Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Techno, you gotta take a break.” Skeppy tried again, his voice edged with concern as Technoblade slipped on his coat and reached for his bag. Morning light barely crept through the window, and the weight of exhaustion hung in the air between them.

“I’m fine.” Techno’s response was as flat as his expression, his focus already shifting to the day ahead.

Skeppy leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone, man. You’ve gotta stop acting like you’ve got something to prove.”

Techno glanced at him, eyes cold but distant, as if he were already elsewhere. “I have everything to prove.”

With that, he stepped out the door, leaving Skeppy’s words hanging behind him.

Techno did feel bad for leaving his friend like that. Skeppy was his best friend, the kind of person Techno could rely on no matter what. Someone who had his back when no one else did. But Techno needed this. He needed to prove himself, to succeed, even if it meant pushing away the people who mattered.

Fresh out of college, he had barely settled into his job as a detective, but his reputation for being skilled beyond his years had followed him into the precinct. After only a year, he'd cracked a murder case that stumped seasoned detectives. He had been a minor player on that case, barely noticed by the others. But it was him—Techno—who pieced it all together. His biggest achievement yet.

Now, though, he was back to the sidelines, helping on minor cases while the more established detectives got the ones he really wanted. The ones that mattered. Techno could feel it—like an itch under his skin—he needed more.

Technoblade’s mornings felt like clockwork: get up, grab his bag, head to work, and keep his head down. But it wasn’t enough anymore. Not after the rush of solving that case. It had been his moment. The moment where everything clicked, where his instincts proved sharper than the veterans’.

But now? Now he was stuck with routine. Minor cases, desk work, paperwork. The higher-ups weren’t ready to hand him anything bigger, no matter how much he wanted it. They still saw him as the kid fresh out of college, the one who got lucky.

He clenched his jaw every time he heard the others talk about new cases, real cases—the ones that tested you, the ones that made a detective’s career. Techno had a taste of that, just a glimpse of what it was like to be part of something bigger than himself. And now? He was back to chasing petty criminals or poring over cold files. He needed more than this.

-

Techno arrived at the precinct, the usual buzz of ringing phones and low chatter filling the air. He walked through the door, heading straight for his desk, but his attention snagged as he spotted his supervisor, Philza, standing by the board covered in case files. Philza was older, seasoned, with a reputation that stretched far beyond the precinct walls. People respected him—and feared him in the same breath.

“Techno,” Philza called, his voice carrying across the room. “Got a minute?”

Techno adjusted his bag and made his way over. Philza never wasted words. If he was calling someone over, it meant something important. Techno tried to keep his face neutral, though his heart kicked up a beat. Maybe this was it—maybe he was finally getting something bigger.

Philza gave him a quick nod. “I know the last few months haven’t been exactly... exciting for you.”

Understatement of the century.

“But there’s a case that might need an extra set of hands,” Philza continued, eyes narrowing as he studied Techno’s reaction. “Nothing major yet, but it could turn into something more. You interested?”

Techno’s pulse quickened, but he kept his voice steady. “Yeah, I’m interested.”

Philza reached behind him, grabbing a thin manila folder off the table. Without another word, he handed it to Techno. The weight of it felt light, like it wasn’t much—just another minor case—but the look in Philza’s eyes told him there was more beneath the surface.

Techno flipped it open, scanning the first page. A string of recent deaths, no obvious connections between the victims. Accidents, maybe. But there was something about the way they were spaced out. The locations felt too neat, too precise.

Philza watched him, arms crossed. “Like I said, nothing concrete yet. But I’ve got a feeling.”

Techno glanced up, catching the unspoken challenge. This wasn’t a gift. It was a test.

“I’ll take it.”

Techno loved tests. They sharpened his instincts, pushed him to think harder, dig deeper. Every challenge was an opportunity to prove that his skills weren’t just luck or timing—they were earned. His mind already raced as he flipped through the details in the file.

Patterns. There was always a pattern.

The deaths looked random on the surface, but Techno’s gut told him there was something connecting them, something others might’ve missed. He had to find it. The thrill of it—the chase—was what drove him. He wasn’t just in this to solve cases; he was in it to be the best.

Techno closed the file with a sharp snap. “I’ll get started right away.”

Philza nodded, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Knew you would.”

-

Back at his desk, Techno opened the file, his focus narrowing on the details of three deaths that had occurred in the same neighborhood over the past week.

The first victim was a local bartender found dead in his apartment. Initially ruled a heart attack, the autopsy revealed traces of a rare poison in his system. The bartender was well-liked, with no known enemies, which left Techno wondering who would want him dead and why.

The second death was a young woman, an artist known for her vibrant street murals. She was discovered in a nearby park, apparently the victim of a hit-and-run. Witnesses claimed they saw a dark sedan speeding away from the scene, but no plates were recorded. Techno couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a tragic accident; the timing felt too coincidental.

The third victim was an elderly man who had been living alone in a small house. He was found slumped over his kitchen table, his body lifeless and cold. Initially dismissed as another unfortunate case of natural causes, a closer examination revealed signs of foul play. A broken window in the back of the house suggested a possible break-in, raising further questions about the circumstances surrounding his death.

Three deaths, all within the same week and in the same area, each with its own unsettling details. Techno leaned back in his chair, determination igniting within him. There had to be a connection, a thread linking these tragedies, and he was determined to uncover it.

Techno rubbed his temples, trying to connect the dots as he recalled each case. The bartender’s mysterious poisoning, the artist's suspicious hit-and-run, and the elderly man’s potential homicide all played in his mind like pieces of a puzzle.

He reached for the file again, flipping through the pages as he sought any commonality between the victims. All three had lived in the same neighborhood, but beyond that, they seemed like strangers. Techno scribbled notes, his mind racing as he considered the angles.

Could the poison have been administered to the bartender in a drink? If so, who would have done it? Perhaps a jealous rival, or maybe someone he had angered during a night of drinking?

As for the artist, her work often critiqued social issues in the city, and that could have ruffled feathers. It wasn’t uncommon for outspoken creatives to find themselves on the wrong side of someone with power.

Techno’s thoughts turned to the elderly man. He had no known connections to the other two, but was there a chance he had witnessed something? Maybe he had seen something that linked the other two deaths?

Deciding to dig deeper, Techno pulled up the neighborhood map on his computer, marking the locations of each death. The bartender’s apartment was just a few blocks away from where the artist’s body had been found, and the elderly man lived only a street over from them both.

He leaned closer to the screen, tracing the distance with his finger. There had to be more to the story, and he knew he had to get out there and start asking questions.

-

Just as Techno was about to head out, a sudden commotion erupted in the precinct. The chatter of officers grew louder, punctuated by the sound of urgent footsteps. Curious, he paused, scanning the room until he spotted Philza striding toward the break room, a grim expression on his face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Techno called out, striding after him.

Philza stopped, turning to face Techno. “Another murder. Just came in a few minutes ago. Two blocks from where the artist was found.”

Techno’s heart raced. “Do we have any details?”

“Not much yet. Just that a woman was found in an alley. Same area, different circumstances, but it’s got the same vibe.” Philza’s brow furrowed as he spoke, concern evident in his voice. “We need to get out there and see what we can find.”

Without hesitation, Techno grabbed his jacket, adrenaline coursing through him. This was exactly what he needed—more pieces of the puzzle to fit together.

As they rushed out of the precinct, Techno's mind raced. Four murders in a single neighborhood in just over a week. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

Techno hopped into Philza’s car, the scent of coffee and worn leather greeting him as he settled into the passenger seat. Philza turned the key, and the engine roared to life, cutting through the tense silence.

“Let’s hope we catch a break,” Philza muttered, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The streets blurred past them, each block feeling heavier with the weight of recent events.

As they approached the crime scene, the flashing lights of police cars illuminated the alley where the latest victim had been discovered. Techno’s stomach churned with anticipation and dread. He could already see the gathering crowd, a mix of officers and onlookers, each person’s face etched with curiosity and concern.

Philza parked the car a short distance away, and the two men stepped out, joining the throng of officers swarming the scene. The alley was narrow and littered with debris, the air thick with the scent of asphalt.

Techno focused on the task at hand, scanning the area for anything out of place. The victim—a woman in her twenties—lay sprawled on the ground, her body partially hidden by a hastily thrown tarp. Techno felt a pang of sympathy as he caught sight of her brightly colored dress.

“What do we know?” Techno asked, turning to Philza, who was already speaking with a uniformed officer.

“Witnesses reported hearing a struggle, but no one saw anything,” Philza replied, his voice low and steady. “We’re still gathering statements.”

Techno stepped closer to the body, his instincts kicking in as he began to piece together the scene. If this was connected to the other murders, he needed to find out how. He spotted a few scattered items near the victim—an overturned purse and a crumpled note.

“Can we get a look at that?” Techno asked, pointing toward the note.

Philza nodded and motioned for an officer to retrieve it. As they waited, Techno’s mind raced. Each death was a thread, and now, with this latest victim, he could feel the tapestry of a larger story beginning to form. But what was the connection?

“Sir, it’s just a kid’s drawing,” the officer said as he approached Philza and Techno, holding the crumpled note in his hand. “It doesn’t seem relevant to the investigation.”

“Give it,” Philza stated firmly, his eyes narrowing as he extended his hand.

Reluctantly, the officer passed the note over, still looking unsure. Techno took it, smoothing it out against the edge of his palm. The note contained only a simple smiley face:

:)

Techno's brow furrowed, confusion washing over him. “That’s it?” he asked, glancing up at Philza.

“Sir, it’s just a kid’s drawing,” the officer repeated, looking uncomfortable.

“What you think it is doesn't matter this is evidence,” Philza insisted, ignoring the officer's hesitation.

Despite its simplicity, Techno felt a pang of unease. A smiley face seemed so out of place in the midst of this chaos. Someone had lost their life here, yet this drawing seemed so innocent, almost mocking.

“This could mean something,” Techno said, his mind racing. “We need to find out who drew this. There might be a connection we’re not seeing.”

Not a moment later, a woman broke through the crowd, her voice slicing through the tension like a knife. “Layne!?” she screamed, her eyes wide with panic as she rushed forward.

“Layne?” she sobbed, her voice cracking as she pushed past officers trying to contain the scene.

One of the police stepped in front of her, attempting to hold her back. “Ma’am, you need to stay back!”

“Let me see her!” she pleaded, desperation etched across her face. The officer hesitated for a moment, glancing at Philza and Techno, who exchanged a look of concern.

“Phil, we need to let her through,” Techno urged, knowing Phil was already thinking the same thing.

Philza nodded, gesturing for the officer to step aside. “Go ahead,” he said, his voice steady. “But keep it brief.”

The woman rushed forward, her tears streaming down her face as she approached the covered body. “Layne!” she cried again, collapsing to her knees as she reached out for the tarp.

-
He was in a small, cluttered bedroom, the walls plastered with posters of superheroes and movie stars. A younger version of himself sat on the floor, surrounded by toys, and his younger brother was beside him, focused intently on a task.

“Hold still, Techno!” his brother insisted, fingers working diligently through Techno’s long hair as he attempted to braid it. “You’re gonna look like a knight!”

Techno laughed, feeling the tug of his brother’s hands as he tried to weave the strands together. “A knight? Really? What kind of knight has long hair?”

“The coolest kind!” his brother shot back, grinning widely. “Knights have to look good too, you know!”
-

But just as quickly as the memory came, it faded, and Techno snapped back to the present, the woman's sobs piercing through the fog. He shook his head slightly, trying to dispel the images of his brother's laughter.

“Layne!” she cried again, her anguish pulling him from his reverie.

Chapter Text

Technoblade sat silently in the corner of the interrogation room, aware that he wasn’t allowed to question Ella Jones himself. He understood the reasoning behind it; he was still too inexperienced for this level of investigation. So he simply observed as Philza took the lead.

Ella sat across from Phil, her eyes heavy with dark bags that betrayed her lack of sleep. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and her arms were crossed tightly over her stomach as if trying to shield herself from the world. She looked like a wreck, as anyone would after having to identify a dead woman in an alleyway—especially when that woman was her 24-year-old sister.

“Hey, Ella, I'm so sorry about what's happened,” Phil began gently as he sat down, the recording device humming to life. “I was wondering if I could ask some questions to help us figure out what happened.”

Ella nodded, the weight of grief and confusion heavy in her gaze. Techno watched as Phil asked his first question, his pen poised over a notepad.

“When was the last time you talked to Layne?” Phil asked.

“Yesterday morning. We were on the phone together,” Ella replied, her voice trembling as she wiped her eyes. “She was telling me about how she was going to a party with a group of friends.” Her voice cracked. “I thought—she would’ve been fine.”

A party? Techno's mind raced with possibilities. Had Layne upset someone at the gathering and been pulled outside, where the murder occurred? Or had she been targeted intentionally, with the murderer waiting for the right moment? Millions of questions swirled through his head as he focused intently on Ella's words.

“Do you know what time the phone call was?” Phil asked.

Ella nodded, reaching for her phone. “8:42 AM. We texted again at 12:34.” She handed the device to Phil, who quickly scanned the messages.

Techno mulled over those timestamps. Until the autopsy was completed, they wouldn’t know the exact time of Layne's death.

“What friends were at the party? Were they close friends?” Phil continued, jotting down notes.

“Yeah, her friends from high school: Sophie, Caroline, and Annaleise,” Ella supplied, her voice firm despite the emotion behind it. “They wouldn’t do anything to hurt her—I know it.”

“Okay, did she party a lot? Drink, smoke?” Phil asked, trying to cover all the angles.

“Layne wouldn’t do that!” Ella shot back, defensiveness flaring in her voice. “She’s going to college to be a doctor! Layne wouldn’t—”

“I’m not saying she would,” Phil interjected smoothly, attempting to ease the tension. “I’m just covering all the grounds.”

Ella’s shoulders slumped as she took a deep breath, her emotions threatening to spill over. “I know, I’m sorry for lashing out. I’m just everywhere right now.”

“That’s completely okay,” Phil replied with a nod of understanding. “We can do this another day if you’d like.”

“No, no. We need to figure out what happened.” Ella’s voice broke into a sob, and Techno felt a pang of sympathy for her. This was a sister’s grief laid bare, a desperate need for answers that echoed through the room.

“Then let’s keep going,” Phil encouraged gently. “We’ll get through this together.”

Ella nodded, her resolve strengthening as Phil continued to ask questions.

“Did Layne mention anything about the party before she went? Any concerns or anything unusual?” Phil probed gently, his tone reassuring.

“Not really,” Ella replied, her brow furrowed in thought. “She was excited about it. It was a friend’s birthday party, so she wanted to dress up and have fun. I thought it would be a nice break for her.”

Phil jotted down notes, his expression serious as he considered her words. “What about her friends? Did she say anything about them? Any drama or issues?”

Ella shook her head, though her eyes showed signs of uncertainty. “No, she didn’t mention any problems. They’ve been friends for years. I trust them. I just... I can’t believe something like this happened.”

“I understand,” Phil said, his voice calm. “I know this is hard, but it’s important to get as much information as we can. Have you noticed any changes in Layne’s behavior recently? Anything that seemed out of the ordinary?”

Ella hesitated, chewing her lip. “She seemed a bit stressed, I guess, but she was always like that with school. I thought she was just overwhelmed with her classes. It’s a lot of pressure to get into med school.”

“Did she have any enemies? Anyone who didn’t like her?” Phil pressed, his pen poised over the notepad.

Ella’s eyes widened, shaking her head vigorously. “No, not that I know of. Layne was kind to everyone. She didn’t have any enemies; she was too nice for that.”

Phil remained patient, his pen scratching against the paper as he continued to gather details. “What about her social media? Did she mention anyone there who seemed odd?”

“I don’t know,” Ella admitted, frustration creeping into her voice. “She’s on Instagram and Snapchat, but she didn’t talk about it much. I’ll check her messages if that helps.”

“That would be great,” Phil replied, his tone encouraging. “Anything you can find might help us connect the dots.”

As Ella fumbled with her phone, Techno leaned in closer, trying to catch snippets of their conversation. He could feel the urgency building inside him; every detail might lead them closer to understanding what had happened to Layne and who was responsible.

“Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?” Phil asked, his voice steady. “Anything at all could be important.”

Ella took a deep breath, her gaze drifting off as she thought hard. “I just wish I could have done something,” she murmured. “I wish I had told her to be careful or something. I didn’t think…”

Phil nodded, his eyes compassionate. “You couldn’t have known. This isn’t your fault, Ella. We’re going to find out what happened, I promise.”

-

“Call everyone at that party; I want to talk to all of them,” Phil said firmly as the questioning came to an end. His focus shifted to Techno, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange.

“Yeah?” Techno replied, ready to spring into action.

“Go see who Layne has been with, where she’s been, and what she’s been doing for the last year,” Phil instructed, a sense of urgency in his voice. “We need to paint a complete picture.”

“Got it,” Techno said, already feeling a surge of adrenaline as he stood up from his chair. He quickly gathered his things, mentally mapping out the steps he needed to take. This was his chance to make a real difference, to delve deeper into the life of Layne Jones and possibly uncover the truth behind her death.

“Be thorough,” Phil added, looking Techno directly in the eye. “We need every detail. If there’s something there, we’ll find it.”

Techno nodded, determination coursing through him. He had to do this right—not just for Layne but for Ella, who was still in shock.

As he left the room, he felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. Techno wasn’t just solving a case; he was trying to understand the world that Layne had inhabited. He made his way to the precinct’s main office, where he knew he could access her records.

He sat at his desk and pulled up the information he needed: Layne’s social media accounts, school records, and any previous incidents that might give insight into her life over the past year. He scrolled through her Instagram, noting pictures of her with friends at various events, her graduation, and her adventures in college.

Techno paused at a photo of Layne and her friends at a party—a lively atmosphere, laughter frozen in time. They looked happy, carefree. He scanned the comments, hoping for any clues. There were a few mentions of guys in the comments, but nothing that stood out immediately.

Next, he pulled up her school records and attendance logs. Layne had been a diligent student, maintaining excellent grades and involvement in various extracurricular activities. There were no disciplinary issues, no signs of trouble. But Techno knew that sometimes, appearances could be deceiving.

As he dug deeper, he noted down her friends' names—Sophie, Caroline, and Annaleise. He made a mental note to follow up with them once he had finished gathering information.

Techno leaned back in his chair, frustration brewing. It wasn’t enough. He needed more context, something to connect the dots. He glanced at the clock, realizing he was running out of time. With a quick breath, he dove back into the files, determined to uncover anything that could help them solve the case.

Layne wanted to help people. She wanted to be a doctor—an oncologist, for crying out loud—dedicated to aiding cancer patients! Techno rifled through the evidence scattered on his desk: her smashed phone, the note with its unsettling smiley face, and her untouched purse. Why would someone kill her? Just for murder? Just for fun?

“Techno?” Phil’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts.

“Phil?” Techno replied, not turning around as he continued to piece together the fragments of Layne’s life.

“We just finished questioning Layne’s friends and parents. She was a good kid. No leads,” Phil explained in a sad voice.

“Do you know what an oncologist is?” Techno asked, finally turning to face Phil, his eyes filled with frustration.

“A doctor that studies cancer?”

“Yes! Why would someone kill a person who wanted to treat cancer?” Techno rambled, pacing the small space. “She had perfect grades, a secure friend group, and everyone says she was a kind, caring person! Why…?” His voice trailed off, the weight of his unanswered questions hanging heavy in the air.

“Why…?” Techno’s voice trailed off, the weight of his unanswered questions hanging heavy in the air.

Phil sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes it doesn’t make sense, Techno. People can be cruel for reasons we’ll never understand. But we have to find a connection, something that ties her to this. We can’t let this go unsolved.”

Techno turned back to the evidence, frustration bubbling within him. “It just feels so wrong,” he muttered. “She was just trying to help people—she didn’t deserve this.”

“Exactly,” Phil agreed. “That’s why we need to keep digging. Look at her life—friends, school, any conflicts she might have had. There’s something here we’re missing.”

Techno nodded, refocusing on the evidence. He picked up Layne’s smashed phone, the shattered screen reflecting fragments of her life. “What if she was onto something? Maybe she knew something she shouldn’t have, something that got her killed.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” Techno continued, pacing again. “An oncologist deals with patients’ lives, their secrets, and their struggles. Maybe she uncovered something at the clinic, something that connected her to the wrong people.”

“Or maybe she had a conflict with someone at school or a friend,” Phil suggested. “We should dig into her social life and see if there were any signs of trouble.”

Techno’s mind raced as he imagined the possibilities. He needed to dive deeper into Layne’s life, unravel the layers that surrounded her. “I’ll start with her friends, see if they noticed anything off, any strange encounters. And I’ll check her clinic records for any incidents.”

Phil nodded, his eyes reflecting the same determination. “Good plan. We’ll figure this out together.”

As Techno gathered his things, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. Layne wanted to save lives, and he was determined to honor that by seeking justice for her. Whatever it took, he would uncover the truth, even if it meant facing the darkness that lay ahead.

-

Techno opened the door around 1 AM, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. Today had felt interminably long, filled with unanswered questions and the haunting memory of Layne.

“Tec?” Skeppy questioned sleepily, his voice barely above a whisper as he rubbed his eyes. “Why were you at work so late?”

Techno sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Just a lot to sort through, you know? Another murder. It’s... complicated.”

Skeppy propped himself up on one elbow, concern flickering across his face. “You should take a break. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this. You’ll burn out.”

“I can’t,” Techno replied, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “I need to figure this out. Layne didn’t deserve what happened to her, and I won’t let it go unsolved.”

Skeppy studied him for a moment, clearly torn between wanting to support his friend and worrying about his well-being. “Just remember, you can’t do it all alone. I’m here if you need to talk or vent or whatever.”

Techno managed a faint smile, appreciating Skeppy’s concern. “Thanks, I really do appreciate it. But right now, I need to keep digging. I have a feeling there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Skeppy asked softly, shifting to sit up more fully in bed. “I saw what happened on the news. I didn’t know you were given the case. Did you see her…?”

Techno paused, the knot in his stomach tightening. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Yeah, I saw her. I was there when they brought her in.” The memories flooded back—the chaos of the scene, the woman’s desperate cries, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness that had washed over him.

Skeppy frowned, concern etching lines across his forehead. “That’s… heavy, man. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. Are you okay?”

Techno shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t make sense. She was so full of life, so driven to help others. Why would someone want to hurt her?”

Skeppy bit his lip, searching for the right words. “Sometimes people get caught in things they didn’t even know were happening. It doesn’t make it any less tragic, but… maybe there’s something we don’t know yet.”

“I know,” Techno replied, frustration creeping back in. “But I need to find out what that is. I have to make sure her death wasn’t in vain. I owe her that much.”

Skeppy sighed, nodding slowly. “Just remember, you don’t have to carry this weight alone. I’m here for you, okay? We can figure this out together.”

Techno appreciated the sentiment, but he also knew that the path ahead was one he had to walk himself. “Thanks, Skeppy. I really do appreciate it. But right now, I need to rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

With that, he settled into bed, hoping that sleep would bring clarity to the chaos swirling in his mind.

-

Techno walked into work, the familiar buzz of the precinct greeting him like an old friend. He headed straight for his desk, his mind racing with the details of Layne’s murder as he quickly opened his files.

Before he could lose himself in the paperwork, a woman approached him. She had striking pink hair that framed her face and bright blue eyes that sparkled with determination.

“Are you Technoblade?” she asked, her voice steady.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Techno replied, glancing up. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Niki Nihachu,” she said, a hint of excitement in her tone. “Philza placed me here to assist you on the case.”

Techno's interest sharpened. “Nice to meet you, Niki. What do you bring to the table?”

“I graduated from college at 20, and now I’m 23,” she explained, her eyes brightening. “I’ve been looking for ways to get involved in investigations since I finished. I’ve heard a lot about you and your skills.”

“Thanks. I could use all the help I can get,” Techno replied, appreciating her enthusiasm. “What’s your background?”

“I have experience in digital forensics,” Niki explained. “I can help analyze Layne and the other victims' phone and social media to find any leads. Sometimes it’s the smallest detail that can crack a case open.”

Techno felt a surge of hope.

“Let’s get to work,” Niki said, her determination clear. “We can start by checking any messages or calls from the last few days.”

“Agreed. The sooner we get to it, the better,” Techno replied, feeling the momentum shift.

-
Jack Larence - A local bartender

Catherine Molovanie - An Artist

Daniel Balens - A retired firefighter living alone

Layne Jones - A doctor in training

How could they be connected…?

Techno leaned back in his chair, the names of the victims swirling in his mind like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

"Think, Techno," he muttered to himself, tapping a pencil against the desk

“Maybe they saw something they shouldn't have?” Niki offered, her eyes scanning the scattered notes on Techno’s desk. Her own investigation had hit a standstill, and she was eager to make progress on the case.

“That’s a possibility, but what could they have seen…?” Techno replied, leaning back in his chair, deep in thought.

Niki frowned, pondering the question. “When's Layne’s autopsy report supposed to come in?”

“The autopsy is done; we just haven’t gotten the report yet,” Techno stated, letting out a frustrated sigh. He knew how crucial the details from the autopsy could be in finding connections among the victims.

“Let’s go get it,” Niki said, standing up with renewed energy. “We can head over to the coroner’s office and see if we can expedite things.”

Techno nodded, appreciating her enthusiasm. “Alright. Let’s hope they have something concrete for us.”

As they walked out of the precinct, Techno couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. The longer they waited for answers, the more distance there seemed to grow between them and the truth behind Layne’s death—and the deaths of the other victims.

The streets were bustling with activity, but Techno’s mind was elsewhere, replaying the connections he’d made. “If we can get the autopsy results, we might find something that links Layne to the others… something that leads us closer to who might want to hurt her,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Exactly,” Niki replied, her tone encouraging. “We’ll figure this out. One step at a time.”

Techno hoped she was right. The urgency of the case weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he couldn’t let that deter him. They would find the answers. They had to.

Chapter Text

Techno and Niki walked into the coroner’s office, the sterile smell of the place making Techno’s stomach twist. They approached the desk, and a tired-looking clerk greeted them with a nod.

“We’re here for the autopsy report on Layne Jones,” Techno said, his voice steady but his nerves starting to buzz.

The clerk glanced at the request before shaking his head. “Sorry, report’s not done yet.”

Techno clenched his jaw, frustration boiling under his calm exterior. "Can we at least see what you’ve got so far?"

The clerk hesitated, but after a glance at their badges, he nodded and waved them over. “We do have some preliminary photos, though… I can show you those.”

They followed him down a cold hallway into the examination room. The air felt heavier in here, the reality of death settling like a cloud over everything. He opened a folder, flipping through a few images before sliding them across the table.

Techno’s eyes narrowed as he took in the first photo—a close-up of Layne’s body, her throat brutally slit. The clean, deep cut looked deliberate, almost surgical. His stomach churned, but his expression remained cold, detached.

Niki leaned over to look, her face hardening as she studied the wound. “It looks precise… like whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

Techno nodded, his mind racing. “It’s not a random attack. This was planned.”

The coroner pointed to the image. “We haven’t finished the report yet, but the wound suggests the attacker used a sharp blade, likely a knife with professional handling. There’s no hesitation in the cut.”

Techno’s heart sank as he considered the implications. “So, this wasn’t just some drunken attack in an alley. This was intentional.”

“More than that,” Niki said quietly, her voice tight. “It was calculated. Whoever did this made sure she wouldn’t survive.”

Techno’s grip tightened on the edge of the table, his mind racing through possible suspects. Someone skilled, someone with a reason. But why Layne? Why the others?

He glanced at the photos again, then back to the clerk. “Thanks for showing us these. As soon as the full report is ready, I want it on my desk.”

The clerk nodded. “I’ll get it to you.”

As they left the office, the weight of the case pressed down harder on Techno’s shoulders. They were getting closer to the truth, but with each new piece of evidence, the horror of what they were dealing with became clearer.

"Precise, calculated," Techno muttered as they walked back to the car. "This wasn't just any murder. We’re dealing with someone who knows exactly what they're doing.

As they walked back to the car, Niki broke the silence first. "That cut… it’s not something just anyone could pull off, right? Whoever did this had skill—experience."

Techno nodded, his eyes still focused ahead. "Yeah, it’s not a crime of passion or a random mugging gone wrong. It’s deliberate. Every inch of that wound screams control." He paused, jaw tightening. "They wanted her dead, fast and clean."

Niki frowned, brushing a strand of pink hair behind her ear. "But why Layne? I mean, a med student aiming to be an oncologist? Who has a vendetta against someone like that?"

"That's the problem," Techno muttered. "She doesn’t fit the profile of someone with enemies. And neither did the others." His mind ran through the other victims—an artist, a retired firefighter, a bartender. They were all ordinary people, no glaring connections between them.

"Four deaths in a little over a week, all from different backgrounds," Niki said, folding her arms as they reached the car. "What could possibly tie them together?"

Techno leaned against the side of the car, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know. But this kind of precision… it feels like whoever’s doing this has an agenda. There’s something we’re missing, something that links them. We just need to find it."

Niki nodded thoughtfully. "And the note with the smiley face—there’s got to be more to that too. Like it's some kind of sick signature."

"Yeah," Techno said, thinking back to the simple, mocking smile on the note. "It feels like a message. But it’s taunting us, making it clear that they’re in control."

Niki looked at him for a moment. "We need to dig deeper into the lives of these victims. Maybe we’re not seeing the full picture yet. There has to be something, some event, or a place that connects them."

Techno glanced at her, appreciating her sharp thinking. "You’re right. We’ll track down every lead until we find that link. This killer’s not just picking random targets. There's a pattern here, and we’re going to find it."

“What if... it's multiple people?” Niki questioned, her voice low, as if saying it out loud made the theory more dangerous.

Techno paused, the idea swirling in his mind. Multiple killers would explain the drastic differences in the methods—the poison, the hit-and-run, the slit throat. It was possible. But then why the same area? Why all within a week?

"It makes sense," Techno replied, leaning forward in his chair. "The methods are too varied for one person. Poison, a hit-and-run, and a stabbing? Either we’re dealing with someone who's extremely versatile or there’s more than one person involved."

Niki nodded, tapping her fingers against her lips. "Maybe it's a group. Or maybe someone is orchestrating this and using different people to carry out each murder."

Techno's eyes narrowed as he considered the possibility. "If it’s a group, that means they’re organized. And they’re picking their victims carefully."

"But why these people?" Niki asked, frustration creeping into her voice. "What do a retired firefighter, an artist, a bartender, and a doctor-in-training have in common?"

Techno glanced back at the files. "We need to find the connection. And fast, before there's another body."

-

Later, as Techno sat at his desk, buried in the files once again, Niki suddenly perked up, her eyes fixed on something she’d just found. She spun her laptop around toward him.

“Hey, Tec, look at this. Layne had access to a cancer research lab that was developing new medicines,” Niki said, her voice filled with intrigue.

Techno looked up, his focus shifting to the new information. "A research lab?"

"Yeah. She was interning there, working closely with some pretty high-profile projects." Niki’s fingers hovered over the screen as she scrolled through the documents. "This wasn't just any lab. They were working on experimental treatments. Big pharma money involved."

Techno leaned in, the gears in his mind turning. "If she was working on something important, that could be motive. Maybe Layne saw or knew something that got her killed."

Just as Techno and Niki were about to delve deeper into the research lab's information, commotion erupted at the front of the precinct. A loud voice cut through the usual noise of the station.

"Someone tried to kill me! I'm telling you! Let me talk to someone!" They both exchanged glances before standing up, curiosity piqued.

Techno moved toward the source of the noise, followed closely by Niki. At the reception desk, a disheveled young man, wide-eyed and panicked, was arguing with a uniformed officer. His shirt was rumpled, and his hands trembled as he gestured wildly, clearly agitated.

Phil appeared from around the corner, his presence steadying the chaotic scene. He caught the tail end of the man's frantic declaration and turned to Techno, a serious expression on his face.

“Techno, you think you can make a report on what happened? See if it's part of our case?” Phil asked, his voice calm but authoritative.

Techno nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. “Yeah, I can handle that. Just give me a moment.” He motioned for Niki to stay close as he approached the man, who was still visibly shaken.

“Alright, let’s get you somewhere quieter so we can talk,” Techno said, gesturing for the man to follow him. Phil moved to the side, directing the officer to ensure the young man was given a secure area.

Once they reached a small conference room, Techno closed the door behind them, the noise from the precinct fading to a dull murmur. He pulled out his notebook, ready to jot down every detail.

“Start from the beginning. What happened?” Techno prompted, maintaining eye contact to keep the man grounded.

The young man took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself. “I was walking to my dorm from college when I heard a boom. I think someone tried to shoot me but missed. I panicked and ran, but I heard footsteps trailing me.”

“Did you see what they looked like?” Niki asked, leaning forward with interest.

“Well, I think I saw a tall guy in red.” The man ran a hand through his hair, still on edge. “Their face wasn't visible, just had some hair sticking out from under the hood.”

Phil, who had stepped into the room just in time to hear the last part, chimed in. “You did the right thing by coming here. We’ll ensure your safety.”

Techno glanced at Phil, then back at the man. “We need to know everything you can remember. Hair color?”

“Blond,” the man replied, swallowing hard. “That’s all I got. I was too busy running for my life to pay much attention.”

“Did you hear anything else? Any names, places, anything that might help us track these guys down?” Techno pressed, determined to gather every possible clue.

The man thought for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration. “I… I heard them mention a name, but I can’t remember it. Something like ‘Dream…’ It was muffled, though. I just know it was something about Dreams.” Phil visibly stilled but recovered quick.

“Dream,” Techno repeated, jotting down notes. “That could mean something. Do you know if it was a nickname or part of a longer name?”

“I don’t know. It was just a blur.” The man looked increasingly distressed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Niki reassured him. “You’ve already helped us a lot. We just need you to stay safe and let us handle this.”

Phil nodded. “If you remember anything else, no matter how small, you need to come back to us immediately. You might be a key to this whole thing.”

Techno closed his notebook, his mind racing with the new information. “Let’s get this guy to a secure location and figure out our next steps. If there’s a connection to the others, we need to act fast.”

-

After the man left, Techno turned to Niki, his expression serious. “We need to check the cameras near that dorm. If someone was trailing him, maybe we’ll get a clear look.”

Niki nodded, already pulling out her phone. “I’ll get in touch with campus security. They should have footage.”

“Good. We need to see if this guy in red was caught on any cameras,” Techno said, pacing slightly as he thought. “If it’s the same person behind the other murders, we can narrow down their movements.”

“I’ll go now,” Niki said, standing up. “Might take some time, but I’ll see what I can pull.”

Techno nodded, grateful for her quick action. "Let me know the second you find anything."

-

Techno leaned against the wall, deep in thought. "Red hoodie guy," he muttered under his breath. The description was vague, but it was something. A lead, finally.

If this was the same person, it could tie everything together—the strange deaths, the murders, and now an attempted shooting. The question was: why? Why target someone like Layne, who was on track to become a doctor, and now this random college kid?

He shook his head, frustrated. It didn’t make sense yet. But the red hoodie was their first tangible clue. Techno just hoped the cameras would show something useful.

Minutes later, Niki returned, her expression unreadable. “I got access to the campus cameras,” she said, pulling out her tablet and sliding it across the desk toward Techno. “Look at this.”

Techno leaned forward, watching the grainy footage. There—just as the man described—a tall figure in a red hoodie, following the student. The person’s face was hidden by the hood, and a mask but, they were definitely trailing him, keeping to the shadows.

“That's them,” Techno said, eyes narrowing. “They were stalking him.”

Niki nodded. “Whoever this is, they’re getting bolder. This is the best look we’ve had at them so far. I’ve already sent the footage to the precinct for further analysis.”

Techno leaned back, crossing his arms. “We need to find out who this red hoodie guy is. Fast.”

Techno’s eyes sharpened as he replayed the footage, slowing it down frame by frame. There—barely visible beneath the hoodie—was a glint of metal.

“He's got a knife,” Techno muttered, pausing the video. “Right there, on his belt.”

Niki leaned in closer, squinting at the screen. “You’re right. Could be the same knife used in Layne’s murder.”

Techno nodded, his mind racing. “If he was bold enough to try and shoot the kid, maybe the knife was meant for something else. A backup plan.”

Niki sighed. “This guy isn’t just getting bolder. He’s escalating.”

“We need to cross-reference this with the other cases,” Techno said, voice tense. “If he’s our killer, this isn’t the first time he’s carried a weapon around.”

Niki nodded in agreement. “I’ll start pulling up other camera footage in the area. If he's this careless now, there’s a chance we can catch him slipping.”

The two looked over as Skeppy strolled into the precinct, a paper bag in hand. Spotting Techno hunched over his desk, he walked up and placed the bag in front of him.

"Figured you'd forget to eat," Skeppy said with a grin. "Brought you some lunch."

Techno blinked, as if just realizing the time. "Thanks," he muttered, grabbing the sandwich from the bag.

As he unwrapped it, Niki approached, her eyes shifting between the two. Skeppy, ever the extrovert, was quick to notice. “Oh, hi! You must be new around here. I’m Skeppy,” he said, extending his hand.

Niki smiled, shaking his hand. “Niki Nihachu. I’m working on a case with Techno.”

“Oh? You poor soul,” Skeppy teased, glancing at Techno. “He’s a workaholic, you know?”

Techno rolled his eyes, taking a bite of the sandwich. “I’m just dedicated.”

Skeppy chuckled, pulling up a chair. “Well, Niki, good luck keeping up with him. I’ve been trying for years.”

Niki laughed softly, but there was a seriousness in her eyes as she looked at the stack of files on Techno’s desk. "Trust me, I can handle it. We're on to something big."

Techno finished his bite, nodding. “She’s right. We might have a lead.”

Skeppy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah? What’s going on?”

Niki briefly filled him in on the red hoodie figure, the knife, and the connections to the other murders. Skeppy's face grew serious.

"Sounds intense," Skeppy said, glancing between them. "Be careful with this one. If he’s already tried to kill someone...he’s not messing around."

Techno nodded. “We know. That’s why we’re working fast.”

“Well,” Skeppy said, leaning back, “if you need me for anything, let me know. I’m always around.” He then turned to Niki. “Nice meeting you, by the way. Keep him from skipping lunch next time, yeah?”

Niki smirked. “I’ll try.”

Chapter Text

Theseus stumbled into the warehouse, cursing himself under his breath. How could he mess up like this? His hand pressed against his side, blood leaking from a shallow cut. He collapsed onto a nearby crate, his head spinning as the night’s events replayed in his mind. The kid, the dorm—it should have been easy. But he’d been sloppy. Careless.

His breaths were shallow, the weight of Dream’s voice echoing through his thoughts. Get the job done, or face the consequences. Dream had burned those words into his mind. Theseus didn’t know who he used to be. Dream had taken care of that.

His hands shook as he inspected his wound. Not deep, but it was a reminder of his failure. A reminder that he wasn’t invincible.

Theseus—didn't know if the police had been called or not. It was too risky to try and eliminate the kid after being spotted. Retreating had seemed like the best option at the time, but now, bleeding and barely standing, he wasn’t so sure. He had made a quick dash up a fire escape, nearly slipping in his rush to disappear into the shadows.

That’s when it happened. The sharp metal edge caught him, slicing through his hoodie and into his side. A stupid mistake. He could still hear the screech of the metal, the hiss of his own breath as he scrambled up and over, not stopping until he was sure no one was following him. Now he was paying for it.

Panting, he pressed harder against the wound, grimacing as the pain throbbed with every beat of his heart. If Dream found out he’d been careless—if Dream found out about any of this—it would be more than just a cut that he’d have to worry about.

He couldn’t afford to slip up again. He’d have to be more careful.

“Idiot,” he muttered, his fists clenching. He couldn’t afford another mistake. Not with Dream watching his every move. But tonight, he’d been reckless. His signature red hoodie, the one that had become his trademark, made him too noticeable. Someone saw him, he was sure of it. And that meant trouble. If they went to the police…

He shook his head, trying to clear it. There was no time for doubt. No room for hesitation. Dream didn’t tolerate mistakes, and there would be no mercy if Theseus came back without finishing the job.

“I’ll fix it,” he whispered to himself, feeling the weight of his failures closing in. He had to.

-

Theseus walked the rooftops, his heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and adrenaline. The cool night air brushed against his skin as he navigated the maze of buildings, each step calculated and precise. He couldn't shake the image of the kid's terrified face from his mind; it fueled his determination. I can't let him get in my way, he thought, his grip tightening around the cold metal of his gun.

He glanced down at the dormitory, the soft glow of lights spilling from the windows, casting flickering shadows across the pavement below. This is it, he reminded himself, trying to drown out the rising doubt in his mind. He had to silence the kid before he could expose him. He saw too much, and now he’s a liability.

As he perched on the ledge of the adjacent building, Theseus took a moment to survey the area. The dorm was bustling with life; laughter and chatter floated through the air, oblivious to the danger lurking above. He let out a slow breath, trying to steady himself. Just get in, get out. No mistakes this time.

He scanned the windows, looking for the one belonging to the kid. He’d memorized the layout of the building from the outside, and soon enough, he spotted the room. The dim light inside flickered erratically, revealing a silhouette moving around. That’s him. Theseus felt a surge of adrenaline, every instinct urging him forward.

Theseus crouched on the edge of the rooftop, heart racing as he peered down at the dormitory window where the kid had just been. He felt the cold metal of his gun pressing into his palm, and a sense of purpose coursed through him. No words, just action, he reminded himself. The kid didn't need to hear a warning—he needed to be silenced.

He steadied his breath, narrowing his focus on the window. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls as the silhouette moved around. There’s no turning back now, he thought, adrenaline spiking as he readied himself. He pulled the trigger, feeling the recoil jolt through his arm as the bullet sliced through the night air.

The sound of the shot echoed like thunder, piercing the tranquility of the campus. He watched as the glass shattered, a momentary glint of light reflecting off the fragments before they rained down like shards of ice. His heart pounded as he waited for the inevitable reaction.

Inside, chaos erupted. The kid's silhouette jolted backward, arms flailing as panic set in. Perfect, Theseus thought, satisfaction mixing with the lingering fear that gnawed at the edges of his mind. He didn't stick around to see the aftermath. He didn’t want to witness the horror he’d unleashed. Instead, he slipped back from the ledge, retreating into the shadows of the rooftop, his heart still racing with the thrill of the hunt.

I’ll fix this, he told himself, the weight of his actions pressing heavily on his conscience. No more mistakes.

-

Theseus took a deep breath, steadying himself as he prepared to make the call. He knew he had to report back to Dream before the tension in his chest could overwhelm him. The weight of his actions pressed heavily on his shoulders, but he needed to sound confident.

“Mission complete,” he said into the phone, trying to keep his voice steady. “The kid is dead.”

A moment of silence followed, and Theseus could almost hear Dream’s gears turning. “Good. No loose ends,” Dream replied, his voice cold and authoritative.

“I shot him from the rooftop,” Theseus continued, his pulse quickening. “But he didn’t see me. I made sure of that.”

“Good,” Dream said, the satisfaction in his tone unmistakable. “We can move forward now. You’ve done well. No more setbacks.”

A wave of relief washed over Theseus, but it was short-lived. What have I done? The weight of the deed settled in his stomach, heavy and uncomfortable.

“I’ll be back soon,” Theseus replied, trying to mask the turmoil in his mind. “I’ll check in once I’m there.”

“Make sure you do,” Dream warned, the edge in his tone sharp enough to cut through the fog of Theseus’s thoughts. “You know what happens if you fail.”

As he hung up, Theseus felt the finality of his actions close in around him. He had done what was necessary, but the price of that choice was steep. The darkness of his mission loomed ahead, and he knew he had to move quickly, before the weight of his conscience could drag him down further.

Chapter Text

Techno was up early, but today he felt heavier than usual. He glanced at the mirror, catching the faintest glimpse of a younger face staring back at him — a face he hadn’t seen in years. Halloween used to be filled with laughter and costumes, back when things were simpler. He shook his head, forcing himself back to the present, and threw on his jacket.

Downstairs, he found Skeppy already by the door, his medical bag slung over his shoulder. “Looked like you needed a reason to leave,” Skeppy observed, eyes sharp despite the early hour. He was dressed in his usual attire, only the blue scrubs peeking out hinted at his real job.

“Guess I needed somethin’,” Techno replied, his voice gruff. He didn’t elaborate — didn’t have to. Skeppy knew him well enough to read between the lines.

They walked in silence for a bit before Skeppy finally broke it. “So, you still set on finding this guy?”

Techno glanced at him. “Set as I’ll ever be.”

-

He headed toward the precinct, where Philza was already waiting. The supervisor met their eyes with a somber nod and handed them the file. “Another one, last night,” he said, his voice flat. “Shot from a rooftop.”

Techno’s hands tightened on the file. On Halloween. Another death.

“That’s not all… it was the same man that was followed. Fredrick Arnold,” Phil sighed.

Techno felt a weight settle in his chest. Another piece to this already twisted puzzle, another name on their growing list. The patterns were becoming too familiar, too haunting.

“How many more?” Techno asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “How many lives will this man take before we catch him?”

Phil glanced at the file, then back at Techno. “That’s what we need to find out. We’re looking for connections, any signs of where he might strike next. This is bigger than we thought.”

Niki stepped in, her brow furrowed with concern. “We have to be careful. If he’s targeting specific individuals, he could be watching us right now.”

Techno felt a chill run down his spine. “Do we know why he was killed? Any leads on his connections?”

Phil shook his head. “Not yet. We need to dig deeper into Arnold’s past, see who he was involved with.”

As they gathered around the evidence board, pinning up photos and notes, the precinct buzzed with an uneasy energy. Techno’s mind raced as he scanned the faces of the victims, each one a reminder of their urgency.

“Layne was the last victim,” Niki said, her tone grave. “And Arnold is the common link between all of them.”

“Do we know who else is at risk?” Techno asked, eyes narrowing as he considered their next move.

“We need to figure out who else he’s been in contact with,” Phil replied, determination creeping into his voice. “We can’t let this happen again.”

As they continued their work, Techno’s thoughts spiraled back to the case. How many more victims would it take before they caught the killer? The clock was ticking, and he knew they needed to move fast.

-

"Theseus, I need another," Dream stated, his eyes fixed on a small tube of liquid resting on the table. The fluorescent light glinted off its surface, making it almost seem alive. Theseus wasn’t sure what the substance was, but he knew exactly who he had killed to gain access to it: Layne Jones.

"Who?" Theseus replied, trying to keep his voice steady despite the tension coiling in his gut.

"Rod Dramblo," Dream said, his tone sharp. "He has something I want."

Theseus raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued despite the nagging dread in his mind. "What does he have that’s so important?"

Dream leaned in, his expression darkening. "Information. Rod's been digging into some sensitive areas—information that could put our operations at risk. We can't afford to have him snooping around."

"Understood," Theseus said, a chill creeping up his spine. "But you know I can't just waltz in there and take him out. I need a plan."

Dream smirked, the glint in his eye suggesting that he had something up his sleeve. "Leave the planning to me. Just get the job done."

Theseus nodded, feeling the weight of his orders settle heavily on his shoulders.

"I'll do my best, sir," Theseus replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

"Your best isn't enough," Dream shot back, his gaze hardening. "I expect results, not half-hearted attempts. You’ve seen what happens to those who fail me."

Theseus swallowed, the memory of his last mission—the blood, the chaos—playing on a loop in his mind. "I won't fail again. I promise."

"Make sure you don’t," Dream said, his voice low and threatening. "Rod Dramblo is a liability we can't afford. If he leaks anything, it won't just be your head on the chopping block; it’ll be everyone involved. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," Theseus replied, a knot tightening in his stomach. He could feel the pressure building, a mix of fear and determination surging through him.

Dream’s expression softened for just a moment, but it was fleeting. "Good. I want you to keep a low profile. Get in, get what you need, and get out. No mistakes this time."

With a curt nod, Theseus turned to leave, his mind racing with the implications of his mission. As he stepped out of the room, the weight of his task pressed down on him like a heavy shroud. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hurtling deeper into a darkness he might never escape.

-

Work was spent researching, talking to family, and more researching. Techno returned to the apartment by 4 PM, the setting sun casting long shadows across the floor. It was Halloween, and the killer would most likely strike again.

With a sigh, Techno decided to take a break from the weight of the day. Skeppy had requested pizza, and it was a small comfort in the midst of chaos. He grabbed his keys and headed out, hoping the familiar routine would clear his mind.

The pizzeria was just down the street, a small local joint with the smell of freshly baked dough wafting through the air. Techno stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly. The warmth of the place enveloped him, a stark contrast to the cold reality of his day.

After placing his order, he wandered to the counter to pay. His eyes scanned the wall, and he spotted a framed photo of a family enjoying a pizza together. As he turned back to the register, his fingers absentmindedly brushed against his wallet in his pocket, reminding him of the other photos he carried with him.

He pulled it out, flipping it open to reveal a few snapshots—faded but cherished memories. There was one of him and his brother, grinning ear to ear with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders, carefree smiles painted across their faces. Another showed a day at the beach, sand in their hair, laughter captured in time.

As he stared at the pictures, Techno felt a familiar ache in his chest. Each image was a reminder of their bond, of moments that felt irretrievably lost to him now. The weight of the past settled heavily upon him as he recalled how they used to share everything, how they had promised to always protect each other.

Suddenly, the present crashed in around him. He was a detective now, and his brother was gone—lost in a world filled with violence and shadows. Techno blinked, the world around him fading to a dull hum as he struggled to regain his composure.

“Sir? Are you okay?” the cashier asked, snapping him back to reality.

Techno shook his head slightly, trying to shake off the wave of emotion that threatened to drown him. “Yeah, just… memories.” He fumbled for his wallet, heart racing as he struggled to focus.

“Your total is twenty bucks,” the cashier said, and Techno absently handed over the cash, still lost in thought.

As he stepped outside, pizza in hand, the chilly air hit him like a splash of cold water, grounding him. He took a deep breath, reminding himself of the mission at hand. The killer was still out there, and he needed to stay focused.

With the pizza secured, Techno made his way back to the apartment, trying to push the memories aside. He had work to do, and he couldn’t afford to lose sight of that—no matter how painful it was.

Chapter Text

The precinct was quiet, the usual bustle simmering down as the night grew darker. Techno sat at his desk, a mug of cold coffee next to a stack of files he had barely made a dent in. Halloween had come and gone without another death, but that only fueled his anxiety. The silence in the room wasn’t peace; it was the calm before the storm.

A soft knock sounded on his door, and he looked up to see Phil standing there, his expression weary but with a small, understanding smile.

“Thought you’d be here,” Phil said, stepping in and closing the door behind him. “Knew I couldn’t be the only one still grinding at this hour.”

Techno shrugged, reaching for his coffee and grimacing when he tasted how stale it was. “Couldn’t sleep anyway. Figured I’d make myself useful.”

Phil nodded, taking the chair across from him and stretching his legs out with a sigh. “It’s nights like these that remind me of why we do what we do. Sometimes, it's the only thing keeping me going."

Techno gave him a sideways glance, a flicker of respect in his eyes. Phil had been a mentor to him, a steady hand guiding him through countless cases. If there was anyone he trusted in this job, it was Phil.

“It’s the silence, isn’t it?” Phil continued, a thoughtful look on his face. “Gets under your skin. Makes you wonder if you’re even getting anywhere.”

“Yeah.” Techno leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sometimes it feels like we’re just… catching smoke. You’d think tracking down one killer would be straightforward, but with this case, every answer leads to more questions.”

Phil chuckled softly. “Sounds like every case we’ve had since you joined. Always a puzzle, always another piece missing.” He paused, looking at Techno with a hint of something deeper. “You know, I remember my first year. The late nights, the coffee that tasted like dirt, and the endless paperwork. But I was younger then, eager to prove myself.”

Techno smirked. “And now?”

“Now I’m just older, and coffee still tastes like dirt.” Phil laughed, then his expression softened. “But seriously, Techno. You’ve come a long way. Cases like these… they test you. They break you down, make you question everything. But you’ve got the guts for it.”

Techno met Phil’s gaze, feeling a rare sense of pride. Compliments weren’t Phil’s usual style; he was more of a ‘show, don’t tell’ type of mentor. To hear it so plainly caught Techno off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond.

“Thanks, Phil,” he said finally. “I… I appreciate that. Really.”

Phil nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “Remember, kid. It’s not about solving every case perfectly. Sometimes it’s just about getting through it, keeping the people around you safe.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, both lost in thought. Techno glanced at his watch; it was well past midnight.

-

“Hey, Techno?” Niki frowned, her eyes glued to the computer screen.

Techno looked up from his notes. He was barely functioning on caffeine and sheer determination, but he still heard the tension in her voice. “Yeah?”

Niki hesitated, glancing over at him with a concerned expression. “Layne’s lab… they’re reporting a serum missing.”

Techno straightened, feeling a chill settle in his gut. “What kind of serum?”

“They didn’t go into details here, but from what I can see, it was part of a new trial. Something experimental.” She scrolled down the report, eyes narrowing. “They were developing it for—hold on.”

She clicked through several tabs, piecing together the information as quickly as she could. “It’s a cancer treatment, early stages of research. There’s no way it should’ve left the lab. Only a handful of people would’ve even had access to it.”

Techno exhaled slowly, the implications sinking in. "And Layne was one of them."

Niki nodded, her face pale. "She was part of the team overseeing the project. Whatever this is… it’s not some casual theft.”

“What can it do?” Techno asked, his voice low, already bracing for the answer.

Niki took a deep breath, hesitating as she scanned the report again. “It… it can be used to enhance cells. On a bigger level. Accelerate growth, change how the cells respond to different stimuli.” She paused, her gaze sharp. “In the wrong hands, it could be weaponized. Maybe even alter someone’s abilities if they knew what they were doing.”

Techno clenched his jaw, feeling a familiar anger simmering beneath the surface. “So this isn’t just about killing,” he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “It’s about taking something that could be revolutionary and twisting it for… who knows what purpose.”

Niki looked down, clearly disturbed by the possibilities. “Layne was working on something that could’ve saved lives, maybe changed how we treat cancer—and now it’s just another piece in someone’s game.”

“Then we’re not just tracking a killer,” Techno replied, steeling himself. “We’re up against someone who knows exactly what they want. And they’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

"The killer needed Layne's fingerprint for it," Niki murmured, frowning as she studied the file. "But… why didn’t they just get it from somewhere else? She had to have used it on dozens of devices—her phone, the lab computers… Why go to the lengths of killing her?"

Techno leaned back, his mind racing through the possibilities. "Maybe they needed more than just her fingerprint. Some labs use dual authorization systems—biometrics plus a passcode. Maybe she was the only one with full access."

Niki’s frown deepened as she nodded. “Makes sense, but still. It feels excessive.”

Techno stared at the file, feeling the weight of this new piece to the puzzle. "Whoever's behind this isn’t taking any chances. They’ll wipe out anyone or anything standing between them and this serum."

A silence settled between them, heavy with the realization of how calculated and ruthless their target had to be.

"Let’s talk to Phil," Techno said, pushing his chair back. They needed answers, and Phil might have some insight into how dangerous the situation really was.

As they walked down the hallway to Phil’s office, Techno couldn't shake the sense of urgency growing with each step. Whoever was behind these murders wasn’t just covering their tracks—they were erasing people, leaving no loose ends. If Layne’s lab was the target, they could have other scientists on their list too.

Phil looked up as they entered, already sensing the gravity in their expressions. "Something new?"

Niki nodded, crossing her arms. "The lab Layne worked at… they're missing a serum. And it’s not just any serum—this could enhance cells on a major level."

Phil’s brow furrowed, his fingers steepling together as he processed. "So Layne wasn’t just a random victim. This was about access, wasn’t it?"

"That’s what we think," Techno replied, glancing between Phil and Niki. "She might’ve been the only one who could authorize a transfer or retrieval. It’s clean. Whoever did this knew what they needed and took it."

Phil sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fuckin Hell…”

-

Later that evening, Techno sat at his desk, staring at the scattered files and evidence photos spread before him. The faces of the victims stared back at him, each one a reminder of the tangled web he was now caught in. But it was Layne’s case that weighed on him most, the thought of her stolen research lingering in his mind.

Why a serum? He turned the question over and over, trying to fill in the missing pieces. The lab’s security, the precision with which the killer moved—it was too calculated, too clean. And the fact that they needed Layne specifically meant there was something she knew or could do that nobody else could. These deaths weren’t just random acts of violence; they were steps in some larger plan, one he couldn’t yet see.

And that terrified him.

All his instincts told him they were running out of time, that they were always one step behind.

-

"Techno? Where’s Niki? Get her. We got something happening at the bank downtown. Most likely connected. My guys found another smile note," Phil explained.

Techno looked up sharply, snapping out of his thoughts. "Another one?"

Phil nodded, his expression grim. “Yep. Same handwriting, same message. Left on the counter after they hit the vault."

Without another word, Techno grabbed his coat and headed toward Niki’s desk. She was buried in her own files, headphones in, oblivious to the rush of the precinct around her.

“Niki.” Techno tapped her desk, urgency clear in his voice. “We’ve got to move. There’s been another note—bank downtown.”

Niki’s eyes widened as she pushed her chair back and stood. “Another one? Connected to the killer?”

“Seems like it,” Techno replied, voice tense. "Phil’s waiting."

As they hurried back to Phil, Techno’s mind raced. The pattern was tightening, closing in on something he couldn’t yet see, but he could feel it in every instinct.

They arrived to find the bank floor eerily silent, blood painting a macabre scene across the pristine tile. Every guard and teller was gone-dead, each one dispatched with surgical precision.

A gun was used.

Techno and Niki exchanged a glance, the weight of the scene settling heavy between them.

The cameras hung dark and dead, wires neatly cut. The vault door loomed open, yawning wide, yet strangely, everything inside remained untouched.

At the center of the carnage lay what was left of Rod Dramblo, his body barely recognizable, mutilated to a state where only his wedding ring provided any certainty of his identity.

"Someone's sending a message" Niki whispered, her voice tight.

Techno's jaw clenched. This wasn't just a murder-it was a display. An act meant to show control, precision, and an utter disregard for life.

There everyone was dead. No one to tell the story. Cameras out. Clean. The vault was open but untouched. Rod Dramblo was mutilated. He was identified from his wedding ring.

Techno stepped over to where Rod lay, the lifeless body sprawled on the polished floor. The sight made his stomach turn. He took a deep breath, trying to maintain focus despite the nauseating horror before him.

“What do you think this means?” Niki asked, her voice trembling as she glanced around the scene.

Techno frowned, examining the note crammed into Rod's mouth. He carefully pulled it free, unfolding it to reveal the single, chilling symbol inside:

:)

“It's a threat,” Niki whispered, her eyes wide as she processed the implications. “It feels personal.”

“Someone wanted him to suffer,” Techno replied, his mind racing. “But why Rod? What did he do to deserve this?”

Phil approached, his expression grave as he surveyed the scene. “We need to figure out if Rod had any connections to the others,” he said, glancing at Techno. “Layne, Daniel, Catherine, Jack… there must be something linking them all.”

“Or someone,” Techno added, feeling a chill run down his spine. “This killer isn’t random. They’re methodical, targeting specific people for a reason.”

Chapter Text

Techno glanced up from his desk, narrowing his eyes at Skeppy, who was hanging around the door with a grin that practically radiated mischief. “What’s got you lookin' so smug?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Skeppy replied, rocking back on his heels. “Just thought I’d let you know, me and Niki are friends now.”

Techno raised a skeptical brow. “Y’all met like, one time.”

“Yeah, but we have a common goal,” Skeppy shot back, giving a wink. “Now come on, you’re coming with us to the mall. You need a break, Techno.”

Techno rolled his eyes, mumbling something about still having work to do, but Skeppy wasn’t about to let him wriggle out of it so easily.

Techno barely had a chance to react before Skeppy nudged him into the backseat, claiming the front for himself with a triumphant grin.

“What’s up, Tech!” Niki greeted him cheerfully from the driver’s seat as she adjusted the mirrors.

“You’re off too?” Techno started, casting a suspicious glance between the two of them. But before he could say anything else, Skeppy cut him off with a mischievous wave.

“Yup! We’re both off and ready to enjoy the day,” Skeppy said, shooting a thumbs-up at Niki. “Now, hit the gas, Niki!”

Techno grumbled as he twisted a hair tie around his unruly pink hair, securing it in a messy bun. He could barely keep up with how fast the day had turned on him, and now here he was, crammed into the back seat as Niki sped down the street, the mall in their sights.

“Y’know, I had things to do today,” Techno muttered, squinting at Skeppy, who was sprawled out in the passenger seat like he owned it.

Skeppy just grinned, unfazed. “Yeah, and we just did you a favor. You’d probably have sat there brooding all day if I hadn’t intervened.”

“Intervened,” Techno echoed dryly. “That’s what you’re calling this?”

Niki laughed from the driver’s seat. “Consider it forced relaxation. Besides, you can’t argue we don’t have good taste in plans. The mall has everything. And maybe we’ll even get you a haircut if you’re lucky.”

“Touch my hair, and I’m out,” Techno warned, though he couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Noted,” Niki replied, exchanging a conspiratorial grin with Skeppy.

-

The mall was a whirlwind of colors and sounds as Techno, Skeppy, and Niki explored the various stores.

“Look at this!” Skeppy exclaimed, holding up a bright, patterned shirt with a grin. “I have to try this on!”

Techno raised an eyebrow. “You sure that’s your style? It’s a bit… flashy.”

“Flashy is good! It’ll get attention!” Skeppy replied, already heading toward the fitting rooms.

While Skeppy tried on clothes, Techno wandered through the aisles, observing the variety of styles. Niki joined him after a few minutes, holding a couple of bags filled with her own purchases.

“Did Skeppy try on anything yet?” she asked, glancing toward the fitting rooms.

“Not yet. He seems to be more interested in everything else around here,” Techno replied, feeling a bit more relaxed as the tension of the past few weeks faded into the background.

After a few minutes, Skeppy emerged, wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt that clashed with his usual style. “What do you think?” he asked, posing dramatically.

“Definitely… something,” Techno said, forcing back a smile.

Skeppy looked at Niki for confirmation, and she chuckled, giving him a thumbs-up. “It’s unique! Just not sure about the colors.”

Skeppy grinned, clearly enjoying the attention. “I’ll take it! I’m going to be the life of the party.”

They moved on to more stores, Skeppy picking up various items and trying them on, while Niki found some cute accessories that caught her eye. Techno kept a low profile, content to let his friends enjoy themselves.

After a couple of hours of shopping, they finally made their way to a cozy coffee shop nestled within the mall. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of pastries. Skeppy hopped up to the counter, excitement bubbling over as he scanned the menu.

“I’ll get us some drinks! What do you want?” he asked.

“I’ll take a black coffee,” Techno replied, feeling the need for a boost.

“Same here!” Niki added, grinning. “And maybe a pastry to share?”

“Sounds good! I’ll be right back!” Skeppy chirped, bouncing off to place their order.

Techno watched him go, his heart warmed by his friend’s enthusiasm.

Techno thought he would enjoy something like this. The opportunity to have fun in a mall with friends. What were those kids' names? Turbo? Rainbow?

“Hey, you alright?” Niki asked, noticing the change in Techno’s expression.

“Just thinking,” he replied, his voice quieter than before.

“About what?” she probed gently.

Techno hesitated, before replying. “About my brother. Tommy.”

Niki’s expression softened. “What about him?”

“We grew up in an orphanage together. It was just the two of us for a long time. He… he died in a fire there when we were kids.” Techno’s voice was steady, but the pain was still fresh, as if he were reliving the moment all over again.

“I’m so sorry,” Niki said, her eyes wide with sympathy. “That must have been so hard.”

“It was,” Techno admitted, his gaze drifting to the window as he recalled the chaotic memories of that night—the flames, the smoke, the screams. Tommy had been the only death in that fire, and the thought haunted Techno still. “I was alone. I felt… lost.”

“Did you blame yourself?” Niki asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Sometimes,” he confessed, the weight of guilt washing over him again. “I wondered if I could have done something. If I could have saved him.”

Niki reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “It wasn’t your fault, Techno. You were just a kid.”

“I know that now,” Techno replied, but the ache in his chest remained. “It’s hard to let go of those memories. I just wish things had been different.”

Skeppy returned, balancing three cups of coffee and a pastry box in his arms, grinning from ear to ear. “Look what I got! Who’s ready for a caffeine fix?”

Techno and Niki exchanged glances, grateful for the interruption. Techno forced a smile, shaking off the melancholy that had settled over him. “I am. Thanks, Skeppy.”

“Good! I figured we could use a little pick-me-up,” Skeppy said, setting the drinks down and opening the pastry box. “These cinnamon rolls look amazing!”

-

As they wrapped up their drinks, Skeppy leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms wide. “Okay, what’s next on our adventure list?”

Techno glanced at Niki, who shrugged, clearly just as open to ideas. “How about we check out the bookstore? I could use a new read.”

“Sounds good to me,” Techno agreed.

-

That night, Techno returned home after Niki dropped him and Skeppy off at their apartment. Skeppy was clearly happy and flopped down on the couch before tossing his new clothes across the room.

“Did you see how I rocked that Hawaiian shirt?” Skeppy laughed, his eyes gleaming. “I’m going to be the life of every party!”

Techno smiled softly, amused by his friend’s enthusiasm. “Sure, if you want to blind people with that color.”

“Oh, come on! It’s bold! I’m just bringing a little sunshine into people’s lives,” Skeppy shot back, grinning. “And don’t even get me started on the cinnamon rolls! Those were amazing!”

“Yeah, those were good,” Techno agreed, feeling a warmth in his chest at Skeppy’s unyielding cheer.

Skeppy’s energy was infectious, but after a few moments of playful banter, Techno felt the need to retreat to his room. “I’m going to hit the hay,” he said, glancing back at Skeppy. “Long day.”

“Already? Come on, it’s still early! We can play some games or watch a movie!” Skeppy protested, flopping dramatically across the couch.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Techno replied, feeling the fatigue settle in. “I just need some time to think.”

“Alright, fine,” Skeppy relented, his voice slightly muffled by the couch cushions. “But you owe me a gaming session tomorrow, okay?”

“Deal,” Techno said, feeling grateful for Skeppy’s persistent cheer. He retreated to his room, closing the door behind him and sinking into the solitude that enveloped him.

In the quiet of his room, Techno let out a long breath. He turned on his desk lamp, illuminating the space with a warm glow, and settled into his chair.

As he sat there, he couldn’t help but reflect on the day’s events. The conversation with Niki had stirred up emotions he often kept buried. Tommy’s memory was a ghost that lingered. He glanced at the photos on his desk—faded snapshots of him and Tommy.

Techno sometimes felt like he could feel him.

But he's dead.

So that's impossible.

Techno reached for the nearest photo, tracing the outline of Tommy’s smile with his fingertips. The ache in his chest returned, but he steeled himself against it. Tommy wouldn’t want him to dwell in sadness. He had to honor his memory by living, by moving forward.

His baby brother doesn't have a grave.

With a deep breath, Techno set the photo back down and opened his laptop, intending to distract himself with some work. But his mind drifted.

-

As the night wore on, Techno found solace in his work, the familiar routine grounding him amidst the chaos of his thoughts. He pushed through the fatigue, knowing that each day brought new challenges and new memories to forge.

Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him, and he closed his laptop, the weight of the day finally settling in.

-

“Ma'am, I need to be with my brother!” Techno shouted, feeling Tommy cling tighter to his side, the boy’s small frame leaning against him.

“Technoblade, that isn’t an option right now—” she began, her voice steady but increasingly irritated.

“What do you mean!? Just move a bed into my room! Tommy's too young—”

Tommy flinched slightly, his eyes darting between the two, not frightened but wanting to feel that familiar closeness.

“Lord boy, stop this now or I’ll have you two separated!” she barked, her patience wearing thin.

Techno's frustration flared. “You don’t understand. I can’t be away from him. I just want him close.”

“Technoblade, it’s protocol. We can’t—”

“Protocol?” he shot back, voice rising. “You think your rules matter more than what we need? He’s my brother! I can’t stand the thought of him being alone.”

“It's not happening,” she said firmly, crossing her arms. “He’ll be fine where he is. You both need to understand that this is for your own good.”

“Please…” Tommy’s voice broke the tension, soft and small.

Techno turned to Tommy, his expression softening. “You hear that? He just wants to be near me. It’s not about fear; it’s about us being together.”

“No, Technoblade. You need to follow the rules,” she insisted, unwavering.

Techno felt a swell of frustration and helplessness. “What if he needs me? What if—”

“Enough!” she snapped, cutting him off. “I can’t have you both acting like this. You’ll just have to accept it.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and Techno’s heart sank. Tommy’s grip loosened, and he stepped back slightly, trying to gauge the situation.

“Let’s go, Tommy,” Techno finally said, his voice quieter now, filled with resignation. “We’ll figure this out.”

"I promise."

Chapter Text

Dream's anger was palpable, radiating through the dimly lit room like a storm ready to unleash. The air reeked of cigarettes, stale and suffocating. Theseus trailed a step behind, his gaze fixed on the way Dream’s hand gripped the gun at his waist, knuckles white against the dark metal.

He didn’t ask questions. He’d learned better. Dream’s silence always hinted at violence on the edge of breaking loose, and the last thing Theseus needed was to get in its way.

“One of the feds found out about our serum,” Dream spat, his voice low and deadly. He closed the distance between himself and a man by the corner—a familiar face, often one of the most reliable men in transporting contraband around the city.

The man raised his hands slightly, cautious. “How do you know?” he began, but Dream’s glare cut him off mid-sentence.

“I have moles everywhere,” Dream said coldly, barely restraining his anger. “Every word, every whisper—I know.”

Theseus watched Dream’s expression shift, frustration boiling beneath his mask of control. He’d never seen Dream like this before, on edge, and it was unsettling. Dream was usually the one in control, calm and calculated. But now, he seemed rattled, as though something far bigger was slipping through his fingers.

Dream turned, pinning Theseus with a sharp look. “We need to keep this under wraps. Whatever it takes, understood?”

Theseus nodded, the weight of the command settling heavily on his shoulders. “Understood, sir.”

Dream’s gaze lingered for a moment, assessing, before he took a step back, his grip loosening ever so slightly on the gun. “Good. Because if anyone finds out more about that serum…” He let the threat hang in the air, unspoken but deadly clear.

Theseus glanced at the man who’d been caught in Dream’s wrath, his face pale and shaken. He wanted to ask, to understand why the serum was so important, why it mattered more than any of their other operations. But he knew better than to pry.

Dream’s piercing gaze settled on Theseus, the anger in his eyes finally cooling, but his tone remained firm. “Go to your room, Theseus. You’ve got work tomorrow, and I need you sharp.”

Theseus gave a quick nod, instinctively straightening. “Yes, sir.” He turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing as he made his way down the narrow hall, toward his quarters.

His room was cramped, with barely enough space for a single bed, a narrow desk, and a small lamp that flickered when he switched it on. A few scattered notes and files lay piled in one corner, details on targets and assignments that Dream had given him over the months. The room itself felt more like a cell than a place to rest, its walls bare and cold, as if the very space was meant to contain him, to remind him that he was under Dream’s control.

He dropped onto the bed, the springs creaking beneath his weight. In the quiet, he felt the familiar tension knotting in his chest, an unsettling unease that he couldn’t shake. He didn't know why Dream had singled him out tonight, or why the serum mattered so much, but he knew one thing—Dream wouldn’t let anyone interfere with his plans.

As he lay back, staring up at the ceiling, Theseus’s mind drifted to the fragments of memories he still held, memories from a time before Dream, a time he could barely recall. It was a blur. He couldn’t even recall faces anymore.

Eventually, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion, letting the small, dim room swallow him in silence.

-

The next day, Theseus's alarm jolted him awake in the pitch-black of early morning. It was 4 a.m., and he had barely managed to rest, but there was no time to think about it. Dream's orders were absolute—five hours of grueling training before he reported in, then another full day spent shadowing Dream wherever he went.

Theseus dressed quickly in his usual training gear and stepped into the empty, shadowed training room. The air was cold, and the silence only amplified the sense of isolation. The training sessions were relentless; he pushed through combat drills, endurance exercises, and weapon handling without rest, his body aching from the non-stop exertion. But he couldn't slow down—not if he wanted to stay in Dream's good graces.

Theseus glanced down at his arm as he trained, the strange shimmer between metal and skin catching his eye yet again. The cold, silvery alloy wound up to his elbow, seamlessly morphing back into his natural flesh. No matter how many times he saw it, he never grew used to it.

He couldn’t remember how it happened—one day, he simply woke up with it, the memory of the accident that caused it erased from his mind. Dream had always been evasive when Theseus asked about it, feeding him a few vague details here and there but nothing that connected into a real answer.

All he knew was that the arm worked, mostly; it shifted to full metal when he was in combat or high stress, but otherwise it stayed in this strange hybrid state. The transformation was painful, like his bones were warping along with the surface, but Dream insisted it was useful, a gift that would give him an edge over anyone who got in his way.

By the time 9 a.m. arrived, Theseus was battered but still on his feet, forcing himself not to show any sign of weakness. He left the training area and went directly to find Dream, as instructed. Dream was waiting for him in his usual spot, checking something on his phone, looking unbothered and calculating as always. He glanced up when Theseus approached, studying him with that familiar, unreadable look.

“Five hours, and you still look alive. Good,” Dream remarked, a faint, almost mocking smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ready for the real work?”

Theseus nodded without hesitation. "I'm here to serve, sir."

Dream's expression flickered, perhaps with approval, though it was hard to tell. "Then stick close," he ordered, turning on his heel. “We’ve got plenty to cover today. Keep up, and maybe you’ll learn something useful.”

Theseus fell into step beside him, knowing better than to let his guard down.

-

Techno went into the precinct early, papers tucked under one arm and a cup of coffee in the other. His usual routine was punctuated by a string of greetings and quick exchanges with his colleagues. Today, though, there was someone new waiting near his desk.

“Agent George Found,” the man introduced himself, extending a hand. He was dressed sharply, with an air of laid-back confidence. Techno recognized him from passing references—he’d heard bits and pieces about George’s knack for detail and his reputation for solving tough cases.

“Techno,” he replied, taking George’s hand with a firm grip. “I’ve heard of you.”

George grinned. “Yeah, same. They pulled me over here to help clear up some casework. Figured you could use a bit of backup with everything you’re handling.”

“Backup, huh?” Techno raised an eyebrow, giving a small smirk. “Let’s see what you’ve got, then.”

They spent the morning diving into files, cross-referencing old notes, and going over the details of recent cases. Techno found himself impressed—George caught on quickly and seemed to have an instinct for the small clues, the kind that could easily go unnoticed. More than once, George flagged connections Techno hadn’t fully considered, the kind of details that could potentially reshape the investigation.

“Not bad,” Techno admitted as they wrapped up another round of notes.

“Guess my reputation has its perks,” George replied, chuckling. “And hey, I live for this stuff.”

The two of them spent hours organizing leads, following up on witness statements, and scouring through evidence. By late afternoon, they were deep into some of the trickier files, exchanging theories and analyzing new angles.

“So, how long do they have you here?” Techno asked as they were finishing up for the day.

“As long as it takes,” George replied with a smile. “Anything you need help with, I’m around.”

Chapter Text

Techno sat hunched over his desk, eyes scanning report after report, trying to string together the scattered pieces of intel they’d collected. The evidence in front of him felt like nothing more than scraps—a series of brutal killings, each marked by a smiley face. It was the one detail that tied each scene together.

He was about to go over the notes again when Niki stepped into the room, balancing a stack of files in one hand and two steaming mugs of coffee in the other. She handed one to Techno with a warm smile. “Thought you might need a boost,” she said, then gestured to the files. “I went through the witness statements again, looking for anything we might’ve missed.”

Techno took the coffee gratefully. “Thanks, Niki. We’re gonna need it.”

Just then, Phil entered, his expression a mixture of weariness and frustration. “Alright, everyone,” he said, dropping into the seat across from Techno, “we’ve got a situation. I spoke with some of my contacts downtown, and they mentioned a group running the underground scene. Nobody has a name for them, but they leave… signs.”

“Smile faces,” Techno murmured, glancing at Niki. “Same ones we keep finding at the scenes?”

Phil nodded. “They’re leaving a trail, just barely enough for us to notice, but it’s there. If we look close enough.”

Niki rifled through the pile of papers, pulling out the report from Fredrick Arnold’s case. She spread it open on the table, highlighting a detail Techno had scribbled in the margin.

“So,” Niki began, leaning over the table, “Fredrick Arnold—right before he was killed—reported hearing the masked man say a name over his comm. Dream. It could be nothing, but considering the circumstances…”

Phil frowned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Dream could be a codename, or even just a nickname. Either way, it’s all we’ve got, and if we’re connecting this symbol to a group, then this Dream might be the one calling the shots.”

Techno tapped his fingers against the coffee cup, deep in thought. “What do we know about these guys? Anything that might give us a lead?”

Phil crossed his arms, scanning the notes. “They’re smart, organized. They don’t leave bodies unless it’s part of their message—like they’re sending a warning.”

“Or a taunt,” Niki added, her voice low. “Think about it. They want us to find these smiley faces. It’s like they’re daring us to follow them, to try and stop them.”

Techno nodded, the gears turning in his mind. “The calling cards… it’s a pattern, but it feels too easy. Like they’re trying to bait us.”

Phil’s gaze hardened. “And if they’re baiting us, then Dream’s got something bigger planned. He wants us looking at the breadcrumbs while he’s orchestrating something else entirely.”

The three of them fell into a tense silence as they sifted through the files. The cases stretched back farther than they’d initially thought; each one bore that same smiley face symbol, taunting and untraceable.

After a few moments, Niki broke the silence. “There has to be someone who knows more about this Dream,” she said, scanning over the reports. “We’ve been digging into the scenes, but maybe we should be focusing on the people around them. If Dream’s behind all of this, he’s bound to have made a mistake somewhere.”

Phil gave a small nod. “I can check with some of my contacts, see if they’ve heard anything on the street. But it won’t be easy. If Dream’s as careful as we think, he’ll have covered his tracks.”

“Do it,” Techno said, pushing his chair back and grabbing his coat. “If Dream has a network, we can’t just sit here waiting for his next move. I’m gonna talk to a few people myself—maybe they’ve seen something and just didn’t think it was worth reporting.”

Niki reached for her coat too. “I’ll come with you. I know a couple of sources who might be willing to talk if we approach them carefully.”

Phil watched them with a look of approval. “Alright,” he said, a rare flicker of hope in his voice. “We’re getting closer. Just… be careful, both of you. This group isn’t playing by anyone’s rules but their own.”

-

The crackle of the police radio was filled with clipped voices as Techno pulled up to the scene. A call had come through only minutes before, warning of a robbery. The tip had been vague but insistent, claiming that a group called "Chaos" would intercept. The police had no real information on who or what "Chaos" was, but the tone of urgency had been enough to put every available officer on edge. Techno had tagged along, hoping for any clues that might point him toward the elusive group he’d been tracking.

As he stepped out of his car, he scanned the street. The bank up ahead was still intact, though the police had set up a perimeter, blocking off any civilians. His gaze locked onto a group of masked gunmen near the bank's entrance, each of them bearing a distinct smiley-face patch on their sleeves. That same taunting symbol. His pulse quickened as he moved closer, keeping to the shadows, hoping to observe without drawing attention.

A chill crept down his spine as a figure moved into view near the center of the street. Dressed in a sleek red-and-black ensemble, the masked man almost glided through the shadows. His movements were unnervingly fluid, each step calculated and eerily silent, giving him an otherworldly quality that Techno hadn't seen before.

“Stay sharp,” he muttered to himself, instinctively reaching for the gun at his side. Whoever this was, he wasn’t some ordinary thug. There was a presence about him—calculated, deliberate, and unsettlingly calm.

The gunmen took positions, rifles aimed toward the bank entrance, as if awaiting orders. The masked man in red-and-black made no gestures, but his mere presence seemed to command them. Every one of the thugs watched him intently, as if his every step held an unspoken command.

Techno leaned closer, eyes narrowing as he studied the figure’s body language, trying to gauge his next move. The man was entirely covered, his face concealed by a mask that bore the faint outline of a upside down smile - a sad face? The same mocking smiley as the patches on the henchmen except only his was flipped.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Techno muttered under his breath.

Just as he thought it, the masked man turned his head slightly, as if he’d sensed Techno’s presence. Their eyes didn’t meet directly, but Techno felt a chill—like the man had seen him despite the darkness between them. The masked figure tilted his head, the subtle movement giving Techno the strange impression of amusement, or perhaps, a dare. He saw bright blond hair peek from under the hood. Almost Gold.

Before Techno could react, a blinding flash erupted from the bank entrance. The gunmen, seemingly on cue, opened fire, though the shots were controlled, almost precise. They weren’t just aiming to kill; they were sending a message. And the masked figure? He simply stood there, hands at his sides, watching it all unfold.

Techno ducked behind a parked car, pulling out his radio to alert the officers nearby. “Be advised, suspects are organized, heavily armed, and led by a man in red-and-black. He seems to be controlling their movements without saying a word.”

The voice on the other end crackled, acknowledging the warning as Techno peeked out from his cover. The masked figure still hadn’t moved from his spot, but it was clear that he didn’t need to. His presence alone kept the scene under control, as if he were a conductor in front of an orchestra of chaos.

“This can’t just be a robbery,” Techno whispered. The man in red-and-black was too calm, too collected. This felt like something bigger.

Then it clicked—the footage. Techno’s mind raced back to the grainy surveillance video he had reviewed earlier.

This man was the one who had been orchestrating things behind the scenes, the one Techno had been unable to track down. His movements, his grace—it was all too unnatural. He had been there before, in the background of multiple high-profile robberies, always just out of reach.

Techno’s gaze followed the man, and with a subtle motion, the masked figure turned and walked toward the bank, disappearing into the shadows with the same fluidity as before. The gunmen closed in behind him, the smiley faces on their patches seeming to mock the entire situation.

Techno’s jaw clenched. Whoever this person was, they weren’t just a part of Chaos—they were something bigger, something more elusive. And if Techno wanted answers, he was going to have to follow—straight into the lion’s den.

-

Theseus huffed as he stepped off the transport trucks after the job. They’d raided a bank, but things had gone sideways when the feds caught wind and made things complicated. Still, the end goal had been achieved—money was successfully funneled into Dream’s countless bank accounts, and Chaos had made its mark on the city. The message was sent loud and clear.

But something gnawed at Theseus, something he couldn’t shake. While overseeing the raid, his eyes had landed on a man in the distance—a figure with long pink hair and a firm scowl. The man’s presence felt oddly familiar, like someone Theseus might’ve known before, though he couldn’t place where or when. Their eyes had locked for a brief moment, and in that instant, a chill ran through him. The figure’s gaze was sharp, almost knowing, as if the man had seen him too.

But the moment passed quickly, and the job had to take priority. Still, that nagging feeling lingered as he finished overseeing the transport.

Theseus marched straight to Dream's office, his thoughts still tangled with the encounter. He pushed open the door, stepping inside with purpose, his boots clicking against the floor.

“Dream?” he whispered, his voice unusually quiet. “I… I think I knew one of those men.”

Dream’s gaze darkened at the words, his fingers tightening around the edge of his desk. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice cold.

“Theseus, what do you mean by that?” Dream’s voice was sharp as he looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing.

“Like... I knew him before,” Theseus muttered, his gaze distant as the memory of the man with pink hair haunted him. “It’s like I’ve seen him before, but I can’t place where. When we made eye contact—something about it felt... off.” His words trailed off, his uncertainty growing.

Dream stood from his chair, his expression hardening. His eyes glinted with a cold, calculating look. “You’re imagining things,” Dream said with a chilling calmness. “And that’s not good for work.” He moved around the desk, his presence imposing as he took a step closer. “You need a mindwipe.”

Theseus froze, a knot forming in his stomach. He knew the implications of a mindwipe all too well. Dream wasn’t one for leaving loose ends, and this would be no different.

“Please—” Theseus started, his voice faltering as he took a step back. The weight of Dream's words hit him harder than expected. He had known something was off, but now he was beginning to realize just how serious it was.

Dream’s gaze softened, but there was no warmth behind it. “You’re too distracted. You’ve been a liability before, Theseus. I can’t afford that again.”

“Theseus, focus. Do you understand?” Dream’s tone was icy now, the air around them thick with unspoken authority. “A mindwipe is what you need to stay useful. There’s no place for doubt in Chaos.”

Theseus swallowed hard, the unease twisting inside him. But even as he tried to push the unease down, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered—what if he was right? What if the man with pink hair wasn’t just a random stranger?

But he knew better than to question Dream, especially not now. He nodded stiffly, trying to force the uncertainty out of his voice. "I understand."

Theseus sat in the cold, sterile chair, his wrists tightly bound to the armrests. The hum of the equipment around him felt like an ominous prelude. Dream stood across the room, speaking in low tones with a few of his men. Their words were distant to Theseus now, drowned out by the pounding of his heart in his ears.

The cold metal against his skin sent a shiver through him, but it was nothing compared to the unease crawling up his spine. He had been here before—too many times to count—but this time felt different. He could feel the weight of the mindwipe pressing on him, heavier than ever. The fear of losing himself again, of being turned into something unrecognizable, gnawed at him.

“Please… don't,” Theseus gasped, his voice breaking as he struggled against the restraints. His mind flashed back to the man with pink hair, the unsettling familiarity of his face. The memory felt like it was slipping away, and he couldn’t hold on to it any longer.

Dream stepped closer, his gaze unreadable. "You’re too distracted, Theseus. This is for the best."

The man standing next to the machine flicked a switch, and the room went eerily quiet. Then, the machine hummed to life, its purpose unmistakable. Theseus’ breath hitched in his throat.

"No! I know him!" Theseus screamed, his voice raw as panic surged through him. The pain from the machine’s first pulse hit like a shockwave, and his mind began to twist, the edges of his consciousness blurring.

The voices around him faded as his vision blurred, and the heat of the machine seared into his skull. It felt like his very identity was being pulled from him, torn apart piece by piece. His body jerked in the chair, but it was useless. His screams filled the room, echoing in desperation, but no one stopped it.

Dream’s cold, unfeeling gaze never wavered, as if watching Theseus break was nothing more than a necessary part of the process.

The world began to darken around him as the machine’s work continued, the pain blurring the edges of reality. And with every passing second, he felt himself slipping further away from the person he had been—further away from the knowledge of that man with pink hair.

Chapter Text

Dream’s eyes flicked from the file in front of him to the window, the city lights blurring beneath his gaze. His mind churned, racing faster than he could catch up to. Technoblade. Technoblade was alive.

The revelation hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. He thought he had taken care of him years ago, buried him, erased him from existence. But here he was, alive and breathing. The realization turned Dream's thoughts chaotic—jumbled and frenzied, as the pieces fell into place in a twisted puzzle he couldn’t quite complete. The Feds weren’t the real threat. Technoblade was.

He had to be eliminated. Now.

If he remembered then…

His pulse quickened, and he could feel his heartbeat in his ears as his breath came in shallow gasps. The plan, everything, was slipping through his fingers. Technoblade’s existence was a threat to everything Dream had worked for. He couldn’t let this go on any longer.

Dream stood abruptly, his chair scraping back with a loud screech as he paced the length of the room. His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, almost manic in his movements. Technoblade alive… He repeated it over and over in his head as if he could somehow make sense of it by sheer repetition. It didn’t make sense. This couldn’t be happening.

The one person he needed to be dead. A stupid teen who was too smart for his own good.

He thought that she had dealt with him.

Then, the answer hit him. He needed to fix this.

His eyes locked onto the door, and he practically stalked to it. His thoughts raced faster than he could process, the need for control, for domination, clawing at his chest. Dream’s lips curled into a frenzied, almost manic grin.

He threw open the door to his office, finding Theseus standing just outside.

Dream’s eyes burned with a manic intensity. “Theseus!” he barked, his voice a mixture of urgency and something darker, almost twisted with excitement. “I need you to eliminate someone. Someone important."

Theseus blinked, his body stiffening as Dream’s eyes drilled into him. “Who?”

Dream leaned in close, his voice low, seething with raw energy. “Technoblade.”

The name hung in the air between them, thick with menace. “You will take him out. And you will make sure that no one else finds out he’s still breathing.”

A manic chuckle escaped Dream’s lips as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving Theseus’s. “He’s been a ghost for far too long, but no longer. We don’t let ghosts walk freely. We destroy them.”

Theseus stood still for a moment, his face unreadable, before he gave a slow nod. The weight of the task was clear in his eyes, but he didn’t question Dream. He was loyal. He had to be.

How perfect it was. Theseus was trained so perfectly that he would be able to kill his only living family.

Dream’s grin widened, his fingers twitching with barely contained excitement. “Good. Go now, Theseus. Make sure it’s clean. No loose ends. I need him gone.” His voice dropped to a whisper, almost thrilled with the idea of his control tightening once again. “And don’t fail me.”

As Theseus turned to leave, Dream’s gaze lingered on the kids retreating form, his mind already racing ahead to the next phase of their plan. The chaos that had threatened to consume him was suddenly manageable again. Technoblade, was alive and a liability, and Dream would do anything to erase that threat once and for all.

-

Technoblade sat at the table, his fingers drumming lightly on the surface as he replayed the words he'd overheard on the comm earlier—Chaos. The name echoed in his mind like a ghost he couldn’t shake. He hadn’t heard it in years, and it meant nothing to him now, but there was something about it that felt... familiar. A threat that lingered in the shadows.

Philza walked into the room, his expression somber. He could see the distant look in Techno's eyes, the weight of something unsettling pulling at his son’s focus. Phil crossed the room and sat down next to him, his voice low but urgent. “You heard it too, didn't you? Chaos.”

Technoblade’s eyes flicked to his father, narrowing slightly. “Yeah. I heard it. But what the hell is it? What does that name even mean?”

Philza hesitated, his gaze darkening as he leaned back in the chair. “Chaos is a name from the past. A dangerous one. It was a group—a shadow organization that operated long before you got involved in all this. They weren’t just a gang or a cartel. They were... something else entirely. Their goal wasn’t money, power, or control like most groups—it was destruction. They thrived on creating chaos, turning systems upside down, destabilizing everything they touched.”

Technoblade’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get it. What’s the point of that? Why mess everything up for the sake of it?”

Philza’s expression darkened further. “Because for them, it’s a game. Chaos isn't about winning, it’s about tearing down the things that hold everything together. They don’t care about anything but destruction—instilling fear, shaking the foundations of governments, corporations, even entire communities. They played the long game. Always in the shadows, always manipulating things from behind the scenes.”

Techno shook his head, trying to make sense of it. “So... they just want to watch the world burn?”

Philza nodded grimly. “In a sense, yes. They didn’t care about personal gain. For them, it was about watching everything fall apart and rebuilding it in their image. They’re an ideology more than a group. And now it seems like they’re back. After all these years, they’ve resurfaced.”

Technoblade’s mind raced as he tried to process this information. He’d heard rumors of shadow organizations before, but Chaos was something else entirely. A group that sought only destruction. He didn’t understand it. It wasn’t a fight he knew how to win.

“And you think they’re behind this?” Techno asked, his voice quieter now. “This whole mess?”

“I don’t know yet,” Philza replied, his tone heavy. “But I’ve seen their signs. Their methods. And it’s starting to add up. They’ve been rebuilding, slowly gathering strength, and now they’re making their move. The thing is, they don’t just go after the weak—they target the strong too, disrupt the power structures, make sure nothing stands in their way. And if they’re targeting us...”

Techno clenched his fists. “Then we stop them. No more games.”

Philza looked at him, concern flashing in his eyes. “It's not that simple. Chaos doesn’t play by the rules. They’ve been in hiding for years, and if they’re back... we need to be careful. We’re not just dealing with a few criminals here. We’re dealing with an ideology—a force that could tear everything apart.”

Technoblade’s jaw set in determination. “I don’t care about their ideology. If they want destruction, I’ll give them one hell of a fight.”

Philza sighed. “I know you will, son. Just... be cautious. We don’t know how deep this runs. We’ll figure this out together, but we have to be prepared for whatever comes next.”

Techno nodded sharply. “Then let's get ready. I won’t let them destroy everything we’ve worked for.”

As Philza stood to leave, he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I know you won’t.” His voice was steady, but there was a quiet concern beneath it. Chaos wasn’t something they could just fight and defeat. It was something deeper, something more dangerous than anything Techno had faced before. And as much as he wanted to dive in headfirst, he knew they had to be careful. If Chaos truly was back... everything was at risk.

-

Techno sat at his desk, the glow of his computer screen illuminating his face in the otherwise dim room. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating for a moment before typing in the search terms that had been haunting his mind all night—Chaos.

The screen flickered for a moment before a list of results appeared. News articles. Reports. Old messages. The more he read, the clearer it became. This wasn’t some urban myth or isolated incident. Chaos had been real, and they were active long before Techno had gotten involved in any of this.

The last known reports of their activity were eight years ago.

Eight years.

Techno’s chest tightened as he scrolled through the information.

His brother died eight years ago.

Chapter Text

Techno heard the front door quietly click shut, followed by the muffled sound of footsteps crossing the hall. He stayed still, eyes fixed on the documents spread across his desk, not moving even when he sensed his own door creak open.

“Tec?” Skeppy’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Techno could tell he was exhausted; Skeppy’s classes were long, and his friend Bad had probably driven him home to save him the trouble.

“Hm?” Techno murmured, not looking up as he flipped a file over, continuing to pore over the notes and articles in front of him.

“Go to bed,” Skeppy said, a bit more firmly this time, but still with that tired, concerned edge.

Techno finally looked up, meeting his friend’s worried gaze.

"I can’t—" Techno started, but the words caught in his throat. He looked back at the scattered papers, eyes lingering on the endless notes and fragments that didn’t seem to add up, no matter how long he stared at them.

Skeppy stepped closer, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. "Techno, you've been at this for hours," he said softly, voice laced with concern. "You’re not gonna find all the answers tonight."

Techno shook his head, jaw clenched. “It’s just… every time I think I’m close, it slips away. I know there’s something I’m missing, Skeppy. Something big.”

Skeppy sighed, moving over to gently take the file from Techno’s hands. “And you’ll figure it out, but not like this. You need rest if you’re going to think straight. Come on. Bed, now.”

“But—” Techno protested, his gaze darting back to the scattered files, reluctant to leave them unfinished.

“No,” Skeppy cut him off firmly, not giving him a chance to argue further. He placed a steady hand on Techno’s shoulder, guiding him away from the desk. “Come on. Let’s get to bed.”

Techno sighed, his resistance fading under Skeppy’s determined look. Exhaustion was settling in, and he knew, deep down, Skeppy was right.

-

Techno blinked the sleep from his eyes as he entered the kitchen, the faint smell of coffee already wafting through the air. Skeppy stood by the counter, back turned, humming softly as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

“You’re up early,” Techno muttered, still groggy as he leaned against the doorway.

Skeppy glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “Could say the same to you. Thought you’d sleep in for once.”

Techno shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Old habits.”

Skeppy chuckled, pouring a cup and sliding it across the counter to Techno. “Figured you might need this,” he said with a knowing look.

Techno took the cup, nodding his thanks, and for a moment, they both just stood there in comfortable silence, the early morning light filtering softly into the room.

-

Phil approached Techno's desk, a worn file clutched in his hand. His expression was unreadable, but there was a heaviness in his gaze that made Techno sit up straighter. Without a word, Phil dropped the file onto the desk, the name "Puffy" scrawled in bold letters across the top.

"What's this?" Techno asked, lifting the cover and glancing through the documents inside.

"Her name’s Captain Puffy," Phil said, voice low. "She was one of Chaos's top assassins years ago. Tough, deadly, and smart as hell. But she made a deal, cut a bargain with the government when Chaos went dark. They let her off the hook in exchange for her cooperation."

Techno's eyes narrowed as he scanned through the report. "So she helped them take down her own group?"

"Helped dismantle what little they could," Phil corrected. "The government thought they’d buried Chaos for good, but it seems she wasn’t able to get all the pieces. They were too fragmented, too covert, even for her. After she cooperated, they let her go. Word is she’s gone off-grid since then."

Techno flipped through the pages, absorbing the details. Puffy's record was extensive, with dozens of missions, all precise, ruthless, and flawlessly executed. "And you think she might know something useful now? If Chaos is back?"

Phil nodded. "If they’re truly operating again, she’s one of the few people who would understand how they work. She was in the heart of it for years. No one else knows their tactics like she does."

"Where is she now?"

Phil sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That’s the catch. She’s disappeared. The government tried to keep tabs on her, but she’s slippery. If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be."

Techno leaned back, his mind racing with possibilities. “So we track her down, and if we’re lucky, she might help us figure out what Chaos is planning now.”

Phil placed a hand on the file, meeting Techno's gaze. "Yeah, but understand this—Puffy's no ordinary informant. If she’s involved, things will get messy fast. She’s not someone who plays by the rules. She never has."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Techno’s mouth. “Sounds like just the kind of person we need.”

"How should we find her?" Techno asked, glancing up from the file.

Phil sighed, crossing his arms as he thought it over. "Puffy won’t leave any obvious trail, that’s for sure. But we might have one option. There’s a network of people she used to work with—informants, old contacts from her time on the inside. They owe her favors, but none of them are easy to get a hold of."

Techno raised an eyebrow. "And you think they’ll talk?"

"Not to just anyone," Phil admitted. "But if we put the right kind of pressure on, we might be able to get something. There’s an old associate of hers down at the docks—a guy named Ant. He was small-time, but he’d have access to her last known whereabouts, if we can get him to cooperate."

Techno’s expression hardened. "I’ll go see him, then. Maybe he’ll be inclined to talk."

-

The docks were bustling with activity, the air thick with the salty smell of the sea and the hum of engines. Techno had traveled a long way to get here, far from the familiar streets of the city. Shipping containers were stacked high like a maze, casting long shadows as the sun began its slow descent. Workers moved back and forth, barely sparing him a glance. Just another figure in a trench coat, looking like he belonged to the fringes of the world.

He slipped through the crowds, scanning the faces of dockworkers, sailors, and strangers hanging around. It didn’t take long to spot the man he was looking for—a wiry figure leaning against a stack of crates, glancing around like he had something to hide. Ant.

Techno approached, keeping his steps quiet until he was close enough that the man couldn’t pretend not to notice.

“Ant Frost?”

The man stiffened at the sound of his name, but didn’t turn around immediately. Techno could see the unease in the set of his shoulders, the way his hand hovered near his coat pocket, like he was ready for something. Finally, Ant Frost turned, his eyes scanning Techno for a moment before narrowing.

"Yeah?" he said, his voice guarded. "You lost or somethin'?"

Techno didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “I’m looking for someone. Name’s Puffy. You know her?”

Ant’s face tightened, and for a moment, Techno thought he might bolt. But instead, the man shifted his weight, leaning back against the crates.

“Puffy,” he muttered, almost as if the name tasted bitter in his mouth. “You know what you’re askin’? She doesn’t exactly have a friendly reputation around here.” He glanced around again, as though making sure no one was listening. “What do you want with her?”

Techno’s gaze hardened. "I just need to talk to her." He wasn’t in the mood for games or small talk. He needed answers, and he needed them fast.

He didn't offer much more than that. Techno knew how to handle people who_ were hesitant to help-sometimes you just had to make them realize you weren't someone to cross.

Ant Frost looked at him, sizing him up for a moment.

The silence stretched before he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright," he finally said, voice low. "You don't want to mess with her, though. She's not someone to take lightly.”

-

Ant Frost scratched down an address on a scrap of paper, his pen tapping briefly against the table before he handed it over to Techno.

"That's where she’s been hiding out lately," he said, voice lowering. "But be careful, alright? Puffy doesn’t trust easily, and if she thinks you're a threat..." He trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Techno took the paper without a word, folding it up and tucking it into his jacket pocket. He gave Ant Frost a nod of acknowledgment, his expression unreadable.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Without another word, he turned and walked off.

Chapter Text

Techno shut the car door, glancing down at the crumpled address one last time.

This was it.

The house stood quietly in a small, out-of-the-way town just north of the city, surrounded by tall trees and worn-down fences. He walked up the steps, his boots creaking on the wooden porch, and knocked firmly. From inside, he heard the clicking of multiple locks, each one unlocking with a distinct metallic clink.

Finally, the door cracked open, and a woman appeared. She looked around Phil's age, with a head of fluffy white hair and eyes that held a guarded intensity.

"Technoblade?" she asked, her voice wary but steady.

Techno nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “Puffy?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing him before giving a curt nod. “You’ve got the right person,” she replied, stepping back and gesturing him inside. “Come in, but keep your voice down. People around here don’t take kindly to strangers.”

He stepped into the dimly lit entryway, taking in the sparse but meticulously organized space. Puffy closed the door behind them, re-engaging each lock with quick, practiced movements. The house was silent except for the faint hum of an old fridge in the kitchen.

“So,” Puffy said, folding her arms and leaning against the wall. “What does a detective want with an old ghost?”

Techno shifted, pulling out a worn folder from his jacket. “We’re looking into Chaos,” he said plainly, watching her reaction. “Word is you have some history with them.”

A flicker of something—fear, or maybe just painful memory—crossed her face, but she quickly masked it. “History, yeah,” she said slowly, her tone careful. “That’s one word for it.”

“Phil told me you used to work with them,” Techno continued, keeping his tone steady, though his gaze remained sharp. “But that you cut a deal to get out.”

Puffy gave a grim smile. “Not just a deal,” she muttered, looking away. “It was a blood pact. And trust me, getting out was the hardest thing I ever did.”

Techno leaned forward, his voice low. “We need any information you can give us. Chaos resurfacing could mean a lot of trouble for the city—and a lot of people’s lives.”

Puffy’s eyes softened, but there was something guarded in her gaze. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’ll help, but I’m not getting back in that world,” she said firmly. “I paid my price, and I’m not about to invite old demons back in.”

Techno nodded. “Just give us a lead, a direction. Anything.”

Puffy’s gaze dropped to her hands, the coffee cup now forgotten as her fingers fidgeted with the rim. She took a long breath before speaking, her voice low. “I’m gonna tell you things I didn’t tell the feds. Things I couldn’t. It was too hard back then.”

She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I was the oldest in my family. We didn’t have much, so me and my brother had to fend for ourselves. We worked odd jobs—anything we could find just to make sure we had enough to get by.” Her voice was quieter now, as if the memories were pressing on her chest.

“The government back then, it was a mess. Everything was falling apart, people scrambling to hold onto control. It started with just a group of kids—rebels, really. We were angry, hungry...and we didn’t know where else to go. That’s how it all began, really. Anarchy. It’s funny how it grows, how something small can turn into something... much bigger.”

Puffy’s eyes lifted to meet Techno’s, a strange mix of sadness and resolve in her expression. “It wasn’t just kids anymore. The world was falling apart, and people like us—people who didn’t have anything left—saw an opportunity. Chaos was born out of that, and once it started, it was hard to stop.”

Puffy’s voice dropped to a near whisper, the weight of the words hanging heavily in the air. "My brother’s name is Dream."

The name seemed to linger between them, a quiet acknowledgment of something deeper, something unsaid. Puffy's eyes flickered with a mixture of regret and something harder to place, as if speaking the name itself brought up a flood of memories she wasn’t sure she was ready to confront.

“Dream…” Techno repeated softly, a knot tightening in his chest. He could feel the gravity of her words, the connection to everything he’d been trying to unravel.

"Listen to me carefully," Puffy continued, her voice trembling now, the words tumbling out in a rush. "He's smart. Too smart. He—he wanted more than I could ever stand by... God... It’s just horrible, what he started to do. I couldn't support him after he—after he bombed a whole city."

Her eyes welled with unshed tears, and her hands clenched into fists, as if trying to hold onto the pieces of herself that were slipping away with each admission. Techno stood frozen, the weight of her confession settling on him like a cold wave.

She took a deep breath, the raw pain in her voice impossible to ignore. "It wasn't always like this. We were kids, just trying to survive... but then he got... obsessed. Power, control... everything changed. And I couldn't follow him down that path. Not anymore."

“I had to leave. I had to get away from all of it.” Puffy’s voice cracked. “And I thought maybe... maybe if I stayed out of it long enough, I could forget.”

"I've killed," Puffy continued, her voice faltering. "I've killed, and I regret it each day. But, Techno..." She paused, looking away, her expression hollow, like she was reliving the past in front of him. "We weren't good enough for him. He wanted someone to just do what he says, blindly. I couldn't. So many couldn't."

Techno remained silent, letting the words sink in. Her admission echoed in his mind, and he felt a cold shiver crawl down his spine. Dream wasn't just the monster he had imagined. He was something worse, someone who tore apart anyone who dared to defy him, who craved control to the point of destruction.

Puffy’s eyes were glassy, distant, as she spoke, like she was far away from this moment. “I thought... maybe I could change things. Maybe I could make him see, make him stop. But it only got worse. The more I tried to pull away, the more violent he became. So I ran. Left everything behind, tried to bury it all. But you... you keep coming closer to him, and now..." Her voice trailed off, a heavy silence filling the space between them.

Techno clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing. He had to focus. "You’re telling me all this, but why? Why are you helping me?"

Puffy’s gaze hardened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that didn’t quite match the anger. "Because I owe it to the people he’s hurt. I've hurt. I owe it to the people who died because we couldn’t stop him.”

"When I left, I didn't get a last word with him," Puffy said, her voice cracking with the weight of the memory. "But in our last conversation, he was... manic. He’d found a way to... to make someone not themselves. To change them."

Techno’s heart skipped a beat. He leaned forward, not daring to blink. "What do you mean? Change them how?"

Puffy ran a hand through her white hair, her fingers trembling slightly as she spoke. "He didn’t just want people to obey him. He wanted them to be... different. Completely different. He found some method, some kind of technology or... I don’t know exactly. But he could alter people’s minds, erase their memories, or make them do whatever he wanted. It was like he could take someone and turn them into his perfect soldier, his perfect follower."

Techno’s blood ran cold. "You mean like... brainwashing?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Puffy nodded, her eyes darkening. "Worse than that. It wasn’t just control—it was rewriting who they were. Making them forget who they used to be, what they stood for. It’s like... like they never existed before, like they were born to serve him. It was his dream—no pun intended—to make an army of people who would follow him, without question."

"I don’t know how it all got so out of hand," Puffy whispered, her voice barely audible. She stared down at her hands, as if the memories were too much to bear. "It started out so small. Just... surviving, you know? We did what we had to, got by however we could. But then it grew. The power, the control, the violence—it all started feeding into itself. And Dream... he started changing. He wasn’t the brother I knew anymore. He became obsessed with power, with making everyone bow down to him. But it wasn’t enough for him to just rule. He wanted... he wanted to break people. To mold them into something else."

"I couldn’t be a part of it," Puffy continued, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I watched him destroy people. Watched him tear apart families, lives. I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to leave." She let out a bitter laugh, but it held no humor. "But I couldn’t stop him either. Once he had control, once he started on that path, there was no turning back for him. And now? Now I’m just... trying to survive. Trying to forget."

"Thank you, Puffy," Techno whispered, his voice tinged with a quiet mix of gratitude and unease.

Puffy gave him a soft, almost sorrowful smile. "You don't owe me thanks, but just... be careful, Techno. Dream’s not the only one you’ll have to deal with. He’s surrounded by people who are just as dangerous."

Techno nodded, understanding the gravity of her words. Dream might be the one pulling the strings, but there were others—loyal followers, willing to do whatever it took to keep the chaos alive. He had to be ready for them, too.

“I’ll deal with them if I have to,” Techno said, his voice steady but resolute. "But Dream... he's the one who started all of this. And I’m going to stop it."

Puffy’s expression softened as she placed a hand on his arm, her gaze serious. "Ypu know this... it's not just your fight."

For a moment, Techno allowed himself to meet her eyes, feeling the weight of those words. She had a point.

As a car rumbled in the distance, signaling someone’s arrival, Techno gave a sharp nod. "I’ll make sure it ends," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Puffy didn’t respond, but her eyes held a quiet understanding. She knew what he was up against.

Techno turned toward the door, the urgency of his mission propelling him forward. Dream and his followers had gone too far, and now, it was time to bring them down. He couldn't afford to waste any more time.

"Stay safe," Puffy said quietly, as Techno stepped out into the cool air.

"I will," he said, and with that, he was gone.

-

That night, as the moonlight filtered through the small window, Puffy sat in her chair, her gaze lost in thought. Her hands, weathered from years of hard work and regret, gently held an old photo. It was worn at the edges, the paper soft with time, but the image remained vivid in her memory.

In the photo, she was young, her arm linked with her brother’s. Both of them wore wide smiles, faces lit with a happiness that now felt foreign to her. Back then, life had been simpler. They had been nothing but two kids, trying to survive, trying to make something of themselves. There was no chaos then—just the promise of a better future.

Her thumb traced the outline of her brother’s face. Dream.

She had loved him once, before everything had changed. Before the hunger for power had twisted him into someone unrecognizable. Before he had become the very thing he used to despise. She had tried to stop him, tried to pull him back from the abyss, but somewhere along the way, she had lost him.

The memory of his manic eyes, the desperation in his voice as he spoke of plans that would tear the world apart, haunted her. She could still hear his voice, still feel the pull of his twisted ideology, but the man he had become was not the brother she once knew.

With a heavy sigh, Puffy placed the photo back into the drawer beside her, closing it softly. She wasn’t sure if Dream could ever be redeemed, but she knew one thing for certain: she couldn’t let him continue this madness. For her brother’s sake, for everyone else’s sake, Dream had to be stopped.

Her heart tightened as she thought of Techno—fighting his own battle, trying to put an end to the chaos Dream had created. If Techno succeeded, maybe, just maybe, her brother’s memory could finally rest. Maybe she could find some peace in knowing that the boy who once smiled so brightly had not been lost forever.

But that was a hope, not a guarantee.

She closed her eyes, the weight of the years pressing on her shoulders, but there was a flicker of hope in her chest.

Then she pulled the gun from its place, the click of it being cocked sharp in the quiet room. With a practiced move, she holstered it at her side, covering it with her jacket.

She walked out back to where the firewood was stacked. The cold night air bit at her skin, but she ignored it, focusing on the task. The crunch of leaves beneath her boots and the rustling of trees were the only sounds in the stillness.

Bending down, she grabbed a few logs and stood, looking out toward the trees in the distance. The memories lingered, but she shook them off, heading back inside with the wood in hand. There was still work to be done.

-

Techno stepped into the precinct, setting a pen down in front of Phil.

"Got it on a recording," Techno said, his voice low. "Puffy said a lot."

Phil looked up, his eyes sharp as he leaned forward. "What kind of things?"

Techno took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the conversation. "She talked about Dream—about how he was different, how he changed. She even mentioned some things about Chaos, things that might be connected to what we're dealing with now."

Phil's expression darkened, a flicker of recognition crossing his face.

Chapter Text

Techno's eyes scanned the screen, the quiet hum of the office blending into the background as he pored over the details he’d gathered. Chaos. The word alone sent a chill down his spine. He knew they were dangerous, but he needed to know more. Every lead, every scrap of information was a piece to the puzzle.

His fingers paused over the keyboard as he stumbled upon something—an address. An apartment in a rundown part of the city. His heart raced. This could be the break he needed. He knew the risks, but he didn’t care. If it meant finding Chaos, he’d go alone if he had to.

He grabbed his jacket, throwing it on as he walked to the door, barely sparing a glance at Niki and Phil.

“I’m heading out,” he muttered. “Got a lead.”

Niki looked up, her face tight with concern. "Techno, wait—"

But he was already gone.

---

The apartment building loomed in front of him, a hulking structure that had seen better days. The streets were quieter now, the air cool and crisp as night began to settle in. Techno approached cautiously, his eyes scanning the area. There was something off about the place, something that didn't sit right.

The door to the building creaked open under his touch, and he moved inside, the sound of his footsteps the only noise. The hallway was dark, lit only by flickering lights. Techno’s senses were on high alert. This was stupid. Going in alone was stupid. But that’s what he did best—dive headfirst into danger and figure things out as he went.

He moved toward the address he’d found, his hand resting on the handle of his gun. As he approached the apartment door, he paused, hearing something faint—a rustling, a movement. His heart rate quickened.

Suddenly, the door to the apartment swung open, a flash of motion catching his eye. He barely had time to react before a bullet whizzed by him, grazing his arm.

"Shit!" Techno swore under his breath, diving behind a nearby pillar for cover. He pulled out his gun, fingers steady despite the adrenaline surging through him. He poked his head around the corner, barely catching sight of a figure darting out of the apartment, a blur in the dark.

Techno didn't hesitate. He rushed forward, using the pillar for cover as he returned fire, the sound of gunshots ringing out in the quiet building. His aim was precise, his movements sharp, but the figure was fast. Too fast.

The person ducked behind a corner, disappearing from view. Techno pushed himself to his feet, gun raised, ready for whatever came next. The air was tense, every sense on edge. He moved silently, checking his corners, his mind sharp.

And then, a shadow shifted above him.

Techno’s head snapped up just in time to see the figure leap onto the roof. He swore again, cursing under his breath. They were fast, but so was he.

With a quick motion, he climbed the fire escape, his muscles burning with the effort. The rooftop came into view, the figure standing just out of reach. Techno took a deep breath and launched himself forward, a blur of motion as he made the jump.

But the figure was already gone.

Techno skidded to a halt, eyes scanning the empty roof, heart pounding. Whoever they were, they knew how to vanish without a trace. He was left standing there, frustrated and on edge, as the cold wind swept across the rooftop.

A dead end. But not for long. Techno wasn’t done. He would find them.

Techno's breath hitched as he realized who had just vanished before his eyes. The figure—tall, quick, and familiar. It was him. The same man he had seen during the bank raid.

The memories rushed back, that brief moment of recognition, like a flicker of something he couldn’t quite place. Who was he? Why did Techno feel like he knew him?

Techno gritted his teeth and scanned the roof again, his pulse racing. He was sure now. That man—he wasn’t just some random thug. He was connected to something deeper, something Techno wasn’t seeing clearly yet. He had to know more.

"Who are you?" Techno muttered under his breath, barely audible against the wind.

The rooftop was silent. Nothing moved. No more footsteps, no more sounds. The only sign that someone had been there was the faint echo of his own breath in the cold night air. The man had disappeared, but Techno could still feel his presence lingering in the air around him, like an unfinished chapter in a story.

He stood there for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. His hand tightened around his gun, instinct urging him to chase after the man, but something inside told him that was a trap. Whoever this was, they knew how to get away. And Techno was smart enough not to fall into that.

Instead, he pulled out his phone, quickly typing out a message to Niki and Phil.

"Found him. The guy from the bank raid. He’s fast—disappeared off the roof. Don’t know who he is, but I’ll find him."

He glanced around once more, taking in the surroundings. Whatever the connection was between this mystery man and Chaos, Techno was going to dig deeper. There were too many questions now, too many pieces that didn’t fit.

Techno’s gaze flicked back toward the edge of the roof, and with one last look, he headed back down the fire escape.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

-

Techno stepped into the precinct, his boots clicking on the tile as he placed the pen camera down in front of Phil. The recording flickered briefly before the footage from the rooftop appeared on the screen—shots fired, a figure darting across the roof, disappearing into the shadows.

“Got it on a recording,” Techno said, his voice flat as he folded his arms. "Puffy told us a lot, but this guy... he’s the one. He’s Chaos’s guy."

Phil didn’t speak immediately. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, rewinding and playing the video back several times. Techno could see the wheels turning in his partner’s mind. Phil had seen his fair share of dangerous people, but this wasn’t just another assassin—it was someone much deeper in the game.

“Chaos, huh?” Phil said, his voice low, eyes focused on the screen. "If this guy’s with them... we’re not just dealing with an assassin. This is something bigger."

Techno nodded, grimacing as the figure in the video darted across the rooftop, too fast to get a clear shot. "He's not a hired gun, Phil. He’s part of it. He’s Chaos’s guy. They don’t hire out. They do it themselves.”

Phil leaned back in his chair, processing. “So, you’re saying this guy is with them, not just working for them?”

“Yeah," Techno said, the weight of the realization settling in his gut. "Chaos doesn't work with mercenaries. They don't need to. This guy’s in it, part of whatever their plan is. He’s not just taking jobs—he’s a part of the machine.”

Niki walked over to the desk, her expression serious as she pulled up another file. “I found something,” she said, pulling a few documents from the database. "His name’s Theseus. He's not a ghost; he's been active for years. Never stayed in one place for too long. A shadow in the system. No criminal record, but he's been linked to Chaos in multiple instances. He’s a hitman, but not for hire. He’s part of their internal operations."

Techno took a step forward, eyes narrowing. “So, he’s not just some guy—they’re controlling him?”

“Exactly,” Niki confirmed. “Theseus has been operating for Chaos for years, and he’s good at what he does—silent, precise, efficient. He's not like other assassins we've dealt with. His job isn’t just killing—it’s carrying out whatever Chaos needs. He's not a freelancer, Techno. He’s one of them."

Techno’s mind raced. He’d always suspected Chaos was deeper than just a group of mercenaries. But now, with Theseus in the picture, it was clear that they had more power than anyone realized.

"So, what’s next?" Techno asked, his voice tense.

“We start connecting the dots,” Phil said, standing up and walking over to the table. "We find out where Theseus has been, who he’s been working with, and what he's been doing for Chaos. He might be the key to everything, Tech."

Techno glanced at the footage again, seeing the figure slipping away into the night. Theseus. His face was a blur in the video, but the feeling was clear: this guy was dangerous. And Chaos? They were back.

And if they were back, then Techno would need to be ready.

“Let’s go find him,” Techno said, determination hardening in his voice. "Because he's already found us.”

-

When Techno finally arrived home, he could feel the weight of the day pressing down on him. His mind was swirling with thoughts of Theseus, Chaos, and the next steps in their investigation, but the moment he stepped through the door, he was met with the quiet hum of Skeppy’s presence.

Skeppy looked up from the couch, where he’d been scrolling through something on his phone. His eyes instantly narrowed when he saw Techno, concern flickering across his face.

"You're back," Skeppy said, setting his phone down. "You look like you’ve been through a lot."

Techno managed a tired smirk, shrugging off the tension in his shoulders as he walked inside. "Long day, you could say that."

Skeppy eyed him closely. "I can tell. You look... like you’ve been mauled."

Techno didn't deny it. Instead, he removed his jacket slowly, carefully, avoiding putting too much pressure on the red mark that had begun to throb under his shirt. As the jacket slid off, the graze on his arm was revealed—a patch of raw, irritated skin where the bullet had grazed him earlier. The bleeding had stopped, but the injury was still painfully obvious.

Skeppy was immediately by his side, frowning deeply. "Techno..." he said, his tone low with a mix of worry and frustration. "You should’ve called me. Let me help you sooner."

Techno brushed it off, despite the twinge of pain. "I’ve had worse. It’s just a graze, Skeppy."

"Just a graze?" Skeppy snapped, voice rising slightly. He grabbed the sleeve of Techno’s shirt gently, inspecting the injury. "That’s still pretty bad, man. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse."

Techno sighed but let Skeppy help him sit down on the couch. "It’s nothing I can't handle," he muttered, trying to focus on anything but the discomfort in his arm.

Skeppy wasn’t having it. He pulled out a small first-aid kit from under the coffee table, his movements swift but careful. "I’m not letting you walk around like this. You’re not invincible, Techno."

Techno didn't protest this time. He knew Skeppy was right. He’d pushed himself too hard, taken too many risks, and now he had to pay for it. He leaned back, letting Skeppy clean the wound and apply a bandage to it. The cool touch of the antiseptic stung, but it was a reminder that he wasn’t alone. Skeppy had always been there for him, even when things got tough.

"Thanks," Techno murmured when Skeppy was done, looking at the bandage. His arm ached, but it felt better now that it was properly cared for. "You know, you’re a lot better at this than I am."

Skeppy grinned, though his eyes still held concern. "What can I say? Someone has to keep you from getting yourself killed."

Techno chuckled softly, though it was hollow. "Yeah... but it’s not just about the fight. There’s more coming, Skeppy. Chaos... these people are serious. And I don’t know if I’m ready for it."

Skeppy looked at him for a long moment, his expression softening. "You don’t have to do this alone, you know. You’ve got me, and you’ve got Phil and Niki too. We’ll help you."

Techno smiled faintly, appreciating the sentiment, though a part of him still wanted to push everyone away. "Thanks, Skeppy. You’re right. But I’ll handle the rest. Just... stay close, alright?"

Skeppy gave him a nod. "Always."

With that, the two sat in silence for a while, the weight of everything hanging in the air, but a quiet sense of understanding settling between them. The fight wasn't over. Techno knew that. But for now, he could rest.

Chapter Text

Dream grinned widely, eyes gleaming as he stared at the blood-red serum swirling in the vial. He couldn’t contain his excitement, practically bouncing in his seat as he examined the concoction.

“These are magnificent,” he breathed, as if he had just uncovered the greatest treasure in the world. His voice, usually so composed, trembled with anticipation. It was rare for him to show such vulnerability, but in this moment, it was clear that this serum was something he had been waiting for.

Theseus stood in the corner, watching with disinterest, cigarette in hand. He leaned against the wall, taking a slow drag, the smoke curling up in a cloud around him. The cigarette was the one thing Dream allowed him, though Theseus wasn’t sure if it was because Dream genuinely cared about it or if it was just an unspoken rule of their strange arrangement. Maybe it was simply because Dream himself smoked. Either way, it was something they shared in their odd, fractured way.

“What does it do?” Theseus asked, his tone flat, though his eyes narrowed with curiosity. He didn’t ask often, but when he did, it was because he wanted to understand what he was helping to create. There was always something about Dream’s projects that felt dangerous, even if it was impossible to pinpoint exactly why.

Dream didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at the serum, his face lit up with childlike wonder. Then, finally, he spoke, almost as if he were revealing a great secret. “It opens your fourth eye,” he said, his voice low and fervent.

Theseus raised an eyebrow, his cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers. “Fourth eye?” he repeated, a touch of skepticism in his voice. Dream was always saying things like that—words that made little sense until they turned into something else entirely. It was how he worked.

“It lets you see beyond what you know,” Dream explained, now completely lost in his vision. “A new kind of perception. A higher state of awareness, like unlocking a part of the brain that’s always been there but hidden. Imagine being able to see things in ways no one else can.”

Theseus watched him closely, processing what was being said. He wasn’t sure if he believed it, but then again, he’d seen Dream work before. He had no doubt that whatever this serum did, it would be dangerous.

“Sounds risky,” Theseus muttered, flicking ash from his cigarette.

Dream’s grin only grew wider, his eyes wild. “Risky?” he repeated, almost laughing. “The catch is... it works. But not for everyone. Some will see. Some won’t come back.” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “But that’s the point, isn’t it? You can’t understand it until you’ve experienced it.”

Theseus was silent for a moment, watching Dream as he reveled in his own madness. There was something about this serum, about everything Dream did, that unsettled him. But as always, he stayed quiet. He was just here to follow orders.

“Right,” Theseus said, taking one last drag from his cigarette. “And what happens if it works on you?”

Dream’s grin faltered for just a second, then returned even more intense. “I’ll be the first to know, won’t I?” he said, his voice a mix of certainty and madness.

Theseus exhaled, the smoke swirling in front of him, before turning to leave. Whatever Dream had planned, it was clear this serum was just another step in his endless game. And Theseus? He was just another player, whether he liked it or not.

-

Theseus had to transport the serum across town. Why? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. It was just another order. It sat in a case at his side, secure but heavy with its promise of whatever chaos Dream planned to unleash with it.

Then, the ambush hit.

Fuck.

Not Found had one job. One job. And somehow, the enemy had gotten the drop on him.

He barely had time to react. They surrounded him, guns raised, faces masked. Theseus knew the drill. He could handle this. He could fight his way out. But with the serum? No. That was too important. Dream didn’t fuck around with the important things.

Theseus glanced down at the vial, eyes narrowing. He could hear their footsteps closing in, feel the tension in the air. They didn’t need to know what was in the case—just that it was valuable. And if it was in the enemy's hands? Dream would never forgive him.

The voices of the enemy were growing louder. The threats, the commands, the demands. But none of that mattered. Theseus knew what he had to do.

Dream said it himself—if the enemy had it, it was easier to destroy it than let it fall into their hands.

He gripped the vial, pulled it free from the case, and in a single, violent motion, he crushed it in his gloved hand. The red liquid spilled out in an instant, dripping into the cracks of the concrete. The vial shattered, and with it, whatever future Dream had planned.

Theseus didn’t wait to see if they would come after him for it. He didn’t care. He ducked into the shadows, slipping through a narrow alley, and vanished into the night.

---

Techno stood over the shattered vial, eyes scanning the remnants of the red liquid that now stained the concrete. He stared at it for a moment longer than he should have, his fingers almost instinctively reaching out to touch the slick residue with the tip of his finger.

The moment his skin made contact, the world shifted.

Voices.

Chapter Text

Techno jolted upright, his breath sharp and uneven. The room around him was too white, too sterile, every corner glaring under harsh fluorescent lights. The brightness stabbed at his eyes, making his head throb harder. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust, but it only worsened the pounding in his skull.

A hospital. It had to be. That smell of antiseptic, the faint hum of machinery, the crinkle of the stiff sheets under his hands—it all screamed hospital.

Techno pressed his palms against his temples, groaning as the relentless voices swarmed his mind.

So happy to be back chat!!!

Shut up.

E

Where's Skeppy???

Outside probably

Techno looks a mess

Their chaotic rambling was like static, overlapping and relentless. His lips curled into a faint snarl. "For the love of—shut up," he hissed through clenched teeth.

The voices didn’t shut up. If anything, they got louder, more obnoxious.

Messy hair vibes, let’s go!

Should’ve stayed unconscious

Don’t forget to hydrate

Techno exhaled shakily, dragging a hand through his tangled hair. The room spun slightly as he swung his legs over the edge of the hospital bed. His muscles ached, and his head felt like it had been split open and sewn back together wrong.

"Skeppy," he mumbled, trying to focus past the swarm in his head. He’ll have answers. Or at least snacks.

He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as the voices shifted their focus.

Let’s take bets. Will he fall?

Ten bucks says he faceplants.

Who needs balance anyway?

Gravity Is A Social Construct

Techno rolled his eyes, muttering, "This is going to be my life now, isn’t it?"

Yup

Probably

Lots of blood

o7

He froze. His heart skipped a beat. “Blood?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

But the voices didn’t answer. Instead, they swarmed him, overlapping and chaotic.

So much red.

Do you feel it?

Techno stumbled back, gripping the edge of the hospital bed to steady himself. His breathing quickened, his chest tightening as the voices grew louder.

“Shut up,” he hissed. “Shut up!”

But they didn’t.

Red is your color.

Pick up your sword.

Not sure if he has one. Yet.

Techno clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. The whispers, the taunts, the screams—it was like they were trying to drown him in their madness.

He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply. “Focus,” he growled to himself. “This isn’t real. It’s just... it’s just them. Whatever they are.”

The voices quieted for a split second, then Skeppy came in.

Just on time

Skeppy!

Diamond boy!!!

“Finally awake, huh?” Skeppy said, eyeing him warily. “You look like hell.”

Techno exhaled slowly, forcing himself to nod. “Feel like it, too.”

Skeppy set a bag on the bedside table and leaned against the wall. “Figured you’d want something that isn’t hospital mush. Got you some real food.”

“Thanks.” Techno’s voice was quiet, almost distant. He ran a hand through his hair, still damp with sweat.

Skeppy frowned, taking a step closer. “You good? You look... worse than usual.”

Techno hesitated, his jaw tightening.

“Skeppy,” he started, his tone unusually serious. “I... something’s wrong.”

Skeppy’s casual demeanor shifted. “What do you mean?”

“There’s—” Techno hesitated, glancing at the door to make sure it was closed. He lowered his voice. “There’s voices. In my head. They’ve been there since... the serum.”

Skeppy blinked, clearly trying to process what he was hearing. “Voices? Like... actual voices?”

Techno nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “They won’t shut up. They’re constant, and they’re... dark. Violent.” He swallowed hard.

Skeppy stared at him for a moment, then pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. “Does anyone else know?”

“No,” Techno said firmly. “And they can’t. Not Phil, not Niki. No one.”

Skeppy frowned but didn’t argue. “Okay. Fine. But what do we do about it? You can’t just ignore this, Techno.”

“We don’t do anything,” Techno said, his tone sharp. “I’ll handle it. Just... don’t tell anyone. Please.”

Skeppy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Techno muttered, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Skeppy leaned back in the chair. “Fine. Your secret’s safe with me. But if this gets worse...”

“It won’t,” Techno cut in.

Skeppy didn’t look convinced but nodded. “Alright. But you owe me. Big time.”

Techno leaned back against the pillow, exhaustion settling in. “I’ll add it to the list.”

-

“What are you?” Techno whispered once he was alone, his voice barely audible over the sterile hum of the hospital room.

Uh... voices.

Don’t be dumb.

Guys, he’s confused, it’s fine.

Dumbnoblade.

Stop bullying.

Where’s mods?

“Chat?” Techno asked, the name slipping out as if it had always been there. He frowned. “That’s what you are, right? Chat?”

Hey, he got it.

Ding ding ding, we have a winner.

Mod applications are open.

Techno groaned, pressing his palms into his temples. “Great. Not only are you in my head, but you’re also obnoxious.”

Obnoxious?

Rude.

We’re helpful, actually.

Chat carries.

He’s just mad he doesn’t get it yet.

“I’m not mad,” he muttered. “I just don’t... I don’t understand what you are.”

We’re Chat.

We’re you, but better.

No, we’re you but smarter.

Smarter is better stupid

Be nice!

Technically, we’re not you. We’re... enhanced.

He sighed. “Enhanced? That doesn’t explain anything.”

Blood explains everything.

o7

Not yet, guys.

Techno let his head drop into his hands. “This is going to be a permanent thing now, isn’t it?”

Yup.

Probably.

Definitely.

Techno leaned back against the hospital bed, rubbing his temples as the voices—Chat—continued their relentless chatter.

Guys, apply for mod.

Mod applications are live.

Only serious applicants, please.

Yay Mods!

“Mod?” Techno muttered under his breath, glaring up at the ceiling. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

We need moderation.

Too much chaos.

Mod would fix everything.

Not really, but it sounds cool.

Techno groaned. “Great. Now my hallucinations are holding job interviews. Fantastic.”

Not hallucinations.

Voices.

Technically, we’re Chat.

Shut up, he knows that already.

Techno shook his head, exhaling sharply. “I don’t even know why I’m trying to argue with you. This is ridiculous.”

You’ll get used to it.

Or you won’t. Either way, we’re here.

Blood for the Blood God.

Techno buried his face in his hands. “I need to go outside.”

Good idea.

Fresh air always helps.

Let’s get Skeppy.

“Why do I feel like I’m never going to get a moment’s peace again?” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet.

Because you won’t.

Correct.

Apply for mod

-
Techno sighed as he made his way to the nurse's station. His steps were slow, his head still throbbing, but he needed to get out of this too-bright, too-sterile hospital. The nurse on duty, a young man with kind eyes and a clipboard, glanced up as Techno approached.

“Feeling better, Mr. Blade?” the nurse asked.

“Better enough to leave,” Techno muttered. “I’m not a fan of hospitals.”

The nurse nodded, unfazed. “I’ll grab your discharge papers. You’ll need to sign a few forms.”

Techno leaned against the counter, arms crossed, as Chat muttered in the back of his mind.

Hospitals are prisons.

Freedom awaits!

Anarchy!

Take the pen and run.

No, don’t. That’s stealing.

When the nurse returned, Techno barely glanced at the forms before scribbling his signature. “Anything else?”

“Take it easy for a few days,” the nurse advised. “And follow up with your primary care doctor if the headaches persist.”

Techno nodded absently, already making his way to the exit. The moment he stepped outside, the cool air hit him like a balm, soothing the tension that had been building since he woke up.

Finally.

Fresh air.

Freedom achieved.

“It’s a ten-minute walk to the apartment,” Techno muttered, starting down the quiet street.

Perfect for reflection.

Or a snack run.

No, he just got out of the hospital.

Techno ignored them, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked. The neighborhood was calm, the soft hum of the city a distant murmur. It was the kind of peace he didn’t often appreciate, but now it felt like a blessing.

As the apartment building came into view, Techno allowed himself a small sigh of relief. “Home sweet home.”

What’s for dinner?

Nap first. Then food.

Apply for mod.

He groaned, shaking his head as he opened the door.

-

Phil leaned back in his chair as Techno walked into the precinct, looking like he hadn’t slept in years. “Good to see you upright,” Phil greeted, his tone laced with sarcasm, but his eyes gave away his concern.

Techno grunted in response, dropping into the seat across from him. “You found anything new?”

Phil slid a folder across the desk. “What we know so far about that serum you touched. Knocked you out cold, Techno. The paramedics were stumped, said there were no visible side effects, but I wouldn’t exactly call that normal.”

Techno nodded, keeping his expression neutral. He wasn’t about to mention the constant buzz of Chat in his head.

Don’t.

He doesn’t need to know.

Focus on the case.

Phil continued, “The lab’s still running tests, but from what they’ve found, it’s some kind of chemical enhancer. Maybe even neurological.”

Techno raised an eyebrow but said nothing. His mind was too busy compartmentalizing the voices into a manageable murmur.

Neurological? We’re just that good.

Focus, Dumbnoblade.

You’re getting distracted.

Phil tapped the map pinned to the wall. “The serum’s connected to Chaos’s operations. We’ve tracked multiple transports across the city, but no solid leads on where it’s being developed. And Theseus?” Phil shook his head. “Still untouchable. He’s Chaos’s personal enforcer, in and out like a ghost. No mistakes, no trails.”

Techno opened the folder, scanning the surveillance photos and incomplete reports. “Any movement recently?”

“Not yet,” Phil admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. “But we’re narrowing down potential drop sites. Theseus doesn’t work random. He’s deliberate. We just need to figure out where he’ll be before he gets there.”

Techno nodded and pushed the folder back. “I’ll check the leads.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “And you’ll call for backup this time?”

Techno smirked faintly. “No promises.”

Phil sighed, rubbing his temples. “Just don’t let me find you passed out on another crime scene. Whatever was in that serum, it’s serious, Techno. If Chaos is developing this stuff, we’re already behind.”

Techno stood, his mind already turning over the possibilities as Chat buzzed in his head.

He’s right.

Focus on the leads.

We should find Theseus.

[Message Deleted By Moderators]

We have those!?

Now we do ;]

Techno pushed the voices down again. “I’ll keep you updated.”

-

"So who's mod?" Techno asked, almost sarcastically, sitting at his desk, fingers drumming on the edge.

Steve!!!

The voices echoed, almost too excited. Techno raised an eyebrow, glancing at the screen.

"Steve?" he muttered to himself, confusion creeping in. "Seriously?"

Guys, we can't let Techno know too much about chat.

No one likes you, Steve.

Stopppp, we love Steve!

Techno pinched the bridge of his nose, the voices bouncing between bickering and defending, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was losing track of things. Every time he tried to make sense of what was going on, the voices just made it harder to think straight.

"Right..." Techno sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Guess we’ll have to deal with that later."

The voices just kept going, fighting over Steve's new mod status like it was the most important thing in the world. But Techno? He had bigger problems to focus on.

-

"Do we know if anything from Layne's lab was used to make the chemical I touched?" Techno asked, his eyes focused on Niki.

Niki paused, looking thoughtful as she typed something on her keyboard. "I can check, but we don’t have the full report on Layne’s lab yet. I can see if there’s anything similar in the samples we’ve received."

Techno nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. The voices in his head were growing louder. He had to get answers.

"Let me know what you find," he said, trying to push down the growing unease.

Chapter Text

Theseus loaded his gun with a steady, practiced care, each bullet slipping into place with a quiet click. His movements were precise, efficient—almost methodical—as if he were going through a ritual he’d repeated a thousand times. He took a moment, eyes narrowing as he checked each part, ensuring everything was in perfect condition.

There was no rush. For someone in his line of work, patience was essential. This was just another assignment, another face in the endless line of targets. Yet, something about this one felt different—more personal, maybe. Or perhaps it was simply the thrill of a worthy opponent. He didn’t know, and he didn’t need to. All he cared about was the hunt.

Theseus slipped the gun into its holster with the same quiet, focused intent. It was time.

Targets are a weird thing. It must be perfect. Especially one of this value.

Theseus slipped off the truck and crouched, blending into the shadows by the side of the road as he counted down the seconds. 1… 2… 3… 4… bingo. He took his shot, the bullet puncturing a tire with pinpoint accuracy. The vehicle swerved, tires screeching, and a tiny, pre-set explosive went off near the engine with a muffled boom.

The hunt had started.

He dropped down from the bridge, landing in a crouch on the road below. Rising to his feet, he walked toward the car with a calm, measured stride. Smoke billowed from the engine, but the driver’s frantic movements told him the occupants were still alive—though not for long if he had anything to say about it.

-

“Come on, we need to get to the office for the meeting,” Niki said, tugging on Techno’s arm as she led him down the hallway.

Techno gave a halfhearted sigh but let her pull him along, barely keeping up. “Alright, alright, I’m coming. What’s the rush?”

Niki rolled her eyes, a hint of a smirk on her face. “Because if we’re late again, Phil’s never going to let us hear the end of it.”

Techno chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine. Guess we better hurry, then.”

TechnoSoft

Who's making popcorn?

Carl

He better share. It's about to get real.

Bro stop talking, the Author is waiting for us to be quiet.

Stop breaking the fourth wall.

Sorry Steve.

-

They climbed into the car, Techno settling into the passenger seat as Niki took the wheel. She quickly adjusted the mirrors, shooting him a sidelong glance.

“You look exhausted,” she remarked, starting the engine. The Voices agreed though they sounded more mocking than Niki ever could.

“Didn’t sleep much,” Techno replied, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Figured I'd catch up, but looks like you had other plans.”

Niki chuckled, pulling out onto the road. “Trust me, Phil’s wrath is scarier than losing a few hours of sleep.”

Techno snorted. “Yeah, you’ve got a point there.”

As they started driving, the hum of the engine settled into a steady rhythm, filling the brief silences between their conversation.

“So, what did you find out?” Niki asked, glancing over at Techno.

“Not as much as I'd hoped,” he replied, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “But enough to know we’re dealing with Chaos’s main guy, not some hired gun.”

“Well, we got this,” Niki murmured, a quiet determination in her voice as she kept her gaze forward.

Techno managed a faint smile. “Yeah, let’s hope so. Gotta say, feels like they’re playing a whole different game.”

She glanced over at him briefly. “That’s why they’re called Chaos, right? But I know we can handle it.”

Techno’s smile grew a little. “I’m counting on it.”

"You know, we gotta try this pizza place—it's—”

Boom.

The car jolted violently to the right as the loud bang echoed around them. Techno’s reflexes kicked in, hands gripping the door as Niki fought to keep control of the wheel. The vehicle skidded, barely holding to the road before coming to an abrupt stop at the shoulder.

“What the—” Niki’s voice shook slightly, her eyes darting to the rearview mirror.

“Shot the tire.” Techno's voice was low, tense. He scanned their surroundings, spotting a shadowed figure in the distance, holding a weapon aimed in their direction.

It was the same man from before. Theseus.

“Stay here,” Techno ordered, pushing open his door and ducking low, adrenaline kicking in as he prepared for a counter. He couldn’t risk another hit like that.

BLOOD

Guys I don't know if this is the Fic for that.

Shut up

Techno + Chat = Blood chants

Niki grunted, already opening her own door despite Techno’s quick warning glance.

“Nik, stay in the car,” he hissed, but she was already slipping out, eyes scanning the area with sharp focus.

“Not a chance, Tech. You think I’m letting you handle this alone?” she shot back, crouching behind the car for cover. Her hand moved instinctively to her side, where her weapon was holstered.

Techno nodded once, realizing there was no stopping her now. “Fine. Stay low. If he moves, don’t hesitate.”

Friendship

Cringeeee

Stop being so negative

Guys popcorn's done

Pass it

Theseus pressed a finger to his earpiece, voice calm and precise. “Gunpowder,” he stated, the signal given. Almost immediately, men emerged from hidden positions, guns drawn, sending a barrage of bullets toward Techno and Niki.

“Split!” Techno shouted, diving behind a nearby concrete barrier, gun drawn as he fired back. Niki didn’t hesitate, darting in the opposite direction, finding cover behind a parked truck. Each of them returned fire, sharp and measured, trying to hold their ground as the assault intensified.

Red and blue lights flashed in the distance. The sirens blared louder, drawing closer.

“We’ve got backup,” Niki called out, her voice tight as she reloaded. But even with police on the way, the fight felt far from over.

Techno couldn't see where either Theseus or Niki had gone. The chaos around him made it impossible to focus on anything but the enemies in front of him. He ducked behind a concrete pillar for a moment, scanning the area, then grabbed a discarded piece of metal from the ground. Using it as a makeshift shield, he slammed it into the chest of an approaching man, knocking him to the ground with a grunt.

He didn’t wait to see if the guy was down. Ducking behind a nearby car, Techno took a moment to catch his breath and reload his weapon, scanning the street for any sign of his teammates.

That's when a voice shouted at him from behind.

"Go!" A policeman yelled, glancing at Techno’s badge before positioning himself to provide cover. The officer fired a few shots, forcing the enemy to scatter just long enough for Techno to make a break for it.

Without a second thought, Techno took off, pushing past the cop and darting around the corner, trying to track the paths of Theseus and Niki.

-

Theseus walked down the street, the sound of distant cries lingering in the air. Where was she?

His eyes scanned the surroundings before landing on a familiar car parked at the corner. He bent down quickly, unhooking a small bomb hidden beneath the chassis. A quick glance, a steady hand, and he tossed it inside.

Boom.

The explosion rocked the street, but the real danger was still ahead.

He stepped forward, eyes narrowing as a figure leaped from the shadows. It was Niki. She had been waiting for him.

Before he could react, she was on him—kicking him in the chest and knocking him back. Theseus grunted as he regained his balance, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon.

But Niki wasn’t giving him time to think. She came at him again, her moves sharp and fast. Theseus dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a punch to the face.

He needed to focus, find a way out of this. He wasn’t used to being cornered, but Niki was relentless.

Theseus gritted his teeth as Niki threw him off, his body slamming into the ground. He quickly scrambled to his feet, but before he could react, he felt something cold and sharp hit his side. Niki had thrown a small disc. The moment it landed, sparks flew, and a sharp electrical current shot through his metal arm, sending painful jolts up his body.

“Damn it!” Theseus growled, struggling against the electric shock. His arm locked up, the metal freezing from the charge. He gritted his teeth and yanked the disc off, the sparks fizzling out as he tossed it to the side. The burn marks on his arm sizzled with heat, but it didn’t stop him.

He turned and began to chase after her, his eyes narrowing in determination. Niki was fast, but he was faster. He could feel the adrenaline surge through him as he sprinted, weaving through alleyways, the sound of her footsteps echoing just ahead.

Niki's heart raced as she ran, her steps echoing in the narrow alley. Then, crack-a bullet whizzed past, grazing her shoulder. The sting of it made her stumble, but she didn't have time to stop.

She dove behind a nearby car, clutching her shoulder, trying to keep the pain from slowing her down.

She peeked out from behind the car just as a shadow loomed above her. Theseus had jumped onto the roof of the car, aiming his gun directly at her.

But before he could fire, a weight slammed into him, knocking him off balance. In a blur of movement, Techno had tackled him off the car, both of them hitting the pavement hard.

The gun flew from Theseus's hand, skidding across the road as Techno quickly pinned him down, his body pressing the assassin into the concrete.

Theseus snarled as he reached for a knife, the blade gleaming under the streetlights. He pressed forward, his body shifting with deadly precision as he tried to push Techno off him.

The knife flashed through the air, aiming straight for Techno's ribs. Techno reacted instinctively, rolling to the side just in time, but the blade sliced through his jacket, narrowly missing his skin. He kicked Theseus off, creating enough distance to get to his feet.

Theseus lunged at Techno with the knife, but Techno quickly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blade.

Techno kicked Theseus back, creating space between them. Theseus recovered quickly and charged again, his movements fluid and sharp. Techno blocked the strike with his forearm, the edge of the blade cutting into his skin. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain. In one smooth motion, Techno twisted Theseus's wrist, forcing the knife from his grasp.

Theseus stumbled back.

Techno's heart dropped as the mask slipped off Theseus's face.

The familiar golden hair was dirty and matted, streaked with blood. His eyes, once full of fire, were dull and empty, devoid of recognition.

AHHHH

GUYSSSS

GOLDENNN BOYYY

Wasn't He Dead?

He doesn't look dead?

E

Techno froze, the world around him suddenly still. "Tommy...?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Theseus—no, Tommy—turned fully to face him, the mask of indifference slipping into something darker. "Who the hell is Tommy?" he sneered, his voice cold and unfamiliar.

Techno’s chest tightened. His brother’s face was here, but it wasn’t the brother he knew. The words that came from his mouth felt foreign.

The weight of it hit Techno all at once—his brother, the boy he'd tried to save, the boy he'd lost—was standing right here, but he was someone else entirely.

Voices crammed his mind.

So uh grab the kid?

He has a gun.

So?

We could die!

Technoblade Never Dies

This may be awkward…

Guys!!!!

Technos having a mental breakdown

ANGST

Before Techno could react, Theseus raised the gun once more, aiming directly at him. Techno's breath hitched, but before he could even move, Niki lunged forward, grabbing him by the arm and forcefully pulling him out of the line of fire. They stumbled to the side, crashing into a nearby dumpster for cover as a shot rang out, missing them by mere inches.

Techno's heart raced as he tried to regain his bearings.

-

Techno sat there, numb, as Niki carefully wrapped his arm. The pain from the bullet graze was sharp, but it barely registered. His mind was consumed by what had just happened. Theseus... Tommy.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear everything apart. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Instead, anger simmered beneath the surface, a violent surge of emotion that he couldn't control. He didn’t know who he wanted to hurt, but the name echoed in his head—Dream. Dream had to be behind this.

Kill

Blood

Blood For The Blood God

Blood

Blood

Kill

Blood

Blood

Technoblade Never Dies

Blood

Make him wish to be dead

Find him

Kill him

You know who it is

Blood

"Techno, you're bleeding," Niki said softly, her hands steady despite the chaos they had just escaped.

"I’m fine," Techno muttered, though his words were hollow. He didn’t feel fine. He didn’t feel anything except the overwhelming urge to find the person responsible for all of this—someone who had taken his brother, twisted him, and turned him into a weapon.

He wanted blood.

He clenched his fists, fighting back the wave of emotion threatening to break him. Not now.

He couldn't fix this by sitting there, digging through files, hoping for a clean answer. That wasn't enough. Dream had left him no choice.

Life or death.

And he chose blood.

Chapter Text

Theseus couldn't do anything right. It was simple.

He slumped against the cold wall, fumbling with trembling hands for a cigarette. The lighter sparked, his fingers nearly dropping it as the flame caught. Smoke curled in shaky tendrils, and he exhaled with a shudder.

Why was he like this?

Incompetent.

Useless.

He bit down on the filter to stop the quiver in his lip. The voices in his head weren’t Dream's commands, not this time—they were his own, louder and more cutting than anything external.

He wanted to cry.

He’d talked to the mission. He wasn’t supposed to do that.

If they found out, they would wipe him.

His chest tightened at the thought, the cigarette trembling between his fingers.

It hurt to be wiped.

Like they took your mind and scrambled it before stabbing it open and rearranging the pieces, leaving you to function—barely. Just enough to follow orders, to obey. But never enough to remember who you were.

He longed to remember.

He didn’t want to go through it again.

But what if they already knew? What if Dream was watching?

Theseus pressed the heel of his hand to his eye, biting back a sob. He couldn’t think. Couldn't stop thinking. The cigarette burned down to the filter, unnoticed as his world spun around him.

The cigarette burned down to the filter, and Theseus didn't hesitate.

He pressed it into his palm, the ember searing his skin with a hiss.

The pain grounded him.

His breath hitched, and his chest ached, but he didn't cry out. He couldn't. Tears threatened to fall, but he swallowed them down, the sting sharp enough to drown out the storm raging his head-if only for a moment.

It wasn't enough.

He stared at the blackened mark in his skin, the acrid scent of burnt flesh curling in the air. His hand shook as he dropped the stub, letting it roll away on the floor.

Who was Tommy?

-

Skeppy was pacing the living room when Techno walked in, his usual relaxed demeanor replaced by something tense. The moment he saw Techno, his steps faltered, and he stopped, a worried look crossing his face.

“I saw on the news.” Skeppy’s voice was steady but filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Techno muttered, his voice low as he dropped his bag onto the couch.

Skeppy didn’t wait for more. “Talk to me, Tec.”

Angst bonding

What's happening?

Therapy!

Bro it's more of a vent

Techno’s shoulders slumped as he sank down on the couch, burying his face in his hands for a moment before speaking. “It’s Tommy. Theseus... he’s Tommy.”

Skeppy froze. “What? But… Tommy—you said he’s dead.”

“I thought so,” Techno whispered, his voice tight with frustration. “But he’s not. Theseus is Tommy. I don’t know how or why, but he’s alive, and Dream’s the one who made him like this.”

Skeppy opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. “How… How do you know?”

“I saw him,” Techno said, his voice hard. “His mask fell off. I know those eyes. They’re Tommy’s eyes.”

Skeppy’s mind was racing, trying to catch up with what Techno was saying. “But... Techno you have to be mistaken-”

“They’re different,” Techno cut him off. “Duller. Like there’s nothing left behind them. But I still know him. It’s him, Skeppy. His hair is the same. Somehow messier now. Still curly. Still has that thick English accent.”

Skeppy took a shaky breath. “Do Niki and Phil know?”

“Niki will figure it out. She’s smart. And if she does, she’ll tell Phil. Or Phil already knows.”

Niki Girl bosses

Simp

Skeppy stood there, struggling to process it. “This is… a lot, Tech. I don’t know what to say.”

“I don't either.”

-

Niki knew. The moment she got home from the mall that night, her mind was spinning with the questions Techno had left her with. She’d gone straight to the case files, her fingers flying through them, piecing together the fragments. Tommy. A fiery kid with golden hair and blue eyes. The same description Techno had given her.

The pieces had clicked into place quickly.

So, judging by Techno’s reaction earlier and Theseus's clear physical traits... one would guess.

Niki stepped into Phil’s office, a heavy weight on her chest. She didn’t want to be the one to bring it up, but it had to be said. Techno couldn’t handle this alone—not with everything he was already carrying.

“Phil?” Her voice was soft, cautious.

Phil glanced up from his papers, his expression unreadable. “Niki, what’s wrong?”

She hesitated. The words felt too heavy to say out loud. But Techno… he needed help. He was already spiraling, and she feared what might happen if they didn’t act fast.

She took a breath. “It’s Tommy. Theseus… it’s him. Techno’s brother. He’s alive.”

Phil froze, the sharp intake of breath the only reaction. His face shifted from calm to something unreadable, and Niki immediately regretted bringing it up, but it was too late now.

“We need to do something,” she continued, stepping closer. “Techno… he’s falling apart. Knowing him he’s convinced Theseus is still his Tommy, and if we don’t help him figure this out, he might do something… irrational.”

Phil was silent for a long moment, his gaze distant. He was processing, thinking, like he always did before taking action. Finally, he nodded, his voice low but firm. “We’ll help him. But we need to be careful. Techno’s already at a breaking point.”

Niki nodded, relieved that Phil was on board. She wasn’t sure how much more Techno could handle before he snapped, and the last thing she wanted was for him to lose himself entirely.

Chapter Text

Techno woke up to alarms. Loud, shrill alarms. Smoke stung his throat and blurred his vision. Fire. Where’s Tommy?

Panic surged as he bolted down the hall, coughing against the thick, acrid air. He was halfway to Tommy’s room when a firm grip yanked him back.

"Stupid kid—you got a death wish?" a man barked.

"No, my brother—he’s down that hall!" Techno shouted, twisting in the man’s hold.

"Kid, you gotta get out of here," the man snapped, his voice firm but not panicked. Techno squinted through the haze and realized something was off—he wasn’t dressed like a firefighter.

"Hey, Sap? Help him," the man called to someone out of sight.

"Gotcha, Dream," a second voice answered, calm and casual, as another figure appeared and grabbed Techno from behind.

"No! I need my brother!" Techno yelled, struggling against the grip pulling him backward. He fought like his life depended on it—because it did.

And so did Tommy’s.

Techno found himself on the lawn, the cool grass beneath him doing nothing to ground the chaos inside. He could only watch as the flames consumed everything—the house, the memories, and, most of all, the hope that Tommy might still be inside.

A sob tore from his throat, raw and uncontrollable. He couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the inferno.

And then, with a deafening crash, the roof gave way.

Techno’s knees buckled, his heart shattering alongside the crumbling house.

-

Techno jolted awake, his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon. His shirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat, and the echoes of the dream still lingered, vivid and suffocating.

He hadn’t dreamed of that night in years.

For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the fire, the yelling, and the sound of the roof collapsing. His hands gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles white as the memories threatened to pull him under again.

With a shaky exhale, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand through his tangled hair. The voices were quiet, almost respectful.

“Guess you’re all taking the night off,” he muttered, trying to steady himself.

Techno froze, his head snapping up.

The voices stirred, faint murmurs in the background, like whispers carried on the wind. But one stood out, louder, clearer.

You need to remember.

“Remember what?” Techno hissed, his voice sharp as he pressed the heels of his hands into his temples.

The man.

From the fire.

What was his name?

The memory flashed in his mind—dark smoke, suffocating heat, and that voice.

“Dream,” Techno whispered, the name like poison on his tongue.

"Why didn’t I remember that earlier?" Techno muttered, pacing the small space of his room. His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. "If that was Dream, then... he was there. That night."

The voices stirred again, rising and falling like a chaotic tide.

He let Tommy die.

He's not dead.

Why would he do that?

He faked it?

Or Tommy faked it.

Tommy wouldn't

Techno stopped, his breath shallow. Pieces of the puzzle began to shift, but the picture remained incomplete.

“If Dream was there,” he whispered, voice trembling with suppressed anger, “then he knows something. He has to.”

Or he did something

Hurt him.

What did he do to make him like that?

Chat is being so angstyyyy

Techno sucked in a breath, his chest tight as he forced himself to stay grounded.

-

George walked through the precinct, heading straight for Niki's desk. She was hunched over her computer, typing away, but looked up when she saw him approach.

"Got the copies you asked for," she said, handing over a manila folder filled with reports and photos.

George took the folder with a nod of thanks. He flipped it open immediately, scanning through the pages. "Any updates on Theseus?" he asked, still focused on the documents.

Niki leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. "Yeah, I've been digging into his movements. Looks like he’s been laying low for a bit, but he’s still tied to the newer shipments from Layne’s lab. We might have a lead on where he's heading next." She paused, letting George process the info.

George nodded, tapping the folder thoughtfully. "And is he…?"

Niki sighed, clearly exhausted. "Yes. He is Tommy."

George set the folder down on the desk. "Alright. We’ll need to move quickly. Thanks for the copies, Niki. Let’s keep pushing." He gave her a quick nod before turning to leave the room.

As George walked out of the precinct, a small smile tugged at his lips. His fingers tapped quickly on his phone as he sent the message.

George: Got them. They know a lot. They know that Theseus is Tommy.

He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, glancing at the glowing screen. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket, before heading out.

-

Phil looked up when Techno appeared in the doorway, his eyes tired and searching.

“Phil?” Techno’s voice was small, something that didn’t happen often. “Do you… know?”

Phil didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, mate. I know.”

A knot tightened in Techno’s chest. “Do you think Dream… did this? To Tommy? To Theseus?”

Phil’s expression was grim, his gaze distant. “Yeah, I think Dream did this.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “But I don’t know why it was Tommy.... I don’t get it.”

Techno felt a cold chill run through him. "Tommy... He’s not just some tool Dream uses. He’s my brother, Phil." His voice trembled with frustration. "Why Tommy?"

Phil shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe Dream saw something in him—someone he could manipulate. Maybe it’s personal. But whatever the reason, Dream’s always had a way of breaking people, and Tommy was no exception."

Techno’s fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not just going to let this go. I can’t. He’s my brother.”

Phil gave him a long look, his eyes full of understanding. “I know, mate. We’ll figure this out. We’ll get him back.”

But the uncertainty lingered in the air, heavier than ever.

Phil stood and pulled Techno into a tight hug. Techno froze at first, not used to the contact, but slowly relaxed into it. The weight of everything pressing down on him felt a little lighter in that moment.

“You’re not alone in this,” Phil murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here, and I’ll help you get Tommy back.”

Techno nodded stiffly, swallowing the lump in his throat. He wanted to believe it, wanted to believe that it could all be fixed, but part of him knew that things were never that simple.

“I just don’t know what to do anymore, Phil,” Techno admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Phil pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “We start by sticking together. We find out what Dream did to him, and we take it from there. One step at a time.”

Techno gave a shaky breath, nodding again. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

Chapter Text

Hey reader!!!

4th wall breaking is banned.

But it's the start of the chapter!!

We gonna talk about the traitor issue???

No.

No.

No.

No.

We need plot.

Wait, we are starting the chap!?!?!?

Gang be quiet. I want Orphan duo.

Bro tf

Who is that duo???

Have you not read dsmp twt In 2022???

No???

Amateur.

Techno wasn't even registering the voices—or Chat's rambling. Half of what they said was nonsense anyway. Instead, his focus was glued to the reports spread across his desk.

He tapped a pen against the edge of a folder, scanning the pages for something—anything—that might lead him to an answer. Every clue felt like another dead end, every theory another wall.

Meanwhile, in the back of his mind, he was also waiting. Waiting for Skeppy to get back from his big exam. That guy had been stressing for weeks, and Techno figured he could use the distraction of someone else's chaos for a while.

"Techno!!!" Skeppy burst through the door, practically vibrating with excitement. "I got a 92!!!"

Techno looked up from his reports, raising an eyebrow. "What, out of 100?"

"No, out of 10." Skeppy rolled his eyes. "Yes, out of 100!"

"Congrats," Techno said, leaning back in his chair. "Guess all that stressing paid off."

"Paid off? Techno, I dominated. I crushed it. That test didn’t stand a chance." Skeppy dropped his bag dramatically on the floor. "Now, what are we celebrating with? Pizza? Burgers? World domination?"

Techno smirked. "How about I let you help me file these reports? Celebration through productivity."

"That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard," Skeppy deadpanned. "But seriously, food. I’m starving."

Bigbacks

Shut up.

Be nice :/

Okay Steve o7

o7

"Where do you want to eat?" Techno asked, already bracing for whatever chaotic suggestion Skeppy would throw out.

"Oh!!! Techno…" Skeppy’s grin stretched ear to ear. "Let’s go to McDonald's and get like 20 boxes of chicken McNuggets."

Techno stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. "Huh. Pretty much exactly what I should’ve expected from you."

"Don’t act like you won’t eat half of them," Skeppy shot back, crossing his arms.

"Kinda dorky, but alright." Techno grabbed his coat. "Let’s go clog our arteries."

-

They got their food and found a booth near the window. Skeppy practically bounced into his seat, setting down the three boxes of chicken nuggets he’d ordered. Techno followed, far more subdued, unwrapping his burger and shaking his head at Skeppy’s enthusiasm.

“So,” Techno started, biting into his burger. “What’s the plan after this? Nap or more studying?”

Skeppy grinned, popping a nugget into his mouth. “Neither. We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating?” Techno raised a brow.

“Yeah! A 92 on the exam? That’s, like, my crowning achievement!”

Techno smirked. “You’re not aiming for valedictorian, huh?”

Skeppy snorted. “Please, I’d die of boredom. But hey, 92 is respectable. I deserve this.” He gestured dramatically at the mountain of nuggets.

“You’re really proud of yourself, aren’t you?” Techno said as a smile crept onto his lips.

“Damn right, I am.” Skeppy leaned back, tossing a nugget into his mouth. “What about you? Ever celebrate your achievements or do you just brood 24/7?”

“Brooding works for me,” Techno deadpanned, taking another bite of his burger.

“Of course it does.” Skeppy rolled his eyes. “But one day, I’m dragging you to a real party.”

Techno shook his head. “I’ll bring a book. Like I did all the other times.”

“You’re hopeless then and now,” Skeppy laughed, shaking his head as he reached for another nugget.

-

After they got back from McDonald's, Techno and Skeppy dropped their bags and sat on the couch, the remnants of their meal scattered across the table. Skeppy slouched, resting his head against the back of the couch, while Techno stared at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts.

“You alright, man?” Skeppy asked, sensing the silence hanging between them.

Techno didn’t answer right away, his mind still preoccupied. “Yeah. Just... a lot on my plate right now.”

Skeppy hummed, looking over at him. “Wanna talk about it?”

Techno glanced over at Skeppy, hesitating. He shook his head. “Not really. Too much... I don’t know, it’s like I’m stuck in a loop. My brother died, and now he’s... somehow alive? And now he's working as an assassin for a mafia organization. I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”

Skeppy nodded, his usual grin replaced by a more serious expression. “I get it. That’s a lot to process. But you don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Techno rubbed his face with his hands, exhaustion creeping in. "I don’t even know where to start. Or how to... deal with it. Everything’s so messed up, Skeppy."

Skeppy shifted on the couch, his feet tapping nervously. “I’m here for you, dude. You don’t have to figure it out all at once.”

Techno just nodded, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. But before he could respond, he noticed Skeppy, who was absentmindedly playing with a candle on the table.

“Skeppy, don’t—” Techno started, but it was too late. The candle had tipped, and the flame quickly caught the edge of Skeppy’s sleeve.

“Crap!” Skeppy yelped, jumping up and trying to shake it off, but the flame was still flickering dangerously close to his arm.

Oh my goddddd

Steveeeee

Skeppys on fireeee

Not in a good way

Is he gonna die???

No he's like a main character

People kill main characters

Not Skeppy

He's a diamond :)

Without thinking, Techno lunged forward, quickly smothering the flame with his hand and yanking Skeppy away from the table.

“Dude, are you insane?” Techno snapped, his heart racing. “What the hell were you doing?”

Skeppy looked down at his arm, then back at Techno. “I—uh—didn’t think it would catch that quick...” he stammered, pulling his sleeve away from the singed fabric. “It’s not that bad, though. Just a little burn.”

Techno wasn’t convinced. His hands were shaking as he dragged Skeppy to the sink, turning on the cold water and holding his arm under it. “You could’ve seriously hurt yourself,” he muttered, trying to calm down, but his nerves were still frayed. “Damn it, Skeppy...”

Chapter Text

Technoblade adjusted the loosely tied bun that barely held his hair together, wincing as a strand fell into his face. Niki walked beside him, cradling her phone between her ear and shoulder as she spoke to Phil. Her voice was soft but tense, the weight of the morning settling over them like a storm cloud.

He hadn’t had time to fix himself up properly. The moment he’d gotten the call about Theseus, he’d bolted out of his apartment, skipping breakfast, coffee, and any semblance of presentability. He was only half certain his socks matched.

I think one sock may be Skeppys

How did he mess that up???

Dumbnoblade

Guyssss

"Yeah, Phil," Niki was saying, her voice tight with stress. "We’re heading to the scene now. It’s bad. Twelve men—dead. All for drugs."

Techno grunted, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. Twelve bodies. The number echoed in his head like a drumbeat, relentless and accusing. He wasn’t sure whether it was directed at Tommy or himself.

He glanced at Niki, who was still murmuring into the phone. Her face was pale, her usual calm demeanor fraying at the edges. She’d been dropped off at the precinct by a friend and hadn’t had a ride to the crime scene. He’d offered, not that he’d had a choice. No one else was as familiar with Theseus as their team.

“Why drugs?” he muttered, more to himself than her.

Niki’s conversation paused. She covered the phone with her hand and looked up at him. “What?”

“Why drugs?” he repeated, voice flat. “Chaos doesn't even focus on making drugs.”

Her eyes darkened, uncertainty swirling behind them. “We’ll figure it out. But we need to get there first.” She gestured to the parking lot. “You’re driving.”

Techno sighed, pulling out his keys.

-

The warehouse was a graveyard.

Twelve bodies lay scattered among shattered crates and overturned tables. The flicker of police lights outside painted the scene in flashes of red and blue. Techno stood by the entrance, watching as Niki moved from one victim to the next, her face a mask of grim concentration.

“They were all young,” she said, standing over one of the bodies. “Late teens, maybe early twenties.”

Techno looked around, his stomach churning. “They got names?”

Niki shook her head. “Not yet. No IDs on any of them. We’ll have to run prints. Might take a while if they’re not in the system.”

He crouched near a crate, his fingers brushing the edge of a shattered vial. A dark, sticky residue clung to the shards, its chemical tang sharp in the air. He didn’t need to touch it to know it was the same compound that had put him in the hospital.

“This is deliberate,” he muttered. “Someone wanted this to happen.”

Niki glanced over. “You think these guys were the target?”

Techno gestured to the wreckage. “No way this is random. Look around—nothing’s left. Whoever hit this place cleaned it out.”

Niki nodded toward one of the bodies, a young man with shaggy blond hair. “This one has a tattoo—left wrist. Could be gang-related.”

Techno squinted. The tattoo was crude, a jagged emblem that might’ve been a snake. Or a flame. “Check the others,” he said. “See if any of them match.”

She moved to the next body, a lanky kid with a torn jacket. “Same tattoo,” she confirmed.

“Great,” Techno said under his breath. “Looks like we’ve got a group.”

Another officer approached, holding a clipboard. “Prelim report says they were handling some kind of chemical. Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

Niki stood and sighed, brushing her gloves together. “They weren’t making drugs,” she said. “These are ingredients.”

Techno raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning someone took the raw materials and left these guys with nothing.” She glanced back at the bodies. “It’s like they were disposable.”

“Names,” Techno pressed again. “We need names.”

The officer shrugged. “The tags on their clothes aren’t consistent. Some of it’s thrift store stuff, some of it looks stolen. We’ll start with the tattoos.”

Techno frowned, glancing at the lifeless faces. They all looked so... ordinary. Shaggy Blond, Torn Jacket, the kid with the busted sneakers. Kids who probably thought they were just making a quick buck and ended up here.

“Any sign of Theseus?” Niki asked, her voice quiet.

“No,” Techno said, though his gut churned. He stared at the mess of shattered glass, charred wood, and spilled chemicals. If his brother—or whatever Theseus was now—had been here, he wasn’t leaving a trace.

A single gunshot shattered the tense silence.

The sharp crack echoed through the warehouse, and Techno barely registered the bullet whizzing past his head, close enough to ruffle his hair. He froze, eyes wide, then instinctively dropped to the floor.

“Get down!” he barked.

Niki was already moving, diving behind an overturned crate as other officers scrambled for cover.

“Sniper!” someone yelled from outside.

Techno’s heart pounded as he pressed himself against the cold concrete, scanning the shadows. “Niki, you okay?”

“I’m fine!” she called back, her voice steady but tense. “You?”

“Peachy,” he muttered, peeking up just enough to see the shattered window across the room. The trajectory was clear—the shot had come from the building opposite.

Another shot rang out, splintering the crate beside him. He swore under his breath, ducking lower.

“This isn’t random,” Niki said, her voice sharp. “Someone’s targeting us.”

“No kidding,” Techno snapped, adrenaline surging. “Radio outside, tell them to lock down the perimeter. We’re sitting ducks in here.”

Niki fumbled for her radio, barking orders to the team outside. Techno’s mind raced. Whoever this was, they’d waited for the right moment, taking a calculated shot. A warning—or a kill shot that just barely missed.

Another officer crawled over to them, his face pale. “We’ve got movement on the roof across the street,” he said. “They’re trying to pin us down.”

Techno gritted his teeth. “Do we have a sniper of our own?”

“They’re calling one in now, but it’ll take time.”

“Great,” Techno muttered. He risked another glance at the shattered window. The angle was perfect—this wasn’t some amateur.

“Stay down, Techno,” Niki warned.

He ignored her, his focus narrowing. Whoever had taken the shot wasn’t here to clean up loose ends—
-

Theseus let out a frustrated sigh as he reloaded the rifle, the faint metallic clink echoing around him.

This was a mess.

Dream's orders had been clear: hurt him, but don't kill him. Most people would aim for a limb-an arm, a leg, something non-lethal but painful.

But Theseus wasn't most people. He was precise, calculating. He knew the human body too well for amateur shots.

He lined up his sights again, steadying his breathing. The warehouse's chaos played out below him-officers scrambling for cover, Techno's sharp commands cutting through the tension.

Philza wasn't here.

Breathe in. Hold. Exhale

His finger hovered over the trigger. The liver, he decided. High blood supply, relatively quick healing, excruciating pain. If they got him to a hospital in time, he'd survive.

Theseus pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, louder than anything else in the world for that split second.

He watched through the scope as Technoblade flinched, his body jerking as the bullet struck true.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. His hands shook as he pulled back from the rifle. He hadn't wanted to take the shot, but what choice did he have?

Dream wanted Technoblade dead eventually-but not without a spectacle. A show of power, a warning to those who thought they could stand against him.

Theseus swallowed hard, disassembling the rifle with practiced efficiency.

He hated this.

Hated what he'd become.

But there was no room for doubt, no room for hesitation. Not anymore. He glanced back once before slipping into the shadows.

-

Boom.

The sound was deafening, but what came after was worse. Techno blinked, trying to make sense of the chaos. His vision blurred, edges swimming in and out like a bad dream. Something felt... off.

Then it hit.

Pain. Sharp, burning pain exploded just below his ribs. His knees buckled as his hand instinctively shot to his side. Warmth spread under his fingers, sticky and unrelenting. Blood.

What the hell just happened?

The world tilted as he stumbled against a stack of crates, his breaths coming shallow and ragged. The pain radiated, a relentless fire that made everything else seem distant, muted.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

"Techno!" Niki's voice broke through the haze, panic-stricken. She was already rushing to him, her hands hovering near the wound, unsure where to start.

He tried to respond, to say something—anything—but the words caught in his throat, replaced by a guttural groan.

The buzzing in his ears grew louder, drowning out the frantic shouts and the sound of boots hitting concrete. Someone was shouting for backup, for an ambulance.

Techno’s grip on reality wavered. The voices—chat—were screaming, overlapping in his head.

Get up.

Get up!

Don’t die here.

Blood. So much blood.

Blood

Technoblade Never Dies

Why aren't we getting up?

He can't.

Get up!

But all he could do was sink to the floor, the weight of his body pulling him down.

-

Niki was stressing as she dragged Techno back behind a stack of crates, her heart pounding in her chest. The shot had been precise-too precise. Whoever fired it knew exactly where to aim.

Techno was shot.

Her hands trembled as she worked to undo his coat, the thick fabric soaked with blood. She tore it open and froze for a moment at the sight of the wound

It was clean, the entry point small but deadly, right below his ribs. The sniper knew what they were doing.

Shit," she hissed, her voice shaky.

Techno groaned weakly, his head tilting toward her. "Niki," he mumbled, his voice slurred and faint.

"Don't you dare," she snapped, ripping his shirt open to expose the wound. "Don't you dare do this to me.”

Her hands pressed hard against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. Blood seeped through her fingers, warm and sticky, as Techno's breathing grew shallow.

"Stay with me, Techno," she said, glancing frantically over her shoulder. The crates offered some cover, but she didn't know if the sniper was still out there, lining up another shot.

Techno's eyes fluttered open briefly, unfocused and glassy. "Hurts," he muttered

"I know," Niki said, her voice breaking. "Just-just hold on. Help's coming.”

Where was everyone else!?

“Help's coming." The sound sirens was faint, almost drowned out by her own ragged breaths.

She tried to focus, but her mind was spinning.

She leaned closer, her hands shaking as she kept pressure on the wound. "You're not dying on me, you hear? You're too stubborn for that."

“Ma’am, move aside,” a paramedic instructed sharply, breaking through Niki’s panic.

She blinked, her hands hovering uselessly above Techno’s bleeding torso. Slowly, she backed away, her knees giving out as she stumbled against the wall.

Her heart pounded as she watched them work, their movements quick and deliberate, but it was all a blur to her. Blood—there was so much blood.

“Techno…” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“Niki!”

She looked up sharply to see Phil rushing toward her, his face pale and his expression filled with alarm.

“What happened? I wasn’t here—what the hell happened?” he demanded, kneeling beside her.

Niki shook her head, barely able to form the words. “He was shot, Phil. A sniper. I—I didn’t see anything. One second, it was normal, and then—” She gestured weakly toward Techno, tears spilling down her cheeks. “There was blood. So much blood.”

Phil’s face hardened, and he turned his attention toward the paramedics, who were already lifting Techno onto a stretcher.

“Is he… is he going to make it?” Niki stammered, her voice barely audible.

“They’ll do everything they can,” Phil said tightly, though his eyes didn’t leave Techno.

“I didn’t—I didn’t even see it coming,” Niki whispered. “Phil, I didn’t even know someone was there.”

Phil reached out, his hand briefly squeezing her shoulder. “You did what you could, Niki. You stayed with him. That’s what matters.”

Niki nodded weakly, but the weight in her chest didn’t ease. She watched helplessly as the paramedics loaded Techno into the ambulance.

Phil stood abruptly, his jaw set. “I’m going with him.”

Without waiting for a response, he climbed into the ambulance, leaving Niki kneeling on the warehouse floor, blood staining her hands and tears streaming down her face.

"Hey, Niki? Come here—do you need a ride home?" George asked, his voice gentle as he approached her.

Niki glanced up, her eyes still red from tears and stress. "Oh... yeah, probably." She ran a hand through her hair, trying to ground herself.

"Alright, let me grab my keys," George said, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "You’ve been through enough for today."

Niki nodded, swallowing hard. She cast one last glance at the ambulance as it disappeared down the street. "Thanks, George."

"Anytime," he replied, leading her toward his car. "You okay, though? Like... really okay?"

She hesitated. "No. But... I'll get there."

George handed her a small towel from his car, his expression soft but concerned. "Here, for the blood."

Niki stared at it for a second before taking it with trembling hands. "Thanks," she mumbled, wiping her palms and trying not to notice how much red smeared across the fabric.

"You don’t have to talk about it," George said gently as he started the car. "But if you need to..."

"I just..." Niki shook her head, staring out the window. "It’s not just the blood. It’s everything. I don’t even know if he’s going to be okay."

George kept his eyes on the road but spared her a glance. "Techno’s tough. He’ll pull through."

Niki didn’t respond, clutching the towel in her lap.

Niki climbed into the passenger seat of George’s car, still gripping the blood-stained towel. Her mind was spinning, barely registering the click of her seatbelt or the hum of the engine as they started driving.

For a while, it was quiet, the streets blurring outside the window as Niki stared blankly. But as George turned onto an unfamiliar road, her brows furrowed.

"Uh, George?" she asked, glancing at him. "Where are we going? This isn’t the way to my apartment."

George’s hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel, his face calm but unreadable. "We’ve got a detour," he said simply, his tone steady.

Niki straightened in her seat, alarm creeping into her voice. "A detour? Why? What’s going on?"

George glanced at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "There’s someone we need to talk to. About what happened tonight."

Her heart sank. "George, what are you talking about? Who? And why can’t it wait until tomorrow?"

"It’s important," George replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You trust me, don’t you?"

Niki hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the towel. Did she trust him? She wanted to. George had always been calm, dependable—but tonight, everything felt off.

She didn’t answer, and the tension in the car grew heavier.

“You trust me, don’t you?” George asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge.

Niki hesitated, staring at him. "Don’t I?" she echoed softly, her voice filled with uncertainty.

George’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his jaw setting. “You do,” he said firmly, glancing at her for a split second before returning his eyes to the road. “You wouldn’t have gotten in the car if you didn’t.”

Niki didn’t respond immediately, her mind whirling. The familiar streets had faded into darker, quieter roads. “I just don’t understand, George. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

He exhaled sharply, not answering right away. “You’ll see when we get there,” was all he said, leaving Niki to clutch the towel tighter.

Niki stared out the window, the darkened streets unfamiliar and eerily quiet. Her grip on the blood-stained towel tightened as realization settled in.

"This wasn’t through the precinct, was it?" she asked, her voice cutting through the tense silence.

George’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel, a slight tic betraying his calm demeanor. "What makes you say that?"

"This isn’t on file," she continued, her voice growing firmer. She turned to him, eyes narrowing. "You’re not taking me home, and this isn’t official business."

George sighed, his jaw clenching. "Niki, trust me, alright? This is... off the books, but it’s important."

Her heart pounded, suspicion clawing at her. "Important enough to drag me into it? Without telling me anything?"

He glanced at her, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "You’ll understand when we get there."

Niki pressed herself back into the seat, her mind racing. This wasn’t normal. And the worst part? She wasn’t sure she could trust George anymore.

-

The car rolled to a stop in front of a dimly lit warehouse. The surroundings were deserted, nothing but shadows stretching across cracked pavement. The hum of the engine faded as the doors of the car clicked shut behind them.

Niki felt a knot tighten in her stomach. "Where the hell are we?"

George didn’t answer immediately, his gaze scanning the building in front of them. "Stay close," he said, his tone a little too serious. "We’re just making sure everything is in order."

Niki hesitated but got out of the car, clutching the towel tighter as she followed him toward the warehouse's entrance. The place looked abandoned, dark windows staring back at her like empty eyes.

"George, this isn’t right," she muttered, her instincts screaming. "What’s going on?"

"You’ll see," he said, his voice low as he led her toward the back.

The sound of their footsteps echoed in the silence. Niki wanted to question him more, but her gut told her it wouldn’t do any good.

The moment they entered the warehouse, Niki was struck by the noise — the movement, the clanking of metal, the hum of machinery, and the low murmur of voices. People were everywhere, working quickly and efficiently. Boxes were stacked high, with workers sorting and moving them as though the place was an organized chaos. A few cars were parked around, their hoods popped open with people tinkering under them.

The air was thick with a strange tension, a palpable feeling that something wasn't right. Niki took a few cautious steps forward, her eyes darting between the bustling workers. And then she saw it.

A huge symbol, painted on the wall in bold, red letters. The unmistakable smile. The grin. The symbol of Chaos.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. She’d seen this symbol before. The kind that sent chills crawling up her spine. It was Dream’s mark. Dream. Chaos. Everything that had been pulling the strings behind the scenes. The group, the chaos, the people they hurt. This was it.

She froze.

"George... what is this?" Her voice came out in a tight whisper.

George didn’t answer immediately. His face remained unreadable, his steps slowing just enough for Niki to catch up. He kept his gaze forward, walking deeper into the heart of the operation.

"This is where it all comes together," he said, his voice now quiet, almost absent. "Where you’ll understand why you’re here."

Niki’s breath hitched as realization hit her. George had brought her here. To Dream. To Chaos. She had no idea what she was walking into, but now she knew for sure that she wasn’t leaving this place the same.

"Why did you bring me here?" Her voice trembled with a mix of disbelief and growing dread.

"To make sure you're on the right side of things."

Chapter Text

Niki’s brow furrowed as she followed George into the more secluded room, the weight of his words pressing on her. She wasn’t sure she had fully processed everything yet, but one thing was crystal clear—this was not the direction she was willing to go.

“Chaos?” she asked, her voice steady but laced with disbelief. “You’re telling me you’re working with Chaos, and you think this—” she gestured to the room around them, “—this is going to fix anything?”

George turned to face her, a calm yet persuasive smile on his face. “Niki... the government is corrupt. I’m sure you know that, given your work with them. Chaos has already infiltrated it. We’ve been working from the inside, making sure things go the way they need to. With the super serums, we can fully take over, and that’s how we’ll make real change. Don’t you want to be on the right side of that coin?”

Niki felt a sharp pang in her chest. She stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was asking, but the answer came easily—No. She wasn’t naive. She’d seen the corruption, the lies, the manipulation. But she knew better than to think Chaos was the answer.

Her response was firm and resolute. “I don’t want any part of this, George. Taking over isn’t the answer. You can’t just replace one corrupt system with another, no matter how ‘good’ your intentions are. Chaos isn’t the change I’m fighting for.”

George’s expression faltered slightly, but he didn’t back down. “You’re smarter than this, Niki. You’ve seen it. You’ve felt the frustration. The change we’re offering is real. It’s the only way forward.”

“I’m not interested in creating more chaos just to tear everything apart,” she shot back. “You’re not making the world better, George. You’re making it worse. You’ve lost your way.”

For a moment, there was silence between them. George’s gaze hardened, disappointment flickering across his face. “So you’re going to turn your back on this?” he asked quietly. “On real change?”

Niki held his gaze, her voice unwavering. “I’m not turning my back. I’m standing up for what’s right. And you’re not going to drag me into this.”

She turned, her mind already made up, and started walking away. The last thing she needed was to be caught up in this twisted idea of ‘change.’ George didn’t call after her, but she could feel his eyes on her back, the weight of his unspoken words heavy in the air.

Niki knew she had made the right choice.

"Niki... I wished you'd picked differently," George muttered under his breath, his tone a mix of frustration and disappointment.

Before she could react, George lunged at her, his fist connecting with her jaw with a sickening thud. The force of the punch sent her reeling, and she stumbled back, barely able catch herself. Her vision blurred, but the pain was sharp-too sharp to ignore.

She tried to shake off the disorientation, but George didn't give her the chance. He grabbed her arm roughly, his grip like a vice, and yanked her toward the wall.

"Stop," she gasped, struggling against his hold, but her strength was waning, the punch disorienting her more than she cared to admit.

"You should've listened," George growled, dragging her closer to the wall, his fingers digging into her skin.

Her head spun, and the darkness began to creep in from the edges of her vision. She could feel her body weakening, but she refused to give in she wasn't going down without a fight. She tried to break free, but her limbs felt like lead. The last thing she heard was George's cold, quiet voice before everything went black.

-

Phil was fucking stressed. Two of his agents—no, his friends—two people he saw as family, were hurt. Or worse.

He didn’t even know what had happened to Niki. She was missing, and it gnawed at his gut like a vice. He shouldn’t have left her.

And then there was Techno. Shot yesterday, stabilized today. Sure, the doctors said he’d be fine, but that didn’t make the image of his bloodied body any less vivid in Phil’s mind.

Phil sat in his office, hands gripping the edge of his desk, knuckles white. The reports were useless. The team was scrambling for answers, but none of it mattered if Niki wasn’t found soon. If Techno hadn’t been able to recover.

He hadn’t seen George since yesterday either.

-

“George told me everything went well,” Dream said with a pleased smile, his tone laced with smugness. He reached out, ruffling Theseus’s hair in a rare gesture of approval.

Theseus nodded silently, his face carefully neutral. Inside, though, his thoughts were tangled. "Everything went well" was a broad way to phrase it—especially considering how things had played out.

Dream’s grin widened as he leaned against the desk, arms crossed. “You’ve done good work, Theseus. Better than I expected. I think you’re finally starting to understand the bigger picture.”

Theseus looked down, avoiding Dream’s gaze. He didn’t respond, letting the silence speak for him. It wasn’t his place to argue, not when he had to keep playing along.

Dream’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile didn’t falter. “Good. Because soon, we’ll need you for something bigger. And I’ll expect the same level of success—if not better.”

“Understood,” Theseus said quietly, his voice steady despite the weight of Dream’s words.

“Theseus, honey, look at me,” Dream stated, his voice sickly sweet, laced with condescension.

Theseus hesitated, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to meet Dream’s gaze. The older man’s smile was uncomfortably calm, like a predator sizing up its prey.

“There we go,” Dream purred, leaning in slightly. “You’ve done so well, you know that? But I need to make sure you’re fully with me on this. No doubts. No hesitation. Are we clear?”

Theseus nodded stiffly. “Clear.”

Dream’s smile widened, but his eyes betrayed no warmth. “Good boy. Now, remember—every move you make reflects on me. Don’t disappoint me, Theseus.”

Theseus swallowed hard, keeping his expression neutral. “I won’t.”

“Perfect.” Dream straightened, giving him one last lingering pat on the shoulder. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

As Dream walked away, the tension in Theseus’s shoulders didn’t ease. If anything, it tightened.

-

Phil sighed as he looked at the missed call on his phone. Where was Niki?

He made his way back to the hospital, pushing through the growing frustration in his chest. Techno deserved to have someone here when he woke up this time. Phil had missed it before—he wouldn’t let it happen again.

Opening the door, he spotted Skeppy slouched in a chair by Techno’s bed, phone in hand and plugged into a charger.

“Oh, hey,” Skeppy said without looking up.

“Hi, Skeppy,” Phil replied with a faint smile as he walked in. “He wake up at all?”

“Nah,” Skeppy muttered. “He needs to hurry it the hell up, though.”

Phil gave a soft chuckle as he pulled a chair up on the other side of the bed. “Classic Techno. Always keeping everyone waiting.”

Skeppy snorted. “Yeah, well, he’s being extra dramatic this time.”

Phil’s eyes lingered on Techno’s still form, the steady beeping of the monitor filling the quiet room. At least he was still here.

“He won’t stay in the hospital,” Skeppy said, glancing at Techno with a mix of frustration and concern. “The second he wakes up, he’s gonna dive right back into work. Especially now that Niki’s off the grid.”

Phil sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, that sounds about right. He never knows when to stop.”

"Why did she... why would Niki, you know..." Skeppy trailed off, his fingers tapping nervously against the armrest. "What if someone took her or something? She wouldn't just leave."

Phil frowned, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "I don’t know, mate. It doesn’t feel right. Niki wouldn’t vanish without a damn good reason, and if someone did take her..." He paused, the weight of the thought heavy in the air. "We’ll find her. One way or another."

Skeppy nodded slowly, but the worry didn’t leave his face. "Yeah, but what if it's already too late?"

"It's not," Phil said firmly. "She's strong. She's been through worse, and we’ll figure this out."

Skeppy looked up, still uneasy. "You really think she’s okay?"

Phil nodded, though his expression was tight. "I have to. Besides, we don’t know where another agent is either. He didn’t work directly with the team most of the time, so you probably wouldn’t know him. But I’m hoping he’s with her."

Skeppy raised an eyebrow. "You’re putting a lot of faith in someone who’s not even here."

Phil gave him a pointed look. "When someone disappears, you hold onto what you can. If he’s with her, then there’s still a chance they’ll find their way back."

-

So, what's next?" George questioned, watching as Dream adjusted his mask with practiced ease.

"Well," Dream began casually, "she said no, so we'll get the info we need, rough her up a bit, and drop her somewhere. Or kill her. Depends how I'm feeling."

George frowned slightly. "And Techno?"

Dream's tone sharpened. "Techno will wake up tomorrow. Then he'll find the note."

“You planned this well,” George remarked, handing Dream a small vial filled with a faintly glowing liquid.

Dream held it up, examining the contents with a satisfied hum.

“Here’s a finished one,” George continued. “Punz got it. Though, he’s been... guilty lately. He’s making Purpled help downstairs with the labs.”

Dream chuckled, lowering the vial and slipping it into a hidden pocket. “Guilt doesn’t get in the way of progress. Punz knows that. And Purpled? He’ll do as he’s told. Everyone has their role to play.”

George raised an eyebrow. “Even Theseus?”

Dream’s smirk widened. “Especially Theseus.”

“Well, Punz said he thinks Theseus shouldn’t talk to Purpled anymore,” George continued, a small chuckle in his voice. “He’s really leaning into that whole ‘I’m your brother and guardian’ thing.”

Dream raised an eyebrow, his hands adjusting his mask. “Punz? Playing the big brother? That’s new.”

“Yeah,” George said, a little amused. “He’s been acting like it’s his job to protect Purpled from everything lately. He doesn’t even want him working in the labs anymore.”

Dream’s expression shifted, his gaze hardening. “He’s worried about the labs?”

“Yeah, thinks it’s too dangerous for him. Too much risk, too many people getting hurt,” George explained. “Punz says Purpled’s been getting too involved, and he’s not just his brother anymore, he’s his guardian. So he’s pulling the strings now.”

“Sounds like Punz is trying to play the hero,” Dream mused, his voice tinged with mockery. “But he’s forgetting who calls the shots around here. If Punz is starting to get soft, that’s on him. I don’t care what he thinks about the labs or Purpled’s involvement. Purpled’s useful, and that’s all that matters to me.”

George shrugged. “I don’t know. Punz isn’t wrong to be concerned. Purpled’s been through enough, and if he starts acting up—”

“Don’t worry about Punz,” Dream interrupted, his voice cold. “He’ll learn what happens when you try to protect someone from the truth. Purpled’s already deep in this. There’s no going back. Let him do his work.”

George nodded, but there was an edge of uncertainty in his eyes. "I heard the feds talked to Puffy. You okay?" George asked, glancing at Dream.

"Puffy... She told them a lot," Dream replied, his voice tight. "More than she did last time."

George frowned, his concern deepening. "Do you know where she is? We can go, you know. Find her, talk to her."

Dream shook his head, the frustration clear in his eyes. "No. No, she makes sure I can't find her." He muttered under his breath, pacing slightly. "She knows how to disappear when she wants to. When she’s done playing her little game, she’ll come back—until then, I’m just waiting."

"How’s Thes?" George asked, his voice laced with curiosity. "He still acting good?"

Dream’s expression darkened for a moment before he answered, “He had to be wiped recently.”

George raised an eyebrow, his concern deepening. “Wiped? You mean...”

“Yeah,” Dream cut him off with a short, sharp nod. “Had to reset him. He was getting too erratic. Losing focus. It was easier this way.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He was starting to slip, and I can’t have that right now.”

George watched him carefully, processing the information. “So, he’s back to normal now?”

“For now,” Dream muttered, his tone cold. “But I’m keeping a close eye on him. If he slips again... I’ll deal with it.”
Dream smiled darkly, his hands resting calmly on the desk in front of him. "Techno has voices now. Funny, really, that it’s my serum that did it." His smile twisted, eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something colder. "All those little whispers in his head, making him doubt everything he’s ever believed in. It's like watching a masterpiece unfold."

George tilted his head, curious. "Why do you care so much about him? Techno?"

Dream's eyes glinted behind his mask as he turned to face George. "Because he's my only equal," he stated plainly, before a cruel smirk tugged at his lips. "And my favorite toy is his weakness.”

Chapter Text

Niki blinked against the harsh light, her head pounding in dull, rhythmic waves. She groaned softly. Shit. Her wrists were bound—zip ties, she realized when she tried to twist them. Fucking hell.

Forcing her eyes open, she started cataloging everything around her. The room was dimly lit, a single flickering bulb above casting uneven shadows. It looked old, worn down, but not ancient. Dust and grime layered the walls, and the faint smell of musk and dirt hung in the air. She glanced down—metal chair. The cold bite of it pressed through her clothes.

She shifted, testing the restraints. The ties were tight, unforgiving. Whoever had done this knew what they were doing. Her fingers twitched as she instinctively checked for anything sharp or useful within reach.

Her mind raced. Where am I? How long was I out? How the hell am I getting out of this?

The faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder. Shit. Someone’s coming.

"Hi, Niki." The voice was calm, almost friendly, as the man in the white hoodie stepped into view. He had an air of nonchalance, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Niki's jaw tightened as she straightened in the chair, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Who the hell are you?”

He chuckled, tilting his head slightly as if amused by her question. “No need to be so hostile. You’re our guest.”

Her wrists strained against the zip ties, the plastic digging into her skin. “Yeah? Well, your hospitality sucks.”

The man smiled wider, unbothered by her words. “You’ve got fight in you. That’s good. Makes this a little more interesting.”

“Cut the crap,” Niki snapped. “What do you want?”

“I need information. About what you know about us,” the man said, his tone casual but with an edge that left no room for misunderstanding. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall like this was just another day for him.

So, he was with Chaos. Of course.

Niki gritted her teeth, her mind racing. Where was George? That fucking prick. He had to be tied up in this somehow, but why? And why now?

Her eyes narrowed. “You dragged me here for nothing. I don’t know anything about your little circus act.”

The man chuckled softly. “Oh, Niki, you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re close with the team. You’ve seen their files, their movements. You’re... valuable.”

She forced herself to smirk despite the panic bubbling in her chest. “Well, that’s flattering, but you’re wasting your time.”

“Am I?” he asked, arching a brow. “Or are you just lying to yourself? Either way, you’ll talk eventually. They always do.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” she snapped, tugging at her restraints again. The zip ties cut deeper into her wrists, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to give this guy an inch.

He sighed, almost like he pitied her. “You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that. But trust me—this will go a lot easier if you cooperate.”

She glared at him, refusing to answer. Every second she kept him talking was a second closer to someone finding her.

“Who even are you?” Niki asked, her voice sharp despite the throbbing in her head.

“My name’s Punz,” the man replied with a smirk. “I run basically all the operations—aside from Theseus.”

Niki narrowed her eyes, her mind working overtime. So this was one of the top guys. Great. “You don’t control him?” she asked, leaning forward slightly despite her bindings. “Theseus is your best asset.”

Punz shrugged nonchalantly, like it was no big deal. “He’s not my deal. Theseus? He’s Dream’s pet project. I just clean up the messes and keep things running.”

Niki raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate, then. What happens when Theseus breaks free? You know it’s bound to happen.”

Punz chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “Theseus won’t break free. He doesn’t even know how. Dream made sure of that. And even if he did... well, let’s just say I’m not worried.”

His calm demeanor grated on her nerves. Every word he spoke seemed designed to remind her just how out of her depth she was. Still, Niki refused to let him see her crack.

“You seem awfully confident for someone playing second fiddle,” she shot back.

Punz rolled his eyes but with a grin. "Tell me," Punz said, his voice dropping into something almost conversational, though the predatory gleam in his eyes betrayed him. "Does Techno miss his brother?"

Niki froze for a moment, masking her surprise with a scoff. "What are you talking about?"

Punz chuckled, leaning forward, elbows resting casually on his knees. "Oh, come on. You know exactly what I mean. That little ghost from his past? The one that still haunts him?"

Her mind raced, scrambling to piece together what he was hinting at. What did he know? Was this some kind of game?

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said evenly, trying to keep the crack in her voice from showing.

Punz tilted his head, studying her like a hawk. "You really don’t know, huh? Interesting. Makes it even better." He leaned back, a smug smile creeping onto his face. "Let’s just say... Technoblade might be seeing ghosts sooner than he thinks."

Niki’s stomach churned, her breath catching as Punz’s words lingered in the air. What the hell did they do?

-

Techno blinked, the world still fuzzy as his brain tried to process everything. His head throbbed, his stomach churned, and his body felt heavy, like it was trying to drag him back into unconsciousness.

"Chat, why the hell did I get shot?" Techno muttered under his breath.

You got shot 'cause you were too slow, king.

Skill issue.

Theseus did it. Smh, couldn't be me.

"Oh great, thanks, Chat," he grumbled, voice raspier than he expected. "Real supportive as always."

"Techno?" Skeppy's voice cut through the haze, pulling him back to the room.

He squinted, focusing on Skeppy leaning over him, a mix of relief and worry plastered across his face.

"Skeppy?" Techno grunted, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah, hey." Skeppy nodded, visibly relaxing now that Techno was talking.

"Hey, mate." Phil's voice came from somewhere near the wall. Techno craned his neck slightly to see Phil leaning against it, arms crossed but concern etched into every line of his face.

"You two look like you’ve been to hell and back," Techno croaked, trying to sit up but immediately regretting it. His head swam, and he let out a pained grunt.

"Take it easy," Phil said quickly, stepping closer. "You’ve been through a lot. Shot in the gut, surgery, a whole damn mess."

"Yeah, you're kinda doing a speedrun of bad life choices," Skeppy added, attempting to lighten the mood but failing to hide the tension in his voice. "Seriously, Techno, you scared the crap outta us."

Techno let out a dry laugh, immediately regretting it as his stomach protested. "Glad to know I’m still making an impression."

Phil sighed, shaking his head. "Just rest for now. We’ll fill you in when you’re ready."

"No, what’s happening? Phil?" Techno’s voice was sharp, though he winced as pain lanced through his body.

Phil stepped closer, his expression grim. "Niki’s missing," he said plainly, his tone heavy.

Techno froze, his breath hitching. "What do you mean, missing?"

Phil exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "She went off-grid yesterday. We can’t track her, and she’s not answering any calls. George is gone too. We think—"

"Dream." Techno spat the name like poison, his fists clenching against the hospital sheets. "This has his fingerprints all over it."

Phil nodded, his face set in a hard line. "That’s what I’m thinking too. We’ve got agents on it, but..." He hesitated, glancing at Skeppy.

"But what?" Techno demanded, his voice rising.

Skeppy crossed his arms, his face uncharacteristically serious. "We don’t know where to start, man. No leads, no signals, nothing. It’s like they both just disappeared."

Techno’s jaw tightened, and he started to push himself upright despite the sharp protest from his body. "Then we start digging. I’m not sitting here while Dream plays his games."

Phil stepped forward, his hand on Techno’s shoulder. "You’re not in any shape to be going anywhere, Techno. You’ve been shot. You need to recover, or you’ll be no help to anyone."

Techno shoved his hand away, glaring. "Niki’s out there, Phil. Probably in Dream’s hands. And you want me to just sit here?"

Phil’s voice dropped, his gaze steely. "I want you alive, Techno. That’s what Niki would want too. So stay put and let me handle this."

The tension in the room was palpable as Techno stared him down. "You better," he said quietly, his voice carrying a deadly edge. "Because if anything happens to her..."

Phil nodded, stepping back. "I know. And trust me, we won’t let that happen."

-

Punz stepped into the dimly lit lab, his eyes scanning the cluttered tables and shelves before landing on his brother. Purpled was seated in a squeaky chair, hunched over a workstation cluttered with vials, notes, and equipment.

“Purp,” Punz called softly, his voice cutting through the low hum of machines.

Purpled turned, a small smile breaking across his face. “Hey, Punz.”

Punz nodded, his expression tense. “What are you working on?”

Purpled shrugged, turning back to the table and holding up a small vial of clear liquid. “A new poison Dream requested. Something more undetectable. Before this, I finished the strength boost serum he wanted for Thes. George came to pick it up.” He paused, fiddling with the vial in his hands. “Why are you so…I don’t know, scared or something?”

Punz sighed, stepping closer. “It’s not about being scared. It’s about what this job is doing to you.”

Purpled arched an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Doing to me? I’m fine. If anything, I’m thriving. The formulas are solid, Punz. The experiments are safe. This is the most stable thing I’ve had in years.”

Punz’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “It’s not stable, Purp. It’s dangerous. You’re working with chemicals that could kill you if you make one mistake.”

Purpled scoffed, crossing his arms. “Dangerous? Sure. But it’s controlled. I know what I’m doing. At least this way, I’m useful.”

“Useful?” Punz repeated, his voice rising. “Is that all you think you are? A tool for Dream and his chaos?”

“You don’t get it!” Purpled snapped, standing. “You got me this job, Punz! You vouched for me to Dream. You told him I could help. And now you’re acting like I shouldn’t be here?”

Punz flinched at the accusation, guilt flashing across his face. “I know what I did,” he admitted quietly. “I thought it would give you a chance. Something stable. Something safe.”

Dream would've questioned why Purpled wasn't involved. Either this or another gunman that would ultimately get sent to be shot.

Purpled let out a bitter laugh. “Safe? You work for Chaos too, Punz. Don’t stand there and act like you’re better than me. You’re in this just as much as I am.”

“I’m trying to protect you!” Punz shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “I thought if you worked in the labs, you’d be away from the real danger. Away from the missions, the fights. I didn’t realize Dream would drag you so deep into this.”

Purpled hesitated, his glare softening. “I’m not fragile, Punz. I’m not a kid anymore. I can handle myself.”

Punz let out a shaky breath, stepping closer. “I know you’re not fragile. But you’re still my little brother. And I can’t stand here and watch you get hurt. You’re too important to me.”

Purpled looked away, his shoulders tense. “This is all I’ve got, Punz. This is where I’m useful.”

“No,” Punz said firmly. “You’re useful because you’re brilliant. Because you’re you. Not because of what you can make in a lab.”

Purpled’s resolve cracked, but he tried to mask it with a shrug. “I’m fine, Punz. I can handle this.”

Punz sighed, pulling his brother into a tight hug. Purpled stiffened for a moment before finally relaxing, letting out a shaky breath.

“You’re my brother, Purp,” Punz murmured. “That’s all you ever need to be for me.”

Purpled swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “You really are scared, huh?”

“Terrified,” Punz admitted. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Purpled sighed, stepping back and looking at his workstation. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Punz said, offering a small, sad smile.

As he left the lab, the image of Purpled back at his workstation, shoulders tense and head low, stayed with him. The guilt weighed heavy on his chest, knowing he’d placed his brother in this position.

Chapter Text

“Techno, you got out of the hospital two hours ago. Put down the computer,” Skeppy stated sternly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Skeppy—” Techno began, not even looking up from the screen in front of him.

“No,” Skeppy interrupted, his tone sharper now. “I’ll call Phil right now.”

Techno’s fingers froze over the keyboard, his eyes narrowing as he finally glanced up at Skeppy. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” Skeppy said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and holding it up dramatically. “I’ve got him on speed dial. I’ll tell him you’re already diving headfirst into work, ignoring doctor’s orders, and refusing to rest. He’ll be here in minutes, and you know how much of a lecture you’ll get.”

Techno let out an exasperated sigh, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples. “I’m fine, Skeppy. It’s just one report. I need to follow up—”

“You don’t need to do anything but rest,” Skeppy interrupted again, his voice firm. “You almost died, Techno. You can take a day off.”

Slight over exaggeration.

Techno groaned, closing his laptop with a reluctant snap. “Fine. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Skeppy replied, a satisfied smirk on his face as he pocketed his phone. “Now, go lie down before I make you.”

Techno rolled his eyes but stood, muttering something under his breath about overbearing friends as he shuffled toward the couch.

Skeppy watched him go, his smirk softening into a smile. “I’ll make some tea. Don’t move, or I’m calling Phil for real.”

Techno flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, waving a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, mother hen.”

Skeppy just chuckled, heading to the kitchen. “Better a mother hen than a dead friend, Techno.”

As Skeppy headed toward the kitchen, chat went wild.

Techno, you’re telling me Skeppy is the mother hen??

Skeppy’s the ultimate mom friend, though. He makes sure you don’t die, Techno.

NOOO, Phil is the real mother hen!!

Phil? More like father hen.

CROW FATHER ARC WHEN?

PLEASE, THE CROW FATHER LORE IS TOO MUCH TO HANDLE!

SKEPPY THE MOTHER HEN.

Chat stop spamming

CROW FATHER IS THE FATHER, DUH.

Skeppy is the backup, but Phil? Phil’s the one who swoops in with the snacks and comforting words.

Therapy ARC w Phil????

Phil is the dad, Skeppy is the mom. And then there’s Techno, the weird older brother who refuses to sleep.

Techno raised an eyebrow, amused. “Alright, alright. Chat, shut up please. I'm way too tired for this right now.”

CROW FATHER ARC WHEN?!

We demand the lore, Techno. We NEED it.

The world isn’t ready for Crow Father.

You underestimate the power of Crow Father.

Techno groaned and stalked to the kitchen.

-

The next morning, Techno strode into the precinct, still sore but too stubborn to admit it. He’d spent half the night convincing Skeppy to lay off his nagging, insisting he was fine.

Now, standing in the buzzing hub of the station, he felt every bit of the strain, but he buried it deep. He needed answers. What had happened to Niki? Who’d pulled the trigger that put him in the hospital? And why did the whole thing feel off?

He nodded to a few passing officers who greeted him cautiously—no doubt aware he’d been shot less than 48 hours ago. As he reached his desk, Phil materialized from a side office, looking grim.

“You’re supposed to be recovering,” Phil said, his tone a mix of concern and disapproval.

“Phil, I got shot, not retired,” Techno quipped, collapsing into his chair.

Phil didn’t laugh. “We don’t have leads on Niki yet. I’ve had teams searching, but it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth.”

Techno leaned back, his jaw tightening. “She didn’t vanish. Someone took her.”

Phil nodded solemnly. “And whoever it was knew what they were doing.”

Techno’s hand tapped impatiently on the desk. “What about George? He’s missing too. That’s not a coincidence.”

“I’m working on it,” Phil said, his voice low. “But Tech, you have to trust me on this one. You shouldn’t even be here. If they know you’re up and moving—”

“They’ll know I’m not dead,” Techno interrupted. His eyes were sharp. “Good. Let them come for me. I’ll make ‘em talk.”

Phil sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re late with the coffee,” Techno shot back, but his smirk didn’t reach his eyes.

As Phil walked off, Techno opened his laptop and started pulling up files. He wasn’t going to sit around and wait for answers. Not when Niki was out there, possibly running out of time.

-

“I have all day,” Niki said, a sharp grin tugging at her lips. She leaned back in her chair as far as her bindings would allow, eyes locked on Punz. “What’s the wait on torture? Too squeamish?”

Punz sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m not—look, I’m not gonna fucking hurt you. Not yet, anyway.” He crouched down to her level, his tone clipped with frustration. “Just... tell me something. Anything. What do you know about us? About Chaos? About Dream’s plans?”

Niki’s grin didn’t falter. “Why should I? You’re all talk so far.”

Punz’s jaw clenched, and he stood abruptly, pacing a few steps away. “You’re impossible,” he muttered under his breath.

Niki watched him, amused despite the situation. “You’re new to this, aren’t you? Don’t worry, it’ll get easier with practice.”

He stopped, turning back to her with a scowl. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you.”

“Oh, I’m not comfortable,” she shot back, eyes gleaming. “But I can wait. Can you?”

"You're so annoying," Punz muttered, pulling his phone out of his pocket with an exasperated sigh. He scrolled aimlessly, his frustration bubbling over. "Why the fuck do I gotta deal with you?"

Niki smirked, tilting her head as far as the restraints allowed. “I was wondering the same thing. Surely Chaos has better babysitters than you.”

Punz’s grip tightened around his phone. “Babysitter? You’ve got jokes now?” He glanced at her, his irritation barely contained.

“You’re not denying it.”

He groaned, shoving the phone back into his pocket. “I swear to god, Niki, I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You get paid? That’s news. I thought you just followed orders like a good little dog.”

Punz stepped closer, glaring down at her. “You should shut up while you still can, Niki.”

“Why?” she asked, voice calm and cutting. “Are you finally gonna stop talking and actually do something?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned sharply and paced to the far side of the room, muttering curses under his breath. Niki leaned back with a satisfied smile, letting the silence stretch.

Punz stared at Niki for a long moment, his jaw clenched, before finally turning on his heel and walking out the door. The slam echoed through the dimly lit room, leaving her alone in the oppressive silence.

Niki let out a slow breath, testing the restraints again. Still zip-tied, still no give. She glanced around the room, her mind racing. She’d gotten under his skin, that much was clear. That was something.

Now she just had to figure out how to use it.

-

Theseus fiddled with his gun, his finger trailing along the barrel as he waited. The lab was too quiet, the hum of machines the only sound keeping him company. Purpled always took too damn long.

He had taken the serum, but it burned out too fast, leaving him weaker than he’d like. Dream wasn’t happy about it, which meant Theseus had to deal with the fallout. That’s why he was here—again. Purpled had to tweak it, inject it, and hope it lasted longer this time.

The door creaked open, and Purpled stepped in, juggling a tray of supplies. "Sorry, Thes," he muttered, setting the tray down on a cluttered counter.

"Finally," Theseus grunted, standing up and moving to the chair in the middle of the room. "No restraints this time?"

"I wasn't told to," Purpled replied simply, pulling on gloves. He glanced at Theseus as he arranged the vials. “You look rough.”

"Feel rough," Theseus shot back, sitting down and resting his gun in his lap. "Just get it done. Dream’s not the patient type."

Purpled hesitated, his hands pausing over the tray. "You ever think about stopping? Walking away from all this?"

Theseus raised an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair. "What, you think I can just stroll out of here? Dream’d hunt me down before I got a mile away. Besides, I’m not in this for a vacation."

Purpled sighed, shaking his head as he prepped the needle. "Right. Hold still. This might sting."

Theseus rolled up his sleeve, offering his arm. "Don’t screw it up, genius. I’m not in the mood to explode today."

Purpled smirked faintly as he worked. "You’re lucky Punz isn’t in here. He’s been on edge."

"What's his problem now?" Theseus asked, wincing slightly as the needle slid into his skin.

"He thinks Dream’s pushing everyone too far. Especially me."

Theseus scoffed. "Maybe he should take it up with Dream, then. Not my problem."

"Right, because you’re totally just a bystander in all of this," Purpled muttered, his tone biting as he adjusted the plunger.

The serum burned as it entered, searing through Theseus’s veins. He clenched his teeth, gripping the arm of the chair until the sensation faded.

"You done?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Almost," Purpled said, pulling the needle out and slapping a bandage over the injection site. "Good to go, soldier boy. Try not to break anything this time."

Theseus stood, rolling his sleeve back down. "Can’t make any promises. Just make sure the next batch doesn’t burn out so fast. I’m not doing this every damn week."

As he grabbed his gun and headed for the door, Purpled called after him, “You know Punz wouldn’t be so worried if it wasn’t for you and me stuck in this mess.”

Theseus paused, looking back. “Yeah, well, maybe he should worry about himself for once.”

Purpled shook his head, his expression unreadable. “Sure, Thes. Whatever you say.”

Purpled turned back to his equipment, focusing on cleaning the needle and organizing the scattered vials. He didn’t know Theseus well—not really. They worked in the same circles, sure, but they weren’t friends, barely even acquaintances. Still, Purpled knew enough.

Theseus wasn’t his real name. No one ever used it, not even Dream. He was younger than Purpled, probably by a year or two, and had never had a choice in any of this. That much was obvious.

Purpled adjusted one of the burners, his hands stilling for a moment as the thought settled in. Theseus wasn’t here because he wanted to be. He was here because Dream made sure he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

It wasn’t like Purpled had all the freedom in the world, but at least he’d gotten to choose—sort of. He’d joined up because it gave him a purpose, a job. But Theseus? He’d been dragged into this life, shoved into Dream’s plans like another cog in the machine.

Purpled’s stomach twisted, and he set down the vial he was holding. It wasn’t guilt exactly—he’d learned a long time ago that guilt didn’t get you far here—but it was close enough.

“Hey, Purp.”

The voice startled him, and he looked up to see Theseus standing in the doorway once more, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.

“What?” Purpled asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“You good?” Theseus asked, tilting his head slightly. “You looked like you were thinking too hard. Dangerous habit around here.”

Purpled snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m good. Just making sure your serum doesn’t blow up the lab.”

Theseus gave a faint smirk. “Appreciate it. Keep it up, and you might actually save my life one day.”

Purpled didn’t reply, watching as Theseus disappeared down the hallway again. The door clicked shut, leaving him alone again.

He sighed, turning back to his work. Theseus might’ve been right—thinking too hard in this place was dangerous. But for some reason, Purpled couldn’t stop himself.

-

Niki wasn’t here. She usually handled this kind of thing, emailing businesses to get security footage and working her magic to piece things together. But today, Techno had to step in.

The footage from outside wasn’t great—grainy, black-and-white, and barely angled right. But it was enough. Techno leaned forward, adjusting the playback speed as he watched.

There. Niki. She walked off with George. The angle didn’t show her face clearly, but the way she carried herself was unmistakable—calm, confident, like she wasn’t expecting anything to go wrong.

Techno’s jaw tightened as the car came into frame. Niki got in the car. Seconds later, the car pulled away, and the footage cut back to an empty sidewalk.

He rewound it, watching the scene play out again. Something felt off. Niki wasn’t the type to leave without telling anyone, especially not without a reason.

“George,” Techno muttered under his breath, his fingers drumming against the desk. “What did you do?”

Chapter Text

“Phil?” Techno asked as he stepped into the office, his voice clipped but calm. “I emailed you some footage. George did something.”

Phil looked up from his paperwork, his expression immediately sharpening. Without a word, he opened his laptop, clicking through to his inbox. It didn’t take long to find the email Techno had sent.

He played the video, his face hardening as he watched George escort Niki to the car and drive off.

“I agree,” Phil said after a moment, his tone grave. He rewound the clip, playing it back to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. “Why? What the hell would George want with Niki?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Techno replied, crossing his arms.

Phil leaned back in his chair, his hand rubbing at his temples. “Lets start with the fact George may not be who we thought he was. He could be working with Chaos. He could've brought Niki to them… ”

“We’re running out of time,” Techno finished grimly.

Phil nodded, already moving to pull up more resources. “I’ll get the team on tracking the car. You—find out everything you can about George’s recent activity. If there’s even a hint of where they went, I want to know.”

Techno turned on his heel, already heading for the door. “On it.”

Techno leaned over his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard. Each new camera feed he pulled up pieced together George’s route like a grim puzzle. The car moved steadily, weaving through intersections and highways, eventually leaving the city behind.

Traitor!

He Could just have really bad human GPS skills

He drove like an hour away tho

“Where the hell are you going?” Techno muttered under his breath, clicking to another feed. The grainy footage from a toll booth confirmed his suspicion—George was heading far out of town, into the quiet, desolate outskirts.

He pulled up a map, overlaying the route with known Chaos hideouts. His gut tightened when a familiar area lit up on the screen. Chaos had been active before in the area years back.

“Phil, I’ve got something,” Techno called out, his voice tense.

Phil appeared at the door, coffee in hand. “What did you find?”

“George took her out of town. This route lines up with one of Chaos’s old facilities.” Techno turned the laptop to show Phil the map.

Phil studied the screen, his lips pressed into a thin line. “If Niki’s there, she’s in serious trouble.”

“That’s why we need to move now.” Techno’s tone left no room for argument.

Phil nodded. “I’ll call for backup. You—”

“I’m going,” Techno interrupted, his tone icy.

Phil didn’t argue. He knew better. “Fine. But you don’t go in alone. We’ll do this smart.”

Techno’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. His fingers were already typing again, tracking the car’s movements to confirm its destination.

Techno couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of excitement as Phil moved with purpose, his usually laid-back demeanor replaced by a focused energy that Techno had rarely seen. There was a sharpness to him now, like a coiled spring about to unleash. The way Phil tapped into his old instincts was something Techno hadn’t fully appreciated before.

Phil’s movements were precise, swift as he began coordinating with their backup. Techno watched as Phil handled the logistics, giving orders, making calls. His voice, usually calm, now carried a weight of authority that Techno hadn’t heard in years.

“Get the equipment ready,” Phil said to one of the agents. “Techno and I will go ahead. The rest can back us up if needed.”

Techno felt a fire in his chest, not from fear, but from anticipation. He was used to working alone, but with Phil alongside him, it felt different. There was something almost nostalgic about it. Phil had always been the rock in their group, but seeing him operate with this kind of precision made Techno realize just how much they had both changed.

Techno grabbed his gear, checking his weapons with quick, practiced hands. “Let’s do this,” he said, his voice a little more steady than it had been earlier.

Phil looked at him, a glint of approval in his eyes. “Ready?”

Techno smirked, adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Always.”

-

“Punz, feds are most likely coming soon. I’d advise you get anything important out,” Sapnap said sharply over the phone. “Dream doesn’t want anybody arrested either.”

Punz froze mid-step, his grip on the phone tightening. “The feds? How close?”

“Close enough,” Sapnap replied, irritation clear in his voice. “And guess who’s to blame? George. He’s been sloppy as hell, left a trail even a blind guy could follow.”

“Of course, it’s George,” Punz muttered, rubbing his temple. “Why does Dream keep giving him jobs? He’s like a walking disaster.”

“You think I haven’t said that? But it’s done now,” Sapnap continued. “What matters is they’re poking around, and if they find anything concrete, we’re screwed. So grab anything important—files, samples, tech. Whatever you’ve got.”

Punz glanced toward the lab door, his jaw tightening. “And what about Purpled?”

“Get him out too,” Sapnap said firmly. “He’s a kid, Punz. Dream doesn’t want anyone in cuffs, but especially not him.”

Punz sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll take care of it. But someone’s got to talk to George before he burns us all.”

“Handle it,” Sapnap said bluntly. “And fast. I’m not covering for him again.”

The call ended, and Punz shoved his phone into his pocket, storming into the lab. The door creaked as it opened, revealing Purpled hunched over his workstation, completely absorbed in his work.

“Purp,” Punz said sharply, snapping him out of his focus. “We’ve got a problem. Start packing your stuff. We’re moving.”

“What happened?” Purpled asked, swiveling his chair to face Punz. His brow furrowed as he noticed the tension in his brother’s posture.

“George happened,” Punz said, his voice edged with frustration. “He’s been sloppy, and now the feds are sniffing around. Sapnap says they’re getting close, so we’ve got to clear out before they find anything.”

Purpled blinked, his eyes flicking to the lab table cluttered with half-finished projects. “So… we’re just leaving? What about the stuff I’ve been working on? And why is this George’s fault again?”

Punz pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “George left a trail, okay? He’s careless. He didn’t cover his tracks, and now they’re onto us. Dream wants everything important gone, including you. I’m not taking chances with you here if they come busting down the door.”

Punz’s words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. Purpled nodded and turned back to the lab table, starting to gather his work in a flurry of motion. He paused midway, his hand hovering over a half-finished vial.

“Are you leaving?” Purpled asked quietly, not looking up.

Punz stopped in his tracks, caught off guard by the question. “That’s not important right now.”

Purpled finally turned to face him, his expression guarded but his voice steady. “It is to me. You’re always talking about keeping me safe, but what about you? You’re staying, aren’t you?”

Punz’s jaw tightened. “Dream needs me here. Someone’s gotta make sure this doesn’t blow up in everyone’s faces.”

“And what if it does?” Purpled shot back. “You’re acting like this isn’t dangerous. You can’t just—”

“Purpled, stop.” Punz’s voice was firm, but there was a crack of emotion beneath it. “I can handle this. You don’t need to worry about me. Just get your stuff and go. Please.”

Purpled clenched his fists. “That’s not fair. You’re acting like I don’t care what happens to you.”

Punz sighed and stepped forward, resting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I know you care. That’s why I need you to trust me on this, okay? I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.”

Purpled stared at him for a long moment before nodding reluctantly. “Fine. But if you don’t get out of here when things go south, I’m coming back for you. I mean it.”

Punz allowed himself a small, weary smile. “Deal. Now hurry up. We don’t have much time.”

Purpled hesitated, then turned back to his work, stuffing what he could into a bag while Punz watched, his expression unreadable.

The ring of his phone caught Punz off guard, pulling his attention away from Purpled. He stepped outside the heavy doors, letting them close behind him before answering.

"Punz," Dream’s voice cut through the line, steady and sharp. "Do you think I’ll need to send Theseus over?"

Punz frowned, running a hand over his face. "No," he replied curtly. "I’ve got it handled."

Dream let out a low, humorless chuckle. "You ‘handled’ George, didn’t you? Look how that turned out. The feds are sniffing around. I’m not seeing much ‘control’ here."

"I’m cleaning it up," Punz shot back, glancing over his shoulder to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "Theseus doesn’t need to deal with this."

"Does he?" Dream countered. "He’s efficient. He doesn’t hesitate. And frankly, I don’t trust you not to let your personal feelings get in the way."

"My personal feelings don’t affect my work," Punz said through gritted teeth.

"Don’t they?" Dream said, his tone mocking. "Let me make this clear, Punz. If this escalates, I won’t hesitate to pull you out and send Theseus in. He’ll get it done. No loose ends."

"It won’t escalate," Punz insisted, gripping the phone tightly. "I’ll handle it. You don’t need Theseus for this."

Dream paused, his silence hanging heavy over the line before he finally spoke again. "For your sake, I hope you’re right."

The call ended abruptly, leaving Punz staring at the phone in his hand. He exhaled sharply, shoving it back into his pocket as he turned toward the lab.

-

They reached the large metal doors of the warehouse. Techno nodded to Phil, signaling for him to take the left side while Techno positioned himself on the right. They had done this countless times before. No room for mistakes.

With a quick, silent motion, Techno kicked the door open, his weapon raised. The second the door swung wide, gunfire erupted from inside. Bullets whizzed past them, striking the walls and floor, the sound deafening. Techno dove forward, the air thick with danger. Phil followed suit, rolling to cover as they returned fire.

Techno’s shots were precise, hitting their marks, but it was clear their enemies were well trained. Some of them had already begun fleeing deeper into the warehouse, trying to make an escape. Techno cursed under his breath, but he didn’t let up. They had to secure Niki and stop them from getting away.

With every corner they cleared, the firefight died down, but the tension remained. Several figures tried to break through the back exit, but Techno and Phil were relentless. They moved quickly, pushing forward, covering each other’s flanks. Despite the chaos, they were methodical—each step calculated.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Techno kicked open a door in the back of the warehouse, his weapon raised once again. Inside, he found Niki, slumped against a wall, her hands bound and eyes closed. She was alive, but barely.

"Niki!" Techno called out, rushing over to her. He cut through the ropes around her wrists with a quick flick of his knife. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion and exhaustion evident in her gaze.

"Techno..." she muttered weakly, trying to sit up.

"You're safe now," Techno said, lifting her gently into his arms. His heart pounded in his chest, but there was no time to relax. "We need to move, now."

Phil had cleared the perimeter, and he stepped in with a grim expression. "We lost some of them, but we got what we came for. Let's get out of here before they circle back."

“Wait. Don’t,” Niki said, her voice strained. “Go to the lab. I don’t know where it is, but I heard one of the higher-ups talking about it.”

He glanced down at her, brow furrowing. "The lab?" he repeated, trying to piece together what she was saying.

"Yeah," Niki nodded, her voice shaky but firm. "I don’t know where exactly, but they’re working on something big. The guy was talking about experiments... It’s bad, Techno. I’m telling you, they’ve got something dangerous down there."

He exchanged a look with Phil, who stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor replaced by the seriousness of the situation.

“We don’t have time to waste,” Phil muttered, glancing around the area as if expecting someone to pop out from behind one of the nearby crates. “If we’re going to go after this lab, we need to move fast.”

Techno left Niki at a police car, making sure she was safe before heading back toward the warehouse with Phil.

-

Inside, the lab was a disaster. Papers were scattered everywhere, equipment knocked over, and machines still hummed with a low, mechanical buzz. Someone had been here recently—likely in a hurry. The shelves had been raided, leaving behind disorganized piles of files and broken vials on the floor. It was clear that whoever had been involved knew exactly what they were looking for. Techno’s mind raced as he scanned the room.

"This doesn’t look good," Phil murmured as he stepped through the wreckage, his sharp eyes scanning the room for anything useful. "Looks like someone was in a rush, but they didn’t clean up after themselves."

Techno crouched down next to a set of shelves, eyeing the mess. As he brushed aside a few scattered papers, something shiny caught his attention. Several vials lay discarded on the floor. They were small, with clear liquid inside, but the label was smudged, unreadable. Syringes were scattered nearby. It didn’t take a genius to figure out these weren’t just ordinary medical supplies. There was something wrong with the entire setup.

“Looks like they were in a hurry,” Techno muttered, picking up one of the vials carefully. “We need to get this out of here. If Dream's connected to all this, we can’t let this stuff stay here.”

Phil nodded in agreement, pulling out his phone. "We’ll get a team here to secure everything."

As Techno continued to survey the area, his stomach churned. Whoever had been running this lab had clearly been working on something dangerous—something they didn’t want anyone else to know about.

“We’ll need to secure this and get it back to the lab for analysis,” Techno said, his voice low “But we’re not going to get answers here. Not yet.”

Phil made the call. The room was still a mess, but the most important part was done. They had the evidence. Now they just had to figure out what to do with it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Techno said, standing up and glancing at the door. They then made their way back to the car.

Chapter Text

"This fucking sucks," Purpled muttered under his breath as he stepped into the new lab. The sterile, cold air prickled at his skin, making the place feel even more unwelcoming. He glanced around, the faint hum of machines filling the silence.

Punz was... somewhere. He didn't know where, and honestly, he wasn't sure he cared at the moment. All Purpled knew was that he was at the big base, the one that everyone knew not to mess with. The kind of place that put Chaos on the map.

Dream was downstairs. Dream.

That thought made Purpled pause for a moment. Dream being here wasn’t unusual, but the weight of his presence was undeniable. It was like walking into a room and feeling the air shift, heavier, more charged. It was a reminder that this wasn’t just another operation; this was the nerve center of Chaos itself.

And Purpled hated every second of it.

The lab was immaculate, almost unnervingly so. Rows of equipment lined the walls, sleek and state-of-the-art, all humming with a low energy that made Purpled’s stomach churn. This wasn’t where he wanted to be. Not now, not ever.

But there was no walking away from this. Not now.

“So, uh, you made it out,” Theseus said from the doorway, his voice calm and measured.

Purpled jumped, nearly knocking over a nearby tray of tools. “Fuck! You’re quiet,” he yelled, spinning around to face him. “Where’ve you been hiding?”

“I don’t hide,” Theseus stated flatly, stepping into the room with an air of indifference.

Purpled rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter to steady himself. “I mean, like, where have you been?”

“Training,” Theseus replied, his tone unchanging as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Purpled scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course. Always training. No wonder you’re so... you.”

Theseus raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you act like you’re some emotionless machine or something. Like, who even trains all the time?”

“Theseus,” he answered simply, his gaze steady.

Purpled groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re a real joy to talk to, you know that?”

Theseus tilted his head, unbothered. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

"You know," Purpled said, leaning against the counter and eyeing Theseus with a faint smirk, "the mask seems stuffy. You ever take off the muzzle?"

Theseus stared at him, unamused. His fingers flexed slightly at his sides, a subtle reminder of his restraint. "It's not a muzzle," he replied coldly.

"Sure, sure," Purpled said, clearly not convinced. "But seriously, doesn’t it get uncomfortable? Like, do you even eat with that thing on?"

Theseus sighed, the sound barely audible beneath the mask. "I eat when I need to. And no, it’s not uncomfortable."

"Right," Purpled said, his smirk widening. "You’re really selling it. Bet it’s super breathable."

Theseus tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp. "Do you have a point, or are you just bored?"

"Maybe both," Purpled admitted with a shrug. "I just figured if you’re gonna be around here, you might wanna... I don’t know, loosen up a little. Take off the mask, show everyone the guy behind the brooding act."

Theseus stepped closer, his presence suddenly more intimidating. "The mask stays on," he said, his voice low but firm.

Purpled raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh bubbling out. "Alright, alright! Don’t get all scary on me, man. Just making conversation."

"Find a different topic," Theseus replied before turning and walking away, leaving Purpled to mutter under his breath about "serious types" and "no sense of humor."

-

"Techno, you're off today," Skeppy declared as he waltzed into the room, an almost mischievous grin plastered across his face.

Techno didn’t even look up from the paperwork on his desk. "I'm literally not."

"I talked to Phil."

Techno finally glanced up, narrowing his eyes. "Why—"

"Because," Skeppy cut him off, pointing dramatically at him, "we are decorating for Christmas."

Techno blinked. "Decorating for what now?"

"Christmas!" Skeppy repeated, his grin widening. "You know, lights, ornaments, a tree? All the festive cheer you keep locked up under that grumpy exterior?"

Techno let out a groan, leaning back in his chair. "Festive cheer is overrated. Besides, I’m busy."

"Phil gave the okay," Skeppy insisted, practically bouncing on his heels. "Which means your ‘busy’ is officially canceled for the day. Come on, Techno. It’s just one afternoon!"

"I hate this already," Techno muttered, standing up begrudgingly.

"That’s the spirit!" Skeppy chirped, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the room. "Now, let’s go untangle some lights and argue over tinsel."

"Fantastic," Techno deadpanned. "Exactly how I wanted to spend my day off."

"Better than getting shot," Skeppy remarked, his eyes flicking briefly to Techno’s side.

The comment earned him a grunt in response. Techno shifted his weight, his posture stiff. His wound throbbed, sharp and insistent, but he was good at ignoring things. He had to be.

Like us!!!

The voices in his head chirped to life, their usual chaotic hum pushing against his mental barriers.

Chat, when’s there gonna be more character development?

Shut up.

Right now. Thes is developing.

Priorities, idiots. Focus.

Techno huffed, rubbing at his temple as if that would quiet the incessant chatter. He didn’t have time for their nonsense, not with Skeppy dragging him into some ridiculous holiday cheer and his wound screaming at him.

"You good?" Skeppy asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

"Fine," Techno muttered, more to himself than Skeppy.

Skeppy raised an eyebrow but didn’t press, instead turning his attention to the box of tangled lights he’d hauled into the room. "Well, if you pass out mid-decoration, I’m not carrying you to the hospital."

Techno shot him a dry look, but Skeppy ignored it, humming a Christmas tune as he sifted through the lights.

You should let him carry you. He’s stronger than he looks.

Shut. Up.

The voices quieted to a dull murmur as Techno shook his head and muttered under his breath, "This day just keeps getting better."

"Okay, so, I got the tree situated. Now ornaments," Skeppy announced with a grin, stepping back to admire the slightly crooked but standing tree.

Techno raised an eyebrow from his seat on the couch. "Ornaments? You think I own ornaments?"

Skeppy froze for a moment before pointing at him accusingly. "You don’t own ornaments? What kind of monster are you?"

"The kind who doesn’t waste money on fragile crap that breaks when you sneeze on it," Techno replied, his tone flat.

Skeppy gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "You’re seriously killing the Christmas vibe right now."

"Good," Techno muttered, shifting to get more comfortable, though the pull of his wound made him grimace slightly.

"Fine," Skeppy said, hands on his hips as he thought. "I’ll just improvise. Got any random junk lying around that we can use?"

Techno gestured vaguely toward the kitchen. "Check the junk drawer. You’ll find all kinds of useless crap in there."

Skeppy marched off with determination, and Techno sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes. He could already hear the voices gearing up.

He’s gonna hang spoons on the tree.

Spoons are festive.

We should’ve just let him decorate alone. This is painful.

Techno groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why am I even letting him do this?"

Moments later, Skeppy returned triumphantly with a handful of mismatched items—paperclips, bottle caps, a stray shoelace, and, of course, a spoon.

"You’re joking," Techno said, eyeing the collection with distaste.

"Nope," Skeppy said cheerfully. "It’s called resourcefulness. Now help me put this on the tree."

"Pass."

Skeppy rolled his eyes and tossed the spoon at him. "Come on, Scrooge, at least pretend to be helpful."

Techno caught it effortlessly and sighed. "Fine. But if this tree falls over, it’s your fault."

Skeppy grinned. "Deal."

Chapter Text

"Dream, this is insane," Theseus said cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched as Dream folded the file, his movements calm yet calculated, radiating an unsettling intensity.

"It’s not insane," Dream replied, his voice low but firm, the edge in his tone unmistakable. "Theseus, I need him out of the picture. This isn’t up for debate."

Theseus swallowed hard, shifting on his feet. "The others were straightforward. Get in, do the job, get out. But this... This is different," he murmured, hesitating before continuing. "This is Techno. He’s dangerous. He’s not like the others."

Dream’s sharp gaze locked onto Theseus, silencing any further argument. "I know exactly who he is," Dream said, his voice icy. "And I also know what he’s capable of. That’s why it has to be you. He won’t see it coming."

Theseus’s throat felt dry. "And what about the stuff from the lab? You said they took something—"

Dream cut him off. "You’ll recover it while you’re there. Get in, secure what’s ours, and deal with him."

Theseus hesitated, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "What if I fail?" he asked, the fear creeping into his voice despite his attempts to sound confident.

Dream leaned forward, his presence suffocating. "Then don’t fail," he said, his tone final, like the slam of a door.

Theseus nodded stiffly, clutching the file tightly as he backed out of the room.

-

Theseus landed silently on the roof, his boots crunching faintly against the gravel as he moved. The moonlight barely caught his silhouette as he leaped across to the next building, muscles coiled tightly like a predator on the hunt. His breath came out in short, measured puffs as he finally slipped down to a windowsill.

The window was locked, but that wasn’t a problem. Pulling out a slim tool, Theseus worked quickly, his fingers moving deftly. The lock clicked open, and the window creaked faintly as it slid up. A shiver of annoyance ran through him—stealth wasn’t supposed to sound like this. He slipped inside the office anyway, his movements fluid and quiet, like a shadow.

The room was dimly lit by the glow of a computer monitor left on standby. Papers were scattered across the desk, but Theseus ignored them for now. His eyes darted around, taking in the surroundings, before settling on the desk itself. He began opening drawers methodically, sifting through files with practiced efficiency.

And then he saw it.

It wasn’t what he was looking for, but it stopped him in his tracks. A photo.

Two boys. One unmistakably a much younger Technoblade, his expression softer, more carefree than Theseus had ever seen it. The other was a young blonde boy sitting beside him, grinning like the world hadn’t yet shown him its worst.

Theseus froze, the photo trembling slightly in his grip.

Why did he feel this way?

A pang shot through him, sharp and unwanted, settling somewhere deep in his chest. For a moment, he couldn’t look away. The familiarity of the image clawed at something buried within him, something he had spent years trying to suppress.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to look away, shoving the photo back into the drawer with more force than necessary.

Focus. Stay on task.

Theseus exhaled slowly, his hands steadying as he grabbed what he had come for: an access card. Slipping it into his pocket, he made his way to the door, cracking it open to peek into the hall.

The corridors were empty, silent save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Theseus slipped into the hallway, moving swiftly and silently toward the labs. The emotions bubbling under his skin were shoved down, locked away as he focused on the mission.

But no matter how hard he tried to push it away, the image of the two boys lingered in his mind, refusing to let him forget.

Theseus slipped into the lab, his steps measured and deliberate. The sterile air was heavy with the faint scent of chemicals, and the hum of machinery filled the quiet space. He moved quickly, scanning the counters and shelves, his gloved hands carefully gathering vials and placing them into the pouch strapped to his thigh.

He paused to glance around. The room seemed clear, but his instincts prickled. He was about to move toward the exit when a voice cut through the silence, freezing him in place.

"Theseus."

The sound of her voice sent a chill down his spine. Slowly, he turned to see Niki standing in the doorway, her posture calm yet commanding. Her eyes burned with intensity as she stepped into the room.

"Put those back," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

For a moment, Theseus didn’t move. He just stared at her, his expression unreadable, though his clenched jaw betrayed his inner turmoil.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, his voice clipped.

“You have time to stop,” Niki replied sharply, taking another step toward him. “I know what Dream’s making you do, Theseus. It’s not worth it. You don’t have to do this.”

His hand instinctively hovered over the pouch at his thigh, the weight of the stolen vials suddenly unbearable. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” Niki countered, her words cutting through the tension like a blade. “You’re not like him, or any of them. Don’t let him make you into something you’re not.”

He scoffed, though it sounded more like a desperate exhale. “What do you know about it?” he snapped, but his voice faltered.

“I know you,” Niki said softly, yet firmly. “And I know that if you walk out of here with those vials, you’re giving him exactly what he wants. He doesn’t care about you, Theseus. He never has. Don’t let him take what little of yourself you still have.”

Her words struck deeper than he wanted to admit. His mind flickered back to the photo he’d seen earlier—a much younger Technoblade with a boy who seemed….He’d pushed the memory aside, but now it clawed its way back, refusing to let go.

“I can’t,” he muttered, shaking his head. His voice cracked, betraying the cracks in his resolve.

“Yes, you can,” Niki insisted, stepping even closer. She reached out, not to grab him, but as if offering him an anchor. “Let me help you, Theseus. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Theseus’s breathing quickened, his heart pounding in his chest. His hand hovered over the pouch again, hesitating. Niki’s gaze never wavered, her determination unwavering.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, as the battle inside him raged on. Finally, his hand dropped to his side.

“I don’t know how,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible.

“We’ll figure it out,” Niki promised, her voice gentle now. “But it starts with putting those back.”

Niki took the vials from his outstretched hand, her movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid he might change his mind. She held them tightly, her eyes softening as she looked at him.

“Theseus…” she started, but he cut her off.

“I hate who I am,” he muttered, his voice breaking. He turned his gaze to the floor, unable to meet her eyes. “I hate what he’s made me into.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Niki said nothing. She simply watched him, the pain etched across his face, the weight of his confession pulling him down.

“You’re not him,” she said finally, her voice steady but gentle. “You’re not what he’s trying to make you. That’s not who you are.”

“You don’t get it,” Theseus snapped, his voice rising as his frustration boiled over. “Every time I try to be better, I get dragged back. By him, by this… this whole damn thing. I’m nothing without him, Niki.”

“That’s not true,” she said firmly, stepping closer. “You’re more than what he’s made you. You’re more than what you’ve done. You can still choose, Theseus. You’re not stuck.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “It’s not that easy,” he muttered.

“I know it’s not,” Niki replied. “But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

Her words were quiet, but they carried a weight that made him pause. For the first time, he looked at her, really looked at her, and saw no judgment in her eyes. Only understanding.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

“You already did,” Niki said, holding up the vials. “This is a start.”

Theseus let out a shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. For once, he didn’t feel completely alone. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to believe that maybe—just maybe—there was a way out.

Niki’s breath caught as she saw the way Theseus trembled, his hands clenched at his sides. His voice cracked when he spoke, the words spilling out in a desperate rush.

“He—he takes your mind,” Theseus stammered, his voice unsteady. “And scrambles it so you can’t think—so you don’t even know what’s real.” He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes wide and unfocused, staring past her. “A-And then… then when you remember, he takes those memories too. Like they never happened.”

Niki’s heart twisted at the raw fear in his voice. She stepped closer, carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal. “Theseus,” she said softly, her tone steady despite the lump forming in her throat. “I’m so sorry. I—”

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” Theseus interrupted, his voice breaking entirely now. “I don’t know what’s me and what’s… him.” He clutched at his head, his fingers digging into his scalp as if trying to hold himself together. “He makes you feel like you’re nothing without him. And when you try to fight it—when you even think about leaving—he makes you forget why you wanted to in the first place.”

Tears pricked at Niki’s eyes, but she held herself steady, refusing to look away from him. “You’re still you, Theseus,” she said firmly. “No matter what he’s done, no matter how much he’s taken from you, you’re still here. You’re still fighting. That’s who you are.”

“I don’t feel like me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t feel like anything.”

“You’re more than what he’s done to you,” Niki said, stepping closer until she was right in front of him. “You’re still standing, Theseus. And that means you’re stronger than he wants you to believe.”

He looked at her then, his eyes filled with a pain so deep it threatened to drown him. But there was something else there too—a flicker of hope, fragile but alive.

“How do you fight someone who owns your mind?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“By taking it back,” Niki said, her voice unwavering. “Piece by piece, moment by moment. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

For the first time, Theseus let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. It was shaky, but it was a start. And as he stood there, looking at Niki, he began to wonder if maybe she was right. Maybe he didn’t have to face this alone.

Theseus took a shaky step back, his hands trembling at his sides. His eyes darted toward the door, his body tense as though he were ready to flee at any moment.

“I… I need to go,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed hard, avoiding Niki’s gaze. “I’m being tracked.”

Niki’s brows furrowed, her expression a mix of concern and confusion. “Tracked? Theseus, you don’t have to—”

“We fought,” he interrupted, his tone sharp and hurried. “You won. You got the vials.” He gestured toward the bag now in her possession, his movements jittery and anxious.

“You don’t have to run,” Niki tried, stepping closer, but he took another step back, shaking his head.

“I do,” he said firmly, though his voice cracked. “If I don’t, they’ll find you. Him.” He spat the word like it burned his tongue. “Dream doesn’t lose. Not for long.”

Niki’s heart ached at the sheer weight in his words, the pain and fear he carried so visibly. “Theseus, wait—”

But he was already moving toward the window he’d come through, his steps quick and deliberate. He paused for just a moment, his hand gripping the edge of the sill, and turned his head slightly.

“Don’t try to follow me,” he said quietly. “You’ll only make things worse.”

And before Niki could say another word, he slipped out into the night, leaving her alone with the vials—and the echoes of his broken confession.

-

Niki blinked away tears, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her like a tidal wave. She clutched the bag of vials tightly, her knuckles white.

"Fuck," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Fuck!"

Her chest heaved with each ragged breath as she stared at the window he’d disappeared through. Why couldn’t she keep him here? Why didn’t she say the right thing, do the right thing?

That was Techno’s brother. His brother.

And she let him leave.

Niki slammed the bag onto the nearest counter, her hands gripping the edge as if it were the only thing keeping her standing. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, a thousand regrets. If she’d just tried harder, said more, done something—anything—maybe he’d still be here.

“Damn it,” she hissed, swiping a hand across her face to clear the tears threatening to spill.

The look in his eyes haunted her—so full of pain, of fear, of something she couldn’t quite place. Dream had twisted him into this, into someone who couldn’t even let himself stay long enough to be helped.

-

Theseus stepped into the shadows of a narrow alley, pulling out the burner phone with trembling hands. He punched in the number he’d memorized, holding his breath as it rang. When the line clicked, a familiar cold voice greeted him.

"Report," Dream demanded, his tone sharp and devoid of patience.

Both missions had failed. Niki had the vials, and Techno was still alive. But Theseus couldn’t tell Dream the truth. Not now, not ever. "I made too much noise during entry," he lied, forcing his voice to stay steady. "I was caught. Both missions failed."

A long sigh filtered through the receiver, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Worthless," Dream muttered, the venom in his voice clear. "Don’t come back tonight. Don’t lead anyone here."

Theseus nodded, even though Dream couldn’t see him. "Understood," he murmured.

The line went dead, leaving him standing alone in the dark. He stared at the phone for a moment before tossing it into a nearby dumpster. It wasn’t safe to keep it anymore.

He leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the damp pavement. The weight of everything pressed down on him, threatening to crush him.

“Worthless.”

The word echoed in his mind, louder and louder, until it was all he could hear. He dug his nails into his palms, trying to ground himself, but it didn’t help.

For a fleeting moment, he thought about running. Disappearing entirely. But where would he go? Dream’s reach was far, and Theseus knew there was no escaping him.

Not yet, anyway.

Theseus sat in the dim light, the silence around him thick, pressing against his chest. He stared down at his hands, the weight of his mission hanging over him like a cloud. He had been given one task: kill Technoblade. Simple. Direct. A mission he had carried out countless times before. Yet now, here he was, questioning his every move.

He had been trained to follow orders, to do what needed to be done without hesitation. But Technoblade... there was something different about him. Something that made Theseus pause when he should have acted.

The photo. The image of two boys—one with Technoblade, the other... the other one was so familiar. Something about that face had twisted in his gut, made him hesitate. He shouldn’t have cared. It was irrelevant. He had a mission, and he was supposed to finish it. But he couldn’t.

Why hadn’t he done it?

He replayed the moment in his mind. The mission had been clear. Get in. Get the vials. Kill Technoblade. But when he was face to face with him, something had stopped him. A sense of recognition. Something about the way Techno looked at him, a way that made Theseus question everything.

Why hadn’t he followed through?

Theseus buried his face in his hands. He had always been good at his work—silent, efficient, and deadly. Yet now, with Technoblade, there was... a doubt. A hesitation that gnawed at him like a persistent itch.

His orders were clear. Dream had been clear. Technoblade was a threat that had to be eliminated. But what if...

What if that wasn’t the whole truth?

Theseus exhaled sharply. He was slipping. He couldn’t afford this. He needed to focus, to remember why he was here in the first place.

He had a job to do. And he couldn’t afford to let whatever this was distract him.

But still, the question lingered in his mind, unanswered.

Why cant he kill Technoblade?

Chapter Text

It was a quiet night. The kind of quiet that felt unnatural, heavy with anticipation. Quiet nights were rare in the city.

Techno pushed open the door to Phil's office, the faint creak breaking the stillness. Phil looked up from his desk, his expression tired but alert.

"Anything happen?" Techno asked, though he already knew the answer.

Phil shook his head. "Nothing." His voice was low, carrying the weight of too many nights just like this one. "It's been quiet all day. Too quiet, if you ask me."

Techno leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. The silence didn’t sit right with him either. It wasn’t the kind of calm that brought relief; it was the kind that made your skin crawl, the kind that meant trouble was brewing just out of sight.

"You think they're regrouping?" Techno asked, his tone casual, though his mind was anything but.

Phil sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe. Or maybe they're just waiting for us to slip up. Either way, it’s not a good sign."

Techno nodded, his gaze drifting to the window. The city lights flickered faintly in the distance, a reminder that life went on, even when it felt like everything was about to fall apart.

“I don’t like it,” Techno muttered. “Feels like the calm before the storm.”

Phil smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve always had a knack for sensing trouble.”

Techno didn’t respond, his thoughts already elsewhere. Quiet nights weren’t a reprieve; they were a warning. And he had a feeling this one was no different.

Techno leaned against the doorway to Phil's office, arms crossed as he studied the man buried in paperwork. The soft glow of the desk lamp highlighted the lines of exhaustion on Phil’s face, his shoulders hunched under the weight of it all.

“How you holding up?” Techno finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Phil glanced up, the faintest hint of surprise crossing his face before he sighed. “I’ve been better.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Feels like it never ends, you know? Every time we deal with one thing, another pops up.”

Techno nodded, stepping further into the room. “That’s the job, isn’t it? But it’s not all on you, Phil. You’ve got a team. Use them.”

Phil huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. But it’s hard not to carry it all sometimes. Someone has to keep this place from falling apart.”

“That someone doesn’t have to be you alone,” Techno said bluntly. “You keep pushing like this, you’ll burn out. Then what? We’re all screwed.”

Phil gave him a tired smile. “Since when did you get so good at pep talks?”

“Since I got tired of watching you run yourself into the ground,” Techno replied.

Phil shook his head, but the faint smile lingered. “I’ll be fine. Just need to get through tonight.”

Techno didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop. For now. “If you say so. Just don’t expect me to feel bad when you keel over from exhaustion.”

Phil chuckled softly, the sound a rare reprieve from the tension in the air. “Noted. Thanks, mate.”

Techno gave a small nod before stepping back toward the door. “Try to get some sleep at some point. You’re no good to anyone if you’re dead on your feet.”

Phil didn’t respond, but the look he gave Techno said enough. Whether he’d take the advice or not was another matter entirely.

Phil glanced up from his desk, the quiet hum of the office broken by the sound of hurried footsteps echoing down the hall. Before either of them could react, the door burst open, and Niki rushed in, breathless, her face flushed with urgency.

“Theseus was here,” she gasped, her words tumbling out as she leaned against the doorframe.

Phil shot up from his chair, his papers scattering across the desk. Techno immediately straightened, his casual demeanor vanishing.

“What?” Phil demanded, his voice sharp. “When?”

“Just now,” Niki said, struggling to catch her breath. “He broke into the lab. He took the vials, but I managed to stop him before he escaped with them.” Her hands trembled slightly as she spoke. “But he’s gone now.”

Techno’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the back of a chair. “Gone? You let him go?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Niki snapped, meeting his glare with equal intensity. “He—he wasn’t fighting back. He handed over the vials. And he said something…”

“What did he say?” Phil asked, his tone softening as he noted the distress in her voice.

Niki looked between them, her breathing still uneven. “He said he hated who he’d become. He seemed… scared. Like he’s being watched or tracked. He told me to tell you he fought me, that I won. He wanted to protect us.”

Techno’s jaw tightened, his shoulders stiffening. “That doesn’t sound like the Theseus I remember.”

Phil leaned heavily against the desk, his face grim. “If he’s working for Chaos, it’s not by choice. Dream’s got his claws in him, no doubt about it.”

“I tried to stop him,” Niki said, her voice quieter now, guilt creeping in. “But he said he had to leave. That if he stayed, it would put us in danger. He lied to Dream about the mission failing. He’s trying to protect us, even now.”

Techno exhaled slowly, his expression hard but his eyes conflicted. “If he’s scared, then there’s still something human left in him. We can use that.”

Phil nodded, his tone resolute. “We need to find him before Chaos tightens their grip.”

Niki swallowed hard, her gaze unwavering. “I don’t know if he can be saved, but he’s trying. And that has to count for something.”

Techno’s voice was low, his words laced with determination. “It does. And I’m not losing him again.”

-

Theseus wasn't supposed to be here.

This was stupid.

Idiotic.

Compulsive.

Nothing he was supposed to be.

He could hear what Dream would say.

Yet here he was, crouched in front of a lock, picking the door to an apartment that didn’t belong to him—an apartment that belonged to a detective.

Fuck.

The lock clicked open, and Theseus slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him. The place was dimly lit, quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. His heart pounded as he listened for any signs of Technoblade—or whoever his roommate was.

Nothing.

He moved carefully, his footsteps light as he scanned the living room. The space was sparse but neat, a few personal touches here and there—books on a shelf, a jacket draped over the back of a chair. It didn’t tell him much.

He wasn’t here for the usual intel, though. No blueprints, no tactical plans. He was looking for something specific. Something personal.

That photo.

That damn photo.

The image of a younger Technoblade sitting beside a blonde boy had been burned into his mind since he’d first seen it. And now, despite every instinct screaming at him to leave, he needed to know who that kid was.

Theseus made his way toward a small desk tucked into the corner of the room. It looked like a home office setup, papers and files stacked neatly, a laptop sitting closed on top. He rifled through the drawers, his hands moving quickly but carefully, not wanting to disturb anything more than necessary.

Nothing.

A low creak from the hallway made him freeze. His heart leapt into his throat as he strained to listen, every muscle in his body tensing.

Was that the roommate?

He waited, barely breathing, but no further sounds came. Slowly, he relaxed and returned to his search.

In one of the drawers, he found another stack of photos, this one older, faded around the edges. He flipped through them quickly, his brow furrowing as he recognized Technoblade in some of them—always older than the boy in the photo he’d seen before.

Then he saw it.

The same blonde kid.

His chest tightened as he stared at the image. The boy was smiling, carefree, standing next to Technoblade with an arm slung around his shoulders. They looked... happy.

Why did this matter so much to him? Why did it feel like this photo held answers to questions he didn’t even know how to ask?

Theseus shoved the photo into his pocket and moved to leave, his mind racing. He couldn’t stay here much longer. It was too risky.

But as he reached the door, he paused, glancing back at the apartment. The faint traces of a life lived here, the small signs of normalcy—it all felt so far removed from him.

For a brief moment, he hesitated.

Then he slipped out, closing the door behind him.

-

Technoblade stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. His bag landed heavily by the door, the sound of papers and metal rattling faintly. He lingered there for a moment, staring down at his boots before finally toeing them off and trudging into the living room.

Skeppy glanced up from the couch, a remote in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. “You look like someone just stole your sword and broke your favorite potato. What happened?”

“Close enough,” Techno muttered, collapsing into the armchair with a heavy sigh. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor.

Skeppy set the bowl down and turned toward him, his grin fading. “Alright, spill. What’s got you looking like that?”

Techno rubbed a hand over his face before straightening up slightly. “Theseus.”

Skeppy blinked. “Theseus? As in the guy you’ve been chasing down for weeks? As in your presumably dead but actually alive brother?”

“The same,” Techno said dryly. “He broke into the precinct last night. Went straight for my files.”

“What?” Skeppy sat up straighter. “Hold up, Theseus broke into the precinct? Isn’t that place crawling with cops and cameras?”

“He bypassed most of it,” Techno said, his tone grim. “Got in and out like he’d done it a thousand times. He was precise. Calculated. He didn’t take much, but what he did grab…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“What did he take?” Skeppy pressed.

“Nothing, technically,” Techno admitted, his jaw tightening. “Niki caught him at the lab before he could leave with anything. Confronted him. He handed the vials back.”

“And then what?” Skeppy asked, leaning forward.

“And then he walked out,” Techno said bluntly.

Skeppy stared at him. “You’re telling me Niki just let him go?”

“She didn’t have much of a choice,” Techno said, his voice low. “She didn’t want to fight him, and honestly, I don’t blame her. Theseus isn’t some petty thief. He’s…” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“He’s dangerous?” Skeppy guessed, though there was a hint of disbelief in his tone.

Techno shook his head. “It’s not just that. He’s…” He paused, exhaling slowly. “He’s smart. Every move he makes is deliberate. And now he’s targeting me.”

“Okay, but why?” Skeppy asked, throwing his hands up. “What’s his angle? Why break into the precinct, go through your stuff, and then hit the lab? What’s he after?”

“The vials from the warehouse” Techno admitted, his tone laced with frustration. “But whatever those are it is definitely important.”

Skeppy frowned, crossing his arms. “You think he’s messing with you? Trying to get in your head? Because he didn't take any files.”

“Maybe,” Techno muttered. “Or maybe there’s something I’m missing. Something in those files that he thinks is important.”

Skeppy leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds like he's successfully got you on edge.”

Techno huffed a laugh, though it lacked any real humor. “Understatement of the year.”

He expected nothing less of his brother.

Skeppy watched him for a moment before leaning forward again, his tone softening. “You sure you’re okay, man? I mean, I know you’re always brooding, but this feels… different.”

Techno glanced at him, his expression briefly flickering with something unreadable. “I’m fine,” he said after a moment.

Skeppy didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. For now. “Alright. But you know you don’t have to deal with this alone, right? Whatever’s going on with your brother, we’ll figure it out.”

Techno nodded, though his mind was already racing with possibilities. He didn’t know what Theseus was planning.

Chapter Text

“Techno, what are you and Skeppy doing for Christmas?” Phil asked, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin.

“Eh, not much,” Techno replied with a shrug, crossing his arms. “Why?”

“Kristen and I are hosting a Christmas dinner,” Phil said. “We’ve invited Niki along too. Thought it might be nice if you joined us.”

Techno raised a brow. “You sure? I mean, Skeppy’s kind of a chaos magnet. And I’m... well, me.”

KRISTEN

MUMZA MENTION!?!?!

EEEEKKK

Phil waved a hand dismissively. “Kristen loves hosting, mate. And she hasn’t seen you in forever. She’d be thrilled if you came. Besides, you could use a proper holiday. I know you haven’t celebrated in years.”

Techno hesitated. The idea of a quiet holiday was appealing, but spending it with others—especially someone like Kristen, who radiated warmth and joy—felt... unfamiliar.

“I’ll think about it,” Techno said after a moment.

Phil’s smile widened. “That’s all I ask. Kristen will be happy to see you either way. And Skeppy’s always welcome too.”

“Let me warn you now,” Techno said with a faint smirk. “Skeppy might bring the chaos.”

Phil chuckled. “Wouldn’t expect anything less. Just let me know, yeah? Kristen’s already planning out the menu.”

“Will do,” Techno said, standing. As he walked to the door, he paused and looked back. “Thanks, Phil. For the invite.”

“Always, mate,” Phil said warmly. “You’re family.”

Techno gave a small nod before stepping out, already running through ways to convince Skeppy not to cause a scene.

-

“Yes, we are going, Techno!” Skeppy declared from across the room, his voice loud and unwavering.

Techno blinked, turning slowly to face him. “We are?”

“Yes.” Skeppy leaned against the couch, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. “C’mon, Phil invited us. Plus, Kristen’s cooking? No way we’re missing out on that.”

Techno sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Skeppy. Holiday gatherings aren’t exactly my thing. And you’re a walking disaster. You’ll probably set their Christmas tree on fire or something.”

“First of all, rude,” Skeppy shot back, pointing a finger at him. “Second, I don’t burn things all the time. And third, Phil and Kristen like me! They’re not gonna care if I accidentally—hypothetically—knock over the eggnog.”

“Hypothetically,” Techno repeated, deadpan.

“Exactly!” Skeppy grinned. “Besides, you could use the break. When’s the last time you relaxed? Like actually relaxed, not your broody I’ll-stare-out-the-window-for-an-hour version of relaxing?”

Techno gave him a long look. “I relax plenty. You’re just too noisy to notice.”

Skeppy rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. You’re a workaholic and everyone knows it. Now, Phil invited us. Kristen is expecting us. Niki will be there. We’re going.”

Techno sighed again, this time deeper, and sank into his chair. “Why are you so determined about this?”

“Because!” Skeppy exclaimed, flopping onto the couch dramatically. “It’s Christmas, Techno. A time for food, fun, and forcing you to socialize. You can’t brood through everything. And, if you really hate it, you can sit in a corner and glare at me while I eat all the pie.”

Techno stared at him for a moment, then muttered, “You’re insufferable.”

“Love you too, buddy,” Skeppy said with a wink. “So, I’ll let Phil know we’re coming?”

Techno groaned, covering his face with a hand. “Fine. But if you ruin their tree, you’re paying for it.”

“Deal,” Skeppy said, already pulling out his phone to text Phil. “This is gonna be great, Techno. You’ll see.”

Techno wasn’t convinced, but there was a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

The phone rang sharply, cutting through the quiet hum of the apartment. Techno, who had been halfway through unlacing his boots, froze. Skeppy looked up from where he was scrolling through his phone on the couch, eyebrows raised.

"Someone's popular," Skeppy muttered as the ringing continued.

Techno reached for the phone on the counter, his expression already shifting into something more serious as he checked the caller ID. Niki. Without hesitation, he answered.

"Techno?" Niki’s voice came through, strained and heavy with urgency.

Techno stood up straight, the change in his posture immediate. Skeppy noticed, his relaxed demeanor fading as he watched his roommate closely.

"What is it, Niki?" Techno asked, his voice low.

"There was a murder," she said bluntly, her words quick and heavy.

The air in the room shifted. Techno stiffened, his eyes narrowing. Skeppy sat up straighter, sensing the shift in mood.

“Is it…?” Techno whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Yeah,” Niki confirmed after a beat, her voice carrying a note of grim certainty. “There’s a smile note.”

Techno closed his eyes briefly, a faint curse slipping from his lips. Of course. That damn calling card.

"Where?" he asked, his tone steady but cold.

“Near the docks,” Niki said, her voice trembling slightly.

“Got it. I’ll be there in ten,” Techno replied, already reaching for his coat and keys.

“What’s going on?” Skeppy asked, standing now, his eyes full of concern.

Techno glanced at him but didn’t answer directly. “Work. It’s urgent.”

Skeppy frowned. “Techno—"

But Techno was already slipping his boots back on and shrugging into his coat. He turned his attention back to the phone. “I’ll call you when I know more,” he said to Niki before ending the call.

“Hey,” Skeppy pressed, stepping closer. “You good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Techno hesitated, his hand resting on the doorknob. “I did,” he said quietly.

And with that, he opened the door and stepped out, leaving Skeppy standing there in the heavy silence.

-

Techno’s boots pounded against the wet concrete as he moved through the alley, heading towards the docks. His mind was clouded, his thoughts heavy with guilt, frustration, and the pressing need to end this twisted game. His brother—Theseus—had once been family. But now, he was nothing more than a ghost, a shadow haunting him with every step. Techno had to stop him, but the idea of facing him again, of confronting the mess they’d both become… it made his stomach churn.

The docks were quiet tonight, the usual hum of activity replaced by an eerie silence. The only sound was the occasional creak of wood and the distant lapping of water against the pylons. As Techno approached the site, he could already see the flashing lights and the shapes of officers moving around. The scene was cordoned off, yellow tape crisscrossing the area in a stark contrast to the otherwise peaceful surroundings.

Niki was there when Techno arrived, standing near the tape, arms folded tightly over her chest. She didn’t need to say anything; the look in her eyes said it all.

“Who was it?” Techno asked, his voice tight, his gaze scanning the scene for any sign of his brother’s presence. He hated this—hated how they were always one step behind. Always too late.

“Andrew Collins,” Niki replied, her expression grim. “Same as the others. No witnesses. He was into drugs, had connections with the wrong crowd. But there’s no sign of Theseus, no access card like last time. He just slipped in, killed him, and left. Clean.”

Techno's jaw clenched. “No signs. No trace. Just the same fucking smiley face…” He didn’t need to say the rest. Niki understood. It was a taunt, a mark left behind by his brother—by Theseus.

His hand found his phone, and he dialed quickly, waiting as it rang.

“Hello?” Skeppy’s voice came through, groggy but alert.

“They’re gone. Theseus is gone,” Techno said flatly. “Again.”

“Goddamn it,” Skeppy muttered. “We’re no closer to catching him, huh?”

“No.” Techno’s voice was sharp. He hated this, hated how it felt like his brother was always out of reach. Always moving faster, like a shadow he couldn’t catch. “But I’m not stopping. Not until I find him.”

“Careful, Techno,” Skeppy warned, his tone serious now.

“I know,” Techno growled.

He hung up, turning back to the scene. His eyes locked on the body in the middle of the docks. Andrew Collins, just another pawn in Dreams twisted game.

“He’s playing me,” Techno muttered under his breath, clenching his fists at his sides. “And I’m done being the fool.”

Niki moved closer, her voice low but steady. “We’ll catch him. But you have to be careful.”

“I’m ready,” Techno said, his voice hardening.

-

Theseus pulled off his hoodie and collapsed to his knees in the alley, his back hitting the cold brick wall with a thud. His breath came in ragged, panicked gasps. He ripped the muzzle off, his fingers trembling, and tossed it aside like it was nothing. His hands were wet. Shit.

Blood.

Fuck.

He looked down at his hands, the crimson stain stark against his skin. No. He had done it. Again. He had killed Andrew Collins. He wasn't supposed to care, he wasn't supposed to feel this-Fuck!

The weight of it hit him like a truck.

Dream had told him to do it. Punishment. He had no choice. But god, it felt like his insides were being torn apart. His head spun as the reality

of what he had just done set in.

"Shit... Fuck!" His voice cracked as he wiped his face with the back of his hand, hoping the blood would disappear, but it wouldn't. It never did.

He couldn't escape the image of Andrew's body, the way it had fallen, the way it had bled. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was still there, still so fucking real. The guilt, the disgust- fuck, fuck, fuck! He couldn't get rid of it.

He gasped for air, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. No, no, no... He couldn't break. He had to keep going. He had to get out of here.

But it didn't matter. It followed him. The blood, the guilt, the punishment. It was a fucking cycle, and he was

trapped in it.

With one last shaky breath, Theseus pushed himself to his feet, stumbling slightly as he staggered down the alley, trying to get as far from the the alley as possible. Away from the memories, away from the fucking blood.

-

Theseus staggered into the gas station, his body feeling like it was made of lead. The bright, fluorescent lights above flickered and buzzed, stabbing into his eyes. He squinted, his hand instinctively reaching up to shield his face from the harsh glare. He was trembling, trying to hold himself together, but everything inside him was falling apart.

“Fuck, kid, you good?” The voice came from behind the counter. An older man, grizzled, wearing a faded flannel shirt and a baseball cap, looked up at Theseus with a mixture of concern and skepticism.

Theseus stared blankly at the man, his thoughts swirling like a storm, but he couldn’t find the words. His breath was shallow, chest tight. He barely registered the man’s question.

“Uh…Bathroom?” Theseus managed to rasp, his voice hoarse and strained.

The older man narrowed his eyes for a moment, but then gave a slow nod. “Yeah, back here, kid.” He pointed toward the small hallway at the back of the gas station.

Without another word, Theseus stumbled toward the bathroom, his legs unsteady beneath him. Each step felt like it took a thousand years, his mind barely focused on anything other than the overwhelming need to escape. To hide. To… stop feeling.

He pushed open the bathroom door with a shaky hand and locked it behind him. The cold tile under his bare feet felt grounding for a moment, but that did little to stop the spiraling thoughts in his head. The blood, the body, the weight of what he had done.

He sank to the floor, leaning against the cool wall. His hands were still trembling, streaked with red. Fuck, fuck, fuck…

Chapter Text

Theseus stepped out of the bathroom, trying to steady his breath. The cold tile had done little to calm his shaking hands, but at least there was less blood on him this time. His clothes were still stained, but it wasn’t as obvious as before. He forced himself to walk with a sense of calm, even though his mind was anything but.

The older man was standing near the counter, still eyeing him with suspicion, a frown etched deeply into his weathered face. He looked Theseus up and down, clearly unimpressed by the state he was in.

“You on drugs, boy?” the man asked, his tone rough, yet not entirely unkind.

Theseus blinked, the question taking a moment to fully register. “Uhm… no,” he replied, his voice shaky but firm. The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He wasn’t exactly lying, but there was something in his eyes—something that betrayed his truth.

Did Purpleds shots count as drugs?

The man raised an eyebrow, his frown deepening as he took a step forward. “What in earth made you look like hell, then?” he asked, pointing at Theseus's disheveled state. The question hung in the air, a sharp accusation, one Theseus didn’t have the strength to answer.

For a moment, Theseus just stared at the man, his mind blank. He didn’t have an answer for that either. He didn’t even know what the hell had gotten him here.

The pain in his chest felt like it would suffocate him if he didn’t say something, but what could he say? “I’m just…” His voice trailed off. “I’m just... trying to get away.”

The man sighed, his eyes softening just slightly as he leaned back against the counter. “Go get ya a drink and somethin' to eat, kid. And candy or somethin'. You look like you need it.”

Theseus didn’t say anything for a long moment, just staring at the older man. He wasn’t sure what to feel—relief, guilt, confusion. But the offer hung in the air, simple, almost kind. It made him feel a little lighter, even if just for a second.

Without a word, he nodded and made his way toward the aisles. His legs felt like they could collapse beneath him at any moment, but he kept walking, pretending like he was normal, pretending like this wasn't the last place he ever thought he’d be.

The lights in the gas station flickered overhead as he walked, and everything felt off, distorted—like his mind was swimming beneath the surface of everything he saw. He grabbed a bottle of water, then lingered for a moment before picking up a bag of sour gummies, the sugar coating something his mind could latch onto. Something to dull the edges of his reality.

Theseus grabbed a sandwich, Some candy called skittles and a coke, (Once Sapnap let him drink one, it was REALLY good) then made his way back to the counter. The old man looked at him, his eyes sharp, like he could tell something was off.

“Sit down for a second, kid,” the man said, motioning to the small bench behind the counter. “You look like you could use a break.”

Theseus hesitated, but his legs were shaking too much to stand any longer. He nodded and sat down, the sandwich bag crinkling in his hands. The man leaned against the counter, watching him quietly for a moment.

“Done Frankland,” The man introduced, “So, what’s your name, kid?” he asked casually.

“Henry,” Theseus replied, his voice coming out a little too quickly, a little too sharp. He didn’t meet the man’s eyes, instead focusing on the sandwich in his hands like it was the most important thing in the world.

“Henry, huh?” The man grunted, but didn’t push further. “What brings you out here at this hour?”

Theseus swallowed, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. He wanted to say something, something real, but nothing came to mind. Instead, he muttered, “Just...needed some air.”

Don didn’t seem convinced but let it slide. “Well, if you need a place to sit for a bit, you can hang out here for a while. Doesn’t seem like you’re in a hurry.”

Theseus nodded again, trying to relax, but every part of him was screaming to leave. The bright lights hurt his eyes. The quiet was unsettling. He just wanted to get away.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking a small bite of the sandwich, even though he wasn’t hungry at all.

-

“Andrew was killed with a blade. A quick slash to the neck that didn’t finish the job, followed by a second strike in the correct spot,” Niki read from the report, her tone clipped.

“He got his drugs from an extended branch of Chaos,” Techno added, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Andrew probably had some debts he didn’t pay back. Could’ve pissed off the wrong people.”

“But why would Dream send his best weapon after someone like Andrew for something so small?” Phil questioned, his voice laced with skepticism.

“That’s the part that doesn’t add up,” Techno muttered, his gaze sharp and thoughtful. “Dream doesn’t waste resources, especially not Theseus. There’s gotta be more to this.”

Niki leaned back in her chair, the faint hum of her laptop filling the silence. “Andrew was a small-time dealer. If Chaos wanted him dead, they could’ve used anyone. They didn’t need to involve Theseus unless this was more than a debt.”

Phil sighed, rubbing his temples as he mulled it over. “Do we have any leads on why Dream would prioritize this guy? Anything he might’ve been involved in?”

“Not yet,” Techno replied, standing upright and starting to pace. “But Andrew was tied to Chaos, and that’s enough to keep digging. Something about this doesn’t sit right.”

Niki clicked through files on her screen. “I’ll start pulling Andrew’s phone records—see who he’s been talking to recently. Maybe we can trace some connections.”

“Good,” Techno said, nodding. “Also, see if he had any family or friends who might’ve known something. Chaos doesn’t operate in a vacuum. If Andrew had dirt, someone else might’ve known about it.”

Phil glanced at the crime scene photos spread across the desk, his eyes narrowing at the clean cuts on Andrew’s neck. “Theseus isn’t sloppy, either. This was quick and efficient. If it’s just about sending a message, why make it so clean?”

“Maybe it wasn’t just a message,” Techno said, pausing mid-step. “Maybe Andrew had something Dream wanted, and Theseus was there to retrieve it.”

“You think he took something from the scene?” Niki asked, turning her attention back to him.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Techno admitted. “Dream’s been quiet lately, and that’s never a good thing. If Theseus was sent, it’s because Dream wants to make sure there are no loose ends.”

Phil frowned, crossing his arms. “If Theseus left with something, we’ll never know what it was. The guy’s a ghost. No cameras, no witnesses, nothing.”

Techno clenched his fists, frustration flickering across his face. “Then we make him come to us. Theseus isn’t just some hitman, Phil. He’s Dream’s second. And…” His voice faltered for a moment before he steadied himself. “And he’s my brother.”

Phil exchanged a look with Niki, both of them silent for a beat. Finally, Phil said, “We’ll find him, Techno. But we need to play this smart.”

Techno nodded, his jaw tightening. “We don’t have a choice. Theseus isn’t going to stop until he finishes whatever Dream has planned. And if Andrew’s death is just the beginning, we’re running out of time.”

-

Theseus walked down the dark, shadowed road, his footsteps muffled by the damp pavement. He’d told Don he was heading home, though the word "home" felt foreign, almost meaningless to him now. Don, oblivious to the truth, had let him go without question. The man was nice—too nice.

The thought made Theseus' chest ache in a way he didn’t have the time to process. Nice guys like Don didn’t last long in his world. It was better that Don didn’t ask too many questions. Better that he didn’t dig too deep into the kid with the blood-stained hoodie and haunted eyes.

Pulling his jacket tight around him, Theseus adjusted the mask over his face, its rough edges pressing uncomfortably against his skin. The fabric smelled faintly of iron, a reminder of the mess he’d made earlier. He didn’t want to think about it—about the man he’d left at the docks or the weight of the knife in his hand.

The shadows stretched long and thin in the dim light of the streetlamps. He moved through them like a ghost, invisible to the world around him. The hum of a distant car and the faint flicker of a neon sign were the only signs of life.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his fingers brushing against the folded note he kept there. It was crumpled and worn, a reminder of why he couldn’t stop. Why he couldn’t let himself think too much about the nice people he met or the lives he took. Dream didn’t leave room for that.

As he walked, the road ahead seemed to stretch endlessly, a path with no destination. Theseus didn’t know where he was going, but it didn’t matter. There was no such thing as home for someone like him. Just another job, another mission, another reason to keep moving forward.

Then his phone rang, the sharp vibration breaking the eerie silence of the empty street. Theseus flinched, pulling it from his pocket with a trembling hand. His breath hitched when he saw the caller ID. He didn’t want to answer—every instinct told him not to—but ignoring Dream wasn’t an option.

He swiped to answer, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Where the fuck are you?” Dream’s voice spat through the speaker, cold and biting.

Theseus swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Out. Needed air.”

“Air?” Dream’s laugh was sharp, mocking. “You think you get breaks now? You think you can just take off whenever you want?”

“I—I finished the job,” Theseus stammered, his grip tightening on the phone. “Andrew’s dead. Just like you wanted.”

“Not just like I wanted,” Dream snapped. “You’re late. You left a mess. And you’re out wandering around like some stray. Do you have any idea what that looks like? How it makes me look?”

“I wasn’t followed,” Theseus murmured, his voice small, defensive.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re not some free agent, Theseus. You don’t get to act like you are.” Dream’s tone lowered, dangerous and measured. “You’re mine. Get your ass back here before I have to come find you myself.”

The line went dead before Theseus could respond.

He pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at the blank screen for a moment before shoving it back into his pocket. His heart pounded, the sound echoing in his ears.

Dream’s words lingered, twisting in his mind like a knife. You’re mine.

Theseus clenched his jaw, his hands trembling as he started walking again. The illusion of freedom he’d felt while leaving the gas station was gone, replaced by cold, suffocating weight.

He pulled his jacket tighter, his mask hiding the frustration and fear etched across his face. Whatever hope he’d had of carving out a moment of peace, of clarity, was gone now.

Chapter Text

Technoblade groaned as he felt himself being yanked upright, the warmth of his bed ripped away in an instant. His eyelids barely cracked open, the dim light of the room still too bright for his groggy state.

“TECHNOOOO!” Skeppy’s voice cut through the silence like a foghorn, loud and unrelenting. “It’s CHRISTMAS!”

“Kay.” Techno mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. He flopped back onto the mattress, trying to bury himself under the covers again.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Skeppy tugged harder, almost sending Techno tumbling to the floor. “You’re not sleeping through this! Get up, get dressed—we’ve got plans, and Phil’s waiting!”

Techno let out a low, guttural groan, one that Skeppy ignored entirely.

“It’s too early,” Techno muttered, his words barely audible as he rubbed his eyes.

“It’s 11 a.m., Techno. You’ve been awake earlier for less exciting reasons, like stakeouts and crime scenes.” Skeppy crossed his arms, giving him a pointed look. “Christmas is way better than chasing bad guys. Come on, don’t ruin the holiday spirit.”

Techno sat up reluctantly, his pink hair sticking up in all directions. “You’re way too excited for this.”

“Obviously. It’s Christmas!” Skeppy said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “There’s food, presents, and Phil! What more could you want?”

“A few more hours of sleep,” Techno grumbled, dragging himself out of bed. He glanced toward Skeppy, who was practically vibrating with energy. “You’re like a hyperactive kid, you know that?”

“And you’re like a grumpy old man,” Skeppy shot back with a grin. “Now hurry up.”

Techno sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Fine, fine. I’m up. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Skeppy replied, tossing a sweater at Techno. “Now hurry up. I’m not letting you ruin my Christmas vibes.”

For all of Skeppy’s chaos, there was something infectious about his enthusiasm. And, as much as Techno hated to admit it, he didn’t entirely mind the thought of spending the day with their mismatched little group.

Before they could leave, Skeppy reached into his pocket with a sly grin. “Oh, wait! Before we go—Merry Christmas, Techno!” He pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box and handed it to him.

Techno blinked at the unexpected gesture, taking the box cautiously. “What’s this?”

“A gift, obviously. Do you think I’d just drag you out of bed without a plan?” Skeppy smirked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Techno turned the box over in his hands before carefully tearing off the wrapping paper. Inside was a polished, handcrafted knife with a dark wooden handle, the blade engraved with intricate designs.

“I figured you’d like it,” Skeppy said, watching Techno’s reaction closely. “You’re always complaining about your knives being dull or ‘not balanced’ or whatever it is you knife nerds talk about.”

Techno ran a thumb over the blade, his expression unreadable for a moment before he gave a small nod. “It’s… nice. Thanks, Skeppy. Really.”

“Don’t get all sappy on me,” Skeppy teased, though there was genuine warmth in his voice. “You’re welcome.”

Techno set the knife aside, reaching into his nightstand drawer. “Well, I guess it’s your lucky day, because I got you something too.” He tossed a small package to Skeppy, who caught it midair with ease.

“You? Getting a Christmas gift? This I gotta see,” Skeppy said, tearing into the paper like an overexcited child. Inside was a sleek, custom-made multitool, complete with a set of screwdrivers, a bottle opener, and even a small flashlight.

“Figured it’d be useful, considering how much crap you drag me into,” Techno said, crossing his arms. “Thought you might need something practical for once.”

Skeppy grinned, holding up the tool and inspecting it. “Okay, this is actually really cool. Thanks, Techno. I’ll take this as proof you secretly care about me. Plus its hand crafted.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Techno muttered, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Sapnoblade

LOLZ

GUYSSSS THE END OF THIS CHAPPPP

DON'T SPOIL

WHERES STEVE PPL ARE GONNA SPOIL

Don't worry, chat im deleting messages ;)

Steve's working overtime <3

Skeppy chuckled, slipping the multitool into his pocket. “Alright, now that we’ve exchanged gifts and had our touching moment, can we go?”

“Fine, fine,” Techno said, grabbing his coat. “Let’s get this over with before you give me another reason to regret waking up.”

“Too late!” Skeppy said cheerfully, leading the way out the door.

-

They knocked on Phil’s door, and after a brief moment, it swung open to reveal Kristin standing there with a warm smile.

“Merry Christmas!” she greeted, her voice bright as she stepped aside to let them in. “Come on in, you two must be freezing!”

Skeppy bounded inside like an overexcited puppy, shaking off the cold and beaming up at Kristin. “Merry Christmas, Kristin! You look way too cheerful for someone hosting Philza Minecraft and a bunch of chaos gremlins.”

Kristin laughed. “Well, someone’s gotta keep this group in line. You bringing any trouble with you?”

“Always,” Skeppy quipped, earning a side-eye from Techno as he stepped inside more quietly.

“Merry Christmas, Kristin,” Techno said, his tone softer but genuine. He handed her a small bag with a bottle of wine. “Figured we shouldn’t show up empty-handed.”

Kristin’s eyes lit up. “Oh, thank you! You didn’t have to, but I’ll happily take it. Phil’s in the living room with Niki. You two go warm up, and I’ll bring you something to drink.”

Skeppy was already halfway out of his coat, making a beeline for the living room. “Phil! Niki! The life of the party has arrived!”

Techno groaned quietly, handing Kristin his coat with a knowing look. “He’s been like this since six this morning. Good luck.”

Kristin grinned. “He’s Skeppy. I’d be more worried if he wasn’t.”

Skeppy was already sprawled out on the couch, gesturing animatedly as Niki laughed at something he’d said. Phil sat in his usual chair, sipping from a steaming mug, his relaxed posture a sharp contrast to the lively energy Skeppy brought into the room.

“Well, if it isn’t the man himself,” Phil greeted as Techno walked in, raising his mug slightly in acknowledgment. “Merry Christmas, mate.”

“Merry Christmas,” Techno said, settling into the armchair by the fire. “How’s the chaos level so far?”

“Manageable,” Phil replied with a chuckle. “But you’ve just arrived, so that might change.”

“I’m not the one you’ve gotta worry about,” Techno muttered, tilting his head toward Skeppy, who was now halfway through explaining some elaborate prank he’d pulled last week.

“Hey!” Skeppy said, pointing at Techno. “I am an angel during the holidays. Pure, unadulterated joy, that’s me.”

Phil snorted. “Joy, huh? Is that what you call locking Techno out on the balcony last year?”

“That was festive mischief!” Skeppy defended with a grin.

“It was freezing,” Techno deadpanned. “I was out there for twenty minutes before you remembered I don’t keep a spare key.”

“And you’re still here this year,” Skeppy countered smugly. “That means you’ve forgiven me.”

“I think I’ve just accepted that you’re my cross to bear,” Techno muttered, leaning back in his chair.

Niki giggled, handing Skeppy a plate of cookies. “You two are like an old married couple. It’s honestly adorable.”

Skeppy smirked, taking a cookie. “See? She gets it. We have chemistry.”

“Yeah, the kind that explodes in your face,” Techno retorted, earning a laugh from the group.

Kristin entered the room, carrying a tray of hot cocoa and cider. “All right, you lot, here’s something to warm you up. Techno, I made yours extra strong—figured you’d need it with Skeppy around.”

“Bless you,” Techno said, taking the mug she handed him.

“You’re enabling his anti-Skeppy bias, Kristin!” Skeppy protested, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

“I call it survival tactics,” Kristin said with a wink, earning more laughter from the group.

Phil leaned forward, setting his mug down. “All right, so what’s the plan for the day? Food, presents, and then trying not to burn the house down with whatever nonsense Skeppy has planned?”

“Sounds about right,” Techno said, sipping his cocoa.

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I bring only joy and perfectly safe activities to Christmas,” Skeppy said, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. “You’ll all thank me later.”

“Uh-huh,” Phil said, clearly unconvinced.

-

As Techno unlocked the door and let Skeppy in, a rare warmth settled over him. The day at Phil's had been chaotic, but it reminded him of what little normalcy life could offer. Skeppy immediately kicked off his shoes, muttering something about needing a nap, and wandered off toward the kitchen.

Techno, however, headed straight for his room, eager to put away the few gifts he’d received. The quiet hum of the apartment felt comforting as he pushed open the door to his room.

But the comfort vanished instantly.

Standing by the window, half-obscured by the shadows, was someone who shouldn’t have been there.

"Theseus?" Techno’s voice came out sharp and disbelieving, his hand instinctively tightening on the doorframe.

The figure froze, caught like a thief in the night.

And then silence fell.

Chapter Text

Techno moved before he could think, lunging toward the intruder and pinning him to the floor with a force that shook the walls. His hand gripped Theseus’ wrist, yanking a blade out of his hand and tossing it across the room.

“Why are you here!?” Techno demanded, his voice sharp and filled with something Skeppy rarely heard from him—genuine panic.

Skeppy appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed, a bag of chips in one hand. “Uh, Techno, what the hell is—?”

“Stay there, Skeppy!” Techno barked without looking back.

Theseus writhed under Techno’s hold, his face twisted in frustration. “I was just looking at something—fucking hell—get off me!”

“Looking at something?” Techno growled, his grip tightening. “You broke into my apartment! What are you after?!”

Theseus scowled, struggling harder. “I’m not here to kill you, if that’s what you’re worried about! Dream doesn’t even know I’m here!”

“Then why the hell are you here?” Techno snapped, glaring down at him.

Theseus averted his gaze, his jaw tightening as if holding back the truth. “I—I just needed answers, okay? That’s it!”

“Answers about what?”

Techno hoped it was about him and Theseus being related. Oh how he hoped.

oml chat

Guys blood???

Not poggers

How???

That's TOMMY

He's a literal Racoon no one cares :/

Techno cares o7

Theseus didn’t respond, his eyes darting toward Skeppy before settling on the floor.

“Techno, who is this?” Skeppy finally asked, his voice cautious, almost afraid to interrupt the tension.

Techno’s jaw clenched as he stared down at Theseus. “My broth- Theseus,” he muttered bitterly.

Skeppy’s eyes widened. “The assassin? Oh, this is just great.”

“Let me go,” Theseus said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I won’t cause trouble. Just let me go.”

Techno’s grip didn’t waver. “Not until you tell me everything.”

-

Theseus sat in the middle of the room, duct-taped to a chair. The edges of the tape were jagged, a sign of Techno’s rushed, furious handiwork. Theseus’ mask was still on. Techno couldn’t bring himself to pull it off. Not yet.

He paced in front of his brother, the weight of everything pressing down on his shoulders. Skeppy leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with quiet concern.

“Why were you here?” Techno’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tense silence.

“Fuck off,” Theseus spat, his voice muffled through the mask.

Techno’s jaw tightened. He crouched down to Theseus’ eye level, staring into the lifeless reflection of his own face in the mask. “You broke into my home, Theseus. Don’t think I’ll let you off easy. Why. Were. You. Here?”

Theseus tilted his head slightly, the gesture mocking. “What’s it matter? You’ve already got me taped up like a damn hostage.”

“It matters because you’ve been leaving bodies all over the city,” Techno shot back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t know? The docks. The smiley notes. You’re not exactly subtle.”

Theseus let out a harsh laugh, low and bitter. “Yeah, well, subtlety was never my strong suit. That’s more your thing, isn’t it? Mr. Detective?”

“Don’t test me.” Techno’s voice dropped, the warning clear.

“I don’t have to,” Theseus snapped, his voice venomous. “You’re already losing your mind over this, aren’t you? Over me. Admit it.”

Techno stood, running a hand through his hair as he tried to rein in his frustration. He turned to Skeppy. “Can you give us a minute?”

Skeppy raised an eyebrow, hesitating for a moment before nodding. “Sure. But don’t kill him, Techno.”

Techno didn’t respond, his eyes locked on Theseus.

As the door closed behind Skeppy, the room felt heavier. Techno leaned against the table, crossing his arms. “I’m giving you one last chance, Theseus. Why were you here?”

For a moment, Theseus didn’t answer. Then he leaned back in the chair, the tension in his posture giving way to something tired. “I needed answers.”

“Answers about what?”

Theseus hesitated. “About the past.”

Techno’s stomach twisted, but he didn’t let it show. “You’re lying.”

“Maybe,” Theseus admitted with a shrug, the tape creaking slightly with the movement.

Techno's voice cracked as he spoke, low and barely above a whisper. “Do… do you know who you are to me?”

Theseus froze at the question, the mocking tilt of his head straightening. For the first time since he’d been taped to the chair, the air shifted, the weight of Techno’s words settling between them like a barrier neither could cross.

“Don’t,” Theseus muttered, his voice sharp and defensive. “Don’t start with that shit.”

“I need to know,” Techno pressed, stepping closer, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Do you even remember me?”

“I said don’t!” Theseus snapped, jerking against the tape. His voice was laced with something that sounded almost like fear.

“You’re my brother,” Techno said, his voice breaking with the rawness of the confession. “My little brother. I thought—” He stopped, swallowing hard, the words catching in his throat. “I thought you were dead.”

Theseus turned his head away, the mask obscuring his face, but his silence was deafening.

“I buried you,” Techno whispered, his tone thick with emotion. “I saw the grave. I stood there, Theseus. For years, I—” He let out a shaky breath, his composure threatening to crumble. “I mourned you.”

“Stop it,” Theseus hissed, his voice trembling.

“Why?” Techno demanded, his voice rising. “Why should I stop? You’ve been out there—alive—killing people, leaving notes like it’s some kind of game. And now you’re here, in my home, acting like none of it matters.”

“You think this was my choice?” Theseus shot back, his voice cracking under the pressure. “You think I wanted this? I didn’t have a fucking choice, Techno. You don’t know what it’s been like—what I’ve been through.”

Techno’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning. “Then tell me. Explain it to me, Theseus, because right now all I see is my brother turned into someone I don’t recognize.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the faint hum of the heater in the corner. Finally, Theseus let out a bitter laugh, low and humorless.

“Maybe that’s all I am now,” he said, his voice hollow. “A stranger. A ghost of the kid you used to know.”

Techno’s shoulders sagged, the fight leaving him all at once. He stepped back, running a hand down his face. “I don’t believe that. You’re still in there. I know you are.”

“Then you’re a fool,” Theseus muttered, his head hanging low.

“Maybe,” Techno whispered, his voice soft. “But I’d rather be a fool than give up on you.”

“I don’t remember you,” Theseus bit back, his voice sharp and unwavering.

The words hit Techno like a blow to the chest, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at his brother. His hands trembled slightly, but he clenched them into fists to steady himself.

“That’s a lie,” Techno said quietly, his voice tight.

Theseus let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You think you know me so well, huh? I don’t remember you, Techno. I don’t remember anything about you.”

“You’re lying,” Techno repeated, louder this time, his voice cracking under the weight of the accusation. “I know you’re lying. You’re trying to push me away, but it’s not gonna work.”

“You don’t know a damn thing!” Theseus shouted, straining against the tape that bound him to the chair. “You think you can just show up and fix everything? That you can undo everything Dream’s done? You’re a joke, Techno.”

Techno flinched, but he didn’t back down. “You can hate me all you want,” he said, his voice steady now, though his eyes were glossy. “But don’t you dare pretend I didn’t exist to you. I raised you, Theseus. I carried you on my back when you were too tired to walk. I was the one who told you bedtime stories because Mom and Dad were too busy. Me.”

“Then maybe you should’ve done a better job!” Theseus snapped, his voice venomous. “Maybe if you were as perfect as you think you are, I wouldn’t have ended up like this!”

Techno’s breath caught, and for a moment, the room was completely silent except for the hum of the heater.

“I’m not perfect,” Techno said finally, his voice soft but firm. “I know I wasn’t the best brother. I made mistakes—plenty of them. But I never stopped trying. And I never stopped loving you.”

Theseus turned his head away, the mask hiding whatever expression he might have worn. “Well, I don’t remember that,” he muttered, his voice low and almost inaudible.

Techno stepped closer, his heart breaking with every word. “Then let me remind you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Because no matter what Dream’s done to you, no matter how far you’ve gone, you’re still my little brother. And I’m not giving up on you.”

Theseus didn’t respond. He didn’t look up, didn’t move. The silence between them was heavy, suffocating. Techno swallowed hard, stepping back, giving him space.

“You don’t have to believe me now,” Techno said softly. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

"I need to get back to Dream," Theseus stated, his voice steady despite the tension in his body.

Techno’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Back to Dream? You think I’m just gonna let you walk out of here and go back to him?”

“You don’t have a choice,” Theseus spat, leaning forward as much as the tape allowed. His mask gleamed under the dim light, hiding his expression but not the defiance in his voice. “He’ll come looking for me if I don’t show up. And trust me, you don’t want him to find me here.”

Techno let out a bitter laugh, his voice dripping with frustration. “Oh, I’m terrified, Theseus. Dream’s little weapon is gonna call the big bad boss on me. Is that what you’re banking on?”

“I’m not his weapon,” Theseus snapped, his tone sharp. “I don’t belong to him.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Techno shot back, his voice rising. “Look at you. You’re sitting here, taped to a chair in my apartment, and the only thing you can think about is getting back to that manipulative bastard. He doesn’t care about you, Theseus. He’s using you.”

“You don’t know anything about him!” Theseus yelled, his voice cracking slightly.

Techno leaned in, his eyes blazing. “I know enough. I’ve seen what he does to people. I’ve seen the damage he leaves behind. And I’ll be damned if I let him do that to you any longer.”

“I don’t need your help!” Theseus shouted, struggling against the tape, his voice raw with anger. “I don’t need you!”

Techno’s expression softened for a moment, but his voice remained firm. “You might not think you need me, but I’m still your brother, Theseus. And I’m not letting you go back to that bastard.”

Theseus turned his head away, his body tense. “You can’t keep me here forever, Techno. He’ll find me. He always does.”

“Then let him come,” Techno said quietly, his tone deadly serious. “Because I’d rather face Dream myself than let him keep dragging you down with him.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the tension between them palpable. Techno stood his ground, his gaze unwavering, while Theseus sat rigid in the chair, refusing to meet his eyes.

For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, the only sound the faint hum of the heater in the corner. And in that moment, Techno made a silent vow: no matter what it took, no matter how hard Theseus fought him, he wasn’t going to lose his brother again.

"I'm not who you remember," Theseus whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I'm not the same either," Techno replied, his tone softer than before, but the weight behind his words was undeniable.

"What's my name?" The assassin whispered, his head tilted forward, his mask hiding his expression. "My real one."

Techno's breath hitched, the question hitting him harder than he expected. He studied the figure tied to the chair, the person who was once his little brother but had been twisted into something unrecognizable.

"You don't remember it?" Techno asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"Would I be asking if I did?" Theseus snapped, though the bitterness in his tone was undercut by something else—something fragile.

Techno took a step back, running a hand through his hair. His heart ached, but he pushed the pain down, focusing on the moment. "Your name... your name is Tommy."

"Tommy," Theseus repeated softly, as if the name was foreign to him. He lifted his head slightly, the mask catching the dim light. "That feels... wrong."

"It's not wrong," Techno said firmly, stepping closer again. "It's who you are. You were Tommy. You are Tommy. Dream just tried to bury that."

Theseus—or Tommy—let out a shaky breath, his hands twitching against the tape binding them to the chair. "It doesn't feel real."

"It is real," Techno insisted, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "You’re my brother. You’re not whatever Dream made you think you are. You’re not just ‘Theseus.’ You’re Tommy."

Tommy turned his head slightly, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces. "What if I can’t be that anymore?"

"Then we’ll figure it out," Techno said, his voice softening. "But you have to let me try. Let me help you."

For a moment, there was silence. Tommy sat still, his head lowered, the tension in his body slowly unraveling as the weight of Techno's words settled over him.

And then, so quietly Techno almost missed it, Tommy whispered, "I don’t know how to be him anymore."

Techno crouched down, looking at him at eye level, even through the mask. "You don’t have to figure it out alone. I’m here, Tommy. I’ve always been here."

Tommy didn’t respond, but for the first time since they’d been face to face, his shoulders slumped—not in defeat, but in something closer to exhaustion. He didn’t fight the name anymore, and that, for Techno, was a start.

-

"Handcuffs, really?" Theseus—no, Tommy—asked, rattling his wrists slightly against the metal binding him to the chair. Techno crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with an unbothered expression. He was going to have to get used to the name Tommy. It felt strange, foreign, even though it shouldn’t.

"You're still an assassin," Techno stated matter-of-factly. "Assassins don’t get the benefit of the doubt."

Tommy rolled his eyes, the mask hiding whatever other expression he might have had. "Right, because I’m such a threat right now, taped to a chair with handcuffs on."

"Never said you weren’t resourceful," Techno quipped, raising a brow.

Tommy huffed, leaning back in the chair as far as his restraints allowed. "Is the other guy okay with me being here?"

Techno glanced toward the closed bedroom door where Skeppy had retreated after an uncharacteristically tense silence. "Yep," Techno said with a shrug.

"Real convincing," Tommy shot back, shifting against the chair. "Bet he’s real thrilled you’ve got your psycho assassin brother tied up in your living room."

"He’ll get over it," Techno said simply.

Tommy tilted his head, his voice dropping slightly. "I should really go back to Dream, big man..."

Techno’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. "You’re not going back to him."

"You don’t get it," Tommy argued, his voice rising in frustration. "I have to. If I don’t—he’ll know. He’ll send someone after me. He always knows."

"Then let him come," Techno said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "I’m not letting him drag you back."

"You can’t stop him," Tommy muttered, shaking his head.

"Watch me," Techno replied, his tone colder than before.

Tommy fell silent, staring at his brother with a mixture of frustration and something else—maybe disbelief, maybe fear. Techno didn’t waver, his eyes locked on Tommy’s. For better or worse, Techno wasn’t backing down.

"Technoblade, I can't... just leave," Tommy begged, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. His hands fidgeted in their restraints, a rare moment of vulnerability leaking through his hardened exterior. "There’s other things that... just listen to me, okay?"

Techno stood rigid, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his eyes stormy. "I can’t just let you go, Theseus. Not back to him."

Tommy flinched at the name but pushed on. "Set up a scene," he said, his words rushed, desperate. "Make it look like you caught me but I got away. I’ll turn myself in low-profile. Work as a double agent or some shit. Feed you intel from the inside. But today? This? It never happened."

Techno shook his head, his frustration barely restrained. "Do you even hear yourself? Double agent? You think Dream’s just gonna let you roam free once he suspects you’ve been compromised? He’ll kill you before you even get a chance to play spy."

"I can handle it," Tommy snapped, glaring up at him. "I’ve handled worse."

"You shouldn't have to handle worse!" Techno barked, his voice rising for the first time. He took a step forward, towering over Tommy, his fists clenched at his sides. "You’re my brother. You’re not some disposable pawn in Dream’s sick game. I’m not sending you back to that."

Tommy’s glare faltered, his mask slipping for just a moment. "I’m not disposable," he muttered, quieter now. "But I’ve been in this game too long to just walk away, Techno. If I disappear, it’ll blow everything. Dream’ll know something’s up. You don’t get it—he’s not just a guy with a plan; he’s a guy with a contingency for everything."

"And you think turning yourself in is gonna solve that?" Techno asked, his voice softening but no less firm. "You’re gambling with your life."

"It’s the only way," Tommy insisted. His voice broke again, and he looked down at the floor, unable to meet Techno’s gaze. "I can’t just leave, okay? I can’t. I’ve got... things there. People. Stuff you don’t understand. Please, Techno. Just... let me try this."

Techno exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he stared down at his brother. The room was heavy with silence, the weight of Tommy’s words pressing down on them both.

"You’re asking me to let you walk back into hell," Techno said finally, his voice low and pained.

"I’m asking you to trust me," Tommy corrected, lifting his head to meet Techno’s eyes. "Just this once. Trust that I know what I’m doing."

Techno’s jaw tightened, his mind a battlefield of emotions and logic. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded once, curtly.

"Fine," he said gruffly. "But if you don’t check in, or if anything feels off, I’m coming for you. And I won’t be subtle about it."

Tommy gave a weak smirk. "Wouldn’t expect anything less from someone related to me."

-

“Dream, I was out getting intel on the hit,” Theseus stated, standing stiffly beside the man. His voice was measured, careful, as if every word had been rehearsed.

Dream turned his piercing gaze toward him, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Was it worth it?”

“Yes, sir,” Theseus replied curtly.

Dream leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “Good. Then there’s no need to waste time standing here. Go train. You’ve got work to do.”

“Yes, sir,” Theseus repeated, his tone unwavering.

As he turned on his heel to leave, Dream’s voice followed him, sharp and cold. “And Theseus?”

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“I want Technoblade killed with a blade.”

Theseus’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, forcing a neutral expression. “Understood.”

With that, he walked away, each step measured, his heart pounding in his chest as the weight of Dream’s words lingered like a noose around his neck.

Chapter Text

Technoblade did not know what the fuck was going on.

He let Theseus go. He let Tommy go. And now? He was starting to regret his choice.

The voices in his head whispered doubt, their murmurings bleeding into his thoughts. Every scenario, every possibility, every mistake replayed like a broken record. Techno groaned into his hands, pressing his palms against his face as if he could physically block out the thoughts.

"Fuck," he muttered, the word slipping out in the quiet of his dimly lit office.

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. Work—that’s what he needed. Something to drown out the noise, to give him focus. But no matter how hard he tried to force himself to concentrate, his mind looped back to the same place: Tommy.

His brother. Theseus. Whatever name he wanted to go by now.

He reached for the cold mug of coffee on the desk, took a sip, and immediately grimaced. It tasted like burnt regret, bitter and stale. Perfectly fitting.

Slumping back in his chair, Techno stared at the ceiling. He hated feeling powerless. Hated the knowledge that Tommy was still out there, still in Dream’s grasp, playing whatever deadly game the bastard had designed for him.

Letting him go felt like a betrayal of everything he'd fought for. But holding him here? That would’ve been worse. Wouldn’t it?

Techno rubbed a hand down his face, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. He didn’t have answers. Just questions. Endless, fucking questions.

-
Philza was walking through the precinct halls, his mind occupied with a pile of reports he had just finished. The late hour left the building unusually quiet, the hum of overhead lights and the occasional rustle of paper the only sounds breaking the silence.

Then came the boom.

Phil stopped mid-step, his head snapping toward the source of the noise. It came from one of the windows down the hall. A second later, a sharp crack echoed through the air, the unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

He barely had time to react before a figure swung in through the broken window, landing in a crouch. The glass crunched under their boots as they rose, gun already drawn.

Phil's eyes widened as the figure stepped into the dim light. The dark jacket, the familiar mask, the sharp, calculating movements—it was Theseus.

“What the hell are you doing?” Phil asked, his voice sharp but steady as he instinctively raised his hands slightly, trying to appear non-threatening.

Theseus didn’t answer right away. His head tilted slightly, the gun shifting just enough to let Phil know that his presence wasn’t exactly unexpected.

“I’ve got orders,” Theseus finally said, his voice clipped and cold. He didn’t lower the weapon.

Phil’s mind raced. Orders? From Dream, no doubt. But why here? Why now? And why the hell did it have to be him dealing with this?

“Orders to do what?” Phil pressed, trying to keep his tone calm despite the tension thickening the air.

“None of your business, old man,” Theseus snapped, his gaze sharp behind the mask.

Phil flinched slightly at the words but didn’t back down. “You don’t have to do this, mate. Whatever he’s got on you—”

“Shut up!” Theseus barked, cutting him off. “This isn’t about you. Stay out of it, and you won’t get hurt.”

Phil clenched his jaw, his hands twitching at his sides as he debated his options. He had a gun on him…

No. Not unless he had to.

“You’re better than this,” Phil said quietly, his voice steady despite the chaos thrumming in his chest. “I don’t care what you think he’s turned you into—you’re still you, Tommy. You don’t have to let him control you.”

The name hung heavy in the air, and for a split second, Phil thought he saw something flicker behind the assassin’s eyes.

But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“I’m not Tommy,” Theseus said, his tone flat, almost robotic. “And you don’t know a damn thing about me.”

With that, he took a step forward, his grip tightening on the gun. Phil’s heart hammered in his chest, but he held his ground, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen next.

Theseus stormed down the hall, his boots pounding against the polished floor. The tension in the air was palpable as he approached Technoblade’s office with deadly purpose. Without breaking stride, he kicked the door open, sending it slamming against the wall.

Technoblade looked up sharply, his expression hardening. “You really thought this was a good idea?” he asked, rising from his chair.

“You’ve been in my way too long,” Theseus growled, his voice dripping with frustration.

Before Techno could respond, Theseus lunged, his movements quick and deliberate. Techno barely had time to dodge, sidestepping and grabbing the edge of the desk to shove it between them.

Theseus was fast, but Techno was strong. They clashed in a flurry of movements, trading blows with calculated precision. As the fight escalated, Techno found himself wondering if this was real—or if Theseus was putting on a show. The kid was too skilled to get caught this easily, and yet here he was, storming in like a hurricane.

“Are you doing this to fool them?” Techno grunted, blocking a swing and shoving Theseus back. “Or are you really this reckless?”

Theseus didn’t answer, his expression unreadable behind the faint shadow of his mask. He spun, using the momentum to catch Techno off guard and knock him against the wall.

“Stay down,” Theseus spat, but there was something off about his tone—something that didn’t match the words.

Techno smirked despite the situation, shaking his head. “Not happening, little brother.”

With a burst of strength, he pushed Theseus back, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. The fight ended with Theseus pinned against the wall, his breath coming in heavy gasps.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, so quietly that Techno almost missed it, Theseus whispered, “GG.”

Techno’s grip faltered for a split second as he processed the words. Was this a message? A slip of the mask?

Police officers swarmed the room, pinning Theseus to the floor as he struggled briefly before going still, his face pressed against the cold tiles. His mask had been knocked askew, exposing a faintly scratched cheek and a distant, unreadable expression in his eyes.

Technoblade stood frozen, his fists clenched at his sides, watching as the officers cuffed his brother’s hands behind his back. Beside him, Phil appeared, his presence solid and grounding.

“We got him,” Phil said firmly, his voice steady but laced with relief.

Techno didn’t respond right away. His eyes stayed locked on Theseus, the scene in front of him blurring slightly. He had wanted this—needed this—but now that it was happening, the victory felt hollow.

Theseus turned his head slightly, his gaze catching Techno’s. For a split second, there was something in his eyes—defiance, maybe, or something far deeper that Techno couldn’t quite name.

“Good work,” Phil added, clapping Techno on the shoulder. “This is a big step forward.”

Techno nodded stiffly, his throat dry. “Yeah... big step,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

As the officers dragged Theseus to his feet, Techno couldn’t shake the weight in his chest. His brother didn’t say a word, but the faint smirk that tugged at Theseus’ lips as they led him away said plenty.

This wasn’t over. Far from it. And Techno knew it.

“We are going to ask you some questions,” Phil stated firmly, crossing his arms as he stood in front of Theseus.

“I assumed so,” Theseus retorted, his tone sharp but calm. He sat with his hands cuffed in front of him, posture deceptively relaxed despite the tension radiating off him.

Techno watched from the corner of the room, his arms folded tightly across his chest. His eyes never left Theseus, and his mind was racing. He actually gave himself in. Theseus was here, in custody. After everything, he just walked right into their hands. But why?

“What’s your name?” Phil asked, his tone clipped and professional.

“Theseus,” he stated flatly, meeting Phil’s gaze without hesitation. Techno’s stomach twisted. He knew Theseus wouldn’t mention a word about the night in his apartment. Not a damn thing.

“Age?”

“I’m not sure,” Theseus replied, his voice oddly nonchalant.

Phil raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further on that point. “Alright. Let’s start simple—why are you here?”

Theseus tilted his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess I just felt like a change of scenery.”

Phil exhaled sharply, clearly unimpressed. “Let me make this clear: we’re not here to play games. You’ve got a long list of crimes behind you, Theseus, and it’s time to start answering for them.”

Theseus leaned back in his chair, chains rattling softly. “Then ask better questions, old man. Maybe I’ll answer one of those.”

Techno shifted uncomfortably, feeling the familiar pang of frustration and concern. He could see the cracks in Theseus’ facade—tiny tells in his body language that most people wouldn’t catch. But Techno had known him once, before all this. He’d seen the real person beneath the assassin Dream had molded.

He wasn’t sure what was worse: seeing Theseus like this, or the growing suspicion that his brother had let himself be caught for a reason they hadn’t yet uncovered.

"Is the assignment a hit?" Techno cut in, his voice sharp and demanding.

"Bingo," Theseus said with a faint smirk, leaning back in the chair as though this was just another casual conversation.

"Who?" Techno pressed, his tone colder now.

Theseus tilted his head, the smirk widening slightly. "Think real hard," he taunted, his eyes locking onto Techno's.

Techno’s fists clenched, his mind racing. It wasn’t a riddle he wanted to solve, but the answer felt dangerously close, looming just out of reach. Phil glared at Theseus, clearly frustrated by the deflection.

“You want to play games? Fine,” Phil growled. “But understand this—whatever stunt you’re pulling, it’s not going to save you.”

Theseus didn’t flinch, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. "I’m not here to save myself," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Techno to catch.

“Then why the hell are you here?” Techno snapped, leaning over the table.

Theseus met his brother’s eyes with a strange mixture of defiance and something softer—regret, maybe. “Guess you’ll figure that out, too.”

-

Techno was instructed to escort Theseus to his cell, a job he did without speaking a word. The weight of the situation hung heavily between them, unspoken but felt in every step. As they walked down the hallway, Theseus broke the silence with a low, almost amused whisper.

“Good performance.”

“What?” Techno asked, his tone sharp, a little too surprised for his liking.

“You did good, on the questions,” Theseus said with a shrug, his voice casual but carrying a faint hint of approval.

Techno’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected Theseus to acknowledge anything at all. "Didn't think you'd actually do what you said."

“I for some reason don’t want to kill you,” Theseus replied, his words careful but honest, as if it was a conclusion he’d only just come to himself.

Techno chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. “Wow, great development.”

“I agree,” Theseus said, almost smugly.

Techno’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated by Theseus’ words. The last thing he wanted was to feel any kind of connection with the person standing beside him. The assassin who had once been his brother—but was now so far removed from that person that Techno barely recognized him.

As they approached the cell, Techno’s mind raced, but he didn’t say anything more. He couldn’t. Not with everything that had happened. Not with the possibility that, despite all of this, Theseus might still have something up his sleeve.

They reached the cell. Techno pushed the door open, and Theseus stepped inside, but before Techno could leave, he turned back to face him.

“Are we done here?” Techno asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Theseus replied, his gaze unyielding. “For now.”

Techno hesitated, then nodded, knowing full well that whatever “now” meant, it wasn’t the end of their story. Not by a long shot.

"Techno?" Theseus whispered "Are there cameras?"

"Yes"

"Betwines hot, secret story, oxmelith.”

Techno paused, his brow furrowing at Theseus' words. They felt cryptic, laced with something Techno couldn’t quite place. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, his voice low and suspicious.

Theseus leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he met Techno’s gaze, the tone in his voice shifting to something more urgent. "Betwines hot, secret story, oxmelith," he repeated, slower this time, each word hanging in the air. He seemed almost... desperate? But for what?

"What?" Techno repeated again, trying to understand, but the words felt like they were slipping through his fingers, as if Theseus wasn’t speaking a language Techno knew.

"Write it down," Theseus whispered, almost too quietly for Techno to hear. But the intensity in his eyes was undeniable.

Techno stared at him for a moment, unsure. Was it some kind of code? A warning? He wasn’t sure, but Theseus didn’t seem like the type to waste words, especially not now.

He glanced around the room, making sure no one was watching or listening, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small notebook and pen. Theseus’ gaze followed his movements intently, waiting.

"Betwines hot, secret story, oxmelith," Techno muttered under his breath as he wrote it down, still unsure of its meaning.

When he finished, he closed the notebook and looked up at Theseus, who was now watching him intently, his expression unreadable.

"Is this important?" Techno asked, keeping his voice steady, even though every instinct in him was telling him that this wasn’t a simple conversation.

Theseus didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as though he knew something Techno didn’t.

"Just keep it," Theseus said, his tone softer now, almost resigned. "You'll know when it matters."

Techno didn’t speak, his mind racing with questions, but for now, he held onto the words in his notebook. Whatever it meant, it was something Theseus wanted him to have—and Techno couldn’t ignore that. Not with everything else that was going on.

With one last lingering look, Theseus sat back, waiting for Techno to leave. The door clicked shut behind him as Techno stepped out.

Betwines hot, secret story, oxmelith.

Chapter Text

"Could you look at this for me?" Niki asked, sliding a piece of paper across the table to Theseus.

He hesitated before picking it up. "What is this?"

"Your birth certificate," Niki replied.

"Oh."

He was 17…that's still a fucking minor.

Theseus looked down at the paper, his fingers tracing the edges. "So, Tommy is my name. Legally?"

"Yes," Niki confirmed.

"Huh," Theseus muttered, staring at the name printed on the certificate. It felt odd. He couldn’t remember the last time he had thought of it as his own.

"Look at this, please." Niki pushed a file toward him, filled with printed sheets and images. "Look through these. Did you do it?"

He didn’t need to look for long before he was flipping through the pages, the weight of the crimes staring back at him in stark black-and-white. Murders. His hands tightened on the file.

"Yes," he answered, his voice low, strained.

"All of them?" Niki asked, her tone unwavering.

Theseus met her gaze, and the corners of his mouth twitched, but his eyes were dark. "More."

There was a long pause, the room thick with the implications of his words. Niki said nothing. She let the silence hang, waiting for him to add more, to explain himself—but Theseus didn’t. He just sat there, the weight of his past, and the countless lives he’d ended, pressing down on him like a stone.

Niki didn’t look away. She knew this was hard for him—maybe harder than he’d let anyone see. But the truth was in front of them, undeniable.

"You’ve done more," she whispered. "But you don’t have to keep doing it."

Theseus said nothing. He just stared at the file. The truth was there, in those pages, but he wasn’t sure what it meant anymore.

"Tommy," she said softly, a name he wasn’t sure he could claim anymore.

He looked up at her, the weight of who he was—and who he had been—settling over him once more.

"If you help us, we can get you help." Niki paused, letting the weight of her words settle. She could see Tommy was struggling, but this was the only way forward. "Tell me more about the murders."

Tommy's eyes flickered briefly, memories flashing before him like distant, haunting images. He took a deep breath before responding.

"Dream decides how it’s done," he said, his voice almost mechanical, like it had been drilled into him. "When, how mutilated... if it deserves the note or not..." His fingers twitched slightly as he recalled the details, the way Dream controlled everything, right down to the smallest, sickening choice.

"It’s all... for him," Tommy added, his tone turning bitter as the words left his mouth. "He always made sure it was just enough to send a message. To scare people, or... maybe just because he could."

Niki's heart clenched, hearing the resentment in Tommy’s voice, but she couldn't let herself feel sorry for him. This wasn’t about sympathy anymore. This was about getting him out of that life, out of that control.

"Does he decide everything?" Niki asked, her voice firm, trying to pull more out of him.

"Everything," Tommy confirmed. "From the method to the location. If it’s clean, or if it’s a mess. He’s got his rules. His ways." He looked up at Niki, meeting her eyes for the first time since he’d started speaking. "And he makes sure we follow them. Or we end up like the others."

There was a coldness in his eyes as he spoke, but beneath it, she could still see a trace of the person he used to be. The one who didn’t want this life. The one who was still buried under all the bloodshed.

"Do you know why you had to kill them?" Niki asked again, her voice steady but full of intent.

"Some, yes. Some, no," Tommy responded, his voice distant as if the weight of the question was sinking in.

"Let's talk about that," Niki said, her gaze unwavering. "Do you remember Layne?"

Tommy’s eyes shifted slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he gave a small, reluctant nod. "Yes."

"Why did she need to be killed?" Niki pressed gently.

Tommy’s jaw tightened, and he seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering. "She had an access card Dream needed for some... uh, lab."

Niki’s brow furrowed slightly, sensing that there was more to the story than Tommy was letting on. "A lab? What was so important about it?"

He swallowed hard, the memory still fresh in his mind. "I... I don't know exactly. Dream never really told me the full details. He just gave me the target and the instruction. She was a threat, though. She knew too much, and Dream couldn’t afford that. He said she was too dangerous."

"Too dangerous?" Niki echoed, her voice skeptical. "Or was she just a loose end?"

Tommy shifted uncomfortably. "It’s... it’s what Dream said. He’s the one who decided."

Niki watched him closely, seeing the conflict in his eyes. He was lying, but the cracks in his facade were starting to show. She could feel the guilt radiating off him, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it yet. "You don’t have to protect him anymore, Tommy."

His eyes flashed with something—fear, regret, or maybe both—but he quickly shut it down, hardening his expression once again. "It’s not like that. I’m just following orders."

Niki leaned forward, her tone soft but probing. "What about... Daniel Balens?"

Tommy blinked at the name, his expression momentarily vacant before he responded. "The fire fighter?"

"Mhm," Niki nodded, her eyes never leaving his face.

He hesitated for a moment, as if trying to recall the memory. "I slipped stuff in his sweet tea, some poison. I don’t remember much from that job. It was before I was wiped, so it’s a little fuzzy."

Niki could hear the uncertainty in his voice, a thin veil over the truth he didn’t want to confront. "You don’t remember?" she pressed, trying to gauge just how deep his involvement in these murders went.

"Not everything," Tommy muttered. "The mission itself was... blurry. Dream doesn’t like it when I ask too many questions, especially about the details." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I just... followed the instructions. Poison in the drink, then leave. Easy."

"Was it easy, though?" Niki asked, her eyes narrowing. "Did it sit right with you?"

Tommy's expression faltered. For the first time, there was a crack in his defensive posture. "No," he admitted quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "It didn’t sit right. But... I didn’t have a choice. I still don’t."

Niki leaned back slightly, taking a moment to let the weight of his words settle between them. There was more he wasn’t saying, but it was clear that a part of him was starting to break free from Dream’s control—whether he was ready to admit it or not.

"What's a wipe then? You mentioned it." Niki asked.

Tommy’s eyes flickered, the question clearly catching him off guard. His expression hardened, and for a brief moment, he looked like he might shut down entirely.

"Wipe?" he echoed, his voice low and cautious, as though speaking the word aloud made it too real.

Niki didn’t press further, but her gaze stayed steady on him, waiting for an answer.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. "It’s... when Dream makes sure I forget things. Forget people. He—" Tommy stopped himself, glancing away. "He doesn’t want me questioning the things I’ve done or remembering who I was before. It’s easier that way. Less mess."

"Less mess for him, you mean," Niki interjected quietly, her tone sharp but understanding.

Tommy’s shoulders tensed. "Yeah," he muttered, his eyes downcast. "Less mess for him. And less of a risk for me remembering things I shouldn’t. Like you, like—" He faltered, cutting himself off.

“Like what?” Niki pressed, leaning forward slightly, a hint of curiosity mixed with concern in her voice.

Tommy shook his head quickly, as if the very thought scared him. "I can’t... I can’t talk about that," he whispered. "It’s too dangerous. Dream... he could—"

"I get it," Niki interrupted, her voice soft now, as if sensing the depth of Tommy’s fear. "But you’ve got to understand, you’re not alone anymore. We’re here to help you, but you’ve got to trust us."

Tommy’s silence hung in the air, heavy and thick. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles white. He was clearly battling with himself, torn between years of manipulation and the faintest flicker of hope.

"It hurt." Tommy whispered

Niki’s heart twisted at the quiet admission, and she leaned in just a little closer, her voice soft and understanding. "What did?"

Tommy's eyes flickered briefly to hers before dropping to the floor. "The wipes," he whispered, his voice trembling. "It’s not just... forgetting. It’s like a part of me is... erased. I don’t remember who I was, who I used to be. And it hurts, every time. It’s like something inside of me is being torn away, and I can’t stop it. I can’t fight it."

Niki watched him, seeing the vulnerability he usually kept buried beneath the cold, assassin-like exterior. She softened, her tone gentle but firm. "Tommy, I know it’s hard. But you’ve been through a lot. No one should have to live like this."

He shook his head, laughing bitterly under his breath. "Doesn't matter. It’s what I’m supposed to be, right? A weapon. Someone who follows orders. That’s all I know."

"You don’t have to be that anymore," Niki said, her voice growing more insistent. "You’re not just a tool, Tommy. You’re you. You deserve a chance to be more than just... this."

Tommy stayed quiet, his expression unreadable, but the conflict in his eyes was clear. He wanted to believe her, wanted to let the thought of something else, something better, take root. But the years of conditioning, of being controlled, held him back.

"I don’t know how," Tommy muttered, his voice barely audible. "I don’t know how to let go of it."

Niki reached forward, placing a hand gently on his arm. "You start by trusting us. And you take it one step at a time.”

"There's another kid my age in Chaos."

"Another assassin?" Niki asked, leaning forward.

Tommy shook his head. "No... he's like, smart. Does stuff in the lab. Develops whatever Dream wants. His brother runs a lot of operations in Chaos."

Niki raised an eyebrow. "What's his name?"

"Purpled," Tommy muttered, a flicker of something passing over his face. "Yeah... Purpled." He looked away, avoiding eye contact.

"Purpled?" Niki repeated, sounding unsure. "That's an odd name."

Tommy gave a slight shrug. "I don’t know if it’s his real name, but that’s what everyone calls him. He’s the one that works with the chemicals and... everything else. His brother's the one doing the dirty work, running the ops. But Purpled’s the one who makes sure everything happens, behind the scenes."

"So, he's not a killer then?" Niki asked.

"No," Tommy answered, his voice a little quieter. "He’s not. Not like me. But he’s... involved. In everything. And his brother, well, he’s got a whole different kind of job."

"Is Purpled someone Dream trusts?" Niki asked, her voice steady.

Tommy nodded slowly. "Yeah. Dream trusts him. I think that's why his brother's always looking at me like I’m a target. I don’t know what they’re planning, but I know it’s not just about me. It never was."

There was a long silence as Niki absorbed the new piece of information. Tommy shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, as though the weight of everything he knew was finally catching up with him.

"Do you think Purpled wants out?" Niki asked cautiously.

Tommy’s gaze hardened. "I don't know. But if I’m being honest, I don’t think Purpled’s stuck like me. He’s got a choice. I don't know what he’s planning, but if I ever see him again, I’ll have to find out."

“How did your arm happen?” Niki asked.

“Uh I don’t know.”

“We’ve seen it become full metal during fighting. Is it a prosthetic of some kind?”

“I fucked my arm somehow. Don’t remember how.”

Niki’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the vague answer. “You don’t remember?”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his arm like it was a foreign thing. He flexed the metal fingers slightly, the harsh metallic sound cutting through the silence. "No. It wasn’t like this one day and suddenly it was. I woke up, and bam, it was different. Don’t even know who did it or why."

"You don’t think it was some sort of... modification? Like from Dream’s orders?" Niki asked, her voice soft but insistent.

Tommy let out a bitter chuckle, his gaze drifting away. "If it was, no one asked me. It’s just... part of the shit they do to me. I don’t even get the chance to question anything. I just wake up, and my body’s changed. Like I’m not even me anymore.”

Niki's expression softened. "It sounds like you’ve been through a lot of changes, Tommy. It’s not fair.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Fair? They don’t care about fair. I’m just a tool. Whatever I am now, it’s not really... me.”

Niki hesitated, watching him closely, before speaking gently. “And the killing? The missions?"

Tommy didn’t respond at first, his eyes clouded. "It’s... all I’ve ever known," he muttered. "They tell me what to do, who to kill, and I just do it. There’s no stopping it."

“Don’t you want to stop?" Niki asked, her voice firm, but caring.

Tommy met her gaze, something flickering in his eyes—a mix of regret and defiance. "I want to. But... it's not that simple. Dream won't let it stop. Chaos won’t let it stop.”

Niki nodded, taking a deep breath, knowing there was more. "If you help us, Tommy, we can help you. You don't have to stay stuck in this. But we need to know everything. So we can get you out."

Tommy bit his lip, weighing the words in his mind. After a long moment, he sighed, looking down at his hand, fingers curling around the metal like it was his only connection to who he was now. "I don't know if I can... But I want out. I don’t want to be who they made me anymore."

Niki watched him carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly. "So you regret it? All of it?"

Tommy hesitated, his eyes flickering as if weighing his response. He didn’t want to appear weak, but the words had already left his mouth.

"Yes... I regret it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose to kill. I didn’t choose to be what I am now. I didn’t even choose to... forget."

Niki could see the conflict in his eyes, the pain that he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried. She leaned forward slightly, speaking gently, but firmly.

"You don’t have to keep carrying it, Tommy. You’ve been forced into a life that you didn’t ask for. You can stop now. You can choose something else."

He shook his head slowly. "It’s not that simple. I don’t know who I am without the killing, without the orders. I don’t know if I can stop."

"You can," Niki said, her voice steady. "You can start by helping us. We’ll help you figure it out. But you have to take the first step. Will you?"

Tommy stared at the ground, lost in his thoughts for a moment. He didn’t know if he was ready, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t keep going the way he had been. Not forever. Not without breaking.

"Yeah... I’ll help," he muttered, his voice quiet but resolute. "I want to make it stop. For good."

Chapter Text

"Betwines hot, secret story, oxmelith,” Techno recited.

“A riddle?” Skeppy asked, brow furrowing.

“Not enough context," Techno muttered, deep in thought. "It could be in that realm?”

Skeppy pondered. “Maybe it’s an anagram?”

Techno’s eyes lit up. “Oh! That could be it!”

“Box could be a word,” Skeppy offered, looking around.

“Mailbox,” Techno stated as a sudden realization struck him. "Street is another word in there..." he whispered to himself, piecing it together.

"Twenty?" Skeppy added.

“Then... Eighth,” Techno said. “Last is South.”

“It’s an address!” Skeppy grinned. "Twenty Eighth Street South, mailbox!"

“Let’s go,” Techno said, determination in his eyes.

-

The street was dark as the car approached, the headlights cutting through the night. A well-worn house came into view, its windows dimly lit from within. Techno stepped out of the car, his boots crunching on the gravel as he made his way to the mailbox.

He opened it slowly, the creak of the metal latch sounding unnervingly loud in the quiet night. Inside was a small package, wrapped tightly in brown paper with a stamp that had no return address. Techno glanced around before tearing it open.

Inside were several canisters, each filled with a liquid that sloshed gently when he shook them. The label on each one read simply: 'MW'.

Techno’s brows furrowed as he stared at the mysterious liquid. “What the hell is this?” he muttered under his breath. He could feel the weight of the moment—the kind of feeling that came right before everything got a whole lot more complicated.

Skeppy, who had been watching from the car, leaned forward. “What’s in it?”

“Don’t know yet,” Techno replied, his voice low as he examined the label. “But ‘MW’... that stands for something. We need to find out what it means.”

A chill ran down his spine as he pocketed the canisters. Something was about to happen, and Techno had a feeling it would change everything.

-

"What. The. Fuck." Punz stated as Dream turned toward him, irritation in his voice. "How did this happen?"

Dream shrugged, unfazed. "His brother is a fucking bitch is what."

"No, no, Theseus is in custody." Punz frowned, frustration evident in his tone. "Fuck!"

Dream's expression darkened, but his smile didn't falter. "Get to work, Punz."

Punz blinked, confused. "What am I supposed to do—"

"Don't forget who's downstairs," Dream interrupted, his voice low and firm.

Punz stilled, his blood running cold. Purpled. No.

Punz nodded, suppressing the unease building inside him. "Yes sir."

-

“Tommy, what all do you know about Dream?” Niki asked softly, sitting across from him at the table. The dim light in the room cast shadows across both their faces, but hers was calm, steady. Tommy’s was anything but.

He shifted in his chair, looking at the floor. “What?”

“Were you close to him?” Niki asked, her voice gentle but unyielding.

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “Close? Uh… I worked directly under him. That close enough for you?”

Niki didn’t flinch at his tone. “Tell me about that,” she pressed, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

Tommy stared at her, his jaw tightening. “He taught me,” he said finally, his voice low. “How to handle weapons. How to fight.” His gaze dropped again, his fingers tapping restlessly against the edge of the table. “How to kill.”

There was a long pause as Niki absorbed his words. “How to kill,” she repeated, her voice quiet. “Did he tell you why? Why he trained you for that?”

Tommy hesitated, his shoulders tensing. “Said it was necessary. That it was the only way to survive in Chaos.”

“And you believed him?”

Tommy’s head shot up, his eyes sharp. “I didn’t have a choice,” he snapped. “Dream doesn’t give choices. You do what he says, or you don’t come back.”

Niki nodded, unbothered by his outburst. “What else did he teach you?”

Tommy swallowed, leaning back in his chair. “Strategy. How to blend in, how to get information. He taught me how to… manipulate people.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he cleared his throat quickly.

Niki tilted her head slightly. “Did he ever let you question him? About anything?”

“No.” Tommy’s response was immediate. “Dream’s word is law. You question him, you’re done. Or worse.”

She leaned forward slightly, her voice softening. “Tommy, how do you feel about him now?”

Tommy froze, his hands clenching into fists on the table. He didn’t answer for a long time. Finally, he muttered, “I don’t know.”

Niki nodded again, giving him space to process. “You’re not there anymore. You’re safe here.”

Tommy scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Safe? With everything I’ve done? I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“You’re trying to make it right,” Niki said firmly. “That’s what matters.”

He didn’t reply, but the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly. For now, it was enough.

"Sometimes he'd hit me. Burn me."

Niki froze, her steady demeanor faltering for a moment. "What?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tommy avoided her gaze, staring hard at the table. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, tugging it down as though trying to hide something. "Sometimes he’d hit me. Burn me," he said, his voice flat, emotionless. "Said it was to toughen me up. Make me stronger."

Niki’s heart clenched, but she kept her expression calm. "Tommy," she said gently, leaning forward, "that’s not training. That’s abuse."

He laughed, bitter and sharp. "Yeah, well, in Chaos, it’s the same thing. You don’t get strong by being coddled. You survive, or you die." His voice cracked on the last word, and he bit down hard on his lip, his hand clenching into a fist.

Niki reached out, her hand hovering above his on the table. She didn’t touch him—he seemed too tense, too wound up—but her presence was grounding. "That shouldn’t have happened to you," she said softly. "You didn’t deserve that."

Tommy shook his head, still not looking at her. "Doesn’t matter," he muttered. "I’m alive, aren’t I? That’s what matters. That’s what Dream always said."

"It matters," Niki insisted, her voice firm. "It matters because you’re more than what Dream tried to make you. You’re here now, Tommy. You don’t have to live by his rules anymore."

For a long moment, Tommy didn’t say anything. Then, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, "Sometimes, I don’t know who I am without him telling me."

Niki’s chest tightened, and she finally let her hand rest lightly over his fist. "You’re Tommy," she said simply. "And you’re not alone in figuring out who that is."

Tommy didn’t pull away, but he didn’t look at her either. "Guess that’s a start," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

"Do you have any scars from Dream?"

"Yes"

"Would you like to show me?”

Tommy hesitated, his eyes darting to Niki before dropping to the table. He tugged at his sleeves, pulling them down tighter over his wrists. "Do I have to?" he asked quietly.

Niki shook her head gently. "Only if you’re comfortable," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I won’t push you, Tommy."

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, with a sigh, he rolled up one sleeve, revealing pale skin marred with faint burn marks and long, thin scars that criss crossed his forearm. He stared at them, his jaw clenched.

Niki’s breath caught, but she didn’t let her face betray her emotions. "He did this to you?" she asked softly, her fingers itching to reach out but staying still.

Tommy nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Said it was part of the process. Sometimes… sometimes it was punishment. For messing up."

"And the burns?"

"Training," he said with a bitter laugh. "He’d press metal against my arm, tell me to hold still, to show him I could take the pain."

Niki’s heart ached at the quiet way he spoke, as if he was trying to convince himself it was normal. "Tommy," she said gently, "what Dream did to you wasn’t training. It wasn’t right. You didn’t deserve any of this."

Tommy pulled his sleeve back down quickly, his shoulders hunching. "Doesn’t matter now," he muttered. "It’s over."

Niki leaned forward, her voice firm but kind. "It does matter. Every scar tells a story, Tommy. And yours show me that you survived. That you’re stronger than he ever gave you credit for."

He didn’t respond, but his hand lingered on his arm, his fingers brushing over the fabric as if he could still feel the scars beneath. Finally, he whispered, "Sometimes I still feel it. Like it’s happening all over again."

Niki reached out carefully, resting her hand lightly on the table near his. "That’s trauma, Tommy. But it doesn’t define you. We’ll work through it together, okay?"

For the first time, he glanced up at her, his expression wary but hopeful. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe."

"Anything we can do to help you further, Tommy?" Niki asked gently, watching him fidget in his chair.

Tommy glanced down at himself. His red hoodie, once vibrant, was now dulled and frayed, the fabric mottled with old stains—dirt, blood, and whatever else had seeped into it over time. Tactical gear clung to him, straps and pouches hanging awkwardly, all just as worn and battered as the hoodie underneath.

"New clothes?" he muttered, tugging at one of the straps on his vest. "Something… cleaner."

Niki studied him, her gaze softening. "Of course. We can sort that out."

Tommy hesitated, his hand brushing over the stained hoodie like it was some sort of second skin. "I don’t… I don’t really remember wearing anything else," he admitted, his voice quiet. "Dream made me wear this. Said it was practical. Said it fit the job."

Niki knelt down in front of him, her eyes level with his. "Well, Dream’s not here anymore. You don’t have to be who he told you to be."

He huffed a weak laugh, the sound bitter. "Yeah, easier said than done."

"Maybe," Niki agreed, "but we’ll take it one step at a time. First step? Something that feels like you—not him."

Tommy bit his lip, his fingers curling around one of the hoodie’s frayed edges. "Something… normal," he mumbled. "Not all this." He gestured to the tactical straps and gear weighing him down.

"We’ll find something, Tommy. Something you want to wear. Something clean." Niki offered a small smile. "You don’t have to carry his orders anymore."

Tommy’s jaw tightened as he nodded, his grip loosening on the strap. "Alright," he said softly. "But... no flashy stuff. Just something simple."

"Simple works," Niki said, standing up and squeezing his shoulder lightly. "We’ll take care of it."

Tommy looked away, his expression unreadable, but the smallest hint of relief flickered in his posture. "Thanks," he muttered after a long pause, his voice barely audible.

"You don’t have to thank me," Niki replied, her tone warm but firm. "This is your chance to start over, Tommy. And I’m here to help you do it."

-

Techno walked into the precinct, Skeppy trailing behind like a loyal shadow. The tension in his shoulders told everyone in the room he wasn’t here to chat.

“Can I talk to him, Phil?” Techno asked, voice steady but edged with impatience.

Phil didn’t need to ask who him was. “Techno… that might not be appropriate.”

Techno scoffed, crossing his arms. The conversation he’d had with Tomm in his apartment was enough to make him…as okay as he could be. . He didn’t need to dredge up the past or push Tommy on things they’d both rather bury. He just needed clarification. Specifically, about the MW canisters. No one but Skeppy, himself and Tommy Needed to know about what happened at the apartment.

“Phil,” Techno began, his tone softening, “he told me something yesterday.”

“Techno—” Phil started, but Techno cut him off.

“He told me, ‘Betwines hot, secret story, oxmelith.’ It was an anagram.”

Phil’s face shifted, a mixture of frustration and concern. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“Just wait,” Techno pleaded, raising a hand to calm him. “It led us—”

“You brought Skeppy!?” Phil interrupted, eyes narrowing as his gaze landed on Skeppy, who was lingering behind Techno with his signature grin.

“Hi, Phil.” Skeppy waved.

Phil groaned audibly. “Of course you did.”

“Anyway,” Techno pressed on, ignoring the interruption, “the anagram was an address. ‘Twenty Eighth Street South, Mailbox.’”

Phil frowned, his arms crossing. “And?”

Techno reached into his bag, pulling out a file containing photos of the canisters. “In the mailbox were these.”

He placed the photos on the desk. The image of the MW-labeled canisters stared back at Phil, the eerie glow of the liquid inside practically burning through the paper.

“What the hell is this?” Phil muttered, leaning closer to examine the photos.

“We don’t know yet,” Techno admitted.

Phil’s gaze hardened as he studied the photos. “And you think Tommy knows more about this?”

Techno hesitated, his jaw tightening. “He might. Or he might not. But he’s the only lead we’ve got right now.”

Phil exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation settling over him. “Fine. You can talk to him. But, Techno—keep it professional. Don’t push him too hard. The kid’s been through enough.”

Techno gave a curt nod. “Got it.”

Skeppy leaned in with a smirk. “Oh, I’ll be professional too, Phil. You can count on me.”

Phil shot him a glare. “You’re not going anywhere near him, Skeppy.”

“Fair,” Skeppy replied with a shrug, stepping back.

Chapter Text

Techno stood by the observation window, watching as Tommy was escorted back into the interrogation room after a bathroom break. His gaze lingered on the younger boy, taking in the subtle changes. Tommy was wearing fresh clothes—a blue hoodie and black pants—and someone had brushed through his hair, which now looked…

Techno stopped himself. No past memories. No lingering sentiment.

“Hey, Tommy,” Niki greeted warmly as Tommy stepped inside, her smile kind and familiar.

Tommy returned the gesture with a small, easy smile. Techno could see they'd built some level of trust over the last day. Niki had been handling most of the questioning so far, and it showed.

“Agent Technoblade is going to take over questioning for now,” Niki said gently as Tommy sat down.

Tommy frowned, his gaze flickering between her and the door. “Will you be back?”

“Yes,” she assured him. “He just made a discovery he wants to ask you about.”

Understanding flashed in Tommy’s eyes, and with it came a smirk. “Ohhh, okay.”

Techno watched the change in expression carefully. That smirk—it was familiar in a way that made his gut twist. There was recognition there, maybe even amusement, as if Tommy already had an idea of what Techno wanted to talk about.

Without another word, Techno walked into the room, his steps purposeful as he swapped places with Niki. She gave him a reassuring nod on her way out, closing the door softly behind her.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk lingering. “So, what’s the big discovery, Agent Technoblade?”

Techno sighed as he took a seat across from him, leveling the boy with an even stare. “You wanna tell me what you know about MW?”

Tommy’s smirk widened ever so slightly, his eyes glinting with something between curiosity and defiance. “Guess we’re skipping the small talk, huh?”

“We’re not here for small talk, kid,” Techno replied, his tone calm but firm. “We’re here to get to the bottom of this.”

Tommy tilted his head, as if considering whether or not to play along. “Alright, then. Ask away.”

"The anagram you told me," Techno started.

"You figured it out?"

"Twenty Eighth Street South, Mailbox." Techno confirmed, his voice steady. "There was a package containing these. What is this? MW?"

"MW stands for MindWipe," Tommy stated, his gaze not meeting Techno’s as he shrugged.

Techno felt a knot twist in his stomach. "MindWipe?" he repeated, trying to grasp the weight of what Tommy had just revealed. "You mean... this stuff was meant for you?"

Tommy hesitated, biting his lip, then finally nodded. "Yeah. It... it's what they used on me. Dream, Chaos, they all used it. Clean slate, erase my memories. So I could do whatever they wanted, without questioning it."

Techno stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing. "And now you want out?"

Tommy’s eyes flickered, a brief flash of uncertainty crossing his features. "I don’t know. It’s hard. Everything’s so messed up."

"You're not alone, Tommy," Techno said quietly, his tone more serious than ever. "We'll figure this out together."

"Getting off topic, detective," Tommy stated, his voice a touch sharper. "Ask me when I last was wiped."

Techno raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "When were you—"

"After talking to you," Tommy interrupted, a slight bitterness in his tone. "Some car thing. Something happened that made me unloyal."

Techno’s mind raced, piecing together what Tommy was implying. "You were... wiped after we talked?" he asked, trying to make sense of the timeline.

"Yeah," Tommy replied, his tone quieter now, almost resigned. "I don't remember all the details, but after the car thing... I was reset. Dream said I was getting too emotional, too... unpredictable."

Techno leaned back in his chair, absorbing the weight of Tommy’s words. The fact that Dream had wiped him so soon after their conversation wasn’t just coincidental—it meant Tommy was a tool, someone Dream could easily manipulate and control. Techno clenched his fists, his thoughts swirling. The more he learned, the more he realized how deeply Tommy was embedded in this mess.

"And you don't remember what happened during the job?" Techno pressed, his voice low.

Tommy shook his head. "I remember bits, flashes of it. But it's like they don't fit together, like a puzzle with pieces missing."

Techno could feel his resolve hardening. "Alright, Tommy. We’ll get those pieces back. One way or another."

"What happened? What did you tell me?" Tommy suddenly asked, his voice low and steady, as if he was trying to make sense of a foggy memory.

"I said your name," Techno replied quietly, his tone serious. He could still hear the weight of the words in his mind.

"What did I say?" Tommy pressed, his eyes flickering with curiosity and something else—fear, maybe.

"You asked who that was," Techno said, trying to hide the sting of regret in his voice. "I think it was the first sign that you weren't all there, not fully yourself."

Tommy went still for a moment, then let out a soft, almost bitter chuckle. "That explains a lot," he muttered, his fingers tapping on the table, his gaze distant.

Techno didn't say anything at first, watching as Tommy processed the realization.

"You weren't yourself when I talked to you," Techno finally spoke, breaking the silence.

Tommy looked up at him, his eyes shadowed with the weight of his past actions. "And now?" he asked, voice shaky but determined. "Now that I remember...Some…can I be fixed?"

Techno’s expression softened. "We’ll figure it out. You don’t have to do this alone, Tommy. Not anymore."

Tommy nodded, though it was clear he was still unsure of what that meant.

"I'm 17," Tommy stated, his voice almost as if he were trying to convince himself.

"Yeah," Techno replied softly, his gaze not meeting Tommy's. He wasn't sure where this conversation was going, but he knew it wasn't going to be easy.

"And you're my... uh, brother?" Tommy asked, his voice tinged with doubt, as if hearing the word out loud made it seem unreal.

"Yes," Techno answered, his voice steady but not without a trace of sorrow. "I am."

Tommy chewed on his lip for a moment, his brows furrowing. "What about our, uh, parents?"

Techno hesitated for a moment, his mind drifting back to painful memories. "Mom overdosed, and Dad... I'm not sure," he said quietly, not wanting to get into the details.

"So we were orphans?" Tommy asked, the weight of the words settling between them.

"Yeah," Techno confirmed, his voice quiet as he thought back on their lost childhood. "We were."

"What happened? Why did you think I was dead?" Tommy questioned, his eyes searching Techno's face for answers.

Techno's expression tightened, his jaw clenching. He looked away briefly, clearly struggling with the memories. "I think our time's up," Techno stated, his tone final, trying to deflect.

"Techno—" Tommy's voice broke through the tension, his hand reaching out slightly as if to hold onto whatever was left between them. "You can't just leave it there. What happened? Why did you think I was gone?"

Techno shook his head, biting back the words that wanted to escape. "Some things... some things are too hard to explain. Not now, not here." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

Tommy swallowed, nodding slowly.

-

“Hi Tommy. Are we okay to keep going? Or do you need a minute?” Niki asked gently, her voice soft but steady.

Tommy took a deep breath, nodding. “It’s okay. Can we talk about things that aren’t as, uh, deep...?” His voice wavered, but there was a hint of relief in his request.

“Of course!” Niki nodded reassuringly. She flipped through her notes before carefully asking, “Let’s talk about a man you may know. Do you know a man named George?”

Tommy stiffened slightly, then hesitated. “Y-Yeah?”

Niki leaned forward just slightly, her expression encouraging but calm. “He’s an ex-agent here. He was secretly working with Chaos. Do you know anything about him?”

Tommy exhaled through his nose, his shoulders sinking slightly. “He’s close with Dream. Knew him when he was younger, I think. They aren’t as close anymore, but George is loyal.”

“Loyal to Dream?” Niki pressed.

“Yeah,” Tommy confirmed. “Dream trusts him more than most people. George… he’s smart. Doesn’t get his hands dirty much, but he’s good at knowing what Dream needs.”

Niki jotted down a few notes, her pen scratching quietly against the paper. “Does he ever talk about leaving Chaos?”

Tommy shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard. He doesn’t seem like the type to betray Dream. If anything, he keeps things running smooth for him. Like… a second brain or something.”

“Interesting,” Niki murmured, her pen pausing. “Thank you, Tommy. That’s helpful.”

"You're, uh, welcome," Tommy replied awkwardly, shifting in his seat.

Niki offered a small, encouraging smile and set her notes down. "Let’s see… let’s backtrack a bit," she decided, her tone light. "The person your age who works in the labs? Purpled? Tell me more about him."

Tommy tilted his head, thinking. “Purpled… yeah, he’s smart. Way smarter than me, anyway. He’s, like, a genius with tech and chemicals. Dream uses him to make whatever Chaos needs—poisons, gadgets, explosives. Stuff like that.”

“Do you know how he ended up working for Chaos?” Niki asked gently.

Tommy shrugged. “Not really. I think his brother’s the reason, though. He’s higher up in Chaos, runs a lot of their operations. Purpled doesn’t talk about it much, but I think he feels stuck, y’know? Like he doesn’t have a choice.”

Niki nodded thoughtfully. “Does he ever seem… unhappy? Or like he might want to leave?”

Tommy frowned, his brows furrowing. “I mean, he doesn’t act like he loves it, but he doesn’t complain either. It’s like… he just focuses on his work and tunes everything else out. Keeps his head down.”

“Do you two talk often?” Niki asked.

“Not really,” Tommy admitted. “But sometimes, when I’d go to the labs for missions or to pick up gear, he’d say stuff. Not much, though. He’s quiet. Keeps to himself.”

“Stuff like what?” Niki pressed.

Tommy thought for a moment, then said, “He’d ask about the missions sometimes, like if the gadgets worked or if I needed anything tweaked. Once, he said he wished he could leave the labs or do more, but then he just laughed it off and got back to work.”

“That’s important, Tommy,” Niki said gently, leaning forward. “Thank you for sharing that. It helps us understand him better.”

Tommy looked away, awkward again. “Yeah, well… he’s not all bad. Just… in a bad place.”

"His brother?" Niki continued, her tone careful.

Tommy hesitated, tapping his fingers against the table. "Yeah... uh, he's called Punz. Real piece of work. Runs a lot of Chaos operations, especially the dirty ones. He’s the one who makes sure Dream’s orders actually happen. Logistics, threats, all that crap."

"Does Punz and Purpled… get along?" Niki asked, watching Tommy closely.

Tommy snorted. "Depends on the day. Punz is, like, protective in a weird way. Keeps Purpled in line, but also makes sure Dream doesn’t push him too hard. But they argue. A lot. I heard them once—Purpled was yelling about how Punz was always deciding shit for him."

"Do you think Punz cares about him?"

"Yes. In his own messed-up way," Tommy muttered, shrugging. “He would kill for Purpled but also put him in bad situations.”

Niki nodded, scribbling something down. "What do you think Purpled would do if Punz turned on him?"

Tommy paused, staring at the table. "I don’t know. He’s smart, but… he’s not a fighter. I think he’d just… give up."

There was a brief silence before Niki spoke again, her voice soft. "Do you think Purpled could ever leave Chaos?"

"Not with Punz there," Tommy said bluntly. "And definitely not with Dream. They don’t let people leave, Niki. Not alive, anyway."

"Did you know them well?" Niki asked, her tone light but curious.

"Punz?" Tommy scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "He doesn't like me. Never did. Made that clear from the start."

"And Purpled?"

Tommy hesitated, tapping his fingers on the table as he thought. "I'm... not sure. I've been wiped so many times that I don’t know if we were ever close or not. We might’ve been." He frowned, his gaze dropping to his hands. "I think we talked sometimes, but it’s all… blurry. Like trying to remember a dream you had years ago."

"What kind of things did you talk about?"

"Normal stuff, I think? Or, well, as normal as it gets when you're stuck in Chaos. He’d ask me about Dream. Sometimes he’d ask me about what I wanted to do... y'know, if I ever got out." Tommy paused, his brow furrowing. "I don’t think I ever gave him a straight answer. Didn’t trust anyone enough to."

"And Punz? Why do you think he doesn’t like you?"

Tommy snorted, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Because Dream did. Punz hated that I got more attention, that I was better, that Dream thought I was special. He always treated me like I didn’t belong, like I was just some kid in over my head. But I knew what he really hated—he hated that Dream trusted me more than him."

Niki nodded, her pen moving quickly over her notepad. "What about Purpled? Do you think he felt the same way?"

Tommy shook his head after a moment. "No. Purpled... he wasn’t like that. He didn’t act like he hated me, at least not that I remember. If anything, he seemed... I don’t know, stuck. Like he didn’t want to be there either but didn’t know how to leave. Purpled didn't hate the labs, he just wanted more."

"Did you ever feel like you could trust him?"

Tommy sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Maybe. Once. But I don’t know if that was real or just something I made up to keep myself sane."

Chapter Text

Techno sat huddled in the corner of the cramped apartment, his tiny arms wrapped protectively around his baby brother. The infant was bundled in a tattered blanket, his soft cries barely muffled by the fabric. Techno rocked him gently, whispering soothing words that his mother would never say.

When Tommy was born, Techno had been terrified. Their mother’s addiction had loomed over every moment of her pregnancy, and he had overheard enough hushed conversations from neighbors and nurses to know that the baby might not survive. He’d spent those early days peeking over the edge of the crib, watching for any sign that something was wrong.

Their mother, passed out on the couch, barely noticed the two of them. Her arm dangled limply over the side, a needle still clutched in her hand. Techno averted his eyes, his small chest tightening with anger and fear. He didn’t understand much about what she was doing, but he knew it wasn’t good for Tommy—or for her.

Tommy stirred in his arms, letting out a soft whimper. Techno adjusted the blanket, tucking it more securely around the baby’s fragile frame. His little brother’s face was pale, his cheeks thinner than they should’ve been. Techno had heard the neighbors whisper about how Tommy might be weak, how the drugs in their mother’s system might have made him sick.

But Techno didn’t care. He was only five, but he understood one thing: Tommy needed him. If their mother couldn’t protect them, then it was up to him to keep his brother safe.

“It’s okay, Tommy,” Techno murmured, his voice trembling but determined. “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”

He rocked the baby gently, his back pressed against the cold wall of the apartment. The world outside felt so far away, like a place they didn’t belong. But here, in this little corner, Techno made a silent promise to his brother.

No matter what happened, no matter how hard things got, he would protect Tommy. Always.

-

“Toms, hey, calm down,” Techno whispered, his small hand brushing the curls from his one-year-old brother’s damp forehead. Tommy’s little chest heaved as he fought off the lingering fear of whatever nightmare had shaken him awake.

“Tech?” Tommy whispered, his voice barely audible, laced with the fragility only a toddler could carry.

“It was just a nightmare,” Techno said softly, forcing a smile to comfort him. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. Just fall back asleep, okay?”

Tommy nodded sluggishly, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of Techno’s shirt as he shifted in his older brother’s lap. Slowly, his breathing evened out, and his head slumped forward, resting against Techno’s chest.

Techno held him close, rubbing slow circles on his back the way he’d learned seemed to help. Their mother was out again, sprawled on the couch with empty bottles littering the floor around her. The faint smell of smoke and alcohol hung in the air, but Techno ignored it.

He looked down at Tommy, his little brother’s face scrunched up in sleep. Sometimes it felt like they only had each other. No one else was going to take care of them—not their mother, not anyone else in this broken world.

Techno adjusted the threadbare blanket around Tommy, shielding him from the cold draft that crept through the cracks in the apartment walls.

“You’re okay, Toms,” he whispered again, his voice steady despite the knot in his stomach. “I’ll keep you safe. Promise.”

He leaned his head back against the wall, watching the shadows shift across the room. Sleep tugged at his own eyes, but he refused to let it win. Not yet. Not while Tommy needed him.

-

“Techno, tell me one of the geek stories,” Tommy giggled from their usual corner, his tiny hands tugging at the hem of Techno’s shirt.

“Greek, Toms,” Techno corrected with a soft smile, glancing toward the living room where their mother’s muffled laughter mixed with the louder voices of her so-called “friends.” He shifted, angling his body to block Tommy from the sight of the chaos unfolding in the next room.

“Whatever!” Tommy said, his grin bright, blissfully unaware of the tension Techno carried.

“Alright, alright,” Techno relented, leaning back against the wall and pulling Tommy closer into their little haven. “Okay, the story of Theseus…”

Tommy gasped, eyes wide with excitement as he nestled into Techno’s lap, ready to hang on every word.

“Theseus was a hero from Athens,” Techno began, his voice low but steady, his words weaving a shield around them, a temporary escape from the reality of their lives. “One day, he volunteered to go into a labyrinth—a giant maze—to fight a monster called the Minotaur.”

“A monster?” Tommy whispered, his fingers clutching Techno’s sleeve.

“Yeah, big, scary, half-bull, half-man. But Theseus wasn’t scared,” Techno continued, his tone growing animated, doing his best to keep Tommy’s attention away from the noise in the other room. “He was clever, too. He used a ball of thread to find his way back out of the maze after beating the monster.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped, his little face full of wonder. “He beat the monster and got out?!”

“Yep,” Techno confirmed, tapping Tommy’s nose with a finger. “Because he was smart, and he didn’t give up, no matter how scary the maze got.”

“Is that why you call me Theseus sometimes?” Tommy asked, his voice soft, but his curiosity shining through.

“Yeah,” Techno admitted, smiling down at him. “Because you’re brave too, Toms. Even when things get scary.”

Tommy beamed, burying his face in Techno’s chest. “I wanna be like Theseus.”

Techno tightened his arms around his little brother, pressing his chin against Tommy’s messy curls. “You already are.”

The sound of a glass breaking in the next room made Techno flinch, but he didn’t let Tommy see. Instead, he went on, filling the space with stories of heroes and bravery, weaving them into a cocoon that kept the real monsters at bay, at least for a little while.

-

Techno rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the dim morning light filtering through the cracked blinds of their dingy apartment. Tommy was still curled up in his lap, tiny hands clutching Techno’s shirt as he snored softly.

Careful not to wake him, Techno shifted and glanced over at their mother. She was slumped in the armchair, her head hanging at an awkward angle, her hair a tangled mess. Something about the way she sat didn’t feel right.

“Mom?” Techno called out softly, his five-year-old voice tentative. She didn’t stir.

He tried again, louder this time. “Mom?”

Still nothing.

Unease settled in his chest as he gently laid Tommy down, tucking their shared blanket around him. Padding over to the armchair, Techno stood on tiptoes to reach her shoulder and gave it a small shake.

“Mom, wake up.”

She didn’t move. Her skin felt cold under his hand.

“Mom?” he tried again, his voice breaking.

Then it hit him. The stillness. The silence. The way her chest wasn’t rising and falling.

“Oh,” Techno whispered, taking a step back, his heart pounding in his small chest. His stomach churned as reality sank in.

She was dead.

He stumbled back to the corner where Tommy still slept, his little face peaceful and oblivious. Techno stared at him, his mind racing. What was he supposed to do? Who was going to take care of them now?

Tommy stirred, rubbing his eyes as he woke up. “Tech?”

Techno swallowed hard, forcing his voice to stay steady. “Hey, Toms. Go back to sleep, okay? Everything’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine at all.

Chapter Text

"Phil, he didn't do anything, this is—" Techno started, his voice rising in frustration.

"Techno," Phil cut him off sharply, his tone calm but firm, "the laws are laws."

"He didn’t know—" Techno tried again, fists clenched at his sides.

"I agree with you, Techno," Phil interjected, leaning back in his chair, eyes heavy with the weight of the situation. "But it doesn’t change anything right now. Just—" he sighed, running a hand through his hair—"get those things from the mailbox and find someone to confirm what they are. Get all the evidence you can find to support that Tommy didn’t know what he was doing when he killed those people."

Techno bristled at the phrasing. When he killed those people. It made Tommy sound like some cold-blooded murderer when Techno knew—knew—his brother wasn’t like that.

Phil watched him, his gaze steady. "You want to help him, right?"

"Of course I do," Techno snapped, but his tone softened almost immediately. "He’s my brother, Phil."

"Then prove his innocence," Phil said simply, but there was an edge of urgency to his voice. "Because if you don’t, the system’s going to assume the worst. You know how this works."

Techno exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down. "Fine. I’ll get the evidence."

Phil nodded, satisfied. "Good.”

"Phil," Techno hesitated, the words heavy in his throat, "if they do decide he was, you know... guilty, how many years would they give him?"

Phil's face darkened, and he let out a tired sigh. "It depends on what they’re able to prove. If they can at least prove it was involuntary manslaughter, it won’t be as long as it could be."

Techno's jaw tightened. "And if they don’t prove that?"

Phil paused, choosing his words carefully. "If they try to pin something worse on him—premeditated, for example—we’re looking at decades, Techno. Maybe life."

Techno felt like the air had been punched out of him. "He’s just a kid," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," Phil said, his tone laced with sympathy. "That’s why we need to hope they don’t get to that point."

Techno swallowed hard, his resolve hardening. "I won’t let them take him away, Phil. Not for something he didn’t want to do."

Phil nodded. "I know you won’t. But be smart about this. The system’s not always fair, and you’ll have to fight tooth and nail to get him out of this."

-

"I'm sorry you have to stay in the room," Niki said gently as she walked alongside the handcuffed kid down the quiet hallway.

"Eh, Dream's had me in worse," Tommy replied with a lopsided grin, his tone nonchalant.

Niki glanced at him, her lips pressing into a thin line. "That's not something you should be okay with, Tommy."

"I'm not," he admitted with a small shrug, his voice quieter now. "But it's not like I had a choice, did I?"

She didn’t respond right away, her grip on his arm steady but not forceful. "Well, at least here, no one’s going to hurt you," she said eventually.

Tommy snorted softly. "Unless I screw up again. Then it’s game over, innit?"

"Not if I can help it," Niki replied firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt.

Tommy looked at her, his smirk softening into something more sincere, but he didn’t say anything.

They reached the secured room where he was being held. Niki unlocked the door and guided him inside. "I’ll check in on you later, okay?"

Tommy nodded, sitting down on the cot. "Sure thing, Niki."

She paused in the doorway, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "Try to rest."

With that, she closed the door behind her, leaving Tommy alone with his thoughts.

Tommy sprawled out on the bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts swirled.

So. He knows some stuff. Cool.

He’s 17. His name is Tommy—uhh, fuck, what else? Right. He’s an orphan. Of course he is.

And now, his assignment is his brother. The one Dream despised. How ironic.

Tommy rolled onto his side, the blanket bunching under his elbow. What kind of twisted universe made his brother, the same one Dream hated with a passion?

He shut his eyes, trying to piece together the fractured memories. Techno’s face flickered in his mind, calm but guarded. That guy...he seemed different from everyone else Tommy had known. Less manipulative. Less cruel. But still, it gave him the same anxiety.

"Bloody hell," Tommy muttered to himself, burying his face in the pillow. What the hell kind of life was this?

Tommy lay still, the pillow muffling his thoughts as they spiraled.

Niki was nice. That was...different. Most women he knew weren’t like her. Most women Tommy knew were cold, calculating, or cruel. They had to be. In Dream’s world, kindness was weakness, and weakness wasn’t allowed.

But Niki? She didn’t bark orders or sneer at him. She asked questions softly, even when he didn’t have answers. She smiled at him like he wasn’t a complete mess, like he was worth something.

That kind of niceness? It felt foreign. Suspicious, almost.

Tommy sighed, staring at the ceiling again. Maybe, for once, someone being nice didn’t mean they wanted something. Maybe.

Tommy turned his head toward the small, barred window, watching the faint streaks of light as they faded. He hadn’t talked to Phil much. The man seemed...different.

Old.

Like, properly old, with lines on his face. He most likely told stories Tommy didn’t have time to care about. Heh. Dream would’ve hated that, wouldn’t he? Someone ancient still hanging around, still mattering.

But Phil...he didn’t act old. Didn’t act useless or stuck in his ways like Dream said all old people were. No, Phil carried himself like he’d seen it all and still had enough fight in him to see a little more. That part? That was kind of cool.

Tommy frowned at the thought. He hated admitting when people were cool.

Tommy turned away from the dim light creeping through the window and shut his eyes tightly.

His eyes hurt. Everything was blurry and heavy, like he’d been crying for hours. His face kinda hurt, too, though he wasn’t sure if it was from Dream or the nightmares that liked to creep back in the quiet. Maybe both.

He pressed his head into the scratchy pillow and sighed. He hated this—this limbo of remembering bits and pieces but not enough. Just enough to feel wrong.

“Get it together, mate,” he muttered to himself, voice barely audible. He wasn’t about to let anyone see him like this. Not Niki, not Techno, and definitely not Phil.

-

“Hi Tommy, we’re going to try and create a timeline. Is that okay?” Niki smiled softly.

"What?" Tommy blinked, confused.

“We’re going to piece together what happened to you,” she explained gently.

“Oh,” Tommy mumbled, still processing.

“Eight years ago, you... died. But clearly, you didn’t.” Niki continued, watching Tommy carefully. “There was a fire at the foster home where you were staying with your brother. We suspect Dream or his men were involved and took you from there.”

“Why me?” Tommy asked, his voice small, almost a whisper.

“We don’t know,” Niki said, shaking her head. “But that’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

"I remember none of that," Tommy muttered, staring down at his hands.

"That's okay," Niki replied, her tone gentle. "Your first murder we know of was two years ago. That's a six-year gap." She watched Tommy closely, waiting for any reaction.

He blinked and opened and closed his mouth. "I..." Tommy trailed off, trying to process the words. His mind felt fuzzy, like it couldn’t latch onto any coherent thoughts.

Niki gave him a moment, letting the silence stretch. “You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready for,” she said softly, giving him an out.

Tommy shook his head, a frustrated sigh escaping him. “I just... I don’t remember.” His voice wavered slightly, betraying the confusion and unease building up inside him. “I don’t even know what happened."

Chapter Text

“Amnesium-47

Description:
Amnesium-47 is a highly unstable neurotoxin synthesized from a rare volcanic mineral. When introduced into the bloodstream, it targets the hippocampus and other memory-related regions of the brain, severing neural pathways and degrading proteins essential for memory storage and recall. The compound's effects are both rapid and devastating, making it a powerful tool for those seeking to erase memories entirely.

Chemical Properties:

Formula: C10H13NO6Fe

Appearance: A pale, luminescent blue liquid.

Delivery Method: Administered through injection directly into the bloodstream.

Effects on Contact:

Time to Effect: Memory loss begins within 30 seconds of entering the bloodstream.

Low Dose: Gradual disorientation and partial memory loss, affecting recent events (up to 48 hours).

Moderate Dose: Retrograde amnesia spanning several years, leaving only fragmented memories behind.

High Dose: Total, irreversible memory erasure. The individual loses all personal identity and functional memory, regressing to a state of extreme confusion.

Mechanism:
Amnesium-47 binds to synaptic receptors in the hippocampus, causing a cascade of cellular apoptosis (cell death) in memory-storing neurons. It also blocks the brain's ability to regenerate these pathways, making the damage largely permanent.

Antidote:
The antidote, called Neurogenesis-C9, works by reactivating dormant synaptic pathways and restoring partial memory. However, there's limitations-”

Techno gripped the edge of the report tightly, his knuckles turning white. His eyes scanned over the words again, each sentence about Amnesium-47 making his blood boil further. The voices roared in his head, a cacophony of anger and violence.

Kill the teletubby.

Rip him apart.

Poor raccoon boy, can’t even remember his name :(

Blood for the blood god!

Techno winced, pressing his fingers to his temple in an attempt to quiet the noise. The idea that this neurotoxin—this weapon—had been used on Tommy was enough to make his hands tremble with barely-contained rage.

“Those bastards,” he muttered under his breath,

Find Dream!

Tear him apart!

He deserves it!

Techno slammed the report onto the table, the sound echoing through the room. He took a deep breath, forcing the voices back into the recesses of his mind. It wasn’t time to lose control—not yet. Tommy needed him focused.

"How many doses did they use on him?" he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he tried to calculate the years of damage the neurotoxin had caused. His chest tightened at the thought of the memories Tommy had lost—his childhood, his identity, his freedom.

He turned, storming toward the door. He was going to find answers, no matter how many people he had to go through to get them. The voices surged again, but this time, he let their anger fuel him.

Make them pay :]

Bloooddd

"Chat, I will," Techno muttered under his breath, the promise sharp and final as he stormed down the hallway toward Phil's office.

The voices were relentless.

Find Phil. He'll know what to do.

No waiting—this needs to end now

Blood! Make them bleed for what they did to him

Guys wait, did Techno finish reading?

Nope

Techno clenched his jaw, trying to focus on the sound of his boots hitting the floor rather than the growing cacophony in his head. He felt like a coiled spring, ready to snap the second someone said the wrong thing.

Reaching Phil's office, he shoved the door open without knocking. Phil looked up from the stack of reports on his desk, his brow furrowed at Techno’s expression.

“Techno? What’s going on?” Phil asked, setting the papers aside.

“They used Amnesium-47 on him, Phil,” Techno growled, tossing the report onto the desk.

Phil’s face darkened as he picked up the report and skimmed through it. “I’ve heard of it… but I didn’t know they used it on Tommy.”

“They didn’t just use it; they wiped him clean,” Techno snapped, his fists clenching at his sides. “We need Neurogenesis-C9, the antidote. If there’s even a chance—”

“It only works within ten minutes of exposure,” Phil interrupted gently. “That window’s long gone.”

The voices screamed again, the mix of rage and despair threatening to overwhelm him.

We’re too late!

You should’ve been faster!

No excuses—fix this, fix him!

Techno inhaled sharply, forcing the chaos in his head to quiet. “Then what do we do now? Sit on our hands while Tommy’s stuck like this forever?”

Phil met his gaze, his expression hard but understanding. “We’ll figure something out, mate. But this isn’t something we can rush.”

Not enough.

They’ll regret the day they laid hands on him.

Make it hurt.

“Damn right we will,” Techno muttered, his voice cold and steady. “But first, I’m going to make sure Tommy’s okay. I'm gonna tell him..”

Phil nodded. “Go to him. I’ll look into Amnesium-47, see if there’s anything we’ve missed.”

Without another word, Techno turned on his heel and walked out, the voices now whispering with grim satisfaction.

Protect the raccoon boy.

And when the time comes… make them bleed.

Angsty

LMAO

Yall are so edgy XD

-

"Wait, what?" Tommy asked, sitting up abruptly from his bed, his eyes narrowing.

"It's a neurotoxin," Techno replied, his tone flat as he sank into the chair by the bed.

Tommy blinked. "Neurotoxin? What does that have to do with... anything?"

Techno exhaled sharply, resting his elbows on his knees. "It’s what they used on you, Tommy. Amnesium-47. It’s why your memory’s so messed up."

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly, confusion and dread flickering across his face. "You mean—like, that’s what made me... forget everything?"

"Yeah," Techno confirmed, his voice tense. "It’s not just memory loss, either. It messes with your head—makes you easier to control. Makes you very confused."

Tommy’s hands clenched the blanket tightly. "And you just found this out now?"

Techno hesitated. "Found the details, yeah. But I knew it was bad. Just didn’t know how bad."

Tommy shook his head, staring at the wall. "So, what? There’s nothing to fix this? Nothing to undo it?"

Techno leaned back in the chair, his expression grim. "There’s an antidote. Neurogenesis-C9. Even if we had it, it has to be given within ten minutes of exposure. For you..." He trailed off, his meaning clear.

"Right," Tommy muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. "Figures. Just my luck, huh?"

Techno winced at the tone. The voices stirred.

You should’ve told him sooner.

We didn't know..

What could you have done, though?

"Tommy..." Techno started, his voice softer now.

Tommy cut him off, looking over with a forced smirk. "Guess that’s one mystery solved, eh? At least now I know why my brain feels like scrambled eggs half the time."

"Don’t," Techno said firmly, his gaze hard. "Don’t make this a joke."

"Why not? It’s all a joke anyway," Tommy shot back, though his voice cracked on the last word.

Techno’s jaw tightened, but instead of replying, he leaned forward and grabbed Tommy’s hand, holding it tightly. "We’ll figure this out. I don’t care how long it takes or what I have to do. You’re not in this alone."

Tommy’s smirk faltered, and for a moment, he just stared at Techno. Then he nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Okay."

The room fell quiet, the weight of the revelation settling over them like a storm cloud.

"Can I tell you something?" Techno asked, his voice soft but weighted.

"Mhm." Tommy nodded, sensing something more in the air.

"When we were younger, I called you Theseus," Techno confessed, a trace of frustration in his tone. "Kinda pisses me off I didn’t realize you were—you sooner."

Tommy smirked, trying to lighten the moment, "I'd be way more pissed off he stole your nickname for me."

Techno blinked. "What?"

Tommy shifted uncomfortably, looking down for a moment before speaking again, his voice edged with something dark. "Dream fucked me up," he said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "And made his little messed-up soldier use the same name his brother had for him when he was a kid. Fucked up."

Techno's gaze softened, but there was an underlying storm brewing behind his eyes. "Dream's always been a twisted bastard," he muttered, his fists clenching. "But you... you're still Tommy. Doesn't matter what he tried to make you."

Techno looked at Tommy, his expression softening even more. He reached out, placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Tommy, you don't have to be him," Techno said firmly, his voice steady. "You're you. And that's more than enough."

Tommy’s eyes flickered to the floor, as if searching for the right words. "But... he’s the one everyone looks at. The one everyone expects to be the perfect soldier, the perfect weapon."

"You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be yourself. And I’m here for you, no matter what." Techno's voice was steady and reassuring, the weight of his words carrying an unspoken promise.

Tommy exhaled, the knot in his chest loosening slightly. "Thanks, Tech." He said quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I'm sorry if I cant live up to him exactly." Tommy whispered as he looked down.

"Who?"

"Who I was before Dream.”

Techno's gaze softened, and he leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees. "Tommy," he began, his voice gentle but firm, "who you were before Dream doesn't matter now. It's who you are now that counts."

Tommy’s eyes flickered away, his hands gripping the blanket beneath him. "But what if I'm... broken? What if I can never go back to who I was?" His voice trembled slightly.

"You’re not broken," Techno reassured him, his voice steady. "You’ve been through hell, but you’re still here. And that says more than anything about who you are." He paused, looking at Tommy with a serious expression. "You don’t need to go back. You just need to keep moving forward. Whatever happened before doesn’t define you now."

Tommy looked up, searching Techno’s face for some sign of reassurance. After a moment, he nodded, though the weight in his chest hadn’t entirely lifted. "I guess that makes sense," he muttered, his voice small.

Techno gave a small, approving nod. "Good. 'Cause I’ll be here for whatever comes next."

“Promise?”

"I promise," Techno said firmly, his voice unwavering.

"Did I look the same?" Tommy asked.

"When?"

"When I was a kid," Tommy replied. "Did Dream change me in appearance? I saw photos of you and... well, now I think me, but I'm not sure if it's hopeful thinking."

Techno studied Tommy for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he thought back. "You were smaller, obviously. Rounder cheeks, messy hair that never stayed combed no matter what I did. But... yeah. You still looked like you."

Tommy hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his blanket. "So Dream didn’t change my face or anything?"

"No," Techno said firmly. "You're you, Toms. Always have been. If you’re doubting it, don’t. I’d recognize that face anywhere."

Tommy gave a small nod, but the uncertainty in his eyes lingered. "Guess I just wanted to hear it from you."

-

"Techno, I'm happy for you," Skeppy said, a rare sincerity in his tone as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Techno cook dinner.

"What?" Techno turned, spatula in hand, eyebrows raised in confusion.

"I'm happy you have him back," Skeppy repeated, his smile soft but genuine.

Techno paused, the weight of the words sinking in. "Yeah... me too," he muttered, glancing down at the pan. "I didn’t think I’d get this chance."

"You deserve it," Skeppy said firmly. "You both do."

Techno didn’t reply, but the slight smile tugging at his lips spoke volumes.

"He act like you?" Skeppy asked, tilting his head as he watched Techno plate the food.

"No, not at all," Techno replied with a short laugh. "He's... louder. A lot louder. Talks faster too."

"Doesn’t sound like you at all," Skeppy teased with a grin. "But the stubbornness? That’s definitely you."

Techno smirked. "Maybe. Kid’s got his own way of doing things, though. Always has."

"Must run in the family," Skeppy quipped, earning a playful eye roll from Techno.

"It makes me happy when I see him talk and joke," Techno admitted, a rare softness in his voice.

"Yeah?" Skeppy asked, his tone a little more serious now. "I can see that."

"Yeah," Techno repeated, his eyes softening. "It's... nice. He deserves that.”

Skeppy smiled, nodding.

Chapter Text

“Tommy?” Niki smiled gently as she walked into the room. “Your lawyer is here.”

“What’s that?” Tommy asked, tilting his head, confusion plain on his face.

Niki’s smile faltered for a moment before she quickly composed herself. “A lawyer is someone who helps you with legal stuff, like defending you or explaining what’s going on in court.”

“Oh,” Tommy muttered, glancing away. “So... someone else who doesn’t trust me.”

“No, Tommy,” Niki assured him firmly, stepping closer. “They’re here to help you, to make sure your side of the story is heard. That’s their job.”

Tommy nodded hesitantly, but the skepticism didn’t leave his eyes. “If you say so.”

“Okay, you’re getting a public defender,” Niki explained. “His name is Jack Manifold.”

Tommy tilted his head. “Public defender? What’s that mean?”

“It means he’s assigned to help you since you can’t afford a lawyer on your own,” Niki said gently. “Jack’s here to make sure you have someone on your side.”

“Right…” Tommy muttered. “Does he even know what he’s doing?”

Niki chuckled softly. “Jack’s good at what he does. Give him a chance, okay?”

Tommy shrugged. “Guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

-

“Hello, mate,” Jack smiled as he walked in. “How are you?”

Tommy glanced up, a little wary, but nodded. “Been better... But I guess I’m alright.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, noticing the tension. “Fair enough. I’m Jack Manifold, by the way. I’ll be your public defender.”

“I didn’t ask for one of those,” Tommy mumbled under his breath, but Jack caught it.

“No one ever does,” Jack chuckled, sitting down. “But I’m here to help. Let’s figure out how to get you through this, yeah?”

Tommy gave a slight nod, still unsure. “Yeah... sure.”

Tommy sighed as Jack pulled out a notepad. “Alright, mate. Just a few questions to get us started.”

“Figures,” Tommy muttered, leaning back on the bed.

Jack grinned. “Don’t look so excited, Tommy. I promise I’ll keep it riveting. First up—what’s your full name? And don’t say something daft like Theseus.”

Tommy snorted despite himself. “It’s just Tommy. No last name. Or at least, none I know of.”

“Alright, ‘Just Tommy,’ noted,” Jack replied, scribbling it down dramatically. “Next question—how much trouble did you give Niki before I got here?”

“Depends on what you call trouble,” Tommy shot back, smirking.

Jack leaned forward conspiratorially. “Did you make her question her life choices?”

“Maybe,” Tommy admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Jack nodded seriously. “Excellent work. I like you already.”

As the questions went on, Tommy found himself answering honestly. Oddly enough this Jack guy was funny.

-

Tommy, this is looking better than I thought. I'm gonna get you out of this," Jack said, a confident smile tugging at his lips.

Tommy looked up at Jack, skepticism written across his face. "How? I killed them?"

Jack leaned forward, his voice steady. "The Amnesium-47 affects your ability to form intent. Legally, that means you didn’t act with the understanding of your actions. You weren’t in control, Tommy."

Tommy rubbed his forehead, trying to process. "So you’re saying just because I didn’t mean to do it, it’s... okay?"

Jack shook his head. "It’s not about being okay. It’s about what the law recognizes. You didn’t have the mental capacity to make a choice. That’s our argument. We’re not saying it didn’t happen—we’re saying you weren’t the one who made it happen."

Tommy let out a breath, the weight of it still heavy on his chest. "I still did it, though."

"And that’s why we’re fighting," Jack replied, his voice softening. "But we’ve got a chance now. And I’ll make sure they see you for what you truly are—someone who was taken from themselves, not someone who chose this."

-

Jack walked out of the room, feeling more confident than he expected. This wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

"Jack!" Phil called out, approaching him with a smile.

"Hey Phil," Jack greeted, returning the smile.

"So you're Tommy's lawyer?" Phil asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup," Jack confirmed.

Phil nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "How’s he holding up?"

Jack hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Better than I thought. It's a tough situation, but we're making progress."

Phil’s expression softened, and he sighed. "He deserves a break. I'm just... worried, you know? He's a kid."

"I get it," Jack said, his tone reassuring. "But we're getting there. It’ll be alright. "

-

Purpled jumped back as the glass shattered, the sound echoing through the room. His breaths came short, panic prickling at his skin. Glass was embedded in his palm.

Red.

He hissed, clutching his hand to his chest as blood dripped onto the floor.

The sting only added to the chaos in his mind. Theseus was in custody. How did he manage to mess up that badly? How did they?

Punz was stressed. Punz never got stressed. But now, his frustration was spilling over into every interaction, every plan, and Purpled could feel the tension choking the air around them.

Which, in turn, made Purpled stressed.

Purpled held his bleeding hand over the sink in the lab, watching the crimson drip and swirl down the drain. The sting of the glass was nothing compared to the knot tightening in his chest.

Dream was coming soon.

He shouldn't have messed up. Theseus was in custody, their asset, their carefully crafted weapon. And now, everything was unraveling.

Dream would be mad. No—furious. The thought made Purpled’s stomach churn. He gritted his teeth, gripping the edge of the sink with his uninjured hand. He couldn't afford to screw up again. Not now.

The door creaked open, and Dream stepped inside, his presence as suffocating as ever.

"What happened?" Dream's voice was calm, but Purpled could hear the underlying sharpness.

"I dropped a vial as I was heating it," Purpled muttered, avoiding eye contact.

"Dropped it?"

"Well, I... dropped it, then tried to catch it," Purpled admitted, his gaze shifting to the floor.

Dream's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. "Give it here."

Purpled hesitated before holding out his injured hand. Dream examined it briefly, then glanced around. "Tweezers?"

"Over there," Purpled gestured weakly toward the nearby counter.

Dream grabbed the tweezers with practiced precision, the tension in the air palpable. "Hold still."

Purpled clenched his jaw as Dream began removing the shards, his movements cold and methodical. "This could’ve been avoided if you weren’t so reckless," Dream said flatly.

Purpled said nothing, the sting of the glass being pulled out nothing compared to the weight of Dream's disappointment.

"I'm sorry," Purpled muttered, his voice unsteady.

"I know," Dream replied, his tone calm but edged with intent. "Purpled, you're gifted, you know that?"

Purpled turned to look at him, confusion flickering across his face.

"You're good at what you do," Dream continued, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips.

"T-Thanks," Purpled stammered, the unexpected praise catching him off guard.

Dream stepped closer, his green mask reflecting the faint light in the lab. "I need you to make something."

"Yeah—of course!" Purpled straightened up, his nerves fraying but his eagerness showing. Dream almost never gave him orders face-to-face.

"I need to contact Theseus," Dream said, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. "Sadly, I can't. I don’t have anyone inside the Feds anymore."

Purpled frowned, trying to process the request.

"So I was wondering," Dream continued, tilting his head slightly, "if you could figure out a way?"

Purpled blinked, unsure how to respond. "Y-You mean... you want me to create a line of communication? With Theseus? But... that's dangerous—they'll trace—"

"I didn't ask for your doubts," Dream interrupted, his voice colder now. "I asked if you could figure out a way. Can you?"

Purpled hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I can. I’ll... I’ll work something out."

"Good." Dream’s gaze lingered for a moment before he turned to leave. "Don’t disappoint me, Purpled."

Purpled nodded and looked at his hand. Holy shit.

Dream thinks he could do it.

The thought settled like a double-edged blade in his mind. On one side, it was flattering—Dream trusted him to figure it out. On the other, it was terrifying. Failure wasn’t an option when Dream put faith in you.

He flexed his fingers, wincing as the glass shifted in his palm. He couldn’t screw this up. If Dream thought he could do it, then he had to do it. No matter the cost.

Punz came in then. "So?"

"What?" Purpled asked, glancing up from his injured hand.

"What did Dream ask?" Punz questioned, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.

Punz did this a lot—listening in, following Dream around like some overeager watchdog. Stupid if you asked Purpled.

"Nothing," Purpled muttered, turning back to the sink as if that would end the conversation.

"Purp," Punz pressed, his tone sharper now, suspicion lacing his voice.

Purpled sighed, gripping the edge of the sink. "He just wanted me to make something, okay? Nothing big. Let it go."

But Punz didn’t look convinced. "Dream doesn’t come down here for 'nothing big.' What was it, really?"

Purpled turned away, his jaw tightening. "None of your business."

Punz’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped further into the room. "Everything Dream does is my business."

"Not this," Purpled shot back, gripping the counter until his knuckles turned white. "Go bother someone else, Punz."

"You’re hiding something," Punz accused, his voice low and dangerous.

Purpled spun around, glaring at him. "And you’re prying where you’re not wanted. Drop it."

For a moment, the tension in the room crackled like static, but Punz finally raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. But don’t come crying to me when Dream's plans blow up in your face."

Purpled didn’t reply, turning back to the sink as Punz stalked out. His heart pounded. He needed to focus. Dream trusted him to figure this out, and he wasn’t going to let anyone—including Punz—mess it up.

-

Punz paused outside the door, his hand lingering on the frame. Something was off. Purpled usually told him everything—or at least enough to keep Punz satisfied. But this time? Nothing.

He frowned, debating whether to push harder. Dream had been in there too long, and Purpled looked more on edge than usual. Whatever Dream had asked, it wasn’t small.

Punz straightened, his jaw tightening as he walked away. He’d get it out of him eventually. Purpled wasn’t as good at keeping secrets as he thought he was.

Chapter Text

Techno walked into the precinct, holding a half-full coffee cup in his hand, and headed straight to his office.

“Hey, Phil,” Techno greeted with a quick nod.

Phil looked up from his desk, setting down some paperwork. “Oh, Techno. Tommy talked to his lawyer yesterday.”

Techno glanced over, intrigued. “How’d that go?”

“Pretty well, actually. Jack seems confident,” Phil replied, folding his arms.

Techno raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his coffee. “Confident? That’s good to hear. Tommy needs that right now.”

Phil nodded. “Yeah, Jack’s got a good handle on things. He said they have a solid defense.”

Techno leaned against his desk, glancing out the window. “It’s nice to hear there’s hope for him. He’s been through a lot.”

Phil nodded, adding, "There's a meeting about further investigation on Chaos tomorrow at 9 AM."

Techno glanced up, the mention of Chaos grabbing his attention. "Chaos... right. Got it."

Phil paused in the doorway, watching him for a moment. "It's going to be a long day. You ready for it?"

Techno exhaled slowly, setting his coffee down. "I’m never really ready for these, but we have to keep moving."

Phil gave a small, understanding nod before walking out, leaving Techno alone with his thoughts. The investigation into Chaos was only going to get more complicated, but it wasn’t like he had much choice. It was his job.

“Wait, Phil!” Niki called, her voice low as she quickly whispered something to him. Phil’s eyes widened, his expression turning serious.

“Techno, follow!” Phil barked, turning quickly and heading toward the back of the precinct.

Techno didn’t hesitate. He shot up from his seat, the urgency in Phil’s voice not lost on him.

They reached the back door, and Phil opened it quietly, revealing a hooded figure walking in. The woman's gait was confident, purposeful.

"You know the way," Phil said in a hushed voice, his tone serious.

"Right, I do," she replied.

Techno froze, his mind racing as the voice clicked. That was Puffy. He hadn’t seen her in months, and certainly never expected her to be involved again. His gaze locked onto her, waiting for an explanation he knew wasn’t coming anytime soon.

They entered the meeting room, and as soon as Puffy sat down, she swiftly shook off her hood, revealing her sharp, determined eyes. She sat with a confident posture, hands folded on the table.

“I want to talk to him,” she stated, her voice firm and clear.

Phil looked like he was about to object but hesitated. “Captain, that’s not—”

“Phil,” she shot back, her voice cutting through the air. “Let me talk to him.”

The weight of her words hung in the room, and Techno could sense the tension rising. She wasn’t going to back down.

Phil sighed, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. "Fifteen minutes."

Puffy leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable. "Twenty."

Phil met her gaze for a long moment before nodding reluctantly. "Fine."

There was a quiet intensity in the room, and Techno knew that whatever this conversation was about, it was important.

"No recordings." Puffy added

Phil’s eyes flickered with hesitation before he finally nodded. “No recordings. You get your time, but you’ll be monitored.”

Puffy smirked slightly. “I don’t need a babysitter, Phil.”

Techno stayed silent, watching the exchange closely. He didn’t know what was going on, but something told him this conversation wasn’t just about Tommy.

Phil sighed "you and Techno will both be in the room."

"Fine"

"Okay Techno take her to Tommy."

Techno nodded and motioned for Puffy to follow him. As they walked toward the back hallway, he couldn't shake the feeling that things were getting more complicated by the minute.

"Stay close," he said, his voice low and serious.

Puffy didn't say anything, just followed in silence, her footsteps echoing in the narrow corridor. Techno could feel the tension building between them—this wasn't just another mission. There was something deeper going on, and he knew it had to do with Tommy.

When they reached the small room where Tommy was being held, Techno opened the door with a quiet creak. Tommy was sitting on the cot, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Tommy," Techno said softly, "this is... well, someone you need to talk to."

Tommy’s gaze flicked from Techno to Puffy, and his face twisted with confusion. "Who is she?"

Puffy stepped forward, her voice calm yet firm. "I'm here to help you. We need to talk."

Tommy stood slowly, clearly unsure. "Talk about what?"

"Everything," Puffy replied.

Tommy's eyes narrowed, his fists instinctively balling at his sides. "Dream’s sister?" he spat, his voice laced with distrust.

"Yeah, I know, not the best introduction," Puffy said, leaning back slightly, her expression unreadable. "But this isn't about him. It's about you, Tommy."

Tommy scoffed, sitting back on the bed, glaring at her. "What do you want with me? You think you can just waltz in here and—"

"I don’t want anything from you," Puffy interrupted, her tone sharp but not unkind. "I'm here because I believe there's more to this than what Dream’s told you. And more to you than you realize."

Tommy scoffed again, clearly unconvinced. "Yeah? And why would I care what you think?"

"Because," she began, her voice dropping lower, "you don't have all the pieces, Tommy. And neither do they."

Technos eyes hardened. Guess Puffy still had more secrets.

"Did you help him?" Tommy asked, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief.

"Yes." Puffy replied immediately, her voice steady but tinged with regret.

"Did you know about me!?" Tommy's voice cracked, the weight of the question hanging in the air.

"No." Puffy answered quickly, her gaze shifting uncomfortably.

Tommy faltered, trying to process her words. "You... You didn't know about me? All this time?" His heart sank as he tried to reconcile the person sitting before him with the one who had been a part of Dream's operation.

"I left when he made what he used to hurt you. I regret leaving now. I wish I could've stopped him. When I read those files—" Puffy's voice wavered as she spoke, her face softening with guilt.

"How did you get access to them?" Techno's voice was sharp, his suspicion flaring.

"You know me," Puffy said, her lips curling into a sad smile. "I always find a way."

Puffy took Tommys hands "Tommy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Tommy squeezed back.

"H-How are you...how has he not found you?"

Puffy’s hands trembled as Tommy squeezed back, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "I’ve been careful," she replied, her voice tight. "After I left, I went into hiding. Changed everything. My name, my location, even my appearance. Dream doesn’t know where I am, and I intend to keep it that way."

Tommy studied her closely, his expression still guarded but a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "You’re telling me you’ve been running from him this whole time?"

Puffy nodded slowly. "I couldn’t just stand by and keep helping him hurt people... but at the same time, I couldn’t let him find me. I knew too much." She hesitated, her eyes darting to Techno, then back to Tommy. "And I knew that one day, if I stayed close, he’d drag me back into it. So I left."

Tommy’s jaw tightened. "You still helped him. You could’ve stopped him. You could’ve—"

"I know," Puffy interrupted softly. "I know, Tommy. And I regret that every day." Her voice cracked with emotion. "But right now, I’m here, and I want to do whatever I can to make it right."

Tommy swallowed hard, the weight of her words hanging in the air. He wasn’t sure if he could trust her fully yet—he wasn’t sure he ever would—but the sincerity in her eyes made it hard to ignore.

“Tommy, if you ever need someone I'm here for you. Okay?” She whispered “It's the least I can do.”

Tommy hesitated, the rawness of her words sinking in. He wasn’t used to people offering him help without expecting something in return. His fingers twitched, still holding hers, but he didn’t pull away. It felt... strange.

"Okay," he muttered, not entirely sure if he believed it, but too tired to fight it.

Puffy’s grip tightened for a moment, then she let go, pulling back slightly. "I know it's hard to trust people after everything... but I want to prove that I can help." She gave him a small, hesitant smile, her eyes not leaving his.

Tommy didn’t say anything, but he did meet her gaze, the walls he kept up slowly starting to lower just a little. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Puffy hugged Tommy tightly, and for a moment, Tommy hesitated, not sure how to respond. But then he wrapped his arms around her, feeling an odd sense of comfort in her embrace. He wasn’t used to this kind of kindness.

When she pulled away, her smile was soft but sincere. “Stay strong, okay?”

Tommy nodded, his chest tightening, but there was something else lingering in the air. As she stepped back, Tommy felt something slip into his pocket. He glanced down, his mind already racing, but he didn’t ask questions. Not yet.

He glanced up at her, finding her gaze almost... regretful.

“I will,” he said, though his voice cracked slightly.

Puffy gave him one last look before turning and leaving the room followed by Techno. Tommy stood there for a moment, still feeling the warmth of her hug.

Then, he reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the folded paper. He pulled it out and unfolded it, his heart pounding, wondering what she had left him.

Tommy's eyes scanned the neat cursive, his heart skipping a beat as he read the words:

My number, address, and email. Tuck it in this locket and no one will question you on it.
I'll always be an optional place to go.

The note was simple, yet it carried so much weight. Tommy looked down at the locket she had slipped into his pocket. It wasn’t just a trinket; it was a lifeline. He felt a mix of emotions — relief, confusion, and a quiet sense of gratitude.

With a shaky breath, Tommy opened the locket carefully. Inside was a small slip of paper with the details she promised, neatly written. His fingers brushed over it, as if by holding it, he could somehow understand everything.

It didn’t make everything okay, but it made things feel a little more manageable.

He tucked the note back inside the locket and closed it, pressing it into his pocket.

No matter what happened, he now had somewhere to go if he ever needed it.

-

Tommy flexed his fingers in and out, watching as the metal flickered to life before retreating back beneath his skin. It was a habit, something to keep his hands busy, something to remind himself he was still here. Still himself—whatever that meant now.

Being away from Chaos had given him too much time to think. Thoughts that weren’t drowned out by missions or orders. He hated it. Every moment of stillness only made his chest feel heavier.

He felt mad—no, furious. Not just at Chaos, not just at Dream, but at himself. For listening, for obeying, for not realizing sooner how deep he was sinking. For not fighting back when he should have.

The metal flickered again, his fingers tightening into fists. His knuckles ached, but the pain was grounding. A reminder that at least one part of him was still human.

Tommy let out a sharp breath, his jaw clenching. The anger was better than the emptiness. At least it meant he still cared.

-

Techno dropped his bag onto the counter with a thud, the tension rolling off him in waves. Skeppy glanced over, stirring the pot of ramen with a wooden spoon.

"So?" Skeppy pressed, raising an eyebrow as he leaned casually against the counter.

Techno grunted, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. "Hmpf."

"That bad, huh?" Skeppy smirked, blowing on the steam from his bowl. "Let me guess—Phil roped you into something ridiculous again?"

"Not Phil," Techno muttered, taking a long sip of water. "Puffy."

Skeppy's spoon froze mid-air. "Puffy? As in Dream's Puffy?"

Techno nodded, his grip tightening on the glass. "Yeah. She's... involved now. Again."

"Great," Skeppy said, dragging out the word sarcastically. "Because things weren’t messy enough already."

"You think I don't know that?" Techno shot back, his voice low but sharp.

Skeppy raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, man. I'm just saying, it sounds like you had a hell of a day."

"You have no idea," Techno muttered, leaning back against the counter and rubbing his temple. "And now Tommy's got more questions than ever- wait no. That's good. Tommy needs to be asking questions. This whole thing's a mess."

"Well," Skeppy said, sliding a steaming bowl of ramen across the counter toward Techno. "Eat something before you keel over. You can't clean up a mess on an empty stomach."

Techno stared at the bowl, then at Skeppy. Finally, he sighed and picked it up. "Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah," Skeppy said with a wave of his hand.

Chapter Text

Techno woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. Groggily, he reached for it and squinted at the screen. Niki.

"Niki?" he answered, his voice thick with sleep.

"Techno, we have a court date," Niki said, her tone brisk.

"Already?" he muttered, sitting up.

"Two months from now," she clarified.

Techno groaned as he sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. "Two months, huh?" he mumbled into the phone, still half-asleep.

"Yeah," Niki replied, her voice steady but urgent. "Jack just called me. He wanted us to know right away."

Techno sighed, already feeling the weight of what this meant. "Alright. What's the plan?"

"Jack's confident," Niki assured him. "He thinks he can argue the lack of intent pretty solidly. But we’ll need to prepare Tommy. He’s... not exactly thrilled."

"Figures," Techno muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Kid’s been through hell. Can’t blame him for being on edge."

"Just... talk to him, okay?" Niki urged.

Techno let out a soft grunt, a noncommittal agreement. "I’ll handle it.”

-

Techno always felt oddly nervous talking to Tommy. His brother.

He stepped into the room.

"So, this about the court date?" Tommy asked casually, sprawled on the floor.

Techno blinked, his brow furrowing. "What are you doing?"

"Stretching," the younger replied with a wide grin, reaching his arms out dramatically.

Techno sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, it’s about the court date. Two months from now."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. "Two months, huh? Guess that’s enough time for me to plan my daring prison break."

"Ha-ha. Real funny," Techno muttered, crossing his arms. "You’re not exactly built for stealth, stretch-boy."

"Stretch-boy?" Tommy gasped, mock offense plastered across his face. "That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Buff-and-Brooding. Scared I might outshine you?"

Techno let out a low huff but couldn’t hide the faint tug of a smirk on his lips. "Keep dreaming. Can you stop messing around and take this seriously?"

Tommy’s grin faltered slightly, replaced by a softer expression. "I am. I just don’t wanna think too much about it, okay?"

Techno leaned against the wall, his voice lowering. "Fair enough. But we’ll figure this out. You know that, right?"

Tommy shrugged, looking away as he flexed his fingers. "Yeah... I know."

"Jack's a good guy," Techno said, leaning against the doorframe. "He's worked on some other cases I know of."

Tommy sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. "You trust him?"

Techno nodded slightly. "As much as you can trust a lawyer, yeah. He knows what he's doing."

Tommy chuckled dryly. "Great, at least one of us does."

"You don’t have to know everything," Techno replied. "That’s why you’ve got people like Jack—and me."

Tommy glanced up at him, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. "Thanks, Techno. Even if you do suck at pep talks."

Techno rolled his eyes but said nothing, letting the silence settle between them.

"I kinda hope I'll, you know, not get life in prison," Tommy stated, his tone light but the worry obvious. "Like, 3 years would be okay."

"I'm hoping for no prison time," Techno replied, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall.

Tommy snorted, lying back on the floor. "You're a bit too optimistic for someone who knows me."

"I'm realistic," Techno countered. "Jack's good at what he does. And you didn’t have control over what happened."

Tommy frowned, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, but that doesn’t change what I did."

"No," Techno agreed softly, "but it changes why you did it. That matters more than you think."

"Is Dream looking for me?" Tommy asked, his voice quieter than usual as he stared at the ceiling.

"It's been quiet since your arrest," Techno replied, his tone calm but guarded.

Tommy turned his head to glance at his brother. "That doesn't mean he's not, though, right?"

Techno exhaled heavily, crossing his arms. "No, it doesn't. But quiet’s better than the alternative."

Tommy scoffed, sitting up. "Yeah, until he decides quiet isn't working anymore."

Techno met his gaze, his expression firm. "If he does, we'll deal with it."

For a moment, Tommy looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he nodded, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah. Thanks."

-

“So, the morning before the trial, I’ll be taking him out of police custody to go over some things,” Jack stated, adjusting the papers in his hands. “I’ll also have him for a day once a month until the hearing to talk.”

“Yes, but we need it confirmed by a judge first,” Phil replied with a firm nod.

“Okay, done,” Jack said, sounding confident just as Techno approached.

“Just talked to him,” Techno muttered, his voice low.

“And?” Phil asked, his brows furrowed.

“He’s… holding up. Barely, but he’s holding up,” Techno replied, his tone unreadable. He glanced at Jack. “So?”

Jack gave a reassuring smile. “We’ll make it work. He’s got a fighting chance, Techno. I promise.”

Techno didn’t smile back, but there was a flicker of relief in his eyes as he nodded. “Good. He needs it.”

“Phil!” someone yelled, bursting into the room, their voice frantic. “There’s a terrorist attack at the Capitol building!”

Phil’s eyes widened in alarm as he shot to his feet. “What? When?!”

“Just now! Reports are coming in—it’s chaos over there.”

Jack straightened, his usual calm demeanor gone. “How bad is it?”

“Explosives went off. Civilians are trapped inside.” The officer’s voice shook.

Phil turned to Techno, his expression grim. “We’ve got to move.”

Techno was already grabbing his coat, his jaw set. “I’ll get the car ready.”

Phil barked out orders to the room, his voice sharp and commanding. “Everyone, we’re on high alert. This could escalate fast. Get units on the ground immediately!”

Jack hesitated, looking at Phil. “What about Tommy?”

Phil glanced at him, his face unreadable for a moment. “He’ll be okay. Right now, we need to focus on the Capitol.”

Jack nodded, though concern lingered in his eyes. “Be careful.”

Phil didn’t respond as he followed Techno out, his mind already racing through contingency plans.

Phil and Techno arrived at the Capitol building, the sounds of sirens wailing in the distance as the police cars formed a long line outside. People flooded the streets, running away from the building in a panic. It was chaos.

“Where is everyone?” Phil muttered, his brow furrowing as he stepped out of the car.

Techno didn’t respond, his eyes scanning the scene. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

They made their way inside, pushing through the chaos. The building was eerily quiet now, the usual buzz of activity replaced with hushed murmurs and the occasional scream. They followed the sounds, moving cautiously through the hallways.

It wasn’t long before they found it. Pieces of a bomb scattered across the floor. Parts of the casing, wires, and charred fragments of what looked like a speaker. Techno crouched down, inspecting it.

“This... wasn’t what it seemed.” He muttered. “It wasn’t meant to kill.”

Phil’s gaze shifted to the speaker, still faintly buzzing, a distorted voice echoing out from it. “A setup,” Phil said grimly. “They wanted us to believe it was worse than it actually was. This was meant to create fear, not destruction.”

"Chaos." Techno stated "Phil, we need to get to Tommy.”

Phil's eyes widened in realization. "Fuck!" He cursed under his breath. Without another word, he and Techno dashed down the hallway, sprinting toward the exit.

They were moving fast, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. Phil’s mind was racing.

"We can’t waste any more time," Techno said, his voice grim. He shoved open the door, and they hurried into the car.

Techno slammed the car into gear, tires screeching as they sped off. The air between them was thick with the weight of what was coming.

"We’ll get there in time," Techno muttered under his breath, but even he wasn’t sure anymore.

-

Tommy paced the small room, the silence pressing in around him like a suffocating weight. He wasn't used to this. Before, he was always on the move, thinking, planning, fighting. But now? Now, he had nothing. Just the hum of the fluorescent lights above and the sound of his own footsteps.

Every time he tried to settle, his mind wouldn't let him. It felt like there was a hole in him, a void that couldn't be filled. He missed the chaos, the action, the adrenaline. Anything other than this suffocating boredom.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. This was wrong. He wasn’t meant to sit still like this. Not Tommy. Not Thes-

He stopped pacing, looking at the walls as if they'd give him an answer. He could hear the faint echoes of his old self—his need to move, to plan, to disrupt. But all of it felt so far away now.

Was this really his life now? Trapped, waiting for something to happen? Tommy hated this feeling.

Tommy's heart hammered in his chest as his thoughts spiraled. What was he thinking? He clenched his fists, pacing again. His mind flicked back to Dream—his lies, his manipulation. He couldn't let himself slip back into that mindset. He was different now. He had to be.

He wasn’t that person anymore. Tommy wasn’t some mindless killer, just following orders. He’d made mistakes, done horrible things, but Dream? He was the one pulling the strings, twisting everything. Dream had been the one who'd used him, broken him down, twisted him into a weapon.

Tommy's breath came in sharp gasps, trying to clear the fog. His fingers shook as he gripped the edge of the table, the harsh reality crashing down again. He wasn’t that person. He couldn’t be.

He wasn’t going to let himself fall into the same pattern of thinking. He couldn’t. He had to fight it. He had to find a way out, even if it meant facing the truth of what he’d done. Even if it meant tearing himself apart to make things right.

But he couldn't let Dream win. Tommy wasn’t a killer anymore. He had to stay strong.

Tommy’s mind raced, his thoughts spinning in circles. He couldn't shake the dread that settled in his chest, that tight, anxious feeling that he’d messed up somehow. He was so lost in his own head that he barely noticed the sound at first.

Bing!

Tommy flinched, his body tensing as the noise sliced through the silence of the room. His eyes darted around, trying to pinpoint where it had come from. His thoughts scrambled, unsure of what exactly was happening.

Bing!

The noise rang out again, louder this time, a sharp interruption to his already tangled thoughts. What was going on?

Bing!

Tommy jumped to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. The door. It was coming from the door. Before he could react, a small object slid underneath it with a soft rustling sound. It was thin, an envelope—its edges curling slightly as it came to a halt right at Tommy’s feet.

His breath caught in his throat as he crouched down slowly, eyeing the strange package. There was something unnerving about it, something familiar in the way it was presented.

He reached for it cautiously, his fingers brushing against the paper, and his eyes narrowed. The envelope was unnervingly pristine, almost as though it had been placed there deliberately. No name. No return address. But something was written on the back—he could feel it through the paper.

With a strange sense of unease, he flipped it over.

A smile was etched there in dark ink, jagged and mocking. A smile that he had seen all too many times before.

The world seemed to tilt around him. His stomach dropped. He felt his legs go weak, but he couldn’t pull away from the envelope. He couldn’t move. His mind screamed at him to toss it aside, to not open it, but his hand betrayed him, ripping open the flap.

Inside, a single piece of paper was folded, and as he unfurled it, his eyes scanned the words. But the words didn’t matter.

Theseus's heart sank further as the final truth hit him.

What a fool he was.

There was no running from this. No escaping the truth that Dream was still out there. And now, he'd made it clear Theseus was still in his sights.

Chapter Text

Theseus held the letter in his trembling hands, his fingers barely able to grip the paper. The words on the page blurred as his heart raced, each syllable of the message sinking deeper into him.

Theseus. I know where you are. I know what you've done. You know your assignment..I'll fix you, Theseus.

He read it again. And again. Each time, the weight of the message pressed harder against his chest, suffocating him.

Dream. He'd always feared this. Dream was going to be so disappointed in him. The thought sent a chill through his spine.

No... No, he thought, shaking his head, as if he could force the panic to dissipate. He said too much!

His breath came shallow, his mind racing. He needed to do something, anything, to make sure Dream didn’t find out. Not about the failures. Not about the mistakes. But it was too late. The letter was a mark of everything he'd done wrong.

In a daze, Theseus reached for the small packet that had fallen from the envelope. Purple powder. He recognized it immediately. The purple dots, faint but distinct, marked it. Purpled. It was his work. Theseus knew what to do with it. He opened the packet carefully, his hands shaking as he poured the powder over the letter and the envelope, watching with an odd sense of relief as it reacted.

The paper crumbled and ignited in an instant, turning to ash before his eyes. The letter, the message, everything was gone.

He wasn’t dead. Not yet. Dream might still have hope for him. But the feeling of the burning ash, the way the powder had consumed everything, left Theseus wondering... how long would that hope last?

The door creaked, and Theseus quickly wiped his hands on his pants, trying to regain composure. He could hear footsteps coming closer.

"Tommy?" His assignment asked as he quickly entered, his voice filled with concern. "Are you—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Theseus reacted instinctively. His arm morphed into solid metal, the transformation so swift it almost seemed like a blur. He swung his fist, landing a solid punch that sent his assignment stumbling back.

He stood tall, chest heaving with a mix of frustration and panic. His eyes scanned the room, trying to focus on anything but the growing sense of unease.

"Tommy, why did you punch him?!" a voice called out from behind.

Theseus blinked, his focus snapping back to the new figure who had just stepped forward, concern written across his face. There was no time for this.

Without thinking, Theseus lunged at his assignment, crashing into him with a force that left both men struggling. The unfamiliar figure tried to push back, his hands gripping Theseus’s shoulders, attempting to regain control.

Theseus’s mind raced. Where was his gun? His knife? His usual tools were missing. His utility belts—gone. He cursed under his breath, feeling exposed, vulnerable. He had nothing to protect himself.

-

“Tommy, calm down!” Techno urged, his grip tightening. But the kid was fighting it, flailing in the mess of confusion and fear.

Phil appeared at the door, rushing in with quick steps. His eyes took in the scene, his brows furrowing with confusion.

“What the fuck happened?” Phil asked, voice steady but filled with concern as he crouched next to them.

“I-I don't know,” Techno whispered, his voice breaking just a little as he struggled to keep Tommy still. The young boy beneath him was shaking now, barely able to control his own limbs. "He—he just... snapped. Something's not right."

Phil's gaze shifted between Tommy and Techno, as he glanced down at the boy's eyes—wild and unseeing.

“Hey, kid,” Phil said gently, trying to make his presence known as he reached down toward Tommy’s head. “Tommy, listen to me. It’s okay, we’re here. You’re safe, alright?”

But Tommy just looked at him with those wide, frightened eyes—like he had no idea who was speaking. Like he couldn’t hear him through the haze of whatever was coursing through him. He swung out, fists connecting with Techno’s shoulder as if he were fighting some unseen enemy.

Techno winced, but he didn’t let go. Not this time. They had to calm him down, and quickly.

“I’ve got him,” Phil said, taking a firmer hold of Tommy’s arms. “Techno, let me try.”

Techno hesitated for a second, his grip loosening. “Be careful, Phil.”

Phil nodded, making sure Tommy was steady before speaking again. “Tommy. Look at me. It’s alright, okay? Just breathe. You're not alone.”

Tommy’s body twitched once more, but slowly—bit by bit—the frantic energy seemed to drain from him. His breaths came slower. His gaze shifted, focusing in on Phil and then, hesitantly, on Techno.

“...Techno?” Tommy whispered weakly, the chaos in his eyes giving way to confusion.

"Yeah," Techno replied softly, his voice rough. "It’s me, kid."

Phil sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders as he gave Techno a brief nod. “You’re alright. Just breathe, Tommy."

He blinked, his mind racing. His arm turned back to flesh, the metallic sheen fading into the familiar warmth of human skin. He breathed in deeply, steadying himself.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, the weight of his actions sinking in.

“What happened?” Phil asked, looking between Tommy and Techno, concern etched across his face.

“I don’t know,” Tommy said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing happened?” Phil pressed, his voice a little more insistent.

Tommy shrugged, his usual spark missing. “I just got mad all of a sudden. I’m sorry.”

Techno watched him closely, noting the way Tommy didn’t meet anyone's eyes. He seemed distant, withdrawn—like a part of him had shifted. It wasn’t just the anger. It was something deeper.

His fidgeting had stopped. The usual energy in his movements had drained out. And his eyes—those bright, mischievous eyes that always seemed to hold a spark—were duller, like they were missing something.

Phil looked back at Techno, a silent understanding passing between them. This wasn’t just about anger.

“Tommy,” Phil started, his voice concerned.

“I’m okay now,” the younger cut in quickly, voice strained. “Can I sleep it off?”

Phil hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah... Well, we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

Tommy nodded quietly, relief washing over him as he slumped back into the bed. The two of them walked out, leaving him in the stillness of the room.

As the door clicked shut, Techno immediately turned to Phil, a deep frown on his face.

“What was that?” he asked, his tone low and cautious.

Phil’s eyes shifted, his brow furrowed with unease. “I’m not sure.”

“This is weird, Phil.” Techno’s voice had an edge to it now. “Something’s off.”

"Yeah," Phil said, "This is something we need to figure out. Fast."

-

Theseus immediately took the ashes and dispersed them around the room, ensuring that the evidence was gone. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of his decisions pressing down on him.

He only had his arm, which was a good weapon, but it wasn't enough. He needed the right circumstances, the right moment to strike.

-

“Dream?” Purpled questioned, watching the man carefully. “I sent it out.”

“Good, I saw.” Dream’s eyes glinted as he leaned back, a faint smile playing at the edges of his lips. “You did well, Purpled.”

“How do you know that those simple words will make him listen again?” Purpled’s voice was filled with skepticism, yet there was a subtle uncertainty behind it. He wasn’t sure how Dream could be so confident.

Dream’s smile widened, but it wasn’t one of warmth. It was calculating, sharp, and full of something darker. “Because I know Theseus better than anyone else does. He’s not as broken as he thinks. He still wants to believe in me. Even after all of this time. And that... is what will make him listen. All I need is a little push.”

Purpled frowned, but said nothing more. He knew better than to question Dream’s methods at this point. If there was anyone who understood manipulation, it was Dream.

"Next I need to talk to him," Dream grinned, his voice dripping with anticipation.

"Dream, it'd be hard to get you in there," Purpled replied, his tone laced with concern.

"Oh no! Just give him a phone. Or something like that," Dream insisted, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Oh," Purpled muttered, his mind already spinning with ideas. "I see where you're going with this..."

Chapter Text

The following month felt like a never-ending blur to Theseus, each day blending into the next. The monotony gnawed at him, making the walls feel like they were closing in.

He met with Jack a few times, but the lawyer's words barely registered in his mind. "Pleading not guilty in court," Jack had said. Theseus didn’t really care. What did it matter anymore? The court, the trial, none of it was important compared to the mission. Nothing ever really felt important except for that.

Niki had started to notice his detachment, commenting on it with quiet concern, but he just shrugged it off. "I’m fine," he said, though he wasn’t sure if he was lying to her or to himself.

Everyone was noticing. Even Phil, who usually stayed distant, had shot him a look, eyes narrowed, almost like he was waiting for Theseus to crack. But Theseus didn’t care about that either.

He kept his focus on the mission. Dream's disappointment still haunted him, an echo in the back of his mind. He couldn’t afford to slip, not now. Not when things were this close.

Every conversation felt distant, every glance a reminder of the weight on his shoulders. Theseus wasn’t just doing this for Dream anymore. He was doing it for himself. To prove something. To find a way back from whatever dark hole he had fallen into.

The mission had to be completed. That was the only thing that mattered.

-

"Tommy?" Techno questioned, stepping into the room. "There's only a couple of weeks until the trial, and you seem really spacey."

"I'm fine," Tommy mumbled, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"I don't think you are." Techno crossed his arms, his tone firm but concerned.

"Why do you think that?" Tommy shot back, his voice a little defensive.

"Ever since the scare at the Capitol, you're not the same," Techno stated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Tommy. "You’ve been quiet, distant. Something’s bothering you."

"I'm fine," Tommy repeated, more firmly this time, though it didn’t convince either of them.

Techno sighed. He knew his brother better than that. Something wasn’t right, but Tommy wasn't about to talk. He stepped closer, placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

"You don’t have to go through this alone, you know." Techno’s voice softened, but his eyes were still sharp with worry. "Whatever it is, I’m here."

Tommy shrugged his hand off. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms.

"I don't need you," Tommy muttered, his voice strained with frustration. He refused to look at his brother.

Techno hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. "What?" he whispered, unsure if he heard Tommy correctly.

Tommy's shoulders stiffened, the weight of everything pressing down on him. "You weren't there," he snapped, his voice rising.

Techno flinched at the words, but he couldn’t let them sink in. "If I'd known—"

"Shut up," Tommy cut him off, his voice quiet but sharp. He turned away from Techno, his face buried in the shadows of the room.

Techno’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but Tommy’s words kept him at a distance. He didn’t know what to do. All he had was the guilt eating away at him. Voices murmured making his vision bubble.

Angst lol

Nooooo

I thought we were bonding before..

NOOOOO

Wtf happened

Tommy’s next words hit harder than any punch could. "Get out."

Techno froze, a lump in his throat. He didn’t want to leave, but Tommy made it clear he wasn’t wanted. Slowly, with a heavy heart, Techno turned and walked toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the room.

-

Theseus sighed, his head pounding relentlessly. Every thought seemed to clash with the next, confusion and guilt gnawing at him from the inside. But the mission—the mission had to come first. Kill Technoblade.

He clenched his fists, trying to push aside the growing ache in his mind.

Then, suddenly, he heard it.

Bing.

The sound was faint at first, like a whisper in the distance, but it was enough to draw his attention.

Bing!

The sound came again, louder this time, sharper.

He turned, eyes darting to the door of his room.

Bing!

The third sound was unmistakable. A phone slid silently under the door, its smooth surface gleaming in the dim light. There was a purple baggy attached to it, and before Theseus could even move, it rang.

The ringtone echoed in the stillness, filling the room with a sense of urgency.

He hesitated for a moment, his heart racing.

He slid to the floor, clutching the phone in a vice grip. His heart pounded in his chest as the words echoed in his head.

"4th ring, really, Theseus?" Dream's voice came through, sharp and clear, almost sounding disappointed.

"D-Dream?" Theseus stammered, his breath catching in his throat.

"Hey Thes," Dream’s voice softened, but there was an edge to it that made Theseus tremble.

"I-I-I’m sorry! Please forgive me—"

“Theseus,” Dream interrupted, his tone calm but cold, like steel. “What happened?”

The question hung heavy in the air, and Theseus’ mind spun. How could he explain? How could he explain the mess he’d made, the regret that gnawed at him like an infection? His mind raced, but he couldn’t find the right words.

"I said too much." Theseus whispered

"You told them about Amnesium-47." Dream stated "I'm disappointed."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are." He heard somthing move over the line, "Get out of there. Then complete your mission." Dream’s voice crackled through the comms, cold and commanding.

"Dream...I—" Theseus whispered, his breath shaky, trying to make sense of the weight on his shoulders.

"Are you fucking doubting me?" Dream’s voice rose with an edge of fury.

"No—no, but... these people, they're not so bad," Theseus stammered, hesitating. His mind was clouded, torn between the new life he'd started to question and the cold commands from the man who molded him.

"Theseus, I fucking made you. I'll destroy you just as quick," Dream snarled, the anger evident in his voice. "Don’t question me. You’re mine to control, and I’ll fucking win every time. You listen to me, Theseus. You owe me everything."

Theseus breathed and whispered, "Okay."

"Good." Then the line went dead.

Theseus immediately broke the packet, watching as the phone crumbled to ash in his hand. His eyes burned as the fine dust fell away, his mind racing.

He quickly glanced around, half-expecting someone to rush through the door, but it was quiet—too quiet.

Tommy cried. Ugly.

Tears poured down his face, hot and uncontrollable, his chest tightening with the weight of everything that was spiraling out of his control. The letter. The phone call. Dream. Chaos.

It all felt too heavy.

He collapsed on the floor, hands shaking as he tried to wipe the tears away, but they kept coming. Too much guilt, too many mistakes. He couldn't keep running from what he'd done, from what he'd been. And he couldn’t escape the fact that maybe, just maybe, Dream was right.

The silence in the room was deafening, but his mind screamed.

-

Techno walked through the halls, his footsteps echoing softly as his mind wandered. The voices were louder than usual, churning in a chaotic murmur.

Blood.

Is Tommy okay?

Chat, what happened?

Dream happened.

Techno stopped, his grip tightening on his jacket as he muttered, “Chat, he hasn’t spoken to Dream in a long time.”

How do you know?

Techno’s brow furrowed. “Because I keep tabs on him.”

And yet you don’t know if he’s okay now.

The words struck something deep, and he clenched his jaw, quickening his pace. “He’s fine,” he muttered, though it sounded more like an attempt to convince himself.

You’re guessing.

Check on him.

“Shut up,” Techno hissed, turning a corner. “He’s fine.”

He won’t be if you keep stalling.

The nagging voices wouldn’t leave. Techno quickened his stride, his heart pounding harder with each step. He knew one thing for sure—if something had happened, if Dream had even dared to come near Tommy again, Techno wouldn’t stop until he dealt with it personally.

Go back.

Talk to him.

Don't let him push you away.

Techno stopped walking, gripping the edge of a doorframe. The voices weren't wrong- not entirely. Tommy was good at shutting him out. And Techno was equally good at letting him.

"Fine," he muttered. "Fine, Chat. You win." He turned, retracing his steps.

-

Techno froze in the doorway, the sharp scent of burnt paper hitting him like a wall. Tommy was on the floor, trembling, his nails digging harshly into his skin. His sobs were raw, ugly, the kind that tore through the chest and left nothing but jagged edges behind.

His hands clawed at his arms as though trying to peel something away—guilt, shame, fear—Techno wasn’t sure. And beneath him, scattered across the floor, was a pile of ashes, black smudges staining the pale concrete.

“Tommy,” Techno called softly, stepping closer. The boy flinched, curling tighter around himself.

“Don’t—don’t touch me,” Tommy choked out, his voice barely audible through his cries.

Techno ignored him, crouching down. The ash caught his eye first, small remnants of what looked like paper, a faint acrid smell still lingering in the air.

“Tommy,” he tried again, this time firmer. “What happened?”

Tommy's head shot up, his face streaked with tears and his eyes wide with panic. “He knows, Techno. He knows where I am.”

The words felt like a punch to Techno’s chest. He reached out cautiously, grabbing Tommy’s wrists to stop him from tearing at his skin. “Who knows? Who sent this?”

Tommy’s voice cracked. “Dream.”

The name settled heavily in the room. Techno’s jaw clenched, the voices in his head erupting.

Kill him first.
He’ll come for Tommy.
Take the fight to him.

Techno swallowed hard, forcing the noise back. He focused on Tommy, who looked more fragile than Techno had ever seen him.

“Tommy,” Techno said slowly, his grip firm but not harsh. “You’re safe here. I’m not gonna let him touch you, okay?”

Tommy shook his head, his voice rising, panicked. “You don’t get it! He doesn’t need to touch me. He can break me just like this. He knows what I’ve done—he knows, Techno!”

“What was that?” Techno asked, his voice sharp now.

Tommy faltered, his hands twitching under Techno’s grip. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “It’s gone. It’s ash now.”

Techno glanced at the pile again, his mind racing. “You think burning it makes it gone? Tommy, if this is from Dream, it’s not over. You need to tell me what it said.”

Tommy’s gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “He said he’d fix me.”

Techno’s blood ran cold. The voices, normally a chaotic mess, coalesced into one clear thought.

Over my dead body.

"What's your name?" Techno asked suddenly, his tone sharp but not unkind.

"What?" Tommy froze, confusion flickering across his face.

"What's your name," Techno repeated, stepping closer.

"Thes—" Tommy started, then caught himself. "Shit." His hand trembled as he scraped it through his hair, trying to cover the slip. "I—how...?" He stammered, his eyes darting to the floor before finally meeting Techno's piercing gaze.

"It's okay," Techno whispered, stepping cautiously into the room. His voice was softer than usual, almost unsure.

"I..." Tommy stuttered, his words barely audible between his sobs. "How did he get me back into that headspace so quick?! I thought I was..." He paused, clutching his arms tightly as if trying to keep himself grounded. "I saw you as—" His voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands.

Techno crouched down beside him, his heart twisting at the sight of his little brother unraveling. He didn't press for more. Instead, he rested a hand on Tommy's trembling shoulder, steady and unyielding, silently waiting for the storm to pass.

Tommy turned, his face streaked with tears, and threw himself into Techno's arms. Techno caught him, pulling him close, and they both collapsed to the floor in a heap. Tommy clung to him tightly, shaking, as if he were trying to hold onto something, anything, that could offer him some semblance of stability.

Techno didn't say anything. He just held him, feeling the weight of Tommy's sobs, knowing there were no words that could fix the mess they were both tangled in.

“We should get what happened documented, okay Tommy?" Techno whispered, his voice gentle but firm, trying to pull Tommy from the chaos of his mind.

"Okay." Tommy nodded, his voice shaky but determined. He wiped at his eyes, trying to hide the tears that had fallen without his permission.

Techno sat there for a moment, watching his brother, unsure of what to do. He was bad at this.

"Can you talk? Tell me about a story from when we were kids?" Tommy asked, his voice small as he curled his knees up to his chest, eyes downcast.

Techno paused, taking in the sight of Tommy, his brother. The vulnerability, the weight in his eyes, the brokenness that never quite left. He sighed softly.

"Yeah," Techno replied, his voice steady despite the emotions rising inside. "I can do that."

"Once, it rained—a perfect kind of rain, not too heavy but enough to make everything feel fresh. We were poor, didn't go out much, but that day, we ran out into it, laughing as we splashed through puddles. It was just me and you, no worries in the world."

Techno smiled, his eyes softening as the memories flooded back.

"You dragged me into that forest by the apartment buildings," he chuckled, "and we got completely covered in mud."

Tommy grinned. "Sounds fun."

"It was," Techno replied, smirking. "Except for when you thought you could dye your hair with dirt and ended up with a mess of brown instead."

"What color did your hair used to be?" Tommy asked, looking at Techno with a bit of curiosity.

"Brown," Techno replied with a soft chuckle. "It was short too."

Tommy nodded thoughtfully. "Did you always have glasses?"

"Yup," Techno said, adjusting them slightly. "They’ve been with me for years."

"Why do you dye it? And keep it really fucking long?"

Techno shrugged, his fingers brushing through his hair. "Something to do."

Tommy nodded and sighed, staring at the floor. "Guessin' this won't help get me out of prison?"

Techno hesitated for a moment, then shrugged slightly. "Well... it might actually help."

Tommy looked up, his curiosity piqued. "Really? How?"

"Emotional turmoil or something? I'm not a lawyer," Techno said, his tone flat as he watched Tommy for a moment longer. Tommy, still hunched over, didn't respond, lost in his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Techno dialed Niki's number, his tone tense as she picked up.

"Tommy talked to Dream."

There was a pause on the other end before Niki's voice came through, sharp and concerned. "How?"

"I don't know," Techno admitted, his frustration barely masked.

"Shit..." Niki exhaled. "That's bad."

"Can you get down here for an interview?" Techno asked, pacing as he spoke.

"I'm on my way," she replied quickly. "Keep an eye on him."

Techno hung up, staring at the ashes scattered across the floor.

"Is she coming?" Tommy asked, his voice hoarse.

"Niki? Yeah, she's on her way," Techno replied softly.

Tommy hesitated. "Will she be mad?"

"Not at you," Techno assured him, his tone steady but gentle. "Never at you."

-

Tommy and Niki wrapped up the last of the documentation, their notes filling page after page. Jack had stopped by earlier, offering a few words before leaving. Now, back in his room, Tommy felt restless. Antsy. Like he was waiting for something—dreading something.

-

"Alright Tom." Jack said as he stepped in. "Let's talk."

"Yeah?"

"In court your mannerisms need to be a certain way. The jury needs to think your innocent"

Tommy scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Right. ‘Cause that’s real easy.”

Jack sighed. “Look, you’ve got a solid case, but juries run on emotion. You sit there looking pissed off, they’ll think you’re exactly what Dream made you into.”

Tommy clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to act fake.”

“You want to rot in prison?” Jack shot back.

Tommy exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. “Fine. What do I gotta do?”

"You need to look sad. Scared. Uhh...like you are your age."

"You need to look sad. Scared. Uhh...like you are your age," Jack said, watching Tommy carefully.

Tommy glanced at Jack, his face scrunching in confusion. "What does that even mean?" he muttered.

"Just... make it real," Jack urged, his voice serious. "You're not a grown-up, Tommy. You're a kid who's seen too much."

Tommy bit his lip, glancing down at the ground. He hated being reminded of that. He hated feeling like he was constantly stuck between being forced to grow up and still being treated like a child. But he knew Jack had a point.

"I'll do my best, Jack."

"Thanks, Tommy." Jack smiled, a hint of relief in his voice. "Next, suits. Blue or black?"

"Uh... black."

"I'm going to ask Phil to let me take you to get fitted then."

"Wait, like—out there?" Tommy asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Yup!”

-

Tommy got out of the car, his legs stiff as he followed Jack into the building. He tried to keep his head low, his nerves buzzing in the strange atmosphere of the place. Jack led him up to a counter where a guy with a wide grin looked up.

"Hey, Jack! Who's this?" the guy asked, leaning casually on the counter.

"This is Tommy," Jack replied smoothly. "A client. Tommy, this is Harry."

Tommy gave a small nod, trying to keep his face neutral.

"Hi," Harry greeted them as he led them to the back. "I need to take measurements for the fitting."

"Why can't I just get a suit?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Jack’s extra, remember?" Harry chuckled. "But trust me, this suit’s gonna be something special. You’ll keep it for a long time."

Tommy nodded as he stepped into the room lined with mirrors, feeling a bit out of place.

"Alright, I'll take some measurements, and then I'll bring out a few sets that should fit you well." Harry said as he got out a measuring tape.

Harry took Tommy’s measurements, then disappeared to grab the suits. After a moment, Jack stepped in, glancing at Tommy.

“Where were you?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, paying,” Jack replied, shrugging it off.

Tommy started to protest but was cut off.

“Tommy, shut up.”

-

Tommy tried on two different suits before Harry decided the second one was the best. It was a sleek black suit with matching pants that hugged his frame just right. Harry handed him polished shoes and a neatly folded tie, gesturing for Tommy to get dressed.

Tommy looked at himself, feeling a strange disconnect. He was put together, but not in the way he was used to. His usual look had always been a mix of belts, straps, and hoodies, often stained with blood—marks of his past and battles fought. Now, he felt like a stranger in his own skin, like a version of himself that didn't quite fit the image he'd known for so long.

“You like it Tom?” Jack asked

"Yeah it looks good." Tommy nodded as he looked at himself in the suit

Jack grinned, clapping Tommy on the back. "Told ya, mate. You clean up nice."

Tommy rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smirk tugging at his lips. The suit fit better than he expected—sharp, well-tailored. Not that he'd admit it out loud, but for once, he actually felt… decent.

"Don't go gettin' a big head now," Jack teased. "You still look like a gremlin, just a fancy one."

"Shut up, Manifold," Tommy shot back, adjusting his cuffs.

"Next, hair. Want a haircut?" Jack asked.

Tommy blinked at his reflection. His hair was a mess—shaggy, uneven, too long in some places and too short in others. He'd never had a proper haircut before.

"Sure thing, big man," Tommy nodded, rolling his shoulders.

Jack clapped him on the back. "Alright, change back, and we'll head over."

"You know them too?" Tommy asked, raising a brow.

Jack smirked. "Of course." With that, he slipped away, leaving Tommy to follow.

-

The hair salon wasn’t anything fancy, but it had a well-loved, homey feel. The scent of shampoo and hair products lingered in the air as they stepped up onto the porch and pushed the door open. Inside, a guy stood behind the counter, marking something on a clipboard, barely looking up as they entered.

"Hey, Max! Got another one. Molly around?" Jack called.

Max glanced up, took them in, then nodded. "Yeah, let me grab her." He set the clipboard down and disappeared into the back.

Tommy rocked on his heels, glancing around. A few chairs sat lined up along the wall, magazines scattered on a nearby table. The place wasn’t posh, but it had character.

"Hey, guys! Follow me," a girl with brown hair said, leading them to an open chair.

"Hey, Molly. This is Tommy," Jack introduced.

Molly smiled, giving a small wave before gesturing to the chair. "Nice to meet you! So, what are we doing today?"

Tommy hesitated, glancing at Jack before shrugging. "Uh… just take a couple inches off? Make it not so long."

Molly nodded, already assessing his hair with a practiced eye. "Got it. Go ahead and sit—I'll take care of you."

-

Tommy walked back to his cell, feeling… better. For the first time in a while, he felt like he had a sliver of control over his own life. It was a small victory, but it was his.

Chapter Text

The scariest thing Techno had ever gone through was happening. Sitting outside the courtroom was hell. The weight of tomorrow pressed down on him—his turn to take the stand, to put words to the things Tommy had been through.

Jack had told him what to expect. He'd have to describe Tommy as they found him, broken and barely holding on, pulled from Dream’s grasp like something fragile and frayed at the edges.

He sat against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, tension wound through every muscle. Niki sat on the bench beside him, her hands clasped together, eyes fixed on the courtroom doors like she was trying to will them open. She hadn’t spoken much, just sat there, silent and stiff.

“Do you think Jack can get him through this?” Techno muttered, his voice lower than usual.

“He has to.”

Techno nodded once, exhaling through his nose. He didn’t pray, didn’t put stock in fate or higher powers, but if he could make a deal with the universe to keep Tommy safe from all of this, he would.

The doors opened, and Techno’s breath caught. Tommy stepped out, wrists cuffed in front of him, flanked by two officers. His expression was unreadable, but Techno knew him well enough by now to see the exhaustion in the way he carried himself, the tension in his shoulders.

Jack followed behind, his expression hard. He came to a stop beside Techno and Niki, eyes still on Tommy as the officers led him down the hall.

“Tomorrow’s our turn,” Jack said, voice flat.

Techno barely heard him. His focus was on Tommy, watching the way his little brother kept his head down, refusing to look their way.

His hands clenched into fists.

Tomorrow, he’d fix this.

-

Phil drove in silence. No one spoke—not because there was nothing to say, but because none of them knew how to say it. The weight of the trial sat heavy between them, a storm cloud neither could shake.

Techno tugged at the cuffs of his suit jacket, uncomfortable in the stiff fabric. He'd done his best with his hair, but even braided, it refused to be tamed, strands slipping free and framing his face. Niki, in a more feminine cut of a suit, sat beside him, hands folded tightly in her lap. Phil, ever composed, kept his eyes on the road, but the tension in his grip on the wheel said enough.

When they arrived, Techno stepped out first, rolling his shoulders before heading inside. The courtroom was sterile, quiet, an artificial sort of calm before the storm. He found his seat and sank into it, exhaling slowly.

Tommy stepped in, shoulders squared but his hands trembling just slightly where they rested in his lap. He didn’t look at Techno, didn’t look at Phil or Niki. Just kept his gaze ahead as he sat on his side of the courtroom, expression locked into something unreadable.

Techno forced himself to stay still, to not let the frustration or worry show. Tommy shouldn’t have been here. He shouldn’t have been the one on trial.

The judge gave the usual instructions, the formalities passing in a blur. One by one, everyone was sworn in. Then, Jack stood, adjusting his tie before looking straight at Tommy.

“The Defense calls Tommy Simon's to the stand.”

Techno’s breath caught as Tommy hesitated, just for a second, before standing. He walked to the stand, each step controlled, careful. He sat down, placing his hands in his lap, his cuffs gone now, but the invisible weight of them still there.

Jack stepped forward. “State your name for the record.”

Tommy took a slow breath, then spoke. “Tommy.” A pause. “Tommy Simons”

His voice was steady, but Techno could see the cracks beneath it.

"Tommy what was your relationship with a man named Dream?"

"He was my...uhm. Boss I guess?"

Jack nodded, unfazed. “Boss. Can you clarify what you mean by that?”

Tommy shifted in his seat, fingers twitching like he wanted something to fidget with. “He—uh—he gave orders. Told me what to do. Where to go. Who to…” He trailed off, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “Who to deal with.”

Techno’s grip tightened on the armrest of his chair.

Jack’s expression didn’t change. “And did you ever feel like you had a choice in following those orders?”

Tommy let out a short, humorless breath. “Yeah. I had two choices—do what he said, or pay for it later.”

The courtroom was silent.

Jack took a step closer. “When you say ‘pay for it,’ what exactly do you mean, Tommy?”

Tommy finally looked up, meeting Jack’s gaze head-on. His voice was quieter this time, but the words hit harder.

“I mean, he made sure I regretted it.”

"Did Dream physically abuse you?"

"Yes."

Jack nodded, letting the answer sit in the silence for a moment before he spoke again.

"Can you describe how?"

Tommy's fingers curled into fists in his lap. His gaze flickered to the table in front of him, like he was searching for something there, some kind of anchor. He took a breath, but it was shaky.

"He’d hit me," Tommy said finally. "Sometimes with his hands, sometimes with whatever was nearby. A belt, a pipe—whatever made the most impact, y'know?" His voice was light, like he was trying to make it sound less serious than it was. "Liked to keep me in line."

Techno's jaw clenched.

Jack’s voice stayed steady. “How often did this happen?”

Tommy exhaled slowly. “Often enough that I stopped keeping track.”

Techno gripped the armrest so hard it creaked.

Jack nodded like he’d expected that answer. “And did anyone else ever witness this?”

Tommy huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah. His guys. They never did anything, though. Just stood there. Watched.” He hesitated, then added, “Some of ‘em laughed.”

The courtroom was dead silent.

Jack let that hang in the air before asking, “Did Dream ever threaten you?”

Tommy’s fingers dug into his sleeves. “Every day.”

"Can you tell us about Amnesium-47?"

"It wiped my mind."

The question hung in the air for a moment before Tommy’s simple answer cut through the tension like a knife.

"It wiped my mind." His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of something much heavier, something that had been buried deep inside him.

Jack leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing, sensing the gravity of what Tommy had said. "Can you explain how?"

Tommy swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the room before he focused back on Jack. "Amnesium-47... It’s a drug," he started, his voice hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how much of it he was allowed to say. "Dream gave it to me. It... erased everything. My memories. My thoughts. Everything before... before I ended up with him."

There was a collective intake of breath around the room. Techno’s stomach twisted into knots as the words settled in.

"How long were you under the effects of it?" Jack pressed.

Tommy flinched at the question, eyes darkening. "Long enough to forget who I was. Long enough that I didn’t even know I was me anymore. All I knew was... what he told me." He stopped, his voice faltering for a moment before he forced it out again. "I just did what he said."

Techno’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. He wanted to reach out, pull Tommy away from this, away from the past. But he knew Tommy needed to say it. Needed to make them understand.

Jack’s expression softened just a fraction, but he didn’t relent. "And when the effects wore off—when you started remembering... what was that like?"

Tommy’s gaze darkened, and for a second, it felt like the room held its breath.

"It was like waking up from a nightmare and realizing it was real."

Tommy’s voice trembled as he continued, the weight of the memories pressing down on him with every word. "Then I'd say something, and he'd put me through a wipe. Then again. And again."

He looked up, eyes pained but resolute. "I didn’t even know who I was anymore. Every time I remembered something—anything—he’d just make it all vanish."

Techno’s fists were white-knuckled now, his entire body tense.

Jack’s voice softened, but his questioning didn’t stop. “How did you feel during all of this?”

Tommy’s laugh was hollow. “Like I was... empty. I’d remember a little, just a little, and then it’d be gone again. It wasn’t just the memories. It was... everything. I couldn’t think for myself anymore. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be." He paused, the emotion thick in his throat, before he added, "I was just... whatever he needed me to be."

The courtroom was still, the silence almost suffocating. Jack let the words linger before asking, “Was there ever a time when you fought against it?”

Tommy’s expression darkened, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. “I tried. But every time, he’d just... wipe it away. Like I never even had the chance.”

"Did Dream have you kill people Tommy?"

The question hit like a punch to the gut, and Tommy froze for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. His hands clenched tighter in his lap, but his gaze stayed fixed, unmoving.

Jack’s voice was firm, pushing for the truth. “Did Dream have you kill people, Tommy?”

Tommy’s voice was small, but the weight of his words crashed down in the silence. “Yes.”

There was a pause, as if the courtroom was holding its breath, waiting for him to say more. Tommy didn’t. He couldn’t look up; instead, he kept his focus downward, his fingers twisted in the fabric of his sleeves.

“Who?” Jack pressed, his tone gentler now, like he was trying to coax Tommy through the words.

Tommy flinched. "People Dream needed gone. Targets, enemies, whoever he told me to." He swallowed hard. "It wasn’t just once. He made sure I did it... made sure I couldn’t stop."

Techno’s chest tightened painfully. He could feel the rage boiling inside, but he kept it down, kept it still. Tommy’s words—each one—sounded like a heavy weight, a burden he’d carried for too long.

“Did you have a choice in those actions?” Jack asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

Tommy shook his head slowly, almost imperceptibly. “No.”

Jack’s question was sharp, direct. The weight of it hung in the air, a question that Tommy had probably asked himself more times than he could count.

"Do you regret taking those lives?" Jack repeated, his voice unwavering.

Tommy’s gaze finally lifted, but his eyes were distant, like he was seeing something beyond the courtroom, beyond all of this. His lips parted, but for a moment, nothing came out.

“Yes,” he finally whispered, his voice barely audible. “I do. Every single one of them.”

The words hit hard, but it wasn’t just regret that filled Tommy’s voice. There was pain—raw, jagged pain—that no one in this room could possibly understand.

He swallowed, forcing himself to look at Jack. “But it didn’t matter. Not to Dream. Not to anyone else. I was just... a tool. A weapon.” His voice cracked slightly, then steadied. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Techno’s heart twisted in his chest. He wanted to stand up, scream at them to stop making Tommy relive this, but he stayed silent. Tommy was fighting to hold it together, and he couldn’t break now.

Jack’s voice softened as he spoke again, his tone almost like a question. “You didn’t have a choice then, Tommy. But now... now you do.”

"How long where you there Tommy?"

"Eight years."

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he took a step closer, sensing the depth of the answer. “Eight years,” he repeated, his voice steady but edged with disbelief. “You were under Dream’s control for eight years?”

Tommy’s head dropped again, his shoulders tense as though the weight of those years was pressing down on him, suffocating him all over again. “Yeah. Eight years.”

The room was silent, the gravity of that number settling over everyone.

Eight years.

That was a lifetime for someone like Tommy.

Techno felt his stomach churn, a cold rage building inside him.

Jack’s next question was soft but probing. “And during those eight years, was there ever a moment when you tried to escape?”

Tommy's laugh was dry, almost bitter. “Escape? He’d make sure I couldn’t. He controlled everything. What I thought, what I did. Every time I tried, he... he stopped me.” His hands clenched tighter. “I couldn’t leave.”

Jack’s gaze softened, but he didn’t let up. “And when you finally did escape... how?”

Tommy’s eyes flickered toward Techno for the briefest of moments before he looked back at Jack. "I got help," he said quietly. "Techno helped me."

Jack’s smile was small, almost unreadable, but there was something in it—maybe appreciation, maybe relief—that seemed to acknowledge the weight of Tommy’s words.

"Thank you, Tommy," he said, his tone softer than before.

Tommy didn’t respond. His gaze dropped again, and his fingers flexed nervously in his lap. The gratitude, the recognition, seemed to fall short of what Tommy needed right now, but it was the only thing Jack had to offer.

Jack turned away, signaling for Tommy to step down. As Tommy slowly stood, the room was still, the air thick with the weight of his testimony.

He walked back to his seat, his movements slow, like he was carrying the weight of eight years with every step. Techno watched him, his heart aching. He wanted to say something—anything—that would make this easier for Tommy. But he knew there was nothing. Nothing except being there.

Tommy sat down beside him, his shoulders slumping, his hands back in his lap. He didn’t look at Techno, but the small shift in his posture was enough to tell Techno he was there for him. That was all he could offer right now.

The courtroom was silent, but for Techno, it felt like everything was louder than ever.