Stolen Chances

Chapter Two

Tommy let out an obnoxious groan as he entered the small apartment complex. The elevator, which had been down for weeks at this point, was still, shockingly, out of order. The teen glared at the series of stairs he would have to take before shouldering his bag. He had ran nearly eight miles the whole way back to his neighborhood, not wanting to risk those psychopaths catching up with him via vehicle.

Now, after tiredly scaling his complex's staircase, he knocked on the weathered yellow door, more of a muted mustard. A rusted iron plaque labeling the apartment number as 420, the joke lost on no one who's ever come to visit the teens residing there.

"I'm home, pricks," Tommy announced as he swung open the door to his apartment. Plain grey carpet crunched under his shoes as he stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

The apartment wasn't much. Just enough for the three of them to live comfortably, at least.

There was a small kitchen to the left hidden by a small divided wall, and to the right was what was labeled as a living room, but just had a couch and sad-looking coffee table. Besides the kitchen, there was a bathroom with what could be considered running water... water sure did come from there. And across was their tiny bedroom. They had two twin mattresses they'd pushed together so they could all sleep on them, though more often than not, someone passed out on the couch.

"You were out late," Tubbo mentioned from his spot on the floor, laptop on the coffee table.

Tommy waved Tubbo off as he threw his bag against the couch and then himself on top of it. "Rough day at work?" Their other roommate, Ranboo, spoke up from his place in the kitchen.

Tommy let out a groan against the old cushion, "Karens, so many Karens."

The shorter brunette let out a snort from the floor. Tubbo was currently writing on his laptop, something to do with coding for the internship he had going on at Awesome Corp Tech Shop. "Have you considered stabbing them?"

"Don't do that, actually." Ranboo peeked his head out from around the kitchen cabinet, sending a warning look at the brunette. "What held you up? Everything alright at the diner?" Ranboo asked instead, walking into the living room with a bowl of cereal.

"Oh yeah, everything's fine. I just, uh, had to fix the coffee machine," Tommy lied, eyes darting to the old wallpaper slowly peeling off the walls. No help to Tommy's constant picking at it whenever he was bored or zoning out. 

While Tommy didn't like lying to his roommates, it was something he settled with when he first started his side hobby of stealing. He always made sure the risks were worth the rewards, not accidentally abandoning his friends by being caught and sent back into the system. Not to mention, a murder cult would definitely freak the fuck out of his friends.

Tommy was a loose end now. A thing that needed to be taken care of because he'd seen something he wasn't supposed to. The chances of his roommates getting involved in this were already too big; if he could keep them in the dark, if he could protect them, it was worth it.

"Actually," Tommy cleared his throat, sitting up from the couch, "I'm exhausted. I think I'm gonna turn in now."

"Wait, are you serious?" Tubbo asked, standing up from the floor with his laptop, "You haven't eaten anything, bossman."

Tommy nodded, "I'll eat breakfast tomorrow. I'm just really tired, big man." He ignored the worried looks his roommates shot him as he grabbed his bag and headed into their bedroom.

He curled up tightly on their makeshift bed, trying as hard as he could to push away the thoughts of the wealthy couple he'd seen tied to chairs. He didn't know much about them, but he genuinely could not erase their tear-stained faces from his mind no matter how hard he tried.

The night was spent restlessly tossing and turning.

When Tommy initially landed this job, he was ready to worship the ground Karl Jacobs walked on. The man had zero reasons to hire him. Tommy had zero prior experience or education besides reading and basic math. The whole hiring interaction looked like someone trying to tame a feral raccoon. But Karl was either incredibly stupid or saw something in Tommy, or whatever dumb shit old friendly people said to make you feel better about being useless.

The job paid decently, and he got to work whatever shifts he wanted that worked with his schedule. He may or may not have lied about his age and education to land him such a flexible schedule, but it doesn't matter. He had a stable money source and enough time on his hands to steal and pawn things as he pleased. So yeah, Tommy was very grateful for this job at the beginning.

This is why he's quietly cursing out the shitty coffee machine after scalding his fingers for the fifth time this shift. He was giving it one final wipe down when he heard that annoying fucking door chime. He just barely held back, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for God to take him then and there. Instead, he called back over his shoulder, "We close in five; anything you order will have to be to go."

Of course, he got no answer in response. He sighed before turning around to face the bitch who apparently is craving a shitty burger at nearly midnight. A man in a yellow sweater and red beanie was sitting in a far-right booth, staring out the window at the tiny drops of rain falling. "Sir?"

The streets were empty; besides the rare glare of car lights passing by, the diner's neon lights reflected in the restaurant's windows. The red lights gave a warm look to the booth, but the sound of rain made the teen shiver. Goosebumps began breaking out across his arms but not from the cold.

"I've never actually been to this diner before," A honeyed voice spoke up; the man wasn't facing Tommy. Still, the teen didn't need to see his face to recognize the shock of fear that traveled up his spine.

The curly-haired brunette turned to look at Tommy, his head tilted slightly towards him with a vicious smile. Tommy stared down at the man who previously wore a black suit.

Wilbur Soot smiled up at the teenager who was frozen in fear, "Could I get a menu, please?"