Chapter Text
Despite the bright weather shining down on the town, the mood in the room has never been glummer as the news about the conscription is still fresh in everyone's minds. Tango’s dread envelops his entire body, feeling as if he's in the middle of a snowstorm. He's already aware of the plan made by the higher ups a few weeks back, but the announcement just makes it more inevitable.
His friends are going to war.
“Uh, I bet my limbs will be so sore during the training. Don't you agree?” Zed breaks the silence as he chuckles awkwardly.
“Right? Luckily, I'm gonna be part of the avian squad, so here's hoping that I won't be as sore as you.” Skizz leans back on his seat, planting his head on his interlaced hands as a makeshift headrest.
Tango curls his fists and grits his teeth.
“Why do I have to be in the assault squad?” Zed groans. “Curse me and my teleportation abilities.” He murmurs with a frown and crosses his arms for good measure.
“Don't worry, man! At least we're gonna be in the same platoon, so I can support you in any way I can.” Impulse pats his hand on Zed's shoulder.
“You're the best—”
He slams both hands on the table, stopping the conversation in an instant. He senses the gazes boring into his soul as everyone focuses their attention on him, waiting for him to do something.
“How the hell can you guys stay calm in a situation like this? You do realize that you're going to war, right? You're running towards your death!” Tango yells, glaring in his friends' directions.
The subtle rustling of wind from outside is the only thing filling the quiet and stifling atmosphere, instantly shifting the momentary light vibe back to its darker tone.
“There's nothing we can do, Tango. You of all people should know this.” Impulse sighs in defeat.
“But you can! Aren't the Bloodraven one of the noble families who can refuse conscription if they so choose?” Tango exclaims as he points a finger to the vampire's direction. “Then why did you willingly join?”
“I- I don't want to sit back and wait while all of you are risking your lives out there.” Impulse replies with determination.
“That's bullshit, is what it is!” Tango grabs Impulse's collar with a glare, making him go down to his level.
Impulse grips Tango's shoulder in return, digging his claws through his clothes and piercing his flesh.
“Let. Go.” Impulse growls.
Tango huffs, “Make me.”
Something touches the hand that's holding Impulse's shoulder, pulling it out with tremendous strength as he's forced to let go. At the same time, he senses the grip on his shoulder, assuming that the vampire is experiencing the same thing. In an instant, they got separated from each other, seeing Skizz standing between them with his arms stretched.
“Alright, that's enough!” Skizz announces, intercepting quickly. “You don't wanna say something you might regret.”
“He started it!” Impulse scoffs with an eye roll.
“I just want less of my friends getting involved with fixing my stupid mess!” Tango shouts, clenching his quivering hand to his constricted chest. “Isn't that too much to ask?” He whimpers, feeling the back of his eyeballs ache.
The room falls silent apart from Tango's breathing, seeing his friends are all staring at him with various degrees of confusion.
“What do you mean by that?” Zed furrows his brows.
“I…” The lump in his throat prevents him from progressing. “...sent a-all those soldiers to their deaths.” He barely manages a whisper as his vision blurs, sensing the tears falling from his eyes.
Raising his organic arm, he frantically wipes the waterworks with his sleeve, drying them off in shame. He doesn't deserve to shed tears, not when his orders were the reason why a lot of the families lost their beloved ones. Many children don't get to see their fathers anymore because of him. If only he was a better tactician, no one would've died at the hands of their enemies.
If only someone else was the leader, they probably would've done a better job. His friends will probably be in safe hands, otherwise they won't have this dumb argument in the first place.
“I'm sorry.”
Tango raises his head instantly, gaping in confusion.
“What?” He blurts with a croak.
“You know, for lashing at you. You're just trying to protect us, but I disrespected it with my anger.” Impulse explains solemnly.
“D-Don't apologize. I—” Tango steps back, unable to form words as he feels something stirring inside of him.
“How about all of us promise not to die? How does that sound?” Zed suggests as he makes steady eye contact.
“Yeah!” Skizz frantically nods. “Now you won't have to worry about our sorry butts.”
“I think the butts we needed to worry over here are yours.” Impulse teases with a smirk.
“Hey!” Skizz squawks while Zed giggles in the background.
Tango huffs fondly at the banter, covering his mouth as he feels the smile creeping up on his cheeks, feeling the welling sensation from inside of him dissipating.
“Fine.” Tango exhales. “Don't you dare die, then. Or I'll kill all of you myself.” He clenches his fists, steeling his resolve.
It's finally time.
It's been a couple of months since then, enduring all the hardships of training that made him vomit from the exhaustion. Despite all the things he learned, Skizz can't help the frozen solid nerves keeping him in place, unable to snap himself out of the apprehension blooming inside.
Despite the loud engine of the vehicle that's going to bring them to the southern border overwhelming the other soldiers’ voices, it can't drown out the noise of his throbbing chest. The tires screech as the vehicle skids into a stop, indicating that they're finally at their destination. His twisted stomach has never been more painful as he wills his limbs to eject himself from the backseat.
He doesn't remember anything after that.
What he's aware of, however, is the smell of gunpowder, the deafening explosions, the screams of people in all directions, the numb and tingling feeling on his wings from all the flying, and worse of all…
The smell of blood being the strongest.
Something warm lands on his shoulder, flinching violently and turns around, only to exhale in relief at the sight of a familiar face.
“You scared me! Jeez!” Skizz yells. “You should've called me ahead of time, man.”
“I did!” Tango squawks. “I kept calling your stupid name when I entered, but you weren't responding. I thought you hit your head or something.” He sits down on the ground beside Skizz.
“What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be making strategies in your tent?” Skizz raises a brow in question.
“I was, but I heard that you injured your wings and fell from the sky.” Tango fidgets with his hands as he explains casually.
Skizz feels his chest warming up at his friend's concern, melting the frozen nerves that somehow remained solid since the start of this whole ordeal.
“Thanks, buddy! But I can assure you that I fell on my butt, so no concussions over this noisy brain of mine.” Skizz beams as he wraps an arm around Tango's shoulders.
“Oh, no! Impulse was right!” Tango teases.
“Shut up!” Skizz is meant to scream, but his giggle falters it.
He's suddenly aware of the many eyes staring towards their way, making him stop and self-conscious. He immediately lets go of his friend and keeps his hands to himself.
“Should we move to my tent? I highly doubt you're allowed to be deployed again with that wound, so I could use the company.” Tango suggests, thankfully. “The effects of the caffeine are starting to run out, unfortunately. I need you to talk my ears off and keep me awake.” He fakes a yawn as he stands up.
“We can't have that now, can we?” Skizz goes along, feigning concern.
The trip to their destination is quiet despite being in the middle of the battlefield. No overwhelming sensations whatsoever, which is a win in his book. As they enter, he spots a huge table in the middle of the area, noticing a map being laid out along with colorful markers of what he can assume is their and the enemies’ positions.
He settles down on a chair by the corner while Tango beelines to what seems to be a portable coffee machine.
“Seriously?” Skizz comments with a judging tone, raising a brow.
“It's more efficient than dragging the actual thing all the way out here!” Tango whines, busying his wands by brewing himself a new cup of coffee. “I know you enjoy the caffeine as much as I do, so you don't get to complain, alright?”
“Okay, okay. Fair enough.” Skizz moves his hands into a placating gesture.
While waiting for the machine to do its thing, Tango walks to the table and immediately frowns, humming as he mumbles something incomprehensible under his breath. Based on the follow-up grumbles, Skizz can only assume that the dwarf is at his wit's end. With a fond huff, he walks to his friend's side, observing the familiar layout being miniaturized in front of him.
“What's wrong, Top?” Skizz starts to announce his presence. “You look like you're about to explode at any moment.”
Tango jolts and turns to make eye contact, opening and closing his mouth to contemplate before sighing in defeat.
“I can't predict what the Enderians’ next move is gonna be.” Tango massages the bridge of his nose. “You noticed how the oxygen is getting thinner, right?”
Skizz nods his head.
It's impossible not to notice, considering how it's getting easier for him to breathe the longer he stays in the Overworld, despite having lungs to accommodate for the vacuum of the void. He can only assume one thing: the other Enderians are breaking bedrock to expose this world to the void to fit their needs.
“I'm already aware that those guys are terraforming in this world somewhere like it's nobody's business, but I can't pinpoint where.” Tango buries his head to his hands, groaning in frustration for good measure. “If only I got the location, I can at least predict what their situation might be based on the resources they receive over there.”
“If they're planning on living here, would it be possible for them to build their settlements in the sky?” Skizz asks thoughtfully.
“What?” Tango gapes.
“A lot of us are flight-based races, so even if people like Zed don't have wings, they still need to stick where the majority of the civilization is. Otherwise, they'd be left behind in more ways than one with how enormous the End is.” Skizz elaborates.
“Skizz, you're a genius!” Tango grabs his shoulders as he grins. “God, why didn't I think of that? I literally have a friend who doesn't know how to fly even with three pairs of wings!”
“Hey! You jerks flinged me to the sky out of nowhere.” Skizz complains.
Tango lets go and sprints to a barrel filled with rolled papers, going back as he thrashes all the stuff off the table. Skizz watches him with bewilderment, wondering why he would discard his previous strategy, only for Tango to unroll the paper and see the entirety of Overworld in one map.
“How in the void did you manage to obtain that?” Skizz gapes.
“Uh, I have my ways.” Tango shrugs, not looking away from the table.
After a few minutes of nonsensical grumbling from the dwarf, Skizz jumps at the sudden rise of his voice.
“I got it!” Tango yells as he slams both hands on the map's surface. “I know where they are!”
“You do?” Skizz perks up, moving to look over his friend's shoulder to take a peek.
“It's all thanks to you, buddy.” Tango turns to face Skizz, smiling softly. “I wouldn't have figured it out without you.”
Skizz blushes, “Wh- You- I- Flattery will get you nowhere, young man!” He stutters as he awkwardly chuckles.
“With this knowledge, we can finally get a chance at ending this ‘great’ war once and for all.” Tango slumps his shoulders, looking relaxed for the first time in a very long time.
And apparently it's all thanks to him. Seriously, how is he gonna react to that? He's usually known to screw things up even in his home dimension. He was backstabbed a few times for his naivety, causing him to distance himself and lose trust. Until he met Tango and the others. Then his situation got worse when he befriended them, getting banished for ‘betraying’ his own kind while being shunned by the Overworlders for destroying their home.
He doesn't regret it, though.
Not one bit.
He's been the happiest with them than his own kind in his life!
“Colonel Moonlight!”
Skizz jumps violently at an unfamiliar voice, turning to watch a human soldier entering Tango's tent, stopping to frantically catch their breath.
Crap. He has a bad feeling about this.
“What is it?” Tango replies with an even tone as he hides his clenched hands behind him, standing to his full height and emits an intimidating air, the polar opposite of his casual demeanor a second ago.
“The enemy had anti-voidwalker and anti-vampire countermeasures. And unfortunately, the southeastern border has been conquered by the army led by the Hand and the Ogre.”
The mere mention of those nicknames makes the hair on Skizz's body stand on it, feeling his stomach dropping at the news.
Zed and Impulse went there.
“Tango?” Skizz watches the dwarf's reaction, only to see none. He shivers at the eerie sight, but the tears overflowing from grief overtakes it. “Please tell me that they're fine.” He whimpers.
Tango doesn't hesitate to jump his way and embraces him. With the height difference, Skizz bends his knees and buries his soaked face on the dwarf's shoulder, muffling his cries. He grips the man's clothing like a lifeline, sensing Tango's organic hand rubbing soothing circles on his heaving back.
“Good work, soldier. You are dismissed.” He can hear Tango's even voice dismissing the third person in the tent.
When Skizz feels that he's run out of tears, he lets go of his friend's clothing, making it the other's cue to break the hug.
“Are you okay?” Tango asks with furrowed brows.
“Y-Yeah.” Skizz sniffs, wiping his face clean from snot and tears with his sleeve. “Thanks.”
“No worries.” Tango softly smiles, but the metaphorical light that's usually in his eyes is concerningly missing.
The knuckles dig through Tango's cheek as Gem's fist lands successfully, stumbling back from the impact and falls on the ground with a thud. His service dress uniform is definitely stained, but he doesn't care.
“Gemstone!” He hears Skizz screaming as Gem growls at the same time, accompanied by shuffling.
He caresses his swollen cheek and looks up, only to see Gem thrashing as she tries to escape from Skizz's underarm restraint.
“Skizz, let me go!” Gem demands.
“Tango, run!” Skizz pleads instead.
“How dare you join my brother's funeral when you sent him to his death!” Gem cries, still relentless as he tries to free herself, wrinkling her black dress in the process.
“Why are you so freaking strong?” Skizz grits his teeth.
Tango stands up from the floor and follows his friend's request, running away while hearing Gem demanding for him to come back.
The alarm rings in the background, but Tango disregards it, focusing on staring at the ceiling as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. He can hear the world already waking up from the open window, feeling the warmth of the sunlight entering and illuminating his dark room. He doesn't know how long he's been spacing out but at one point, he finally feels like getting up.
His bare feet lands on the dusty floor, sensing his steps a bit slippery as he heads to the storage room to fetch himself some cleaning tools. It's been a while since he last cleaned his house, so he'll use his request to leave to do all his chores before leaving for work again. He'll have to give Wels a gift when he gets back.
Once he's finished cleaning his bedroom and dumping his sheets in the solar-powered washing machine, he moves to the living room. His hands move mechanically, sweeping the dust towards the dust pan with precision.
From the corner of the area, he can hear a clicking sound, glancing to see the copper golem pressing a button on a wall. In a second, the ceiling lights activate, illuminating the floor. With a sigh, he sets the cleaning tools aside and picks up the tiny robot and moves it to his bedroom, closing the door with a gentle thud.
He finishes sweeping the room and goes outside to dump it in the trash, returning inside to see his lights flickering on and off repeatedly. As he arrives, he spots the same culprit before moving his gaze to his room, only to see the door ajar. He quietly hums and grabs the golem and returns it to his room, making sure to lock it this time. He'll have to use the key when he's about to sleep, but at least it won't bother him anymore.
The hissing noise from the washing machine stops, making it his cue to hang his sheets by the sun. When he returns, he picks up his mop and dumps it into a bucket full of soap water solution before cleaning the floor. He reaches under the furniture, making sure that every spot is dirt-free. He stands back up once he's finished, wiping his sweat-soaked forehead with a sleeve.
A ding can be heard from the kitchen, almost forgetting that he actually cooked something in the oven. He grabs the bucket with the now dirty water with him before dumping it at the drain outside. He washes his hands and wipes it dry using his shirt, grabbing himself a mitten for his organic hand as he opens the oven door, taking out the chicken and allows it to dry on the dining table.
He stretches his arms above his head, popping his joints with a satisfied hum as he feels his muscles relaxing, ready to continue with the ‘spring’ cleaning.
As he returns to the living room to fetch his supplies, he can hear the constant clicking accompanied by the flickering of lights, sensing his blood boil while sprinting to the culprit. He swiftly slams a hand and throws the copper golem to the ground, stomping it over and over as his frustrated screams grow louder and louder in every second.
The sudden rage emerging from the depths of his soul is overwhelming him, bursting like a dormant volcano finally erupting to life, unable to stop as he smashes the golem and breaks it into numerous pieces, only halting as he wheezes for air. Once it feels like he can breathe again, he watches the red oozing from his bare feet and winces at the sting.
Out of nowhere, he laughs at the sight, vibrating from the uncontrollable entertainment as he drops on the floor, careful of his injury. He doesn't have a clue why it's funny as hell, but he can't stop himself. It's like an invisible creature is secretly tickling him, targeting every sensitive spot of his body with accurate precision for its own leisure. As if a switch has been turned on, tears easily flow from his eyes like a river, blurring his vision in an instant.
All the memories of having fun with his friends flash before his eyes, rubbing salt into his wound as he breaks down in his living room, bleeding from the self-inflicted wound.
Why is this happening now?
It's been a while since the battle ended, since they—
He never shead a tear when he was comforting Skizz, staying by his side while mourning for his best friends. He didn't do it when he attended the funeral, and Gem's bone-breaking punch didn't do anything to trigger it.
Why now?
The itch in his chest refuses to go away, so he frantically stands with gritted teeth, thrashing the items and inventions from the shelves, shattering them on the floor. He ignores the copper shards digging through the sole of his foot as he moves on to the coffee table, turning it over and drops every item on top of it, including the jukebox that still contains Etho's music that they listened a while back, the reminder causing his chest to itch more.
It's all his fault!
He roars in rage and thrashes at the walls, breaking every picture frame in sight along with his wall clock. The burning sensation welling in his body still isn't satisfied, so he slams his bedroom door open, not caring how he accidentally breaks the knob and proceeds to wreck all the cleaning his made a few hours prior, leaving numerous pieces of his trinkets being dumped on the floor along with the overturned cabinets and bed. Not only that, he rips the curtains from the windows, yelping at the sudden sunlight piercing through his eyes and looks away.
How dare he live like this when his friends are gone!
Even with it giving him time to stop, he doesn't. Every movement he makes after that is rendered into a blur, but the mishmash of unexplainable emotions have never been more clear. If they can ooze out from every orifice based on how overwhelming they feel, they probably would've done it already.
Why is he even here?
After what feels like an eternity of pain, he drops to the floor unceremoniously, wheezing like a large truck as his limbs tremble uncontrollably from overexertion. He can hear a door slamming, not paying it any mind. A few thumping noises follow, gradually getting louder as a familiar voice catches his attention.
“Tango!”
He feels himself getting lifted from the floor by strong arms, carrying him bridal style as the person brings him to the living room, where the couch is back to its original spot with a certain Etho sitting down.
“Etho?” Tango tries to call, but his aching throat makes him produce a croak instead.
Why did it hurt so much?
“Can you fetch him some water, Etho?” He senses Skizz vibrating because of how he's leaning against the man's torso.
“Sure.” Etho leaves the room.
Skizz carefully settles him down on the now empty couch, walking away to leave him alone. Not long after, the winged man returns with a first-aid kit and kneels in front of him. He numbly cooperates as his friend takes care of his wound, wincing from time to time and receives a few apologies.
He accepts the offered glass of water with numb hands, almost dropping but manages to regain his grip and drinks it dry.
As the silence feels a bit too much, Tango decides to fill it in himself.
“What are you doing here?” Tango groggily questions, wincing at the sting still present in his throat.
“Someone heard a ruckus from your house and asked for my help.” Skizz answers with an even voice, not looking up from his task.
Tango is about to open his mouth but as if reading his mind, Skizz continues.
“I met Etho on the way, wanting to tag along because he apparently wants to tell you something.”
The memory of the white-haired man showcasing his music disc with everyone makes him clench his fists quietly.
“If you're not up for it, I'll come back another time.” Etho reassures him with a strained smile.
“I have the time.” Tango shrugs numbly.
Etho pulls out a box, holding a handle beside it with his thumb and index finger before winding it up. A muffled song can be heard and when Etho opens the box, the room is immediately engulfed with the high-pitched and melancholic melody.
“I was supposed to show this before you… Anyway.” Etho starts but cuts himself, not hesitating to change the topic. Good. “It's a preview of the thing that I told you last time. Unfortunately, it took me longer than expected when I was fine tuning it. When Doc and the others are finally free, we'll proceed with the recording immediately.”
“Oh. Team tall and short is gonna be behind this elusive new project?” Tango goes along, hearing Skizz wheezing quietly before going back to his work, making his lips curve slightly to form a smile.
“Yep! Doc made this redstone guitar and wanted to try it. Beef will be playing the redstone accordion, which is another one of Doc's amazing inventions.” Etho perks up, animatedly sharing inside information. “But don’t tell him I told you that.”
“Wow! Doc's really cooking. I bet it's gonna be really awesome.” Skizz chimes in.
“It is.” Etho nods. “Bdubs is gonna play the guitar, and he'ss in charge of a couple sounds that will hopefully unite everything using redstone.”
Despite the sad-sounding music, it eases a bit of the ache that Tango feels, calming down his nerves.
“Aren't you gonna ask?” Tango fidgets with his hands, catching both of their attention from the question.
“Do you…” Skizz cuts himself.
“...want us to?” Etho continues with furrowed brows.
Tango opens his mouth, contemplating if he wants to or not.
“No.” Tango shakes his head. “I appreciate the company, though.”
“We gotcha, buddy!” Skizz beams.
Someone's stomach growls, turning his head to the source and sees Etho growing as pink as a tomato, averting his gaze as if it'll hide him from his embarrassment.
"Someone's hungry." Skizz teases with a chuckle.
"I can't help it. I haven't had anything to eat since dinner last night. I just had to finish the music box." Etho murmurs, hiding the lower half of his mouth with a hand absentmindedly.
"Does this mean you'll have to leave?" Tango swallows the lump in his throat before confirming with an even voice.
Etho stares in his direction for a moment, waiting as if he's looking for something. Tango averts his eyes at the burning gaze but luckily for him, the white-haired man spares him by looking somewhere.
"I saw that chicken by the dining room, and it looks a bit appetizing, if you ask me." Etho drawls the syllable. "If you don't mind..."
"Stay as long as you need for... what time is it? Lunch? Dinner? Whatever." Tango frantically nods his head, receiving a few chuckles from both of his friends.
The melody ends but luckily, Etho rewinds his invention once more, filling the room with its soft tones as they enjoy it quietly. He's thankful for the company, even if it doesn't last long.