Chapter Text
“Fucking rich people..” Tommy commented as the three of them walked from the parking lot across the street over to the Florence Dome.
People were gathering around the plaza marking the big entrance of the modern building with its giant glass dome. It was usually used for concerts or other giant events but the yearly charity gala always took place here.
Women and men in expensive looking dresses and suits, some incredibly expensive cars and even a limousine were currently parked directly at the side of the road, bringing some of the popular guests via chauffeur. And the feeling of being out of place as students even in their new suits didn’t disappear when they actually made it to the entrance.
A woman in an almost butler-like uniform checked their invitations for validity and then stepped aside to let them pass, saying “Have a good evening gentlemen.” with a smile.
Oh, they’d have a wonderful evening.
The dome inside looked like a goddamn castle, ornaments in gold across the walls with buffet tables along one to the back. A big chandelier hung in the centre of the hall, while smaller ones were scattered in a circle around it to light up the rest, fake candle holders with LED light bulbs were embedded into the walls between tapestries and oil paintings and cheerful chatter was already filling the atmosphere with more and more guests filtering in from outside.
Tommy excused himself for a moment to check out the buffet for “research purposes” as he called it but Ranboo and Tubbo just laughed as they saw their friend snatch a small appetiser.
“There’s journalists here.” Tubbo noted as they wandered through the hall, waiting for Tommy to return and taking the opportunity to talk plans in hushed voices.
“Means more eyes via cameras,” Ranboo counted four individual journalists in the ever-growing crowd, “we’ll have to be very careful. Keep an eye out for them when you engage in conversation.”
As the official begin of the Gala got close, the second pair of doors on the entrance were closed and the bright atmosphere quieted down when a middle-aged man in a navy suit with gold lining walked up the stairs a couple steps to stay elevated as he tapped his glass of bubbling champagne with gold flakes with a small spoon.
The host gathered the attendees' attention quickly, so Ryan O’Connor started to speak with his business smile.
“Welcome dear guests to this year’s Charity Summer Gala!” The crowd clapped, some clicks from cameras were heard in between. “I, Ryan O’Connor, am honoured to be your host for this evening and first want to thank our staff both here in the hall and behind the curtains for making this a wonderful and safe venue for this great event. Trust me when I say the catering is even better than last year’s.” Light laughter across the hall.
“But before we begin with the gala, I’d like to mention one last thing, as some of you may know, we lost one of our loyal sponsors, Greg Weinstein, to the serial killer about a month ago,” O’Connor said, holding up his glass of champagne, “I wish to give out a toast and a moment of silence to him, all the other victims and their grieving families and let’s pray the culprit will soon be caught.”
While Tubbo and Ranboo both bit back snarky remarks, knowing what they did and being convinced Ryan O’Connor didn’t give two shits about the victims, Tommy outright said his opinion on everything.
“As if that was genuine.” Tommy scoffed once the gala resided back into chattery among all the guests.
“Damn, you’re snappy tonight, Tom.” Tubbo said, snatching a glass of champagne from a tablet that was carried past them and taking a testing sip from it before nodding to himself, it was a good champagne.
“I just hate how a lot of the people here just use this event for publicity and then throwing the serial killer victims at the end of the opening speech as a toast to farm empathy is disgusting.” Tommy shot the host a glance and only rolled his eyes when he saw O’Connor already laugh with a group of other business people around him.
“I’m already seeing you as a critique journalist in the future.” Ranboo added as his own eyes glanced across the big room, almost counting heads and noting down faces he recognised. Quite easy to overlook the crowd with his height.
“I’m not studying this shit for nothing, I’m going to expose so many people, it’s going to be fucking awesome.” Tommy said, grinning.
“I’ll count you to that, Tommy.” Tubbo replied with a laugh.
Eventually the trio split up, and so Ranboo and Tubbo had started their operation. With their eyes constantly on other guests and especially the journalists’ cameras, they moved through the hall, occasionally getting into a conversation with other students that had been invited, or when their professors tapped their shoulders to congratulate them in a small talk. It helped to not seem suspicious, though it was slightly annoying.
Tubbo had targeted the wife, Olivia O’Connor.
She was currently in a conversation with another two women, one Tubbo recognised as an actress of a recent blockbuster, though he didn’t recollect her name at that time. The piece of paper with the forged message was hidden in his jacket’s sleeve and as he passed her, he made sure to trip on purpose and bump into her. She dropped her glittering, silver clutch with a gasp.
Bingo .
“Oh my god, I apologise Ms. O’Connor,” Tubbo exclaimed, picking up her clutch that had opened from the fall and slipped the piece of paper in one of the pockets before handing it back to her in a quick motion.
“It’s okay, I’m not hurt.” She smiled, thanking him with a nod as she took the clutch from his hands.
“How about I get you both another glass of champagne as an apology, I see yours is empty.” Tubbo motioned to Olivia’s empty glass.
“You’re a sweetheart, that’d be lovely. Do you want another glass as well, Zara?” Olivia asked the actress but she just shook her head.
“No, I’m driving back home later, but thank you for the offer.” Zara smiled.
So Tubbo nodded, excused himself for a moment to smile to himself and get Olivia O’Connor a new glass for her and himself since without at least a little alcohol in his system he feels like he would not get through this night of a triple murder.
“What’s your name?” Olivia asked, taking the new glass from him when he returned to them.
“Toby Smith, Ma’am.” He replied, taking a sip from his own glass of gold-flake champagne.
“Oh! Are you the young photographer that’s a rising star right now?” Olivia asked, an excited spark in her grey eyes. She almost didn’t seem like in her early forties despite her obvious salt and pepper hair that was pulled into a pretty braided bun, and more like she was in her early thirties if not late twenties, she did good in keeping up her youthful demeanour.
Almost sad that it would end tonight. Almost.
Tubbo laughed, slightly flustered. “I wouldn’t say rising star but I did win some prizes already.”
“I’ve heard,” Zara added, “you and your works are quite popular, even in our scene of occupations. When your series on nature was in an exposition in spring this year, even some of my colleagues talked about it. They were amazed, you have a long way of success in front of you, Toby.”
“Well, I wouldn’t really be able to do it without my friends, since they are my models for any photography involving people.” Tubbo said, feeling a little uncomfortable with the praise from such successful people in their own rights. Photography was just something he liked to do and had fun with, he didn’t see his own pieces as this much of a great artistic thing for himself.
“Good evening, ladies, may I steal my friend for a moment?” Ranboo asked from behind Tubbo who almost jumped because he didn’t notice him before.
The two women laughed lightly. “Of course. He might need a break from our compliments.” Olivia said with an amused but well-meant smile. Tubbo just sighed and then followed Ranboo to a more quiet corner near the buffet.
“Goin’ good?”
“Definitely, did not expect them to know me from my photography, though.” Tubbo said, placing his cold hands onto his burning cheeks.
“Well, that should make tonight interesting for her when the young star photographer and one of his models turn out very different.” Ranboo laughed.
“I’m not a star..”
“Says you, maybe you can make this one your first addition for the assignment.” Ranboo joked, though it almost felt like he dared Tubbo to make pictures of their upcoming crime scene.
“Hm, maybe I will. But more for a private documentary collection, what do you think?”
“Sounds amazing.” He smiled.
“How’d you do?” Tubbo asked after a moment.
“All’s well, Ryan is annoying to talk to, though. He’s so full of himself, god..” Ranboo said, the annoyance almost seeping into his voice again from the experience. Tubbo just laughed.
In a couple hours the two of them would have three more corpses to their name, if all went according to plan from here on out.