Flour, Eggs, Butter. The smell of sickly sweet jam and chocolate seemed to coat every essence of my mouth without warning. Endless gagging of some ladies was persistent enough that Dorothy eventually sent staff home. The front was the same amount of chaos, with people bustling to get our specialty, poppy seed danishes and sourdough. Consistent pushing and shoving were not absent from the scene, as customers scavenged through the crowd and attempted to snag whatever was left. By the time the rush was done, much of what was made had disappeared into thin air, leaving me to dread how long I was to stay that night. The familiar footsteps of a middle-aged woman entered the back, a much more tolerable look etched on her face as she glanced around the few ladies that were trying or in better words surviving the lack of stash. “Alright ladies, that was a stretch and unfortunately I’m gonna need you all to stay the night to at least get half the stock back for tomorrow. Lucky for you girls, this means double pay, since the women who abandoned us clocked out. I’ve left a list for you and I need Ruth and Bree to run the front. I need to complete a few errands.” With a good eye roll and a brief sigh, we worked our way up to the front. While I was not a fan of her, Ruth was a very short woman with a thick skull. You could personify her as a bull and you would not be far off. Her red hair was streaked with gray, scattered and all seemed to be in their right places. On set to that, stormy eyes complimented the colours within her. “I was worried that you had slept in again my dear.” Her cheering voice had a bit of fun and yet something of a condescending drawl. To this, I rolled my eyes emphatically enough to relay the message loud and clear.

“I wouldn’t count yourself out there Ruthy, the same respect for you, I tend not to remind you of times back when the hair of a similar gingery hue was ironically found in the Christmas gingerbread last year. Correct me if I am wrong, but-” With a missing verbal hush to the lips by a chubby index finger, I etched a smile as I looked into the eyes of a fuming, petite baker. Silence filled the room before the hesitant chuckle of Ruth escaped her semi-chapped, greased lips. “Glad you're in the feisty mood today, with all the gloom and shit rain the last week, you’d think there was to be a second flood.” The most I could do was release a chuckle before the rest of the room filled with her rambling. Though she was loud, it drowned the time spent in the front to finish up the remaining stocking. Pecan cakes, biscuits with currents and a hint of sweet vanilla, loaves of milled grain bread, and the list goes on. Very few drove to the door during the hours of the day. Many were the women who were stocking on treats for their children. However, most of the day was lackluster until there was a strange commotion unraveling outside. Figures of people began to either do one of two options. Avoid the attention and run, or stop to observe the strange appearance of the police. “What on god's green earth is going on, Bree? Do you see?” A huffing Ruth looked around, “Damn, I must get my glasses for this!” Without another word, and almost like a magician she vanished from my line of sight. Through the back of the counter, The gathering of folk grew around what looked to be a man, hobbling along with a long shag of beard, bearing a hunch that bent half of his body. His clothes looked like bits sewn together over and over again while barely any shoes covered the ground beneath his feet. ‘A Narker’. I thought. Only recently the trials of these people have been met, and yet each day, they are getting better and better at telling the homeless to these people. Scary, and yet quite intriguing.

In an instant, out popped Ruth with her beady glasses making her eyes look irregular and quite amusing. ‘Ahh!'' she started. “So that’s what the bitchin’s about. Damn, they are getting good. But that only means they are hiding better.” Cocking a solo eyebrow to the woman, I gave her a questioning look to indicate my insinuating question. “They just released new propaganda on the ‘Narkers’ you know? Quite an intriguing gobby if you ask me.” “Like what, Ruth?” I piped in, finally. She almost looked surprised at my question. “I find it hard to believe that your father didn’t tell you any of this! Given his affiliation.” If I had the ear of a dog, the leaning flops of the ears would be very prominent. “He was always very secretive about such things, Ruth. By god honestly you would probably know him better than me.” Eyeing back at the window shielding us from the outside, Ruth continued, “Well if you don't know, The government added another class. They say it's worse than eight.” To my surprise, I kept observing the man. ‘A nine. Peculiar.” The Narkers have only been seen in public with a class four danger rating which is not harmless unless inflicted. And yet, it's quite the sight regardless of who you ask. In some instances, they used their abilities in self-defense and many are of various qualities too. The papers displayed small children throwing the weight of ten men towards a crowd of soldiers. A woman being chased in the sewers set the halls ablaze with pyrokinetics with the flick of her fingers, burning the men to be mistaken as a campfire. With class eight, It was a consistent environmental change depending on their abilities. Now the question stood, what was nine? Considering the matter, did it seem wrong to be intrigued by these dangers? Maybe a little bit, but that's how people discover what once was versus what remains a mystery. The riot persisted with the crowd chanting louder as some police surrounded the man calmly, almost in a predatory way. As they irked closer, The man seemed to almost transform from his stature into what appeared to be a young woman imposing the entire time. In the fellow swoop that entailed, two more sets of arms revealed themselves, trailing along her body as she managed to grab the officer's one by one, buffing whatever advantage they had above her. While four were gripping the necks of the two nearing men, the vacant hands she held managed to withstand the remaining soldiers in her way with the available help of her legs to assist her.

Stolen novel; please report.

Though it was an incredible sight, it almost seemed with the sheer amount of men attempting to help, the situation would end itself without fail, and unfortunately, it did. It took the power of fifteen men to hold her down while a large collar-like bracer attacked her neck. Without a second to wait, the woman deflated as her body fell limp, yet she could still scream with whatever would get to her. The harmony of the environment seemed neutral as she was swiftly carried away as if nothing ever seemed to happen. Within an instance, the herd of people dissipated almost like smog into the atmosphere. “Well that was thrilling, wasn’t it Bree?” Something overtook my motor as I began to nod out of habit. “I wonder what class she was in,” I asked, almost seemingly monologuing out of my head. “Well does it matter, she had arms galore if you remembered. Besides, rumours go around that there was a break where they were holding them. So long as they are harming no one, then so be it. They’ll be caught sooner or later.” Ruth, with both hands on her hips, continued her gaze out the window that I was at. Time had seemed to slow upon my end as the motions outside seemed to click to a halt. I zoned out towards where the woman once was, almost dissociating at this point while I tried to resonate with her. Sure, Markers were quite the sight, but many of the ones here didn’t seem to have ill will between anything. The origins of these people vary however, there was always something mystical about it. I recall my father being rather invested in the dilemma of these people. From my father's perspective, it could have been the fear of takeover amongst the nation, the damage and destruction that one could cause. It was always sightseeing smoke coming from his ears. Much of what he left behind was cold and uncomfortable, however.

“Alright, up there Bree? Come on, I don’t want to be laid off anytime soon, I have children to feed.” Ruth hopped up from her statuesque pose and began to mingle her way back to the stocked counter, cleaning and labeling the goods that had just been displayed. As the day went on, the ladies kept rolling trolleys back and forth gifting freshly baked pastries and bread to keep the flow of the day in our favour. The steady pace of the shop kept the time at a flow and yet, there was a fog that hazed around my head. The halo of thought pressed around me, and it wasn't until a particular person walked through the door did I shake off the cloud. Upon the giggle of the doorbell, a small boy no older than ten walked in, a tattered scarf wrapped around his neck as only his nose and eyes could be displayed under the amount of fabric concealing his lips. His smallness seemed to unfortunately compliment his skinny-looking figure, looking almost comically tiny compared to the wideness of the door. His brown eyes set upon me as almost in an instant and rather quickly made his way over to Ruth. I motioned to Ruth who seemed to already know the jist of this boy's endeavors. “So your mum finally gave you a few pence to spend, eh?” The small boy shook his head with a solemn expression on his face. It was almost humorous in a way to see the expression of Ruth change from judgmental questioning to utter shame. I kept to myself and my ears observed the conversation from afar. “I’m sorry mam, but I don’t have a mum. What I do have is hunger and I need food desperately!” A hint of sadness etched his eyes with the desperation of a sore puppy lingering amongst the irises’ hue. “Kid listen, I’ve been nothing but generous to you, the least you can do is say the magic words. Besides, I’m at my last stand of keeping up my job at this place. I do not want to end up like you and belong to the wars amongst the streets.” “Please! I just need a roll and I’ll be on my way.” A sniffle could be heard. But oddly enough. Something else could be heard too.

It sounds strange to say, but there was another stifle of breath in the air. And it did not belong to the visible in the room. Continuing the current work, I shifted my attention to the details in the room, somewhat coordinating the people to the sudden noises that could be heard by the sharpest ear, just to catch on. The rambling of the small boy persisted as Ruth kept her eyes bouncing off of him. My eyes darted, and there it was. From the corner of my eye, I could see the small breeze being continued by what appeared to be an invisible figure picking up and stashing a few loaves of bread to disappear into thin air. It was impressive, if it weren’t for the fact of this perpetrator's hunger getting in the way, they seemed to have stuffed a small cinnamon roll into their mouth before tip-toeing behind me and slowly making their way into the kitchen without notice from the others. If I were to grade them, an A plus all around for tactics, execution was a fail. I chimed briefly back into the pair's conversation. “You know what, if it will get you out of here then a bread roll is it!” Ruth finally broke as she began to dig her hand into the container of dough before the boy began to reach his grubby hands to latch on the food. Ruth quickly pulled back from the boy with the roll still in hand. “You have to promise that this is the last time until you bring real money, you got that?” The boy swiftly nodded before latching onto the bread, and almost without a speck of him being there, ran out of the building. That seals the suspicion with me. Before Ruth had the chance to get my input, I had already vanished into the back, on the hunt to look for the invisible thief. On one hand, the conscience in me reiterated that it was a bad idea, but the other was louder, so I took that chance.