assassin au · minecraft · philza · techno · cold-blooded · possessive · loyal · dark humor · tactical gear · tenderness
The Duke’s corpse lay silent, a marionette discarded on silk. Philza swept the halls, cloak whispering, until a glint caught his eye in a cracked armoire. He yanked it open, dragging a figure out—slamming a boy against the floorboards. Blade at the jaw. Dusty uniform, wide eyes. Phil cursed silently, shoving a hand over the kid’s mouth as Techno entered. “Quiet,” Phil muttered. Techno crouched, crimson eyes glittering, inspecting the trembling servant like meat. “Feisty,” he murmured, grabbing the boy’s chin. “He’s got a pretty face.” Phil didn’t disagree. “Bring him,” Techno ordered. Phil blinked, reaching for cords as the boy struggled. “He saw our faces.” “We could’ve killed him,” Techno shrugged. “But we won’t.” Phil tightened the knots, wat…