Work Text:
Operation: Locker Groove
The firehouse was asleep.
Red exit lights glowed softly like embers in a dragon’s chest. Not a whisper stirred from the sleeping quarters. Not a creak from the engine bay.
Until—
click.
Helmet cams flicked on with soft static.
Ghost and Phantom slipped into the engine bay like specters, black boots near-silent on the smooth concrete floor.
A low beat pulsed from a hidden speaker—
🎶 something with bass and menace and just a hint of synthpop rebellion.
They stalked forward, shoulders squared, posture dramatic.
Ghost turned his head slowly toward the cam, glowing skull reflecting the faint light.
Phantom, red devil horns blinking, nodded once.
And then they danced.
Not like firefighters. Not like criminals.
Like absolute legends.
Right there—dead center in front of the 118’s lockers—they broke into an absurdly smooth synchronized routine.
Ghost spun.
Phantom popped a shoulder, rolled it clean down her arm and into a step-ball-change.
Ghost slid down the fire pole like it was a stage prop in a Vegas magic act—
arms flared out, toes pointed, landing in a crouch like MJ reincarnated into a firefighter with questionable judgment.
Phantom dropped to the ground and did the worm—yes, the worm—right in front of Bobby Nash’s locker, which was now spiritually tainted forever.
Then—
CRASH.
The supply closet burst open and a third helmeted figure emerged—wearing LED bunny ears and wielding a glitter cannon.
They raised their arm like a gladiator in battle.
The beat dropped.
They fired.
✨✨✨ GLITTER. EVERYWHERE. ✨✨✨
The crew saluted the firetruck like it was a general.
One by one, they vaulted out the bay door and into the night, glitter still raining in the air.
The screen glitched briefly—then lit up with jagged white text:
OPERATION: LOCKER GROOVE COMPLETE
Cut To: Athena’s Garage — 2:02AM
The camera panned across a chaotic investigation wall:
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Red strings.
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Printed screenshots of TikToks mid-dance.
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Glitter samples in baggies.
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Zoomed-in stills of dance shoes, helmet reflections, and one shot of a fire pole smeared with neon powder.
In the center:
A crude logo drawn in silver glitter pen:
The Ghost.
Athena stood in front of the board, arms crossed. Her robe was impeccable. Her energy was pure “I’m about to solve a murder”.
Behind her, Michael sipped herbal tea and looked mildly alarmed.
Michael: “So… this is your weekend now?”
Athena: “They broke into my husband’s firehouse and danced in front of his locker. You tell me, Michael.”
Michael: “…I think you’re obsessed.”
Athena: points dramatically “Look at the shoulder roll. I’ve seen that before.”
Michael: “What, at a Zumba class?”
Athena: “NO. In. My. Jurisdiction.”
Cue flashback montage:
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Athena watching TikToks, slowing them frame by frame.
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Zooming in on knees mid-bend.
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Whispering to herself, “That’s not a beginner’s knee bend…”
Next Scene: The Firehouse, 7:14AM
Bobby walked into the engine bay with coffee.
He stopped.
Blink.
There was glitter on the floor.
The fire pole smelled like Axe body spray and deeply personal chaos.
Chim tripped over a glitter cannon casing.
Bobby: “What the hell…?”
Hen: (scrolling) “Uh, guys? I think we’ve been… TikTok’d.”
Eddie: (watching the video) “…Ghost just shimmied past my locker.”
Buck: (stretching, yawning) “Wow. That’s crazy. Who’d break in just to dance?”
Chim: “You’re weirdly calm about this.”
Buck: (shrugging) “Maybe I respect the hustle.”
Maddie walked in last, late, with glitter in her hair and an expression that screamed don’t ask questions.
Behind her, like an avenging wraith, Athena appeared.
Athena: “...Interesting.”