They were being led deeper into the building, winding passage after winding passage Ranboo quickly lost track off. The man holding his lead kept tugging it – short little yanks that he hated, he hated them - whenever he tried to stop and take note of something.

Everything was passing by too fast, in a blur. After how overwhelming the market had been, his mind was still playing catchup. Some part of him still expected to blink and wake up in bed or something equally bizarre. When they arrived at a set of iron doors the other man stopped – light hair, dark eyes. Remember him, Ranboo tried to warn himself. He's in charge of the other one, which makes him more important. Which makes him more dangerous – a key was then pulled out of a pocket and fitted into a lock. The door was opened and Technoblade was ushered inside. The blond man followed him in, before the door fell shut and Ranboo was alone. Alone with the stranger still pulling on his lead. They only went a couple of doors down and then Ranboo was pushed into a different room, small and filthy and bare. It smelled like dust.

The man stepped forward and cut through the ropes around his wrists with a dagger. Ranboo rubbed them awkwardly. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Your items," the man said tersely, nodding towards a table in the corner. There was a heap of clothes on it too and Ranboo had a dreadful suspicion he knew exactly where this was going. His hands didn't tremble as he emptied his pockets. This was fine, perfectly fine. Aside from his communicator, there wasn't much more than some lint and a stray piece of paper in them. His weapons and potions had already been taken when they were captured and Ranboo had traveled lightly today. Most of his valuable items were still safe in his chests at home. He turned his pockets inside out to show there was nothing left in them, but the man didn't move or speak.

That dreadful suspicion soon turned into the abject horror of understanding.

"I don't suppose you'd let me keep this? I made it myself, so I promise it's not worth much." Ranboo joked lightly while he took off his crown, putting it on the table in front of him. Humor was good, humor was smart. Talking made him a person and being a person in the eyes of their captors was a good thing, surely. It's harder to hurt somebody who is a person to you. But he hadn't even finished the sentence before the man swiped his crown off the table, turning it over to catch a metallic glint of gold in the dim lights.

His locket came off next. Ranboo held onto it a little longer than the crown, a little more hesitant to let it go. Eventually, he decided to take the pictures out instead. Jewelry was nothing but materials, crafted and reworked into something precious. It could easily be replaced, while the pictures could not. He clicked it open, revealing the photograph of himself with Tubbo and Michael that he kept in there. Ranboo couldn't remember where it had been taken – or when, by who even – but he remembered being happy when they took it and that was the important bit.

On the opposite side of the locket sat a different photo, just Michael by himself this time. He was bundled up so thoroughly with one of Tubbo's jackets and Ranboo's scarf you could hardly see his face peeking out above the fabrics, pink pig ears angled upward as if listening to something off-camera. Ranboo slipped both pictures into his memory book for safekeeping, which he put on the ground near his feet while he changed clothes.

The shirts they had provided were all two sizes too big, loose around his frame and somehow reaching halfway down his thighs. Meanwhile the pants he got couldn't even cover his ankles. Ranboo picked the book up again and – finding himself without convenient pockets to keep it on him – tucked it under his arm. Or he tried to but was stopped when the man grabbed his wrist. They snatched the book from him before Ranboo could even react.

"Wait-" He wanted to get it back but then the man was stepping away and he was opening it and leafing through it and Ranboo felt frozen by pure panic, tail swaying nervously. "Wait, give that back! I need it!"

"Don't worry," the man said, closing his book with one hand and throwing it back onto the table without care. "Where you're going you won't."

And Ranboo wanted to protest because, well, he was pretty sure he did need his book actually but he was already being grabbed by the elbow and pulled along again and he was certain it would be useless to complain so he resigned himself to getting it back later, once this whole thing had been dealt with - if he could remember, at least.

And he sure hoped it would be dealt with soon.

The man took him from the changing room and down the hallway into a different one. This room was more crowded and that immediately put Ranboo on edge until he noticed Technoblade was there too, which at least eased some tiny speck of worry. The piglin had also been forced to change clothes into a simpler getup, but he didn't look half as uncomfortable as Ranboo felt. He had his arms crossed in front of himself, barely glancing at Ranboo as they walked in.

The light-haired man was there leaning against the wall and the redhead that had carted Ranboo around joined him, speaking in a whisper. Behind the desk sat an older man who had thin greying hair and looked at Ranboo with an almost dull expression, clicking his pen a few times. "This him?" he asked.

"Unless you got several other enderman hybrids stashed around here somewhere," Technoblade answered calmly. Too calmly, really. Ranboo blinked, suddenly confused as to what was going on. Had they been talking about him before he came in?

The old man's gaze shifted over him, taking in his appearance without a word. Ranboo hunched in on himself automatically, drawing his shoulders down and curling his tail around his leg. It had been a long time since somebody had managed to make him feel sick just by looking at him without the whole eye contact thing but boy did he hate it when that happened. He had to put every ounce of himself into not trilling or making any other noises.

Eventually the man nodded. "Yeah, you were right. I don't think we'd be losing much keeping him out of the ring."

"Right?" Techno answered, stance relaxing some as if this statement relieved him. Ranboo frowned at him. "So I'm guessing we have a deal."

With a hum, the man started scribbling something down on the papers he kept in front of him. "What can he do instead? We're not handing out free room and board here, ya know. If he can't work I ain't keeping him around."

There was an ominous edge to how he said it that made Ranboo shrink back instinctively.

"Oh, Ranboo's great at making potions. He can whip you up anything you need, faster than any of your current shmucks can, guaranteed. Cleaning weapons or crafting shouldn't be a problem. He cooks too. He's a little liberal with the salt but aside from that it's perfectly edible."

Ranboo almost interrupted them but then Techno turned towards him. He froze with denial stuck partway up his throat. "First aid too probably," Techno said. "The kid's a quick learner." And almost too swift to be noticeable, Technoblade grinned at him and nodded.

Awareness dawned on Ranboo immediately because clearly Techno was lying - lying very, very poorly at that – on purpose. Ranboo wasn't the best at brewing, not the worst either but he was rusty since he hadn't done it in a while. He borrowed Phil or Techno's supplies more often than not and rarely crafted his own if he needed anything more complicated than a pickaxe. And he didn't cook too much either, aside from throwing a steak in the oven and leaving it there until it was almost charred to the core. His first aid skills were abysmal at best, others were always telling him to look after himself more.

But with just that glance Ranboo could tell why Techno was saying all these untrue things.

"Good enough for me." The man finished up the notes he was taking. "Your first fight will be this afternoon. If you're true to your word, I'll be true to mine and the kid doesn't have to enter the ring. We can always use him for extra hands backstage." He leveled Techno with an unamused stare. "I won't be going easy on you though, I still need two fighter's worth out of my investment so you better not be lying about your skills."

"Lying? Me?" Technoblade put one hand on his chest in mock offense. "I wouldn't dare."

"Investment..." Ranboo echoed suddenly, feeling the weight of their situation start to sink in. "Is that what you call kidnapping people for slavery?"

The blond man surged forward instantly, face contorted in anger. His fingers curled into Ranboo's hair before he had time to blink, pulling on it and making pinpricks of pain erupt across his scalp. He cried out, unable to move. "Shut your mouth, runt! You will learn to hold your tongue around your owners!" With a shove, he pushed Ranboo onto the ground.

Ranboo barely caught himself on his elbows, though he was just glad the man had let go of his hair. The need to curl in on himself – hide away, protect himself – was overwhelming. He knew he couldn't though. Not with them still looking at him.

"Only speak when spoken to, we got it." Techno helped Ranboo upright hastily, but his voice held venom aimed at their captors. As soon as he was able to he put the enderman behind him, physically getting between Ranboo and the other men still in the room. "Like I said the kid's a quick learner. He'll get it."

Ranboo nodded, unable to look up again and deal with more eye contact. He kept staring at the floor. "Y-yeah. No talking. Gotcha." Reaching up, his hands sought out the locket he would usually fiddle with when he was nervous or scared. But it was gone. Maybe forever.

Horrifyingly, he had a sneaking suspicion this wouldn't be dealt with anytime soon at all.