May 25, 1943 - Brooklyn, New York City
It was a quiet morning as an old Chevy truck rattled down the narrow, uneven road. Tommy sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, a wave of nostalgia hitting him as he took in the faded red bricks of the cramped tenement buildings. This was where he had grown up, alongside other immigrant families.
The sky was still dark, and despite not having slept after dealing with the Blue Sky, Tommy didn't feel tired at all as Jesse's voice snapped Tommy out of his thoughts, "Alright, wake up from your daydream, Princess. We've arrived at the palace."
The truck rattled over a pothole, making his body bounce in the seat. Tommy glanced up at the cracked walls of the shabby apartment in front of them, the chipped paint barely clinging to it. He saw Jesse leaning out the window, eyeing the run-down building with distaste, "And Tommy, uh... send her my regards."
"You're not gonna greet her yourself?"
Tommy stepped out of the truck, slamming the door behind him as the sound echoed through the empty, quiet street. He looked at Jesse who furrowed his eyebrows and said, "Not a chance. She'd kill me if I did."
There was definitely something going on between them. It wasn't a surprise to Tommy—Jesse and her had always argued back in the day. It was just part of their strange relationship.
"Hm, alright. She's probably still asleep anyway," Tommy muttered, glancing back at the run-down apartment building. He used to be raised here along with Jesse, and the guy's whole situation had been a mess back then. Tommy took a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it as he glanced at Jesse with a smirk, "You need a better truck, Jesse. My ass is on fire from that thing."
"Oh, fuck off, Tommy!"
Jesse spat, starting up the old truck, the engine rattling as it belched out dark smoke. He stuck a middle finger out of the window as he drove off, leaving Tommy standing in the exhaust cloud with his lips curling up slightly in amusement.
Tommy took a long drag from his cigarette, savoring the brief calm before making his way to the rusty metal front door. The brass handle felt heavy and old in his hand as he gave it a little lift to force the door open. The familiar creak of the hinges filled the silence, and Tommy muttered to himself, "The door's still the same…"
It had never been fixed for as long as he could remember.
Stepping inside, the dark lobby greeted him with the strong, musty smell of damp socks. He wrinkled his nose but continued forward, heading toward the narrow, steep staircase that led to the second floor. As he made his way up, he felt a pleasant surprise as he could hear a radio playing in the distance.
"She must be awake."
Tommy mumbled quietly to himself as he approached the dull-colored door with the number "1" barely clinging to it. This was the place he had called home after his parents had passed away. Just as his hand reached for the worn door handle, it suddenly swung open, the hinges creaking softly.
His lips curled into a slight smile at the familiar face and called, "Polly."
Tommy looked at her face lined with deep wrinkles, her brown eyes narrowing as she looked him up and down.
"I didn't know you were still alive," the clear annoyance from the tone brought a smile to his face.
Polly Gray. One of the earliest immigrants from the UK, she had been a close friend of his mother. After his parents had passed, she had taken him in, raising him like her own. Seeing her response, he could tell she was expecting someone else as he asked, "Looking for Jessy?"
Jesse had been one of the unlucky ones—an immigrant kid with terrible parents who had thrown him out. Polly, with her rough exterior but soft heart, had taken him in too, treating him like family. Tommy's question must have hit a nerve because Polly snorted in irritation.
She seemed to be offended by his question, "Mind your tone, you brat!"
"Jessy sends his regards."
Tommy spoke as he stepped inside, much to Polly's clear displeasure. She slammed the door behind him, the force causing a slight crack to appear around the handle. It amused him as he watched Polly march toward the small living room.
The space was cluttered but familiar, dominated by an old couch with a radio playing softly atop a worn drawer. Polly sat down with a huff as she then picked up a stack of letters from a small circular table in front of the couch, sorting through them as Tommy asked, "You got letters? From who?"
"Arthur's," she replied. "At least he has the decency to let me know he's still alive, unlike certain brat!"
Tommy noticed she was talking about him. He saw Polly grumble under her breath as she carefully piled the letters in a neat stack. He took off his flat cap before placing his overcoat right on the couch as her voice rang inside the cramped room, "Oh, for God's sake, hang it on the hooks!"
"How've you been, Polly?"
Ignoring her nagging, Tommy sat down on a small stool off to the side of the wall. He took a long drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke curl into the air. Polly's eyes flicked to the cigarette, recognizing the brand, "Chesterfield? You're livin' the high life now, huh? Hand me one, will ya?"
Seeing her ignore his question and go straight for the cigarette, Tommy's smile grew even wider. It was classic Polly. The smoke from his cigarette filled the small room, its scent clinging to the air, reminding him of Arthur's request for one yesterday. With a chuckle, he said, "This is my last one."
"You think you can fool me? Only Arthur would fall for your tall tales!"
She snorted. Without a word, she strode over to him already knowing where he stashed the rest. Reaching into his side pocket, she pulled out the pack, shaking her head slightly as she took one for herself.
Polly held it out, motioning for him to light it.
"You're right, Arthur always falls for it," Tommy chuckled again, fishing out his lighter and flicking it on.
As the flame illuminated her face, he noticed the deeper lines etched into her skin, more than the last time he'd seen her. Watching Polly exhale the first puff of smoke, he said, "Looks like you're gettin' younger, Polly. Guess you're one of those who ages like fine wine."
"Ha! Silly brat. Stop with the nonsense."
She coldly spoke comfortably and sat back with the cigarette between her fingers. However, Tommy could see Polly was pleased with his words. Still smiling, he looked at the radio playing country music in the background before he asked, "So, what's up with Jessy this time?"
"Ha..."
He could see Polly's face crumpled as she took a long drag of her cigarette, exhaling smoke slowly while shaking her head. Tommy knew she was still quite frustrated as he heard her saying, "That kid took on a job he shouldn't have, it cost me my position."
"You lost your job?" The last he knew, she was managing a bakery for a friend. It didn't seem like the kind of job that could be so easily lost over someone else's mistake and asked, "How does that cleaning job of his mess up you managing a bakery?"
"Bakery? I had a better gig after you shipped off to war," Polly snorted. Her face seemed livid remembering her 'better' job as she put the cigarette back between her lips.
Tommy could sense he'd struck a nerve. He didn't press her for more; it wasn't his way to push her when she wasn't ready to talk. Instead, he sat back in his chair, letting the smoke and the music fill the silence between them.
"Bloody hell!"
A muffled curse echoed through the living room as the door to one of the rooms beside the small kitchen burst open. Tommy caught sight of a young man in just his shorts, fuming as he stepped into the hazy air of the cramped space. Glancing at the uneven haircut, he couldn't help but chuckle, "Looks like we woke you up, Johnny."
John Murphy, a few years younger than him, was another kid Polly had taken in. An orphan like him, he had grown up alongside Arthur and Jesse. Tommy recalled how John had sought Jesse's help to escape military enlistment, managing to buy himself only a few years of freedom.
"You're actually asking me that?"
John shot back, his face reddening with anger as he looked at the smoke-filled living room. The haze clung to the air, making it hard to see, and as Tommy glanced into John's room, he noticed it was just as clouded.
He saw John take a deep breath as he strode over to the small window and flung it open with a loud bang, "It's still pitch black out, and I nearly suffocated in my damn sleep!"
"Come on, Johnny. Sit down, join the celebration of my grand return," Tommy spoke as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. It still had a few left, and he extended his hand toward John with a grin, "Here, take one. Chesterfield."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He heard John's grumbling, but the guy still walked over and took a cigarette as Tommy smiled.
"Here, take it."
Tossing John the lighter, the guy caught it easily while rolling his eyes at him. He saw John settle onto the wooden floor, leaning his back against the cracked wall and lit it up with a flick of the flame.
Polly kept her silence throughout the interaction, just enjoying the cigarette as Tommy turned to John and asked, "What's going on with Jessy?"
"Jessy? It's a bit tricky," John scratched his armpit as he tried to collect his thoughts, "But to put it plainly, he's gone full-time cleaning, working as a cleaner for some sketchy people. Meanwhile, Polly was managing a bar for their rival gang. Even though Jessy's job is just cleaning up their messes, word got around that he's thinking about joining the group. The mob behind Polly's bar caught wind of it and told her to get out."
"So, you moved from a bakery to running a bar? I've got to say, that's quite a leap. Impressive, really," Tommy remarked.
He saw Polly just snort at these words as the living room fell quiet. John seemed a bit sleepy, lazily soaking in the atmosphere as he enjoyed his cigarette. He didn't mind the silence as he watched the smoke curl and drift out the open window, his mind wandering, 'Bar and mafia, quite a common combo.'
Tommy looked at his cigarette, which was nearing its butt. With a flick, he extinguished it against the wooden stool, the quiet sizzle echoing softly in his ears as he turned to look at Polly and asked, "How much would you need to start your own bar?"
"What? Are you serious about starting a bar?"
John's question rang inside the living room as Polly furrowed her eyebrows at him. She looked at him up and down, noting his nice clothes before shaking her head as she harshly said, "You can't afford that, Tommy."
"Even if you could, you'd be making a mistake. These people, they'll be coming for your throat," She further explained.
"Why? What're they gonna do about it?"
He had faced the horrors of war and emerged victorious, with an ability to turn back time that could keep him afloat. A warning him about a mafia looked kind of adorable to him. He could see Polly rolling her eyes at him as John mumbled, "They'll kill you, Tommy. You know that."
"Don't think about it. You're walking into your own death!"
Polly's frustrated tone echoed around the cramped room, but Tommy merely shook his head. As he locked eyes with Polly, he noticed the flicker of worry in her brown gaze. This made him think that her words made sense as he said, "Well, maybe that's the plan. Might finally do the trick if I try it myself. Who knows? Haven't given it a go yet."
Both Polly and John looked at him as if he'd gone insane from the war, as he could see slight concern beneath their annoyed expression.
"I can't die, Polly."
Death was quite literally his old pal, as he'd been through it countless times. He vividly remembered every moment of his death was like a flickering television screen losing its signal, plunging him into darkness instantaneously.
"You've lost your damn mind from the war." Polly spoke before turning to John, "You better book him a long meeting with the doc before he goes too far."
"Since you have no job anyway..." Tommy dismissed their reactions. It seemed fitting, after all. He was in need of a catalyst to transform his amassed 'wealth' into actual wealth, as he said, "How about this, Polly? You manage my bar instead."
The room fell into a quiet silence, accompanied by the soft strains of country music wafting from the radio. Tommy's lips curled into a smile as he recognized the familiar melody. At that moment, he felt a sense of relief. He found the 'proper' way Jesse was talking about.
---
Polly Gray, you know her, is a character from Peaky Blinders.
Arthur Eden, and John Murphy too. They're all characters from Peaky Blinders (Arthur Shelby & John Shelby). I just took away their surname and changed it according to their background here at Marvel.
I was planning to post three chapters a week as I find myself taking WAY longer to write a chapter of this particular story of mine. So it's a bit hard to have daily updates.
BUT...
If we can reach the top 50 leaderboards, which I think is going to be a bit hard with a new story ngl 🤣
But if we do, I will post an additional chapter this week. And if we get to the top 25, I'll add another to the equation. So, make sure to send this story power stones and get it up there. I'm counting on you guys for this 🫵
Cheers!