Chapter Text
Techno walked through the crowded streets, hood pulled low over his face, the backpack heavy on his shoulders.
A man bumped into him hard and immediately launched into a tirade, telling him to watch where he was going, but Techno ignored him. He kept walking.
He quickly turned into a narrow alley, meant as a shortcut. Or so he wanted.
A hand clamped around his arm with an iron grip.
He froze, already knowing exactly what to expect.
His gaze landed on a figure in a dark uniform.
Mostly black, with silver accents, a helmet with a reflective visor that hid any emotion and made the wearer look more like a machine than a person, along with a striking emblem on their shoulder.
A winged shield, encircled by a ring.
The symbol of the Heroes.
The doorbell had rung, and six-year-old Techno had rushed to open it, excited.
Three figures stood there, all wearing black uniforms with silver accents. Matching helmets, each with a visor you couldn’t see through. Techno thought they looked like machines. It was creepy.
On their shoulders was a small winged shield, surrounded by a circle.
He stared at them in confusion.
Who were they?
He turned to his parents, confused — but they didn’t look nearly as surprised as he did.
“Mom—”
He didn’t get to finish. One of the uniformed figures grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the house.
His feet stumbled over each other and he would have fallen if the painful grip hadn’t kept him upright.
He cried out in shock and began kicking, struggling wildly.
“Mom! Dad! Help—What—”
His protests only made the figure grab him with both arms, lift him up, and press him against their cold, hard chest.
Techno squirmed, but the merciless grip didn’t budge.
He swallowed and forced the memory away.
If he had known back then who those uniformed figures were, and what pain they would bring into his life, he would have run instantly.
Because they were the government’s Enforcers.
Or: the Heroes’ henchmen.
While the Heroes were praised in public for defeating villains, the Enforcers were the ones who did all the dirty work in the shadows.
Evacuating civilians during battles, arresting subdued criminals, dealing with theft and other “uninteresting” cases, hunting down those on wanted lists.
Hunting down people like Techno.
“Please remove your hood,” came a voice, muffled by the helmet.
And… yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
Techno had quickly learned that pure strength wasn’t enough to break their grip. You needed the element of surprise.
With a sudden twist he ripped his arm free.
Before the Enforcer could react, he sprinted past him into the alley.
“Hey—!”
He kept running, ignoring the heavy footsteps right behind him.
The alley opened back onto the main street. He had to weave through the crowd, but that distraction helped him lose his pursuer.
Only for him to look up and find himself staring into the hidden face of another officer.
God, he missed the days when there were barely any of them on the streets.
Granted, it was probably his fault they were patrolling in such numbers now.
Even after a year, the Heroes hadn’t given up on getting their precious weapon back.
The Enforcer stepped forward, and Techno took off again.
He turned into the nearest alley. It was a dead end. Of course it was.
Turning back was not an option, so he doubled his pace, pulled his backpack off mid-run, threw it onto the wall at the end of the alley, and climbed up after it.
For a moment, he allowed himself a glance back.
The Enforcer was getting closer, but it was clear he wouldn’t be able to follow with that bulky uniform. Normally, the Heroes handled the more mobile parts of a pursuit. Sometimes they chased him too — which made escaping a lot harder — but only if they were already nearby and caught the radio call from an Enforcer.
A radio call like the one his pursuer was making right now.
Techno grabbed his backpack and jumped down the other side of the wall.
From there, he immediately saw two more Enforcers approaching.
Ah, shit.
Couldn't they just leave him alone?
To escape them, he’d need to vanish into the crowd.
So he ran again, pushing through the masses to put at least some distance between himself and the government agents.
That was the plan.
But before he could even make it twenty steps, he slammed full-force into a man who seemed to have just finished shopping.
The bags the man was carrying fell to the ground, just like Techno.
The impact sent him stumbling back, and he would have crashed hard onto the pavement if the man he’d run into hadn’t caught him in time.
“Whoa, easy there, mate,” a voice said.
Hands held his arms — surprisingly gentle compared to the grip of the Enforcers — and pulled him upright.
Meanwhile, panic shot through Techno’s entire body.
He hadn’t gotten far enough away. If the Enforcers were right behind him, they’d see him any moment.
He couldn’t go back.
He couldn’t go back.
He wouldn’t survive it again, he didn’t want to survive it again—
“Hey. Mate, breathe. What’s—”
The man, whoever he was, seemed to realize what was happening.
Which wasn’t hard to figure out.
Someone running in panic, with two Enforcers heading straight toward him… yeah, it was obvious.
He was going to hand Techno over. He'd hold him still and call them—
The hand on his arm tugged him along, and the moment they reached a bit of cover, the man threw a green coat over Techno, covering his entire outfit.
The outfit the Enforcers would use to recognize him.
Startled, Techno looked up — straight into the man’s face.
Ice-blue eyes watched him closely. Shoulder-length hair framed a face that held a soft smile directed at Techno.
“There you go,” he said calmly. “Relax. They won’t recognize you.”
And a moment later, the Enforcers walked right past them.
Techno nearly collapsed on the spot from sheer relief. Probably not just out of relief, but also from hunger and exhaustion...
But he forced himself to stand upright, pull away, put distance between himself and the man.
“Who are you? Why did you help me?” he asked suspiciously.
The guy raised his hands in surrender. “My name is Philza. You can call me Phil. And... I helped you because you obviously needed help.”
Techno snorted. “Yeah, I needed help because government agents were chasing me.”
The man — Philza — shrugged.
“You’re welcome, by the way. I'm not just an innocent civilian either. Besides, we all know our beloved Heroes aren’t as ‘great’ as they pretend to be. And I highly doubt you’ve done anything bad enough to justify chasing you through the city. What are you, eighteen? Just turned?”
That was… unnerving. Had he just admitted to being a criminal?
And what was that guess supposed to mean? It was disturbingly accurate, but Techno’s age didn’t mean anything.
“And if I am? I could be eighteen and still a serial killer.”
Phil laughed. “Fair enough,” he said… knowingly?
Uh. Creepy. Not that Techno could complain. But he made a mental note to avoid being alone with that man.
“So, are you a serial killer, or why are you on the run?” the possibly criminal man continued, curious.
Techno huffed. He hadn't done anything. That was the answer. Kind of depressing, actually.
“The only thing I did wrong was refuse to let the Heroes use me. You said it yourself. We all know they’re not as ‘great’ as they pretend to be,” he muttered.
Phil looked even more interested now, but held his curiosity back and sighed instead.
“I see. Damn government. They—” He cut himself off and sighed again. “Well, now I have to go shopping a second time.”
Techno flinched.
Right. The groceries.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run you over and— you know.”
Phil waved it off.
“It’s not your fault. And don’t worry. The street kids will be happy, and I’ve got enough money to buy it all again,” he said with a shrug.
Techno hummed. Then he looked around, searching for any Enforcers. For once, there were none.
He should get going to his actual destination.
His last “home” had been compromised by Enforcers, so he’d had to flee.
Now he was heading toward one of the poorest parts of the city. Hardly any government agents patrolled there — and Heroes didn’t go there at all. They only cared about crowded, popular districts where stopping a villain would get them attention and a popularity boost.
No matter what city he went to, that never changed.
And he had been to many, even though he’d only been free for a year. Mostly because right after escaping the nightmare that was the Hero’s headquarters, he’d been relentlessly pursued — everyone working for the government had been looking for his face.
He’d considered leaving the country more than once.
But crossing the border would be nearly impossible. And with how badly they wanted his power, there was a good chance the chase would continue in other countries too.
God, he cursed the day someone discovered his power. Or rather, the day his parents decided to sell him to the government.
He dragged himself out of his negative thoughts and tried to give Phil a grateful smile.
“That’s good. And… well, thanks,” he said, taking off Phil’s coat.
“As I said, you’re welcome. And— oh, you can keep that, mate.”
Techno froze, coat in hand.
“I— really?”
Phil smiled. He almost always smiled.
“Of course. I think it’ll help you more than me.”
Techno nodded. Yeah. It definitely would.
He wouldn’t be recognized by his old clothes anymore, and the coat would protect him from the cold that was coming soon.
He opened his mouth to thank Phil again and—
He felt a familiar coldness in his body spike violently.
Oh no. Not now, not now—
A sharp pain tore through every muscle.
Damn it, why did the Heroes have to overuse his power right now?
That they still had stored blood of his after a year annoyed him endlessly. Not surprising, really — they had drawn what felt like liters from him almost daily for years. Would he ever have control over his own body? Over his own power?
Vaguely, he felt his body hit the ground as all his muscles cramped and it felt like someone had detonated a bomb inside his skull.
The side effects of power overuse changed every time, which pissed him off too. He couldn’t even mentally prepare for what to expect.
“—ate?”
Someone talking? Everything hurt… It felt like he was on fire. Well, it could be worse. It had been worse.
“Come on—… hear me?”
Heh…?
“—te! Mate, come on!”
That was loud.
Grumbling, he forced his eyes open and—
Oh.
He was lying in an alley. His head on… someone’s lap.
“Jesus Christ. You really scared me there, mate,” a relieved voice muttered.
Techno’s vision focused on the face above him.
Blond hair, blue eyes… Phil. Ah.
Then a hand moved toward his forehead, touching his skin as if checking his temperature and—
It touched his skin.
He shot upright, moving with a speed that ignored the stabbing pain in his muscles, and backed away from Phil.
His hand had touched Techno.
Panic shot through him.
Phil only looked confused.
Did he… did he not have powers Techno could affect? Or had he simply not felt it?
It seemed that way. Otherwise he would have reacted very differently.
Techno slowly calmed down. Still, he grabbed his backpack and the coat.
“Sorry, I have to go. And… thanks again,” he said quickly, turning and hurrying away.
That could have gone horribly wrong.
But it didn’t. Everything was fine.
He let out a shaky breath.
The dark glint in Phil’s eyes, which flashed the moment Techno turned around, went unnoticed. So did the small black feather that clung to Techno as he walked away.