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Techno can’t sleep.
That’s not an uncommon occurrence, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. He taps on his phone’s screen to wake it, seeing it’s just past one in the morning. Not too bad, not too good… if it were later, in the early morning, he might have just resigned himself to starting his day.
But now there’s actually room for sleep—no light filtering in through the blinds, no urge to get up, and no reason to do anything. Techno quite likes the thought.
However, the universe loves to spite him, as usual. No matter how much he tosses and turns, sleep remains tantalizingly out of his grasp. When he next cracks his eyes open, only seven minutes have passed.
And he has work tomorrow. This sucks.
Groaning, Techno rolls out of bed, sliding on the pig slippers Wilbur got him as a joke (he loves them. They’re not a joke as intended) and shuffling out of his room.
There aren’t any lights on, just the sparse rays slipping in from the lampposts and billboards outside. Techno sighs and brushes some hair from his face. He heads to the kitchen, grabbing a mug and Wilbur’s atrocious tea he insists helps with sleep.
Techno isn’t even sure where he heard about this stuff, but Wilbur swears it works wonders. With his track record for sleep? Techno is willing to buy it.
He sets the mug beneath the coffee machine, filling it with hot water. From the cabinet, he grabs some sugar and honey, just to make it bearable.
In silence, he watches the water pour out in a steady stream. All is quiet, save for that and the infrequent car or voice from outside.
Then there’s a thud.
Techno is immediately alert, abandoning his tea-making. That came from Wilbur’s room. As far as Techno is aware, his brother is sound asleep.
Which means… nothing good.
Without hesitation, Techno seizes the closest and sharpest knife he can before spurring down the hall of their apartment, skidding to a halt in front of Wilbur’s door. Not wanting to dawdle, the increasing fear nearly suffocating him, Techno throws open the door.
Wilbur’s room is dark, so Techno fumbles for the light switch.
But there’s only one figure sitting on the floor by the window, slightly wet from the drizzle outside. Familiar brown eyes stare back, wide and shocked, and Techno lowers the knife.
It’s… just Wilbur? Dressed as that vigilante Commander, but… that doesn’t make sense. Neither does the way he clutches his shoulder.
“Wil?” Techno asks, “What’re ya doin’?”
“Oh, nothing,” Wilbur huffs, shrugging. Techno sees the wince as clear as day. “What are you doing up?”
“Why are you soaked?” Techno retorts, setting the knife on the dresser and kneeling beside his brother. Wilbur almost tries to shrink away but thinks better of it.
“‘m not soaked,” Wilbur protests, “It’s not too bad outside.”
“And why were you out there lookin’ like Commander?”
Wilbur is silent for a moment, mouth slightly agape as if trying to think of something. “I…”
“Is there somethin’ you wanna tell me, Wil?” Techno prods. He thinks he knows what’s going on, it’s terribly obvious, but… he wants to hear it from Wilbur himself.
“I…” the brunette continues. He cuts himself off with a sigh, glancing over at Techno sheepishly. “I’m Commander.”
“And you didn’t tell me why?” Techno asks.
“You don’t need to get wrapped up in my decisions,” Wilbur says, “Besides, you always say the superpowered heroes and stuff are lame and corrupt.”
“Did I ever say you were?” Techno points out, “Or Commander? Or any vigilante?”
“A few of them, yes—”
“But not all of ‘em,” Techno huffs, “And certainly not when it’s you. Wil, I trust you more than anyone to do what’s right and good, I just…” he reaches out, pulling Wilbur’s hand from his shoulder. Techno shudders at the wound there even if something tells him it’s not the worst Wilbur’s received. “I need you to be careful. To look out for yourself and always come home safe.”
“I always do,” Wilbur mutters, “See, now you're just gonna worry.”
“I’m always gonna,” Techno deadpans, letting Wilbur reapply pressure, “Whether it’s about your sleep schedule or your health or your safety… anything, really. That’s my job.”
“But I make it so hard,” Wilbur says mournfully.
“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Techno smirks, “Now come on to the bathroom, I can help you out with that.”
“No, it’s fine, really, I can handle it on my own,” Wilbur tries, pulling himself to his feet. Techno follows, setting a hand on his twin’s good shoulder, barring him from leaving.
“Not anymore,” he says, “You need anything—and I mean anything— you come to me. No more doing this alone.”
Wilbur relaxes a bit. He nods, letting Techno guide him to the bathroom. Techno sits him against the rim of the shower, on the rug to keep him from the cold tiles. A towel wraps around Wilbur’s shoulders but keeps the wound exposed.
“You’re taking this rather well,” Wilbur observes.
Techno snorts, preparing all he’ll need to patch his brother up. “I’ll take it much worse in the morning when I’m sure this isn’t some dream.”
Wilbur flinches. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Techno says, “If you’re happy, I'm happy. Would I prefer you to be safer? Yes. But if your avenue is vigilantism, I’m not gonna stop you from taking it.”
“Thank you,” Wilbur breathes, “Really. It means a lot.”
“Of course,” Techno smiles, pulling an alcohol wipe from the package, “Tell me all about it, would you?”
Wilbur is all too eager. “I’ve met so many people, Techno! Vigilantes, villains, heroes, civilians, criminals—I’ve gotten cats from trees and stopped robberies and—”
Techno hangs on every word, taking it all in as he works. Both are equally important tasks. He wants to be involved in every aspect of his brother’s life, or at the very least be aware of it. But he also wants to ease his twin’s pain.
So Techno kills two birds with one stone.
He doesn’t stop Wilbur from prattling on even after he finishes tending to the wound. Why would he? Wilbur wears a grin the entire time. The only moments he stops talking are when Techno pesters him to go out on dry clothes.
But a couple of minutes later, they’re sitting on the living room couch with two mugs of hot tea, sharing stories tangled in a big, thick blanket.
Techno couldn’t ask for anything more—his brother, safe and happier than he’s been for the past few months, to be sure. Keeping that secret must have been killing him.
They fall asleep eventually, the tea evidently doing its job. Techno kicks his feet out onto the coffee table the heavier his eyes get, and lets Wilbur rest his head on his shoulder.
“See?” Wilbur murmurs, “Told you that tea was good.”
Techno just hums back sleepily, content to drift off into the land of dreams.
~ ~ ~
Things are a bit different after that. Wilbur would say very different, but Techno would argue otherwise.
Wilbur is out being a vigilante at ungodly hours of the night. Of course Techno is going to stay up until he’s home to make sure he’s okay. What else is a brother meant to do?
Really, this eases Techno’s anxieties. Every night, he knows Wilbur comes home. He knows if he’s hurt or just tired. He can be there as needed.
It’s all he Techno could ask to do.
As Wilbur’s prominence increases due to his good deeds, Techno realizes he can watch his twin’s fights.
This, of course, only came about after Wilbur came home one night, a bit bruised but otherwise okay, saying, “I was on TV!”
Techno is just a tad baffled at his eagerness and excitement. But he quickly reminds himself of who he’s talking to, and it all makes sense. When they were little, Wilbur had always wanted to be nothing short of a star. Maybe this is, in some manner, his way of fulfilling that.
Truthfully, Techno would prefer him pursue music or even acting, but… it’s not his choice.
Techno can just be there for him when Wilbur needs him. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he enjoys being there at any hour, even deep into the night.
At the end of the day, so long as Wilbur is by his side, breathing quietly as he succumbs to exhaustion, Techno will be okay.
One night, it’s later than usual.
It’s nearing three in the morning. Wilbur is usually back hours ago by now, and Techno is getting worried. He’s paced the apartment a few times, just in case Wilbur slipped in without him noticing.
That isn’t reality, so Techno just waits, fear shredding his throat and piercing his stomach. This isn’t like Wilbur. It’s always one in the morning at the latest… the very latest.
The curious thing is that there was no news, either… so either it was a boring night or one that heroes wanted to keep under wraps—they practically run the media, after all.
Something knocks against the living room window, making Techno leap from his skin. He instinctively reaches for something to hit somebody with, which unfortunately is a pillow. But he won’t be needing that.
Wilbur is out on the fire escape, waving through the fogged-up window. Muttering to himself, Techno tosses the pillow on the couch and heaves the window open, pulling Wilbur in and shutting it tight.
“Where have you been?!” Techno exclaims as Wilbur sits on the couch, taking off his mask and gloves.
He seems to get what Techno means. “I’m fine, Tech! Relax. Though I am sorry to keep you up and worry you.”
Techno sighs, sitting beside him. “As long as you’re okay, it’s fine. I don’t have work tomorrow anyway.”
“If I was bleeding out then it wouldn’t be fine?” Wilbur asks, brow raised and amusement in his voice. Of course he’d say something like that. For the entire duration of this vigilante career, as far as Techno’s known about it, he’s been so… nonchalant about it. Jokey, even.
“Don’t jinx it,” Techno says, “And no, it wouldn’t be fine until after I made sure you weren’t dyin’.”
“Good to know,” Wilbur smirks.
“Yeah, yeah. You gonna tell me where you’ve been?”
“Right… that,” Wilbur says, shrugging off his jacket. I, uh… ran into some heroes.”
“And they didn’t broadcast it? Even this late they love to get footage.”
“No, it… well, it wasn’t a fight, Tech.”
Techno freezes. He trusts the heroes as far as he could throw them, which… probably isn’t a very good analogy, considering he actually could throw a good chunk of them a sizable distance. But his point still stands—the heroes are not to be trusted. If they don’t broadcast something to the world, there’s a reason. Definitely not a good one.
But Wilbur is sitting beside Techno, which is his criteria for contentment. That’s something. Though… Wilbur is a bit off. Not hurt, no, Techno is familiar with those tells by this point. He’s quieter, contemplative, like the entire world and all its problems weigh on his mind,
“Then what was it?” Techno asks gently.
Wilbur hums quietly, leaning back into the couch and clutching a pillow to his chest. “Well… they wanted to talk.”
“That’s not promising.”
“I mean, yeah,” Wilbur laughs, “That’s what I thought too. That’s why I tried to fight them. Ended up just using my powers to make them tell me what they really wanted.”
“And what was that?” Techno asks.
“They… wanted me to become a hero,” Wilbur says simply, barely above a whisper.
Techno pauses. Wilbur says it like a death sentence, and that tone isn’t something he’d ever want to hear from his little brother, statement aside. It feels like Wilbur’s been drained of life and hope, no excited spark in his eyes.
“What did you say?”
“Yes,” Wilbur mutters, screwing his eyes shut, “Are you—are you mad at me?”
Techno chokes on a laugh. “Mad at you? Wil, why would you ever think that?”
“You hate the heroes, Tech, I know that,” Wilbur says tiredly, “Now I’m gonna be one. Why wouldn’t you be?”
“Because you’re my brother. And I know you,” Techno says, “Wil, you just wanna do good. I see the news, I check it on my phone every morning and night. I watch news broadcasts. I know what you’ve been doing beyond sneaking in the window in the middle of the night. The city has gotten better. Safer. And I know that’s all you want. This… might help you with that.”
Wilbur looks up at him, a tentative, almost wounded hope in his eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, think of all the resources the heroes have,” Techno says, “The money, people, the technology… I think you’d find a way to help more people. And you’d be safer. Just… don’t be afraid to put your foot down, okay? You agreed to work for them. They came begging you to join them. Don’t let them push you around.”
“I won’t,” Wilbur promises, “I can figure out what’s wrong. Maybe change it, and if I can’t, maybe you can expose them or something.”
“Exactly. It’ll be okay,” Techno swears, “It’ll be okay.”
~ ~ ~
The first day is hard for Wilbur.
“It’s all new people who already know each other and hate me,” he complains at dinner.
Yes, dinner. The one thing Techno won’t complain about is that the heroes have Wilbur on a normal schedule, at least for the time being. Begrudgingly, he can be grateful for that.
“Is your mentor at least nice?” Techno asks. He can deal with some snarky co-workers, but if the person meant to train him is a jerk… Techno will go into the Tower himself and do something drastic.
“Ph—Crow? Yeah, he’s great,” Wilbur pauses his rant, “He’s nice. I think you’d like him, actually. He’s super cool.”
Techno smiles, nodding. As long as Wilbur has someone there on his side, it soothes his worry.
“That’s good, then.”
“Yeah, but it’s so hard,” Wilbur continues, “Crow is a chill mentor and I’m exhausted. They want me to learn how to fight without my power.”
“I’ve been trying to get you to do that for years, Wil, and you listen to the heroes?” Techno jokes.
The brunette just rolls his eyes. “It’s sounding like you’re adjusting. That takes time. Talk to Crow about it—I’m sure he’d be able to help. He probably felt the same at one point.”
“He wasn’t a former vigilante,” Wilbur says, “There’s a difference. All his co-workers wouldn’t have tried to hurt, kill, or arrest him on several prior occasions.”
“If it’s so hard, then quit,” Techno shrugs, picking up some mashed potatoes, “You tried. No harm, no foul.”
Wilbur freezes like a deer caught in headlights. “No. No, I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Techno asks, suspicion weighing on his mind, “And be honest, Wil. I can’t help you if I don’t know the reason.”
A sharp sigh later, Wilbur sets his fork down. “Because I’m worried about you.”
Techno nearly laughs, but the grave expression on his twin’s face stops him. “What do you mean?”
Wilbur bites his lip, glancing around the kitchen. “When they approached me, they didn’t want to take no for an answer,” he says, “So they made sure there was no way I could refuse.”
Techno’s stomach flips. “They blackmailed you?”
“No!” Wilbur starts, “Yes? I don’t know, I guess? I just… don’t want you to get hurt because of me. That’s not fair.”
“Are they threatenin’ me?” Techno asks.
“No, well… not exactly,” Wilbur says slowly, “They said if I didn’t join, they’d leak my identity. And if that happens, then everyone knows it—them, vigilantes, civilians, villains. And if they know me, then they’d know you. And I’m not letting you get hurt because I had to get involved in something fucking stupid like being a vigilante!”
Techno grits his teeth. He doesn’t like being used, let alone to coerce his brother into something he doesn’t want. Wilbur wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. And above all, he wouldn’t hurt Techno.
“Nothing you could do is stupid,” Techno huffs, “Your heart is in the right place, Wil. That’s what matters. If anything, you’re protectin’ me. And I can’t thank you enough for that.”
Wilbur laughs weakly. “Hey. I try.”
“And you do a great job,” Techno says, “But seriously. If you’re not happy, we can figure something out. Maybe run away. Whatever you want.”
“That’s impossible,” Wilbur says, picking up his fork and playing with his food, “But… it’s a nice thought. I think I’ll hold out a bit longer, though. See how I feel.”
“Good idea,” Techno says, “But the second you can’t stand it, you’re out of there, you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” Wilbur smiles.
~ ~ ~
Another perk of Wilbur being a hero is that fights are much more televised. With Crow as his mentor, odds are there’s a camera around some big-name fight.
So though Techno worries, at least he can relax in knowing exactly where his twin is and how he’s doing. Even if it’s bad.
But just as important as that, Techno gets to assess Crow. Wilbur says he’s kind. While Techno doesn’t deny that, he still prefers to see things with his own eyes. And thankfully… what he sees lines up with what he’s heard.
Crow has great big wings the color of the deep ocean, near black in their depth. It’s easy to feel like they’re going to absorb you entirely. But the hero is skilled, and with Wilbur literally under his wing, Techno is confident his brother will be safe.
Time after time, the older hero has shielded Wilbur, or called out something that saved his skin. Each time, Techno can’t help but feel grateful. To a hero. That isn’t his brother.
It’s weird.
But so long as Wilbur comes through a window or door at the end of the day, Techno can deal with the weirdness.
One day, it’s getting late into the evening so Techno orders some pizza. Wilbur should be home soon, and he’s usually hungry after patrols. One time, he practically inhaled his entire sub and then half of Techno’s when he insisted he wouldn’t finish. Not to mention the fries…
Heroing is hard work, apparently. But Wilbur has seemed to ease into it just fine.
Techno grabs the food from the delivery person and tips them, wishing them a nice night. He sets the boxes on the counter and gets some plates and glasses out. It’s just the two of them, so it doesn’t take long to lay out. Techno even grabs some napkins for the grease.
Soon he hears… voices in the hall, quiet but light. Techno reaches out with his powers just to be sure it’s safe. No, he’s not paranoid. Just realistic.
His apprehension dwindles when he senses Wilbur’s out there, the same blood that runs through Techno’s veins flowing warmly. But there’s someone else. Someone new—to Techno, at least. That’s odd in and of itself. Wilbur doesn’t keep many close contacts that Techno doesn’t know personally. And Wilbur says the heroes still haven’t warmed up to him.
It’s interesting.
Subtly, Techno moves to lay out another setting for their mysterious guest. It’s not weird. Techno just likes to be prepared.
A key clicks into the front door knob, and there’s some jiggling before it pushes open. Wilbur stands in the doorway with a slightly breathless smile as he yanks the key from the hole.
“Hey Tech, I…” his eyes drift to the table, mentally counting the spots, “You piece of shit.”
A shorter figure steps in with Wilbur, blue eyes dragging across the room until they land on Techno. Then he smiles. “Hi, mate. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Techno slides his gaze to Wilbur, then back to the stranger. “Well, I’ve heard nothing about you.”
Wilbur groans, kicking off his shoes and throwing his jacket on the couch. Their guest does the same, more politely and orderly, not throwing so much as placing.
“Ignore Techno, he doesn’t know how to talk to people,” Wilbur huffs. The blonde chuckles, practically shadowing Wilbur. Techno opens his mouth to retort but his twin cuts him off. “I don’t count. I’m the exception.”
He sits opposite Techno at their little table, the third plate beside him open for the guest. Techno should really know the guy’s name. This is getting annoying, and he feels bad calling the man “the guest” or “the stranger” again and again.
“Ignore him,” Techno says, “Who are you, anyway?”
The blonde chuckles. “I’m Phil. Nice to meet you, mate.”
Techno hums and nods but doesn’t say anymore. He just gets up and grabs a box of pepperoni while Wilbur groans long-sufferingly.
“Tech, what happened to making good impressions?”
“I have pizza,” Techno says, “I think that’s a great first impression.”
Phil laughs, though Techno doesn’t know at what—him or Wilbur’s embarrassment. Nobody tries to figure it out, but Wilbur tries very hard to shove down a smile. Techno can always see it. He looks for it, in fact.
Once everyone has their pizza it’s a little quieter, everyone too busy eating to have a meaningful conversation. To both Techno and Phil’s amusement, Wilbur nearly finishes an entire box by himself. The only thing stopping him is that he’d feel bad if anybody else wanted any.
But then they get to talk, which is… nice. In a way. Wilbur seems happy, and Techno isn’t terrified the entire time, so he’d say it’s pretty nice.
While they talk, Techno observes.
He sees the way Wilbur is totally at ease around Phil, almost leaning into his side where they sit on the couch. When Techno gets up to grab some water, he catches Phil ruffling Wilbur’s hair with a smile. It’s easy. Familiar.
And Techno can’t ignore the way his twin practically lights up with pride and elation. Wilbur has always soaked up affection like a sponge, and while Techno is the opposite, he makes sure to try a little, just for his brother.
A hand on the shoulder here, quick hug there, maybe the occasional tousle of brown curls. It doesn’t feel like much, but Wilbur knew Techno was trying. He appreciated it, and it became their thing, a secret language only they speak.
Techno wouldn’t be so bold as to say Phil is intruding. No, he’s rather happy to see Wilbur have someone else to pick up the slack.
Another thing—Wilbur is hopelessly clingy. Half the time is spent with some limb in contact with Techno. The worst it’s been is when they fell asleep on the couch one time and Techno woke up to his twin sprawled out across the entire sofa. Wilbur just… gravitates to people. Nothing wrong with that. Techno would call it endearing.
He’d call it a lot of things, but never a bad one. Not now or ever.
It’s no secret Wilbur is fine with Phil knowing his clingy streak. All tonight, he’s clung to Techno’s arm, leaned into Phil’s shoulder, laid his legs atop Techno’s on the coffee table, and that’s only in the past ten minutes.
So, by deduction, Wilbur and Phil are close. Well, they’d have to be if the blonde is in their apartment. This is their sanctuary, their retreat. To be allowed in is an honor. But it’s not even a forced pleasantry—Wilbur wanted to bring Phil. He wanted him to meet Techno.
Which… with everything going on? Speaks volumes. Wilbur is very protective over his bubble of peace and is adamant about keeping Techno out of his “problems.”
When the evening is over and Phil excuses himself, Techno knows exactly what to say.
“Nice meeting you, Crow.”
Wilbur glares at him, eyes wide and pointed. But Phil just turns, grinning. In the blink of an eye, large, dark wings appear on his back as if coming out from behind an invisible curtain. “Nice to meet you too, mate.”
~ ~ ~
Months pass into years.
Phil becomes a close friend and confidante for both Wilbur and Techno. He comes over the apartment for dinner and movies and games rather frequently. He and Wilbur have the same schedule, more or less, so they have the same days off, making it easy to have a weekly get together.
Wilbur starts to not mind being a hero. It certainly has perks, even Techno can’t deny that. But what eases his mind most is that Wilbur was right about Phil—he and Techno get along in part due to the fact that they have similar views of heroes.
Phil calls them out on their bullshit. He acknowledges how flawed their system is and frequently takes Wilbur into poorer districts where their help is needed.
Really, Techno couldn’t ask for anyone better to be looking out for his brother.
They form a routine, one Techno falls into easily and they never deviate from. At the end of the week, no matter what, they gather to do something, whether dinner and talking, or a movie, or anything else.
So Techno is preparing for that and whatever they might do. The car has gas, menus line the table, and he and Wilbur have their coats ready. Now all there’s left to do is wait and think. Maybe they could go bowling… that could be fun, or maybe they can show Phil how to play Wii Sports—a classic.
Techno reaches his powers out into the hall when the elevator dings, searching for confirmation. He feels Wilbur, that comes like second nature to him now, but… no Phil.That’s weird. They always arrive from the Tower together.
He gets up from the couch, already heading over to the door and opening it, seeing Wilbur trudging down the hall. He looks lost, vacant, like he doesn’t exactly know where he’s going.
“Wil?” Techno calls out. His twin’s head snaps to his voice, face ashen. “You alright?”
Wilbur just stumbles closer, and Techno pulls him into their apartment before shutting the door and dragging him into a hug. He clings back, clearly shaken up by something. Techno shoulders most of his weight.
“What’s wrong?” Techno asks, “You gotta tell me, Wil.”
With a shuddering breath, Wilbur finds his words. “I got promoted.”
That… doesn’t seem like something to be upset over. And it still doesn’t explain where Phil is. Techno figured they’d want to celebrate something like that.
“And?” Techno prompts.
“I got promoted ‘cause Phil… I don’t know, they won’t tell me,” Wilbur huffs, “I don’t know if he quit or got fired or retired. But he’s gone.”
What? That’s impossible. Phil can’t just be gone. He wouldn’t leave them, but more importantly, he wouldn’t leave Wilbur. Not when the heroes are as stubborn and corrupting as a virus.
“Maybe if we ca—”
Wilbur pulls back, shaking his head. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. “No. I already tried calling him, Tech. He doesn’t pick up.”
That makes Techno pause. Phil has always made it clear that if they needed anything, his line was always open. That being said, the twins always turned to each other first, but if they couldn’t for whatever reason? Phil was true to his word, just a call away.
So Techno whips his phone out and calls him anyway. Wilbur tries tiredly to protest, but Techno only listens to the phone ringing.
Nobody ever picks up.
Techno nearly breaks his phone from squeezing it so hard.
But he makes sure to remain the picture of calm when he next turns to Wilbur. “How about we have a night just the two of us? We can… we can order that Chinese food place you like and play some Mario Kart or something.”
The faintest smile ghosts across Wilbur’s face. “That’d be nice.”
Techno places the order while Wilbur takes a shower and changes into pajamas. He sets everything up in the living room for maximum comfort.
When they sit to eat, Techno has one thing to say, one thing that’s been itching to leave his head since their lives have shifted.
“Hey Wil? I won’t leave you. Not now or ever.”
~ ~ ~
That’s the beginning of… everything, Techno would say. The true turning point.
Wilbur seems to throw himself into being a hero and—ironically—finishing what Phil started. No matter how Techno tries to get him to take a break, he refuses, only resting once the sun sets. Techno’s had to carry him to bed on more than a few occasions.
But he’s always gone again before Techno wakes up.
For his part, Techno makes sure he always has a news broadcast going. On his phone in the car or at work, a television in the cafe or at home. He never gives up making sure Wilbur is okay. That's still his priority.
It’s not like Wilbur hides what he does, either. He will tell Techno all about what he’s doing at work over dinner. Every rule he shirks, every order he defies, every path he paves.
Techno is proud. Gods above, Techno is so proud.
He makes sure to tell Wilbur as much. It’s worth it to see his smile when he realizes all his work is worth it. As far as Techno is concerned, Wilbur should be proud. He’s rising through the ranks as the beloved hero Siren, a name picked by Techno and approved by the heroes. With his position, it becomes more difficult for the problems he protests against to be ignored or swept under the rug.
Now, he can actually do things. He can make a difference both for the people he aids and for the system he works in and fights against. So yeah. As long as Wilbur is content, as long as he comes home, Techno is okay. And he is so, endlessly proud of his brother.
Wilbur sits beside him on the couch, yawning and doing some sudoku. Techno is half-tuned into the muted news, half watching Wilbur jot down numbers. It’s a relaxing evening that Techno knows will fade into memory despite wanting to memorize every detail.
“Hey, Wil,” he says, “Isn’t that that vigilante that’s always botherin’ you?”
Wilbur looks up toward the screen. There’s some footage of a vigilante in the corner, stopping someone from stealing a car before running from cops. Wilbur snorts but nods.
“Yeah. That’s him,” he says, “And he’s actually really sweet. Obnoxious, but a good kid.”
“What’s he call himself?”
Wilbur rolls his eyes. “The King.”
Techno barks a laugh. “Really? That doesn’t even fit. He’s probably twelve.”
“I know! There’s a reason it hasn’t caught on,” Wilbur says, “I always just call him ‘kid,’ though. He gets pissed but responds to it.”
“What about Theseus?” Techno suggests.
“You and your myths,” Wilbur groans, “I’ll bring it up to him. Sounds like something he’d like.”
Techno watches the muted report a bit longer. The more he thinks, the more he wonders. Who is the kid? Is he a kid? What’s he like? Why is he a vigilante? Who’s looking out for him?
For some reason, a part of Techno worries for him. What if the kid doesn’t have a Techno in his life to wait for him? To open the windows and heal his wounds? To pick him up when he falls and give him support?
What if he needs someone like that?
“Do you think you’d do the same for him?” Techno asks.
Wilbur lets out a confused noise. “Do what?”
“Take him in as a mentee,” Techno says, “Make him your apprentice so he can be a hero. For his protection.”
Wilbur stares at Techno for a moment, unwavering and terrifying blank. But there’s so much emotion in the perfectly impassive facade that Techno doesn’t have the intelligence to name. All he can do is soak it in, feel it sear itself into his mind.
“This isn’t protection, Techno.”
~ ~ ~
Wilbur should be home by now. Today, he was doing day patrols, had an encounter with Theseus, stopped a villain attack, and did it all with his own flair. There’s no way his actions can be anything but his own. They are so unique compared to the other heroes, from his fighting style to his treatment of media, enforcements, and his opponents.
Techno knows he should have been back two hours ago, unscathed from his day aside from a constant soreness.
“Techno? Would you hate me if I said I was thinking of quitting? Or retiring?”
“Of course not,” Techno answers. Wilbur leans into his side, slumping over as if on cue. “If it’s ever too much, I’d want you to throw in the towel.”
“I think it might be,” his twin whispers, “I try everything I can and they always push back. It’s never enough.”
“Then it’s okay to quit. Don’t waste your energy.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Wilbur mutters, “Ever.”
“I won’t,” Techno doesn’t hesitate to say, “We can run away, remember? Maybe even—maybe find Phil, if you want?”
Wilbur laughs a little. “I… think I’d like that.”
Nothing happened on patrol. Nothing happened during the day. And Wilbur wouldn’t just leave. They have plans. Wilbur isn’t even answering his calls.
Something is wrong.
Techno tries Phil’s number in vain. It hasn’t worked in months. So Techno will have to take matters into his own hands.
Rushing over to the living room window, he cracks that open before moving into Wilbur’s room. Just in case he decides to be late and slip in while Techno’s out. He doesn’t leave the door open—that’s stupid and unnecessary. If Wilbur can take the time to come in through the lobby, he’ll be able to grab his keys.
So Techno takes to the streets, the sunset painting the sky. Cars speed past the ones parked along the street. People mill about, chatting amongst themselves with shopping bags and colorful drinks. Techno barrels through the swarm without a care.
He scans the rooftops. He peers down every alleyway. But the city is quiet this evening. It’s so alive, but to Techno, it’s so, so dead. Techno can’t see any sign of Wilbur or even a vigilante to look for Siren—and there’s no way he’d ask a villain. That would only put himself in danger, even with a more pacifistic villain like Angel.
But there is somewhere he can go. Even if Techno never thought he’d go there.
A rather uncomfortable subway ride later, Techno stands in front of the Hero Tower, glaring up at the imposing structure with vitriol.
Shoving his way through the glass doors, Techno heads over to the front desk. A surprised but approachable looking woman greets him.
“Sir? How could I—”
“I need to see my brother,” Techno cuts her off, “Now.”
Her face doesn’t change, still confused but painfully eager to help. “I’m sorry, I’m not aware of your brother working here or who he is. If he’s one of our heroes, for security’s sake, I cannot disclose information, even to supposed family.”
“No, no,” Techno says, “I’m not supposed family, I am family. The only one he has.”
“While I’m very sorry to hear that, there is nothing I can do to help you, barring setting you up for background checks testing the validity of your claims.”
The validity of his… Techno could almost laugh. One look at the two of them side-by-side, and anyone could tell they’re related, if not twins. To hear that questioned is absurd.
He can’t even do his own search. There’s been no sign of Wilbur on his path through the city, and the Tower is far too large an area with too many people to search the entire thing from here.
“I just need to know if Siren is here,” Techno says quietly.
“Again, sir, I cannot give that kind of information,” the receptionist says, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Techno seethes, hissing through his teeth. He turns on his heel and leaves. The receptionist wishes him a good day.
When Techno returns to the apartment, voice a bit hoarse from shouting Wilbur’s name on the walk home, it’s still empty. There’s no sign of anyone even being in the place.
The windows are still open, the entire apartment cold. Techno doesn’t mind. He is too.
So still, he leaves them open.
~ ~ ~
Techno spends the next couple of days searching. He yells his brother’s name in the streets, ignoring all the confused and judgemental looks he gets in turn.
The police are of no help. He can’t tell them Wilbur’s a hero, and even if he could, they would just direct him to the Tower again. So instead, they chalk it up to him running away due to lack of evidence.
As if Wilbur would ever run from him. Or without him. Even if he had to, he’d leave some sort of sign.
They're useless.
Techno is at a crossroads. He’s tried everything, searched the most likely and the shadiest places possible. He's running out of options fast.
That’s when the unthinkable happens.
It’s a rainy day, the water coming in through the window and soaking the carpet. Techno doesn’t bother to shut the window, not when he has a foolish, misguided hope that the rains will bring his brother home.
The news is on. It always is. It’s loud enough he can hear it from every room without getting a noise complaint.
Techno is laying towels down across the wet patches of carpet, setting buckets or bins atop them to catch future rainwater. His fingers are more like icicles, but they’re steady. If Wilbur comes back and happens to knock over a bin? That’s fine. It will only matter that he’s home. That’s all that’s ever mattered.
That’s when he hears it.
“—that after a brief hiatus, the hero Siren will be making a public speech today—”
Before the reporter can even finish saying Siren, Techno drops the bins he’d been carrying and is standing in front of the television, eyes glued to the screen.
What. Siren— Wilbur—addressing a crowd after being missing and unreachable for four days? Techno doesn’t buy it. Not one bit. In fact, Wilbur hates public speaking, even if he’s actually very good at it. There’s no way he’d do that for the heroes.
But still, there’s a place and a time, an invitation to the public to come and listen.
Techno will be there. This is his chance to figure out what happened to his twin for the past few days.
It’s an event he won’t be missing.
He packs together a small bag to sling over his shoulder, stuffing it with essentials. Wilbur’s favorite guitar pin and sticker collection journal. Techno’s copy of the Odyssey and his emerald earring from Phil. Things they couldn’t live without, aside from each other.
Then Techno gets to the location absurdly early. He watches from a nearby bench as some workers set up. To avoid suspicion and pass time, he scrolls through his phone, but as soon as Techno sees another soul come for the speech, he rockets to his feet.
Now, Techno could stubbornly remain front and center. But he promised Wilbur he wouldn’t get hurt. If any heroes or staff see him, and recognize him in any way… that could put him on their radar.
(And, a small part of him argues… Wilbur might just not want to see him.)
So Techno hangs back a bit and lets the crowd fill in around him. They’ll act as cover and shield, just to give Techno some added protection. Plus, this way he’ll be able to take his leave if the need arises.
The civilians around him whisper with fervor, each wondering what will be said. They’ve missed their beloved vigilante-turned-hero. Most people know Commander changed into Siren. The Tower hasn’t confirmed or denied. But between power, timing, appearance, and style, it’s a widely accepted theory that has more substance than the general populace knows.
Techno checks his phone for the time just as it crosses over to four in the evening. A well-dressed man takes the stage. The dark hair on his head looks more like a toupee than natural hair, but who’s Techno to judge? It’s not like his hair is long enough to form a braid down his back.
Just in case something goes wrong, or it’s a trap, Techno slips some earbuds in. He knows how to ward off Wilbur’s powers, not that he’s ever had to.
“I’m thrilled you all could make it,” the man says, voice carrying over the microphone, “As you may know, I’m the Director here at the Hero Tower. I'm in charge of wrangling the spirited heroes that keep our beloved city safe.”
What a lie. He keeps them under his thumb, more like. A mouse in a mouse trap, and he’s the cat, searching for a meal. Or in this case, profit.
“But you are not here to listen to me blabber on, no,” the Director chuckles, “You’re here for Siren.” The crowd clamors in excitement, confirming his suspicions. Techno stays silent. “Now, rest assured our dear hero was not harmed, he was not in recovery. He was merely taking a hard-earned and well-deserved break. But now he’s back, better than ever, and he wishes to speak with you, dear citizens, who he holds close to his heart. So please welcome Siren to the stage.”
He steps back, clapping. The audience swells with applause as a tall figure takes the stage, donning Siren’s usual costume. It gives Techno pause.
Because that looks exactly like Wilbur does in his suit. Those are his bouncy curls that endlessly flop over his forehead. That’s his winning smile that could charm even the angriest, most bitter elderly person.
And when he opens his mouth, that same honey-laden voice pours out. But the words? Wilbur would never say those. He speaks of dedicating more time to bigger villains, not the common criminal. He backs the Tower entirely. He talks as if he agrees with the heroes and denounces all who don’t, both vigilante and villain.
That is not Wilbur. It can’t be.
Techno pushes through the crowd a bit to get the slightest bit closer. Then he reaches out with his powers, bypassing the multitude of people around him and focus exclusively on the figure of his brother.
He nearly recoils at what he sees.
That’s not Wilbur’s blood. But that’s a living, breathing person, so… it can’t be Wilbur. It’s impossible because that is not his blood. That’s not his brother up there, as much as it may look and sound like it. That’s a stranger.
Techno’s blood freezes in his veins. He has to make a conscious effort to keep himself calm.
But if that’s a stranger, then… where is the real Wilbur..?
Oh gods, where is Wilbur?!
Not here. He’s not anywhere, no matter how Techno’s powers extend, flickering wildly around him. Wilbur isn’t here.
So there’s no point in Techno being here either. Not if he’s going to listen to a bunch of bullshit for who knows how long.
He turns and pushes through the crowd, darting away and heading to the place that used to feel like a home.
This is the final straw. Techno’s been teetering on the edge for… days? Weeks? Months? Suffice to say it’s a lot of free time. Techno did a lot of thinking and planning.
So when he gets back to the apartment, Techno slams the front door open, locking it behind him. He still leaves the windows open. He may not know what happened to Wilbur… what is happening to him, but Techno feels better if they stay open.
Techno heads to his room, dragging a box out from under his bed—a typical box that would hold printer paper. Unassuming.
But inside? There’s a cape, blood red. Wilbur had gotten it for a school play ages ago. It had been huge on him then, but now it’s a good size for Techno. Beneath that is an old poet’s shirt of Techno’s, and a pair of puffy blackish purple pants. Then a crimson sash.
At the bottom, atop the dusty combat boots, is a mask of a skull, partially bought, partially made. A boar, Techno’s pretty sure. It’s a bit on the nose—Wilbur had gotten him those pig slippers, and now, he’s associating himself with a boar, bigger, stronger, and meaner creature.
That’s who Techno will have to be if he wants to uncover what happened to his twin.
And he will.
Lifting the mask into the air, he fastens it to his head, letting it obscure his face. The skull is all anyone will see now, a cold, impassive omen of death.
Just like that, the Blood God is born.