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yacinthemorning · 1 month ago

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Bamboozled by the Bird

Chapter 1

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Summary: Tango is the muscle for the Tuff Guys, a gang that deals primarily in money lending. How he got here he can't remember anymore, and his only moments of respite from his awful job is hanging out with Scarland's accident-prone mascot. His life gets infinitely more complicated though, after he's assigned to put the pressure on a new client who seems to know way too much about him. The situation quickly escalates from there in ways Tango could have never imagined.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (romantic(?)), Bdubs & Etho & Skizz & Tango (frienemies), Jimmy & Lizzie (familial)

Warnings: Mild harm to animals, Attempted animal killing, Organized crime, Violence, Extortion, Threats, Hidden identity

[AO3 Link]

The trash can slammed into the wall, contents scattering across the floor. The punk crawled onto his knees, coughing and clenching at his stomach. No time to catch his breath. He shrieked as claw-like nails dug into his scalp, yanking him up by the hair until Tango could see his face reflected in the man's sunglasses. Tango tilted his head, then plucked the glasses off his nose. Tears filled the dumb kid's eyes, a bruise swelling one half shut. He hissed in sympathy. "That ain't gonna look good tomorrow."

The comment sparked some last glimmer of fight in him, his face twisting into a beaten snarl, "Fuck you-!"

Tango's knee connected with his groin, the punk devolving into a wheeze as he curled in on himself. "Watch your language, there's kids around here." The blond chastised. On cue there was a chorus of delighted screams echoed through the alley. Behind the tall fence down the way the Scarland's infamous Bamboozle Coaster rushed past on its old fashioned wooden tracks.

His target did not seem to care. He sobbed, unable to speak any further. Tango finally dropped him, slipping the sunglasses over the bridge of his own nose. "We're increasing your interest by forty percent."

"For- You gotta be kidding me!" The kid's voice broke as he cried. "How am I supposed to pay that? You old fogies-"

"Hey, this old fogey went easy on you since you’re just a little boy." Tango drawled, playing with his new glasses. He'd had to make some adjustments, but the colour was just his style. "You got one week, and it ain't gonna be me dealing with you if you don't have the money by then. Now get outta here!"

Despite his backtalk the kid didn't need to be told twice to bolt. The alley was left empty, only the mess left behind.

Tango sighed. The audacity of some young folks always shocked him. At least their older customers knew it was their own fault for turning to the Tuff for money. They didn't accept their fate any more gracefully but at least they didn't usually run their mouth.

Ever since Skizz retired, though, it was Tango's problem to deal with the brats he'd accumulated that treated their business like a silly little piggy bank they could borrow from willy-nilly. It was a financial mess and now it fell on Tango to have to clean up. He passed a shop whose front was more mirror than window, forced to get a good look at himself and the several inches most the crowd behind him had on him. There were wrinkles in his bright shirt, something he never quite got out of them. Not exactly the most intimidating of their guys on the case. Then again, they used to think that guy was Skizz.

Well, he supposed Skizz reaped what he sowed. Tango wasn't making the same mistake. He wouldn't give their boss an excuse to stab him in the back. Again.

"Man, I need to find a new job." He grumbled to himself, drowned out by the screams of the roller coaster goers on the other side of the fence. A joke, of course. Like his life. This was a lifelong career sorta gig, unfortunately for him.

An odd commotion broke Tango out of his self-loathing. There was a large double gate open in the fence. One of the staff entrances to Scarland, clearly meant for food trucks to get inside. That was not who occupied it currently. Instead it was a group of college students, led by one Karen-in-training, it would seem, screaming at- a bird. A very large, very blue bird. Solidarity, one of the mascots for the Bamboozler Coaster, if Tango recalled the posters right. Its cheery face bobbled while his arms flailed about, trying desperately to close the gates together if not for the students standing in the way.

"P-Please, I can't!" cried the poor actor, trying to close the gate once and for all. Baby Karen outright put her hand on the gate, then on the mascot.

"You owe us this for kicking us out! We did nothing wrong!" Her voice slurred, and one look at the group's blotchy faces told Tango all he needed to know. At a family park even instead of just going to a bar- though given the fact that it wasn't even noon most weren't open yet. Real classy.

"Please, ma'am."

"At least refund our tickets!"

"I'm not authorized to do that. Please just leave quietly."

Something went flying over them. A backpack. It beamed the poor mascot right in the head, sending him tumbling backwards onto his butt. The group laughed. Alright, now they'd really gone too far.

"Hey! What do you think yer doing?" Tango snapped and began marching over. At first only one of the students turned their head. As soon as they saw Tango their eyes went wide and they quickly nudged their companions. By the time Tango reached where they had been they'd scattered completely, leaving Tango alone with Solidarity.

The guy was adjusting his enormous mask when Tango held out a hand. It took both his wings to get a good enough grip for Tango to pull him back onto his feet. "Thank you. Gosh that scared the life out of me."

"I didn't know being a mascot was such a perilous career path." Tango quipped, eyebrow raised. The actor within muffled a laugh, while his wings brushed the worst of the dirt away.

"It's my fault, I should have called security... I thought I could lead them out quietly." He paused, then hissed. "I broke my tail!"

The bird jerked, spinning to reveal his tail. Indeed, it was bent and torn from the fall, in serious need of a professional. Tango reached out, tugging at one of the massive felt feathers. Solidarity jumped and yelped as if it were his own tail. Wings flew up to cover the break. "Oh, this is going to come out of my pay-cheque!"

"That's fuckin' lame." Tango hissed in... Solidarity.

The mascot jumped again, a pointer feather wagging in front of his beak before jabbing towards Tango, "Language! There's children around here!"

What was Tango supposed to do but burst out laughing? Arguing was off the table when he'd said the same thing not ten minutes ago. And the way the actor shimmied around in the suit was nothing short of ridiculous. Tango could believe he was a real life cartoon character if not for the fact that the costume's expression never changed. So, Tango laughed.

Even if his face was hidden. Solidarity's whole body slumped, wings rocking at his side before they went up to cover his face. "Oooh! Quit it!" He shrieked, shaking like an ice cube was shoved down his shirt. It only made Tango double over. Another whine that sounded far too much like an actual bird escaped the mascot.

"You're a riot, birdie!" Tango finally managed to pull himself together, wiping a tear from his eye.

"And you're something else! I just got attacked and here you are, laughing at me!"

"Well it's not every day you run into a canary getting shaken down."

"Canary! A canary!" Solidarity flailed, as if he would take to the skies any moment. "I'm a parrot, thank you very much! A canary, he says!"

Tango had to admit, he was taken aback by the outrage in Solidarity's voice. It was practically a different man standing before him now than the one who could barely say no to a college kid a few minutes ago. All over a little light teasing about his costume. Talk about mixed up priorities.

"Well, Mister Parrot," He drawls, trying to compose himself. Act casual. "As funny as you are I got business elsewhere. So, unless you got another group of drunk students hiding somewhere I think I ought to get going."

"Oh, um. Okay." The costumed man shuffled awkwardly, as if looking for something. Whatever it was he gave up with a huff and awkwardly bowed. "Thank you, again. I, um, I don't have anything right now but-"

"I don't need nothin', yelling at a bunch of brats after my week was gift enough." Tango assured. When Solidarity slumped in his feathers he spun on his heels, waving goodbye. "See y'round!"

There was a long silence as Tango walked away, before he heard hurried shuffling and a heavily muffled, "S-see you!"

It was, on a grand scale, such a minor interaction. Just a couple minutes at most. Yet Tango couldn't keep it off his mind for the rest of the weekend. The baffling becostumed man was, perhaps, the only small ray of sunshine Tango had gotten in a long time since Skizz was retired.

And how pathetic was that? Getting yelled at for mis-speciesing a bird outfit after scaring a bunch of teenagers. Most people would likely consider it the low note of their week. How bad was his life becoming, really, if that was his highlight. Etho was right, he really ought to start speaking to a therapist or something. Then again, he had no desire to dance around his career with a professional and potentially put them at risk of his bosses' wraths. He'd just live his miserable life and cope on his own, clinging to pathetically tiny moments of joy, like getting yelled at by a mascot.

It helped, a little. Thinking about it while on missions like his current one. Standing outside a sad little trailer that would have been condemned if half the park didn't look exactly like it. Chipped panelling, a cracked window, weeds consuming what ground wasn't tainted by urine from feral animals and grease. There were signs, though. Plastic pots of strawberries that were sad but still blooming. A hosed down litter mat hanging from a fence next to a laundry line of shirts with the pale marks of removed stains. A bike hidden in the weeds from thieves. Whoever lived here hadn't given up, was at least trying.

Shame that trying involved taking an exorbitant loan from the Tuff Guys.

If Tango stopped to mourn every innocent target, though, he'd never get his job done. Then it would be him on the chopping block.

So, tango waited. His target had just headed to the mailboxes and was meandering back, flipping through spam. A tall broad-shouldered man who could have been a celebrity if he ate better and worked out. Instead he was scrawny and pale, with bags under his eyes and his blond hair the only thing that looked healthy and groomed. The poverty wasn't a lifelong situation for him, Tango guessed, but a more recent development.

Not that it was his business. The best it could tell Tango was that the guy might have more vivid delusions that he could ever hope to pay off what he owed. The amount was frankly embarrassing, especially if these were the results. All gone into debts, poor guy.

Tango waited for the man to reach the step up to his door before he went in. There was the click of the lock, then a muffled squeak, shoulders going stiff under Tango's arm- only slightly made awkward by the height difference. "Jimmy, buddy, how's it going!" He drawled, bumping his head against the other's. "Been waiting for you, how you doing?" A small act, something vaguely resembling a natural interaction. Not that the people around there weren't familiar with a shake down.

A shudder had already formed in the man, brown eyes wide. It was lucky he'd already unlocked the door, there was no way he'd be able to get the key in otherwise. He wouldn't last long. A tight smile stretched across his face, some sad attempt at playing along. "H-hey. I- um- I'm..." Tango didn't know humans could even get that high pitched. No, he wouldn't last long at all.

"Well?" He gave the man a small mercy in taking the lead. "Don't be a stranger, invite me in!"

"Righ- Yeah. Right." He nudged the door, the hinges barely moving. So, Tango gave it a kick, and quickly dragged him inside. With one practised motion he threw Jimmy away from the doorway and slammed it closed before leaning against it. No escape.

Jimmy braced against the pantry. The whole camper shook with his weight as he was only kept upright by the tight quarters. Not the worst Tango had seen. It was mostly clean, in that the pile of dishes were properly washed, the papers on the table were in dollar store folders, and the plastic surfaces were mostly stained with aging yellow rather than anything unknown. It still had someone's entire life crammed into a glorified hallway. Only a few pictures graced the walls, most being his target with either a pink haired woman or a brunet man, or both.

There was a smell, a mix of citrus soap, febreeze, pasta sauce, and the slightest hint of litter. From the bedroom a cat meowed. Jimmy only took his eyes off Tango long enough to shush the cat, muttering under his breath, "Go back to sleep, Norman." As if the little creature could understand.

"So, two hundred sixty-k, huh?" Tango said as he continued to examine the home for anything. Any valuables, any luxuries, any vaults. Signs of the money in question. There wouldn't be, in all likelihood. Tango could already tell, whatever this guy needed the money for was earnest. To pay off a different debt, or maybe medical bills. "What's a guy like you need that kinda cash for, anyways?"

"I still have two weeks before my next payment." Jimmy stuttered, pressing himself back against his bedroom door. The cat on the other side pawed under it, but he seemed determined to keep it safe more than even himself.

"Yeah, but y'see," Tango rolled his head to the side and pulled his switchblade from his pocket. A few flicks even a kid could safely do was enough to scare a guy like this. "We've been in this business quite a while, Jimbo, and we're pretty good at feeling out our clients. And you?" He pointed the tip towards the shaking man. "You were nearly late with your last deadline. So, the boss sent me here to check up on you. Make sure you're alright."

"It was just bad timing with my pay-cheque. I'll have the money on time this month."

Tango sighed. Pushing off the door, he wandered up to Jimmy, still playing with the blade as loud as he could make it. Metal scraped metal as the blade slipped into its sheath and sprung back out while Tango put himself mere inches from his target's face. It was a miracle the tears glossing the edge of Jimmy’s eyelids hadn't spilled over yet. "And I'm sure you will." He muttered. "But hey, I'm a nice guy, and don't let my good looks fool ya, I'm pretty good with numbers too. So, maybe..." black painted claws dragged up Jimmy's jacket until they reached his collar. Tango fiddled with the denim for a moment, fraying it more than he fixed it, before he pulled it into a tight fist. "I could help teach you how to budget a bit."

Jimmy shrieked as he was flung across the room, crashing into the linoleum floor. In the same motion Tango tore open the bedroom door and reached down. Maybe in a larger space where the bed wasn't also drawers the cat could have hid, but in the half a foot of space it'd squished itself into between the bed and door it had nowhere to run before Tango latched onto its scruff and yanked it up.

It screeched, but he was surprised to find it didn't lash out. Maybe that startled Tango more than the scratches and bites he expected, but it paused his blade long enough that the sad thing's wide eyes locked with his own. A beast as pathetic as its owner.

It was enough time for Jimmy to clamber onto his knees and shout, "Wait, please!"

Tango glanced over to him. The tears had finally started running down his face. The depth of the terror in his eyes was normally something Tango only saw when he had a weapon against his target's own head, not a damn cat. "Please don't hurt him. Please. I'll have your money, I swear. He doesn't even understand, he’s just a cat. Don't do this, please."

The thing was, Tango knew how to kill. He wouldn't have ended up in this line of work if he didn't. And animals? They were an easy way to get the point across. The difference in expenses wouldn't mean jack, but it got the point across. But Tango also wasn't heartless. More of a dog person than cats, but big beady eyes were big beady eyes, so he'd always done it quick. When the anger of whatever nip they gave was fresh and before he could think.

But what was he supposed to do now, with the tan little creature hanging like a rag, curled up on itself with its tail hugged to its belly and a nervous purr in its throat?

He had a job to do, though. A point to make, money to ensure.

Tango growled, as frustrated with himself as the situation, wondering if he was really doing this even as he unzipped the top of his jacket and shoved the cat down in it. Jimmy was stuck between sobbing and being stunned too much to stop him. Tango kicked him back down to the ground, out of the way of the door.

He gave the man one last glance. "Fifteen in two weeks. Don't give me reason to come back."

There was no time for Jimmy to respond, no time for him to point out it was higher than he was supposed to pay this time. Tango slammed the door shut once more and didn't look back.

The bundle in his jacket struggled and cried, but Tango didn't open it up again until he was sat in his car, doors locked. He deflated against his seat, letting the cat leap into the back seat. "What the hell have I done to myself?" He hissed. No one responded, except for a pitiful little mewl.

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