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Blood slid off Tubbo's claws, dripping onto the dirty floor. There was not enough light in the room to see clearly, but he could make out a pile of… something in the corner. His handler (Tubbo prided himself on being a handful,) pushed him into the cell, calling out to it.
"New roommate, Brute," the handler said, tightening his grip on Tubbo's thoracic ruff. "Bee careful not to break him before the big show," he said, cackling. "See what I did there? BEE? I should quit this job. Try not to kill him. Or don't. Have fun!"
The handler kicked Tubbo down, slamming the door. Tubbo scrambled to his feet, staring at the pile on the floor which rumbled and unfurled lazily. Tubbo squinted all five of his eyes in the dim light as the figure got up. They were tall, wearing a large cape that obscured most of their body trimmed with soft looking fur. As they rose, as gold glinted on their head, Tubbo could make out who it was.
War criminal. Planet conqueror. Violent anarchist. Whatever he could not have he ground to a pulp, razing any semblance of civilization. The leader of the Space Syndicate, destroyer of Tubbo's home planet. Techno the Blade, the Blood God, the Unkillable. His names were as widespread as his influence. And here he was, standing in front of Tubbo. They called this a "Fuck" moment.
"Hullo," he said, breaking Tubbo out of terrified stupor.
Tubbo buzzed his wings. "Stay back!"
"Easy," Technoblade said. "How're you doing?"
Tubbo puffed out his fur. "I'm in jail," he said, "with you of all people. What do you think."
"I'm sensing a bit of animosity there," said Technoblade.
"Oh, is that so," said Tubbo. "You're a pile of shit."
Technoblade sighed. "My reputation precedes me." He stood up. Tubbo took a step back.
"Have they fed you yet?" asked Technoblade. Tubbo didn’t respond.
Technoblade sighed again. He reached into his cloak. Tubbo flinched, but he produced a plate of some shitty meat. “Sorry, but it’s the only food I’ve got.”
Tubbo stared at it. Was this a gesture of goodwill? An attempt to poison him? Deliberate antagonism? He shook his head. “I can’t eat that.”
Technoblade cocked his head. Tubbo could see gears spinning in the pig’s head, before he knocked his forehead. “Of course, you’re a bee thing.” He rustled in his cloak again, pulling out a flower. A rose. “Here,” he said.
Gingerly, Tubbo took it and tasted it. It was old, sure, but free of pesticides and clearly raised by hand, with care. Hydroponic, but that wasn’t a surprise. Technoblade lived on a spaceship. Tubbo slid to the floor, nibbling on the flower, thinking of his husband's roses back home.
[__]--[__]--[__]
The binary stars illuminating the arena beat down upon the gladiators in the ring. A loudspeaker crackled to life.
"Welcome, Citizens of our glorious Empire, to today's pit match. A fight to the death between former war hero turned infamous criminal Technoblade and the president of New Murcurbee, I'll bet his planet is wondering where he's gone, Tubbo Underscore!" The crowd jeered and screamed.
"In the name of our King, Porkius the Brash, Glory be to the Empire! Glory be to the Victor! Glory be to Bloodshed! Begin the fight!"
Tubbo looked across the arena at his opponent. Technoblade looked blazing hot in his heavy cape, bored, and yet something in the motion of his ears traced Tubbo as he slowly maneuvered around the area. Tubbo lifted off. He wasn't going to be able to overpower Technoblade. He wasn't stupid. Still, Tubbo was fast. If he could sting Technoblade… he didn't have a lot of venom left, but it might be enough to drop the boar.
Tubbo darted in, strafing circles around Technoblade. Technoblade tracked Tubbo’s movement, adjusting his stance as Tubbo flitted about. He whirled around, cloak splaying, revealing the large axe in his hand. In two steps he was upon Tubbo. He swung the weapon, barely missing Tubbo’s antennae. He gave Tubbo no rest, slicing up, and Tubbo retreated out of range.
Tubbo paused, breathing, as Technoblade’s dark eyes stalked him across the arena. His heart raced. If Tubbo would have a chance, it was now. He flew in, close enough to be out of the axe’s range, and struck Technoblade with his stinger. Technoblade faltered for a second, and then grabbed Tubbo. Tubbo screamed, thrashing wildly, but Technoblade held tight. A dark shape eclipsed the two suns above, kicking up dust and grit. A huge airship had appeared aboce them. Out of the ship a human rappelled on a long rope ladder, and Technoblade laughed. “Niki!” he called.
Niki shouted, “Techno,” descending. “Hold tight, we’ll get you out of there.” The spectators in the arena began screaming, of terror this time, and the scent of smoke filled the air. Lasers were fired from the ship. Something exploded. The screams grew louder.
“I’ve got a kid here with me,” Technoblade said. He grabbed the ladder and they began ascending. “He’s malnourished I think, but I don’t think he was in there long. He’ll recover.”
Tubbo kicked weakly at Technoblade’s stomach, but he boarded the ship, Tubbo in tow. Reeling them in was a winged person in green robes.
“Techno!” he shouted.
Tubbo was released as Technoblade went in for a hug with the man. “I said to get me out of there in three days,” Technoblade said. “That’s not three weeks, Phil.” The man, Phil, chuckled, cuffing Technoblade on the chin.
From a hallway behind them, a familiar voice said, “I’m glad you’re back.”
Tubbo turned. There, illuminated by the LEDs overhead, was Tubbo’s own beloved. “Ranboo,” said Tubbo.
Ranboo’s bicolored face broke out into a smile. “Tubbo! You’re here! Thank goodness,” as he rushed to embrace Tubbo, and Tubbo wrapped his small arms around Ranboo.
“Not to interrupt this touching reunion but I do think I’ve been envenomated,” Technoblade said. “I’ll just see myself to the infirmary.”
Tubbo pulled away from his husband, lifting off from the ground to look him in the eye. “I want a divorce.”