Chapter Text
Chapter One
Wind was rushing through his hair as Tango stared at the smoking barrel before him on the rooftop. His lips twisted up into a sharp grin as he watched the tiny flame race up the rope coiled at his feet. Tango took a few steps back, raising his hands up to pull his tinted goggles down over his eyes. He casts one final glance over his shoulder at the soon to be exploded barrel, and then he's off, scrambling down rickety fire escapes like his life depends on it. Which it does.
Tango's boots hit the ground with a dull thud, the scuffed leather pebbled with tiny droplets of water from the puddles decorating the alley ground. Tango trots over to the alleyway’s entrance, poking his head out and looking around briefly before darting out, running to get as far away as possible. It's on his third turn that he hears a loud boom, and the unmistakable splintering crash of a building collapsing in on itself. A sharp grin is quick to manifest on his lips, and he whirls around on one foot, a mad cackle burbling up his throat before he can even see the wreckage.
Tango whips his head around at the sound of footsteps on gravel, quickly scurrying to hide behind a nearby dumpster. His nose scrunches up at the smell, but the thought quickly leaves his mind as voices approach.
“This arsonist is starting to get on my nerves, blowing up another one of our warehouses. Say, you think it's all the Hero Corps?”
His breath hitches in his throat, his body stiffening behind the wall of thick plastic. They were talking about him. Tango tunes back in just in time to catch a response from the other figure.
“I doubt it, it's too messy for the heroes. They like to keep things under wraps, this arsonist is doing things just for the spectacle it creates, if I had to guess.”
“Fair. Though if they keep hitting our places we might have to orchestrate a little incident, if you catch my drift.”
They chuckle, a mean-spirited thing, before responding, “I do hope they keep meddling then. We haven't gotten to play in a while.”
Tango can hear footsteps crunching on the gravel as the two walk away, and he risks a peek out into the darkness, only to pale immediately after. Two figures stood at the end of the alleyway, one dressed in a flowing red cloak, one in a simple jumpsuit. He recognizes them immediately. It's the villains known as Blood Moon and Sunset, both very well known for torturing their victims and causing mass panic.
Tango slowly brings a hand up to cover his mouth, hoping to stifle his suddenly too-loud breathing. Briefly, he wonders if Blood Moon can smell fear, being a wolf hybrid and all, but she shows no sign of knowing about his presence, so he must be safe. It takes less than five minutes for the two villains to leave, but to Tango it feels like hours.
Tango exhales loudly once he's sure the two are gone, his eyes wide behind their red tinted goggles. He can't believe this. He, Tango, had taken out villain warehouses. Surely that had to be some sort of bad luck record, right? How unlucky did he have to be to accidentally get on the villains’ bad side.
Tango sighs, finally squeezing out from behind the dumpster. He does a quick glance around, muttering under his breath about ‘those stupid villains’. Scuffed boots drag through the gravel as he starts making his way home.
-
Tango hissed in pain as he snatched his hand back, the scalding hot coffee dripping onto his uniform shirt from the appendage. The coffee machine in question merely whirred, continuing to dispense the offending liquid into the clear plastic cup below. Tango growled, clicking the button to shut it off before turning to wash off his hand, the old sink groaning before spouting a stream of gloriously cold water onto the burnt skin.
Just then, the bell on the front door jingled. Tango groaned internally, dreading the next order of hot coffee to come. He turned back to the main counter, eyes narrowed in passive-aggressive annoyance, already starting his usual spiel, “Welcome to The Fae Circle, how may I help you today?”
“Can I get a mango and pineapple lotus? Light ice, extra cream if you would.”
Tango blinked slowly, staring at the man before him. He looked like he came straight from a pop magazine, bright teal hair and huge swoops of eyeliner, along with what is, quite possibly, the most revealing outfit Tango has seen this month.
All too late, Tango remembers he has a job to do. Ignoring the slightly odd look the man is giving him, Tango grabs a cup and a marker, doing his best not to stammer through his next question. Though, who can blame him? He's always been nervous around pretty men.
“Can I get a- a name for the order?” He briefly debates on it, before adding, “Or should I just call you pretty?”
The man seems taken aback for a moment, just long enough for Tango to wonder if he just warranted another complaint to his manager, before chuckling softly. Thank the void, Tango thinks, smiling shakily at him.
“You may call me Scott, though I suppose pretty works just as well.”
Tango scribbles the name down on the cup in his usual chicken scratch, only processing what Scott said after a moment. When he does, he immediately turns around, pointing eagerly. “You said the thing! The fae thing! Oh, the branding is working, Gem will be so delighted!”
Scott's smile turns more amused, and he shifts to look at their bakery case. “I think I'll take a raspberry muffin, too,” he muses.
At the reminder that he is, in fact, at work, and he does, in fact, have things to do, Tango startles. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Coming right up!” Tango turns, quickly finishing up Scott's lotus and grabbing the muffin out from the case. He carefully sets the baked good down in a paper bag, handing both it and the drink to the man in front of him.
“That'll be five fifty, cash or card?”
Scott reaches into his purse, pulling out his wallet. He sets a ten on the counter, winking at Tango as he turns to leave. “Keep the change, sweetheart.”
Tango's face heats up, and he briefly recalls his Pops telling him that staring was rude before deciding damn, it was worth it. He was quickly snapped back to reality when the object of his stare left the building, and Tango was thus left to wallow in his injury (which barely hurt now) for the rest of his shift.