Chapter Text
Harry Lime was not a stand-up citizen. Neither was Marv Murchins. In fact, they were both quite the opposite. They were shitty. Truly shitty. The scum of the earth, in other words. Most folks would say to play the cards you've been dealt, and while the two men were inclined to fall into the same belief, they knew better. It was different whenever all of your cards were complete shit, especially compared to those assholes who had the saying on the edge of their tongues all of the time. Those were the guys with Aces and Kings.
Of course, by all means, play those cards.
Let's start off simply: Harry Lime was a 46-year-old man with short stature and a burning temper. The man was practically a ticking time bomb that walked around on two legs, and his face often showed it. When he was 6, he had been dropped off at St. Helen's Children's Village. He didn't remember much about his Ma, only that she was always hopped up on hard drugs. His Pops had never been in the picture. Harry had been one of the multitudes of unlucky children to never get adopted, but he never held a grudge. At least, he liked to tell himself he didn't. By the time he was 18 and booted out of the joint, he'd attempted to make peace with the fact that he was, in fact, all alone. It was a hard truth to accept, and so he never did. Instead, he linked up with a couple of buddies he'd managed to make at the old hellhouse, one of those buddies just happening to be Marv. At first, they were a group of six boys, most of whose faces and names had been lost to Harry. He and Marv were the only two to stick together through thick and thin, eventually building up their reputation in the streets as The Wet Bandits. Marv loved the name. Harry, however, not so much.
Marv Murchins was a different story, though not by much. He had a tall, thin frame that towered over his counterpart's. Marv was a much more mellow person than Harry, though one could argue whether or not that was because of his lack of common sense or intelligence in general. Despite that, he had a knack for getting himself out of sticky situations, and that really came in handy during most of their heists. Whenever Marv was 5, he was left on the side of the road by his raging father who had been beating the ever-loving shit out of his mother in the passenger seat. While Marv's mother had protested at first, Marv grew to latch onto this feeling in his gut that despite what it seemed like, his mother was never going to put in the work to try and find him again. And that was okay, especially since he was able to find someone else to look after him. Marv had hitchhiked back into town, finally giving up hope and stumbling up the orphanage steps. As he recalled that part of his life, he could remember feeling miserable every day of that first year being stuck at St. Helen's. Whenever Harry showed up; that bruting asshole who always wanted to start a fight, Marv felt like he had finally connected with someone.
The relationship between the two had been rocky at first, of course, given their drastically different personalities, but things seemed to work themselves out by the time they were both 18.
Despite their own sob stories on how their lives began, the two men had managed to morph themselves into complete and utter wrecks. Two human beings who, quite frankly, didn't deserve that title at all. Robberies. Heists. Muggings. Harry had to count with both hands to recall the number of times he and Marv had stuck someone up in a back alley or snatched a wallet from some poor lady's purse whenever she wasn't paying attention. Despite all of these things, they were never caught by police, so they grew used to the life they'd made for themselves, though most of the nights they spent together were in the back of a musty old plumbing van. Still, it was better than nothing. Certainly better than being out on the Chicago streets. Even with their reputation, neither Marv nor Harry wished to stick themselves in some of the most dangerous streets in Illinois, especially with the Christmas season fast approaching, and the nights arriving earlier than before.
It was during this Christmas season, in fact, when Harry decided to plan one of the biggest heists of their career.
Winnetka, Chicago; it was a village in Cook County Illinois, and it was also one of the wealthiest places in the entire United States. Both Marv and Harry knew this, of course, which made their longing for this job even stronger. Harry was the one who came up with the plan, of course, as per usual, while Marv tagged along and did the best he could to help. While all of the houses in Winnetka were especially fancy and definite stops in their main operation, Harry had his eyes trained on one house in particular. Marv had gone as far as to memorize the address:
671 Lincoln Avenue.
Harry was practically obsessed with this house, going as far as to spend nights awake just preparing for the day they'd break in. The way the man hyped himself and Marv up for the big heist, it almost felt like the house was alive, watching their every move as they did to it. It was up until that night whenever Harry went out disguised as a policeman to get as much intel on each house as possible, Marv found himself actually shaking with anticipation. He knew they had been planning this for months, but just knowing that they were about to actually go through with it made his whole body quake. Whenever Harry had returned to the van that night with some stowaway cash he'd been able to snag while in all of those fancy houses, the two had made their way to a relatively decent motel just on the outskirts of Winnetka. It didn't take a genius to notice that Marv was anxious, especially considering he hid his emotions about as well as a two-year-old. So, whenever the two men finally arrived in their room, Harry shut the door and locked it. He crossed his arms.
"Marv, c'mon, what the hell's the mattah with you?" he asked bluntly. If there was one thing Marv knew about Harry, the guy didn't beat around the bush. "Yer actin' all fidgety."
"No, I'm not," Marv chuckled back, tossing his duffle bag on the bed to the left of the TV. "I'm fine, Harry."
The older man huffed, shaking his head as he made his way into the bathroom. He took off his fake police hat as he did, sitting it on the desk situated just in between both beds. "Whatevah you say, Marv. You betta not screw us up tomorrah."
Marv waved a hand in the air, visibly denying any worry his partner might've had before. "Yeah, yeah. I won't. Go take a shower, asshat. You smell gross."
"Ha! Says you!" Harry called from behind the bathroom door. Marv smirked as he pulled out some spare clothes from his duffle. He turned on the TV as he did this, flipping through the channels nonchalantly until finally settling on some boring cooking show. While Marv himself didn't enjoy cooking, it was almost impossible to ignore the rumbling of his stomach as his eyes were drawn to the food being prepared. He didn't need anything gourmet as the people on TV had, but he needed something. He knew Harry must've been feeling the same way, considering the fact that they hadn't eaten in about forty-six hours. Their meals were becoming very few and far between, but sparing a glance at the loose cash Harry had left on the desk, Marv smiled. He grabbed the bundle of cash and stuffed it in the pocket of his trenchcoat, walking over to the bathroom door and knocking on it with his knuckle.
"Hey, Harry? I'm gonna go out and grab us some food. You gotta preference?"
Over the sound of running water, Marv could hear Harry reply, "Nah, you pick. Don't be takin' forevah, though. Ya hear me, Marv?"
"Yeah, gotcha," the taller man called back, saluting to the door. Making sure the money was still securely in his pocket, Marv buttoned up his coat and stepped back outside. The two men were on the very first floor, and their room overlooked the small parking lot that was littered with old, run-down cars. That, of course, included theirs. Marv toyed with the idea of taking the van, but ultimately decided against it whenever he saw the familiar Golden Arches just across the street. Perfect, he thought, making his way to the establishment with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The sun had already gone down, but it was only 6:30 pm, according to Marv's watch, which explained why there were still kids out and about, playing in the small patches of light snow that littered some areas of the ground. The lanky man looked both ways before crossing the vacant street, something Harry had to remind him multiple times to always do.
Marv was just passing the 'Village of Winnetka' sign that led into the neighborhood whenever something caught his attention. Amongst the children playing in the snow, there was a small group of about three boys right in front of Harry's prized house. Address 671 Lincoln Avenue. Marv froze in his tracks, watching a little closer and straining his ears to listen. There were two older boys, that was for sure, and one youngster that accompanied them. By the looks of things, the two elder kids were picking on the kid, and the thought made something in Marv's chest sink. He could hear bits and pieces of their conversation, and the tall man could tell, just by the octave of their voices, none of them were actually playing around.
"Man, Kev, fuck off! Get outta here, you brat!" the tallest boy, who also happened to be the largest, snapped out. Marv watched in surprise as the big kid grabbed the smaller one (who he assumed was Kev) by the collar of his shirt, throwing him back into a snowdrift. Marv grimaced to himself, his hands balling into fists.
"I was just tryin' to play with you guys! Nobody ever lets me do anything," the kid whined, slowly moving to get out of the snow. The other kid, some scrawny boy with red hair, kicked the little kid in his chest, causing him to fall back to the ground.
"It's 'cause you're such a disease, you little asshole!"
"No, I'm not!" Kev barked back, his voice rattling with harsh coughs. "I just wanted to play in the snow."
"What on earth is going on out here?" a new voice suddenly rang out. Marv nearly jumped out of his skin, and he turned his head to watch as a woman exited the house, storming through the front yard and pushing through both of the older boys. She bent down, grabbing Kev by the collar of his shirt and heaving him back to his feet. "What are you doing?"
The woman's voice sounded cold.
"I wasn't doing anything! I was just trying to come outside with Buzz and Jeff. They started beating up on me for no reason!"
"Oh, I'm sure," the woman huffed, gripping the boy's wrist and dragging him back through the yard. "There are fifteen people in this house, and you're the only one who has to cause trouble."
"I'm the only one getting dunked on!" the boy argued.
"You are the only one acting up!" the woman barked, whirling around and smacking the kid across the face. Marv's stomach shifted uncomfortably, and he had to physically resist the urge to intervene. Was nobody else seeing this? No other words were spoken, and the kid was unnaturally silent as the woman (who Marv could only assume was his mother) dragged him back inside. The door slammed, and all was quiet. The tall man stood with his mouth agape, terribly conflicted, but forcing himself to walk away from the entrance of the neighborhood. Maybe he'd missed something. Maybe the kid had actually done something worse, or maybe he'd been acting up all day. Still, the way his mother hit him... It sent chills down Marv's spine, and he hardly realized that he was in front of the McDonald's until someone from the inside nearly opened the door in his face. The man apologized swiftly, but went on his way, with five barking kids crowding beside his feet.
Marv went inside, ordered a burger for himself and for Harry, along with two sides of fries, and two Cokes. He did all of this numbly, his mind still pondering what he'd just witnessed. For some reason, the entire encounter the man had just witnessed felt personal. Maybe it was because he and Marv were planning on robbing that exact house the next night. Or maybe it was because Marv saw something in the kid that he related to. He felt that slap. He'd felt multiple just like it. The man was only able to mumble a small 'thank you' to the workers before heading back to the hotel with their meals. He didn't look into the neighborhood when he passed and quickly moved to cross the street. He practically ran back into the motel room, stopping to catch his breath at the front door. The bathroom door opened, and Marv straightened his posture, sniffling the coldness away from his nose.
"Ah, nice, Marv," Harry commented absently, wearing a pair of ripped black sweatpants and the same grey t-shirt he wore every day. "Good choice. I'm starvin'."
Marv forced a small smile onto his face as he and Harry settled into their beds, opening the bags and digging into their meals. "Yeah. I was, too."