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The team B.E.S.T. Castle, thankfully, wasn’t too far from the Southlands.
It had only been a day since Tango had been here before, a group in a forest between the two bases. It felt like an eternity ago, hanging out as a foursome, laughing and joking as they rushed through the trees to meet the other team. That had been when Mumbo and Bdubs had gone red, hadn’t it?
Tango’s mood soured slightly. Right, that was when he’d had to give up another life to get Bdubs back on yellow.
It’s in the past, he told himself as he and his two friends walked through the woods. He checked on Impulse and Skizz frequently, catching them side by side. Impulse was still shaken up after realizing about his memory loss, and Skizz clearly saw that. They still hadn’t stopped holding hands.
Skizz truly was a friend they all didn’t deserve.
The castle suddenly appeared on the horizon, and the sight of the white walls was comforting, even if Tango had spent the last night wishing he could be anywhere else. That castle held a lot of memories, after all. More good ones than bad.
But as he got closer, he noticed something… off.
The walls were slightly damaged. Chunks of snow had fallen from the parapets and were laying, melting, on the ground. He could see stone and wood where there hadn’t been before. Instantly, he was on edge.
Is there somebody here?
“ Hold on a second,” he told Impulse and Skizz, because they weren’t originally from this world and if something dangerous was inside, some other player who hadn’t quite left the games… Tango needed to face them first.
The little tunnel that had been dug through the walls of the castle was cold, as always, and Tango shivered as he slipped inside. The snow stung as it scraped against his cheeks. He rounded another corner, nervous, and then-
He stopped
Where there had once been a soul sand floor, or wooden staircases and pathways… there was carnage. Absolute, utter carnage. Chunks of the floor and the walls and the stairs were completely missing, while others were broken and crumpled in scattered remains around the room. The whole base was truly devastated, a giant hole gaping in the middle of the room like an open maw, like some kind of bomb had gone off-
And there was Scar.
Scar, digging in the middle, not having seen him just yet. Humming to himself merrily.
My other set of TNT is now placed under the castle
The words came to Tango like out of a dream.
I will murder you ALL.
We are about to lose the castle, gentlemen!
Scar wouldn’t. He wouldn’t have dared to- when he was unprovoked- he couldn’t have…
Tango saw red.
Now, he was no longer cold. Now, snow started to melt around him into little rivers of slush. Smoke plumed from his mouth. His clothes started to sizzle.
And the sound that came out of his mouth was more of a roar than a scream.
“ SCARRRRR! ”
Scar froze instantly at the sound of his voice, going rigid.
Guilty .
“Hello there, Tango!” The wizard turned around slowly, voice shaky despite the obviously forced cheer. Tango’s red-tinted vision could see the sweat forming on Scar’s brow, could see the pinpricks of his pupils. He watched, trembling with anger, as the wizard threw a shovel into his inventory and wiped his hands on his jacket before fully turning to face him. Those green eyes went wide as he fully took in the extent of his rage. Tango was pretty sure his hair must have been fully a bonfire at that moment.
“What, uh, what brings you around these parts?” Scar asked shakily, taking several steps back until he was against one of the snow walls, cane raised up in front of him.
“I can’t believe you, Scar!” Tango shouted at him. His fists were clenched so tightly that his claws, red with heat, had punctured holes straight through his leather gloves and were digging into his palms. “The whole castle? The whole thing? I just- I can’t believe you would-” Words failed him, and he ended up hissing , spitting like some kind of feral cat. His heart was beating so quickly that it hurt.
Distantly, he remembers a conversation. That this game was over, it had ended, it wasn’t really the same Scar, it wasn’t him-
But now Tango just saw Scar, liar, swindler, red-name, threat . Standing in the ruins of a castle that had housed his team. That was his home for this game, however long it was going to be.
He started to walk forward. Snow melted at his boots, which were smoking, and soul sand crackled and moaned at his blazeborn presence. Tango locked his eyes with Scar’s, watching him sweat and grow pale.
Good .
“What did you do ?” He demanded.
“Ohh, I was just redoing the floor, that’s all!” Scar’s voice went high-pitched, trembling still. “I came over here to see if there was maybe a sign of the enchanter, but when I saw the place all wrecked like this, I figured it was the least I could do to help patch it up a little!”
Tango just stared at him, disbelieving. He’d just seen Scar digging out the floor with a shovel. What kind of idiot did the wizard think he was?
His claws go a little deeper and puncture his palms, molten blood beading up between his fingertips.
“But I figured, since you’re here now, you probably have a specific direction you wanna go with it and you don’t need my help!” Scar is still babbling, inching his way towards one of the exits. “Soo, I might as well get to goin’!”
Scar darts at that, a blur of tan and brown. A frightened, “ Goodbye, have a great time!” warbles back to him and Tango will not have this.
“Don’t you dare.” That was all it took. Seeing Scar try to leave snapped the last bits of Tango’s restraint, and he flashed across the carnage-stricken castle, dragging his feet only a little when bits of soul sand tried to tug at his ankles. It didn’t take long for him to swing ahead of Scar and slam one hand into the snow wall. His skin burned at the contact, sizzling as the snow melted into water and then steam, spiraling upwards by their heads.
“Tell me why , Scar.” Tango demanded. He was so, so angry… but he was also hurt. Betrayed. They hadn’t even done anything to provoke Scar this time! He’d made a deal with the man only yesterday!
Distantly, a memory resurfaced.
When was Last Life for you, Tango?
We… we’re still playing it, Scar.
The memory faded away.
“Why’d you do it?” Tango’s voice was shaking, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His blood sang, molten iron, under his skin. “Tell me WHY!”
Scar, who had yelped and recoiled upon almost running into Tango’s red-hot claws, was panting with fear, staring at him with huge emerald eyes.
“I thought maybe you guys had hidden the enchanter under the floorboards, I’m sorry!” The man pleaded. “It was already such a mess, I figured I’d poke around a bit, that’s all! I didn’t think it’d be such a big deal, or I’d have asked first when I saw you earlier!”
Scar’s hands raised and twitched in a rummaging motion as he clearly searched through his inventory, pulling out what looked like a decent bit of soul sand and a spyglass. “Here, this is all I took, I promise! Oh, and a spyglass, too, do you want that back?”
Tango wasted no time in swatting the items away, seething, and watching them scatter, smoking, to the floor. “What do you mean it was already like this!?” Panic was starting to mix in with the rage. “I SLEPT HERE LAST NIGHT and it was FINE. What, TNT just magically appeared and blew it up!? I can’t- SCAR-”
It was too much. He was so angry, wrapped up in a whirlwind of rage and confusion and hurt and betrayal. Why would Scar do this? What did he have to gain? If it wasn’t him, then who was it?
Or, was the man making excuses?
Lies? More lifes? To get his lives, when he had so few left?
No, that would not stand. Tango was truly seeing red, whole body shaking. Scar needed to leave and he needed to leave now.
Tango would make him .
He wouldn’t kill him, just wound him enough that he wouldn’t think about harassing his team, or stealing from them, ever again.
Tango’s claws flashed out again, with him hardly being able to see past the red to be aware of their movements. They were molten red, itching, burning, and his arm reared back and he swung-
And suddenly, he was stopped.
Cold pressed up against his back, seared into his arms, wrapped around his torso, breathed down his neck. The touch of it scares him. The restriction is sudden, and Tango screeches in fury, struggling against the hold. He tries to lash out but can’t stop himself from getting manhandled to the ground, knees pressing against the soul sand.
The touch against him is cold, but Tango is hot , he’s burning inside, and he needs to let it out. Images of the blown apart castle are running at full speed through his brain, and when he pictures Scar’s guilty face, he sees red eyes and a dark cloak: a threat.
But then it gets even worse, because the hood morphs into a mossy cloak, and there’s a knife in his back, and it hurts , and it’s betrayal all over again. It hurts, it hurts , and he just needs to burn, he needs to destroy, he needs to-
A soft whisper into his ear. Soothing.
“Breathe. It’s okay buddy… I’ve gotcha… just breathe for me.”
But breathing is so hard. How can his lungs work when he’s burning inside like this?!
He tries, once, but coughs up lungfuls of smoke that makes his eyes burn.
“ Skizz… ” he choked out. He has to make Skizz see that they aren’t safe, that they’re going to be attacked. Scar wasn’t the first, doesn’t the angel see that? But he couldn’t Get. The Words. Out.
A pressure against the back of his neck, still searingly cold. A shudder from behind, and white fills his vision, washing away the red. Cool wind rushes in to surround him. A slide, a shift, and someone is holding his hand despite its deadly heat.
“You’re okay, Tango.” The voice is calm, the slightest hint of a tremble in its depths. It hitches, sucks in a breath. “You’re safe, Top.” A gasp for air. “‘M not gonna let ‘em hurt you…”
The cold is starting to sink in now. Normally Tango hates the cold, but this time it’s grounding.
He can breathe. He can feel each rasping breath scrape over his lungs, the sound reminiscent of an actual blaze, the acrid taste of smoke lingering sharp on his tongue. He feels sick. Woozy. The high of adrenaline has worn off to leave him frigid and hungover. He slumps a little, panting, and glances down at the things holding him. They were soft, but strong, and they were… scarred?
Big, scarred, and so very burned. Tango felt himself go pale.
“Skizz?” He twisted in his friend’s hold, and this time the angel let him move. He got a good look at the angel’s frame for the first time, and any remaining embers were swallowed by frigid tears. “SKIZZ!”
Skizz’s suit is half-gone, burnt to ashes. The skin on his face, chest, and arms was gruesomely burned, with angry marks of red and white shining in the pale light of the snow and Tango’s lashing tail.
The angel’s expression was pained, but his eyes were kind, and Tango didn’t know what to do or say. How could he have done this? How could he have not realized who had grabbed him, who he was hurting?
“Skizz I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, sinking to his knees. His voice was hoarse from smoke exhalation. Frantically, he grabbed the nearest glob of snow and, without heeding the searing ache it gave him, started patting it down on Skizz’s skin to stop the burning process. “I’m so sorry.”
Skizz let out a shaky breath, hissing a little as the snow touched him. Tears, which had been shimmering in his blue eyes, started to slide down his cheeks.
But he was smiling.
“There you are,” he whispered. Even as he sat back, hissing again at the movement, his expression was so fond. It made Tango feel ill.
Carefully, Skizz brought over one of his wings to examine it, and Tango’s stomach lurched again when he saw how badly charred the feathers were.
“Looks like that’s the end of flying for a while,” Skizz murmured, then shrugged. “‘S not the worst thing that could have happened.”
Tango watched, aghast. How could Skizz be so.. Casual about this? About what he did? But then he saw that Skizz’s chest was still rising and falling too quickly, and his fingers were shaking. He was upset, he was.
Tango did that.
“Man… I’m almost gonna be beating Scar for his title.” Skizz grinned at him, but more tears were falling down his cheeks, and Tango couldn’t stand this . “It’s okay Tango… We’re both okay.”
It was not okay. Skizz wasn’t okay, Tango wasn’t okay, Impulse wasn’t okay… nothing was okay.
Because as he sat there, heart rate slowing and taking in the absolute horror show that is Skizzleman’s arms, face, and torso, Tango was remembering. He remembered why he freaked out, why he lashed out at Scar, what set him off.
The truth is, Tango had always struggled with his anger, wrestling with it like it was a ravager in one of his games. Maybe it was just his personality, or maybe it had something to do with him being a blazeborn… he really didn’t know. He’d set many things on fire in the past, usually by accident. But this, this level of rage… what happened with Bdubs was the first time he’d ever experienced that kind of feeling. That moment had unlocked some kind of demon from deep in Tango’s soul, and now it was proving to be far too easy to let out.
Extremely easy. Dangerously easy. Poor Scar and Skizz were testaments to that.
“Just… stay put.” Tango finally manages to wheeze, watching Skizz gingerly preen his injured wing. “I-I’ll… go look for potions.”
He was up and running before Skizz could say anything, his friend’s teary expression burned into his memory. The angel was trying so hard to make it seem like everything was okay, like he hadn’t just been brutally wounded by someone that was supposed to be a friend. Tango hated it. He didn’t want to see Skizz put on that kind of mask. He’d rather be yelled at, hated, scolded… he deserved that for what he’d done.
The storage room, thankfully, wasn’t as damaged as the rest of the base. The surrounding walls, windows, and chests were all still intact. Tango opened them each up and sorted through them with shaking hands, a terrible trembling washing over his whole body. He sighed, relieved, when he saw a healing potion. At least he’d be able to undo a fraction of the damage he’d just caused.
With the potion firmly in grasp, Tango rushed back out of the storage room and down into the crater that once had been his base.
Skizz was laying flat on his back when he returned, good wing and injured wing spread wide in turn, grinning dazedly up at the sky. The sight makes something funny in Tango’s chest twist in knots; he’s unsure whether to be concerned or relieved. The sight of red-stained snow, however, knocks him firmly back into reality.
“Drink this.” Tango practically shoves the potion into Skizz’s hand, then gets behind him to carefully help the angel sit up, avoiding touching the injured wing. It’s a little difficult, considering how much bigger Skizz is, but Tango manages it. “That should heal all the burns, I think. There’s another one up there if it doesn’t.”
He’s still shaking. He doesn’t think that will go away anytime soon, not with the now-present memory of feeling Skizz’s flesh sizzle against his own. Not with seeing Scar’s terrified face inches from his claws. So much damage caused in so little time, all over a memory that shouldn’t even matter anymore.
Skizzle grinned at him, then knocked back the potion like a shot. They both watched in silence as the burns on his skin slowly cooled and started to scar, leaving blotchy marks behind.
Gods, Tango wished they could have just been erased. Assuming he was able to still see this Skizzleman after this whole thing ended, those scars would haunt him forever.
“See? I’m okay, Tangotop, no need to worry.” Skizz smiled at him again then shook himself slightly. “We’re both okay! Besides, all of this will probably go away once we get back home.
“Right.” Tango said. But doesn’t Skizz see? Tango didn’t know if he’d get to go home once all of this was over. What if he woke up once everything ended to find himself back in an undamaged castle, still stuck in Last Life? Or would he get teleported to the future, leaving his current home behind? What would happen to Impulse? Or Grian?
But he forced himself to smile, albeit shakily, for Skizz’s sake. He helped the man get to his feet, mourning the dark, patchy grey of the angel’s burnt feathers. Those most likely wouldn’t get fixed until Skizz next molted.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He can’t help but ask, giving the man another once-over. Skizz nodded, and his smile was brighter, no longer strained, so heartwrenchingly sincere.
“I’ve got the best medic taking care of me, don’t worry.” The angel reached out and squeezed Tango’s hand, and Tango smiled back, a wide, sharp-toothed thing. But he carefully extricated his hand from Skizz’s grip. He won’t trust himself anymore. Not after that. It would relapse into an old song and dance with himself, something he’d done for years, but he couldn’t help it.
“What do you want to do now?” He found himself saying. Bury it, move forward. “I, uh, can stick around here and try to patch things up if you want to get more supplies. We’re going to need them to fix up this mess!”
He laughed, anxiety curling in the pit of his stomach, now-cold claws folding into fists at his side. Leave, Skizz. Leave him here, among the snow. He needed to be alone for a spell, to center himself in the cold so he didn’t run any risk of losing his control again. “Maybe you’ll find some other friends.”
Skizz nodded softly at him, blessedly not questioning his decision. Whether he understood what Tango was silently pleading for or whether he agreed to it being a good idea, Tango didn’t know.
“Ping my comm if you need anything, yeah? And I’ll tell the others you say hi?” Skizz tilted his head slightly, flashing him a white smile.
Tango hesitated, studied Skizz’s face, and nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s cool. I’ll… be here.” He’d be fine by the time other people showed up, he told himself. If they even did. If Scar spread the word that he was acting like a raging lunatic, it wouldn’t surprise him if everyone kept their distance.
“Be safe, okay?” Tango forced another smile. “Can’t wait to work on that map with you, buddy.”
Skizz winked at him, turned away, and left the castle. Tango watched him go, listening as the crunch of snow and hiss of soul sand faded into silence, broken only by a slight whistle as the wind rushed through the ruined base. His smile fell, his composure broke, and as soon as he was sure Skizz wasn’t going to come back, he fell to his knees, and cried.