Gifted | Sleepy Bois Inc

Chapter Seventeen

Weakling. Letting him talk down to you like that.

No one is the boss of you.

Are you really just going to let that slide?

I closed my eyes and tried to tune out the voices. It was weird that they were getting louder. Usually they only sounded when I used my powers, but now, it seemed like they had free reign whenever I got agitated. Or maybe it was just anytime in general now. I heard them when I was calm, too.

Flipping over onto my side, I stared across my bed at the mask hanging from the hook on my wall. My mask. The symbol of my honor and pride.

My identity as a bounty hunter.

Philza was one of the Heads, but I was a person with my own thoughts and ambitions. I could do whatever I wanted. Especially if I was doing it for the greater good for once.

Ironic. When I was finally ready to be the hero, I got shut down in an instant.

I sighed and turned onto my back again. I didn't want to be mad at Phil. Heck, I barely understood why I was so miffed. We had different views, different opinions, and I respected that.

But did I? I had snapped right back. I accused him of not considering my words, but I had been just as narrow-minded myself. He did have a point.

No. Stop it. Technoblade is always right, and you just have to prove it to them all.

Corruption in Tryxel? Find your weedwhacker and get to work.

A smaller, more reasonable voice said, But what if the associate isn't in Tryxel? Wilbur said that it could be someone who is simply close to the organization.

Maybe. But that meant that I had shouted at Philza for nothing.

"Stop jumping to conclusions," I told myself, staring up at the ceiling above me. "There are so many possibilities. You could be so very wrong."

What was I even thinking? I hadn't even been completely sure that the problem was with Tryxel when I brought it up to Phil. All I knew was that there was an associate, and I wasn't even one hundred percent sure about that. It had been foolish of me.

But I had started it, and I wasn't about to back down.

People were constantly getting on my case about fighting Smiley. First Tubbo, then Tommy, then Wilbur, and now I was being tasked with it by the Heads. Even people I didn't know were out there, blabbing on about how The Blade should fight Killer in an epic one-versus-one, with high stakes and the potential to blow up all the social medias. Like an object put on display for others to watch. A petty dog fight. They didn't care.

What was so special about Smiley, anyway? He killed. He fought. He completely destroyed his opponents in fights, but then again, so did I. He observed. So did I. He used those observations to his advantage. 

So did I.

I always avoided the topic of fighting Smiley because I didn't think I was good enough. But there were thousands of people urging me on, telling me that I was just being irrational. That I could do it all and more.

They didn't know me. Not even Wilbur, my brother. 

Only I knew me, and I knew that I only ever thought for myself. I knew that I didn't care what it was that life threw at me because I would survive. I would always survive.

Because Technoblade never dies. So who was Smiley to think that he could shove his way into my life like that and take over?

I sat up, impatiently giving my eyes a moment to adjust before quickly getting off of my bed. I walked over to my wall, where my mask and cloak were hung. My hand gripped the red fabric tightly, feeling the memories and experiences etched into the cloth. All the times I had stood face-to-face with the greatest and the baddest and survived.