Chapter 3: Business Is Booming

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Summary:

In which the investigation involving The Blade and Chorus is closed, allowing Tommy, or rather, the Speedster, to attend the night market where he meets.. a new (masked) face.

trigger warnings for this chapter - violence, blood, death, mention of corpses
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After meeting Wilbur and Phil, the next few days for Tommy were unbearably bland and boring.

But between work, college, and the days where Tommy would hang around his garage to repair the damage done to the Rolls Royce, the days seemed to blur together and then slip away like they were sand grains in an hourglass. But once he had repaired the countless scratches and dents that scattered the car, he found himself with nothing to do and it seemed as if the sand in the hourglass had frozen in place.

However one dark evening, whilst the blond aimlessly flicked through each and every TV channel known to mankind, a familiar scene caught his eye. The screen showed some blurry footage of an oh-so-familiar red car speeding along the motorway. To no one's surprise, yet another news channel was showing the minimal getaway footage that they had. To Tommy's luck, the angle never caught a clear view of his face, only glimpses of poor pixelated footage, keeping his identity a secret. Yet the cameras did still capture the car's number plate which only convinced him to stay on the down-low more.

"Earlier this morning, the police declared that once more they, and the city's guardians angels Dream, Ignis and Absens, have once more hit a dead end whilst trying to catch supervillains The Blade and Chorus." Hearing this, Tommy's ears perked up and he automatically increased the volume. "It seems as if they left no clues behind at their last robbery and the police have unfortunately failed to track down the getaway vehicle." With a fake, sympathetic sigh, the news presenter continued, "This does indeed mean that this investigation has been closed until further notice."

Tommy almost shot up from his seat in excitement. For the past few days, the mere thought of the police and the superheroes following a trail of clues that led to him had been enough to make his stomach churn with apprehension because peculiarly enough, Tommy, like most people, wasn't too keen on the idea of spending the rest of his life behind iron bars.

But now that he had discovered that the investigation had been dismissed, Tommy was out of the woods and in the clear to continue stealing and selling cars.

This also meant that the Speedster could make some brief public appearances, like attending tonight's night market. The night market was exactly as it sounded: a market hidden from the authorities in the deepest darkest depths of the city, designed by criminals, especially for criminals to sell, distribute and sometimes buy, goods.

The weekly night market was where Tommy would either buy cheap car parts or sell off the cars he stole that week. The timing honestly couldn't have been any better because now that the case had been shut down, Tommy, or rather the Speedster, could attend and sell the Rolls Royce at tonight's night market.

Only a few hours later he was standing outside his block of flats. Glancing around, Tommy began to speed down the desolate road, taking an occasional twist or turn, the world around him nothing more than a blur of colours and lights. He could feel the broad smile tug at his lips as he ran at what must have been a hundred miles a minute. Perhaps Tommy had always found some sense of relief and comfort in speed, after all, between his rapid car heists and his superspeed, it was a rare occurrence if he wasn't darting around the place.

Without breaking so much as a sweat, Tommy stood before his rental garage in only a matter of seconds. He slid open the rusty metal door and turned on a dust-covered lightbulb that was on its final stretch of life. The light revealed the Rolls Royce which heavily contrasted the rest of the dingy garage where suspicious stains covered the floor and a weird smell lingered in the air. Tommy had to admit, as he stood in the entrance of his crappy garage, he couldn't help but swell with pride as he took in the sight of the Rolls Royce which was almost as good as new. He was almost sad that he had to see it go, over the past week or so he had poured so many sleepless nights into fixing the car and now he was about to throw it away to some old white privileged man whose only personality traits are being rich and collecting cars.

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