Benchtrio's Amazing Guide to City Living | Ft. The Hermits & SBI

A house next door and I'm inbetween

"I can't believe you got your ass handed to you by some lanky ass guy!" Wilbur laughs, doubling over with his hands holding his stomach for the third time since Techno told him the news.

Technoblade really wants to stab him and give him something else to hold right now. Like his guts, for example. Yeah, that would be preferable -wouldn't suffice but it would be a good start.

"Again, I did not get my ass handed to me", he tries to remain as calm as he possibly can whilst he fiddles with the laptop in front of him, the tab of iCloud-Find my iPhone shining white and bright in his face. The thing is taking ridiculously long to track his phone down, as if this piece of numerals is having fun exploiting this new weakness of his. How dare technology play with him like this?! In a crisis, no less!

And you might ask "Technoblade, how did you lose your phone?". Well. He had done the good ol' noob mistake of putting the freaking flip-flop sized thing in his back pocket.

He had been doing a usual hour of fanservice in the middle of the street when it happened. When disaster struck. When his heart rate picked up speed. When he felt something tugging at the back pocket of his pants whilst he was busy signing something for a random kid from the crowd that had formed around him. When he turned around and met eyes with a tall guy who had his hand in his pocket- and if he hadn't known better, he would've called the dude a pervert.

And it would've been preferable if the guy was a pervert at this point. Would've surely saved Techno trouble and time.

But nooooo. It just had to be a thief. A highly stupid and successful one at that. All in all, the worst kind of thief to steal from you. Techno still can't believe the nerve of that guy; to come in during The Blade's monthly fanservice hour -which, in all honesty, is the smartest he's seen a thief be- and manage to swipe not only his phone, but his wallet as well.

The wallet that Phil had given him on his eighteenth birthday as a "Welcome to adulthood!" present.

A vein pops in his forehead as he remembers that small detail. How dare the wallet get stolen?! And on top of that, how dare he let two of his most prized possessions get stolen from himself?!

No matter, if the program in front of him hurries a bit, he will have the location of the thief before the guy has the chance to empty his pockets and throw it out. Techno can run fast enough, he has the ability to run faster than the average long-legs and he will make the thief's life Hell once he's got an address.

Techno had heard the many other stolen jewelry and whatever else valuable the dude had shoved in his pockets; they were jiggling and clicking like crazy while they were running. It would take some time to empty those out, and if he guessed right, he had more phones than just The Blade's on him. And, if that were the case, then it would take at least ten minutes for the thief to take out the batteries and SIM cards.

Technoblade hopes that his calculations are precisely correct.

That flip-flop of a phone holds one too many secrets of his: his name (civilian identity), his address, his phone number, his family, pictures of his family, all these wonderful memories stored in it that he would really rather not be revealed to the public- and all that because he had taken the wrong phone before he left the house. He has lost all the passwords to his social media accounts now as well, because he had been an idiot and only saved them in a page of that notebook app he had found on the device, instead of saving them on Chrome like a normal person. Y'know. So they could show up in his password settings and not have to worry about forgetting them.