Chapter Text
T minus 6 days
Technoblade woke up cold, which was normal, and restrained, which was not. Something was holding back his arms, his legs—he twitched—his neck and chest. Thinking was harder than usual, but this was more than getting tangled in a blanket after a dream. Something important had happened. He opened his eyes.
A bright metallic room, fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Computers and tables—he was in some sort of lab, and he was strapped to a table in the middle of it. There was the soft bruising ache in his body that indicated he’d healed from some major wounds recently, and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with bitter cotton balls. A fight, then, that hadn’t gone well. And something—a head wound?—had taken him down.
A flash of memory—throwing someone over a wall.
“Run! Run and hide! Move!”
Turning to his foe with a blade in his hand, only to be hit with an explosion of fine dust he inhaled and then choked on.
Booted feet approaching as his chest spasmed and everything went dark.
Not a head wound, some kind of drug. They’d been prepared for him. Technoblade licked his lips, trying to get some moisture going in his mouth. It tasted like he’d been eating castor oil.
He tested the bonds experimentally, and they did not move in the slightest. Definitely prepared for him, then.
A door swung open on the other side of the room, and someone entered with a smell of coffee. Human-looking man, on the short side, hair tucked beneath a beanie and his face twisted by a scar that ran from mouth to forehead, through his eye. He was wearing a lab coat, with a plastic coat over top, holding a coffee cup in one hand, and humming.
Technoblade swallowed, took a slow breath.
“Hey, you’re up!” Quackity turned with a smile. “Sam was saying you’d be out for another few hours, but I figured no, the regeneration would clear your system right about now. You’re a little bit predictable, you know? How are you feeling?”
“Great,” Technoblade said. “Never better.”
Quackity laughed. “Good to know, good to know. We’re going to be doing a lot together, so I do hope you keep that sense of honesty going. It’s important that we keep the lines of communication open.” He moved to a table outside of Technoblade’s line of sight and picked something up. It sounded metallic.
“Mmm.” Technoblade said noncommittally.
“Do you know how hard it is to find someone with a healing factor? We’ve been trying to recruit for months—and money is no object!—but no, they go to ground.” The sching sound of metal on metal happened again.
“Can’t imagine why people wouldn’t want to be recruited by you.” Technoblade said. He could feel adrenaline starting to flood through his body. Vision was sharpening, muscles were preparing to burst into movement. But there was nowhere to move to.
“But then you came along, clearly excellent healing factor, and more importantly—” He moved back into visual range, grinning. “—Do you know how many governments you’ve pissed off?” A grin twisted Quackity’s mouth. “I had people offering to pay me to take you out of commission. We can do research I never dreamed of, there is truly no one who fucking cares what happens to you.”
Don’t be so sure , Technoblade thought. “Fantastic,” he said. “Glad to know I could count on my adoring fans.”
Quackity chuckled. “That’s cute. I think I’m gonna track your attitude as a variable, see how long that holds up. So.” He clapped hands together. “Healing factor research. Obviously very fruitful field of medical research, but we know so little about how it works. And how are we going to figure out how it works? We’re gonna need some baseline data. So I am going to beat you into a bloody fucking pulp, to find out what it takes to take you down, and then find out how fucking long it takes you to come back.”
“Thanks for sharing the plan, I appreciate it,” Technoblade said. “I always like knowing what’s going on.” He could feel his hands starting to shake from the sheer amount of adrenaline in his system. Normally at this point battle reflexes would have him honed to a fine point of reactions and training, planning and strategizing and leaping into action, but now there was nothing he could do except lie there. He could feel his stomach sour, body all but howling that he needed to move and fight while he was powerless to respond to the obvious danger.
“And Techno?” Quackity moved a little bit further into his line of vision. He was holding a hammer. “I’m too much of a professional to let our history impact the plan for what I’m doing—this is just business, don’t worry—but I’m not going to lie.” His grin grew. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Good for yo—” Technoblade said, breath sucking in as the hammer came down on his ribs. His vision went white for a second as pain exploded through his chest. Something snapped. A sickening wrench in his chest followed it, as his healing factor pulled the rib back into place and started repairing bone. The hammer came down again, same spot. He heard his own voice, distantly. Not sure what he’d said, or if it had been words at all.
This was going to suck.
T minus 9 days
“No nerf guns at the table, Ranboo,” Technoblade said.
The teen paused, hands hidden under the table, guilt written all over his face. “I don’t have one.”
“Ah-huh.” Technoblade said. He held out his hand across the table. “Give it up.”
Another teen, much shorter, skidded into the room firing nerf bullets wildly. Ranboo threw himself backwards and didn’t avoid being hit in the face before he toppled over backwards. He fell with a crash. Tubbo turned the nerf gun towards Technoblade.
Technoblade stared him down wordlessly.
“I wasn’t technically at the table, bossman,” Tubbo said, lowering the gun. “Hey, I was using that!” He turned around and grabbed at the gun that had been plucked out of his hands by Philza.
“No you weren’t, mate.” Philza said. “You’re done now.”
“I was gonna ambush Niki,” Tubbo muttered, throwing himself into a chair.
Technoblade laughed out loud, then cleared his throat. “Good luck with that.” He nodded at Philza, who was taking a seat at the long wooden table in the Syndicate’s meeting room. “Is she on her way?”
“Should be here in a second, something just needed a few more seconds.” He looked up as the door opened and a pink-haired young woman entered the room with a plate of still-warm cookies.
She smiled around the room. “Sorry I’m late, did I miss anything?”
“Nothing important,” Technoblade said.
“Nope!” Philza said at the same time. He grinned.
Niki put the plate down on the table and took a seat. “Ready now.”
“Brilliant,” said Philza. “If everybody’s here, then.” He clicked a button on a small remote and a screen behind him slid out of the wall. “This is the target for the next job. Las Nevadas.” The screen behind him showed a brilliant neon-lit street backed with blocky non-descript buildings. “Gambling site, research site, and absolute fucking political powerhouse. Estimated take for this job is twelve point five million. Each.”
“So we’re hitting the casino?” Tubbo said, mouth full of cookie. “Fuck, too hot.”
“The casino isn’t where the money is,” Technoblade cut in. “The casino bankrolls the research arm, which is so valuable at this point that their security is probably better than the casino.”
“Good to know we’re choosing approachable targets,” Ranboo muttered under his breath.
“What was that, mate?” Philza asked. Behind him, the drone camera left the bright strip behind and swooped towards the office-block buildings. A complex of buildings inter-connected with passageways was visible for a few seconds, before something fast-moving hit the camera and it went dark.
“Nothing,” Ranboo said hurriedly. “This looks fun and achievable.”
Phil grinned at him. “As long as you’re sure. Yeah, what we’re going after specifically is their latest development, a toy for the super-rich.” The display screens switched to show off a small gold figurine set with emeralds. “They market it as a ‘Totem of Undying’, and it’s the best medical assistance money can buy.”
“I heard about that,” Niki said quietly. “Someone got shot through the heart and somehow the totem kept them alive until the paramedics got there. There’s a lot of talk about them.”
Tubbo nodded, expression intent. “Yeah, best guess is that they’re nano-technology, but no one’s been able to get one open to check.”
“Last time they did a release they went for two million each, and bidding is already higher this time.” Technoblade laced his hands behind his head. “So we’re taking the new release.”
A grin spread across Tubbo’s face. “How many totems in this release?”
Technoblade’s grin grew to match. “Thirty.”
“Fuck yeah,” Tubbo said. He turned to Philza. “How are we doing it?”
“This is going to be a job in stages, we’re going to have to work our way in.” Philza switched to a blueprint view. “We’re going to start with the Outpost Maneuver”.
T minus 7 days
Ranboo glanced once again at the teen sitting next to him and sighed. “I can’t believe that you wore that.”
“The email said black pants white shirt, this is black pants white shirt,” Tubbo said, not looking up from his phone. He was sprawled in the corner of the bus seat, foot twitching as he scrolled though twitter. “Plus a hoodie. It’s cold out.”
“It also said business casual.” Ranboo adjusted the cuff of his white shirt. “Do you want to be turned away instantly?”
“Oh shit.” Tubbo paused, then hauled on his collar so he could look down his shirt. “Do you really think we’re gonna get in trouble?”
Ranboo sighed. “No, the important part is that we passed the clearance and we’re on the schedule. We’ll be fine.”
“Yeah we did.” Tubbo said under his breath, smiling ever so faintly.
“And we’re teens, they’re bound to be understanding.” Ranboo’s hands fluttered up to worry at his tie. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. Oh!” He paused and looked down at Tubbo’s feet, which he’d put in his lap. The other boy was turned totally sideways in his seat now, still scrolling on his phone.
“It’ll be fine, ‘Boo.” Tubbo said. “You’re gonna do great, just like every time.”
“Thanks, ‘Bo.” Ranboo said, voice thin. He took a deep breath and pointed out the window. “Looks like we’re almost here.”
The volume on the bus was rising, as it swung across an enormous parking lot. Bags were being collected, excited conversations springing up. Tubbo collected his feet back and popped upright, shouldering his backpack. “Pog.” They filed off the bus.
The passengers separated into two very obvious groups, folks here for a day out at the casino, chattering together as they headed for the neon-lights, and the much quieter staff heading for the blocky buildings behind. Ranboo and Tubbo fell into the line of office workers, security staff, kitchen workers and lab scientists.
“Do you still have the map?” Ranboo asked.
“Yes, I have the map.” Tubbo didn’t look up. “Chill, bossman.”
“Chilling.” He followed the other teen into one of the main buildings and across a courtyard, trying not to hum anxiously under his breath. He mostly succeeded.
“Hey,” Tubbo said, stopping in front of a local chain coffee shop tucked into a corner of the second floor. “We’re the new guys.” He winced.
“What he means to say,” Ranboo said, putting a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder and stepping forward. “Is that we were sent from Bank street? Sophie sent us to fill in, I understand you were having staffing issues?” He tried a smile. “We’re supposed to talk to Sneegsnag?”
The person behind the counter nodded. “I’ll get him.” She vanished into the back for a moment and then came back. “He’ll be right out.” She looked over the two teens and smirked. “Nice outfits.”
“Thank you,” Ranboo said, adjusting his tie once again.
“Fuck, hoodie,” Tubbo said at the same time. He shoved his backpack into Ranboo’s arms and started peeling himself out of the shirt.
“Tubbo and Ranboo, is it?” A 20-something man emerged from the back, wiping his hands on an apron. His eyebrows went up.
“H-hi,” Ranboo said, juggling the backpack and trying to extend his hand to shake at the same time. “That’s us!”
Muffled swearing was audible from inside Tubbo’s hoodie, where he appeared to be stuck.
“Right,” the man said. “Well, I’m Sneeg. I got the email, thanks for being willing to help out.” He paused. “Do you need some help?”
“No!” Tubbo said. He turned abjectly towards Ranboo. “Help me.”
“One second.” Ranboo put down the backpack and tugged Tubbo’s hoodie free. The other teen emerged, red-faced and tugging his t-shirt back down into place.
Sneeg’s eyes caught for a second on the scars tracing Tubbo’s back and neck, and he clearly decided against mentioning it. “Right! Uh, I see you both got the email about the uniform policy, though honestly uh, you don’t need the tie. And we’d prefer a button-up shirt.” He held out a hand as Ranboo opened his mouth. “But honestly you’re just here for a little while, so whatever you’re comfortable in.” He opened a hinge in the counter. “Let me show you around a bit.”
Tubbo and Ranboo filed in behind the counter.
“A lot of this should be what you’re used to from Bank Street,” Sneeg was saying. “We have lockers at the back for your stuff, you get two fifteen minute breaks and a half hour lunch break, the equipment should be the same. I’ll shadow you today, and tomorrow you should be pretty much on your own. You know the full drink menu, right?”
“Yep,” said Tubbo.
“I have it written down?” Ranboo said, swallowing through a suddenly dry mouth. “In a notebook.”
“Hmmm.” Sneeg said. “Well, as long as you’re fast about finding it in the notebook, should be fine.”
“I can be very fast,” Ranboo assured him, internally certain that he was lying.
“Break room’s through here, you can drop off your stuff and let’s get you set up on the line.”
Ranboo made an affirmative noise that was clearly not as confident as he meant it to be. Tubbo glanced at him, and then bumped into him with a shoulder. We’ve got this, his expression clearly said. Ranboo squared his shoulders. Right. They’ve got this. They’ve got this.