The Writers Bloc Café was back open for business. It was fresh with the scent of lemon and whiff of bleach, which were quickly drowned out with coffee and pastries. Chatter rang out as orders were filled, meetings were had, and beveratines were consumed. To the oblivious world, things had returned to normal after the somewhat odd stint of the café being closed two days straight.
Yet to those who manned the cash register, fulfilled the orders, washed the dishes, and kept the food coming, it was a completely different story. Few times in their lives had their minds been as busy as they were right now. Becky was, after all, still missing under mysterious circumstances. But they couldn’t help feel that the end of it all wasn’t far off.
Timechaser hauled a shallow bin filled with plates and mugs and dropped it roughly on the stainless steel countertop that served as part of the work station for the dish washers. That was his task for the day, which he did begrudgingly. There were certain items that weren’t to be put into the dishwasher, which he kept an eye out for as he sorted and tossed them down to his fellow washer.
“You ever think that life is but a story that somebody else is writing?” Katana asked as she loaded mugs into the top rack of the dishwasher. “Like, we’re just puppets and tools used by some higher authority to convey a series of thoughts –”
“Have you been sneaking espresso beans or something?” Timechaser wondered in reply, eyebrow raised. “I thought Beck told you not to touch those.”
“I haven’t and yes, she did.” She stuck her tongue out before breaking out in a smile. “It’s just a thought I had, you know? How the world really works…that stuff.”
“I’m impressed you can think of anything outside of our current, you know, problem.”
Katana sighed, pushing the top rack into the washer and pulling out the bottom. “I know it sounds rude to say, but we should take our minds of off that problem until tonight. You know, when we go all super secret agent kick-ass.”
Up in the front, SomeGuy was having a good time working the register rather than running around doing dishes and cleaning up spills. Sangome was his cohort on the other register and, despite being taught that very morning, was flying through orders and teasing him about his pace. Business was heavier than usual, requiring the other register to be open. It also explained why there was more staff running around than the usual handful.
“Timber, we need a cinnamon scone and a bear claw,” SomeGuy chirped over his shoulder as the blonde scurried back and forth from the back kitchen to the front counter.
“Hey Timba, we need a blueberry muffin and two cream cheese Danishes,” Sangome added. “Oh! Wait! Grab a stack of plates while you’re at it!”
Shinmaru was standing off to the side, sipping from a bottle of water, leaning against the wall. “You guys look so busy,” he said, watching the crew pass back and forth.
“Dickweed,” SomeGuy muttered out of the corner of his mouth. The man standing in front of him raised an eyebrow. “Not you sir, I promise. I meant the hobo on the wall over there. Anyways – Welcome to the Writers Bloc, what can I get’cha?”
Timber returned, balancing the pastries and plates on a small tray. A confused look was scripted to her face.
“What’s up?” Sangome asked as the customer before her stared at the menu.
“Um, it’s…” Timber unloaded the stack of plates before placing a pastry on a corresponding dish. “It’s Kat and Timechaser. He keeps saying ‘agua’ in a weird voice and she’s laughing so hard she can barely stand up.”
“Those two are – Oh, have you decided?”
---
“Twenty-hundred hours. The café has closed. We’re on our way.”
“Stop with the weird-ass narration,” Katana quipped to SomeGuy. After locking the front door, he glanced over to her, a smirk on his face.
“You don’t find it appropriate? C’mon Katakana, we’re going off on a mission of espionage and intrigue. We need a little something.”
“We need theme music,” Wayward said, hands in his pockets as the group began to move up the street. “Like…007 or something.”
Timechaser began humming what could only be assumed to be ‘Secret Agent Man’. Wayward gave a satisfied nod and joined in, their harmony drifting off into the night air and reverberating off the buildings. The district was quiet, settling into its normalcy of the hour and those to come.
Ace looked up as they came to the street corner, which they paid little heed to and continued to walk across the street. Despite being in the group, he couldn’t help but feel insecure about what they were doing. Something felt off – but nothing was different. Moths fluttered, crickets hummed, and mosquitoes buzzed, performing the actions that they had done every other summer night.
“I’m overreacting,” he murmured as they rounded a corner and entered into the art hub. The group came to a halt, scanning over the nooks and crannies of the concrete and asphalt before SomeGuy turned to face them.
“I’m just as lost as you are,” he said. But despite the admittance, his voice remained calm and confident – like it always did. “We have a job to do, and I don’t like it when people fail to do their work. You guys ready?”
No words, just nods. Suddenly, Timechaser grinned and threw his head back, a single laugh ringing out. “Oh man, you guys…Can’t believe this is really going on.”
“I’m still not convinced any of this happened,” Sangome offered, to which Timber and Katana giggled.
“Beck’s last reported position was this street,” SomeGuy began, the group shuffling behind him as they went. “Then TC came and saw…well, the cupcake. Given the attention span of most people, we can assume it hasn’t moved since we last checked on it six hours ago.”
Sure enough, the pastry stood at the same spot it had been in the past three days. It looked so innocent, its blue and red frosting swirling, the sugar crystals catching the light from the street lamps at the perfect angle, the cherry glistening on top. But the octad surrounding it weren’t buying into the demeanor. Pure malice ringed in their eyes.
Suddenly, it bolted.
“Balls!” Sangome, Katana, Timechaser, and SomeGuy shouted in unison, giving each other quick, odd glances before they tore off down the street. The cupcake wasn’t running so much as it was hopping, but the speed at which it traveled for doing such an action was physics-slaughtering. It skidded to a halt when it came to the corner and began to turn right, but with the momentum it had built up, had a hard time in doing so.
Kaydirt lunged and ended up skidding on the sidewalk which, in turn, caused Katana and Sangome to trip and tumble over. Wayward leapt over the heap and reached his arm out to grab, but fell short and zipped past the corner, stumbling into the street. Timechaser also attempted the grabbing tactic, but flew around the corner instead and ended up losing his foot grip, spinning, and slamming into a parked car.
Finally, Timber dove and slammed her hands down in a dome-shape, only slightly creeped out by the squirming of the frosting against her skin. But in her attempts to stand up, her hands moved and the cupcake shot up, smacking her in the face with its sugary top. A round plop of frosting stuck to her cheek.
Its escape was short lived as it hopped right into Ace’s hands, who gripped it by the stump and squeezed inward, his fingernails digging into the wrapper. The pastry shook in what was assumed-anger.
“The end,” SomeGuy murmured, intently observing the cupcake. It had now subsided in its movements and was quivering in assumed-fear. The Staffer reached his hand out as if to touch it, but its actions suddenly changed and it went back to being in assumed-anger. He leaned back and looked over the group as they re-assembled.
“Well…this is different,” Wayward offered. “I can’t say I’ve seen a moving cupcake before.”
“I can’t say I’ve given chase to one either,” Kaydirt said, rubbing his arm. “…Ow,” he grumbled as he took notice of the slight bleeding currently taking place.
“…What do we do with it?” Timber asked, wiping the frosting off her cheek and sticking her tongue out to give it a taste. As she did, the cupcake wiggled in assumed-fury. Ace’s eyebrows shot up.
“Stop!” he shouted, which did its job and stopped her from eating the rest of the frosting. He then stared at the pastry in his hand. “…This thing just friggin’ spoke…”
“It…did?” Sangome asked, hands on her hips, her face perplexed. “I’m pretty sure I’m not deaf.”
“No, I didn’t hear anything,” Katana said, peering at Ace. “You…sure?”
“How can you not hear it?! It’s –” Ace’s shoulders suddenly slumped. “…And then it stops.” He looked over the group, each person giving him some odd glance or another. “So you all think I’m mental, right?”
“Not gonna lie, pretty much,” SomeGuy said, rubbing the back of his head. “But uh…well, is it saying anything about Beck?”
Ace sighed. “You’re making fun of me, I know, but…No, it’s not saying anythi – Wait. Now it’s saying how he’ll never give up such information and that we’re all a bunch of fools and –”
“Give me that thing,” Sangome demanded suddenly. With little hesitation, Ace carefully handed over the pastry, shaking his hand out after doing so. Her expression was skeptical – for all of one second.
“IT TALKS IT TALKS IT TALKS,” she shouted, surprised but remembering not to let go. “But it’s…kinda hollow. …Telepathy?”
“Telepathy?” Wayward asked, confused. “Good God, what can these cupcakes NOT do?”
“He’s…well, he’s yelling at me and…basically what Ace said. Won’t give up the info on Beck. Oh, and he’s also mad at you, Timba, for tearing off his frosting.”
“Tell him he can shove it, because he attacked me.”
“…Wait. I’ve got it.” SomeGuy motioned for the cupcake, which was given to him rather hastily. “Hey buddy, tell you something. We’re not mad at you. I mean, yeah, we’re mad, but we’re mad ‘cause our friend Beck went missing, and she didn’t do anything to deserve being kidnapped. We just want her back.” He paused and nodded, the rest staring at him intently. “Okay, listen. I have an idea that might help you with your predicament.” The Staffer looked up. “Hey, do we have frosting at the café?”
“Yeah, we should, why – ooh.” Timber grinned. “Cleverrrr…”
---
Crammed around a table, each of the eight had their arms stretched out, one finger touching the base of the cupcake. A rough but workable patch job of white frosting (which normally went on the cinnamon buns) filled the hole that had come off and stuck to Timber’s cheek.
“So…?” SomeGuy led-off, since no other good introductions had come to pass.
“Alright alright. You managed to catch me, and I appreciate having the bandage. So you’re friends with this ‘Becky’ person, eh?”
“Dude, it’s like she runs a day-care center with us,” Katana quipped. “Not only does she help run the business, but she breaks up fights and gets us working and motivates us.”
“Aw, isn’t that cute.” Katana scowled, but remained silent. “Now look, just get it out of your heads right now that she's in danger. She’s not, and is perfectly safe and unharmed.”
“Then why’d you take her?” Ace demanded. “And on that note – what about that girl? The vendor? What did you do to her?”
“Whoa, easy there. First off, that girl was under possession by whoever was in that sector. We do if from time to time to gather information. Think of it as a disguise. Anyways, it seems he did his job rather poorly, since you didn’t leak anything. And as for why we took her – we were told to take ‘the owner of the café’. We didn’t know who that was, so when she was making the offers for free drinks, we figured that she must be the leader to be doing something like that.”
“You know, you’re not wrong in that aspect,” Kaydirt said, as if trying to console the pastry. “Becky does more than SomeGuy, it seems.”
“Yeah, but SomeGuy owns the place,” Sangome retorted.
“Except that it’s the both of us who run it,” SomeGuy finalized.
“Yeah, we learned that part the hard way. Turns out if we wanted to shut this place down, we would’ve had to take you both. Of course, we couldn’t exactly do that.”
“Why’s that?”
“Your name is some guy, what the hell do you think?”
“No. That’s not what I meant.” SomeGuy sighed, closing his eyes. “Why did you want this place closed?”
“Because you were leaking information! We cupcakes are a proud warrior race and, as such, we must keep secret if we ever go on campaigns. Why do you think we’re here? To fight, of course!”
“What, fight us?” Wayward asked, cocking his head to one side. “Why would you do that? We can just…you know.” He made a biting notion.
“Hey hey buddy, I take offense to that!” The cupcake wiggled in assumed-anger. “We’re not here to take on you guys! The raisins are the real threat.”
“Raisins…” Timechaser murmured, looking down at the floor to think. “Hey, doesn’t that sound like…”
Suddenly, SomeGuy stood up. “Come hither,” he said, motioning his fingers at the cupcake. It wiggled in assumed-confusion. “There’s someone I think you should meet.” As the two made their way for the entrance, he began his explanation. “See, there’s this guy named Adam who kinda sorta runs this city…”
---
Early evenings at the café were always slow, since they fell on the hour where people were more interested in eating whole meals rather than bits and pieces of one. It was also the hour in which the sun blazed its light through the windows, blinding those who dared to stare at it. Such being the case, this time was often called ‘the blind hour’, itself a pun of various sorts.
“It’s nice to have you back,” SomeGuy said as he poked at a tray of quarters in the cash register. “Dunno how you do it.”
“It’s nice to be back, I assure you,” Becky replied, smiling from her perch on the front counter. “Though honestly, was it that bad?”
“Eh, no…but I still don’t see how you do it every day. These kids are a handful, I tell ya.”
“They’re not that much younger than you, you know.”
SomeGuy sighed, closing the drawer. “The digits say one thing, the actions say totally different…”
“Ah ah! I wouldn’t talk, mister. Anyone who says ‘dickweed’ and thinks it's funny isn’t exactly mature.”
“Then I know a lot of immature people.”
“It’s overrated anyways.”
[Arc One - End]
