Tom stared. "Who are you?" The moment the question was out, he realized how stupid it sounded, because that man was obviously Snitch Gravel.
Except, he didn't look like the Snitch Gravel Tom knew. The indigo jeans, white Nikes and black AC/DC t-shirt, the black massy hair and the way he crossed his arms over his chest all spoke of a different man, a much younger man. Not the one always wearing the impeccable suit and silk top hat. Not the one who tried to kill them.
"For the sake of your intelligence, I hope that question was metaphorical," Snitch Gravel answered.
"Um, yes?" Tom bit his lip, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. "What's with the outfit?"
Snitch Gravel quirked an eyebrow. "Really? I took time out of my extremely busy schedule to answer your request and this is what you ask me?"
"I just thought that suit was glued on to your skin or something." Nice comeback. Be a smartass if you want him to kill you.
Snitch Gravel just stared for a second then huffed and dropped on the only chair in the room, draping his arm over its back. "I peeled it off for the evening. Believe it or not, I'm human too, and the suit gets stuffy."
"I get you. I hate suits." What the hell was he doing? Bonding with Snitch Gravel? But he couldn't think of a subtle way to ask what he wanted to know. "Um..." Shit, here goes nothing. "Why is Ron still alive?"
Ron, who had sunk back against the wall trying to remain unnoticed, threw him an outraged look.
Snitch Gravel frowned. "Why would he not be alive?"
"Unless he's not my uncle," Tom continued.
Snitch Gravel threw a fleeting look over his shoulder at Ron and turned back to Tom, smirking. "Huh, didn't think he had it in him to tell you."
"So he really is my uncle?"
"Yup," Snitch Gravel answered balancing back and forth on the chair's hind legs.
What the proverbial hell? "If he's Dad's brother, why don't you want to kill him, too?"
"Gee, thanks, Tom," Ron mumbled from his corner.
"Oh, that's a good question," Snitch Gravel answered amused. "Because your father hates him."
"Not if Ron's really his brother."
Snitch Gravel let out a heartfelt laugh. "Really now? You think that highly of your father? Trust me on this, Ron really is your uncle. And yet, your brothers knew nothing of his existence."
"I can't trust you. You're the enemy. You'd say anything to screw with us."
Snitch Gravel nodded. "That's fair, too."
Tom looked from him to Ron, trying to figure out if they were lying, but there was really no way to check. And his subtle introduction had hit a dead end. "Why do you want to kill us?"
"Because you're your father's children," Snitch Gravel answered without missing a beat.
"Yes, and you hate our father," Tom said carefully.
"Correct."
"Our father, not us."
Snitch Gravel narrowed his eyes, an amused smile playing on his lips. "I see what you're trying to do here. You actually want to know what your father did. How he pissed me off enough that I would go not after him personally, but after what he loves most."
Tom nodded, holding his breath.
"Have you asked him?"
"Me, personally, no. I have no idea if Sam, Jerry and Kyle know more."
"If they did ask, I'm really curious what bullshit he served them. Maybe that I robbed a bank or something and he caught me and exposed me. He was always such a lousy liar. Lacked all imagination."
"What really happened then?"
Snitch Gravel looked at Tom as if considering if he was worth the answer. The more he kept quiet the more Tom was convinced that a sarcastic quip was coming instead of an answer.
"You know what?" Snitch Gravel finally said. "If you want to play this game, you should do it right. So I'm not going to tell you. You'll have to find out for yourself. Research, ask your miserable father, I don't care how you do it."
Tom's jaw dropped. "That's it? A game?"
"I thought that you of all people would appreciate a good game."
"I don't appreciate being hunted down to be killed," Tom replied, his voice rising with every word. "I don't appreciate being in this cage, under your control. And I sure as hell don't appreciate your smartass answers."
Snitch Gravel narrowed his eyes, looking like a tiger about to attack. "Good thing I don't give a shit, then. And I'd keep my big mouth shut if I were you."
Tom flinched. This conversation was going down in flames quickly and he had a vague feeling Snitch Gravel was pretty pissed.
"Anything else?" he asked, his tone more like a growl.
Tom pondered for a moment, trying to calm down and find something else relevant to ask. Like in a dream, he remembered Herrison telling them about Snitch Gravel and the agency. "Yeah. Why did you run out on the agency with the research files on the jewel project?"
A wave of utter shock swept Snitch Gravel's face. "You know about the jewel project?"
"We wrenched it out of Herrison," Tom said spitefully. He still felt like punching their coordinator for hiding that Angie was the agent.
"That idiot." Snitch Gravel huffed. "He has no idea what he's gotten himself into. Neither do you brats. And I didn't run off with the research files. They were mine, so I had every right to them."
"But why...?"
"Because I felt like it," Snitch Gravel snapped. "Why is it always 'why' with you? Grow up already! Not all people are alike. You're good, I'm evil, you're naïve, I know how things are, and you're an idiot while I'm brilliant."
"I'm an idiot," Tom said flatly, too surprised by Snitch Gravel's statement to say anything else. "And you're evil, just like that." He shook his head. "No. People aren't born evil. I might be naïve, but I will grow up. I'd rather be gullible than under the stupid impression that I know everything. For someone who claims to know how things are, you're a little naïve yourself."
"Oh yes, how could I forget? You know everything," Snitch Gravel said, rising on the chair's back legs and balancing on them.
"So what's the deal? Why did you leave the agency?"
"Because they wouldn't implement taco Tuesday."
Tom gritted his teeth. He'd never imagined he'd ever meet a bigger smartass than himself. "What do the jewels do? You must know."
Snitch Gravel froze and the chair dropped back on all fours with a bang that echoed through the room. "I guess you're not as stupid as you look," he finally said and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I'll be honest with you, I don't know. I only have a hunch. But if I'm right, I want those jewels more than anything."
Tom was tempted to ask what his hunch was, but since he didn't outright share it, he doubted he'd get an answer. Instead, he got to his feet, walked towards the cage door and pushed it open. "I didn't escape."
"Pff, there are guards outside the door. Just because Ron is sloppy, that didn't mean you could escape." Snitch Gravel waved him away.
Tom stood in the doorway of his cage, wondering what his next move should be. Snitch Gravel had denied him the most important answers, but shrouded everything in enough doubt to make it interesting. Tom liked riddles. And if Snitch Gravel thought he couldn't figure it out, he was more than willing to prove him wrong. But that meant he had to get out of there.
Snitch Gravel didn't seem to have a gun. In case of hand to hand combat, Tom wondered whose side Ron would take, because he could tilt the scales.
"I know what you're thinking," Snitch Gravel said all of a sudden, snapping Tom out of his thoughts. "You believe you actually stand a chance against me in hand to hand combat. Your twin thought the same. But listen carefully, because I'll only say this once. You have no chance against me. The only one who could try to tackle me is Kyle. And because of that genetic anomaly of his, he might even win."
"You know about that?" Tom asked before he could help himself.
"Of course I know about it. I know everything about you and I've seen him fight. You should be grateful I'm giving you this vital information, it might save your life at one point," Snitch Gravel said on a fatherly tone that made Tom's skin crawl.
"You wouldn't tell me anything if it made me any smarter," he said, annoyed.
"Didn't I tell you that you were twins back in Mexico?" Snitch Gravel said as though deeply insulted.
"Yeah, but you thought we were going to die the following moment."
"No, I didn't. Weren't you the one who pointed out that my plan was stupid? If I really wanted to kill you, I would have shot you all. But where's the fun in that? And here I was, thinking you were smarter than I thought." Snitch Gravel laughed.
Now that Snitch Gravel mentioned the whole over the cliff incident, there were some things that Tom had always wondered. "Why didn't you kill Jimmy and me when we were babies?"
"Because I knew you'd meet up. The agency was sure to target you. All of you."
"You left us alive so that we could eventually meet up?" Tom asked in disbelief.
"Yes, of course. What was the point of kidnapping you if no one was going to know about your existence?"
"You do realize that you've just made my parents really happy," Tom said freaked out.
"Happy? They're scared out of their minds. They know my mercy is the only thing keeping you alive," Snitch Gravel answered balancing on the chair again.
Tom wanted to scream, to disagree, but at that very moment, it was indeed Snitch Gravel's sick games that kept him breathing, and he'd like to keep it that way. "Why did you stalk us all this time?"
"Knowledge is power, stupid boy." Snitch Gravel squinted at him. "But I do admit I know a lot of useless trivia about you."
"Like what?" Tom asked curiously.
"Height, weight, content of report card, childhood illness..." Snitch Gravel started, counting on his fingers.
"No way!" This was getting very creepy. How could Snitch Gravel know all that? Unless he was bluffing to freak him out. And if he was, it was working really well. "If you know everything, how tall am I?"
"You're 6 foot 2 and a half inches tall," Snitch Gravel answered instantly. "Jimmy and Jerry are one inch taller than you, and Kyle is three inches taller than you are. Now, would you like to further test me? You could ask me for your shoe-size, though I believe that I can answer that question accurately as well."
Tom shook his head, shocked into silence. He usually said he was 6'2", but the extra half inch was there. A mental image of people following them everywhere without them knowing made him shudder. They had to be very careful from now on. How could they not realize they were constantly being watched? Snitch Gravel probably knew more about them then they did. More than their parents did.
Which meant he could actually know the answer to the Jerry and Jimmy problem. "When is Jerry and Jimmy's birthday?"
Snitch Gravel raised an eyebrow. "You mean birthdays. Jerry is born on July 22nd and Jimmy on July 23rd."
"Really?" Tom asked surprised.
"Oh, you really didn't know." Snitch Gravel chuckled. "I thought it was a trick question. Jerry was born on the 22nd at 11:55 p.m. and Jimmy on the 23rd at 12:05 a.m."
"Who's older between me and Sam?" Tom asked before he could help himself.
"Sam's five minutes older than you."
Tom fell silent. If only Snitch Gravel had answered his more important questions with the ease he answered the trivia questions. This freaked him out to no end. All he wanted to do now was shout a giant warning that someone was watching the house. He had to get out of there.
"Now that you've fallen silent, I want to ask you something," Snitch Gravel said out of the blue, making Tom jump. "Who broke your ribs?"
"My ribs," Tom said flatly. "I don't have any broken ribs."
"Not anymore. The bandage we used has assured that they are almost entirely healed, but you did have two broken ribs."
"Then I don't know. Maybe Von Crooken decided to have some fun while I was unconscious," Tom said bored, waving Snitch Gravel away, but stopped with his hand in mid-air. "Sam broke my ribs..." he said stupefied. It had hurt like hell when he'd kicked him, but Tom didn't think he'd done that much damage.
"So your twin did it ..." Snitch Gravel said amused and got off his chair. "Well, this has been fun."
"What's up with you and Von Crooken? He's acting up on his own a bit too much in my opinion," Tom said, trying to shake thoughts of Sam away.
Snitch Gravel tilted his head as if considering if Tom was worth the answer. "He just forgot his place. I reminded him where he belongs. Anything else?"
"Yeah." Tom bit his lip, wondering if he could sneak this as trivia as well. "How did my grandmother die?"
Snitch Gravel frowned. "As far as I know, she died in a car crash twenty three years ago. But what does this have to do with anything?"
"She's not dead. So you're either both lying or—" Tom stopped abruptly.
Ron and Snitch Gravel looked at each other, shock on both their faces. Then Snitch Gravel turned to Tom again, with the most focused look he had ever seen. "Are you sure it wasn't your mother's mother?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I haven't met my other grandma yet. She lives in France as far as I know," Tom said, watching the pair of them, confused by their reactions.
Ron had turned ghostly white, which was understandable, but Snitch Gravel looked livid. Why would he give a damn?
"It can't be," Ron stuttered, pointing a shaking finger at Snitch Gravel. "He told me you..."
"He told you what? Did you actually doubt me?" Snitch Gravel looked ready to tear Ron to pieces with his bare teeth. His voice was low and threatening, and Tom took an involuntary step back. "How stupid and easily manipulated can you be? How could you, for one single bloody moment think that I could kill—" He froze, his eyes darting towards Tom.
"But then..." Ron whimpered.
"Out!" Snitch Gravel yelled, pointing towards the door.
Ron scurried out and Snitch Gravel strode after him. He stopped in the threshold and threw Tom one last glance after which he went out and locked the door behind him.
Tom leaned against the bars of his cage, still watching the door, though he was sure neither Ron nor Snitch Gravel would return. So Ron really thought his mother was dead. Which meant he really was their uncle. Who had lied to him? The first answer that came to his mind was the obvious one: his father. But he didn't want to believe that. Why would Freider lie to his own brother? He didn't think his father was capable of something like that. Though blaming Snitch Gravel for it fitted perfectly.
He banged his fist against the bars, reliving the last bit of conversation, trying to make sense of Snitch Gravel's reaction. They had almost let something slip, both of them, he was sure of it. But what could it be?
A sudden bolt of fear froze his thoughts. That last scene was surely something Snitch Gravel wouldn't have wanted him to see. It was clear from the way he'd looked at Tom before he left. Which meant he might actually get killed this time.
I know I'm late and I'm really sorry, but I'm traveling and forgot my laptop at home, so no story. Good thing I kept this around as a draft. So yay, update!
I'm very curious what you think about Snitch Gravel after this chapter. Because this is a very big glimpse into what he's really like. Theories? Predictions? Will Tom actually snuff it?
Thanks for reading and please leave me a comment cause I'm dying 😅