Work Text:
Techno wasn't entirely enthusiastic about dealing with the new interns on a Monday. But unfortunately, whether or not Manberg accepted the bright-eyed hopefuls into their ranks wasn't up to him.
Apparently Manberg Manpower was expanding. He would know, because there was an automated email about it in his inbox from [email protected]. It's not very often the man himself decides to grace them with his automated presence. But despite his flowery words of artificial reassurances that nothing would change, Techno knew the expansion would come with consequences. So he did only what he does best:
Technoblade stayed in the office researching in incognito mode how to secede from Manpower until midnight.
He looked everywhere he could think of for answers. Wikipedia. Ratemyemployers.com. Wikipedia again. Craigslist for sword polish. The facebook group of Catholics against Seedless Watermelons. Sun Tsu, The Art of War. An Oxford Law Student's opinion blog about how to legally worship The Blood God (something about murder, you know the usual). But as the witching hour dawned upon him, Technoblade realized even he couldn't defeat the ball and chain of capitalism. Manber Manpower would have to stay standing, for now.
Going home that night in defeat, Technoblade wordlessly gave his dog another treat that day. Floof didn’t even have to beg once.
Technoblade got up early on Monday morning, fueled by spite and a lingering sense of shame for giving into Floof’s criminally fluffy designs. Today would require his more professional outfit that was reserved for special occasions, like wanting to quit his job (oh wait that was every day). He ironed his elbow-patched green sweater on the creaky ironing board still soldering on since college (he never bothered to replace it), ignoring the concerning amount of steam rising from the cloth. That would have to be a concern for another Technoblade far, far into the future.
After he deemed it finished enough, Techno slipped on the freshly pressed article of clothing. Momentary bliss from the warmth gave him a brief spark of hope for the day and an uncomfortable awareness of the fact he is probably very touch starved. The last time he remembered receiving a hug was from a feral racoon that had somehow leapt into his arms from an open window. He decided this was not, in fact, concerning.
With this fact in mind, Technoblade opened the second-to-bottom drawer of his old dresser and he chose his gold-chained glasses (sue him, they're fun) for intimidation purposes only.
He spent the rest of time before work polishing his sword collection. By the time he was finished, every weapon he owned was lethally clean. All was right with the world.
"Hold the fort, Floof." The words echo in his apartment, like he wouldn't be back for a long, long time.
Walking into the main office space twenty minutes later, Technoblade habitually adjusted his glasses as his eyes were assaulted by the bright fluorescent lights that blasted down from the ceiling, casting the wide space in unforgivingly stark light that reminded him too much of a prison. The stark blue walls of the room were dotted with smiley-faced clouds and laughing children holding Manberg-logo balloons (he never forgave the higher-ups for using Manberg's daycare unit to paint the office). In the small entryway, a bulletin proudly displayed a tattered brochure (Manberg Manpower cannot guarantee full health coverage for all employees), a wrinkle advertisement for Badboyhalo's Bad Burgers (a muffin with every purchase), and a grainy photo of the Manberg logo with a hand photobombing an "L" in front of it (Willbur's doing, probably).
The rest of the room was a mess. Drab grey cubicles were sporadically shoved into each other, looking like a bear had a fight with the office and won. Stacks of papers rested precariously on the beige carpeted floor, looking very tempting to lightly kick for fun. If that wouldn’t draw the ire of every one of his probably insane colleagues, Technoblade would without hesitation.
"Did you get my Myspace?" Asked Philza Minecraft as he came out from behind one of the cubicles.
"No," Techno drolled. "Was I supposed to?"
""Kinda, mate."
Techno had thought Philza was joking. "Isn't that platform supposed to be dead?"
"We've got company accounts mate."
Techno wondered if the higher ups in Manberg were all on drugs. He echoes this sentiment, outloud.
"Wouldn't be surprised." Philza laughed before walking back over to one of the discarded cubicles. "Could you give me a hand in getting these cubicles all set up? The little newbies are coming in..." He checks his watch. "Oh, now."
"Phil, it's 7AM."
"Wasn't my decision.” The green-striped bucket hat tilted on the blond man’s head. “Also, you know you're supposed to train them, right?"
Techno stared.
Philza laughed again. "Oh Jesus, this is either going to go horribly wrong or end up being the best thing I've ever seen." He reached up and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright, mate."
Techno didn't move.
Wheezing breaths escaped out of Philza's mouth as he struggled to keep composure. "I think I broke him," he remarked to himself before adjusting his hands to gently guide Technoblade towards the coffee machine in the kitchen. "You're gonna be fine Technoblade, I promise."
Technoblade didn't bother to respond to such empty, betraying words. He blankly watched his best friend pour low-grade coffee grounds onto the shitty coffee maker, the aroma bringing back a momentary blip of sanity before the last particles vanished into the machine. Philza grabbed two chipped cups from the cupboard, the beige ceramic blending into the dull shine of the kitchen counter.
A young pink-haired woman walked into the kitchen, holding a binder to the front of a light grey blouse. "Hi Phil." She glanced nervously at Technoblade, who was having a staring contest with the machine.
"Hey Niki, happy Monday," Philza greeted. "Did you get my Myspace?"
"Yeah, I heard we're getting new hires today." The coffee machine began to stutter, on death's door. Techno's eyes glazed over in response. "Um. Everything good?"
Philza smiled, eyes curving as he clapped his suffering friend's shoulder. "We're getting this one coffee." The coffee machine coughed, bubbles fuming from the top of the lid. "...I think."
"I'm sure it'll work," Niki reassured hesitantly. "I mean, it hasn't ever actually died yet-"
The lights on the machine flicked before shutting off completely.
Philza and Niki watched in combination of fascination and fear as Technoblade calmly removed his hands from the counter to unplug the machine from the outlet, lifting the dead machine to gently bring it to his face.
"...Techno? Mate?" Philza broke the tense silence. "You there?"
Technoblade turned his head towards Niki. "Niki."
"Niki blinked. "Yes, Techno?"
"You wouldn't happen to have that axe I gave you last week, would you?"
"...It's in my office."
""Good."
Techno gently placed the coffee machine onto the counter before he left the kitchen. That was the last ounce of dignity it would get from Technoblade for the rest of its existence.
He strode calmly through the half-hazardly strewn about cubicles, crossing to the right side of the room where a row of doors greeted his focused gaze. The man on a mission went through the door decorated with flowers and seashells, and spotted a shiny blue axe mounted on the wall next to her desk. Bringing it down from its display, he noted with a tinge of pride she had been keeping it carefully polished. It had been a good idea to give Nikki, the head of Sales, an axe for her office.
Satisfied with his find, Techno hefted the blue axe over his shoulders before returning to the congregation in the kitchen.
The broken coffee machine had been plugged back into the outlet (Philza has a bad habit of trying to fix $20 Walmart machinery), which had started to wheeze irritatingly as soon as Techno turned the corner. To add further insult to injury, the counters had a sheen of dust that Techno knew came from the coffee maker disgustingly coughing onto everything.
But even he was distracted by the sight before him from the new addition to the kitchen.
"For God's sake Will, you can't just start a government at a workplace!" Philza looked ready to tear his hair out as a curly-haired brunet duck-taped a flag to the wall. Niki was smiling proudly, taking celebratory photos.
"Think about it, Phil!" Will's eyes were alight as he spoke passionately from the top of the kitchen table at 7AM, which was groaning loudly in protest to his antics. "We could re-make everything! No more emails from schlatt-the-emperor or having to use fucking Myspace!"
Philza's eyebrows furrowed. "Myspace is fine!"
"No the fuck it's not Phil."
"I'm going to have to agree with Will on that one," Techno drawled as he walked further into the scene, casually unplugging the coffee abomination with one hand while keeping the axe menacingly over his shoulder. By the time he was done with it, Technoblade intended the coffee machine to know fear.
"You haven't even downloaded it!" Philza protested, looking between the both of them. "It could be good for all you know!"
"I don't care Phil, it's Myspace," Will wined. "Why couldn't we have used Discord?"
""You sound like a teenager-"
"Is that a fucking flag?" A new, irritating voice joined the party from behind them.
The adults in the kitchen turned away from the duck-taped flag to see three, wide-eyed boys staring at them with a mixture of awe and fear. The one on the left towered over the trio, adorned with a black suit and red tie that made him look like he just came out of a wedding reception. A black and white mask covered his pale face, black hair spilling out from the top of his head around the strange red and green glasses he wore. Standing comically short next to him was another boy who reached half of his height, brown hair neatly and professionally combed but doing nothing to cool the maniacal expression on his face. He too was wearing a suit, with a yellow bee-cladded tie. But Techno's attention was fully on the boy on the right who had the guts to insult his most insane colleague's flag and to show up to his first day in a red and white baseball t-shirt.
"Did you seriously show up to your first day of work in a t-shirt?" He heard Philza audibly sigh behind him, but resolvedly ignored it.
"Yeah, so what?" The irritating boy scrunched up his face, rubbing his nose. "T's not like I own a suit."
"Then buy one." Techno didn't get this kid at all. Was he trying to get fired on his first day?
"Nah, I hate buying that shit. 'Sides, at least I don't wear fucking grandma glasses-"
The tall one shoved a long hand into the boy's face. "What Tommy meant to say is that they're a wonderful pair of glasses-"
A yelp came from the tall boy as he was bitten by the apparently feral Tommy, yanking his hand away. Tommy glared. "No the fuck they're not."
"They're pretty awesome, actually," countered the one with the bee tie.
"Oh come on' Tubbo you can't actually believe those weird fucking glasses aren't shit enough to make you wonder why you were even born-"
"They're just glasses trying to be gangsters. Gangster glasses." Tubbo defended.
"Or maybe we could all agree they’re nice so we stop insulting the guy with the axe," the tall one suggested wisely.
"Shut up, Ranboo." Tommy grumbled.
Techno sighed and put the machine down. He kept the axe. "As long as you do your job well, you can show up in flip flops for all I care."
"Beach episode," Tubbo nodded.
A part of Techno died inside. He hoped Philza didn’t get any ideas from this conversation. "Sure."
Philza turned away from the coffee machine (re-plugged) and clapped his hands. "O-kay, and we're moving on to literally anything else! Techno, could you introduce us to the new interns?"
Techno wasn't entirely sure if the unhinged trio were the new hires (and they looked like they weren’t even eighteen), but he decided it wasn't worth the effort to find out otherwise. "Sure Phil, let’s have me do the public speaking."
"You're training them, mate."
The newbies’ faces paled. "You're kidding me," Tommy said out loud.
Techno smirked at their reaction, glad he kept the axe that was still resting comfortably over his shoulder. "'’Fraid not, Phil’s word is law. So introductions." He gestures to each person accordingly. "Nikki here is the head of Sales."
"I like your suits," Niki complimented the boys. Tommy didn’t seem to mind that he wasn't part of the compliment.
"Thanks, I love bees." Tubbo grinned.
“And nukes,” Tommy added unhelpfully.
“I mean yeah no shit,” Tubbo rolled his eyes. “But I didn’t want to show up in my nuke tie on the first day. That’s more of a second day thing, you know?”
Tommy hummed in acknowledgement. “Understandable.”
"...And the one standing on the table like a moron is Wilbur, who handles marketing." Techno nodded at his colleague.
Wilbur leapt down from the table, smiling widely. "Welcome to the team boys, and gremlin," he directed at the feral newbie.
"Glad to be here, bitch," retorted the gremlin, staring up at Wilbur with a challenging look.
Wilbur’s expression turned amused. “Say Technoblade, do you think I could borrow them for a couple marketing schemes I have in mind? After they’re settled in, that is.”
“You mean for the revolution.” Techno deadpanned.
“Wilbur’s smile turned crazed. “We could always use more for the cause, Technoblade.”
“Maybe another time.” He swung the axe from his shoulder onto the ground, letting it thump for effect. The tall kid- Boo or something- jumped. “Last introduction. See this axe? Phil here taught me how to use it.”
Philza laughed. “Techno, you literally fenced competitively.”
Tommy looked excitedly at him, attention unfortunately received. “Wait really?”
Techno sighed. “I did for a while. But back to the matter at hand-”
“He was really good.” Philza asserted, face fond. Oh no, not the dad look. “Ranked #1 in the country.”
“We’re not here for fencin’ Phil,” Techno attempted to redirect. “I’m just letting the newbies know of your capabilities. Since you taught me to use what’s currently in my hands.” The blade gleamed in the kitchen light.
“I think we get the picture,” The tall kid gulped, leaning away from them.
Phil’s look of pride switched to concern. “No worries mate, we don’t use the axe to hurt people.”
“Then why does he have one?” Tommy crossed his arms. “It’s not like there’s anything else to use axes for other than cutting down trees.”
“Techno gifted it to me to decorate my new office,” Nikki supplied. “Yeah okay I got to admit that’s pretty poggers but that doesn’t explain-”
““Keep in mind Tommy, even if I’m training you, there’s more where that came from.” Techno deadpanned. “Phil runs this branch of Manberg Manpower and has for years. If there’s one person you gotta listen to, it’s him.”
“Aw thanks, mate.”
A small smile appeared on Techno’s face. “Of course Phil, I’m just being honest here.” It slipped away back into his usual deadpan as he faced the trio of newbies. “Any questions?”
Tommy unfortunately opened his mouth. “So can I bring a sword to work for ‘decoration’?”
“No.” Technoblade wondered if there was a return policy on this intern in particular.
“Sorry mate, Wilbur’s keen on keeping them.” A normal beep sounded from the coffee machine. “Oh, would you look at that!”
“Um Phil,” Nikki checked the machine, frowning at the contents in the pot. “This is just hot water.”
Technoblade wanted to go home. If Manberg Manpower converted him to drinking tea to get his caffeine intake, he was going to let Wilbur recruit the newbies into the L’Manberg revolution.
“Um, I have a question?” Ranboo asked timidly.
“Shut up, Ra-” Tubbo shushed Tommy, who glared but stayed silent.
““What is it?” Techno sighed.
“What’s your position here officially?” Ranboo glanced at him before his eyes darted away nervously.
“It’s classified. Any more questions?”
A moment of silence (aka Ranboo and Tubbo shushing Tommy) passed. Blissful, blissful silence.
“Good.” Techno readjusted his grip on the axe before putting it back on his shoulders. He gathered the coffee machine securely in his arms. “The first thing we’re going to do today is finish setting up the cubicles out in the main room. You’ll each have your own.”
“Can we-”
“No weapons allowed unless you have your own office.” Phil told Tommy.
“But-”
“No buts.”
“Not even a tiny dagger?” Tommy looked hopefully at the head of their branch of Manberg Manpower.
“Not even a pocket knife, mate.”
Tommy’s face scrunched up in disappointment. “That’s Nepotism.”
“That's not what Nepotism means.”
“It does now.”
After a few more minutes of Tommy pleading unsuccessfully, they all managed to leave the kitchen behind to finish setting up the office for the newbies. The grey cubicles were quickly brought to life by the little odds and ends the trio littered onto their setup, post-it note doodles slapped onto their cubicle walls as snickering quips were exchanged.
By the time it had reached mid-morning, everything was properly set up. Wilbur and Nikki had stepped out earlier, having meetings to make on the upper floors, but Philza stayed the whole time, not seeming to mind as his black slacks and white collared shirt became stained with dust. Technoblade worked peacefully beside his friend, the antics of the interns distant enough away that he felt settled for the first time since walking into the office this morning.
“Bad news!” Wilbur ran into the newly setup office, interrupting Philza’s vacuuming. He waved a mysterious piece of paper in his hands. “You’re gonna want to see this, Phil!”
“I’m a little bit busy!” Philza shouted over the vacuum cleaner. “Show Techno!”
Will went over to him and shoved it into his hands.
“Technoblade’s face paled as he scanned the document, eyeing the art of the bottom of the page signed by the company CEO. No. It couldn’t be.
Schlatt was docking their pay. And painted a mini-Mona Lisa.
----The End----