There was a kid in SBI’s territory.

On its own, that fact posed little problem. As the most powerful crime ring in the city, a single street kid was hardly a large enough issue to be on their radar.

But this was their territory. And SBI took care of their territory and all of the people in it. Since establishing themselves all those years ago, they had made it clear that they would provide protection to those their territory encompassed, especially the children. They set up shelters and kitchens for those on the streets, taking special care to secure safety for the kids who came to them for help.

Their territory may be considered rough to an outsider, but to those within, SBI were the guardian angels of the neighborhood. Deadly angels, perhaps, but angels all the same.

So the fact that— according to their informants— there was a kid out there, sleeping on the streets and refusing help from the shelters—

Well, it was concerning to say the least.

So Technoblade decided to investigate. Unfortunately, his teammates had something to say about that.

“You’re not good with kids,” Wilbur said, like it was a well-known fact.

“I was good with you,” Technoblade pointed out. He could feel irritation building in him. He just wanted to get this over with— find the kid, get them to a shelter, and never think about them again. Problem solved.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Wilbur grumbled. “It took months before I said even one word to you unprompted.”

Phil nodded apologetically. “He’s right, mate.”

“Well, you were jumpy,” Technoblade justified, wrinkling his nose as he thought back to eight-year-old Wilbur, street-kid-anxious, who had stared silently at Technoblade with his wide brown eyes until Phil managed to convince him that Technoblade wasn’t as scary as he looked. (Technoblade would never forgive him for spreading such slander.)

“And you think this kid won’t be?” Phil asked.

That was how he found himself out in the cold night, flanked on either side by his teammates.