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Peaceful nights were a rarity on the DreamSMP. If there was ever a period of peace, chaos was sure to follow. It was an unspoken truth that everyone understood.
When a single bolt of lightning struck the ruins of the hill behind the L’Manberg presidential podium, the sharp crack of it could be heard all the way in the Antarctic Anarchist Commune.
Techno woke with a start. He jolted up, almost banging his head against the attic bedroom’s wooden beams. His chest heaved and sweat trickled down his back.
“It was just a dream.” He whispered into the darkness. Truthfully, it was more of a nightmare, but he would never admit to experiencing something so childish, not even to himself. The voices in his head were slowly waking up. They sleepily murmured about memories he wished to repress. He tiredly murmured for them to quieten down.
The clock pendant on the nightstand displayed the time of three o’clock. Winter nights in the antarctic were long; the sun wouldn’t rise for another few hours. Rubbing his face wearily, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to collect his thoughts.
In his nightmare, he was back at the Red Festival. The Manberg vs Pogtopia War was underway. Sparks from red and black firecrackers drifted down onto the bodies of fallen civilians, as gentle as snowfall but nowhere near as pure. When the explosions started to rip through the earth, the face of the hill behind the presidential podium fell away, revealing the fateful Button Room and the man that stood inside. His silhouette was dark against the fiery red explosions he’d sparked. From his twisted mouth came a maniacal laugh, and that was when Techno was awoken by the lightening.
With a shaky sigh, he stood and stretched, then walked to the window that looked in the direction of L’Manberg. If he squinted, he could differentiate the gentle glow of torches from the night sky’s stars. Looking at the landscape, there was no evidence of lightning. Did Techno imagine it? Usually, it would start a small forest fire he would have to put out. But tonight the tundra was completely still. There wasn’t a single mob around. Even the villagers downstairs were being silent for once. While Techno could appreciate the peace, he also found it eerie.
A bolt of fear struck him when he heard a knock on the door. Who could that be? The antisocial part of Techno didn’t want to answer it, but he felt a visceral pull downstairs to the door. He quickly buttoned up his linen shirt, pulled on his trousers and trotted down to the door, grabbing Orphan Obliterator as he went.
He kept his sword ready as he unlocked the door and opened it. No one arrived at this time of night just for a chit chat. A part of him expected the return of the butcher army, or maybe Tommy was back to annoy him, but he was surprised to find Ranboo standing on the porch.
His friendship with Ranboo was a pleasant breath of fresh air. Initially, he wasn’t too pleased when Phil invited an outsider to the commune without any warning but, once they became better acquainted, Techno realised they got on like a house on fire. Like Techno, Ranboo was quiet, an introvert and liked to stay away from the chaotic drama in L’Manberg and the other territories. They often spent time together— not talking, just sitting in the same room while reading books, enjoying the company of another. When they did converse, their speech patterns and cadence were oddly similar. Ranboo picked up so many of his speaking habits that even Phil began to struggle with telling their voices apart. Techno didn’t mind. He liked Ranboo. He was glad to be a good influence on him.
So he lowered his sword and tiredly breathed out the teenager’s name. He opened the door further, silently inviting him inside. He knew that Ranboo had a troubled mind. If he was having trouble sleeping, he was welcome to hang out here.
But Ranboo’s face was blank. His lithe body illustrated no emotion. His red and green eyes bored into Techno. When he finally spoke, filling the chilling silence between them, his tone was flat.
“Dream’s cashing in that favour now.”
Techno’s blood turned cold. He felt like he’d been dunked into a tank of glacial water. His pink eyes searched Ranboo’s face for any signs of this being some sick practical joke, but his expression was flat and empty of emotion.
“I-” What could he say? He owed Dream a favour, he couldn’t just ignore this. He was shaken up by his strange nightmare, but that wasn’t a valid excuse. He stared at Ranboo, aware of how terrible he must’ve looked, and asked, “What’s the job?”
“Dream’s cashing in that favour now.”
Techno frowned. Did the teenager not hear him? He tried again, “What does he want to use the favour for?”
Once again, Ranboo repeated the dreaded phrase. It was as if he was a robot, programmed only to communicate that one message. Maybe- he was? Techno waved a hand in front of his friend’s eyes, then snapped his fingers inches away from his face. Ranboo didn’t flinch once.
He provoked Ranboo to speak again. And again and again and again.
“Dream’s cashing in that favour now.”
“Dream’s cashing in that favour now.”
“Dream’s cashing in that favour now.”
Techno swallowed back a lump in his throat and commanded, “Say it again.”
Ranboo’s mouth said “Dream’s cashing in that favour now” but his eyes said please help me. The look of desperation was only there for a moment before the red and green eyes became clouded again. But it was more than enough for Techno to make his mind up.
Dream was controlling Ranboo. Somehow— he wasn’t sure how— he was puppeteering him, using his body as a vessel to communicate with Techno. It left Techno with the burning question of what would happen to Ranboo if he failed his mission. If Dream’s toy was faulty. He couldn’t risk Ranboo getting hurt.
So he sat Ranboo down by the fire and got ready. Not knowing what mission awaited him, he had no idea how to prepare. He tied his long pink hair into a braid and secured his crown atop his head. With his red cape and snow boots donned and trident in hand, he was almost ready to go. But, before he left, he put a wool-lined blue cape around Ranboo’s shoulders. He didn’t react, but Techno hoped that deep down he understood that he cared for him.
Outside, the air held an uncomfortable chill. Techno looked towards Phil’s house, considering going in and explaining the situation, but decided against it. There were no lights on inside and he’d hate to wake the man if he was asleep. He clenched his trident firmly and said to Ranboo, “I have a feelin’ you’ll know where to go.”
Ranboo led him in the direction of L’Manberg. When Techno suggested they travel through the Nether for speed, he didn’t react. When Ranboo walked, it was like his feet were blindly leading him. They came to a pond and he chose not to go around it, but instead to walk right through it. Techno shivered just imaging how cold poor Ranboo’s feet must be. He always complained about having cold feet until Techno sat down and taught him how to knit socks. Wondering if he was wearing them now made his heart sting.
Ranboo’s face remained completely blank as he clumsily clambered over hills and rocks. He travelled in an eerily straight line. Techno had no clue how Dream was controlling Ranboo. Did something happen when he visited the man in the prison? He wouldn’t put it past him to pull some magical mischief, even in a place with such high security. A shiver ran down his spine when he realised he had no clue if this had happened to Ranboo before.
The next time Ranboo extended his leg in the direction of a pond, Techno grabbed his arm and said, “Don’t.” Surprisingly, he allowed himself to be pulled away.
Techno didn’t let go of his arm until they were in L’Manberg.
Being in the fallen country always felt strange. The crater in the land was an ever-present reminder of Techno’s promise to eradicate tyranny on the server. It also finished what Wilbur began on the day of the Red Festival.
Anxiety began to rise up Techno’s throat when he realised where Ranboo was leading him. They were heading towards the part of L’Manberg where the festival had been held so very long ago. After being bombed twice, it was barely recognisable, but Techno instinctually knew this place.
His eyes flickered up to the hole in the hillside. Vines had grown over the maw, concealing it ever so slightly. It wouldn’t be hard for commoners to think of it as a naturally-formed cave. But Techno knew the atrocity that was committed inside, the atrocity the victim begged for with his dying breath.
“Ranboo.” He breathed out. In the cold winter air, a puff of white left his mouth. “I can’t- what does Dream have waiting for us in there?”
Asking him was foolish, but a part of Techno hoped that the teenager would snap out of his trance and unveil all the night’s mysteries to him. As expected, Ranboo wasn’t phased by his question and continued to walk.
They went around the back of the hill to the hidden entrance to the Button Room. Phil had described the room in great detail to Techno, mostly in the immediate aftermath of Wilbur’s death. Speaking into his trembling knuckles, he'd described a shoddily mined-out cave with the writings of a madman splattered across the walls. The only object in the room was a wooden button. That’s all it was- a little button. A button that ignited the TNT to destroy a country and, in turn, tore a family apart. Who would’ve thought such a little thing could cause such devastation.
The back entrance to the Button Room had been boarded up with wooden planks. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ranboo began to tear at the planks with his hands. Techno was captivated by the lack of control he seemed to have over his actions. It was horrifying.
Putting a gentle hand on the teenager’s shoulder, he pushed him aside. Ranboo’s hands were covered in splinters and cuts. He hoped that, while under the trance, he wouldn’t feel the pain.
Every voice in Techno’s head screamed at him to stop, to turn around and go home, but he raised his sword high and sliced the wooden boarding in half. The planks fell to the floor pathetically, sending a cloud of wood dust into the air.
While Techno sheathed his sword, he shakily said, “Ranboo, I’m not doing this favour for Dream, alright? I’m doing it for you .”
For the first time that night, Ranboo blinked. Techno hoped that he understood the underlying implications of what he’d said: I care about you more than I fear this room. I will go through this trauma if it means keeping you safe.
Taking the lead again, Ranboo made the first step into the long hallway which lead to the Button Room. Techno remembered how Phil described this hallway. It was carved out so that was just tall enough for Wilbur, no one bigger, to walk through comfortably. Techno ran his fingers against the stone ceiling, remembering the feeling of brown curls. When he started to hear scratching, his eyes snapped towards Ranboo, whose head was dragging against the stone, no doubt scraping his scalp painfully. He put a hand into the teenager’s hair and angled his head down.
“Careful.” The gentle warning slipped out naturally, but Techno can’t remember the last time he was so protective over someone.
Travelling through the hallway took a long time which only thickened the tension in the air. Ash still hung in the air. It sickened Techno. In a state of shock, Phil had told him that Wilbur’s decaying flesh smelled sweet. Techno braced himself for a similar stench, but it never came.
The Button Room was cluttered with rubble. Vines and cobwebs hung down from the ceiling, brushing the tops of their heads and making Techno’s skin crawl. The floor was covered in a layer of dust and grime but underneath there was a reddish-brown stain. Techno’s eyes travelled towards the largest pile of rubble.
Phil never retrieved his son’s body. After the battle, the corpse was left here to rot. The Button Room was like a tomb. Stepping in here felt wrong, like disturbing a spirit. But, remarkably, there was no body. Nor was there the stench of decaying flesh.
Techno turned to Ranboo and asked, “What now?”
Ranboo’s eyes were trained on the rubble. Following his gaze, Techno was intrigued to find some of the rocks were ever so slightly scorched. He rubbed a hand over one rough, blackened rock and frowned. When he breathed in, he could smell the remnants of a recent fire. He was familiar with this smell- it wafted through the tundra after lighting ignited forest fires.
The echoing clacking of heeled boots sent a chill down Techno’s spine. He spun around, drawing his sword, and pointed it to the entrance of the Button Room. He was prepared for Dream, perhaps even one of his henchmen, but not this.
The man standing at the entrance of the room wore a battered brown trench coat and a sly smile. His curly brown hair had a streak of white through it and his round spectacles had a crack in the glass. He stood with relaxed posture, looking far too calm for a man who had just been resurrected.
“Brother,” Wilbur said, voice low and tone devious.
“Brother,” Techno replied, voice calm to conceal the breaking of his heart.