Walking through the door is an older man in a suit and tie, looking around he’s disappointed. There are only two other people in the cafe at the moment, one is sitting at the booth and the other is behind the bar. Going to the bar he asks, “Can I get a coffee?” The barista, who is currently cleaning the espresso machine, turns around. A *groan* comes from the booth. The suited man recognizes the barista but finishes his order first, “with skim milk, and if you have some sprinkles, hand me a handful.”
“Is that all, sir?”
“Yes. Is Richard around?”
“Who’s asking.”
“An old friend of his, we worked together for two years back in the day, did he ever tell you about the hostage situation that we single-handedly stopped.”
“What’s your name? It’s for the coffee.”
“Oh, it’s Albert.”
“That $7.48, here’s your coffee and sprinkles.” The sprinkles lay in a paper water cup.
“How is Richard doing? I haven’t heard from him since the gunfight.”
“He’s doing well considering.” The Barista on her phone doesn’t look up when the bell rings. Albert does, a man in his early forties rushes over to the only booth in the cafe, and the younger man who has been waiting looks surprised. Feeling the heat of the coffee cup Albert decides to wait before drinking it.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Has it been busy lately?”
“Not really” Finally looking up from her phone she notices the new customer.
“Normally there aren’t any more customers after 9.” *ding*
The wood door closes as two masked men walk in. They wore a black dress code, ski masks, jackets, and shoes. The new customer started the commotion,
“What he’s not here!”
“No one moves!”
Jim, not caring about the masked figures, says, “But, I wanted to meet The Stop Man so badly.”
Albert glad for the distraction eats his sprinkles.
“Everyone stop,” *bang* *bang* two shots in the ceiling, The Barista ducks behind the bar, as the masked figures stand discussing something.
“I’m his biggest fan,” Jim continues, trying to finish his thought-up dialogue.
“Everyone over there, Move it!” The first masked man is waving their gun over at the only booth in the cafe.
Time to do this, Albert thought. Knowing that the kid’s distraction isn’t lasting much longer, the colors he’s consumed over months cover his body imitating the background. The world turns to an absence of color. The hanging light shines black, layering a shadow on the unpainted interior. He can’t hear but he knows what he has to do. He runs to the side expecting them to shoot where he used to be. A flash of darkness emits from the already smoking gun, then another and another. The flashing doesn’t stop him as he tackles the gunman. He was banking on the other gunman not risking his partner's life, to kill him. He assumed wrong, flashes of black continued to emanate from the only other gunman in the room. Not taking the risk he rolled away. The man didn’t seem to care where he was, even pulling out a second gun to keep shooting his co-conspirator stopping only after running out of ammo. Darkness starts leaking out of the holes left in the dead body, the darkness unable to be contained within a mortal man. Explodes.