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Honestly? Tommy didn't believe that the world would end in 2010. Sure, his go-to reason is that he doesn't take part in any of those conspiracy theories, those undercover cultists that spread propaganda on the internet to swindle unknowing, elderly bastards into reposting their paranoia and their clairvoyant agendas.
Such wronguns, loads of them are.
But if Tommy opts for an honest justification, it's simply because he can time travel into the future. Oh, how utterly silly! No one would believe him if he tried to convince them. He'd be called the crazy one. Tsk.
Not like he'd be moronic enough to say anything to his friends. Perhaps figuring out the exact time and place they were born would be funny. Anything further than that? Nah. He likes to live in peace knowing that Earth isn't going to explode as soon as all of humanity bids dramatic goodbyes to 2009.
Tommy scoffs passing the protesters hanging around at the park. Some sweet place beyond the sermon of the old lady and the depressed busker’s gig, he finds a bench to sit on while he eats his popsicle. He can't lie, popsicles were better back when they were first made.
He'll never be better than Frank Epperson when he was eleven years old and accidentally created the good old popsicle. Time traveling powers be damned. He's sixteen, broke, and can time travel. A perfectly frivolous set.
A stranger Tommy absolutely does not give a fuck about passes by. They're both minding their own businesses.
Scratch that, he was minding his own business. But said stranger is wearing a pre-historic cape. Tommy almost gouged his eyes out, stuck a finger in his irises or something, just to prove he was seeing things.
However, it's as true as the fact that the world won't end in 2010.
“Hey!” Tommy calls out. “Where'd you get your cape?”
The stranger looks at him funny, and Tommy can't blame him. “Uh, from my coat rack?”
“Where did you buy it though?”
The stranger raises an eyebrow, confused. Some random boy at the park asking you where you got your garments from is probably as unsettling as hearing parking lot music. “I don't remember. And I don't know why you're askin’.”
“Listen,” Tommy says in a whisper. “I know for a fact that that shit is meant to be in a museum. How do you have it?”
“Oh.” The stranger gives him a disappointed expression. “You're one of those historians who have absolutely no clue what they're doin’.”
“What?” Tommy wrinkles his nose, offended. “Absolutely not! If I could tell you, I would. But you'd call me delusional.”
“Try me.”
“I can time travel.”
“I'm immortal.”
Tommy blinks at him. “Touché.” The awkward seconds stretch far longer than he could endure, so like any other non-existent times wherein he would just expose himself without any contemplative action, he breaks it. “Are you being serious?”
The stranger snorts, crossing his arms, revealing an emerald ring that Tommy is sure would earn him millions if he sold it to a national archive. “Am I?”
Tommy narrows his eyes. There's a chance that he just fell right into a trap full of mockery, and this man will sooner or later start laughing at his face and calling him stupid. Or, he'd found someone not quite like him, but is close enough.
“What's your name?” he decides to risk it.
“Technoblade. Techno’s fine though-”
“Holy fuck!” Tommy jumps up from his seat. “You're the- you're the Blood God. There's no way. There's absolutely no way.”
Techno pulls him aside, Tommy unwillingly follows. “How do you know that name?”
“I told you, you prick. I'm a time traveler. Shit, did I just call you a prick? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- uh, please don't murder me.”
Techno stares at him, indecipherable. And then he starts to laugh. Suddenly, Tommy could no longer see the god that people feared all those millenniums ago. Here he saw scars older than his own bones, but also a smile that had just been reborn.
“What? What? Why are you laughing?”
“I'm not goin’ to murder you, kid. Unless you're an orphan, that is. Are you an orphan?”
“No, I'm not,” Tommy informs. Which is a total lie—his ‘parents’ remain absent through and through. “Prime, why would you even think that?” he chuckles stiffly.
“..’Prime’? You did not just say that. Literally nobody says that anymore. How far back did you travel?” Techno questions.
Tommy raises his palms up, defending an accusation he can smell from a mile away. “Look! I was bored.”
“To be fair, Prime has been getting pretty lonely. No one's been praying to them lately.”
“Wait,” Tommy takes an agonizing step back. “Prime's real?”
“Just as real as I am,” Techno shrugs.
“Sooo,” Tommy drawls. “If I start praying to you, will you listen?”
“I suggest you don't try tha-”
“Treat me like your liege,” Tommy grins. “And in turn, maybe I won't go back in time to steal your cape.”
“And if I reject your offer?” Techno tilts his head.
Tommy starts to leer.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Tommy gestures at his shoulders. Only then did Techno notice that his cape is missing from his form.
“No. No, give me back my cape!”