Screams of terror echoed throughout the streets as an explosion shook the scene. Fiery pieces of debris fell from the skies, launched from the fifth floor of an office building. The flaming wreckage crashed down into the streets below, destroying the pavement and flattening many of the unlucky pedestrians attempting to flee—turning the bustling midday streets in a cesspool of destruction and terror. Citizens tried scrambling to get as far as they could as another blast tore through the building sending vibrations throughout the streets, disturbing the already unstable foundations of the building with a loud ominous creak.

From the blown apart hole of the building, a woman dressed in black could be seen. She commanded large clouds of smoke, shaping it into a solid mass around her body, a make-shift cushion for the next explosion that rang through the building. The blast engulfed the cushion of smoke as it blasted another larger hole in the building. A smoldering trail of smoke followed the woman’s body as it was blasted into the next city block. Another man would now approach the hole.

His sleeves were blown off, scorch marks on the shoulder sleeves of his shirt. He looked meek, but his face was manic, twitching and shaking with such intensity that it was visible to the citizens below. Numerous crack-like fissures ran down the flesh of his forearms, the cracks pulsing with a vibrant red-hot hue, with lingering traces of smoke coming off his intact skin.

He could be seen laughing, a barely audible chuckle. He held his arms out wide and seemed to inhale deeply before shouting something incoherent to the people below. Feelings of grandeur in his stance. Proud as dozens of people ran through the streets, screaming in fear. He pounded his chest as the sounds of the incoming sirens of law enforcement had drawn closer until the armored S.D.A. vehicles swerved onto the scene by half the dozen. The Supernatural Defense Agency had arrived, and yet, it seemed to only drive the man into more of a manic sense of superiority. He looked to the agents below as they began piling out of their vehicles, reeling his arm back as the pulses of the fissures increased exponentially in intensity.

Just as he prepared to bring his fists down to slam against the ground, a ribbon of light tore through the side of the building and latched onto the man, pulling him back into the building and out of the sight of the crowd. An explosion went off, almost blasting off the upper-half of the other five stories of the office building into the air. Flaming debris followed by subsequent other blasts that echoed through corners of the building. Going off like sporadic bursts, getting weaker and weaker as each subsequent explosion had gone off until the building couldn’t deal with the stress of being used as an impromptu battlefield any longer–collapsing under its own weight from the destruction, causing rubble, dust, and debris to explode outwards in every direction—End of Broadcast.

∎∎∎

“What you have just witnessed is the attempted and failed apprehension of a Key within Boston by the Black Ring Organization.” The announcer spoke, still images of the scene flashed on the television, much of it blurred; yet, it wasn’t impossible to tell what was being concealed.

“The Black Ring Organization has currently failed to properly address many of their faults in this careless operation, leading to indescribable human casualties. For all their “expertise,” as people say, all others can see now is a lack of ability. We put into question their effectiveness, as it instead seems to have become more of a liability to the people! Yes, destruction is something that we have expected with Keys, but we shouldn’t have to! The Black Ring Organization–as they say, is here to put an end to this all, and they can’t even follow up with their own operandi or reason for their continued existence and funding by dealing with the threats that threaten us citizens by dealing with the potential terror caused by their kind! What’s even the point of them being around if the outcome is the same? We’ve seen all the destruction, casualties, and unauthorized usage of Keys having risen that have caused all the former issues within the following years. Let’s be honest with ourselves. The rate of mortality has increased, the Black Ring Organization has failed to properly address much of their faults. ”

“With what little safety is present during this time, maybe it’d be better if this was solved much simpler. When a threat has shown its head, we’ve wiped it out. Those may fear an “extremist ideology” but it’s the truth! Why don’t we just cut out all the chit-chat and the costs of funding the waste of human lives and just cut to the—”

∎∎∎

The overhead screen of the employee’s television went dark. Nothing but both a noisy and grim distraction from the work environment, slowing the rhythm of work by letting a depressive mood sink in. Now swiftly replaced by the returning scent of freshly baked goods that swept through the café’s kitchen. I could thank Nathan for saving the mood of our kitchen. He was good at reading people. While I could pride myself on being able to know what people wanted, Nathan was good at acting. He may have looked drowsy with big ol’ bags under his eyes, and black messy hair; but he still managed to keep it together. He may have been young, but with that rough face and lanky features, he could’ve passed for some college student. He could rock an apron though. The employees were now livelier. Speaking with one another instead of listening to the talk of the television and all its annoying babble.

With the employees getting back into their groove, the routine sound of the chimes hanging at the front of the café rang as customers lined into their seats. The aroma of the café attracts patrons from old to new. The families who came in often for that routine Saturday breakfast, the patrons who enjoyed the atmosphere to do their studies or other works, and others who just liked to use the setting to sit down and converse with those they wouldn’t normally meet.

Here I was, nearly tripping over as I watched them line in, mistakenly allowing several ceramic plates to drop out of my hands and into the sink. They clanged with all the silver utensils to create a horrible metallic clanging noise that caused the kitchen staff to stall for a fraction of a second to look and see what had just happened before going back to their duties. They wouldn’t care too much about anything that wasn’t a broken plate. Speak of it and it may come true, one of the bowls had tumbled right off the stack. It took the quickest motion to stop it midair before it smashed to the ground and nearly took a piece of my paycheck with it.

I breathed heavily as if I was locked in an hour-long marathon “Phew. Mr. Jung would’ve threatened to dock our pay.” I couldn’t help but laugh a bit, trying to wipe at any notable beads of sweat. It didn’t get much laughs, but seeing a small bit of chuckles and smirks was still good.

“It would’ve just been your pay that’d get screwed with, Noah.” Replied Nathan, stretching a ball of dough. He focused on kneading as his voice targeted me. “By the way, table seven’s order is finished.” He slid the plate over for me to pick up from the side. “Also, the group of the oldies came. Go get their orders.” With that, he went back to tending on dough as if the conversation was another footnote.

“You see a lot from back there, especially with that hair over your eye. How do you–?”

“Get back to work, Noah. The customers can’t come back here to get their food. Don’t focus on things that don’t involve work.” Nathan reprimanded me, a bit more forcefully, not liking to wait or appreciating the backlog on orders. Especially if it was my fault that he needed to put in a bit more work when he could’ve done it ahead of time.

“Don’t worry about it. Wasn’t planning on doing that!” I lied through the skin of my teeth. It was easy to get distracted with the many different people who’d pop up. They all had their own little stories and way of speaking that made each and every last one interesting in one way, shape, or form. I dashed to the first table, pulling out pen and paper before letting out that routine phrase between them all. “May I take your order?”

“Glad to see someone is here taking our order.”

“You’re really outdoing yourself here.”

“You scared me for a minute, uhm, strawberry pastry.”

Showing a genuine smile, even as the sound of discourse had become apparent. Smelling it brewing before it had escalated where voices were raised or things got physical. A small family of three and one of our regulars, Mr. Patri. Patri had his usual spot in the café, a spot in the back corner, ordering the same thing–a turkey and egg with extra peppers–and kept to himself, only speaking to the employees when he was filling out the crossword. I could hear many of them whisper while watching the situation progress.

“They’re in Patri’s corner?” They murmured with ghastly worry. We obviously didn’t “reserve” a spot for Patri, but he was usually early enough to sit at his table to the point it never became a problem.

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I approached the scene, straightening up my posture and plastering a smile. I could tell Patri was more enthusiastic whenever he saw that, he liked seeing people show off their postures. Gave them that kind of “respectful” look that he wanted, so whenever I did it, he seemed to warm up a bit; especially now.

“Noah. my boy, good that you’re here. You can tell them that this is my spot. I come here every Saturday, right at 10 AM, and receive my order in about 5-10 minutes. Do the crossword, and end up leaving within thirty. This—” He gestured in the direction of the family, scratching the bristle of his chin. “It throws it all, a big ol’ wrench in things. The light reflects just right in this spot. I get to enjoy my breakfast in this spot. Hell, I’ve even brought some of the little tykes and they’ve even sat down and ate their lunches in this spot.” He protested, slamming the tip of his finger against the wooden counter of the table. Throughout it all he gave the family a glare of inconvenienced contempt.

As much as he seemed adamant. He was also surprisingly easy enough to read. I leaned in, wrapping an arm around the man’s shoulder and patted him lightly in an attempt to guide his eyes away from the family.

“Hey Patri. I get it, I get a bit annoyed when someone takes my spot in the employee room. How about this, I’ll pay for an extra small dessert. Even get them to slide a bit extra peppers than what they usually get you on your breakfast. Free of charge from whenever I can pull from my paycheck. If I have some time, I’ll even try to fill out a word on your crosswords.” I whispered, trying not to let anyone feel like I was clearly playing favorites.

Patri looked at me, a brow raised in momentary confusion at what I had said. “You? Give me help on the crosswords? To hell with that, I’d rather one of the tykes help me.” He grumbled, taking another moment to look away and back to me in acceptance. “Fine, I’ll take the offer on the dessert and those extra peppers.” He purposely punctuated. He really wanted those peppers. I wish I just bribed him with those. I didn’t even get the chance to give him my thanks before he wandered off to the table I had him looking at, hesitantly taking a seat and fixing himself.

Taking the orders of the family, now came the “oldies”–they were regulars–a group of four, all passed the age of sixty. They gave off that grandmotherly feeling. That smell of butterscotch candies with an overabundance of wrinkles. They nearly had a greater impact on the customers than even most of the employees, coming by and interacting with the other patrons of the café. The only thing stopping them from being employees was the fact none of them had the uniform, despite that, they felt like the café's welcoming committee.

“Noah!” They all exclaimed, smiles stretched out around their face, each one of them holding their arms out to embrace me in a hug.

“How is life treating you, dear?” Linda, the leader of the group of elderly women asked, twisting the springy curls of her gray hair around with her finger. The most lively and joyful than the rest, showing her emotions on her sleeves and showing the friendliness that only an old lady could give off.

“It’s been treating me well, I almost won the fight with Mr. Jung about getting me that raise. I really have my eyes on getting a popcorn maker for the apartment.” I laughed, a bit too excited at the thought, but it was a popcorn maker. Who wouldn’t be excited?

“You’re going to ruin that figure of yours if you go on eating all those fatty foods. Catherine doesn’t deserve that, my granddaughter has eyes for you and I expect you to be at your best when you put a ring on that finger of hers!” Kristy told me off, crossing her arms to show her bit of disappointment at it.

“Don’t worry. They got me working all I can, so I won’t be getting out of shape too soon. Speaking of working, I should get back to it by asking you lovely ladies what you’d want for breakfast today– I’m guessing the usual?” I asked, flipping to an empty page on my notepad. Though, I didn’t even have two seconds to hear their orders before shouting broke through from the backroom of the café.

“Noooooah! Come to the back, I need’ya!” Then, the same was uttered by Nathan. “Hey, Noah! Jung is calling for you. Finish whatever you’re doing and go help him out. Quick!” He exclaimed, before going back to doing his work in the kitchen.

“Crud.” I murmured under my breath, my mood leaking a bit into my expression to where my lips impulsively bent into a frown. I turned my head to the women, only to notice all their content smiles at the fact their meals would be a bit delayed. “Thank you, so much.” I couldn’t help but bow my head a bit before rushing to the back of the café, dropping the list of orders onto the counter of the kitchen as I made my way to assist Jung.

⧭⧭⧭

I pushed aside the flaps of the entrance to the backroom, taking a brief whiff of the air to inhale the smell of coffee powder and… sweat? At that point, I watched as my boss was hunched over, trying to lift a crate with all of his strength. It was almost painful to watch as his “muscles” bulged and he had been gritting his teeth. He looked as if he was somehow putting more effort than was even possible–as if it was his life’s goal to lift up that crate.

I watched as his grip suddenly let out as they released the crate, then watched as he recoiled a bit backwards. His gut jiggled a bit as he fell on his butt. As much as I wanted to laugh, I didn’t have the heart to do that to him. Not to Jung. The man had tried to exert himself as if he still had the youth of his prime.

“They don’t build these bodies like they used to…” Jung huffed, bringing his tired body to rest against the crate. His forehead was glossy with sweat. “Anything to be young again.” He sighed, turning his head with his eyes immediately widening as those burly arms of his began to tremble.

“Noah!” He yelled, almost instinctively as I could see the thought fully click in. “H-How long have you been there?!” He pressed, head turning to each side as if he was fearful that someone else was readying to surprise him from the corner of the room before he would try to gain his composure. He just seemed to grow a bit more anxious the longer I watched him scurry and saw nothing. It all just got a teeny-bit worse as my boss realized I was both real and watching him for most of the time he had been working with that crate.

I walked forward before things could get any more awkward, squatting down to move to the crate Jung had been struggling to lift. “Let me help you with that.” I lifted the crate into the air without any real effort. I could tell it was heavy, but picking it up seemed pretty light. I let out a huff of air, trying to make it seem like something that took much of my energy to hold to avoid making Jung feel bad for not lifting it. “I guess this is heavy. I can see why you called for me.” I chuckled a bit, though I could see Jung didn’t really care for that comment.

Jung had crawled to the corner where the crate had just been, moving to grab a silver ring that was pressed against the wall. He gave it a longing, nostalgic stare for a few minutes, before he gave it a brief kiss. “I’m sorry dear.” He whispered into his hands, his breath shaky as he closed his eyes to absorb the feeling a bit more.

“Hm.” I couldn’t help but let out, placing the crate to the side and a hand to Jung’s back. “I’ll give you both the room. Call me if you need any more crates lifted.” I answered, and with that final comment I went back out to the front of the café to continue my duties.

⧭⧭⧭

Heading back to the front of the café, I made a beeline to the table of elderly women, pen and paper in hand once again as I took another breath.

“Sorry for the wait, what’d you all like to eat?” I asked, and as the orders came in I wrote down each of them. However, when it came to Grenda she was a bit less receptive. She was usually chipper, but this time it had just been simple.

“Scrambled eggs and white toast.” Her voice was low in comparison to the others. She wasn’t as talkative, it didn’t even look like she could. She had seemingly sunken into her chair. I don’t remember her being a part of the conversation even before I left to assist Mr. Jung.

“Grenda, is something the matter?” I asked.

“No, things are fine.” She murmured.

“Oh, that’s a bunch of crap.” Linda huffed, snapping her head to Grenda and then to me. “Grenda’s daughter, you know her, Sarah. They’ve been going through a tough time, none of them can find her son, Max. They’ve got the police involved, but they've been spreading themselves thin dealing now both Sarah and Grenda are worried sick. Max is such a sweet boy, no wonder they’d be worried.” Linda snapped, crossing her arms as her finger began to repeatedly tap against her elbow. The looks of the other women at the table seemed to grow a bit depressive as well, turning their heads low as if to momentarily mourn in Grenda’s stand.

I gave glances around the table, then around the cafe before crouching down to meet Grenda’s eyes. “Uhm, Grenda. I know I might not be able to do much, but maybe I can speak to Sarah? See if I can help her out with a few things before they find Max. I don’t want you both to be stressed and trying to get through this alone.” I pulled a piece of paper from my pad of paper, handing it off to the older woman.

“I’ve spoken to Sarah before, she likes me. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to help. So you don’t have to worry about a thing and sit tight.” I wrapped my arms around her for a hug, which she welcomed.

“You better not be two-timing my Catherine.” Kristy interjected, the women smiled a bit at that humor. That was better at the very least, but for now.

It was time to work until I’d leave to go meet with Sarah. Max was missing.