Chapter Text
After he had finished eating, he was completely freed.
Theoretically, he could have tried to escape in that moment, but on the other hand there was the threat that the Angel of Death could slit him open in the blink of an eye. Unspoken, but no less real.
So he behaved himself, standing as far away from the two villains as possible, until they left the room. Phil briefly explained that he could sleep on the couch for the night.
And so it came to pass that the next morning, dead tired, he blinked up at Phil, who came through the door with breakfast.
He had barely slept at all that night. But honestly, that had been to be expected. Who could have fallen asleep peacefully after being kidnapped by the SBI?
Instead, he had searched the room for anything that might help him escape. Unsuccessfully.
He hadn’t really expected the SBI to make a beginner’s mistake like leaving some kind of dangerous object lying around, but it had been pretty much his only hope.
Well. At some point he had given up and tried to sleep. Also unsuccessfully.
And now he was sitting here, questioning his life choices.
“Good morning!” Phil greeted him far too cheerfully for his taste as he casually sat down on the chair where he had interrogated Techno the day before and placed a tray on the table.
Good morning? This morning was many things, but not good. He hated it. Just like Philza’s stupid smile. And the fact that he had spent a night in captivity for the first time in a year.
He hated everything about this situation.
The Angel of Death seemed to find his lack of reaction amusing.
“Not a morning person, huh? You still have to eat. Come on, sit down,” he said condescendingly.
Techno ignored him. He didn’t feel like eating, even though he was incredibly hungry.
“I’m not leaving until you’ve eaten.”
He would have preferred to keep ignoring him and just sit there bored for the next few hours, but his nerves wouldn’t have been able to take that.
So he turned toward the good-mooded villain, annoyed.
“What do you want from me? Fuck off,” he muttered frustrated, but only got another smile in response.
“Like I said. Not until you’ve eaten,” Phil hummed as he picked up one of the two cups from the tray and took a sip.
Techno’s gaze followed his hand and landed on the food he had brought.
It was a damn sandwich with cheese, egg, and bacon, along with some juice.
Somehow, that made everything boil over.
He straightened up and stared at Phil with intensity.
“What the hell do you want from me?” he practically spat.
“That you eat. Still.”
“But why? Why do you care whether I eat? Or whether the food is good? Why are you putting in this much effort? It shouldn’t matter to you.”
Phil tilted his head and, after a moment, said, “You’re a potential ally. It would be unwise to treat you badly.”
A… potential ally? Yeah, right.
“You mean a prisoner,” Techno corrected.
“You could be more.”
“Over my dead body,” he hissed. “I’m not going to help anyone who plans to hurt people.”
The heroes had already caused enough damage. Techno had already caused enough damage.
The Angel of Death was silent for a moment.
“Well, you’re useful either way. And I’ll treat you accordingly, whether you like it or not, mate,” he finally replied, his smile sharpening into a grin that sent a cold shiver down Techno’s spine.
In the next moment, a large black feather shot out from his massive wings straight at Techno. It pierced his old hoodie, yanked him forward, forced him abruptly onto his feet and into the chair opposite Philza.
The villain leaned forward and pressed the plate with the sandwich into Techno’s hands.
“I hope you enjoy it,” he said with a threatening undertone.
His eyes clearly said, Do it voluntarily, or I’ll make you.
Techno ate the stupid sandwich.
The next few days passed similarly.
He couldn’t sleep; his nerves were too tense. When he did manage to, he had nightmares. Damn annoying.
He felt awful, partly probably because the SBI had taken his blood despite his fierce resistance. The heroes were no longer the only ones using his power.
Techno hated everything about it.
The pain that followed. The knowledge that people were being hurt because of his power. Because of him.
When only the heroes had used it, he had at least been able to tell himself that they were using it to help people. How true that really was, he didn’t want to know.
When he thought about it, he felt sick. Reports he had read in the past about mutilated corpses suspected to be victims of the SBI flashed through his mind.
They had mostly been heroes, some with partially corrupt reputations, but did that really make it better?
Apparently, all of this showed on his face. Phil even offered to ask Siren to put him to sleep because he looked so exhausted.
The bath he was allowed to take at least made him feel a little better. He had finally been able to shower warm for the first time in years.
During the process, he had been under Siren’s hypnosis, which significantly ruined the experience.
Other than that, he had almost died of boredom in his small room.
Phil had brought him books, and after more hours of staring at the wall, he had given in and started reading.
When he wasn’t reading, he fell back into old habits. He lay around, blinked, and suddenly hours had passed—just a moment ago it had been breakfast, and shortly after, suddenly dinner.
He drifted off more and more often, though it was nowhere near as bad as it had been back then with the heroes. He was only really present when members of the SBI visited him.
Which was usually the Angel of Death.
Siren seemed to hate him. Or at least, he didn't care about him. He didn't show up often, and when he did, it was only to bring him food and force him to eat it.
Theseus simply ignored him, made sure he ate, and then disappeared again immediately.
Techno was glad for that. It would have been even more uncomfortable if they had tried to make small talk, like Philza did.
He seemed professionally friendly. Under different circumstances, Techno might even have been able to hold a conversation with him—but given the situation, he didn’t feel like it in the slightest.
Out of all the members of the SBI, Techno hated the Angel of Death the most. After all, he was the one who had betrayed his trust and gotten him into this situation in the first place.
So Techno mostly ignored him, while obediently swallowing the food that was offered—or rather forced—on him, or simply existing.
It might have looked like it, but he hadn’t given up on escaping. He never would. But right now, it was simply hopeless.
“Hey.”
Which was frustrating. But he had been in more demotivating situations before.
“Hey!”
And he had gotten out of those and become free. Only to be captured again afterward. But surely his luck couldn’t be that bad again next time.
“HEY.”
A hand grabbed his arm. Hard.
He automatically jerked back as far as he could, slamming his head against the wall.
For a moment, his vision blurred, until his focus finally settled on Theseus, who was staring at him curiously with his blue eyes.
“Do you sleep with your eyes open or something? That’s creepy as hell,” the teenager said.
Techno only scoffed quietly and ignored him.
Theseus crossed his arms irritably. “Whatever. I have to make sure you eat. Orders from Phil. So. Eat.”
Techno would have loved to throw the plate, food and all, straight into his face because of his condescending attitude.
But after years of hunger, he couldn’t just waste such valuable food.
So he ate under the watchful eyes of the villain, in uncomfortable silence.
If it hadn’t been so quiet, they probably wouldn’t have heard the loud crash from above them.
Nor the cry for help that followed.
“Help! Phil! Tommy, Wilbur! Help!”
Techno didn’t recognize the voice. Theseus did.
He went pale and immediately rushed out of the room, up the stairs.
And left the door unlocked.
It fell shut with a hard thud, but the familiar clink of a key didn’t follow.
Techno’s heart began to race.
Carefully, he crept to the door and, with slightly trembling hands, pressed the handle down.
It opened.