Stolen Chances

Chapter Five

Tommy closed early; of course, he wasn't a fucking idiot. He always had the last hours at the diner anyways. Cleaning while serving leftover coffee and deserts. Tommy wasn't allowed in the kitchen after an accident that led Karl to realize he was not, in fact, a short twenty-year-old and actually a tall minor.

It was a blessing he wasn't fired on the spot, just exiled to the late-night shifts, except his roommates didn't know that. So with a turned-over 'closed' sign and rushing through his shift responsibilities, he was about to head out the back door again when he heard that stupid doorbell chime upfront.

Walking out to the front, he was met with Wilbur eyeing the freshly cleaned dinner with a bored look, hands in the pockets of his dark trench coat thrown over his jumper from earlier in the day. His eyes lit up as Tommy cleared his throat, arms crossed and stood behind the counter. "So you can listen! Well done, I'm impressed, Toms. Your foster records don't do you justice."

Tommy only glared at the man, who grinned back, "What do you want, dickhead?"

The man's grin fell at that, "Well, that was just rude," he clapped his hands before rubbing them together excitedly, "We are going for a drive."

Tommy felt his stomach plummet, "I'm not getting into a fucking car with you, prick."

Wilbur only rolled his eyes at this, "Toms, we've been over this; if I was going to kill you, I would have done it already." He turned to head out the dinner's entrance.

Tommy scoffed but began following him, "Yeah, that's not as reassuring as you think, dickhead!"

Wilbur stopped abruptly at the doors to the diner before turning around, a pointed hand in the air and a glare, "You have an awfully filthy mouth for a child."

Tommy shrugged, "Part of m' charm."

"Not as charming as you think," With that, Wilbur held open the door for Tommy, walking out behind him.

He was led to a black unmarked vehicle, with windows probably tinted past the legal limit. Wilbur pulled open the back door for him, gesturing he got in before taking a seat at the passenger side. The inside was just as dark, with a clean new car smell and dark leather seats. In the driver seat was Pinky, hair tied up into a topknot bun once more but without the fancy dagger. He was in casual clothes, less obnoxious than the red suit he had worn, but still with an air of arrogance as he was wearing a fucking poets shirt. First, what the fuck was with these people? Next thing you know, the Riddler-looking fuck was probably wearing a bucket hat for fun.

"Uh," Tommy glanced between the two as Pinky started up the car once more, pulling out of the diner's parking lot, "'Ow do?"

Pinky only shot him a look through the rearview mirror, crimson eyes meeting his blue before he huffed out a deep sigh and returned his eyes to the road. Wilbur snorted and looked at Pinky in a sort of "Told you so" way before turning to look back at Tommy. "So, there's a cocktail party going on at one of our business rival's houses, small event, big house. We can't exactly show our faces without causing problems. You, however, are a sneaky little shit," That somehow came out affectionate while simultaneously sounding like he was seconds from strangling Tommy himself. "So, we need you to sneak in through the back balcony's window and head into the office located to the right of the bedroom you would have entered from the window. There's a file cabinet, unassuming, it's an office, and we need you to steal a file from it labeled "SBI."

Tommy shook his head, "Wait, I thought- tonight? As in right now?"

Wilbur rolled his eyes, "Yes, that's why Techno is driving us out past your bedtime."

"You sure are comfortable making child jokes at me despite the fact you're setting me up to die." Tommy bites back with a glare, "Whose house am I breaking into?"