Work Text:
Tango picked up his phone, then opened his chat with Impulse. He hesitated for a second, glanced at his still broken elevator, then typed out a message.
<Tango: hey you busy? i got a project i need help with>
He waited for a few seconds, staring at the unchanging screen, waiting for a reply to pop up. Usually it didn’t take too long for Impulse to respond, but Tango supposed that he wasn’t obligated to reply instantly, so he set his phone down and resumed glaring quizzically at his elevator. Another two hours passed before his phone finally chimed.
Finally, Tango thought. Took him long enough.
Then he opened the message. It was a video. Tango raised an eyebrow, then pressed play.
“Long time, no see, huh Tango? Oh, sorry, Blaze.” Tango’s heart almost stopped. The video continued to play. “It has been a while, but I will say I haven’t forgotten about you, Tango.”
He made out a figure in the front of the frame. They were clothed in all black, with flickers of a burgundy and dark purple shimmering across their suit. Their eyes glowed bright white, the light sliding across the camera lense, flaring out like lightning. The Wither.
“You fascinate me. That was the only time I’ve every had a power escape almost unharmed.” Tango’s lungs ached as he was shot back into the past for a few seconds. “So, I got a little something that you want enough to give me a second shot.”
They stepped aside. Behind them, light glinted off the edges of a metal chair. In that chair sat Impulse, his eyes screaming through the camera lens. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. Tango knew the feeling that he suspected filled Impulse’s throat—arid and scorched, so dry that you could barely breathe. And the pulsing static that was coursing through his veins, stabbing into his muscles and immobilizing him. Tango had to fight his own mind to crawl back into reality.
They paused for a second to let the image sink in. “It’ll be a pleasure to see you again, Tango.”
The video ended.
-
A thin beam of moonlight shone through the blinds on Tango’s window. He strode through his lair, furiously tapping at the screen on his wrist, taking half a glance at the still nonfunctioning elevator before descending the stairs.
A voice pulled him out of his head. “Tango.” Jimmy was standing in front of the door, his wings flared out slightly. “Don’t do this. I already told you not to do this alone.”
Tango let his hands drop as his eyes met Jimmy’s. His stance was weary but his reply was firm. “I’m not leaving him there.”
“I’m not telling you to leave him, I’m telling you to take me with.”
Tango gave a faint, sad smile, but it quickly flashed into a sneer. “You have no idea what you just asked me to do. You don’t know how hurt you could get.”
“Yeah, uh, about that,” Jimmy paused. “I talked to Wraith about it.”
“You talked to Etho?”
Etho was breathing hard, crouched low, his hands over his face. Tango dropped to his knees beside him, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up, desperate to see that he was at least alive. Etho returned Tango’s wide-eyed stare with solid black, glossy eyes. Shimmering black tear streaks coated his face and hands. A drop fell from one of Etho’s fingers and landed on Tango’s pants, black bleeding into the red.
Tango pulled himself back into the present. “If you talked to Etho, you know why you can’t go.”
Confusion flashed through Jimmy’s eyes. “What?”
Tango paused, studying Jimmy’s expression for a second. “He didn’t tell you.”
“Didn’t tell me what?”
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” Tango backtracked. “I’m not letting you come with me.”
Jimmy stepped forward, dismissing whatever confusion he had. “Tango, stop. You can’t do this alone, you’ll get hurt,” He pleaded.
“I’ll be fine, you won’t.”
“And why’s that?”
“Whatever Etho told you, that’s not the full picture. You don’t know this guy.” Tango met Jimmy’s eyes. “They will kill you.”
“That’s ok-“
“No!” A wave of red surged through Tango’s eyes. “Jimmy, you don’t understand. If you go in there, you will die.”
Etho’s skin was almost freezing, prickling as it seemed to suck the heat out of Tango’s hands. He was curled limply on the ground until Tango pulled him in, wrapping his arms around him. Black veins crawled their way across Etho’s muscle, shimmering under his skin. Tango’s own chest was still as he frantically watched, unmoving, for the rise and fall of Etho’s. He waited to hear the beat of his heart. To feel the warmth return to his body.
“And I won’t let that happen.” Tango strode forward. His face was set, though not quite emotionless. He looked up at Jimmy. “I’m doing this because I care about you.”
Tango reached out to either side of Jimmy, fire blooming in his palms, then grabbed onto his golden yellow wings. The metal frame dissolved under Tango’s touch, warping and deforming the careful shapes Tango had worked so hard to perfect. The heat spread further and further through the mechanisms, crushing all of the miniscule gears and circuits into a mess of molten metal. The liquified feathers seemed to bleed over the rest of the wings, leaving trails of red hot copper in their wake. Tango’s hands cut gashes through the intricate machines, melting into golden slag on the ground. Jimmy found himself almost petrified, unable to stop him.
Tango stepped away, his hands still glowing bright orange. “Sorry.” He closed his fists, smothering the flames licking his palms. The door slid shut behind him.