#technofestival

He remembered the day he got Tommy’s letter, dirt stained with more spelling errors than he could count. Despite that, Techno had a soft spot for the teenager. His charisma, his sense of justice, the way he always looked at Techno with admiration. He was stubborn, as well. No matter who told him what, he had always done what he believed in and what he thought was right, he was just that determined. So Techno joined their rebellion.

He didn’t necessarily believe in what Tommy was fighting for, he didn’t care about how the president was oppressing the nation, how he wasn’t doing anything for the country, Techno just thrived on chaos, and the satisfaction of bringing a government to shambles would sedate the bloodlust he had been feeling for oh so long.

Techno joined silently, no announcement, no over-the-top reveal that one of the strongest fighters of the country had joined their side. For the most part, he kept to himself, gathering resources and training, all leading up to the day they executed the dictator that was the president. 

The annual festival of the country came around and Techno received a letter from President Schlatt. Unaware of his alliance with the rebellion, he invited Techno to the festival, to the celebration of democracy. Techno accepted.

He was sat on one of the wooden benches that had been set up in front of a main stage. Uncomfortable with many conversations of the crowd around him, his eyes shifted awkwardly as he tried to instead take in his surroundings. Soon enough, a young boy he didn’t recognize walked onto the stage to join the President and his guards. 

He tuned out the speech that the boy gave of togetherness and democracy, instead keeping preoccupied with intrusive thoughts of the upcoming assassination his associates had been planning, he only wished he was more involved in the chaos. In the back of his mind, he registered applause before everything but a man clearing his throat into a microphone went silent.

“Technoblade.” That was his name.

The boy had finished his speech, President Schlatt was now standing at the microphone, calling Techno to join them on the stage. Confused, he mindlessly followed, too on the spot to think of anything else. Once on the stage, Schlatt handed him a crossbow, along with an arrow. He inspected it for a second, coming to the conclusion that it was a standard wooden crossbow, no indents or carvings to suggest ownership or previous use. Schlatt turned away from Techno and faced the unknown boy.

“I’ll cut to the chase.” Schlatt began, “I know what you’ve been up to, Tubbo.”

Tubbo, that’s who he was. The realization hit him as Techno made eye contact with the boy, Tubbo was Tommy’s friend. While Schlatt’s vague descriptions of things like ‘traitor’ and ‘betrayal’ and ‘execution’ made their way into his head, Techno flashed back to the time he spent in the secret base of the rebellion. He remembered Tubbo, he was their double agent, their man on the inside. 

Techno was brought out of his haze when Schlatt turned to him, motioned to the crossbow, smirked devilishly, and told him to shoot.

Techno’s expressionless face went back and forth between the crossbow and Schlatt. He wanted him to shoot. Shoot what? The balloons? The birds? Tubbo. Schlatt wanted him to shoot Tubbo. A rare expression of shock made its way to Techno’s face in the form of his eyes widening ever so slightly at the realization.

His stomach churned with nausea at the memory of Tubbo and Tommy together in the base, Tubbo chatting excitedly about this and that, Techno only just then realized they were talking about the festival. Tubbo had said something about food and carnival games, which he had promised to take back extra of for Tommy. Techno didn’t know what he meant, he didn’t make the connection to the festival.

Why was he remembering that now? It didn’t matter to him then when he didn’t know what they were talking about, why should it matter to him now? Why was he having so much trouble shooting the crossbow? This was what he should be thriving on, chaos; what better way to cause discord than turning Tommy’s best friend into a corpse.

Where was the bloodlust he had been feeling for so long? This was his chance, why were his hands shaking so much? Why did his heart sink to his stomach as he raised the crossbow? He was about to cause death. Death was bad, death caused chaos, and chaos was what he was there for. 

“Sorry, Tubbo, I’ll make this as painless as possible.” Why was his usually monotone voice shaking slightly as he whispered a promise so quiet only Tubbo could hear?

He shouldn’t regret firing the arrow as much as he does, but by the time screams made their way to his ears, it was too late. 

Everything around him was happening so quickly, and all at once. Techno stood there, the crossbow lowered to his side as he registered Tommy’s agonizing screams and cries - when did he come out of his hiding spot? - but everything sounded like it was underwater. 

In the back of his head, he knew he shouldn’t feel regret. He caused chaos, anarchists caused chaos and that’s who he was. Technoblade was an anarchist.