Chapter Text
Tommy covered his ears, annoyed at the blaring alarm reverberating through the marble lobby.
“You didn’t haveta push the little desk button,” He said coldly through his cloth mask to the bank teller. “I’m just gonna get your stuff either way. A guys gotta do what a guys gotta do to live, yknow?” Tommy reached over and searched under the desk for the little red button. He leaned back, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black cargo pants, searching. The bank teller shrunk back as he revealed a rubber sticky hand.
“My first rule of robbing people:” Tommy instructed the terrified teller while he flicked his wrist, sending the sticky hand extending on its rubber. “Never use weapons. Too violent, causes too much of a mess.”
He twisted his wrist and the rubber turned the large wheel on the vault, swinging the door open. There wasn’t any time for anyone to see the red blur as Tommy leapt into the air and somersaulted over the large desk; he landed effortlessly on his feet and began walking toward the open vault as the people cowered in the corners. Suddenly, sirens flooded Tommy’s ears.
“Goddamnit...” He cursed under his breath. “Looks like I’m eating leftovers again tonight.” He said, nodding towards a terrified attendee. Snatching his stretchy hand back, Tommy ran to the large windows and crashed through the glass, brushing the shards off his shoulder. As officers began to surround him, he clambered effortlessly up a gutter, leaping to the roof. He ran across the concrete, jumping between buildings, holding his billowing hood over his blonde hair.
Tommy jumped down between walls, landing silently in an alleyway. He walked calmly down to the end of the alleyway, stopping for a moment and examining the wall before kicking the side of a large wooden crate at his feet; the side sprung open, revealing a dark crawlway in the wall. Tommy pulled a match from a hidden matchbox and lit it. He placed the wood between his teeth as he began to crawl through the tunnel, his head brushing against the ceiling.
The passage ended and he brushed away the dust from his eyes and revealed his home. An actual apartment that had collapsed with a building, somehow fully intact, with no entrance but the crate: the best hideout. Tommy stood and cracked his back, blowing the match out, and stepped towards his fridge. He opened the door and blinked hard at the gust of cold air as he reached for a Coke. He popped up the tab and collapsed on his grey couch, his stomach rumbling. He switched on the TV, which stuttered for a moment under the dark stone. The news was showing overhead footage of the bank he had just so nearly succeeded in robbing; police were gathering the shaken tellers and attendees in corners, comforting them. Tommy didn’t even do anything!
A solid knock sounded on the wooden crate outside as the side was kicked, opening the entrance. Tommy snatched off his mask and tugged the red hoodie over his head, throwing both into a dark corner as his friends Tubbo and Ranboo crawled in, a rustling bag gripped in Tubbo’s fingers.
“God, Tommy, when are you gonna get a door?” Ranboo asked, towering over the smaller brunette next to him, taking a fry from the bag.
“Do you see anywhere where I could have a door here, Boo?” Tommy gestured around. “It’s solid three feet of concrete all around. I’m lucky I have half a window.” It was true: Tommy had found the abandoned building in a colossal wreck and decided it was the best place for a hideout. His “window” consisted of a square hole in the wall which revealed only a two inch-large gap before hitting a brick wall; luckily there was an opening between the top of the two walls that allowed light, and a possible escape route if needed. His best friends didn’t know he was a criminal, and he intended to keep it that way. They didn’t need to worry about him or, worse, leave him altogether. He just insisted that it was a vibe. The duo didn’t mind it, they just liked badgering Tommy about living in a literal cave.
“What happened now?” Tubbo asked as he sat down on the soft couch, handing Tommy a burger which he gratefully accepted and ate in practically four bites.
“Some guy tried to rob a bank. They’re making a much bigger deal out of it than it should be, honestly.” Tommy said with his mouth full.
“I don’t know, looks like a pretty big deal to me,” Ranboo replied, pulling his knees up to his chest. “That many police don’t usually show up for a bank robbery in this part of the city.” Shit. He was right.
“Well, as long as no one got hurt, everything’s alright, right?”
“It seems like everyone’s okay,” Tubbo squinted at the screen to read the words at the bottom (No Hostages Taken In Bank Robbery - Police Investigate Motive For Intrusion). He always insisted he didn’t need glasses, but since he’d gotten a nasty burn on his face from an explosion (Tubbo was always messing with fire and explosives) he could never see well out of his left eye. “It still wasn’t right to terrify them out of their wits, though,”
“Maybe he wasn’t trying to terrify them?” Footage showed a blurry scene of Tommy bounding away on the roofs after climbing up the gutter. The camera switched back to a news reporter sitting at a desk, assuring the city everything was under control.
“What kind of bank robber isn’t trying to terrify anyone?” This one, Tommy thought to himself. He never intended to become someone who robs people; it just happened.
All he wanted was McDonalds. A bank was nearby. One thing led to another and now he’s listed as a wanted criminal. He could tell by the franticness of the reporter that he was- unfortunately- becoming more well known. He would have to cut back on all the thieving and robbery for a while.
“I don’t know. What were you guys up to today?” Tommy quickly changed the subject, switching the channels from the news to cartoons.
“Nothing much, we went to the new chicken van that’s parked over on Berry and Rose, it’s really really good, you should try it some time.”
“If I ever come into the money I will,”
Tommy had money. He had enough to be happy at least. But he didn’t like to spend it; instead, he donated to charities, or gave to kids on the street like he used to be, making sure there weren’t any “good samaritan” camera crews around. - he’d rather be poor and happy than rich and friendless. Tommy didn’t know what he’d do without Ranboo or Tubbo.
“I think I’m going to go for a walk,” He mumbled, standing from the couch. “Don’t worry about me, but I’m not promising I’m coming back in ten minutes.” His friends would sleep over some days, but today they hadn’t planned to. Tommy knew they’d be gone before he returned.
He tugged on his black high tops, not bothering to lace them properly. The sounds of Tubbo and Ranboos’ whispers over the TV dissolved as he crawled toward the crate. He shook the dust from his hair as he emerged and began walking down the alleyway, music playing through his earbuds in one ear. He pulled his red hood over his head as he stepped through a chilled fog.
He turned around to walk home thirty minutes later when his arm was placed in a vice-like grip, the fingernails digging into his bicep. He felt his feet lift off the concrete as he was swung to the side and slammed against a brick wall, the back of his head hitting the wall.
“WHAT THE FUC-” Tommy began to scream, but his voice was reduced to a mere “Mmph!” as a hand was placed roughly over his mouth, the other arm across on his chest, pinning him to the wall.
“Quiet.” A voice demanded, supposedly the one coming from the shadow holding him up, his feet dangling. “I don’t know exactly who you are, but I know you’re becoming more dangerous. If I remove my hand, will you start screaming again?” Tommy shook his head the best he could and the person removed his hand, still holding him above the ground with the other arm.
“What the fuck are you doing just grabbing a guy off the street like that?! And who the hell do you think I am-” His quick speech ended as the hand slammed on his face again.
“I said no screaming.” The voice said. Tommy rolled his eyes and stopped struggling as best he could. The hand was lifted slowly off his face once more, hovering near as to be ready to slam back down if needed. It wouldn’t be, of course. Tommy was curious now.
“Why have you practically kidnapped me in an alleyway claiming you know who I am?” The too-tall boy reached down as far as he could to try to touch the ground with his toes, but couldn't reach.
“Because you aren’t the only one who can steal stuff, y'know,” Soft footsteps filled Tommy’s ears as the person quickly moved to grab both Tommy’s arms, holding him up. He heard a soft “It’s nothing personal, mate,” and a “It kinda is,” before a dark fabric sent the outside road into a void. Tommy felt a sharp pinch on the back of his neck and was plunged into silence.