Chapter Text
It's cold.
Oh so cold.
. . . . .
Techno could never… handle the cold very well. He never knew why exactly, just that whenever he would leave his parents run down shack of a house, he would end up back at the door with limbs shaking so hard they felt like they were about to fall off. There was one winter in particular, his first winter in this stupid city, and he had without a jacket- the slush sinking into his shoes and freshly dyed hair freezing against his tears till he couldn't see. He had almost died. If it wasn't for a local giving him their coat- he would be dead. Just like that lifeless body infron- lifeless body?
Everything is slow to come back into focus, first its the Grey snowflakes hitting the side of his face that wasn't laying against the concrete, then it was his tongue and fingers. After that, he got shaky hands underneath his chest and managed to push himself to an upright position, even as his head was ringing and pain was shooting through every part of his weak body. Shaking his head only made the headache ten times worse, Techno having to hold his jaws shut as to not vomit from the simple motion.
“The fuck happened?...” Techno murmured, the words slipping from his lips like sugar.
Finally, everything came back into focus with three more wary blinks. A body in front of him, fire devouring the man's clothes and hair and skin. He turned away quickly, looking around to see destroyed buildings and blood everywhere. The ‘BUNKER’ sign blinked amongst glass, twenty feet away from the actual bunker itself. Techno decided he didn't want to know what happened to it. With shaky legs he manages to Finally stand, sparks of dying out fires lapping at his sneakers like excited puppies. Techno walks over to the dead man, sniffing out a fire and grabbing his limp wrist- pulling a charred sleeve up.
“...fuck...”
He was late. That was his fifth strike- no matter how good he was at making coffee or how hard he cleaned, he wouldn't come back from this. Probably. Maybe if he sprinted. Shaky hands reach up to his neck, grabbing a ripped hood and pulling it over his head again, the fur tickling his nose and cheeks uncomfortably.
One deep breath.
He runs.
. . . . . . . . .
And Techno was fired. Great. Perfect really. Just what he needed today- a fresh cup of fuck you to his face. He groans as he runs his hands over soot stained cheeks, only now noticing the blood that coated them. His day, couldn't get any fucking worse could it? His feet make soft thumps against concrete as he walks amissly, hands in his pocket with a distinct lack of lighter to keep the rabbit in his head from running wild. Seraphim had stolen it, then dropped it. Walking was helping Techno recall what happened and he honestly hated it with a passion. He did not need to remember the cold blue of that man's eyes or the way his taloned hands felt against his skin- he did *not find his gaze comforting for some reason shut up-*
Ignoring that.
He had to figure out what to do now that he was not only jobless, but lighter-less. He also had classes in about five hours. He did not have the time for this, or well, he does now that he's been fired. Techno sighs again, he's getting good at this, and continues walking. Snow flutters around him making a dirty slushy on the ground that makes him even colder. Light catches his attention and he pauses in front of a news store- the capitals news channel on the screen. Big bright smiles and perfect hair and skin. No struggle, no pain, just perfection. Techno twists around, now facing the big bulky screens that seemingly hypnotized him with their glare. The people were speaking of the Seraphim's absence in the big cities, ‘Hopefully this means our heroes have defeated the Angel at last- and we may live in eternal peace and unity!-’ his ass. Maybe they chased him off, but he certainly was not dead. He has the phantom touch to prove it.
The screens illuminate his face with ads and attention grabbing noise- all trying to grip the people's thoughts and drag them in. The snow putters against the glass, causing the screens to warp and obscure his view. Some conveniently placed flakes melted, and it looked like the women were crying through their fake smiles. Amusing. His breath comes in smoke, lifting into the air to mingle with others and the smoke. Maybe to become snowflakes themselves. That's a good thought.
Techno shudders, pulling his hood closer and turning easy from the screens hypnotizim, continuing his aimless walk to the nowhere. Firetrucks and blinking ambulance lights fly past, many minutes too late to save anyone that stuck around, or who couldn't leave. A death sentence to any who they managed to catch- the bills themselves should lead to deaths grasp anyways. He finally makes it to the apartment steps, climbing up slowly as his hand glides along the rails, his nails screeching unpleasantly against the paint. Techno winces, lifting his hand and placing it in his pocket to tangle with his other one. Still stuck in the fog that was his brain as he opened the door to his room, it takes exactly 7 and a half minutes to open the damned thing.
Techno throws himself into his chair, arm over his eyes as if it would be any solution to his issues. Maybe, at least, to his headache. He blinks down at his charging computer, grabbing it and typing in his password and user, face smashed against his fist as he slowly opens his 7 page essay that he's working on. And of all topics it just *had* to be about the implications and themes of a movie about fucking spaghetti?! Techno faceplate onto his desk with a loud groan, pulling his coat tighter as he hears his heating stuttering to a stop.
Unaware of the Raven that made its nest just out of his window's view. A dirty and dented lighter tucked underneath its down.
A smile seemed to melt onto its unnatural face.
He knew.