A/N: I've been obsessively reading fanfiction for ages but didn't get the courage to write one until now. Fingers crossed, hoping I've done a good enough job with this.
Prologue
Somewhere over the side of the building the sun was setting.
Tommy leaned against the crumbling façade of the abandoned warehouse. From there he could see his dorm building and remembered he had practicals tomorrow. No coke then, just a smoke for now. He took a long drag of the cigarette between his fingers, blowing the smoke away from him and closed his eyes, relaxed for the first time in days. The week of exams had taken its toll. The left side of his face glowed orange as the last bit of the sun's light fell over his skin and he edged away from it and hid behind a pillar with a hiss, suddenly unable to bear its heat.
Before he knew it, the sun had set.
Soon night had crawled over the city and in that quiet, dangerous part of town the shadows seemed longer and deeper. A single streetlight across from him was lit and it was the only light for miles, save for the red light at the end of his cancer stick. He pulled it out of his mouth and studied it carefully, laughing as he remembered the long lecture his dealer girlfriend gave him about the carcinogens in it. She was the one who supplied him with cocaine and complained about the smoke instead. He'd never understand women.
He looked at the graffiti laden shutters and smirked at the familiar sight, ugly words painted in stark white against the grimy covers that had more layers of paint on than most walls did. The smell of smoke combined with rotting garbage and he inhaled it all in. It had become familiar in the past few years, as much like home as the smell of his mom's moussaka had once been.
He took another puff of his nicotine, savouring it and was joined by someone else. He didn't even turn his head to see him, he was probably another soul lost in the city that Never Slept, dying for a smoke. There were many like them in the world. From the corner of his eye he saw the man in the hood take a lighter out, cigarette already in his mouth. He swore when it failed to catch spark and Tommy chuckled.
"Need a light?" He had the match out already, striking it against the rough brick at his back and held it out for the other man to take. The hooded man turned, face still shadowed and leaned forward to let Tommy light the cigarette up in an oddly intimate gesture.
The light of the match drew closer to the face and the shadows were suddenly gone. Tommy could see the face now and recognised it. The metallic cover with its seams glowing and his hand shook even as the fake mouth drew into a twisted parody of a smile.
"Thanks." The Doombot said and then Tommy's world went black.
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