No. 62 Claremond Street

4.1 // Dawn Of The Ice Cream Truck

A roaring grumble echoes across the dark hallway of No. 62, making Tony look around. He stands at the dining room entrance, leaning on the doorway frame. What was that?

He peers at the room near the end of the hallway, the dim light coming from it, falling on the wooden front door. It's been five minutes since Tom left the room with Grandma Sue's mirror.

"Is he checking on the Ivy Man?" Tony whispers, recollecting his brother's encounter with the cocooned corpse. He shrugs his shoulders, "He can't. He promised he would just change his clothes and get Mom's handbag."

Another grumble, this time deeper and more grumpier, reverberates across the hallway. Tony lets out a seething exhale, finally realizing the source of this sound.

He places a hand over his empty stomach, pressing down when it protests with a third grumble.

Tony turns over his shoulder, gazing at the dusty cabinets in the dining room. They have to restock on food, and clean the mess that Eggface Berkeley's agency left behind.

Tom steps out of the living room, wearing a loose black t-shirt and jeans. His mother's handbag hangs over his left shoulder, the antique mirror held in his right hand. He frowns, staring at the greyish black screen.

Something's wrong. Grandma Sue would've returned by now.

"Grandma Suzanne," Tom calls, tapping on the mirror for the millionth time. He raises his gaze, meeting his brother's eyes. "Tony, do you know-"

He exhales slowly, watching his brother dart back into the dining room with crossed arms. "Why is he so mad?" he mutters.

The shapeshifter walks along the dark hallway, entering the dining room. He sees his brother seated in the same chair as before.

"Do you know any way of bringing Grandma Sue back?" he asks.

Tony turns to the sole window of the room, the tethered curtains barely able to cover the dusty glass. He presses his crossed arms to his stomach, his eyes narrowed. Why should I help now?

Tom sighs when he gets the squeak of the wooden chair as his answer. He resumes to his task of shaking and tapping on the mirror.

As Tony watches an agitated Tom trying to bring their grandma back, of course through the corner of his eyes, he hears a distant jingle that seems to emerge from outside.

The jingle of an ice cream truck.

Tony looks down at his shoes, shaking his head as the jingle gets louder. I've got to stop hallucinating.

Tom stops, glancing at the window when he hears the nine-beat jingle. When he reaches the window, the shapeshifter presses his nose against the clear portion of the stained glass, his eyes squinted to make out the white truck that appears on the far end of the street.

"It's an ice cream truck," he says, seeing the polished strawberry ice cream cone perched on top of the truck.

Tony raises his head, "What?"

Tom smiles, though he doesn't turn back. "An ice-cream truck's coming." He leans closer, his forehead now pressed against the glass, reading the text on the visible side of the approaching truck. "Hillbough's Ice Cream."

He leans back, rubbing his forehead, "Wanna go?" His shoulders slump when he doesn't get a response. He turns around. "What's your problem, Tony?"

Tony steps out of his seat. "Nothing. And I don't want to go."

"Why?" Tom asks, stopping his brother who's halfway toward the door.

Tony shakes his head. "I can't go out alone right now."