C-CAD4-004
Barista: Jericho Myerscough
Date: Dec-1-2019
Receipt: CAD4-004
Subject: Business as Usual
One Cafe all together, eh?
Yeah. That went well last time.
For fuck’s sake even when we were up against the ██████, we never had it this bad. But then, the ██████ ain’t ██████, is he? The ██████ was old school. Played by the rules, kept his head down. Stuck to the shadows like a proper bastard. ██████—well, he’s older than old, and the ones like that? They play by a whole different set of rules.
██████’ll melt through anyone or anything in his way if it gets him closer to his last sacred flame. Doesn’t matter who’s in the crossfire. Never did.
…Fuck.
I can’t do this. I can’t “play” Barista anymore. She’s dead.
Nikki’s dead.
More than dead. Burnt. Bloody melted away by ██████ flame. Alaric too, though God only knows what happens when you melt an █████ down. If you can melt an █████ down. ██████ flame’s older than God, far as I reckon. Older than His angels, too. Probably did the trick. Sure made quick work of ███████. Nasty stuff.
And what’ve I got left?
This stupid, useless little 8-Ball. The great symbol of the Cafe and Diner itself. And after all that build-up, all that bloody reverence now that I’ve finally seen the thing, held it—it’s a bit of a letdown, innit?
This is what caused so much trouble?
Can’t even get the bastard triangle to show up with a bit of advice. Then again, suppose I was hoping it’d tell me she was alright. That somehow, she made it out. Somehow.
The 8-Ball’s been clear on that question.
Not a chance.
Decaffeinate Receipt
"Outlook."
Research | 3 Words