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The boy was shoved at Techno’s feet, and he crumpled there like a pile of scraps. Techno blinked.
“What’s this?” he asked the woman. She was a head shorter than him, had vivid blue hair, and her scowl was so deep it might have been engraved in her face for all Techno knew.
“Your next opponent,” she said shortly, nudging the trembling boy with her foot. Her lips were downturned in distaste.
Techno’ gaze, which had been taking in the boy’s matted hair, flicked up to her incredulously. “Are you serious? He’s a child?”
“He’s a pest,” the woman shrugged. “Teach him a lesson, kill him, whatever. Just make sure he doesn’t come back.”
With that, she darted back down the alley and disappeared into the lamp lit street beyond, and Techno was left with the shivering boy at his feet.
He cleared his throat. “Um. Hello?”
The boy’s head flew up. His eyes were wide, bright blue, and frantic. “Please don’t kill me.” He stumbled shakily to his feet. “You can—you can hit me, or take my stuff, or—or take whatever you want, and I’ll leave, I swear—“
“Woah, woah,” Techno interrupted, taken aback. He’d kind of thought the woman was joking, but at the boy’s terrified rambles, he wasn’t sure anymore. “Who said anythin’ about killing?”
“The woman?” the kid said. “I don’t know, I promise I’ll go—“
“Oh, for Prime’s sake,” Techno muttered. Clearly, this kid wasn’t going to listen to reason. He reached out to grab him by the scruff of his shirt, like he did for the younger fighters back at base, but the kid whipped around and sank his teeth into Techno’s hand. Techno immediately wrenched it back. “Hey! What the fuck—“
“You won’t kill me!” the boy breathed. His eyes were wide with fear. “You won’t, I’ll fucking fight you—“
“Nobody is gonna kill you, kid,” Techno said, wiping the beads of blood off his hand, where two arcs of teeth marks were red on his skin. “I don’t kill kids, what the hell?”
“I’m not—you—“ the kid spluttered. “She’s your fuckin’ boss! You can’t just say no!”
“I mean, I could snap her in half,” Techno pointed out helpfully. “Plus, there really aren’t any rules down here. Which begs the question as to how you even got in trouble in the first place.”
The kid scowled and crossed his arms. “Just wanted some fucking food, bitch, and your base is full of it.”
Techno raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“And I might have scammed some of her customers,” the kid relented. “But so what! No rules, bitch—“
“Oh my god.” Techno pressed his palm to his forehead. “You’re literally askin’ to die, kid.”
“What the fuck!” the kid spluttered. “You said you wouldn’t kill me!”
“I’m not!” Techno repeated. “Prime, kid, what the hell am I supposed to tell her when you keep committin’ crimes after I was supposed to deal with you?”
A bit of the fear returned to the kid’s face. “I—I don’t know. I can’t—“
“Blade!” A sharp voice echoed in the alley—the woman was back. “What’s the matter?”
Techno stiffened. He hissed, low enough that only the kid could hear, “Play dead.”
Then he punched him straight in the face.
The kid crumpled to the floor. Techno quickly glanced at his pulse—good. He’d tried to hit underneath his cheekbone, so the concussion wasn’t as bad, and so he didn’t, y’know, actually kill him, but he was still relieved that he had been accurate.
“Sorry,” he told the woman, who approached with a satisfied glint in her eyes. “Tried to bargain with me. Got distracted.”
“Hmm. Don’t let it happen again.” The woman glanced at the kid. “Dispose of the body. You’ve got a fight at dusk.”
Then she left the alley for the second time, and Techno waited an extra few seconds before dropping beside him.
He pressed a finger against his wrist, feeling the slow but steady heart rate. One less thing to worry about.
The real problem, now, was how to deal with the fact that the kid was not dead like the woman had asked.
“You’re goin’ to cause me so many problems,” Techno muttered. He scooped the boy up into his arms, and covered his head with the edge of his coat for good measure. He’d go to Niki’s, he decided. She knew how to keep people out of trouble.
He managed to carry the boy up the fire escape with little trouble, and from then it was only a matter of roof hopping across the district to Niki’s bakery without, well, dropping the kid twenty feet to the ground. He nearly stumbled on the crumbling edge of an apartment building, but managed to prevent a fall. By the time he finished his trip, he was definitely on edge.
“Hey, Tech—oh my god.” Niki opened the door wider, looking taken aback. Techno didn’t answer the unspoken question—he just walked past her, behind the counter, and into the back room that he knew for experience had a couple couches. Niki trailed behind. “Techno, who—“
“A fuckin’ dumbass,” Techno grumbled, setting the kid on the couch.
Niki took in the sight of the knocked-out child on her couch, the beginning of a bruise of his cheek, and the literal teeth marks on Techno’s hand. She sighed. “What do you need?”
“This kid,” Techno pointed, “is supposed to be dead. By my hand. As you can see, he is most definitely not.”
Niki raised her eyebrows in understanding. “Ah.“
“And I don’t trust anyone else to help him,” Techno added hopefully.
“Okay, suck-up,” Niki snorted. “I’ll help him anyways, but god, how did this kid even get into your crowd?”
“He scammed customers,” Techno sighed, exasperated. “And apparently tried to steal food from the base. I’m sure there’s more that he didn’t tell me.”
“You and your strays,” Niki said fondly, crouching next to the kid and gently touching a finger to his swollen cheek.
Techno straightened. “My strays? I do not collect strays—“
“Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael,” Niki listed off. “Plus that group of hybrids last winter—“
“They were the result of very specific circumstances!” Techno protested.
Niki just gave him a look. “Mm. Sure.”
Techno scowled. “He’s not—just make sure he finds the right crowd, alright?”
“You know I will,” Niki said, all teasing gone from her voice. “He’ll be okay.”
“Good.” Then Techno looked around awkwardly, unsure what to say next.
Thankfully, Niki knew him well, so she waved her hand and said kindly, “Come back in the morning, all right? Get some breakfast, check on the little one.”
Techno nodded gratefully. “Alright. Thanks, Niki.”
With that, he disappeared into the alley next to the bakery.
“‘My strays,’” he scoffed, ignoring the faint trace of warmth in his heart. He was Technoblade, the fiercest street fighter L’manberg had ever seen. He wasn’t swayed by a child.
(It might have been a bit too late for that.)