im so eepy bruv, uhhh heres a random one i wrote cus i like the game too much. sorry im not writing muchbtw, im working on a bigger/longer writing project on my ao3 account
Michael "Mike" Thane x Reader
Fallen Aces ~ Oneshot ~ Action
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you sure it’s here?”
A fleet of jellybean-esque racecars fly past, kicking up the dirt track with the roars of their motors.
The derby track was full that hot summer afternoon. Each seat in the stands seemed to be squishing together patrons who wished to enjoy the car shows. Our two detectives walked towards the back rows of the bleachers, aiming for seats with a great view. Yet they weren’t here to enjoy the show. No, they were here to solve a case.
Michael weaved around patrons with Y/n close at his heels so as to not get separated. The stairs were packed, the seats even more so. It seemed everyone in Umburgh must have been there. The pair of undercover investigators ushered their way past other patrons whilst offering excuses and apologies for getting in the way.
“Sorry.” “Please excuse us.” “Pardon me.” “Sorry for him.” And more.
Finally, Mike stopped in front of an empty portion of the bench. It was a good spot, with a decent view of the majority of the track. Yet it was a fairly small section. No matter though, a case is still a case.
“Ladies first.” Mike offered a grin with the famous gentleman’s line, allowing Y/n to sit first. As she did, he sat down beside. The packed bench forced the two to have their shoulders overlapping one another. It was almost an uncomfortable closeness, especially with the summer wind, yet neither party seemed to pay mind to it, both focusing back to the plan.
“Alright, what did the man say the car was again?” The question was asked casually as the male spent his time looking out to the competing vehicles. Y/n reached into her trousers pocket and took out a small notepad, flipping to the notes she had taken during the initial interview with their client.
This whole mission began in Mike’s apartment. Y/n was forcing her work partner to help her clean up his messy living space after he invited her over to debate some new cases. Their friendly feud was cut short however, by rampant knocks on his busted door.
When Mike went to answer the persistent stranger, he was practically pushed aside by their urgency. An older man with an odd-looking hat rushed inside, panting in panic as if he was being chased through Hell by the devil himself.
He has said his name was Silas and that he needed a detective's help urgently. When reassured that he was in the presence of two private investigators, Silas spilled everything. His new racing car, Summer Wind, had been stolen.
He has apparently been tuning up some maintenance on the vehicle before stepping inside his home to grab different tools. Yet when he returned to his mechanic's garage, his treasured car was gone. Silas was quick to blame his only son, Arthur.
Supposedly, the son had been begging his dad to let him take the car racing, yet Silas was adamant that the car was for collector's purposes only. It seems Arthur managed to hold more stubbornness than his father, by Silas’ story. So, with no other cases at the time that they were willing to take, Mike and Y/n agreed to solve this issue and return the vehicle in one piece.
It wasn’t very hard to come to the conclusion that Arthur indeed stole the car and was going to participate in Switchblade city’s annual races. But now, Y/n and Michael had to find Arthur, prove he is in possession of the car, and arrest him; all while remaining undercover to make sure Arthur didn’t run at the sight of the law. His father also happened to make it clear he wanted to press charges or lock his own child up. Blood may be thicker than water, but it can always be replaced by greed.
“He said it was a ‘1932 v8 flathead roadster with a blue body and yellow trim’.” Y/n read off from her writing of the earlier encounter. Michael sighed at that information, leaning forwards as if to analyze the cars from a distance.
“None of the tin cans on the track are remotely blue. All I’m seeing is white, red, and somehow an orange out there,” Michael concluded with a hint of dissatisfaction in his tone.
Right as Y/n was about to offer some advice, the cars came rushing past with their screaming engines, stirring up deafening cheers from the crowd.
“WHAT’D YA SAY?” Mike yelled to her ear over the cacophony of hollers.
“HE MIGHT BE IN THE PITS!” She yelled back to his ears, earning a grin from her friend. The noise finally settled to a lower volume, allowing the duo to speak properly once more.
“Good idea! Let’s go!” Michael grabbed Y/n’s shoulder and hauled her to her feet, standing beside her quickly. He took her hand and darted down the stairs, making his way through the crowds while dragging the young woman behind.
“What?! I didn’t mean to trespass into them!”
The rowdy pair quickly made their way down the bleachers, bumping into countless onlookers who in turn shouted insults and curses for the ruckus. Michael and Y/n made no move to apologize in time as they continued running. If they could get to the pits before the next class of racers, they could possibly find the son and the car.
Soon enough, both detectives reached a closed off gate that led into a restricted area. ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ was written on a bold ruby red sign, warning of the legal dangers they would get into. Yet neither Y/n nor Michael had too much care for the law when the Umburgh police were practically bankrupt already.
Michael walked up the wooden doors and touched the iron padlock the hung from the burning hot handles. Y/n stood behind him, watching how her friend retracted his hand quickly from the summer heat.
“What’s the plan now, P.I.?” She questioned, looking around the dusty ground for anything to unlock the door with. When Michael didn’t respond, Y/n turned to see why only to notice he was already staring at her with a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“You know the plan. We’re finding that car,” Michael concluded with his signature grin.
“Well yes I know that-” Y/n began, raising an eyebrow before noticing how her friend was inching closer. “What are you doing?”
In an instant, Michael grabbed her wrist and dragged Y/n to the door, quickly squatting down with his hands intertwined as a stepping platform.
Y/n was almost baffled by the suggestion. Yet she bit her tongue to hold back the retort when Y/n saw how serious he truly was. With a sigh, the young woman placed her shoe on top of his palms and lifted herself up, so she was basically standing on him. Honestly, you could sign these two up for the circus as acrobats.
Grasping the top of the oak fence, Y/n heaved herself up and swung her leg over to straddle the wood, careful not to let her clothes get snagged on the splintering planks. Reaching an arm down towards her friend, she gestured for him to follow up.
Michael grinned, taking a few steps back before running at the fence. Taking a leap and pushing off the wood with his foot, Michael grabbed onto Y/n’s hand and pulled himself up.
“Goodness, how heavy are you?” Y/n teased as she helped pull him up to sit in front of her on the fence top.
“I’ll have you know, sweetheart. Most my weight is from my dame catchin’ muscles. It pays to be an ex-boxer.” Michael boasted happily, flexing his right arm as to show off light heartedly.
Y/n smiled at her friend’s actions, offering her own playful response. “Don’t blow ya wig.” With that, Y/n swung her other leg over and jumped off the high fence.
“Guh-” Came a grunt from her lips as Y/n dropped herself onto the gravel alleyway ground. Michael landed beside her with a similar groan. The pair scanned the alley that led towards the pits. Tipped garbage cans littered the walls as junk laid scattered as if someone threw it there and walked off.
Cautiously, Michael picked up a nearby monkey wrench that was outlandishly large. Y/n stared at him for a moment with a perplexed expression.
“Mike, we’re getting a car. What are you going to do? Kill someone?” She inquired doubtfully with skeptic eyes.
“Listen, wren. I’ve been fightin’ goons long enough to know they don’ like giving valuables away easily. Especially tin cans that have speed,” Michael reasoned, tossing his partner an empty beer bottle for defense. Y/n caught the weapon, gripping onto the neck of the glass for a better stance.
“And what do we do if these goons are packin’ heat?”
Well, that wasn’t convincing.
Beginning their trek down the untrustworthy pathway, both detectives stayed oddly quiet, as if waiting for something to jump out at them. But nothing came. It didn’t take long for them to reach the pits, watching from the shadows as pit crews worked on tuning up busted cars or preparing for the next class of racers.
“There!” Michael whisper-shouted, grabbing Y/n’s head and turning her face towards where the car sat idly with no crew nearby.
“Are you sure that’s the one?” She debated, although the grin on her lips already gave away the fact she knew it was.
An elongated vehicle sat alone in the summer sun. A royal blue body with golden yellow accents shone vividly with a pristine cleanliness that seemed unnatural for such a dirty environment. The open motor engine was practically boasting it’s upper-class compared to some other rundown cars that were simply abandoned in nearby garage huts.
Taking a look around, Y/n grabbed Michael’s hand and sprinted towards the tin can, practically bounding into the driver’s seat while Michael slid around to the passenger side.
“That was easier than I expec-” Michael cut himself off as he noticed a major problem. There were no keys. Instantly, both partners began searching all around the car, adrenaline at the risk of getting caught with no way to get away other than fighting.
“What if Arthur has them?” The suggestion wasn’t backed with much evidence, but neither could argue against a guess.
“We don’t even know what the joe looks like.” And there’s the devil’s advocate.
“Do you have a better idea?”
Michael stayed silent, trying to think of any better idea than the stupid suggestion. With a defeated sigh, he gave in.
“Fine,” Michael agreed, taking a coin from his trousers pocket. “Coin toss, winner’s gotta find the crook.” Y/n nodded as Michael flipped the coin into the air between them.
With the slap of metal between two palms, both pairs of eyes stared intently at the reveal.
The figure of a flying eagle faced up at them, the symbol of tails, meaning Michael won their poor gamble. With a heavy sigh, the blond pocketed the coin once more before slowly climbing out of the car. Once Michael was fully standing outside the vehicle, he bent down to look back inside at Y/n. But before he could speak, Y/n was already finishing his sentence.
“Stay safe, there are dangerous men, blah blah, I know,” Y/n grinned as she teased her best friend. Michael cracked his own grin at her words.
“Actually, I was going to tell you to keep the car safe, but y’know, I guess that otha’ stuff works too,” he chuckled with a joke in his voice, patting the cars fabric convertible roof before shutting the door and walking as subtly as he could towards the pits.
Y/n sighed as she sat back straight in the driver's seat, drumming her fingers along the smooth driver’s wheel. The car was in pristine condition with its glossy wooden dash and slick leather black seats, making it truly a collector's item. To be honest, if Y/n and Michael didn’t need the case money so much, she would’ve kept this tin can, even if that was also very illegal.
Almost twenty minutes had passed and there was still no sign of Michael. Reasonably, Y/n was getting slightly worried. What if Arthur came back before Michael could get the keys, and then Arthur would see Y/n in his car and who knows what would happen then. Or what if Michael was caught and getting roughed?
Subconsciously, Y/n began tracing her fingers around the dash and gear stick, feeling the waxed material under her touch. It was relaxing compared to the tense situation. With a sigh, Y/n reached for the door handle, giving into the temptation of going to find her coworker. But before she could push it open, shouting reached her ears.
Whipping her head to the passenger window, Y/n was graced with a familiar sight. Michael was sprinting while waving a pair of keys in the air, outrunning a group of thugs close behind him.
In the matter of seconds, Michael was back in the car and throwing the keys to Y/n.
“Punch it!” He demanded, which Y/n instantly followed. With the flip of the keys in the ignition and roaring of a live engine, Y/n stomped her foot onto the acceleration, moving the shift stick according to the speed needed.
Y/n gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, a smile forming quickly at the freedom of speed. Michael grabbed onto the dash and leather seats, struggling with his seat belt as each turn slid both him and Y/n around.
Shouting of the pit crews and thugs could hardly be heard over the engine screaming. With a sharp turn, Y/n bolted down the previous alleyway they entered, bursting through the wooden fence. Somehow in a reason only explained as a miracle, the car remained perfectly intact as the oak boards exploded around the expeditious driving.
It only took a few minutes for Y/n and Michael to reach the city and slow down, parking the car in front of Mike’s apartment building. Silas was still there unsurprisingly; he was desperate to get his car back. As Y/n finally turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car with Michael, Silas was beaming in joy, already bounding towards them.
“Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you—” Silas hugged both Y/n and Michael in two bone-crushing hugs. He kept going until Michael finally cut the older man off.
“It’s no issue sir, we’re glad to help.” Michael was exaggerating. It was an issue. He went through a 20-minute Hell to find those keys and Y/n would be hearing him complain for the rest of the night.
“Here, take it, both o’ yous, please.” Silas took out two crumpled bills and gave one each to both detectives. Unfolding them, Y/n and Michael shared an incredulous look. $100 for each of them, $200 put together. This could cover months of rent for them, no more angry letters from the landlords. Unlike her friend, Y/n actually paid her’s on time, her landlord just wasn’t a friendly man.
Silas didn’t even wait for their reactions, simply getting into his car and making tracks in a joy ride.
“Would you look at this dough?!” Michael exclaimed with a grin, flaunting the dollar bill around pridefully. “It’s aces!”
“Like pennies from heaven,” Y/n agreed, nodding happily and inspecting the cash.
“C’mon doll, we’ve gotta’ go celebrate, another case well solved.” Mike shoved the bill in his pocket before grabbing Y/n’s wrist, already pacing towards their regular bar.
