The day of the Merge started like any other day. Michael rolled out of bed to the soothing, dulcet tones of Metallica, ready to go back to bed but getting dressed for work anyway. He put on his least torn up jeans fresh from the drier and an only slightly wrinkled green t-shirt. He poured some of his cold brew into a travel bottle, topping it off with a bit of caramel and a splash of milk. Finally grabbing a mostly stale muffin, he slipped on his boots, grabbed his bag and hurried down to his bike.

Michael biked to and from work every day, in an effort to reduce his carbon footprint and keep smog levels down. It definitely wasn’t because he couldn’t afford a car while trying to pay off his student loans. He was totally 100% in charge of his life and didn’t at all regret getting a theater degree. He loved getting up at the ungodly hour of 3:15 to go and start the mixers to make the donuts that more successful actors got to eat at crew meetings.

Stopping at the back door, he hopped off of his bike and took another swig of his coffee, bringing the bottle down to around half full. Michael punched in his code, waiting for the red light to turn green so he could go in and punch the same code into the wall. He rested his bike up against the side wall, out of the way of the other employees when they finally arrived. It was nice of Courtney to let him leave his bike inside, since there was a much lower chance of it getting stolen. He switched out of his boots and into the non-slip work shoes Mama Danni’s provided.

He dumped bags of mix into the three large commercial mixers, topping each off with a measured amount of water and oil. Walking away from the rumbling machinery he checked the proofs from last night, adding more water to the steam cabinet and finally worked his way to the front. He checked the coffee machines, refilling the one the closing crew didn’t and hooked his phone up to the store’s speakers.

Courtney was a pretty cool boss, she let him play his music in the morning so long as he switched over to the approved playlist before opening. Tapping the cracked screen a few times, Michael began to bob his head as the smooth beat of Phil Collins filled the air. Double checking the register he started humming along with the beat. Returning to the back room he gave his hands a thorough scrub in way-too-hot water, before pulling one of the big bowls out of the proofer.

The main reason he enjoyed the early morning shift was the bread, the best way to work out his aggression and relieve tension. He punched the air out of the risen ball of dough, before turning it out onto the floured tabletop. He started to squish and pull the dough, folding it over and working it to a stiff gluten-y mess. Once it was almost too stiff to work again he plopped it back into the bowl, set it aside and grabbed the next one.

The next hour passed in blissful relaxation, just him, his music, and around 50 million carbs. Right when he dropped the fourth portion of dough into its lubed up pan, he heard the annoying sound of Shiv clomping his way through the back area. MIchael wasn’t prepared for Shiv, he thought it was Michelle this morning! Please, if there was a God, let this just be a hallucination!

“Damn bro, you still listening to this oldies shit? You need to listen to some real music!”

Fucking god damn- “Hey Shiv, I thought it was Michelle today?”

“Oh yeah, you know how it be dog, she comes beggin’, sayin’ some bull about her friends baby shower gettin’ moved up cuzza her baby daddy gettin’ shipped out soon.”

“Oh yeah, Kurt is getting deployed isn’t he? That’s pretty fucked, she’s like four months along.”

“Yeah man, shit, you’d never catch me in the fuckin’ camo cops!”

Wow, Shiv had such a way with words, Michael almost forgot that he dropped out of highschool.

“Hey, you wanna go downstairs and grab a bag of cocoa? We’re gonna need it for the frosting.”

“Shit man, I guess, get me away from your old man music anyways.”

Shiv walked away and Michael managed to resist the nearly overpowering urge to facepalm. He didn’t want to get dough residue all over his face. He walked over to the sink, washing his hands again, before getting the now dried drums back on their respective mixers. Finishing that he walked back to the front and started up one of the coffee machines, using his opener privileges, he chose his personal favorite flavor; hazelnut.

He switched his music off, unplugging his phone and setting the machine to playing the default playlist. Shiv would probably complain, but honestly, what else was new? Shiv was the son of the franchise owner, commanded to work in the lowly conditions of the donut mines as a punishment. His real name was actually Francis, but he threw a hissy fit if you called him that, and honestly Michael just didn’t have the energy for it.

Shiv returned after five or so minutes, a bag of cocoa in his arm and the smell of tropical fruits radiating off of him. He decided not to confront the younger man about his blatant disregard of the ‘no vaping in the store’ rule, realizing it would go nowhere anyway. Leaving the rumbling machinery behind, he stepped into the front of the store and poured two steaming cups of fragrant, delicious coffee.

In his he added a dash of vanilla creamer, and a half of a sugar packet. In the other he put the other half of the sugar packet, along with two more, and topped it off with a big glug of creamer. Taking a sip from his lovingly prepared coffee, he groaned as the warmth of the bittersweet beverage penetrated the cold depths of his soul. Also because he burned his tongue a bit. Shiv walked out of the back room, added another sugar to the coffee, then took a loud slurp from the paper cup.

“Fuck man, why does the coffee always taste good when you make it?”

"No clue. Maybe it's my own little magic power."

"Pfft! Man listen to you, talkin' bout magic n shit, what are you 12?"

"I wish. Then I wouldn't have bills."

This caused Shiv to choke on his coffee. As the kid started to cough Michael started thumping his hand against his shaking back. After a record breaking two minutes of coughing, Shiv turned to look at him, hastily wiping a hand across his eyes.

"It came out my nose…"

Michael started to laugh as he passed a paper towel over. Shiv sniffed at him before blowing his nose with a comically loud honk. Michael drained the last of his coffee in three gulps, tossing the paper cup into the small trash can behind the counter.

"Finish up your coffee, then come on back. We need to get the icing made before Steph shows up."

He headed into the back, washing his hands again in the fires of Mount Doom, before stepping up to his previous work station. He had all the sandwich loaves finished and in the oven before Shiv made a reappearance. He swaggered into the room, heading straight for one of the mixers.

"Hands."

Abruptly turning toward the sink, Shiv fired back.

"Yeah, I know, I was just gonna do that."

After giving his hands a quick scrub, Shiv stepped back up to the mixer he was headed for earlier.

"15, right?"

"Yep."

He adjusted the settings, then walked over to the shelves on the south wall. He studied the buckets for a minute before asking.

"Which-"

"Buttercream today."

Nodding, Shiv heaved at the correctly labeled bucket, just managing to pull it off of the shelf, before dropping it with a loud bang. He looked sheepishly over at Michael, the question plain on his face.

"No, I'm getting the bagels ready."

"C'mon man, you're crazy strong!"

"They aren't that heavy, you can lift them yourself."

Grumbling, Shiv struggled the bucket over to the mixer, pulling the lid off and trying to pour out its contents. Michael tried to ignore his struggling, to focus on his task, but eventually the sounds got to be too much to bear. Taking off his prep gloves Michael walked over, grabbing a spatula as he went and began to scoop the thick substance out of the bucket.

Shiv smiled at him, but Michael pretended not to notice so he didn't have to smile back. He scraped the last bits of sugary goodness out of the bucket, tossed the utensil into the now empty container. He knocked a finger against the vacant attachment slot of the machine.

"Remember to put the whisk on."

"I'm not gonna forget a whisk man!"

He had forgotten it before and Michael didn't want a repeat performance of the plain donut fiasco of last month. So he wanted to keep the forgetful kid on task, but didn't want to be such a hard ass that Shiv's dad would fire him. Deciding it was worth more to get the other mixer going, he walked over to the shelves, grabbing another icing container. He hefted the 15 pound bucket while grabbing another spatula, he scraped the contents into the mixer and cut open the bag of cocoa paste.

He squeezed the bag of chocolate into the machine, making sure to get as much out as he could, before dropping in a pound of butter and two quarts of water. After affixing a whisk, he started the machine, double checked Shiv’s, scrubbed his hands again, and went back to the bagels. He almost couldn’t wait until Steph showed up, not only would she provide a distraction for the excitable child they had for a coworker, but also-

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Bam, bam, bam!

Shaken out of his thoughts Michael looked up from his station, initially afraid that something broke. A panicked look around the room disproved that worry, and he made eye contact with Shiv. The kid was looking toward the front of the store with a puzzled look on his face. Michael stepped away from the table, peeking out the doorway to look in the front lobby. At first he didn’t see anything out of order, but when he noticed movement by the front door he understood.

Walking out to the lobby Michael put on his best customer service smile, ready for the lunacy that every interaction with customers had. He waved at the grumpy looking man on the other side of the glass door and opened his mouth to talk. He unfortunately didn’t get a chance as the disgruntled would-be customer yelled through the door.

“Why the hell is this door locked!?”

“Sir, we-”

“Open this damn door!”

“Sir, we-”

“I better not be late because of you!”

“WE Aren’t Open Yet Sir!”

The man looked stunned at the forceful tone Michael took, the shock quickly giving way to anger. He reached out, grabbing the handle of the door and shaking it like he wanted to strangle someone. That someone most likely being Michael for daring to tell him ‘no’. He finished his wild tantrum and slammed on the edge of the door again.

“Listen here you lazy nigger, you open this damn door so I can come in and get my god damned donuts!”

Oh. Cool. Racism. And so early in the day? Damn near a new record.

“Sir, the store isn’t open yet, we don’t have any donuts.”

“Bullshit! I saw on Facebook that your hours changed! I promised my office donuts and I’m gonna get ‘em! Now open this door and do your fucking job!”

Michael decided that he had better things to do than argue with a brick wall, so he turned around and went back into the prep room. He was a little shocked to see that Shiv was on task for once, checking the consistency of the vanilla buttercream. Walking over to the mixer Michael looked over his shoulder into the mass of icing. It had clumped up, and looked way too dry, altogether not great.

“I don’t know what happened! I added the water and the butter, just like it said on the clipboard!”

“You’re okay Shiv, this happens sometimes. We just need to add a little more water, turn the machine on for another 10, okay?”

Michael walked over to the dispenser, holding a pitcher underneath the faucet, he pressed his foot down on the pedal. The water came out in a high pressure rush, filling the pitcher quickly, splashing some liquid into the sink. He walked back over to Shiv and the running machine.

“Not sure what causes it, but we get that with the buttercream sometimes. You just need to run the machine some more and splash some water in there a little bit at a time. Just keep an eye on it to make sure it hits the right texture.”

Surprisingly, Shiv seemed to listen to every word he said, even nodding along as Michael spoke. They stood there for five or so minutes studying the icing as the whisk whipped it into shape. Eventually the texture smoothed out and they were able to walk away, Michael dumped the rest of the water down the drain. With a sigh he set the pitcher on the counter and walked back over to his bagels.

He carried the covered container over to the now properly warmed up Bagel Torture Machine™ setting the puffy dough rings on the conveyor belt to begin. The wire conveyor carried the bagels into a covered reservoir of boiling brown water, a series of paddles keeping the water flowing in a lazy oval. When they were done with the cycle they came out the opposite conveyor, ready to be piled on a rack and baked.

He lifted them carefully off the belt with a spatula, depositing them on the wire rack lined baking tray. He had the tray about half filled when he heard another knock on the front door. Hoping he could ignore the unpleasant racist for a little longer, he continued to work on the freshly waterboarded bagels, only stopping when the knock came a second time a little louder.

“Shiv, you go deal with the guy this time.”

“What guy?”

“The guy knocking on the front door.”

“Why do I gotta do it?”

“Because I’m doing something that can’t pause and you’re scooping buttercream into piping bags. One of us has a little more wiggle room.”

Grumbling, Shiv set the mixing bowl down on the table, walking up to the front lobby. Only to reappear less than a minute later.

“Mike!”

“What?”

“It’s the cops!”

“...What?”

“Cops, man!”

Shiv looked worried. For all his big talk and bragging, he was just a nervous 17 year old.

“Okay. Come over here and take this spatula. Lift the bagels off of the belt when they’re done, once they’re all done just hang out and wait. Okay?”

Shiv nodded, Michael wasn’t sure but the teen’s normally neon white skin might be a little paler. He actually seemed scared, which, to be fair, he might have drugs on him, so that would check out. Michael put on his best ‘I’m harmless don’t shoot me’ face, and walked into the front of the store. A man stood there, short cropped brown beard haloing a mouth turned down in a grimace.

Michael walked over to the entry, turning the latch to unlock the door, he opened it a crack.

“Can I help you, officer?”

“Yeah, sorry to bother you kid, we got a call about a break in from an anonymous source. Judging by the flour on that apron, I’m gonna guess that you work here?”

“Yes sir, I come in almost every day to start the dough.”

“Alright, was anyone in the store when you arrived?”

“Nope, came in through the back and the place was deserted.”

“Uh huh, has anybody come in since you got here?”

“Yeah, my coworker Francis came in like, 45 minutes ago.”

“No one else?”

“No sir.”

“Alright well, sorry to bother you, we have to do our jobs after all.”

From around the corner another officer came into view. Michael was momentarily stunned at seeing somebody taller than him, the newly arrived officer looking to be around 6’6”. The moving street light stopped next to the first officer, giving him a nod before turning to address Michael. He was initially worried about what the other cop was going to say, but was pleasantly surprised.

“You guys aren’t open yet right?”

“Uh, no sir, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could put in an advanced order for the station? A good dozen?”

“Um, sure, I can put it into the system quick. I’d invite you guys into the lobby but company policy and all that. If you’ll wait here for just a minute.”

Michael walked over to the register he had booted up earlier, tapping the screen a few times he put in an order for 12 donuts, entering in the law enforcement discount code, he printed off the order ticket and got ready to take it to the waiting cops. Having an idea, Michael grabbed a couple of the cups, filled them with the coffee he brewed earlier, popped a lid on them and nestled them into a carry tray. He filled the two empty slots with a couple creamer cups and sugar packets.

He presented the coffee and ticket to the waiting officers.

“Two cups of coffee, on the house.”

The brown haired cop smiled, previously sour expression shattering into a grin. He took the offered tray and took a deep inhale of the steam coming out of the lids. His eyes shot open and he made aggressive eye contact with Michael.

"Is this hazelnut? I love hazelnut!"

Michael felt the tension drain a little out of his body, since he and the cop had something in common, he was less likely to be on the news.

"Yeah, since I'm the opener I get my choice of the first coffee we make in the morning. Hazelnut is my favorite of the flavors we carry."

"Oh? What's your favorite that you don't have?"

"I really like these bags of salted caramel flavored coffee. I buy them from the Walmart on 6th Street."

"I'm gonna have to check that out. You have a good day, sir!"

The two cops turned and walked away, Michael closed and locked the door and let out a shaky breath. He might have more experience than Shiv at dealing with the police, but that made him no less nervous. He'd seen enough innocent people get muscled around by asshole cops that it was almost the default. Thankfully his uncle had given him pointers for dealing with law enforcement.

He turned around to see Shiv standing there, the worried look on his face replaced with one of relief. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and gave Michael a smile

"I wasn't sure what was gonna happen so I started recording. Just in case, right?"

"Yeah, good looking out."

It took Michael a second to realize that Shiv had dropped his usual 'gangster' accent. He must have really been worried, which was touching in a way. He moved back into the prep room, washing his hands, again, he got the tray of bagels put into the oven. Turning around he saw Shiv once again standing there, looking at him with confusion.

"So why'd you give them free coffee?"

"Well… it's something my uncle taught me. He said if you can make cops like you, they're less likely to think you're doing something wrong."

Michael gave him a weak smile, feeling his social batteries drain even as he did. He didn’t realize that Shiv cared. Sure he kept talking to him and trying to hang out, but honestly Michael just assumed it was because he was black and Shiv desperately wanted to be.

"Man, that's bullshit. You shouldn't have to kiss ass just to not get harassed."

Michael opened his mouth to reply, but was thankfully given an excuse to avoid this sensitive issue by the back door opening. The quick shuffling of Steph's sneakers rushed into the prep room. Looking over he noticed that she didn't stop to put on her non-slips and he smiled internally. This was a chance to throw back some of the snark she usually gave him.

"Hey, you need non-slip shoes to be back here. Don't want to get written up do you?…"

"Shut the fuck up. Why were there cops here?"

"Somebody called and told them that I broke in. They said it was an anonymous tip, but I think I know who it was."

"Who?"

"Eh, some jackass that was shouting at me through the door. Said he saw on Facebook that we changed our hours and was demanding donuts."

"What a cunt."

"I know right?!"

Michael just shook his head and tried to get back to the Bagel Torture Machine™. Unfortunately just as he was about to start working, Steph spoke up again.

"So Mike, I got a reservation at this new spa for this Saturday, I was gonna take Madi but she can't make it. Do you wanna come with me instead?"

He was about to respond when Shiv burst out laughing.

"Aww shit man! Fuckin' spa day? That's gotta be the dumbest shit I ever heard!"

Actually spas are great, he got a spot for his mom one year for mother's day, and she bullied him into joining her. He had never known hot rocks could feel that good.

"Excuse you!? First of all, spa days are one of the few things that make life worth living, and secondly; nobody asked you!"

Lol, get his ass.

"Come on tho. M-dawg ain't the kind of guy to go to a spa!"

M-dawg?

"M-dawg?"

Hey, that's what he was just thinking!

"Yeah man, we got a bond of brothers goin' on!"

No, no they didn't.

The next moments would be remembered in a mix of wonder and despair. Because that's when everything well and truly, went to shit.

Steph opened her mouth to fire back at the argumentative Shiv, but was interrupted before she could. A loud ringing noise suddenly filled the air and the three looked around in shock. Existence itself seemed to stretch first laterally, then vertically, their surroundings bending and shifting before going black. A pitch darkness that swallowed not only sight, but memory as well.

Michael tried, but no matter how much mental effort he put into it, he couldn't seem to remember even the simplest detail. He began to panic, but a soothing sensation swept over him, alleviating his racing pulse. Or nonexistent pulse, as things were. Any attempt to move his body resulted in no effect, and trying to look down revealed nothing, since even he was covered in darkness.

Integration complete!

What?