C-CUTC-019
Barista: Victoria Ward
Date: Dec-13-2019
Receipt: C-CUTC-019
Subject: Division Zulu
I thought I could help. I thought I could ██████████ ███ ██████, guide us through this maze, find the right path forward. Zulu’s ███████ ██████ may have us walking in circles, but they can’t obfuscate ███ ██████.
So… I reached out. Just a little. Just enough to ████ ███ ████████ ███████ ███████ ███ █████, ███████ ███ █████, ███████ ██████ ███ ████████ ███████ ████ █ ██████ ████. ████’█ █████ ██ █████, ████████, ███████—no wasted power, no cracks to slip through.
But beneath that?
There’s something else.
█████, ███ ██████.
Dark ██████.
And then—I saw her.
A containment chamber. Empty. Or so I thought. But as my vision deepened, the shadows coiled, peeled back, revealing a figure standing at its heart.
She was small, but the air around her twisted, heavy with something unnatural. Her hair—strawberry blonde, streaked through with deep, shimmering black, like fresh blood catching the light. Her skin was pale, waxen, stretched too tight over bones that shouldn’t be holding her upright.
And her eyes.
Brown, but wrong. ██████, ████████, ████ █ ██████████ ███ █████ ███████ ████, ████ ████ ████████ ███████████. Empty and ravenous all at once. She swayed, subtly, as if adjusting to a body she wasn’t used to yet. It was familiar to her—but heavy, like dead weight. As if █████████ ██████ ███ ███ ██████████, ████████ ████ █████. Then—she moved. Her head tilted, just slightly. Acknowledging me.
She knew I was watching.
Then the connection snapped violently, yanking me back into myself. I don’t know what Zulu has done down here. I don’t know who or what they’ve woken up. But she’s waiting for us.
And she is overwhelmingly hungry.
Decaffeinate Receipt
“Friday the 13th. 10:00 AM. Somewhere beneath the Hollywood hills. …They’ve got black eyes like a doll's eyes.”
Sitcom Trivia | 1 Word