Detroit never slept, but that didn't mean that the people of The Great Motor City didn't need a good place to eat. The Lunch Car wasn't anything fancy at all, but it didn't need to be. A long counter with brand new spinning stools, a row of booths that lined the walls on both sides, and the smell of hot coffee, and fried bacon with a hint of the whatever was slow roasting that day for supper. It was going to be a big hit, Ranger knew it already. It'd be full of families trying to feed themselves and kids on a nice Sunday, it'll be brimmed with factory men there to shake off a long shift and get a full belly, business men with deals to get done and a nice atmosphere to secure them in. Located downtown in the business district of Bricktown next to the post office and across the street from the jewelry store it really was prime real-estate and he couldn't be any more proud with the deal he received. He'd just finished picking up the menus and placing them on every booth and in front of every stool as well as placing a stack for people to pickup and take with them.

 

Breakfast

Ham & Eggs – 25¢
Pancakes with Butter & Syrup – 15¢
Oatmeal with Brown Sugar – 10¢
Hot Coffee – 5¢

Lunch/Dinner

Hot Roast Beef Sandwich (gravy-smothered) – 35¢
Meatloaf with Mashed Potatoes – 30¢
Chicken & Dumplings – 30¢
Pot Roast with Carrots & Potatoes – 40¢
Liver & Onions – 25¢
Chopped Steak with Onions – 30¢
Classic Hamburger – 20¢
Grilled Cheese Sandwich – 15¢
BLT (Bacon, Lettuce, Tomato) – 20¢

Soups & Sides

Chicken Noodle Soup – 15¢
Tomato Soup – 10¢
Baked Beans – 10¢
Coleslaw – 10¢
French Fries – 15¢
Cornbread – 10¢

Desserts

Apple Pie – 15¢
Pecan Pie – 15¢
Rice Pudding – 10¢
Chocolate Cake – 15¢
Vanilla Ice Cream – 10¢

Drinks

Coca-Cola – 5¢
Root Beer – 5¢
Fresh Lemonade – 10¢
Hot Coffee – 5¢
Milk – 10¢

Ranger placed the open sign on the door and took another step back to admire his new business. He knew it was going to be a great success and welcomed all the traffic. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes and lighter and began to wait. 

Scooter stepped out of his beat up Chevvy. The sound of the engine abruptly dying down as he parked up in front of the diner. The cold Detroit air slapped him across the face as he pushed his way through the door, the bell above chiming cutely.

"Hey, Scooter" greeted the waitress, a beautiful young woman with an infectious smile and a pencil tucked behind her ear. "What can I get ya?"

Scooter gave her a quick nod, "Hot roast beef sandwich, gravy-smothered. And a fresh lemonade." His tone was smooth, the kind of voice that made people listen, even when he wasn't trying.

She didn't hesitate. "Same as usual then darlin'. You got it. Coming right up."

Scooter settled in, tapping his fingers on the counter. As he looked around, he noticed the walls were decorated with faded photos of old cars and factory workers, relics of a bygone Detroit. 

The sandwich came in a few minutes, hot and steaming, the roast beef piled high, the gravy dripping over the sides. The lemonade was cold, the ice clinking in the glass. Scooter dug in, the tender beef melting in his mouth, the tangy lemonade refreshing his throat. He didn't rush, there was no need to. It was just him and his thoughts for now. And for a moment, he felt like a regular guy. Just another diner patron, savouring a meal.

When he was done, the plate was spotless. A satisfying burp escaped him, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at the waitress who was refilling a nearby coffee mug.

"Got any of that chocolate cake left?" he asked, unable to hide his delight at the meal he had just devoured.

"Sure do hun" she said, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I'll bring you a slice".

A minute later, the beautiful waitress brought the cake over. It was rich, dark, with thick frosting. Scooter dug in again, savouring the sweetness. He wasn’t usually the dessert type but today, it felt right. Every bite melted in his mouth, a satisfying end to a simple but yet perfect meal.

When he finished he tipped her generously, left a few crumpled bills on the counter and slid off the stool. His boots hit the floor with a soft thud. He paused, looking out the window, his eyes catching sight of the jewellery store across the street. It was a small place but the neon lights glittered like something out of a dream. He wasn’t one for shiny things but sometimes, the hunt for something new called to him.

He pushed open the diner door and stepped back into the cold. His fingers curled around the edge of his coat as he crossed the street.

Every time Scooter rolled into Detroit, it became a ritual. He’d park his beat up Chevvy out front and slide into a booth at The Lunch Car. It was a no frills diner but to him, it felt like home. The waitress, Mabel, would greet him always with a warm smile. “Oh you're back in town. What'll it be today Scooter?”

"Pot roast with carrots and potatoes" Scooter would reply. Not his usual meal of choice but he was making an effort to change things up a little.

Scooter would lean back in the worn booth, eyes scanning the streets through the window. The jewellery store across the road would always catch his eye and peak his interest. The wait could be considerable but he always found himself smiling when the plate hit the table. The tender meat, the soft potatoes, the perfectly seasoned carrots. It was comfort on a plate. A simple meal but done to perfection. This was exactly Scooters type.

And then, the temptation he couldn’t resist, a slice of chocolate cake. Rich, decadent and utterly irresistible. He’d take a bite, eyes closing in bliss and for a moment, it was as if the weight of his world full of crime, deals and danger just vanished. Replaced only by the taste of that perfect cake. Every time, he had to have that chocolate cake. 

It was a small thing, but it was his thing. Every time.

Voldemort was on his way out of Detroit for the day when a sudden rush of hunger hit him right in the stomach, It felt like a train crashed directly into him and if he did not fill the hole, He just might pass out, or worse... Die. Suddenly, He spotted what looked like another train car

"Oh God, Not another train"

It was only then that he realized this train was not out to run him over, but that it had an absolutely amazing menu

Would you look at that, Just when I thought I could not take it any longer, the perfect menu, Could I please get a classic Hamburger, a side of baked beans, an apple pie, and a root beer please?

Voldemort Placed a dollar on the counter, enough for his food and a tip, and then went to find a comfortable place to sit

Kodok slid into a booth at The Lunch Car. The Detroit air smelled like coffee and bacon grease. For the first time in days, she could breathe. The brooch wasn’t hers anymore — she’d handed it over. Finally.

She ordered black coffee. No sugar. Bitter was easier to swallow.

At a nearby table, two men talked in low voices.

“Heard someone brought something pricey back from Vegas,” one said.

The other sipped his root beer. “Small town. Word travels.”

Kodok stared into her cup, giving a small, uneasy smile.

No trouble. Just coffee.

Outside, Detroit buzzed. Inside, she just needed five quiet minutes — before anything else found her.

Waltz him, steals the launch car, and then runs off with it. Driving the car as fast as I could, them chasing me left and right, trying to catch me.

Johnny was walking along the Detroit streets when he felt the rumbles in his stomach. It had nearly been 7 hours since he last ate, with all the business he was taking care of for Darwin.

Hey there, can I get a ham and eggs along with a hot coffee. It's a bit chilly and that coffee is really going to hit the spot. 

Johnny stands there waiting for his order as he keeps alert of his surroundings.

What are you doing, JohnnyTwinkleToes? This lunch car is on the fucking lamb. big_jason and I aren't stopping til we hit Reno. Eat your ham and eggs off the sidewalk, bozo.

You know what to do, Big_J. Pedal to the metal, boss, let's cheese it, baby. 

The bell over the door rang out sharp as it opened, letting a slice of Detroit’s street noise spill inside before fading behind it. Arco stepped in, coat heavy on his shoulders, hat pulled low more out of habit than necessity. He stopped just inside the doorway, eyes moving across the Lunch Car with quiet intention—the polished counter, the untouched stools, the booths waiting for their first stories to be told.

New place. Fresh start. Those were always the most interesting.

He moved to the counter and took a seat near the center, resting his forearms casually on the surface. One of the menus caught his attention, and he skimmed it without hurry, the smell of bacon and coffee settling in around him like a familiar promise.

“Coffee,” Arco said at last, voice even, controlled. “Black.”

He placed his hat on the counter beside him and leaned back slightly, gaze drifting toward the windows and then the door. Downtown spots like this never stayed quiet for long. Families would come, sure—but so would men looking to talk business where nobody thought to listen.

For now, Arco waited. Coffee first. Everything else could follow.