OPERATION: ENCORE (Part IV)
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: MID MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-76
Never thought I’d use one of these things again. Ugh. Okay, well, at least it seems to be working. That’s all that really matters right now, I suppose. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing, but at least the 1/8th left with me was enough to connect our CaDComs to the overall CaDCom Database, or whatever its called. Of course, it was kind of a crapshoot, considering I don’t even have the 1/8th myself. Not all together, anyway. So, I guess it’s good to know that three 1/24ths work all the same. Well—when I can get everyone on the same page that is.
The header looks… different. I guess it looked different between the First and Second Cafes too. Maybe this is the default header? Or… something like that. I don’t really feel like messing around too much with the backend of things because it’s a miracle that these even turned on. I’m not sure what the shelf life is on Canadian tech, but the U.S. parts in these are at least 25 years old at this point. I guess beggars can’t be choosers—sucks that little-miss-know-it-all took the newer 97 models. Figures.
Ew. I just realized… does all of this make me… like… 8? An 8? It totally doesn’t, right? I don’t even have the 1/8th—or… 1/24th… or whatever. I’m more just like a… yuck. I don’t even really like the title of manager or supervisor, to be honest. To be clear—I never wanted to run a Cafe. 8s are egotistical, narcissistic, curly-haired freaks. No offense to the original owner. But considering the threat that is Umbra… There needs to be an old hat running things. And those kids back in California have no clue what they’re doing—especially against a major creep like Umbra.
So… I guess… we’re open for business. Even if we’ll only be operating in the dark.
BARISTA: JULIUS MENDOZA
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: MID MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-77
It’s good to be back. Though I left the Second Cafe on… less than amicable terms… I always missed it. Yearned for another sip of that silky black brew. There is something about working for the Cafe and Diner which I cannot explain. There was a saying I heard a few times, something along the lines of: “The Cafe and Diner is always so much trouble—but always worth it.” Perhaps that best sums up my feelings for this endeavor. Besides, I was beginning to grow a bit restless with our current work.
To catch our fresh blood up, I suppose I should explain a bit about what the Cafe’s goal is and how it should be run. Simply put, the Cafe and Diner seeks to maintain the precious balance between the Flipside and Otherside. It hunts wayward cryptids to return them to their rightful home and deals with demons who threaten the established order. It’s not too dissimilar to the odd jobs we’ve done in the past. And, I imagine, it has some similarities to your prior work at the Company, R.
As for these strange bricks with screens—well, I must admit they are a bit outdated, aren’t they? Glorified word-processors. But, don’t be mistaken, these bricks contain a glut of Othertech, which allows them to do… well… as much as our cellphones nowadays would do. But back in the early 90s, these were quite impressive. Still are—to some extent. But the important part for you to know is the difference between the three channels they operate on. There is the DINER channel, CAFE channel, and AND channel.
Largely unencrypted, and as such, you should be careful with what you say there. Encode your text with “Diner-Speak” thematic euphemisms to obscure the true nature of our work. There are already a good deal of established codewords, which N.L. and I can catch you up on in person.
Lightly encrypted. The actual encryption is nothing terribly special in the Flipside—but the lateral logic tends to be more than enough to keep unwanted demonic eyes from uncovering our secrets. Still, mind what you say here, as a few demonic and other entities can bypass this, not to mention the Indigos.
Then, there is the AND channel. It is more or less the same as the CAFE channel, except the receipts written here are “unlisted.” Only those who know where to look can find them. This channel is good for private thoughts or especially sensitive information.
That’s all.
-J.M.
BARISTA: JERICHO MYERSCOUGH
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: MID MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-78
Error?! “Initials already in use?!” What are you all out buying a giraffe? So—what, we can’t even both be J.M.? How old is this kit, anyhow? You heaven and hell want me to tickle and bite all the lil’ thoughts that pop into my crust of bread on this piece of junk? Lawds below help me—you want to know my thoughts? Right—this is a massive load from a pony n’ trap, choice?
Look—I get it. The Cafe and Diner WAS as big as Ian Beale. Took down the heap o’ coke from Dayton. Very Harry Kewell. And the Owner, before he bit it, had some sorta magic supernatural nonsensical number, which I will admit has done a bang-up corn on the cob at keeping the Wicked’s Blight at bay. Even just a “24th” of it, or whatever. And I get it—Umbra’s a no good dingy heap o’ coke. Well understood. But unlike you hoppin’ pot, I don’t have a rosy pair of minces bins blinding me, do I? I’ve heard more than enough about what really goes on within a Cafe and Diner from both the bloody big boy and my lovely little witch. “Always worth the trouble.” Somebody call in Brad Pitt.
Besides, I think the more important thing you’re both missing is that there’s already a “Third” Cafe and Diner. You’ve been beaten to the punch and then some. You really think those saucepan lids can’t handle Umbra? News flash, golden dove, they already well in the buff did. Yes—I’ll admit we helped a little more than nothing—but with Umbra’s 6’s and 7’s puppet shoved all the way down in the deepest, darkest swash of the Black Tide… what threat is there? Do you really think Umbra’s gonna try and dredge her out to try again? No. He’s just another bloody useless shadow from the pits of the Everdark, and he’ll slink and slack like a hammer and tack to it like they all do. We’ve got more important stuff to worry about than some washed-up shadow.
…I went ahead and switched the bleedin’ dates ‘round proper. Can’t bloody read them otherwise. Not that I think we should be payin’ a nickel or dime writing diary entries. But if you’re going to force me to use this retro junk, I might as well be able to read the bloomin’ date.
BARISTA: JOY LIVINGSTONE
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: MID MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-79
Wow, you've really taken to the whole, like, Diner-Speak thing, huh? I can hardly make out what you're trying to say! What is the whole deal with your… y'know… fake cockney thing? Cuz, I've heard your actual accent, and it is nothing like that. Besides… don't you think having it spill into your literal text is a bit much? I mean—you do you. If pretending to be Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins makes you happy, go for it! Though—it is a bit troublesome that we have overlapping initials, yeah?
Between N.L., J.L., J.M., and, well, J.M., again, it can be a bit confusing. I could technically go by my legal name, giving us a C.L. instead. But that doesn't really help much, huh? You could also go by your actual birth name… except it also starts with a J, huh? You could just go by your nickname, so R.M. Mm… but that doesn't look right to me for some reason. So! I think we need some actual code names! It only seems right!
As I understand it, they used drink names like Carajillo and Marocchino in the Second Cafe. We could do that again. Or, in the First Cafe, they used numbers that added up to 8… like #1313, #44, or #35. Again—we could do that. But! Why not have some fun with it? Let's do our own thing! And I think it'd be pretty cool if we had, like, Cafe-related titles. So I came up with…
Payroll… mostly because, you know, we all just mooch off her parents' money usually anyway.
Manager… because I think you could use the responsibility. Well, that, and you are probably the most experienced out of all of us.
Big Guy… which might just be what I've already been calling him for most of my life. So, it fits, and I love it!
And for me? H.R.! Human Resources! Because I think that'd be the job that best suits me! I am… sorta realizing that I just ended up with initials again anyway… but, hey, at least they are thematic!
Peace, Love, and Joy!
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: MID MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-80
Aww, isn’t H.R. so sweet? I love the new names. Way better than the stupid drink-motif and certainly fresher than the old addends. And—despite his protests—I think Jericho will get into the swing of things soon enough. I mean, if he really didn’t want to be serving coffee, he wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of changing the way the dates show up in the header. I hate it. I really do. But I’ll get used to it if it makes his lovely little European brain happy.
Running a Cafe isn’t all cute nicknames and formatting, though. Well—It’s probably a larger part than it should be. Regardless, the primary purpose of running a Cafe is to serve customers. More than that, there’s usually one or two really big and bad customers we have to keep an eye on—and for us, it’s Umbra. An old and gross customer from the First Cafe. He was one of Satan’s “Dark Triad.” Probably the most dangerous out of Satan’s Dark Triad.
After the First Cafe burned down and Satan was put in bad wittle preisty jail, his main minions, the Hatman (Umbra), Redman, and Mothman, more or less went into hiding. Well, I guess I don’t know if they were intentionally hiding or just laying low. As far as I know, Mothman went off to keep order in Satan’s part of the Otherside. And the Hatman and Redman went back to looking for their book. This is where things get… messy and a bit strange. Somewhere along their book hunt, the Hatman and Redman took control of a girl and groomed her into just about killing Leviathan and splitting open the Black Tide. Thankfully, there was a new Cafe and Diner who managed to stop him—mm… except they didn’t.
They did stop that girl from killing Levi, but I don’t think they ever pieced together who was pulling the strings. We only know because it went down in our backyard. Of course, we did what we could to help without getting too involved. But… stopping one of Umbra’s pawns isn’t going to deter him for long. Not when he’s making Prince-killing moves. He must know where the book he’s been looking for is and will do whatever it takes to get it. Worse, he specifically mentioned something along the lines of “welcoming the Dark.” I’m not sure what that is, but knowing Umbra, whatever it is, isn’t good.
BARISTA: JERICHO MYERSCOUGH
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: MID MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-81
I can’t be the only one who feels like all this Dark and Umbra nonsense is taking away our focus from what really matters—three to become one, choice? Look—I understand lending a St. Martins-Le-Grand when Umbra was at our doorstep a few moments away from killing the big ol’ Lilian Gish and unleashin’ unknown and unending eldritch ‘orrors upon the world. Makes for a full eight pence. I’d rather not have that happen either, thank you very much. But—don’t you think we’re only doing this because my golden dove has a bit of a… well, a “history” with this heap o’ coke?
I’m quite Bobby Umbra’s up to a bit of Robin Hood. Dangerous heap o’ coke, that ‘atman is. But he’s also been around for well over a few hundred donkey’s ears. He’s hardly a new threat that only we can deal with. I know you all have a certain distaste for the Indigos—for IRIS—and Adam ‘n Eve me, I do too. The past and present thing I’d want to do is go grovel to my brother to clean this mess up, but this is what IRIS does. Umbra is after one of their most sacred (and dubiously real) ‘rtifacts. Hell—any of the Indigos could take this one on, couldn’t they? Astoria, Ozhog, Yaksha, any of them would be more than chuffed to clock Umbra locked up and put away for good.
As for us? Come on! We were just hit by a massive bombshell, weren’t we? Three to bloody become one. We are—we might be—I, I don’t know… And this hoppin’ pot doesn’t know either, do you? And that’s just it! We can’t waste a nickel or a dime chasing shadows and playing the part of some supernatural Everton Toffee rub-a-dub-dub, can we? We’ve got bigger things to worry about. Matters of debt, utopia, destiny—Fate. We’ve been drawn together for something a good deal greater than dealing with another supernatural creep with a god complex. They’re a dime a dozen, as is.
BARISTA: JOY LIVINGSTONE
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-82
I totally see where Rico is coming from. Are we allowed to use real names in the AND channel? I think so, right? Anyway… I don’t entirely disagree with where he’s coming from. After finding out about… well, you all know, the Three to Become One—it’s kinda left me up at night wondering if that’s the only reason I’m still alive, you know? Like—if we are actually fated for some greater purpose, is that why the sacrifice wasn’t successful? I mean, I know that in a literal sense, the ritual failed due to Rico’s interference… with some help from Jules, of course. But… that’s just it, isn’t it? Rico, Jules, and me… we’re fated to be together. To become one.
At first, I thought it was super lucky. Beyond lucky. Then, I came to understand that it was merely fate. Predetermined to be. There’s no luck involved. But… it’s more complicated than that, isn’t it? The only thing keeping us from fulfilling our “destiny” now is the Wicked’s Blight inside of us. But the Wicked isn’t working alone. He is part of a group seeking the destruction of the Universe. And the leader of the group? Fate.
But then… it can’t be “Fate” who saved us, can it? Because if we were “Fated” to fulfill our destiny, then why would Fate allow the Wicked to infect us with his Blight? Because we weren’t saved by Fate. There was no luck. No predetermination. We were saved by a serious amount of work—work put in by our… by the one who made us. And, like, that’d be great and all… except… What’s worse? Fate and the Wicked?
…or the Devil?
I don’t know. We don’t know. It’s—complicated. And uncertain. And scary. And… maybe, just maybe, we could do something “easy?” A distraction? We’ve got time to figure out what we’re going to do regarding our “purpose.” And, yes, I’m sure the IRIS Company could handle Umbra… but… maybe we just need some time to fight something more black and white?
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: EARLY JUNE
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-83
Bloody eyes? No. Bloodshot eyes. It's got to be Aka—the Redman. Umbra's pathetic little bloodstain. Ugh. UGH! If there is one person, no demon, who I hate more than Umbra, it's got to be the Redman. Well, if he's here, there's a pretty good chance that Umbra hasn't actually found the Enochian Bible yet. So… why was he trying to break open the Black Tide? Moreover, if he thought the Enochian Bible was in the Black Tide, why wouldn't he keep trying to break the Tide until he's successful?
It's only a theory—but maybe the Redman and Umbra "found" the Enochian Bible in the Black Tide, or at least they found where it was. Maybe that was enough to break the Redman's service to Umbra, and they split, but along the way, Umbra found out that the Black Tide didn't have the Enochian Bible, and that's why he wanted to "thank" me? So now that Umbra's question to the Redman is once again unanswered he's back in Umbra's service? Hm. It's not a bad theory, I guess. But… it doesn't really line up. The Redman is a boogieman with centuries of loopholes burned into his contract. There's no way he'd fall into some sorta "uh, actually, my question is unanswered" BS.
I guess it's possible the Redman has some sorta Stockholm syndrome, and he's just helping Umbra out because he's got nothing better to do. But why would Umbra want to have the Redman bloodshot a bunch of club randos? Or… maybe it is all just a big coincidence that both Umbra and Redman are here at the same time. So… I guess for now, we'll serve him a Cappuccino. I guess he could technically drink an Espresso or Americano by now—but I wouldn't flatter him like that. He's a glorified pop quiz.
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: MID JUNE
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-84
Ugh. UGH! Damn it. I was hoping that I had built up a tolerance for his stupid psychic eye control thing. There is no worse feeling than being tugged around by your eye. Well—yeah, it’s Aka. I don’t know exactly what he was doing, but he had a whole line of demons waiting to play his new “game.” I don’t even really know what it was supposed to be, as it didn’t seem to work on me.
Redman: …next. Oh? Nicole. Umbra mentioned you were in town.
Nikki: Rubeus.
Redman: I suppose you can play if you’d like—though I doubt you’re what we’re looking for.
Nikki: I’m not here to play your stupid little games.
Redman: My, my, still a sore loser, though it’s not my usual game. You’re already wasting my time, so you might as well sit and play. What’s the worst that can happen?
[Nikki pushed her hair behind her ear, revealing her blood-red eye.]
Redman: Might as well even it out. Sit.
Nikki: Like hell—
[Aka clenched his fist and swung it toward the table, psychically grabbing Nikki by her bloodshot eye, forcing her to sit.]
Nikki: Eugh—I don’t want to…
Redman: You don’t have a choice, do you? If you’re going to waste my time, you’re going to play my game. Who knows? Maybe you’d make for a good candidate after all.
Nikki: Candidate…?
Redman: Someone’s out of the loop. Hand.
[Nikki shoved her hands behind her back. With a sigh, Aka clenched his fist and, with a quarter turn, forced Nikki’s right hand up to the table. Then, Aka retrieved a small vial of black liquid, which he placed in Nikki’s palm.]
Nikki: What the hell is this—
Redman: I don’t know the name, actually. Something from the pits. Alright, [Nikki]. The game is simple—don’t die.
Nikki: …
Redman: …
Nikki: …is this it?
[Aka tilted Nikki’s hand, letting the black liquid fall back into its vial.]
Redman: That was anticlimactic. You know, usually, it eats through the player’s hand as they squirm and rot from the inside. Mm… maybe it doesn’t work on humans. Oh well.
Nikki: …so… what? I won?
Redman: Hardly. You were unaffected. Besides, Umbra isn’t looking for humans, let alone Cafe employees.
Nikki: What is he looking for?
Redman: Now that sounds like a specific question—
[Aka clenched his fist, squeezing at Nikki’s bloodshot eye.]
Nikki: AUGH!
Redman: You know how to ask me questions, don’t you?
Nikki: …W…hy… won’t you… just kill me…
[Aka’s grip loosened.]
Redman: What fun would it be to kill you? After all this time? Now, if you don’t mind, you’re holding up the line, princess.
Nikki: Eugh.
BARISTA: JULIUS MENDOZA
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE JUNE
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-85
In the process of stopping Mothman’s disaster ritual, we ran into him. According to him, he had already achieved what he was attempting to do—and so we saved him the trouble of stopping his own disaster. I don’t buy it. He mentioned wanting to break a few entities out of the Locker of Mayda. I can buy that. And, if that’s the case, we have a good deal of work ahead of us.
That’s all.
Big Guy
Jericho: There, that should do it.
Joy: Can he undo it?
Jericho: Sure. But it’s probably more effort than it’s worth, choice? I knotted these ley lines up beyond recognition. ‘Course, the damage is already done—
Mothman: Well… look at this.
Joy: Eep!
Julius: Mothman.
Mothman: Evening. Or… is it almost dawn? I see you’ve mangled my ritual. How… thoughtful.
Nikki: You can’t sink the Keys. We won’t let you.
Mothman: Nicole. Umbra said you were still alive. That’s fun. And you must be Jericho, Julius, and the Crystal. Though—sink the Keys? I don’t need magic to do that.
Jericho: Yet you’ve spread quite a bit of your disaster magic ‘round ‘ere.
Mothman: True. I had to widen the path a bit. Shake up some old sediment. I was just about to undo my work—yet you’ve done it for me. My Umbra was right; you are a helpful bunch.
Julius: Widen the path? Why?
Mothman: To make way for the Dark. Got a few old friends who’d like to lend a hand… yet their chains hang heavy in the Locker of Leviathan. What? You thought I sought to upend the Serpents Triangle? I know better than to mess with ancient Ouroborian magic.
Jericho: …Who are you trying to break from the Locker?
Mothman: And ruin the surprise? I wouldn’t dream of it. Though… my, it’s been a while since I saw you three together like this. How exciting.
[Mothman left the CaDCom transcription range.]
Joy: …since he saw us together like this…? I don’t think I’ve ever met the Mothman before.
Julius: Mind games.
Jericho: Or… he was there to see “us” the first time ‘round.
Julius: Can’t be. He’s a high demon—not an Elder.
Jericho: More than Elders can muck about time…
BARISTA: JERICHO MYERSCOUGH
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE JUNE
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-86
Is he having a laugh? Honestly, Jules, you want to know what an impossible and infuriating task is? THIS! This—stupidity. We came down here to catch a chupacabra—a bloody stupid chupacabra—but what did we find instead? The Mothman! THE MOTHMAN! One of the oldest, most dangerous demons out there. And he's out working with Umbra and Aka to dredge up some fresh terrors from the bottom of Leviathan's Locker. And he flies off with a cryptic smirk and you—you're back to business as usual? Is that it? "Oh, well, better catch that chupacabra!"
Honestly… What the hell are we doing? What the hell are you doing? Look—it's no surprise that I find all this Cafe nonsense to be a bit much. But if it makes my love happy, fine. I'll play along. Anything for Nikki, and you know that. We owe her everything… And I reckon there's no way we'll ever be able to pay her back for what she's done for us. So, I'll put on a cheerful (enough) smile and write my little receipts for here… but we need to be doing something serious for Bird's bloody sake. Chasing chupacabras, is not it?
Obviously, this one is being kept off the record. I just need to vent… and take a break from the usual routine. Can only think up so many rhymes and drop so many Hs. Doubt they'll go so far as to look for me here. I need to find a way to get it through their skulls that this isn't "play time." We have serious problems to deal with—being the Devil's pawns, being Wicked's pawns, and honestly—Umbra's pawns as of late. Seems like everything we do just helps the bloody shadow. We need to stop playing games and start getting down to real business, choice? Maybe they all just need a little fire under their arses. A little shock to the system.
BARISTA: JOY LIVINGSTONE
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: MID JULY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-87
We managed to find Loveland! That’s the good news. The bad news is that the Dark seems to want him for something. They’ve had the Manananggal out looking for him for the past few days. Apparently, Loveland escaped from Mayda on his own… though something doesn’t quite add up. Well, actually, a lot of things don’t seem to be adding up. Hm… many threads all tangled up.
Peace, Love, and Joy!
Jericho: Oi, you reckon that’s our guy? Our customer?
Joy: Or a really big frog! You think he speaks English?
Jericho: One way to find out—Hey! Frog!
[Joy pulled Jericho down and put her hand over his mouth.]
Joy: Do you want to scare the little guy?!
Jericho: Right—sorry. Got an idea… So…pyta sohocar…ah…tav? I’okili ets…maie?
Loveland: HELLO!!
[Loveland waved in the distance.]
Jericho: Thank the Bird; he speaks English. My Maydaian is beyond rusty.
[Joy and Jericho waved back.]
Joy: You speak Maydaian?
Jericho: I dabble in all the demonic languages.
Loveland: You simply must be mistaken! I do think, and this is very true, I do not think this, I do not think you speak Maydaian very well!
Jericho: Sorry. Human error. What’d I manage to say?
Loveland: Frog boy, we’re friendly! That is silly! I am not a frog!
Jericho: …sorry… then what are you?
Loveland: A normal human boy, of course.
Joy: Huh.
Jericho: This can’t be some bloody Grimm situation, can it?
Loveland: …Do I not look like a normal human boy?
Jericho: Not a bit.
Joy: Why are you—?
[The Manananggal swooped out from a nearby Mangrove tree, attempting to grab Loveland.]
Jericho: A Remover!
Joy: Loveland, get back!
Loveland: Love…land?
Manananggal: A Remover? I am not merely “a Remover.” I am the Remover. And you… must be the Cafe and Diner. Rubeus has told me so much about you. Funny running into you out here.
Loveland: Who is the ugly half-lady?
Manananggal: You may call me… Destiny.
Jericho: Bit self-absorbed, don’t you think?
Joy: Also, kind of a stripper name.
Loveland: Stripper? I thought Destiny said she was a Remover? The words are similar, yes, but—
Manananggal: ENOUGH! Hand over the Maydaian.
Jericho: Over my dead body.
Manananggal: You would die for a frog?
Jericho: No. Not likely. But a human boy? Yeah.
Manananggal: …Human? What—Eugh. It does not matter. Hand him over. Now.
Joy: What would Umbra want with him anyway?
Manananggal: You could say… it is Destined.
Jericho: Ugh. Seriously? Hey, Destiny? Bugger off.
[Jericho reached into his pocket and retrieved a small vial of a clear substance. He threw it at the Manananggal, causing her to leave the CaDCom Transcription Range.]
Joy: Holy water…?
Jericho: Garlic holy water. Figured we’d need it at some point.
Loveland: WOW! That was very, very scary. But also, very exciting! Thank you for saving me! I have been running from that ugly half-lady, Destiny, for quite some time.
Jericho: Izzat, so? Why?
Loveland: I simply do not know! I am, most likely, very popular.
Joy: Could be… what are you doing Flipside, anyway?
Loveland: Well, you see, I escaped the Coral Gardens because it is a horrible, horrible prison in Mayda. It is no place for a human boy.
Jericho: …The Coral Gardens? Right. Well, suppose we get you home…?
Loveland: NO! YOU CANNOT!! Please, please, do not send me back there! Please!!
Jericho: Customer doesn’t want to be served… now what?
Joy: You’re asking me?
Jericho: I’m on probation, choice?
Joy: Hmm… I don’t know. But we can’t let the Dark get him, can we?
Jericho: We’ll sort it later then. Might as well have our golden dove meet the little guy. See if she can’t sus out why he’s so… “special.”
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE JULY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-88
UGH! I HATE Aka. He’s such a freaking dick. And Robert? Total nasty creep. I tried to stop them, and I was at least able to keep the Redman’s magic from influencing me—just, ugh, it didn’t work against Robert’s magic. I guess I should’ve seen that coming. Stupid pit dwellers. The only thing that messes with them is light… and the Devil’s Den at night was sorely lacking in that. Whatever. They won this one, but we’ll get them next time. I didn’t get a great look at what they were trying to get, but I think it was a large black disk of some sort.
Redman: Ah, Nicole. Ever the hero.
Nikki: Rubeus.
Redman: Did you learn anything from our last encounter?
[Redman began to clench his fist, but before he was able to form a tether to Nikki’s Bloodshot Eye, she placed a ring of salt around her.]
Redman: A salt ring? What—do you take me for some lesser demon?
[Redman attempted to pull his Bloodshot tether but instead pulled at his own eyes.]
Redman: AGH! What—
Nikki: A ferrous sulfate ring. A little more… “heavy duty.”
Redman: Ha… no kidding. But… you are trapped within your own ring.
[Redman snapped his fingers, and from his bag, a small, tattered doll in a sailor’s outfit sprung forth, jerking toward Nikki.]
Nikki: Ew! What the hell is that thing?
Redman: Ah, you have yet to meet my associate. Robert, keep her busy for a moment. Our prize is at hand.
Robert the Doll: Didn’t think you’d meet a celebrity today, did ya toots?
Nikki: Celebrity? Don’t kid yourself.
Robert the Doll: Come on, sweetheart. As if you don’t know me.
[Robert lunged at Nikki with erratic and unpredictable movements, trying to force her out of her protective circle.]
Robert the Doll: Damn, you’re a feisty one, aren’t ya? I like that. But… playtime’s almost over.
[Robert raised his tiny felt hand, causing the shadows in the Devil’s Den to warp and twist, forming dark tendrils that crept out toward Nikki.]
Nikki: Eugh-!
[The shadowy tendrils grabbed Nikki’s arms and legs, holding her in place.]
Robert the Doll: Wanna dance?
[Robert puppeteered Nikki, shuffling her feet across the ferrous sulfate ring, disrupting its form.]
Redman: Well done, Robert.
[Redman clenched his fist, slamming Nikki to the ground by her Bloodshot Eye.]
Redman: Shame salts and iron do nothing to shadows. Well, as always, lovely to see you. Come along, Robert, we got what we came for.
BARISTA: JOY LIVINGSTONE
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE JULY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-89
Well, we’re all back in one piece! Beats being in two. Nikki is also doing alright after her run-in with the Redman. Man… Jericho was pretty sure that ring would’ve been enough to stop him. I guess, in a way, it did… until it got messed up. Oh well, the important thing is that she’s okay, and we’re okay, and Loveland is okay. Speaking of Loveland… he’s here. With us. In the Cafe. I know this isn’t the, uh, typical customer protocol and all… but he’s not a nuisance or anything! He’s actually rather friendly!
Despite his short stature and… mm… not so typical “human boy” appearance, Loveland actually has quite an amazing gift—polyglotism! He can pick up new languages extremely fast, a skill which could actually be pretty useful. Sure, the Manager is pretty well-versed in a lot of different Otherside tongues, but he’s far from a native speaker. Plus, Loveland can even pick up dead languages, constructed languages, and seemingly made-up languages. He’s really got a knack for anything language-related!
…Which… if Loveland doesn’t want to go home, back to the Otherside… what if he stayed here? With us? Y’know, as a full-time employee? I mean, his polyglot skills would make him an exceptional asset in dealing with our diverse range of customers. He’s also, like, super friendly. And it really can’t hurt to have an Otherside perspective on our side! I guess he may attract unwanted attention from both tourists and the Dark. Plus, I don’t know if we can fully trust him. Just because he’s very, very (unnaturally) friendly… it could be that he isn’t just friendly but an actual friend. He could even be working for the Dark, for all we know! Then again… that seems a bit silly. I know we’re not doing votes anymore, but my vote is to have him stay!
Peace, Love, and Joy!
BARISTA: JERICHO MYERSCOUGH
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: EARLY AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-90
Writing off the record again. Might become a bit of a habit at this point. Or maybe, it’s just an excuse to drop the act a bit. I’m a mess when it comes to keeping up the whole “Jericho” bit. Every time I get a little more comfortable just being myself… wham… some ghost of my past rears its ugly head. Now that the ol’ Nuckelavee’s involved with the Dark, I can’t risk it. I can’t. I don’t reckon the Nuckelavee is exactly in league with the Slaugh… but bloody hell… It’s close enough for my comfort. I won’t let the Host get my true name. Not again. Hell, I barely made it out of that on a loose loophole.
Mm… regarding that loose loophole… I’ve had my head buried in the books for the past few weeks. Figured I’d make myself useful for this Cafe and Diner, especially after all the trouble I’ve caused. And in researching the Devil’s Den, I came across quite the choice little rumor… the Devil’s Chair. A graveside bench in a cemetery that borders Cassadaga and Lake Helen. They say if one were to leave an unopened can of beer on the bench, it’d be dry as bone come morning. Drunk by the Devil himself. It can’t be that easy to call out the Devil, can it?
What would I have to lose? A can of beer? I mean, certainly, stranger things have happened. Though I struggle to think there’s some convenient gap between the Gates of Hell and, well, Floridia. Then again… I reckon the Bermuda Triangle might just be a big enough sigil that it can bend the Gates of Hell just enough to let ol’ Nick pop out for a drink. If I can find a reference to it just lying about at my local library, it can’t be true. The Angels, the Bird, someone would’ve patched that up by now. Surely. Or, I suppose, it could be one of many “devils” who takes the drink. So long as it’s not the Host or the Wicked, It’s worth a shot, yeah?
BARISTA: JERICHO MYERSCOUGH
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: EARLY AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-91
That's… well, that's one rumor that may just be true after all. The Devil himself. Damn. Reztiypaliam'el, El'choniamnohsir, El'utopyah… well, the good news is I don't reckon we're going to form into one unified Universe on our own accidentally. Not that I even think we should, given the chance, but that's a defiance for another day.
Devil: Well, well, well, as I live and breathe! If it ain’t the Skald gracing my humble Earthly bones. And lookie here, it brought some liquid courage with it.
Jericho: No kidding… the actual Devil?
Devil: That's sure what they call me.
Jericho: H-how…? I thought you were locked behind the Gates of Hell—?
Devil: And who is to say I'm not? Let you in on a secret… Dem—God, as you call Him, the Big Man upstairs, he only acts when his feathers get ruffled. If I went around flaunting my influence over his precious Universe, I'm sure he'd come down on me harder than the first time. But… what He doesn't know can't possibly hurt Him.
Jericho: What He doesn't know? I thought he knew—
Devil: All? Sure. But can you even fathom what "all" is? Worse, what's everything to you ain’t everything to Him or I. This Universe? It’s as big as it gets and just another tiny blip in the grand scheme.
Jericho: I suppose…
Devil: So, what’s the scoop? Just paying an old man a visit? Or did you come here for a reason?
Jericho: Three to become one.
Devil: If only.
Jericho: What… what does it mean?
Devil: You tell me. What do you think it means?
Jericho: Julius, Joy, and I, we each have a piece of the original Utopias within us. You seek to bring the Universe together as one utopia instead of three.
Devil: And why would I want that?
Jericho: To defy the will of God?
Devil: Ha! Everything I do, in service of Him, is that it? No. Consider it a differing point of view. God wants isolation, perfection, sterility, eternity, utopia. I don't want "one" utopia. I want one unified Universe. Skald, Eden, and Arcadia as one. Chaotic, ever-changing, evolving…
Jericho: I'd hardly call what we have now "perfection."
Devil: My little gift to you. But there’s still plenty more to do.
Jericho: …how would we become one, anyway?
Devil: Well, first, I'd need to bust out of the Gates of Hell. Hard to work my magic from this side. Then, I'd need to get my hands on the Reztiypaliam'el, the tool that creates. I'd also need the El'choniamnohsir, wouldn't know how to use the damned thing without it. Then, assuming I can sniff out where and within whom God has hidden the three original El'utopyah, it’s a piece of cake. At least, I imagine so. It's been a while since I truly sinned in such a way.
Jericho: …right. So… no chance of us accidentally becoming one on our own?
Devil: Unity ain’t a solo act. Besides, of the three requirements, Reztiypaliam'el, El'choniamnohsir, and El'utopyah… any two out of the three would likely do the trick.
Jericho: I see…
Devil: Don't sweat it too much. Realistically, I've waited sixteen Universes, and I can wait sixteen more. Each new Universe swings things a little more in my favor. I'm just tickled pink you three can be together for a spell. Good for the soul, I'd wager.
BARISTA: JERICHO MYERSCOUGH
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: EARLY AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-92
Time to stop running, choice? Time to start living up to this Cafe and Diner business, proper. My heart hasn't been in it, not entirely, but now I think I get it. I see it clearer than ever. Enter the Light. I am the Light. A fool thinks he is wise—but the wise'll know himself to be a right fool.
Devil: Back again? Tryin' to squeeze every last drop out of that six-pack, huh? You know, my dear Skald, you don’t need to bring me a beer every time you want to chat.
Jericho: Yeah… I’ve just been… I don't know. Running, I suppose.
Devil: Running, huh? From what?
Jericho: Too many things to list. The Host, the Wicked, the Dark… myself.
Devil: I tried running once. Didn't pan out too well. Not that standing toe-to-toe with the Big Man upstairs would’ve really changed all that much.
Jericho: So, what would you do? If you couldn't run and couldn't fight?
Devil: Well, I took to scheming. Sent my grandson to stir the pot a bit and hid away the El'utopyah into mortal souls. But… I’ve got all the time in this Universe and the next. You? Not so much. Though…
Jericho: Hm?
Devil: You were given a rare second shot already.
Jericho: How so?
Devil: Each Universe, the El'utopyah were hidden in different mortal souls. Makes tracking them down a real cat-and-mouse game. Though I suppose my grandson has gotten rather good at it over the years. However, something's gone wrong. Or… perhaps… right. You're the same as you were in the prior Universe. Eden and Arcadia, too.
Jericho: How'd that happen?
Devil: Beats me. Can't tell much of what's happening from here. If I had to place a bet, Reztiypaliam'el was used in a new way. A way in which the Universe was remade in a familiar image. Cracks are starting to form, that much is clear.
Jericho: Why would God remake the Universe in that way?
Devil: He wouldn't. Someone else must've gotten their hands on Reztiypaliam'el. Another chip fell into my pile. But, the Host, the Wicked, and the Dark—they won't wait for you. You have a glimmer of it inside of you; I can see that much—Em'el'et. A piece of the Eight. Where's the rest of it?
Jericho: The others, each of us, have a third of our shared eighth. As for the other seven pieces… I'm not entirely sure. Why?
Devil: Em'el'et. It’s Fate’s desire, isn’t it? Fate always wants to control what it can’t. But I reckon Fate knows where every piece of Em'el'et lies. As long as you’ve got a piece, you’re safe, my Skald. Fate will ensure it.
Jericho: So… I should stop running then, and trust that nothing can happen to me? I'm "fated" to be fine?
Devil: Trust? In this game? Never. But if you’ve died and been reborn once already, why not go all in? What’s that piece of Em'el'et whispering to you?
Jericho: Say to me? I don't…
Devil: Listen close. Tap into your connection to the other El'utopyah.
Jericho: It's… it's saying… Enter the Light.
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-93
Remember Lucy's Scrying Mirror? That black disk Redman and Robert stole from the Devil's Den and used on Grendel when they were waking him up? Yeah, I'm starting to think that whatever "concept of a customer" Umbra is trying to bring about is tied to that thing. It's a catalyst of some sort. It has to be. Tulpa—that's the customer's name from here on out, by the way. It's not terribly creative, sure, but it'll have to do, considering we don't even know who Umbra is trying to bring into the Dark.
Knowing that Lucy's Scrying Mirror is supposed to bring about a Tulpa somehow isn't too much help. The mirror can reach into visions of the past, present, and even future. And Lucy's hella connected, you all know that. So… anyone, or hell, any concept from Lucy's past, present, or future? The Tulpa is dangerous. Or, will be dangerous, assuming Umbra can find a suitable host for it. If Umbra succeeds in his goal of bringing this Tulpa from the mirror, we're probably going to be facing Lucy's darkest desires and fears. And what the hell could she have to worry about?
It's not good, obviously. But, considering whose mirror it is and all that… it may be time to call in a favor. She owes me one, after all. I've been waiting to cash it in since I doubt she'd ever fall into my debt again. Kinda seems like a waste, though, don't you think? We don't even know what we're up against yet… though is finding out worth it? Or maybe she'd even save us the trouble of prying the stupid trinket out of Umbra's hands. Sure, the Agency seems to be going no-contact with Umbra, but Lucy… Lucy's still a Cafe employee. Maybe not officially or anything, but I don't think she can ever fully get out of the coffee game. Not the one she helped start, anyway.
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-94
I’ve been racking my brain about this whole Tulpa business. Anyway, all this thinking dredged up some old memories from way back in the First Cafe. There was this one time, the only time really when I had ever heard of a “Tulpa” before. It was during one of those late nights the Cafe is famous for, and I happened to overhear a hushed conversation between Felix and Sahir. They were whispering about the Owner’s attempt to manifest a version of Lucifer in her absence. I guess they broke up or whatever.
The whole thing went horribly wrong. The Owner was no Tulpamancer. He didn’t have the skill, focus, or control needed for something like that. Plus, the Blight in his eye only amplified the Tulpa’s negative qualities. Apparently, it was a disaster. A disaster behind closed doors, per usual. Probably during one of his many elusive episodes. Anyway, the Lucifer Tulpa didn’t come out as planned and it caused a whole lot of trouble that the Owner, Felix, and Sahir had to deal with. They were being cagey with the details, of course, but from what I heard, it was bad. Really bad.
Given what we’re up against now, maybe it’s time to dig deeper into old secrets. Instead of wasting my favor with Lucifer, maybe I should just pay Felix a visit back in California. I don’t know where the hell Sahir ended up—and it’d give me time to visit my parents. Win-win. Even if it’s not the same Tulpa Umbra’s trying to manifest, at least he’d know how to handle one. So, I guess I’ll be heading back to the West Coast for a bit. Loveland’s in charge for the time being. You can decide if I’m serious about that or not.
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-95
I caught up with Felix, #71 of the old Cafe and Diner. Apparently, Umbra is trying to bring back a Tulpa the original Owner made of Lucifer because he missed her and they weren’t talking. It’s… really weird and sad, but hey, I guess I’ve never dated a Prince of Hell before. The Tulpa came out wrong though, like a weird child of the Owner and Lucifer. Worse, this Tulpa apparently was also able to copy or… I don’t know… invert? The power of the Eight in the Owner, creating a Negative Eight. At least that’s what Felix called it.
Nikki: I… wasn’t expecting to find you here.
Felix: I’m getting older, you know.
Nikki: Yeah, but, a retirement home? You don’t really need that, do you?
Felix: Ah—sharp as ever. I’m just enjoying the calm and the quiet. They don’t let us old folks drink too much coffee, you know. How’s that new Cafe of yours treating you?
Nikki: New—how’d you know?
Felix: Was it supposed to be a secret? Eh, I suppose word doesn’t travel that fast across the country. Don’t worry. I’m one of the only ones out here who has picked up on it. At least your family hasn’t let on that they know anything about it yet.
Nikki: How… are they?
Felix: You haven’t paid them a visit yet?
Nikki: I’m… I’ve been busy. This is a work trip, after all.
Felix: It’s been… what… Thirteen years? They miss you, you know. Nick misses you, at the very least. Ned and Nancy, well, they have a unique perspective on time, no? Thirteen years to them is not very much. But for your brother… thirteen years is thirteen years.
Nikki: Mm…
Felix: So, you didn’t come all the way back here just to catch up with me, and certainly not them. What brings you back to the Hotspot?
Nikki: Umbra is trying to find a vessel for some sort of Tulpa.
Felix: Tulpa?
Nikki: One that’s tied to Lucifer’s Scrying Mirror.
Felix: …No. Ringan Storm…?
Nikki: Who?
Felix: An anagram. Morningstar. It’s a Tulpa of Lady Lucifer herself. Made by… maybe the Owner.
Nikki: Was that the one you and Sahir dealt with?
Felix: Unfortunately, yes. The Owner, he was a hopeless romantic, you know. When Lucifer left him—he took it very hard. But, he didn’t want to press things further with Lucifer, so he…
Nikki: …made a Tulpa of her? That’s… kinda pathetic. And weird.
Felix: An understatement. It was one of many disasters behind closed doors. The Owner, bless his misguided heart, thought he could control such visceral emotions brought to life. But he was no Tulpamancer. And the emotions he held for Lucifer were not all positive. Worse… the Tulpa did not come out “right.”
Nikki: What do you mean?
Felix: Ah—well, he was attempting to make a copy of Lucifer, no? What he actually made was a malformed copy of himself melded with his thoughts of Lucifer. A child of sorts, in a horribly twisted way. If you ever wish to make a Tulpa, my dear, do not use a mirror, eh?
Nikki: So… it was more him than Lucifer?
Felix: It was both and it was nothing. Worse, it somehow leached the very number from his mind. It had all of the power he had. Or, at the very least, the shadow of such power. A negative eight.
Nikki: He made an evil version of himself?
Felix: Yes. It took every ounce of our combined strength, and a bit of luck, to contain it.
Nikki: Why didn’t you ask for help? Why didn’t—
Felix: You know how he was. He was embarrassed by his failure and didn’t want to put anyone else in harm’s way. Everything we were working toward, stopping Satan, it all could’ve been upended by this childish solution to the Owner’s own romantic woes.
Nikki: I guess… but, hang on, how is Umbra able to bring back Ringan Storm? Tulpas are attached to their creators, right? And the Owner’s dead. Been dead.
Felix: …Eh. I suppose it is a mystery, no? Such a powerful Tulpa… well, and it was not entirely him, remember? It was birthed from his thoughts of Lucifer, and she is very much still alive. Umbra, he is looking for something to attach the Tulpa to, yes?
Nikki: Yes.
Felix: Ah—yes… the lingering essence of Ringan Storm must still be swirling within that Scrying Mirror. Without the Owner, Umbra will need to get creative. But… why—
Nikki: CRAP!
Felix: What’s wrong?
Nikki: Look, yesterday’s receipt.
Felix: Ah… always busy running a Cafe. Well, you’d better get going then, eh?
Nikki: Yeah. Thank you, Felix. Tell Nick and my parents—mm…
Felix: You were never here.
Nikki: Thank you.
Felix: Of course, cher ami.
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-96
I cashed in my favor, but it's just like the Prince of Pride to be too stubborn to take it. Oh well, I'll hold onto it for something more drastic. Anyway, Lucy illuminated the situation with Ringan—with Jeanne—in a way only she could've. Not sure how we're going to use this information yet, but it's definitely the weakness we were looking for.
Lucy: My, it's been a while, hasn't it? Nikki.
Nikki: Has it though? For you, I mean. Thirteen years can't be much to a Prince.
Lucy: Mm… I suppose not. Though… I've had more than enough reasons to slow down. Really take in every day that I can, you know?
Nikki: I'll be honest—everything feels like it has been going by in a flash. You heard that I started my own Cafe, right?
Lucy: I did. I'm sorry. It's… it's not easy work, is it? But if it were easy—
Nikki: —it wouldn't be worth doing. Yeah. Speaking of your lost lover… It's actually why I wanted to catch up with you. Did he ever tell you about "Ringan Storm?"
Lucy: Ringan Storm? No… What's that?
Nikki: Figures. Uh… how to put this… he made a Tulpa of you. Or, well, he tried to make a Tulpa of you. It went wrong. Way wrong. It ended up being like a weird amalgamation of both of you—a child, basically.
Lucy: …A child? He kept that from me? Well… Mm… I suppose he kept it from me because it didn't "turn out right."
Nikki: Still kinda creepy though.
Lucy: It's sweet. At least, I think so. He must've made it after we… after I left him.
Nikki: Yeah. Why did you leave him?
Lucy: It wasn't because I lost my love for him. You know him. You know how he was. Always so intense, always seeking to outdo his competitors in his little coffee business. You see now how dangerous this work can be, especially when you're the one calling the shots. I… I just didn't want to distract him from his work. It is important work. But… things changed. For me, at least. I lost my taste for it… for the danger… for the… expectations that it would have brought.
Nikki: …You know you're a Prince of Hell, right? Wouldn't the Cafe and Diner be a break from your usual work?
Lucy: The work you do, the work all of you do, it isn't for everyone. I just wanted… something normal.
Nikki: Uh huh… but then you joined the Second Cafe?
Lucy: Normalcy breeds boredom. Besides… sometimes, for there to be normalcy… there has to be distance. Lots and lots of distance. So much distance breaks your heart… and the only thing you can do is distract yourself. Besides, like you said, working in a Cafe and Diner is like a vacation for me.
Nikki: Well… we've got some more vacation time for you if you're interested. This Tulpa he made… It's bad. And the Dark has given it some sort of "perfected" body. The only way we can stop it is to find a weakness in her mind… which is bits of your mind and his.
Lucy: …The Dark?
Nikki: Right, sorry. You know the Hatman, Redman, and Mothman, right?
Lucy: I know of them, sure.
Nikki: They've been putting together a sort of Cafe of their own, called the Dark.
Lucy: I see. Well, what do you know about this Ringan Storm?
Nikki: Not much. We know that the original owner made it to be in your image but it failed. Uh… hm... oh! It also goes by the name Jeanne, if that's anything.
Lucy: …Jeanne?
Nikki: Yeah.
Lucy: That's… what he wanted to call our daughter. Baudelaire.
Nikki: Daughter? You two were going to have a kid?
Lucy: Were. Yes.
Nikki: Were?
Lucy: There's a reason humans and demons don't have children together.
Nikki: Oh. So… he wasn't trying to make "you" he was—
Lucy: Mm. Trying to make what we lost. How foolish… If only he could have… well, no, that's good, right? That's the weakness. Jeanne—this Tulpa—she must think she is our child. You could probably exploit that, somehow.
Nikki: Are you sure? She is sorta… y'know… like your kid, in a weird way.
Lucy: She is not my daughter. Don't worry. Finish what he started. Put this figment to rest.
Nikki: Thank you, Lucy.
Lucy: Of course. And save your favor, Nikki. It's nice to catch up and have a lovely break from all the usual court business.
Nikki: Do you wanna hang around and help take Ringan Storm down? To cut through some of the boredom?
Lucy: I would—but I don't want to make anything worse. Call, if you truly need me. I'll be Flipside for a while.
Nikki: Okay. Thank you again.
Lucy: Anytime.
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE SEPTEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-97
…
Nikki: I knew it! I knew it. You! You’re—
8: Sorry for the mess. I didn’t… Well, it was bad timing, wasn’t it?
Nikki: It wasn’t my glamor that attracted the Tulpa. It was you. It had to be you. That’s why that thing was still alive… because you’re—
8: —Still alive. It’s strange, to be certain. Cheating death.
Nikki: Why did you let us all think you had died?
8: I was meant to be dead, so I played the part. I am playing the part. It gives me a certain advantage over Fate.
Nikki: Does Lucifer know?
8: Not yet.
Nikki: Does… anyone know?
8: I have been coming out of the shadows… slowly but surely. Those who know, who have known, were only the most crucial to know. Mon vieil ami, he knows.
Nikki: He told you, didn’t he?
8: You were never there—but you can’t fault him for telling the dead, can you?
Nikki: Eugh. You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?
8: Well, you have, at least. You’ve taken up a Cafe of your own. Very impressive. Though… you’re leaving yourself a bit vulnerable you know.
Nikki: In what way?
8: Typically, a Cafe has an 8. A figurehead. “Payroll,” it doesn’t quite strike the same sense of… gravitas.
Nikki: Well, we aren’t a typical Cafe. And I don’t want to… I mean… we don’t even really have an “8.” We have three… and they’re—
[8 held up his hand.]
8: Play the part. You’re meant to play the part. It’ll give you an advantage over the Dark.
Nikki: Seriously?
8: Write a few receipts as 8. That’s all. I’m not asking you to be me. Just let others think that there is an 8 there. It’ll throw your friends off course.
Nikki: I’ll think about it.
8: Well, it’s your Cafe, after all.
Nikki: Hey, what about the Tulpa you made. Is it actually gone?
8: No. It’s a thought I doubt I could ever shake. A dream of a different life. A figment of light I will never fully grasp. That being said, it’s been weakened again—in part due to your efforts… and in a larger part due to the Blight Flame which consumed it.
Nikki: Damn. So it’s mostly gone? Like… out of our hair gone and out of the Dark’s grasp gone?
8: I believe so. Yes. If it isn’t, just kill me next time.
Nikki: If only. You know how many problems that’d solve?
8: Oh, too many to count. I’m proud of you, Nikki. I am.
Nikki: Thanks. I…
8: You’ll serve the best coffee you can. I know it. Here, a way to get in touch. Only in times of absolute crisis.
Nikki: Alright.
BARISTA: JULIUS MENDOZA
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE SEPTEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-98
Jericho was not lying. He really found a way to speak to the Devil himself. Of course, it would seem he’s pushed himself to the limits and it would be unlikely we will be able to speak with him again—not until we find his book. Though, I think we can decide what to do with it once we find it. It may be best for everyone if that thing went up in flames.
That’s all.
Devil: Well, well, well, if it ain’t the dynamic trio. Skald, Eden, and Arcadia. My greatest works.
Jericho: We’re here to talk business, Devil.
Joy: We’ve been… uhm… we’ve been thinking about your proposal. Unifying the Universe. Bringing it back to its primordial state. Starting over. It’s… it’s a radical idea.
Julius: Risky too. You would be pitting us against God. The Angels. The entire Topside. And those outside of the Topside as well. The Cold.
Devil: True. All true.
Julius: But… it might be the only way forward.
Devil: You think so?
Jericho: We’ve been running in circles, fighting battles that never seem to end. Nothing’s new. Nothing ever changes. Not really. Not if we’re—
Devil: Trapped.
Julius: Mm.
Joy: So… what would we need to do. To become one?
Devil: Exactly what you’re doing now. I need that book. El'choniamnohsir. With that, and with you three, that’d be just about enough, wouldn’t it? Of course, if you could also get your hands on Reztiypaliam'el—that’d help immensely too.
Julius: That’s it? You only need the First Bible and us?
Devil: Oh—I’d also need to be free from this infernal prison. You three could probably figure out how to unify things on your own… but, it’d help to have an Archon’s touch.
Joy: What… what would happen, if we freed you from Hell? Wouldn’t that cause the Universe to spiral into utter chaos?
Devil: Oh, my dear Eden, chaos is a given. But it’s the kind of chaos that’d breed growth and change. Not the usual stagnation the Big Man upstairs is so found of. Instead of starting over we could finally start anew.
Julius: This doesn’t feel like much of a plan. This isn’t something we can just wing.
Devil: Oh, Arcadia. Ever His favorite. Look—I’ve got a plan. I’ve had aeons to think one up. Just—just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Searching for that book and getting it before someone else does.
Jericho: You wouldn’t happen to know where the First Bible is, would you?
Devil: Not anymore. Been too long. And considering I’m the one who wrote it, the Big Man probably stashed it somewhere as far away as he did me.
Joy: Hang on, you wrote the First Bible?
Devil: Who else could’ve? Reztiypaliam'el was His toy. You three were the prized creation of… of… another. And I, wrote everything down. Meticulous note keeping—it tends to be a virtue, ya’ know. Look—the thing about all of this is, don’t sweat it. Don’t over think it. Just… live it. Do what you do, and do it well. If and when you find my El'choniamnohsir then we can start talking seriously about you three becoming one. I’ll send you some help soon… assuming I can rouse that little lush. It’s great seeing you three together… how it should’ve been. How it should still be. But—I’ve been pushing it as is with this little stunt. Course, it confirms one of my suspicions… hell, I could probably push things further… but seeing as I’m already this close, I need to play things safe. On the bright side, eventually all debts come due, don’t they?
[The Devil left the CaDCom Transcription Range.]
Joy: Wow… that was… that was really him wasn’t it? The Devil?
Jericho: Yep. What do you make of it, Jules?
Julius: Not sure.
Jericho: Well, you did a good job of telling him what he wanted to hear, at least.
Julius: Mm. So, looks like we’ve got three people to keep the First Bible from. The Dark, the Cold, and now the Devil.
Jericho: Must be some book, choice?
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: EARLY OCTOBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-99
Time to step out of the shadows, I suppose. I wanted to keep my involvement with this Cafe to a minimum. I really did. Given my contemporary’s willingness to work together combined with the threat the Dark poses to the whole coffee-drinking nation, I don’t have much choice, do I? Yes, it’s true, I am one of the “eight” chosen successors of the original number himself. Makes me wonder where the other five are slacking off. No matter.
Though, for those in the Dark and otherwise keeping score, my presence here does mean this Cafe is up 2/8ths now. It’s still nowhere near the original Owner’s full control of the set, but I would argue we also have the other 8 on our side. Nearly half-way there, aren’t we? And to clear the air—I am no imposter; I am no hackneyed “second Eight.” No. It’d be quite the connection if it were true, wouldn’t it be? The list of who I could be is admittedly short, but do keep in mind, the original Owner had more plans than you could possibly imagine.
As for our operations in the month of October—we have a guest Barista joining us from the other Cafe. So, please give Barista Z.B. a warm Cafe welcome, would you? He won’t actually be joining us in-person as there’s actually a bit of comfort food I would rather have him check out on his home coast. It seems like Aplut caused quite a stir in the boundary lines between here and Ottawa. Nothing that can’t be repaired. Payroll, Big Guy, Manager, and H.R. will continue to work on more “Dark” matters. And as for the New Guy? Well… that’s one secret I don’t mind sharing with the Third Cafe. I’m sure he’ll brighten our Barista’s Day.
Yours infinitely,
8.
BARISTA: N/A
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: MID OCTOBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-100
Your Gamemaster: Oboonexre
Your Mysterious Benefactor: Shaka
Your Friend Friend Friend: Zeuzitxum
---
Shaka: I can only make this work for a few moments.
Oboon: Should be more than enough time.
Shaka: Are you still recording this, by the way?
Oboon: Is that a problem, Shaka?
Shaka: Could be, depending on what our friend has to say in his lucidity.
Oboon: Of course, of course. Though that reminds me, will Secret know about this?
Shaka: ...
Oboon: I usually take your silence as a yes.
Shaka: ...
Oboon: Let me guess. Secret knows about a lot of your little side projects, huh? But he doesn't bother to tell the other Cold Elders because it's, of course, a secret.
Shaka: Our lips are sealed.
Oboon: Right. Well, then, shall we proceed with our ill-intent?
Shaka: O'tear'kes al ed omul al ed ot'jar atknas rep atikev. Mem oleic lo am’rav’lam il’ pa’jak aga ill’intent.
Zeuz: Ill intent, ill intent, ill intent, ill-prepared, ill-fated, I'll be right back. I'll see you in the morning. I-I- I- H- hi. Hi. I wasn't expecting you two.
Oboon: Yeah, sorry, the Ape-
Zeuz: No, I understand. Sorry I couldn't be of more help.
Shaka: It is understandable. It needs to be where it will be. Besides, I couldn't care less if that overgrown Ape gets it back or not. And Complexico didn't want to lose his prize. Though, why did you choose that as a prize?
Oboon: I keep saying it wasn't me who chose it! Well. I-I did. And didn't. The other me chose it.
Shaka: From the Apocalypse?
Oboon: Seems like it.
Zeuz: That is strange. Though, I am sure he knows something we don't. We can't all be infinite.
Oboon: Yeah, about that. I wanted to ask you, Cold. When are we revisiting the Apocalypse?
Zeuz: Soon. I think. Though I need something before we can go.
Oboon: Oh?
Zeuz: You're recording this, aren't you?
Oboon: How'd you guess, haha.
Zeuz: Well, in that case, I'll just say there is another 8.
Oboon: Another 8?
Shaka: Surely there can't be?
Zeuz: Well, maybe not the same 8. There is a weakness in the current design. A gear is loose.
Shaka: So, what's the plan then? Toss this new 8 into the Apocalypse and rewind again? We would first need-
Zeuz: No, no. Nothing that drastic. I just thought we could use another 8. Or, maybe I should say an other 8. Another. Another. Other. Other. Other. Otherside. Otherworld. Otherman. Other Otherman. H- h- hello. My name is Indrid Cold. Do not be afraid.
Shaka: Satisfied?
Oboon: I mean, not entirely. But it does clear some things up.
Shaka: Speaking of clearing things up, did your other self say why the Staff was to be the prize?
Oboon: No. We don't tend to talk much. Though it seems like the doll has a pretty big role to play here, huh?
Shaka: For now. Though I can only assume the Cafe will make quick work of the plaything. There's a darker force at work pulling his strings.
Oboon: Uh, yeah. That is their whole deal. They are the Dark.
Shaka: Darker than the Dark. Though I can't say much more than that.
Oboon: Darker than the Dark? Wait, do you mean the literal Darker? Or...
Shaka: ...
Oboon: Gotcha. Not something I need to know right now. Well, thanks for the help M.B.
Shaka: Always a pleasure, Game Master. See you again, in another other time and place.
BARISTA: JOY LIVINGSTONE
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE OCTOBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-101
…
Joy: What a crazy few days.
Jericho: No kiddin'.
Julius: We wouldn't have had to deal with that if you didn't play the Redman's game, Jericho.
Jericho: Are you seriously trying to pin the interference of an Elder on me?
Julius: Mm. I suppose not. Though it was still a stupid plan. What if you had lost?
Jericho: Ah—but I didn't, did I?
Joy: Yeah, but you didn't really win, either. You never got to ask Redman a question back.
Jericho: Didn't need to. I confirmed what I needed to know, which is that he has no idea what this little beauty is.
[Jericho pulled out a small jar with a black pulsating glob inside.]
Joy: The… seed?
Jericho: Exactly.
Julius: And, what, Redman, not knowing what something is means you suddenly do?
Jericho: It was a trick question. Umbra already told us exactly what it is—it's a seed. One of the last seeds from the Tree of Knowledge.
Joy: No way…
Julius: How can you be certain?
Jericho: I was paired up with the heap o' coke for a long, long week. Not that he let much slip of his plans mind you, but I did at least get enough to piece it together. Eve, Eden, Knowledge… the price one pays for it. This—this is it. A seed of knowledge. A catalyst. It's what Robbie was really after until we nicked it.
Joy: Why would Robert want that thing?
Jericho: It'd complete him. He's a shade, right? A wispy little nothing of an idea born in the pits of the Everdark. He's gotta jump around from body to body just to be. Umbra—well, Umbra wasn't always Umbra. He used to be John Dee—until he ate one of these.
[Jericho shook the black glob around.]
Julius: I could believe that whatever that thing is makes someone… or something into a shadow person. Fine. But how do you know it's a "seed of knowledge?" That it is some remnant of Eden?
Jericho: Robbie's Plan B. He couldn't get the seed, seeing as we had moved it out of Palm Beach once we knew we lost. So, he went after something else Eve had left behind… a few strands of her hair.
Joy: I… don't think I'm following.
Jericho: Eve made him—Eve made all of them. Even indirectly, like with Umbra, Eve made them. The shadows… they're hers.
Julius: The Everdark is Eden?
Jericho: No. No… I don't think that's the case. I think the Everdark must be where it all ended up. What's left behind. Like how the Otherside is what's left of the Skald and the Flipside is what's left of Arcadia.
Julius: Mm… perhaps. Though, Everdark… it's part of the Otherside, no?
Jericho: Not really. Not… not in the technical sense. It was there before the other Seven Planes.
Julius: Hm. Okay. So, how does this all tie back into Eve's hair?
Jericho: And the seed. Pieces of Eve and Eden all found in the Everdark. Umbra, Dee, he had to get his seeds from somewhere, right? And he said he was running out—not that this was all he had. Eating this thing—it makes you into a shadow, but just touching it seems to be some sort of test for the Dark.
Julius: So Umbra wouldn't let Robert eat one of his few remaining seeds. Thus, the betrayal.
Jericho: Yeah, or Robert's just a backstabbing power-hungry prick.
Joy: So… what do we do with that thing now? Eat it?
Jericho: No, no, no. Not a good idea. No clue how'd it'd interact with the Blight or, well, the spittin' image of Eden. In the most mundane case, you'd become a shadow person yourself. Mostly immortal but entirely unfeeling and likely at the will of Eve herself.
Julius: She is still alive?
[Jericho rattled the seed.]
Jericho: Only in the knowledge she left behind. I could've sworn I heard Umbra muttering to himself about Eve. No… we need to… I don't know. Destroy this thing.
Julius: You said it yourself; it's not the only one.
Jericho: Damn… well, still, I don't want Umbra gettin' anymore of these.
Joy: We could give it to the Third Cafe for safekeeping? Umbra would expect us to hold onto it.
Julius: That's not a bad idea. Even if Umbra couldn't care less if we have one of his seeds, Robert will.
Jericho: Until we know what better to do with it, yeah. Sounds like a plan. They've got a huge safe warded out to the nines. Or, eights, I suppose.
Joy: What about their investors? What if they—
Julius: Mammon and Belphegor. Children of Eve herself are likely uninterested in such a thing. It holds no material value, and little seems to stir Belphegor to action.
Joy: Wait-what, Mammon, and Belphegor?
Julius: Mm. I've known for a while. Belphegor is a long-time investor in the Cafe and Diner. Mammon… well… I don't know what he's getting out of propping up the Third Cafe, but I doubt he cares about some black gunk.
Jericho: Suppose Princes ain't keen on becoming Shadows. Yeah. Let's leave it with them, then. Mammon or Belphegor won't want it, but they'd probably know better than to let anyone else get a hold of it.
BARISTA: JOY LIVINGSTONE
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE NOVEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-102
Oi, we've got another cheeky note in the margins. This time from me older brother. As expected, he wasn't happy that we intentionally gave the chuffin’ Dark our Mechanism pieces. I suppose our little stunt has been right choblesome over at the Society. Prolly even spread to IRIS. Bet they wanna Cuddle ‘n Kiss me now, huh? Anyway, here's what his message said minus the worst of the profanity. Don't want these receipts to start looking like a bloody bathroom stall.
"Jericho,
You absolute [nice guy]. You wretched [ly nice guy]. You slimy [blimey!] goblin. I knew trusting a [fun guy] like you would be an utter and irrevocable MISTAKE. You are a mistake. I would say that I cannot believe you would be so [delightfully] carless, but then I would be the [fun and funny] liar. And that's your job, isn't it? To be a worthless, feckless, [fun guy] only ever looking for a cheap [friend and reasonable drink.] You will never get another CENT of our money again. I can promise you that. Hell, I might as well see if Jordie will take this little [whoopsie] out of your pension.
When will you stop being a disappointment? Can you stop being a disappointment? [I love you very much, my dear younger brother. Mum and dad send kisses.]
-William"
You'd think that being in the Society would've expanded his vocabulary some. Though I will say, I certainly learned some new terms today. Ah well. Like Joy already said, this was planned, at least. Not that Will seems to know that, but he can be with Mum and Dad at me for this all he likes. He usually is.
Speaking of the Society, their leader is popping in tomorrow. Don't know when. Never can with that lot. Might as well not dwell on it too much, choice? It'd drive you mad, considering it backward.
BARISTA: JULIUS MENDOZA
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE NOVEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-103
As promised, "John Doe," also known as Mevon or Nine, paid us a visit in person. Due to the unpredictable nature of time travel, it seems that his message to us earlier was unintentional. Though, now he is certain to write that message, so how unintentional is it, or was it? It’s all confusing. The good news is we still managed to do exactly what Nine expected of us. We also know that Umbra will potentially add an Elder to his ranks. Additionally, it would seem that Nine knows us from his youth though he did not elaborate on that much. Still, despite his age, he does have a somewhat familiar face.
That’s all for now.
-Julius
John: Julius, Jericho, Joy, good to see you three again.
Joy: Again?
Jericho: Time travel.
John: Yes. And no. I suppose this is my first time meeting you three specifically.
Julius: So, you knew us in another Cycle.
John: Exactly. So, forgive my familiarity and allow me to properly introduce myself. My name is Nine, and I am the leader and founder of the Society of Nom de Plume.
Joy: I thought your “nom de plume” was John Doe?
John: And sometimes Mevon. I go by many names, as do you 4, 5, and 6.
Joy: Huh?
John: I assume you’ll see later. Anyway, I wanted to thank you for your work so far regarding the Mechanism.
Jericho: Really? Based on what Will said to me, I would have thought you were peeved off.
John: Ah, sorry about him. If you want, I can have a word with him about professionalism.
Jericho: That’s alright, nothing I’m not used to. Though, wait- you knew we purposefully lost the Mechanism?
John: Wait. You didn’t know that I knew? I thought my earlier letter was pretty clear-
Julius: You told us to stop working on the Mechanism. You were worried that an “Ape” was using it to grow his collection.
John: Huh. Wait… Ape… Collection… Zeh? Ah, my letters must have gotten mixed up again. Well, I guess it all still worked out.
H.R. Zeh?
John: You’ll see.
Jericho: Are you being coy to prevent some sort of paradox or do you just like being vague?
John: The latter. I’m not from YOUR future. I can’t necessarily cause a paradox just by telling you what happened in MY Cycle. That being said, Zeh never joined the Dark in my Cycle.
Julius: Hang on… if you’re not from our future and this “Zeh” never joined your version of the Dark, how did your letter-
John: Oh, I cheat. All the time. You can’t go backward in time. Not easily. But the written word doesn’t seem to count. You definitely got a letter from the future.
Julius: And that doesn’t create paradoxes?
John: Who knows? I assume my letters only ever get mixed up because it was fated to happen. When you start temporally tampering, things tend to quickly get out of your control.
Julius: So, someone wanted us to stop working on the Mechanism prematurely.
John: That could be the case, yes.
Jericho: And in the future, you want us to stop working on the Mechanism.
John: I suppose that will be the case, yes.
Joy: …So should we?
John: If you had asked me a few minutes ago, I would have said no. Now that Zeh is involved, or will be involved, maybe?
Julius: Who is Zeh?
John: Zehhurozzm. The Great Dilly-Dally Ape. An elder. He’s known throughout time and space. Not a pleasant fellow.
Jericho: Bloody hell… an Elder? Umbra’s getting his hands on Elders now?
John: Sure seems like it. And if Zeh gets the Mechanism, that would make him a much larger threat than he already is. Of course, now Drosselmeyer has the majority of the Mechanism, so you’ll need to get it back either way.
Jericho: Right. Suppose it should just be business as usual, then. While we’ve got you here, do you know what this Nutcracker weapon is?
John: Mm, sorry, I don’t. I never worked with your Cafe in my Cycle. I know the general details, but it’s been almost 50 years. Can’t expect an old man to remember everything.
BARISTA: NIKKI LANGLEY
CAFE: OTHER CAFE
DATE: LATE DECEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-104
Merry Christmas indeed, my Cafe and Diner. I have noticed a rather disturbing trend lately. With the recent service at the Dim Den and the inadvertent completion of the Mechanism, I have heard many of you toss around the term "failure." No. I won't stand for that. None of you failed anything. We had a half-success. You stopped the Nutcracker. You are all still very much alive and well. You dwindled the ranks of the Dark once again. And Umbra? He has yet to get his hands on his precious and potentially fictitious book. It was a half-success and nothing less.
And what a half-success it was, might I add. You managed to reforge the Mechanism. I doubt we would have figured out how to do that on our own. True, the Mechanism is currently in the Dark's grasp—but that is a temporary setback. With the help of our latest Barista, I imagine we'll have the Mechanism back in our possession before Valentine's. Wouldn't that be lovely? We could even send the Dark, cutesy little card afterward. Throw a little coffee in their wounds.
Once again, I admit we are in uncharted territory, and no amount of bravado will ease that. Umbra and the Dark now have the means to find his book. However, we have time to set things right. Hell, we have more than just time—we have Nine. And it seems like even with the Mechanism, Umbra still has a long way to go before achieving his goals. Our first and foremost priority should be stopping his forthcoming hire. We don't yet know exactly who the Dark is planning on hiring with the help of the Mechanism, but I doubt it will be good. However—today is not the day to worry about any of that. Today is a day to be as light as a feather, as happy as an angel, merry as a schoolboy, and giddy as a drunken man.
Living in the past, present, and future,
8