Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing that Technoblade felt was pain.

Well- scratch that. The first thing Techno felt was actually a distinct lack of pain, which only served to make the following pain worse. He could feel something cushioned underneath him (probably a mattress, it seemed too stable to just be blankets), which was a good sign.

All in all, it was much better than he expected, given the fact that he had just been shot in the head. Honestly, he didn't expect to wake up from that one. And (most likely) neither did the guy who shot him, so that made things a little easier. You don't have to run away from a person who thinks you're six feet under with a gaping hole where a chunk of your head used to be.

On that positive note, Technoblade's thoughts turned right back to his current situation. His head hurt, yes, but nowhere near as much as it should have. Hell, it shouldn't have hurt at all- he should have died. But, as his old troops used to say, 'Technoblade never dies'. And who was he to spoil their fun?

His thoughts were interrupted by the creak of a door opening.

"Oh, good, you're awake."

A tall, lanky man stood outside the door. He looked like he'd rather be literally anywhere else, but it seemed to Techno that he was the person in charge of his health. The medic pack he carried with him certainly implied so.

His head ached far too much to say anything in response. But not saying anything would be bad manners, and he had no desire to get kicked out already. So, ever the gentleman, Technoblade replied with a pained grunt.

It seemed to suffice.

The man dragged a chair over, sitting next to his bed. As he carefully looked over the injury, Techno couldn't help but let his mind wander. What, exactly, just happened to him?

He could remember pieces- a man in a suit, a gunshot, pain- but nothing was clicking. Great, a mystery. That was exactly what Technoblade needed right now.

He was probably out on a delivery- trudging through the wasteland in order to get someone a new water chip or something. He wasn't in the habit of checking. He didn't remember passing by any NCR troops, and the suited man didn't seem to be part of the government (but he wasn't about to take that possibility off of the table). Aside from that, Techno wasn't putting much together.

Whatever the situation was, he was going to make that idiot regret ever coming near him.

Technoblade's train of thought was interrupted suddenly by a sharp pain.

"Shit, sorry. I forgot to warn you that this was going to hurt." The man grimaced a little, looking away from Techno in embarrassment.

Still unable to respond, Techno tried his best to convey 'yeah-I-know-that' through his eyes. The guy seemed to get the message.

"I should probably tell Phil that you're awake," the man looked lost in thought for a second. Maybe he didn't think he could leave Techno alone? That'd be stupid, it wasn't like he was in any state to rob the place. Making up his mind, the man shouted towards the door. "Phil! He's awake!"

Ow. That was way too loud for Techno to handle right now. At least the guy looked a little apologetic about it.

Out of the corner of his vision, Technoblade saw a blur of red and white enter the room. That was probably Phil.

Upon closer inspection, he realized that he might not be in as capable hands as he'd thought.

Probably-Phil didn't look a day over eighteen. Blonde, blue-eyed, and energetic enough that Technoblade felt exhausted just by staring at him. Noticing that he'd gotten Techno's attention, the kid immediately ran up to his bed.

"I'm big man Tommyinnit, but you can call me Tommy! What's your name? Also, what the fuck happened to your head?"

Rolling his eyes, the man shoved Not-Phil-But-Actually-Tommy away from where he was perched on Techno's mattress. "He just woke up from getting shot in the head, Tommy. Give him a little space."

"But Wil-"

"I'll call Phil to kick you out, I swear to god-"

"Call me for what?" A man interrupted. He was older than the other two, certainly older than Techno, and he looked absolutely exhausted. Actual-Phil looked down at him, smiling a little.

"Hey mate. Sorry about the boys, Tommy isn't supposed to be here, and Wilbur's the best medic we have in town. Not that it stops either of them from being chaotic little bastards. Kids, you can leave. I've got it from here."

Tommy and Wilbur both seemed annoyed by this- albeit for different reasons. As Tommy protested his ban from the "cool stranger's room", Wilbur mumbled something under his breath. Apparently, he didn't appreciate being called a kid- which was understandable. He looked to be around Techno's age, maybe a little older. Definitely too old to qualify as a kid.

Once the two had made their way out, Phil sighed. His shoulders dropped slightly, letting go of tension that Techno hadn't even realised was there to begin with.

"Are you up to talk a bit? I've got some questions to ask you, if you're up to it," Phil said, clearly trying to seem as open and approachable as possible. Techno almost felt bad- this had to be stressful.

Out of some combination of pity and sheer willpower, Technoblade cleared his throat and responded with a raspy "yes". Phil immediately brightened up- he probably wasn't expecting an actual answer.

"That's great! Alright, I've got to do a couple of tests on you- make sure that your mental state is okay. We can look at your physical condition later, it's more important right now to make sure that bullet didn't fuck up your brain. Let's get started!"

Phil pulled out a book, neatly labeled as "Psychoanalysis for Dummies". Techno was clearly in good hands here.

After a couple rounds of word association and a personality test- only some of which made Phil look concerned- they moved onto Rorschach tests.

Yes, Technoblade knew what Rorschach tests were. Being antisocial in a military camp had its benefits- one of which was the ability to catch up on pre-war literature. It was always important to be informed, especially in battle. To not repeat the mistakes of the past, and all that. In retrospect, that might have been the moment in Techno's life where things started to go wrong. Huh.

Anyways, the tests were simple. Basic symmetrical ink blots with vague shapes that Technoblade was tasked with identifying. He hadn't seen any of these before, which was probably for the best- it allowed him to work without the weight of prior knowledge pressing down on him.

The only one that he stumbled on was a blot that was clearly two bears high-fiving, since Phil seemed at a loss for what that could have meant about Techno's psychology. In Technoblade's expert opinion, it meant that the person behind the test was a moron who couldn't identify what was clearly a picture of two bears high-fiving. But, aside from that, Phil seemed content with the answers he'd been given. At the very least, he wasn't shoving Techno out the door.

After packing up his things and stepping out of the room, Phil was accosted by Tommy. Techno couldn't see anything, but their conversation was clear enough to understand.

"Phil! Philza! Philza Minecraft! Did he-"

A defeated sigh emanated from the hallway.

"... Yes."

The two walked out of earshot, Tommy yelling about bears as Phil tried his best to calm him down. Technoblade was comforted to know that at least one person here had his level of extreme perception and ink-blot-examining abilities. The person being Tommy wasn't ideal, but he was willing to deal with that.

The three strangers were entertaining, to say the least. It was easy for Technoblade to forget that some people had been untouched by battle, that not everyone carried the same scars as he did. But these three seemed like a real family, out in the wastelands. He couldn't help but feel a rising pang of jealousy at the thought. But it was fine. He'd probably be out of there in a few days, back to wander the desert alone.

Techno wasn't sure what was next- whether he was going to stay here and heal or go back out into the Mojave- but for once, he was excited to see how it all would play out.

-----------------

Over the next few days, Techno got more used to this little family. And that's what it was- a family. Albeit a strange one, with a son who seemed to have just appeared one day, and a mother whose absence was felt around the entire house. He wasn't sure what happened to her, but given the state of the world, she was probably dead. It wasn't too uncommon to see single parents in the wastelands, and Phil seemed to be doing well enough without her. Drawings of the four of them littered the walls, constantly reminding Technoblade that he was just a visitor- he wasn't going to stay there for long.

It was easy to forget, though. Wilbur sang to him, revealing his dream to move out and become a musician in New Vegas. Tommy begged him for fighting lessons, having correctly guessed that Techno had battle experience. Phil shared stories of his adventures before settling down, of wild tales that Technoblade wouldn't have believed if they came from anyone else.

Soon enough, Techno was cleared to leave the house- he'd physically recovered at an almost inhuman speed, but Phil was being paranoid about the dangers the Mojave posed to him. It was kind of nice, having someone to fear for you rather than live in fear of you. He met some more members of the town- Goodsprings, apparently- but didn't connect to them nearly as well as he did to the family. Apparently, most people are turned away by his extreme awkwardness and silent nature. Shocking.

Life was peaceful, at least for a couple of weeks. Techno took this time to recover, as well as gather information on his new friends. Maybe it was paranoid of him, but he was better off safe than sorry.

The family was nice- actually, genuinely nice. The kind of nice that Technoblade thought had been beaten out of people by the wasteland. But 'nice' and 'dangerous' were not exclusive terms.

Phil was keeping something to himself. His senses were too strong, reflexes too sharp to imply anything other than hard-earned experience. The kind of experience that doesn't come from just adventuring around the Mojave. There was something off about him- something that made him not fit in with the town around him. It was in Techno's best interest to stay silent, so he never confronted Phil on the matter. Just kept it stored somewhere in his brain, ready to pop out when the situation called for it.

Wilbur and Tommy, however, seemed much more relaxed. From watching the two, he came to some... interesting conclusions about them.

Tommy was adopted- that was obvious. He wasn't ashamed of this fact, and would regularly bring it up in order to win petty fights. But his life before Goodsprings was an enigma and a half. Several strange behaviors were seen by Techno, but he couldn't quite figure out what they meant. Nothing clicked, other than a distinct feeling of wrongness.

Although Tommy's arms were mostly free of scars- at least nothing out of the ordinary- his back told an entirely different story. Occasionally, his shirt would rise up slightly, revealing a mass of scar tissue. Techno didn't have much information about it; he wasn't about to stare at Tommy's back all the time. That would be cringe.

Another strange thing about Tommy was his fighting skills. During their combat lessons, it became obvious that he had some form of training. Although his methods of attack tended to lean towards fighting dirty- something Techno was used to- he used legitimate techniques too. His stance was strong, punches aimed carefully, and he had too much skill in firearms for someone who "barely uses guns because Phil is a bitch and won't let me".

Sometimes, Tommy would stare at the wall for minutes at a time, barely blinking. Looking at the wall like it was responsible for everything bad in the world. Then, he'd switch back to normal and act like it didn't happen at all. It was a little concerning, to say the least.

Out of the three, Wilbur seemed the most like an open book. Too open, even.

Wilbur was volatile- flipping between his typical calm persona and something darker. Not too often, but enough that even the emotionally-illiterate Technoblade knew something in his brain wasn't stable. Wilbur made no attempt to hide it, either. The second he got defensive about a topic, it was like the whole house knew exactly what was about to happen, and braced themselves for the explosion.

There were times where a single comment from his father would set him off, cause him to run to his room and play guitar for hours. Not that Techno minded the music- Wilbur was extremely skilled. It was the closest thing he'd ever heard to the songs that played on his radio out in the desert.

But he had other things to focus on. Things like what his next plans were.

At some point, Technoblade was going to leave this home. Say goodbye to the family and travel to his next stop.

Said next stop being the town his delivery was supposed to go to: Primm. Techno didn't know much about the place, other than the fact that there was a Mojave Express stop in the area owned by a man called The Captain. With a name like that, Technoblade was not excited to tell him that his delivery was stolen.

Speaking of which- the man who shot him in the head took Techno's delivery. Either that, or it'd fallen somewhere in the chaos, but he'd searched around the town and couldn't find anything. He did, however, get all of his stuff back. Which was great, seeing as it's very hard to find a replacement for his DIY sword/axe/bludgeon. He spent a lot of time on that, okay? It wasn't easy to find good close-combat weapons, let alone some that could be melded together in a way that wasn't terrible.

He'd even taken the time to engrave its name on the handle: The Axe of Peace. Don't ask about the name- it seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyways, his beloved sort-of-axe had been returned to him, along with any money he'd saved for the journey.

All of his things were now in his possession, except for the package. He couldn't help but think that the man in the suit had targeted him specifically for it. The guy didn't seem like the revenge-for-Techno-killing-a-lover type, and was far too organized to just be a standard robber. Even if the thief hadn't gone to Primm, Techno figured that it wouldn't hurt to get some extra information on whatever it was that he'd been delivering.

-----------------

On the day that Technoblade was set to leave- much to the dismay of Philza and his family- disaster struck.

It all started during breakfast, which was far too early for something so dramatic. Techno was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when Phil ran into the house and started yelling orders.

"Wilbur! Grab the guns- yes, all of them- and come back here immediately. Tommy, you know where the emergency medical kit is, right? Bring it in here and set out anything that could be used to treat burns. Technoblade, you're going to want to get ready for a fight."

Running back into the room, Wilbur asked the question that had been on Techno's mind for the last minute or two: "What the fuck, Phil?"

Well, maybe not the exact question. Techno would have been much more eloquent, thank you very much. Either way, it got a response.

"All right. I'm going to have to say this shit fast because I don't know how long we have, but those escaped prisoners are here. I didn't prepare- no one did- because we thought they'd stop a few towns back. And most of them did, but a few stragglers have made their way to Goodsprings. And we're going to have to kill those fuckers before they get us."

"... Bruh."

"Sorry mate, I didn't tell you about all this because I didn't think it'd be relevant. Uh- so- there's a prison a few towns away that had a riot recently. The prisoners took over, killed the guards and went on a rampage. Because the NCR is full of dumbasses, they gave the prison lots of TnT. I think it was for mining, but that doesn't matter now because the Powder Gangers- they've been calling themselves that- are using it to blow up anyone they don't like. So you're going to have to help me kill some fuckers."

That was... A lot to take in. Luckily, Technoblade got the gist: murderers with explosives coming to town, kill them before they kill us.

Good thing he still had The Axe of Peace. Pulling it out from underneath the couch, Techno got to making sure everything was in working order. It could use a few upgrades, but it would be more than enough for a job like this. He'd done worse with less, after all.

"Hey Phil? I'm heading out," he said, opening the door and running into the frantic town. Everyone was preparing, to various degrees of success. He saw a couple guns, some knives, and an old man with several pounds of dynamite. That was concerning, but not enough to distract him from his job.

It didn't take long to run to the town's borders, which was good, seeing as the figures on the horizon were getting closer by the second. Not close enough for melee combat, though. Techno pulled out the pistol he kept on himself at all times and took a few shots into the group. Based on the people falling to the ground, he could guess that he'd taken out about three of the men.

They'd gotten close enough to throw their explosives at him, but nothing happened. Strange. Techno took this as a sign that he was free to shoot a couple more. It wasn't like they were stopping him.

Right as he aimed his pistol at the group's "leader" (or at least the man at the front of the pack), he was interrupted by a shout.

"Hey, you! Where the fuck is that bastard hiding. I know you've got him somewhere!"

"Heh?"

"You know exactly who I'm talking about- the fucker that killed half of my men!"

This was getting weird. Techno blinked slowly, then raised a single finger to point at himself.

"No, not you, I'm talking about the goddamned An-"

Before the man could finish the word, a bullet tore its way through his neck. He choked a bit, collapsing on the ground as Techno stared behind himself in disbelief. At some point, Phil had made his way to him- and he didn't notice. That was concerning. Maybe getting shot in the head did more damage to Techno than he'd initially thought.

"Huh. I wonder what that was about. You good there, mate?" Philza asked, not quite making eye contact. Not that Technoblade minded, if anything the lack of eye contact was refreshing.

"Yeah. You wanna help me kill these nerds?"

Phil smiled, nodded his head a little, and the two of them got to work.

It was nice, working with a partner. Technoblade tended to be a lone wolf, never joining a team unless absolutely necessary, but this felt different. Better.

Phil would shoot one of the men, shocking the guy long enough for Techno to finish him off with a slash of his axe. Or Techno would stab at one of them, ensuring that he was right where Phil needed him for a headshot. It wasn't perfect, but it certainly was better than any other teamup he'd had.

Less than five minutes later, the two men stood within a circle of the dead and dying. They were practically unscathed, a miracle considering the sheer amount of dynamite that had gone off during the fight. But they couldn't cheer quite yet- they had to make sure that no one snuck past them.

-----------------

Apparently, the old man with an excessive amount of dynamite had them covered. Any Powder Gangers that got within the town's borders were blown to bits. Techno and Phil thanked him, then swiftly left the area- he seemed like the kind of guy you don't want to spend too much time around, lest you lose a couple fingers.

Wilbur and Tommy were okay, both out of the house and treating the wounded. Phil halfheartedly lectured them about keeping themselves safe during a battle, but Techno could tell that he was proud. The two young men were clearly more than capable, and Technoblade found himself trying to force back a smile at the domestic scene playing out in front of him.

Too bad he had to leave.

He cleared his throat, not wanting to interrupt the sweet moment in front of him. It didn't work- the three were now looking up at him in confusion.

"So. I'm headin' out. It was nice meeting all of you. Thanks for the uh, hospitality. I'll just grab my stuff and-"

"Wait- let me come with you!" Phil yelled, maybe a little louder than intended given the way that Tommy cringed away from him.

"Heh?"

"Mate, you saw us fighting out there. We make a great team! And I want to help you find the asshole that shot you in the head."

"Uh...", Techno said, just kind of standing there. He wanted Phil to join him, but was that the right move? It was hard to say. He looked over to Wilbur for some kind of help, but he seemed to be avoiding eye contact right now. That was probably a bad sign- time for damage control.

"What about your sons? You can't go abandoning them just cause you wanted to help me out."

Phil rolled his eyes. He clearly wasn't having it.

"You mean my adult sons? The sons I have that are adults? And who are more than capable of taking care of themselves? I think they'll be fine on their own." Dang. He made a good point there. Actually, maybe the aforementioned sons shouldn't be here for this conversation. It was getting pretty awkward.

"Hey, can you two leave? Just for a minute. So Phil and I can talk," Technoblade asked, trying to ignore the way that Wilbur glared at him. Or the way that Tommy looked sort of... excited? It probably wasn't important.

Once they'd left, it was like a weight was lifted off Techno's shoulders.

"Look, Phil, I want you to come with me. You want you to come with me. But you're leaving your kids in a town that just got attacked by madmen with explosives. Not to mention, they seem pretty against you abandoning them."

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them. Then, Phil sighed in defeat.

"You're probably right-"

"You should go with Techno!" Wilbur interrupted him, running back into the room with Tommy hot on his tail.

Bruh. What. Well, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

With the main obstacle taken away, it seemed like Philza was free to join him on the little revenge trip. Techno had really tried to be as impartial as possible during that exchange, but he couldn't lie- he was pretty happy about this new development.

"Well, if that's not an issue- are you still interested in coming with me?”

Chapter Text

As the two men hiked through the Mojave desert, Techno couldn't help but thank Wilbur for his change of heart. In the few weeks he'd been on bedrest, he'd gotten too comfortable, and having a partner to shoot the radscorpions he missed was infinitely more helpful than he'd thought it would be.

“Phil, when are we getting there?”

“Mate, you've asked me that four times in the last twenty minutes.”

It wasn't Techno’s fault that he was bored. Usually he'd listen to the radio during his treks, keeping up to date on the latest news and listening to the same twenty songs on repeat. But here he was, not doing that out of the kindness in his heart, and Phil had the nerve to complain? Disgusting.

“Do you wanna listen to the radio while we walk? Maybe it'll distract you.”

Oh. He'd made a slight miscalculation with that one. Well, he might as well turn on the radio- but only because Phil wanted him to.

Techno was quick to switch to Radio New Vegas before Phil could say anything else. It was one of the only local stations he could tolerate, since the repetitive songs were intercut by an… interesting broadcaster. And his weird friend.

It was kind of hard to describe, but the channel had one official radio personality- BBH. He would regularly chime in between songs. Usually, saying some sort of sweet motivation to give down-on-their-luck listeners hope. Technoblade appreciated that, sure, but it wasn't the real reason he listened.

Because BBH had a co-worker. His actual job was a little unclear, but he'd regularly interrupt BBH. Usually to talk about something completely unrelated.

The radio host was annoyed, but presumably not annoyed enough to kick him out. Or at least restrict access to the microphone.

Not that Techno was complaining- he loved listening to them argue. It reminded him that no matter how bad life got, there was always someone suffering more than he was. And that someone was BBH.

“Can you turn it to a different station? One without those dumbasses?”

“Oh no Phil. I can't hear you. I have the radio on. It's too late…”

“Hey Techno?”

“Yeah?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Okay, that was probably deserved.

Luckily for Phil, their journey didn't last much longer- only a handful of hours. Hours during which Phil was clearly contemplating murder.

By the time they arrived at Primm, he seemed to barely notice the fact that the town was falling apart and full of Powder Gangers. Not that it affected his aim, since the two took care of that problem within minutes.

Before any more could pop up, Phil grabbed Techno by the arm and shoved them both in the nearest building.

“Bruh.” He was finally getting into a rhythm and Phil just had to interrupt that.

Interrupt that by throwing them both into-

Oh. This was a casino. A casino populated by citizens that weren't throwing explosives at them. They'd really hit the jackpot.

Broken slot machines stood to their left, completely abandoned by everything but a couple discarded martini glasses. In front of them was a giant room, full of people standing around and talking. A couple of robots milled around too, including one that kept repeating a little introduction to the “Vikki and Vance Casino”.

Off in a corner was a sleeping arrangement, dozens of sleeping bags spread across the floor along with some clothes and other personal items. Opened cans of food were overflowing from every trash can in the building. The building’s stench was uncomfortably similar to the barracks Technoblade had stayed in during his time in the military.

It was pretty clear to Techno that this was where the town was hiding from the Powder Gangers. Not hiding very well, if the bodies outside were any indication. If you asked Techno, that was just a skill issue. He'd never get caught slipping like that.

The townspeople seemed confused by the new arrival. After a few seconds of complete silence, a man stepped forwards, a tired smile on his face.

“Welcome to Primm. Have you come to help?” He said, desperation clear in his eyes.

Now Techno just felt bad. He had to approach this situation with the tact and grace it deserved.

“... Nah.”

That was good enough.

Apparently, it wasn't good enough for Phil, who slapped Techno’s arm.

“We’d fuckin’ love to, mate. Isn't that right, Technoblade?”

“... Ow.”

-----------------

The next thing Technoblade knew, he was stabbing a bunch of Powder Gangers in a hotel.

As they screamed, running away from him, Techno couldn't help but think about how important it was to walk in another person's shoes. For example, in the perspective of the Gangers, they were being brutally slaughtered by two men they'd never seen before. But in Techno’s perspective, he was just doing some minor redecorating.

The walls looked way better red, anyways.

-----------------

With the Powder Gangers taken care of, Technoblade and Phil returned to the casino- only to be greeted by a second problem.

Apparently, the sheriff of the town had been killed recently, and the townspeople were having issues deciding on who should take over.

Well, that sounded like a job for Technoblade.

He gathered the townspeople around him, and began to speak. He talked for over an hour on the flaws of their political system- a political system that had led to them getting slaughtered by enemies. Maybe there was a better option.

By the time he had completed his speech, the town had decided to abolish their government- instead becoming an anarchic commune. People who helped each other not for power, but for the collective’s benefit.

Techno had to hold back a couple of tears as he watched them dismantle their political structure. He was so proud.

Once that was all finished, Techno could get what he came to Primm for. Their ex-leader, The Captain, had seen a suspicious group pass through recently, led by a heavily injured man wearing an ugly suit and a hat that absolutely did not work with his outfit- exactly the guy that Techno was looking for.

Apparently, they were headed in the direction of Nipton, a gambling town in the area. Great, more hiking.

At least he had the radio to listen to during his trip.

“That was Heartaches by the Number, sung by Guy Mitchell. I've always loved that song. There's a sort of beauty that comes with pain, don't you think? But enough of that. I’d like to play something special for you right now. Because you deserve it.”

“Bad, they don't deserve shit! Let me talk to them, I'll-”

“Language!!”

“Techno, can we switch the channel. I can't take it any fuckin’ longer, mate. I'm gonna stand in front of a radscorpion and let it sting me,” Phil whined, showing off just how bad his taste in radio entertainment was. Techno wasn't going to change the station any time soon, and Phil just had to deal with it.

Somewhere behind them, a plant’s leaves rustled in a way that sounded like laughter. Clearly, even nature knew that Technoblade was in the right.

“Hey, Phil? You know the area pretty well, right?” Techno asked, taking a bite of mystery meat he'd found back at an abandoned gas station. Oh, wow. That was disgusting.

“Not perfectly, but yeah. Why do you ask?” Philza said, taking a swig of water. He'd refused to have the meat, which (in retrospect) was a good move.

“Well, I've heard this song so many times I could sing it in my sleep, but I don't know anything about Nipton. What's it’s deal?” Technoblade asked, as the meat’s flavor set in a bit more. It was actually… kind of good? He took another bite.

Wait. It was actually really good.

Phil looked at him like he was crazy, but still responded. “It's a gambling town, but you probably already knew that. I've never been there, so this is all just fuckin’ hearsay or something, but it's a mess. A total disaster. Think of New Vegas, then take away its money and then give it multiple addictions. Then kick it in the balls, just for good measure.”

“Phil, no, my monetization! You can't just say that-”

“Oh, and I'm pretty sure the Powder Gangers have been using it as a base.” Oh. That was just wonderful. Techno was starting to look forwards to those guys, if not just because they were so easy to kill. It was almost like they weren't trying to live.

“Hey, Phil? You should really try this, it's pretty good.”

“Techno, mate, I respect you. I've gotten to know you pretty well since you got shot in the head, and I appreciate everything you've done for me and my family. You're a truly skilled warrior, and a good man. That being said, fuck no. I'm not eating your weird gas station mystery meat.”

Oh well. That was his loss.

They walked for a bit longer, long breaks in conversation interrupted by the world's least professional radio station. Eventually, they got close. Not close enough to see the town itself, but close enough to see that something was wrong.

Smoke rose into the skyline, darkening the sky and blocking out the sun. They passed bodies- all identifiable as Powder Gangers. They'd been slaughtered, limbs hacked off and blood staining the ground. Slowly, the sand on the ground transitioned from golden-yellow to red. It would have been a beautiful gradient, if not for what it implied.

“Nipton doesn't usually look like this, right?” Techno asked, trying to hide the dread in his voice.

Before Phil had the chance to respond, a shout was heard in the distance. It started out quiet, barely discernible as words, but was quickly audible.

“I won! I won the lottery! Holy shit, I can't believe it! I won-”

“Mate, what happened?” Phil yelled out at the shouting man, but was ignored.

The lottery-winner ran past them, not pausing to look at the two confused men. He had a manic look in his eyes, with hair a mess and a face covered in soot and dried blood. His clothes only served to highlight how disheveled he was- the pants of a prisoner combined with a ripped t-shirt. Specifically, a t-shirt with a weird blue cartoon creature smirking on it. Not the usual outfit for Powder Gangers, but not too important given the circumstances.

Technoblade turned around in order to watch as he continued his run into the distance. Well, tried to continue his run. At one point, he tripped over his own feet and face-planted in the sand.

He'd probably be fine.

“Techno? Are you sure you want to go in? It's pretty fuckin’ ominous,” Phil asked. But Technoblade wasn't disturbed by little things like ‘blood-stained sand’ or ‘crazy men running away from a town that looked like it was actively on fire’.

-----------------

Techno was extremely disturbed by the scene that awaited him at the town’s gates. Powder Gangers- both the dead and the dying- were hung up on crosses all over the place. Some were screaming, some seemed to have given up, simply waiting for death.

He'd thought the ground was bloody before, but this was so much worse. Puddles of blood and viscera were scattered along the street, making him watch his step. Phil looked like he was about to vomit.

Technoblade could barely look at the scene in front of him. It was too horrifying to think about. What kind of monster completely ignores symmetry when they're commiting war crimes?

There were huge gaps in between crosses, and one area looked like it had been completely abandoned- absolutely nothing was there. It was like the invaders, whoever they were, had forgotten that space existed. Heck, even just a decapitated corpse would have worked. It just looked so barren.

A building stood at the end of the path, guarded by heavily costumed men. Techno recognized that style- a clear rip-off of ancient Roman armor. But not even accurate armor. The designs looked like they'd been taken straight out of a child’s drawing. Completely impractical.

Luckily, Techno recognized their ugly clothes. It was the Legion. A group of ancient Rome fanboys convinced that they were going to save the Mojave. Well- not save, exactly. More accurately, they wanted to enslave over half of the population and lay waste to anyone who dared to defy them.

He'd worked with them before- sue him, he was broke and desperate- and met their leader. His name was Dream, and he was absolutely terrible at his job. How he'd managed to establish a fascist dictatorship, Techno would never understand.

The guy didn't even bother to set up a primary base of operations. He just traveled around the desert with his merry band of nerds and took over the nearest town any time he needed a place to sleep. The guy was basically homeless. Why did so many skilled warriors let a homeless man lead them?

“What the fuck,” Phil muttered under his breath, taking the carnage all in.

“I know, Phil. We have to find the monster who did this, and make them reorganize this mess. It absolutely does not spark joy.”

Techno stormed off towards their main building, shoving his way past any guards that dare stand in his way.

Inside was the man in charge of this trainwreck. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't Dream- he was too busy being a weirdo somewhere else- but instead a blonde man that Techno had never seen before.

He stared at his visitors, clearly confused by the commotion in front of him. Before any of his men had the opportunity to attack, he stuck his arm out, signaling for them to put their weapons down. Good. The legion was pretty decent at combat, and Techno was tired from all the walking. He'd still kill them all, of course. It'd just take him an extra couple of minutes.

“Who dares interrupt the noble working of the legion? State your names and intention,” the blond man said, tilting his head up a little just so that he'd technically be looking down at them. It didn't work. He just looked like a chicken getting ready to peck someone to death.

“Hullo. I'm Technoblade, this is Philza Minecraft, and we're here to talk about your abysmal decorating practices.”

“Mate, that's not-”

“We believe that your killing spree displays a lack of respect for the fine art of corpse arrangement. It's disgraceful to the fine name of the Legion. It is absolutely lacking in symmetry, and messily constructed- I saw a guy escape the area just by kicking the cross a couple of times until he fell off.”

There. He'd stated his purpose. Not that the blonde guy seemed very appreciative.

“How dare you. Everything I do is for the legion,” he responded, completely ignoring Techno’s constructive criticism.

His gaze quickly turned to Phil.

“And you. I will allow you to live, but keep this moment in your mind when you travel to other lands. Remember the power of the Legion, and spread the fear of us throughout the Mojave.”

He went back to glaring at Technoblade.

“Men, kill h-”

Before he could finish his sentence, a bullet pierced through his chest. The legionaries stared at their leader crumpling to the ground, then grabbed their weapons and aimed them at Techno and Phil.

“Hey, mates, that wasn't- that wasn't us.”

It was too late. The army ran at the two men, slicing and stabbing at them. Good thing Technoblade never went into a situation unprepared.

He drew the Axe of Peace from its place on his back, breathed in, breathed out, and got to work. As Phil got his gun out, Techno slashed at their enemies. Despite their flashy armor, they were all taken down within minutes.

Phil shot at the back as Techno protected him from the front of the onslaught. As their numbers dwindled, the mob got more desperate- throwing themselves at Technoblade in a pathetic attempt to distract him. It didn't work- all he had to do was dodge and weave, letting the men crash into the ground behind him. Phil took it from there, making headshot after headshot.

It was almost sad, how easily they went down.

After a couple of minutes, the fight was over. A success, as long as you didn't count the fact that both men were now absolutely drenched in blood. That couldn't be sanitary.

They walked to the door in silence, only interrupted when Phil saw something on the ground.

“Wait. Techno, look at this.”

Right there, next to the door, was a discarded gun and a tiny piece of rubber. A little pad that looked just like the kind used to keep glasses on the bridge of your nose.

“Huh.”