Chapter Text
Tommy’s cheek burned as his face slammed down into the dirt. His lungs screamed for air as he gasped and wheezed, head spinning from the impact, but he needed to ignore that to the best of his ability as he rolled to the side, flicking up dust with his wings as he narrowly avoided the foot that slammed into the ground where his chest had been just a moment earlier.
One of his wings managed to knock into his opponent, throwing him momentarily off-balanced, which was enough for Tommy to scramble to his feet and put some distance between the two of them, just in time for—
The ground rushed up to meet him, his head cracking hard into the dirt once more as Tommy gasped for breath, clutching as his chest. Not nearly as fast this time, that foot landed right on the center of his chest.
Instead of crushing his ribs or slamming him into the ground, though, the foot did nothing more than hold him down and in place as he coughed and flopped, giving up. Ugh, he was already sore, there was no way he wasn’t going to sleep well come nighttime.
“Get up.” The voice was sharp, and Tommy groaned, wincing a little as more weight was pressed down onto his chest. “I said get up.”
“Kind of hard to do with your fucking foot on me,” Tommy grumbled, flapping his wings as he shoved his opponent away from him. Oof, that was going to bruise, he could already feel it. He definitely should have been able to avoid that attack by now, there was no reason why he shouldn’t have been fast enough not to get knocked to the dirt today.
Despite the way that his sore muscles screamed for mercy, for a rest that he knew wouldn’t come for far too long, Tommy forced himself back to his feet. His talons were a little scuffed, and he’d need to pick pebbles out of his feathers all night, but he was fine.
His opponent stared him down, red gaze studying him without a hint of emotion, though despite it all, Tommy wasn’t scared. While the man could frighten most of the other fighters, Tommy was the only one who knew him well enough to know that no matter how intimidating he seemed, he definitely had soft spots, and one of those soft spots was for Tommy.
“Again,” the Lagusidae said, charging towards Tommy with a speed that showed why he was such a successful fighter, not giving him a chance to do anything other than react instinctually, dodging attack after attack.
Powerful strikes were dangerous for him to deal with but given that Tommy couldn’t truly fly away from the situation at all, he was only able to use his wings to move himself around faster than if he didn’t have them. Once his adult feathers came in, it would be a completely different story, but until then his wings weren’t nearly as useful as they could be.
Tommy dodged to the side, doing everything he could to evade the attacks. He couldn’t keep running though, as he’d never win a fight if he didn’t fight back, but there were no opportunities for him to take.
How could he strike if there was never an opening?
A blur of pink fur swept his legs out from underneath him as his wings flailed uselessly, gravity aiding in Tommy’s descent. There was a metallic taste in his mouth as Tommy crashed into the ground, struggling to breathe. A firm foot settled on his back in the spot right between his wings, pinning him to the dirt.
“Again.”
Fuck, why did he keep failing? There wasn’t a single day when training wasn’t difficult, as no one would go easy on him when it truly was life-or-death, but either there was something off with him today or he was being pushed harder than normal.
Glaring up, Tommy caught the look in his opponent’s eyes. It was akin to disappointment, and that was bad enough. Everything inside was welling up, choking him, because the last thing he’d ever want to be was a disappointment.
So, Tommy shoved the foot off of him with his wings, taking the chance to vault back up onto his feet and try a more offensive position, trying to punch or strike in all the ways he’d been taught to do in the past few years.
Tommy was going to have to use all his strength if he was going to prove himself to Technoblade.
Lagusidae weren’t even supposed to be all that strong of a species, apparently, which tended to make strangers underestimate Techno. Tommy had learned quickly why no one ever should do that, because one’s species definitely didn’t define whether or not they could kick your ass. He’d certainly gotten his own ass kicked time and time again, though he’d only made the mistake of underestimating Techno one singular time.
His scars should have been enough to warn anyone of the battles he’d not only fought in, but had also won.
After all, those who lost didn’t exactly live to tell the tale.
Tommy dodged another attack, hating the way that his wings weren’t strong enough to lift him off the ground, not when he didn’t have the feathers that he needed to even attempt to fly.
He couldn’t keep dodging, though, because this was never going to end unless he actually managed to actually succeed. It just wasn’t an easy task.
Even as Tommy chose to try to strike, he wasn’t nearly as fast as he needed to be. Unfortunately for him, he only had a few seconds before he was once again tasting dirt.
This time, there was no foot on his back. Technoblade knelt in front of him, a frown settling on his otherwise passive face. “You still haven’t landed one hit on me yet, Tommy.”
As if he didn’t already know that.
“I’m fucking trying,” Tommy insisted, pushing himself up even as the dirt bit into his hands, scraping at his skin. All he was doing was trying. Why wasn’t anything he did working today?
“It’s not good enough.” Those four words stung far more than any of the times he’d been thrown to the ground, more than any strike so far. “If you’re caught, you’re dead. You need to be able to move faster, Theseus. Again.”
The single word set them both in movement once more. He could do this. Again and again and again until he managed to do it properly, with muscles screaming and bruises aching and lungs gasping, he’d get through it all. He had to. Failing wasn’t an option, and quitting meant death.
Tommy wasn’t a quitter. He was a survivor, long before he met Technoblade, long before he ended up in the Pit.
And he wasn’t going to die.
When Techno moved to strike, Tommy backed off, letting his aching wings carry him back just far enough that he could launch forward again and go on the offensive, throwing a punch exactly how he’d been taught to, even as Techno side-stepped him. Instead of doubting himself and backing off, Tommy kept moving forward, staying as light on his feet as his could, letting his wings move him without letting them get close enough to be struck down.
It was a familiar dance, moving through the motions. Most of the skills he had came from either what Techno had taught him, or from watching the Lagusidae fighting in the arena and trying to copy what he’d witnessed. There was always more to learn.
Then Tommy’s fist connected with Techno’s shoulder, and while the man used the momentum of the hit to turn and get into a defensive position, ready in case of another attack, he didn’t move to strike back.
For a tense few seconds, the two just stared at one another, as if daring one another to move.
It may have been only a single strike that he’d managed to hit Technoblade with, but it was enough for the man to step back, to no longer continue striking him with a vicious relentlessness that Tommy had grown so used to. Tommy was left breathing heavily but on his feet this time, wings spread out to keep himself balanced.
It may have only been the twitch of an ear, but to Tommy, he could see the way that Technoblade gave in.
“Good,” the man said with the slightest of nods, not commenting as Tommy dropped down into the dirt to take a break. When training in the arena, Tommy was able to catch a glimpse of the sky, and after a long day of training, all he wanted to do was stare at it for a while.
Silently, he reached a hand up, like he might be able to pull the sky down within reach if he just tried. For a few seconds, even Techno looked up, like there was something worth watching instead of an endless nothing above them.
Technoblade didn’t comment until there was another sound, and Tommy watched Techno’s left ear perk up, angling towards the shouting. His right ear swiveled too, but the permanent bend from an old injury made it harder for him to hear faraway sounds in that ear. Tommy wasn’t sure how many others actually knew that, as it wasn’t like the Lagusidae would ever admit any kind of weakness to anyone in the Pit.
Anyone besides Tommy.
“Up you go, we’re being moved,” Technoblade said, though instead of letting Tommy drag himself to his feet, Techno offered a hand to help him up. Never one to deny help from someone he trusted, Tommy took his hand, reminded once more of Techno’s strength as he was pulled to his feet.
Despite his slender build and height, there was a reason why Technoblade was the most feared in their entire group. Even larger beings, like the Enderian or the Piglin, wouldn’t dare try fighting him. Not when they knew they’d lose.
The chains that their Handler, Dante, would put on them were annoying to Tommy, but he could tell that they bothered Techno far more than he’d ever admitted to. The strength and confidence in his movements seemed to dim the moment those chains were attached not only to the control collars that all of the competitors wore, but also to the shackle that would be placed on at least one of their ankles, depending on how many legs someone had.
It wasn’t something he was willing to share, and Tommy wasn’t going to pester him about why the chains affected him so much. They were degrading, but Techno didn’t seem to be bothered by that. It was definitely something deeper. Tommy respected Techno too much to try and force an answer.
After all, they had places to be, and if Dante was moving them now, that meant they’d be brought to an arena within the next day or two.
It was time for them all to fight for their lives.
Sharp claws slashed through the air, ones that had definitely been aimed at his throat in an attempt to rip it out. The attack barely missed Tommy’s body thanks to his wings managing to send him just out of range, letting him tuck and roll across the ground and launch himself back across the area towards his opponent.
Technoblade had made his own fight seem so effortless, taking down a Yu’Zihr that was nearly three times his height, and weighed more than most of Dante’s competitors put together. The beast was massive, to the point where Tommy truly had felt fear for his friend. What if that had been the time that Techno didn’t return to the Pit after a fight?
Some of the smaller fights ended with the competitors being allowed to live, depending on how much the Handler wanted to save their fighter from death, but the big fights? Those always ended in bloodshed.
Those always ended with Techno coming out victorious.
A powerful tail struck Tommy right in the side, promising a bruise for tomorrow, as the impact knocked him sideways. He needed to quit thinking of Techno’s battle and instead focus on his own if he wanted to survive. After all, he could already hear the complaints that he’d be getting from Techno about not paying enough attention.
Brushing off the strike, Tommy tried to stay as nimble as he could. Techno had focused a significant amount of his speed, given that Tommy wasn’t exactly the strongest being out there, so speed was his friend.
It had to be, if he wanted to live.
Squamatans weren’t the most dangerous beings out there, but they did have sharp claws and sturdy scales that made it hard for him to fight back, and that tail held more muscles than he’d been expecting. Each time he tried to get a good hit on his opponent, his talons scratched uselessly over those stupid scales.
Ugh, that was going to make the fight drag on even longer.
Like all fights that he’d been a part of in the past few… months, or years, or however long he’d been stuck surviving in the Pit, it was never as easy as he hoped that it would be, and Tommy found himself constantly caught up in a life-or-death fight where the thought of not making it out actually crossed his mind.
I might die here was the thought that, unfortunately, caused him to make the mistake of not getting away from his opponent fast enough.
The hand that flashed out towards him was faster than Tommy had been expecting, sharp claws not slashing in the way they had been before but instead enclosing around his neck. Its other hand was still free, and with Tommy’s focus on the one gripping his neck, he didn’t have the chance to even attempt to block his opponent’s other hand.
A strangled cry of pain ripped raw from Tommy’s throat as he felt his right wing get torn open, feathers tearing away from skin. Panic overwhelmed him at the thought of being caught, and maybe it was desperate, but he sunk his talons into the Squamatan’s arm, trying to dislodge the hand from his throat.
He was going to die if he didn’t get out of its grip, but luckily his talons were sharp enough that even the Squamatan wasn’t able to ignore the pain as its blood sprayed bright blue across the both of them.
With his uninjured wing, Tommy managed to knock his opponent in the head right as it was forced to let go of his throat, giving him a chance to quickly back off. There was no time to check his injuries but given that he could still move his wing just fine, it must not have been too damaging.
No, Tommy could only set his sights on his opponent.
It was only ever going to end one of two ways, and there was no way Tommy was going to let himself get killed in the arena.
Ignoring the shooting pain in his right wing, Tommy circled his opponent, getting right in its blind spot before charging, raking his talons across its back before immediately backing off, his wings pushing him out of the Squamatan’s reach just an instant before it could swing around at him again.
He kept up, needing to be relentless in his attacks or else risk giving his opponent another opportunity to try and catch him off guard, to try and trap him until he wouldn’t be able to get away.
Tommy wasn’t made to be a fighter. He knew that, and he was certain that Technoblade knew that, too. He fought because he had to, not because he was particularly skilled at it. The arena was the last place Tommy would ever want to be if he had a choice.
There was no choice that he had, besides life and death.
Kill or be killed.
Tommy’s talons were stained dark with the lifeblood of his opponent before he was finally able to catch his breath, watching the form in front of him crumple down to the ground.
That was that.
It was over.
He took no pride in someone else’s death, and Tommy reminded himself that when he cheered it was never because he was glad to have taken a life. That wasn’t ever something that crossed his mind. No, the happiness came from the fact that he was alive, that he’s survived another arena, that he was going to continue to keep living. There was still hope that one day he’d be able to get away from the arena, that one day he and Techno would be able to live a peaceful life somewhere far away from any fighting or violence or death.
The corpse that he left on the ground, blood dripping from his talons, was not going to get that same chance. If Tommy dwelled on that thought, though, he wouldn’t survive the arena. He wouldn’t survive the Pit.
So as he turned away, any thought of his fallen competitor had to leave Tommy’s mind so that he didn’t lose it. Instead, he was able to focus on the cheering that was all around him.
It shouldn’t have been so exciting to know that he’d won, but Tommy couldn’t help but flap his wings and spin around, trying to avoid all of the eyes that were watching him and instead focus in on the sky above him. It was such a brilliant orange color on this planet, with wisps of clouds that only added to the beauty. There were at least two suns in the sky, or maybe they were day-moons, he wasn’t sure, but they were more than he normally got to see.
There were only two ways that Tommy would be able to see the sky, after all—when he won and was given a chance to take just a moment of peace for himself, or when he was knocked on his back during training in an actual arena instead of in one of the facilities.
The blood that dripped into his eye reminded Tommy of the fact that this wasn’t training, and the stinging pain had him turning his gaze away from the unattainable serenity above and instead over towards the doors he was required to march through.
If he didn’t hurry back fast enough, the collar that was always biting into the feathers around his neck would make him regret dragging his feet. One day, when that collar wasn’t there anymore, Tommy hoped that his feathers might grow back in. A scar going around his neck wasn’t something he was interested in having, not when it would be a constant reminder of what he’d escaped.
When he managed to escape, of course.
He just needed to be stronger first.
“Did you see that? I won,” Tommy bragged in Universal Common as the iron bars closed behind him, locking him in the Pit with the other “competitors.” He wanted to make sure that everyone else would be able to understand him when he spoke of winning, and it wasn’t like he truly had a birth language after all, so Universal Common was pretty much it. “I know you fuckers were betting against me, but I did it!”
A nearby Enderian hissed at him, cursing him out in End-speak. Those were the only words that Tommy knew, after all, but that didn’t get him down. No way, he was a winner!
Most of the competitors stuck to themselves, as there was no point in getting to know anyone else when there was a high chance that they could end up dead within a week, or a month, or a year.
Dante liked participating in bi-weekly areas, which meant that there was a good fourteen days before Tommy would once more be back in an arena where his life was on the line. That would give him more than enough time to heal his wounds.
He needed that time, because his wounds hurt. A lot.
Still, Tommy made his way to the back to the Pit, looking for one person in particular. Most days Techno would be right there at the door, ready to praise him for surviving another arena. Well, Tommy knew that it was praise, even if he only patted Tommy’s head or dragged him over to the corner to patch his wounds. Tommy didn’t need words to see that Techno was proud of him.
This… this wasn’t one of those days, though.
The cold, red gaze of Technoblade stared back at him, leaving Tommy questioning himself because… he’d won? Why was Techno upset with him?
“Did you see that?” Tommy asked, wings flapping at the thought of getting praise, even as it made them briefly spasm with the pain of having some of his first-feathers get ripped out.
“I did,” Technoblade said, voice lacking the warmth that Tommy had been hoping for. What was his problem? When the Lagusidae stepped towards him, Tommy couldn’t help the way that he shrunk down a little, wings pressing up against his back, because even though the man was only slightly taller than him, he held a presence that Tommy had never seen before, not even in any of the fights he’d witnessed.
Technoblade didn’t need to be some big, powerful deathworlder to be absolutely terrifying.
“I saw the way that beast grabbed ahold of you,” the man continued, and Tommy continued to duck his head in submission. “The way that it caught you and went for your wings, Tommy. I saw the feathers it tore out. I saw the way it nearly had your throat.”
“I won,” Tommy insisted, though it was a challenge to try and fight against Techno, even with words.
The sharp glare he received had him biting his tongue. “If you’re caught, you’re as good as dead. Your bones are hollow, and being too close leaves you open for strikes that you can’t withstand. And if your wing were to break before your feathers have even come in, before you’ve even been able to fly…”
The sky was important to Techno in a way that it had never been able to become for Tommy, given that he’d never actually flown before.
Techno had touched the sky in a way that Tommy could only dream of. While Tommy had never seen it before, he could imagine how Techno would look up in the air.
They’d be able to go far away from this place if they could get to the sky.
“Dante’s not going to keep a flightless bird around,” Techno growled, his voice getting low at the mention of their Handler. “If Dante turns you loose, it’ll be in a fight where you’re matched against something impossible to overcome. A mindless beast while you’re tied up, just for the entertainment of watching a mauling. You need to do better, Theseus.”
Tears stung at the corners of Tommy’s eyes, and while he should have expected the way that Technoblade lunged at him, he didn’t, not fast enough, and the man managed to grab ahold of his throat just the same as the Squamatan had, leaving Tommy stunned and helpless. That grip burned his already-raw throat, making it impossible to breathe.
“You need to be faster,” Techno snarled, throwing him backward in a way that caused Tommy to nearly fall to the ground. “Again.”
There was only a heartbeat before Techno darted forward again, and Tommy barely managed to dodge to the side before his throat was able to be grabbed. Techno wasn’t holding back, lashing out towards his wings just like the Squamatan had been doing, and while he managed to stay out of reach, it wasn’t easy.
Not with the way his lungs were already burning from the effort, not with the way his body was ready to collapse.
Giving up was weak, and weakness meant death.
Techno’s hand closed around Tommy’s wing, yanking him down to the ground.
And joy he’d had from winning fizzled out in that moment as he wheezed and gasped, trying to catch his breath. Techno had already fought, and his fight had been far more difficult than the one Tommy just won, he was well aware of that.
As Techno dropped his wing and took a step back, Tommy pushed himself back to his feet. “Again, Theseus.”
He needed to earn it.
When the sun finally disappeared and Dante allowed everyone to finally have a chance to relax, Tommy found himself wandering over to where Technoblade was. Whether he was upset or not, whether his entire body ached from the training that the man had put him through today or not, at the end of the day, there was only one person in the Pit that he trusted.
Most competitors chose never to fight with one another in the Pit, not when they did enough fighting in the arena, but Tommy would never regret having fought in the Pit. After all, he’d decided to pick a fight with Techno on his very first day, and instead of getting slaughtered, Tommy had managed to get himself a brother.
Not that he’d ever said the word brother to Techno, not when he didn’t think the man was sappy enough to share in that sentiment. He wasn’t sure he could handle a rejection of that magnitude, if Technoblade told him never to use that term again—or worse, if he gave up on Tommy for it.
If Techno was going to give up on him, though, Tommy was sure he would have done it long before now. He knew him well enough to know that Techno cared about him too much to abandon him over words. That didn’t, of course, mean that he’d agree with the proclamation of family.
Technoblade didn’t say a word to him as Tommy took a seat nearby, nor did he say a thing as Tommy started to slowly scoot closer. Judging by his expression, Techno wasn’t mad at him, so Tommy didn’t hesitate to move closer.
“You need to be more careful.” Techno’s voice was quiet, soft in a way that he normally wasn’t. If anything, he just sounded tired in a way that he normally didn’t. “But you did do a good job, Theseus.”
The praise was more than Tommy was expecting, and as much as he wanted to brag about what a great job he did, about how he was totally the best fighter in the whole Pit—maybe even in the whole arena—he bit his tongue and kept quiet. Instead, he just moved closer to Technoblade until the two were sitting side by side.
“I’ll keep winning,” Tommy promised, and a small smile crossed Techno’s face as he closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall.
The sad, broken smile made Tommy shiver. When he took a breath, Tommy wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Technoblade sound so exhausted before, not even after his toughest battles. “You better.”
With that, Tommy was sure that everything was fine between them. Techno could be harsh with how hard he pushed Tommy, but he was fully aware of why the man was so hard on him. If he failed, he died, and Techno didn’t want him to die. He’d never say that to Tommy’s face, not in those words, but it was what he meant. Tommy felt it in every training session, in every time he hit the ground, in every proud smile he received when he succeeded.
But he had succeeded, they both had, which meant they had time before they’d be fighting for their lives again. Dante always gave his fighters a break to recover so that he didn’t need to go buy and train new ones nearly as often. They’d have a chance to rest for the night knowing that they’d earned their moments of peace.
As Tommy scooted closer, pressing up against his side, Techno let out a snort of amusement. Tommy chose to do the only mature thing he could do and ignore him, making himself comfortable as he nestled down into Techno’s soft, pink fur.
Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was just because he only had one person in this whole world that he trusted, but Tommy slowly curled up at Techno’s side and tried to make himself as small as possible so that the Lagusidae could curl around him. Protector, his brain whispered, because Techno had always fit that title.
“You haven’t been a fledgling in ages now,” Technoblade mumbled, but he let Tommy curl up on his lap nonetheless, settling his chin atop Tommy’s head. Tommy’s wings stayed firmly tucked up against his back, even as Techno reaching an arm around him and settled a hand on his back, right at the spot between his wings.
Was the Lagusidae aware of how vulnerable of a spot that was? He had to be.
For an avian like Tommy, not only was that the spot where someone could grab both of his wings right at the base and rip them out if they were strong enough, but there was also a pressure point, one that made it difficult for him to move. If anything, all the training to keep others from getting too close to his wings, too close to his weak spot, made sense.
A quiet noise escaped his beak as Tommy nuzzled his head to Techno’s chest, relaxing completely in his arms. He knew he’d be safe, even surrounded by other competitors. He knew Techno would keep him safe. He always did, even with his brutal training. It was all done to keep him safe.
Well… as safe as someone could be when literally fighting for his life.
Avians weren’t often used in arena matches, not when the ability to fly tended to give the competitor an advantage. Moreso than that, it also made them difficult to control, and when a competitor wasn’t able to be controlled, he was executed.
Technoblade was a survivor, which meant that he allowed the control. He had to allow it, or else he would die. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what his chances would be if he tried to fight back against his Handler. With the collar around his throat, he wouldn’t make it near Dante before enough electricity was delivered through his body that he’d be cooked from the inside out.
Beings who walked the land were far more easily controlled than those who could sail through the sky. The only reason Tommy was still so easily contained at the moment was because his adult feathers weren’t coming in.
Unfortunately for the boy, Techno wasn’t sure if his feathers weren’t coming in because he was still too young, if his prior fights had somehow damaged the wings in a way that made the growth of flight feathers impossible, or if it had something to do with their treatment and living conditions.
All competitors were fed just enough to keep them alive and to keep them fighting. Those who did well tended to be better fed than the others, and while Techno had seen some share their food with others who needed it… well, Techno understood the desire to help. He just didn’t have the means to do so.
Giving Tommy his food had only worked for a day when the scrappy little avian was first brought to the Pit, but Techno needed sustenance to be able to fight and win. So he did what he needed to do to ensure that Tommy would be fed—he made sure the kid could fight. It was a harsh kinship that the two shared, with strict training and unforgiving fights, with threats to their lives every time they stepped into the arena and mistakes that could lead to death if they weren’t constantly careful.
Techno wasn’t sure how many more comrades he could see die. Tommy needed to survive, or else Techno wasn’t sure what he was going to do.
Knowledge was important, and something that Techno was constantly updating. He learned from every fight that he was in, every fight that he witnessed, and every scar he gained. But a lack of knowledge wasn’t always something he could help. There was a lot that he knew about his own species, but Tommy?
Tommy was an avian, but what kind of avian? He didn’t have a clue. The boy was bipedal, with distinct arms and legs, with wings that sprouted from his back. Those wings seemed that they’d be large and powerful one day, enough to carry him away should he be able to rid himself of that collar, of those chains.
What was worse was that Tommy didn’t have any idea of what kind of avian he was, either. He’d been taken at such a young age and trafficked for a while, but he’d been so young that he didn’t know nearly as much about his own species as he should. Techno was trying to fill in the gaps for him, but with how long he’d been a competitor, it wasn’t like he had a wealth of knowledge about other species unless he’d fought them in the arena. Avians were rare, which meant Tommy was fairly one-of-a-kind when it came to competitors.
That just left Techno struggling with how to care for the boy. How far could he push him before he broke? How strong would he be able to become one day? Was he able to get as fast as Techno wanted him to be, or was Tommy fighting an uphill battle that he couldn’t win?
Was Techno doing more harm than good when training him?
Training had been his entire life. From when he was young, just an orphaned kit who was taught to fight because none of the warrens cared for orphaned kits, Techno’s whole life had revolved around learning how to survive.
It had always come naturally to him. Mind you, it took all of his time, effort, and concentration, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t make sense to him. Watching others made him realize that he could do what they were doing, and maybe it wasn’t always exactly the way that they did it, but he’d be able to figure out his own way of doing it.
Lagusidae weren’t as strong as most other species, nor were they as big, or even as naturally dangerous. That didn’t stop Technoblade from becoming the most dangerous in any room he entered.
All he wanted was for Tommy to be able to become the most dangerous, too. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the biggest, the strongest, or even a species that anyone would think could be fierce. If he didn’t make Tommy into something more than the boy already was, then he wasn’t going to last in the arena, and Technoblade had already lost enough.
Before Tommy arrived, he’d actually given up on getting close to anyone just so that he didn’t need to feel that loss again.
“Make sure you get your rest tonight,” Techno said as he watched Tommy. While they weren’t made to sleep in the dirt like some competitors, the tiny cells they were given weren’t that different. The only good thing about the cells was that there was only way to watch out for, so no one was able to sneak up on them.
Tommy could have slept in his own cell, just like the rest of them, but he never did. He’d always claimed something about “flock instincts,” and Techno admittedly didn’t know enough about avians nor whatever species Tommy was to argue. Lagusidae were known to stick to warrens, and it was rare for them to ever be alone. Techno, on the other hand, had been alone his entire life, so the isolation wasn’t anything new to him.
Ever since Tommy entered his life, he’d gotten used to those old instincts telling him to protect his warren, making him even more protective of the boy than he should’ve been. It wasn’t like Tomy was his blood, yet blood wasn’t important, especially not in the arena. Kinship was forged in bonds written in blood and sweat, to the point where fur nor feathers nor scales nor hide could differentiate those known as family, as flock, as pack. As warren.
“What do you think we’re going to fight tomorrow?” Tommy asked, stretching his wings out before flapping them a few times. The boy frowned at one of his wings, picking at the feathers, before looking over to Techno like he had all the answers in the world.
“No matter what we face, you have to win,” Techno said, taking ahold of Tommy’s wing before gently preening his feathers. No matter how long it had been, Tommy’s flight feathers still weren’t coming in.
The longer it took for his flight feathers to come in, the longer it would be before Tommy was able to really escape.
Lagusidae were beings of the ground and the sky, never truly content without being able to live in both. Right now, he was stuck on the ground, but he wanted nothing more than to get back to the sky.
He wanted to show Tommy the sky.
It was his birthright, and yet he’d never tasted that freedom.
The collar around his neck felt heavier than normal.
Freedom. Yeah, maybe one day.
The more skilled the warrior, the fiercer the battles were allowed to become. It wasn’t just any fighter who was allowed to take a battle axe into the arena, after all. Any fool could accidentally kill their opponent or themselves with a weapon they didn’t know how to handle, but a real warrior could turn a fight into a test of wills, with a ferocity and brutality unlike anything else.
Technoblade was one of those warriors, and while he was still put in plenty of weapon-free fights, he was one of the few who faced the most dangerous of opponents in the arena. When Dante wanted to bet, when he wanted to risk one of his best for a truly incredible show, time and time again Techno was the one who was thrown onto the front lines, pitted against the most ruthless of killers.
Heh, as if he wasn’t also one of those ruthless killers.
In the arena, it was all life or death, and that choice was always in his own hands. If he didn’t fight hard enough, if he didn’t want it bad enough, he would die, and that would be that. But Technoblade wasn’t ready to die, which led him off the battlefield time and time again with blood in his wake and a litany of new scars to map out the tainted victories of his life.
Each and every time he was told to choose a weapon, Techno knew that the opponent he was about to face was one who stood a chance at ending his life. None of the Handlers were given any clue as to which opponent their fighter would face, but plenty would have guesses.
Others often assumed Dante would use him. This time, Dante had a guess, too.
“Something strong enough to pierce armored plating,” his Handler had told him, prompting Techno to take the battle axe instead of a sword.
The Cheliceratoid that stared down at him was massive, definitely the largest competitor Techno had ever fought before.
How had a Handler even managed to get one as a fighter, Techno had no idea. Its armored plating covered the majority of its body, with the only real places to take it down being its soft joints when it was moving. He’d heard of them before, and long before he’d ever become a fighter in the arena, he’d actually fought one before.
Back then, he had a gun and a shield, along with a whole squad full of fellow soldiers.
Now, he was staring down the beast that stood between him and living another day.
A battle axe was a good choice.
The opponent didn’t truly matter, Techno supposed as he gripped the axe’s handle tighter, given that the ultimate goal was the same every time he stepped into the arena: survive.
All he had to do was kill his opponent and not die in the process.
The moment that the crowd started cheering, the moment the bars opened and let him onto the hellish battlefield before him, Techno wasted no time in charging towards his opponent.
It had been a long time since he’d seen a Cheliceratoid, so he needed to figure out how to break through its armor. He needed to know how fast it was. How strong it was. How far its reach was.
Those massive claws were definitely going to be enough to tear him in half if it managed to get ahold of him, which meant there was no way he could let it catch him.
Techno chose to risk the first move, charging at the beast not truly to strike it, but rather to gain as much information as he could. It swung at him, and he learned what he could from its movements as he dispelled his gravity and kicked off, launching himself away. He didn’t bother moving as fast as he could, not wanting to let the Cheliceratoid know just how fast he was able to move just yet.
This fight was going to go just the same was as all of his others. It had to.
And for a while, it did. Technoblade managed to get a few hits on his opponent, mostly being blocked by the beast’s near-impenetrable plating. It was as if it was wearing a suit of armor, something none of the other competitors were allowed the privilege of wearing.
If this fight hadn’t been one with weapons, Techno wasn’t sure he would have been able to beat such a creature. Some beings were more dangerous than others, some beings were able to survive the harshest of climates, some beings were known to the rest of the universe as deathworlders.
Cheliceratoids fit that list, though it wasn’t like this was the first deathworlder that Techno had fought before. It was probably the biggest, with the Cheliceratoid standing nearly eight feet tall with enormous, powerful arms tipped with the most dangerous of claws.
Techno never underestimated his opponents, whether they seemed far stronger or weaker than him.
The longer the match went on, though, the more exhausted he’d become. While he needed to stay nimble on his feet, while he needed to be faster than his opponent at all times, there was no way that he’d be able to keep up his speed during the entire fight.
If he tried, the Cheliceratoid would just wait him out until he wasn’t able to move any longer, and the beast would take him out when he was too slow to avoid an attack.
In other fights, Technoblade hadn’t had an issue keeping up his speed, because other opponents were easier to take down. They didn’t have the same kind of naturally unbreakable armor that this one wore, the armor that would keep him from being able to acquire an easy victory.
Not that any victories were ever easy. They’d just become… bearable. Taking another’s life was something Techno doubted he’d ever be able to describe as easy.
It was impossible to completely ignore all the eyes that were focused on him. The Cheliceratoid’s four eyes were the only ones he wanted to pay attention to, but all the boisterously screaming, cheering, sickening viewers who made up the crowd were all too excited to see the bloodshed.
And there were two bright blue eyes that would be watching his every move, ones who be learning everything they could from him. He didn’t want Tommy to be learning anything wrong.
He didn’t want the boy to make any mistakes because of him.
Issue was… sometimes, no matter how hard he trained, no matter how hard he fought, no matter how hard he tried to ensure absolute perfection every time he stepped foot in the arena, Technoblade was reminded that he wasn’t, in fact, perfect.
He was reminded that he did make mistakes.
And that’s all this was, as the Cheliceratoid stared down at him, as Techno tried to jump backward out of the way.
It was a mistake.
It was always just one little mistake.
Techno was so used to seeing it with others, that one mistake that they’d make before his weapon would cut through them. Before he would take their life. The blade-coated claws came down on him, and it took everything that Techno had to try and move to the side, to avoid certain death.
Each heartbeat pulsed achingly through him as Technoblade watched the claws descend, and despite the near-instantaneous strike, it felt like every beat dragged on forever. Certain death, right in front of him.
Then his skin tore open, and a scream ripped raw from Techno’s throat as his blood sprayed out across the ground.
It wasn’t his throat.
Technoblade was thrown harshly to the ground, rolling several times before he crashed into the closest wall. His leg was a torn-open mess spilling crimson everywhere, but Techno didn’t really have time to stay on the ground.
Before those claws could break him in half, Techno launched himself to the other side of the arena, getting rid of as much gravity as he could to ensure that he could properly escape.
He made a mistake.
Mistakes meant death.
The battle axe was lying in the middle of the arena, and if Techno didn’t get ahold of that again, there was no way that he was going to be able to tear through the beast’s armored plating.
The Cheliceratoid roared at him, too caught up in the fight to even try to taunt him in a language that he’d understand. It was a beast, a mountain that he needed to overcome, and yet… with the slice through his leg, leaving him unbalanced and vulnerable, there was a sense of fear that he hadn’t truly felt in a long time.
Fear was something that always lived under the skin of every fighter in the arena, as it was that fear of death that kept them all alive, that kept them all from growing too overconfident in their own abilities.
Maybe he’d become overconfident, believing that he’d be able to defeat any opponent in his path.
Technoblade kicked off with his left leg, getting rid of all his gravity as he nearly flew overtop of the dirt. With his right hand he grabbed ahold of the handle to his sword, spinning around and pushing off the ground with his left hand to dodge out of the way right when the Cheliceratoid slammed a claw down where he’d been just heartbeats earlier.
As much as he knew it was a bad idea, Techno needed to use his right leg, so while it caused an anguish like no other, he kept his weight balanced on both of his legs.
Pain was… good. It meant he was alive. It meant that the arena hadn’t taken him, like it had taken so many others.
It meant that he’d still be able to win.
Swinging his axe around, Techno felt absolutely nothing as the bit of his axe caught right under one of the armored plates, slicing into the flesh of the Cheliceratoid’s shoulder. Before it was able to move towards him, before it was able to counter his strike, Technoblade threw himself backward.
Reigning in his gravity again and again was getting exhausting, but he needed to be nimble. He needed to be faster.
His speed was the only thing keeping him alive at the moment.
The Cheliceratoid missed again, and Techno swung his axe.
Deep blue splattered across the dirt alongside one of the massive scales, giving a nice target to aim for the next time he was able to get close to his opponent.
Until then, it took everything to dart backward again, his left leg forced to take the brunt of the momentum. He couldn’t make another mistake.
He couldn’t die. Not now. Not here.
Fighting was such a second nature to Techno that it was easier for him not to think too hard about what was going on. If he concentrated too hard, he’d be lost in the near-overwhelming pain, which meant that he needed to shut his brain off.
He needed to fight purely on instinct.
With all the years he’d lived, Technoblade had built up the sharpest of instincts, and he needed to rely on those instincts to survive.
The only thing that Techno did concentrate on was the color blue.
Instinctual motions led to more blue spraying across the arena, soaking into his fur, staining everything that it touched.
He couldn’t get hit, not again.
The Cheliceratoid’s pained cries sounded distant in his normally alert ears. Somewhere between the blood loss and the total exhaustion, his ears just weren’t working the way that they should be.
Lagusidae weren’t able to keep fighting forever, he knew that to be a fact, which meant if this fight didn’t end soon…
the weight that suddenly came down upon him, nearly crushing the life out of him, was Technoblade’s second mistake. A second mistake should have meant death, and yet whatever gods or fate that existed let him survive the blow.
The blow?
No, that was the Cheliceratoid’s body.
Every muscle in Techno’s body trembled with pain as he tried to squirm his way out from underneath the massive corpse that he’d created. It wasn’t over, not yet, not even with the death of an opponent. If only it was that easy.
Even as he rolled over in the dirt, this wasn’t the end. Not yet.
The agony that nearly overwhelmed him left Techno wheezing as he struggled to breathe, as he tried his best to press his hands on the ground and find an area level enough to push himself back up to his feet. Because he had to get back to his feet.
The battle wasn’t over until someone was victorious, and this wasn’t able to be the end. If he died now, then who was going to look after Tommy? How would he know whether the kid truly would manage to escape one day like he always dreamed of?
Before he could even try to stand, Techno’s right leg immediately gave up, collapsing down to the ground as he tried to choke back an agonized groan. His breath was forced, shallow, and he winced at the metallic tang that filled his mouth as he spat out blood.
He wasn’t going to die here.
Sweat mixed with blood as it dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision, but Technoblade forced his left leg underneath himself nonetheless. Waves of pain crashed over him, leaving his hands shaking as he forced them onto the corpse beside him. The body was solid enough that he could use it to stand up.
He had to stand up.
There was no strength left in him to even attempt to rip the axe from the Cheliceratoid’s armored plates, nor could he see well enough to figure out where it was. All he had to do was stand. Stand and return to the Pit.
No way would Dante throw him out into another fight, not on this condition. Not if his Handler wasn’t trying to get rid of him. What reason did he have to get rid of the infamous Blood God, after all? He’d made far too much money to be tossed away.
Unless these injuries didn’t heal.
Had he become too broken?
There was a spot of white in the darkness of the Pit that moved frantically, almost fast enough to make him ill as he tried to focus in on it. The Pit. He needed to get back to the Pit.
As if he was being carved inside out, the pain that shot through his entire being as Techno forced himself onto his feet nearly had him blacking out. Everything was fuzzy around the edges, but he stayed balanced. He stayed up.
With his left leg supporting most of his weight, Techno’s ears pressed back to try and ignoring the raging cheers of the gathered crowd, knowing they had a winner.
They nearly hadn’t.
Each step made the numbness creep in, and it got easier to breathe solely because if he kept moving, it didn’t hurt nearly as much. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.
“Techno!” His ears swiveled forward at the familiar voice, and Techno let that voice guide him more than his eyes. It was taking all of his concentration just to keep moving forward, to keep standing up.
If Dante said anything to him when the doors to the Pit opened, Techno didn’t manage to catch any of it. What he did manage to do was walk his way slowly across the room, doing his best not to stumble or show any sign of weakness around the other competitors.
He was the strongest in the room. He had to be. There was a reason why no other Lagusidae was fighting in the arena, there was a reason why he was the only one of his kind in the Pit. Those who were weak didn’t survive. Those who weren’t able to be the strongest in the arena didn’t survive.
There was only one chance to prove himself worthy of living another day, and if he failed…
Tommy was right at his side, but the boy didn’t dare touch him. Techno would have yelled at him if he’d tried, or shoved him away if he’d been able to, but thankfully Tommy didn’t get too close. Dante would see that as weak, and if his Handler thought he was weak, he’d be dead.
It wasn’t until he made it to the back of the Pit, away from the scrutinizing gaze of his Handler and the other competitors, when Techno allowed his body to tremble with pain. He hadn’t made such a big mistake in a long time, and Dante wasn’t going to be happy about it.
“I’ve got bandages,” Tommy said, but Techno shook his head.
Oh, that was a bad idea. Everything felt too stuffed up, too fuzzy, though his body felt strangely cold despite the sweat and exhaustion.
“I made mistakes,” Techno said. He wasn’t a hypocrite, and whenever Tommy made serious enough mistakes after his fights, Techno made him go over those mistakes while they were still fresh, so that he’d know never to make them again.
Mistakes were a weakness, and weakness meant death in the arena.
He couldn’t afford to be weak.
“You’re bleeding, let me patch up your leg,” Tommy insisted. His voice sounded off, but Techno couldn’t place why. His head wasn’t as clear as it should be.
“My right side was open,” Techno continued, holding up his clammy hands as he tried to focus on Tommy. “I need t’make sure tha’ doesn’t happen again.”
When Tommy didn’t make any attempts at helping him train and overcome his weaknesses, Techno was forced to make the first move, trying to take a swing at the avian out of frustration. He always helped Tommy! Then the dirt of the floor struck him in the face as Techno collapsed down onto the ground.
His breath caught in his throat as Techno held in a cry of pain. His leg would feel better if it was cut from his body.
“Please, you’re hurt, just let me help,” Tommy insisted, kneeling in front of him.
Technoblade gritted his teeth and forced a growl, trying to stand back up. “Again. M’not done yet.”
Only, Tommy didn’t fight him. He stepped to the side, and Techno didn’t have the balance to keep himself from falling to the ground once more. His head was spinning too fast to try and stand up.
He felt pathetic.
“Again,” he tried to say, but Techno wasn’t able to get back to his feet again. He could only sway as he tried to sit up, as he tried to get his legs to work like they were supposed to. Every twitch of his right leg was a new kind of agony that threatened to knock him out.
Something wet dripped onto him, too cold to be blood.
Oh. Tommy was crying.
“Please.”
As much as Techno wanted to chastise the boy for begging, as he should never beg in the Pit, he didn’t have the energy to. He didn’t have the energy to stop Tommy from taking ahold of his leg, from wrapping bandages around a wound that immediately soaked through, nor did he have the energy to hold back the tears he shouldn’t have been crying.
Technoblade hadn’t been a child for a long time, and even back then, he hadn’t been allowed to cry. Crying was a weakness competitors weren’t allowed. It led to punishment. It led to pain.
But for the first time since he’d fought in the arena, Techno realized that he truly never would be able to escape.
He’d made a mistake, he’d messed up his leg, and now…
Now the sky was further away than ever, for both of them.
Techno didn’t stop Tommy when the boy pulled him onto his lap, wrapping his wings around him like they’d be enough to shield him away from everything dangerous in the world, like they’d be able to protect the both of them from all the evils they lived with each and every day. He could barely feel the soft feathers, but they were all that he could focus on.
Everything was so cold.
The most Techno was able to do before he passed out was take Tommy’s hand in his own, despite his weak grip, and hold the boy’s hand to his chest.
Even if he never got out, he needed to make sure that Tommy would.
That was Technoblade’s new goal. Not just Tommy’s survival, but his escape.