Got some mafia boss Schlatt and bodyguard Techno
fic for the TL today!
Techno knows that he's being brought to these parties not only for function, but also for aesthetic.
Schlatt lives off his reputation.
And obviously, that reputation doesn't mean anything without actions to back it up. It would be worthless without a bloodstained history to build on. But there's a reason Schlatt can make men clamor to get back in his good graces with a cold gaze and a simple gesture.
Technoblade standing at his shoulder, waiting for the next order from his boss is half that reason.
He doesn't ask questions. Schlatt saved him from a life of surviving on the streets, the price he pays for it is meaningless.
He doesn't wonder whether the people he hurts deserve it. He sleeps just as soundly all the same.
"How many prepositions did you get so far tonight?" Schlatt asks, beckoning him over.
"I wasn't keeping count," Techno answers honestly. "A few."
People try to mooch him from Schlatt's service all the time. It's both hilarious and pitiful, how easily they think he can be swayed by some honey-coated words or worse: money. Techno doesn't work for Schlatt because it earns him well.
Or even because the man takes care of his every need.
He works for Schlatt because the man owns him, in all ways that count.
"And what did you say?"
Narrowed eyes watch him, as if he's looking for a trace of deceit in Techno's answer. "That I'm not interested."
"Did you tell them why?" Schlatt continues.
Techno laughs. "They didn't exactly ask."
A hand around his bicep pulls him a little closer, hissing next to his ear. Schlatt's breathe smells of cigarettes and whiskey. "Tell me, then."
"Because I already belong to somebody else."
He can hear Schlatt's smirk in his voice. "Good."
The room is bustling with atmosphere, tense with it. Techno doesn't pull his eyes away, wary that somebody will try something. Schlatt doesn't do a lot of public appearances anymore.
Not since the assassination attempt. Techno bears the scar from it on the back of his shoulder, the place where the bullet went in. Schlatt's hand lingers there, warm.
"Who tried to cut you the best deal?" he asks.
Techno has to consider it. He really discarded every offer as soon as it was made. "I'm not-"
"Think about it," Schlatt orders. "I want a name by tonight. And then I want their head by dawn. Not connected to their torso anymore, preferably.
That should teach them to try and make a claim on what's mine."
"I don't see why that's necessary."
That hand slides up a bit, finding its new place in the crook of Techno's shoulder where it meets his throat. Schlatt's thumb presses into his neck, hard. Painful.
"It's necessary because sometimes, people need to be reminded of their place. Wouldn't you agree, Technoblade?"
Techno exhales, nods. "Yes sir." He feels the pressure let up a bit.
Yet Schlatt still refuses to let go.