Life Worth Missing - ahality (2024)

Chapter Text

“So, what did you have in mind?”

As these words passed Technoblade’s lips, he suddenly felt a strange clarity stir within him.

The usual monotony of everyday work often left him tired and his thoughts wandering as his hands worked separately from his mind. Every twist of a wire, a flick of a switch, and a solder of a connection were all perfectly practiced and hardwired into his brain as if this was all it was ever built for— as if the equipment so delicately held in his hands was just an extension of himself.

Every problem that he ran into had a simple, straightforward solution that left nothing to the imagination. Measurements, numbers, lines of code all laid out perfectly before him, so easy to read, so easy to solve, so easy to understand.

The two men before him, perched awkwardly on his scraggly eight-year-old leather sofa, were the exact opposite.

Something new.

Something exciting.

Suffice to say, he was intrigued.

His eyes hovered over the two. He leaned forward in his seat, taking in their appearance.

A father-and-son Elytrian duo was a rarity itself, in Cario no less. The two of them were covered in feathers which surely made the hot climate unbearable to be in. The younger looked mixed with something more human, his feathers being less concentrated which left his arms, face, and neck relatively bare. The older one on the other hand was pretty much covered in feathers from head to toe, reminding him of Howl from a popular animated movie. Now that’s something to wake up for.

The older of the two, Phil, gave him a puzzled expression as he watched Technoblade’s demeanor change before he began to speak again:

“Well, as I mentioned earlier, I spoke to Sam about needing some help with needing some work done and he suggested that we come talk to you.” Phil pulled an awkward smile at the end of his sentence, clearly feeling the pressure of Technoblade’s scrutinizing eyes.

Techno hums in acknowledgment, slowly easing back into the cushions of the armchair at Phil’s display of discomfort.

Sam, yes, the two knew each other very well. Both of them worked in the same field. They were contracted to do major repairs to a landing strip after a nasty storm, forcing them to make pretty awkward small talk.

It was strange working with him.

Sam was, for lack of a better descriptor, huge. Sam looked like a centaur with vibrant green fur. Instead of having a horse attached to his lower half, it reminded him of something akin to a lion.

Despite his large stature, he was good at his job.

They bonded over their love for technology and Sam kept in touch after all was said and done.

Though it was a little bit surprising that out of everyone Sam knew, he put in Techno’s name for the job.

“We’re a small crew of four. We work under Essempi as contractors for cargo movement and protection, though sometimes we do more than that. The ship gets knocked around a ton due to our line of work and it’s getting harder to ignore the difficulties that come with it. What I was thinking was that maybe … you would be interested in coming on as a crew member. We’d pay for any equipment or parts that you need along with providing boarding and food plus commission.” Phil’s voice raised to a higher cadence out of nervousness.

Phil sat there, squirming in his seat as if that wasn’t the best deal Technoblade had ever heard.

He’ll get all of his expenses paid for, his equipment paid for, and he’d get paid on top of that?

Their ship had to be pretty much sawn in half for him to consider this a loss.

Fortunately, Technoblade’s face didn’t betray his excitement. Showing too much interest is never a good thing when trying to secure a deal.

“How bad is it?” Techno inquired, tapping his foot intermittently.

Phil stared at him, confused.

“The damage to the ship?” he clarified.

“Oh.” Phil looked slightly embarrassed. “The main issue is our drawbridge is extending too slowly, which is a problem when your job is moving cargo. The lights flicker here and there, things just … generally aren’t in the best shape that they could be. It’s nothing too bad.”

“General repairs and tuneups?” Techno asked, mostly to himself. “That sounds manageable. How soon would you need me?”

“As soon as possible, preferably. We can help move your stuff.” Phil grinned at the confirmation that Techno would work for them. He elbowed Wilbur in the side lightheartedly, “Look at that! If not for the tutoring…”

“Fine, I’ll admit it was useful.” Wilbur rolled his eyes dramatically before shoving back at him and turning his attention back to Techno. “So, how soon can you come aboard?”

“Tomorrow. I need time to gather my things and get some affairs in order. You can look around before you go if you want. Just don’t put your hands on any exposed wires.” Techno picked himself up off of the armchair. He extended a hand to Phil, who shook it eagerly.

He looked at them for a moment as Wilbur took the initiative to stand up first. He’s sure they’ll be fine on their own. They run a ship, they should have the common sense to not kill themselves by touching two ends of a battery.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, same time?” Wilbur asked as he began to look around the workshop, poking and prodding at various pieces of scrap metal.

The door shut behind Technoblade with a booming thud, rattling from the force generated by its weight.

Phil let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he sank further into the couch.

Truth be told, he’s never sat on furniture made by humans. He knew that they preferred their lounge objects cushioned rather than the practical hard steel found in most communal spaces.

Phil never understood why they would deliberately choose furniture that was easily destroyed. The seat was coated with a thin layer of cheaply made material that emitted a loud noise whenever he moved with holes in the surface that exposed the soft cotton interior.

Any logical being would have replaced it by now but Technoblade is still holding onto it. Humans are weird like that, choosing to keep things with no significant value for pure personal enjoyment.

His eyes drifted to Wilbur, who was rummaging around the room with little regard for their newly declared crew mate’s privacy.

“Look at this stuff, Phil!” Wilbur said, pulling out a stand mixer from one of the cabinets.

“We have those. In the kitchen. On our ship.” Phil said, slightly amused.

“Oh.” He put it down on the counter immediately, swiftly scanning the surrounding area and picking up another object excitedly. It looked like a makeshift firearm, with parts visibly either welded or taped together. He held it up to Phil, who raised an eyebrow. “What do you think this does?”

And before Phil could even open his mouth, Wilbur found what looked to be the trigger and squeezed.

Wilbur is rattled by the recoil, swaying on his feet as something ejected from the barrel with incredible force.

“Jesus, Will!” Phil watched in horror as a blue marble shot out into the air and into the wall.

They both stood there for a second, staring at the small hole caused by the impact as the marble that was still very much lodged into the wall began to glow vibrantly.

“I don’t think that’s very good,” Wilbur said hurriedly.

“No, it isn’t!” Phil practically jumped out of his seat, grabbing Wilbur by the arm and pulling him away from the area. Simultaneously, he took the device from him. “Maybe you shouldn’t be playing with anything down here.”

“He said we could touch things!” Wilbur argued back, pouting like a child that just got their favorite toy taken away.

“Yes, touch things, not cause property damage!”

“Well, if he’s making things that go boom, maybe he should have thought about that.”

“Or maybe he trusted that we were competent enough not to pick up what clearly looked like a weapon,” Phil reprimanded, placing the offending object back down on a nearby table.

Wilbur rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his exploration of Technoblade’s things.

Phil watched as Wilbur continued to rummage through the space, the younger loudly commentating to himself about whatever he happened to pick up.

“I mean, it’s genius, Phil! Who wouldn’t want a solar-powered…” He stopped in his tracks, scratching his head. “…Spoon?”

“Put that down, Will,” Phil responded immediately.

“Yes, sir.”

Now that Phil was standing up, he looked at the gadgets lying around more closely.

There were some that he could recognize such as translation devices, item taggers, compact projector displays, and communication devices that most have seen and owned at some point.

Others were strange.

Metal contorted into different shapes, sharp, angular, and full of circuitry hastily put together using differing types of materials. There was another table tucked into the back of the warehouse as well, but instead of electronics being placed on it, there was a simple set of leather straps bolted down on either end.

Traveling technicians and engineers always had a staple item that they would specialize in creating that would fund their expenses.

Technoblade’s workspace was an absolute jumble of objects — there was a little bit of everything in there. There was nothing that screamed out at him as inherently luxurious or original, nor was there a lot of a specific kind.

And his name … Phil finds it so strange. It doesn’t adhere to any conventions that they had been taught or have ever even seen. Perhaps it was a company name, but then why would he introduce himself as such if it was?

Just another thing to add to the list of things to ask the human about.

“He is a bit odd, isn’t he, yeah? I mean, we met the bloke like ten-twenty minutes ago and he just leaves us down here? With all his sh*t?” Wilbur had finished his curiosity voyage at the behest of his father, setting to hover over Phil’s shoulder.

“Maybe he keeps all of his important things elsewhere. It doesn’t look like there’s much of anything that would be worth a lot of money down here aside from the tools themselves.” Phil hummed in agreement, reaching over to idly pull at the hem of Wilbur’s shirt. “Do you think the boys will like him?”

“I’m sure Tommy will have a grand time poking at him and Toby will finally have someone to pester about machinery. You know how much that boy loves tearing things apart. That is if Technoblade bothers to speak to them. He seems pretty stand-offish, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, sure sounded like he meant business. He didn’t say much of anything, really… Well, if Sam trusts him, I don’t think we’ll have to be too careful. He’s never wronged us before.”

“You never know, Phil, but, I guess so. I don’t think we have a big enough reputation for someone to be trying to sabotage us. Hell, Essempi wouldn’t even spare a second glance at our ship exchange request.”

The last comment seemed to set Phil off.

“This whole situation is ridiculous. I mean really, I’m one hundred and twenty times older than the current head of the company, I’ve been here since before his damn parents were born, and I’ve had the same ship the entire time. I don’t know if he thinks I can pull rabbits out of my arse or what but the ship’s long past its expiry date. Now we’ve got to hold it together with pins and tape.” A rare flash of frustration slipped out of Phil, the man raising a clawed hand to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t know it was that bad.” Wilbur had rarely seen anybody get a rise out of his father before, slightly taken aback by the display.

“Of course not. I keep everything in check before it gets bad enough for you and the boys to notice. That’s my job. Before, if the ship was falling apart I could make a call and have the company’s technician fix it up for free. Now that we’ve been under new management, suddenly the company’s size is a problem. They had to cut off ‘unnecessary’ employees which included all of the maintenance staff.”

“Why the hell would they do that?”

“Because outsourcing the work is less expensive than keeping them on the payroll.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“As I said.”

“And that’s how we ended up out here in Cario, in some stranger’s basem*nt, asking them to come with us for the foreseeable future?”

“Basically.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about any of this earlier?”

“Well, someone’s been acting like a brat about not wanting to be my right-hand man recently.”

“My bad.” Wilbur’s expression deflated from that of a slight shock to embarrassment.

“You would know these things if you took your role more seriously. I always offer you a seat at company meetings and trade deals, yet you never show up unless I physically drag you out. Point and case, right now. I don’t like forcing you to do things. You are an adult — you have been for a while now. You’re responsible for yourself and if you don’t want to take the opportunity in front of you then… that’s not my issue.”

“I know that. I just… Dad. You know I wanted to go to school. To pursue the arts, my passion. This isn’t for me, you know? I’m not built for this. Cramped up in suits and authority… I need to be free. ”

Phil let out a long, disappointed sigh. “You and your freedom and vibes. So caught up in what you want that you’re blind to the reality around you. It’s like you’re going through life with your eyes taped shut— look at where we are, how we got here. Do you think that you have all that you do right now because I have a passion for breaking my back? Because I don’t. Do you know what I wanted to do?”

“….No.”

“I wanted to be an architect, build a house for my parents, my future kids, their kids. I wanted to design the world around me, paint it in bright colors, and decorate it with flowers. You can’t always get what you want, Will. You have to work with what you have. And right now, you don’t have the luxury of things like school. Maybe in the future, you will. Right now, in the present, you don’t. Right now, you have a job to do and people to look after. Tommy and Toby. Those boys look up to you, you know that? Whenever we give them conflicting instructions, whose do they pick to follow?”

“Mine.”

“Exactly. Like it or not, you have a responsibility towards those two. They’d jump off a bridge if you told them to.”

“Of course.”

After a long pause, Phil continues, “Alright, that’s enough of that. We’ve got to do some general restocking before tomorrow comes. "Probably should have asked what he likes to eat, but we’ll figure it out when we get there.” His hands stilled on Wilbur’s shirt, gently pulling on it to guide the boy forward.

The sound of the cellar door slamming shut signaled his exit.

Technoblade had half a mind to worry about the two aliens he left downstairs in his precious workspace, briefly standing outside for a few moments just in case the place blew up the second he left.

After hearing nothing but silence, he continued forth into the dusty streets of the city. The roads were paved with sandstone, cut neatly into uniformed bricks. It was quite different from Earth — most travel was done by foot or by animal carriage, the terrain being too difficult to path out large expanses of flat ground. Buildings dipped up and down with the dunes of the land. He was lucky to find basem*nts in this city, having to settle for a kitchen to craft into his makeshift workshop. It was useful having so many vents already built into the room so he couldn’t complain too much.

The weather in Cario today was pretty decent, all things considered. The heat was unrelenting but at least there wasn’t any wind to blow sand into his eyes. On days like those, Techno has to strap goggles to his face which made him look even more like a geek. The utility outweighed the embarrassment most days. Thank god he didn’t have to look like that today, since it’s the rare occasion that he has to make social contact with other beings.

Techno would describe himself as a “solitary creature,” only leaving the confines of his humble abode when necessary.

As he approached Brimstone, the only restaurant in the city he knew that served decent food, his feet dragged against the pavement.

He recalled the first time he stumbled upon the place. The manager was over-eager to have an actual human patron, which resulted in a very awkward conversation he’d rather not remember. Much like back on Earth, people tended to theme restaurants after different cultures that the owner isn’t necessarily a part of. This restaurant was themed like an American diner. For the most part, it looked fine aside from the cold steel booths and chairs that were rather unpleasant to sit on for long periods of time.

Alas, his trip there today is not to get something good to eat.

The current objective was to use their pay phone.

Technoblade doesn’t own a landline or a cellular phone.

Not because he’s poor or lazy, but because he is a frequent tax evader.

They can’t make him pay tax if they can’t find him.

Civil disobedience, and all that.

The building was small in size, consisting of red brick with a hand-painted sign over the door with the business name.

Technoblade pulled the glass door open, gently closing it behind him. Music hummed throughout the room in some language he didn’t understand as he walked toward the front desk where a girl he knew to be named Lyriona looked at him with an enthusiastic grin.

She was one of the native species here in Cario, some form of reptile he couldn’t recall the name of. The only human thing about her was that she stood on two legs. Her scales are a shade of red, matching well to the environment of the planet in contrast to her black server’s uniform.

Technoblade pressed a finger down just below the back of his left ear, static filling his hearing for a moment before dissipating. The music around him became clear— “…but when I see it at night, it's a sickening blue,” as she welcomed him in.

“Technoblade! It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Lyriona extended a hand out to him which he squeezed firmly before letting go.

“Not that long, Miss. It’s only been a few days.”

“More like a week. You know what they say about humans and their food, can’t go too long without it!” She said lightheartedly, grabbing a menu from the counter.

“Oh, I was actually going to use the pay phone for a few minutes.”

“Are you sure, dear? You don’t want anything to go?”

“A coffee does sound nice.”

“Of course. I’ll have that ready for you in a pinch. Lovely to see you again as always.”

“Yes, good to see you too. Thank you.” He walked past her and into the main dining area, walls lined with steel booths with tables and chairs in the midsection.

The jukebox and the phone were situated in the back of the room. There were a few people gathered around the jukebox, slotting in coins and picking out songs. He slipped past them, reaching the booth for the phone. It was a rotary phone which was easy enough to use.

He put two coins into the machine and dialed in the number.

The phone rang one, two, three times before the line picked up.

On the other end came a familiar voice.

“This is Awesamdude, head technician of Pandora. How can I help you?”

“Sam. How’ve you been?”

“Technoblade! I’ve been good. Operations have been smooth sailing over here— how are things with you?”

“About that. You know a pair of Elytrians?”

“Oh, yes, I do. I sent them your way, you met them?”

“Yeah. Came and offered me an interesting job.”

“Interesting good or interesting bad?”

“Interesting weird. They’re offering me an insane rate right off the bat. What did you say about me?”

There was a brief pause.

“Nothing out of the ordinary… It was the standard spiel about your species, what you could do in terms of ship repairs, and how good you were at your job.”

“Mhm.”

“Really, that’s all. They’ve come to me for recommendations before, they probably trust my word on your quality and offered what they saw fit.”

“You sure?”

“I don’t see why there would be any other reason.”

“Alright.”

“You took the job?”

“Yes.”

“When are you heading out?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Why so soon?”

“I am a tax evader and I do not have a business license.”

“…Right. Well. In that case, you should come by so we can catch up. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

“Will do. Nice speaking with you, as always, Sam.”

“It’s always a pleasure to hear your voice, Techno. Bye-bye now.”

“Goodbye.” He placed the handset back on its holder, ending the call.

Techno stood there for a minute, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Sam’s hesitation was off-putting. It’s not every day that one of the most elusive species in the Federation shows up at your door with a ridiculous amount of money on the table.

Sent by one of the best technicians in the area.

The whole situation reeked of Federation meddling.

No sane species would take someone on their ship with such ease, especially one part of a contracted fleet.

Their whole career could be on the line if Techno messed up.

They were also a parent-child duo, what if there were more children on the ship?

They’d leave them with Techno while knowing absolutely nothing about him?

It’s blatantly irresponsible, maybe even downright idiotic.

There had to be some sort of catch.

Some ploy, some scheme, to send him on a suicide mission or catch him on the many infractions he’s committed over the years.

Yet, it would be stupid for him not to agree.

Techno’s never been picky about the jobs he accepts because he simply cannot afford to be. He has the means to live comfortably, to eat each day, to supply parts he needs, but nothing beyond that. Since he works for himself there is zero job mobility. He works with what he has. If he was contracted under a company, there’d be a chance for higher employment at the cost of his agency.

While being under management isn’t ideal for Techno, it’s nothing he can’t handle.

He’ll make it work. Humans are survivors, after all.

…

There’s only one other person Techno could think of that would have information, if any, on his current situation.

Does he want to go there?

No. Not particularly. But unfortunately, he’s in a tight spot. Nothing good ever comes out of visiting the source of his … afflictions, but it’s his final chance to minimize any surprises.

He’ll have to deal with it this time.

With a defeated sigh, Techno’s feet carry him back to the front of the diner where Lyriona is waiting for him with that signature customer service smile. He pulls a few dollars out of his pants pocket and hands them to her while simultaneously taking the coffee that had been placed in a to-go cup.

“You have a good day now, alright?” She said, waving as he pulled the glass door open with his free hand.

“Of course. You too, Lyriona, I’ll see you around.” He won’t in reality, but he doesn’t have the time to sit there and explain where he’s going.

And after a moment,

Technoblade hadn’t always looked this way.

The electric pink hair,

Scarlet red eyes,

Pointed ears,

Sharpened teeth.

When he was younger and sweeter, he looked just like any other boy picked from the face of the Earth. He had mousse brown hair and these soft, kind blue eyes that shone like the sun when he bore his signature sly grin.

He lost the ability to be normal once he started inserting himself into interplanetary affairs.

He was never supposed to leave Earth.

Every time he even mentioned the subject his parents would protest vehemently. He was met with an extensive list on why an expedition into the greater universe would be a disaster for him. They’d rip him apart out there.

And for the most part, his parents were correct.

In a fit of teenage rebellion, he snuck out of his family's home one night to the loading dock and disappeared right under his parents' noses. From there, he quietly slipped into an outbound ship with nothing but a simple messenger bag full of hygiene products and a few sets of clothes.

He stumbled out of the cargo ship he had illegally boarded like a newborn fawn with trembling legs. He could only rely on what he had read on online forums, knowing the bare minimum of the universal language to find his way out of the landing station.

He knew nothing of what laid ahead of him, unknowingly throwing himself into the pit of despair that was trying to make a living out in the cosmos. Without a translator, he was constantly taken advantage of, working less than minimum wage in more than half of his early occupations.

It all came to a head when he made the unfortunate decision to take a job in Cario.

He should have turned back the moment he felt the harsh heat of the sun burning his flesh.

He was contracted to do work in a popular nightclub, The Thorn, placed right in the heart of the city. It was a simple task: fixing some lights, stereos, and automatic doors that were malfunctioning.

Though, when he got there, he could tell something was off.

The atmosphere of The Thorn was oppressive, weighing down on him like a ton of bricks. Everyone who worked after-hours at the club had such a stiff demeanor as if he wasn’t supposed to be there— like they knew something that he didn’t.

The whole club was painted black, along with the furniture inside. The only objects that had any color were the spotlights that hung overhead, the assorted bottles of booze behind the bar, and the stripper poles. It resembled an empty void. To make matters worse they never played music while the club was closed, leaving everyone in dead silence.

He was directed towards the manager’s office, a small room tucked away into a corner to not be seen by the guests.

Inside sat his contractor.

He’d only heard his voice prior, a low drawling voice that rivaled his own in-depth but more expressive. His accent was … familiar, though he couldn’t place the location.

The man stood up to greet him, a taller young man with animal-like features— ram horns, ears, and horizontal pupils. He was more human than Technoblade was expecting, appearing like a satyr. He had chocolate brown hair and a peculiar style of facial hair: mutton chops. He was dressed in a black suit with black dress pants to match, a scarlet red tie neatly around his collar.

A golden name tag was pinned to his blazer, reading J. Schlatt.

After a few minutes of small talk and discussion on the work that needed to be done a loud thud came from behind him.

Techno instinctively snapped his head towards the noise to see that a metal grate had fallen from the doorframe of the office— effectively transforming the small room into a jail cell.

Schlatt, who had been idly tapping a pen against the mahogany of his desk throughout the conversation, ceased, looking at Techno intently. “You know,” he started, low and calm, “Vassals are in short supply. Regular humans are tough and resilient. Useful. I think you and I could do something great.”

Backed into a corner, he made the stupid, irreversible decision to sign a contract presented to him that essentially signed his life away.

Now he was Technoblade: Schlatt & Co. Officer-In-Training.

There was a specific word the man used in his “pitch.” Vassal.

The term was associated with the process known as Patronage.

The concept was foreign to Techno at the time, unfamiliar with the greater workings of the universe.

Patronage was invented by the magic users of the world in which one would lend a small portion of their power to another creature in exchange for a good or service. The creature on the receiving end was known as the vassal. These exchanges can range in duration from a week to several years— even decades, depending on the terms.

The patron of the magic would lose the ability they lent for the entire length of the contract.

Due to that reason, these pacts are coveted and highly valued. There are very few magical species, who pride themselves entirely on their abilities, willing to part with even a small portion of their power.

Technoblade was forcibly placed into the position of a vassal for the simple fact that he was a human. It was explained to him later by a coworker that non-magic species often had trouble containing the magic bestowed upon them, often resulting in the death of the poor creature. Humans (for whatever biological reason that Techno didn’t care to study) could withstand all minor pacts and most higher-level ones.

The pact Technoblade made with Schlatt goes as follows:

His physical appearance would alter into something distinctly inhuman.

He would gain enhanced strength, mobility, senses, and attunement to magic.

He can imbue objects with magical energy using an extensive book of incantations.

In exchange for blood tributes.

He had no idea where he was supposed to acquire the blood. There was always the option of … murder, but Techno wasn’t a violent man. Not back then, at least.

During the adjustment period, he was an absolute wreck .

He loomed around hospitals and butcheries like a vulture, watching for any discarded blood, a constant cacophony of shrill cries running through his head that it just wasn’t enough.

Techno found the solution in his trade. Body modification. He found that the obscenely rich would be willing to lose a few body parts in pursuit of perfection. Funnily enough, it was an Elytrian who came to him asking for a fully functional replacement hand. He’d assumed at the time it was for someone else who was an amputee, but no. The freak wanted him to saw off their hand, and that he did. Maybe that’s why Techno was so interested when he saw those two appear in his shop. He knows their people can get pretty deranged in their demands.

When Schlatt caught wind of Techno’s newfound business he was very pleased.

Since then, the ram hybrid has left him relatively unbothered. The blood of the rich satiated Schlatt’s needs and Techno received the added benefit of a decent amount of money. Technoblade is free to do whatever he wants as long as he fulfills his end of the pact.

He wouldn’t call his dealings with Schlatt a job because that would imply that the man is paying him, to which he is not.

“Schlatt,” Technoblade had cracked the door of the man’s office open, one foot through the door.

“What is it?” Schlatt was seated at his desk as usual, slitted pupils staring holes into Techno’s soul as he was interrupted from his work.

“I’m leaving Cario.”

“Alright,” Schlatt answered dismissively.

“You’re not going to ask where I’m going?”

“I don’t care. You know what I want from you.”

Normally Techno would leave it alone, walk off, and end the interaction, but he needed to learn at least something. “You know the cargo company Essempi?”

“I do.”

“I’m joining a fleet.”

“Whose?” Schlatt perked up in interest.

“These two Elytrians. They gave me English names though. Blondie and his son?”

“Oh,” Schlatt clasped his hands together, “I know them. You’ll have to tell his son I said hi.”

“Could you tell me more about them? I’m staying on their ship for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh yeah. There’s four people on that ship. Those two, along with a lizard boy, and another of my kind. They’re like one big family. It’s cute. They picked the other two off the side of the road like abandoned kittens in a box. Shouldn't give ya too much trouble, they're usually very agreeable. But, if you touch a singular hair on one of their heads… and the eldest will absolutely rip your head off. He’s not someone to play with. He's got such a sweet facade but he has quite the reputation from his previous escapades. They call him 'The Angel of Death,' and for good reason. I forget the specifics... but it was something related to his late wife, God rest her soul, and a mission gone wrong. Though," Schlatt rubs his chin in faux thought, "I wonder how you’re going to find what I need from you on a ship all alone with them."

As Techno had said all those years ago when they first met: “I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sure you will, my boy. Safe travels.” Schlatt called after Techno as he turned to leave.