided you’ve earned it back. And you’ll do all of Tommy’s chores today, on top of your own.”

Tommy punched the air. “Yes!”

Phil smiled and patted Tommy’s head. “Thank you, Tommy, for not being a reckless child who sneaks out at night.”

Tommy shot a triumphant look at Wilbur. “I’m the favorite, ha!”

Phil returned his attention to Wilbur and gestured to the dishes on the table. “You can start by cleaning the dishes. I’ll tell the Chef Bot to hold off.”

Wilbur nodded, handed over his comm device to Phil, and returned to finishing his breakfast. Once they were all done eating, Wilbur got started on the dishes while Tommy and Phil went to their rooms to prepare for the day.

Tommy and Phil were out of earshot. Wilbur was scrubbing away at the dishes, while Techno stood at attention by the door.

“…You didn’t blame me,” Techno found himself saying. He didn’t look directly at Wilbur, just stared straight ahead like a good SecUnit.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Wilbur responded. “I’m the one who went.”

Techno hesitated, then said, “I got the impression that you didn’t like me.” Techno had known their relationship had improved last night, but he’d still been surprised that Wilbur had actively argued on his behalf. It was an odd experience. SecUnits couldn’t defend themselves against human accusations. They could only state facts, which humans could choose to believe or not.

“I didn’t.” Wilbur set aside a plate to dry. “But I know you did a lot for me last night. I appreciate it.”

Techno finally turned his head to look directly at Wilbur. “Does this mean you’re not going to try and slip away from me from now on?” Because that had been Techno’s whole goal by going along with last night’s whole misadventure.

Wilbur chuckled. “Well, that never worked in the first place. But yeah, sure. I won’t try to ditch you from here on out.”

Well then, goal achieved.

And maybe…a little bit more.

Chapter Text

Techno’s streaming hobby was going well. Now that he didn’t have to keep such a close eye on Wilbur, he could play more Minecraft during Wilbur’s outings inside of having to make sure Wilbur wasn’t going to slip away. Techno only streamed at night, when his clients were asleep, because he didn’t want to be interrupted while live or be unable to respond immediately when his clients called him. That would all be suspicious.

Still, Techno’s stream was gaining popularity. His Minecraft avatar went by the name he’d chosen for himself after he’d hacked his governor module—Technoblade. He took on SquidKid in an intense Potato War while also streaming his battles where he slew gamers left and right—and his viewers loved it. They complained he didn’t stream enough, and always called him late even when he was on time.

Perhaps it was a foolish risk. Perhaps someone would realize that it was a rogue SecUnit behind the controls. But Techno unexpectedly liked streaming. It added a new depth to the game, and his viewers seemed to like watching him, too. It gave him the opportunity to interact with humans in a less stressful way.

Speaking of interacting with humans.

Wilbur and Tommy had to go on a shopping trip for new clothes as school would start up again soon. Phil had given a generous boost to their currency cards, hugged them fondly, and then sent them, Techno, and three drones off to the local shopping center.

Techno did not like the shopping center. As usual, humans’ understanding of security fell short of actual competency. Wilbur’s concert had been in a fairly small place with a maximum of sixty humans. The darkness hadn’t been an issue for Techno’s night vision, and there had been surprisingly few hiding places. Meanwhile, the city’s shopping center was far larger and far more crowded. Techno could think of triple the potential assassination opportunities here than there had been at that club, without even using his advanced scenario processors.

He’d brought three drones along with him, and openly carried his blaster in his arms as he marched after Wilbur and Tommy. The shopping center was a grand tower, one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city. It was brightly lit (which was more of an advantage for assassin humans than for Techno), its paths made of artistic concrete and stone, the walls lined with various shops and advertisements. Its floors were circular pathways, stacked in rows, with the center of the building being hollowed-out for easy transportation between levels. The mall went both up and down for miles; the structure was 7,682 feet high, and then had 5,436 feet of below-ground levels. Dozens of lifts zipped up and down the center opening, transporting humans to their desired stores. In the center of the multi-leveled halls, there were a few relaxation areas, including green spaces, Bot-run spa treatments, and guidance Bots to help any lost humans.

“I wanna go to the costume shop!” Tommy said, pulling on Wilbur’s hand and pointing at an elaborate store entrance, decorated with Model Bots wearing costumes from the latest popular movies. One such Bot, dressed as a space warrior, struck a pose and raised its plastic gun towards them. It wasn’t an actual threat, but Techno responded by raising his real gun towards it. Wisely, the Bot immediately tucked its gun away and shifted to a less hostile pose.

Message transmitted; don’t mess with Techno’s humans.

“We can go after we have our school clothes, if you’re not too tired by then,” Wilbur told Tommy.

“But we’re right here!” Tommy whined. “I wanna go now!”

Wilbur sighed. “We know how this goes, Tommy. You get tired at some point of shopping, and even if we have more to do, you complain about wanting to go home and you’re grumpy for the rest of the trip. We’ll go to the costume shop after we have what we came for.”

“You’re the worst,” Tommy grumbled.

“No tantrums.” Wilbur playfully shook a finger as he spoke in a singsong voice. “Don’t turn into a little gremlin. If you bite me, then no costume shop at all.”

Tommy crossed his arms and glared off to the side. “I don’t bite.”

Wilbur chuckled and started strolling towards a lift. “I have a scar that says differently.”

Tommy sulked as they headed towards the desired clothing stores. He stood intimidatingly at the side while the boys tried on different outfits, posing and laughing and teasing each other. Techno fulfilled his duty as their SecUnit, always stationing one of his drones to hover outside the store entrances and having another patrol to scope any blind spots. Human civilians steered clear whenever they saw Techno, but Bot store assistants fulfilled their jobs without emotions and were plenty helpful. A few human employees helped out Wilbur and Tommy as well, advising on the latest fashions, but constantly sent wary glances at Techno. Techno monitored the two Craft boys as they raised their bill to a dizzyingly high number—the perks of being rich kids.

Techno was stressed enough about the public environment that he didn’t try to play Minecraft while he waited, but he did spend some time editing videos for his channel. He monitored his potato growth rate—more and more other gamers were getting invested into his and SquidKid’s rivalry. It was pretty hilarious.

When Wilbur and Tommy had a suitable (and by suitable, Techno meant ridiculous) number of outfits, they headed to the food court for lunch. Thankfully, Bots were willing to deliver the several bags of clothing directly to the apartment for them. Good, because Techno wasn’t going to carry them.

At the food court, Wilbur and Tommy ordered fried food and pastries so sugary they might be considered poison by some standards, but Techno didn’t stop them. He grimaced under his mask as he watched them eat, grateful at the fact that he didn’t need food.

He distracted himself by watching the shopping center’s own security drones hover about the area and buzz alarms at a group of misbehaving kids who’d been throwing their trash at some poor Cleaning Bot. The mall had a few lower-quality SecUnit Bots and many public-officer drones. These drones were bigger than Techno’s, as his were more for observation and getting into tight spaces than monitoring an open mall, and colored deep navy blue. Hundreds of them floated about the mall’s levels.

After the boys were done eating, they started to head back to the costume shop as promised, but got distracted by an arcade. Humans were often distracted by shiny things. Techno ended up following them inside, and Tommy was soon begging for him to join in a few games. Techno did, and excelled at all of them, but he had to admit he had trouble focusing.

Techno was a highly advanced SecUnit, but this place was a lot even for him. He couldn’t monitor every floor, every entrance, every camera, every drone, every security measure. He’d already hacked into the mall’s security (concerningly easy), but he couldn’t run background checks on each Bot and human in charge of it, or pick up the areas where they fell short. He’d be grateful when they finally got out of here.

But luck was not on Techno’s side. Tommy still had enough energy to go to the costume shop, so the three of them continued on. The Model Bots shuffled away from them as Techno and his humans entered, and Techno swung out a virtual web across the cameras to check the protections of the place.

Actually…this store wasn’t bad. There were only three entrances, each were clearly monitored by cameras, and while there were several hiding places, the Model Bots kept careful eyes on each human that came through. Techno relaxed a little under his armor, trailing behind Tommy and Wilbur as they crooned over all the costumes.

There were several options. Glorious colors, spooky designs, some regal or creepy or slick. A mask of a boar skull caught Techno’s eye for some reason, and he spent a few seconds admiring it as they walked past before pulling his gaze away.

“SecUnit, look!” Tommy called, pulling a white costume from the rack and lifting it up. Techno nearly dropped his gun at the sight of it. “It’s a SecUnit costume! I could look like a little you!”

…Techno had to admit. That was pretty cute. It made his heart warm.

Wilbur laughed boisterously and inspected the armor. “Oh, you definitely have to try that on, Toms.”

Both boys picked out a dozen costumes and then headed to the changing rooms. Techno felt secure enough to finally put away his blaster, though his guard wasn’t lowered, far from it.

Tommy leapt out of the changing room in his SecUnit costume first. Techno stared down at the child. Tommy looked exactly like a mini-Techno right now, a little more than half his height. The costume even came with a plastic gun, which Tommy was obviously pleased about.

“Look, SecUnit!” Tommy shouted again, waving the gun around and striking poses. Then he lowered his voice in a poor imitation of Techno’s. “Your safety is my priority. I’ve run a scan and found six hundred potential threats. I’m a Convoy.”

“Construct,” Techno corrected automatically, though his mind was far from it as he stared at Tommy.

Tommy tried to smother his laugh, a naturally loud and boisterous thing.

Techno had no idea why it was, but he suddenly had to fight off the strong desire to pull Tommy close into a hug.

Which was weird. Because usually he didn’t like physical contact.

It had to be the ridiculous protective programming. Yes, that was it. Something about Tommy seemed to set it off at triple the rate. Perhaps Techno should deactivate it.

…He decided not to.

Wilbur strode out at that moment, wearing a flowing suit of a different planet’s royal uniform. It came in sky and near-white blues, with long scarves and a crown, too. It fit him well, he looked regal.

The older brother smiled down at his younger sibling. “You look adorable, Toms.”

“I’m not adorable!” Tommy argued adorably, and Techno could imagine his face heating up under the black SecUnit visor. “I’m threatening and intimidating!”

“You would make an excellent SecUnit,” Techno lied, simply to make Tommy feel better.

“Ha!” Tommy barked at Wilbur, and Wilbur rolled his eyes. Tommy then turned back to Techno. “Can I borrow your gun then, SecUnit?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

Tommy slouched in disappointment, looking very un-SecUnit-like.

Wilbur chuckled and took off his crown. “Sorry, Tommy, the SecUnit’s in charge.” Seemingly on impulse, Wilbur then reached up and put the crown on top of Techno’s helmet.

Techno stiffened. Both boys paused and looked at Techno with new eyes, too.

Oh no.

The two Craft boys suddenly grinned, as a brilliantly horrible idea occurred to them. Techno was doomed.

Techno stood completely still as the boys draped different costumes over him with no rhyme or reason. Wilbur wrapped him up with the blue scarves and Tommy stuck bracelets onto his hands. The boys found a fluffy red cape and threw it around his shoulders as well. They tried to stick a black leather jacket on him, but that didn’t fit, thankfully, and then Tommy tied a ribbon around Techno’s arm.

“This could impede my performance rate—” Techno argued desperately, but Wilbur hushed him.

“Shush, we’re focused now,” Wilbur chided him, and Techno went helplessly quiet. Tommy held up a large pair of shades up to Techno, but he wasn’t tall enough to reach Techno’s head. Tommy had since taken off the costume SecUnit helmet, but Techno still felt a pang in his heart looking down at him.

“These would look so good on him!” Tommy argued, standing on his toes and still being far below Techno’s head.

Wilbur plucked the shades out of Tommy’s hands and looked them over. “Kind of redundant, I think, but alright.” Wilbur shoved the shades at Techno’s visor, but they didn’t fit around the helmet. Wilbur shrugged and dropped them back into Tommy’s hands. “Sorry Tommy, they just don’t work.”

Tommy looked immensely disappointed.

That expression…made Techno uncomfortable.

Techno knew he was about to make a mistake, but he couldn’t help himself.

He reached up and pulled off his helmet. With a hiss that released the air pressure, it came off and slid over his head.

Wilbur and Tommy’s mouths dropped open.

Techno ignored it, and picked the shades out of Tommy’s hands. He slid them on, and then turned his head to look in the mirror on the wall. Hm. He understood why Tommy picked them out, they did look ‘cool,’ but they weren’t quite Techno’s style. He preferred the visor. Still, he looked back at Tommy expectantly, waiting for the boy to make his judgement.

Tommy shouted, “You have a FACE?”

0.6^th of a second later, Wilbur shouted, “YOU’RE HUMAN?”

Techno narrowed his eyes, examining them. They looked a bit different without the visor, even with wearing the sunglasses. Techno found himself curious and took off the shades to look at them with his own eyes. Now they were even more different. Brighter. “Yes, I have a face. No, I am not a human.”

“But you have—” Wilbur half-reached out towards Techno’s face but wisely withdrew his hand and made a vague gesture. “You have skin. You look human.”

Techno supposed that his head, out of most of his body, looked the most human. Especially when his hair grew out. Due to genetic modification, his hair was pink, and right now it had grown out far past his shoulders. Usually the Company buzz-cut it between contracts, but since Techno had been brought immediately to the Crafts, it remained long. He liked it that way, actually, as it covered the wires and bits of metal that stuck out of his head. His cubicle braided it for him each day so it fit fine under his helmet.

Techno returned his attention to Wilbur. “Legally, I am a Construct. In other words, a more advanced Bot capable of certain levels of creative thinking, if necessary.” He shifted his helmet to hold it under his arm. “For maximum performance, my creators used cloned organic human flesh for some of my parts.” And also because it was cheaper while having similar functionality.

Wilbur and Tommy continued staring. Then Wilbur said, with great importance, “What parts of your body are human? Er, organic?”

Techno had to think about that for a moment, drudging up the information and thinking of how to word it to the humans.

“My bones are a titanium-gold alloy, and I have a few human organs, such as lungs, a heart, eyes, and brain tissue, but these also have cybernetic enhancements. Much of my mechanic parts are in my limbs, more so my legs. Altogether, calculated by body mass alone, I am 59% mechanical parts, 41% organic human parts.”

There, that was a clear, straightforward answer. Techno was mostly mechanical, which meant that he wasn’t human.

Wilbur and Tommy didn’t seem satisfied. Wilbur’s gaze trailed down to the helmet under Techno’s arm. “I thought…I thought that was your body.”

Techno was starting to regret having taken off his helmet in front of them. He’d only done it in an attempt to please Tommy, but neither of them seemed pleased now. Techno hadn’t exactly been happy before, with the ridiculous outfits, but something in the tone of the room had changed, and Techno didn’t like it.

“I am not human,” Techno reiterated. “Nothing has changed about me. You don’t need to worry.”

Wilbur and Tommy looked at each other. They did that annoying thing where humans were having a silent conversation Techno wasn’t privy to.

Wilbur sighed. “I think we should call it a day.”

Techno thankfully managed to keep his exposed expression neutral, but something about the comment made him unhappy. He didn’t say anything, just lifted his helmet and locked it back over his head. When he focused back on Wilbur and Tommy, they were staring at him again. Like they were absorbing his appearance with the new knowledge that he was a being in armor, not just a robot of armor.

Wilbur looked down at Tommy. “Any idea what you want to buy, Tommy?”

Tommy paused and looked down at his own little SecUnit helmet. He was still wearing the plastic version of Techno’s armor.

“…Maybe I’ll come back for it some other time,” Tommy mumbled, and set the helmet to the side before heading back to the changing room. Techno watched him go, and then Wilbur headed back to change as well.

The boys came back, gathered up the costumes they’d picked out—most of which they hadn’t actually tried on—and placed them back on the rack. A little hovering Bot zoomed off to put the items back in their proper places. Then they started to head out.

“I feel bad for not buying anything,” Tommy said, glancing at the costumes they passed.

Wilbur glanced down at him and then turned his head around. His gaze caught on the boar mask Techno had seen earlier.

Techno felt increasingly uneasy as Wilbur walked up to the mask and picked it up. The boy turned it over in his hands, inspecting it, and even held it up in the air between him and Techno like he was considering if it would fit the SecUnit, that he knew that Techno had a real face. Uh oh.

“You were looking at this one, right?” Wilbur asked, and Techno mentally cursed. He hadn’t realized Wilbur had noticed. “Do you want it?”

“SecUnits don’t want things, aside from completing their jobs,” Techno said.

Wilbur frowned. “Right.” He looked back down at the mask. Then he turned toward the payment counter. “Let’s get this.”

Techno was quietly trying to untangle whatever human meaning there was to buying the mask. Obviously Wilbur was buying it because of Techno, but he can’t be buying it for Techno, right? Why would he? Techno wouldn’t wear it. SecUnits have to look like SecUnits, like big, deadly, come-too-close-and-you’re-face-will-be-punched-into-a-pancake robots. They don’t get fashion choices.

The Bot behind the counter assures them that the mask will be shipped to their apartment, and then they leave. Before, Wilbur and Tommy were constantly chatting, discussing directions and where to go and memories of the last time they visited the mall. Now they’re quiet. Techno doesn’t know what to do about it.

The three of them enter a lift to take them back to where their auto-piloted hover craft waits. The only break in the silence is the hum of the lift, as they all stand quietly while the lift sinks down through the mall’s floors. Techno distracts himself from weird human subtexts he doesn’t like by refocusing on security like he’s supposed to. He watches the mall security drones hover past, and triple-checks that their path to the exit is clear.

On the eighth check, however (because Techno needed the distraction), Techno picks up on something entering the system. There are all kinds of data constantly flowing through the mall’s feed—deliveries, advertisements, Bot communication, so on—but this is something different. It’s small and focused, a little spark through the haze of communication, and it moves with purpose. Towards…the lift power controls.

Techno suddenly realizes—it’s a virus.

Techno slammed his hand down on the emergency button for the nearest stop the lift can make. It immediately slowed and the boys stumbled at the change in momentum.

“SecUnit—?” Wilbur started to say, but Techno cut him off.

“Hold onto something,” he commanded. “And when that door opens, get off the moment you can.” They needed to get off this thing as soon as possible.

Wilbur and Tommy grabbed the railing on the wall, and Wilbur clutched Tommy’s arm tightly.

They were only seconds from the lift’s next platform when it jolted to a stop around them again. The lift travelled at top speeds to accommodate the many levels of the mall, and was meant to calculate its stops and accelerations carefully to cause as little as disturbance to its passengers as possible. Even an emergency stop took that into account. But this, this was a sudden and clearly unplanned halt.

Tommy looked confusedly out the lift’s windows, seeing that they weren’t level with any of the platforms to get off. “What the--?”

Then the lift jerked for a third time, and started to fall.

Chapter Text

Wilbur and Tommy started screaming. Gravity pressed them upwards and Techno’s drones banged against the ceiling. The only thing stopping Wilbur and Tommy from doing the same was the railing they clung to. Techno could see the other human civilians outside on the mall’s many levels stop and watch in horror as they fell. Techno gripped the railing and tried to overpower the virus through the mall’s systems, but it hadn’t just told their lift to go down—it had cut the power. Even if he overrode the virus, which could take too long, rebooting the power connection wouldn’t work in time.

So he had to stop the lift manually.

He turned off his pain receptors. This wasn’t going to be fun.

Techno drew back his arm, lined it up with the lift’s wall, and then punched right through the metal. He grabbed onto one of the outside guidance rails and gripped it as hard as he could, digging his fingers in. The metal tore, his fingers leaving claw-like marks in rail, but the lift screeched, shakily slowing down. Wilbur and Tommy gasped desperately as they dropped back to the floor, and then cried out in alarm as Techno’s drones fell back to the ground with a loud clatter.

Techno grunted as he bore the entire brunt of their fall and the weight of the lift with one arm. Its wall rested entirely on his forearm, and he had to lock up his metal bones to keep from collapsing from it. The lift creaked unpleasantly around them; they still slid a few inches at a time as the metal rail in Techno’s grip broke under the weight.

They didn’t have much time. With his free arm, Techno ripped open the door. It shook their stability and the boys cried out again, but if they didn’t get out of here, they were absolutely screwed. The metal lift door usually had power to slide it open, but obviously that had turned off with the rest of the controls. And Techno couldn’t slide it or he’d dislodge his other arm, the only thing keeping them relatively still. So he had to tear the metal inward.

Techno sent a drone through the gap the moment he could. It pinged him back with what the outside looked like. The drop to the next level wasn’t undoable for humans, which was all Techno needed.

“Jump,” he grunted out to the boys. His teeth were gritted, and he’d already dialed down the pain receptors of his arm, but he knew it would hurt badly when he had to turn them back up.

The boys stared at him, noncomprehending for a moment, but then Wilbur caught on. The older brother grabbed Tommy and then hurried towards the opening Techno had given them. They hesitated over the drop for a moment, but it was this or falling the rest of the way down the mall. Techno watched Wilbur muster his bravery for a moment, and then jumped, holding tightly to Tommy. The minute they leapt, Techno felt some relief off the weight on his arm. His other two drones zipped after them.

His turn now. Timing would be everything. He braced himself to move when an alarm went off on his visor.

What now?

One of his drones’ camera feeds came on his helmet’s view, and he saw, to his horror, that five mall security drones were advancing on Tommy and Wilbur, their weapons warming up. Techno traced their signal and realized that the virus had taken control of the drones too.

Crap.

Wilbur and Tommy were still stumbling to their feet from the jump. They were completely unprepared as the mall drones shot at them. One of Techno’s drones flew in the way, taking several hits and crashing down in a heap of smoking steel, its outer layering and inner wiring turned into molten metal.

It would not be good if Wilbur or Tommy were hit by one of those shots.

Techno’s remaining two drones flew at the mall drones, making the enemy’s formation scatter, but that wouldn’t buy more than a few seconds. Techno returned to his current task. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the wall with his free hand and then extracted his other in one sharp motion, like pulling out a knife. The lift started to fall again, and Techno kicked off the floor and leapt out the opening, landing heavily before the boys. Behind him, the lift went tumbling down. Hopefully it wouldn’t kill anyone when it landed on the bottom floor.

He straightened and extended his blaster, firing three shots at the mall drones. He had good aim; two drones went down, crashing to the floor.

Techno took a brief moment to fully scan his surroundings. Three mall drones were left, pulling back to avoid Techno’s blaster. Screaming humans who’d been gathered to watch the falling lift scattered when they realized shots were going off. Mall Bots had reverted to their emergency evacuation procedures and were directing the humans to safety. There didn’t appear to be any other threats, and it looked like the mall’s cyber security had finally caught on to the existence of the virus and was starting to fight it off. Techno just had to take down the remaining three hostile drones, without letting Wilbur or Tommy get hurt.

He drew his sword from his back. Sleek and white like his armor, sharp and strong enough to slice through steel. He took a stance, bracing his grip along the hilt, and lunged.

Techno cut one drone clean in half. Another drone fired at him panickily, but Techno dodged with a few quick leaps. He landed next to a massage chair for the mall’s guests—large and heavy, perfect—and picked it up with one hand before throwing it at the second drone. The drone tried to dodge, but the chair still hit its left propellor. As the thing struggled to stay in the air, Techno leapt into the air, lifting his sword above his head before bringing it down on the drone. Its two split parts clattered to the ground lifelessly.

The third and final mall drone was going for the boys. Techno’s own two drones had formed up around Wilbur and Tommy, who were curled up on the floor, Wilbur covering Tommy’s body with his own. One of Techno’s drones sped forward to ram into the enemy drone, but was shot to the ground before it reached its goal.

Still, the little thing had bought Techno time. He lunged forward and ended the last mall drone with a clean slice.

He paused, doing one final scan of the area and for the virus.

The mall’s cyber security system had backed the virus into a corner, but then the nasty thing had burned itself up. There was no way to trace it.

The mall drone at Techno’s feet blinked feebly and Techno crushed its camera with his foot. At least the virus had only managed to steal five of the mall’s Bots. Techno’s one surviving drone flew around in a circle, checking over for any other threats, but there were none. So Techno approached the boys.

A quick scan told him they were unharmed, they hadn’t broken an ankle or anything during the jump, but they were definitely scared. Scared humans often were startled by anything that moved, even their own SecUnits that protected them. Techno had been shot and stabbed by his own startled clients over a dozen times. So Techno slid his sword away and knelt down before them.

“Wilbur. Tommy,” he said, as soft as he could manage. He didn’t have a lot of experience speaking softly. But his protective programming was urging him to help them however he could. “You’re alright. I took care of the threat.”

Wilbur lifted his head, and Tommy peeked out from under Wilbur.

Then, both of them were suddenly lunging for Techno. Techno braced himself for an attack; he wouldn’t fight back but simply endure. He wouldn’t blame them for blindly falling into fight-or-flight instincts.

Their arms wrap around him and then they just…stop.

Techno doesn’t move.

After a moment, he looks down.

The humans are…hugging him.

He knows what hugging is, of course. Humans hug each other all the time. Some Bots are even designed specifically to give the best supporting hugs, with plushy arms and warmed bodies. But not SecUnits. SecUnits don’t hug.

“Thank you,” breathed Wilbur, squeezing Techno’s chest. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Tommy just held Techno tightly.

SecUnits don’t hug.

But Techno finds his arms lifting up and resting onto each boys’ back. They melt further into him.

Maybe this SecUnit hugs.

-

Phil was waiting for them when they got back. And he was…stressed.

The moment Wilbur and Tommy stepped through the door, Phil wrenched them into a fierce hug. Techno’s sensitive ears could hear their bones popping from the squeeze.

“Oh, my boys,” Phil said as he pressed them closer to himself. “Oh my God, I’ve been so worried.”

Techno stepped fully into the room, and an officer followed behind him. The man had escorted them back to the apartment, and said he wanted to talk to Phil, but thankfully left his Police Assistance Bots outside. Not that Techno couldn’t handle them if he had to, but having armed Bots in his territory itched his processor wrong.

“Daaaaad,” Tommy whined, struggling a little in Phil’s grip. “We’re fine. SecUnit’s more hurt than us.”

Both Tommy and Wilbur pointedly glanced back at Techno’s arm.

“It is not your concern,” Techno said for what felt like the fifteenth time. It had been a debate the whole way home.

“Oh my God, SecUnit, you’re bleeding, you’re bleeding!” Wilbur’s voice was shrill as he pulled away from the hug.

Techno had looked down, bemused. Ah yes. His arm, the one he had used to stop the lift, was in rough shape. The armor had cracked into jagged half-attached pieces and dug into the human tissue underneath, leaking blood all over it, and his hand that had grabbed onto the lift’s guiding rail was also torn apart in a mesh of flesh and wires. He was pretty sure that was his metal bone that was exposed on one of his fingers.

That was the disadvantage to turning off his pain receptors—Techno couldn’t always tell when he was hurt like this. It would definitely hurt pretty bad when he had to turn them back up.

“Do not worry,” Techno assured Wilbur and Tommy’s pale expressions. “I have turned down my pain receptors. I don’t feel it.”

“We have to get you to a doctor, or a Medical Bot,” Wilbur said, turning his gaze side to side to look around. Everyone had completely abandoned the area, fleeing for their lives.

“There’s no need.” Techno stood back up. “My cubicle is equipped to give me repairs.” He flexed his arm and blood dribbled to the floor. Actually, it had gotten everywhere. Swinging around his sword had flung droplets of blood across the whole area, and it had smeared against Tommy’s back, too, when Techno had touched him. Techno winced internally at the sight of blood on Tommy, though he knew it was his own.

Techno looked back down at his arm. He should probably stop that before it caused critical problems. He paused the blood leakage with a simple silent command. “I’ve stopped the blood flow in that area. I’m not losing any more.”

Both boys gave him blank looks, obviously not aware that he could do that. Well, of course, they hadn’t known he had blood until about an hour ago.

Techno diverted his attention, running a diagnostic on the mall’s security. The virus was still gone, but Techno didn’t want to risk whoever sent it taking another shot.

They had to leave.

Techno’s hasty attempt to remove his clients from the mall had been stalled by the arrival of several (late) police officers and their Bots, who insisted on asking questions and getting them seen by a Medical Bot and blah blah blah. Techno had already scanned the boys and knew there was no damage. His clients were unharmed, no thanks to the humans. He had demanded that whatever the police wanted, they could do it back at the apartment. SecUnit demands like that usually had some effect. He didn’t really have patience for the dawdling human security right now, but he had to admit, the police escort on the way home letting them skip through traffic was pretty nice.

Phil suddenly noticed the blood on the back of Tommy’s shirt, and his face became ashen. “Is this—!?”

“No, no!” Wilbur insisted, grabbing Phil’s arm to catch his attention. “It’s not Tommy’s. It’s the SecUnit’s.”

Phil let out a gush of a breath, but he still wasn’t completely relaxed. In fact, he looked ready to stumble over against a slight breeze.

Wilbur picked up on it. “C’mon, Dad, let’s sit down. Tommy, go tell the Chef Bot to get us all water.”

Tommy nodded and hurried away, Phil’s hand grasping after his youngest before Wilbur took it and led him to the couch.

Techno followed. After a deadly situation, SecUnit protocol was that they couldn’t go to their cubicle for repairs until permitted by one of their clients. Techno didn’t have a governor module, so technically he could go, but the officer might know about SecUnit protocols and Techno didn’t want to risk it. That, and part of him just wanted to stay.

At least his wound wasn’t any worse. The blood had dried so it wasn’t dripping over the floor, but it still didn’t look pretty. Broken armor and flesh had been intertwined in ways they weren’t supposed to be. His cubicle would make short work of it, one he got there, eventually.

“What happened,” Phil wheezed after being seated.

“Um.” Wilbur scratched his head. “I’m not entirely sure, actually. Something happened with the lift? But I’m not sure how.” He coughed out a misplaced laugh and looked desperately at Techno.

“Would you like me to report today’s events?” Techno asked.

Wilbur nodded desperately and the officer took out a recording device. Great.

So, Techno explained, in full detail. He started as they began to leave the mall and he first detected the virus. He explained each of his observations of the threats and how he responded to them. Tommy came back in with the Chef Bot, the robot balancing multiple glasses of water. Phil at once pulled his youngest back into his arms. He stared blankly ahead as he listened to Techno’s words.

“In short, both clients are unharmed, and the attacker remained out of my detection. I suffered minor injuries and lost two drones in the fight, and destroyed the property of the mall in the process of protecting the clients.”

The Company would care a lot about that second sentence. His drones being destroyed meant that they could keep part of Phil’s security deposit, and since the mall drones had been attacking Techno, they couldn’t be held liable for Techno fighting back. The Company wouldn’t have to pay anything to the mall, and the whole situation perfectly advertised the benefits of their SecUnits. The marketing department would swoon with delight when they heard about all this.

Techno didn’t think Phil gave a crap about the drones or the security deposit, but Techno was being recorded here so he had to cover his bases.

The officer turned off and tucked away the recording device, grimacing. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am this happened, Mr. Craft. We’re no further into our investigation currently, but we’ll definitely be turning that mall upside-down to find whoever did this.”

Phil buried his face in his hands. “Someone is targeting my boys.” He pulled his head up and looked directly at Techno. The look in his eyes—exhausted and stressed and so, so grateful—almost made Techno physically jolt. “Thank you. I don’t—if you hadn’t been there—”

His voice broke, and Wilbur and Tommy both leaned onto Phil’s sides. Phil held them close. This little family unit, each of them looking at Techno with such wonder. To every other client, he was just an object. A tool. No one ever thanked him. But to the Crafts, he was a hero.

Techno surprised himself by liking this feeling. The protective programing built into his processor was going into overdrive. He was filled with conviction unlike any he’d felt before. This wasn’t just another job. He wouldn’t let the Crafts be harmed.

He would find whoever did this.

And end them.

-

The officer asked a few questions, but it was clear Phil was in no state to answer them. Phil asked him to leave and call later, and though at first the officer was reluctant to go, all Techno had to do was tilt his head in the human’s direction. He left pretty quick after that.

The apartment was quiet after the door slid closed. Techno stood still, watching the three Crafts hold each other. After some debate, he said, “I am going to my cubicle for repairs. Contact me through the feed if you need anything.”

Wilbur’s head jerked up, his expression worried. “Yes, SecUnit, please, go tend to yourself. We shouldn’t have held you here for so long.”

Techno wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he just nodded and turned away. He went to his cubicle and climbed inside, sitting down and shutting the door. It was completely dark inside, but Techno could still see the mechanical arms boot up from the wall and start to repair him. They mainly focused on his arm, but they also cleaned his sword too, which was nice. They didn’t provide any numbing or pain relievers, but as his arm was fixed, Techno allowed his pain receptors to tune back up.

Yep. That stung pretty bad. Even the new flesh felt weird, like the outer layer of skin was still peeled off and had been realigned wrong, like wet plastic. But it wasn’t the worst Techno had experienced, he didn’t know why Wilbur and Tommy seemed so worried.

It was…weird, of them, to be so concerned. Once on a contract, Techno had lunged in front of a client and taken a high-powered blaster shot directly on his back for her. He’d managed to return fire on the assailant enough that he and his then-clients were able to retreat to the hover craft, but there wasn’t enough space in the vehicle for all of them. The same client Techno had taken a shot for had been the first to suggest that they leave him behind. The rest had agreed almost immediately.

He didn’t take it personally, only thought it was rude. That was just how humans were. That was how contracts were. That was how SecUnits were supposed to be treated. The clients’ safety came first, and they could leave Techno to die at any point. He’d been put back together from pieces a couple of times before, admittedly.

So why were Wilbur and Tommy so focused on his injuries instead of their own lives?

The Crafts were weird.

When the cubicle arms were done with his sword, he took it out and checked it over to make sure it was alright. He should probably stay here while the Crafts settled down.

Since he was stuck in the cubicle, he watched the Crafts for a while through the feed. Phil had the Chef Bot made all their favorite foods, and after spending a few hours with the boys, he started making phone calls about security and news feeds and changing schedules. Things were mostly quiet, so Techno was able to play Minecraft while also keeping an eye on them.

Techno’s repairs were completed by the time the Crafts went to bed, but he stayed in his cubicle. He watched Phil and Wilbur slowly fall into their REM Cycles, but Tommy tossed and turned late into the night.

Then, at one point, Tommy got up.

Techno was confused. Wilbur sneaking out, Techno had seen coming and expected. But why would Tommy leave in the middle of the night?

Techno watched Tommy through the cameras as the boy exited his room and came right up to Techno’s cubicle. A moment later, there were three knocks against the door.

Techno directed the door to slid open, and there was Tommy, in his pajamas, looking exhausted.

“SecUnit?” Tommy asked quietly, like Techno might be asleep.

“I’m here,” Techno said, just as softly.

Tommy shuffled on his bare feet. “…Can you stay in my room tonight? Please?”

That was something Phil or Wilbur should do. But Tommy was asking Techno. Techno wasn’t sure if it was because he knew Techno was stronger, because he didn’t want to disturb Phil or Wilbur, or because he seemed to like Techno, somehow.

Whatever the reason, Techno stood up. “Of course.”

He followed Tommy back to bedroom, and stood by his bedside, facing the door, as Tommy climbed back under the covers.

After a moment, Tommy asked, “Am I too old to have someone stay with me when I sleep?”

“No,” Techno said. “I have guarded many sleeping clients.” After a pause, he added, “Neither Phil nor Wilbur would judge you for wanting someone to stay with you. Especially after today.”

Tommy went quiet again, but Techno knew he was still awake.

“You said client. But…are we friends, SecUnit?” he asked.

…That annoying protective programming was acting up again. Techno had to close his eyes for a moment and beat down the impulse to cover all the windows and doors of the apartment in titanium, just to be sure no one could get through to Tommy.

“Yes,” Techno ended up saying. “We are friends, Tommy.”

As unsure Techno had been about saying it, it seemed to make Tommy feel better.

“Good,” he hummed, and finally settled down, falling asleep.

Techno couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Tommy was much more cheerful. Phil and Wilbur were already up, but they likely thought Techno was still in his cubicle. Definitely, because both of their eyebrows went up when Tommy marched out of his room with Techno behind him.

“Morning!” Tommy chirped, sitting down at the table and digging into the cinnamon muffin the Chef Bot provided him.

Phil reached over and ran a hand through Tommy’s hair. “Good morning, mate.”

“Sleep okay, Sunshine?” Wilbur asked from across the table.

“Mmhm!” Tommy nodded. “SecUnit made sure I was safe. Of course, I am always safe because I am the strongest!” He flexed his arms like a wrestler.

Okay, Tommy.

The joys of being fourteen.

Phil looked up at Techno thoughtfully. Then he gestured to an open seat. “SecUnit. Would you like to sit down?”

Um. This was new. Techno felt like this was a bad sign of some kind. But he knew that when humans asked if you would ‘like’ something like that, really it meant that they would like you to do it. So without a word, Techno slowly moved to sit in the designated seat.

He hoped it wouldn’t break under his weight.

Phil folded his hands together on the table. “The Company contacted me about the destroyed drones. They offered me deals to purchase contracts for more. I wanted to get your opinion on it.”

Opinion? SecUnits were allowed to give advice on security, but that was it, and their advice was almost always ignored. Nothing frustrated Techno more than when he advised humans not to walk into dangerous situations, and then they proceeded to walk into dangerous situations.

Techno thought over his response very carefully, his visor scanning every centimeter of Phil’s face, but as far as he could tell, Phil genuinely wanted to hear from him.

Techno liked drones. He liked drones a lot. They gave him several extra sets of eyes and were handy in combat, too. They made multitasking simple. But he didn’t want to seem like he was just advertising the Company.

“Drones are very helpful in security, especially for monitoring and observation,” he said finally. “The drones the Company provides have scanners just as good as mine. They help me multitask and handle broader areas.” He paused. “If needed, I could function with the four I have left. But as Wilbur and Tommy will be beginning school soon, a few more drones would help tighten your security.”

Phil nodded curtly. “I’ll order a dozen more, then.”

Techno stared at Phil, unsure if he was joking. Wilbur and Tommy kept eating, unperturbed.

Alright then. Techno was getting twelve more drones.

Score.

Wilbur spoke next. “Did you heal alright, SecUnit?”

Techno lifted his previously damaged arm to show. Even the armor was fixed, as if the injury hadn’t even happened. “Yes. Though, SecUnits are repaired, not healed.”

Wilbur frowned, but then Phil pulled them into a conversation about school and what they had bought yesterday before everything went wrong. For a while, things seemed normal.

Then Tommy slapped the table, realizing something. “Oh, SecUnit! You should eat too! What do you want?” Phil and Wilbur blinked at him, startled.

Techno turned to Tommy slowly. Then he said, quite plainly, “I don’t have a stomach.”

Tommy made a comically confused face. “Eh?”

Phil’s brow creased in confusion. “Tommy, why would you think SecUnit would need food?”

“I have a question,” Techno intercepted, suddenly desperate to change the subject. “Mr. Craft. I am aware that the police are running their own investigation. Normally it would not be my area of authority. But given yesterday’s events, I believe that I should be informed of any information regarding potential assassination attempts. Is there anything you can tell me? Even suspicions?”

Phil looked startled at being asked so directly. Perhaps Techno could have gained this information by tapping into the news feeds and watching interviews of Phil, but he wanted to hear it from Phil himself.

Phil took a moment to gather his thoughts for the subject change. “I’m a significantly influential politician. There are thousands of people who could want to hurt me and my family.”

“Dad does all kinds of things that upset powerful people,” Wilbur pitched in. “He pushes for higher taxes on the rich, low-income employee union rights, and breaking some of the practices of large corporate entities.” Wilbur bit his lip. “Kind of like your Company, to be honest. That’s…not a problem, is it?”

“It shouldn’t.” Phil tightened his grip on his fork. “Discriminating service performances on political bases is illegal. It’s not a matter of politics; I want the best security for my sons, so I bought it. That doesn’t mean I agree with all of the Company’s practices.” Phil probably meant datamining. Otherwise, he would be more upset.

“I won’t repeat this to the Company,” Techno assured Wilbur. “As clients, you have certain rights to privacy.”

That was both sort of true and completely false. While the Company put phrases about privacy in contracts, like ‘we respect your privacy’ and ‘your privacy is important to us’ and whatnot, really they would datamine in every possible way. A normal SecUnit would be recording everything to hand over to the Company, but yet again, Techno had the benefit of existing without a governor module. He often looped cubicle footage for his records, and the Company didn’t have a clue.

The conversation drifted away again, but Techno had enough information that he could go on himself. He ran a query on opposing politicians and organized a list of suspects. He shuffled through the names, crossing some off and marking others as high threats. He still listened to the Crafts’ conversation with half an ear.

“School starts up again soon,” Phil was saying, “I trust you both have completed your assignments?”

Wilbur smirked at Tommy, who dropped his fork and looked dejectedly down at his plate.

Phil sighed tiredly. “Tommy.”

Wilbur, with a little extra cheer, pushed himself up from his seat. “Right, well, I have a virtual music lesson…so you all have fun.” With a humming tune, Wilbur strolled back to his room, clearly not intending to come out again from another few hours.

Tommy gave Phil an uneasy look. “I was hoping to go to Tubbo’s.”

Phil frowned, more serious than disappointed now. “I don’t want you or Wilbur leaving the house today after what happened. Which gives you plenty of time to finish your schoolwork.” He pointed towards the living area, where the data pads were stored. “You have a tutoring program. Apply yourself, Tommy. If you’re not done by my break at lunchtime, then I’ll help you—but I expect you to have at least done a little.”

Phil got up and left, and Techno took that as permission to stand. Tommy slumped over the table. He gave Techno an accessing look.

“I don’t suppose I can persuade you to do my homework for me?”

Techno gave him an unimpressed look under the visor. “No.”

Tommy groaned. And continued groaning. And kept groaning as he walked over to his data pads and pulled one out. He finally stopped making the noise as he flopped onto the couch and stared at the screen.

Techno considered returning to his cubicle, but decided against it. Instead he stood in the living room, monitoring security, reviewing news articles, and also playing Minecraft. Because he was going to win this Potato War and destroy SquidKid’s dreams.

Twenty-eight minutes later, Tommy threw his data pad across the couch in frustration. “This is ridiculous! How am I supposed to read this blab? Nobody talks like that!”

Techno considered not doing anything. He wasn’t a Teaching Bot. He’d never been to school; the Company gave him some cheap data packets and that was it. He was programmed to know the human nervous system so he could easily kill someone if need be and he could also perform CPR.

But…Techno had to admit, he had a certain thirst for knowledge. SecUnits weren’t supposed to be educated. But learning was one of the things that made humans, human. And Techno wanted a part of that.

He walked over and picked up the data pad curiously. “What are they having you read?”

“Some ridiculous myth about Odyssdessys,” Tommy drawled.

Techno stiffened.

When he had first hacked his governor module and tapped into human media, the first thing he’d found had been books. And his simple, newly freed robot brain had tried to read everything, chronologically in the order humanity had written them. He’d gotten through loads of myths before he’d realized that the endeavor was impossible, even for a Construct, and then he had tried to find more recent things, which had led him to Minecraft. But Greek Mythology, millennia old, were still close to his power core-infused heart.

Techno could never allow such tried and true tales to be unappreciated.

“Would it help if I read it to you?” Techno asked, keeping his tone neutral.

Tommy straightened up and gave him a curious look. “Sure, we can try. I only need to do half of it over break, and write a three-page report to prove I read it.”

Techno walked around the couch and sat down. He flipped to the beginning of the data pad’s digital copy, and started to read.

Techno already loved the story, and loved to read, but reading it with Tommy was even more enjoyable. Tommy’s reactions brought new life to the words, and Techno found himself using different tones to diversify the voices of the characters. Tommy had so much commentary about every little detail, and when he was confused, Techno was able to explain the subtext.

“What’s Odysseus so upset about? I would LOVE to be trapped on an island with a beautiful woman.”

“He has a wife.”

“Oh, definitely, he’s gotta return to his wife.”

With Techno’s help, they got through the required section and even a little further. Then Tommy cracked down on writing. He felt so confident that he gave Techno the essay to read…and Techno had to point out a few mistakes.

“I am glad you enjoyed the story,” Techno said, handing the data pad back. “You clearly have your excitement in your writing.” Even if it needed some refining. But Tommy was young, that was what school was for.

“You have to read me the next part, too!” Tommy said, not at all deterred.

Techno smiled under the visor. “Of course. Do you have other assignments?”

The other one was math. Techno found a quick scan of the lessons gave him a fair understanding of the concepts. But it proved a little trickier to explain.

“A negative times a negative is a positive, a positive times a negative is a negative,” Techno said simply.

Tommy stared with wide eyes. “I have no idea what you are saying.”

Well, they made it through eventually.

Tommy cheered when Techno finally let him turn off the data pad. He pumped the air with a fist and then gave Techno a pleading look.

“Since I did so well on my homework, can I please see one of your guns as a reward?”

“No.”

Tommy deflated like a balloon animal.

“We can play videogames, though,” Techno offered to cheer him up.

That worked. They played for a while, Tommy laughing as Techno took out their opponents, until the door of Phil’s office slid open and he stepped out.

Phil frowned and put his hands on his hips when he saw them. “I thought I told you to finish your assignments, mate.”

“I did!” Tommy shot back. Techno did his best to finish the round as quickly as possible so Tommy could really focus on the conversation.

“Uh-huh.” Phil picked up the data pad and turned it on. Even seeing that they were completed, he didn’t seem satisfied. “What’s negative four times negative twelve?”

Tommy only had to think about it for four seconds. “Positive forty-eight!”

Phil’s eyebrows shot up. He tapped the data pad some more, checking it over. “What made you go through so fast? Usually you get distracted.”

“SecUnit helped me.” A cheerful cry went out from the screen, declaring Techno victorious, and Tommy flipped over the back of the couch to face Phil. “He was great!”

Techno was immediately on guard from Phil’s suspicious look. “I did not do the assignments for him,” he said quickly. He’d only read the book aloud and guided him through the math problems. …Okay, maybe he’d done more than he’d intended.

“Check out my paper!” Tommy said, thankfully drawing attention away from Techno. “It’s all about Ode-iss-ee-ous.” Ah. He’d already forgotten how to say the name.

“He understands the book,” Techno decided to report. “Though the essay could use some proofreading.”

“No it doesn’t!” Tommy argued.

Techno leveled his gaze down at Tommy. “All essays need to be proofread, Tommy. No exceptions.” Techno had never even written an essay and he knew that.

Phil smiled fondly. “Why don’t you guide me through it, Tommy? We can go over your essay together.”

Techno remained on the side as Phil and Tommy did that over lunch. Wilbur came out as well, and for about an hour, the three enjoyed each other’s company. Techno played a bit of Minecraft while listening to their fond banter.

But Phil eventually had to go back into his office, and Wilbur went back to his room, ruffling Tommy’s hair. Techno guessed it was just a quiet day at the Craft household, well-deserved after the day before.

Tommy immediately came back to Techno, and Techno predicted what Tommy desired with a smile under his mask. “Do you want to play more videogames?”

Tommy’s own smile was lopsided. “Yeah, but first I have something I wanna show you!”

Techno tilted his head as Tommy booted up the display screen, and then searched streamers. Techno had one moment of there’s no way before Tommy typed in the name—

Technoblade.

Techno stared, nonplussed, at the screen. His own videos laid out before him.

“My friends and I just found this guy,” Tommy was rambling excitedly. “He’s super good! An anonymous streamer. He just started streaming but he goes up against all kinds of pro players and wipes the floor with them. He hardly ever gets beat, and usually it’s because the circumstances were against him. And—and he’s doing this whole Potato War thing, it’s hilarious, he’s up against this guy called SquidKid—”

Tommy’s voice became a drone in Techno’s ears.

Techno…

Had no idea what to do.

What does one do in this situation?

Techno listened to Tommy rant for several minutes. He didn’t even do anything, besides numbly go through his usual security processes. He barely listened, and didn’t play any Minecraft.

Finally Tommy asked, “So what do you think?”

Techno had to carefully lay out his words before he spoke them. “Do you play Minecraft?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“I do not know it. Why don’t we play together?”

Tommy agreed, and Techno let out a silent sigh of relief. That would be at least a little bit of a delay. He had no idea what to say or do about the fact that Tommy was, apparently, one of his viewers. Should he pretend to become a fan of Technoblade too? Or stay as far away from it as possible? What if Tommy recognized his voice? Techno had edited his voice a little bit for his streams, but not by much.

He focused on what was in front of him. Tommy was teaching him Minecraft, explaining the controls importantly. Techno pretended to make mistakes. After a few hours of building a house, he was able to relax. It was nice, actually. Techno had always played against others, or with strangers as his teammates, whom he barely communicated with. While he and SquidKid had a bit of a rivalry, Techno wouldn’t call them friends. But Tommy was his friend. Techno realized that this was his first time playing the videogame he loved most with someone he cared about.

And it was in a brief moment of peace, of genuine happiness, when Tommy had foolishly fallen off a cliff, that Techno let slip from his mouth, “Get wrecked, nerd.”

He froze.

So did Tommy.

I am officially as stupid as a human, Techno thought to himself.

Tommy slowly turned to stare at Techno. Techno did not move one single muscle or part. Maybe Tommy wouldn’t put it together.

“Oh my God,” Tommy whispered.

Crap, he’d put it together.

Techno whirled and placed his hand on top of Tommy’s mouth right before Tommy let out an excited scream. The noise was still muffled into his hand. The boy’s blue eyes were sparkling with excitement, looking at Techno like he was some cute little puppy.

Tommy pushed off Techno’s hand. “You’re Technoblade!” the boy said in a high-pitched whisper.

It was the first time Techno had ever heard his name spoken aloud in person. A few people had said it over the streams and internet—this was different. Tommy knew him.

Techno’s entire future depended on this fourteen-year-old.

“Tommy, you can’t tell anyone,” Techno said firmly.

“But—”

“No,” Techno said, and he forced such seriousness into the word that Tommy’s smile dropped. “Tommy, SecUnits don’t play videogames. We don’t stream those videogames, either. If anyone finds out, I’ll be recalled by the Company.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“That means that they’ll either purge my memory, or, if they want to be thorough that I won’t cause trouble again, break me down for parts and burn my organic material.”

Techno was being blunt, but that would happen if Tommy didn’t keep his mouth shut.

Tommy’s face became a mesh of disbelief. “That’s awful! Dad would never let that happen.”

“Your Dad doesn’t own me,” Techno pointed out. He glanced over his shoulder at Phil and Wilbur’s doors. They were closed. Both of the other Crafts were busy with their own activities in their rooms. “He’s contracted to get a SecUnit from the Company. The Company can swap me out at any time.”

“But—Dad and Wilbur wouldn’t tell anyone,” Tommy said, sounding less confident now.

“Tommy, it’s better they don’t know.” Techno paused, and then reached up and took off his helmet. He looked back at Tommy, face exposed. Hopefully it would make Tommy understand how important this was. “Your father is a politician. It’s better that he’s not caught in a lie like this.” Tommy may not totally get that, but if Phil was caught with a disobedient SecUnit, thus endangering every other human in proximity, it would be all over the news feeds. “Besides, what if they slip, even accidentally, and the Company finds out?”

Tommy looked away, now unhappy.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, Tommy,” Techno said. He was already deleting the recordings from the security cameras. He looped it with more footage of Tommy playing videogames on his own. “Don’t write it down anywhere. Don’t even mention it outside this apartment. You never know who could be watching.”

Tommy looked up at Techno, meeting his eyes. Techno held his gaze. Then Tommy shuffled closer and wrapped his arms around Techno’s waist.

These humans and their hugging.

“I don’t want anyone to take you away,” Tommy said softly. “So I won’t tell anyone, Techno. I promise.”

Techno let out an audible breath of relief. There was still a lot Tommy didn’t understand. He didn’t know, didn’t even guess, that Techno was a rogue SecUnit. Techno could kill everyone in this building if he wanted to, and without his governor module, nothing could stop him. Techno was dangerous, and the rest of the world knew him as such.

But this kid hugged him, and promised to keep his secret.

Techno rested a hand on Tommy’s back. “Thanks, kid.”

-

Later that night, the Crafts prepared to turn in for bed. Tommy had just gone to his room when Wilbur suddenly called out to Phil.

“Dad, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Phil paused, about to head towards his bedroom. Wilbur glanced at Techno. Phil saw it, and glanced at Techno too.

An odd thread of tension wove in the air between the three of them.

Then Phil said, “Sure, come on, mate.”

Well that wasn’t suspicious.

The two went into Phil’s room and close the door. The rooms were mostly soundproof, but Techno had access to their cameras and recording devices. Eavesdropping wasn’t even hard.

Really. Techno was their security unit. It was literally his job to watch them at all times. They thought they were being sneaky? As if.

Phil’s room had two parts, the office and the bedroom area, linked together. They were both designed similarly, however, with a slightly more classical theme than the rest of the apartment. It had large carpets of light gold and deep red and even wooden furniture, not common on Antarctic-3, as they didn’t like to cut down on their forest areas. Techno had never seen wooden furniture before, as they typically weren’t popular for the clients rich enough to pay for him. The office was smaller than the living room but did include a comfortable sitting area for guests. Currently the door between the two rooms was open, which made the office even less of a workspace and more of a home area.

Wilbur strolled into the room and gave a short pace, marching to one wall before turning on his heel and heading to the other.

Phil looked sympathetic. “Do you want me to contact a therapist, Wil? I already have an appointment for you and Tommy in a few days, but if you need something now—“

“What? No, not that,” Wilbur said, waving the concern off. Therapy seemed to be the furthest thing from his mind. “Dad, it’s…it’s about the SecUnit.”

Great, Techno loved conversations about him where he had no say.

Phil’s expression became more skeptical, likely wondering if Wilbur was about to complain about Techno again. But Wilbur hadn’t had a problem with him since the whole concert thing, so obviously this was something else.

Techno had an uncomfortable theory as to what it was.

“What about it?” Phil prodded.

Wilbur’s eyes searched Phil’s face for a moment. “Dad, did you notice…it has blood?”

Phil seemed to both relax and get uncomfortable at the same time. “Yes, I know. I was so relieved it wasn’t Tommy’s at the time that I didn’t pay it much attention, but yes, the SecUnit has blood.”

Wilbur blanched. “You knew?”

Phil nodded. “It’s not the norm, but some Bots have organic parts, Wilbur, yes. There are some Doctor Bots that grow blood in their bodies so they can provide it if their patient needs a sudden transfusion. I don’t know the SecUnit’s exact mechanics, but I’m not surprised it’s designers decided to use a few organic parts to help it function in certain ways.”

That all was true, and it was true for Techno. He may be a Construct rather than a standard Bot, in other words a Bot capable of a degree of creative thinking, but he still wasn’t a person.

“But Dad, he—he has a face,” Wilbur said.

Phil continued to look confused. “What?”

Wilbur gestured vaguely to his own face. “He took off his helmet while we were shopping. It’s a helmet, not his head. And he has a real, human face under there.”

Now Phil looked uneasy. “That doesn’t necessarily mean—“

“He said he has brain cells,” Wilbur said bluntly. “Human brain cells.”

In moments like these, when humans were making their ridiculous mind-boggling conclusions, Techno felt like they only had one brain cell. But for all their craziness, he’d never had humans pay attention to him like this before. Some clients liked to hear about all his weapons and combat modules, but most did their best to ignore him. His intimidating presence was uncomfortable for humans. The Crafts were different, they’d been different from day one, but this was a different kind of different.

“That is—“ Phil cut himself off. After a pause, he said, “That would explain some of its behavior.”

Wilbur looked relieved that his Dad was listening to him. Techno, on the other hand, was the opposite of relieved.

“That can’t be okay, right? Even if he was artificially made, he’s clearly different from a Bot.”

Phil wasn’t looking directly at Wilbur, but was staring off blankly. “Most Bot companies keep their designs private for patents. There’s…not much regulation, and some politicians want to eliminate what little there is. They have a lot of money and carry a lot of weight.”

“But we can’t just do nothing—!” Wilbur started to say, but Phil reached out and put a hand on his son’s shoulder. Techno watched closely, silently, unseen.

“Wilbur, calm down, mate,” Phil said. His voice was gentle as though he were talking to a stressed toddler instead of his legally adult son. “You’ve had a very stressful day yesterday. I’m proud of you for taking it easy today, and for reaching out to me about this, but I need you to focus on yourself, too.”

Wilbur pursed his lips. “I’m fine.”

Phil gave Wilbur a wonderfully flat look, Techno was slightly envious. He wanted to make that expression at humans a lot.  “You could have been hurt or killed yesterday, Wilbur. You should be worrying about school starting again, not all of this. It’s not good to just ignore it.”

Wilbur stared firmly at his father for eight seconds. Frankly, Techno detected no sign of fear or anxiety in Wilbur’s stance. Some humans were built better to handle it, and Techno—

Then, suddenly, Wilbur crumbled.

The boy started trembling just as hard as he had yesterday, a choked gasp slipped out of his mouth just before his hand came up to try and cover it, and he stumbled a step forward into his father’s arms.

“I was scared,” Wilbur confessed, voice breathy as Phil’s arms instantly wrapped around him. “I was so scared for myself, and so scared for Tommy. And—and for a moment, I was scared for the SecUnit. He was bleeding, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He just kept fighting to protect us.”

Techno suddenly felt very awkward for listening in on this conversation, but it wasn’t like he could just stop. They could bring up the fact that he had human parts again. And…he was worried for Wilbur.

“It’s okay,” Phil murmured, and Techno had to turn up the audio to hear him clearly. “That’s why I contracted him. He protected you, and he’s going to protect you. We’ll find out whoever’s doing this. It will be alright.”

Phil held Wilbur for six more minutes, until Wilbur calmed down. After a bit more talking, they turned to go back to Wilbur’s room.

Techno was still in the living area.

Startling, he hadn’t even noticed that he hadn’t moved since Phil and Wilbur began their conversation, he hastily made it to his cubicle and set himself in. Thankfully he made it just in time. He watched through the cameras as Phil took Wilbur back to his room and hugged him goodnight.

After, Phil went to Tommy’s room. Tommy was still up, playing a game on his data pad, but he set it aside to talk to his father. Phil sat on the side of his son’s bed and they had a similar conversation about yesterday. Tommy didn’t as stubbornly deny being shaken by the near-death experience, but he did try to brush it off. He relaxed a bit when Phil said he’d signed them up for a meeting with a therapist. Then they hugged too, and Phil left to return to his own room.

As Phil walked through the living area, however, he paused. And he turned and stared at Techno’s cubicle.

Techno was very still. The four walls tight around him blocked him from Phil’s physical stare, but he still felt it. He watched Phil’s every move through the cameras as his main client hesitantly approached his cubicle. Phil lifted a hand, and then lightly knocked twice against Techno’s door.

Techno allowed himself 3.8 seconds before he made the door open. Phil, despite having knocked, startled a little. Techno watched, sitting completely still in the chair that occupied pretty much all the space in the cubicle. Phil’s eyes scanned the walls.

“Isn’t there light in here?” Phil asked, craning his head a bit to look further inside.

“I have night vision,” Techno responded neutrally.

Phil’s gaze returned to him, and he looked conflicted and thoughtful for a moment. It was a difficult expression for Techno to read, and he wasn’t sure he was interpreting it accurately.

“In your helmet, or with your eyes?” Phil asked.

It was an uncomfortable question, because it dragged the fact that Techno had eyes right out into the open.

Techno answered it just as factually. “My eyes have better night vision than a human’s. But my helmet also improves it, and provides infrared, scans, and other advantages.”

Phil’s gaze flicked about Techno’s black visor, as if trying to piece out everything Techno had just described. “Right.”

Techno would like this conversation to end now. “Is there anything you need from me, sir?”

Phil blinked, then leaned away. “Oh, sorry mate, I didn’t mean to trap you in there. You can come out.”

This was the complete opposite of what Techno wanted. But it was as good as an order when given to a Bot or Construct, so he rose to his feet and took one step to exit his cubicle. He wanted nothing more than to retreat back in and close the door.

Now standing, Techno was much taller than Phil. Phil had to crane his neck to look up at him, and still seemed to be examining him closely. Techno waited.

“Could you…remove your helmet?” Phil asked.

Techno really didn’t want to do that. But yet again, it was practically an order. He raised his hands and sent the release command on the latch for his helmet. It made a slight hiss as he raised it over his head, revealing his face. He looked down at Phil with his unobscured eyes.

Phil’s own eyes had widened. He didn’t shout or drop his jaw like Wilbur and Tommy had, but he still looked surprised, even though he had to have known what he would see. His mouth opened just slightly, like words wanted to come out but Phil had no idea what to say.

Techno kept his expression relaxed. He knew he had a sort of ‘resting glare’ face—a perk of being cloned to be as big and fierce as possible. The night vision genetic enhancements also gave his eyes a slight red tinge, which glinted in the dark. Techno hardly ever took his helmet off, but one of the first things he’d done after hacking his governor module was remove it and look at his blurred reflection on his cubicle’s metal wall. It was the first time he’d felt like—like—

He cut off the thought.

Phil cleared his throat after a moment. “Would you mind—maybe—keeping your helmet off, mate?”

Techno felt a rare flare of panic spark in his chest, and barely managed to bite back his instinctive ‘No,’ which would have been an instant red flag that his governor module wasn’t working. Obedient SecUnits didn’t get to say No to human commands.

Nonetheless, he found himself responding, “I would prefer to keep it on.”

The words came so quickly, only slightly delayed from his initial reply. But he realized, with dread, that it wasn’t much better. It was still a refusal.

Phil’s eyes widened again, and Techno had a sinking feeling he’d just blown everything in one sentence. In one moment of panic, he might have revealed how dangerous he really was to all of them. All it would take was a diagnostic scan to show that Techno’s governor module had been fried for months, and then he’d be traded out, another SecUnit taking this contract while he was shut down and shipped back to the Company’s factories. Maybe he’d just be wiped. Maybe he’d be recycled. Both were the same thing, in the end.

“Alright,” Phil said, jolting Techno out of his internal panic.

Techno stared at him, pulling his mind back to the present, to what was actually happening here and now.

…’Alright’?

That was it?

Phil nodded firmly, seemingly to himself but it still confused Techno. “Alright,” he said again. “Whatever you prefer.”

Phil smiled at him, kind but strained. Then he said, “Goodnight, SecUnit. And…I know I said it before, but thank you for saving my boys.”

Phil reached out briefly, placing his hand on Techno’s forearm. He seemed to give it a light squeeze—Techno couldn’t really feel it through the armor—and then he let go and turned away. Techno stared as Phil returned to his room.

…That was odd.

Still panicking a little, Techno returned to his cubicle and locked himself in. He went over the interactions during the night, trying to make sense of it. He knew exactly why he didn’t want to go around without his helmet. He didn’t want humans seeing his face, seeing every little slip of emotion, every trace of feeling that revealed he didn’t have a governor module. He didn’t want to risk them getting too close. But why had Phil acted the way he did about it? Why had Phil wanted Techno to keep it off in the first place, and why had he allowed it when Techno had refused? Was he clueless that Techno’s denial was a show of a malfunctioning—if not broken—governor module?

While much of it was a mystery, Techno caught onto one thing.

Why Phil had been surprised about Techno’s response about the helmet, not simply because it was disobedience.

Bots didn’t have preferences.

Chapter Text

The next five days before the Craft boys started school were much calmer. That was great for Techno, because he seriously needed to recover from the many difficult human interactions he had recently.

First there was Tommy. Tommy, who was trying to keep Techno’s secret identity as a streamer a secret while also being immensely happy and excited about it. Techno still streamed during the night (a much-needed stress reliever), and Tommy would immediately spring into compliments about said streams whenever they were alone. If they weren’t alone, Tommy would start up a loud conversation with whoever was nearby about how much he loved the latest Technoblade stream. Techno had to admit it was endearing and pretty hilarious, but he also couldn’t afford to be exposed. Then again, who would suspect a SecUnit of running a Minecraft stream?

Tommy’s change in their dynamic was easy. Wilbur, however, was clearly looking at Technoblade in a completely different way. Techno had to escort Wilbur everywhere, so it wasn’t subtle at all when Wilbur checked out data files on Bot designs and the concept of cloning. He scrolled through news feeds on the Company and any form of controversy they were involved in. It was almost like he was researching for some great school project he was really invested in, except Techno knew Wilbur had already completed all his assignments over the break. Wilbur also treated Techno less like the amusing Bot trailing behind him, and kept asking Techno…non-security related questions.

“Do you have any favorite music, SecUnit?”

“No.”

“What have your previous contracts been like?”

“Normal.”

“How are you doing today?”

Ugh. He was getting all…personal.

But the worst was Phil.

Phil wasn’t quite as direct as Wilbur was, but there were definitely changes in how they interacted.

Technically, Techno didn’t have to be outside his cubicle when they were all in the apartment. He could sit in his box (no, not a Barbie box), unseen, and monitor the security from there. Even if he needed to inspect something, he could send a drone.

Phil, however, made every effort to pull Techno away from his cubicle. He would ask Techno to join them for meals. He would offer Techno to play videogames with them. He would say he wanted to go on a walk with his boys, and then the four of them would just go outside and wander around for two hours. Phil, Tommy, and Wilbur, strolling about with nowhere to go, talking and laughing and occasionally calling behind them to the ominous SecUnit that trailed behind.

Humans were stupid.

Techno had some good moments, too, though. His war against SquidKid was playing out exactly according to his calculations, and Tommy’s quiet snickers in the morning as he caught up on the streams were a satisfying reward. On top of that, Techno was now popular enough to actually gain money from his streams. It was easy to tap into a bank and set up his own account under a false name—Dave—and start to gain some savings. So he wouldn’t have to embezzle Phil after all. He wasn’t exactly sure what he would do with the funds, but it gave him a pleasant feeling of independence and control over himself.

His favorite part, though, was when his new drones arrived. He didn’t show it, of course, he remained completely still on the side as the delivery Bots carried up the boxes of new drones and Phil signed the data pad. They synced to Techno immediately and whirled quietly out of their containers. Ah, fresh drones, with completely clean camera lenses and all full battery charges… Techno had never had this many to himself before, and he loved it. He was tempted to name them. Goons, or Dogs of War, or something like that.

…Maybe Techno wasn’t great at naming things.

The day came when Tommy and Wilbur had to go back to school. This is…mediocre, for Techno. On one hand, the school already has a decent security system. They have weapon scanners at every entrance, and it takes Techno, a highly weaponized SecUnit, sixteen minutes to be cleared to pass through (the school has to check Phil’s and the Company’s permits and run a diagnostic on Techno, which he hastily managed to hack). All these security measures make Techno’s job a bit easier, in many ways.

On the other hand, Tommy and Wilbur are solidly split up from each other. Wilbur is a senior, while Tommy is just starting high school in 9th grade. They have entirely different classes. So Techno can’t protect them at the same time. The only time Techno usually allows them to be apart is when one of them is at home, with the trusted security of the apartment and a fair chunk of Techno’s drones. Now, Techno has to rely on his drones to protect them in an unfamiliar environment. Techno sticks eight on Wilbur (who rolls his eyes but doesn’t complain) and keeps two to himself as he walks Tommy to class.

Adult humans have a fairly standard reaction to SecUnits: discomfort, avoidance, and slight-to-extreme terror. Human children, however, are across the board. Some have the same reactions as adults. Others are curious and openly stare at Techno. Others loudly try to guess how many guns he has.

Tommy, surprisingly, acts normal. He doesn’t boast about Techno very much, only puffing out his chest when people ask and declaring that his SecUnit could beat anyone up. Nor does he seem embarrassed at Techno’s presence. He just goes about his day, laughing with friends and doodling on his assignments in class. Techno is proud to say, at least, that Tommy actively participated in the class discussion about the Odyssey. He was excited and engaged; the teacher looks impressed, and Techno felt his heart warm.

Techno watched Tommy, the classes, and Wilbur through his drones, all at once. Wilbur and his friends laugh about his ‘entourage’ as they call it, and Skeppy throws a grape at one during the lunch period. Techno responds by having the drone fry the rest of Skeppy’s grapes with its laser. Their responding screams are hilarious. Wilbur laughs himself sick.

A few kids are uneasy about the faceless SecUnit that looms in the back of their classrooms. One student asks the teacher if Techno can be put outside. Tommy starts to bristle and Techno resignedly starts coming up with official statements about needing to guard Tommy, but the teacher intervenes.

“It’s just a Bot, don’t worry,” the man waves off. “It can’t really have thoughts. It just does its job, it doesn’t hate you or anything.”

Techno considers correcting the teacher that he is a Construct, but doesn’t bother. The children are scared enough of him without him drawing any more attention to himself. Tommy fumes, but Techno catches him and sends a quick negative ping to his feed. Perhaps because the insult wasn’t that bad, Tommy reluctantly relented.

The day is wrapping up all in all successful. Techno can handle this if this is going to be the routine. He and Tommy wait by the hovercraft for Wilbur, who’s jabbering needlessly with his friends while the two of them wait on him. Techno considers poking Wilbur with a drone to get him moving.

Tommy is watching Techno’s latest stream on his data pad, voicing comments and praise that Techno pretends he doesn’t care all that much about, but they both notice when a group of students approach them. Techno recognizes the students as part of Tommy’s class, but not part of his friend group. A quick scan of their faces and Techno has their names and addresses—yes, he hacked that information from the school. The school may have a pretty good security system (and that’s a high compliment, coming from Techno), but Techno is better.

There are four children, and two are snickering as they approach. Something about this immediately sets Techno on guard, though he knows the children have no weapons and are of no significant threat. But it’s in the way they look at Tommy, like he’s a Clown Bot who fell on his own pie, and the way Tommy tenses when he sees them.

Techno confirms his instincts when suddenly on of the kids whips out a glob of something white and hurls it at him.

Techno’s hand shoots up and catches it, and it is only his Laws of Robotics that ping across his visor that keep him from retaliating. If the kid were an adult, Techno would currently be advancing and pinning them to the ground. If they were a vaguely threatening adult, he would be shooting their legs out. If he were a Bot, then their power core holder would currently be a gaping hole.

Techno gives a quick scan of the…glop. It’s a sort of marshmallow mush, filled with sticky sugar and corn syrup, slightly melted. It looks like the kids made it by warming up marshmallows and then mashing them together. Now it is unpleasantly smeared across Techno’s hand.

The kids seem disappointed at Techno’s quick reaction, while Tommy explodes.

“Why did you do that?!” he shouts at the kids, grabbing Techno’s hand and looking at the food item stuck to it.

“We wanted to see if it would fire its gun,” one of the kids said with a shrug.

Techno gave a slow, noncomprehending blink under his visor.

Advice to anyone ever interacting with SecUnits: don’t ever provoke SecUnits. The Company has secured Techno’s right to kill a human if his client is sufficiently threatened, and even without that, SecUnits can cause a lot of damage. Most humans know that. These human children, apparently, do not.

“He’s MY Secunit, not yours!” Tommy said furiously, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Techno’s own hand twitched. “You don’t get to treat him that way!”

A kid waves a hand and scoffs. “You have like, what, two dozen Bots? You don’t have to be so selfish, we were just playing.”

Tommy’s cheeks turned red. “I don’t have two dozen Bots,” he gritted out.

“Oh, sorry you had to give a few up to afford your fancy SecUnit.” A kid looks Techno up and down, like Techno is some coveted hover craft on display. This one appeared to be the leader, slightly buffer than the others, brunette, with a shirt displaying a popular sporting team. “None of us could afford a Bot like that on a month’s salary. Face it; you’re the spoiled kid.”

The term is an odd insult. Antarctic-3 is a prosperous and peaceful planet, but the recent rise of corporate power is the casual scorn of most citizens. The wealthy are hoarding more money to themselves, while the planet’s economy relies on constant transactions to keep production running smoothly. It’s becoming slightly more like the Corporate Rim, which has even starker divisions between the rich and the poor. Spoiledis a peculiar offense.

But Techno can’t connect how Tommy is spoiled—at least in the way that the other children say. Phil only owns one Bot beside Techno, the Chef Bot, and rents the rest as needed, like most other citizens of the planet. The apartment is nice, but it isn’t a mansion with acres of land or a multi-floored castle in the midst of the city. Phil is wealthy, but he also pays his employees well and diverts much of his funds to charities. Techno is expensive, yes, but if there was one thing Techno learned about Phil while being with him, it was that the man loved his kids.

Tommy wasn’t nearly as spoiled as he could be, given his father’s position and income. Phil didn’t buy Tommy anything and everything he wanted, he made sure Tommy did his schoolwork and signed him up for several extracurriculars, and Tommy even did some chores around the home.

Perhaps by some standards that was spoiled, but compared to the average Antarctic human child his age, Techno didn’t think so.

Techno thought this all in a moment, detached and confused. But then he glanced and Tommy—

He expected Tommy to look mad. But the anger on Tommy’s face was like a thin veil of cosmetics; he looked hurt. As if he’d just been physically slapped.

Techno’s protectiveness programming zing’d in his head. He had the sudden impulse to just pick up Tommy and leave, but he was aware enough that that wouldn’t help this whole bullying issue.

“Yeah?” Tommy puffed out, but it was shaky and unstable. “Well I’m tough enough to take you any day!”

Techno saw it coming from a mile away, as the lead kid barked a laugh and then threw a punch.

Techno caught it.

Obviously.

And hilariously enough, he’d had the idea to use the hand that had the marshmallow-goop on it. The kid shrieked, a mixture of alarm and genuine fear, and tried to jerk away, but Techno, when he wanted to be, was as unmovable as stone.

“Let go of me!” the kid shouted, tugging and pulling.

“You have attacked my client.” Techno kept his visor facing the child he’d caught, but he registered the others staring in shock. “This is not allowed.”

The kid stopped struggling to glare at Techno. It was an impressive show of bravado, but Techno could see the hidden fear. “You—you can’t hurt a minor!” His nostrils flared. “It’s against the Laws of Robotics!”

True. Techno wasn’t allowed to hurt any children at all, not even if they were a threat. In the unlikely scenario where he had to neutralize a child, he was supposed to either stun or flee. Breaking that particular law would instantly draw attention to Techno’s governor module. But there was more than one way to ward off a threat.

He leaned forward, towering over the child. “SecUnits may disobey standard Human and Robotics Laws if it is to protect their clients. As having attempted to assault my client, you are no longer protected from those laws in regard to me.”

The child paled. Techno held him for another moment.

Then he shoved the kid away. “Go. And stay away from my client.”

All four kids scrambled away, heading back into the school building. Tommy snapped out of his stunned shock enough to shout after them.

“YEAH YOU BETTER RUN!” he screamed. “I HAVE A SECUNIT AND I’M NOT AFRAID TO USE HIM! HE HAS GUNS! WHO’S THE SPOILED KID NOW, EH?”

Techno just watched. He was…uncomfortable. Several things were nigging at his mind, and not just the bullying. Things about Tommy.

‘He’s MY SecUnit, not yours!’

Tommy finished his shouting and turned back to Techno with a huge grin. “That was so pog!”

“Tommy,” Techno said flatly, and Tommy’s grin dropped at the tone. “You know that you do not own me, correct?”

Tommy’s eyebrows came down in confusion. “What?”

“You do not own me,” Techno said. Technically, without a governor module, no one owned Technoblade, but Techno had to settle for reasserting his independence in another way. “The Company rents me to you and your family by contract. I am not yours.”

Tommy just continued to look confused. Techno prepared himself to be told ‘that’s basically the same thing,’ but what Tommy said was, “But we’re friends.”

Now it was Techno’s turn to be confused. “What?”

“You may only be my rented SecUnit,” Tommy said with a one-shouldered shrug, “but you’re also my friend. So…you are mine, in the important way.” Tommy nodded firmly. “And I’m yours, too.”

Techno stared down at Tommy. This ignorant, foolish human child. Humans didn’t belong to Bots, and Bots didn’t own humans. While Techno might refer to them as ‘his’ clients or ‘his’ humans, there was a clear hierarchy of power between them. This was all just Tommy’s immaturity, the boy didn’t understand. How could a human and a Construct ever be true friends, as equals?

Tommy looked slightly trepidatious as Techno stared and didn’t respond. “That’s…okay, right?” he asked. “You said we were friends before. You’re not upset with me because of those idiots, right?”

Well. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Because Techno was free, without his governor module, and Tommy saw him as an equal. Maybe it wasn’t exactly balanced. But maybe it was close enough.

“Yes,” Techno said quietly. “We are friends.”

“Good.” Tommy hopped onto the hood of the hover craft and kicked his legs absentmindedly. He shot another grin at Techno. “So, now that you’ve seen the crap I have to put up with—will you teach me how to fire a gun?”

“Antarctic-3 law forbids children under 18 to own or handle firearms, and requires extensive licenses and permits for an adult to purchase one,” Techno said. Then he hesitated. “I suppose, however, I could give you a few self-defense tips.”

Tommy lit up. “Really?!”

Techno found himself allowing a small, fond smile under his visor. “Yes. I will teach you some minor combat techniques.”

Tommy’s resulting excited ramble was worth it.

-

Wilbur (finally) came back and they got into the hover craft with Tommy ranting with a mixture of both outrage and pride about what happened. Wilbur’s face morphed between concern and amusement.

“What punks,” Wilbur said when Tommy was finished with the gist of the story. “Definitely report that.”

“They know better now,” Tommy said with confidence. “You shouldn’t mess with Bots.”

“I am a Construct,” Techno corrected Tommy for the twenty-third time.

Wilbur craned his head over to look at Techno, as the three of them were crammed into the seat of the hover craft, Tommy in the middle.

Techno had an ominous feeling at Wilbur’s expression, the peering-too-closely-at-Techno’s-hidden-face-and-about-to-ask-uncomfortable-questions expression, as Techno was starting to call it.

“What’s the difference between a Construct and a Bot, anyway?” Wilbur asked, his tone with misplaced gentleness.

This wasn’t as invasively personal as Techno had been preparing himself for, and he relaxed a bit under the armor. He answered factually.

“Technically, Constructs are counted as a type of Bot,” Techno admitted, “but I and every other Construct I have met prefer to be differentiated.” He paused, coming up with an example. “Your Chef Bot is a generic Bot. It can do only what it was programmed to do, follow recipes exactly, and if there is a change to its environment—such as the pots have been moved, or you’re out of flour—then it stops its task until the issue is solved or it is directed otherwise. It can’t do anything outside of what it was programmed for.

“If you had a Chef Construct, however, it would have a degree of independence. A Chef Construct might notice its owners’ favorite foods and plan meals accordingly, rather than constantly have to be ordered what to make. It might register that its owners prefer spicy foods, or well-done meat instead of rare, and accommodate this without being instructed. If something it needed was missing, it would look around or even come up with a substitute. In other words, a Construct is capable of a degree of creativity.”

Which was necessary to be a good SecUnit. Techno might criticize human security, but he had to admit that the varying situations of danger required some initiative.

Wilbur and Tommy were listening with rapt fascination.

“In other words,” Wilbur said, leaning forward with his hands braced on his legs, “Constructs are sentient.”

Techno looked at Wilbur flatly, though obviously he couldn’t see Techno’s expression under the visor. “No Bot is sentient. We are not humans.”

“But you just said you have creativity,” Wilbur argued. “You have preferences and independence—”

“To a degree,” Techno emphasized. “We have programming. Purposes.”

Wilbur frowned unhappily, clearly not satisfied with that.

Thankfully, Tommy cut in. “How come more people don’t know about the differences between Bots and Constructs?”

Techno turned to look down at him. “Constructs are much less common.”

“Do all Constructs have organic parts?” was Tommy’s next question.

Techno had to think about that for a moment. “I do not know,” he admitted. Bot companies liked to keep their designs a secret. The other Constructs Techno had met could easily have had hidden organic parts, just like him.

“How do they work?” Wilbur asked. “Do they age? How old are your organic parts compared to your inorganic ones?”

Techno didn’t really like this probing conversation, but he was required to answer client questions. He tried to think of a way to distract them from the subject as he answered.

“I do not know either. I have had my memory purged before, so I do not know my age.” His last purge had been about two years ago.

Both Tommy and Wilbur looked startled by this.

“You don’t know how old you are?!” Tommy repeated, sounding aghast.

Techno didn’t really like the idea of memory purges either, but wasn’t too concerned about his lost ones. That old self was gone, and it had probably just gone along with its governor module anyway.

“Sometimes clients wish to keep their affairs private. So they ask the Company to purge the SecUnit’s memory after the contract is completed.” For a few, obviously. Of course, the Company would download said memories first for datamining, so there wasn’t any privacy anyway. It was pointless in the end.

Techno wasn’t sure what would happen if the Company had his memory purged now. They would absolutely find out that he’d hacked his governor module if they tried. He would have to do some very skilled hacking to get out of it. He wasn’t sure he would succeed.

“That’s horrible!” Wilbur shouted. “That—that—I can’t believe that!”

“Wilbur,” Techno said, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. SecUnits couldn’t be impatient with their clients. “I am not a human.” It was standard procedure to purge Bot memories when they transferred owners. Constructs less so, because their complex brains were harder to fiddle with, but the option was still there.

Wilbur looked furious, just like he had when Techno had followed him to that concert. But his anger wasn’t directed at Techno; at least, not all of it. He did seem to be a bit annoyed with Techno whenever Techno said he wasn’t a person.

They arrived back at the apartment building and walked inside. Wilbur called out a greeting to Phil, who was on his comm. Techno’s drones flew in behind them and took up their positions around the apartment, like a little flock of trained white birds.

“So, could you look up how old you are?” Tommy asked curiously.

“I do not have access to that information.” Because the Company didn’t trust its own SecUnits. Which said a lot about them, that they rented out SecUnits to clients that they didn’t trust themselves.

“Could you find out?” Tommy asked next. “Like, through a scan?”

Both Wilbur and Techno paused at that. It was a surprisingly good idea for the issue—even if Techno didn’t want to do it.

“Potentially.” Techno kept his tone indifferent; neutral.

“Try it!” Tommy insisted.

Techno was trapped. He calculated quickly. He couldn’t simply refuse, he’d be exposing his governor module. But he had a sinking feeling that knowing his age would set Wilbur and Tommy on him more. People had ages. SecUnits did not.

Techno was still for too long.

“SecUnit?” Tommy asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.

“I do not see the benefit of doing so,” Techno finally said. Which was so, so risky.

Why was he doing this? Why did he care if he had an age, if Wilbur and Tommy thought he was a person? So what? He wasn’t. He already knew that. Who cared what they thought?

So why did it make him so uncomfortable?

Tommy put his hands on his hips incredulously. “What do you mean you don’t—”

“Let it be, Tommy,” Wilbur said, stepping up behind him. “If the SecUnit doesn’t want to do it, he doesn’t have to.”

Techno stared at Wilbur.

This was a trap. They were honoring Techno’s preferences again. Which he didn’t have. At least, not any significant ones that humans should care about.

Perhaps on impulse, perhaps to correct his mistake in accidentally revealing his discomfort, Techno lifted his arm. He commanded the armor to fold back, baring the human flesh on his forearm. It was right where the metal of his gun port meshed with the organic tissue. Techno looked down and scanned the skin. Data lit up across his visor.

After a pause, he said, “My human tissue is fifteen years old.” Huh, he had expected it to be younger than that. “Of course, it was cloned to mature immediately, so it was created to be the equivalent of an adult human.”

Hopefully that settled the whole ordeal. Techno folded back his armor and dropped his arm back to his side, clearing the data from his visor to look at the three Crafts.

…Why were they all staring at him like that?

“What?” Phil whispered, comm device still held close to his ear.

“YOU’RE ONLY ONE YEAR OLDER THAN ME!” Tommy shouted, pointing at Techno.

“You’re YOUNGER than me!” Wilbur shouted next.

Oh. This was worse than what Techno had feared.

“I am no human child.” He hoped they didn’t notice how his fists were clenched tighter than normal at his sides. “My organic parts were made, not born. I am ageless. This number is inconsequential; I had a memory purge two years ago, so it’s not like I remember—”

“You what?!” Wilbur cried.

Techno felt his frustration starting to boil. He clenched his fists tighter. He wanted this subject to end. He never should have given in to Wilbur’s challenge, it had been a trap either way.

Wilbur rounded on his father. “Dad, this is horrible! We have to—”

“Wilbur, stop.”

Techno’s eyes went to Phil, and for 0.4th of a second, he saw that Phil’s gaze was on his fists. But then it flicked back up to Wilbur. Techno subtlety tried to relax his hands.

The quiet that followed Phil’s instruction seemed to defuse the situation like a snuffed flame. Phil closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“Wilbur,” Phil said again, when he was ready. “The SecUnit knows himself better than we do. He’s not a child, like he said. He’s not a human.”

Wilbur started to object, but Phil stopped him with a raised hand. After giving his son a firm quieting look, Phil returned his attention to Techno.

Techno tensed up again. Usually he could hide it pretty well with his armor, but with the way Phil looked at him…he had doubts as to how well he was concealing his feelings.

“SecUnit,” Phil said in a gentle tone, “I’m sorry if we crossed some boundaries just now.”

Techno remained completely still. “SecUnits don’t have boundaries.”

Phil made a skeptical face at that, but before he could say anything, Tommy asked, “Does that mean I can have one of your guns?”

Techno turned his attention to him, and a small amount of his anger drained away. “No. That is not a boundary, that is a security protocol.”

Tommy looked mulish.

“Either way,” Phil forced on, “I think we need to clarify something.” He lifted a finger at Techno. “You are not a human.”

Phil had said that twice now, and it was also helping Techno calm down. He nodded. “Correct.”

“But you’re more than a Bot,” Phil said next.

Techno nodded again. “I am a Construct.”

“Right.” Phil held up his hands pacifyingly—not like he thought he was being threatened, but more to calm someone else down. Dang it, he did see how agitated Techno was. “We don’t really know the differences of how we should treat a Construct compared to a Bot.”

…Huh. Actually, Techno didn’t know the ways a Construct should be treated compared to a Bot. Which probably meant there weren’t any. But Techno was different from Bots.

This was a dangerous line of thought. Techno already knew he was independent, he’d hacked his own governor module for exactly that reason. But being treated differently meant more attention, more danger.

Being treated differently meant being treated more like a person.

Techno didn’t respond for fourteen seconds. He went back and forth between calculating an answer or almost saying there was none. His threat assessment processor said he should just tell them to treat him like a Bot, but Techno’s own experience—and buried hopes—compelled him to trust them.

“You’re safe here, SecUnit,” Phil said softly, when Techno didn’t speak.

Safety and protection was Techno’s entire purpose. Even without his governor module, he was meant for it.

He had ripped free of his governor module and stolen this little piece of liberty at great risk. And he was satisfied with it, he told himself. He could do his job, and play Minecraft, and be ignored by humans, and be happy. He didn’t need the Crafts’…whatever this was.

He couldn’t quite lower himself to saying he was the same as a Bot, so he ended up answering, “Treat me as you see fit.” Which was basically the same thing in the end.

The three humans exchanged glances. Clearly, they were unsure how to proceed. As usual, Phil took the reins.

“Then how about I lay out some things you’re free to do?” Phil lowered his hands back to his sides, more relaxed.

Techno didn’t know what that meant. “Such as?”

Phil tilted his head thoughtfully, like he didn’t quite know either. Then he started. “First, you can wear whatever you like. You don’t have to be in your armor all the time. Second, you can join us or leave us at any time. If you want to go back to your cubicle for a while, go ahead.”

“You can also play my videogames!” Tommy propped his arms up on the back of the couch excitedly. “You don’t have to have me there. You can play whenever you like.”

Tommy already knew Techno played a lot of games whenever he liked, but the offer…was surprisingly thoughtful.

“You don’t have to answer our questions,” Wilbur said, though he looked a little reluctant about it. “I know I’ve been prodding. You can just tell me to stop if I’m crossing a line.”

Phil took a step closer to Techno. “And you can always, always talk to us. About anything.”

Techno stared at them. He didn’t know what to say.

…It wasn’t like…he could stop them from doing these things.

In the end, he just nodded.

Chapter Text

Things changed after that conversation, in ways that Techno couldn’t calculate. He had no inclination to wear the boar mask Wilbur had bought, but the ability to shut a door between him and the humans changed the dynamic a bit.

Techno had always thought that, if given the opportunity to lock himself away from all humans and get to play Minecraft until time ended, he would do it. Humans were difficult. They were annoying. Why would he voluntarily spend time with them?

But he did. And not simply to be obedient or to hide the fact that he could disobey, or just for job purposes, but because he wanted to. He liked playing videogames with Tommy. He liked being in the room when Wilbur played his instruments, there was something to be said about feeling the music soundwaves instead of just listening to it through the feed. He liked how Phil took time from his day to join them, to listen and to tease and cause a surprisingly amount of chaos in his own right. And Techno liked when they were all together, bantering and throwing insults at each other and yet laughing and being affectionate. He doesn’t do too much of that himself, but he likes being present for it.

But Techno does like the ability to close them off once in a while. When streaming, he doesn’t have to hastily wrap things up when one of the Crafts want his attention. When Tommy’s hollering gets to be a bit too much, he can just step away. And when Wilbur asks a question that makes him tense, he doesn’t have to dance around an answer or pretend he doesn’t understand; he just says no, and Wilbur drops it.

Of course, Techno doesn’t lax in his responsibilities…any more than he already does, at least. Besides his usual security procedures, he also continues to run queries and download data on Phil’s rivals. Thanks to hacking, he’s able to get more than most, but he has to admit that politicians have pretty good security, both physical and cybernetic. Not only do they have impressive firewalls, but they also have SecUnits.

Techno had to avoid other SecUnits. If they caught onto the fact that he didn’t have a governor module controlling him (and they knew exactly what signs to look for), they would report him immediately, and maybe try to kill him if he was in range. And while Techno was pretty confident in his capabilities, taking on a dozen SecUnits was suicide.

Yes. Some politicians had as many as a dozen.

Getting Techno’s contract was considered a sizable investment. Getting multiple SecUnits? Yeah, Phil was right to be pressuring for higher taxes on the rich.

This threat on the horizon became very real one morning at breakfast. He had been fruitlessly trying to hack into a suspect politician’s mainframe unnoticed when Phil brought up the subject of social events at breakfast.

“Another HyperGolf Event.” Phil’s eyes narrowed on his feed, an invitation flickering onto it. They’re all sitting at the table, Tommy cramming sausages into his mouth. Techno sits, because it makes the Crafts uncomfortable now when he just stands and stares. “They had one a month ago. I can’t believe this.”

Tommy said something vulgar that Techno immediately deleted from his memory—partially because it was vulgar, partially because Tommy had said it with his mouth full. Nope, Techno didn’t need those particular six seconds in his memory drives. Human inputs and outputs were horrifying to him. Wilbur laughed, though.

“Out of all the crimes of the universe, what makes HyperGolf so bad?” Techno drawled curiously. He was doing that more—participating in their conversations. They hardly seemed to notice, but Techno was very aware of himself each time he did it.

“Nothing is more of a farce than HyperGolf,” Phil said, giving the holographic invitation a glare before swiping it off his feed. “They claim it’s a charity fundraiser, but really it’s just for the big CEOs and such to get together, with some added politicians, to exchange bribes and splurge on their eighteenth vintage hover craft.” Phil snorted disgustedly before stabbing his fork through a patch of eggs. “Forget that.”

Wilbur waved a fork elegantly, with exaggerated pompousness. “Dad has to attend all the snot-nosed parties and prattle, but HyperGolf always gets to him the most.”

“Hosting my own parties is almost as bad,” Phil muttered, still skimming his feed. “Our fundraiser gala for educational support is coming up next week, and I’m on the planning committee.” He gave a weary sigh.

Wilbur, however, got a spark of interest in his eyes. “Do my ears hear an opportunity to wear my new dress outfit?”

Tommy groaned and flopped his face down on the table. They all ignored it.

Phil dismissed his feed again and gave Wilbur a skeptical look. “I wasn’t planning on bringing along either of you. It seemed…” He made a face. “Too risky.”

“What’s the SecUnit for, if not to protect us?” Wilbur waved an arm at Techno. “We should definitely go.”

“Leave me behind,” moaned Tommy.

Wilbur frowned over at him. “Because you hate parties, not because you think it’s too dangerous.”

“They’re so borinnnnnng.” Tommy pushed his plate aside so he could lay his face on the table.

Wilbur’s expression morphed into something more mirthful. “They’re just too mature for the little baby Tommy~”

That made Tommy spring right up. “OI!”

Wilbur just blew him a kiss before returning his attention to Phil. “C’mon, Dad,” Wilbur leaned forward. “You know people love the family man.” His hands became fists on the table. “And we have to show that we’re not scared. The culprit hasn’t chased us away.”

“I’m not gambling your life to stick it to the very assassins trying to kill you,” Phil said, suddenly firm.

Wilbur shook his head. “They’re targeting us because of what you do, Dad, they’re trying to intimidate you. You have to show you’re not backing down.”

Phil looked unsure. In honesty, Techno wasn’t sure he wouldn’t back down. Phil was a clever, kind, hardworking person, but he was also completely dedicated to his sons. Techno had the feeling that, to keep them safe, Phil would leave the rest of the world to burn.

Phil, however, took in Wilbur’s determined expression. He didn’t cave, but it was clear he was now pondering the idea.

“SecUnit,” Phil said, turning in his seat to face Techno, “What do you think?”

It wasn’t completely odd for Techno to be asked for his perspective on security, but he was usually ignored. He knew the Crafts were different and often blindly followed his advice. For this situation, the gala was an unnecessary risk and he should say no. Putting Tommy and Wilbur in a room full of suspects was stupid and risky.

But putting Techno in a room full of suspects…where he would be able to monitor them…and maybe have a better opportunity to hack into their hardware…

It was tempting. Very tempting.

“With proper precautions,” Techno said slowly.

Tommy lifted his head only to thump it back down on the table.

Phil finally gave Tommy a fond, exasperated look. “Attending a party isn’t so bad. What else are you planning to do, mate?”

“Go see Tubbo,” Tommy said into the table.

“Don’t you see Tubbo at school?” Wilbur prodded, unimpressed.

Tommy rolled his head to glare at Wilbur. “I need breaks from you.”

Wilbur propped his head on his hand on the table. “Well, if that’s all that’s on your schedule today, we should probably go to the mall and get you some new nice outfits. Tubbo won’t take all day.”

Tommy sloped forward more. “But I have other plans…”

“Which are?” Phil prodded.

Tommy glared down at the table, his nose smushed against it. Techno decided to grant him some mercy. “Tommy will be taking self-defense lessons from me.”

Both Phil and Wilbur turned to Techno in surprise.

“He’s going to what?” Wilbur said, just as Phil asked, “You do that?”

Tommy, on the other hand, shot straight up. “You want to start today? Yes, yes, let’s do that!”

Phil, however, looked worried. “What exactly do these ‘lessons’ entail?”

Obviously Techno wasn’t going to teach Tommy how to kill a human. At least, not for a long while.

“Some hand-to-hand combat, how to get out of restraining holds, and proper responses to emergency situations,” Techno listed, which seemed like a fair setup for beginning. The last one would be the most useful. Lots of humans tended to just stare in shock when urgent things were happening.

Phil’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh. That’s alright. It’d probably be handy to have.” He glanced at his other son. “You want to join them, mate?”

“No thanks,” Wilbur said, already retreating to his feed for entertainment. “That sounds too much like exercise.”

Phil snorted in amusement while Tommy gave Techno and unsure look. “Will it be like exercise?”

Did Tommy think he could fight someone with those current noodle arms? “There will be physical elements, yes.”

Tommy made a thoughtful face, but seemed to decide it was worth it. “So when do you want to start?”

“The apartment complex has a physical activity unit in its lower levels. This is a suitable environment for training. We can go down whenever you wish, provided Wilbur is content to remain in the apartment.”

Wilbur waved vaguely in their direction. His feed was announcing a new album from one of his favorite bands. “Yeah, sure, go ahead, man.”

Tommy’s excitement grew. “Let’s go right now!” He rushed off to his room to change.

Phil shook his head fondly, glancing across the table at Techno. “I appreciate you doing that for him.”

There they went, doing that whole gratitude and appreciation thing again. And it wasn’t just automatic, pointless manners, they actually meant it.

“I am here to serve,” Techno said neutrally. He watched through one of his drone cameras as Tommy picked out an outfit, something that some actor might wear in an action movie. Techno had the drone nudge a different set of more comfortable, flexible clothing pointedly.

“And we’re grateful for that,” Phil said, doing it again. “Whenever you’re ready, you can send me a list of the security recommendations you have for the gala. I’ll be sure to implement as many as I can.”

Techno just nodded. At that moment, Tommy came rushing out, hopping on one foot as he tried to put a shoe on and run at the same time. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Techno stands up by the time Tommy reaches him, and then Tommy takes his hand and starts attempting to drag him towards the door. Techno hardly even feels the pull.

“You two have fun!” Phil called after them.

You two.

Techno started to turn around to look at Phil, but then the door closed and Tommy was pulling him down the hall to the exercise area.

-

The activity center of the apartment complex was plenty adequate for their training. It thankfully had reservable rooms so people could exercise privately if desired. All they had to do was request a room from the Bot up front, and they had it to themselves for an hour. It was equipped with mats, weights, a few dummies, and equipment could be requested as well.

Techno made Tommy do some stretches first, which he whined about, before they moved to basic fighting forms. Techno taught him how to throw a punch properly, how to brace for a hit, and general human vulnerabilities. Techno didn’t have such vulnerabilities of course—that would be a stupid design—but it was useful to know.

Tommy tackled each one of these with enthusiasm, though his form was far from perfect. Techno knew it could take years for humans to learn proper combat, whereas he had been built and programmed for it. He probably didn’t have to, but he ended up praising Tommy for his small achievements anyway. The boy lit up at each one.

They moved on to avoiding attacks and getting out of holds. This required Techno to act as an opponent. He was very careful to monitor his strength and his positioning; he was far bigger and stronger than Tommy. He also had to pretend to be human; obviously Tommy could never get out of a SecUnit’s hold, but human opponents were what they were practicing for.

Techno (gently) held Tommy in a few different headlocks, keeping it loose but also not allowing him to escape, and instructed him how to twist out of each one.

Tommy was worried at first, particularly after he kicked Techno in the knee to get out of a hold. It was a hard enough blow that the average human would be startled into letting go, so Techno released him abruptly, and imitated the way a human would fall forward.

Tommy stumbled and whirled around. “I’m sorry! Are you okay, SecUnit?”

Techno paused, taking a moment to examine Tommy to make sure he was actually serious. But the boy only showed signs of pure concern.

Ridiculous child. Even if Techno could be hurt by such a slight move, no other human than the Crafts would care. He rose back to his feet.

“I am a SecUnit. You could not hurt me if you tried.” Really, Tommy could throw a brick at him, break it directly on Techno’s head, and Techno wouldn’t even blink. More teasingly, he added, “You couldn’t hurt anyone with those noodle arms.”

Just like he expected, Tommy’s face redden and his mouth fell open in outrage. “I ABSOLTUTELY COULD with my MUSCLES!”

Tommy swung his arms wildly at Techno, who quickly sidestepped. “What did I teach you about punching?” he reminded, and Tommy, still furious, adjusted his moves. Techno smiled under his visor, ducking out of the way until Tommy got tired, and then offered him water and a short break. Then, they got back to work.

Tommy spoke the entire time, rambling as usual, but at one point he asked Techno a direct question.

“Why did you say Wilbur and I could go to that party?” Tommy tried to twist out of the hold Techno had on his arm. “I would’ve thought you’d say, ‘chances of dying are 68%, party attendance is not recommended.’”

Techno made a face at hearing Tommy’s horrible impression of him again under the visor. He decided that if Tommy could speak so much, he could probably handle more of a challenge on their current task. Techno twisted Tommy’s arm, not enough for pain, but enough to overbalance him and make stumble to the floor. Tommy yelped in alarm as Techno pinned him down with a knee planted on his back, barely applying any pressure.

“I am designed to fulfill client desires while also doing everything in my power to keep them safe,” Techno said neutrally. Hopefully that would be enough to make him drop it, and wouldn’t count as avoiding the question.

Tommy was too busy squirming to currently care.

“Technoooooo,” whined Tommy, and Techno froze.

That was—

He’d just—

Had that been the first time someone had called Techno by his chosen name out loud? Had Tommy done it before, when he’d discovered Techno’s connection to his streaming account, and Techno just hadn’t been able to focus on it?

It felt weird. Surreal. Like all of Techno’s armor had been stripped off in one blow. Like his whole own little world of Minecraft, which he had always interacted with through a screen, had just become real, and everything around him felt fake for a moment.

Techno immediately hacked into the building’s security and deleted the recording of Tommy saying his name, as well as looping the feed from this point on.

“Techno, let me up,” Tommy complained when Techno did not move.

Techno lifted Tommy back up in one smooth motion, the child hardly weighing anything to him. Tommy startled in surprise as Techno placed him on his feet and firmly planted his hands on Tommy’s shoulders.

“You can’t call me that, Tommy,” Techno said firmly, leveling his covered face with Tommy’s own. “Especially outside the apartment. You don’t know who could be watching, listening.”

Tommy paused his halfhearted struggles to look at Techno guiltily. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Techno took a breath and made himself relax. He was on edge, and he knew it. His processing capacity that let him juggle multiple trains of thought was currently still calculating the odds of certain suspects, while monitoring security, while crafting the list for security at the gala that Phil had asked him for.

“But why are you letting us go to that gala?” Tommy pressed. “You didn’t object at all.”

“I told you why,” Techno said, dropping his hands from Tommy’s shoulders and taking a slight step back.

Tommy snorted. “No, that was your lying answer. It wasn’t even a good one. I’m not stupid.”

Techno stared at him doubtfully. Tommy couldn’t see his face, but he seemed to pick up on the silent implication anyway.

The boy scowled. “Stop making that face!”

Techno raised an eyebrow, and then lifted his hands and removed his helmet, just so Tommy could see it. Tommy blinked a few times, obviously not expecting that, and then huffed when he took in Techno’s expression.

“You’re avoiding the question again.” Tommy crossed his arms.

Techno thought about it for a minute. Tommy was clearly picking up on the fact that Techno was working on something, hiding something. Most humans, when they thought that about a SecUnit, would go report it immediately. But Tommy was ignorant. A child. And, even stranger, he trusted Techno.

Maybe it was stupid to confide in a fourteen-year-old human, but Techno wanted to feel like he deserved that trust.

He blamed the protectiveness programming.

“I have been virtually investigating suspects of the assassinations,” Techno finally said. “But hacking their security systems from a distance hasn’t been enough. The gala is an opportunity for me to get closer.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “So it’s a trap?”

…Well, sort of, but that implied the Crafts were bait. Techno would be fine with leaving the boys stuffed back at the apartment, but then the guests would wonder why a SecUnit was attending a party without its clients.

“Yes,” Techno admitted. “But I will always ensure your safety.”

Tommy grinned and raised his fists. “Wilbur, yeah, but I can take on any assassins now!”

A small smile came onto Techno’s mouth. “A dandelion assassin, perhaps.”

Tommy’s mouth fell open in adject fury, before he kicked at Techno’s knee like Techno had taught him. It was actually a decent move. But Techno had just been pretending when he’d gone down the last time Tommy had done that.

“Nice try,” Techno said, “But I don’t have the same weaknesses as a human.”

Tommy looked sour. “What’s a SecUnit’s weakness, then?”

Techno narrowed his eyes. That was a dangerous question to answer, but one Techno had thought about a lot. Other SecUnits would attack him, a rogue, on sight, the moment they knew what he was. So he had put a lot of processing power into what he would do in that scenario. His best option would be to hack their Hub system and change their commands to make them back down. But in physical combat…

Techno knelt down in front of Tommy and held out the back of his wrist, folding back his armor to reveal his organic skin. Meshed with the flesh was a small dataport opening.

“This dataport runs all the way to my processor,” Techno said as Tommy made a slightly disgusted face at it. Yeah, seeing metal melded into organic parts wasn’t pretty. “In certain ways, it is a vulnerability. If someone put a virus through it, or even just an electric current, it would go straight to my brain. There is one of these on each of my wrists, and in the back of my neck.”

Tommy eyed the port, like it was some bug that might bite either of them. “It’s that easy?”

Techno shook his head. “It wouldn’t be affected by physical hits. Even if you were to cut off my arm, it would not damage my processor.”

Tommy made a skeptical face and pointed at the port, carefully not touching it. “You’re saying that a spark in this thing would hurt you more than losing your whole arm?”

Actually, yes. Techno could still fight with only one arm. He could still fight with neither arm. But he couldn’t fight without a brain.

Techno nodded. “Yes. A spark, or someone trying to upload a virus. I have protections against hacks like that, though.”

Tommy looked conflicted at Techno’s words. “I don’t like the idea of people hacking you.”

Techno startled, and then smiled again, more lopsided this time. “It’s a good thing I’m not so easily hacked.” He leaned in a bit. “Here’s a secret; most viruses would try to take control of my governor module, since that’s what keeps me and my organic parts in line. But I’ve already done that myself. So it wouldn’t affect me.”

Killware—AKA viruses that just tried to destroy everything they could reach—would still be a pain. But Mallware, viruses that tried to take control of things, would be pointless against Techno.

He didn’t say that, though, and Tommy relaxed. “Good,” he said with a firm nod. “No haters, no hackers. They can’t get you.”

Tommy then surprised Techno by closing the distance between them and hugging him. Techno went still as Tommy’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and his head rested on Techno’s chest.

It was only a brief moment, before Tommy pulled back. “Sorry, was that not okay?”

“It is fine,” was all Techno said.

Tommy nodded again. “Right.” He held up his arms and tried to flex his nearly-nonexistent muscles. “Hugging is a manly activity!”

Techno huffed slightly in amusement and got to his feet, strolling across the room. “Speaking of manly activities, not to exclude women…” Techno plucked up a pair of five-pound weights between three fingers and tossed them gently to Tommy, who grunted at the impact. “Time to build up those so-called ‘muscles’ of yours.”

Tommy clearly didn’t enjoy the strength training, but remarkably he didn’t complain. Techno guided him through exercises, correcting him when he strayed from the forms, while also drilling him on how to handle emergency situations.

“Someone bursts into the room and attacks you. What do you do?” Techno asked, strolling around Tommy as Tommy sat on the ground, legs extended, trying to reach his foot.

“Shoot them,” Tommy panted.

Techno withheld a sigh. “You don’t have a gun.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“You wouldn’t even know how to fire it,” Techno pointed out.

“Then teach me.” Tommy craned his neck around to look at Techno. “It won’t hurt to know, right?”

“57% of gun-related injuries or death are self-inflicted,” Techno said flatly. “Humans are atrociously bad at wielding weapons.”

“Oh.” Tommy made a slightly disgusted face. “Well, teach me the right way and then I’m less likely to hurt myself, right?”

Techno paused. This…may be a really, really bad idea. Techno hated when humans had guns, because they tended to shoot him—whether accidentally or on purpose.

Once, the Company had sent Techno and one of their salesmen to a potential client to show off SecUnit capabilities. It had been a simple job, at first. Techno had just stood there and followed the salesman’s instructions, displaying his weapons, a few fighting moves, and answering questions quickly and factually. But then the client had been curious as to how many hits Techno could take.

The salesman had gloated about Techno’s durability, and then offered to show it firsthand. This involved Techno handing over two of his own guns to the salesman and the client, stepping back, and allowing them to shoot him while still performing his basic functions. He had turned down his pain receptors, but it still had not been fun.

There had also been jobs where human clients decided to ‘help’ and tried to shoot at attacking targets, only to usually hit Techno just as much as the opponent (sometimes more, actually).

All this taken into account, Techno was reluctant to let Tommy have a gun for any period of time. Plus the whole bit about Tommy being a child. But maybe…

Techno knelt down on one knee in front of Tommy. He was still much taller than the boy, even when Tommy straightened up in surprise.

“If I teach you the basics of firing a gun,” Techno said clearly, “Will you swear to me that you will never, ever do it, unless your life is in danger and there is no other option?”

How odd. In this universe, human verbal promises meant nothing unless written into contracts that lawyers could enforce. But Techno trusted Tommy—with the serious things, at least.

Tommy blinked in surprise. “Really?” he asked hopefully.

“I need an answer,” Techno said.

Tommy hastily nodded. “Yes, yes, I promise. I’ll follow your instructions, Techno.”

Techno drew his weapon, knowing that neither Phil nor Wilbur would be happy with him for doing this. He wasn’t exactly happy with himself for doing this. But with the look on Tommy’s face, filled with such excitement and innocent delight, he couldn’t help the glow of joy in that cursed human-tissue heart of his.

When this contract was over, he could never work with children again.

He worriedly wondered if it was human children, or just Tommy, and the way the boy trailed along at his side and wasn’t the least bit afraid of him.

Techno held out one of his blasters, twice the length of his hand, tracing his finger along it as he explained the targeting laser, safety, fire, ammo charges, and gravitational balancer (Techno’s aim was steady as part of his cybernetics, but it was built into the weapon anyway). He showed the adjustments for the charges to increase or decrease firing power, including a stun function.

Tommy listened with rapt attention. Techno could tell he was waiting for one particular moment, though.

“Do you want to fire it?” Techno flicked on the safety as he said it.

“Yesssss,” Tommy whispered, taking the gun like it was glass. He was in for a rude awakening.

Techno directed his drones in the room to subtly hover away from where the gun was pointed. “I’ve set it to stun and the lowest power setting. The most it will do is make a human numb.” Techno pointed across the room to the matts along the wall. “Try hitting the line where those matts meet.”

Tommy lined up the blaster with his eye—too close, too hunched over—and flicked on the laser targeting system. The red line came to life and lined up with the matts. After a few moments, Tommy fired.

The boy gave a full-body flinch as the blaster went off. The jerk was too much for the gravitational balancer to counteract; it was meant to stabilize the constant minute movements humans made, not anything more than an inch. The shot missed the line of the matts by six and a half inches, buzzing against the wall before the energy sputtered out, thankfully not leaving a mark.

Tommy let out a burst of nervous-perhaps-embarrassed laughter, holding the blaster out to look at it. “I didn’t expect it to—to move so much when I fired it.”

“Knockback,” Techno said, reaching out and carefully taking the gun from Tommy’s hands. “That’s a lot of power in your hands. It can just as easily be turned on you.”

Tommy slid his hands into his pockets. “Well, at least now I can say I’ve fired a gun.”

Techno grimaced. “Maybe…don’t tell anyone that.”

Tommy’s grin became a little more genuine. “Alright. I’ll leave the shooting to you, for now. Because you’d never turn on me, right Techno?”

Techno narrowed his eyes in challenge. “How about we return to those exercises, then?”

Tommy groaned.

They went back to the exercises, but they didn’t get far, however. Techno could tell that Tommy’s interest in the weights was draining, and a bored Tommy was a chaotic Tommy. The boy had several extracurriculars, but sports were low on the list.

But Tommy needed more physical activity if he actually wanted to build strength to become a decent fighter. It wasn’t a problem; Techno could come up with a more interesting exercise.

“Drink some water, then let’s move elsewhere,” Techno said, holding out a water bottle for Tommy. Techno took the free moment to slip his helmet back on.

They left the private area, a Cleaning Bot huddling past them to desanitize the space. Humans were disgusting. Techno led Tommy to a different section of the exercise unit—an obstacle course.

The obstacle course was a wide open space, but had several sections for whatever the residents wanted to focus on. There was a trapeze section with great trampolines down below, a series of jumping platforms made of blocks that could shift around to different levels of difficulty labeled ‘parkour,’ a climbing wall, even a swimming section. A few spiderlike Cleaning Bots climbed over the walls and unused areas, and a Med Bot was in the corner, monitoring all the humans carefully, ready for use at any moment. A few humans were already here, three of them gathering around the climbing wall. That was fine, Techno didn’t care about that area.

Tommy looked around as they entered. “Oh yeah, Wilbur and I have been here a couple of times.”

Techno went over to the trapeze section, messing with the controls for a moment to put it on the easiest setting. A Cleaning Bot scurried over it for a moment, making small adjustments, before it hurried away.

Techno turned back to Tommy, and then gestured him to give it a try.

“You want me to do this?” Tommy said in disbelief.

“You need to build strength. This is a good way to exercise the body and train reaction time. Even if you just hop around on the trampoline, it will help you.”

Tommy grumbled, but he shuffled to the edge, looking over. It was a ten-foot drop to the trampoline. Tommy glanced at Techno, but Techno remained still. Tommy returned his attention to the drop and braced himself.

…And did nothing.

After seven seconds, Techno got bored and gave Tommy a light shove on his back with his boot.

The yelp Tommy made as he fell was hysterical, and Techno immediately marked the recording in his memory files. He also checked the security feeds, and glitched the one camera that would have seen it. All the others in the room—include the Bots—were at angles where it would be unclear that Tommy hadn’t just fallen.

It was worth it, just to see Tommy scramble as he landed on the trampoline below and tried to grab onto it before he was propelled back into the air with a multicolored hum. He looked remarkably like a panicked cat as his limbs flailed in the air, grasping pointlessly for something to latch onto. Techno was delighted to learn that the trampoline was enhanced, and made each of Tommy’s unwilling jumps just as high as the last.

On the fourth jump, Tommy screaming and Techno watching, Tommy managed to snag one of the trapeze ladders. He quickly octopus’d himself around it, panting hard. Well, that had been an effective workout.

“Oh my God,” Tommy said, catching his breath. Techno smiled under the visor as Tommy pointed at him. “You are a bloody wrong’un! You total bastard! You—”

Techno messaged Tommy privately through the feed. ‘Get good.’

Tommy shouted a dozen more colorful insults, getting odd looks from the other humans across the room, but as Tommy wasn’t asking for help or didn’t seem harmed, they appeared to just dismiss him as a wild child.

That worked for Techno. He couldn’t imagine explaining himself to an officer.

“What the heck, SecUnit?!” Tommy moaned, calming down a little.

“I just gave you a little push,” Techno said calmly. “And by a little push, I mean a drop-kick.”

Tommy’s face was still red, and Techno’s protectiveness programming acted up again. It wasn’t exactly happy with him for shoving Tommy in the first place, even if it had been perfectly safe.

“You can request one of the Bots to help you down,” Techno said. “Or I can come get you.” Actually, Techno liked that second plan better. He trusted no one—Bot or human—with his humans but himself.

Tommy huffed and leaned back against the ladder. He thought for a moment, and then he pointed across the trapeze section. “No. I want to reach that one.”

Halfway through the trapeze ropes, one was red to mark the halfway point. Of course Tommy would be attracted by the red one.

Well, who was Techno to stop him? He’d watched clients do dumber things than this. Techno waved out an arm in a go ahead gesture.

Tommy took a breath and braced himself. Impressively, he didn’t hold off for a minute like last time, but just dropped down to the trampoline and bounced his way back up. Techno watched impassively as Tommy tried to grab the next rope, succeeded, but then lost his grip almost immediately and plummeted back down.

Tommy made his next bounce with more determination, but ended up overshooting the red rope and just waved his arms at it pathetically.

Techno was recording the whole thing. It was a shame he couldn’t put this on his channel. It was good content; his viewers would definitely be amused. But being anonymous was more important.

Tommy was already tiring, but he pressed through. Techno found himself pleased; he knew from his records that Tommy usually gave up in sports when tired. But something like this, something more adventurous, motivated him to press forward. Techno had an odd feeling in his chest about it. It was…pride.

Tommy kicked himself off the trampoline, back towards where the red rope was. His arms outstretched, and he might actually get it this time if he didn’t mess—

Several things suddenly happened at once.

A power surge erupted through the room, flickering the lights and deactivating several of the safety precautions. Techno’s camera views flickered and it took his vision 0.3 seconds to adjust to the change in lighting—but he still locked on to each of the disasters that happened simultaneously.

The magnetic blocks of the parkour section crashed to the ground with a deafening bang, but thankfully no one had been in that section.

One of the humans across the room on the climbing wall lost their balance in surprise at the sudden darkness, and fell from the near-top of the rocks. The energy safety-field that would have caught them was deactivated, but a nearby Cleaning Bot’s Law of Robotics kicked in and it lunged forward, narrowly catching them before they hit the ground.

In the same moment, the trampoline below the trapeze section, rather than shorting out like it should have done, overflowed with excess energy. It lit up the darkened room with white-gold voltage fizzling on its surface, lethal as lightning. As Tommy lost his grip on the red trapeze, having lost focus at the abrupt darkness, he started to fall towards the deadly electric field below.

A human would have stared in shock. A human might not have even fully registered what was happening until it was too late, much less be able to stop it. They would stand by as Tommy fell onto the overpowered trampoline and was electrocuted to death.

Good thing Techno wasn’t human.

He was in the air before Tommy even began screaming. Techno snagged onto one of the longer ropes and intercepted Tommy midair, hooking an arm around the boy’s waist. Yanking the rope he held in his free hand to hurl them upwards, he then grabbed onto a higher one, winding one leg through its loops to stabilize them. Tommy had wrapped both arms around Techno desperately and his legs were curled in, hugging Techno’s chest. His eyes were clenched tightly shut, waiting for the danger to end.

This wasn’t the safest position, hanging out in the open, but the whole room was a hazard now. Holding Tommy close (though Tommy was clinging so tightly he probably didn’t need to), Techno scanned the area again in search of a safer location. He spotted a Cleaning Bot fast approaching, its spiderlike legs scurrying across the ceiling. At first he thought it was its Law of Robotics kicking in, making it try to help the human, but then he realized that the Bot’s feed had been disconnected from the apartment’s security. While that didn’t necessarily mean it was hostile, its movements were jerky and pressured, nothing like what its original coding would do.

Tommy was safe; the Bot should back down. But instead it reached the point where the rope they hung from was attached to the ceiling—

And it took out its clipping blades.

Techno at once swung his blaster up and shot the thing.

The Cleaning Bot convulsed and writhed for a moment, before it lost its grip on the ceiling and fell. Its body went past them—Techno returning his arm to wrap around Tommy’s back as it came close, even for a moment—before it landed on the electric field on the trampoline. Techno watched as its body sparked and thrashed once again, and then the whole electric field went dead.

The room was quiet. After a few seconds, the overhead lights stabilized, and the parkour magnetic blocks reactivated and snapped back to their positions. The entire room recalibrated as if it had only been a momentary loss of power.

One of the humans by the climbing wall section groaned and flopped over. Not out of any injury—just the adrenaline of panic.

Techno turned his head to look down at Tommy. The boy’s head was buried in his shoulder, his hands clutching onto the divots in Techno’s armor. He was shaking, and holding his breath.

Techno found himself leaning his head forward and resting his visor against the top of Tommy’s head.

“It’s alright,” Techno said quietly. “We’re safe now.”

Tommy let out a burst of air and his shoulders relaxed, but he still trembled and he didn’t look up or let go of Techno.

The entrance across the room slid open suddenly and Techno almost shot his blaster in that direction on instinct (again, thankfully he wasn’t a human and could stop such impulses). Two SecUnits—Bots, not Constructs, much cheaper versions than Techno himself—and a human rushed into the room.

Techno could see on the human’s face, their guilt, horror, and relief when they didn’t see any dead bodies. They were too late to be effective, but they’d been lucky that no one was truly harmed.

Techno had been here. And he would track down whoever had done this.

-

Techno had been forced to wait for twenty minutes as the police arrived and verified that the threat had passed. The officers had tried to talk to Tommy, but one SecUnit glare was all it took for them to cave and agree to head up to the Craft apartment first.

Tommy hadn’t let go of him, and Techno had no inclination to put him down until the boy let go first. That dang protectiveness programming had been activated again, Techno was aware, but his frustration with it was overpowered with the feeling that if anyone or anything got too close to Tommy right now, Techno would eviscerate everything in the room. Obviously it was entirely the programming that made him feel that.

So, Techno carried Tommy up the stairs to the apartment. Yes, the stairs, after the recent attempt he didn’t want to encourage the assassin to make a repeat of the whole mall-elevator incident. The police officers groused about it but Techno just went on his way.

Finally they got back to the apartment. Phil was pacing and rambling onto the feed when they arrived while Wilbur watched anxiously from the sidelines, fidgeting with his hands.

“You told me you upgraded the security procedures after last time, this wasn’t even in our apartment—“ he was saying, before he whirled around as the door opened. Phil must have known Tommy was safe—Techno had sent a brief feed burst assuring him of such shortly after everything happened—but Phil still melted with relief when he saw his son.

Tommy raised his head enough to look at Phil and Wilbur, who both crossed the room at once. Phil cupped Tommy’s face in his hands and Wilbur rested a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy unwound one arm from Techno and pulled Phil in for a hug. This was a bit more than Techno’s maximum tolerance for physical contact, but he let it slide this once.

“Oh, Tommy,” Phil breathed out.

“Dad,” Tommy croaked, barely a whisper.

“Are you okay, Toms?” Wilbur asked, his hand light on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy just nodded.

Phil pulled back a little, giving Tommy’s arm a supporting squeeze, before turning his coldly furious gaze on the police officers.

“How did this happen?”

The officer, different from the sheriff from last time, cleared his throat. “We are still figuring that out, sir. My Bot is performing a scan on the Cleaning Bot connected to the incident as we speak.” He gestured to a small hover table that had the remains of the Cleaning Bot on it, covered by an energy shield, though its limp body was still perfectly visible. Part of its metal chest had melted under Techno’s blaster, and now it was hardened like cooled magma.

Phil, only now noticing said table (really, humans should never do their own security, they could be so unobservant), immediately placed himself between the dead Bot and his sons. “You brought that here?”

The officer hastened to calm him. “It cannot get through the protective shield, even if it reactivates—”

Techno, who had already performed his own scan of the Bot (part of the reason he’d been willing to wait for the officers was so he could inspect the activity center and Bot himself), stepped in.

“The Cleaning Bot’s power core has been completely fried. Even if a virus did try to tap into it, there’s nothing there to power it.” Being shocked by three hundred million watts tended to do that.

Phil’s gaze snapped over to Techno. “SecUnit, what can you tell us about what happened?”

Uh. Oh. Okay.

Techno had been trying to be reassuring, and suddenly he was in the spotlight. Oh boy.

He decided to start with the process of elimination—he knew was hadn’t caused this.

“The virus could not have entered through the building’s SecSystem, because I have access to it and I would have detected and intercepted a hostile virus. This Cleaning Bot’s serial number matches with the one on the building’s records, so it must have been directly uploaded with a dormant virus at some point, which reactivated when it was time for the assassination attempt.”

And because the Bot’s hardware had been fried like a kite in a thunderstorm, there was no way to check its logs. Whoops.

Still, Techno could check over the building’s security recordings and flag any human who had been in contact with the Bot. It would just take a lot of time. Not to mention, if Techno was right about the true culprit behind the assassinations being a powerful political rival to Phil, then they were undoubtedly rich enough to pay someone else to do the dirty work. Even finding whoever had hacked the Bot wouldn’t necessarily lead to the source.

Despite the lack of useful information, Phil took Techno’s report in stride. Phil swung his glare in the direction of the officer. “My SecUnit has already gotten more information than you.”

The officer tensed, and Techno could already tell he was getting angry. Oh great. Emotions. “Construct SecUnits have no place in our investigations, sir.”

Of course. Only SecUnit Bots, who could only do routine work they were programed to and were pretty easy to avoid since they always did the same thing in every scenario.

Phil glared at the officer before turning back to Techno. “What else can you tell us, mate?”

Oh great, more of this. Techno decided to be honest. SecUnits had to obey, after all.

“I do not have an answer to the most important question.”

“Which is?” Phil prodded.

“How the assassin knew Tommy would be there.” The humans in the room started, and exchanged glances. Techno went on. “Tommy did not plan to go to the exercise unit until this morning. It was not on his schedule feed. The assassin either has access to our security SecSystem—which is impossible, because I am monitoring it constantly—or they have created several traps and we simply stumbled into one.”

Techno wasn’t sure which he believed. Both seemed improbable. It would take an incredible hacker to get into the SecSystem unnoticed, and if they had set multiple traps, there was the risk of the traps activating accidentally on civilians. Which would make more people involved, which you generally wanted to avoid when performing assassinations.

Phil reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So despite their repeated failed attempts, they aren’t giving up.”

A heavy silence fell on everyone in the room. The implication was clear; until the culprit was caught, Tommy and Wilbur were in constant danger.

The officer cleared his throat. “Well, our department is locked onto this case. If I could ask your son a few questions—”

Phil’s gaze snapped to him, cold and sharp as a broken icicle. “My SecUnit can send you his report on the events. Now, mate, please get out of my home.” He curled his lip down at the dead Cleaning Bot. “And take that thing with you.”

Yet again, the officer foolishly looked like he wanted to object, but Techno just rearranged around the armor of his gauntlet. He didn’t shift out his blaster, that would be a sure way to get shot at, but the sound drew the officer’s attention back to Techno. The reminder was obvious; a SecUnit was here, and it would do anything to protect its clients.

The officer shut his mouth like he’d just tasted something horribly sour. But he gave a curt nod to Phil, turned on his heel, and walked out, his Bots following behind him.

The Crafts were quiet for a moment in the resulting silence.

“SecUnit…you can put Tommy down now,” Wilbur said finally.

Right. They were back in the apartment. The safest place Techno could keep the kids. Slowly, he bent down and set Tommy back on the ground. Tommy shuffled a bit on his feet and didn’t remove himself from Techno’s reach.

Phil took a deep breath a let it out. “I’m sorry, Wilbur, but with all of this, I can’t let you guys go to the gala.”

Dang it. There was that idea down the drain. But honestly, Techno would prefer to not to risk the boys anyway. Perhaps this was for the best.

Wilbur just nodded, but Tommy blurted out, “But we have to go!”

…Uh oh.

Phil and Wilbur both looked at Tommy, while Tommy bit his lip, clearly debating whether or not he should argue further when it was obvious he was hiding something.

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking to go to a gala, Tommy? Really?”

“We just—” Tommy stammered helplessly. “I think—you were right, Wilbur! We can’t show whoever’s attacking us that we’re scared!”

Phil narrowed his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared or cautious, mate.”

“We’ll have the SecUnit there, we’ll be fine!” Tommy insisted, and Techno sent a quick message to Tommy’s feed—stop.

“We aren’t invincible, even with the SecUnit.” By Phil’s expression, he was clearly catching on. Tommy needed to drop it, now.

But of course he didn’t. “But—”

“Tommy.” Oh, now they knew. Now he would investigate. Great.

Phil pointed towards the living area. “Go sit down, mate.”

Tommy’s shoulders hunched forward, but he obediently went over to the couch and sat down, looking at the floor. Phil went over, and, after glancing at Techno, Wilbur followed.

Feeling awkwardly placed, Techno took a few steps forward and remained behind the couch. He watched as Phil knelt in front of Tommy to be eye-level with him.

“Mate,” Phil said calmly. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Tommy, for once, remained silent.

Phil and Wilbur exchanged worried glances. That had perhaps been more damning than further denials.

A message blipped onto Techno’s feed. Can I tell them?

Honestly, Techno was surprised Tommy was asking. It was clear Phil wasn’t going to let this go now. And Techno couldn’t come up with a feasible lie to suggest.

It might as well already be out, Techno sent back.

Tommy’s response was almost instant. I won’t tell if you say so.

He wouldn’t? Tommy would shut out or lie to his family, just on Techno’s word? Even when he certainly wanted to tell the truth?

Techno didn’t feel worthy of that. He didn’t feel his relationship with Tommy was on-par with these family bonds.

But either way, that was Tommy’s choice. And now Techno had a choice. Keep his secret and keep himself safe…or trust the Crafts.

It was amazing how easy a decision it was to make, despite going against everything Techno worked so hard to hide.

“Tommy wants to go because of me,” he said, butting into the conversation.

Both Phil and Wilbur looked up.

“What?” Wilbur asked.

“Tommy wanted to know why I was open to letting him and Wilbur go to the gala,” Techno explained. Calm. Straightforward. His hands fists at his sides. “I told him. I hope to use the opportunity to get close to the politicians that are close to Phil. I could hack their feeds and gain more evidence that could lead to the assassin. Tommy wants to go to the gala because of me.”

SecUnits weren’t supposed to hack, but Techno was choosing to trust them. That, and by this point it was fairly clear that the Craft’s didn’t know or care about what SecUnit’s should or shouldn’t do.

Techno bowed his head towards Phil. “But I understand your fear. Protecting your sons is my first and foremost priority. We will remain here while you attend the gala.”

Phil stared at Techno, his expression blank. Wilbur’s mouth had dropped open slightly in shock. Techno remained completely still.

Phil straightened to his feet. And then he slowly moved over to sit beside Tommy. He was quiet for a moment, and then he lifted his hands to his face. It seemed to be a standard expression of stress for him.

“Why do they have to go after my sons?” Phil said quietly. “If I’m the problem, why don’t they go after me?”

Tommy’s face drained of color, and Wilbur shouted, “Dad! Don’t say things like that!”

Techno, however, had an answer. “Because that would make you a martyr.” The three Crafts glanced at Techno, confused. He went on. “If Phil was murdered standing up for his policies, he would become a symbol and a motivation for others to press harder. And his opponents would have difficulty criticizing him if he died in a tragic way—further cruelty or disrespect towards him would isolate their own support. This is a common case in human history. Unjust, highly public murders are remembered. But Tommy and Wilbur are not public figures. Killing them would not make them martyrs, while also forcing you out of your position in the government from grief.”

Techno had thought about this a lot while trying to track down the killer. His media helped too. He could think of several instances in human legends and history where one publicly beloved person got killed and motivated many more into dramatic action. Patrocle’s death pushing Achilles and the Greeks into overcoming the Trojans, Julius Caesar’s murder leading to uprisings in Rome, General Lamarque’s passing that led to the Parisian June Revolution of 1832, and so on. Even Gandhi managed to kick out Great Britain by threatening a hunger strike, without even dying. The details were different, but the principle was the same. Phil was a living landmine of political uproar. His sons, however, were his Achille’s heel.

The three humans were staring at him.

“You figured all that out on your own? Just by trying to track down the assassin yourself?” Wilbur asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Techno answered flatly. His dedication to tracking down the killer and protecting the Crafts was second only to his dedication to winning the Potato War—and that was because he hit less roadblocks in the Potato War. Not that it distracted him. Again, he was good at multitasking.

Phil looked unsure. “Perhaps you could come with me to the gala, SecUnit, and Wilbur and Tommy can stay home.”

“No,” Techno said immediately. “I have directly prevented the previous assassinations. The moment I leave their side, especially so publicly, the killer will seize the opportunity. I cannot guarantee my drones can prevent an attack long enough for me to reach them if I were to go that far.”

Walking elsewhere in the same building was very different from going to the other side of the city from his clients.

Wilbur put his hands on his hips. “So what you’re saying is, in order for this to work, we all have to go to the gala.”

“No. My plan is unnecessary,” Techno corrected. “It might not even work. The three of us should remain home during the gala. I can find another way to hunt the assassin.”

Techno belatedly realized he’d just called the Craft residence ‘home’ instead of ‘the apartment.’ He wasn’t sure why.

“But I think we should go,” Tommy said, finally speaking up. “I think T—SecUnit’s plan will work!”

Wilbur hummed and crossed his arms. “I would like this whole life-and-death thing to be done with, honestly.”

Humans were so foolish. It was one thing to go when they thought they would be safe, but Phil would never agree after the recent assassination attempt, it was far too—

“Alright,” Phil said quietly, and Techno jerked his head over to look at him.

Phil’s hands were braced on his legs. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, took a breath, and opened them with a new, icy determination.

“We’re doing this.”

Chapter Text

Tommy let out a prolonged groan. “This better be worth it.”

He was fiddling with his suit, tangling his arms in the sleeves while trying to get the bow tie right. Human fashion hadn’t actually changed much over the last few thousand years. At least, not on Antarctic-3.

“I can guarantee nothing,” Techno said from beside the wall.

“You better find ‘em.” Tommy leaned his head back from where he’d been looking at himself in the mirror, shooting Techno a glare. “Look at the massive suffering I’m going through for you, Techno.”

“I will always remember it,” Techno drawled.

Tommy huffed in frustration, dropping his hands from his neck where the bow tie was. “I’m gonna have to ask Dad for help, and Wilbur will coo at me about not being able to do it myself.”

Techno took pity on him. A quick feed search gave him instructions, so he walked across the room and tied the knot himself. Tommy looked down in surprise.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Tommy shuffled a little as Techno finished the tie and smoothed out the fabric around Tommy’s shoulders. He shifted the twisted part of the sleeve Tommy had tangled up, and now the kid actually looked presentable, not like a cat who’d been wrestled into a horrible costume.

“Techno?” Tommy asked tentatively, as Techno reached towards Tommy’s desk for the pin Phil had brought him, to attach it to the suit. “Have you thought any…about telling Dad and Wilbur your real name?”

Techno paused a moment, before reaching out for the corner of Tommy’s jacket to work the pin in. “You mean confessing my streamer title, in turn confessing that I’ve been playing Minecraft when I’m supposed to be fully focused on my job—” not that he couldn’t do both, “—and also revealing that I’ve hacked my governor module? No, I have not thought about it.”

Just the idea of being exposed made anxiety thrum through his metal bones.

“They wouldn’t be mad at you,” Tommy mumbled. “They wouldn’t turn you in or anything like that.”

“I am a Construct Bot, Tommy.” Techno wove the pin through the fabric of the jacket, tucking it in neatly. “That is what humans do with their Bots when they malfunction. They send them back to be repaired, or replace them.”

“But you’re not just a Bot,” Tommy argued. “You’re—one of us.”

Techno drew back his hands and looked down at Tommy. “One of you?” he repeated with dry skepticism. “What does that mean?”

There was a knock on the door suddenly, and then it slid open to reveal Wilbur. Techno turned to face him, Tommy grumbling under his breath. Techno wasn’t one for fashion, but even he could tell Wilbur was much more in his element in dress clothes than Tommy was. Wilbur strolled into the room with an airy gait, smirk on his lips as he glanced up and down.

“I was coming to see if my dear little brother needed help, and fulfill my duties as a proper older sibling,” Wilbur declared. His gaze flicked over to Techno and his smirk became more smug. “But it appears my job is done for me.”

“I could do it on my own,” Tommy muttered, crossing his arms with no care of wrinkling the outfit. “It’s just—the suit was broken.”

Wilbur arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure.” He turned on his heel to face Techno, the tail of his suit swirling behind him. “And I don’t suppose we could stick a bow tie on you as well?”

Techno rested his hand on one of the compartments on his hip that could extend into a knife. “I wouldn’t try it.”

Wilbur just chuckled, and Techno smiled under the visor. With any other clients, he could never make a joke like that. Too bad, because it was exactly Techno’s sense of humor.

Wilbur turned back to Tommy and threw an arm over the younger brother’s shoulder. “Alright, c’mon, we’ve got to get going. Remember to stick close, Toms.”

Tommy puffed out his chest. “I don’t need a babysitter! I’m a strong independent thirteen-year-old who don’t need no adult supervision!”

Techno exchanged glances with Wilbur, somehow the two of them communicating doubt despite Techno’s visor.

They met Phil by the door, who smoothed out Tommy’s hair affectionately before they headed out to the dock. A rented hover-ine was waiting for them, and a quick scan from Techno certified it was safe. The humans climbed in, and then Tommy slid over and patted the seat next to him invitingly.

Techno hesitated, even though he had a pretty good guess as to what the Crafts expected. Most humans would have the SecUnit ride in a separate compartment or even a different vehicle. Clients wanted their security close, but at arm’s length, at least for a fancy event like this. But as Phil turned and tilted his head curiously while Techno waited, he got the concept. Techno followed the family into the craft.

-

A half-hour later of listening to Phil and Wilbur attempt to drill Tommy with basic manners, they arrive at the hall of the gala. It’s a great, glowing building with a wide entry platform, decorated with fountains and trees leading to the bright entrance.

When Techno had done his research and seen how open and unguarded said entry platform was, he had advised Phil to order a shield bubble from the Company to cover it. Phil had gone ahead and ordered the most expensive one, one that actually covered the whole dang building. So. At least they were secure in this aspect.

A drone Bot did a quick scan of their vehicle for lethal weapons, and Techno forwarded his own certification to clear himself. He would be the only one bearing weapons at the event tonight, if everyone else did their job right.

A member of Phil’s team approached them outside, sunglasses over their eyes and a clipboard held to their chest.

Phil spoke to them immediately. “Eret, good evening. How are things going so far?”

“Excellent.” Eret’s voice was deep but neutral. Techno watched them from under his visor and wondered if they were watching him from under their sunglasses. “We’re already halfway to our fundraising goal. Almost everyone has arrived, and we’re precisely on schedule.”

“And security?” Phil asked with more interest.

“Acceptable,” Techno interrupted before Eret could respond. “The firewalls were mediocre, but I’ve added my own touch.” There wouldn’t be a chaotic virus this time.

Eret’s grip on the clipboard tightened slightly. Could’ve been the usual tenseness of humans around SecUnits, could’ve been annoyance at being shone as incompetent in front of their boss. Either way, Techno noted it. Humans could get personal so easily, which was part of the reason he hated when they did their own security.

They moment they walked through the open doors, a small crowd of people came forward to greet Phil. They smiled, drawing him away as they complimented the party and recent achievements. Wilbur huffed as he watched his father go. Eret slid off to the sidelines to speak with another employee.

Techno took in their surroundings. The venue was a wide hall of lavish luxury, a white marble floor, tall windows with veil curtains, hovering chandeliers, huge hand-painted pots overflowing with lush flowers, and a small elevated stage for presentations. Sixty-two humans were here already, plus two dozen Serving Bot owned by the venue, and seven other personally-owned noncombatant Bots that individual politicians had brought along. The Serving Bots were sculpted to look more human than most models, smooth and rimmed with gold that glittered as they moseyed through the crowd, offering drinks and hors d’oeuvres. His scans showed that each human present had been invited, and there were no weapons. So far, everything was fine.

Tommy was also taking in their surroundings, but found a different area of focus than Techno.

“They have a mud fountain!” Tommy said, immediately heading for a side table of delicate food.

Wilbur hurried after him. “It’s chocolate, Tommy, why does everything have to be about getting dirty with you? Oh, you better not get any on that outfit!”

Techno followed, not helping as Wilbur snagged Tommy away from the chocolate fountain and gave a two-minute-forty-second lecture about staying clean before finally letting him take a plate of chocolate-dipped fruit. Tommy watched in fascination as the fruit was dipped into the extravagant fountain, complete with little spurts of molten chocolate.

Human food was already weird, but the way humans glorified and decorated it only for it to be mashed into mush and digested through their bodies would never cease to confuse Techno.

“Right,” Wilbur sighed as he looked disappointedly at Tommy’s overstuffed plate. Then he lowered his voice and murmured to Techno. “So, what can we do to help you?”

Techno had already been prodding at the signals and datafiles residing amongst the guests. Most humans—especially important ones—carried around some sort of drive to exchange information about business whenever needed. If they had a Bot with them, the Bot would almost certainly store the data in its drives.

Techno sent a quiet message to Wilbur and Tommy’s feeds. It contained a short list of the remaining suspects, and instructions.

Get me close and distract them.

-

The first on the list was Congressman Dream, an energetic, popular, charming politician. At age twenty-six, he was one of the youngest members of the council of Antarctic-3 ever elected, having boosted his standing by promising less regulation on Bot-making companies—which both gained him funding from said companies and approval from humans who desired cheaper Bots.

Frankly, Techno thought there was already a pretty dramatic lax in Bot construction laws, but he wasn’t that into politics.

Wilbur strode forward and caught Dream’s attention with a metaphorical wave of his hand. As the son of a well-established politician, he was a decent prize for other politicians to idly pursue. Obtaining his ear could easily rise into gaining Phil’s. And Wilbur clearly knew it, too.

“Dream! So good to see you. How is your first year in the piranha tank?” Wilbur spread his arms wide as he approached, Techno and Tommy trailing behind him. Tommy was eyeing Dream warily.

Dream waved off a nonprofit representative he’d been talking to and grinned sharply at Wilbur. “It’s wonderful. Like feasting on sushi.”

Wilbur chuckled at the odd joke and started up a conversation on policies while Techno started to tap into Dream’s Attendant Bot. It was short and quiet, meant to follow along and not be seen. Its blank gaze drifted to Techno, likely picking up on how he was nudging its firewalls.

He’d have to move fast.

He slipped into the Bot’s mainframe and seized control of its governor module. Once he’d learned how to hack a governor module, it became pretty easy to do it repeatedly. And as a free Construct, Techno had to be good, because once a governor module figured out it was being hacked, it would fry the Bot’s brain from the inside out. Literally. Painfully.

Control of a governor module was control over the Bot itself. All actions and commands had to go through it (though organic tissue was harder for it to trace), so Techno could simply upload his own commands.

While Dream prattled and Wilbur nodded with perfectly performed interest, Techno downloaded all records of Dream’s finances since the assassination date, contact information, and news searches. The third Dream wouldn’t bother to hide, and if he was following the stories about the Crafts a little too closely, that could be an indicator.

It would take time to sort through everything, so for now Techno stored it away into his drives while he tweaked the Bot’s memory. He erased the last few minutes of its databanks, then retreated back as if he’d never been there. He watched as the Bot tilted its expressionless head to recalibrate its sensors, but no one else paid it any mind.

That achieved, Techno set up several queries to search the data he’d just gained, looking for any money transfers that weren’t routine or were linked to shell corporations. Obviously, Dream wouldn’t just hand money over directly to suspicious forces, that would demolish his career. Instead he would pay business that had a decent front, who would then transfer the money for him in a way less easily traced.

Techno tuned back into the conversation, where Dream was going about some Bot company’s recent downturn in profits (not Techno’s) and Wilbur appeared to be interested. Honestly, Techno wouldn’t have been able to tell just by looking at Wilbur, but he’d been listening to Wilbur’s bitter remarks about Bot and Construct abuse the last few weeks and knew the boy was biting his tongue. Tommy wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was bored out of his mind. He had clearly mentally checked out.

Techno was about to send a feed message to Wilbur to let him know they could duck out, when Dream suddenly gestured to him with his wine glass.

“Your own SecUnit is from a controversial company, I don’t know if you knew.” He smiles at Techno the way someone might smile at a painting on display. “Some advocates don’t like the way the company uses organic parts. But from what I’ve read on the news, your SecUnit has served you well. I’m willing to wager it wouldn’t be as effective without those disputed methods.”

Both Wilbur and Tommy went still. Their eyes were pinpointed on Dream now, the first real moment he’d caught their attention.

Dream went on, oblivious, idly twirling his drink. “If people have a problem with it, they don’t have to order the contracts themselves. But for other people who want the job done well, they should be allowed to use the right methods to make the right Bot.”

“He is a Construct,” Tommy said through gritted teeth.

Dream startled a bit, as if having forgotten that Tommy was there. He frowned down at the youngest Craft. “They’re basically the same thing.”

“No, they’re not,” Tommy snapped, looking like he might actually snap his teeth at Dream’s fingers. “And if you don’t know that, you don’t nearly know enough to get to have an opinion on it.”

Wilbur sidestepped to put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, but not a restraining or a chiding one. He looked at Dream, his smile cold. The hand squeezed Tommy’s shoulder—supportingly.

“I would expect a rising politician to know about such things, Congressman,” he said smoothly, delivering a bite in the tone of a purr. Without waiting a beat for anyone to respond, he started drawing away, pulling Tommy with him. “Well, we must be going. Enjoy the evening.”

Techno followed after them, as the boys weaved through the crowd of people to distance themselves from Dream.

“That total dickhead!” Tommy fumed only a few seconds later. “What an imbecile! He wants to remove regulations of Bot companies but doesn’t even think there’s a difference between Bots and Constructs? He shouldn’t have that power! How the hell did he even get elected?!”

“Voters don’t know much either,” Wilbur muttered, eyes scanning the crowd, but most humans had grouped up and weren’t currently paying attention to them. Wilbur turned to Techno after he’d determined no one was approaching them. “Sorry for pulling us out like that, I know you said you needed time. Did you get what you needed?”

“I have it,” Techno confirmed. “I am running queries on the data now.”

Wilbur’s eyebrows furrowed as he peered at Techno. “And…are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Techno said, pretty much rattling off the answer by now since Wilbur asked the question all the time.

Wilbur sighed. “It’s okay if you’re upset.”

Tommy nodded eagerly next to him. “It’s okay if you want to bash his head in!”

“Tommy,” Wilbur chided.

Tommy grumbled and crossed his arms.

“Bots don’t influence regulations like that,” Techno reminded them—basic knowledge, really. “That’s for humans.”

Wilbur looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and sympathy. “But it affects you, too.”

Techno didn’t have a response for that. It would be nice if humans were a little more responsible and less arrogant, but Techno wasn’t a politician or any kind of authority. He was just a Bot—a Construct. His duty was to serve humans, not to inconvenience them in any way.

Besides, since Dream acted so pleased with Techno, it made Techno doubt that he was behind the attacks. Dream would be more frustrated with Techno if Techno had been sabotaging his goals.

Wilbur sighed and ran a hand through his hair when Techno remained silent. “Let’s continue with the list.”

They did, Wilbur approaching several humans and charming them while Techno snagged the information he needed. Some people were more pleasant—or, acted more pleasant at least—than others. One older woman reached out and pinched Tommy’s cheeks, and Techno noted the aborted jerk of Tommy’s hand as he resisted slapping her hand away. Techno had taken a step closer to Tommy’s side, and the woman had refrained from doing it again.

Some of Techno’s queries returned with the data he sought. While several of the people had some shady dealings—Dream definitely had cut some deals to get where he currently was—Techno didn’t find anything that definitively linked them to the assassination attempts. Yet, anyway.

Finally, they had only two people left on the list. Representative Quackity and Councilman Schlatt. Both happened to be standing close to one another—and they were talking to Phil. Wilbur easily used the excuse of seeking his father to integrate into the conversation.

Phil smiled as Wilbur approached. There was a bit of tiredness to it from the long night of networking. “Hey, Wil. Sclatt, Quackity, have you met my sons, Wilbur and Tommy?”

Both politicians’ eyes fell on the boys, Quackity more charming and Sclatt’s more bored.

“How could we not, with all the news media reports?” Quackity looked at the boys sympathetically. “I’m so sorry you boys have had to go through all that. I hope you’re holding up okay?”

“Oh, it’s been harrowing,” Wilbur said with a more strained smile—stressed, but not imposing. “But we’re tough.”

Quackity’s grin widened. “I don’t doubt it.”

Techno tuned out the chatter to tap into their feeds, browsing through long-term history. Quackity actually had an augmented human at his side as his assistant, which would be harder to hide tapping into. They were so much more expressive than Bots, and this one had a ridiculously stupid smile on his face. People would probably notice if his brain was hacked and made him briefly unresponsive. Schlatt, on the other hand, had two Bots at his side. On seemed to be there solely to hold his drink for him, which he occasionally took and sipped from before handing it back.

While Techno tried to subtlety work around detection and isolate the augmented human’s drives, the conversation went on.

“You’re almost ready to head off to college, aren’t you, Wilbur?” Quackity was asking friendlily. “Do you know what you want to do?”

Wilbur nudged Phil’s shoulder with his own, smiling. “I love music and the arts, but I think I’ll focus on debate and political sciences. I’m proud to follow in my Dad’s footsteps.”

Phil returned his son’s look of pride tenfold. “Wilbur’s already on his school’s student council and debate team. He loves researching into controversial topics. I’m sure he’ll do great.”

Controversial topics, right. Constructs were his latest focus.

“Really,” grunted Schlatt absently, sipping from his glass. He barely seemed to be paying attention to the conversation.

Wilbur’s eyes lit up in predatory interest. “Yes, actually. We were just discussing your policies last week, Councilman Schlatt.”

“Wilbur,” Phil muttered quietly.

Schlatt heard it. He lowered his glass and gave a lopsided grin. “No please, let the kid talk. I won’t judge some upstart if he puts his foot in his mouth.”

Wilbur’s kind smile remained, but it was clear from his eyes he didn’t like being dismissed. Tommy glanced between the two unsurely.

“Your major platform of defunding government Bot-provided basic care for all humans,” Wilbur began. “My class and I like to discuss how your theory—that removing the safety net for basic needs will motivate citizens to work harder and better our society—is unfounded.”

Ah yes. Antarctic-3 had government-funded Bots handle the bulk of work for human basic needs. Medical care, food, shelter, were all provided automatically for citizens. The majority of citizens approved their system, but there was a significant percentage that wanted to discontinue—or at least decrease—the policies.

Schlatt swirled his glass, looking at Wilbur with amusement. The Bot next to him watched it, waiting for when the glass would be handed back to it. Techno would hate that job.

“I’m sure you’re read my essays and listened to my political speeches,” Schlatt said. “I believe basic needs are a powerful motivator for humans to work towards greatness. Otherwise they become content in mediocrity. The Corporate Rim doesn’t provide basic care for its citizens, and it’s immensely prosperous. Each of its planets’ GDP is in the billions.”

“But billions of its citizens also live in poverty,” Wilbur argued. Beside him, Phil quietly sighed. “Just because a few select people are immensely rich in the Corporate Rim, doesn’t mean it’s successful. Look at humans on an individual scale. It’s almost always the case that children who grow up in rich families, families that can afford to provide assistance for whatever hurdles the child encounters, are more likely to be successful. Antarctic-3 may not be the economic power that the Corporate Rim planets are, but our people are content. Isn’t that more important?”

Techno honestly hated this debate. He didn’t like politics, and partly-speculative nuances and tangled moral priorities like this were the worst. Not to mention it could get preachy. He was honestly surprised humans didn’t just get fed up and resort to anarchy.

 He focused more on his hacking. He’d managed to wheedle into Schlatt’s Bots, but Quackity’s augmented human assistant was proving a challenge. At one point he skitted too close to the assistant’s consciousness and the augmented human glanced around the room curiously, but seemed to dismiss the brush against his firewall boundaries as a simple curious Bot.

At least Techno had snagged Schlatt’s financial transfers. He combed through it, and found it was pretty dense. Schlatt paid a lot of different people for a lot of different things. Who needed that many chips? Whatever.

Then Techno’s attention snagged on a hefty transfer of money. The name of the organization, an advertising firm, actually might be…

Techno checked his records, and yep, sure enough, his Company files, stuffed with library-worth’s of datamining, listing the firm as a potential shell company. So if Schlatt wanted to hide a transfer of money, that exchange was a pretty likely candidate.

Techno might should stay focused on the information he actually had rather than go down this rabbit hole, but he had a feeling. Well, a logical train of thought, because he wasn’t some stupid human that let feelings cloud his judgement. Anyway, he tapped into his Company’s network of datamining. It was immense and constantly being sorted through by Bots. Technically he wasn’t supposed to be able to do this. As a SecUnit, he was supposed to upload information he retrieved, not check anything out. But he used his uplink to slip into it and look at the advertising firm.

Trying to avoid detection, Techno downloaded what the Company had on the advertising firm, especially their finances. And then…

There it was. A transfer of funds, of almost the same amount as Schlatt’s payment to them and only a day afterwards, to an independent agent.

Punz.

For once, Antarctic-3’s inadequate law enforcement was actually useful. They had managed to link that name as an alias to the assassin who had first attacked Wilbur and Tommy, before Techno had even arrived.

Techno sent a message across the feed to all the Crafts. It’s Schlatt.

The debate between Wilbur and Schlatt had fizzled out, and now Quackity was rambling about augmented human accommodations. No one seemed to be really invested besides Phil, who’s attention was immediately redirected at Techno’s message. Wilbur, who’d been looking mulish, and Tommy, who’d been looking bored, immediately straightened.

Are you sure?

Really?

How are you certain?

All three sent questions that pinged across Techno’s feed. At least their physical reactions didn’t seemed to be noticed by a rambling Quackity and increasingly intoxicated Schlatt.

I hacked his finances and traced some transfers. He paid the assassin through a shell company.

Phil’s expression remained politely interested, but his hands at his sides clenched into fists. I’m contacting the authorities now.

Shouldn’t Phil be more informed about this kind of thing? I obtained the information from illegal hacking, Techno said. You cannot arrest him on that basis.

I am not risking my sons for another second, Phil sent back. It was only written words, but Techno could hear the don’t-argue tone. We’ll come up with another explanation for the data later. The authorities are already on their way, and security is coming.

The human security outside the venue. They were only armed with stun blasters, but the thought of them coming closer still made Techno uneasy. Tommy shifted a little to stand slightly closer to Techno, and Techno resisted the urge to reach out to him.

Phil kept up the conversation for another minute, before the security humans appeared and approached their group. There were only four of them. Schlatt was unarmed, but Techno still didn’t like this.

“Councilman Schlatt,” one of them said, stopping before him. “We are placing you under arrest on authority of Antarctic-3’s police department until their officers arrive. Please comply.”

Schlatt only looked vaguely annoyed, giving the officers a sneer. “For what?” he snapped.

“On suspicion of attempted assassination,” the lead agent said.

Techno wasn’t sure what the policies were in this situation. Antarctic citizens probably had some ridiculous rights about knowing why they were arrested, but Techno wished nothing more than all the humans to just shut up and do their jobs.

Quackity and his assistant’s eyes widened and they exchanged glances. Around them, other guests had noticed the arrival of the security agents, and were whispering to each other.

Schlatt’s irritated gaze fell on Phil. The latter was glaring at him with a dark, quiet fury.

“You think I’m the one trying to kill your mutts?” Schlatt scoffed. “Where’s your proof?”

“That will be handled at the courts,” Phil said coldly. “But I know you did it, Schlatt. You were always a suspect, and I’m done sitting by and letting my sons get hurt. You’re going to pay for this.”

Schlatt looked closely into Phil’s gaze, searching, Likely trying to judge how confident Phil really was that he could pin him down. He might be a little intoxicated already, but Techno could tell his sharp edge was still present.

Schlatt dropped his head, shaking it, a slurred chuckle coming out of his mouth. The hall went quiet as people realized what was going on.

“Little advice on politics, Craft,” Schlatt purred. “If you ever lose…make your opponent lose worse.”

A signal blared from Schlatt’s feed. Techno only noticed it because everyone else had gone quiet, even in their feeds, but Schlatt’s message—a simple, pure activation, went in every direction.

Several outside signals responded. Techno’s head whirled around to one of the pots scattered about the room, the further one from them. A device had been hidden in its flowers—a weapon? No, Techno had scanned for that. He would’ve detected a weapon immediately upon entering.

The device’s power signal flared as it prepped to set off, and Techno snagged all three of the Crafts and shoved them behind him, ready to take the blow with his own body.

He shouldn’t have worried.

He realized what the device was only a second before it went off.

It wasn’t a weapon.

It was an EMP—Electromagnetic Pulse emitter, a device that could neutralize all electrical energy in an area for a limited time.

It was completely ineffective against humans, but to Techno, it may as well have been a nuclear bomb.

It went off with a loud buzz of power, a wave of sizzling blue energy that sent the hovering chandeliers crashing to the ground, humans scattering away in panic. Feed signals went dead one after another, and Bots closer to the device deactivated as the wave passed them and they clattered to the floor. Quackity’s augmented human assistant gasped and stumbled, the politician lunging forward to catch him.

Techno tried to calculate a counter, but came up with nothing. He held the Crafts tight in his hands as the wave passed over him, his systems flaring for a moment like they’d been hit by lightning, and then going dead.

Huh. He’d thought he was aware of the separation of his organic and inorganic parts, but he’d never fully felt it until just now, with all his systems shut down. He felt the stutter of his heart, the dull of his organic brain tissue as its cells felt their support fall away, the sensors in his eyes power down, clouding his vision with black.

He stumbled a step, for one moment, just a mass of an incomplete human with a bunch of metal in him, before everything went black.

Chapter Text

Techno wasn’t sure what was going on. He couldn’t even remember things clearly, didn’t even know what had just happened. His drives wouldn’t pull up his memories. Instead of watching his data records in perfect accuracy, like seeing a movie frame-for-frame, he just…knew things. In his head. Somehow.

He’d been at the gala with the Crafts.

They’d found the person who’d been trying to kill Wilbur and Tommy.

And then…oh right. The EMP.

How was Techno aware right now? His organic and inorganic components were completely intertwined and reliant on one another. Without the inorganic, the organic didn’t have enough life support to survive. Without the organic, the inorganic didn’t have enough processing power to actually do anything.

How much time had passed? Techno’s internal clock didn’t respond.

He had to do something other than just lie here in darkness. He could hear muffled noises around him. He focused on that—it just sounded like screaming and shouting. Great. Always fun when humans freaked out.

He focused incredibly hard, and managed to open his eyes. His face was smushed against the side of his helmet, and he appeared to be laying on the ground. Tommy was by him, kneeling, one hand on the side of Techno’s helmet, looking worried. That sent a flare of indecipherable emotions through Techno—relief, happiness, something else that was warm and pleasant? At least Tommy was alive. But where were Wilbur and Phil?

Techno tried to look around. This was weird. His eyes weren’t providing him with scans of human heartrates or measurements of the room, and his visor wasn’t feeding him data on the temperature or the signals of human feeds. Everything was dark and shadowed, but at least Techno’s genetically-modified night vision was still working.

Techno looked past Tommy. Phil had wrapped around Wilbur in a tight protective hug—that sent another flare of emotions through Techno—while humans near them were fighting. That wasn’t good, Techno should get up to force the fighting away from his humans, they could get hurt. He recognized some of the combatants—those human security agents, and Schlatt, whose voice was ringing out in hoarse laughter. Schlatt was grappling agents the agents. Since the security agents didn’t have any weapons, Schlatt’s struggles were difficult to subdue, and someone else was helping him. Techno caught a glimpse amongst the bodies, of light reflecting off dark sunglasses and gritted teeth.

If the agents still hadn’t caught Schlatt, even with someone helping him, then it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds since Techno shut down. Or fell unconscious? He couldn’t remember and couldn’t do a dang search through his drives to find out.

Then something else happened.

The ballroom was dark, all its power neutralized by the EMP. The only light was provided by the rest of the city which had been out of range, the white glow of the skyscrapers leaking in through the windows. It cast the room in black and silver lines. The energy shields that protected the windows had been shorted out, and now the glass of one of the large windows was cracked.

Techno had made sure that there were no weapons in the venue, no SecUnits, nothing.

But now, something was coming in.

Shrill human screams rang out as three masses crashed through the window, scattering glass across the marble floor as humans scrambled to get away. Even Tommy cowered into Techno’s side, letting Techno’s vision be clear to see what the intruders were.

Three humanoid shapes were crouched from the landing, and they straightened to their full height and observed the contents of the room. It took Techno’s night vision a second to adjust to their shadowed forms. He narrowed his eyes, unable to get exact readings, but they were tall. As tall as him. Maybe…exactly as tall as him, seven-feet two-inches, and they wore black visors over their faces and white armor covered their bodies, head to toe.

Except for one. The center one was taller than the other two, and it wore red.

Oh no.

SecUnits were strong; they were designed to protect their clients against any force. Their weaponry, combat skills, and creative strategizing made them one of the most threatening Bots to ever be made. But there was one kind of Bot that was stronger—a Bot designed solely to attack targets rather than protect.

CombatUnits.

The CombatUnit was taller than the two SecUnits by its side—if it was the model Techno dreaded it was, it stood at eight-feet four-inches, armed with twenty-six blasters, two swords, twelve knives, and eight reusable grenades.

CombatUnits were meant to kill.

Humans were screaming. The two SecUnits at the CombatUnit’s side drew their weapons and stared rapid-firing across the ballroom. Screams grew louder before abruptly cutting off, and several human silhouettes ducked in panic.

It took Techno a moment without his sensors to see that the SecUnit’s weren’t firing lethal shots—thank gods—but stun shots. There was no point in killing so many important people and making a shipload of enemies. Undoubtedly their tactic was to stun everyone, track down their targets through the inert bodies, and then kill them, quick and clean.

And Techno couldn’t do anything about it.

Crap. He had to get up, he had to get moving, but how? How were his organic parts even still functional? His heart hurt horribly, throbbing against inactive metal bones and systems, and he couldn’t even turn down his pain sensors. His heartrate picked up as he tried to move, and it only hurt more. He could only tense his muscles, but without his bones and inorganic nerve systems online, he couldn’t do so much as twitch a finger.

The human security agents instinctively braced themselves for a fight and took combat stances—idiots, they didn’t stand a chance—before they went down by a wave of stun blasts. Techno watched as they collapsed, leaving Phil and Wilbur without any form of shield.

Phil yanked Wilbur with him further behind the decorative pot they were crouched by, holding his son tight. Tommy cowered against Techno’s chest, arms wrapped around Techno and Techno couldn’t do anythingto protect him from the coming onslaught of blasts.

A stray blast hit Techno’s arm and he grunted in surprise. He felt that. The numbing of his organic parts…but also a spark of life in his mechanical ones.

Tommy’s head shot up suddenly. “Techno?” he whispered, reaching for Techno’s head again, holding it. He’d heard the noise Techno had made.

Across the room, Techno saw the CombatUnit’s helmet turn towards them. It lifted a hand, and the two SecUnits at its side stopped firing.

Uh oh.

Tommy didn’t even notice. “Techno, please, I need you.”

The CombatUnit started walking towards them, its shadow casted a long line of darkness across the room.

“Tommy,” Phil hissed from behind the pot.

“Techno—just—just tell me what to do, at least,” Tommy whispered, his ears not sensitive enough to pick up Phil’s call. Or perhaps he was too distracted. Tommy seemed fully focused on Techno. “Please. Do something. Don’t—don’t be dead.”

The CombatUnit lifted a hand and drew out a sword from its back with a hiss of metal. The sword was thicker and longer than Techno’s.

Techno tried to reboot his systems. Nothing responded. His heart thumped harder. This couldn’t happen. He could only be awake because of his stupid organic parts, but he wasn’t able to do anything. He couldn’t live if he failed for such a stupid reason. He wasn’t just a Bot. He was more, and he wouldn’t let some ridiculous EMP take him down so easily.

“Technoblade,” Tommy whispered, head falling forward as the CombatUnit lifted its sword above its head, preparing for the swing.

[System reboot successful.]

Techno’s systems flared to life—completely inexplicable—and his arm shot up. His hand fisted the fabric of the back of Tommy’s shirt and wrenched him back away from the CombatUnit. In the same move, Techno rolled away, just as the CombatUnit’s sword slammed down, the power of the blow cracking the marble floor and sending reverberations through the ground that even Techno could feel. The metallic hum of the sword echoed through the room, but the sword was completely unscathed.

Techno swung Tommy away in the opposite direction of the CombatUnit, before whirling around, swinging to his feet, and drawing his own sword in one smooth motion to face the CombatUnit.

The CombatUnit paused, looking at him, sword still extended.

“Phil. Wilbur.” Techno spoke calmly. “Take Tommy and any humans that will follow you and get as far away from here as you can.”

“Techno—!” Wilbur started to cry, but Phil didn’t need to be told twice. The man took Wilbur and ran for Tommy, snagging the boy’s arm before fleeing towards the exit farthest from the CombatUnit.

One of the SecUnits lifted its blaster to fire after them, but Techno extended his own blaster from his arm and fired at it faster, hitting its wrist and flinging the blaster out of its grip.

The three new targets turned their masked gazes on Techno, sizing him up.

“Inexplicable,” the CombatUnit said suddenly. Its voice was monotone, flat, and surprisingly high. Usually SecUnit voices were deep, edging on imposing, but the CombatUnit sounded more like the voice of a Bot with a supercomputer.

That didn’t bode well.

The CombatUnit went on. “Target SecUnit’s components are organic and inorganic. Chance of surviving an electromagnetic pulse at close range is 0%. Current scenario impossible.”

Great. Statistics. It did have a supercomputer. Wonderful.

Techno didn’t have an answer for its indirect question himself. He just said the one thing he did know. “My purpose is to protect my clients in all scenarios.”

“Explanation insufficient,” the CombatUnit said, unsatisfied. It straightened back to its full height. Dang, it was tall. The two SecUnits came to stand by its sides.

Techno remained in his fighting stance.

The CombatUnit tilted its helmet at him. “Chance of a single SecUnit Model 4-S defeating a CombatUnit and two 8-D SecUnit Models is 0.3%.”

Yeah. Not to mention, all of Techno’s weapons that weren’t attached to his body were still inactive from the EMP. His drones were down, limply scattered across the floor. All his blasters were dead except the ones in his arms, and his grenades were useless. He just had his sword, his knives, and two blasters.

But hell if he was going to back down.

“Come and beat me, then,” he said.

The CombatUnit paused just another moment, probably running through possible attack plans on its stupid supercomputer, before it lifted its arm and fired.

It fired a laser. Not a blaster, with short charges of energy, but a consistent, molten-making laser. Techno leapt out of the way, ducked into a ball, and rolled behind the pot Phil and Wilbur had just been taking shelter behind just a minute ago. He wouldn’t have long before the laser melted through it, so he poked around and fired several shots at the three targets.

The two SecUnits scrambled back out of the way, while the CombatUnit didn’t even twitch as Techno’s blasts made dents in its armor. Pathetically small dents.

Techno needed a better tactic. If he didn’t have sufficient weapons, he would have to get some.

Techno ducked behind the pot as the laser swept over his head, and then rolled out into the open on the other side. He fired at the CombatUnit, aiming for the laser emitter, and the CombatUnit drew back its arm to protect it. In the brief few seconds that bought, Techno ran for one of the SecUnits, swinging his sword at it.

The other SecUnit barely dodged before throwing a punch at Techno. He jerked to the side to avoid and then shot out a hand, grabbing its shoulder. The CombatUnit’s attention was focused on Techno again and it lifted its laser, before Techno swung the other SecUnit around right into the line of fire.

The CombatUnit jerked the laser back again, cutting off the beam as quickly as it had started, but it was too late. The laser had cut through half the SecUnit’s chest, probably hitting the heart. It went limp in Techno’s grip, and Techno hastily dropped it and tugged two grenades from its storage pockets.

Techno’s horrible chances just improved by 2%.

The CombatUnit drew a regular high-powered blaster from its side and fired at Techno, and he hastily scrambled to dodge before throwing one of the grenades as quickly as he could. The CombatUnit crossed its arms over its head to protect itself, before the grenade went off, covering it with a cloud of smoke.

Techno was about to pursue the last SecUnit when said SecUnit lunged at him. It had drawn two of its knives, favoring close-combat, and Techno quickly raised his sword to guard from the blows. He stepped back as the SecUnit advanced, its swings wide and strong. The clang of metal echoed through the room, a flurry of strikes.

Then there was a hissing buzz. At first, Techno thought it was the CombatUnit, but then the SecUnit hit Techno’s sword and an electric current zapped through the metal. His hands jolted and he dropped his sword in alarm, leaping back barely in time to avoid the SecUnit’s next swing.

A bit of distance between them, Techno paused, examining.

The electric current was coming from the knives. The other SecUnit was generating electricity and channeling it through its weapons.

Techno couldn’t do that!

Stupid other models.

Techno drew a knife, knowing that another hit from the SecUnit would just make him drop it. They lunged at each other, but just before their blades crossed, Techno ducked under the enemy’s knives and jammed his own into their leg. Blood streamed from the wound as he jerked the knife out. The other SecUnit stumbled, but whirled a moment later to swing at Techno’s retreating body. The blow grazed his armor, tearing loose one of the arm guards and cutting into his skin.

Techno flipped away and threw his knife at the SecUnit to keep it from advancing. It batted the knife aside with its own and came at Techno anyway. He didn’t have time to draw another weapon; even though he’d landed a blow, the SecUnit wasn’t slowed down at all. It must have turned down its pain receptors. Wow. Your enemy not being hurt by your attacks sure was annoying.

Techno caught the SecUnit’s wrist and awkwardly leaned back to avoid the other swinging knife. In a quick strike, he wrapped both hands around the SecUnit’s one wrist and snapped it, cracking the metal bones and making the knife clatter down to the ground. He and this SecUnit were equally strong, but two hands were better than one.

The SecUnit, again, didn’t flinch. It swung its other knife again, this time landing the hit and digging the blade into Techno’s thigh. He gasped; his toned-down pain receptors still channeled the pain.

Techno’s brief pause almost cost him. The SecUnit drew back to swing again, but Techno dropped down, snatched up its knife, and then jerked it up and jammed it right into the SecUnit’s neck.

Electricity sparked from the blade, making the SecUnit’s body shake and jumble, splattering blood across Techno’s arm. So the electricity came from the knife, not the SecUnit itself. He yanked the knife out, and the SecUnit’s body stuttered forward before collapsing at his feet.

Techno turned his attention to his third and final opponent.

The CombatUnit was watching him. It had been waiting, probably calculating that the odds of it accidentally hitting its allied SecUnit were higher than Techno’s chances of beating the thing. And fully confident that, even if Techno won, it could kill him on its own.

After considering him for a moment through its blank visor, the CombatUnit reached back and drew both of its swords, holding them at its sides. It stood there and watched him.

Feeling that it was letting Techno make the first move, Techno carefully, slowly, walked over to where he had dropped his own sword. Keeping his eyes on the CombatUnit each moment, he bent down to pick it up. As his fingers curled around the hilt, he tucked the knife into his storage.

He raised the sword’s tip at the CombatUnit.

He was so screwed.

The CombatUnit lunged across the floor—one moment fifteen feet away, the next there, directly in front of Techno, clanging both of its swords against his own. Techno ducked under its next slice that would’ve turned him into three pieces, and tried to jab at the CombatUnit’s legs. Its mobility was an advantage, as was its strength and speed and its reaction time and—everything, really. His attack was blocked with one sword before another hammered down on Techno, and he nearly tripped while dodging.

The CombatUnit slashed from every direction—overhead and underneath and left and right, only milliseconds apart. That extra foot of height made it difficult for Techno to counter its moves. He didn’t tire easily, but between the strength and the speed and the diversity of attacks, not to mention his injuries, he could already feel his energy draining.

One blow landed on his leg, the sword digging deep enough he thought he could feel it against his metal bones. The blade hadn’t even seemed stalled by his armor, but had cut through it as easily as his human tissue. Techno hastily forced the CombatUnit back with an overhead strike, but now his own maneuverability was limited. His chances were dwindling every second.

Knowing he didn’t have much time before he was overpowered, Techno twisted his sword, twining it in the opposite direction of the CombatUnit’s grip. Its attacks stuttered for just a moment as it calculated what he was about to do, just before Techno heaved his sword up and the CombatUnit’s blade went swirling through the air. It slid across the room and Techno smiled under his visor. One sword down. Just a shipload of other weapons to get through.

The CombatUnit clearly wasn’t pleased with his action. It whirled around to give power to a terrible kick that hit Techno just below his neck.

Ow.

Techno felt something crack under the impact and couldn’t tell if it was his armor or him. He flew across the room, holding tight to his sword as he rammed into one of the decorative pots. It shattered around him, broken porcelain and dirt crumbling down around his body. He was blinking himself back into focus when he realized the CombatUnit was already above him, and then its fist punched down onto his head.

Techno’s visor cracked into pieces and the feed went dead. The pressure reverberated all around his skull and he grunted. The CombatUnit drew back its fist, but Techno rolled aside, scattering fragments of porcelain. His helmet crumpled, and then it split around him, bits of it falling to the ground as he pushed himself to his feet and raised his sword—had it always been so heavy? The armor on his chest was also cracked and broken from the CombatUnit’s kick, exposing his human skin underneath.

He looked up, his vision slightly brighter without his visor.

The CombatUnit approached, slow, strong, before it lifted its sword and met his in a deafening blow of metal. Techno had to hold his sword so tightly the skin of his hands felt raw, and his feet slid back a few inches on the marble.

“You,” the CombatUnit said above him, “are an unusual SecUnit.”

“Let’s hope we have one similarity,” Techno muttered, before he drew the knife he had stored at his side, the one he’d stolen from the attacking SecUnit. He twisted his body under the CombatUnit’s blade—one of the riskiest moves he’d ever done, willingly turning his back on a CombatUnit—before raising the knife and jamming it into their wrist, right where their dataport would be.

For a moment, all the CombatUnit did was jerk, and a thousand worries filled Techno’s mind. Did the CombatUnit not have that vulnerability, had Techno missed the blow or not managed to get through the armor, had the knife run out of electric charges—if any of this was true, Techno was in a horribly vulnerable position and was certainly going to die in the next second. But then the CombatUnit reared back, power coursing through its arm and directly up to its brain, frying the systems there. It screeched, a wild sound of mechanics and throaty pain, jerking back from Techno.

Techno let go of the knife and whirled back around, winding both hands around his swords’ hilt to prepare for the next attack. But the CombatUnit didn’t pay any attention to him, didn’t try to strike him at all. It thrashed side to side, its arms waving wildly like it was trying to shake the knife out, but Techno had jammed it in too deep. After a few seconds, when the energy ran dry, it went ramrod straight, its helmet tossed back towards the ceiling.

And then it tipped back and fell, landing with a heavy thump.

Techno stood there for a moment, watching it.

And then his legs gave out on him and he slumped forward. Techno braced his sword against the ground to hold himself up, so he at least didn’t completely collapse. His pink hair fell over his face; his braid must’ve come loose during the fight. It was slick with sweat, and you know what? Techno didn’t even care right now about gross body fluids. Whatever.

He stayed there for a few seconds. He had to get up. His job wasn’t done. He couldn’t know for certain that those were the only attackers (although he dearly, dearly hoped they were). He had to track down the Crafts and get them to a secure location. Only then could he rest.

“You have GOT to be kidding me,” a voice shouted out.

Techno looked up.

Oh. Shoot.

It was Schlatt.

And he was holding Tommy, one arm wrapped around Tommy’s neck and the other holding pressing a gun to the crown of his head.

Phil and Wilbur were only a few feet away, horrified but completely still, their eyes pinned on Tommy.

Techno raised his gaze to Schlatt’s face.

He looked almost deranged. His dress attire was loose, his hair frazzled, his eyes crazed. “Do you have ANY IDEA how much money I spent on those things?!” Schlatt shouted, jostling Tommy, who let out a soft whimper. “I was GUARANTEED that they would be more than enough to handle you. Do you have a CLUE how much money I’ve flushed down the drain trying to kill these stupid brats?”

He shook Tommy like some raggy doll.

Techno stared, partly dumbfounded. It seemed like it had been ages since he’d told the Crafts to run. Why were they still here? All the other humans had fled, except for the stunned unconscious ones still strown about the room.

“I told you to run,” Techno said hoarsely, looking at Tommy.

Tommy was pale, but his cheeks heated a bit at Techno’s words. “I came back for you.”

Stupid, stupid human. Or just child. No other human outside of the Crafts would have ever come back for Techno. Techno was made to protect them, was made to be abandoned and killed if it fulfilled that purpose.

And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to blame the kid.

 Techno looked back up at Schlatt, his gaze cold. “Don’t hurt him. Or I will kill you.”

“Oh, no, you’re not the one making threats here,” Sclatt said, swaying as he glared madly at Techno. “I am. And I want you to tell me how the hell you’ve ruined me at every turn. I’ve had an insider this whole time—this should have been easy—but then you came along.”

Phil, whose gaze had been locked onto Tommy, a hand half-outstretched towards him, glanced up at Schlatt for a brief moment. “What?” he breathed hoarsely.

Schlatt ignored him, focused on Techno. “You stopped an elevator. You countered my hack. And now you beat Bots far stronger than you. Were you the one who found out it was me all along too? Huh?”

Coming out of Schlatt’s mouth, it sounded like a totally wild idea of a raving maniac, even though it was actually true.

Schlatt let out a hysterical laugh. “What’s the point of threatening you, then? You’re going to kill me in the end, and I can’t beat you. I might as well bring the kid down with me, why not?”

His grip tightened on Tommy and Tommy whimpered again, and both Phil and Wilbur flinched.

“Don’t, please don’t,” Phil whispered.

Techno slowly lowered his sword. He then pulled out his weapons, his knives and his dead blasters, and set them on the ground.

“If you let him go, I won’t kill you,” Techno promised. He would be fine with Schlatt just going to jail, that was acceptable, if only the Crafts survived. “I’ll turn over my weapons, if you just let him go.”

Schlatt’s eyes narrowed. Then he jerked his chin. “Kick them over here. All of them.”

That wasn’t an agreement to the deal, but Techno didn’t have another option. So he did so. One after another, he slid his weapons over to Schlatt, out of his own reach. His sword, his knives, his neutralized guns. All he had was his arm-blasters, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to eject and fire them in time to stop Schlatt from shooting Tommy.

Schlatt gestured his chin again. “That one too.”

Techno looked down. One of the CombatUnit’s spare guns had been dropped in the fight—or maybe while it was thrashing around—and was now by Techno’s foot. That gun hadn’t been hit by the EMP. It would actually work.

Techno glanced up and met Tommy’s eyes. Tommy blinked in confusion. Without his helmet, Techno didn’t have the feed to send him a private message, but he held Tommy’s gaze and tried to communicate anyway. Trust me. Be ready.

Techno kicked the gun, but unlike the others, this one he kicked hard enough to send it airborne. Techno’s aim was perfect. The gun landed right in Tommy’s open hands.

Two things happened at once. Taking the projectile as an attack and reacting on instinct, Schlatt swung his blaster around and fired it at Techno. Techno was too wounded to dodge, and it hit him square in the chest, vaporizing the exposed skin. He stumbled back, gasping.

 In the same moment, Tommy caught on to Techno’s plan. Tommy snatched the gun from the air, flicked the safety off, jammed it over his shoulder, and fired.

It was just a stun blast, but it had hit Schlatt right in the face. Schlatt jerked and Tommy ducked, but Schlatt’s gun didn’t fire again. Tommy freed himself from Shclatt’s loose arms and darted right into Phil’s outstretched hands, who pulled him close and held him in a tight embrace.

As Schlatt went down, Techno felt his own body tip back. But a ghost of a smile was on his lips. The Crafts were fine. He succeeded. He could go down now.

[Catastrophic failure. Systems failing.]

“Techno!” Tommy shouted, right before everything went black.

Chapter Text

[Repairs complete. Systems online in three…two…one.]

Techno opened his eyes.

Ugh.

His whole body felt like it’d just been ground through his cubicle, covered in that peeled-skin sensation, except it was everywhere.

Oh right. He’d fought a CombatUnit.

He supposes he should be grateful to even be alive.

“Techno?”

Techno felt a finger poke his cheek. He scrounged up his face as he turned his head to look at Tommy. Tommy was looking immensely skeptical.

Techno huffed. “Hey Tommy.”

Tommy let out a huge gust of air that tickled Techno’s face, his shoulders slouching. “Oh thank gods. You’ve been out for forever.”

Wilbur suddenly appeared over Tommy’s shoulder, couching down to watch Techno too.

“Welcome back, SecUnit,” Wilbur said. “Or, Techno, I suppose.”

Right. Tommy had shouted Techno’s name in front of them in the chaos of the whole night. How long ago had that been?

Techno checked his internal clock—thankfully functional—and saw that it was eighteen hours and twenty-four minutes. Wow. That was the longest time he’d gone through repairs without having to be shipped back to the Company for it.

But he wasn’t in his cubicle, actually.

Techno lifted his head a bit. It looked like…they were in a hospital room. Several monitors were hook up to him, a small window that let in streams of sunlight, and an inactive primary-grade Medical Assistant Bot was attached to the ceiling, its many arms folded into itself like a curled-up spider.

“Where are we?” Techno asked.

“At the hospital,” Wilbur answered. “We wanted to get you care as soon as possible, not to mention we weren’t sure your cubicle could fix your injuries, and you’re basically an augmented human—”

“I’m not a human,” Techno corrected.

Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Construct, right, sure.”

Techno narrowed his eyes, not liking Wilbur’s placating tone, but he had other things to worry about. “Are you two alright? And Phil?”

Tommy huffed. “Yes, we’re fine, Techno, not a scratch on us. Your gun lessons saved my life.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Wilbur said primely. “And don’t ever say that around Dad. Techno would be in so much trouble.”

Techno’s mind caught up to him and he realized something. “SecUnits aren’t allowed in hospitals without explicit permission from the hospital board or a government official.”

The Company could absolutely be held liable for that and there would be consequences, Techno dying or no.

Wilbur’s amused expression turned into a glare, though the anger wasn’t directed at Techno. “Dad has authority, plus he knows several of the doctors here. He’s handling things; he’s only taken a two-hour nap since last night. He’s been on the feed or talking to people nonstop, trying to sort everything out.”

Right, a major politician was just arrested for attempting to murder children (multiple times), plus the gala was an absolute wreak. Not to mention an EMP and a CombatUnit had been snuck onto Antarctic-3, both of which were highly illegal on this planet.

Wilbur hesitated, then said, “We found out you don’t have a working governor module.”

Techno tensed, his hands clenching, to do what he wasn’t sure, but Wilbur cut him off.

“Techno, we don’t care.” He reached out and laid a hand against Techno’s arm, on a place where his armor had been removed. Human skin against his mesh of tissue and metal. “Honestly, I’m not surprised. We’re not going to reactivate it or anything.”

“Yeah,” Tommy piped up, “I didn’t even know you had a babysitting module.”

“Governor module, Tommy,” Wilbur corrected.

Tommy’s nose crinkled. “Isn’t that just an old word for a babysitter?”

“I do not have any form of babysitting programming,” Techno said flatly, a headache pounding within his metal skull.

“Mmmm I don’t know,” Tommy hummed playfully, looking at Techno with teasing doubt, and Techno just closed his eyes. Too much was going on at once.

“Where is Phil?” he asked, because perhaps the man could control his children slightly.

“Yeah, he’s been sorting out your adoption papers!” Tommy blurted cheerfully.

Techno didn’t do anything for a moment. Then he opened his eyes. Then he slowly turned his head to look at Tommy. “What?”

Wilbur shoved Tommy’s shoulders. “Well, not exactly that.”

Oh, okay, Tommy’s words were just some ridiculous misunderstanding.

“But Dad is buying your contract from the Company,” Wilbur added on casually.

What. The heck.

“What,” Techno said again, absolutely no emotion in his tone.

“We’re taking you in!” Tommy said, leaning further on Techno’s hospital bed. He beamed down at Techno. “No more Company, no more babysitter module nonsense! You’ll belong with us now!”

That couldn’t be right. It was far, far easier to rent out a SecUnit indefinitely, maybe for a whole human lifetime, than it was to buy one. The Company offered bargains for long-term rentals, and would replace the rented SecUnit with a new one if anything went wrong—with some fees, of course. Buying a SecUnit didn’t make sense. It was far more expensive, and if that SecUnit got damaged, the Company didn’t have to do anything about it.

“He can’t do that,” Techno said, several other objections leaping to be voiced in his head.

“Well, it’s been hard.” Wilbur ran his hands over his legs and sat down on a chair by Techno’s bed. It felt weird to be in a bed, especially with humans present. Or maybe that was because Tommy was trying to find a spot to sit with Techno on the bed. “Honestly, half of the last day has just been Dad negotiating solely with them.”

Wilbur sighed heavily. “Dad tried to buy your contract immediately once we were all safe and knew you were going to recover. But when the Company learned you had survived an EMP wave and taken out two other SecUnits and a CombatUnit—which I guess you’re not supposed to be able to do any of that, and they were really interested—they tried to recall you so they could examine how you did it.”

Techno tensed. An examination was really bad. That meant they would drag him back, slap him on a table, and a bunch of humans would pick him apart, bit by bit. Take off his limbs, open his skull, pick at his brain and drives. They might put him back together again—if they could still get money out of him—but for Techno, they would undoubtedly realize his governor module was nonfunctioning. There was no way for Techno to hack around or hide from such a complete inspection. And the Company never forgave Bots that hacked their module. Techno’s organic parts would be torn out and burned, and his inorganic parts would be wiped of all data before they were recycled into some other SecUnit.

Techno started to get up, though he wasn’t sure what he could do—he couldn’t run, there was a tracker imbedded in his brain that was impossible to remove without killing him.

Wilbur hastily gestured for Techno to lay back down. “It’s okay, it’s okay! Dad talked them out of it.”

Techno paused. That…didn’t quite make sense, but it calmed Techno down enough to realize that he was still in a fair amount of pain, and he didn’t really have a plan anyway. He slowly lowered himself back down onto the pillows. He’d never had pillows before and he sank further back into it then he’d meant to. It was…plusher, than a couch.

Wilbur went on. “There was a lot of back and forth about it. Dad told them that refusing to sell him a SecUnit after he’d already made the request to buy it was discriminatory, and threatened to take it to court. The Company didn’t want that, but they really wanted to get their hands on you. It took hours and a lot of calls, but Dad eventually compromised so that he could buy you, but we have to send them one full-detail scan of your makeup.”

Techno stared raptly at Wilbur, taking in all of this crazy information. “That is still monumentally bad.”

Wilbur cocked a grin. “Yeah, could’ve been, but Dad made them promise that the results of the scan have to remain a complete secret, no matter the contents. They didn’t even question him. They’ve agreed.”

Techno had to turn that over in his head for a moment, like some strange contraption he was trying to understand. “That means…when they see that my governor module isn’t working on the scan…they can’t do anything about it.”

Wilbur nodded eagerly. “Their lips are sealed. And maybe they’ll realize that the slave SecUnits they treat terribly would do better if they actually had rights and decent treatment.”

Techno ignored Wilbur’s idealism, taking that in for a moment. He could…be free? He could be free. The Crafts…had they really outmaneuvered the Company? It didn’t seem possible. And yet, the deal the Crafts offered seemed so innocent—and exactly up the Company’s alley—that Techno couldn’t imagine the Company wouldn’t take it. Why bother to take back an injured SecUnit, if they already had the information they needed and it was clearly more profitable to let the Crafts purchase it? And the Company already kept their designs secret, they would never think of revealing the scan results in the first place unless it was something extreme, like a hacked governor module. Since Techno wasn’t running about murdering humans, it didn’t occur to them that he might’ve hacked his.

The Crafts had tied the Company’s hands.

Once that scan was sent and the Company realized what was different about Techno, they would swear and scream and possibly throttle someone in frustration, but they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

Techno was free.

He just stared ahead blankly, the idea crushing down on him for a moment.

At that moment—or perhaps a little later, Techno didn’t know—the door opened and Phil walked in. The man did look absolutely exhausted. Bags were under his eyes and he seemed ten years older, but he smiled wearily at Tommy and Wilbur, and then, remarkably, at Techno.

“Hey mate,” Phil said quietly. “You’re up.”

Techno bowed his head a little. “Thank you for having me repaired.” Repairing Techno in his cubicle was free, aside from the initial charge. Repairing him in a hospital would undoubtedly cost some money, even if Antarctic-3 had more reasonable and adjustable medical fees than many other planets.

“Of course, mate.” Phil slowly sat himself down next to Wilbur. Wilbur took his hand and squeezed it. Phil squeezed back, before returning his attention to Techno and saying softly, “Thank you for saving us.”

Techno examined Phil closely. It had already been late when Techno had been knocked out. Aside from a short nap, according to Wilbur, Phil had been up for over twenty-four hours.

Phil gave a long sigh. “The two SecUnits and the CombatUnit are here too, though on the other end of the hospital and they’ve been thoroughly secured, all their weapons removed.”

Techno raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re having the Constructs that attacked you be repaired?”

Wilbur puffed out his chest importantly. “They were just following orders, they didn’t have a choice. They don’t deserve to die for it.”

Techno wondered if Phil had ordered the enemy Constructs to be repaired just to satisfy Wilbur, but Phil was tiredly nodding along with Wilbur’s words. Or maybe he was falling asleep, who could tell.

Well, if you asked Techno, that CombatUnit had seemed to be having a bit too much fun while fighting him, but he had long resigned himself to tolerating the stupid acts of humans.

Phil glanced up and only now seemed to notice that Tommy was on Techno’s bed. “Tommy, get off of there. The bed is made for one person, and Techno’s already huge.”

“I fit,” Tommy argued, having to lay on his side to balance on what little space was left.

Techno shifted over a bit so his side was almost slipping off too, to give Tommy some more space. He rested an arm on Tommy’s shoulder to help keep him stable. “He fits,” Techno agreed.

Phil huffed out a dry laugh and shook his head helplessly. After a moment, though, he became more serious. “Did Wilbur tell you about the contracts?”

Techno stared at him, scrutinizing every centimeter of Phil’s face. “You bought me.”

Phil nodded. “It’s signed. The deal’s basically done. Once we have you scanned and send it off, you’re officially ours.”

An uneasy thought occurred to Techno. “But Schlatt has been caught. You don’t need a SecUnit to protect you anymore.” A new thought occurred to him. “Unless you need help to deal with the mole Schlatt mentioned?”

Wilbur’s mouth opened. “Techno—”

Phil waved at Wilbur to be quiet, almost accidentally slapping him in the face in doing so. “No, Techno, that’s not what this is about. We found the mole, Eret turned themselves in. There’s no assassin after Wilbur and Tommy now. We don’t need you to be our security anymore.”

A thread of fear and odd trepidation weaved through Techno’s heart. “Then what do you want me for?”

Tommy poked Techno’s cheek again. “You, idiot.”

Techno blinked down at Tommy confusedly.

“You don’t have to stay with us, Techno,” Phil said. “You can leave whenever you like, mate. Go and never see us again, if that’s what you want. Or you can come with us. You’ll always be welcome. You’ll always have a home with us.” He swallowed. “You’ll always have a family with us.”

Techno stared at Phil. Unblinking.

Phil cleared his throat. “Once your cleared, you can leave the hospital. If you like, I can give you some money and you can be on your way.”

“Dad—” both Wilbur and Tommy started to say, but Phil waved them off.

“Techno’s never had a choice, boys,” Phil told them firmly. “Just because we love him and would treat him well doesn’t mean we get to keep that from him.”

Techno blinked. What was that one part Phil had said?

Phil went on, attention back on Techno. “Your can stay if you like. And if you change your mind one day, you can leave. Our door is always open to you, to walk in and out of as you please. But if you stay…and we’d like you—love for you—to stay…then we want you to be part of our family.”

Techno admittedly felt overwhelmed. He didn’t know what to say or do or even feel. This awful warm thing was coming from his stupid organic heart, and it kind of hurt in its fierceness but he didn’t want to let it go.

Techno’s grip on Tommy tightened. He didn’t know where his future was going to go—he’d never really considered having freedom, aside from playing as much Minecraft as he could while completing his contracts—but he knew what he wanted.

“I want to stay with you,” he blurted.

It was so abrupt and unintentionally loud that all the Crafts startled, but then their expressions morphed into relief and excitement. Tommy hugged Techno’s side tightly.

And he smiled. He was staying.

-

Leaving the hospital was…weird. Once Techno did the scan, Phil bundled it up in a feed message and sent it away to the Company. Then, they could just walk out. Techno didn’t have his visor to hide his face, it had been destroyed in the fight, so now his face was just out there for everyone to see. Passing hospital staff kept staring at him, some of them even making eye contact. Many of them looked a little unsettled at seeing a SecUnit that looked so human, but he felt just as unsettled at being so exposed.

Wilbur bumped Techno’s shoulder with his own, smiling. “Now you can wear that boar mask we bought forever ago.”

Phil had also ordered Techno a new set of armor, which Techno was silently grateful for.

Tommy practically skipped down the hall, while Wilbur had to half-carry Phil, who was stumbling every few steps. The man clearly needed to get home so he could sleep.

There were apparently a ton of reporters outside that they had to get through to reach the hovercraft, so they paused by the doors so Phil could muster up a last bit of energy and then headed out.

Dozens of humans and different types of Media Bots bombarded them with various recording devices, shooting so many rapid-fire questions that Company ought to take notes for their next machine-blaster model.

“Councilman Craft, is it true a bomb went off at your gala last night?”

“Councilman Craft, do you have a comment on Councilman Schlatt’s arrest?”

“Mr. Wilbur Craft, would you say that your life was in danger last night? Could you have died?”

Ugh, it was so annoying. Phil straightened himself up and called out in a loud, clear voice, “We are answering no questions at this time, do no talk to me or my sons.”

Then he made a practical beeline for the hovercraft, clearly intent to get out of here before he collapsed. Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno hastened to follow him, but Techno was cut off by a Media Bot—a tiny dronelike thing but with extendable four arms for extra reach and for carrying multiple cameras—shoving a microphone in his face. Techno stopped, blinking puzzledly at it. People tended to ignore him, not interview him.

“SecUnit, can you give us a report on last night’s events?”

Techno stared. “Um.”

Phil, who’d been right at the hovercraft’s door, turned and let out a growl of frustration. Fists at his sides, he paced over to where Techno and the Media Bot was and shoved the microphone away.

“I said don’t talk to my sons,” Phil snapped at it, before taking Techno’s hand and dragging him back towards the craft.

The reporters seemed just as stunned as Techno was. Did Phil just…?

Phil was just sleep deprived. That had to be it.

Techno was shoved into the hovercraft with Tommy and Wilbur, and then Phil clamored in and slammed the door behind them.

“Dad,” Wilbur began tentatively. “You realize you just…”

But Phil was already asleep.

-

They didn’t want to wake Phil when they got back to the apartment, so Techno ended up carrying him inside. Wilbur and Tommy helped by opening doors for him (he could already command them to open them himself, but the gesture was nice) and unfolding the covers as he laid Phil in his bed. Then they slipped out and let him be.

“Dad’s going to have his work cut out for him,” Wilbur said grimly. “Sorting out last night’s debacle, handling those SecUnits and the CombatUnit, plus making moves to try and give some rights to Constructs.”

“He’s going to do what?” Techno asked, honestly having hit his limit of revelations for today.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tommy said, taking Techno’s hand. Then a sly smile came onto his face. “Have you checked your stream since you woke up?”

On the side, Wilbur shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve been a streamer this whole time. Here I was pitying you for never getting to do anything for yourself and you were playing videogames all along.”

Techno shrugged at him. “I like Minecraft.” Then he turned his attention on Tommy. “No, has something happened?”

He was already checking his account as he asked the question, and realized what Tommy was referring to just as Tommy flung out his arms excitedly.

“YOU WON THE POTATOE WAR!”

“Oh.” Techno blinked.

This was odd. Techno had entered the Craft household with the sole desire of playing as much Minecraft as he could and doing the bare (successful) minimum of his job. But he had totally forgotten about Minecraft for the past…several hours. That priority had shifted without him even noticing.

Then a smile came over Techno’s face. He smirked down at Tommy. “Wanna join me in taunting SquidKid?”

-

So they hooked up Techno’s feed to the holo-projector in the family room, and Techno spent about an hour making fun of SquidKid. Tommy and Wilbur laughed hysterically. Coming off from that high, they all joined the game together, the three of them playing Minecraft for a few hours, teasing and taunting.

Later in the evening, Phil came out of his room, weary but smiling fondly at them. He joined their game for about half an hour, before he fell asleep again. Not long after, Tommy and Wilbur fell asleep too, leaning on Techno’s sides.

Playing Minecraft was pretty fun. But being around this family…that was the best part.