Chapter Text
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5:14 PM, Eret’s Diner
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December meant a lot of things. It meant delicious food that you eat with friends and family while listening to songs about love, snow, and gifts; seasonal drinks and specials at all of your favorite restaurants and bars, with workers donning Santa hats and plans for when they get home; children sledding and snow-tubing down hills while they enjoyed their days off school.
It meant presents that get placed with care under your handy-dandy, not-so-fancy, over-decorated, moldy Christmas tree (which takes up 65% of your living room) from a bearded bundle of lard that manages to slide down your chimney like a greasy turd.
According to that one song by Andy Billiams, Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year.
Tommy hated it.
It wasn't particularly the holiday itself, though he did despise the way grubby little children got snot and stick (from god knows where) all over the shopping centers while their parents tried to simultaneously go last minute present shopping and call a sitter for the kid they forgot at home. There were also more people coming to the diner, and while Tommy was happy for Eret, he'd rather avoid all of the pretentious assholes who decided their Christmas was more important than common decency. Plus, the logistics of Santa Claus and the underlying creepy tones of the entire season was another present he didn't quite want to unwrap. Still, he could tolerate the concept of Christmas, in and of itself. It was the memories associated with the holiday that left a bitter feeling in him.
His mother loved Christmas. She had this child-like happiness that always came out during holidays, and the Christmas season was her favorite. As soon as Thanksgiving was over she'd play Jingle Bells and Silent Night and dance around the living room with no rhythm at all, but the way she laughed was enough to rope Tommy and his father into it too.
She baked gingerbread and bought icing and candies for them to have gingerbread house contests, and the prizes were always simple things like who got to pick the first Christmas movie they watched that night.
On Christmas Eve when Tommy was six, they all worked together to make a large gingerbread mansion. They cuddled up on the couch afterwards and watched the Claymation Rudolph and Frosty movies under heated blankets. Tommy woke up the next morning in his room, to his mother shaking him.
"Tommy, wake up! Santa came!" and seeing the genuine smile on her face and the way she almost tripped as she ran down the stairs with him, he believed her.
She no longer got to enjoy Christmas.
Tommy didn't either.
He scrubbed the table a little harder, the rag making a quiet squeak on the wet surface. He took a deep breath and refocused, grounding himself with the smell of coffee and chatter of the customers.
The jingle of the bells attached to the door made Tommy look up and he grinned when he saw who walked in. He set his rag down on the black dish tray and made his way over to the entrance.
"Lizzie, Joel! I can get you two seated right now if you'd like." Lizzie and Joel were this lovely couple that came in to try out the diner when they moved to Essempi. They lived a couple districts up in Pogtopia but had seen the place on their way up. Coincidentally, it had been Tommy's first week working at Eret's Diner, and he'd managed to serve them the wrong food, convince them it was what they'd ordered, and talk them into giving him a two dollar tip. When they came back the next week, Tommy was just about ready to grovel on the floor and beg them not to tell his boss. Instead, he accidentally blurted out: "I don't know about you but my twin sure is a wrong'un, eh?" They ended up laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation and Tommy followed, once he was done being embarrassed.
"Hey Tommy! That would be lovely." Lizzie smiled. Tommy motioned for them to follow him and led the two to the table he had just finished cleaning. He grabbed the dish tray and lifted it off of the table once Lizzie and Joel were seated.
"What would you two like?" Technically it wasn't very professional to be holding dirty dishes while asking people to order food, but Tommy didn't really care. There were rules set in place to ensure quality customer service, but also some to prevent abuse against staff. Eret was quite lenient in his opinion (not that he'd ever had another boss to base them off of.)
"Hm, I'll have the smoked chicken Quesadilla with a Lemonade." Joel said. Tommy mentally noted the order. Smoke-Chick-Cheese-Lem.
"And I'll get a Club Sandwich with Mozzarella sticks and an Iced Tea." Lizzie. Club-Sand-Mozz-I.T.
"Got it." Tommy turned and headed to the kitchen, repeating the four-word phrases in his head. Technically he was supposed to use a notepad to write down orders and then use as little tickets, especially in case someone else ended up doing the cooking and not him, but Lizzie and Joel had just walked in and he didn't want to make them wait. Besides, Tommy could just remember their orders. They were two people, and he was just cool like that.
He can hear the humming before he even makes it to the back and as he enters the kitchen it cuts off.
Smoke-Chick-Cheese-Lem. Club-Sand-Mozz-I.T.
"Oh, Tommy! We ran out of pasta and nutmeg so don't take any orders with them, okay?" Shelby said, red hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders. She's 5'3" (much shorter than big man Tommy Innit,) with hazel eyes that flash green when the light hits them just right.
Smoke-Chick-Cheese-Lem. Club-Sand-Mozz-I.T.
"Pasta? Surely we're not out already." They hadn't gotten a shipment that recently, and were in fact due for another one in a couple of days, but pasta was one of the things they usually got the most of. Last he had checked — which was four days ago, after the night shift on Friday — they'd had more than enough noodles left to comfortably last out the week.
Smoke-Chick-Cheese-Lem. Club-Sand-Mozz-I.T.
"Austen had an accident and we had to throw out a couple of boxes." Shelby explained. Tommy put the dish tray in the sink with a huff and began washing his hands.
Smoke-Chick-Cheese-Lem. Club-Sand-Mozz-I.T.
Austen was a total wrong'un. Who spells their name like that anyway? (Tommy chose to ignore that Austen had no say in how his name was spelt, and rather that the blame fell on his parents. Oh well.) His clumsiness kept costing them supplies too. If Tommy didn't need this job — which in turn meant being polite to his co-workers — he would've already chewed the guy's ear off. He isn't sure why Eret hasn't already, but then again, she's just sweet like that.
The kitchen has generic white and off-white tiles with black lines for flooring and a cream colored paint job. There are ovens in the middle of the room lined against each other with countertops at the end of the lines. Mixers and blenders sit beside cutting boards and utensils on the marble. There's a fridge in the corner of the room and a separate freezer next to it, and beside that are two sinks. Cabinets hang overhead with plates and dishes that will eventually make their way to the sink and back to the cabinet again. They don't have the most fulfilling life, considering their most exciting change of scenery is the front of the diner when people are eating off of them.
Eret had a unique way of running the diner. All of the employees had to be moderately trained in cooking prior to applying since there was always a chance with the schedule that they'd end up alone and having to prepare the meals themselves. Eret didn't hire specialized cooks and waiters for some reason, which Tommy would have asked about if not for the fear of getting fired on the spot for 'insubordination' or some other stupid thing along the lines of disrespect.
Tommy definitely hadn't been expecting this when he'd applied for the job, but the question came up soon enough.
"So, to work here you'll have to be able to make everything on the menu. Can you handle that?"
"Of course, I've been cooking my own meals for a while so I'm a pretty good chef."
And oh lord had he been lying out of his ass but he needed this job and cooking surely couldn't be that difficult, right? It hadn't been a complete lie, he did have to make his own meals unless he wanted to spend money on takeout. Still, the entire menu? There was way too much on the list for him to manage by himself. He only knew how to make a handful of things that he usually ate and found cheap at the grocery store. (And one of those things was a pre-made salad he just had to pour ranch on!)
Thank god for Shelby, the queen herself had noticed Tommy struggling on his first day and bumbling around the kitchen in a panic and offered him cooking lessons. After a bit of coaxing, that is. Tommy really did owe Shelby a lot. Without her, he might not have this job anymore. He really wouldn't have liked going district hopping again.
Tommy eventually finished making Lizzie and Joel's food and held both of the plates with his palm. What? So he liked feeling like a fancy waiter, sue him.
As Tommy approached the table, he came upon the shocking realization that he had forgotten who'd ordered what dish. With all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, he placed the platters down one in front of the other so neither was closer to either Lizzie or Joel.
If the couple noticed — which they did; Tommy couldn't have been more obvious — then they didn't say anything, opting to spare the boy some embarrassment.
"Thank you Tommy."
Tommy hummed in acknowledgement. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"
"No, I think we're good." Lizzie looked at Joel for confirmation and he nodded. "How have you been?"
"I've been fine, just making it through the days. You know how it is." Tommy glanced around the room, seeing only a few customers still left. They were busily eating their meals and didn't look to be in any need of assistance any time soon. He let himself relax a small bit without the looming possibility of being in trouble for slacking off. He technically didn't have anything to do right now, and Shelby could take care of anything that popped up for a few minutes.
"Yeah, I get that. Do you have any holiday plans Tommy?" Joel questioned.
"Mm, not really. I'm not the biggest fan of this time of year so I'm just going to treat it like any other day." That was a lie. There was no way Tommy would be able to ignore the intrusive thoughts. He'd tried every year before and failed. This year wouldn't be any different. The best scenario would be him managing to get through Christmas Eve without crying. That didn't particularly qualify as 'any other day.'
"Really? Most kids love Christmas." Lizzie's face contorted in a mix of confusion and sympathy. Tommy held back a scowl.
"Yeah, well, I'm not a kid." He responded bitterly, before schooling his tone back to something more neutral. "I guess I just don't see the appeal in spending it holed up in my apartment watching Home Alone reruns."
"You don't have anyone to spend Christmas with?" Lizzie frowned, voice quiet.
"Haven't for a while now. It's not a big deal, I just don't have any plans." Understanding the finality in Tommy's words, Joel quickly changed the subject.
"Has anything new been happening around L'Manburg lately?"
"Not really. There have been more sightings of Heroes but I'm pretty sure that's just because they came around once or twice and then people wanted attention by claiming they'd seen them."
"It's definitely more uncommon for Heroes to come to less-financed districts like this. Think anything's going on?" Lizzie leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her left hand.
Tommy shrugged. "Crime rates are about the same, so if anything is then it's being kept well under-wraps."
"Do you know which Heroes were spotted in the area?" Joel questioned.
"People have been throwing around big names but the most believable rumor I've heard was that Slimecicle was spotted. He's been here before so it wouldn't be all that surprising if he was around again for a bit." The blond boy said. The bells on the door jingled and he looked over to see that there was now only one other person in a booth. They were scrolling mindlessly on their phone, which Tommy was starting to wish he could do right now.
"That's interesting. Well, we should probably head out now. How much will this be?"
"Okay, that'll be $21.34." Joel fished around in his pockets for a moment before producing a worn leather wallet. He took a few bills out and put them on the table as Lizzie got up.
"Keep the change, and have a nice night Tommy." He said, standing. Lizzie waved with a smile.
"Have a good night!" Tommy called after them, then looked at the money on the table. $26. He took the money to the cash register and put the extra in the tip jar, which was divided among the employees at the end of the week. (So long as they actually came in, of course.) Then he went to clean up the table and grab the dirty dishes that were left behind. There was another chime of the bells on the door as the last customer left.
"Tommy, I can close up tonight." The blond heard Shelby offer from a couple feet away, cleaning her own table. He shook his head.
"No, that's okay."
"It's really no problem." The redhead insisted. "There isn't much left to do, I'll just finish up this table and do the dishes."
"Are you sure?" Tommy asked, glancing at his old brown backpack that sagged lazily in the corner closest to the back room.
"Yup! I've got it, don't worry."
"Okay, thank you." Tommy said, grabbing the backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.
"Happy holidays Tommy!" Shelby called as he opened the door.
"Happy holidays." Tommy responded half-heartedly.
The change in temperature nearly gave the teen whiplash and he suddenly found himself longing for the coat he'd decided he didn't need this morning. He took a deep breath and sighed, watching his breath puff out in front of him.
Tonight was going to suck. Hopefully he could make it to his apartment and back out in time to avoid that horrible runny nose that would surely come from the sudden warmth.
Perhaps if he had budgeted his money just a little bit better he would be able to take the night off and curl up in bed with the heater on. Unfortunately for Tommy, he had gotten much too excited to get that pack of Oreos and blown the rest of his paycheck on groceries.
It was probably for the best anyways, that heater cost nearly a dollar an hour and he wasn't desperate enough to fall for that scam again, so he probably would've been just as cold and miserable in his apartment too.
Tommy shivered as he trekked through the snow that threatened to encase his shoes every time he took a step. Most people had snowshoes or rain boots but Tommy didn’t have the money to indulge in multiple pairs of footwear to play dress up with when the seasons changed. He just had his sneakers with the worn soles, a pair of dark gray boots, and the dress shoes Eret had gifted him for his work uniform upon Tommy confessing he wouldn’t be able to pay for any himself. (Eret had offered him the whole uniform but Tommy knew when to count his blessings and stopped while he was ahead. He didn’t want to take advantage of Eret’s kindness either, so the two came to a compromise and took the money out of Tommy’s salary for a month. It was a slow process and he’d cut it way too close for comfort with rent that month but eventually Tommy was able to proudly adorn the pink outfit he had technically paid for.)
Speaking of pay, Tommy’s savings were looking a little bare. It was about time he fixed that.
Once he made it to his apartment, Tommy changed out of his work uniform and into his villain attire. The outfit consisted of a thick black vest with two buckles that he covered with a dark red jacket. For the pants he just threw on some black sweatpants that had cuffs at the bottom to keep them secure around his ankles. Then he put his boots on and made sure the top of them went over the material of the sweatpants. It was a simple outfit but it was easy to replace when damaged (except for the vest, but he usually has no problem finding the money for a new one) and it was good for flexibility so he kept it.
Tommy didn’t live a luxurious lifestyle by any means but that didn’t mean he was broke, per se. He had a special savings container that he kept hidden away in the walls of his apartment. It was only meant to be used in emergencies or the case of needing more supplies to continue his little hobby. (Less transactions meant keeping a lower profile too, so that was a plus.) Being a villain wasn’t cheap despite popular belief, and Tommy didn’t commit crimes as much as most villains. In terms of priorities, he was quite different from your average mugger or even a handful of the better known villains. He didn’t commit crimes for the sake of committing crimes. Tommy would like to think he still had some okay morals, (at least usually.) Sure, he had done some murdering here and there but only when necessary. After everything that’s happened he deserves to prioritize his survival and wellbeing.
Unfortunately, his savings container was nearing empty and the thought of needing to complete a future purchase and being unprepared made Tommy anxious. Just slightly.
That was fine, he’d just have to bring in a decent haul tonight.
The blond thought for a moment, devising a plan in his head. He could get funds from a bank, but that just seemed too low level for him. Besides, the chances of getting the police called on him were too high for his liking.
Tommy straightened as an idea popped into his head.
Schlatt could use a bit of a wake up call.
Grinning to himself, he grabbed the finishing piece to his ensemble and pulled it above his mouth, concealing the lower half of his face. With that, he left his apartment through the fire escape and made his way to Schlatt’s penthouse.
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7:42 PM, Schlatt’s Penthouse
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For the mayor of L’Manburg, Schlatt had pretty low tier security. Had he never been robbed or attacked before? It was like he didn’t even care! — but judging from the way the man acted even when in the public eye — maybe he didn’t.
He’d care once Tommy stole his valuables.
Tommy disarmed the laughably easy-to-hack alarm system and slowly crept inside the building. The place was dark except for the light source that flickered upstairs. Judging by the muffled voices, Tommy assumed it was a TV. Maybe Schlatt would be distracted with that, or if he was really lucky drunk and passed out. Either way, Tommy wasn’t too concerned. Schlatt wasn’t anyone to be afraid of, despite his status. He didn’t even have the respect to back himself up. Tommy was honestly surprised that the man hadn’t been assaulted yet — he was easy pickings.
Tommy probably had more respect than Schlatt, which was pretty sad considering he was technically a supervillain. (There were always fan groups here and there, and Tommy had mistakenly stumbled upon a page filled with art that implied he was secretly some brooding young adult who was just a tad misunderstood. It reminded him of the way people fantasized about vampires and werewolves. Tommy opted to forego sleep in favor of clearing his phone's history and watching videos of kids falling on their faces.)
Using the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the room, (because why would he run the risk of someone breaking into his apartment, hacking into his phone, and linking his civilian identity with his villain one? Of course he took his phone with him) Tommy started moving through the living room in search of anything that looked like it held value. For the most part the trinkets that laid around were actually worthless, not because they had no monetary value but rather because nobody who had any taste would actually want to buy these things.
After a couple more minutes of scanning the mostly empty rooms, Tommy finally noticed the painting hanging by the staircase.
It was of some sort of naked woman, so it had to be fancy. Tommy doesn’t know much about art but he knows that the more nudity there is, the higher it is in the hierarchy. With that in mind, he slowly unhooked the frame from the wall and decided it was enough. Judging by everything else Schlatt had bought as decoration, this was probably the only thing Tommy would be able to get any money out of. If he really needed anything else he could figure something out.
Since it had been so underwhelmingly easy to get into Schlatt’s penthouse, Tommy had expected the same for exiting the building. He literally walked out the front door (a method of escape made possible by the previous disarming of the security system.)
What he hadn’t expected was a vigilante to be staring him down from a couple rooftops away.
Vigilantes were a bit of a pain for villains. They were pretty much Heroes without rules or regulations holding them back from defending themselves the same way, and they weren’t limited to set patrol routes. Not to mention that it was harder to find information on a vigilante’s identity than a Hero’s, for a number of different reasons.
The vigilante in question was Jane Doe. Tommy had run into her once before and was pretty sure he knew her powers by now. She could heal people and she had claws of some sort that she could will into existence. Not exactly anything too dangerous at its core, but the woman wielding the power was insanely agile and had a surprising amount of upper body strength. All of that combined was what had Jane Doe listed as a moderate priority capture.
Annoying, but nothing more than a quick nuisance Tommy would need to take care of.
As expected, the vigilante gave chase as soon as Tommy started running. He ducked into an alleyway and heaved himself onto a fire escape, then pulled himself up onto a roof after gently tossing the painting up too. His main goal was to get the thing out of this with as little scuffs as possible; it was common sense that mint condition sold for better.
Jane Doe landed on the rooftop a few moments after Tommy got to his feet and immediately lunged forward, newly formed claws outstretched toward his flesh. Tommy stepped to the side and grabbed the black haired woman’s arm, trying to pull her closer. Before he could do so, Jane Doe went slack and leaned back, dragging Tommy forward with her weight. He let go of her arm and pulled out his signature dagger, the one with the worn black rubber around the hilt that had nail crescent holes in it that went down to the steel.
Tommy ran at the vigilante, blade slashing in the air as Jane Doe stepped back each time he advanced. Her ponytail swung with every movement and the metal buckles on her shoes made clink sounds that would probably distract a lesser man. In his peripheral Tommy noticed the woman’s arm whipping out again and as he dodged, he took note of the sloppy and abrasive fighting style.
Jane Doe’s eyes flickered to the painting that had been left a few feet away, still propped up on the edge of the rooftop.
“Just walk away from the painting and I’ll let you go.”
Tommy wasn’t stupid enough to take that offer. Not only was that the only thing he had been able to loot from Schlatt’s penthouse but trusting a vigilante was a no-go. He barely even trusted the guy he was planning on dealing the painting to, there was no way he would believe someone he had only met once before would let a criminal walk away scot-free.
It didn’t matter what Tommy intended to do or how good his morals were. He was a criminal and that label never leaves you.
Tommy could respond and insult the vigilante, spending all night going back and forth with her as he either stalled her or just annoyed her as payment for this interruption. Instead, he bit back the urge to make quips at her and attacked again.
As expected, Jane Doe blocked his attempt at stabbing her and retaliated with a swipe of her own. Technically, he didn’t need to do this but he wanted to end this quickly so he could get back to his apartment. He wouldn’t use the heater but at least he could curl up in bed with a fluffy blanket.
So, Tommy let himself be grazed by the claws. A warm trickle of liquid cascades down his arm and one look at Jane Doe tells him she hasn’t noticed yet.
Tommy gets closer so his power has to do less work and the blood snakes its way around the woman. As soon as it reaches all around her waist and arms, it pulls in, snapping her limbs together and solidifies.
“Shit.” Jane Doe sucks in a sharp breath and looks queasy as she realizes she’s been immobilized by binds made of blood. She tries to break them but to no avail, they’re harder than concrete. She isn’t stupid enough to rush at a villain when she’s been pretty much disarmed and neutralized, so she watches as Tommy retrieves the painting from the edge of the rooftop and gets on the fire escape.
He looks back, and for a second the woman thinks he might disable his power for her.
He doesn’t.
Jane Doe watches him leave, with nothing to show for her efforts.
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9:28 PM, Tommy’s Apartment
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With all the years Tommy’s been criming, you’d think he would have a better place than his kitchen table to store any illegal possessions. If he were to open his blinds right now somebody could see that he literally had a painting from the mayor’s penthouse just casually chilling on his table like it was a plate to be eaten off of and connect him to any future thievery reports (because Schlatt had to at least be competent enough to notice the break-in, right?) Actually, he’d seen a meme before where somebody used something super expensive like a tablet or some other item that shouldn’t be used as plateware being used as a plate. He had been pretty angry about that.
Tommy scrolled through his phone and pushed the memory aside. It was too late to be dealing with internet bullshit, he just wanted to watch some animations or something before heading to bed. His thumb paused in its swiping as the blond took notice of one video in particular.
Me when LDShadowLady updates her blog:
The video was sixteen seconds long and was just a reposted Vine, but it was from a couple minutes ago and it had Tommy curious enough to check the website. LDShadowLady was an internet user who somehow managed to get insider information on things she really shouldn’t have been able to. She knew things about Hero, Villain, and Vigilante identities that not even the government had known (until they saw the blog, of course.) From what Tommy’d heard they had tried to apprehend her for knowing so much but couldn’t find anything actually incriminating and were forced to let her go. If you want information, your best bet is LDShadowLady’s blog.
He had it bookmarked on his phone for obvious reasons.
Sure enough, the blog had been updated a few minutes ago and there was a new thread on the front page.
LDShadowLady: The Sanguineous and Jane Doe had a fight nearly an hour ago on the rooftop of Mayor Schlatt’s penthouse. Mayor Schlatt hasn’t addressed the attack yet and no Heroes have been called to the scene, but The Sanguineous broke in and managed to steal a painting.
deliverytortilla: i have no clue how she does it but she’s dONE IT AGAIN FOLKS
MaryandMax1559: ShadowLady needs a round of applause-
EXPLODINGxTACOS: How did LD even figure this out if it’s only been an hour?
keyboardsmashing_Olivia_: By now we should know better than to question where the hell she gets this shit from.
Hipp0pit: Maybe she has connections to Schlatt? Imagineeee
Umbra_Frog: are we going to talk about how Sanguineous Man managed to take down JANE DOE? OF ALL VIGILANTES,,,
marsbar: What about it? She’s strong but it’s not like she’s more powerful than a villain who’s been active for 3+ years than her
BONEYB!TCH: them’s fighting words, marsbar
Forest Cat: Lmao veteran Villain
MrDead12_12_4: IT’S TOO LATE TO BE STARTING DISCOURSE, EVERYBODY SCATTER
corn.bread: smh y’all are gonna give me an aneurysm
Fuck.
Tommy liked LDShadowLady’s blog, but he really didn’t like when it was being used on him.