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The city is never quiet. In fact, Techno swears that all the sounds get magnified in the almost-complete silence of night. Ambulance sirens, car horns, pigeons and close footsteps surround him. Wait a second… footsteps?
He spins around lightning-fast to scan the dark alley behind him. Twin identical metal fire escape staircases wind down from the walls on either side and meet on the paved flagstone floor. A couple old crisp packets lie in the guttering twisting down from a few floors up and a motion-sensor light illuminates the end of the thin passage he’s just walked halfway down. A few strings of Christmas lights are hung on the second floor windows above (which is acceptable since it is Christmas Eve—possibly even Christmas Day now considering it had been almost 11pm when he came out). No sign of any people who could have been the source of the footsteps he heard.
A normal person would turn back around and walk off with a renewed speed, just in case the footsteps belonged to somebody dangerous. The thing is, Techno is the danger—or one of them—in this city, so he waits. Patiently. Listening, watching, waiting.
Nobody reveals themself to the red-cloaked, masked and armed villain but he stays still, stays silent, stays wary of any sounds nearby.
Then a small intake of breath above him attracts his attention. Techno’s head snaps upwards and his eyes lock onto a figure wearing a thick red hoodie which shades their face from view.
They are leaning on the unstable railings of the fire exit which are half hanging off the building in a show of how frail the housing in the poorer areas of the city are. To go with the oversized red Christmas hoodie are jeans with rips in places which show they aren’t a design feature and trainers with soles that have no grip left.
Definitely not one of those obnoxious heroes then. That must be God’s Christmas gift to him.
The hand that he instinctively laid on his sword at the first show of a possible fight comes off but he stays watching intensely as the person—a child, he now realises—tromps down the metal stairs to the bottom.
He wonders for a second if he’s been recognised as the Blade, number two villain in L’Manberg and member of the dreaded Syndicate, but then the child lets out an awed gasp and a single word which smashes those thoughts to smithereens. “Santa?”
Okay. So, all in all, his red cloak may make him look a bit like the illusive man who only appears at Christmas but except that, there is nothing in common between them. Techno likes to wield weapons at goody-two-shoes heroes who think they’re the bees knees while Santa likes to deliver presents to all the children of the world… Not to mention the fact that Santa is an old man not a 25-year old!
“What— no no no I–”
The kid skips forward and reaches a hand up to pat Techno’s shoulder but he can’t reach and ends up smacking his lower arm lightly instead. “Don’t worry big man, your secret’s safe with me.”
Techno forces himself not to wince. “What se— Oh. Yeah.” Him, you know, being Santa. “And who are you, kid?”
“I’m Tommy Danger Kraken Innit. And I’m not a kid!” The blond-haired child grins, sticking a hand out for Techno to shake in a show of surprising maturity for one so young.
He takes the hand and pumps it firmly up and down once despite his utter confusion. “I’m T— Santa Claus?”
Tommy gives him an unimpressed look that says “duhhh, of course you are!,” then tugs on his cloak, gently rubbing a finger over the white fluff of the hem. “Can I come with you to deliver presents?”
“Uhhh…” Right, quick thinking time. “I’ve already dropped most of them off, sorry kiddo.”
“Oh… but you still have some left?”
Shit. Why does this happen to him of all people? He doesn’t like children, or people, or talking, or anything to do with this situation… He’s a super villain for God’s sake—one that’s supposed to scare children like Tommy into eating their greens and going to bed when told. Phil would be so much better at this than him
Okay, well he has two options. He can either: (a) get rid of the kid and continue his late-night plans of villainy, or (b) continue roleplaying Santa.
Tough choice.
But the child is staring into his brown eyes with such a burning hope, he can’t bear to dim that already dwindling flame. “I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.”
The hope on his face morphs into confusion then turns into a frown in quick succession. “Santa, you haven’t put any presents under our tree yet…” Tommy’s lip starts to wobble dangerously and no, no, no Techno is not dealing with a crying child. He doesn’t know how to comfort him, that’s Phil’s thing. He can hardly do normal social interactions with emotional people, let alone an over-emotional five-year-old!
Techno wonders if this is better than a superhero being here instead of Tommy, that way he would’ve just beaten them up and gone on his way rather than roleplaying as Santa. God must’ve finally noticed his evil deeds and sent down this devil to prove his sins. Oh woe betide his villainous plans!
Techno scrambles for a suitable response that won’t send him to hell on the spot. “Well, that’s why I was walking by… on my way to, uh, get the presents for this district. Yeah.” He almost facepalms right there and then. That was smooth, Techno. Real smooth.
Tommy stops sniffling and brightens immediately. “Oh.” Then the child grins as if he’s just got a marvellous plan and Techno gets an inkling of an idea about what he’s going to ask.
He’s going to ask for something impossible as a present for Christmas. A unicorn? A spaceship? The moon on a goddamn stick?! Then he’ll be busted when he can’t grant miracles as any good Santa should!
Instead of any of that thought, he asks, “Can I have something special for Christmas, Santa?” The fact that he’s asking again, just to be sure, would be cute if it wasn’t worrying. He asks the question as if he wouldn’t be getting anything, which, in reality, is probably true considering his clothes are certainly not fashionably shredded.
Techno purses his lips then crouches down to pick Tommy up, not worrying about getting caught kidnapping—he’s a villain, no criminal activity is too low in his books. God is already going to send him to hell; the only way to avoid that future is to defeat Death itself (which is easier than it sounds since she’s Phil’s girlfriend).
“Hey! I’m a big man! I don’t need carrying around—”
Techno scoffs. “Tommy, you’ll take forever if I let you walk around on those tiny legs and I really don’t have enough free time on my agenda for that.” Technically, he has no time at all, but he can let that slide for just an hour or so while he makes one kid’s Christmas a whole lot better. If anyone deserves that, Tommy seems like a good candidate.
The boy grumbles a bit but eventually relents, letting himself be carried with his legs wrapped around Techno’s abdomen and arms clinging onto his neck. The pair start to walk away from the alley and towards the main street where all the big, shiny shops are. “That’s my neck, kid,” he gasps out as the arms tighten. “I kinda need it to breathe.”
“Oops— sorry Santy! Where’re we going?”
Good question, Techno muses. I was hoping you'd tell me. He ponders for a minute on what small children like, before realising that he knows nothing about Tommy at all. “Where would you like to go?”
“Ooh! Ooh! I know! I’d like to meet that guy who’s got that pretty mask— the blue one that’s sparkly. And he controls people with his voice! I think his name is Si-ren?” Techno stifles a laugh at the pronunciation of Wilbur’s villain name.
Then the little blond continues and Techno almost doesn’t hear him, his words are said so quickly. “But you don’t have to or anything… I’m sure you’re busy so you could just drop me off back where you found me if you wanted to or something…” the kid trails off dejectedly, looking away stubbornly, and Techno knows that he will do anything in his power to give Tommy a great Christmas present this year. Which is a problem.
His wish is technically possible but Techno can’t make Wilbur change into his disguise on the pretences of being Santa. Or can he..? No. Although, in his defence, it would be extremely funny, he has to draw the line somewhere. He can’t go quite that far, otherwise he’ll be known as the pushover which is currently Phil’s title. And that would be a fate worse than death!
You know what he can do, though? He can arrange a meeting with the Blade (himself) for Tommy. He almost sighs out loud; he can’t believe Tommy would rather meet Wilbur over him—he’s so much cooler than his obnoxious brother!
“Kid, if you wanna see a supervillain then we’re gonna go see a supervillain. End of. Although I can’t get Siren at such a late hour, I can get the Blade? Is that okay with you kiddo?”
He crosses his fingers internally that it will be okay as Tommy’s mouth drops open. “Yes, yes, yes!! He’s even cooler! He might even be a bigger man than me!” Wow. He doesn’t know whether that’s a compliment or not in terms of ranking below Tommy.
Anyways, his plan is perfectly set up in his mind. All he has to do is go somewhere quiet and put his pig mask back on while telling the kid to keep his eyes closed. Then, badda bing badda boom: Tommy’s Christmas will be 100% better for having met him… again. But as the Blade.
Whatever.
“Alright,” Techno agrees, hiding the way he preens at his “big man” status and being above his brother in coolness. “But none of that self-depreciatin’ shit from before, ‘kay?”
Tommy’s eyes widen and he gasps loudly. For a minute Techno thinks he’s said something terribly wrong until the kid grins toothily. “Mummy said I shouldn’t swear. Apparently it’s not polite.”
Techno removes a hand from where it’s carrying Tommy to ruffle the child’s hair and huffs out a relieved laugh. He hasn't done anything wrong—yet. “You can swear all you want around me, Tom-Tom.”
The kid brightens even more at the nickname and reaches a hand up to Techno’s head to repeat the hair-ruffle gesture back. He peels back the fur-edged hood and lets out another surprised noise. “Your hair is PINK!”
Ah, yes... Just a small factor in his Santa outfit that looks off. That might be the easiest thing he’s had to blag tonight. “Yeah, I felt like the old-man-white really wasn’t my vibe. Decided to switch it up a bit. D’ya like it?”
“YES! It’s so cool!” Tommy pauses with a hand buried in the ponytail Techno ties it up into when he’s on a job. “Can I—” he falters, pausing thoughtfully, so Techno gives him a gentle nudge verbally.
“Go on…”
“Can I plait it?” The words are rushed as if he’s worried that it was the wrong thing to ask or that he’s done something wrong.
Nobody touches Techno’s hair unless he trusts them entirely. It makes him feel vulnerable, having a person so close to him that they can slice his neck open within the second he agrees.
For some reason, he doesn’t think Tommy will do that though. “Sure, whatever, kid. Do what you like.”
Tommy’s eyes widen as he gently grasps the pink strands and separates them into three sections. His fingers work nimbly, almost as if he’s done these movements before—perhaps he has with another member of his family—and it doesn’t take long for the blond to finish.
Talking of family, Wilbur and Phil will be wondering where the hell he is. He wonders if Tommy has a family that will worry about him if he just kidnaps the boy forever… He's so adorable—
What is he saying? Has his sleep schedule’s absurdity finally caught up with him? He is not keeping the kid and that’s final. He has a family to go back to and parents who will be searching for their son within a few hours.
Techno runs a hand along the neat plait and, upon finding it in perfect order, hums appreciatively. “Thank you, kid.”
“I’m not just any kid! People call me Big T sometimes since I’m so massive and brilliant!” Tommy grins broadly making Techno wonder if his smile can get any bigger than it already is. “You can too, if you like.”
“I am not callin’ you that, kid. I’ll stick with Tommy, thank you very much.”
<>
They keep walking towards their set goal in silence while Tommy gazes at the surrounding buildings with wide, sparkling eyes and plays with Techno’s hair.
Then he gets a perplexed look on his face with a lopsided tilt of his head. “Santa, how do you know the Blade?” And isn’t that the million dollar question? How does he, Santa, ‘know’ the Blade?
He finds himself saying, “Well, he owes me a favour, doesn’t he?”
Tommy nuzzles into Techno’s shoulder, still too awake to be trying to snooze. His next words are muffled by the furry hood. “How? Why?”
It’s a harmless white lie, he tells himself. Telling the truth will just ruin all the fantasies Tommy has. It’s like how parents lie to their children about Santa; you can’t possibly break the news briskly without a fallout of yelling or sobbing—probably both.
“You mustn’t repeat this, but Santa here did some light theft so he could get everyone a Christmas present…” He touches his index finger to his lips then stage whispers, “The Blade helped me escape my prison sentence.”
Tommy’s eyes grow impossibly wider. “You went to prison?” He gasps quietly. “But everyone deserves something for Christmas! A bit of theft from some big rich shop won’t hurt anyone.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” he agrees.
His own opinion on society is probably not something he should be feeding to an easily impressionable kid since it’s so… abnormal. Yeah, he’ll call it that. But Tommy is the one who would rather see a villain than one of the fake, plastic heroes who reside in their massive apartment complexes with all their unnecessary worldly possessions and far too much money. It seems the kid has similar moral views to his own already.
The more he learns about Tommy, the more he grows to like him. Sure he’s naïve, but isn’t every child at some point and Techno is sure he will have discovered the truth by the end of the night anyway. He also hopes the blond child doesn’t, for his own safety.
His phone pings from his cloak pocket and he shifts Tommy to his left hip to hook it out. He has different tones set for different notifications; the one he just heard was the tracking device he bribed someone to plant in the number one hero’s boot.
That means Dream is on the move from HQ. Oh dear, he will not be best pleased with Techno for kidnapping a child on Christmas Day nonetheless!
Reading the notification to check he assigned the right noise to the right name (which he did), he sighs. He can’t just have one day without that man’s useless pestering, can he?
Honestly, he thinks he’s much better than Techno and that’s just not on. No matter how many times Techno proves him wrong he always bounces back like the annoying, neon green yo-yo he is. He goes around wearing a porcelain frisbee with a smiley face drawn on in shitty sharpie. He could at least try to have some style!
Now he’s going to have to be a lot stealthier in executing his “kidnapping” plot. It’s no longer safe to just pick a random place to pretend to be the Blade in. He’ll have to walk to one of the many safe houses in the city, the closest of which is actually the house Phil, Wilbur and him are staying in at the moment. Handy.
Not needing directions to his own home, he slips the burner phone back into his pocket and hoists Tommy back up into a comfortable position on his chest.
Tommy prods his stubbled chin to get his attention. “Santa! Santa! Can I please have a piggyback ride the rest of the way.” No way in hell is he giving the child a piggyback all the way to his house. He doesn’t want to become Phil with his old bones and creaking back everything time he moves!
Then Tommy looks up at Techno with those watering baby blue eyes and his small amount of resolve crumbles.
“Fine,” he surrenders, letting Tommy down to the floor to swap carrying positions.
Hoisting Tommy onto his back with the kid’s legs around his middle, he carries on walking through the abandoned city streets. He tries to take side alleys as much as possible but he’s still far too exposed for his liking.
Techno wonders briefly if he should be acting a little more careful. Anyone could recognise the biggest villain in the city walking around with a child at his hip. But it’s Christmas day by now—surely nobody would dob him in and get him arrested on the most celebrated day of the year?
He can only hope that they hold off the urge to phone the heroes for long enough so that he can secure Tommy the best Christmas ever and get him home safely. Is that too much to ask for? No, no it isn’t.
After a while more of walking, Tommy leans over to his ear and asks, “Are we nearly there yet?” He mustn’t mean to be loud, but saying that right next to his ear is kind of painful. Ouch.
“Nearly, kid. Nearly,” he placates, reaching a hand up to pat Tommy’s arm that’s around his neck in a no-longer strangling grip.
“How far away are we?” He persists, evidently unhappy with Techno’s previous response.
“Not far,” he replies, keeping his answer purposefully vague and deadpan.
Tommy hums in dissatisfaction. “But, like, how far in minutes?”
“Less than forty.”
“That’s aaaages, though!”
“I’m going as fast as I can, kid. I’m not runnin’ with you on my back, I’ll break.” Like Phil, he snickers in his brain.
Tommy drags out a sigh and goes back to staring into the open-curtained ground floor of passing flats. “But I’m bored.”
Techno huffs with a smile. Typical child behaviour, exhibit one. “That’s not my problem,” he says nonchalantly. He would shrug to accompany his words but there’s a Tommy on his shoulders so he isn’t able to.
The child manages to last at least another three minutes before asking again, “Are we nearly there yet?”
“Yes. Nearly,” he reiterates with his own sigh.
“How near?”
“Three minutes closer than when you last asked.”
“Still aaaages away,” he repeats petulantly, a pout on his lips. “Ugh.”
Another handful of minutes passes by and Techno hears Tommy take in a breath like one does before speaking. He decides to shut the question he knows is coming down before it’s even spoken into existence. “We’ve got a bit of a way to go before we get there, Tommy.”
Techno can tell that the boy rolls his eyes in return just from the head movement that follows it. “But—”
“Tommy, if you keep pesterin’ me, we’ll never make it,” he states calmly.
That shuts him up faster than you could say Zephyrus. “Okay, okay! Jeez, can’t a man ask some simple questions in this city!”
Techno snorts at the boy’s reply and refocuses his attention on walking in the correct direction.
The same question gets repeated another ten minutes later into the walk. Tommy pats Techno’s shoulder to get his attention and asks, “How about now? Are we nearly there yet?”
Techno pinches the bridge of his nose frustratedly with the extra hand he isn’t using to hold Tommy up. “No, not yet,” he replies, being even vaguer than before.
Although the answer isn’t the one he wants, Tommy settles for it.
He only settles for it for a few more minutes then needs the answer repeating, asking the same question again another three more times before they’re even remotely close to their destination.
It’s safe to say he’s beyond relieved when he sees the freshly painted red front door to his house. The quaint garden fence swings open with little pressure applied and as he reaches the door he prepares the special knock only his family know.
Rat-a-tat-a-tatat.
Rushed voices echo through the door from inside and Techno feels a slight twinge of guilt for worrying his father and brother. He wasn’t supposed to finish his patrol for another couple of hours so he can see why they’re scared.
Within the minute, Phil and Wilbur are yanking back the door and scanning their eyes over him, hands hovering; waiting for obvious injuries to point themselves out. They won’t find any, of course, since he has spent a majority of his time out and about fraternising with a certain blond child.
Phil ushers him inside without a word, shutting the door behind them before looking him up and down again. He must come to the conclusion that he’s uninjured as his brow wrinkles into confusion.
“You’re back early, son,” he states with suspicion and a barely-hidden demand for an explanation behind his words.
“You have a child on your back.” Wilbur points out dumbly, staring holes into Tommy who is quietly returning the assessing gaze from over Techno’s shoulder.
Wilbur gasps dramatically. “Are you an imposter? The brother I know would never willingly bring back a child!” Techno’s brother proves how long he’s spent in the theatre recently by dramatically latching into Techno’s front and shaking him gently. “Oh, imposter, what have you done with my dear brother?”
Techno huffs out a laugh at his brother’s antics but Tommy comes to his rescue by lightly smacking Wilbur’s hand away from him. “You can’t hurt Santa!!” The kid exclaims, as if Wilbur has just committed sacrilege. He must’ve thought that Techno’s brother was going to beat him up—an entertaining thought considering Wilbur’s stick arms and legs and lanky figure. “It’s illegigal!”
Techno ignores the mispronunciation of ‘illegal’ for the sake of his sanity but makes a mental note to tease the child about it later.
Wilbur steps back, a mock pout on his face but intrigue in his eyes, while Phil sends him a look which asks Techno:“What the fuck is going on?”
He inclines his head a few degrees to accept the invitation to give an explanation later, hoping they understand that he has to get this done first.
Taking the stairs three at a time to get to his room, he nudges the door back and lowers Tommy onto the white and grey covers of his bed. “Don’t fall asleep, yet. I’ll go get the Blade,” he says, pointing a warning finger at the kid to emphasise his point. If he drops off before the grand reveal then all this effort will be wasted and Tommy’s Christmas will remain unimproved.
“Okay, Santy,” Tommy replies obediently.
“And don’t touch anything while I’m gone. Or I’ll, erm, put you on the naughty list or somethin’.”
Tommy brings a hand up to his forehead in an enthusiastic navy salute. “No, sir!”
Techno wonders how the kid is still so energetic in the early hours of the morning as he clicks the door shut again. He’s bound to crash eventually. All normal kids have been asleep for hours by now! And Tommy probably should be too… He’ll get this business finished up quickly then take him home before anyone notices he’s gone.
Techno hurries to put on his boar mask and remove his thick cloak, slinging it on the stair banister before lumbering through the small doorway to the bathroom, ducking on the way in. He stares at himself in the mirror above the sink, checking that nothing is amiss in his costume as the Blade.
His pink cartoon pig mask is covering his eyes and mouth as it should be and his top shirt button is closed, showing off the gold swirling embroidery stitched there.
Everything is as it should be, he sees, but fishes around in his jewellery drawer for some wide-banded rings with square emeralds set into the gold just to finish the look. Perfect.
He fluffs up the sleeves of his loose white shirt and tightens his silver-buckled belt just to be extra sure. Realising he can’t delay it any longer, he exits the bathroom and raps his knuckles on the bedroom door twice before entering.
Tommy looks up from where he was fiddling with the sheets on the bed, his eyes immediately latching onto Techno. His mouth parts in shock and wonder, letting a little gasp escape. “Blade? Is that really you?”
Gruffing his voice so it’s different to “Santa’s”, he answers, “Yep, that’s me. What did you want, kid?”
Ignoring the question, Tommy springs up from the bed, eyes narrowed and index finger pointed out. As he nears Techno, he jabs the finger into his arm hard then gasps again. “You are real!!”
Then he seems to grow suspicious again and pinches his thumb and forefinger into the skin under his red hoodie. “I’m not dreaming!!” He squeals, light from the lamp in the corner of the room bouncing off his blue eyes and making them sparkle with childlike innocence and excitement.
“I’m Tommy and I’m your biggest fan in the whole of L’Manburg!!” He introduces himself cheerily.
Not waiting for a response, he bounces forward and hastily stretches his arms as far around Techno as he can—not all the way, he’s too hench and hulking for Tommy’s little infant arms—startling Techno with the sudden movement and forcing him to compensate his balance with a step backwards. He recovers quickly though, and wraps his own arms around the kid in return, encompassing him whole before he can escape back to his side of the room.
Smiling softly behind the mask, he relinquishes his arms from the hug to ruffle Tommy’s messy hair. The kid makes a faux annoyed noise which is punctuated by a powerful yawn that usually belongs to someone who is very tired indeed.
He probably is very tired. Techno peels back his cuffed shirt sleeve to reveal an intricate gold watch with its hands pointing to the I and the VIII. 01:40 in the morning is a long way past what Tommy’s usual bedtime probably is.
He huffs grumpily at the thought of taking the kid back to his home and never seeing him again then stops in his thought tracks in astonishment. He feels more than just grumpy. He’s disappointed—sad almost. Oh dear god, he’s become affectionate towards the kid! When did that happen??
His previous thought sinks in further. He’s never going to see the child again after tonight. Never again.
It’s for the best. He needs to prioritise Tommy’s health over his own wants, and that includes getting him home as soon as possible so he can get to sleep before Christmas Day. He’ll have to cut this fan experience short.
Prising Tommy’s stick-like but surprisingly persistent arms of him, he crouches down to the kid’s height to say a final goodbye. “I’ve got to go now, Tommy,” he says in his gruff Blade voice, similar to the one he puts on for rushed interviews with terrified reporters after blowing up some other villain’s base.
Tommy’s eyebrows become downcast along with his eyes, and his bottom lip juts out like a bird perch. “Really?” He asks, eyes shining with tears as he looks up at Techno again. “You have to go already?”
“Yep. You know, places to blow up, people to kill, villainous plans to pull off,” he replies, trying to play off his sadness at ending this meeting that was making Tommy so clearly joyful. “Sorry, kid,” he adds.
“Okay,” Tommy says despondently. “Bye, Blade. Nice meeting you!”
Techno gives the kid one more hair ruffle before turning towards the door of his bedroom. As he steps over the threshold, a thought strikes him. He slips off one of his rings set with square emerald stones and holds it up in the light for Tommy to see. “This is a partin’ gift, from me to you. Catch.”
He throws the ring in a wide arc, giving Tommy plenty of time to catch it—which he does, fumbling a bit but cradling it in his open hands reverently. The blond boy stares at it for a few seconds in awe, seemingly wondering if he’s allowed to put it on. He must decide it’s okay because he slides the ring on with care and holds his finger up to the light to see the gold band glimmer and shine.
Techno smiles, satisfied with the reaction to his gift, but doesn’t give a reason why he felt the need to give the boy something as a souvenir. He leaves the room hurriedly after that, unclasping the mask and shoving it in his pocket.
He returns to the room a minute later as “Santa”: minus the rings, mask and having pulled back on his comforting red cloak.
“How was that?” He asks, just to confirm whether that had as much of an impact on Tommy as he thinks it did.
Tommy jumps up and down on the spot as he says, “It was amazing! He gave me a big hug and look—this pretty ring. I’m never ever going to take it off!”
That admission turns his heart to gooey mush in his chest, almost making him coo at the thought of Tommy wearing it with him wherever he goes. It might offer him protection if he ever gets into danger or needs it. The emerald is one of the signature pieces of the Syndicate’s disguises that everyone recognises—except from Tommy, it seems. He’s a bit young for politics and grey morals yet.
“Glad to hear it, kid. Now we really ought to be getting you home and tucked up in bed. It’s been a really tirin’ night for you.”
Tommy groans at the mention of bedtime even though his energy is wearing off and his blinks are becoming longer. Techno guesses he was right about the kid crashing soon. “Do we have to?”
“Yeah, sorry kid. Santa has presents to deliver,” he tacks on to help get the boy to cooperate. He sweeps Tommy up in his arms and starts marching out and down the stairs.
Phil emerges from the lounge with a disapproving look on his face. “I think an explanation is in order,” he commands.
“Yeah yeah, when I get back I’ll explain everything. Just let me get the kid back home.”
Tommy raises his head from where it was staring at the white ceiling to stare at Techno. “Not jus’ any kid,” he says, leaving no room for argument. “I’m Tommy Danger Kraken Innit. You can call me Big T.” He directs the last bit at Phil whose attention is captured immediately by the boy.
Techno almost turns away to protect Tommy from his dad’s judging and confused gaze but stops himself. His dad deserves to see the kid who’s distracted Techno from his patrol route for the evening.
Then he notices what his dad’s eyes are fixed on. Phil, attentive as ever, has clocked the emerald ring on Tommy’s chubby child finger almost immediately and shoots an extremely questioning look at Technoblade.
They both know that that ring is a symbol of family and in the end, that’s what makes Phil back down from his command. He lets Techno escape into the night, with Tommy nestled in his arms, without an explanation and goes back to the lounge to wait for his return.
Techno just brushes it off and carries on his merry (haha he’s proud of his Christmas pun) way back in the roundabout direction of the alley he met Tommy in. He tries to be fast, his pace somewhere between a jog and a walk, but he can see Tommy’s eyes slowly slipping closed again in the yellow glow of the street lamps.
He scrambles around for something to keep the kid awake. He can hardly feed Tommy caffein, although it works for him and would work for Tommy too, that would be his worst decision of the night—and possibly his entire life. He can imagine it already in horrific detail and he definitely doesn’t want to be running after a hyperactive kid at four in the morning!
Sugar also is a terrible idea and would have similar, harrowing effects. So that leaves him with… a blank mind, empty of ideas. He has no clue. He almost Googles the wikihow page “how to keep someone from falling asleep,” then decides it’s not worth it because it will probably won’t tell him anything new.
A brilliant idea hits him before he changes his mind about wikihow. Making the kid walk by himself rather than being carried is sure to make him a little less sleepy. It will also slow down their journey time but it’ll be worth it if the kid can get himself back into his house at the end of it.
So he murmurs quietly in Tommy’s ear, “I’m just going to put you down on the ground so you don’t fall asleep.” He does as he warned gently, letting Tommy open his eyes when he gets jostled and lowered to the floor rather than getting rudely awoken.
Tommy whines when his feet touch the ground and Techno slides his hand into the kid’s. “Santy, I’m tired!”
“I know, I know, kid. Just a bit further to go—”
His consoling words get cut off by a loud swoosh of air and he halts in his tracks as a certain green, homeless hero jumps down from who-knows-where onto the street in front of him. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? My arch nemesis and—a child?”
Techno shoves his mask over his head then steps forward and in front of Tommy, hiding him from Dream’s view (and hiding Techno’s mask from the kid’s view). “It’s only you that thinks we’re arch nemeses, Dream. Not even your fans think we’re on an equal playin’ field,” Techno quips back without hesitance.
“Aw c’mon, the media eats that up and you know it!” The hero replies, crossing his arms almost as petulantly as Tommy was before.
Techno snorts. “The only reason they listen to that garbage is because they want to know if you’ve found a house yet.”
“I swear to god— I have a house!”
“Not in the eyes of the public, Dream. You say you live in the hero HQ, but nobody believes you. And what would happen if I burnt the HQ to a crisp? You’d be redundant as well as homeless!”
Dream sighs, facepalming his white smiley face mask onto his black fingerless gloves. “A hero’s job is never done. I suppose that’s why I’m here right now.”
Techno rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Dream. Don’t be such a party pooper. It’s Christmas Day, it only happens once every year. You can let me go once without instigatin’ a fight, can’t ya?”
Dream takes a second to mull it over, head tilting up to the sky and fingers drumming against his thigh in thought. “You know what? Sure, why not. As you said, it is Christmas Day,” he relents finally. “Now who’s this cute little chap, here?” The hero motions to Tommy who is hiding behind Techno and clutching at his red cloak. The man’s voice dips into the light-hearted tone he uses for meet and greets with civilians. Techno would know because he turned up to one in his normal clothes and made a fool of the man in front of his true fans. In his defence, it was very funny. They’re lucky that he’s still barely lucid having been asleep moments ago otherwise the boy would’ve understood what is happening and asked some very awakened questions.
“Nunya Business,” he replies cooly, overprotectiveness appearing in his heart.
Dream coos. “That’s an unusual name—”
Do I really have to explain this? he wonders in amazement at the man’s idiocy. “None of your business,” he repeats crisply, enunciating every syllable so the stupid hero can’t possibly fail to understand twice.
“Okay, ouch. That’s my ego you’re stepping on.”
“I’ll step on a lot more than just your ego in a second if you don’t back off and let me enjoy my Christmas in peace,” Techno threatens jokily but with a hint of real threat behind the humour.
“Yikes, you want rid of me already?”
“Dream, you know what happened last time we stood and talked peacefully instead of immediately fightin’,” he states calmly. “It’ll happen again if we stand around for too long and neither of us want that fiasco repeating.”
“Oh, god, no! The shippers will never stop!!” The green-hoodied man groans with real horror in his voice.
“Exactly.”
“I better be off then,” Dream says, now in a rush to leave. “See you after Christmas, Bl—”
Techno’s eyes widen and he rushes to speak over his villain name. “Yep, yep. Bye!” He butts in with a hurried tone. He can’t let Tommy hear him being called by his villain name, otherwise the whole plot will have been ruined!
Dream salutes once then dashes off into the night, presumably to go back to the hero HQ. Techno breathes out a sigh of relief at the man’s receding footsteps and pulls Tommy by the hand onwards. He grumbles a bit but they’re lucky he’s still barely conscious, having been asleep mere moments ago, and didn’t process a single bit of that conversation, otherwise Techno would be answering some very awkward questions.
“Santy, when are we gonna be back home?” He whines, tiredness exuding from every pore in his body.
“Soon, Tommy. Really soon.”
He didn’t fib this time; it actually isn’t long before they reach what Techno thinks is the street where Tommy first saw him stalking along below his vantage point on the fire escape stairs.
Techno walks the kid up the first few spirals of the staircase then ends up swooping him into his arms as he becomes too tired to walk. They clomp up the remaining stairs until they reach a heavy fire door that opens outwards after using the push bar.
He ushers Tommy inside the building and makes sure he knows where to go which he does, even in this sleepy state. Tommy stands just inside the door as Techno leans down to tug the kid into his massive arms one final time. He goes willingly, hugging back just as firmly before reluctantly retracting his limbs.
“Bye, Tommy. Have a great Christmas,” he says, feeling too emotional to say any more. If he tries, he’ll just end up ruining the moment and worrying Tommy, so he leaves his farewell short but incredibly sweet.
“You too. Bye bye!” The kid replies with a short wave, his energy from much earlier having been spent up. He will definitely sleep well tonight, that’s for sure!
Then, much quieter, so quiet that Techno isn’t sure if he hears correctly as he retraces his footsteps back down the metal stairs to the street beneath, Tommy whispers: “Bye, Blade.”