This is an indy horror series with multiple original characters and their interactions with cryptids, slenderverse characters, and creepypastas. All seems well at first, of course!
The themes prominent in this will be canon typical violence, murder, major character death, original character death.
Multiple authors are writing this, so styles will vary per chapter and occassionally art will coincide with the chapters.
Thank you! We appreciate you interacting with our content. :)
The night was quiet, but Baylen’s mind was anything but. They sat hunched over, eyes darting between the clock and computer. The graveyard shift was always long, the silence stretching on for hours with nothing but the hue of the fluorescent lights and the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Baylen sat at the desk, drumming their fingers against it with one hand while they held their face with the other. They glared at the monitors displaying the overnight schedule for the following week. He had read the list of names and times at least 8 times over but it was one of the days where nothing made sense to them.
13 missing people, 6 murders, and 3 attempted kidnappings all in the local area. Each name lingered in his mind like a plague, too many of them close to home. His childhood neighbor was found dead in her home, a member of Adrian’s mock trial group from uni went missing after class, Enzo’s cousin survived an attempted abduction just a few days prior, and a classmate from Alex’s alumni culinary school had been bludgeoned to death in an alleyway… That was just to name a few.
The local news played softly from his phone’s speakers, the anchors droning on about the newest victim in this crime spree. A 22-year-old woman vanished without a trace. Just like the others. Another missing person, another name to add to the growing list.
Perhaps, he was just simply too paranoid - but everything seemed to be connected and centralized on this crew, his crew.
Baylen slid back in his chair abruptly, wheels squeaking as the chair nearly toppled over with his movement. Lanky legs climbed over the arms of the meek office furniture, heading the short distance for the filing cabinets. A list repeating in his brain, ’My dance studio ID, Adrian’s resume, Alex’s employee of the week award with their picture, Vesper’s driver's license, Enzo’s customized lighter with an image of him and Dante on it, a letter from Wren’s parole officer’. He had hoped that maybe it had been him who had lost the items, not that something… more nefarious was going on. He hoped to soothe his worries, to soothe the angst building up in his chest.
But Baylen knew better, he knew he had never touched his employee's belongings and he knew even more so that he never removed his ID from its secured clip on his satchel.
This wasn't the first time something had gone missing, nor was it the first time it involved someone from his crew. A twisting ache took root in his chest—was all this more than coincidence?
Could this all just be a prank gone wrong? A misguided attempt at a joke by one of his staff? The thought crossed their mind, momentarily easing the tightness in their chest. Baylen’s gaze fell on the employee schedule tacked to the bulletin board. Each name stared back at them, accusing and guilty. Adrian, Alex, Vesper, Wren, Enzo, Dante… Could one of them be behind this?
But even as Baylen tried to rationalize the situation, a small voice in the back of their mind wouldn't let them shake the feeling that something was off. The doubts lingered, the unanswered questions still gnawing at their consciousness.
But at the same time, they couldn't afford to alienate their staff or create a hostile work environment based on mere suspicions and coincidences.
Baylen's mind was a battlefield, the logical side warring with the paranoid.
Could they really trust their staff completely? Could they be certain that there wasn't something more sinister at play?
Perhaps it was the fact that Baylen knew Wren spent two and half years in prison for committing a felony, but his opinion was relatively low on them. That and the fact that Wren somehow managed to show up late to each and every single one of their shifts despite living the closest out of everyone on staff. Wren was… Baylen’s opposite in every sense of the word; eager, boisterous, dramatic, and always late. Baylen did not understand how someone could be so excited about life whilst simultaneously sleeping their shift away in the booths. He wished they’d do it again though so he could finally fire them.
Baylen was rather fond of Alex, in the way a person would be fond of a kicked puppy - pity is the feeling he would akin the emotion to. Alex spent their life in fear of everything, anxiety coming as easy as breathing for them. In the beginning of their relationship, Baylen had hoped to do anything to alleviate their suffering, but after a few years of trying Baylen simply accepted that nothing was going to make the chef less scared. Alex was the ‘mouse of the house’, hearing all the gossip from customers and crew alike - and was the most unbiased source of information, Baylen always knew who to go to when something went missing.
Vesper… Vesper was aloof and chaotic, but truly always meant the best. At least Baylen thought they did. Though their music taste was ass and their serving skills were questionable at best, Baylen had no real reason to dislike them. However, he did wonder what they were doing with all that time they hid away in the walk-in. They were full of life and vivacious, bringing all of themself into everything they did.
Although Adrian was one of the older members of Baylen’s staff, he couldn’t help but view them as ‘just a kid’. Adrian took up the mantle of all the little tasks that no one else wanted to do and would laugh it off and say that they were the host with the most going on. Baylen wouldn’t have time to make the schedule if it wasn’t for them, and for that, he was grateful to have them around.
Enzo was one of the two people Baylen had ever spent time with outside of work. Enzo often melted into the background of any conversation, only chiming in with small deadpan comments at the best moments. He was quiet, and calm in comparison to the chaos of the rest of his coworkers. Though on the occasions they hung out outside of work it was usually mediated by Dante’s more exuberant personality. Baylen thought he was cool, in a weird quiet kind of way.
The absolute bane of Baylen’s existence, Dante Martinez, plagued not only his work life but his personal one as well. That is not to say that Baylen didn’t enjoy the line cook’s company, quite the contrary actually, Dante balanced him out. Dante’s aloof, yet passionate personality kept Baylen’s erratic thinking at bay through a method of keeping everyone on their toes. He was a person who would drive for hours to pick a friend up after they spin out into a snowy ditch, but also the type of person to hang up on Baylen the second they ask him to follow the menu. Dante was… Annoying. Baylen liked that.
Baylen’s mind raced as they considered each of their staff members. Wren, Alex, Vesper, Adrian, Enzo, and even Dante - none of them seemed likely to pull a prank like this. Wren was too laid-back, too content to sleep through their shifts to put this much effort into a joke. Alex was too anxious, too worried about causing problems to deliberately misplace important items. Vesper was chaotic, yes, but they had a good heart and meant well. Adrian was too responsible, and too dedicated to their tasks to sabotage the crew. Enzo was too quiet, too content to blend into the background. And Dante… well, Dante was a wildcard, but even he wasn’t above being a team player when it mattered most.
No, this was something else entirely. Something more sinister, more calculated. It all seemed to point to a deeper issue, a dark truth lurking beneath the surface.
Baylen tried to shake off the dark thoughts, the paranoid suspicions that swirled in their mind. They took a deep breath, forcing themselves to focus on the logical, the rational.
"It's just a bunch of coincidences," they muttered to themselves, trying to convince their own mind. "Stuff goes missing all the time in a place like this. People lose things, misplace them. It doesn't have to mean anything."
They were trying to convince themselves that everything was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. But the nagging feeling in the back of their mind wouldn't go away, the suspicion that something was off, something was wrong.
"Wren's always late, that's nothing new. Alex is anxious, of course they'd know about everything going on. Vesper's just being Vesper, living their best life. Adrian's always picking up the slack, that's who they are. Enzo's quiet, that's their thing. And Dante... well, Dante's Dante. None of them would do something like this on purpose."
Baylen ran a hand through their hair, trying to smooth down the errant strands that had come loose from their usual style. "I'm just being paranoid. Overthinking things, as usual. It's not like there's some grand conspiracy or anything. People just lose stuff sometimes. It happens."
Maybe Baylen was just reading too much into things, allowing their paranoia and fear to cloud their judgment. It was just a bunch of silly coincidences, nothing more. There was no need to jump to conclusions or accuse anyone of wrongdoing.
The cool air from the vents ruffled Baylen's hair and he shivered, even though the office wasn't cold. His gaze flickered to the various items his coworkers had left strewn around the office, intimate mementos left as a testament to their own lives.
He let out a heavy sigh, his head dipping into his hands. He felt like a fool, for the worries he harbored, but as the minutes wore on, the doubts swelled. How could so many things, belonging to so many people, just disappear without a trace? A faint sense of invasion, of being watched, prickled at the back of his neck. It was maddening, the inability to pinpoint the source.
The dingy envelopes and folders that held his coworkers’ personal information stared back at him. He gripped the drawer face, his knuckles white from the pressure. The manager’s mind wandered to the upcoming staff meeting where he’d have to address the issues with the missing items. A dull ache, a nagging worry, had been lingering at the back of his mind for the last few days, but he’d dismissed it as paranoia.
Mind, body, and soul; Baylen was weary and drained. Every fiber of his being felt as though something was horribly, horribly wrong. Too much was happening in a much too small time frame, and all that he could think of was work. Each morning after work he would go home with the intention of sleep, only to lay awake staring at the ceiling trying his best to piece together where the fuck did my ID go?
The simple dance studio identification card was of no true significance, he could always replace it, but it was the principle of it that set his nerves on edge. He had no proof, no concrete evidence that someone had taken his ID, yet his heart raced, and the air grew thick around him. He ran his hand through his hair, as he bit his bottom lip and his jaw ticked. The sensation of someone watching him, of someone invading his personal space, crept up his spine.
As Baylen leaned back, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. The list of missing items had only added to his buzzing internal monologue, and he found himself staring at the scattered papers on his desk, trying to piece together the puzzle that seemed to have no clear picture.
Their eyes darted around the office, landing on the various personal items and memos left decorating the space by his employees. Each one seemed to hold a story, a hint at the truth Baylen sought. But try as he might, he couldn’t find a common thread that tied them all together.
The weight of responsibilities pressed down on Baylen, the need to understand his surroundings and keep the store running smoothly a constant burden. But with each passing day, every missing item, each new disappearance, that burden felt heavier and heavier. The faint hum of the ancient AC unit did little to drown out the pounding of their heart.
The calendar, a looming presence on the wall, was taunting him with its unwavering ticking of days. Each passing second carried with it the fear of more odd occurrences. Baylen felt like a man on the bow of a ship, watching as an iceberg grew ever closer.
Slowly, the thought took form in his head, an unwelcome guest that refused to leave. A shiver ran down Baylen’s spine despite the stuffy heat of the tiny office. They pushed themself back, legs unsteady, and began to pace like a caged animal. Back and forth, back and forth, his long legs eating up the space between the desk and cabinets. Each time he passed the calendar, the dreadful reminder seemed to mock him. His heart raced as he conjured the thought that it was more than just his ID. It had to be his coworkers, they were up to something. Baylen knew it.
Baylen couldn’t fathom why his staff would hide these things, or why they’d all come up missing at once. His train of thought was spiraling, deeper and darker, and the more time that passed with Baylen alone in the dingy cramped office, the more he began to believe that something dreadful was looming over the horizon.
The thought alone made their chest tighten.
Baylen’s pace picked up, shoes clicking against the linoleum as they circled the desk chair like a shark. Their eyes shifted every which way, perking up at any unexpected noise. The scuff of a shoe outside the door made them freeze, their heart leaping into their throat. Just Dante, they told themself. But the dread still grew, twisting his guts into knots.
Bayleyn’s mind raced, matching the pace of his legs as they paced the cramped office space. The missing items gnawed at them, a constant thorn in their side. He couldn’t stand the lack of order, the unknown variables. It went against everything they stood for as a manager, as a person. Organization, control, knowing where everything and everyone was at all times - that was Baylen’s world. And now, that structure was crumbling around them.
The more they thought about it, the more worked up they got. Their breaths quickened, chest tightening with each passing minute. He could feel the panic rising in his throat, digging its claws around his neck and pressing down on his chest. The need to solve the issue felt all-consuming.
Baylen’s gaze darted around the room, looking for each personal item like a hawk zeroing in on its prey. Adrian’s resume, Alex’s award, Vesper’s license… All missing. Vanished into thin air. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.
Unless…
The thought crept into Baylen’s mind, insidious and unwelcome. What if it wasn’t just a coincidence? What if their coworkers were involved somehow? The idea made their stomach churn, but they couldn’t shake it.
Their heart pounded in their ears, the blood rushing like a freight train. Baylen could feel the paranoia taking hold, the walls of the office closing in. They needed air, they needed to clear their head.
But he couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not while he was on the clock. Not until he figured this all out.
Baylen’s eyes darted to the clock, the minutes ticking by in agonizing slowness. Each second felt like an eternity, the weight of the unknown pressing down on their chest. They needed to focus- to think rationally. But with each passing moment, each unanswered question, Baylen felt themself slipping further into the recesses of panic that filled his lungs.
Frustration reached a boiling point. Baylen’s mind was a whirlwind of intrusive thoughts and compulsions. They needed order, they needed answers, and they needed to make sense of all the variables.
With a huff of frustration, Baylen surged to their cabinets, charging over to the towering cabinets that lined the far wall. Fingers curled into fists, they yanked open the first drawer, sending a cascade of manila envelopes and crumpled papers scattering to the floor.
“Fuck!” he breathed, the curse echoing off the walls. He didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time for his own damn paranoia. But they couldn’t shake the feeling, the gnawing certainty that something was very, very wrong.
Baylen tore through drawer after drawer, a one-person tornado of fury and desperation. Files scattered, folders ripped, the very air crackling with tension. They tore through each drawer, fingers scrabbling for anything that might give them a clue. Pay stubs, tax forms, old memos - it all went flying, littering the floor like confetti at a party no one wanted to attend.
Baylen’s breath came in short, sharp gasps, their chest heaving with each ragged inhale. They couldn’t find what they were looking for, couldn’t make sense of any of it.
They were looking for something, though they weren’t sure of what. A clue, a sign, anything to prove they weren’t connecting the dots between completely unrelated incidents.
But there was nothing. Just the same old papers, the same damn files they’d seen a thousand times before. Baylen’s hands shook as they slammed the last drawer shut, the metal clanging like a gunshot in the too-quiet room.
They whirled around, gaze landing on the desk. The computer, the phone, the scattered knick-knacks from their coworkers. With a heaving breath, they slammed their fist against the metal edge of the desk, the sound clanging loudly through the office, echoing off the walls and making Baylen jump.
Baylen dropped to their knees, crawling forward on all fours. They didn’t care how they looked, didn’t care about the dirt and grime coating his clothes. All that mattered was finding the truth, finding the answers they so desperately needed.
They tore through the contents of the bottom drawer, fingers digging through the dust and debris. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.
A low, keening sound escaped their throat, a mix of frustration and despair. They had failed. Failed to keep the store running smoothly, failed to protect the items of his coworkers, of his friends. Failed at everything he had set out to do.
Panting, they rounded the desk and dragged himself back to his feet, hands gripping at the edges like a lifeline. The chair scraped against the floor as they dragged it out of the way, not caring about the screech of metal on linoleum.
Nothing came up, other than a frustrated groan that bubbled in his chest. His hands came to his face, calloused fingertips pressing to his temples before dragging down the length of his jaw. The thud of his back hitting the wall was audible, as was the drag of him dropping weight down the length of it. His legs took up a majority of the managerial office’s length, crammed between the popcorned wall and metal desk. A shaky breath left him as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.
They couldn’t take it anymore, the office was nothing short of a disaster, the once pristine and neat workstation now in shambles. Papers littered the floor in a fashion that mirrored a tornado, only to be joined by the mess of drawers that had carelessly been left pried open in a desperate search for answers.
The shadows of the office seemed to grow longer as Baylen remained sprawled against the wall, mind racing with dark possibilities. They slowly dragged their hands down their face, fingers shaking ever so slightly as they tried to reign in the spiraling thoughts. The silence was oppressive, only broken by the occasional creak of the old building around him.
They pulled themself together and up off of the floor. Baylen took a look around as he breathed in a shaky, tense breath. Baylen’s search led him to his own desk, pawing through the open drawers once more. He barely blinked when he began to uncover what he had hidden under the clutter there.
His eyes fell on the worn-out notebook with a coffee ring on the cover, his fingers dancing over the binding. Wordlessly, he flipped the journal open to the most recent entry - marked by a dingy pencil stuffed between the pages. Written in their scribbled mess of handwriting, Baylen had jotted down notes that seemed to compile their thoughts.
Missing Items:
ID
Resume (A.)
EOTW Award (A.)
DL (V.)
Lighter (E.)
Parole Letter (W.)
Suspicious Activity:
D, seems paranoid
A.(foh) absent
W. quieter
E. brash
V . acting strange
A.(boh) showing up late
The page was crumpled, with a long tear on one side, and flecks of torn edges scattered around the drawer. Baylen’s frantic search had not only taken a toll on the office, but on his notebook itself. The notes were a list that summarized Baylen’s current worst fears and concerns; the evidence of his paranoia.
Baylen’s head throbbed, vision blurring at the edges as the panic built to a crescendo. They needed a plan. They needed answers. They needed…
Baylen’s knees buckled and they found themself sinking against the side of the desk. Their back dragged down the adjoining wall until they were hunched with their forehead to their knees, breath coming in ragged gasps. Their hands were shaking, trembling so violently that their knuckles had turned white. Baylen squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the intrusive thoughts, the suffocating fear.
Minutes passed, or maybe hours. Time had lost all meaning in the suffocating confines of the office. Slowly, incrementally, they began to regain some semblance of control. Their breathing steadied, hands stopped shaking quite so badly. Baylen knew they couldn’t fall apart. Not here, not at work. Crying was an off-the-clock activity.
They needed air, they needed to clear their head.
Standing with shaking knees Baylen let out a slow breath as they turned and moved to open the door. Before he was even able to lift his arm, the door swung open with a black scuff mark branding itself on the paint.
Baylen jumped back as the scowl of his line cook, Dante, entered his view. Before he could question Dante’s actions their vision was quickly blinded by a cardboard box being thrown at their head. Shielding themselves from a possible bump on their head they held their arms above them as the box ricocheted off of them. They looked back at Dante in bewilderment as he slammed the door behind him, shutting the two in the confined space. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He hissed as he looked at the disheveled state of his boss, “I can hear you from the walk in. Which means the customers right outside the door can hear you, and I am not in the mood to have day shift down our fucking throats in the morning because some Karen heard you breaking down in here! I've had a migraine all day and Alex just called your cell saying he’s in the ER right now for the same shit.”
Baylen was still in a state of shock with their mouth agape as his employee stuck their finger in her face. “Listen man. Whatever is going on with you, we have to man the fuck up. Enzo doesn't get in till 8. Alex called off and I have not heard shit from Wren,” Dante placed his hands on Baylen's shoulders looking him deep in the eye with intensity. “Lock the fuck in.”
Baylen's bewilderment still had yet to sway as he looked down at his line cook. Dante's eyes were bloodshot and sunken in either from the migraines coming back in crashing waves or his culinary finals that had been picking away at his sleep. His facial hair was scruffier than usual and made him look more like a high-school dropout than the talented cook she knew. Baylen gently placed their hands on Dante's shoulders as they began to slowly nod, “You're right…you're right. I'm sorry.” Shrugging off the younger man's hands they pinched the bridge of their nose as a heavy sigh fell from their lips. “Everyone has lost something recently and for some reason in my mind I connected it to all the bullshit that’s been happening in town. I don't think I'm crazy in thinking something weird is going on but I guess I just…” Baylen sighed again as they covered their face with their hands and groaned into their palms. “It's fine. It's whatever.” Pulling their hands away they looked back down at their coworkers with an awkward smile. “But in good news, we found your polaroid. It was in the back lot of the parking lot near the dumpsters. I don’t know how it got out there but thankfully we don’t have to waste any more polaroid film on your ugly ass.” Baylen snorted at their own joke as they placed their hand on Dante's head, playfully shoving him out of the way as they headed for the door.
Dante only grunted at the action, glaring at Baylen as he strode out of the office and onto the main floor of the restaurant. Orange light bathed the diner as the setting sun peeked past the tall river birch trees that lined the edge of the woods. The night had just barely begun and Baylen was already exhausted from his own worries, woes, and fears that hung over his head like a gray cloud waiting to storm. For the most part, the building was empty. The only ones left were the few remaining day staff either leaving for the night or waiting for the other night staff to come in to take over so they could go home, nothing too out of the ordinary. That was life at the Wafflehouse; nothing out of the ordinary. So why did everything in the past weeks feel so off? It just didn’t make sense to Baylen, someone who had been working at that very location for most of his young adult life. Why did everything feel so wrong now? Why did it seem the world was starting to close in on him and target his crew?
A sharp poke to the side snapped Baylen out of their train of thought. They looked back down at Dante with a frown. “You're doing the thing again,” the younger man whispered as he walked past the manager and behind the counter to the on-duty cook, dismissing her for the night. Looking back at Baylen one last time, Dante mouthed a ‘you okay?’ to them, his face scrunching in concern as he stared. Baylen took a slow deep breath in as he placed an awkward smile on his face as he gave the line cook a little nod before turning around and making his way back into the office, shutting the door behind him.
Dante stood there, momentarily staring at the wood a before scoffing and going back to his honorary duty of cleaning the day staff's leftover bullshit. The boy couldn't fully wrap his head around fully on why Baylen was so worried about the Wafflehouse. Specifically when the entire town was practically on lockdown. It was Appalachia; people going missing wasn’t unheard of. After Dante had moved down from Michigan when he was young he practically heard every tale of axe murderers, skinless men, and horrors beyond comprehension coming from past the thicket of the woods.
Reaching for the cleaning rag, Dante threw water across the warm stove before pouring soap on top to begin his preparation for the usual weirdos that walked in. At least Tim, Brian, and Cody were still safe and well, that brought comfort to him as he scrubbed at the grease and burnt egg the day shift refused to clean themselves. The new frequent customers had also been catching Dante's eye with their strange behavior and unique attributes, but it was no place for Dante to comment on when he had prominent scars of his own across his face.
For now at least, Dante focused his mind on upcoming events that left a heavy feeling in his heart`. His mind had been so clouded with new recipes and techniques that he had forgotten about his own life and needs. Topics that were rudimentary to his person and his routine.
The topic that seemed to flood his mind today was what he was actually going to do for his birthday. Looking back on his previous birthdays, he knew three things for sure:
He would get a phone call from his dad thanking him for turning into the son he had always wanted.
His mother would call and they’d both cry on the phone together over how much they couldn’t wait for Thanksgiving so he could spend a week with her in Michigan.
Cody would knock on his door once he got home from work, they'd sit on the couch and share a bong while watching Killer Klowns from Outer Space, and Cody would give him some small gift that he made last minute.
It happened like clockwork around this time of year, but by god did Dante cherish it. It brought a sense of comfort and familiarity that he didn't often get from his hectic schedule, so the little things really did matter to him. Trying to balance work and school was never an issue for him, but remembering to take his medication between the chaos of the two? That was the real struggle.
After enough elbow grease and TLC, the stove was finally to Dante's liking. He took a step back and admired his work. One task down out of the laundry list the assholes working before left behind as a shit sandwich for him to devour. Throwing the towel down into the cleaner bucket next to the sink he turned around to take in the rest of the dishevelled store only to meet wide icy blue eyes and a scarred face to match.
“FUCK!” Dante yelped, fumbling backwards and catching himself from falling on his ass from the ledge of the stove.
Jeff snickered as he looked at the bumbling fool trying to collect himself.
“Scare ya’? Sorry. I have a tendency to do that to people.” He sat back on the stool before smirking, “Y’know. The whole face and all.” He held up a finger and circled it around his face, highlighting the gnarly scars as if they weren’t blatantly visible.
Dante held a hand over his heart as he glared at the man in frustration and annoyance.
“Dude, not fucking funny,” Dante spat through his teeth as he stood tall again and huffed out a sigh. “What can I get for you?”
Jeff shrugged as he leaned his elbows on the counter and swivelled around in his seat. “Dante, right? Heard through the grapevine you're a culinary student. How much I gotta pay you to make me something good off the menu? I've had prison food for far too long and I want a little treat.” Jeff's eyes crinkled in amusement as he waited patiently for Dante's response.
Dante squinted at the man for a moment, trying to gauge what bullshit he was trying to pull. He knew he shouldn't exactly trust anything this Jeff guy was saying, especially if he and Wren had been buddy-buddy in prison.
“You want something savory or sweet? I can only do so much cuz our shipment truck doesn’t come in til tomorrow,” he spoke, crossing his arms over his chest and peering down at the delinquent.
Jeff's grin widened as he leaned back and blew out a breath. “Damn, I get options? I'm really getting spoiled now. Gotta thank the gossip that I found this place then.”
Dante's eyes practically rolled into the back of his skull but quickly halted that in its tracks as he adjusted his sunglasses. “Yeah, yeah. Now whatcha want?” he grumbled.
Jeff reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled bill. “A little bit of both? Listen, man, I wanna feel like I'm dining like a king. After years in the slammer, I just want a nice hot meal ya’ know?” He slid the bill across the counter. “Charge me what you want. Take the rest as a tip.”
Dante eyed the bill for a moment before cautiously taking it into his hand and unravelling it. His eyes practically bulged out of his head as he stared at the fifty-dollar bill before looking back at Jeff.
A coy smile spread across the man's face as he raised his hands defensively, “I'm feeling generous and I know you’ll whip up something good.”
Dante eyed the man up and down once more before nodding his head and sliding the bill into his pocket. “Coming right up,” he mumbled before adjusting his glasses and walking over to the sink to clean his hands. Quickly scrubbing and drying his hands, he walked back to the stove and began his concoction. Walking back and forth between the fridge and the counter he began to tune his surroundings out as he mechanically worked on Jeff's meal. The sizzle of the grill was white noise to him and the chopping of garnish was second nature.
He was in his zone until the man behind him opened his mouth again.
“Sooo… How long have you known Wren?” He asked as he sat on the stool twiddling his thumbs.
Dante didn't even pause as he tossed water and sugar into a pan to coat the strawberries. “A bit now,” he answered, “They aren't exactly the talkative type.”
That was putting it lightly. Truthfully, even though Wren did do favors for the night crew, trying to get them off their phone and do their job was a fucking nightmare. Yeah, helping out with a ride was one thing, but when they vanished during a dinner rush it was kind of hard to ignore.
Jeff only nodded. “Hey, can I get some coffee?” His shoulders were slumped and he eyed the manager's door as Dante turned around, placing a mug in front of him before pouring a freshly made cup for him.
The background hum of the kitchen brought a comfortable silence between the two as Dante slaved away at the stove to make a decent meal for the criminal.
“I looked you up on the internet the other day.”
Dante's blunt statement cut through the silence like a skilled butcher's knife carved a pig. Jeff choked on his drink before he nervously wrapped his hands around the mug, knuckles turning bone white as his body tensed with every nerve on edge.
“Yeah?” The stiffness in his voice was undeniable.
Dante only hummed as he casually flipped a pancake in the pan. “Yep.”
Jeff swallowed as his eyes became glued to the counter, and he spat through gritted teeth... “So… what? You think I'm some lunatic?”
Some nerve Dante had to bring up the gruesome crime of killing over a dozen people whilst the killer sat behind him waiting for food.
“Am I supposed to think of anything else?” Dante retorted, looking over his shoulder. His piercing gray eyes peaked from the side of his glasses and sparked a burning fire of spite deep in Jeff's chest.
“But,” The cook turned his attention back to the grill. “Against my better judgment, I want to know your side of it. Because from what I can tell, compared to what the news reports and chat boards say– your skin isn’t fucking geisha white and your face doesn’t look like that annoying cat from Alice in Wonderland.”
Jeff glared daggers at the back of Dante’s head for a moment before turning his fiery gaze to his coffee. His own scarred, burned, and loathed reflection glared back at him. “Why do you wanna know so bad?” he sneered. Dante listened to the man's frustrated tone, noting how familiar it sounded. It reminded him of when he first met Baylen all those years ago. A familiar twang and flow with the way his tongue flicked over certain vocabulary, or how he articulated his words when he had first moved down to this shitty little town from New York. When it came to Jeff, it was so similar but not quite the same; unique in its own way. The memory of the past brought a smile to Dante’s lips momentarily, before it was quickly snuffed out for his normal, neutral expression.
The cook shrugged. “What can I say? I love a good sob story. A boy freshly moves to a neighborhood, then stabs a kid the next day and breaks another kid's wrist. It’s brutal, but it doesn’t add up. Not to mention your younger brother taking the fall for you.” Dante began plating the food with delicate precision, “Let's not forget those same kids jumping you weeks later and doing all of…” Dante turned around and waved his hand in Jeff's general direction. “That. To you. Then once you finally get out of the hospital and your brother gets taken out of juvie, you just so happen to kill not only your family but your neighbors and her two little friends as well. All in one night.” Dante took the plate in his hand and slid it across the counter in front of Jeff as he leaned forward, getting into the man's face. “That don’t add up to me. So, let's talk.”
Jeff stared down at the massive pile of food set before him with his jaw slack. Pancakes with candied strawberries delicately placed on top with dollops of whipped cream cheese, with a side of a picture-perfect omelet. The chef really did go above and beyond for a murderer; perhaps trying to butter up Jeff in order to get some juicy details that the media never did. Jeff quickly grabbed the fork and began cutting, tearing, and shovelling the man's masterpiece down his throat like it would be taken away from him at any moment. Dante’s face twisted in disapproval and disgust as he stared at the deplorable display of gluttony, watching the man destroy his hard work and leave the counter looking like a warzone.
“Fine,” Jeff said bluntly after swallowing a large bite of omelet. “Since yer twisting my fuckin’ arm I’ll tell ya’.” Rolling his shoulders back and stretching his neck, Jeff straightened his posture as he looked between Dante and his meal. “For starters, the newspapers and those true crime junkies got it wrong; Lui is my older brother. The only reason they said he was younger than me was because I had one hell of a growth spurt outta nowhere.” Reaching over, he chugged down the last of his coffee before shoving the mug in Dante’s face expectantly. Dante raised a brow before snatching the cup and haphazardly pouring more of the liquid into the cup. With the same attitude used against him, Dante shoved the mug back into Jeff’s direction, coffee sloshing from the side and leaving dark puddles that reflected the two annoyed men. “Go on,” Dante muttered as he rested his hand against the counter, leaning into Jeff's personal space with no care. “I’m all ears.”
“Back the fuck up, will ya’?” Jeff hissed, shoving a rough and ridged palm against Dante’s face and pushing him back. “I’m workin’ on it.” Jeff's glare was harsh, but the cook's demeanor didn’t seem to waver. Back in prison, a single glance from Jeff's bloodshot and scarred eyes would send everyone running for the hills, but here was this asshole punk pipsqueak not even wavering at his attitude or insults. Dante thrummed his fingers methodically against the marble patiently waiting for Jeff’s attitude to cease its unnecessary continuation.
“Secondly, it didn’t happen the day after we moved in. Lui and I had been there for months with Randy and his fuckin’ goons breathing down our next every goddamn day. Obviously, my brother took the fall for me when the cops came knocking, that part’s true. The trial was stupid… but lack of evidence, conflicting testimony, and unreliable statements don’t mean much when the parents of those lil’ shits were whispering and paying off the jury behind closed doors,” Jeff's face was a flurry of loathing, resentment, and regret as he recalled the memory. Sitting in the witness stand and repeatedly insisting that Lui didn’t do it, all while watching his parents show obvious favoritism towards him over his brother.
The buzz of the fluorescent lights filled the silence between the two like a liminal symphony, adding more fuel to the awkward and tense fire. Jeff’s glare travelled from Dante’s form to the manager's door once more. “You here by yourself?” He grumbled, the quiet harshness of his tone making it sound more like a cryptic threat rather than a question. Dante hummed before his own gaze landed on the closed door as well. “Why? You gonna skin me next?” Jeff scoffed, breaking his harsh gaze from the wood back to the marble of the counter. “Fuck off, yeah?” he hissed venomously as he took another swig of his coffee. When done, he slammed the mug down. “It wouldn’t be me to slice you up. I just got out of jail. I don't wanna go back.” The sentence felt like a double meaning. A promise and a threat. Something both genuine and sinister in just that one statement.
The silence between the two was as thick as the syrup left outside on shipment nights. Jeff's glare would normally send a shiver down the spines of inmates that dared look in his direction but sitting before Dante he didn’t even flinch. Jeff only rolled his eyes and went back to chewing his food as his mind spun with ideas of what the line cook could be thinking.
“I didn’t mean to kill my parents.” Jeff's voice broke the silence between them as he stared into his coffee cup. The memory seemed to weigh down on the man as his resented reflection looked back at him. “I was so messed up on those meds and the quacks didn’t look too deep into what was rattlin’ inside my fuckin’ head maybe things could be different.” His voice seemed to quiver for a sliver of a moment before he straightened his back. Clearing his throat he turned his glare back to Dante with the same sharpness as before. “That enough for your nosey ass?” Venom practically dripped from his lips as he spat his question at Dante. Dante only stared before grabbing the pitcher of coffee and refilling Jeff’s cup in silence. The silence only irked Jeff more as he sat stewing in his own misery waiting for something- anything- to be said by the other man. “You know you sure have a fuckin’ way of getting information outta people. You should be a fuckin’ cop.”
“I hate cops,” Dante said bluntly as he leaned against the counter. “I don’t trust ‘em. Plus you know.” He gestured to himself. “Cops don’t exactly like me either.” He reached over and grabbed his own coffee mug and poured himself a cup. Bringing it to his lips the porcelain clanking against his snakebites as he took a long silent sip. “As for your life story? I was just curious. You seemed interesting.” He only shrugged once more before walking away from the grill and to the other side of the counter.
Jeff’s glare hardened as he looked down back at his meal as Dante sat next to him. “You know i could tell ya’ fuckin’ manager ‘bout this.”
“Go ahead,” Dante half-laughed as he swished his coffee in his mug. “He won’t give a fuck. Lord knows even he can’t fucking stand me.” Jeff only grunted as his gaze went to the sturdy wooden door of the manager's office. The man's eyes darted between Dantes relaxing for and the only blockage obscuring his vision of Baylen. “So whats his fuckin’ deal?” He mumbled, pointing a scarred finger to the manager's office. Dante's head lazily lolled to the side looking to the direction in which Jeff was pointing. “Who? Baylen? He's the manager here.”
Jeff rolled his eyes, frustration and annoyance dripping from his very being. “Yeah I know he's your manager but like…what's his deal, ya’ know, like why is he hidin’ in there while you're out here?” Dante only looked lazily at Jeff before taking a long calm sip of his coffee. “Baylen works himself up over little things. Finds dots to connect that really shouldn't be connected.” He adjusted his posture.
“Usually I can just talk him down from it but recently it's been getting to his head. I'd offer him my meds but I know he'd slap the shit out of me if I did.” He chuckled at his own joke. Dante turned his gaze to Jeff once more. “But that's about all I can say. I don’t need you poking around and freaking him the fuck out even more.” He flashed a yellowed grin at the man before sitting up. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.” He hummed before getting up from the seat and heading to the freezer leaving the man to his own devices.
As Dante walked away Jeff hollered at him. “Hey! You should be more careful around these parts now. Maybe ya’ manager is on to something.” Jeff smirked at the line cook. Dante opened his mouth to argue back but his words died in his throat as Baylen opened the door to the office. Baylen looked to the left and frowned as he placed his gaze on the delinquent. The sound of porcelain on floor tore his attention away as he looked to find Dante on the ground picking up fragments of his broken necklace. “This is the 3rd one this week.” The man grumbled as he scooped the larger portions in his hands before walking into the back.
Baylen, ever the help, only watched before looking back at Jeff with a suspicious gaze. The man only smirked and gave the manager a little wave before finishing up his meal. “Compliments to the fuckin’ chef…” He mumbled before rising from his seat. “See you ‘round, Blondie.”
Baylen opened his mouth preparing to demand what the fuck he meant by that, but he was already gone and out the door before he could get a word in. Baylen was only left standing there like a man who missed the last bus home, a million questions running through his mind of what would happen and what to do, but for now, only silence filled the restaurant. Just another day he supposed. It was going to be a long night.
The first hints of dawn crept through the Waffle House’s windows, casting long shadows across the linoleum floor. Baylen’s oxford shoes scuffed against the tiles, each step deliberate and weary. The night’s chaos still lingered – papers scattered in the office from his frantic search, his thoughts just as frazzled.
Dante moved behind the counter, his movements mechanical. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, a stark contrast to the darkness that had consumed their night. He glanced at Baylen, noticing the manager’s tense shoulders.
“Coffee?” Dante’s voice broke the silence, more of a statement than a question.
Baylen couldn’t nod fast enough, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. The silence hung heavy until the familiar jingle-jangle of the front door’s chime cut through the restaurant’s morning stillness.
It was a familiar face who entered first, Brian, his leather jacket and tan-ish yellow hoodie slightly damp from the morning dew. Tim trailed behind, their usual morning rhythm unchanged despite the night’s underlying tension. The door closed with a soft thud, breaking the restaurant’s momentary trance.
“Morning,” Brian called out, his gap-toothed smile breaking through the tension. He guided Tim to their usual spots at the counter, their movements practiced and comfortable– a stark contrast to the stress Baylen’s mind had faced just hours prior.
Dante’s hand was already moving, grabbing their standard mugs before they could even ask. Tim’s eyes flickered between Baylen and Dante, something unreadable passing between them. The weight of unspoken thoughts pressed against the morning’s quiet calm.
As Brian settled into the stool, his eyes immediately locked onto Baylen. “Looking a bit rough this morning, pretty boy,” he drawled, using the nickname Dante often teasingly threw around.
Baylen rolled his eyes, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. His heterochromatic eye– one steel gray, one a deep amber– caught the morning light. “Rough nights tend to happen when you’re cleaning up everyone else’s messes,” he retorted, leaning against the counter.
Dante snorted behind them, muttering, “Here we go again,” as he poured the coffee.
Brian’s gap-toothed grin widened, “Want me to kiss it better?” The line hung in the air, part joke, part genuine flirtation. Time beside him rolled his eyes, used to this constant back-and-forth.
As Brian’s flirtatious banter continued, Dante dramatically rolled his eyes and turned away, physically recoiling. “Oh my god,” he groaned, exaggeratedly grimacing. “Can we not do this right now? It’s barely six in the morning.”
He grabbed a nearby rag and started aggressively wiping down the already clean counter, muttering under his breath. “Gross. Absolutely gross. I do not get paid enough to witness… this.”
The last word was drawn out with maximum teenage-like disgust, his pierced lips curling in an over-the-top expression of revulsion. His black-framed glasses slid down his nose as he continued his performative cleaning, clearly trying to block out Baylen and Brian’s flirtatious exchange.
Brian’s laughter and Baylen’s retorts faded into background noise, blending with the soft clinking of coffee mugs and the hum of fluorescent lights. Brian’s laugh occasionally punctuated the quiet, his hand brushing against Baylen’s from across the counter as they exchanged coffee and casual touches. Baylen’s dimple piercings caught in the light as he smiled, a rare moment of genuine softness.
Dante paused mid-wipe, catching the expression. It was the first time in weeks he’d seen Baylen truly relaxed– no paranoid scanning of their surroundings, no tension in his shoulders, just a simple, unguarded moment of joy.
Something in Dante’s chest loosened. There you are, he thought, watching his friend’s rare moment of peace.
Tim’s voice pulled him back. “Dante?”
“Hm?” Dante’s eyes flickered back, professional mask sliding instantly back into place.
“Your culinary finals are coming up?” Tim asked, breaking the silence. His fingers traced idle patterns on the lip of the coffee mug.
Dante grumbled, adjusting his glasses. “Pastry practical. Chef’s been riding my ass about my chocolate tempering technique.” He leaned in, a conspiratorial tone lilting in his voice. “Between you and me, I couldn’t give less of a shit, I’m going to nail it anyways.”
Tim’s laugh was dry, more of a huffed breath. “Confidence of youth.”
“Experience of practice,” Dante countered, flipping a towel over his shoulder with practiced ease. “I’ve been working these techniques since I was seven. Learned more in my landlord’s kitchen than most people do in culinary school.”
Behind them, Brian’s laugh was punctuated by Baylen’s softer chuckle– a background melody to their conversation.
Tim studied Dante. Something calculating lived behind his casual observation. “Landlord’s kitchen, huh? Sounds like there's a story there.”
Dante’s hand paused mid-wipe. Most people would’ve pushed, but Tim’s tone was more observation than interrogation. “Needed somewhere stable,” he said finally. No elaboration, just a statement.
Tim nodded. No prying, just understanding. “Stability’s hard to come by.”
The comment hung between them, loaded with unspoken meaning. The recent missing persons, the town’s growing tension, the weird shit happening at the diner. Tim wasn’t asking. He was acknowledging.
“You see a lot,” Dante said quietly. Not a question. An observation.
Tim’s eyes– sharp, knowing– met Dante’s. “Sometimes seeing is safer than speaking.”
Behind them, Dante was faintly aware of Baylen and Brian’s soft chatting; it provided a normal backdrop to this very abnormal conversation.
Tim's eyes flickered briefly to the window, then back to Dante. “Especially when… certain people might be listening.”
Dante caught the deliberate glances Tim threw around the restaurant, he noted the man frequently doing that– watching.
Dante had long ago categorized Tim as perpetually paranoid– the type who was always watching, always calculating. He’d noticed how Tim never seemed truly relaxed, how his body was always angled to see every entrance and exit. Yet here he was, sitting openly at the counter, a clear compromise. Dante knew it was for Brian’s sake– Tim might be watchful, reserved, and constantly scanning the room, but he was also fundamentally loyal. Protective, Dante supposed.
The man’s back was stiff, positioned so that while he sat in the most exposed part of the restaurant, he could still track every movement. Not out of comfort, but out of a deep-seated need to ensure Brian’s safety.
Dante understood that kind of vigilance. He’d seen it before– in his mother’s eyes, always scanning rooms before they entered, always positioning herself between her son and the world, always making sure she could see every possible exit after… well, after.
The soft jingle of the front door broke his reverie. Day shift had arrived.
Elsie entered first, her tight strawberry blonde curls bouncing with each step. At 4’11, she was dwarfed by the restaurant’s space, but her presence filled the room. Her big pink glasses were perched high upon her nose, matching the pastel pink accessories that adorned her uniform sweater. Freckles danced across her caramel skin, accompanied by a dimpled smile when she gave a cheerful wave.
Hadley followed, all punk-rock edges and lanky limbs. His shaggy black hair fell across dark eyes that surveyed the restaurant with a practiced coolness. He moved with the ease of someone who’d worked too many morning shifts.
Anton brought up the rear– A walking contradiction. Scars traced his face, a glass eye catching the fluorescent light, his curly hair was a wild contract to his precise movements. Dante had long ago stopped trying to figure out exactly where in the store Anton worked. The answer seemed to be: everywhere.
“Good morning!” Elsie chirped, her voice a stark contrast to the night shift’s subdued energy.
Relaxation eased over Dante. Shift change. Time to fade into the background.
Brian and Tim exchanged a quick glance. Without a word, they began gathering their things. Tim’s half-full coffee mug was abandoned, and Brian’s plate was only partially cleared. As quickly as they’d settled in, they were moving towards the exit, their practiced rhythm speaking of long-established routine.
The bell chimed as they left, leaving behind only the warmth of their presence and a wad of cash on the counter.
Baylen stretched, his long frame unfolding from behind the counter. “Another night done,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Dante grabbed his jacket, sliding his arms into the worn bomber jacket that he’d owned for years. The back door beckoned, the morning light already cutting through the restaurant's interior. Outside, their vehicles awaited– Baylen’s practical Subaru parked neatly beside Dante’s well-loved truck.
“Hey,” Dante said, keys already in hand. The morning air was crisp, promising a day of potential. “We’ve both got tomorrow off, right?”
Baylen raised a brow as he rounded his car to the driver’s side. “Yeah?”
Dante’s fingers drummed against his truck’s door handle. He’d been watching Baylen’s increasing paranoia, the way tension seemed to live permanently in his shoulders. “Wanna do something tomorrow?” The question came out casual, but there was an undercurrent of concern. “Get you out of your head for a bit.”
It wasn’t really a question. It was an intervention, wrapped in the guise of a casual hang-out.
Dante's fingers drummed against his truck's door handle. "Wanna do something tomorrow?" The question came out casual, but there was an undercurrent of concern. "Get you out of your head for a bit."
Baylen paused, keys halfway to the Subaru's door. He considered for a moment - the weight of the past few nights, the scattered papers in his office, the missing items, Jeff's appearance. His shoulders, always tense, seemed to soften slightly.
"Yeah," he said finally. "Sure. Been a while since we've hung out." A beat. "Should we invite Enzo?"
The suggestion was classic Baylen - always thinking about including the crew, always trying to maintain some sense of normalcy even when everything felt like it was unravelling.
Dante's lips quirked. "Yeah, sure. You need a break from... everything."
Baylen nodded, something grateful and tired in the gesture. He slid into the Subaru, the car settling around him like a familiar embrace. The driver's side door creaked - an old, well-known sound.
Dante watched him for a moment, making sure Baylen actually started the car. Their vehicles stood side by side in the morning light, a quiet testament to their unspoken understanding.
The Subaru's engine turned over. Baylen raised two fingers in a half-wave, half-salute.
Dante responded with a nod, climbing into his own truck. Another night shift done. Another day of waiting.
(Authors note: hey guys! happy new year! Sorry we haven't posted in a whole year! a lot has been going on recently while writing this story. One of our co-writer has disappeared out of no where and we're trying to put the story together with what little drafts they've left us. It's kinda cryptic but we're working extra hard to get you guy some content out! Thanks for sticking around and reading anyways! Lets hope for a better new year! -Mod Bat & Mod Faun)
Wren sat silently in the farthest booth, staring out the window, waiting for Dante to bring them their order. The rain methodically thrummed against the roof of the building only adding to the boring atmosphere of the restaurant tonight. A sigh left Wren's throat as the soft clacking of a plate on the table in front of them drew their attention away from the outside world. “Order up,” Dante hummed as he wiped his hand on his apron. “Hawaiian roll french toast with honey glaze.” He smiled proudly. Wren's gaze turned to the plate in front of them staring down at the 5-star gourmet food placed before them. Sitting up straight they took the fork out of their napkin and began to dig in. Dante turned; leaving Wren to enjoy their 30 as he went back to share his creation with the others. Wren greedily dug into the food in front of them as they savored the sweet taste on their tongue. It wasn't often that the store was empty enough to allow Dante to work on his culinary skills, but when the store has been empty since 12 AM it's hard not to try and concoct something. Wren enjoyed any food placed in front of them though, not just Dante’s cooking. Compared to the prison food they consumed for 2 years, Dante’s food was like heaven on earth. Prison food wasn't too bad, it was filling; however, so was dirt, and the dirt was preferable. Getting caught shoplifting sucked and snubbed any job opportunity they had of getting a high position in any industry. Being stuck in a dead-end job with coworkers who equally hate their job brought them some solace though, as it meant they were not alone in this feeling of emptiness. Wren continued to eat as they pulled out their phone and began scrolling as they enjoyed their break. They had always done this when work was too slow and even when work was busy. The only time they weren't on their phone and would step in to help was when everyone else was struggling to do their job, which was always a complaint that they heard from everyone else.
Truthfully Wren didn't care what the others had to say about their behavior, because anything that they said could easily be proven as hypocritical. Dante and Enzo were chronic smokers and constantly took breaks in order to satisfy that craving, Alex was a mute and would get overwhelmed too easily by the basic dinner rush despite being the head cook, and Baylen was just Baylen. “Who are they to judge when they have their own reasons to abandon this sinking ship?” they pondered to themself as they continued to scroll. While Wren hated their coworkers' attitudes about their lack of enthusiasm for their job, they did admire their consistency; Dante wearing his evil eye and mixed metal jewelry, Enzo's dry humor, Baylen’s laid-back behavior, Alex's anxiety going full circle to confidence, Adrian's great customer service, and Vesper's ability to match the energy of customers. It was something that Wren could at least say was one positive of working here. The sounds of praise from Adrian and Enzo as Dante took their empty plates were nothing but background noise to Wren as they plugged their earbuds in to have their own personal bubble once more.
Enzo looked at the clock and signalled to Dante to follow him. Leaning into the office, Enzo whistled to Alex and Baylen to grab their attention, “It's dead as fuck in here. Dante cooked up some recipe he’s working on in school if you want any, but we're gonna head to the back to have a smoke break.” He hummed as he leaned out again, not waiting for a response. Alex and Baylen looked at each other once more before Baylen raised his hands to do quotations, “‘Smoke break’, yeah sure.” He snorted sarcastically as he swivelled his chair back around to face his monitors. Alex chuckled as he swivelled back in his own chair. “I’m telling you, dude, either A) they’re secretly dating or B) they were tragic lovers in a past life.” Baylen hummed in response. “Maybe, or maybe they're just fucking gay but not gay for each other,” Alex grunted as he wrote the schedule for the next week. “Well, you know the deal. 20 dollars will be earned eventually.”
Outside of the restaurant, Dante held the door for Enzo as they stepped out, pulling out their cigarette of choice, and placing it between their lips. Dante pulled out his zippo and waved Enzo closer as he held up his hand to prevent the flame from going out. They stood close until the tips of their cigarettes glowed crimson, soon pulling away. Dante squatted down to the concrete as Enzo stood next to him leaning against the brick wall behind him. “T’nights so fucking dead, dude,” Enzo grumbled as they took a drag and pulled it from their lips, ashing it to the floor. Dante hummed and exhaled his own disgusting gust of cancer while fiddling with his evil eye necklace. “I’d rather have a dead night than a full house. You know our pay is based on the entire day, so if we didn’t make shit one night it’ll be covered by the day shift.” Enzo snorted and shook their head. “God you're terrible for thinking that way, but I love it when you're right.” He smiled as he took another hit. They continued to chat and smoke, not caring about their surroundings as they enjoyed their time together, their conversation having no care until Dante was reminded of something. “Hey dude, I've been meaning to ask this, but do you know what happened to the freezer? No one really gave me a straight answer.” Dante glanced up to Enzo, hoping for the most deadpan dickhead they knew to finally give him some answer. Enzo stared straight ahead as his face scrunched in confusion; only then did they both realize how quiet their surroundings had become. “Well uh…” Enzo began dropping his arm holding the cigarette to their side. “I actually don’t kn-” Snap. Both their heads snap straight forward, staring at the woods ahead of them. The back of the building always unnerved the night crew. At night the only light there was the one at the back door, and it illuminated only the asphalt before the woods. The inky black of the unknown lurked not even 12 feet away, and it made Enzo queasy. There had always been rumors about those woods since he was a kid; a tall man that sent people mad and drove them to kill, a pale creature that looked human but would rip a man limb from limb with inhuman strength, and a demon made of so many eyes one would see the abominations of the earth reflected in them. All of them were just old folk tales, of course, made to keep kids out of the woods and away from the wildlife that could kill them. Enzo knew that so why were they frozen in anticipation? Why was their heart racing as they stared ahead? Dante was frozen in the same way. They were both grown adults, yet being told the same folk tales from a young age brought them the same terror. Snap. Dante scrambled on the ground and to their feet, moving close to Enzo while reaching into their back pocket to pull out their knife. Their hearts slammed in sync as they waited for something. The snapping of twigs seemed to get closer as Dante pulled out their knife and held it in their fist. The sounds grew closer and more rapid as he took a stance in front of Enzo, preparing for the worst. His heart raced as the noise came straight towards them as Dante sucked in a breath and took a step forward, ready to make the first and final blow. The sound stopped quickly as a small gray rabbit stepped into the light of the building. Dante and Enzo stared at the creature as it sat on its hind legs, cleaning its face before looking up at the two humans who seemed as if they were going to explode. Enzo let out a sigh of relief and placed their hands on their knees as they tried to regain their composure. Dante huffed as he began to chuckle and put away his knife, “Man, I think that's the hardest we've tweaked ever.”
“Hello my-” Dante and Enzo screamed and jumped into each other's arms as someone rounded the corner. The man also jumped back at the sudden reaction and shouted in surprise as well. After a pause, Dante lunged at the man, slapping his arm repeatedly and yelling profanities at him in Spanish. The man only laughed and used his shoulder to defend himself. “I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I know, I'm sorry!” he laughed as he took the beating like it was nothing. Enzo sighed and held a hand to their chest, feeling their heart thumping at a mile a minute. “Jesus Christ, Brian, you scared the shit out of us.” He sighed as Dante continued to slap Brian. Brian Thomas, another regular of the night shift, was one of the beloved customers amongst the crew and was a part of a little trio that frequented the diner at oddball hours of the night. He smiled a crooked gap-toothed smile at Enzo that could almost melt his bitchy, stone-cold heart. Almost. Dante finally stopped slapping Brian's arm and leaned into his chest, groaning loudly. Brian laughed as he wrapped his arms around Dante and rocked him back and forth“. Rough night?” he inquired as he smiled again. “Dead night.” Dante muffled through Brian's chest. “Ahh makes sense. You cancer-filled crusaders at least making it through?” He squeezed Dante. Enzo shrugged. “Yeah, to the best. Are the T’s with you?” Brian laughed and finally let go of Dante. “Tim’s inside giving Alex a panic attack and Toby’s off with friends. Before you ask, we're also shocked that he has friends,” he chuckled. Enzo nodded; straightening out his uniform and pulling open the backdoor. “Well, we’ll be in to serve you now. See you inside, Mr. Thomas.” Brian laughed as he nodded, turning the corner and disappearing into the night again. Dante and Enzo stepped back in and headed to their station to continue their jobs.
Wren leaned back with their phone in hand, occasionally looking up to peer at Alex on the verge of panic as they listened to Tim’s order. While Alex wrote on the notepad, Dante came up behind them and placed a gentle hand on their shoulder before taking the notepad out of their hand. Dante said something that couldn’t be heard over Wren's music as he wrote down stuff on his notepad and poured a cup of black coffee for Tim. Wren’s eyes flickered to the door as Brian walked in, sitting down next to Tim at the counter and patting him on the back. Wren grunted at the sight and sunk into their booth to look at their phone once more, drowning out the world around them. Tim and Brian had gotten up from the counter and moved to a table close to the door out of Wren’s line of sight. Wren scrolled through Facebook, observing all the people's life achievements they’d missed while they were in prison. Most things were to be expected, such as people getting married, having a baby, or getting a house; things that just received an eye roll from them. To their annoyance, their ‘30 minute break’ was interrupted once again by the door being slammed open and a figure looming at the threshold. Wren’s face scrunched in irritation as they looked at the man at the door from bottom to top. Beat-up black Adidas shoes that looked like they were about to tear away from the sole at any second, black pants stitched up with scrap fabric and handmade patches of bands Wren couldn't even imagine pronouncing, and a dirty white hoodie with random brown stains around the chest and sleeve. Wren moved on from the man's clothes and looked at his face only to feel all the judgment leave their mind as they recognized the man. He didn't seem to see Wren as he moved from the door to sit down at the counter. Wren ripped their earbuds out as they rushed out of the booth and behind the counter.
“Dante, I've got this one. You take your break.” Wren promptly demanded as they yanked the notepad out of Dante's hand. Dante’s face twisted in anger as he turned to Wren. “The fuck’s your problem? I’m with a customer!” Dante hissed at Wren. Wren moved and stood in front of the man directly as they pointed toward the back of the building. “Go.” They said firmly as Dante glared back at them. “You’re a fucking asshole tonight,” he replied bluntly. He took the towel out of his apron and smacked it onto the counter before turning away to the manager's office. Wren kept their eyes on Dante until he was fully gone before they looked back at the man. “I thought you still had 5 more years, Jeff,” they said coldly. The man stayed silent for a moment before he leaned in and grinned his extended smile. “I got out on good behavior, Wren. I’m a changed man.” Wren couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down their back as they looked at the man's face again; Jeffery Woods, a serial killer, sat before them again. His curly black hair framed his scared face with patches of baldness from his burns and half his face and neck were rough and patchy from burn scars that covered most of his body. That wasn’t the part that unnerved Wren though- in fact, it gave them a bit of sympathy for Jeff- the thing that really unnerved Wren was the fact that Jeff did it to himself, completely of his own volition. The jagged, healed scars of where he had mutilated his face left the corners of his mouth extended to an uncomfortable degree, and the jagged form of his eyelids from him trying to cut them off made his eyes seem unnervingly wide. The jagged and rough skin always made Wren’s skin crawl when they were in prison together, but Jeff wore it with pride like it was a badge of honor. “You got new piercings I see,” they swallowed dryly as they looked down at the notepad in their hands. Jeff's milky blue eyes glimmered with joy, “Oh, you're the first to notice. Yeah, I got them as soon as I got out.” He pulled back his hair and showed off his ears. “How long have you been out, Jeff?” Wren asked bluntly. Jeff stiffened as his smile dropped and he folded his hands on the counter. “Same as you, Wren. And I'm staying with a few friends who are getting me back into the loop of life.” His grin slowly started to come back. Wren glared at Jeff when in the corner of their eye, they spotted Adrian stepping out of the office and heading over to Wren with an angered expression. Wren quickly leaned towards Jeff and hissed at him. “Whatever you’re up to, you do not bring it here, you hear me? These are good people. You stay the fuck away from my coworkers.” They quickly pulled away and turned to Adrian as he stood in front of them with Dante behind him. “I think Dante has it from here. You and I can roll silverware together,” he stated. Dante gently took the notepad and turned their attention to Jeff. “Don’t worry, Wren and I go way back. Just catching up with a friend.” Jeff grinned his extended, crooked grin at Adrian. Wren glared as they walked away, turning their back to Jeff and following Adrian. “Hey Wren,” Jeff called out. Wren turned around expecting an insult. The shout also caught the attention of Tim and Brian, bringing them out of their conversation. “With my new job, I want you to know I'll be seeing a lot of you and your coworkers around. We're all going to be very well acquainted.” He smirked. Wren’s face heated up and they turned away, rushing to the back to stop themself from flying over the counter and strangling Jeff. Brian and Tim’s eyes stayed glued on Wren as they continued to walk away then flickered over to Dante looking for an answer. Dante looked back at the two men and shrugged as he turned his attention to the man in front of him. “Sorry about that. My name's Dante, what can I get started for you tonight?” Dante placed a mug in front of Jeff and held up the coffee pot offering him some. Jeff curtly nodded at the offer as Dante poured him a cup and then slid two small bowls of disposable cream and sugar packets.
“So how long have you been working here?” Jeff inquired as he brought the cup of black coffee to his lips. Dante pondered as he turned around to make Brian and Tim’s usual orders. “I’ve been working here since I was 16. So about 6 years on the 13th.” Jeff tilted his head as he rested his hand on his chin watching Dante crack eggs with one hand and cook them on the grill. “The 13th, huh? What's so important about that?” Jeff took another sip. Dante shrugs, “That's my birthday. So that's how I remember how long I’ve been working here.” Jeff hummed as he continued to sit and drink his coffee in silence. Dante continued to cook as Baylen stepped out of the office; turning on the radio as they grabbed the plated food from Dante.
A town curfew has been set in place due to the recent uprising in missing people and murderers. Curfew is set at 9 o’clock at night and will be held till 5 am; lock all doors and windows as well as set up home security. If you see any suspicious behavior in or around your house, hide in a dark room and call the police. The emergency line will be on 24/7 for anything. If you see something, say something.
Dante turned his attention to the radio with a frown and turned up the volume, listening intently. Jeff hummed as he took another sip of coffee, “That's a shame. I have so much to do at night now that I’m out. That’s going to make things harder.” Dante turned around with a confused look at Jeff as Baylen placed down Tim and Brian's plates. Brian's eyes shot up at Baylen as he stared at them for a while. Tim looked up from his plate to Brian's face before turning his attention to Baylen as well. Tim squints for a second before having an undescribed look. The sound of Dante swearing took away Baylen's attention from the men as they watched him leave the counter and move to the back. As he made his way to the back Enzo moved to the front, giving him a weird look as the two crossed paths. Baylen looked back at the men and sighed. “Sorry about that, is there anything else I can get you?” Brian hummed as he looked up to Baylen, studying them for a moment, before cracking a smile. “How about that hangout I’ve been asking for for months? You can’t keep me waiting forever.” Tim turned his attention to Baylen as well. “Yeah, man. Come out and hang with us during the day for once.” Baylen shrugged and rolled his shoulders back as she looked over in the direction Dante had disappeared to. “Maybe later this week. If you need anything just holler. I have to check on my line cook.” Baylen turned around as they walked to the back to look for Dante. Enzo leaned towards Baylen as they walked by, “His necklace just broke, it's nothing life-threatening but he is kinda frazzled tonight.” Baylen sighed. Normally she wouldn’t think twice about her employees' antics but when Dante was ‘frazzled’ it could mean many things. Baylen headed to the back to find their line cook only to see the area empty with the backdoor cracked open. Slipping through the crack and observing the surroundings, Baylen found Dante with his back to the door, leaning his head back with his hand against his mouth, seemingly swallowing something. Baylen sighed as they stuffed their hands into their pockets and walked up next to Dante. “You a’right?” Baylen asked as she looked down at Dante, a puzzled expression crossing her face. Dante sighed and scratched his neck as he reached down pulling out his second cigarette of the night, “Yeah, just... My necklace broke and it made me realize I forgot to take my meds and T shot. I can take my shot when I get home but I definitely need to take my other stuff now.” Dante hummed as he lit up the cigarette, taking a filthy hit into his lungs. He craned his neck up to stare at the stars covering the night sky. “You're usually so suspicious. Why aren't you freaking out about your necklace?” Baylen crossed his arms over their chest as they kept their eyes on the shorter man. Dante kept his eyes on the sky as he took another drag. He shrugged his shoulders and rolled his head over to look at the taller one. “Truth be told, I'm trying more to think logically. I get antsy too easily so I can't let my superstitions get the better of me. I've had this necklace for 6 years from my mama. It was only a matter of time before it broke. Plus she sends me one for every holiday, so I can just wear a new one tomorrow night.” Baylen only nodded and looked at the sky with Dante. They both stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity but was only a few minutes.
The sound of the back door opening dragged their attention away from the night sky as they turned to see who could have caused the commotion. “Yo,” Wren said bluntly as they stuck their head out of the door. “Brian wants more coffee and I'm on my break.” Dante sighed as they dropped their cigarette to the floor and crushed it with the toe of his boot. He walked to the door and shoved passed Wren. “You've been on your break for the past 2 hours. You're dismissed for the day.” Wren scoffed as they watched Dante walk, turning back to Baylen. “He's not a manager. He can't talk to me like that,” they grunted as Baylen walked past, closing the door behind them. Baylen sighed and blankly looked down at Wren as they voiced their complaints. Wren scowled at Baylen, putting their hands up with attitude as they waited for Baylen to respond. “Hello?! Are you going to say something to him? He can’t talk to me like that.” Wren’s mood soured the longer Baylen sat in silence. Baylen looked down and pinched the bridge of their nose as they took a very grounding deep breath. Baylen’s eyes shifted to Wren’s face, watching as they continued to boil in rage. Baylen looked them up and down one more time. “I don’t have the energy or time for this Wren. You’re dismissed,” They stated, before turning and walking away. Wren scoffed and stomped their feet as they turned toward the coat rack, yanking their jacket off. They swore under their breath and huffed as they turned around one last time, watching Dante as he passed by, coffee pot in hand. Wren swung their hand up with force and proudly gave him the finger. Dante looked over his shoulder, eyeing Baylen, before forcefully smacking the coffee pot down and removing his apron as he made his way to Wren. A wave of fright and adrenaline rushed through Wren's veins as they quickly spun on their heel and rushed out the backdoor to their car. They quickly unlocked their door and hopped in, slamming the door behind them. They looked to the back door of the restaurant, and when they didn’t see a raging Dante burst through to come and key their car, they relaxed and turned the car on. It hummed to life with warm air flowing through the vents.
Knock knock.
Wren jumped in their seat and whipped their head towards the driver's side door, seeing Jeff standing there with a shit-eating grin. Wren rolled their eyes and rolled their window down a crack to glare up at him. Jeff leaned down and looked at Wren through the crack. “Hey stranger, where you heading off to so soon?” He moved forward, resting his forearm against the top of the driver's side door and resting his head against his fist. Wren rolled their shoulders back as they closed their eyes, attempting to block their vision of Jeff's unnerving eyes. “I'm going home. My shift’s over,” they answered. Jeff hummed and nodded as he moved his head to look at the woods beyond the parking lot. “Well like I said before; with my new job, I'll be around more. Not gonna lie, it's really nice to see you. A familiar face in a new place, ya know?” He shrugged and reverted his gaze back to Wren. “Don’t worry though. I won’t be in your way,” He said as he pushed himself away from the car and slipped his hands into his hoodie pockets. “After all. I’m not here for you.” Before Wren could question what he meant, Jeff had turned on his heels and waved goodbye. “See you ‘round, Wren! Try not to cause any more issues than you already have in your miserable life.” With that, Jeff continued to walk away, out of the parking lot and down the winding road. Wren watched as he was slowly swallowed by the darkness, a stew of emotions enveloping them as they huffed, putting the car in drive.
Adrian’s car pulled out from the parking lot, toting a whining and delirious Vesper along with Adrian and Alex. The tires made an audible crunch as it rolled through the empty snow-drifted lot. Baylen was left alone in the store with the customer entrance locked and the lights off - the store was supposed to be open for the whole duration of the night, but with how intense the past 24 hours were for the employees he had decided to make the executive decision to close until morning. Baylen had one of his headphones on, long hair tucked away in a messy half-assed ponytail whilst they cleaned the store.
The mop water had long since gone cold, and Baylen was mostly just running the wet soapy mush across the floor as some type of courtesy or act of vengeance to the day staff who frequently left the restaurant without completing any of their duties. Music was blaring in their ears, base pumping through his cranium as he worked through the main dining area. His feet trailed backwards as he mopped down the hallway towards the dishpit, the bottoms of his non-stick shoes squelching each time he stepped in a puddle trail of syrup. Baylen really hated the day shift, and he was reminded of it each time he worked alone in the forsaken restaurant. Which wasn’t frequent, but often enough to irritate him beyond recognition.
Baylen felt the disturbance around him before he heard it, his fingers double tapping on the headphone in his ear to pause his music as he felt the floor buzz underfoot. He whipped his head around to look over to the back door, the door he had just managed to fix earlier that day as the horrific sound of metal shredding filled the stale air - and he would be pissed if it weren’t for the actual visceral fear he felt seeing the tip of a metal hatchet come through the door just above it’s handle. The metal screamed out as the metal blade was removed from the heavy door, and it was then that Baylen processed exactly what was going on. The asshole who has been coming in to try and steal the soda dispenser’s syrup bags and an unnecessary amount of utensils was here, and here to be an absolute nuisance to Baylen’s otherwise meek and boring night.
Baylen hardly had time to prepare as a sickening and loud BANG! Sounded out, metal caving in its frame around the outline of what he could only assume was that asshole’s boot. In quick succession, a final powerful kick hit the door, folding the door in and busting the lock. In a flurry of browns and greens, a man ducked and crawled under the newly folded metal, the man’s neck cracking to the side in odd and jerky movements as he pulled himself to his feet. The man that Baylen referred to as Goggles. The man was shorter than Baylen, but only by an inch or so - if he really paid attention he would say the man was either 5’11 or 6” tall. His hood was laid across messy and gnarled brown curls that obscured most of his features, the rest was blocked by orange tinted round goggles and a metal face guard that resembled a muzzle. ‘This guy needs a damn muzzle,’ was all Baylen could think of when he saw it. The man's ratty and tattered clothes and hikers' belts were reeking of what could only be described as the smell of blood and death.
He stood there, slowly approaching Baylen as each step squelched on the floor but this time not from syrup or lingering sodas but rather blood. Thick and dark blood that was caked onto the man’s black boots, leaving a disgusting and sticky trail behind him as he moved closer and closer. So close that Baylen could hear each joint as they cracked and groaned out in protest whilst the man’s body rattled and twitched. His voice was cracked and frayed from lack of proper use, a sharp whistle escaping his lips as his head cocked to the side.
"I just wanted to say thank you again... for last night." He took a final step forward, stopping mere inches away from Baylen, his body pressed against his. His breath heavy and ragged as it muffled against his muzzle, sending shivers down Baylen’s spine.
"Also," he added, sliding his hand upwards, brushing against Baylen's chest. "You didn't have to treat me like trash."
Baylen's lip curled up in disdain, trying to step back from the man, "Are you… Thanking me for beating the fuck out of you?" Baylen spoke sternly, with an underlying tone of disgust for the man who was touching him.
Toby grinned, leaning in closer. "Maybe I like it a little bit," he whispered, his breath hot against Baylen's ear.
He looked positively depraved as he spoke in a sing-song tone. "Besides, you know you enjoy it too." He suddenly struck, propelling himself towards Baylen, punching the pretty man across the jaw.
Baylen gasped, adrenaline pumping through his system - the punch hit him with a strong 'CRACK!' as it landed on his jaw, Baylen stumbled but only for a moment before he swung hard and fast. He pushed Goggles back, throwing him off of himself and striking him hard in the chest.
Goggles was sent flying, landing heavily on the floor with a loud grunt. He struggled to stand up again, coughing and wheezing heavily. Though as the man wheezed from the winding he did not flinch, instead he cackled out a screeching laugh.
"Aww! The fun has finally begun," he growled, lunging at Baylen once more, "You know I love when you get all mean on me!"
They circled each other, trading blows like old retired boxers reconnecting after years apart. Their bodies collided repeatedly, causing cups and utensils to clatter on the ground.
"Ugh," Baylen painted a long breath, punching the delusional man across his cheek, "What is with your obsession with me? What... The fuck?" He was heaving every word he spoke.
Baylen dodged another blow, landing a powerful kick to Goggle's stomach, sending him flying into the counter. "Sorry," he panted between breaths, his voice hoarse from the exchange. The apology seemed almost out of place as Baylen was beating the shit out of the giggling man.
"You're fucked in the head!" He lunged again, aiming a swift roundhouse punch to Goggle's temple, who only grunted as the force hit him, his head spinning from the sudden impact. He stumbled backward, rubbing his head where he was hit. "You know you want it," he managed to croak out between gasps for air.
"Besides, maybe if I win this time, you'll finally give me a proper reward." He laughed maniacally as he shamelessly flirted with the manager, charging towards Baylen once more.
"Not.. not a chance." He groaned, grappling Toby swiftly and holding him in a side body restraint. He began to tow the man towards the front door, using his free leg to kick it open with his foot as he dragged Goggle's to the exit.
Toby squirmed and struggled, kicking and punching futilely against Baylen's grip. "Let go of me!" he yelled, his voice hoarse from the previous fight.
"Please! I'll do anything!" He pleaded, unable to hide the desperation in his voice.
"Do me a favor then," Baylen grunted, tossing the masked man out into the snow drifted sidewalk, "Stop fucking with me."
He promptly shut and locked the door in Toby's face, leaving him alone out in the cold.
Toby landed on the snowy ground, cursing and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. Snowflakes began to flurry against his exposed skin, and his body struggled to move from the relentless assault. He glared up at Baylen's silhouette through the window, shaking his fists in rage with an unbridled scream of rage spilling from his lips before turning away and trudging down the street, disappearing into the distance.
Baylen’’s body ached out in protest as he stumbled over to an empty booth, laying flat on the uncomfortable wood bench as he grumbled. His hand reached into his back pocket, bruised knuckles stinging as he entered his password - his face bruised past the point of facial recognition. Their fingers hovered for a moment before clicking on the contact he last was texting. Hesitantly, he pressed the call button. It only rang twice before Dante answered, Baylen not sparing a moment before speaking.
The squeal of the brakes of Vesper’s shitty-ass 2002 Ford Focus echoed into the Waffle House itself as they pulled into the parking lot. They sighed as they leaned forward to rest their forehead on the steering wheel as they muttered, “It’s only six hours, then you can go home. What are the chances of those damn freaks showing up anyways? It’ll be fine.” They took a moment more before getting out of their car and kicking the door closed to make sure it stayed, then locked the door. Vesper ran their fingers through their dyed blue hair, feeling the ends of it settle against their neck. They pulled open the front door, preparing for Baylen’s frustration at their tardiness. He had his arms crossed and just pointed to the table he had already seated for them. They nodded, “Sorry, my car wouldn’t fuckin’ start.”
“...right.” He rolled his eyes in response and just headed into the back.
Vesper went to put on their apron before heading out to the table where two people were seated. One of the two was a taller man, dressed in all black including his gloves. The only colored parts of his entire outfit were the blue medical mask and the blue mirrored sunglasses he was wearing to obscure his face. The hood of his jacket was pulled up to cast a shadow over his face as well, adding to his anonymity. The other person was a stark contrast to him; a young woman dressed in a neon purple and black striped long-sleeve shirt with a graphic tee layered over it, a purple ruffled skirt, ripped fishnets, and converse. Her hair was cut into a classic 2000s scene shag, complete with streaks of neon purple and raccoon tails. Vesper was completely unphased as they looked at the pair and started their spiel in an exhausted monotone, “Hi, welcome to Waffle House. My name is Vesper, I’ll be your server today. Can I start you off with some drinks?”
“Shirley temple.” The woman stated as she looked Vesper up and down. They could tell they were being judged for their choice of outfit; black cargo pants and a graphic t-shirt so faded that it was entirely illegible. “And a chocolate chip waffle, but I don’t wanna have to wait 10 years, grandma.”
Vesper took a deep breath to avoid cussing her out, “Right away. What can I get for you, sir?” They asked as they turned towards the man. He just remained silent, simply pointing to the black coffee, then the cheesesteak omelet. They nodded and wrote both orders down, “I’ll be right out with the drinks.” They made their way to the back to give Alex the orders and fetch the drinks, pausing in front of the walk-in. “What…?” Their question died on their tongue as they stared at the bullet holes and gashes throughout the metal. Baylen didn’t even respond to them, too focused on repairing the damage that she’d clearly caused. “Baylen? What the hell happened here?”
“Wombat got in.” He replied simply as he continued to work on the repairs.
“Oooookay...” They went to give Alex the food and drink orders, pouring the black coffee themself to help. “It’s the scene chick and the creep that hides his face and barely speaks.”
The cook just nodded and said, “Food’ll be done in about 20.”
Vesper nodded and took the drinks out to the two customers, “Alright, black coffee and Shirley Temple,” they told the two as they set them down in front of each of them. The man kept his silence and lifted the medical mask just enough to expose his mouth and take a sip of the coffee. His skin was a deathly gray, and as he opened his mouth, Vesper could see a row of razor-sharp teeth for just a moment before his lips closed over the edge of the mug.
“How long ‘til the food’s ready?” The scene girl asked as she used her tongue to guide the straw to her mouth.
“The chef said it’ll be about 20 minutes,” Vesper replied as they shifted on their feet a little.
“‘Kay.” She replied before turning back towards the man.
Vesper nodded as they walked off to start cleaning empty tables while they waited for the food. Once it was ready, they brought it out to the two, getting a smile from the woman. When the two eventually finished their meal and left, Vesper found a $20 tip on the table for them. “Huh, I wasn’t expecting that. Guess they’re not that bad.” They muttered as they started cleaning up the table.
The rest of their shift went by quietly, until the last 30 minutes. Vesper had gone to the back to help Alex finish up when their head suddenly started throbbing with pain. A splitting headache appeared behind their eyes as static started to haze around the edges of their vision. They scrambled towards the sink and braced themself on the edge of it before throwing up into it.
“You’re going home. Now,” Baylen told them as he approached. “Leave your car, it’ll be fine. I’ll clean this up, Alex start closing up, we’re just calling it here.”
Vesper slowly sank to the floor as they clutched their skull, trying to will the sudden migraine to disappear as the other two finished everything up for the night.
Dante’s phone buzzed and lit up with a text notification from Adrian. “Hey, could you come in for like an hour and clean the walk-in fridge? Some big ass thing tore it up and Baylen is tweaking hard.” Dante looked down at the text as he used his towel to pat his hair dry. His face twisted into a frown as he picked up the phone to try and come up with even an inkling of an idea how to respond to such a request but before he could even type the words he wanted, Enzo had beaten him to it.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Dante looked at the screen and shrugged as he closed the phone and continued on with his night. He was used to hell shitting on his job when he was there so the idea of things going wrong while he was gone didn't bother him. It was essentially a part of the job description that Waffle House is its own circle of hell nestled oh so graciously between greed and wrath; His own personal inferno. He opened his bathroom door and gracefully tossed his phone on his bed, choosing to focus on his recovery for his own health. Dante coughed harshly into his elbow and used his fist to lightly pound on his chest in hopes of migrating the clinging mucus coating his insides. The shower was meant to loosen up the sickening flem inside him and ease the migraine that brought him to his knees in agonizing pain in class today. His head chef sent him home from his pastry course after he fell over an open oven door from his vision spotting. Dante pressed his hands tightly to his face as he stumbled over to his bed and allowed himself to let gravity pull him down to his mattress. With his head throbbing he could do nothing but lay on his stomach with a pillow over his head as he shook in pain. This wasn't the first time he had had migraines but it had been over 15 years since he'd last had a migraine in all honesty; besides his cigarette every two days he was the pinnacle of health. He never drank alcohol, never took damaging drugs in high school, hell he was even a purple belt in jujitsu so the resurgence of one of the worst pains in his life not only has him annoyed but also a bit worried for his health. He had already called earlier in the day to schedule an appointment to not only check up on his health but possibly get his old prescription back for his migraine medication. For now, all Dante could do was lay in bed in agony as his brain scraped against his frontalis begging to be free. He continued to shake, almost fainting from the pain when it started to die down and he finally let his aching muscles relax from being clenched and tensed from the agony his skull decided to bestow upon him. He let out a pained groan as he removed the pillow from over his head and sat up on his mattress. Moving his duvet to the side he grabbed his phone and flinched as the bright screen invaded his senses.
Soon his eyes adjusted to the screen as he checked his notifications. 50 unread messages. Lovely. He clicked on the work group chat and scrolled up past the wall of sarcastic memes to see what he missed. In the texts Adrian and Enzo bickered back and forth about how there should be no reason why they should be contacting either Enzo or Dante after they called off of work for very serious health issues, especially considering the fact they never call off work. Adrian could only counter by saying no one else wanted to handle it since the incident happened in the walk-in fridge, and Baylen only trusted Enzo or Dante to clean in there normally. Enzo thankfully stood their ground for the both of them and told Adrian to either handle it themself or Enzo would come in to handle it in a very unprofessional manner. Scrolling through the rest of the chat was just the other night shift crew obviously fucking around and not cleaning the store. Normally on shift, Dante has to play manager and tell people 4 years older than him to do their job so the day shift does not harass them, but the one day he's gone he could already see the stupid yellow managerial note taped to the night shift desk bitching about how filthy it was when they opened. They always found something to bitch about though; ironic considering they never cleaned in preparation for the night crew and often left large messes for hours on end for the night shift to clean. Dante rolled his eyes as he stood up to grab his uniform to head to work. Might as well be a team player since Baylen was already having a bad night. As he pulled on his black jeans his phone came to life once more grabbing his attention at hand. Tilting his head at an angle to read the message from his beloved manager, Baylen, he let out a sigh of relief as he opened the chat.
“I‘ll deal with the walk-in, I was the one who fired rounds into it anyway.” Dante’s face scrunched with a look that was a mix of concern, confusion, and disappointment. “You know what. Not even going to question it. You do you.” The message was left on seen as Dante continued to get dressed to head out for the night. The West Virginia fall was not kind with its temperatures, especially in the hilly woods that Dante called his home. Dante laced up his boots and stood tall as he left his bedroom, heading straight for the coat rack to grab his heaviest jacket. His dad’s old beat-up carhartt jacket was the best thing he had around to keep him warm and comfortable in the chilling air. Checking his pockets for his lighter and cigarettes, he slid the chain of his lock to the left and unlocked his door making sure to grab his keys on the way out. Once in the hall of his apartment, he turned around quickly pulling on the door handle harshly as he stuck his key into the knob to lock the door behind him. “You didn’t knock on my door today,” a monotone voice said from behind him. Dante nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around at breakneck speed to see who was behind him. Standing behind Dante with a shit-eating grin was his neighbor and fellow college classmate, Cody. Dante held his hand to his chest as he let out a sigh of relief before slapping Cody's arm harshly. “You scared me you fucking dickhead,” he grumbled as he pulled his key out of the door handle. Cody let out a mischievous chuckle and gave Dante a lopsided grin. “You know me. Silent but deadly.” Dante snickered as he turned and headed down the hallway with Cody trailing behind. They both headed down the stairs of their apartment building and out of the back exit to an alleyway behind the building. The alleyway wasn't the ideal spot to stand around at, as it held the dumpsters and feral animals of the town. More often than not week old trash and moldy cardboard littered the concrete floor with the smell of cat piss wafting over for added ambiance, but to Dante, it didn't matter as he had gone nose blind to it years ago when he had moved in. Dante wasted no time heading over to the metal stairs that connected to the building and taking his seat. Pulling out his pack of newports, he grabbed one and placed it between his lips as he cuffed his hand in front of his face, bringing the lighter up to the end of it. Once the tip glowed a burnt ember orange, he took a long drag and then held it in, relishing in the warmth and slight burning it brought to his lungs. He exhaled as a familiar tingle spread across his body, “God I've needed a hit of nicotine all day, you have no idea,” Dante chuckled gruffly as he looked up at Cody who was pulling out his own pack. Cody smiled while shaking his head as he pulled out his desired cigarette and felt around his pockets. “Forgot my lighter again. You mind?” Cody questioned as he placed it delicately between his lips. Dante snickered and rolled his eyes at Cody's carelessness.
“When do I ever mind?” Dante retorted as he placed the cigarette back in his mouth. Cody smiled as he leaned down and touched the tip of his cigarette against Dante’s. Cody's bright green eyes focused on the cancer sticks between them, but Dante couldn't help but let his eyes drift to admire the man in front of him. They had been neighbors for 3 years since Dante had turned 18 and moved to the dingy apartment building in hopes of starting his young adult life on the right foot. Cody was the first to introduce himself as he was in the exact same boat as Dante. Being the only other person close in age to Dante at 23, the two got along right away as not only were they neighbors but were also students of the same campus. While Dante was in the culinary arts program Cody was in the pathology program. Not only was Cody extremely educated he was also very pretty to Dante. Pale skin littered with freckles and beauty marks, hands constantly moisturized with neatly cut nails, a gentle face with nice cheekbones, glasses that brought attention to his strong eye shape, and wavy brown hair that just suited him nicely. Dante always admired him for his ambitions and his boyish charms. He only came back to the present moment as Cody pulled back and took a long drag of his smoke. “I was on my way over to the Waffle House to see you when you were walking out of your apartment. Didn’t you have work today?” He asked, looking down at the man in front of him on the steps. Dante shrugged. “Had a migraine in class. Called off work. Set up a doctor's appointment as well because I haven't had migraines like that since I moved here from Michigan.” Cody hummed in acknowledgment as he took another hit. “Shame, I was hoping you'd bring me the leftovers of today's class assignment.” Dante laughed dryly and smiled as he shook his head. “I'm not your personal chef, you know. I work at a Waffle House for christ’s sake.” He sucked on his cancer stick and rubbed his boot on the ground. Pulling out his phone he checked the time and checked his messages. A few from the night shift’s group chat bullshitting around again, and a few from Enzo talking about their migraine finally fading away. Cody moved closer, leaning over Dante to spy on his phone.
Finding nothing of interest from his quick glance, Cody leaned away and continued to smoke. “Hey, just so you know, I’m having friends from out of town come over a lot in the next few weeks, so if you hear banging or something coming from my apartment you know why,” Cody said off-handedly and shrugged. Dante rested his elbows on the steps behind him while he stretched out his legs in front of him, “As long as you aren’t having loud sex and your friends don’t fuck with my door we’re cool. You know how bad I get when I'm paranoid.” Cody's face scrunched up in disgust at the mention of sex but nodded at Dante’s requests, “Sounds fair to me. You don’t bother my friends and they won't bother you.” Cody took one last drag before dropping his cigarette onto the wet concrete and snuffing it out with a twist of his converse. “Well, I have a path assignment due by Thursday. I'll stop by your job tomorrow to grab my usual so I can fuel up to study. I’m gonna bring my friend along with me though. I'm sure you'll love them. They're a bit of a weirdo like you.” Dante’s head snapped in Cody’s direction with a stern glare. “You're cruel and unusual for that but you're not wrong. Just a dickhead.” Cody laughed as he headed to the back door and held it open. Looking back at Dante he grinned and chuckled. He rested his temple against the door as he looked at the boy on the stairs. “You know you love me. Anyways, don't stay out here too long, your health is already all sorts of fucked and the last thing you need is a cold right now. I'll see you around, Dante.” With that, he stepped inside, letting the metal door softly shut behind him. Dante smiled softly at where Cody once stood as he finished his cigarette. Standing up, he tossed the butt to the floor, stomping it out before turning and heading towards the door.
As his hand touched the door handle, a shooting pain spread across his body and dark spots flooded his vision as another migraine ensued. Dante used the door to brace his body and he opened it and stumbled inside, using the wall to hold him up. Squeezing his eyes shut until wet hot tears of pain streamed down his face, he used his sense of touch to lead himself up the stairs and back to his apartment. Making his way to his door, he reached into his pocket, yanking out his keys and slamming them into the keyhole with one go. He quickly twisted the keys and stepped inside, closing the door behind him as gently as possible as he turned around. Locking both locks he threw his keys into a bowl. He didn't have the energy to even go to his room as he collapsed on the couch, curling up into a tight ball to try and stop the pain. He shook and cried silently as his cranium begged for a hole to be put in it. He felt his phone buzz again as he laid there pathetically. Grabbing it quickly, he opened up the messenger to see a text from Baylen. “Hey, dress nice tomorrow. Your polaroid on the staff board has disappeared so we're gonna have to retake it. Hope you feel better.”
Hello, Incase you were aware there are a few people working on this story. Here are the creators:
-Mod Faun: Writer (@juxenon)
-Mod Crow: Editor and Artist (@crowspawn)
-Mod Paint: Writer (@paintysplat)
-Mod Bat: Writer (@crypticcrawler)
We have all been friends for about 5 years now and this is the first piece of collaborative media we've all worked on together. We're very excited for you to continued reading.
The radio chatter hummed along inside the Subaru being driven, cool rain pelting against the windshield as Baylen drove toward the outskirts of the city. His nametag felt glaringly obvious as the seatbelt pressed the uncomfortable plastic into his chest, one would’ve thought that after 5 years of working at the restaurant, he would just keep the badge in the managerial office. That would be an obvious solution though, and little irritations like this reminded Baylen that he was human and not some soulless being from all the time he’d spent in liminal spaces.
The night sky was darkening overhead, almost already at its deepest depths. It was autumn after all which meant the night air was brisk and night fell quickly over the hushed city. Baylen’s mind wandered elsewhere as he drove, allowing for muscle memory to take control as he drove through the winding suburban streets, eventually houses and gas stations became more and more sparse - before eventually it was just a wheat field and trees that surrounded the road on the edge of the city line. The distance between his store and the nearest gas station was a well-known annoyance, especially after the time he forgot to get gas before work when he was a novice employee and ended up stranded in the parking lot of their work at the end of the shift. Luckily for Baylen, it was nine in the morning, so they didn’t have to walk through the dark fields or forested areas to a gas station in complete darkness. Four hours and one comically large jerry-can later, Baylen was able to finally go home.
His mind flashed through the time spent at the restaurant he currently managed; the crews that had come and gone, the amount of customers Baylen had actually brawled, and the multiple times people had attempted to rob the store at gunpoint. Good times. Baylen’s mind finally came to a focus as they tuned into the radio station playing, National Public Radio was a staple inside his vehicle, he loved hearing the local historians and scientists who spoke impassioned about their respective careers. Tonight's broadcast was different however, tonight's broadcast spoke of crimes and unheard-of horrors ravaging through their small city. The city was composed of around 17,000 people according to the last census - not that Baylen really believed that considering he only ever saw the same people whenever he went out. The young manager was not oblivious to the events occurring around him, of course, he’d taken note of the murders and kidnappings that became more and more prominent at the same time as… odd customers becoming regulars. The host of the news station urged caution and staying close to trusted others in this worrisome time in between bouts of news articles.
Family of 6 found murdered in their beds, all of their faces disfigured.
Young woman finds photos of herself through her windows plastered to her front door.
Convenience store overnight workers found killed in a frenzy.
The list of atrocities continued further, but Baylen turned away from them as his car finally pulled into the lot of the 24-hour diner he’d grown so accustomed to. The parking lot lights flickered at different frequencies, some flickered rapidly whilst others went in slow methodical blinks. Baylen spent many hours seeking out a pattern in the poorly maintained lights. They sighed as they looked inside the large glass windows and only briefly thought, ‘Damn this place really is like a fishbowl.’ As he watched the group of employees inside laugh and gossip at a booth as they rolled silverware. It was only three of them; the host, the head cook, and a server. Baylen was covering for the other parts of the floor since both Dante and Enzo had caught some freak flu. Those two never got sick, so Baylen didn’t think twice about coming in for them.
Baylen sighed as he unbuckled himself, grabbed the backpack that sat slumped in the passenger seat, and headed inside the building. Baylen never really cared about parking away from the front door, he’s learned over time that being able to see your car is important in this kind of establishment. It was only a slight bonus that he didn’t have to be out in the chilled air for long. The small bell above the door chimed as he walked through the front entrance, and he prepared himself with a small smile and a wave as the three present gave their own variations of greetings.
Adrian Jones, the host of the establishment, was ever polite with their wave to their manager. They barely lifted their fingers as they folded the napkins around the utensils, and it was then that Baylen noticed Adrian was the only one rolling the silverware. It wasn’t surprising. Adrian’s deep black hair hung in waves that covered a portion of their face, obscuring it from the world. Whatever had been said most recently left a small mischievous smirk across their lips - Baylen did not need, nor want to know what led to that expression.
Alex Johnson, the head cook, only gave a brief nod of acknowledgment as they kept their head down, quietly filling out what seemed to be the food order forms. Their other fingers tapped musical patterns into the cheap tabletop. Their long hair blocked all view of their face and obscured most of the paper they worked on. Baylen didn’t look long, he knew that prolonged ‘eye contact’ was something that unnerved them.
Then finally, Wren Blight, one of two servers on the overnight staff sat lounging in the booth, crumpled in a way that most certainly wouldn’t be comfortable to Baylen - with one arm hanging across the back, the other holding up their phone as they doom scrolled through social media apps, with their legs kicked up on the table, ankles crossed. Their deep purple hair was cropped into a stylized mullet, framing the scars that went across their eyes. They gave a charismatic grin and waved to the manager as he entered, saying a quick, “Sup, boss?”
Baylen didn’t pay the crew much mind as he walked over to the clock-in station next to his office, tossing his backpack haphazardly toward the desks inside. Instead of turning around back towards his coworkers and the dining room, they pivoted on their feet to follow the hall down to the dish pit and walk-in cooler. Enzo had texted the manager a heads up that something had gotten into the freezers, and that it sounded large. Baylen knew that nothing could have gotten in without wanting to be there, but he didn’t think whatever got in there knew that the door locked from the outside upon shutting.
It was only when he came to a stop in front of the tall freezer doors that he realized his heartbeat was pounding heavily in his chest, so intensely to the point that he could feel it in his fingertips. Though none of the anxiety he felt was shown across her face. She could not allow that fear to disturb anyone. Thus, they would deal with this overwhelming dread and whatever lurked inside the freezer alone. Baylen could hear it still - Enzo was right when they said the creature sounded almost akin to nails upon a chalkboard as it dug the tips of its appendages into the metal barrier. That metal was intended to keep in the cold and protect the food from within; Baylen supposed protecting the ‘food’ outside of the walk-in was its more pertinent duty now. The rotting fluorescent light cascaded shades of flickering yellows and blues across the room, one flickering panel stood out like a spotlight over the cold metallic door.
Baylen’s hand reached behind himself, wrapping his hand around the grip of the gun that had remained neatly tucked into the back of their dress pants. A glock 42 would not necessarily have been their first choice in going at a cryptid, but it was the only gun the manager owned. Her slender fingers gently traced down to the magazine, triple-checking that it was secure, before finally bracing himself for the inevitable. He drew his pistol, turned off the safety, and held it firmly in one hand at first - in an ideal situation he’d have someone else open the door, but his staff did not get paid nearly enough for this.
They composed themselves with one final deep breath, before reaching out with his free hand and tugging open the cooler door abruptly. Nothing. Nothing could have prepared Baylen for the carnage inside; the deep gauges taken out of the metal walls, the industrial shelves deep rooted from their bolts that once attached them to the floor, the food in shreds littering the floor… The pale white creature that scuttled across the floor before launching itself up the back wall, holding itself the conjunction of the wall and ceiling. Its face was sunken in, devoid of most features - other than its eyes, or what could only be compared to eyeballs. The pitch black holes where the sockets sat on a regular face were accentuated by white irises, dilated, crazed. Ready. Like a knife slicing through butter, its long jagged fingers launched into the ceiling - digging all the way down to the knuckles as it reared back. The fiendish creature began to hunch on its legs, like a track runner about to do a long jump.
Baylen could barely prepare himself as it reared back, stumbling back on his heels - one, two, maybe three steps, he wasn’t sure at this point. He raised the gun, shaking in his hands, but he did not hesitate in pulling the trigger.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The creature screamed, screeching an ear-piercing roar as it launched forwards, feet and hands pummeling the floor as it ran towards them. Baylen didn’t stop. He had five more bullets, and he counted on each of them.
BANG. BANG.
The sound of the gunshots echoed off the metal pots and pans that littered the pit, Baylen’s arms were already aching as he stumbled back, the edge of his spine slamming into the corner of the wall that protruded out at the end of the hallway.
The creature stumbled, black ooze splattering with every shot that landed. Baylen has never been more grateful for the fact that he grew up on the streets with a pistol in hand.
BANG.
Another shot and the thing crawling the floor only five feet away turned towards the back exit, charging in any direction but towards the thing that hurt it. Baylen didn’t care, as he continued to fire the last two shots.
BANG. BANG.
The creature’s body reverberated as those landed, guttural growls gurgling out of its mouth. Feet over hands stumbling across the floor, before gaining speed and barreling out the back door. The sounds of its cries and footfall grew quieter and quieter, as the back door swung on its hinges. Baylen’s hand that held the gun lowered to his side, the magazine now empty the floor and walls covered in black ink-like splatters, bullet casings surrounded his once pristine oxford shoes.
As silence encased the room for just a moment before the others ran to the back, Baylen turned to the empty dish sink and vomited.
Enzo had been hearing something scuttling around in the walk-in next to their dish station for about 45 minutes at this point, and they were getting really close to banging on a wall with a broom to attempt to get some peace and quiet. Enzo’s earbuds had died an hour into their shift, so now all they had to listen to was Baylen and Dante’s muffled discussion from the manager's office, the water spraying against the cheap plates, and that disgusting sound of what they could only assume to be claws on metal. Enzo felt like they were going to combust if they remained in the godforsaken dish pit any longer.
They reached into their pockets under the rubber apron and felt around until their calloused hand found purchase on their pack of cigarettes. ‘I’m taking a damn break.’ They thought to themselves, before turning heel and heading for the back door, not bothering to shout back to the other’s what they were up to. Before even reaching the threshold of the door they took their lighter out of their pocket and with a chtik chtik chtik, the cig was lit and hanging from the corner of his mouth. Enzo kicked the door’s pedal open, keeping one hand up, lazily holding their cigarette up whilst the other was stuffed in their pants pockets. The chilled night air blowing into them, the embers at the end of the cig reacting to the cool air with a bright glow. Enzo finally felt like he could properly breathe, as he filled their lungs with the coarse smoke slowly before exhaling the low cloud, and their chest deflated with its release.
The hours were ticking by slowly, hardly any customers were in - they were really just catching up on the dishes from the second shift crew. Dante and Baylen were still here, sure, but they were running the front of house and working on the schedule for the next week with very little time to interact for the moment. Those two were the hardasses of the restaurant, the guard dog and its equally violent commander.
Dante had dark black hair which they kept cropped in a messy wolf cut, framing their face just right to accentuate the scars that crisscrossed his facial features. Their black glasses hid whatever eye color they possessed. Those glasses only came off when he was driving his truck at night. Under those glasses were a pierced septum and snake bite piercings, usually adorned with silver jewelry - contrasting the gold he wore on his neck and dangling from his ears. Dante enjoyed the forbidden style of mixing metals, or maybe just thrived on annoying people from any possible angle. Dante never came too overdressed or too under, always doting some casual gothic fashion - always in layers but never over the top. Makeup was not an option, it was a requirement and always applied purposely smudged. If Dante had been free at this moment he’d be with Enzo smoking, insulting Enzo’s choice of cig. Dante was an asshole.
Baylen was entirely tall and lean muscle, normally dressed in tweed academic clothing - gold jewelry adorning his neck and wrists. Their face had one lone scar that dug deep from his left jaw all the way to the side of her nose, freckles dusted across their pale cheeks. Baylen’s cheeks were never seen without their dimple piercings, nor was their nose ever seen without a ring hanging from her septum. They always looked so tired to Enzo, their heterochromatic eyes staring with pinpoint accuracy it almost felt like they were looking through you rather than at you. Patches of pale white flesh crept up his jaw, and every couple of months those patches only seemed to widen. Baylen was the store’s manager and the second youngest of the overnight crew. Baylen didn’t smoke and rather chose to deal with whatever issues came into the waffle house completely sober. Baylen was fucking crazy.
Enzo blew another puff of smoke into the autumnal air as he heard footsteps approaching him from around the building. Both of his eyebrows rose as they looked expectantly towards the parking lot side of the building, flicking the ash from their cig. They didn’t need to guess for long who it was, Enzo knew this person’s slouched posture well. It was a regular customer of theirs, always seen in the same tan windbreaker with disgustingly well-trimmed sideburns. Enzo spoke before the man did, posture relaxing as smoke spilled from their lips.
“If you’re here to get me to smoke spirits, I’m kicking your ass.”
The customer's laugh was gruff and short, his lips quirking up slightly at the corners. “You’re lucky I’m near you considering the shit you’ve got.” The tired man leaned against the brick wall, just a few feet away from Enzo. “Slow night?”
“You’re the first customer I’ve seen in four and a half hours, Tim.”
Tim let out a low, “That’s rough,” with the exhale of smoke, coughing deep and ragged into the crook of his arm. The cough was dry but sounded so deep in the chest Enzo would have cringed at the sound had they not come to know that this was very normal for the man standing next to them. Every week or so Tim joined the crew for a smoke break, Enzo could only assume that Tim worked nearby - but they’d never really asked. On nights like this where it was just the two of them, the two would stand there in a quiet but comfortable silence until their cigarettes were nothing but the butts.
That’s precisely what happened tonight; they stood listening to the occasional car driving by on the main road, the rustling of trees in the nearby woods, and neither of them paid any mind to the guttural growls and clanging of metal coming from inside. At the end of this period of peace, they both nodded, stomped out their cigs, and went their separate ways. Enzo moved from leaning on the door and headed back inside, where the feral screeching had only grown more prominent.
Enzo grabbed a metal tray from the dishpit and chucked it at the walk-in door.
It wasn't new for Alex to “open” but it was new having to get carpooled with the youngest member of their team. Dante’s pickup truck was surprisingly clean inside and even had accommodations for the passenger seat such as a little head pillow and some hand wipes. He sat in the driver's seat with his left hand on the wheel and the other turning the window crank with a cigarette placed between his lips. “You don't mind if I smoke right now, right?” He mumbled glancing over at Alex. For being a dickhead line cook, he was pretty polite to his coworkers off the clock. “It’s a little early, isn’t it?” Alex yawned as they glanced at the red blinking clock on the radio, 12:45 am with the top line of the five not appearing at all. Dante hummed as he removed the cigarette from his lips as he cranked the window back up. “Yeah, you’re right. My bad.” He shrugged as he slipped a cassette into the radio. Alex gave a nod of acknowledgment as they turned their head to look out the window. The trees of the forest that surrounded the road made it feel like they were driving in a circle with the moonlight peeking through the treetops mocking them.
The sound of the Depeche Mode fills the car acting as background noise to the ride. “Thanks for giving me a ride by the way. You were the last person I wanted to contact but I knew you were the most reliable.” The corner of Dante’s lips curled up a bit but ultimately kept his normal bitch face. “No worries. My shift isn’t till 12 so I have time to get some sleep.” He grumbled as he readjusted his glass. Alex rested their forehead against the cold glass as they kept their eyes outside. Of course, the one day they're already running late for work is the day their car breaks down. They already knew Dante would be up as he would have just gotten out of his last class for the semester of culinary school. Alex continued to stare out the window for the rest of the time until the truck took a slight right turn and pulled into the parking lot of their job. A fucking Waffle house. Not where they ever imagined someone like them working but life is a cruel prankster and it unfortunately made Alex its jester. Dante parked in front of the building and turned to Alex with an expecting look. Alex looked forward and crumbled in despair as they rubbed their faces in their hands. “Baylen is going to fucking chew me out,” they groaned in agony. Dante hummed and pulled out a cigarette as he opened the driver-side door with a loud creak. He slammed the door behind him as he walked over to the passenger side door and opened it for Alex. “I'll take Baylen's wrath for you, just go get your apron,” Alex sighed in defeat as they climbed out of the car and headed towards the building.
The familiar ring of the front door grabbed the staff's attention as Alex entered with Dante trailing behind close with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. Familiar brown hair caused Alex's stomach to sink into their ass. Baylen had taken up the mantle of head chef due to Alex's tardiness. Baylen's head turned to greet the pair. “Hi, welcome to Waffle House take a se- YOU!” Baylen yelled as they realized who had entered the establishment. Thank god the restaurant was mostly empty. Alex visibly shrunk as Baylen raised their voice. Before Alex could respond Dante stepped in front of Alex to play mediator. “Heyyy, I did call. Why didn't you pick it up? Alex's car was ass so I had to drive ‘em,” He said with a grin. His slightly yellowed teeth seemed to have a sparkle to them as he charmed Baylen. Baylen frowned as they looked over Dante’s shoulder and glared at Alex. “Must have not heard the ring,” They grumbled as they turned around to continue working on the grill. Alex let out a sigh of relief as they walked past Dante and towards the back area to retrieve their apron. It seemed they were alone in the back as Enzo and Vesper worked on dishes together while making not-so-very-small talk. They both greeted Alex with a smile as they rushed to grab their apron. Vesper leaned against the sink and looked at the clock on the wall, “Wow an hour and fifteen minutes late? Who drove you this time since Adrian is already here?” They grin mischievously. Alex groaned as they rushed over to the clock-in station and punched in their card. “Dante,” They said as they tied their apron and rushed back to the front. Enzo peaked over the corner to the main seating area. “Oh shit, it is Dante.” He shook his arms off to remove the water and suds. Using his apron he walked around the counter and greeted Dante. Dante greeted Enzo with a smile as they did their normal greeting. Alex quickly walked over to the grill and politely took their spatula from Baylen as they immediately started cooking.
Baylen sighed and patted Alex's back as they began cooking. “It's not your fault. Just call next time,” Baylen said with a small smile as they walked away to begin wrapping silverware. “If it makes you feel better we've been pretty empty tonight. That's a pick-up order I was working on. Everyone is just getting paid to stand around tonight.” Baylen turned their attention to Dante. “Wanna switch shifts and just clock in now so you don't have to work with the day shift weirdos?” Dante lulled his head in Baylen’s direction then glanced at the clock. “Pfft sure why not? Just text the morning shift lead.” Baylen nodded as they wrote on a clipboard and looked up. “WREN AND ADRIAN WHEN I COME BACK THERE BETTER BE AT LEAST 3 ROLLS OF SILVERWARE DONE!” Baylen shouted as they turned and headed to the back room.
Alex sighed and hung their shoulders as they packaged the food for the order.
