Techno receives the new assignment right as he's finishing up with a literature essay for his midterms.

The instructions are simple, just the way Techno likes them. Debt. First warning. Minimal violence. After studying all day he's too tired for complicated errands. He flicks off his desk lamp and grabs a hoodie from his closet. It's a faded black one, but the bloodstains still come out pretty easily in the wash despite how threadbare the fabric has gotten. Techno pulls it on over his shirt, then pats the pockets to make sure he has his mask on him.

He can't be going around getting into deeper trouble than the cash is worth.

As he leaves his dorm, Techno checks the address again to remind himself which way to head. According to his phone's map, the location is a derelict apartment building on the outskirts of town a short walk away. Techno knows the neighborhood. It's not one most people would dare to go around in this late at night. That's good though, it means there'll be fewer witnesses.

Some part of Techno knows he should be more scared of being caught.

Really, why couldn't he just pick a normal part-time job like most other students have? Tutoring would probably earn him a pretty penny. Or he could suck it up and work in customer service. Maybe not babysitting, Techno hates kids. But also, it'd be less illegal than what he's currently doing.

Somehow he ended up in this situation though. And perhaps Techno just doesn't want to admit that he's been pushed into joining a criminal empire with minimal peer pressure after finding a shady flyer on a lamppost.

He stops at the apartment building and looks up. Fourth floor, huh? He'd bet a whole lot of money that the elevator is out of service. This is the type of place where the landlord only comes around when their property is literally burning down. Techno steps inside while fastening the mask around the lower half of his face, not just for anonymity now but also to ward off the likely mold infestation in these walls. He's wearing his hair up in a bun, both so it'll stay out of his face and because it looks shorter that way when he's wearing his hood up over it. The mid-tone brown color is common enough that if somebody saw him on the job, they most likely wouldn't recognize him on the street.

And even if they did, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

If there's one thing for certain, it's that the cops have much bigger problems on their hands than some college student going around beating people up or delivering shady parcels, what with the several factions of organized crime active within the city. However, just because the chances of him getting arrested are relatively slim doesn't mean Techno is willing to tempt fate. So while he's not particularly fearful of getting in trouble, Techno is rather willing to cover all his bases. Hence the mask.

The elevator doesn't work - not that there's any use in winning a bet against himself - so he takes the stairs up until he finds the right apartment. Techno knocks on the door with his fist. Somebody is muttering inside, drunkenly stumbling through the living room. Techno knocks again.

When he hears them approach, he digs his heel into the floor so he can slam his shoulder into the door right as they undo the latch and start to open it.

The man screams. It drowns out Techno's polite little "hullo" because him being there to intimidate them into paying up doesn't mean Techno has to forgo all sense of manners.

"What the fuck?!" The man's back slams into the wall. Techno checks his message.

"Dave?" he asks. Wouldn't want to go around assaulting the wrong person.

"Who the fuck are you?" the guy - whom Techno is increasingly sure could be none other than Dave - demands to know. His breath smells like cheap booze and even cheaper cigarettes.

"The Crows send me," Techno says. The man's face goes three shades paler. Definitely Dave, then.

Techno walks past him and into the apartment proper. He's not overly concerned that the guy will try to run, he'll know that The Crows can track him down wherever he goes. So Techno takes his time looking around, noting that the exterior of the building looks like a palace compared to what the inside looks like. If Dave is borrowing that much money, you'd think he'd be spending more of it on interior decoration and less on his failed Ponzi schemes meant to take advantage of vulnerable people.

"This place smells terrible. When's the last time you opened a window in here?" Techno asks, strolling into the living room slash kitchen. Dave comes after him, but then kind of hovers in the doorway awkwardly.

"Get out of my house?!"

"See, I'd love to do that, Dave. I really would." Techno pulls out his phone again, tapping away at the screen for no reason other than to make the silence stretch into an uncomfortable length. Dave is already sweating, wringing his hands. Eventually, Techno clears his throat. "But a little birdie here told me that you're behind on payments. And we just can't have that, can we?"

"I'm getting the money soon," Dave says quickly, sounding more and more like a cornered animal by the second, choking in a snare. "There's been some bumps in the road."

"When?" Techno asks.

"Wha… Well, this one guy was supposed to help me out but he-"

"No, when did I say I care?"

Dave's face goes from white to red so quickly that Techno almost laughs. Maybe all his lamenting about working for a crime enterprise would come across as more sincere if he didn't secretly take some pleasure in this part of his job.

"Do you like your knees, Dave?" Techno asks.

The question is absurd enough to snap the man out of his aimless rambling about late payments and finding gaps in the market. He ends up staring at Techno while blinking numbly.

"I noticed your elevator is in need of repairs," Techno continues. "It would be a real pain if you had to go up and down those stairs all day with a broken kneecap, wouldn't you say?"

Dave inhales roughly through his nose, getting some bravado back. "Are you threatening me?"

With a sigh, Techno turns around. He grabs the front of Dave's shirt and slams him into the wall carelessly, taking some pleasure in the man's pained yelp when Techno lifts him several inches off the ground. Years of fencing practice turned out pretty well for Techno, who can still boast with his superior upper-body strength. It makes up for his pathetic noodle legs most of the time.

"I am not threatening you," Techno says calmly. "I am explaining to you how your actions have consequences. Whether or not you heed those consequences frankly won't affect me." He pulls, then pushes back, smacking Dave's head into the wall a second time for good measure. "Except that when you decide not to pay, the consequence for me is that I have to come to bother you about it."

Dave is pretty much cowering at this point, hunching up his shoulders in a way that reminds Techno of a turtle hiding in its shell.

Techno grew up being told he was intimidating. It's a comment he never truly understood. But he can't deny it ended up coming in handy.

"Do not make me have to come here again," he tells Dave. The man nods, making a noise akin to a balloon deflating. Techno drops him to the floor before walking out.

He's halfway back to his apartment when he gets another text from the same anonymous number that alerted him to the assignment. As usual, it contains no greeting, no sign-off with a name or other identifying information. Techno knows it's somebody from The Crows contacting him only by the simple bird emote that ends every message.

First payment just came through. Cut his debt in half just like that. Your results are beyond satisfactory.

Techno kind of shakes his head at the screen. Getting praise for a job well done by a criminal organization is… not a good sign, probably. Techno needs to write a paper for his ethics class. Maybe his own situation could be an interesting case study. But then he'd need to examine his degrading morals and that's not something he can face.

It's not like he's thrilled about the jobs he does, or never feels conflicted. But with rents skyrocketing and no family or friends to fall back on, it's either this or dropping out of his grad program and becoming homeless. Techno is a small fish in the giant pond The Crows stretch their influence over.

He's not hurting people for the hell of it.

When he's climbing into his bed that night, he's already getting a brand new set of instructions. Techno peers at them through blurry vision, eyes barely held open. Something about a bigger thing going down tomorrow and somebody else needing to drop out last minute, so they're calling Techno in unexpectedly. It's a more high-profile task than what Techno is usually trusted to do. He hasn't really done anything more than small errands, he's a low-level hitter at best.

But money is money. And Techno needs money to survive.

So he shrugs and puts his phone down on the nightstand before turning over for a night of sound sleep. Police sirens in the distance barely keep Techno awake anymore.

It's not until he's actually on the scene the next day that Techno realizes he might be in way deeper than he expected.

A car full of strangers came to pick him up at his place. That never happened before. Techno always goes to whatever location they send him alone, either to 'convince' somebody to do what The Crows need them to do, or sometimes he has to pick up a package and drop it off somewhere else. He's basically a delivery boy. He just delivers threats and suspicious-briefcases-that-probably-contain-drugs-or-money instead of food.

Never before has he found himself awkwardly standing in a warehouse surrounded by other people who seem entirely disinterested in the situation. It's a little reassuring that none of the other guys The Crows called in for this show any signs that this job is out of their usual. The lackey that Techno is replacing with his presence must do this kind of thing often.

Techno's instructions were to stand there and keep quiet, both things he's excellent at. He can manage.

After about half an hour of waiting there - some of the other people make small talk or joke around, knowing each other from previous jobs. Techno scrolls endlessly on his phone to distract himself from his increasing boredom - the door to the warehouse opens. Instantly, everybody around him falls quiet. Techno straightens his back automatically.

Four people walk in. One of them stands out to Techno immediately. They have chin-length black hair and their entire face is covered by a skull mask, compared to most others who have partial masks like Techno or who aren't bothering with anonymity at all. On their right hand, they are missing their ring finger. Techno also can't help but notice that this person has a gun.

Why do they have a gun?

The man pulls out a phone and brings it to their ear. Techno catches some snippets from the conversation, their voice disaffected and cold with a slight accent to it. He's mostly paying attention to how everybody is falling back into a semi-organized line as if a silent order was issued. For all Techno knows, it was. This is completely out of his comfort zone even within the rather niche experience of working for criminal enterprises. He wonders if bailing last minute is an option.

"First time?" a voice cuts into his thoughts.

Techno glances to the side. The man next to him smiles back. He came in at the same time as the guy with the gun and isn't wearing any kind of face concealment. In fact, he's dressed completely differently than anybody else here. Like Techno himself, most people working for The Crows tend to pick dark colors and simple attire, nothing that will stand out in an eyewitness report. This man is wearing a long trenchcoat that hangs open over his yellow sweater. There's a belt wrapped over his shoulder and across his chest, with a holster attached. He also has a gun, though it hangs inconveniently out of reach over his hip.

"Kind of," Techno says.

"I figured, you don't look like any of the newer hires but I don't recognize you either." The man shrugs. His hair is brown and curly, smoothed back slightly. It's a poor attempt to keep the unruliness at bay though, and Techno thinks the man's glasses are the only thing keeping him from being blinded by his own bangs hanging into his eyes.

"This isn't the type of thing I usually do," Techno says by way of explanation. "Abandoned warehouses aren't really my scene."

The man doesn't answer, since he's gone to scroll on his phone too. Techno figures he probably doesn't really care and was only trying to be polite. Or maybe he was trying to seize Techno up, see if he's a narc. Since he looks like he's higher up on The Crow's pecking order, he might not trust strangers. He's definitely more important within the organization than Techno.

They stand in silence for a few minutes after the skull mask man has finished his call. By now, Techno has figured out that this is some sort of meeting or exchange he's witnessing. Probably with a rival gang. The skull mask guy is the leader, somebody who has worked for The Crows long enough to hold a level of responsibility and importance. All the others are only here because there's strength in numbers. Hopefully, that means standing there and looking vaguely intimidating is all Techno has to do to get through this, and then he can go back to being a nobody, a flunkey.

He can go back to flying under the radar until he finishes school and figures out a way to cut ties with wanted criminals forever.

The door to the warehouse opens yet again. Techno knows this guy isn't a Crow. He walks too fast, he's swinging his arms around in agitation. He's carrying a briefcase. "Let's get this over with." He takes a step forward and the man with the skull mask holds up their hand to stop him.

"Show it."

"Seriously? We can't just-"

"Show it," they repeat slowly. There's almost a laugh there, amusement at the other gang's jumpiness perhaps.

With a sigh, the man cracks open the briefcase and turns it around. It contains enough money for Techno to go into an early retirement. He briefly wonders how much the upper management of The Crows is paid compared to him. Not that he'd be very interested in the promotion, he's still pretty dead set on getting his degrees and going into a traditional career path. But knowing would make the risk-reward calculation somewhat easier.

"Is this good enough for you?" the rival gang member spits, agitated. His entire demeanor is ruffled, unkempt. Techno's eyes travel down his body, noting the wet mud on his shoes.

The warehouse is at the edge of the city, on industrial terrain. So there's no reason this man would have gone trudging through the forest on his way over if he came by the same route as they did. And that's the only route that makes sense. Unless he went off into the woods on purpose.

What's the point of that?

"Looks fine," skull mask says. They nod and hold out a hand.

"I want him to take it," the other man says. He nods at the brunette standing next to Techno.

"You don't talk to him," skull mask answers. Their voice is dangerously low, closer to a hiss. It's not aimed at him, yet it still sends a shiver down Techno's spine. He glances at the man next to him again, but he is too occupied by his phone to notice.

Or maybe he's only pretending. Before Techno can blink, keen brown eyes are looking up into his. And the guy smirks in the face of Techno's confusion. He waves dismissively. "Missa, it's fine. I'll take it." Then he turns away fully from Techno, taking a step forward to receive the money.

The gears in Techno's brain are turning, somehow he can't pull his full focus back to the present no matter how much he probably should be paying attention because something important is going down. But he can't stop thinking about those mud stains, how the dirt looks fresh. How the woods around this building slope slightly upward. How there are no windows in the warehouse, except for the ones set high on the walls.

Techno's mind clicks the connected mental dots into place seconds before he finds the actual little red dot on the floor, hovering where the brunette would walk to accept the briefcase.

"Get down!"

And Techno is no action hero, but maybe he should consider becoming one from the way he throws himself forward on pure instinct. He gets a chance to second-guess the action a moment before his momentum shoves the brunette onto the ground and he lands on top of the guy. One of the glass panes in the window shatters, but the sniper's shot lands harmlessly on the concrete floor instead.

Somebody curses loudly. Techno can't tell if it's the guy he pushed, that Missa person, somebody else, or a combination of several people screaming. It's drowned out by frantic begging and then a couple more gunshots. Techno blinks, watching as Missa pushes the handgun back into the holster. The rival gang member with the briefcase lies on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. A large hole in his forehead leaks red in wet rivulets.

The brunette's hand curls around Techno's shoulder. He can feel its warmth.

"Wilbur, you're with me." Missa drags the man - whom Techno now knows is named Wilbur - upright. Techno is glad he basically instantly rolled off the guy again or this would have become an issue. Missa looks at the others in the warehouse. "Do not move, instructions will follow."

They're out the door in the next moment, leaving Techno lying there feeling somewhat silly for not getting up earlier. He scrambles to push up against the wall, sitting back on his haunches. The other members that The Crows brought are talking among themselves and Techno does get some weird looks, but they all seem so unimpressed by all this. They're simply standing out of reach from more potential gunfire by sticking to the corners of the room. None of them show any concern or fear about being shot at.

None of them stare at the corpse slowly going cold.

Techno feels his phone vibrate after what seems like forever. He doesn't check the message, but then somebody pulls on his elbow to help him up. They talk in a loud voice and say something about the coast being clear so they're getting to the car. Techno doesn't ask for their name.

When he's back in his apartment, standing under a shower with water so hot it's scalding his skin, he wishes he had asked. Because now he can't thank them.

They send him twice the usual amount of pay for this job.

The Crows leave him alone for almost an entire week after that incident.

Techno's pretty sure it has nothing to do with guilt. None of them seemed very faced with what happened. That doesn't mean he'll complain. It's almost nice to go back to normal life for a while, where he doesn't have to check his phone every couple of hours to make sure he hasn't missed new orders. Even if he tried to push any conflicted emotions regarding his job away before, knowing it is a necessary thing for paying his debts, Techno hadn't seen anybody killed yet.

He hadn't watched how sticky blood got as it slowly congealed.

That's the image that comes back vividly when a car pulls up next to him while Techno is walking to school on Friday afternoon.

The window rolls down. Techno doesn't recognize the driver at first, since he's not wearing his skull mask today. But when Missa nods towards the backseat, Techno's memories return with a jarring coldness.

"Get in."

Techno is reaching for the handle before he can consider if it's a mistake. If The Crows want him dead for what he saw that night, he might as well be picking out a coffin. There's no way he will be alive to see the next sunrise. Then again, it wouldn't make much sense for them to kill every low-level hitter who ever witnessed a job gone wrong. That wouldn't be very cost-efficient.

But Techno wasn't supposed to be there.

"So… any reason for this sudden invite, or…?" Sitting in the backseat of the car, Techno bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn't start to laugh. He often chuckles when he's nervous but he doesn't want to give Missa the wrong idea.

"The boss wants to see you," Missa says simply. He turns up the music playing from the radio, maybe to discourage more small talk.

Techno ignores it, clearing his throat. "Is that something he does often? Invite random people that work for him?"

"Nah," Missa says then fails to elaborate. He's using his hand with the missing finger to tap on the steering wheel.

Sitting back against the car's comfy cushions, Techno pulls up his notes app on his phone and starts to draft a will.

He's halfway through dividing up his meager mortal possessions by the time they arrive at what looks to Techno like the fanciest restaurant on earth. Missa gets out of the driver's seat and opens the door for him. The kindness of the gesture is slightly undercut by him then putting a firm hand on Techno's shoulder.

"Give me your phone," Missa demands. Techno's reluctance is obvious. Missa sighs, but the smile he offers is sincere enough. "You're not in trouble, it's just a security measure."

"Fine, but you better not beat my Tetris high score by the time I get this back."

That earns him a proper chuckle, though it does little to ease the tension when he's led into the restaurant itself. The walls have those plush faux-carpet things on them Techno often sees in television shows when a set is meant to exude opulence. The restaurant is eerily quiet, the hallways remain unlit and for a moment Techno thinks maybe the place is closed. It would be a very strange decision if this is where they brought him to enact his bloody murder. Then he notices the seating area of the restaurant has a single occupied table.

And at that table sits a man.

There's a disconnect inside Techno's head between the image that this man strikes and who Techno logically knows this to be.

The leader of The Crows. One of the most elusive, powerful, and rich men in the city. Somebody who can order the murder of an enemy with a snap of his fingers, if he so desires. And somebody who has multiple active warrants out for his arrest.

Except he just looks like a guy.

A guy with half-long blond hair, rounded features, probably shorter than average if Techno were to guess though it's a little hard when they're both sitting down. Maybe Techno is just really tall. Techno pulls out the chair indicated for him, watching with some desperation as Missa disappears through the door and leaves Techno all alone with The Crow's leader.

"Do you like caviar?" The man asks.

"I never had caviar. It's too expensive," Techno says truthfully. The man watches him with a small smile, a little twinkle in his blue eyes.

"You should have some then." He gestures at a small porcelain bowl. Techno didn't notice it before, but the entire table is decked out as if for a fancy dinner. In the same motion, the blond reaches for a bottle of red wine and starts pouring it into Techno's glass.

Techno doesn't drink wine. Maybe that would get him killed though. So he nods. "Thank you, sir."

His words make the man laugh. "Oh no, please call me Phil. Those kinds of formalities grate on me."

"Okay." Techno reaches forward to pick up the pearl spoon. "Thank you, Phil."

Slowly, he scoops some of the caviar onto a little toast thing. Techno hates how fidgety it is trying not to spill, but he supposes it's not the worst last meal in the universe. When he's done, he puts the toast in his mouth.

Then promptly almost spits it out, much to Phil's obvious amusement.

Techno might not like wine, but it goes a long way in washing down the salty taste of the caviar. Phil takes a sip from his own glass, using his hand to rub tears from the corners of his eyes.

"Ah, that never gets old," he says. "You're right that caviar is too fucking expensive. That's what makes it even funnier when people realize it tastes like shit."

"Is this some kind of hazing ritual then?" Techno asks, swallowing the wine away thickly. "You're the leader of a criminal empire and you spend your free days watching people try caviar for the first time?"

"Nah, it just seemed like a fun idea since I was bringing you over to meet with me anyway."

Phil leans one elbow on the table. Techno finds it hard to meet his gaze. The last few hours have felt like some sort of fever dream.

He has no idea what this will lead to.

"What's your name?" Phil asks.

"You don't know?" Techno wonders automatically.

Those lips curl up a bit, so endlessly entertained by everything Techno says or does for some reason. "Of course I do. But I want to hear it from you."

"It's Techno."

"Good." Phil pours himself some more wine. "Tell me Techno, what occupies you when you're not sacrificing your time to my 'criminal empire' as you so eloquently call it?"

Phil already knows. Phil knows everything about him. Techno finds it very hard to believe The Crows don't run a background check on everybody they bring into the business, even on the lowest level. At the very least, Phil must be aware of Techno's name, his age, where he lives, where he goes to school. Some part of Techno had always realized that, but it hadn't really sunk in before. But now, with Phil grinding him for every ounce of information purely because he delights in that power, he's more aware of it than ever.

"I'm in grad school," Techno says.

"What do you study?"

"I'm pursuing a dual degree in English and history." Techno folds his napkin, finding it annoying to have nothing to do with his hands when his phone has been taken away. "Or I'm trying to. You'd be surprised how much of my time you guys rob from me."

That also makes Phil laugh. He's a jovial guy for somebody who has definitely killed before.

"You're smart," Phil says. "Too smart to be working for me, honestly."

"Because I'm in grad school?" Techno asks lightly.

Phil's expression turns more serious. "No, because you prevented my son from being assassinated."

Oh…

Techno doesn't know what he should be more surprised about. That the weird brunette guy is Phil's son, or that apparently his dumb instinctive move has earned him a dinner with The Crow's boss.

"How did you know about the sniper," Phil demands. There's a slight edge of harshness to his voice. Understandably. Techno can get how an outside perspective might make it appear like he had some inside knowledge of the rival gang.

"I noticed that there was fresh mud on that guy's shoe. There shouldn't be unless he had walked through the woods around the warehouse before coming in," Techno explains. "And the only reason I could think of for him to do that is to position a sniper. Since the warehouse has those small windows?" Phil is staring at him, measuring his response. Techno shrugs. "I read a lot of spy novels," he adds.

Phil's scrutinization lasts for a few seconds longer. Techno is starting to feel bad for Dave. It's not nice when somebody makes you squirm just by looking at you. Now Techno has first-hand experience. But then Phil sits back, seemingly satisfied with Techno's answers.

"Like I said, you're much too smart to be working for me."

"It didn't have anything to do with me being smart," Techno says into his glass of wine. "I was perceptive."

Phil smirks. "In our branch, there's not much of a difference."

And there's no use arguing with that.

"I'm promoting you," Phil says suddenly. He gets up, with both hands on the table. Somehow it manages to make even his stature feel more intimidating.

"What-"

"We could use somebody like you. There are many more worthwhile things you can spend your time on, better than running errands, trust me. And Wilbur speaks pretty highly of you, I bet he would like having you around more."

"That's not-"

"Obviously, your pay will be increased as well. I wouldn't want to disappoint you, mate." Phil pats his shoulder in passing. Techno has a feeling that he wouldn't be able to refuse even if he could get his stupid brain to stutter out a response. "I'll be texting you through my personal number."

Phil's smile is still in place. It's as if he's begging for Techno to try and put up a fight. Only because he'd find it more fun to exert his power some more.

So Techno doesn't even try.

"Yes, sir."

It's meant to be a joke. It doesn't feel like one when Phil squeezes his shoulder again, grinning more wildly. "So formal. Get used to calling me Phil. We'll be seeing a lot more of each other soon."