Chapter Text
Hiding behind a stone wall an assassin cursed under his breath, "Damn it-!"
Technoblade pressed against the wound on his stomach, the blood kept on pouring out nonetheless. At least his guts weren't spilling out. The bad news was that he would still bleed out at this rate.
No matter how buff and strong a human can be, this was too much even for Technoblade. His knees buckled. If the man hadn't caught himself on the wall, he'd trip and fall face-first onto an overgrown gravel. Not very graceful, nor something Technoblade would enjoy doing right now.
It took a minute for the professional killer to catch his breath. He was bleeding still... Technoblade definitely needed a hideout, but the nearest secret safehouse was too far to travel in his current state.
The dog barks cut through the night, getting Technoblade's attention. He huffed. It sounded way too close for his liking.
"No time to waste..." He pushed himself up, straightening against the wall. "But where-."
Looking just over the stone wall, an overgrown house came into view. Abandoned-looking thing, plaster falling off, eroded roof and flora taking over.
"That will do."
The hound howling made Technoblade finally move, painfully climbing the wall and almost dropping down the other side. The tall grass cushioned the fall, but the gash in his side still flared with pain. Technoblade groaned but pushed forwards.
The blades of grass and dried leaves crunched under Technoblade's feet, leaving a trace behind him as he waded through the field of weed. The wooden stairs creaked under Technoblade's weight, rusty doors stuttering open.
Nobody came yelling to ward off the intruder. No other sign of life was present in the place, leaving a musty smell in the house. Dust danced in the slightest breeze.
Technoblade walked up to the closest window. It was dirty and cracked, cold to the touch. A stream of light suddenly turned towards the run-down house. Technoblade dropped to the ground, pressing himself under the windowsill.
They were here. So close.
The flashlight lingered, for far too long in Tehnoblade's humble opinion. His breath hitched, heart rate spiked.
Then, finally, the beam of light moved. Once Technoblade dared to peak, he sighed in relief. The mobs with the flashlights were walking past the rusted fence gate and continued down the path.
The adrenaline in his veins was dropping, crashing. Technoblade realized how tired and sluggish he was, the blood loss and adrenaline crash definitely doing him no favour at all.
Nearly dragging himself across the unkempt grimy wooden floor, Technoblade collapsed onto something that might have been a really nice sofa at one point.
Cleaning off the slowly drying flakes of blood, Technoblade tore his shirt. One half for cleaning, the other for improvised bandages. It would have to suffice for now... or at least to the time he got to one of his safehouses.
Tehnoblade carefully laid down on the falling-apart sofa and pulled his old coat over his head. Exhausted, his eyelids drop close.
Let's just hope that I wake up tomorrow...
Technoblade did, in fact, woke up later in the morning. But not to what he was expecting...
Instead of stale stuffy cloth pressed against his face, there was a fresh fluffy pillow under his head. The hard, worn-out sofa was now plush and seemingly the most comfortable thing Technoblade ever laid on. The thin coat was folded on the armchair across the coffee table, a weighted blanket covering him.
Uhm... What-? The fuck...?
His eyes focused on the surroundings. The house as if magically made it through a glow-up back into its prime days. Either that or Tehnoblade sleepwalked into another house with the same infrastructure and arrangement... or he was high as a kite with fever...
Just in case, Tehnoblade checked his temperature... nope, no fever.
There were some noises coming from the kitchen. Sizzling, dishes cluttering, steps shuffling from place to place and humming.
There was someone in this no longer abandoned house. There was a witness in the same house as Technoblade. A mistake... There were supposed to be no people even knowing about his existence.
That's fine...
Technoblade soundlessly pulled the blanket to the side, feet landing on the polished flooring. Without a single creak, one step after another, getting closer and closer.
... Technoblade never had problems with taking care of his messes...
His fingers flexed, no doubt having enough energy to crush a human skull with bare hands.
... and silencing anyone who knew too much.
Even holding his breath, Tehnoblade made it silently to the doorframe of the kitchen.
A shorter blonde man was shuffling about at the counter, humming a tune and cutting something on the board. The man wore nothing that would provide any difference. A simple forest-green shirt, a pair of jeans...
The smell of bacon and eggs, the song, the carefree demeanour of the man. It all made a nice picture of what a normal morning routine should be. Something that was considered a luxury for Technoblade and something that he couldn't afford for more than a few years now.
Before he could get any closer and pounce, the man turned around, surprised but all smiles nonetheless, "Hello, mate! Good to see you up and moving. Come and sit, the breakfast will be ready in a minute."
Huh...?
That... There was no way that this mystery person didn't at least suspect what Technoblade was. He was a wall of hardened muscles, littered with bruises, scars and even tattoos. He looked like a gangster. Or that was what people thought at first.
And this man... just casually pointed him to the table like there was nothing wrong. Just how often does this dude make a full breakfast for strangers that broke into his house?
"Are you going to stand there the whole day? I'm sure that you're still tired from whatever shenanigans you got into yesterday. Sit before you collapse."
Dumbfounded, Technoblade pulled out a chair and sat at the edge, ready to jump up at any time. All of this... What in the ever-loving hell was happening here? He felt his head throbbing. Nice, having a headache was always such a joy...
The noise of a plate being placed in front of him made Technoblade look up. His eyes grew wide, hair standing on their ends.
"There you go, mate. Hopefully, it'll be to your taste."
It was like an illusion dropped, the fog cleared, the fata morgana wavered. There was no pristine household, but that decrepit aged house. The air dropped into an icy cold, the smell switched from delicious and mouth-watering to that decayed mouldy odour.
The man was sitting there, right across from Tehnoblade... but he didn't look human.
Clammy white skin, torn clothes, dishevelled blonde hair,... tense smile,... empty black eyes and... a translucent figure...
And just like that, the illusion swapped over the haunting vision. The dark pits were now sky-blue eyes, visibly filled with slight concern.
"Are you okay? You were bleeding quite a bit. And beaten like a dog... Do you have a concussion?"
Technoblade flinched away from the skeleton-like cold hand, "No-...! I-I'm fine!"
The man smiled and retreated his hand, focusing on his dish instead, "If you think so... My name's Phil, by the way."
"... Technoblade."
Phil flashed him a bright smile, decaying teeth on full display, "Well, nice to meet you, Tehnoblade. I hope we'll be getting along from now on!"