Chapter Text
The night was young, and the vibrant lights across the city shone brightly, mirroring the electric atmosphere that filled the air. The sounds of distant revving engines echoed as some race cars lined the streets, ready to take off at any moment.
Among them, only two stood out: the Bash Brothers. Why? Because they are both big and tough bulls, and look like they could even lift a car! Seriously, those muscles are no joke.
But here comes Tag, a tiger cub from a small town is about to go head-to-head with both of them! Well, that is until he finds his mask. Though, he couldn't even find it in his room! Maybe he accidentally left it in the garage somewhere?
With Miles out of town for a while, Tag now has the whole day doing whatever he wants! Including racing.
Yes, yes. That particular word might be misunderstood by some people like—what does he mean by racing? Racing with an actual race car? But that's illegal for his age! He's only 14 years old with no official driver's license and that would no doubt make Miles frown in absolute disappointment since he still doesn't have permission to drive it, even in private! Oh and don't even start with how his parents' reaction would be if they were still here!
And—uh yeah, if they're still here...
...That got awkward real fast. Huh.
Tag slightly grimaces at the bitter memory, his eyebrows scrunched as he patiently manages to open up the heavy shutter of the garage with a small grunt, or Miles's garage considering it is the owl's to own.
He goes into the dimly lit space of the garage and finds his way to where the usual light switch was and he clicks it on. Finally, the area was filled with light and he squinted his eyes from how bright it was, blinking a few times before his sight caught the familiar race car situated where it usually is.
Behold, The Ripper! His and Miles's own personal race car. Hah, she's a beauty as always. With that orange colour and an almost tiger kind of design on her, he already knows she's ready to race!
Alright, there's no time to waste. The race's going to start any minute now—wait...His mask! Oh, shoot he almost forgot about it!
The tiger scrambles in panic as he sprints to the back of the garage and rummages through the items in one of the desks, attempting to find his mask.
Come on, come on—where the heck did he even put it this time?!
Until his eyes instantly landed on a masquerade mask that eerily resembled to bone, sitting peacefully in a random drawer he happened to open. And boy is he glad!
He beamed as he quickly grasped a hold of the mask and wore it on his face; the mask only covered the top half which also blanketed his nose with a bone look while having two scarcely jagged holes for his eyes to view. Overall, people might think he's still stuck in Halloween season, but that's not the point, alright?
Tag's small tiger ears perked up when he heard a small roar of a crowd nearby from the area he's in.
He smirks. Heh, showtime.
-
He feels free.
Tag screams in joy as he makes The Ripper do a quick turn which leads to his way into a tunnel, followed by the Bash brothers aggressively speeding up their own race cars to catch up with him.
Suddenly, the radio placed just behind his steering wheel on the left side crackles with a familiar stern voice, "Tag? I know you can hear me."
The tiger cub was so focused on the race, he slightly jerked at Miles's grumpy tone, and his eyes instantly darted to the radio just as the voice chimed in again, "Tag, I'm getting angry here—!" Damn, alright, guess he's going to have to handle Mad Uncle Miles tonight—that is after he finishes this race of course!
Instead, he smirked as he gazed forward again at the road, "Miles? I thought you were out for the weekend!" He exclaims as if it's a normal Tuesday.
"Got back early, but first—where's the car?" Tag could hear the tainted suspicion in the old owl's tone.
The tiger cub was about to reply when one of the Bash brothers attempted to slam his car behind him. Thank goodness he manages to dodge in time! He glances back at the radio with a wide grin, "The car?"
A rough sigh sounded, "Orange, four wheels, an engine. The Ripper, Tag? Where's the car?" Miles already sounds like he's angry in just a minute! But maybe he really is?
Before he could respond however, once again, one of the Bash brothers was now driving beside him when they were supposed to be left behind! And wait what? That Bull guy has a stupid smirk plastered on his face! Ugh, what a nuisance.
Shaking his thoughts away, Tag replied to the radio with a crooked smile, struggling to come up with the right words since the bull guys were still coming for him, "Uhh how would I know? I-I'm just... y'know—at home, having dinner!" He gave a tiny chuckle, "Watching TV?" Duh. Imagine if Miles believed him!
There was a brief pause before he heard the owl's voice again, "I'm calling you...in the car!" Oh, he did not sound happy.
Busted. Thanks Mr. Obvious. The tiger cub rolls his eyes in a slightly irritated manner, "You're the one who said we needed to test the jump function under race conditions—" He grunts when The Ripper is suddenly being shoved against the tunnel's walls as they all continue to drive, the scratching metal of his car being loud. Yikes, that sounds really bad.
"Yeah, but I also mentioned we do that when you and The Ripper are ready!" Miles is definitely screaming at him right now.
Tag blinked a few times and he cringed, "Oh, I uhh...forgot about that last part. Sorry Miles!" He hears a mocking laugh and he turns his head beside him, his gaze hardened at the sight of one of the Bash brothers.
"Hmph, but of course you did! How convenient." Miles says with an obviously stressed tone in his voice.
Tag pressed his right foot hard onto the pedal as he did a quick controlled manoeuvre with the steering wheel to swerve his enemy's car back away from him. And he did it very easily for a 14-year-old.
He instantly began speeding up ahead, and Miles must have heard the clashing sounds of metal as he began worrying on the radio again, "Tag, what's going on? You still there, kid?" The owl halted, "Wait a minute...Just don't tell me you're racing with the Bash brothers."
Yep. Well, he did say that Miles doesn't even let him drive in secret, right? But where's the fun in that if he's going to be cooped up in the house playing video games and practising his fighting skills only? He just couldn't get rid of the urge! And it looks like even the owl knows he's disobeying him again. Oops, indeed.
The tiger cub blatantly dismisses Miles' response as he pushes his foot on the same pedal again and uses his left hand to make a brief switch on the lever beside him, then, he puts both of his hands on the steering wheel, tightly grasping it before he turns it. Making The Ripper turn around and he now comes face to face with a Bash Brothers, while still driving backwards! Honestly, most of it was just for show off though.
"You're racing the Bash Brothers..." Miles's voice crackles again in horrid realisation.
Tag snickers in glee at the absolute jaw-dropper on his enemy's face. "They're a very misunderstood family!"
With that, he bravely drifts The Ripper and it seems like the bull notices his move and decides to follow him to also drift his car. Somewhere in a lit tunnel, they drift beside each other as the bull roared dramatically at him, clearly his enemy was trying to threaten him. No biggie though.
The tiger cub only glances at the bull with a mocking wink and widely grins as he gestures something ahead of them; the bull in reply only tilted his head in confusion.
Tag grumbled under his breath at this and rolled his eyes. Whatever! Now, he turns The Ripper to the front with ease and gives the pedal a strong press, making him go all away ahead of one of the Bash Brothers.
The bull might not have had the time to manage to catch up to him because suddenly, a booming explosion was heard just seconds after the bull was left behind. Tag looks at his rear mirror with a snicker.
"Tag! What was that sound—Are you alright?!" Ah, right. He almost forgot Miles' still on the radio. No doubt panicking for him. After all, he is still a child. Bleh, what a word to describe him. He's very much already a man!
He ignores him anyway, with no dignity and leans his pedal back a bit. The owl on the radio still isn't going to give up, though. "Tag? Hey! Don't you dare ignore me again, kid!" As he expected, the warm orange light that made the tunnel alive, quickly faded out, making the tunnel pitch black. He could still drive in the dark though, it is awfully...relaxed.
That explosion really did something, huh. Luckily, it could've gone much worse.
As soon as the lights were out, the power quickly turned back on. Once again, the tunnel is bright with its usual warm orange brightness. Tag eyes darted to the last of the Bash Brothers driving ahead of him and the bull might've seen him too since he angrily curses at him. Whoa buddy, language!
The tiger cub scowls, "I'm going to jump him." He's going to use the jump function so badly.
"What? N-no you're not! It's not even ready! I haven't hooked up the hydraulics to the manifold coupler—" He could hear the growing panic in Miles as he disagreed with this.
"Sorry, Miles! Going for it!" Tag clicks the two special buttons placed in the steering wheel on either opposite side with a too-stretch grin.
"No—wait!"
These buttons make The Ripper do a special move that would no doubt stir the shock and awe in people! The screen where the radio originally is, now shows a different screen;
THUNDER POUNCE
Iniating sequence...
'A loading battery as it slowly fills up with an almost gaming kind of noise.'
And Tag is going to be the first after his father to use the jump power function! Sweet!
Just as he was bracing himself for The Ripper to literally jump when the screen shows the battery being already full and a 'READY' text shows, the car suddenly makes a small explosion noise at the back, probably in one of the motors.
The tiger cub's eyes widened as his breath hitched, "Oh—come on!" The subtle fear was instantly replaced by dismay and disappointment.
"Tag, what happened? Did the car explode?!"
WHAT. "That was a possibility?!" He shouts at the radio when Miles' gruff voice turns back on.
A heavy sigh on the radio, "No..."
"Hmph, the jump didn't work!"
The owl mentally face-palmed, "That's fine. Just please forfeit the race, get back here and I'll run a diagnostic."
"Uhh—Can't do that." Tag exclaims as he focuses on the race between him and the last Bash Brothers, both of them finally drive into a long street and out of the tunnel. The city light echoes as it was still late and way past his bedtime. Though, a boy his age doesn't need to have bedtime nowadays, right? He could do whatever he wants!
"Um, why not?"
"Remember how we were talking about how we didn't have enough money to enter these races?"
"...Wait a minute," It was another brief pause, though Miles might need it for what a huge problem he's gonna have. "You bet the car." It wasn't a question.
The tiger cub only smiles, "I bet the car—"
"WHAT?!"
He makes a turn before speeding The Ripper up again. The finish line was just a few meters away down since they both were still racing on top of a hill, he could see it yet his enemy was the one who was way ahead of him!
And Miles doesn't seem to make it any better, "Out of all of your so-called creative brains, this is the most crazy irresponsible brain-numbing foolish ideas you have ever had! I was gone for just a day and you already—!"
Though, Tag brushes away with ease and tries to calm himself down, "Relax, Miles. I have a new idea."
The old owl scoffs, "A good idea?"
Tag's eyes glint with mischief as he glanced at the massive and wide yet small slope of the hill beside him, "Sure, let's say that!" A shortcut, baby!
He makes The Ripper turn to it, going down the hill when he breaks a good part of the metal fence that lined up. "Woohoo!" He shouts in glee. As the car was going down the hill at an appropriate speed, the tiger cub saw the other bull driving the long way around. When they both make distant eye contact however, Tag with his right hand, sets two fingers beside his forehead and swipes them away to the front with a wink. Boom, his signature move! All the while his other enemy scowls in surprise yet in wonder.
In the end, The Ripper manages to cut a way and immediately lands in front of one of the Bash Brothers' cars before Tag presses the pedal in one last effort to make it to the finish line. Because boy, he will not lose this absolute beauty of a car!
The tiger cub laughs when he goes past the finish line, finally!
The small crowd gave a round of applause to him as Tag stopped The Ripper's engine and jumped out from his seat. Though, he was a little startled when the crowd almost rushed their way to him and a lot of smiles and words of encouragement met his way.
Ah, so this is what it feels like to be famous, huh Dad? Tag grins back at the small crowd since that's what they could only see of his face. His bone mask's still intact as it only covers the top half of his face, though not reaching his ears but that's just fine.
He glances back behind the crowd to see his enemy rampaging and breaking his own car! Pftt, does he not recognise patience?
No matter how cruel the fact that he made a bull lose his mind, he chuckles at this knowing he's still the winner at the end.
-
Tag waves goodbye at one of the last of his fans before turning his head and examining the bright city down and ahead of him, leaning towards the metal fence in an almost calm atmosphere. The night is still young.
Then, his small tiger ears perked up at an unfamiliar female voice, "That was a great race, Tag." Yet, there was no awe in her voice. Just plain and flat.
Curious, he turns around to see a bunny lady in a woman's suit, though she looks like a boss with those stern glasses and eyes of hers, beside her stood two tall dogs that might be her bodyguards, they were also wearing suits. And...They were all walking towards him!
His eyes widened before he quickly wiped them off and sighed heavily in exasperation, "Look, tell Frank I've got his money. I just need a little more time to get the finances worked out." He says with a small scratch at the back of his neck, his tone not having a care in the world.
Some might be wondering, just why in the world would he be in debt that relates to race cars out of all things?! Let alone with a grown-up! Doesn't he know that it's dangerous for someone his age to owe someone their money? This tiger cub's supposed to be at school, learning and yadayada yada—Man, that sounds exactly like Miles...Although, he doesn't blame him, it's really risky to be in debt with a stranger.
But he's not just any kid. He's Tag. A fierce tiger and a strong one at that! Even if he might not look much, he knows how to fight, alright? It's what he's been practising ever since Miles got beaten up once. And Tag's not afraid to lose his life to save his family, whether by blood or not.
The woman continues walking towards him before stopping a short distance away from him, and both bodyguards follow her in motion. Now that they're close enough, Tag could see just how small he is compared to the professional bunny lady standing before him, it's almost embarrassing since he's a tiger and she's just a bunny.
Well, he is still considered a cub though, so that makes sense. Even if he doesn't appreciate it that much. He's like...shorter at about where the lady's eyes are—and here he first thought he was the taller one, that's not fair. Because he's a boy! Aren't boys supposed to always be the taller ones anyway? Just look at those practically huge bodyguards!
The stranger tilted her head at his words, her gaze facing down at him, "Who's Frank?"
Tag's nose wrinkled in confusion before the realisation hit him. Oh, it's the other one! "Nobody, never mind! But tell Charlie there was no way I could've known—"
The bunny lady had already strolled away from him to look at The Ripper, her hand below her chin in an almost thinking expression, "I'm not from Charlie, either." She says in a bland tone before carefully taking in the short masked person standing a few feet away from her, though she thinks it might be a kid she's looking at. But you can never judge a person for their height or size.
Tag halted, his neck cranking up as he took a glance at both of the bodyguard dogs standing before him since they did not follow her like before. His eyes darted between them and an eyebrow raised, forming a small smirk, "Did Lester send you?"
A cough was heard from the bunny lady, "My name is Torres. I work for Mr King."
Tag's face lit up as he held his hand up, "King." He repeats, "The King?" He squeals in excitement and with a full grin he points at the billboard behind him, "King King?!" The billboard contains a Hippo wearing full business attire as the man with a friendly smile points back at the audience with a huge text printed, 'See you at the race!'
Torres the bunny lady puts a hand on her hip and gives a curt nod, "Mr King has an eye for talent, Tag," She gazes at the smaller person before her with slightly narrowed eyes, "He's been watching you for a while now and has a question for you." Jeez, scary much!
The tiger cub forms a smirk anyway, maybe King wanted to know how he managed to drive because Tag's a small guy? Pftt, he gets that questions many times before and wouldn't even be afraid to yawn at him! "Sure, out with it!" He says with a tilt of his head.
"...How would you like to join the RIMBA Grand Prix?"
His eyes widened more than ever in his entire life.
-
Miles' garage opens and The Ripper drives in safely with precise speed.
"Hey!" Tag exclaims with a bright smile and jumps out from his car before landing in front of the seething old owl, and with confidence, he says with ease, "Anybody have a spare car? Because...I do!" His arms held in the air as he turns back towards one of the Bash Brothers' already useless cars, a part falls with a loud clank.
He hears a huff beside him, "At last, now I can retire to a life of luxury," Miles sarcastically says, though there's a bit of relief in his voice.
Tag in return nudges the owl with a wide grin, his height a foot taller than the older, "Yeahh, Jonah wasn't too happy about losing." He gestures at the broken car at the back, "That guy gets really angry—"
"That's it!" Miles shouts in anger as he dashes back to his computer desk, the old owl was constantly furious when it came to racing anyway. "No more illegal street races, no more betting on lunatics. We are done!"
The tiger cub's face doesn't drop one bit, yet his eyes slightly crease, "Absolutely!"
"Don't argue with me, Tag—wait, what?" Miles quickly turns to him.
He hums, "I think it's time we moved up in the world," The boy gestures around with wonder lit on his face, "Maybe the RIMBA Grand Prix! How's that sound?" Tag exclaims with a too-big smile at the owl. Come on, Miles. Listen to him for once!
There was a long moment of silence, The tiger still froze his awkwardly big smile while Miles stared at him with a deadpanned expression and raised eyebrows, "Did you hit your head during the race?"
Tag shakes his head, his big smile still on his face as he looks pleadingly at the old owl, "It's happening, Miles! There was a RIMBA scout at the race. Her name was Torres. Pretty scary. Not that you care—but the point is, I got the invite!" As soon as he opens his mouth, Miles already rolls his eyes, and proceeds to tell him with a strict stare, "Do you know how many grifters are at these things? Just looking for some gullible racer to scam. Besides, you don't even have a driver's license!"
With ignorance, the boy reluctantly gave him the payment slip he got from Torres anyway, "Then, how many grifters give you signing bonuses?"
Miles snatched the slip and just a look at it made his jaw drop, "That's a lot of zeros."
"There's a comma there too!" Tag chimed in as he pointed, moving to stand beside the old owl only to receive an unamused glare from him instead. Yet, the tiger cub puts a hand on Miles's shoulder and gently shakes him with glee, "We've hit the big time, old man!"
Miles lowers the slip to glance back sceptically at the boy who couldn't even contain his excitement in his high-pitched voice, "The really, really big time. Torres said the invite came from King himself!"
"...King?"
Tag grins as he rapidly nods, "Yeah! The head of the RGP himself, wants us to join the team." He gave a sly smile.
"Wha—Tag. Are you playing games with me, right now?"
"Nope!" The tiger happily claps his hands as he sits on a spinning chair nearby before he spins around, "Soo, what do ya think?"
Miles' gaze hardened, "This is a terrible idea. We're not doing this." He lets go of the slip and walks away.
Huh. Typical Miles. "What?" Tag's smile dissolves and stops his chair, "Of course we're doing this!" He exclaimed and crouched to grasp the slip that dropped on the floor. "Isn't this what we've been working for?" He stands up again and puts both of his hands on his hips, with narrowed eyes at him.
"You don't know what the RGP is like, Tag. It's not all driving and magazine covers." The owl makes eye contact with him, "It can get bad."
Tag scoffs, "If the choice is between living in this garage, barely scraping a living, and the RIMBA Grand Prix?" He gave a snicker, "I’ll take a little bit of bad!" He says with a blend of defiance and joy. His eyes flicker to the slip in his hand, its numbers shining like stars.
Just as he begins to imagine what it might be like to be free from these cramped walls, the old owl suddenly snatches the slip from his grasp, a grim expression clouding his features. "Your father wouldn’t have wanted this for you. Don’t you see that?!" he argues vehemently, his tone filled with concern and frustration.
Something inside him shattered, "I don't care what he would've wanted—he's not here!" His voice trembles with fury, the emotion seeping through with every word. In a moment of unguarded frustration, he accidentally removes his mask, flinging it harshly onto the ground between them as if discarding an unbothered weight. "You are!" Tag shouts at him with a scowl that deepens by each second, jabbing a finger at Miles' chest.
The old owl's face falls.
There was another long string of stillness as they both stared at each other, a hidden regret in one and a shocking bitterness in another.
He admits, he might have gone a tad too far with the shouting and yelling—now he probably looks like he's one of those arrogant brats. Literally.
Miles was the first to cut the quiet.
What was supposed to be a mad uncle Miles, had surprisingly begun to softly address the boy, even if he noticed the small glare pointing at him, "Tag. You know I want what's best for you...your parents would too." His eyes loosened up, almost pleading with the tiger cub, urging him to listen just this once. "If you want to participate in the RGP—then fine. You can,"
Tag's eyes almost lit up.
"But that'll be when you own a driver's licence." The owl ended yet again with a weary huff.
The boy blinked in disbelief for a moment, processing the weight of Miles's words, until he finally snapped out of his daze, "Wait—but I have to wait like...until years!"
"Right on the dot, kid," Miles responded, managing a weak smile.
Tag's jaw dropped in disbelief before he groaned in frustration, "I don't want to wait any longer, Miles! Seriously it's—" He paused, the wheels in his brain turning before a mischievous grin spread across his face as he looked back at the old owl.
Miles raised an eyebrow, scepticism etched across his features. "What?"
"I signed the contract," Tag claimed, smirking with unashamed arrogance. Just one sentence was all it took to leave the owl utterly stunned, his shoulders tensing in response.
"W-what? What did you say?" Miles stammered, caught off-guard, his voice slightly wavering as he struggled to comprehend Tag's bold words.
"Miles. I already signed the contract! You know with the agreement to terms and all—"
"Please tell me this is one of your pranks again. Please." The owl hissed at him, eyes narrowing. Uh oh, Uncle Miles seems to be fuming!
Tag forms a sharp smile, his lips curling into a playful grin as he snickers at the unfolding scene, "Heh. I'm being for real, old man."
Crickets chimed through the night. Then—
A facepalm echoes through the whole garage, though, it wasn't him being slapped or anything but Miles was the one towards himself.
He couldn't care less anyway.
Miles closes his eyes, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips as he grumbles something under his breath, his hand dragging sluggishly across his face before he pauses to massage his aching temple.
He tilted his head with zero remorse, sparkling with mischief.
If Miles is lost at words, that means...he can now participate in the RGP for next week! Right? The owl is too old and couldn't really argue with him anyway. After all, how could Tag possibly miss this once in a lifetime opportunity when King himself had invited them!
It hardly matters that he is only 14 years old or that he commits to illegal street racing, specifically at late night. But...that’s exactly where the mask came in; cloaking his youthful face so that no one suspects a mere child is behind these adrenaline fueled stunts!
His mask—
Tag stammered, his heart racing for another reason entirely as he caught a glimpse of his mask on the ground, now shattered into small pieces. The sight freezes him in place, his breath hitching in his throat as a wave of panic washes over him.
No. Nonononono no no way!
"My mask!" He gasped in horror, scrambling frantically to pick up the remnants of the mask that had meant so much to him. Quickly kneeling on the ground, his hands trembled as he fumbled to gather what was left. His face crunched into pure distress, as if a child who had just lost their favourite toy. He whined loudly, "Are you frickin kidding me?!"
It's his mother's only gift after all.
He let out a small frustrated noise, already feeling like losing a part of himself as the overwhelming fragments only intensified his panic. He shakily brushed his fingers over the fragments, hoping against hope that he could restore it, as if picking up the pieces could somehow mend his shattered sense of protection.
First, He argues with Miles and he deep down honestly doesn't like it even one bit. Now, THIS? Since when was his mask a victim?! Is this because he drives? This is what he gets for being against the law? Really? Not that he would get an answer but if it really is, he really doesn't want to experience karma ever again. And his mental screaming at the world doesn't help.
He's panicking. Oh heck he's—Panic panic panic panicpanicpanic
"Well, you did do that, didn't you?" Tag startles at the gruff voice and immediately darts up at Miles, who now gazes at him with a hint of pity. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and his thin lips press into a tight line. Despite this flicker of softness in his expression, the old owl's stern demeanour remains rigid, as if he knows Tag was the one who crossed the line first.
This moment stretches out in silence, the awkwardness of the situation gnaws at him, Tag shifts his gaze, trying to break the intensity of the moment.
Miles heavily sighs, his gruff voice filled with exhaustion. "If you want it to be fixed, then let this be a lesson." He crossed his arms, his stern gaze fixed on the arrogant boy who was visibly stressed before him. "You're going to have to agree with me on this one, young man." The weight of his words lingered in the air.
Tag shifted uncomfortably, clearly grappling with the realisation that he might've made a mistake agreeing to Torres, he would have to make a real effort of attention to his surroundings next time. And he is not one to have understanding in his brain.
In a moment of desperation, he stutters out, "Okay, okay..I'm really s-sorry for not listening to you, Miles," he huffs, mustering the courage to make eye contact with the old owl. "C-can you please fix... it?" He quietly squeaks out the words. His eyes hesitate to dart towards the ruined pieces in his hands. There's no way Miles would disagree with it...right?
The owl narrows his eyes at him, clearly unimpressed. "If you think I’m letting this go scotch free, you're wrong." Despite his intimidating demeanour, Tag tries his best to remain calm. Until he can't with what the old owl next replies, "We're going to have to decline that invitation of yours."
"You mean ours," Tag corrects, then feeling a bit frantic. "And why? C-can't we just—" He exhales sharply, his words tripping over one another in his rush to plead. "Come on, Miles! No one’s even going to find out about it!"
Miles frowns deeply, his expression leaving no room for doubt. "Then I guess you can forget about keeping that mask of yours." He says firmly.
Oh. shoot. "Wait! I-I'll decline to it," Tag pleads, frustration and fear causing small tears to well up in his eyes as he clutches a small piece of the broken fragments in his hand. "I won’t participate in the RGP," he insists, casting his gaze away, shame washing over him. "I won’t."
"...Because?"
Tag winces, feeling the weight of the question. "Because it’s illegal," he replies quietly, his voice barely a whisper. Miles snorts, his tone still firm in his stance, "I’m afraid that’s still a bit vague," he says, unimpressed.
The tiger cub makes a face, trying to clarify, "Because... I’m not old enough to get involved in this racing thing, right? Is that better now?" He bit his lip, hoping for some sign of understanding or at least a glimmer of sympathy. He braces himself for the next reaction, wondering if his hardly built honesty might change anything between them.
Surprisingly, Miles softened slightly, sensing the boy's turmoil, "Not really, considering that you broke the rules but...It's better than nothing. Still, I'm proud of you admitting your mistakes, Tag."
Sighing, he lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, finally looking back up at the owl, "I—okay. That felt nice,"
Miles wrinkles his nose and says, "You might want to take a shower." Tag blinks in surprise, clearly dumbfounded by the comment. He lifts his arm and takes a sniff, recoiling in disgust. The smell that wafts up is a mix of car oil and cold sweat. He pretends to gag dramatically before shaking his head and frowning as a sudden realisation hits him. "Miles, what's the time?"
Miles raises an eyebrow in response. "What do you think? Going out late at night like a teenager sneaking out to smoke?" He huffs in weariness, his body feeling the strain of the long day.
"Miles!" Tag groans, his thoughts a little fuzzy and swimming in his head. Yet, he manages to protest, "I'm not like that!" He can feel his words slightly slurring, a sure sign of his fatigue.
Miles sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Let's just go home. I'll email the headquarters tomorrow." The late hour weighs heavily on both of them, and exhaustion seems to pull at their very bones. The argument they just had feels like a distant memory, easily brushed aside. Tag only manages a quiet hum, already blinking rapidly to stay awake, his eyelids feeling heavier by the second.
"Where is our home again?" he asks with squinted eyes in thought.
Miles lets out a weak chuckle, the sound almost comforting in the overwhelming silence of the night.