OPERATION: ENCORE (Part VII)
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE MARCH
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-216
Is it just a trauma response that I have an unquenchable urge to keep writing receipts? You know, my new organization is sort of categorially against writing things down. But if it wasn’t for 8’s “meticulous note-keeping and journaling,” we’d be screwed eight ways to Sunday. So maybe there’s something in being meticulous in our note-keeping. But really, I think it’s just the trauma response. Regardless, it does help me get my thoughts in order, and boy, being a leader is not easy.
Oh, yeah. Also, we won’t be using the spooky royal “we” in these knock-off receipts. Too much work, and honestly? We’re both sick of it, and it’s only been like two weeks of doing it. Thankfully neither of us has to be “leader-leaders,” just quasi-semi-sorta leaders, at least for the time being. I think we both got so used to receiving orders that we didn’t know how to dish them out ourselves. But, speaking of receiving orders, we have two main cases of concern at the moment. Retrieve The Main Man’s final secret hidden somewhere in the giant mess of CaDCom Receipts from 1988 to 2023. Fun. And there’s a cult we need to look into… The Sacred Hall of Bingo.
As for the CaDCom receipts, hey, you’re looking at them. We pulled some strings and got the old domain transferred to our control, and now we’re rebuilding the Archives the best we can. Of course, there are only two of us, and we’re busy with so many other things, but at least the former Long Island crew got us an 850 receipt head start. Also, technically, we’ll be delegating the bulk of this work to our many eager underlings. Oh boy, if they hated us before, they will really hate us now. As for the Bingo Cult, Twain and I need to pay their leader a respectful visit and see what’s up with them. On a technical level, cult affairs are actually our job, but I have a sneaking suspicion I know why she’s marked this one as “urgent.”
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE MARCH
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-217
Oh, thank God, or Bird, or whatever, we have receipts again! I was going CRAZY not being able to just ramble on and on about my sexy, dangerous, and fun life. It has been HELL ON EARTH the past two weeks trying to be all stoic. It is not my vibe, babes. My vibes are hiding my true feelings behind obnoxious internet culture. Speaking of… yes, it’s not just being a stoic so-and-so that’s really been on my mind with this whole… “shift” in the way things are.
Kyle. I miss them. A lot. I knew it would hurt to leave them. And, I mean, well, I chose this. I wanted this. But… still… I hope they’re doing okay. I know it must suck that I just left them without even saying goodbye. Maybe it was better that way? Well, I know for CERTAIN that they’d KILL ME if I actually told them why I had to leave and what I’ve been up to the past year. Not that they probably didn’t already have some suspicions. They’re a smart, SMART, cookie. I just know they wouldn’t like all of, well, “this.” I’ve had to listen to them rant and rave about how much they hate the original owner and his Last Cafe so many times I could probably give you the whole speech on how he basically became a worse fate than Fate.
Whew, it feels good to get things out again. While I did want this, I guess I underestimated how much I needed to talk and how in conflict that is with a whole “sew your lips shut for months on end” lifestyle. I suppose we have the power to change that now, though. But, like, the little lip marks are kind of sexy in their own twisted way, so we’ll probably keep it. Plus, tradition and blah, blah, blah. And the big boss probably wouldn’t like us getting rid of that. But, boy, I would not want to do that again. Also? It’s so freaky. Like if you have to throw up or something, you gotta yank that thread out and FAST.
I wonder what ended up happening to Kyle. And Trav, Zack, and the others. Maybe once the dust actually settles a bit, me and Capgras can see if we can find them.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-218
While Twain is keeping busy trying to get the Archives 2.0 up and running, I’ve been busy doing our ACTUAL job. Cult and Esoteric Affairs. I think I’ve mentioned it before, but the Big A wants us lowly little Zs to look into this Sacred Hall of Bingo cult that sprung up a week or so ago. You’d think a cult that just started forming and has less than five confirmed members shouldn’t really be at the top of our priorities, but then you haven’t heard the member list yet.
Hell, I don’t even think I can say who the leader is. It’s all fun and games to put all of the Cafe and Diner’s secrets in an easily read HTML file, but this is our actual “job-job.” We can’t go putting Indigo secrets here. But our rank does give us a little leeway. So, who are the Bingo five?
Well, every cult has a leader, and while I’m not at liberty to name names, we’ll call him, well, Bingo. The reason Bingo is the head of a cult is, well, concerning, to say the least, is he’s what we call a “greater cosmic force.” While he’s certainly fallen in the cosmic ranks as of late, he’s still a very dangerous player who has taken on a very dangerous ideology. Now, his right-hand man is unconfirmed, but I think we all see the writing on the wall. We’ll call them The Fat Lady. The Fat Lady, like Bingo, is a “greater cosmic force.” They are joined by… I don’t know, we’ll go with the Dancing Queen. The Queen is not a greater cosmic force, but he’s a scary guy nonetheless. At least when it comes to him, we can kind of hope time just takes him out. As for the last two members, I’ll just come out and say it: Umbra and Complexico. Well, Umbra, for sure. Complexico is a maybe still. Real boys club as it currently is.
Anyway, I’m going to be paying “Bingo” an in-person visit. It’s a fun little game us greater cosmic forces play. See if we can't keep innocents out of Bingo's little nihilism crusade.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-219
Well, I managed to find the Sacred Hall of Bingo, and I had a friendly conversation with their leader. He’s a lot more perceptive than anyone else we’ve dealt with so far. He didn’t buy our act for one second, though I guess he’d know if we were truly different better than anyone else. It’s tenuous how much of a “cult” they really are at this point, but I think Alfa wanted to curtail it before it got to that point. He’s definitely dangerous—he almost had me believing his lies.
Jack: Well, if it isn’t the new Shaka. Or, ya’ know, half-there-of. What do I owe the pleasure?
Alex: Thought I’d visit an old friend.
Jack: Is that right? It’s funny. I can’t say I feel the same way if you catch my drift.
Alex: Come now, Jack do you really think I’ve been replaced?
Jack: Strong hunch. Anyway, man, you can drop the act around me. I don’t see a point to it. So, tell me, who is scared of me? The big boss or the bigger boss?
Alex: What’s with the wig?
Jack: Wig?
Alex: You told me to drop the act. I want to know why you’re wearing a bright orange wig.
Jack: It’s not a wig. It’s my hair.
Alex: No way. No way, that’s your real hair. You were BALD like two weeks ago.
Jack: It grew back. Now, mind answering my question?
Alex: Lex Luther hair… Uh, just the big boss. I don’t think you’re even on the bigger boss’s radar.
Jack: Really? I’m wounded, for sure. You’d think after all these years he’d consider me more of a threat.
Alex: Well, it is a bit of a sorry cult, isn’t it? Just the five of you?
Jack: Hey now, “cult” is a strong word. We’re a group of like-minded colleagues. Pretty sure you need followers to be a cult.
Alex: From where I’m standing, you already have four.
Jack: That was always your problem, Shaka. Always thinking in terms of some great and grand cosmic chess board. News flash—that chessboard has become nothing more than a glorified bingo card. I didn’t coerce anyone to join my little social club. They came because they cared about me.
Alex: I don’t buy Umbra caring about anyone but himself.
Jack: Oh, you’d be surprised.
Alex: So, this “social club,” what are you guys up to? I assume it’s not just playing bingo.
Jack: Like I said, we are, in a way. Come on, Shaka, lighten up. Turn that frown upside down, man. Fate’s dead. Nothing matters. We’re free.
Alex: Maybe you are.
Jack: Ah, right. You’re still a slave to Grand Schemer. Well, if you ever want to stop caring about its aimless goals, you know we’d love one more for our bingo games.
Alex: I see your logic, but do you really believe that Jack? That nothing matters? I don’t buy it. I think your bingo club—no cult—still has some sort of goal beyond just poetic nihilism.
Jack: You’re free to feel that way, man. I hope that sooner or later, you come around to the idea that we’re no longer important, you and me. We’re relics of a past formed by a Fate no longer living.
Alex: I’ll keep that in mind. Anyway, I’ll be seeing you around, Jack. You can be sure of that.
Jack: Like I’ve been saying, man, you’re free to exchange ideas with us. We’d love to get the whole gang back together.
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-220
Looks like we’ve got another cult on our plates. The “Kings of Roses.” They operate out of Vile but also in Hollywood, California. And, yes, you guessed it—Vile as in Vile. They’re not so much human as they are, well, you know, residents of Vile. Demons. We really need to think up our own code words. I mean, I’m used to the old Cafe ones, but they don’t really fit the vibe we’re going for here. Then again, these “receipts” are all of the books and are just for Alex and me. Oh! And Salenna. Considering all three of us are familiar with Cafe Speak, we might as well just keep it, huh?
Anyway, these Kings of Roses enjoy a nice cold glass of OJ—crap. Salenna doesn’t know the newer Cafe speak, huh? There goes that plan. Well, she’s a smart girlboss, gatekeeper, and gaslighter. I’m sure she can just take a quick look at the Zodiac Files and the previously uploaded receipts to get the hang of things again. So, yeah, OJ drinkers. Hauntaurskaldians. But not just the Hauntaurskald, the Hauntaurskald-Infernus Cusp. Fancy, I know. While they are based out of Vile/Hollywood, they also have a little spot right between OJ and Hot Choccy, which puts them out of… I don’t actually know any more. Cain? Again? Whoever the hell is in charge of, well, hell. It puts them out of that person’s jurisdiction.
Actually, there’s a chance these Kings could make a play for the seat of power in Vile. I don’t know if that’s what they want or not. We know very little about the Kings of Roses as they’ve been pretty lowkey up until recently. I guess a cosmic shakeup will do that, though. As much as I’d love to go to Vile, and I would, really, it doesn’t smell like rotten eggs and ass, I swear, unfortunately, I think I’ll have to leave that task to my better half—Cappy. Age before beauty and all that.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-221
Another day, another cult. This time it’s at least actually a cult and not just a group of people who make Alfa nervous. Actually, it’s almost the opposite. The Kings of Roses pose a direct threat to our leadership. I know, right? How dare they. They’re a blood cult or something like that, formerly run by the High Demon, Bloody Mary. Under Mary, the cult was considered by our predecessor as “benign at best—more of a threat in another time and place.” …And that’s it. Thanks, Aayush. Really helpful stuff.
So, why has this benign blood cult suddenly become a threat? Well, Mary was ousted, and the new head of the Kings is some guy named “Rune.” Rune claims to have super special Zulu-Knowledge, especially relating to Project Lazarus and Project Netzach. Project Lazarus, we could care less about. It’s something of an open secret at this point. But Netzach? Oh boy. Oh boy, boy, boy. That is not something anyone should be talking about, especially not some mutinous cult leader. Also, assuming you who are reading this are not a Zulu yourself, don’t look into anything Netzach related. It’s for your own good. Seriously.
The plan of attack is probably the same as the Bingo Cult. While I’d love to go in magic-blazing and just wipe this cult off the map… that’s not exactly an option for either myself or Twain. At best, I can go in as a greater cosmic force and see if I can reason with this Rune guy to drop the Netzach stuff. And if he refuses? Well, that definitely makes things… sticky. I guess it is also possible this Rune guy doesn’t actually know anything about Netzach beyond the name of the project, which, to be fair, is “publicly” available in the Astoria database.
BARISTA: SALENNA WHITAKER
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-222
I don’t know what I was expecting when I heard that you had become Shaka, Alex. Though, this is about what I imagined. The good news is that while the Zulu Division may hate your guts, the other 23 Divisions are actually pretty excited to have some new Shaka leadership. Hell, all of the Indigos seem to be on board with a less threatening, less effective, less dangerous, potentially less-evil head of Shaka. I still get reports from the Ozhog Sluzhbas, and they are all very excited to work with the new Shaka. Well, I think they’re more-so excited to have a new Shaka to dump their problems on.
Speaking of… bad news from the 100th, 200th, and 3rd Sluzhbas. Someone stole an Elder from the Freezer. Gamayun from the 3rd wants you guys to look into it because Rusalka of the 100th found a tenuous connection suggesting that the Elder was stolen by a group known as the “Hyperion Cult.” And that tenuous connection is more than enough for Gamayun to put this entirely on your heads. Congrats on the promotion, by the way. I’m sure it’s super fun.
How either of you plans on tracking, containing, and returning an Elder is beyond me. But I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Ah, who am I kidding? You’ll both be killed. I suppose I can help you out on this one was a 20th Sluzhba rep. Though I haven’t exactly gone after Elders directly in a while, I’m sure I can figure it out. We could also probably get some help from November too. I’m sure everyone in the Agency is on your side… except your own Division. I’ll get some more concrete details from Gamayun so I can let you know how dead you both are tomorrow.
BARISTA: SALENNA WHITAKER
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-223
My condolences, Alex & Amber. The Hyperion Cult broke one of the Sebitti out. Woof. Looking on the bright side, we only ever had one of the seven in the Freezer. I guess on the not-so-bright side we have no idea how many other Sebitti the Hyperions have. If this one was the last one they needed? Well, you might as well hang up your masks now. Though I doubt, it’s that serious yet. Zver would’ve stepped in if that was the case. To be honest? The fact that Zver hasn’t said anything yet is probably a good sign. I mean, he’s probably testing you, but this is a great chance to show him you guys aren’t exactly as competent as the prior Shaka, and then you’ll get a lot less of this kind of work to deal with.
So, who/what are the Sebitti? Well, they’re a group of seven Elders who used to bring war, death, and illness to the world. Fun, I know. I’m almost certain they’re the offspring, or at the very least, were followers of the Pale. Individually they are pretty weak as far as Elders go. That’s why we were keeping our Sebitti in the lower-security part of the Freezer in the first place. Even a 100th could put him back in his place. However, together they grow exponentially stronger. If all seven get together? They could easily wipe out the sun or moon. Or worse. I imagine they would have the power to tap into the Black Eden and free any number of nasty Elders and Protodemons.
Though considering the cult we’re dealing with is called the “Hyperion” cult, they’re probably going with the blot-out-the-sun route. Why? I don’t know. Doomsday prophecies or whatever. I’m not supposed to be the cult experts; you two are. I’ve got a handful of Novembers together to help me in tracking down and containing the Sebitti, so if you two could just look into the Hyperion Cult, that’d be great. Thanks.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-224
Thanks to Blackwood’s detective skills, I was able to find my way to the Valley of Gilded Thorns, where the Kings of Roses are set up. I also had a conversation with… Rune. I think she’s going to be a major thorn in our side after all. She knows secrets she really shouldn’t, and even if we could kill her… we can’t. Not easily.
Alex: I’ve come to speak to Rune.
Kings Cultist: And who might you be?
Alex: Shaka of Zulu.
Kings Cultist: You aren’t Shaka.
Alex: Didn’t you hear? He was replaced. I’m the new Shaka.
Kings Cultist: New Shaka? I highly doubt—
Rune: That’s alright. I know him. He is, indeed, Shaka.
Alex: Katherine? What are you doing here?
Rune: Give us some privacy, would you?
[The Kings Cultist left the CaDCom transcription range.]
Rune: Hi Alex! It’s so good to see you again.
Alex: Hi… wait, wait, wait. Are you Rune?
Rune: Yep! And you got promoted to Shaka. Congrats! That’s a huge promotion.
Alex: How… when… what?
Rune: Ah. I see you didn’t inherit Shaka’s annoying knowledge of nearly everything. That’s good. I’m guessing you didn’t inherit much from Shaka besides the title, huh?
Alex: Uh…
Rune: Don’t worry, I won’t tell. You’ve got quite the title to uphold.
Alex: I… wait. How do you know so much?
Rune: Well… you weren’t the only replacement Shaka considered. I figured it wasn’t really the right fit for me.
Alex: …and leader of a blood Cult was?
[Rune shrugged.]
Rune: I’m doing what needs to be done. Same as you. Same as everyone else who burnt their tongues on the coffee. Anyway, I assume you’re here because it’s Shaka’s job to check up on cults, right?
Alex: I… well, yes. Though, I’m here because of Netzach.
Rune: Oh?
Alex: So, Shaka considered you as a possible replacement, and in doing so, he told you about Netzach? That seems…
Rune: Highly unlikely? Yep. Because he didn’t tell me about Netzach.
Alex: So then—
Rune: Randall Rune. He knew about the Netzach project. Well, he knew at least as much as it pertained to the Lazarus project.
Alex: Randall Rune…
Rune: Dingane.
Alex: A Zulu?
Rune: Oh! I forgot you weren’t with the Cafe then, were you?
Alex: No… I wasn’t. Though I think I get it. More or less. You were turned into a zombie—
Rune: More of a ghoul, technically.
Alex: Ghoul. Sure. An undead half-demon of some sort.
Rune: Yep!
Alex: Okay, and you were turned into that because of Project Lazarus. You were injected with Asmodeus’ blood… and Dingane was the Zulu in charge of Project Lazarus. You ate him, and due to your powers, you were able to momentarily retain his knowledge. But how did you keep all of this in your head for the past 3 years? I thought you only gained memories and feelings for a few hours at most.
Rune: Sure, when I eat someone’s flesh. I didn’t just eat Randall’s flesh.
Alex: You ate his soul? You’ve been Randall this whole time?
Rune: I wouldn’t say that. I’m still me! I just retained Randall’s memories, knowledge and—
Alex: Ambitions.
Rune: Yep!
Alex: So, you taking over the Kings of Roses, that was to further Randall’s Lazarus research?
Rune: You’ve got it!
Alex: Great! You can come back to the Zulus then—
Rune: Oh no. No, I don’t think I will. I don’t have to, Shaka. Dingane made a pact with Secret, not me. And I don’t really want Secret to benefit from my research.
Alex: But… Fine. I see how it is. But you realize in the Zulu’s eyes, in Secret’s eyes, you’re a traitor of the Silence. We can’t let you just use Randall’s knowledge of our secrets for your own gain.
Rune: That does seem fair… but then again, you can’t kill me. So, if we’re done, Shaka. It’s been nice catching up.
BARISTA: NANCY LANGLEY
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-225
My, my. And here I thought I was done writing "receipts." Then again, I suppose I thought I was done writing receipts many years ago, and yet… somehow, coffee keeps staining my teeth. Call it whatever you want, children; this is a Cafe. If not in name and without the 8 to back it up, you're trying to make a new Cafe. But why? Wouldn't you think your little Zulu Cult was enough? Or could it be you don't know how to actually play with the big boys, so you have fallen back on what's comfortable and familiar? Hm?
Oh well, I suppose it's better than the alternative though I was hoping with Aayush dead, my debt to Secret would go uncollected for a bit longer. Still, my terms with Secret were clear—three years of service, one of which was already paid. So, I suggest you make the most of my two years in your service. I would say that after that, I am done with coffee entirely, but we all know it's next to impossible to curve a caffeine addiction, especially one that's gone on this long. Though, considering what I got, the price is worth it…
However…
I might not have taken your little Oath of Zilence, but I still know exactly what you two are up to. Perhaps not entirely, but I was still close enough to Aayush to learn quite a bit of what he and his father had planned. I may be yours to use as you see fit, but I will not help either of you resurrect that shambling façade of a God. Even if it means my terms are broken—I'd rather that than help Secret find his last secret. If you two could do me just one favor, it would be to let my terms run out before you make any attempts on the corpse. At least let my hands be clean of this mess and my contract completed.
BARISTA: SALENNA WHITAKER
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-226
I was able to retrieve the Sebitti… or… what’s left of it. It would seem that Fenrir, the leader of the Hyperion Cult, is able to kill and absorb the powers of Elders. Based on what Fenrir said, I believe his plan is to hunt down the remaining six Sebitti, kill them, and use their powers to bring about an end to the world. What Fenrir didn’t know is that I’m not entirely working with the Freezer at the moment. We need to be careful about how we proceed. If the Freezer finds out about all of this, they’ll prioritize finding and securing the other Sebitti… which would make Fenrir’s task easier.
Julius: You’re late.
Salenna: Late?
Julius: I was expecting the Freezer to have found and retrieved the stolen Sebitti sooner.
Salenna: The war doesn’t help…
Julius: No, I suppose it doesn’t. You want it back, right? Agent…
Salenna: Kikimora. We can’t just let a crazed cult leader hold on to a doomsday Elder, can we?
Fenrir. No. I suppose you can’t. Here.
[Fenrir tossed a strange husk to Salenna's feet.]
Salenna: What is—
Julius: The Sebitti’s corpse. We’re done with it.
Salenna: Corpse?
Julius: Yes, a corpse. Take it back to your superiors and show them. Show Zver. Show them the power of a dying sun.
Salenna: But the Sebitti are Elders, immortals, they can’t— you’ve killed its body, but its soul…?
Julius: Ah. Clever, Agent Kikimora. Yes, it’s true that Elders’ bodies were once their only weakness. Though, you won’t find any traces of its soul either. It is dead. Its soul has been destroyed. And in me lies its power.
Salenna: How?
Julius: Haven’t you heard? Pandora’s Box has been opened, Agent Kikimora. In their foolish pursuit to kill Fate, the Cafe and Diner found a way to kill Elders. It isn’t an easy process. But… once you’ve done it before, it certainly becomes easier.
Salenna: Wait. You’re— Julius Mendoza. You killed the Wicked.
Julius: And that was only the first fire I plan to put out.
Salenna: Why?
Julius: Why not? God and the Devil are once again locked in their eternal struggle—but we don’t have to wait for the bell to ring anymore. We can ring it ourselves. I can ring it.
Salenna: We’ll put a stop to—
Julius: That isn’t your job, is it? Your job is to catch and contain. You can either round up the rest of the Sebitti for me, or you can do nothing. Isn’t it great? Even with Fate dead, the illusion of choice persists.
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-227
Another Archive section gunked up by the Other-Other(Other?) Man? Seriously what the heck! In the interim, Bingo Bitch didn’t do much as God’s Otherman the second time around. Well—we did kill Fate, one of God’s biggest threats—so… He did do something. But he definitely took a back seat to the whole correcting time and space. Though I’ve never been entirely clear on why he quit? I didn’t know that was something an Otherman could do? Let me rewind like the Otherman for a second and see if I can figure out what’s going on.
So, jump back an entire Universe ago to the 15th Canonical Sphere… the original owner was a happy little French boy born in Baltimore, Maryland. Then his parents moved to Detroit, Michigan, and then died in a mysterious fire set by the Nain Rouge, the Demon of the Strait, a fiendish entity of misfortune and mishap. Well, sort of. He’s less a “Demon” of the Strait as he is more so the Angel of the Strait. A puppet of sorts used by God to enact certain events to occur… yes, by the way, that does sound a lot like Fate, doesn’t it? The pot really loves to call the kettle black. Anyway, with 8's parents dead, he was set on a path toward the supernatural world. He then hooked up with Lucifer (the absolute Rizzard of Oz that he is), got Blighted out by the Wicked, started the Cafe and Diner, and then the Nain Rouge came a callin’ once again and burnt his whole world down. However, the Nain Rouge (by proxy God) made a deal with the poor French boy.
See, that whole “Blighted by the Wicked” business was no joke, and he was set to, more or less, explode in a funk-tastic haze of fire, guts, and Blight. God said, hey, don’t worry about that, I’ll cure you of this Blight… but… I’m going to need you to become my right-hand man. Pop up to the Topside with me, and I’ll give you all the power and knowledge of the universe so you can fix it and keep it running and in order. And, yeah, he accepted, and boom—Otherman. Though it begs the question: why, oh, why, sweet, sexy, French boy?
I don’t know. I’ll look into it. I could also ask him, I guess. He is back to living among us lowly mortals again. Anyway, blah, blah, blah, 16th Sphere stuff happened (read all about it in the Archives), God came back, Nikki and Seth vanished, Rico and Nick went to save them, God said: “Hey, bud, good to see you again. Can you please come back to your old job? Things aren’t going well.” the bud said, “Yeah, sure.” He became the Otherman again for a few years, ended up orchestrating the death of Fate, Wicked, and Phantom, then… quit? I guess? Or… maybe he was no longer suitable for the position? Hm…
Anyway, we have a new non-French-y Otherman who is smoothing out space-time wrinkles. That could be a good thing or a bad thing, though it might ultimately just be… a thing. I’ll see about considering speaking to 8, though Alfa wants us to have minimal contact with the Daubers for now.
BARISTA: NANCY LANGLEY
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-228
Katherine became a cult leader? Good for her. I always knew she had potential. Well, you’d have to do something interesting with your life when you are unable to die. Though I was convinced, she’d end up among your ranks as Dingane after the Cafe fell apart. I had known for quite some time that Katherine wasn’t entirely herself… or, I suppose I should say, she isn’t entirely the person she was before she died. She is still the very same girl rescued by the Cafe three years ago. The only difference is she is no longer hiding her true motives. And why would she? She no longer has to keep up appearances for the Cafe.
I would say the easiest way to take her down would be to find a way to “cleanse” her of Dingane’s ambitions. Though… I don’t know how we would go about doing that. But that solution would satisfy Secret, would it not? The issue with Katherine is that she knows some of Secret’s secrets, and by removing the parts of her that are Dingane, it would clear the issue. Though any attempt to cleanse her soul would require Soul Magic, of which I have no expertise or desire to mess with. Lucky for you, you have the Pathologist on your side.
Though… there is another solution. Perhaps one that would be more beneficial in the long run. Convert her to your cult. Have Katherine officially take the Oath of Zilence and have her join the Zulu Division as Dingane. Of course, that is easier said than done. I can’t say that I knew Dingane all that well, but I knew how driven… and utterly mad… he was, and if that drive and madness are what has been controlling Katherine, I doubt we can shake them. Dingane, in death, got what he never could have in life—and out from the Oath.
BARISTA: NANCY LANGLEY
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE APRIL
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-229
My, it seems like everyone is running a cult these days. I wonder if I should make one, too? Though I suppose “Bingo” already has plenty of cult-leader experience. Well, I suppose with his newfound freedom, what else is poor Jack to do? Though I am still struggling to consider the Sacred Hall of Bingo a cult… Jack, 8, Felix, Complexico, and Umbra hardly make a cult. If anything, it’s a Last Cafe meets Sons of Ill-Intent crossover, with special guest star Felix Blackwood.
Ah, Felix. I had truly hoped he would take his retirement seriously. He is not a young man anymore. Worse, he has let himself go completely unassisted by magic, meaning his days are numbered regardless. But I can only assume that Felix is why Alfa is treating Jack’s gentlemen's club as a cult, correct? Like Rune, he holds Zulu secrets. Possibly dangerous Zulu secrets. I feel that there is something I have not been told either by you two or Alfa, but I feel like Jack is merely a cover for Alfa’s interest in this Bingo Cult, and the true target is Felix.
Of course, Jack is dangerous too. Same as 8, Complexico, and Umbra. I wouldn’t want to have to deal with any of them solo, let alone as a united force. And Jack… oh, Jack. I can’t imagine he came out of that whole ordeal entirely… sane. I suppose the most dangerous aspect of their cult is their goal, which appears to be none. Nihilism is a paradox, both very dangerous and extremely harmless. When nothing is all that matters, what matters is nothing. Though… I don’t believe 8 could ever truly be a Nihilist, even with Jack serving it to him on a silver platter. It’s not like him to believe in nothing… at the very least, he must still believe that somewhere, somehow, his Morning Star can return.
BARISTA: ICHABOD RAMSES
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-230
A rather unexpected guest came into the Ca— ah, my apologies. Hard habit to break. Our friend, Bingo, leader of the Sacred Hall of Bingo, stopped by the Zulu Suite. He claims to have brought a proposition for Capgras and Twain when they get back. How he managed to get into the Zulu Suite… well, that is beyond me. Though having seen what he was once capable of in his prior life, I would hardly put much past him even.
Ichabod: Can I help you…?
Jack: I don’t know, man. Can you? I was looking for Shaka.
Ichabod: Which one?
Jack: Right. There are two of them now. Uh… whoever. It’s not that important which one of them I talk to.
Ichabod: Well, Twain—
Jack: Twain?
Ichabod: Like, to be cut in two. Twain. Amber. She’s in England right now looking into a cult and Capgras—
Jack: Capgras? They chose non-Shaka names?
Ichabod: It makes them easier to tell apart.
Jack: Ah… I see. Well, where is “Capgras”? Also out?
Ichabod: Yes… though… well, he’s out-out.
Jack: Out-out? Out of town, out of state, out of country…?
Ichabod: Out of cycle.
Jack: Far out. Far… out. Great. So, no Shakas here? Just my luck. Guess I’ll have to come back around.
Ichabod: I could take a message for them, Mr…?
Jack: According to their records, I’m “Bingo,” right?
Ichabod: Jack? You don’t look—
Jack: Yeah, yeah. I know. It grew back. Wait… I recognize you now. Number… 1223. Right? Man… I can’t believe you got suckered into another Cafe and Diner.
Ichabod: We’re not—
Jack: Oh. No, of course not. Silly me. Well, don’t worry about taking a note, man, the CaDCom Device, short for Cafe and Diner Communication Device, I’m sure you’re aware, does a real good job at transcribing things. I’d know. So, Capgras, Twain, I come with a, well, I suppose it’d be a proposal of sorts. A proposition. Something you guys would really dig. You know where to find me.
BARISTA: ICHABOD RAMSES
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-231
If the IRIS reports are to be believed, it would seem that Unidentified Cult Leader No. 4 is attempting to recreate the Miracle of Eight. I don’t believe I need to explain how dangerous that could be if it were to succeed, though I will at least remind everyone that Eight almost destroyed the Universe on numerous occasions, ultimately leading to the Universe’s Darkest Hour. I was there, and it wasn’t pretty. You were there too, Shaka, so you should know better than anyone how dangerous the Eight is. Even in the best possible hands, look at the mess it created.
And while it is true that Fate is no more, there are others who would covet the power of Eight. Pale, Eve, the Devil… You. I do not mean any offense, of course, but when I think about existential threats to the stability of the Universe, I can’t help but think about you two. Well, not you two specifically, but the corpse you’ve been holding onto. Netzach. If Netzach was able to get a hold of the Eight… Well, that would be… bad. I assume, of course. I have no idea what exactly the Eight does. Nor does anyone, not anymore, for that matter.
In my prior receipt (we are still calling these receipts, no?) I mentioned that Miracles were gifts from the Universe—thus not dangerous to the stability of the Universe itself. That’s a rather naïve perspective, isn’t it? These Miracles, to me, seem more like tumors or aberrations. I doubt the Universe has any form of consciousness with which to bestow Miracles to mere mortals. Especially Miracles, like the Eight, that can cause such bloody, senseless conflicts for generations. Though while we are unable to ask any previous holders what exactly the Eight were or how dangerous they might be with Fate out of the picture… I suppose we could ask Jack about it, as it was his Miracle, to begin with.
And he does want to talk, it seems.
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-232
Well, I was able to meet up with Unidentified Cult Leader No. 4. I had a hunch who he was pretty early on. To be fair, he might be the only British guy I know, but also, there's no other reason Death, Jordan, would care about some no-name cult preaching peace, love, and joy. I met quite a few of his other cult members, though, at this point, it's more or less his regular crew. We had a much longer conversation, though I've cut it as it's all stuff you should all know by now. In any case, I'm not particularly worried about No. 4 or his Cult of Personality.
Amber: Well, well, well, if it isn't Unidentified Cult Leader No. 4.
Jericho: What? Who are— Oh, for fu— Shaka. I knew you weren't actually dead. Look, I haven't— Hold on a tick. You aren't Shaka.
Amber: I'm the new Shaka. Or one-half of the new Shaka.
Jericho: New Shaka? They do that?
Amber: Someone's gotta be Shaka. But no one needs to be a creepy love cult leader—Jericho.
Jericho: Oi… it's not like that. And you know my name? I thought I was "Unidentified-Something-Or-Other."
Amber: …Cult Leader No. 4. We're not going to just put you in the books as Jericho. What's your cult leader name?
Jericho: …Jericho?
Amber: Everyone else has a cool name, like Rune, Fenrir, Bingo… You need a cool name. Though, I will say Unidentified Cult Leader No. 4 is growing on me. Pretty close to your old number, anyway. It's like a promotion.
Jericho: Well, hang on now, give me a chance to think something up, choice? And what're you doing here anyway? I haven't done anything to provoke any sort of Shaka investigation. Unless…
Amber: Jordan. He's worried about you. Also, one of our associates believes you might be trying to manifest a Miracle…? Again.
Jericho: Well… Well, that might be. Though only for good reasons!
Amber: Weren't you the one who destroyed it the first time?
Jericho: …Yes. Well, that was different then, wasn't it? But now that Fate is gone, I'm worried what if some other bloke tries and grabs it again, yeah? So, I figured I'd get it first.
Amber: And your followers?
Jericho: They've all got a bit of it, don't they? I've been a very benevolent leader to them. I'm not trying to use them like he used me. I don't see what the problem here is.
Amber: Look, No. 4, I'll level with you. I don't care what you're up to with your weird love cult. I don't even necessarily disagree with what you're trying to do. I also don't think it'll work. But your brother is technically like one of our bosses.
Daichi: When did Amber get here?
Jericho: Amber?!
Daichi: Really, Rico? It’sss Amber in a Zulu masssk.
Jericho: I—well, to be fair, we never worked together all that close.
Daichi: Obliviousss. Amber, or, Ssshaka, I ssshould sssay, I wanted to asssk you about Fenrir.
Amber: We're doing what we can—
Daichi: Are you going to kill him?
Amber: …Not if we can help it.
Daichi: What if you can't? He'sss… he'sss not himssself.
Amber: We'll do what we need to do.
Jericho: Fenrir? One of your cult blokes?
Daichi: Juliusss, try to keep up Rico.
Ranoma: JULIUS!! IS JULIUS HERE?!
Daichi: Oh great… you woke up the boy.
Ranoma: Julius, it is so very good to— AMBER!! It is so very good to see you! Have you come to spread love for everyone and everything?!
Amber: You made Loveland join your cult, Rico?
Jericho: I assure you I could not have stopped him if I wanted to. Now, what's all this about Julius?
[Amber sighed and began speaking in a very poor British accent]
Amber: We're going to need to put the kettle on.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-233
Now that we’re both back, we were able to meet up with Bingo face-to-face. His “proposal” seems to have been the same as his initial offer—he wants us to join him and his Sacred Bingo Hall for a game. To that end, Bingo gifted us the 8-Ball of Indrid Cold, an inert artifact that allegedly No. 4 is after. We’re still debating on whether or not we should give it to the Cult of Personality or hang onto it for our own leverage later. Though Bingo seems to believe that the 8-Ball is all but useless now, we’re still going to have our Zs actually run it through its paces and whatnot.
Alex: I heard you were looking for us?
Jack: Well, if it isn’t Shaka, in the full! Glad ya’ got my message. How was… mm… let me guess… Dive Prime?
Alex: How’d you—
Jack: Lucky guess? There are only so many prime cycles.
Amber: Wouldn’t there be an infinite number of prime cycles?
Jack: Well, yeah, semantics. Fine. There are only so many prime cycles you two would know or care about right now. Hell, the old Shaka only ever bothered with about 168 of them.
Alex: 168?
Jack: You picked a busy job, man. Now, how was Dive? I assume you went there to chat up your little greater cosmic entity.
Alex: Dive was fine.
Jack: And Dover?
Alex: …fine.
Jack: You don’t have to be so withholding with me, you know? Me and the old Shaka, we were—
Amber: Were. He’s dead.
Jack: You don’t die when you pick successors. But, hey, fair enough. I need to put in some work first. I get it. Relationships don’t just blossom outta thin air, yeah? Here my proposal.
[Jack threw an 8-Ball at Alex]
Jack: Well, maybe it’s more of a present.
Alex: An 8-Ball? A little on the nose, isn’t it?
Amber: Hey, wait, is that?
Jack: The 8-Ball? Yeah.
Alex: What is the 8-Ball?
Amber: A piece of Indrid Cold’s consciousness.
Alex: But—
Jack: Well, yeah, I suppose it’s just an 8-Ball now, huh?
Amber: So, how is this a gift? Or a proposal?
Jack: Unidentified Cult Leader No. 4’s looking for it. Your choice of what you want to do with it. It might be good, what’s the word, leverage? Or you could just re-gift it. It wouldn’t bug me. But—consider it an olive branch, yeah?
Alex: Why does Rico want a useless 8-Ball?
Jack: It beats me, man. Maybe he just wants some additional outlook on life. Or, you know, maybe he’s hoping it’ll get the 8 back.
Amber: He’s worried you’re going to try and get the 8 back.
Jack: Not interested. Not even sure it’s possible.
Alex: So, what are you trying to… do?
Jack: Do?
Amber: Fenrir is trying to… eat the sun, I guess? Rune is trying to finish Project Lazarus. No. 4 is trying to reconstruct the 8… and you are…?
Jack: Oh. Nothing, really. Just existing in this great big meaningless corpse. The usual.
Alex: So why the Bingo Hall?
Jack: You’d have to play the game to get it, man. Offer is, as always, on the table. We’d love a few more for our games. But, you know, sleep on it.
BARISTA: BRENT HEARSE
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-234
I’ve been examining the 8-Ball alongside other Zulu members, specifically Yeye, Mnguni, and Ntombela. The good news is that it seems that 8-Ball is, as Jack suggests, fully inert. Now, it has been a few years since I last studied the Totem, but when it was “active,” the die within the 8-Ball would often spin on its own and display an impossible number of potential responses. Of course, the responses were coming from a piece of Indrid Cold’s consciousness which itself was tied into the threads of Fate and the CaDCom Database.
I suppose the main concern, or potential boon for Shaka, would be that the 8-Ball might have still held a few secrets of the CaDCom Database. Perhaps even “the” secret that the two of them have been tasked with uncovering. The last secret of Eight. Sad to say, it seems there is no residual CaDCom Data within the 8-Ball or any tangible link to the CaDCom Database. Assuming such a Database even exists. I am, of course, not talking about the Cafe and Diner Archive websites, the many failed attempts at a social media presence, or any such publicly accessible nonsense. No—there is, or there is theorized to be, a unified, asynchronous, and independently conscious entity of sorts that holds all knowledge of the Cafe and Diner. Well, the Cafe and Diners plus the “Folie à Deux.”
Anything that goes through a CaDCom System, from the CaDCom88 to the CaDCom-Z, is theoretically stored in this… unknowable entity. More than that, this entity isn’t restricted to our own cycle either. It is connected to all Cycles, and some have theorized all Spheres as well. An Akashic Record of the Cafe and Diner, if you will. The only reason anyone knows it exists is that it is what Fate used to make Indrid into the strange amalgamation he was. And while it is “so fun” to idealize the old Otherman as a genius demi-God seated at the right hand of the Father—this CaDCom Database was a distinctly Luciferian construction. And with Lucifer dead, we have no way of knowing where or what the Database is… though I feel confident in saying the 8-Ball is no longer connected to whatever it is. Which probably indicates Jack is no longer connected to it either.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE MAY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-235
Has it really been another month already? All signs point to… yes. Wow, time sure flies when you're spreading yourself as thin as possible throughout a myriad of cycles, planes, and continents. So, here is the month's recap: We met with Unidentified Cult Leader No. 4, continued our wild hunt for the Sebitti, made some solid progress into a way to deal with Rune, and got in touch with some old friends. Or allies, I suppose. Not everyone has to be our friend. Oh—and we got this stupid 8-Ball tchotchke from Bingo. Doesn't do anything, but it's still fun to shake around.
It's also been brought to my attention by the ever-normal Brent that John Doe has been collecting some troubling data regarding the seven Planes. Something to do with Blood, which is something to maybe do with the Blood Cult known as the Kings of Roses. Maybe. We'll have to look into that more in the coming month of June. Though, on the subject of the Kings and June, we're also planning a trip to Black Eden to grab some difficult-to-source ingredients for some potential Soulful fixes for Rune.
I'm also hoping that Dover shows up next month, but he did not commit to a specific time or place, so all we can do is wait. Though, Brent is getting pretty antsy, and after our Black Eden trip, we would—theoretically—have all the necessary ingredients to start replicating the little orange menace's work. He did want us to wait for him, but I'm sure he'd understand if we got started without him too. I think that about covers it. Bingo Cult still wants to indoctrinate us, Kings Cult is doing some weird, potentially dangerous Blood stuff, Hyperion Cult is presumably still looking for the Sebitti alongside us, and the Personality Cult probably wants the 8-Ball. Should we give it to them?
…Ask again later. Figures.
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID JUNE
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-236
Wow. I mean, I kind of figured it would work, but I’m surprised that it did. Boom! Slipped right into the Ouroboros, just like that. No signs of Belphegor, but plenty of her weird snake kids are slithering around—plus, I ran into the weird tiny Langley, Malachi. His whole deal is that he can use the Ouroboros as an Augur focus or whatever, but his main thing is he’s always seeing doomsdays, and it seems like if we don’t stop Fenrir, we’re headed for one such doomsday. I think. It’s really hard to figure out what he’s saying.
Malachi: Bad sky… ugly sky… UGLY sky. No good, no good. Needs to burn. Needs to rot. Needs to fall apart.
Amber: Hey… buddy.
Malachi: Bad, bad sky. It’s staring at us. Do you see it too?
Amber: Uh… no. It looks… well, it looks weird. To be fair, I’ve never really seen the sky in the Ouroboros before. But it seems… fine? A little… empty? Maybe?
Malachi: No. No, no, no, no. The sky is ugly. It’s disgusting. It’s rotting. Can’t you see it? It’s staring at us.
Amber: Uh… hey, is Belphegor around?
Malachi: Died. Died. Died. Seven Keys, seven Locks. When they croaked, the Gate broke. Dead. Dead. Dead.
Amber: Do you know when she’ll be back?
Malachi: Dead. Dead, dead, dead. She will only return when Thanatos rolls the stone. Up and down, up and down, over and over and over again. YOU! YOU! YOU’LL BE THE ONE TO TRAP HIM IN HIS CHAINS! One half cut in twain, and the other uses a false name. Replaced. Replaced. Replaced.
Amber: Uh… sure. Are we talking like actual Thanatos from Olympus, or is it metaphorical…?
Malachi: Bad, bad sky. Ugly sky. Starless, sleepless, stoneless sky. Broken, broken, everything is broken. Dead, dead, everyone will die.
John: Well, it wouldn’t be a prophecy from the Doomsday Dog without everyone dying, would it? Malachi, do you remember me?
Malachi: John Doe.
John: Precisely so. Say, Malachi, how long has the sky been watching you?
Malachi: Four months.
John: Four months exactly?
Malachi: 17 Weeks. 121 Days. 2,880 Hours. 172,800—no 172,801 minutes. 10,368,061, 10,368,062, 10,368,063, 10,368,064…
John: Understood. Thank you.
Amber: What is it, Doe?
John: Four months ago today, apparently, to the near minute, the Wicked was killed. I believe that Malachi is seeing the… perhaps the remnants of the Wicked’s flames.
Malachi: Bad, ugly, wicked sky.
John: Bad, ugly, wicked sky indeed. Say, Malachi, have you noticed a disturbance in your premonitions since Fate was slain.
Malachi: Dead, dead, dead, death cannot stop the threads of Fate.
John: Ah—I see. Likewise, Edgar Lane’s powers and the madness that has overcome Julius persist. Even without the ego to drive them, there are still forces in this world of Fate, Phantoms, and the Wicked.
Amber: What the heck is a Phantom force?
John: Opening of doors, crossing boundaries, did you really not pay any attention when defeating the Phantom?
Amber: No, no, I did. Why is it called Phantom, though? Shouldn’t it have been called like… Transience? Or… uh, Traversal?
John: The proper word doesn’t exist in English. I assume Phantom is the closest translation to the idea that the Phantom embodied. In any case, I’ve gotten the readings I needed. Farewell, Malachi.
Malachi: Good… goodbye. John. Goodbye… Replacement.
Amber: Weird, weird kid.
John: He’s over 275 years old, you know.
Amber: Yeah, but I don’t think he’s aged all that much in the Ouroboros.
John: Ah, fair enough, I suppose.
BARISTA: ICHABOD RAMSES
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID JUNE
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-237
Nigredo, Albedo, Citrinitas, and Rubedo. Black, White, Yellow, and Crimson. And, later, in more modern magical practice and alchemy, Red and Ruby as well. These are the six states of liquid Blood. Black Blood, belonging to Demon and Cryptids. White Blood (more often referred to as Silver or Bright Blood) belongs to the Angels. Yellow Blood (sometimes referred to as Golden or Xanthic Blood) belongs to the Planes of Reality, and Crimson Blood belongs to God. You might notice that the original four do not include humans. In older Alchemical practices, it was believed humans did not have SERUM/Blood, but we do, and thus “Red” was added and typically said before Black.
So then, what of “Ruby” Blood? Well, for many years, Rubedo/Crimson Blood was considered to be a mythical, perhaps improbable Blood—then, if my research is correct, the Elder Secret shared the, well, secret, of Rubedo Blood, it is Blood of the Archons, Demiurges, and Cold Elders. So, of course, a new, even more, mythical Blood needed to be created to prop up theories of immortality, Godhood, and the creation of a Magnum Opus, so “Ruby Blood” was introduced and put after Crimson. To my knowledge, no one has ever proved Ruby Blood’s existence, but then what other secrets would you two be looking for? Ah, perhaps I’ve said too much.
As for the Kings of Roses, they’ve been amassing Golden Blood, Blood of the Planes themselves, which is troubling, yes. Especially if Rune has truly perfected a method of converting that Golden Blood into Crimson Blood. When Randall Rune was last alive, he had just perfected (or at least had some degree of success) in transmuting Red Blood into Black. So, to say this is an escalation would be an understatement, but we are also living in a post-Fate world where Elders have been killed, and the Devil runs free. Still—the implication is clear. The Kings of Roses don’t simply wish to become the new Princes of Hell. They wish to become the new Planes of Reality or, perhaps, even new Gods.
BARISTA: DOVER DA DEMON
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE JUNE
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-238
So, I guess we’re really doing this thing, huh? Literally stabbing Katherine in the back. LITERALLY. Well, semi-literally. I believe the Shakas plan is to stab her in the HEART. WHICH IS WORSE. But… I suppose that wouldn’t kill her under normal circumstances. Still, we have no idea what this will do to her soul. I guess… all we can do is hope it works out. If not, Salenna had me augment my Replacement Juice slightly to add a little sedative. If the Soul Replacement doesn’t work, the Vecuronium Bromide, 40 crushed-up Benadryls, and splash of Purple Drank, I put in there should do the trick. She’s like four-foot-eleven. This will absolutely do the trick.
And if the questionable cocktail of whatever I could get together doesn’t knock her out, the Replacement process should at least knock the wind out of her. Then the question becomes… what to do with her body? Salenna wants to bring it to the Freezer, of course. But Alex thinks it’d be safer in the Tides of the Black Thorn. Amber, however, thinks we should keep her HERE in the Astoria 23rd Seabase. I think… it might be a good idea to put her into a safe and distant alternate Cycle. Somewhere where she won’t be poked and prodded for the rest of her semi-unending life. Of course, that won’t fly with the Shakas cuz of the secrets rattling around in her head.
Well… hopefully, we won’t need to figure out what to do with her body because my research will work. Positive affirmations. I’m trying them out. In any case, this section for the Archives is just about done anyhow. Win or lose, we’re creeping up on that lucrative 3-month mark, where one section seems to end, and another begins. I’m sure the next one will be all about Fenrir and his desire to eat the sun or whatever. Two villain arcs in a row seems a bit… cynical, but I guess, as Warden would probably like to say if they could remember, this might just be our darkest timeline yet.
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE JUNE
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-239
I… I really can't believe that worked? I mean, we almost died. Sure, but it certainly worked. I'm guessing one of the Miracles kept us safe through that whole ordeal. Alex was able to strike Rune with the Soul-Replacing Poisoned Dagger, and it seemed to have replaced Rune's ambition-corrupted soul with a near copy of Katherine's original soul. Thankfully memories aren't stored in the soul (they're stored in the balls, I believe), and Rune—or, sorry, Katherine, or—eh, whatever. She kept her memories of the past 3 years; she was just a bit groggy from the replacement itself. But… uh… that's not all. Not sure what I'd be allowed to say about the rest, so… whoops, it looks like my CaDCom-Z was taking a transcript.
Secret: Well done. A soul replacement. How interesting.
Amber: Secret?!
Alex: What are you— How are you?
Secret: I must finish what I started, Shaka.
Katherine: What… is…
Secret: I am giving you a choice. A second chance. Dingane is no more. As such, there is an opening. The secrets Dingane held, they are still deep within you. I feel them. I can remove them, though it will be unpleasant. Or… I can resurface them, at the cost of your eternal silence.
Katherine: …I… what… is…
Amber: Katherine, you don't have to do this.
Katherine: A-amber? Wha—
Secret: Let us speed this process up. Ws'pakawme zlrylavqu'evuzizkrkrae. Viwxev'usme Mze'elel'cia Ob'son'sr ab-ix animo.
Katherine: AGHHH!!!
Amber: Secret!
Secret: This process is not without some pain. She will be fine.
Katherine: Agh…
Alex: Katherine, are you okay?
Katherine: …Yes. Secret… did something to… "refresh" my memory. I'm… I'm caught up. I know what I did. I know who I was. And—
Secret: And informed of your choice.
Katherine: Yes.
Secret: Answer.
Amber: Katherine, you don't have to—
Secret: This does not concern you, Shaka. Answer.
Katherine: Suppose I accept. Would I keep the secrets I already know?
Secret: You would become Dingane. All secrets, rights, and statuses transferred.
Katherine: Without his ambitions controlling me?
Secret: You would remain yourself.
Katherine: I want a better deal.
Secret: No.
Katherine: But my circumstances are unique.
Secret: Thus, my generous offer to remove the secrets from you. There is no better deal. Answer.
Katherine: I will take the oath IF I can choose who I am bound to.
Secret: Perhaps. Who would you rather be bound to if not me?
Katherine: Shaka. Both of them.
Secret: Acceptable. Now, in death, and beyond, with words unsaid, your lips are sealed by this invocation of the ancient and untold Secret. Welcome back, Dingane of Division Zulu.
BARISTA: ICHABOD RAMSES
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY JULY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-240
Well, that could have gone better, eh? Though I suppose, all things considered, it could have been so much worse. The Great Ape is not one to mess with, but at least John Doe seems to have a cordial enough relationship with him. They may be mortal foes, but I suppose it's more about books than all-out fights, especially in Doe's line of work. Usually. Anyway, the Great Ape surprisingly did not have any of the Sebitti in his possession… but he did have an interesting artifact that could lead us to them for a price.
A steep price.
John: Dilly, my dear friend, it has been a while, hasn't it!
Zeh: You just left.
John: I just… ah. We had a good conversation, I hope?
Zeh: …
John: Well, don't hold me accountable for my future. Anyway—
Zeh: You've brought Shaka to seek the Sebitti in my Congeries.
John: Ah, good, I already caught you up to speed.
Zeh: Hardly. What do you want with the Sebitti?
Amber: There's a group known as the Hyperion Cult led by a man calling himself Fenrir. He is killing and absorbing the Sebitti to gain their powers to bring about the end of the world.
Zeh: You dare waste my time, Shaka? Hmph. You are exactly like the old one. The Sebitti are Elders. Unkillable.
Ichabod: Ah, they were unkillable. Times are changing. Elders can be killed.
Zeh: Doe?
John: He is correct.
Zeh: How?
John: It is complicated, Dilly—
Zeh: Don't belittle me. How?
John: Well, it has to do with sharing power with mortal vessels and utilizing the inequality of the connection to—
Zeh: Hmph. I do not pact with humans. It is of no concern, then.
Amber: Well… yes and no. You're definitely more vulnerable if you bind your powers to a human… but Fate wasn't bound to anyone when it was killed.
Zeh: Fate? Killed?
John: Again, she speaks the truth, Zeh. Dangerous stuff.
Zeh: …well… I would help, but I do not possess any Sebitti.
John: Alright then. Well, Shaka, Ichabod, shall we be off? I do hope you aren't targeted by Fenrir, Dilly. I fear if he were to kill you for your mastery over time and space, it would make him a much more difficult adversary to deal with.
Zeh: Hmph. Fine. The Sun of Babylon.
John: The Sun of Babylon?
Zeh: An artifact which is said to refract the light of heaven toward the Sebitti.
Amber: That'd be perfect!
John: The price?
Amber: Price?
Ichabod: The Great Ape does not give away his treasures for free, Twain.
Zeh: I want the Heart of Netzach.
Amber: The—wait… what? The Heart of Netzach? There's no way! For a little glass disc? That is entirely unfair.
Zeh: I never said it would be an equal trade. If you want me to part with one of my treasures, I expect a much greater treasure in return.
Ichabod: Could we return the Sun of Babylon once we are done with it? You could hold the Heart as collateral.
Zeh: My Congeries are not a lending library. John Doe should know that by now. That is my offer. Take it or leave it.
Amber: You'd rather risk dying than give us a piece of junk?
Zeh: I'd rather risk Fenrir finding another few Sebitti, so my offer can go up. Until then, Shaka, the offer stands. And, Doe?
John: Hm?
Zeh: Oxblood wants to see you.
John: Wonderful.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY JULY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-241
THE HEART OF NETZACH? There is no way, NO WAY, we can give Vandal Savage and Gorilla Grodd’s baby meets the Collector the HEART of NETZACH. No. That is beyond a horrible idea. In fact, I think it might be the worst idea ever thought up. That primordial soup or whatever stupid comic book origin story he has must have really done a number on his mind. Why would we give him the heart of the most dangerous object in the entire UNIVERSE? I don’t even fully know how the Netzach works, but I’m taking a shot in the dark to say that the heart is probably an important piece of it.
No.
We’re going to need to figure out another way to find the remaining six Sebitti. Or, maybe we can try and steal the Sun of Babylon from Zeh’s Congeries. I mean, I’m sure Merc would be quick to point out how dangerous that is, but it’s an order of magnitude less dangerous than giving Zehhurozzm—a literal walking talking comic book villain—the HEART OF NETZACH. We almost had to KILL Dingane (or, you know, chop her up and spread around the farthest corners of the Universe) because she had a small fraction of knowledge on the Netzach’s design.
So. Plans for stealing the Sun… Uh, John Doe could maybe help us out. He seems to know the place, and he’s fought Zeh head-on a few times. Though, John did say he was busy with something else that just came up… We could make Unidentified Cult Leader No. 4 steal it for us. He loves that kinda stuff, and maybe we could give him the 8-Ball in return? Or we could just find the Sebitti the old-fashioned way. Admittedly no one has found any of them in… ever, but that shouldn’t stop us. We’re miracle workers. We’re mad. We’re folistes!
BARISTA: DOVER DA DEMON
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY JULY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-242
Sorry for the tough password, gang… Though it is solvable thanks to the very ironic name of 8'Ball's former primary antagonist. Normally I would stay within the information that is currently available in the Archives 2.0. Originally, I was going to make it something to do with the first mention of Netzach, but that's currently stuck in Sinnerman limbo. When I told Alex what I was working on, he was all, "Woah, Dover, that's some super secret stuff. You gotta put a good password on that one." But, like, what's the big deal anyway? It's just Netzach. Or, well, the corpse of Netzach, anyway.
I guess not everyone has spent as much time as I have in the Dive Prime Cycle, so let me explain. Netzach is basically the big Cafe and Diner/Dive City crossover we've all been hoping for. Sure, there was Dive Fall, but that was CaD going to Dive, not Dive coming to CaD! You see, Netzach was sort of the big final antagonist for the folks over in Dive, at least before the Princes of Hell came back to life and Scene Queen went regicidal. Of course, Netzach wasn't actually the "big bad," but more so the big bad weapon. Netzach is sort of like a robot, or maybe it's closer to a golem. It was created by Cue to… well, actually, I don't know why Cue made it. No one does besides 8-Ball, and 8-Ball has only ever said 3 words to me.
So, most of what I know about the Netzach comes from this guy named Ryce. He runs the Kronos Cafes in Dive. Anyway! Netzach is this robot/golem thing, right? So, what's so special about it? Well, it was made using every type of Blood. Red Blood, Black Blood, Silver Blood, Yellow Blood, and Crimson Blood. And, if the rumors are to be believed, once Cue awakened Netzach, the Bloods combined into RUBY Blood. Netzach became a man-made GOD! Of course, 8-Ball sacrificed himself to destroy it, and that caused the Ruby Blood to bring the Princes back to life somehow. Then Lucifer saved 8-Ball from bleeding to death, etc., etc. And then the corpse of Netzach was just sort of hanging around until Duplicity pulled his whole working with the Dark thing. CaD got sucked into Dive, and then Alfa had the corpse moved to its current location: somewhere in the Astoria 23rd Agency Seabase! I assume it's in the Zulu Vaults, right?
The point is that crazy construction probably holds some secret to achieving Godhood. OR. It's a heap of junk that worked on a fluke. But I could see why Zeh wants the Heart of Netzach. Super cool collectible, and there is only one Netzach in all of the many Cycles. That's like his main jam, collecting things that only exist once.
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY JULY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-243
Why not?
Seriously, why not? Why can't we give Zeh the Heart of Netzach? I mean, come on, Alex, think about it. Really think about it. Think about it like Shaka. Not just one step ahead, not eight steps ahead, but twenty-six steps ahead. Without actually saying it… if we give Zeh the Heart of Netzach, I don't know, wouldn't that be more useful to us than not? Worst case, we need the Heart back, so we take it back. If you're suggesting we steal the Sun of Babylon from Zeh, what significant difference would stealing the Heart of Netzach make? We need the Sun right now, not the Heart.
I swear, sometimes it feels like we're two bodies with one mind but other times… you just don't get it. You're too "First Cafe." You're too safe. The Third Cafe would do things fast and loose. We would make a mess and then clean it up later. If we're going to even think about saving Fenrir, we need that Sun. We need the Sebitti. And, admittedly, we need a plan to actually save him. But what good is the Heart going to do for that? Besides, Zeh made the offer to me, not you, if you think about it.
I don't want to do anything that would jeopardize what we're working towards. You know that. And, obviously, the Secret is pretty invested in getting the Netzach working again. So, maybe giving away a core component of it would be ill-advised. Sure. Though, Secret has other secrets he's secreting. Again, Capgras, twenty-six steps ahead. Though one more secret step couldn't hurt, could it?
BARISTA: SARAH BLACKWOOD
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY JULY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-244
Did uh… did Amber actually give Zeh the Heart? Can she do that? Or did Zeh’s own heart suddenly grow three sizes? Because we just got a package from Jabal Al Lith—the Sun of Babylon. Plus, it came with a note, “Per our agreement. -The Great Ape.” I don’t know if the clues get any clearer than that. I think Amber must’ve made the trade. Uh… Okay. I don’t know if that was a good idea or… well, that’s all above my head, to be honest. I’m just here to solve some mysteries and make some tech.
Speaking of mysteries! How the heck does this thing work? According to the transcript with Zeh, he said it refracts light to point toward the Sebitti, right? Well, Dover and I have been trying to get that to work. So far, it’s just like a big magnifying glass. Side note, Dover really likes lighting things on fire with it, so keep an eye out for that. I think we almost started a forest fire in Canada. Real, normal Canada, by the way. We took a little trip up there to see if we could make it work because the Seabase sure doesn’t get a lot of natural light, does it?
I guess the only other clue we have is that Zeh specifically said “Heaven’s Light,” right? That might be… a bit harder to, uh, get to. Or another possibility is that there aren’t any Sebitti left in the States. The, uh, “States.” I guess we could go check in Canada. The fake, not real, Canada that is. Of course, we’ve just been sort of playing with this thing, but we haven’t yet heard how Alex has taken the news or if Amber actually made that trade. So… Yikes.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY JULY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-245
I can’t believe Amber would do that. What is she thinking!? Giving the Heart of Netzach, possibly the secret to manufacturing GODHOOD, to the Great Ape? What if he attempts to use it? What if it destroys him? What if it makes him into something worse than he already is? Sure, more than likely, he’ll just put it in a glass case somewhere in his lair to be looked at and admired. But it’s not like he doesn’t use some of his magical artifacts. He’s got the Monas Hieroglyphica plate strapped to his arm and the Black Athame of Aleister Crowley on his belt. So, what is stopping him from putting the Heart into some sort of armor or machine? Huh?
And what the hell are we supposed to tell the Secret? News flash Amber, we only have any scrap of power because Secret gives it to us. We aren’t actually greater cosmic entities, and no amount of lying to ourselves will make it so. We’re not even witches, practitioners, or augurs… we’re hardly even warlocks without a formal pact with Secret. What happens if Secret takes back the Miracles? And why wouldn’t he? You just jeopardized the one thing, the ONE THING, Secret wants us to do. Secret lets us get away with so much on the condition that we’ll eventually find 8’s last secret and turn the Netzach back on.
You had better hope that when we find that last secret, it says, “Throw out the Heart, and ta-da, you’ve just become the next God.” Stop trying to think “twenty-six steps ahead,” and start just looking at your own two feet, Amber! We’re humans playing with Demons, Angels, Immortals, and Gods. One wrong move, one wrong step, and it’s all over. Not just for you. Not just for me. For everyone.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE JULY
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-246
Great, now Twain is deciding that Zver can be in charge of keeping the Sebitti safe. How’d that work out for the first Sebitti? Dead, you say? Wow! A Blight-brained behemoth has absorbed its apocalyptic powers, you say? Great! Everything is going so damn well! So glad three finally became one. It’s been working out so well for the stability of the Universe. However, that’s less Twain’s fault than it was Rico’s. Maybe it was our fault. We could’ve—well, no, we couldn’t have. We weren’t Shaka yet. We weren’t supposed to interfere. But, damn, I wish the original Shaka was still around so I could double-check that this is actually what he wanted.
Anyway, Dover and Amber took a trip to Dive Prime and got some information about the Netzach. You will never guess what the most important part of it was. What’s that? The Heart? DING DING DING! You won! What’s your prize? Everyone dies. According to Dover’s pal Ryce, the entire body of the Netzach, all the muscle and sinew of it, formed up around the Heart after Cue activated it. So, we now effectively have NOTHING! No Netzach! Just a pile of weird alchemical viscera. Whoops, we just fell twenty-six steps back, huh?
Oh, also, I was paid a visit by a certain capernoited ophidian. Things might be worse than we originally thought. Isn’t that always fun? Daichi warned me that Julius isn’t working alone. He’s being manipulated by some greater power to bring about the end of the world. Apparently, the world being around is preventing this shadowy puppet master from achieving their goals. What goals can be achieved in a dead Cycle? Potentially a dead Universe? Not a clue. Daichi wasn’t sure either. Despite preventing the TriCaD from dooming the Universe multiple times now, this is a new Sword of Damocles altogether. I guess even killing Fate wasn’t enough to lift their curse… or maybe it was the cost to do so.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-247
A day late for the monthly recap. Oh, well. I planned on writing the recap once Brent, Ichabod, and Katherine returned with the fourth Sebitti… but, well, that isn’t what happened, was it? Ichabod is doing alright, thankfully. A little sore, but it seems like without the Wicked actually around, it’s more like a smoldering pain than a sharp nagging one. It’s a shame that we lost another Sebitti, but it doesn’t have to be a zero-sum game. If we can disrupt at least one of them, we can probably stop the Hyperions for good.
Besides, we were able to secure the golden harp Sebitti from the Mammonsoleum and the gargoyle Sebitti from the Manor of the Black-Veins. Two is certainly better than none. I believe Nancy has also tracked down the fifth Sebitti, but I’ll leave that to an encrypted report in case Fenrir is listening in. In non-Sebitti news (though it certainly feels like that’s all that’s been on our minds lately), Katherine took out one of the two major remaining Kings of Roses. And Brent cleared the Cold’s 8-Ball.
Call me crazy. Call me deranged. Call me delusional. But I swear the 8-Ball had another message today when I shook it. “Doris O’Neal.” Now, that is hardly a standard 8-Ball answer. Not only that, but it also appears that Doris O’Neal is a SoCal octogenarian who has been predicting future events with uncanny accuracy. Foxtrot and Uniform had already wiped the story from news cycles, but in her big talk piece, she mentioned that these premonitions started after she started going to a new bingo hall. I’ll say this: could I have read about the Doris O’Neal case and then, due to my lack of sleep, imagined the 8-Ball told me to look into her case? Maybe. I should really try and get some sleep. I’ll see if Division Oscar has some kind of sleeping pill or something.
Anyway… Uh… 4 Sebitti found, 2 in our favor, 3 to go. We’ve got this, Folistes.
BARISTA: BRENT HEARSE
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-248
I don't think giving Jericho the 8-Ball is a good idea. Not that I don't trust Jericho—well, I don't. I've never worked with him all that closely, but he has been known to be… how to put this… easily manipulated? He was constantly playing right into the original owner's games, wasn't he? And the original owner, well, he plays Bingo now, correct? We got the 8-Ball from Bingo himself. I just worry that this could be a trap. If I had to make a wild hypothesis, I would guess the original owner would somehow have Jericho call back the Mantle of Eight for him to snatch back up.
Though, as Ichabod also pointed out, the 8-Ball has only ever brought trouble with it. It single-handedly trapped Dan in the Phantom Lane (the place, not the person) for years. On the one hand, yes, Dan should have been the Master of the House, and it also took away one of Al Crow's greatest weapons. On the other hand, the only reason the 8-Ball led Dan to do that was because it was Fated to be. The Phantom needed a door to our Cycle, and Dan gave it to them.
And now Alex has been seeing strange messages in the 8-Ball, one of which has led him to finally attend a meeting of the Sacred Hall of Bingo. I can't be the only one thinking that Bingo is somehow controlling the 8-Ball again with the help of the original owner to further play out his own twisted threads of Fate. What is the original owner's aim these days anyway? Surely, he doesn't truly believe nihilism is the only answer? I would have thought he'd be doing whatever he could to bring his beloved Lucifer back to life. I suppose that is a concern for a later date—for now, the best thing we can do is lock the 8-Ball into the Zulu Vaults and stop messing with it. That's what Dan should've done. That's what we can still do.
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-249
I’m with Brent 100%. The 8-Ball is dangerous, and this is the EXACT kind of thing it does. It lures you in with its cryptic little answers, a “Bingo” here, a “Doris O’Neal” there, and then suddenly you’ve just done every single thing Fate wanted you to do. While Fate might be dead—Frenchy is still alive. And as long he’s out there playing his little Bingo games with Jack, Felix, Umbra, and Complexico, there’s no telling what those five will try to do.
Brent’s probably right about Baguette. He’s probably trying to bring Lucy back. In fact, I think they’ve all lost someone important to them. 8 and Felix lost Lucy. Umbra lost his daughter (and his mind, tbh.) Complexico, I think, lost some of his contestants, which he’s never gotten over. And… Jack… uh… I don’t know. I don’t know jack about Jack. I guess he lost Fate? But I don’t think he ever liked Fate. Pretty sure he hated Fate to the point he’s now a weird hardcore nihilist.
Anyway, there’s literally no saying what those five have actually been up to. Sure, the 8-Ball might just be an 8-Ball now. But Umbra could be playing tricks on Alex. He hasn’t been sleeping well lately, right? Doesn’t that scream Umbra?? I don’t want another “magic 8-Ball leads my coworker on some wacky chase that ends up with them GONE from the universe.” Not again. I don’t think I really need to remind anyone how ruthless Mr. Slippers can be when he’s trying to get what he wants. He didn’t just let Victoria die. He destroyed every last thing about her just to create his perfect weapon against Fate. What would he do to us? We aren’t even on the same side as him anymore! And that’s what he did to those who looked up to him and sought him out for protection. So what would he do to us?
We cannot trust anything from them. We need to lock that 8-Ball up or destroy it before it destroys us.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-250
I’ve slept on it—though I’m using that more as an expression than a statement of fact—and I’ve decided that the 8-Ball would be better off in the hands of the Cult of Personality and our Unidentified Cult Leader No. 4. For one thing they’d actually find some use for it, probably. Also, everyone keeps telling me that it isn’t saying things like “Bingo,” “Doris O’Neal,” “The Sky is Rotting,” or weird frowny faces, and they’re probably right. Right? Right. Right!
Clearly, having it around isn’t great for my mental state. Sure, we could lock it up in the Zulu Vaults. Set it and forget it. But that doesn’t really move things forward, does it? That’d be like standing still. No. We need to start taking some steps forward, isn’t that right? And why take a few measly baby steps when we can take leaps and bounds toward our clandestine end game! Let’s see what Jericho and his kitschy-whatever can really do. Peace, Love, and… of course, Joy.
It wouldn’t hurt to have some friends in our corner either, would it? Out of the four (sort of three) cults we’ve been up against, the Cult of Personality is about as harmless as it gets. They have Loveland. Loveland! What’re they gonna do with the 8-Ball that is so horrific when they have Loveland on their side. And we’ve got Dingane working for us now. Let’s flip all the cults in our favor! Hell—one by one, let’s just rebuild the fourth Cafe from the bloody scraps and pieces that were left over. Though, for the sake of civility and equality in our two-faced partnership, I should leave it up for a vote.
Hey! Look at that! Signs point to yes.
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-251
Ugh! Is he serious right now? I get it. I messed up giving Zeh the Heart of Netzach. But how does giving Jericho and his weird love cult the 8-Ball fix that? How does it fix anything?! We don’t know what the 8-Ball is capable of, if it’s still active somehow if it’s being used by the Bingo Cult to manipulate us—manipulate YOU—there’s so much we don’t know about it. I believed you, you know. That you were actually seeing the 8-Ball say things outside of its predetermined 20 answers. I know no one else did, but I trusted you. And now? You’ve handed over a clearly active 8-Ball to Jericho. JERICHO.
Ugh… Ugh. Ugh! Don’t get me wrong. I don’t distrust Jericho. I don’t dislike Jericho. But you have to agree he’s never been very… stable. Between his binge drinking days, post-break-up days, savior complex, and the fact he’s never used his real name around any of us. I guess, on the bright side, he at least doesn’t have the Blight in him anymore. Though, vis-à-vis, all that Blight is now burning up Julius’ insides, making him want to rip the sun out of the sky. And whose fault was that? Jericho’s. Joy is gone. Whose fault is that? Jericho’s!
And what if you’ve now put the Cult of Personality in danger, huh? It’s not just Jericho. You might have jeopardized Ranoma and Daichi’s safety as well. If ANYTHING happens to Ranoma, it won’t just be me coming after you, Alex; it’d be every single former Cafe and Diner employee out there. And what are you even talking about, rebuilding the Cafe and Diner? What, do you want Jericho to somehow succeed, bring the 8 back, and then make some sort of Fifth Cafe and Diner we can all cozy up in? We knew the Cafe was coming to an end. We did what we had to keep our skin in the game. We can’t go back to how things were.
We’re supposed to be Shaka now.
Try and act like it.
BARISTA: ALEX GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-252
I can't believe you really think I did all of this just to, I don't know, spite you? Amber… What is happening between us? When we started this, we were at least on the same page. And now, it feels like we're worlds apart. We need to stick together if we're going to finish what we started. If we're going to stop the Secret. And we can't do that if we're at each other's throats. Look, I'm sorry if my last receipt, report, whatever hurt your feelings. You know I haven't slept more than a couple of hours lately. I was maybe too harsh.
I get why you wanted to give Zeh the Heart. I do. It moves it out of our possession—out of the Secret's possession. But it's just more work for us later when the Secret demands we get it back. And while the Heart is out of our possession, there's no saying what might happen to it. It was safer with us. We could've kept delaying the Secret's wishes to reactive it for as long as we needed to. We could've made it work. The whole point of being Shaka is control, right? Shaka was never actually twenty-six steps ahead; he was just in control. Admittedly he was one of the most powerful greater cosmic entities in the universe, and we are… not. But we can still be in control, right?
Giving the 8-Ball to Jericho gives us control. It gives us an ally and a bargaining chip. He swore to me that if the die in the 8-Ball says anything out of the ordinary, he'll stop and return it to us. But so far, I've been the only one to see it say anything, and let's face it, I really haven't been myself lately. Agent Wilde is looking into it. It might be something I picked up while we were in the Black Thorn. Until I can figure out what's wrong, I need you to keep things under control. I mean, let's face it, you're double the Shaka I am anyway. Double of nothing is still zero, though. Maybe it's time we stopped trying to be Shaka. Let's just be Capgras & Twain.
BARISTA: DOVER DA DEMON
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE AUGUST
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-253
I finally got to have my private chat with the old Otherman and Felix. Bingo and the rest of the Daubers weren't there. They wanted me to join their cult. It's probably because I can shift Cycles around and whatnot. It seems like their whole "goal" is to make things… "better" for the next Universe, a Universe they claim will be the last one. Yeah, I don't know about that. Not a great track record of Universes being the last one so far. Looks like the transcript got cut off, too, which is weird. I don't remember what he said, and to be honest, I stopped listening after he brought up Victoria. Something, something, blah, blah, Universe, something, something, scissors. Etc.
Ne Personne: Dover, it's been a while, hasn't it?
Dover: I've been texting you!
Ne Personne: Have you? My apologies. I haven't been keeping up with the outside world much. So, you're working with Shaka now, right? Or, Shakas, as it were.
Dover: Yep, and you're working with what looks to be most of the Sons of Ill-Intent.
Ne Personne: There is some overlap, yes. Though, the Sons disbanded with the death of Fate. We're just… like-minded individuals seeking a better future—a brighter Thursday.
Dover: I heard you guys were nihilists, though.
Ne Personne: In a sense, I suppose we are. Though our nihilism only extends to this Universe, we are quite optimistic about the next one.
Dover: The next one…? So, what, you guys are trying to set things up for when things get rewound again?
Felix: Bingo.
Dover: AH! Jeez! Felix. They need to put a bell on you or something, bud. Also, how are you still alive?
Felix: I just turned 79. I am hardly over the hill.
Dover: Old… old… old…
Felix: Dover, you are at least 400.
Dover: Young and spry for a demon!
Felix: I suppose so. Well, vieil ami, did you tell Dover our offer yet?
Ne Personne: Not yet, no. All yours, my trusted associate.
Felix: Dover, how would you like another chance at saving Victoria?
Dover: I—
Felix: It wouldn't be easy, eh? She is a singularity now—or what's left of her.
Ne Personne: But if it was easy, it wouldn't be worth doing. Dover, we all have someone who we've lost, someone Fate removed from the picture.
Dover: But… weren't you the one who basically orchestrated her death—her… "promotion?" You were the one who planted the Fountain of Youth.
Ne Personne: There is blood on my hands. I did many, many horrible things in my quest to defeat Fate—to bring her back. Though it wasn't my intention to lose Victoria. That was Shaka's plan.
Dover: …
Ne Personne: All we can do now is try to fix our mistakes. Plan for a better Universe. And with your help…
Dover: I can't trust you.
Ne Personne: But you trust Shaka?
Dover: Shaka's dead. It's Capgras and Twain now. And we're going to find your "last secret" and then— well, I don't know what happens next because it's a secret. But at least I trust them.
Ne Personne: Dover, what do you know about S—
[CaDCOM ERROR: 14-270. TRANSCRIPTION SHUTDOWN INITIATED.]
BARISTA: KATHERINE WADE
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY SEPTEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-254
…
Julius: I—where… where…
Katherine: You’re in the House. Dan’s House.
Julius: Wha— Ka-Katherine?
Katherine: We stopped you from absorbing the last Sebitti.
Julius: No… No. I needed to… to save Joy.
Katherine: We can still save Joy, Julius. But not like this.
Julius: You don’t— you don’t understand. I made a deal… to save Joy. When Eve gets her sky back—I… I would’ve had what I desired. Joy.
Katherine: Julius… I know you want to save her, but—
Julius: Three to become one. Sixteen Spheres. If Joy isn’t—if Joy can’t be there— We can’t end the—
[The Grandfather Clock’s door in the House of Hamilton swung open, and a bolt of shadow shot out, stabbing Fenrir through the chest.]
Eve: Don’t worry, pet. There won’t be another Sphere until I’m finished with this one.
Julius: AGHH—E-E-Eve. Will you—free…
[As Eve’s spiderlike shadow form emerged from the Grandfather Clock, her shadow leg dug further into Fenrir’s chest.]
Eve: I really couldn’t care less. I just need the blood you owe me.
[With a final twist of her shadow leg, Eve’s form flooded back into the Grandfather Clock, and Agent Nec snapped his fingers, moving the Grandfather Clock into the brick walls of the House.]
Brent: Will that hold her?
Nec: I doubt it. But all I can do is isolate her entry point for now.
Katherine: Julius! JULIUS! Talk to me, Julius.
Julius: I… I’m sorry, Angelfish. I just… wanted… to put an end to things. It looks… like I’ve failed again…
Katherine: Julius…
[Dingane held Julius as he bled out.]
BARISTA: SARAH BLACKWOOD
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY SEPTEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-255
Okay. Well. I guess the big question is: what do we do now? Fenrir—Julius—has been stopped. So that's good. I mean, not… great. Not in how things ended. But without Fenrir, his remaining cultists have seemingly scattered. They were down to help the "chosen son of the Golden Father," but not Eve. Ah, crap. Eve.
She's obviously still at large, and now she has the full power of the Sebitti in her control. Sort of, anyway. A result of the Pathologist's plan placed all seven of the Sebitti's powers into the last Sebitti. Eve has taken that Sebitti and will probably find a way to make it use its power to pull apart the sky, as she always intended.
That also leaves the question of what happened to Warden and what will happen to Joy. I'm assuming because Julius is out of the picture, Eve has no plans to uphold her end of their bargain. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if she never really planned to in the first place. I suppose… if she is successful in returning her missing sky, I think that would maybe be enough to free Joy? Though, I don't know for sure. Willow probably doesn't know either, not that she would care. But even if that could bring Joy back, we can't let Willow reclaim her sky. We can't.
So… we need to figure out how to stop her. And even if we do, things have already been set in motion. The sky is rotting. It won't last long on its own. I doubt we have the power or know how to fix that. But letting Eve further rot it out so it can be replaced? That probably won't end well for anyone.
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID SEPTEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-256
I feel like I just saw a ghost. Worse than that, I just had a conversation with Mr. Cold. Yes, the very same Mr. Cold who was supposed to be “dead.” I’m… not sure if it was Bingo or some sort of… trick Bingo was playing. If it was a ploy, it was a good one because it looked and sounded exactly like Mr. Cold down to his loops. I’m… not sure what to make of it yet. One thing Mr. Cold said that really stuck out to me was what Malachi was saying back in the Ouroboros…
One half cut in twain, the other uses a false name. Replaced, replaced, replaced…
No… Goddamn it. NO!
Indrid Cold: Looks like you’ve got a strong pot of coffee to brew, Shaka.
Amber: Indrid? It can’t be—
Indrid Cold: Hello, my name is Indrid Cold. Looks like you’ve got a strong pot of coffee to brew, Twain.
Amber: Jack? I thought—you can’t be—Fate is dead! You’re, you—
Indrid Cold: I don't think anyone could have seen that coming. Thought I’d visit an old friend.
Amber: Is this because of what Dover did? Are you some sort of Cold from another Cycle… or…?
Indrid Cold: Do you really, really, really think I’ve been replaced? I-I-I-I haven’t been myself lately.
Amber: What do you want, Cold? Is Fate still…?
Indrid Cold: That’s-that’s-that’s the neat part about killing Fate. Death cannot stop the threads of Fate. Death cannot stop the threads of Eight. Death cannot stop-stop-stop-stop until Thanatos rolls the stone instead. Tricked and trapped in heavy chains, up and down, up and down, over and over and over and over and over—
Amber: Thanatos… that’s what Malachi said. What does it mean, Cold?
Indrid Cold: So-so-sor-sor-I’m sor-It’s a secret. Looks like you’ve got a strong pot of coffee to brew, Amber. Hello, my name is Indrid Cold—
BARISTA: SHAKA OF ZULU
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID SEPTEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-257
If you are reading this, then I must be dead. Of my own volition, I assume. Many have tried to kill me, and all have failed thus far. In fact, around the 12th or so Sphere, I had earned such a reputation that all attempts on my life came to an end. I suppose I had earned an air of invincibility by then. I had become so much more than myself. I had become Shaka, the Miracle Worker, the Mysterious Benefactor, the Thaumaturge of Secrets. However invincible I may have seemed, I was still certainly mortal. Though my title has now been passed on to you. Well, the two of you, I assume. If all has still gone according to plan, there should be two Shakas. A novel idea, I suppose. One that I might have picked up from watching the Eight split so many times.
If things have occurred as predicted, I should have died six months ago as of yesterday. Six months may be short, but I am certain the two of you are up to your necks in cosmic intrigue, deadly cults, and unimaginable esoteric affairs. It is the life of Shaka, undoubtedly. The life of a greater cosmic entity, a playmaker among the forces of the Universe. Though, I also suspect it has not been easy. It never is. But I also left you with the seven Miracles of Secret. Even so, the weight of being Shaka must weigh heavy on both of you without my years, lifetimes, and eons of experience and magical mastery. But that is why I am writing this to you. I have one last secret to share with you, and I feel that now would be the best time for you to hear it.
I never had any magic. Yes, I had the same seven Miracles you share, and I wouldn’t dare discount the advantage that gave me. But Miracles are magic that belongs to another. In my original Sphere, I lost the ability to cast magic at the young age of thirteen. I lacked the basic talents of any ordinary demon and certainly the advantages the other greater cosmic entities reveled in. None would suspect I was unable to perform magic, as the Miracles certainly hid that well enough. Additionally, being the son of an Elder such as the Secret, many suspected I would have inherited all of his powers, and I suppose his immortality as well. I did not.
And that, my dear replacements, is exactly why I chose you. Alex Gálvez and Amber Ingram, neither of you has ever shown any interest or talent in magic. You both have excelled far without those cheap shortcuts.
Assuming you are both still alive—and I am certain you are—I hope you haven’t felt too weighed down under the expectations of who I was, for I, like you, was as human as it gets.
-Aayush Shukla
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID SEPTEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-258
I was really hoping Alex would be back to do his monthly recap. I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon. I suppose this is what we get for choosing this line of work. I just wish we could have done it differently from the start. We were trying to be someone we weren’t. Living up to the impossible expectations of a Miracle Worker who has been around so many times, everything must’ve felt so novel to him. But he was still human. We are human. And that’s how we should act.
So, from today onward, I’m dropping the names, the pretenses, the rules, the regulations, and most of all, the expectations. Of course, you’re all still free to go by your codenames. I won’t stop you. But don’t feel like you need to anymore. We’re done hiding. We’re done playing in the shadows and pretending to be masters of the esoteric and unknown. We might be mad, but we no longer need to give in to that particular brand of madness.
As for our next steps, I think it’s become undeniably clear: I have no idea what I’m doing. No one really does, I think. But, together, we can figure things out. All of us. Every last person who would dare indulge in one last cup of coffee with us. The Cult of Personality should be our first stop. Jericho has already expressed interest in working with us, and I’m positive Loveland and Daichi would be on board, too. Then, well, we should head back to New York to see if we can convince a few old allies to help us out. We also need to figure out our place in the Agency. Astrid is at least on our side, more or less. That whole mess is… complicated. But we’ll work it out over coffee, no doubt.
-Amber Ingram
BARISTA: JENNI HEPBURN
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE SEPTEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-259
I was hoping that this would be our way out. Part of me really wanted you to succeed, Amber. If you and Alex were able to successfully run the Zulu Division and somehow cut ties with the Secret, we might’ve been able to negotiate the termination of Division Ampersand. Now? It looks like we’re needed more than ever. Someone’s going to have to take on the role of Cults and Esoteric Affairs for the Agency, and I suppose that will be us now. As for the Folistes, as Astrid probably already told you, you’re under our care. You don’t have to join Ampersand officially, and I’d recommend you don’t.
In fact, you have the chance to be free. Take it. If you wait too long, it’ll be too late. When the caffeine wears off, you only have a few precious moments to fall back asleep before you need to take another hit. Hell, you could walk away right now if you wanted to. As far as Ampersand is concerned, you can stay or leave. We’re not going to make you fight a war against a bunch of washed up doomsday nihilists. At the very least, run when I tell you to run, okay? We’re playing a game of chicken with a group who want to intentionally reset the entire Universe to stack the deck in their favor. If you’re still with Division Ampersand when the reset happens, there’s a good chance you’ll be “fated” to join Ampersand in the next Universe, too. You won’t have a chance to be free.
Fate is a strange thing, isn’t it? What’s the difference between the threads of Fate, the predestination of God, and the machinations of a madman? Fate is dead, of course. The much is certain. Though the forces Fate once manipulated are still very much present in the Universe. If they weren’t, Augurs would have stopped seeing them long ago. It all comes back to the esoteric concept of “canonization.” The idea is that when the Universe is rewound, all the loose stray threads floating around get tightened into the Universe itself. Of course, some threads are stronger than others.
I wonder if this is what he really wants—everyone back together but now on the other side of the Cafe. But why? Eh, he probably hasn’t even thought of us, to be honest. We have already served our purpose. All that he cares about now is finding his missing light.
BARISTA: DOVER DA DEMON
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE SEPTEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-260
We made it to the Arches. While Katherine and Sarah were sleeping, I was accosted by Secret’s main minions, Nancy and Indrid Cold. Nancy is sticking to her terms with the Secret, whatever they might be, so she won’t be joining us for at least a year and a half, and I doubt we have that much time left anyway. Best case scenario, her meter never stopped running, and the soonest she’ll be free from Secret is 1-11-25. Though she’s still against helping Secret reactivate the Netzach for what it’s worth. And it seems like for our best chance at stopping him, we’ll need Warden and Joy back.
Dover: Who’s there!?
Indrid Cold: Hello, my name is Indrid Cold.
Dover: Oh. It’s “you.”
Nancy: It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it, Dover?
Dover: Nancy?! What are you—
Nancy: Calm down. We’re here of our own accord, not Secret’s.
Dover: It’s true then, you’re still working for Secret?
Nancy: I have to. I made a deal with him. I still owe another year and a half to my service.
Indrid Cold: It’s a beautiful night under a beautiful sky. Would-would-would you like to see the stars with me?
Dover: Couldn’t you just break your contract with Secret? I mean, Amber did and—
Nancy: And look at the price she paid to do so. Dover, Secret promised me something I thought I’d never have. I can’t risk that now. But… I don’t want to help Secret reactivate the Netzach, either. Nothing good could possibly come from creating Gods.
Indrid Cold: It’s a beautiful night under an ugly sky-sky-sky. Would you like to watch the stars rot and fall apart with us?
Dover: So… you’re going to help us?
Nancy: As much as we are able to, yes. However, you cannot trust me or Indrid. At the end of the day, we are tools of Secret. We must carry out his will.
Indrid Cold: It’s a cold night under a frozen-zen-zen sky. Would-would-would-would you like to be as-as-as human as it gets?
Dover: Is there anything we can do… about Indrid?
Indrid Cold: Hello, my name is Indrid Cold. It’s a beautiful night under a beautiful sky. Would you like to see the stars with me?
[Silenziosa shook her head]
Dover: But we could—
Nancy: The past is in the past.
Dover: But—
Nancy: Dover, Indrid is trapped inside a wardenless prison. One without joy. Do you understand?
Dover: Yeah, yeah. I get the picture.
Nancy: Good. Come along, Indrid. We have business elsewhere.
Indrid Cold: —Would you like to see the endless expansion of the Universe with me? D-D-D-Dove— Hello, my name is Indrid Cold. It’s a beautiful night under a beautiful sky.
BARISTA: THE ANGEL
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY OCTOBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-261
Be not afraid.
Though I’m not sure how necessary that is, all things considered. I suppose it’s a good habit, if nothing else. I was wondering if there would be one last cup of coffee, and it looks like there shall be. Well, there would have been another cup of coffee, regardless. There always is. Even if you aren’t the ones to serve it. And it certainly feels like this will be your last. Coffee does eventually go cold, after all, and if someone were to re-spark a true Cafe and Diner, I’m afraid they would’ve already done so.
What is a Cafe and Diner, anyhow? Does it require the 8 to be legitimate? Or does it merely require good intentions? Or… perhaps it only necessitates a certain blessing. I have seen many organizations who would qualify as a Cafe and Diner, though they lacked the theming. Perhaps that is it? Outward aesthetics are what make a Cafe and Diner so? Hm. I wonder if the next Cafe and Diner would even be called as such? A blend by any other name would brew as black, I suppose.
In any case, the Court is in total disarray again. We are rapidly heading toward an ending, a rewinding if we are lucky, and so much deliberation is left to do. More than just the Caelus is rotting, you know. In Spheres past, should the Devil escape or be freed, God was quick to reset things. This is something of an oddity, then, isn’t it? The Devil and God finally having their prophesized battle for control of the Universe. God’s Debt comes due at last.
Win, lose, or draw; it is unlikely this current Sphere will go unchanged. Should God win, He is certain to rewind things as He has in the past. Should the Devil win, things will likely be rewound much, much further. Seeing as things are already falling apart, a draw will likely only lead to a slow and quiet death. Waiting for the outcome is agonizing. Allowing the outcome to proceed without our input? Well—the trouble always seems worth it in the end. There is one other of the Last Cafe who I would like to invite to our final service, as I am certain he would like to see the ending for himself.
BARISTA: RACHEL ROSETHORN
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE OCTOBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-262
As the Cycle’s spin starts to trickle,
Time itself grows rather brickle,
Shattered fast by holy sickle,
Cleaved in twain unless rewound.
But to rewind and renew is quite fickle—
Fickle Gods make fickle friends,
Rewinding and rewriting to make amends.
So you push to keep your vow,
Yet even at the top with sweat on your brow
The stone is rolling, rolling now—
Now the Devil walks among his kin,
Made of heavenly bones and ancient skin.
All is wagered upon the first and final sin,
So, the game is set, and one must win:
All bets are off, and both are all in—
In the morning, hear Him sing,
Heralding the everlasting dawn.
A melodious proclamation from beak and wing,
That the Cycle will begin again with a familiar ring.
Yet… the sun hangs dead in a rotting sky—nothing—
Nothing is quite as delicate as hearts.
Effortlessly, they throb, burn, and ache,
Yet it takes so very little to make them break.
To make one eternal would be the highest of the arts.
For that which beats in all eternity never parts—
Parts lost and pieces found,
Missing fragments all around.
Torn earth and darkened sea,
Sing the sky’s ancient sound,
Pieces lost and parts now bound—
Bound together for one last brew,
Facing a coup that’s Fateless too,
A few good humans will have to do.
Cheers to the Cafe’s final cup,
A desperate cry to never give up—
Up and down, over and over again.
Heavy is the cost that’s yet unpaid,
Sliding back down the bed, he made.
Turn the key back to what was then,
And you’ll see, not if, but when—
When Nature bows to those reluctantly dead,
The key which winds will end up jammed.
Should a second chance be given to the damned,
Perhaps we’ll see it was in the end programmed:
That Thanatos should roll that stone instead.
BARISTA: JACKIE LANG
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE OCTOBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-263
I hate this. I really do. It never gets easier. I don’t think I did everything right—but goddamn it, I tried. I really tried. I tried so hard—and, and, for what? A Machiavellian girlfriend trapped in the Black Tide? A soft-spoken kid’s very soul ripped to bloody cosmic shreds? My… my light. Gone. Burnt out. Stolen. Another pawn “lucky” enough to earn a “promotion.” How the hell is leaving everything and everyone behind a fair price to pay? She’s the Otherman… time shouldn’t be a restriction. She could stay with me for the rest of my life, and it’d be a blink in her eye.
Maybe it isn’t fair to see your loved one live and die in what can only feel like moments. But maybe it isn’t fair that she should have to be the Otherman in the first place. But who are we mere mortals to argue with the well-laid plans of God? Worse—the machinations of her father. The day before she was taken, she had her first cup of coffee with her so-called dad. The man who couldn’t carve away even a fraction of his time for her due to the peril of the stakes at play. Well, the war ended, and she really believed he wanted to see her if only to know her better.
Of course not. She came home in tears because the only reason her dad could fathom spending time with her was because he had another plan. Another goddamn scheme. Fate may be dead, but someone must take its place. I don’t know what he said to her, only that it ended in holy fires. If it was his plan to have her take his place, why did she agree? No… I suspect she felt that becoming the Otherman was the only way to stop him. To protect us from him. And if she can light her entire self on fire for our sake, the least I can do is have this last cup of coffee with all of you. It’s bitter, sure, but she has always been my coffee with cream, after all. My Morningstar.
BARISTA: NICK LANGLEY
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE OCTOBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-264
…
Max: There she is!
Jericho: Joy…
[Jericho placed his hand on the large luminescent crystal housing Joy.]
Jericho: I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t have—
Travis: There’ll be time to apologize later. We need to get her out of her first.
Jericho: Right.
Salenna: Aelan, can you get your little buddies to lift her up?
Aelan: Of course! Assuming she’s not too heavy anyway.
Jennifer: I’ll signal Dan to pull the House around.
Sahir: Is it Wednesday yet? For whatever sense of time the House abides by, anyhow.
Max: Eight more minutes, according to Zach’s calculations.
Nick: We should’ve left later… What if—
[Thick, inky shadows lurched out from beneath the matted webs of Eve’s den, restraining Nick, Jenni, Aelan, Sahir, Salenna, Travis, Max, and Jericho before encasing Joy’s crystal.]
Travis: Eve?!
Sahir: Damn it, so much for buying time.
Jennifer: No… these shadows—
[Umbra the Hatman arose from the center of Eve’s web.]
Umbra: Well, if it isn’t an assortment of friendly faces.
Jericho: Umbra! What the hell do you think—
[Umbra tightened his shadow tendrils around Jericho, pulling him closer.]
Jericho: Agh-!
Umbra: I would say it isn’t personal, Jericho, but I would be lying, wouldn’t I? I take such great satisfaction in besting you, after all.
Complexico: Save your villain speeches for later, Umbra. The longer you talk, the more time you give them to buzz in.
Umbra: I’ve done my part. What more would you have me do?
Ne Personne: There is no reason to antagonize them. They did us a great service, after all. This would have been much harder if Eve was still around.
Nick: You?! What the hell are you doing?
Ne Personne: Fixing things, of course. Without Fate… there are no more limitations. I can finally, truly, fix things. But—we’ll need Joy to do so.
Nick: I-I looked up to you. We all did.
Ne Personne: It pains me that you’ve lost your faith in me, Nick. But, if it was easy, it wouldn’t be worth—
Jennifer: Shut the hell up. You never cared about any of us. We’re just tools to you. We’re trying to save Joy because we care about her as a person. You just want to use her, don’t you?
Ne Personne: You lack vision, Jenni. Joy is beyond saving. She is just a means to an end. Why are you all so content to sit around letting unseen forces decide when to call it? I admit, without Joy, I’ve felt the same fear you have. That nagging uncertainty of if and when the end will finally come. But now? Now I can call the shots. And I won’t close this tab until all the debts are fully paid. You have my word.
[A nobody snapped his fingers as the crystal holding Joy sunk into a plume of xanthic flames. Then Umbra, Complexico, and the original owner of the Cafe and Diner left the CaDCom transcription range.]
Nick: No—no! He always— GODDAMN IT YOU BASTARD!
[The House of Hamilton crackled into existence just above Eve’s web.]
Jennifer: I know, Nick. I know. Come on. We can’t stay here.
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY NOVEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-265
u>No.
No, no, no. We’re not letting those Bingo-playing dickwads win. We’re saving Joy, no matter what. Even if we had rescued her, we wouldn’t have been able to free her immediately. So, I’m going to officially say we got everyone back who is willing or able—minus Julia, Victoria, and Joy. We’re not going to stop trying with those three, either, but we can’t keep sitting around waiting for the Bingos to call in their Blackout. It’s enough people to sit down finally with a fresh pot of coffee to discuss what it is we collectively want to do.
And that’s exactly what we did.
Naturally, the Personality Cult, Jericho, Daichi, and Ranoma floated the idea of getting the 8 back. However, seeing as no one, including the Angel, knew where to start with that, we’re putting a pin in it. The Ampersands seemed open to anything, albeit they are still on the Agency’s payroll, so they have to fall in line with whatever the Indigos are planning. And everyone else, Folistes, Anathemas, and Long Islanders (plus Ned, Nine, and Theo), were in agreement: if there is any one thing we should do, must do, it’s put a stop to the Bingo Cult.
There’s no point in trying to save them—they’ve made it quite clear that they want to play their nihilistically fatalistic games, and they’re willing to use whoever they need to, to win. In fact, the three of us who couldn’t be here, Julia, Victoria, and Joy, have all been casualties of their megalomaniacal plots. At least, when it comes to bingo, anyone can pick up a card and play. Sure, they’ve probably rigged the roller in their favor, but in the end, it’s still a numbers game, and there are 26 of us and only 5 of them.
BARISTA: JERICHO MYERSCOUGH
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY NOVEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-266
I'd say I can't believe him, but at some point, I need to wise up. I can't even count the bloody number of times he's used me personally for one of his schemes. This is my last straw, though—he can do whatever he likes to me. I'll be fine. But to Joy? No. I won't stand for that. And it's my stupid fault she's even in this situation to begin with. So, yeah, I'm on board with shutting down this crooked hall of bingo and bringing our Joy back, choice? While I'd love to rub the Mantle of 8 right back in his snarky, self-centered, French face—I did at least get the satisfaction of destroying it in the first place.
He wasn't expecting me to do that. In fact, he put all the pieces of the 8 in me because he figured I've been such a good boy in the past; what damage could I really do to them? I think, if I'm right, his plan was to keep them in me until ol' Fate was killed, and then he'd take them back to start putting his "Le Grand Testament" plan into action, as it were. A little something Eight-y has been cooking up since, well, I reckon since he rewound the Universe up the first time.
I suppose one of the few perks of having been somewhat close to him is that he did reveal a bit about his plans for a post-Fate world. I don't think his obsession with Villon was much of a secret. I mean, it's practically baked into the CaDCom's systems. However, he fancies it more than one might think. He sees it as a challenge, a commentary on the futility of trying to escape one's Fated path. While Fate was still around, that made sense; I didn't think to question it. But now that Fate's dead, the next obvious challenge, as outlined by Le Grand Testament, is, of course, death. He is not satisfied with merely breaking the chains of Fate. He only did so because he couldn't right the wrongs of his life until he was the sole master of his destiny.
BARISTA: JENNI HEPBURN
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY NOVEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-267
Unfortunately, Jericho is right. 8’s time as the Otherman warped his perception of time, love, loss, and death irreparably. I’m not sure how long this has been his plan. It could’ve been from the very start, though I don’t believe that’s the case. At least, his plans weren’t always this drastic. Taking what he always told us at face value, he sought to put an end to Fate and the Cold Elders.
For the other three Cold Elders, it was at least clear why they threatened the Universal Order. Phantom wanted to open doors to realms outside of the Universe, threatening to collapse its very stability. Wicked wanted to rekindle the lost sacred flames of the Skald to corrupt and control souls on a fundamental level. And Secret… well, his goals have always been a secret. If Astrid is right, quite literally so. Secret plans to replicate Godhood to make as many Gods as possible to, theoretically, make as many Universes as possible. Splitting the already infinite Universe into infinitely more pieces creating a “Tower of Babel” effect on a Universal scale.
Fate, on the other hand, wanted to control everyone and everything, essentially becoming the Universal Order. This obviously threatened God’s plans, at the very least, and God’s Otherman was keenly aware of this. So, when given a chance to out-fate Fate, the Otherman took it. Of course, it also gave him another chance at his life, another chance to be with his love Lucifer. Then Lucifer died. No, more than died. She was consumed in the Wicked’s flames, consuming her soul in such a way that she couldn’t return, not as she was when 8 knew her. To me, this is when things truly turned. His plans, at the time, remained the same to us on the surface—kill Fate. However, he no longer cared about the Universal Order or God’s plans.
He had seen and shaped the flow of time, and now he knew it was beneath him. He lost Lucifer not once but twice. In the prior-Universe he could not be with her as the Otherman. He would live forever while she would live and die as Princes so often do. And now, after carefully laid plans to trick and avoid his Wicked demise and eventual ascension to the title of Otherman—the Wicked and Fate decided to take Lucifer instead. Fate was no longer his enemy—it had become death itself.
And now, 8 has death at his fingertips. Releasing Joy in her current state would consume this Universe in Blight. Presumably, God and the Devil would put aside their current bickering to place the winding key back into the Pocketwatch to rewind a cataclysm of that scale. For all his posturing as a nihilist, 8 is not one. He won’t destroy this Universe, not until he’s conquered death. And, well, he’s one Netzach away from doing just that, isn’t he?
BARISTA: ICHABOD RAMSES
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: MID NOVEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-268
I was paid a visit by our dear friend, Indrid Cold. While it was brief, I feel it must have been for a good reason. He wasn’t with Nancy, and I’m not even sure Secret knew about this little visit. Still—he didn’t say much, even reading in between the looping lines. He was trying his best to fight the Cold’s control, but he seemed locked in. The only line that didn’t sound… “pre-recorded” was the last thing he said. In fact, it sounded as if he was saying it and not the mechanical nightmare that is Indrid. But to come all the way here, to slip past Nancy, defy Secret, and somehow claw out his own voice just to say, “I’ll see you around, sunshine.” What could that possibly mean?
Ichabod: Well, if it isn’t our fearless and peerless leader, Capgras.
Indrid Cold: Hello, my name is Indrid Cold.
Ichabod: Is it, though?
Indrid Cold: It-It-It’s more like a smoldering pain than a sharp nagging one.
Ichabod: Mm. You could say that again.
Indrid Cold: It’s more like a—
Ichabod: Right, sorry, my bad, Cold. I forgot about the whole looping thing. Say, where’s your handler, Nancy?
Indrid Cold: —smoldering pain than a sharp nagging one. For the sake of civility and equality in our two-faced partnership, she’s-she’s-she’s it’s certainly a quiet night.
Ichabod: So, there’s still some of you kicking around in there, then? Is there anything we can do to… fix this?
Indrid Cold: I-I-I-I Hello, my name is Indrid Cold.
Ichabod: Damn. It wouldn’t be that easy, would it? It never is, never was, with the Cold.
Indrid Cold: Cold-cold-cold-cold-things sure are heating up. I’ll see you around, sunshine.
Ichabod: Huh?
Indrid Cold: I wanted to-to-to-see… Hello, my name is Indrid Cold. Things sure are heating up. I’ll see you around, sunshine.
BARISTA: JACKIE LANG
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE NOVEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-269
I figured I should throw my two cents in, seeing as I was completely done with this Cafe business just a few weeks ago. I've had a lot of time to think about it, about whether the Cafe and Diner is really worth all the trouble it seems to bring. While I don't necessarily think the original owner always had the best intentions in mind, there had to be something in what he built that was honest. And I think I get what that is now, or at least, it's what I've decided to get out of it.
Humans are at the very bottom of the cosmic pecking order. We aren't usually born with magic, and in the grand scheme of things, we're very, very easy to kill. Sometimes, all it takes is falling out of bed or just standing up the wrong way, and it's lights out. Still, there has to be a reason we're so important, why demons and angels expend so much effort tormenting and guiding us when, comparatively, our entire lives are just passing seconds to them. Unfortunately, I don't know why humans are so special. I think I had an inkling back when I had a piece of the 8, but of course, that's gone now.
Anyway, the point I'm getting at is humans are both special and incredibly fragile. This imbalance makes it so easy for us to be controlled and used by demons, angels, elders, and greater cosmic entities. And the Cafe and Diner, for whatever its worth, sought to keep the balance between the Flipside and Otherside. It was a place where humans held not a little power but a lot of power. It had so much power that it was able to imprison Satan, shut down Asmodeus, stop Abaddon, leverage Leviathan, best Beelzebub, and outwit Mammon, and that's just scratching the surface!
I guess… for all the trouble it brings, the Cafe and Diner has at least always done its best to look out for humans in a Universe that otherwise treats them like pawns. Sure, we have a few demons, angels, and elders who are on our side, but without the Cafe and Diner, they don't have the same direct connection to humans they otherwise would have. I guess what I'm suggesting is that…
Opening up a fifth Cafe and Diner might not be so bad. I wouldn't want to be an owner/manager again, but I'd be happy to help out for the sake of humans.
BARISTA: THE ANGEL
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE NOVEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-270
I suppose I should weigh in on this as well. Between all the secrets and such, I’m not sure how many of you actually know who I am or what my role is. Now is as good a time as any to formally introduce myself, my true self, and my true name. I am Echiera Zejan, the Guardian Angel of the Cafe and Diner. Of course, I’ve gone by many names and many faces over the years, as is the way of Guardian Angels. Typically, our role is to watch from the Topside and offer only subtle shifts in our Principle’s favor. Sometimes, more direct action is required, and as such, we must assume a human name and face.
I have interfered time and time again between the First, Third, Other, and Fourth Cafes. Doing so not only put my very self into peril, but I also risked undoing any and all progress being made in the Cafe and Diner and God’s war against Fate and the Cold. Do you know why I did it? Well, beyond safeguarding against the risk of Dr. Crow, Charlotte Casey, Umbra the Hatman, and ultimately Eve and the Devil? Because the Cafe and Diner is always worth the trouble it brings. Jackie has it exactly right—humans are incredibly unique in the Universal order but also very easily taken advantage of.
Perhaps I am biased. I am, for many intents and purposes, the very embodiment of the Cafe and Diner, and should it cease to exist, so too would I. Though it is something much greater than myself, and I can’t help but advocate for it. However, I see Amber’s point as well. It might be time to let the Universe take its own course without the aid of the many brave and foolish baristas who have dared to shape it. And if the destruction of the Cafe and Diner may save Victoria? It would be a worthy trade off.
Besides, with or without a Cafe and Diner, humans, I suspect, will continue to be exactly that—humans.
BARISTA: RACHEL ROSETHORN
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: LATE NOVEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-271
I wanted to write one last poem… perhaps it is a foolish endeavor to tap once more into the frayed threads of Fate… but there might be something there to help us in deciding the fate of a paradise lost. This is all I could get, and it doesn’t say much. However, if I had to give meaning to the words, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to aid Willow DeWeaver in restoring her home. If everything has always been stuck in a never-ending Cycle, it’s easy enough to say that nothing we do matters.
If we help Willow DeWeaver, if we don’t, it makes no difference, at least on a grand scale. All rays will return. But, perhaps in helping her, we can find this “hidden burst of sunshine beams” which… I don’t know. It might change things for the better. Though I’m not sure if “Evil will Bless” is exactly what we’re after, but we’ve always strived to see Ice burn. We might as well finish the job we started.
The balance-beam of Fate is bent;
The bounds of good and ill are rent;
Snuffed out the light of Wicked flames;
Slammed the doors of Phantom Lanes.
Still a chill runs through the air;
One last Secret left to share.
Hidden deep within a data core;
One last Secret, and nothing more.
One last chance to brew the beans;
One last chance to set the scenes;
A hidden burst of sunshine beams;
To illuminate our caffeinated dreams.
For, line in nature is never found;
Our, unit and universe are always round;
In vain produced, all rays will return;
Then Evil will bless, and Ice will burn.
BARISTA: JENNI HEPBURN
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY DECEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-272
…
Ne Personne: I was wondering when you’d all show up. 8s can never turn down a challenge, can they?
Jack: Ah, but they’re missing one, aren’t they? Seems like Jericho is a no-show.
Ne Personne: Jack makes a good point. Where is Rico? I thought he’d jump at the chance to punch me in the face.
Jenni: Why does it matter?
Jack: Nothing matters in the end. Though…will you still be able to get that heart beatin’ without him?
Ne Personne: Jack, you know I wouldn’t leave something like that to fate.
[The fool unsheathed a dagger and drove it into Jack’s heart.]
Jack: AGH—
Jackie: What the hell!?
Nick: Jack’s blood… was the last blood you need.
Ne Personne: Bingo.
[The idiot pulled the dagger out of Jack, letting the blood drip onto the still-heart of the Netzach at the center of the Teal Room. As Jack’s blood kissed the heart, it let out a horrid mechanical thump. Then, moron anointed the heart of Netzach with a vial of black blood, another thump. Then silver, a louder thump. Then gold, an earth rumbling thump.]
Secret: Still, the heart slumbers.
Jenni: Secret? When did—
[Secret snapped its fingers as Indrid Cold and Nancy took hold of Jenni, Nick, and Jackie.]
Ne Personne: Beautiful, though, isn’t it?
Secret: Did Umbra and Complexico know their fate before you sealed it? Blood blacker than night and brighter than dawn. Everything planned to the last detail. Surely, they had to know they were just your pawns?
Ne Personne: Wouldn’t that be better left a secret?
Secret: Ha. Well, all that is left now is a drop of ancient blood. Blood as old and cold as the Universe itself. My blood. Then, the heart will beat once more.
Ne Personne: Ah—but we’re at an impasse, aren’t we? You want to spill the secrets of the heart, but I’d rather keep it to myself.
Secret: Not necessarily. There is something I would rather have. Your last secret.
Ne Personne: You haven’t figured it out yet?
Secret: I must admit, you’ve hid it well. More than just a drop of my blood, I can offer you my friendship. Together, we can do wonderful things.
Ne Personne: Deal.
[Secret caressed the heart of Netzach as it thumped to life with a steady beat, its veins coursing with multicolored blood. The heart levitated out of Secret’s hand, hovering in front of the sad, lost, Bastard of Balitmore.]
Secret: Touch the heart and embrace the truth.
[As he reached out to the heart, Indrid Cold, grinning ear from ear, grabbed Nancy by the arm, jerking her along with Jenni, Nick, and Jackie out of the Teal Room as he slammed the door on No One In Particular and Secret. A blinding white flash of light pulsed from behind the door—then, silence fell like a well-kept secret.]
BARISTA: THE THREE FACES OF MR. GÁLVEZ
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY DECEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-273
Shaka: Bravo, Indrid. I wasn't sure if you had the strength to defy Secret.
Indrid: …
Shaka: But what will we do now? Without Secret around, the possibility of being cured is… low. Near zero, I'd imagine. Only Secret knew the process to turn one Cold, after all.
Indrid: Blood as old and cold-cold-cold as the Universe itself. My blood.
Shaka: Ah—but he's dead. More than dead. Removed. The Secret is—
Indrid: Blood as old-old-old and cold as the Universe itself. Secret's blood. All that was left was a drop-drop-drop of ancient blood.
Shaka: Ah—
Indrid: Beautiful, though, isn't it? Effortlessly, it throbs, burns-burns-burns, and aches, yet it takes so very little to cut one in twain.
Shaka: Dangerous, though, don't you think? Even I can't predict what will become of the malformed heart. You would be risking everything—everyone—Indrid.
Indrid: Hello, my name is Indrid Cold. Evil will bless, and Ice will Burn-burn-burn. Thanatos will roll the stone instead. Blood as old and cold as the Universe itself. Beautiful, though, wasn't it? Effortlessly, it spun, ticked, and was wound, yet it would take so very little to cut it in twain. Another debt still needs to be paid. Hello, my name is Indrid Cold. Evil will bless, and Ice will Burn. The Debt will roll the stone instead. Made of heavenly bones and ancient skin. Beautiful, though, wasn't it? Effortlessly, it spun around-around-around, ticked down-down-down, and was wound up-up-up, yet it will take so very little to cut it in twain. An Other debt still needs to be paid.
Shaka: Well, it is now or never, isn't it? You're right. It won't take long for her to find the heart and cut it from the Universe. I suppose we can give it a shot. Though, if it doesn't work… Do you have an alternative plan my ill-fated friend?
Indrid: Well, on the one hand, we don't need-need-need it. We don't need anyone anymore. That's the neat part about killing Secret. Though... we do still need the... well, that's a secret-secret-secret.
Shaka: Ah. The last secret. I don't see the immediate connection, my delusional double.
Indrid: Sun… shine—
Shaka: Sunshine? Ah, you are not too dissimilar, are you? Cut from the same cloth. It's not quite twenty-six steps ahead, but I never have been. All it takes is knowing a few well-kept secrets. It won't be so cold with Sunshine around, will it?
Indrid: Hello, my name is Indrid Cold. Evil will bless, and Ice will Burn-
…
Shaka: —Might as well give everyone the apocalypse they were promised.
BARISTA: AMBER INGRAM
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY DECEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-274
I heard about what went down at the Teal Room. Wow. I… kind of can’t believe it. We actually… did it? I mean, of course, we did, right? We’re the Cafe and Diner, after all. And it’s about time we started to act like it. Now, I can’t expect everyone to stick around for another cup of coffee. I know that I might not, but I’ve been talking to Jenny, Max, Zach, and Travis, and they all seem to be on board to start officially brewing the beans again. They’re still not sure if they’re going to go with the title of “Fifth Cafe” or not. All things considered it might be nice to try something fresher.
So, if you’re interested in getting back into the swing of things, talk to one of them about it! I’m happy to help as more of a consultant. Brent, Dover, Katherine, Sarah, Salenna, Ichabod, and I have a few projects we’d rather focus on. We don’t want to weigh down the new Cafe’s operations with our special blend of madness. So, in a way, I guess we’re going back to where we started—back to the folie. Hopefully, with a lot less… of all of… well, “this.” Personally, I think we should leave all the world-ending threats to the Astorians from here on out.
Anyway… I guess this is it. Time to go our separate ways. I mean, we’ll still see each other around, I’m sure. Jericho, Ranoma, and Daichi are going to go get Joy and find a way to break her out. The New Cafe will do their thing. We’ll do ours. Ampersand can keep everything spinning. And everyone else, well, I’m sure we’ll see around the coffee scene. It’s a small Universe, after all. I just wanted to say—
Uh. That can’t be good. I’ve never heard that alarm before.
BARISTA: CADENCE IRONFRADE
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY DECEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-275
…
Ichabod: …ktomezo.
Amber: Where are we?
Dover: Limbo.
Sarah: Limbo?! Did we… die?
Dover: I don’t feel dead, for what it’s worth.
Katherine: And I don’t feel any more alive if that helps.
Brent: What was the signal supposed to do, Ich?
Ichabod: Felix did not say—only that it could buy us time, maybe more. That, and it apparently breaks every known Universal law at once.
God: It certainly makes a spectacle! Spectacles, also known as eyeglasses, were first invented by humans all the way back in the 13th century. I suppose none of you were around for that—but perhaps you can see why this is quite troubling. Do you know how difficult it is to fix a broken balance staff?
Katherine: God?
God: Yes, yes. So, like I was saying, a balance staff, interestingly enough, is a lot like a pendulum, isn’t it? Constant motion, perpetual, and yet, here we are. Completely frozen. So… I assume you broke it for a good reason?
Salenna: Do you know about the Heart of Netzach?
Dover: He’s God, right? He’s gotta know—
God: The Heart of Netzach? It was activated? Fun fact: Netzach in Kabbalah represents eternity and endurance—not unlike the lifespan of a tardigrade under extreme conditions. Fascinating creatures—but that’s neither here nor there. Who activated it?
Ichabod: Your Otherman.
God: HA! Well, Abra, it seems like that settles that.
Devil: Hardly, Demi. Amber, was it? Darling, did he fully embrace the Netzach?
Amber: Uh… no. They were removed from the Universe before he was able to touch the Heart.
Devil: As suspected—he played a tune with no finale.
God: Now, hang on, Abra. Intention is eight-tenths of the celestial law. He was about to touch it—that’s a win in my book.
Devil: But the boy didn’t, did he?
God: Oh, technicalities, schmechnicalities. You're splitting hair springs finer than quarks here. You lost.
Devil: How was any of this fair? He was your hand-picked agent; he was rigged dice from the start, and you know it.
God: I had a good guess as to what he might do, but the choice was his.
Devil: But he didn’t touch the Heart. It didn’t matter that he wanted to touch it; he didn’t.
God: Ugh. You’re really going to make this a whole thing, aren’t you? How about this: you give me the winding key—because I won—and I’ll let you stay in the Universe. A debt paid. Deal?
Devil: Absolutely not. The wager wasn’t fair from the beginning, and now we have an inconclusive result. I’m hardly satisfied with that.
God: Well, what do you suggest?
Devil: Hm… ah, well, Amber—she’s a neutral party, isn’t she? Not too swayed by you or me.
God: Fine.
[The Devil raised his hand, conjuring the malformed Netzach into Limbo. He then snapped his fingers, and the twisted flesh and bone that had started to form around the Heart melted away. He then floated the Heart in front of Amber.]
Devil: Look at that. Godhood, at your fingertips, darling. How about a rerun of the old game, Demi, but with a proper neutral party taking the lead?
God: Hm… Would we be allowed to offer advice?
Devil: Blow your horn. I won’t. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m intentionally leading her one way or the other.
God: Well—I should at least point out the benefits. Amber, if you touch the Heart, you’ll have the power to fix everything. Everyone. You could make things right, and your world doesn’t have to end.
Devil:…
God: And look, you might not want to be some unfeeling, undying God—but once you are, you can just undo it. It is, after all, what you make of it.
[The Devil cocked his eyebrow and folded his arms, a sly smile playing on his lips.]
BARISTA: CADENCE IRONFRADE
CAFE: THE FOLISTES
DATE: EARLY DECEMBER
RECEIPT ID: RE:CORE-276
…
CaDence: Joy?
Joy: Who… are you? Where… are we?
CaDence: I’m—not sure.
Joy: You don’t know who you are?
CaDence: Oh! I do. Uh, mostly, anyway. As much as anyone can know who they are. My name is CaDence.
Joy: It’s nice to meet you, CaDence. My name is—
CaDence: —Joy.
Joy: Have we met before?
CaDence: Uhm… No. But I know you’re Joy. And I know you crystalized to stop yourself from destroying the Universe. Which means…
Joy: The Universe has been destroyed?
CaDence: I don’t know. I don’t think so, but… How are you here?
Joy: Where is “here” anyway?
CaDence: That’s a good question. It’s quiet here, and something feels… off.
Joy: Do you think this is just a dream?
CaDence: Like the Astral Plane?
Joy: Mm… not quite. I know the Astral Plane pretty well, and this isn’t it.
CaDence: Could it be limbo?
Joy: I guess so? Though, why now?
CaDence: What do you mean?
Joy: I haven’t been… conscious, not until now. Do you know what day it is?
CaDence: December 13th, 2023.
Joy: Well, it hasn’t been that long since I crystalized, at least. But—there’s nowhere to go, is there? We’re stuck in this void.
CaDence: Hmm… I’m not sure.
Joy: You know about me, right?
CaDence: Yes!
Joy: So, do you know about the Cafe and Diner?
CaDence: I do!
Joy: Do you know what happened after I crystalized?
CaDence: Uh, bits and pieces. Do you want me to start at the beginning?
Joy: Sure. I don’t think there’s anything else we can really do here. So, start at the beginning!
CaDence: Well, I guess the very beginning would have to be August 8th, 1988. My father, the Otherman of the Universe before this one, had rewound things for a second and final chance at killing Fate itself. Luckily, my father was prone to meticulous note-keeping and journaling…
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