The waning sun in the sky meant that the day was near completion. Well, in the very least, it meant that the sunlight would be gone and nightlife would begin. What was defined as “nightlife”, however, was up to the beholder.
It was none-too-surprising to see that the Writers Bloc was open, its yellow and black sign humming and attracting mosquitoes. The café was slowing down in business, customers leaving in groups or solo, laughing and talking and clutching cardboard cups. Inside, however, was a mixture of the activity of the kitchen and the murmurs up in the front.
“I wonder where Timber is,” Katana grumbled, slouching in her chair.
“Don’t we always…” Sangome muttered in response, slipping forward and playing with the discarded sweetener packets from Katana’s coffee endeavors.
“Anything I can take from you?” SomeGuy asked, carrying a large plastic tray with him. He then looked over the table and raised an eyebrow. “Hey, aren’t there normally three of you?”
“Haha, very funny, smartass,” Katana quipped, lifting her coffee mug and sipping from it. “Our third member is currently MIA, though that’s not unusual.”
“…Maybe she’s a vampire,” Sangome mused, tapping a finger to her chin. “I mean, we only see her during the night…or on cloudy days…”
“Dude, you’re…right…” Katana bolted up from her seat, slamming her palms on the table. “Do you know what this means?!”
“We’re a couple of morons who need lives?”
“Yes, but besides that! It means that we can exploit her for television show purposes! She can be…Timber! THE VAMPIRE HUNTER!”
SomeGuy scratched the back of his head. “I believe that was ‘vampire slayer’, and why…would she be that? She’d hunt herself.”
“…Right.” She sat down and cupped the mug around her mouth before her eyeballs shot up to the Staffer, who was still standing at their table. “There a problem, officer?”
“Nope. Just starin’ at you, since it makes you feel uncomfortable.”
“Not really.”
“Curses, foiled again.”
“SomeGuy! Get back here with those dishes!” came Becky’s (NightBeck) voice from the kitchen. “Anything that doesn’t go in the dishwasher gets washed by ha~and…” Her voice took on a singsong, taunting quality, which stirred a look of fear onto SomeGuy’s face.
“Urk!” He needed no further prompting, shooting off to the doorway that led to the back. Sangome giggled and blew a bubble into her drink.
“Poetic justice, I say.”
Almost inaudibly, the bells attached to the door jingled open, marking the presence of another customer. Katana perked up and stretched her neck to see over Sangome, who craned her gaze backwards to look at the entryway. Standing there was the third member of their crew, Timber, looking like her typical, semi-hobo self.
“Yo,” she greeted non-chalantly, hitching a backpack strap up on her shoulder. Her free hand held a rather large slurpee container.
“That’s kinda rude…” Katana muttered as Timber sat down in the free chair at the table. “You shouldn’t bring food into a food place.”
“Well, when they start carrying slurpees, I’ll reconsider. Annnnyways.” She slipped off the backpack, swinging it around her torso before plopping it in her lap. “I’ve got a scoop.”
“Of…?”
“Of the cupcakes, what else.” Timber began hunting around the bag before pulling out a film canister. She popped the gray top off, which landed on its edge and rolled towards the opposite end of the table. It fell off, bounced a few paces, wobbled on its axis, and finally came to a stop before a pair of dark blue Converse sneakers.
“Can someone remind me what year it is?” Timechaser asked, squatting down and picking the cap up. “Who in the world uses film? Especially in this era of…tech-no-lo-gi-cal ro-mance!”
“I like the quote,” Katana said, leaning over the back of her chair. “And to answer your question, 2008. I think. Yeah.”
Timechaser walked over to the table of the three girls, placing the cap on the glass surface. “What’s up?” he wondered, shifting a little to the right to try and observe Timber from Sangome’s angle.
“That whole…cupcake thing,” the blonde said, unraveling the film and holding it up to the paper lantern over their table. “I was down at the Forum today, checking out some stuff, and I…saw it. For just a second! But I managed to get some photos.”
“Film is kinda ghetto, Timba,” Katana said, taping her fingernails on the table. “Get a digital camera already…”
“I’m too poor,” she countered lamely before passing the film onto a beckoning Sangome. “Anyways…I noticed that the cupcake was hanging around the little staff room. I was able to get a few shots, but most of them are blurry. The thing’s fast for being a pastry.”
“Who said pastries are slow?” Sangome mumbled while squinting over the film.
“…So there. Story scoop.”
“I’m rather impressed by how things are going,” Timechaser said, stooping up to his full height. “We’ve been able to gather more information on the cupcakes than anybody else. But…”
“No one’s believing us,” SomeGuy said from the front counter, leaning forward and resting his head on his knitted hands. “We’re gettin’ the stuff published, but now people are passing it off as conspiracy.” He sighed.
“People are thinking we’re becoming a conspiracy paper…” Becky mused, carrying a stack of coffee mugs and placing them underneath the counter. “It’s damaging the reputation of the paper, which, in turn, damages café business.”
“So we’re just going to have to…what?” Katana asked, now tipping on her chair’s back legs.
“We’re going to have to convince people that we’re a true, credible source,” Becky offered. Her expression was murky, seeming neither hopeful nor remorseful.
But SomeGuy voiced their thoughts. “That’s gonna be hard…”
