Chapter Text
“Techno, you gotta take a break.” Skeppy tried again, his voice edged with concern as Technoblade slipped on his coat and reached for his bag. Morning light barely crept through the window, and the weight of exhaustion hung in the air between them.
“I’m fine.” Techno’s response was as flat as his expression, his focus already shifting to the day ahead.
Skeppy leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone, man. You’ve gotta stop acting like you’ve got something to prove.”
Techno glanced at him, eyes cold but distant, as if he were already elsewhere. “I have everything to prove.”
With that, he stepped out the door, leaving Skeppy’s words hanging behind him.
Techno did feel bad for leaving his friend like that. Skeppy was his best friend, the kind of person Techno could rely on no matter what. Someone who had his back when no one else did. But Techno needed this. He needed to prove himself, to succeed, even if it meant pushing away the people who mattered.
Fresh out of college, he had barely settled into his job as a detective, but his reputation for being skilled beyond his years had followed him into the precinct. After only a year, he'd cracked a murder case that stumped seasoned detectives. He had been a minor player on that case, barely noticed by the others. But it was him—Techno—who pieced it all together. His biggest achievement yet.
Now, though, he was back to the sidelines, helping on minor cases while the more established detectives got the ones he really wanted. The ones that mattered. Techno could feel it—like an itch under his skin—he needed more.
Technoblade’s mornings felt like clockwork: get up, grab his bag, head to work, and keep his head down. But it wasn’t enough anymore. Not after the rush of solving that case. It had been his moment. The moment where everything clicked, where his instincts proved sharper than the veterans’.
But now? Now he was stuck with routine. Minor cases, desk work, paperwork. The higher-ups weren’t ready to hand him anything bigger, no matter how much he wanted it. They still saw him as the kid fresh out of college, the one who got lucky.
He clenched his jaw every time he heard the others talk about new cases, real cases—the ones that tested you, the ones that made a detective’s career. Techno had a taste of that, just a glimpse of what it was like to be part of something bigger than himself. And now? He was back to chasing petty criminals or poring over cold files. He needed more than this.
-
Techno arrived at the precinct, the usual buzz of ringing phones and low chatter filling the air. He walked through the door, heading straight for his desk, but his attention snagged as he spotted his supervisor, Philza, standing by the board covered in case files. Philza was older, seasoned, with a reputation that stretched far beyond the precinct walls. People respected him—and feared him in the same breath.
“Techno,” Philza called, his voice carrying across the room. “Got a minute?”
Techno adjusted his bag and made his way over. Philza never wasted words. If he was calling someone over, it meant something important. Techno tried to keep his face neutral, though his heart kicked up a beat. Maybe this was it—maybe he was finally getting something bigger.
Philza gave him a quick nod. “I know the last few months haven’t been exactly... exciting for you.”
Understatement of the century.
“But there’s a case that might need an extra set of hands,” Philza continued, eyes narrowing as he studied Techno’s reaction. “Nothing major yet, but it could turn into something more. You interested?”
Techno’s pulse quickened, but he kept his voice steady. “Yeah, I’m interested.”
Philza reached behind him, grabbing a thin manila folder off the table. Without another word, he handed it to Techno. The weight of it felt light, like it wasn’t much—just another minor case—but the look in Philza’s eyes told him there was more beneath the surface.
Techno flipped it open, scanning the first page. A string of recent deaths, no obvious connections between the victims. Accidents, maybe. But there was something about the way they were spaced out. The locations felt too neat, too precise.
Philza watched him, arms crossed. “Like I said, nothing concrete yet. But I’ve got a feeling.”
Techno glanced up, catching the unspoken challenge. This wasn’t a gift. It was a test.
“I’ll take it.”
Techno loved tests. They sharpened his instincts, pushed him to think harder, dig deeper. Every challenge was an opportunity to prove that his skills weren’t just luck or timing—they were earned. His mind already raced as he flipped through the details in the file.
Patterns. There was always a pattern.
The deaths looked random on the surface, but Techno’s gut told him there was something connecting them, something others might’ve missed. He had to find it. The thrill of it—the chase—was what drove him. He wasn’t just in this to solve cases; he was in it to be the best.
Techno closed the file with a sharp snap. “I’ll get started right away.”
Philza nodded, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Knew you would.”
-
Back at his desk, Techno opened the file, his focus narrowing on the details of three deaths that had occurred in the same neighborhood over the past week.
The first victim was a local bartender found dead in his apartment. Initially ruled a heart attack, the autopsy revealed traces of a rare poison in his system. The bartender was well-liked, with no known enemies, which left Techno wondering who would want him dead and why.
The second death was a young woman, an artist known for her vibrant street murals. She was discovered in a nearby park, apparently the victim of a hit-and-run. Witnesses claimed they saw a dark sedan speeding away from the scene, but no plates were recorded. Techno couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a tragic accident; the timing felt too coincidental.
The third victim was an elderly man who had been living alone in a small house. He was found slumped over his kitchen table, his body lifeless and cold. Initially dismissed as another unfortunate case of natural causes, a closer examination revealed signs of foul play. A broken window in the back of the house suggested a possible break-in, raising further questions about the circumstances surrounding his death.
Three deaths, all within the same week and in the same area, each with its own unsettling details. Techno leaned back in his chair, determination igniting within him. There had to be a connection, a thread linking these tragedies, and he was determined to uncover it.
Techno rubbed his temples, trying to connect the dots as he recalled each case. The bartender’s mysterious poisoning, the artist's suspicious hit-and-run, and the elderly man’s potential homicide all played in his mind like pieces of a puzzle.
He reached for the file again, flipping through the pages as he sought any commonality between the victims. All three had lived in the same neighborhood, but beyond that, they seemed like strangers. Techno scribbled notes, his mind racing as he considered the angles.
Could the poison have been administered to the bartender in a drink? If so, who would have done it? Perhaps a jealous rival, or maybe someone he had angered during a night of drinking?
As for the artist, her work often critiqued social issues in the city, and that could have ruffled feathers. It wasn’t uncommon for outspoken creatives to find themselves on the wrong side of someone with power.
Techno’s thoughts turned to the elderly man. He had no known connections to the other two, but was there a chance he had witnessed something? Maybe he had seen something that linked the other two deaths?
Deciding to dig deeper, Techno pulled up the neighborhood map on his computer, marking the locations of each death. The bartender’s apartment was just a few blocks away from where the artist’s body had been found, and the elderly man lived only a street over from them both.
He leaned closer to the screen, tracing the distance with his finger. There had to be more to the story, and he knew he had to get out there and start asking questions.
-
Just as Techno was about to head out, a sudden commotion erupted in the precinct. The chatter of officers grew louder, punctuated by the sound of urgent footsteps. Curious, he paused, scanning the room until he spotted Philza striding toward the break room, a grim expression on his face.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Techno called out, striding after him.
Philza stopped, turning to face Techno. “Another murder. Just came in a few minutes ago. Two blocks from where the artist was found.”
Techno’s heart raced. “Do we have any details?”
“Not much yet. Just that a woman was found in an alley. Same area, different circumstances, but it’s got the same vibe.” Philza’s brow furrowed as he spoke, concern evident in his voice. “We need to get out there and see what we can find.”
Without hesitation, Techno grabbed his jacket, adrenaline coursing through him. This was exactly what he needed—more pieces of the puzzle to fit together.
As they rushed out of the precinct, Techno's mind raced. Four murders in a single neighborhood in just over a week. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Techno hopped into Philza’s car, the scent of coffee and worn leather greeting him as he settled into the passenger seat. Philza turned the key, and the engine roared to life, cutting through the tense silence.
“Let’s hope we catch a break,” Philza muttered, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The streets blurred past them, each block feeling heavier with the weight of recent events.
As they approached the crime scene, the flashing lights of police cars illuminated the alley where the latest victim had been discovered. Techno’s stomach churned with anticipation and dread. He could already see the gathering crowd, a mix of officers and onlookers, each person’s face etched with curiosity and concern.
Philza parked the car a short distance away, and the two men stepped out, joining the throng of officers swarming the scene. The alley was narrow and littered with debris, the air thick with the scent of asphalt.
Techno focused on the task at hand, scanning the area for anything out of place. The victim—a woman in her twenties—lay sprawled on the ground, her body partially hidden by a hastily thrown tarp. Techno felt a pang of sympathy as he caught sight of her brightly colored dress.
“What do we know?” Techno asked, turning to Philza, who was already speaking with a uniformed officer.
“Witnesses reported hearing a struggle, but no one saw anything,” Philza replied, his voice low and steady. “We’re still gathering statements.”
Techno stepped closer to the body, his instincts kicking in as he began to piece together the scene. If this was connected to the other murders, he needed to find out how. He spotted a few scattered items near the victim—an overturned purse and a crumpled note.
“Can we get a look at that?” Techno asked, pointing toward the note.
Philza nodded and motioned for an officer to retrieve it. As they waited, Techno’s mind raced. Each death was a thread, and now, with this latest victim, he could feel the tapestry of a larger story beginning to form. But what was the connection?
“Sir, it’s just a kid’s drawing,” the officer said as he approached Philza and Techno, holding the crumpled note in his hand. “It doesn’t seem relevant to the investigation.”
“Give it,” Philza stated firmly, his eyes narrowing as he extended his hand.
Reluctantly, the officer passed the note over, still looking unsure. Techno took it, smoothing it out against the edge of his palm. The note contained only a simple smiley face:
:)
Techno's brow furrowed, confusion washing over him. “That’s it?” he asked, glancing up at Philza.
“Sir, it’s just a kid’s drawing,” the officer repeated, looking uncomfortable.
“What you think it is doesn't matter this is evidence,” Philza insisted, ignoring the officer's hesitation.
Despite its simplicity, Techno felt a pang of unease. A smiley face seemed so out of place in the midst of this chaos. Someone had lost their life here, yet this drawing seemed so innocent, almost mocking.
“This could mean something,” Techno said, his mind racing. “We need to find out who drew this. There might be a connection we’re not seeing.”
Not a moment later, a woman broke through the crowd, her voice slicing through the tension like a knife. “Layne!?” she screamed, her eyes wide with panic as she rushed forward.
“Layne?” she sobbed, her voice cracking as she pushed past officers trying to contain the scene.
One of the police stepped in front of her, attempting to hold her back. “Ma’am, you need to stay back!”
“Let me see her!” she pleaded, desperation etched across her face. The officer hesitated for a moment, glancing at Philza and Techno, who exchanged a look of concern.
“Phil, we need to let her through,” Techno urged, knowing Phil was already thinking the same thing.
Philza nodded, gesturing for the officer to step aside. “Go ahead,” he said, his voice steady. “But keep it brief.”
The woman rushed forward, her tears streaming down her face as she approached the covered body. “Layne!” she cried again, collapsing to her knees as she reached out for the tarp.
-
He was in a small, cluttered bedroom, the walls plastered with posters of superheroes and movie stars. A younger version of himself sat on the floor, surrounded by toys, and his younger brother was beside him, focused intently on a task.
“Hold still, Techno!” his brother insisted, fingers working diligently through Techno’s long hair as he attempted to braid it. “You’re gonna look like a knight!”
Techno laughed, feeling the tug of his brother’s hands as he tried to weave the strands together. “A knight? Really? What kind of knight has long hair?”
“The coolest kind!” his brother shot back, grinning widely. “Knights have to look good too, you know!”
-
But just as quickly as the memory came, it faded, and Techno snapped back to the present, the woman's sobs piercing through the fog. He shook his head slightly, trying to dispel the images of his brother's laughter.
“Layne!” she cried again, her anguish pulling him from his reverie.