Chapter Text
There were so many moments in which one must stop, look around, and wonder how on earth they could have possibly ended up in this impossible scenario. This particular moment was one of those instances and Technoblade once again found himself questioning what he was doing with his life, something that seemed to be a rather recurring theme.
Because why did they have to cross the ocean on this boat, and how could Wilbur have possibly annoyed the captain of the ship, the one person who could maybe take them where they wanted to go. Granted, there was no possible way to know for sure that Wilbur had done something to make this person hostile towards him.
Call him a pessimist, or more accurately, call him a realist, but Techno had a sneaking suspicion that Wilbur had to have done something to piss this person off, because that was also something that seemed to be a pretty common theme around here.
Glancing behind him, Techno saw Wilbur staring at the ship’s captain with a very similar wide eyed expression, “Quackity?”
It was rather awkward because this exchange was then followed by a lengthy period of silence, in which Wilbur and the ship’s captain—apparently named Quackity—proceeded to gape at each other.
This interaction was off to a great start.
The silence was then broken by none other than Tommy, who was staring at Quackity with a furrowed expression. “I know you.”
Even better, because now Tommy, who was a menace to society in every possible way, also knew Quackity. You’d think this could be construed as a good thing, because yay, you know those people, maybe you can get safe passage.
However, what that assumption fails to take into consideration is the fact that Tommy having met Quackity meant that Quackity was probably somewhat annoyed at Tommy in some way, because that was just the natural human instinct that one experienced when encountering Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit.
So yeah, it could only go downhill from here. To say Techno wasn’t feeling confident in their chances of securing passage aboard this ship was an understatement to say the least, and a quick glance to Phil on his left confirmed he was having similar thoughts.
However, Phil was significantly more vocal about his thoughts than Technoblade, because he decided to take one for the team and break up the insurmountable awkwardness that was slowly accumulating.
“So can someone care to explain a little bit more as to what’s happening right now?” Phil said, looking directly at Tommy.
This was probably an extremely smart and very tactical decision on Phil’s part because it was a well established fact by this point that Tommy would quite easily crack under mild amounts of peer pressure and possessed the remarkable inability to shut up. Therefore, he was probably about five seconds away from spilling all the information about whatever went down between the three of them.
And so, the sequence of events that followed went like this: Phil looked at Tommy. Tommy’s eyes widened as he turned to look at Wilbur for backup. Wilbur glanced at Tommy for approximately half a second before turning back to silently glare at Quackity. Tommy turned to Techno and Techno stared right back at him. Tommy looked around the room one more time, evaluated his options and then turned back to Phil and opened his mouth to start speaking.
It was rather impressive, actually. That was practically almost eight seconds that Tommy had taken to break, which was three seconds more than predicted. Maybe he was getting better at keeping secrets?
Or maybe whatever went down between the three of them was a horrible, horrible thing that could never be shared again in the world, for fear of what might happen if it was exposed. It could be a dark, ugly truth that was rough and jagged and not suitable for anyone else to hear but they were damn well going to hear it anyway judging by the way Tommy seemed to be winding up for a lengthy monologue.
Already, Techno felt his mind racing at a million miles per second as he tried to silently theorise what on earth Wilbur and Tommy could’ve possibly done this time. (And yes, he was just automatically assigning the blame to Wilbur and Tommy, so what? It was a perfectly logical conclusion to make, all things considered.)
Taking the whole map ordeal into consideration, stealing or petty theft seemed like a pretty likely option, especially considering that Quackity seemed to know the two of them, and Wilbur and Tommy were just stupid enough to get captured but not detained.
Maybe the three of them were involved in some kind of evil murdering scheme in which they all had to cover up the evidence, or maybe they had some stupid rivalry or maybe they had all met once before, long, long ago and had sat huddled up beneath the stars on some epic journey together. Or maybe the assumption that all three of them were at the same place at the same time was horribly incorrect, and the three of them had all met at separate times.
However, all of Technoblade’s speculation came to a quick end when Tommy finished the incredibly long process of mentally winding himself up to speak and actually spoke. “He was my old boss.”
Oh. No elaboration, nothing more than that, just a single deadpan sentence, something that seemed far more characteristic of Techno than it did Tommy.
Techno waited for Tommy to embark on one of his typical rants, full of side plots and unrelated anecdotes and far, far too many hand gestures for one person to ever hope to comprehend. However, Tommy seemed to have different ideas, deeming that one sentence to be sufficient.
He glanced to his side to see Phil staring directly at him, an unspoken agreement passing between them. They were going to find out about whatever this was one way or another. Briefly he looked over at Wilbur, who was still very firmly engaged in what appeared to be a staring contest to death. Fun.
“Mate, can you elaborate a little bit more?” Phil asked, staring at Tommy.
Rather impressively, Tommy managed to last a whole eleven seconds this time before giving in.
“He owned the van.”
“The van?” Phil asked, looking at Tommy in confusion.
Tommy nodded rather enthusiastically. “The hot dog van!”
Oh. Oh. Techno looked back at Quackity, but this time with a new perspective. This new perspective notably being that Wilbur and Tommy had no doubt wronged this man by burning down his property.
All of a sudden, he was not feeling particularly comfortable with where he stood, which was mainly due to the fact that they were standing on a ship that was primarily composed out of wood, and wood, as most people know, is extremely flammable. Yeah. It was not looking good for them.
“Right,” Techno began. “So what I’m gathering here is that Wilbur and Tommy burnt down your business and then made a run for it and are now wanted criminals?”
There was a rather lengthy pause that followed that statement.
“I mean yes but-“ Wilbur began before Tommy cut him off.
“I didn’t burn anything down. It was all Wilbur, and he even just said yes to prove it.”
Quackity sighed, a long heavy thing and despite having just met the man, Techno could already tell that his face spoke of multitudes of regret.
“You burnt down my fucking hotdog van and then you never sent my carrier pigeon back.”
Tommy looked between Wilbur and Quackity with wide eyes. “You mean sent his pigeon back on a date?”
It was hard to tell whether Wilbur or Quakcity looked more offended at that statement.
“Not a date, you fucking dumbass,” Quackity said, to which Tommy gasped and clutching his chest in mock offense. “I wanted to know how the fuck my hotdog van went up in flames.”
“Well I don’t know now, do I?” Wilbur weakly protested. “I didn’t burn the thing down, that was all Tommy over there. And besides, where the fuck would I get a carrier pigeon from?”
“Fuck off,” Tommy complained, but there was no real conviction behind the words. In fact, both of them seemed rather muted for some reason.
Technoblade could only assume that it was the silence that came from having burnt down someone's hotdog van in a joint effort and were only now facing the consequences.
Phil looked over at him in a ‘Well what the fuck do we do know that the person who we were gonna get a ride from hates Wilbur and Tommy?’ manner, and Techno looked back at him with an expression that—hopefully—read ‘It’s Wilbur and Tommy, what else could you possibly expect?’
This was probably not very helpful input to their current situation, but Techno had long since abandoned any hopes of potential passage aboard this boat and had moved on to hoping they would be able to leave the ship without Quackity throwing Wilbur and Tommy overboard in a highly justified decision.
Phil sighed, which then in turn caused Techno to sigh, which then made Quackity exhale rather dramatically and slump across his desk.
“So…now what?” Techno asked rather awkwardly, because no one was doing anything and he didn’t quite know what was happening and the silence had dragged on for far too long. The last thing he wanted was to start a never ending chain of sighing.
“I don’t fucking know,” Quackity scowled. “How about you tell me why you’re on my boat and maybe, just maybe, I won’t feed you to my pet sharks.”
Tommy perked up at that statement, “Ooh, I’ve always wanted to meet sharks, how exciting! What kind of sharks are they, if you don’t mind me asking? I really want to see hammerhead sharks, I just find them so relatable.”
“Your head is a hammer?” Wilbur asked, squinting at Tommy in confusion.
“I think you should see a doctor about that,” Techno contributed, because he was super wise and totally qualified to be giving out medical advice like telling people to go and seek further medical advice. “Also, I would rather not be fed to the sharks. I didn’t do anything.”
“I mean, I do have wings, I can literally just fly away,” Phil deadpanned.
“But why would you want to fly away from the majestic hammerhead shark?” Tommy asked, looking towards Phil with an expression of pure confusion and disappointment.
There was a beat of silence in which Quakcity stared at them all in complete and utter confusion. “I don’t have hammerhead sharks.”
Tommy squinted at him in confusion, “So what kind of sharks do you have then? Like tiger sharks? Cause those ones are fucking terrifying, always looking like they’re side-eying you or some shit-”
“I don’t have sharks, okay?” Quackity cut in, running his hands through his hair, “And even if I did have sharks, where would I get a fucking tiger shark from? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the water around here is rather cold and we’re in the harbour, not the fucking ocean.”
“I haven’t actually touched the water, do you think I should do that? Also, how was I meant to know you were lying? If you can’t trust a man who claims to have pet sharks, who can you trust in life?”
“How about we tie a rope around you and dangle you off the side of the ship so you can test the water temperature?” Techno suggested, which was a perfectly reasonable suggestion.
Apparently, Tommy did not seem to think so and for some reason he immediately went on the offensive, “How about we dangle you off the edge of the ship?”
“No, we’re dangling you off.”
“No, I-”
Thankfully for everyone involved, Quackity then cut Tommy off, “So can one of you please explain what the fuck you’re all doing on my ship?”
“You had a sign,” Wilbur contributed rather unhelpfully. “I am a very qualified crewmate.”
“No Wilbur is shit,” Tommy said.
Wilbur turned to glare at Tommy, “Do you want to get chucked in the ocean and have no way to get to the treasure?”
“Hang on,” Quackity said, perking up, “What treasure?”
He looked around, making eye contact with each and every person in the room. Wilbur stared rather resolutely at the floor, Tommy glanced out the window, Phil merely shrugged and Techno cracked under the pressure.
This is why you should never make eye contact under any circumstances, because there is no possible realm in which making eye contact could result in a net positive. “I don’t know, Wilbur has been being annoyingly vague about it.”
“So what, you want to come work for me again, having previously destroyed large portions of my property, and you’re also looking for treasure that you’re being vague about and you just expect me to let you on my boat?”
“...Yes,” Wilbur at least had the decency to look a little bit ashamed. “But in our defense, how was I supposed to know that this was your boat?”
“I think we should let them on,” Tubbo spoke up from where he was situated in the corner. Truth be told, Technoblade had completely forgotten that the kid was there, but apparently he’d been silent observing the conversation this whole time.
“Give me one good reason,” Quackity said, scowling at Wilbur.
“It would be 1000% funnier,” Tommy rather unhelpfully contributed.
Tubbo nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, that. Also we haven’t had anyone else offering to work for us. And I don’t want to clean the toilet anymore. Let’s make Wilbur do it.”
Technoblade respected Tubbo greatly for that move. It turned out the kid did not want them on the ship out of the kindness and generosity of his heart, but rather out of personal benefit and lack of motivation to clean the toilet. If he was in a similar position he would probably do the same thing. This is why it was extraordinarily easy to use Wilbur as a convenient scapegoat, a technique that everyone really should apply more frequently.
“What if we get more candidates?” Quackity asked, frowning at Tubbo. “Literally anyone is qualified to clean the toilet, and I would rather have literally anyone else.”
Wilbur at least seemed to have the common sense not to make a comment about that.
“Bossman, I’ve been sitting out there for almost two hours. It’s cold and I’m bored and no one seemed to like my sign. Also, I already bought the table back onto the ship and I’m not taking it out again.”
“Yeah, but I don’t really know if I can trust these people, they’re probably wanted criminals or something.”
Quackity paused to look at the four of them and Techno glanced out the window in what was totally not a guilty manner, because why would he, an innocent man, possibly have a reason to be acting guilty? That simply just made no sense at all.
“I mean, you’re also a wanted criminal,” Tubbo said, saving them all.
Quackity stared at Tubbo in silence, “You’re not meant to tell them that. Now they have potential blackmail material to use against me.”
“I’m not blackmailing you,” Phil protested, jumping into the conversation.
“Yeah, I’m not blackmailing you,” Tommy said, slowly nodding up and down in a manner that heavily implied that he was blackmailing someone.
“Well it feels like we're in a bit of a stalemate now,” declared Wilbur, ever the negotiator. “You kick us off your ship, we alert the authorities to your presence, you get captured, we have no passage, no one is happy.”
“Hang on, why are we snitching on Quackity?” Techno felt the need to ask.
“For blackmail, Technoblade, keep up,” Wilbur said, waving a hand dismissively towards him.
“You’re making several leaps in logic there,” Quackity pointed out. “You’re assuming that you also wouldn’t get captured for being wanted criminals, and that I couldn’t just sail away right now.”
“We’re not wanted criminals,” Wilbur protested. “I haven't done anything wrong. And even if you did sail away, they’d see your ship. There’s several highly identifiable things on this ship now, aren’t there? Like that duck figurehead? And that flag? Both things I’d assume that you’re rather fond of, yet could be rather easily identified and traced.”
“Fuck you mean you haven’t done anything wrong? You literally burnt down my property, and I don’t know if you know this, but that tends to be a crime, large scale property destruction and arson and all. And besides, even if you haven’t committed any crimes—and I know you have—Technoblade over there sure has.”
Woah. Technoblade was feeling rather singled out and personally attacked by that statement, because as everyone knew, he was a good law abiding citizen.
“Me? What’d I do?”
Quackity stared back at him rather blankly. “Does the name ‘The Blood God’ happen to ring any bells for you?”
It’s rather awkward when you get so completely and utterly called out and you have nothing left to say, because how is one meant to even begin to answer that question?
Stage One: Denial. “Um, no, who is that? Is it one of your friends?”
“It’s you, dumbass,” Quakcity replied, and wow, blunt much?
“No it’s not.” Life lesson from Technoblade: if you just continuously denied all accusations that were being rather rudley hurled at you, nothing in your life could ever possibly go wrong.
“Is your name not Technoblade?”
“I mean it is but-”
“Dude, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re literally the Blood God.”
Erm. New life lesson from Technoblade: identity theft is super awesome and cool and why did he say his name was Technoblade? He totally could’ve passed off as being named John.
“No, my name is John actually.”
“Your name is John Actually?” Tommy looked over at Techno with an expression of pure betrayal and disappointment. “I thought your name was Technoblade, I can’t believe you’d lie to me like this. I thought we were pastry bonded.”
Now, in most situations such as this one, Techno would simply choose to ignore Tommy, ignore Quackity and consider likely escape routes. However, there were several complications that were rather rapidly arising with his typical plan of ignore, distract, ignore, run.
The first complication was the fact that they were currently on a ship. This meant that it would be extraordinarily inconvenient to climb out the window, because there was nothing under the window except for the ocean. And the ocean was cold and salty and Technoblade kind of sucked at swimming. Therefore, as previously established, the ocean was located in a very inconvenient place and really should just move out of the way. Escape was not looking like a very good option at the moment.
The secondary complication was Tommy. The kid was a complication all of his own because right now, he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Techno didn’t really know why he was on the verge of tears, but what he did know was that people crying was so, so awkward, and not something he would like to suffer through if given the chance.
“Wait, no Tommy it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, Technoblade. Or should I say John Actually?”
“Bruh, Tommy, that's not my name.”
“Oh.” Tommy’s eyes dried up remarkably fast as he flashed a grin at Quackity. Techno didn’t quite know when, what, how or why but it felt like he’d just been tricked somehow.
“Tommy, are you even on my side?”
“Of course I am, Technoblade,” Tommy replied, still grinning widely. “However, we’re never gonna get passage to this fine boat upon a foundation of lies, trickey, and the false identity of a man named John Actually.”
New new life lesson from Technoblade: Never trust Tommy Innit. It was quite difficult to discern what Tommy’s primary motive was most of the time, but what Techno did know for certain was that apparently it was a motive that was entirely opposed to his motives. Fun.
Wilbur spoke up, “So who the fuck is John Actually?”
“No one, there is no one called John Actually,” Technoblade said. Maybe he should’ve chosen another fake name to pass as. Did he look like a Liam?
“So for clarification, your name is Technoblade, yes?” Quackity asked, pointing at him.
“I mean yeah, but I don’t see why this is particularly relevant right now,” Techno muttered. Why was he so bad at identity theft?
“Because you’re the Blood God.”
Techno stared rather blankly back at Quackity. His gaze was rather intense, a sharp glint in the corner of his eye that was just barely visible. He looked like he knew something that Technoblade didn’t, and that was the first warning sign.
“Okay, and?” He was struggling to follow why this line of questioning was being pursued, and why he specifically was being targeted.
“You’re a wanted criminal.”
“Wow, really? That’s a shock to me,” Technoblade deadpanned. Quackity looked like he was having some kind of epiphany and solving some brilliant problem that had eluded humanity for centuries. Techno felt like he was back in the orphanage having basic addition explained to him by some stupid tutor.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“I mean, not really.”
Quackity stood up, dragging his finger over the edge of the desk. He looked over at Techno, drew in a breath, paused and spun around on his heels to face the window. The only way that this situation could be adequately summed up in was that it felt like a poorly made superhero film where the villain was just about to deliver his dramatic plan for world domination. Techno doubted Quackity had any such plans, but you could never be too sure.
“You know, I’ve heard quite a few stories in the past day or two we’ve been docked here. It’s remarkable how quickly gossip travels. And if this gossip was pertaining to a particular Blood God and his companions on the run, having just escaped an army of guards at the marketplace, and then eluding capture yet again at a certain inn I’m sure you’re very familiar with, then who’s to say it was or wasn’t about you?”
Techno looked over at the other people in the room, subtly side-eyeing them to try and get a gauge on the general reactions. Tommy was shooting a side-eye right back at him, eyes widened in urgency and a panicked expression on his face. Wilbur had someone perfected a poker face, and was staring straight ahead without a trace of emotion in his eyes. If Techno didn’t know better, he would assume that the events Quackity was narrating had happened to an entirely different man. However, he did know better but he had no idea what Wilbur was trying to achieve with his poker face.
Phil was watching the entire conversation play out with the slightest glint of amusement on his face. It was hard to discern what was so funny about having this random guy know your entire life story. Tubbo, who was still in the room (probably out of some kind of curiosity and the immense entertainment value that this conversation was currently garnering) looked extremely confused, which was fair play.
All this to say, his companions were entirely useless and the only one who had a valid reaction was Tubbo.
Quackity paused for a moment, spinning around to stare Techno dead in the eyes, “So, as you may or may not have concluded, I know a great deal about you Technoblade. And if I go down, you’re sure as hell going down with me.”
The thing was he didn't want to be enemies with Quackity. He didn't want to have one of them go down, and he sure as hell didn't care about whatever stupid drama that Wilbur had going on. It was actually rather annoying that apparently he was now the one taking responsibility for Wilbur's actions, because he wasn't the one that had burnt down the stupid hotdog van.
So all things, considered, Technoblade thought he would rather like to be friends with Quackity. He seemed like an alright dude, and at the very least they could bond over shared hatred of Wilbur Soot. As a matter of fact, he actually respected Quackity a great deal. It took a certain level of stupidity (or maybe it was courage) to discover that some random person aboard your ship had a reputation for violence and a penchant for blood and then have the gall to try and blackmail them. Fair play to Quackity.
“Call me Techno.”
“What?”
Technoblade extended his arm, palm outstretched. “Call me Techno.”
An understanding passed over Quackity’s face, respect, or something extraordinary close to it. Mutually assured destruction if either of them left, so the best that they could do would be to move forwards. He met Techno’s hand halfway.
“Nice to meet you, Techno.”
Their extremely peaceful resolution lasted for all of two seconds before a kid with dirty blond hair and a bright purple hoodie burst into the room.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt whatever meeting you’ve got going on here-” he did not look apologetic in the slightest- “but we’ve got a bit of an issue out there.”
There was a pause before Quackity sighed and prompted further information by asking, “Issue?”
“Yeah. There’s a bunch of guards on the dock, searching the ships. I think they’re looking for the Blood something something, but that’s not really a massive issue for us. The issue is if they search our ship, they’re gonna find all the shit we stole and I’m not handing it over.”
Well this was rather awkward. How was it that he somehow evaded capture for so long and now there’s suddenly at least twenty dudes who always spawn out of nowhere but are apparently in constant pursuit of him, ruining all his future hopes and dreams for cultivating potential friendships? The universe worked in strange ways, namely ways that were unkind and hurtful.
All he wanted in life was to stop being chased by random people, was that really too much to ask?
Apparently it was, because the purple hoodie kid then followed up his intelligence report by saying, “Also, they’re like three ships down from us, which is kinda close.”
“Purpled, I have bad news,” Quackity began. “Meet Technoblade, also known as Techno, also known as the Blood God.”
Wow, what a great introduction. Techno loved his life. He loved it when he got introduced and the statement immediately began with, ‘I have bad news.’
The kid—apparently named Purpled—made a perfectly circular ‘O’ with his mouth, looking around the room to see if this was news to anyone else. After regarding the perfectly blank expressions of the other occupants, he seemed to discover that this was not a new discovery, nor did it seem to be a particularly shocking statement, and Purpled promptly tried to school his features back into a more neutral expression.
Techno had to hand it to him, he did have a rather good poker face.
“So what’s the plan?” Purpled asked. He really absorbed the whole, ‘we have a highly dangerous very wanted criminal thing rather quickly’ and took it in stride.
“I guess we leave? Tubbo, go prepare for departure. Take up anchor and bring in the gangplank. Purpled, sort out the rigging and sails or something. Someone tell Charlie to seal all the hatches and make sure everythings secure. Guess I’ll go steer this ship.”
Quackity said all of this in a completely flat tone devoid of any emotion while looking like he was so incredibly done with life and just general existence. Despite having no idea what they were currently supposed to be doing, or what their current relationship was standing at (he was really hoping it wasn’t hostile) Technoblade couldn’t find it in himself to ask, mainly because his personal life philosophy was to avoid awkward conversations always.
However, Tommy did not seem the have the same philosophy (in fact, he seemed to live by the idea that you should head into awkward conversations always), so he had no qualms with asking, “What the fuck are we meant to do?”
“Go find Charlie or something, I don’t know.”
With that statement, Quackity began walking to the door. When he got halfway there, he paused, stopping to stare at the four of them, none of whom had moved an inch from their previous positions. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go do something so don’t all get caught and captured. And, oh, welcome aboard the crew I guess.”