Chapter Text
Tango
“Bank robbery on Knight Street, they’ve taken hostages.” Skizz’s voice was slightly tinny in his ear.
He sped to a halt, changing directions, this certainly took priority over some random noise complaint.
“Got it - how many people are we talking?”
“Uhh, one moment.”
Tango was drawing near to the bank now, dodging cars and buildings as he ran full throttle through the city in a matter of seconds.
“Skizz?”
He could hear furious typing in his ear, accompanied by an occasional ‘Stupid Computer!’
“Skizz!”
“I’m sorry! Zeddlebop usually handles this sorta stuff - I don’t know how the database works!”
“What?! Where’s Zed?” He cried, unable to recall the last time he’d heard the man’s voice through his intercom.
“I don’t know! But this is really difficult without him.”
Tango felt a tug of worry in his stomach but shoved it aside. Zed was fine. The people inside the bank were not.
Eventually, the computer complied and his friend let out a triumphant whoop.
“Got it! There’s five or so, nothing insane. But- aw, they’ve barricaded the doors, no chance you’ll be able to just grab them and run.”
Damn.
He screeched to a halt outside, small sparks spitting out from under the soles of his feet as he slowed.
The building stood before him defiantly, it had large and prestigious walls of white, polished marble, fitting right in with the richer end of the city.
“There’s seriously only five hostages?”
He could hear Skizz shrugging, “People just don’t go to the bank anymore dude.”
He hummed, uninterested.
“We know anything about the perps?”
He heard more frantic typing.
“All three of them are wanted for a string of petty crimes, call themselves the… ‘Bad Boys?’ Skizz scoffed, “God that’s an awful name!”
“Yeah, Almost worse than ‘the Flash.’”
He didn’t choose the name okay!? Blame the press.
“Back entrance?” He asked, changing the subject and scoping out the parameters of the building.
“Yep.”
Running around, Tango found his way into the bank. His first priority was securing the civilian bystanders, then he could focus on the burglars. Although he didn’t really care if a bunch of rich people had their accounts emptied, it was still his duty as a public figure to stop them. Annoyingly.
He ran into the main lobby, time slowing around him as he moved. Three hostages on the floor, two behind the counter. He counted three men with guns, although there were probably more further inside. The men were wearing… leather jackets and sunglasses? It wasn’t a bad look, all things considered, just not what he would’ve personally chosen to rob a bank.
(Although he did have a cousin who turned up to a recent funeral in a similar getup, so it wasn’t the worst occasion possible).
Shaking his head to focus, Tango gently lifted one woman up, supporting her knees and curling a firm hand under her back. He escorted her out of the building, sitting her down a street away. Repeating the process until all five of them were safe, the men with the guns finally noticed him, as he returned for the fifth time, their heads turning comedically slowly. Of course, they weren’t actually thick, Tango was just fast. But he did find great humour in pretending the thugs naturally operated at such a speed.
The robbers sent multiple bullets soaring through the air, all of which Tango avoided with ease, gently flicking the pieces of metal off-course. As he had his back turned, however, one of the criminals flew at him. A sentence which should’ve been an exaggeration, however, Tango wasn’t joking. The man literally flew. He had fucking wings. Had the situation been less dire, he would’ve taken a moment to appreciate just how cool that was.
The second the man wasn’t looking, the feathery appendages had unfurled, one large flap providing the robber with enough momentum to knock Tango clean off his feet. Sending the pair of them careening into a wall. The criminal tugged Tango’s stunned form towards him, as if they were going to embrace, then slammed him back into the wall. Hitting his head hard against the marble.
Seeing stars, he tried desperately to regain his footing but failed due to the utter inconvenience of his situation.
He was given no time to recover, however, as a huge wing then hit him directly in the face.
With a mouthful of red feathers, he landed a well-placed hit to his opponent's jaw, causing him to spit crimson blood onto the marble floor of the bank, tarnishing it.
“Jimmy, hurry up!”
The other two men shouted over the ruckus, one hurrying around, shoving handfuls of cash into a duffel bag as his friend ran to the back where the vaults were stored. They were panicking, good. But Tango couldn’t distinguish much of the conversation due to the persistent ringing in his ears. He pushed back against his attacker, causing the pair to fall to the floor. Tango landed on top, straddling the man as he produced a pair of handcuffs, trying (and failing) to detain him.
The winged man struggled viciously, throwing Tango off as he kicked and scratched in self-defence. They both rolled around on the floor, scrambling for purchase. The perp landed another hit and Tango felt his nose break. Hot, crimson blood burst from the place of impact, soaking his face and costume.
Ohh Zed was going to kill him! Blood was such a pain to wash out.
Just then he felt the cold press of metal against the back of his skull.
“Stand up, slowly. And raise your hands.”
The avian grinned at him, smiling through a mouthful of blood as his gang member ordered Tango around.
Guns were usually of little threat to him, as demonstrated earlier. But at such close proximity, he couldn’t move faster than the bullet would penetrate his skull. It was one of the few, rare moments where Tango was genuinely in danger.
Defeated, he began to rise to his feet, hands in the air, agonisingly aware of the weapon behind him. He was no use to anyone dead, he had to play this right.
Just as he’d straightened up fully, (and the man opened his mouth to begin his evil villain's speech), Tango dropped to the ground, kicking his legs out in a clear sweep, knocking the man clean off his feet. He hit the floor with a thud and the redhead jumped into action.
Only mildly slipping on the (now rather wet) floor. he finally regained his footing, successfully transporting both men out onto the street, handcuffing them to a nearby drainpipe. Hopefully, when the police finally arrived they’d be able to make their arrests quickly and without issue. Although judging by the general competency levels of the officers in the city, he wasn’t willing to bet too much on it.
He’d double-checked the security of their bindings when the two men became aware of their situation, their confused shouts following Tango as he re-entered the bank.
“Wait, what the hell?!”
“GRIAN YOU HAD ONE JOB-“
Strolling towards the vault in the back, Tango felt pretty confident now. There had been a brief moment a minute or so ago, where he’d nearly accepted his fate as a new decorative rug for the bank, content to roll around on the blood-soaked marble forever. But now only one of the robbers remained, hopefully, he’d be done in time for lunch.
“Hello?!” He called, “Mr Bad Guy?”
His mocking tone echoed around the large building, bouncing off the walls, warping the sound, making his voice unusually deep.
His question heralded no response, and he continued further into the bank.
What he saw next was a feat so ridiculous it was almost indescribable.
A large duffel bag was floating in the air, only a foot or so off the ground.
Tango froze where he stood, rubbing his eyes under his mask to ensure this wasn’t some hallucination brought on by lack of sleep. (The ‘soothing’ lavender pillow mist was doing exactly nothing to help, but he wasn’t going to tell Zed that).
But no- the bag remained airborne. It stayed ominously still as if it had been caught doing something it shouldn’t.
Just as he’d begun to question his own sanity, the duffel bag started moving forward. Toward him, at a frankly alarming rate.
Panic-stricken, Tango grabbed at the bag aimlessly as it passed. It stopped for a moment in his grasp, he pulled against the invisible force out of instinct, but before he could take further action, he was struck hard in the jaw.
Stumbling backwards, he let go of the bag. Clutching at his face, he tried to wrap his head around what had just happened. The bag, which was now a hardened criminal in Tango's eyes, flew around the corner and vanished. But not before letting out a small, high-pitched “Sorry!”
So the third robber was a meta-human too.
That made a lot more sense.
-
Entering the door of Star Labs, Tango was instantly hit with a feeling of ‘wrong.’ The building felt cold and uninhabited, despite the several members of his team inside. Heading through to their room of operations, a small part of him had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that he’d be greeted with the sight of his missing tech guy. But the room contained nothing of the sort, no blonde-haired man clutching a cup of tea for warmth, just Skizz in his chair and Gem in her lab.
“Dude! You’re bleeding”
Oh yeah. He’d forgotten about that.
Reaching up to touch his face he winced in pain and discomfort at the tacky, half-dried blood there.
Gem soundlessly produced an antiseptic wipe, dabbing at his face. It stung like hell, but he wasn’t going to give her another reason to chastise him.
When his face finally looked less like a portable murder scene, Skizz spoke up, addressing the elephant in the room.
“Top… What happened dude?”
Tango sighed as he pulled down his mask, the material hanging around his neck. He was getting too old for this.
“That last guy was invisible! He completely threw me! I- just let him leave.”
“You let him go?!”
“Listen-“ he found the nearest chair and collapsed into it.
“-I’m more concerned about other things, namely finding my fiancé. I genuinely don’t care if they get away with a couple thousand dollars, it was from the vault which we both know is where the richest investors store their funds. They can afford to be bought down a peg.”
Skizz nodded slowly, mulling his point over.
“I suppose that makes sense. And hey!” His tone changed drastically, “You got two of ‘em!”
Tango clicked his tongue in agreement.
“Sure did,” he said as he speed-changed his clothes, opting for a creased Bon Jovi t-shirt and jeans. Say what you want about denim, anything was comfier than that damn suit.
“Any news on Zed?”
“His phone location is turned off,” Skizz replied with the air of someone who knew that whatever he did, the mood was about to sour drastically.
“His location is off?!” Tango cried, “It’s never off! He knows to never turn it off!”
He took a breath.
“Try tracking the physical device, instead of the mobile connection.”
Skizz stared at him blankly.
“There’s a physical tracker in his phone case,” he elaborated. “After the third kidnapping attempt, we had to get creative.”
His friend nodded, turning back to his laptop with newfound determination. This lasted all of five seconds, as Gem instantly slid over in her chair, swatting the older man’s hands away, typing vigorously in his place.
“What- hey! You’re the Scientist here, not the Tech guy!”
Gem deadpanned him, “Our ‘Tech guy’ happens to be missing and-“ she looked Skizz up and down,
“You’re too old for this.”
“Excuse me-“ Skizz was cut off by a loud beeping.
“The tracker’s still in one piece,” Gem explained, pointing to a large green icon,
“This might take a minute though, it could be anywhere. Why don’t you call him in the meantime?”
Skizz made a vague noise of agreement and pulled out his phone.
Tango headed out of the room toward the kitchen. His head hurt like a bitch and he desperately needed a drink. Something strong, preferably whisky.
“What?! Recognise my face you stupid device!”
“Skizz it’s upside down-“
He sighed. They really needed Zed back. If not for his sanity, then for the sake of their technology. Skizz was going to blow something up if he wasn’t careful.
Zedaph
Everything had been going fine, great even.
He’d been on his way back to the lab, having scored some insanely cheap DVDs from a local CEX. He knew Tango would be thrilled with the discovery, they’d both been wanting to watch Die Hard again for months! But before he could reach his destination he’d been hit over the head. Hard.
Which is how he’d ended up here, in a dark, nondescript room. Light filtered feebly through a single dingy window and decoration was few and far between. It was depressing, frankly. The only source of interest was a small desk and chair in the corner which- actually wasn’t interesting at all.
Zedaph groaned, kicking his feet where he sat, tied to his chair with a thick length of rope. He was virtually unharmed other than a bump on the back of his head from where he’d been hit. Oh! And his shirt was missing, how irritating - he’d liked that one too!
Zed was, however, bored, mind-numbingly so. Whoever had kidnapped him had left him here for at least an hour now with nothing to do, clearly having little to no respect for his pitifully short attention span. He’d seen and spoken to no one and the excitement of the adventure was running thin, he just wanted to go home.
And it wasn’t like he hadn’t been kidnapped before, noo, Zedaph was a veteran. This was almost a monthly occurrence, but usually, it was a quick, no-mess ordeal. He was threatened for a bit, and then Tango would turn up, set him free, and they’d be back home before tea time but this felt different - more professional than usual. The main problem with working with the ‘Flash’ (The Cyber City’s most infamous hero), was that people like these guys assumed he was useful. Sure, Zed was responsible for the construction of the iconic Flash suit, and the power-suppressing handcuffs, and Captain Cold’s gun and (some of) the Particle Accelerator, which had caused all this trouble in the first place. But the thugs who took him hostage didn’t want that. They wanted information on Tango, and in that respect, Zedaph was useless, not because he didn’t know- but because he wouldn’t tell.
As if on cue, the door to the room slammed open and two men and a woman walked in. Both men instantly made their way toward him whilst the third slunk to the other side of the room, draping herself over the singular, sad chair there.
“Mr Kinetic, we’re thrilled to have you here.”
One of the men spoke in a heavy German accent, Zed met his gaze lazily. He was clearly a meta-human, with green, patchwork skin and thick, goat-like horns protruding out of his head, similar to Zedaph’s own. The other sported a red shirt, ponytail and glasses. He looked cool, Zed liked this guy far more than his stupid friend. He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the woman in the chair.
“Kinetic? Like the sand?”
“No!” He spluttered indignantly, “like the energy!”
So he’d had to choose his own name for public appearances, and maybe he’d gone a little science-y with it, so what? It was cool, even Cleo thought so. Tango said it had suited him since he could rarely stop moving.
“I don’t know dude, I feel like more people would think of the sand-“ The second man countered, until the man with the accent stood on his foot to shut him up.
“Ow! Doc!” They glared daggers at each other.
“Look,” The taller one broke the stalemate first, turning to address Zedaph.
“-All we want to know is the identity of the Flash. You are here because we think you can help us.”
Zed tugged against his bonds, “Yeah, I get that a lot, can I go now?”
The creeper hybrid(?) took a step forward, his dirty lab coat flowing as he moved.
He reallly hoped those stains on the sleeve were Redstone.
“So, will you help us?”
Zedaph looked up at him defiantly, “I don’t know who the Flash is, I just work with him.”
His captor took hold of his face with one, clawed hand. He stared, impartially down at Zedaph as he forced his head stiffly upward.
“Do not insult my intelligence. We know you are a vital member of Flash’s team. We know you know who he is.”
“Well I mean I’m flattered-“
The man dug his nails into Zedaph’s face, they were long, sharp and curved, like that of a cat. He gasped slightly when they drew blood, the hot liquid pooling in the dents made by the man’s grip. Given his restraints, Zed could do nothing as the blood made its course down his face. Thick, crimson, tears. They itched like hell and he squirmed in his seat at the feeling, visibly unsettled.
“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable Mr Kinetic, but we’ve been watching you for a while, and I have no doubt you have the information we need. If you give it to us now you’ll be a free man and nobody will ever know you were here.”
Zedaph froze, “you’ve been following me?”
“Well not us,” The other man with a ponytail and sunglasses answered. “But Martyn is very good at what he does.”
“He’s right.”
A third voice joined the conversation, the woman from earlier. She crossed the room in three strides, stopping when she was directly behind him.
“And that pretty boy you spend so much time with- I mean it’s a dangerous world out there, who knows what could happen to him?”
Zedaph tried desperately to spin around to look at her, panic slowly starting to seep in as he realised that this was much more than your average kidnapping attempt. But the rope looped around him gave him little leeway, not allowing such strenuous movement.
“Tango?” He asked, voice shaking slightly, “He’s nobody.”
“You sure about that?” He tried to turn around again but froze when a cold blade touched the side of his neck.
“Because Martyn said you guys were getting pretty cozy.”
And no, okay? The irony of the situation was not lost on Zedaph. His captors threatening to hurt Tango unless he gave Tango up. It was an impossible situation. The ultimate lose-lose.
”Why do you want to know about the Flash anyway?” He tried to redirect the conversation,
“-he’s not very interesting.”
“We have… a vested interest in his abilities.“ The creeper hybrid began to pace the room.
“A machine too great to be powered electrically, it needs- more.”
“So what? You’re going to put him on a giant hamster wheel? You seriously think that’ll work?”
“Oh no, we would do that for him.” Ponytail man explained as he produced a syringe of blue liquid from his pocket. Zedaph froze, he’d heard of this. A solution with the ability to drain a meta-human of their power, turning it into a physical, tangible matter inside a syringe. Created by extracting blood after injection.
“You’d turn him into a living blood bank?” He asked, horrified. Although he already knew the answer.
“Not in such crude terms.”
“Well, now I’m definitely not telling you.” Zed sulked, folding his arms. Tango could handle a couple of assassins, he was sure of it, the alternative option seemed much worse in this scenario.
“I thought you didn’t know his identity?”
“Right.” He clarified.
“But if I did, I absolutely wouldn’t tell you now.”
The creeper hybrid sighed, “He’s an idiot, hurt him, Pearl.”
He could feel her breath on the back of his neck before she struck. Moving in a blur of red, the woman landed two punches in quick succession to his jaw and stomach. Causing him to couple over in pain, spitting blood onto the floor.
“Who is the Flash?” The man called ‘Doc’ asked.
Zedaph laughed mockingly, wishing he could wipe the blood off his lip. He ignored the man’s question completely.
The room was eerily silent before a rough hand in his hair pulled his head back, as far as it could go without snapping his neck.
“You’re very loud… far too loud.”
“I’ll make sure to tone it down for you-“
A fist hit him square in the throat. It was ponytail guy. Choking, Zedaph chased the air that had previously filled his lungs. And to think he’d thought he looked cool, Zed felt completely and utterly betrayed by the man he was friends with only in his head.
“Who is the Flash?”
“I don’t know.” He replied, voice raspy.
Hit.
“Who is the Flash?”
“Who?” Zedaph chuckled.
Hit. Ow
“Who is he?”
Hit.
“Who is the Flash?”
“You didn’t even let me answer that time!”
Hit.
And so it went on.
Eventually, just as Zedaph had been beginning to accept (and embrace) his new life as a sandbag, Doc gave up questioning him. The man who’d been hitting him stepped away, moving round to the back of the chair so Pearl could take his place. She grinned widely at him, before bending down and pulling out a dagger.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that out of all of them, she was the threat. The man with the sunglasses was the muscle and ‘Doc’ just stood around acting like a Bond villain.
“Keep hurting him until he stops acting like a petulant child.”
Like a moth to a flame! Seriously, they should cast him.
The light hit Pearl’s dagger in such a way that it almost blinded Zedaph with its brightness, it was as if the metal answered only to her as she turned the blade in her hand. He’d been expecting the small incision she made in his chest next, why else steal his shirt? The blade was cold, freezing even , and it met his hot blood in a confusing battle of temperature. But ultimately, the heat was conditional and the cold was not. His blood needed his body in order to stay warm, and it gradually chilled, allowing the cold to seep in.
Pearl cut again, deeper and Zedaph screamed. Just because he was good at withstanding pain didn’t mean it didn’t hurt . He felt like a turkey at Christmas as the knife struck again. He writhed against his restraints, counterintuitively thrusting himself further into the dagger.
“Stop wriggling!” She cried, “You’ll ruin the picture!”
“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Zedaph rasped in response, every word was like a razor blade in his mouth.
The most annoying thing about all this was the complete pointlessness of it all. He wouldn’t crack. They’d make better use of their time disposing of his body. Or if they were feeling kind, just letting him go?
That’d be fab.
Pearl wielded her weapon like a paintbrush, making short, sharp cuts followed by deep, curving ones, then returning to the old incisions, running the blade through them again, opening them up further. All whilst Zed shouted and thrashed against her, he felt like his chest cavity was about to swing open. And to think he’d been having fun until this! Why did kidnappers always have to ruin everything?
“Who is the Flash?”
“Ohh fuck off, please. ”
His vision ebbed and flowed, coming and going as it pleased. Zed was pretty sure he’d blacked out at some point because when he woke up the room was darker, but Pearl was still there, one red eye glinting at him amidst the sea of grey wallpaper.
Doc hit him again, this time perhaps out of sheer annoyance than anything else. Zedaph’s chair wobbled dangerously, before losing its balance, sending him careening to the floor.
The scientist knelt down next to him,
“Just give us a name and this can all be over.”
“You’ll have to kill me.”
He’d always wanted to use that line.
Doc scoffed, standing up.
“Ren-“
The man who Zed assumed was ‘Ren’ ( God, who was naming these people)? Crossed the room and righted his chair, pulling him upward. Zedaph groaned in pain, the abrupt change in altitude causing black spots to burst into existence before his eyes.
As heat climbed steadily up the back of his neck, the dulcet tones of ‘The Smiths’ could be heard, bringing the carefully curated ominous atmosphere to a swift halt.
They said there’s too much caffeine in your bloodstream-
“Is anyone going to answer that?” He asked, or at least he thought he asked. Having lost control of his body a while ago.
The sheep hybrid looked around at his company, who all looked remarkably confused.
Zedaph felt like he was underwater, his every movement slowed, agony draped over his vision like a great blanket of fog, blurring everything.
And a lack of real spice in your life.
Ouch.
Doc finally produced Zedaph’s phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen.
“Who’s ‘My guardian Angel?’“
Forcing back a laugh, Zedaph answered, “That’s Skizz.”
“He works at Star Labs too.” A voice added although he was too tired to catch who it was.
Doc answered the phone, putting it on speaker.
“Zeddlebop! Where you at? Me and Top just dealt with this insane robbery!”
Jesus. How could he stop Skizz from giving his captors exactly what they wanted?
“Woah!” He tried his best to sound excited, although it came out tinny, fake .
“Is the Flash feeling okay?“
Skizz paused, clearly confused by his choice of words.
“Uh- he’s fine, but we really could’ve used you, dude! I tried to use the computer system, it was bad.”
Oh, Jesus.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry- I uh, got caught up at the store.”
“Don’t worry man! Just-“
Skizz turned to speak to someone else, causing his voice to grow distant and muffled.
“No- he said. I don’t know! Ask him!”
There was a crackling, shuffling sound as the phone was passed over.
“Zed?”
Tango.
His vision was swimming, his chest and trousers were slick with blood and his face ached viciously, but he still perked up at the sound of his fiancé‘s voice.
“Where the hell are you?”
“I’m sorry, there was a problem at the store.”
Tango’s voice seemed to soften, “It’s alright, we were fine without you. Will… will you be back for dinner?”
“Yeah,” he said gently. “Yeah I’ll be back, we’ll make some of that Ramen you like so much okay?”
Please don’t mention it pleasedon’tmentionit.
“I-“ He could physically hear the cogs turning in Tango's brain.
“Yeah, okay. Love you.”
Tears were welling up in his eyes now, “Love you too.”
Doc hung up the phone the second he finished speaking.
“Now wasn’t that touching.”