The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball|Part 1

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(Y/N) feels a stream of cold sweat running down their spine. On their forehead, their index finger holds a playing card, and (Y/N)'s face is completely neutral. In a small fit of rage, they dig their heel into the carpeted floor.

"Bettin' it all!"

(Y/N) frowns and rolls their eyes at the man's arrogance. The nauseatingly kiddish colors and the blaring jolly tunes are enough to almost drive one insane. They reaffirm their memory by scanning the playing card on the man's forehead. The four of diamonds.

"Betting. Do your worst, douchebag," They slid stacks of tokens to the dealer with their one hand while glaring at the man. (Y/N) could feel themselves approaching an irate outburst, complete with taking something from the room and stealing it for their apartment.

Cackling comes from the other side of the table.

"Sorry, tempy. You lose!" Simultaneously, both slam their cards on the card, face up, seeing as they've been playing this 'game' for the majority of the morning.

(Y/N) gawks at the 2 of hearts with a scowl.

"Steakcharmer wins."

(Y/N) grinds their teeth and grips the lollipop-shaped chair beneath them.

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Sam tosses his little buddy, Max, up into the air with an enthusiastic smile.

Max grins as well, flicking a card on the wall, and it drops into the garbage can, "Higher, Sam!"

"Good news, Max," Sam glances down at his lower abdomen, "I think I just gave birth to a bouncing baby hernia."

"Higher!" Sam grunts as he does just that, and Max almost crashes into the ceiling-the phone rings.

Max gasps, "I got it! I got it!"

Sam catches Max the same time (Y/N) batters the office door open with a lollipop-shaped chair with carpeting still attached at the bottom. (Y/N) make sudden eye content with their coworkers.

Max waves 'hi' to them and (Y/N) reciprocates the gesture.

Without breaking eye contact with (Y/N), Sam hurls Max's body through the opened door, just above (Y/N)'s head. He dashes over to the ringing phone and places the phone by his ear.

(Y/N) shrugs and settles in their office seat, resting their head on the desk, as Sam speaks to the commissioner, "Hello? Yes, commissioner? ...Holy cap-wearing catfish flopping a crime beat! We're on our way!"

"Did he get the notes I sent him?" Max asks when he walks back into the office.

(Y/N) picks their head back up with a dazed look, "Hm? Yes, but he said stop carving them into the suspects. He can't read them without his bifocals," (Y/N) makes a glasses gesture.

Max narrows his eyes at (Y/N), "What if I just write bigger?"

"Forget that, Max," Sam shakes his head, "We're after the most infamous organized crime outfit in the city, The Toy Mafia."

(Y/N) just about banged their head on their desk, "Mafia?"

"The cutthroat killers with no respect for human life but an odd predilection for delightful children's toys," Max remarks while jabbing his index finger in his temple.

"Oh," (Y/N) tilts their head in recollection and mumbles, "I guess the name was a little on the nose."

"Yeah, I love those guys!" Max rejoices.

Sam notes, "The commissioner has reason to believe that The Toy Mafia's secret headquarters are located in the one place no one would ever suspect!"

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