Chapter Text
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Spoke IsHere, yes that’s his legal name, is a normal person, working a part-time job in a coffee shop, who totally got sleep at night. He had a lovely dog named George and an array of pet fish he called his George Juniors (yes because in his head George was a proud father to a bunch of fish), he had a nice quaint house and nothing extraordinary ever happened to him.
Okay well, the parts with the coffee shop were true at least, you gotta give him credit for that.
And legally speaking, on his ID, his name was Spoke IsHere. Give a barely eighteen-year-old Spoke a chance to pick his last name and he was going to pick something striking.
But that’s besides the point, right now Spoke was working the morning shift. There were perks to working the morning shift, firstly the influx of customers especially during rush hour were enough to keep him from getting too bored. Of course, those same customers that came during the morning, were not morning people and needed their pick-me-up coffee but it’s hard to annoy a professional nuisance such as himself. Second, he gets to work with Planet, who is overall a chill guy that loves his flowers and is willing to feed into Spoke’s tomfoolery from time to time (rest in piece kitchen). Working the night shift meant he would have to work with… Boosfer. Eugh.
Right now, Planet was watering the plants around the coffee shop, it wasn’t official but he was the designated caretaker for them. It was a little past rush hour and now there were only a few customers in the shop right now, presumably students, who were either typing away on their laptops or writing in their notepads while sipping their coffee, the rest of their customers having rushed out to class or work after getting their order.
Spoke was humming a little tune and wiping down one of the tables when he heard the distinct door chime that signalled a customer walking in. He quickly went behind the front counter, got his mini notepad ready and put on the cheery tone he was known for:
“Hello! What can I get for you today-” Spoke stopped as he glanced upwards, coming face to face with a peculiar sight. Firstly, the man was really tall, now Spoke wasn’t too short, standing proudly at 5 '7 ft tall, but he had to really crane his neck to look the guy in the eyes. That’s the second part, the guy had too many of them. He had countless wings on his head, the feathers seemingly perfectly blended as an extension of his hair and they all had dozens of eyes of varying shapes and sizes looking right at him, seemingly staring into his very soul. That would be all odd on its own, but lastly there was a halo on his head. A ring of blinding light that levitated atop his head, forever basking him in a golden light.
An angel hybrid. Huh.
“Uh, can I get a hot macchiato?” The man’s voice broke him out of his staring, he wrote down the order on his notepad.
“Right! And what flavor?” Spoke asked, the man had simply tilted his head, presumably in confusion.
“Uh… none.” Now it was Spoke’s turn to be confused.
“Wha- what do you mean none????”
“I mean like, I can’t really taste it either way. I just want the caffeine.” Right, Jamato had said something about angel hybrids not really needing to eat so nothing ever tasted good to them. He went on to some scientific spiel about them which Spoke had tuned out but he got the gist that it had something to do with their lack of appetite and other earthly desires.
Now that he thought about it, why was an angel hybrid seeking out coffee? He took a quick look at the guy and noted he was wearing a school uniform, ah figures.
“Alright, I’ll need a name for that!” The guy then stilled, he was a pretty stiff guy, unlike Spoke who liked to sway back and forth when standing and always kept his hands busy with something, the guy just stands completely still with his hands on the side while making his order. But now, it’s like he stopped moving entirely, his many eyes stopped blinking, widening in panic, and his wings stopped flapping continuously, tensing up instead.
“Uh…. you may call me…. Eyeball.”
“Eyeball.” Spoke repeated the name, wondering if he heard that right.
“Yeah, people say my hair makes it look like one big blue eyeball is staring at them.” Now that he said it, he supposed it did. He had white hair that he wore in twists that covered where a normal person’s eyes would be, in the middle of his bangs were streaks of blue with a black streak in the center, making the illusion of a blue iris and a black pupil. Huh.
“Okay… Yanno, I don’t think that’s your real name, no one names their kid Eyeball.” He jotted it down anyway.
“You’re one to talk…” Eyeball eyeballed his nametag, “... Spoke? Your nametag is upside down by the way.”
“Yeah- that’s intentional.” It wasn’t, but he’s rolling with it. He yaps while preparing the guy’s coffee, “Spoke is a cool name, it’s mysterious, wouldn’t you say? It evokes a sense of allure, like Spoke, like to have disrupted the still quiet, to make yourself already heard, Spoke. Y’know?”
He was totally winging that explanation.
“Holy yappatron, and I thought I was a yapper.” Eyeball commented.
“Like Spoke would make for a super cool superhero name. Like I would speak people’s doom into existence, I’d say stuff like ‘Your fate is already spoken for!’. That's cool, right?” Spoke excitedly chippered while pulling the espresso shots. To be honest, he was yapping not only because he likes to talk but also partially to placate how uncomfortable he was by Eyeball’s staring who doesn’t seem to realize that Spoke has already caught him staring a few times.
“... Sure dude.” Eyeball drawled
“Okay, as if Eyeball is any better. I’m beginning to see why you get that name dude, you like to stare. A lot.” Eyeball looked a bit embarrassed at that.
“Apologies, you are admittedly an oddity. I don’t think I’ve seen a hybrid or mutant like you.” Ah right. Spoke was what he would call a voidling, a creature born from the depths of the mythical End Dimension, created with the help of the mystical command block. At least, that was according to mythology, Spoke has never really met another voidling.
He remembers trying to figure out what he was, wandering an empty library and randomly pulling out books about the different kinds of hybrids and their abilities and he came across a historical account of voidlings. They described them with glowing white eyes juxtaposed with pitch black skin, small pointy horns and two tails. All attributes Spoke possessed.
He remembers rushing to the computer library and looking up voidlings and was saddened to have found that most people seemed to agree that they didn’t exist. They were deemed as mythical creatures, a bedtime story you tell your kids so they don’t wander off into the woods at night. The historical account he had read was deemed a hoax by most distinguished scholars, the ramblings of a crazed delusional man.
“I’m what scholars would call a ‘voidling’, creature of the depths, and all that.” He stuck with the label though, it was the only thing he had after all.
“... Huh, I see.” Eyeball simply said, honestly the tamest reaction he got so far when revealing that he was a voidling, other than Planet who didn’t seem to believe him but just shrugged and went on his merry way. Curious customers who asked what he was would usually roll their eyes at him in disbelief at his answer, but Eyeball simply nodded at this information as if it made complete sense.
Unbeknownst to Eyeball however, Spoke was… straying from his order to say the least. Look, this coffee shop, despite its unusual staff, was revered among the locals for its divine coffee sold at an affordable price. What they didn’t know was it was all thanks to the work of Spoke, who would use his exploits to sneak ingredients that shouldn’t exist into their order, which he was doing right now. Just a speck of stardust and a little drop of god tears here and there, maybe a bit of voidly essence and voila! A hot macchiato, sprinkled with a little bit of Spoke’s magic!
Listen, what if Eyeball’s friend takes a sip of his coffee, he can’t let this coffee shop reputation go down the drain just because Eyeball didn’t want his coffee to have any flavor. Spoke may be a loudmouth nuisance of a barista, but he was a damn good barista.
“One no flavor hot macchiato for a Mr. Eyeball, here!” He hands the order to Eyeball, who takes it and mutters out a thanks. He takes a sip of the coffee and his eyes widen in shock.
“Wha- what is this?” He looks down at the coffee, then at Spoke.
“Huh? What do you mean? No flavor like you asked for.”
“No, but then-” He takes a sip, then another, and his eyes seem to sparkle in reverence.
“H-how did you do this? Is this what taste is like? No wonder you guys love to eat.” Uh… what.
“Wait- can you taste the coffee??” Spoke asked, incredulous.
“Taste it? I am savoring it, this is divine. Literally! Dude, this tastes like the nectar they used to give us when we were kids.”
“I thought angels don’t eat.” Spoke commented, a lot of things that he knew are being turned upside down right now. The man became silent, then:
“Uh, pretend you heard nothing.” Well alright then. “Okay, but for real, how did you do that? Is it your power to make really good coffee or something?” Psh, as if his power would be something that mundane.
“That’s just the ol’ Spoke IsHere magic, when you tell your friends about this place, let ‘em know that it is I, who prepared your order!” He held up his employee ID to Eyeball’s face.
“... Your legal name is Spoke IsHere?”
“SPOKE ISHERE IS A COOL NAME!” His shout reverberated throughout the coffee shop, the non-regulars looked up to see what the commotion was about while the regulars went on with their tasks, too used to Spoke’s antics by now.
“I mean, like, imagine a group of henchmen running to their boss and they go, ‘BOSS, IT’S SPOKE ISHERE!’ and they go ‘whaaat?’ and then BAM! I appear from the shadows and I go, ‘SPOKE ISHERE, READY TO SAVE THE DAY!’ Huh? Pretty cool right?”
“... You’re a grown man right?”
“Wha- hey! I may not look it from down here, but I am 20 years old!” He glared at Eyeball.
“How are we the same age???" Eyeball asked incredulously.
“Well, hey listen, it’s not the most stupid name out there. I mean did you hear there’s a new hero debuting called Blink? It just does not have the same effect as Spoke IsHere.”
“... Wait, a new hero?” Eyeball was now taking licks from the coffee, like a damn cat. Spoke would judge, but he was pretty weird himself.
“Yeah, they announced it like, days ago.”
“Didn’t they just debut another hero? What’s-her-name. Bunny Hop?”
Spoke shrugged, “If you ask me, it seems like a desperate attempt to get into our good graces again.” Things were never the same since the death of the beloved vigilante Chroma, since the great hero Leo, was accused of his death and had begun a descent into villainy. Superheroes, in general, were still respected but it just wasn’t the same anymore.
The angel simply hummed at that, then nodded. “Well, thanks for the coffee, I gotta get going now.” He turns and makes his way to the door.
“Hey no problem, man!” He waved Eyeball off, the door chiming as he made his leave.
“Spoke,” Planet said, announcing his presence behind him. Spoke jumped, not having noticed Planet prior, and hissed, “Planet!”
“Yeah, that’s me. Anyway, what do you think of the new decor?”
Spoke hadn’t even noticed that while he was talking with Eyeball that Planet had completely rearranged the place, another thing, Planet was designated as the unofficial interior designer. Mostly because he had a special ability to create almost any non-living material from the clouds that made up his form, so long as he understood the molecular structure of that material.
He would be overpowered were it not for his own chill nature, but alas Planet was content with making flowers and whatever random material he got obsessed with that week. Right now, it was obsidian. There was obsidian everywhere, making it look like a voidling had exploded inside the coffee shop.
“Planet?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re cooked, buddy.”
Minute was going to kill them.
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His shift had now ended, it was now mid-afternoon, the sun was beginning to set, painting the city skyline in hues of red, orange and yellow. He had to work overtime a bit to make up for the fact that he didn’t reign in Planet for his unique interior design choices, but hopefully Jamato wouldn’t mind his lateness too much.
Spoke kind of lied about having a house, he couldn’t really afford one especially with the Capital City housing crisis but he didn’t really need a house anyway, he only had a set of belongings and they could all fit in his backpack and his inventory space. Besides, Spoke hadn’t needed sleep since he was a kid, so he didn’t really need a bed and all that fancy stuff.
He had taken to changing into his training clothes and other outfits in a dark alleyway that barely anyone used, going into a dark alleyway during this time of day in Capital City was like asking to be mugged.
Well, you can’t be robbed if you are the robber! Listen, it’s not like Spoke would attack them, just scare them with his powers enough so they would drop whatever valuables they have and get the hell out of there. And now, no sane, smart person came to this alleyway anymore lest they want to get chased by the shadow monster lurking in the corner.
Spoke leapt over a dumpster, jumping into a small gap between it and the back of a store, the gap was obscured by the pile of boxes placed on both sides of the dumpster, so it wasn’t obvious unless you were looking for a place to hide. He inspected the bag he left here, it wasn’t his only stash but it was the one closest to his workplace so he’d be pretty sad if something happened to it. Luckily, it still had all of his belongings.
He took off his signature rainbow bandana and changed into his vigilante attire, a shiny black hooded jacket with red trims that made him able to blend into the shadows really well, Jamato’s first gift to him. He paired it with a matching set of cargo pants and a face mask that he uses to cover his fanged mouth. No longer was he the plain yet weird voidling civilian known as Spoke, but now he was also Void, the vigilante of the night.
Once he finished changing, he leapt back into the alleyway and parkoured his way to the top of a building. He would fly up if he could, but now Blink was with the commission, just his luck that the identity associated with invisibility and flight would be cornered by heroes and promptly be recruited into the commission. And who was he to say no to free access to the hero database and being able to fight crime legally sometimes?
Once his feet landed on the rooftop, he checked his watch, he still had a few minutes before he had to set off for training with Jamato, so he took a minute to take in the sight before him. Capital City overlooked a sparkling sea that looked absolutely dazzling under the light of the setting sun. It would be a beautiful sight if it were not for the fight occurring in the distance.
Concealing the sunset from Spoke’s view was a set of explosions and a blur of royal purple, Gambit, a vigilante, who seemed to be fighting the Immortal Demon, a hero from the commission, who was shooting fire from his bow. Any sane person would probably sigh at the sight, bemoaning the lack of peace and serenity in Capital City, but Spoke simply grinned.
“That’s going to be me, someday!” He thought to himself.
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He was pacing around the rooftop Jamato told him to meet him at, night was beginning to fall as stars began to litter the sky. He got the right place, didn’t he? Jamato wasn’t usually late to their training.
“What if Jamato got caught up with something? No he’s smart, he can pull himself out of anything.” He reassured himself. Jamato, after all, had pulled Spoke out of that sticky situation around 2 years ago. When he had freshly escaped the DMS and was wandering the streets of Capital City, he was unfortunate enough to run into a group of thugs that wanted to steal everything he had on him, which wasn’t much.
Having no control over his powers at this point, he was flailing around and was able to levitate and throw a guy against a brick wall by sheer luck, but then he tried running and turning on his invisibility to escape unseen but it flickered and he got jumped by two of the guy’s other friends. As he was contemplating everything that led him up to this point, that’s when he noticed a shadow overlooking them from the rooftop of a building.
He had a long black veil that blew against the wind and short fluffy white hair that glowed under the moonlight, his face was covered with a flat porcelain mask, the cutout for where the eyes should have been was just a black nothingness that conveyed no emotion. He wore a red striking bandana that kept everything in place.
It all happened in an instant, one moment he was on the ground, held in place by two thugs, then the next–he heard a sonorous snap– then the very fabric of their reality glitched and the world was awashed with vibrant colors, painting the city alleyway in bright neon before snapping back to normal with a flash and a resounding glitch and now– he no longer felt a weight pressing against his body. He sat up to see what had happened and the three thugs had seemingly vanished into thin air. In lieu, was his savior, who introduced himself as Jamato.
“You seem to be lost, what’s your name?” Jamato had asked, all too calm. Spoke had no reason to trust this guy, so he’s not giving out his name just yet, I mean who the hell just snaps three dudes away like that?
“... What happened to those three?” He asked, then Jamato pointed to the walls beside them. He hadn’t noticed it before but there seemed to be graffiti art that resembled all too closely to the thugs that had cornered him earlier. Odd, but that didn’t provide Spoke with any answers so he tilted his head in confusion towards Jamato.
“It’s a bit hard to explain, but to put it succinctly, with a snap of my fingers, I simply transported them to another plane of reality, a two-dimensional one at that” He snapped his fingers in demonstration, Spoke winced, bracing for something to happen but nothing came.
“Relax… I need to be thinking about it for the exploit to actually happen. But if you want to see my power in action…” He snapped his fingers again, reality shifted and the world snapped back into the vibrant hues he caught a glimpse of earlier, impossible gradients and patterns swam across them making a very already exhausted Spoke nauseous. Jamato snapped his fingers again, and in a flash they were back in the dark alleyway.
“So… what’s your name?” His mouth was obscured by the mask, but Spoke could just tell that he was smiling somehow.
Despite being faced with a mysterious figure capable of bending reality itself, Spoke grinned and said, “They call me… Spoke.”
“Spoke… Spoke…” Jamato repeated the name to himself, “What a wonderful name.”
Jamato then approached Spoke and held out his hand.
“I see great potential in you, Spoke. Why don’t you come join me?”
Any sane person would probably yell “No way,” before slapping his hand away, any sane person would spout a thousand different questions before running off into the night with a complete stranger whose limits to their power were unknown. But Spoke was never a sane man.
He needed to control his powers, he needed to be able to fight back. By all means necessary, he is never going back to DMS.
“Bet!” He took Jamato’s hand and became his apprentice that day.
But going back to the present day, Jamato had still yet to appear. Okay, if he wasn’t here soon, then he would go out into the night in search of him.
He heard a whoosh then feet landing behind him, Spoke turned, not yet processing that the sounds of those footsteps weren’t Jamato’s.
“Jamato!” Spoke excitedly called out, then took a step back. What was in front of him, was not Jamato, but instead the feared vigilante Gambit. He had dark purple hair tied in a long flowing ponytail, a black tiara that had a single amethyst as its crown jewel sat atop his head, his face was obscured by a light blue veil, but it did nothing to conceal the bright magenta eyes staring right at him from it. He was wearing netherite armor and had his dark purple scaly wings out almost as an act of dominance.
So today is the day he dies. Good to know.
But Gambit simply tilted his head at him, “Jamato? Who is that?”
“Nobody you need to know!” He quipped nervously. Come on Jamato, where are you?
“Well, you’re right. I’m not here for whoever this Jamato person is.” He pointed his claw at Spoke. “I’m here for you, Void.”
Spoke paused for a moment, wondering what was Gambit’s play here, then: “What do you need my help for? I mean, I just started out.”
“Listen, I’m here on the behalf of Odysseus.” THE SMARTEST HERO EVER?? “Your powers could be of use to us. You have this thing called an echo.”
Echoes were Void’s power, basically being able to bring ghosts of the dead to life for brief periods of time. He called them echoes instead of ghosts because they differed in a variety of ways: firstly, the person didn’t actually need to be dead to create an echo of them. They could disappear for extended periods of time, and he would still be able to create an echo even if they weren’t dead. Next, he needed to know some information about the person to conjure up an echo, not only their name but also their personality, appearance and events in life leading up to that point. Third, they don’t really do anything. They can speak to you sure, but all the fun ghost stuff you see in movies aren’t abilities they possess.
They were useful in collecting information on past events, like solving murder mysteries and disappearance cases, and well, one other secret thing. But that was pretty much it.
“... And what’s it to you?” He crossed his arms in defiance, Gambit raised his sword at Spoke’s chin which caused him to raise his arms to show that he is no threat.
“WAIT, WAIT, okay sorry man.”
Gambit exasperatedly sighed, “Well, we need you to make an echo of someone.”
“That someone being…?”
“Chroma, the vigilante that died two years ago.”
One drawback to this power, Spoke could not make an echo of himself. If he did, he would totally clone himself many times and wreak havoc across Capital City but that is besides the point-
“Well what’s in it for me?” Spoke tried to bargain, but Gambit simply raised a brow at this.
“Uh, not dying. Do you- do you want to die?” Gambit genuinely asked, beginning to press the sword against Spoke’s neck.
“OKAY WAIT, look even if I wanted to, I cannot make an echo of Chroma.”
Gambit glared at him, “Oh yeah? Why not?”
“Well, I don’t know much about him. I mean, I never met the guy, how can I conjure an echo of him?”
“You never met the Prince in Yellow, yet you conjured echoes of her, did you not?” Gambit asked him.
“HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?” Spoke panickingly thought to himself. They had practiced in the Farlands, the furthest known place in their world. His fingers twitched, the thought that Gambit or someone affiliated with him had been able to spy on him was nervewracking.
“Well… that’s different. I mean, the Prince in Yellow was a feared villain for years. Chroma only appeared on the scene for a few months before swiftly meeting his end.”
“Hm, I guess you’re right about that.” Gambit lowered his sword, and Spoke breathed a sigh of relief.
“Although… Let's say we can get the needed information. Will you be able to conjure up an echo of Chroma?” Gambit asked, Spoke tensed up at that. He should have given him a hard no, but this was Gambit and he really wasn’t in the mood of making him upset with no Jamato around.
“Well.. you would need a lot of things. Firstly, what he looked like. I mean we were never able to know what Chroma actually looked like besides a few blurry pictures from bystanders. Secondly, what was he like as a person? I mean, we know that he is brave because he was a hero but what else? Did he have any fears, insecurities maybe? Lastly, we need to know why he became Chroma.”
Gambit pondered for a moment, before asking: “And then, you can conjure up an echo of him?”
“And then I can conjure up an echo of him.” Spoke promised. Spoke felt a smidge bad that he promised Gambit something that could never be fulfilled. I mean, he doubts that Gambit would be able to uncover the information necessary to conjure an echo, even if he was working alongside Odysseus apparently. But, what was so beautiful about Chroma was that he had no ties to anyone, he had no archenemy, ally, or friend to speak of, not anymore.
They were never going to uncover this secret.
“Well then, it’s a pleasure doing business, Void.” Gambit took a step back and flapped his wings, launching himself up into the air as he took off into the dazzling night sky.
It was not long after that Jamato teleported beside him, he was panting heavily. This was the first time Spoke had seen him tired.
“Spoke,” Jamato addressed him gravely. “Before we proceed with training, I need to ask you something.” His knees buckled before Spoke rushed over to his side, holding onto his arms so he wouldn’t collapse right here on the rooftop.
“Jamato? What’s wrong?” He tried to ask, but Jamato just looked at him dead in the eyes.
“Did you see anyone here? Come into contact with anyone at all?”
“No? Jamato, what are you talking about?” The lie easily came out of his mouth, Spoke was an experienced liar. He doesn’t like lying to Jamato, but if he told Jamato what happened, that someone had spotted him practicing his powers when Jamato wasn’t there to personally oversee it, he would leave. Jamato can’t handle risks.
He can’t have Jamato leaving.
“Well, I’ll believe you.” Jamato sighed, before properly standing up with the help of Spoke.
“... Let’s take a minute, shall we? I need to reorient myself.” Jamato said, Spoke only nodded at that and guided him to the ledge where they sat down to look up at the stars and catch their breath.
“What happened to you, Jamato?” Spoke can’t help blurting out.
Jamato simply hummed before replying, “I got attacked. I’ll admit they were smart, they had a trap at the ready, some sort of cannon that shot arrows at speeds that would have killed me but unfortunately for them,” He turned to Spoke, “I don’t die that easily.”
Spoke then realized that the reason Jamato was late was because he was getting distracted while Gambit was making his offer to Void.
From what he heard, Jamato should be furious to have been caught off-guard, to be late to their training, but he sounded intrigued if anything.
“You don’t… sound mad?” Spoke asked.
“Hm, no I’m not mad at all. I’m kind of curious actually, their trap seemed to nullify my powers a bit, at least for a little while. Now that I’m thinking about it, I want to go back and study their trap. I mean, from what I know, you need an exploit to beat an exploit. So I wonder what they used…”
The thing with Jamato was that he called his and Spoke’s powers as exploits, he called them this because according to his studies, the both of them shouldn’t exist. Their powers had the capability to warp reality, to cause the corruption and slow death of the world as they know it.
But Spoke would use these powers, this corruption, to save himself and Jamato. He will save this world and become the hero he was meant to be.
“... Jamato, I think we need to get a move on then.” Jamato was silent at that, prompting Spoke to go on. “I need to train some more, so that we can go on trips together. So that I can protect you.”
Spoke held Jamato’s hands in his and looked straight at him,
“You’re all I have left now” Spoke desperately said, but it was the truth. He left DMS with nothing but a few personal belongings he had managed to keep throughout his time there, nobody in this world knew about his backstory, his powers, like Jamato did. Nobody knew about his insecurities, how he was weak and would never surmount to anything despite the limitless potential that was promised to him, how he didn’t know what he was and if there was anywhere in the world that he could belong to. Except Jamato, Jamato always knew. Jamato was Spoke’s last hope in surviving in this cruel world, his savior.
“... Let’s start training then, Spoke.” Jamato chuckled softly.
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The training left him exhausted, not only did Jamato push him to his absolute limits, duplicating a bunch of rare items made of hard-to-replicate materials, but he had to do so in record speeds as Jamato got closer and closer and he was expected to try and get Jamato low on health??
“He had this totem-stacking technique that let him tank almost any attack! How do you counter that??” Spoke grumbled to himself in his mind.
Then Jamato brought him along to solve another missing person case, he conjured up an echo of the victim and they learnt that she last remembered being in an alley before her vision went black. It wasn’t a lot to go off of, but Jamato seemed satisfied and they ended the night there.
Spoke loves training with Jamato, he really did, he gets to go on all these exciting new adventures, but man it sucked when you had to do the opening shift.
But Minute had entrusted him this time to open the coffee shop, so he was here, bright and early in the morning with the key to the shop.
He sighed and opened the doors, flipping the sign on the glass door from “CLOSED” to “OPEN” and turning on the lights as he began the opening routine. He put on his apron and nametag and turned on the machines, which made a whirring sound as he did so. He pulled out some pastries in the fridge and put them on the display case, they were only from yesterday and they were in the fridge all night so they should still be good to eat.
He heard the door chime and turned around to see Minute, he greeted him excitedly:
“Hey, Minute! You’re here awfully early.” He observed.
“Oh hey, Spoke.” Minute chuckled, “I’m just here to take inventory.”
Minute then proceeded to walk behind the front counter.
“Anyway, thanks for opening today. I’m sorry for giving you back-to-back shifts like this. Especially when you have to walk home sometimes in the dark.” Minute said, ruffling Spoke’s hair as he did so to which he simply shrugged.
Spoke had told him long ago that he didn’t care, but when he sometimes showed up to work in bruises, it didn’t stop Minute from worrying. Honestly, the only thing bad about working here was that sometimes you had to work with Boosfer.
“Don’t worry, Minute. Y’know, when criminals see me, they go running.” And it was true!
“... Sure, did you get some sleep today?”
“Yup!” Spoke lied.
He definitely didn’t run to either train with Jamato or fight crime in-between or after shifts, what kind of idiot would do something like that?
Minute narrowed his eyes but said nothing, knowing it was a losing battle, and proceeded to take inventory for the day.
Business went as usual as customers poured in during rush hour. As rush hour passed however, and while he was logging in the sales they made today, the door chimed. Another customer!
“Hello! What can I get you-” Oh, it was Eyeball. And this time, he had brought a friend, who was holding Eyeball’s hand as he was being led inside the shop. This friend seemed to be plainly human and was up to Eyeball’s shoulder, so luckily Spoke didn’t have to crane his neck too much to look him in the eye. He had brown, almost black eyes and short dyed purple hair that barely reached up to his chin, the black roots already growing in. He wore a white poet shirt, a black waist corset and knee-high 3-inch heeled boots.
“Dude this was the cryptid I was talking about.” Eyeball simply introduced him to his friend. Cryptid???
Well, Spoke supposes that he is. But still! It sounds like he’s a monster of the night or something.
Which he wasn’t!
His purple friend took one glance at him, then turned back to Eyeball.
“And you said he can make coffee you can actually taste?” He asked, skeptical.
“Yeah dude! That’s gotta be like his power or something, is that a voidling thing?” Eyeball asked his purple friend, gesturing to Spoke as he did so.
“Okay, I doubt this guy is a voidling, even if he looks it. They were wiped out a long time ago” What.
“Besides, they are way more powerful and hard to find. Why would one become a barista, of all things?” What.
“I dunno man, maybe he’s bored.” Eyeball simply retorted to his friend.
If Spoke was hearing things correctly, Eyeball’s purple friend knew something about voidlings. Enough to spout completely new information nonchalantly, apparently them being wiped out?? This could be his one chance, the one chance to learn where he came from. To learn who he was, before DMS.
Spoke slammed both of his hands on the counter and looked at the purple dude head on, “DO YOU KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT VOIDLINGS??” He shouted. Again, the non-regulars looked at him like he was a weirdo while the regulars ignored the all too familiar noise that came with staying in this coffee shop.
Eyeball and his purple friend did not even flinch.
“Yeah, me and my friend here are kinda like scholars. Experts on anything regarding the End dimension.” Purple dude said, before sauntering up closer to the front counter and looking down at Spoke.
“Listen, enough about us though. Can you get us a coffee?” Right, Spoke had a job. Ugh, employment. Woe is capitalism and all that.
“Right, what’s your order?” Spoke took out his mini notepad, ready to jot their orders down.
Purple dude looked back at Eyeball, who shrugged and said, “I’ll just have whatever you're having.”
“Ughhhh, fine.” Purple dude threw his head back before looking Spoke in the eyes again.
“So two grande, hot, half-caf, non-fat milk, frappuccino with 6 pumps mocha, 4 pumps dark caramel, extra whip with a chocolate drizzle and caramel crunch sprinkled with a few scoops of java chips. You got that?” He had crossed his arms while listing off his order to Spoke.
“Dude, y’know I hate that. The texture is so weird.” Eyeball said. Purple dude swiftly turned his head back at him to retort,
“You said that you’ll have what I’m having!” They argued while Spoke jotted down the order.
Seriously? That was adding add-ons for the sake of adding add-ons. He never understood people like that, is a latte not good enough?
“Okay I’ll need your names for that.” His eyes twitched, he was already getting fed up with this guy.
“Uhhh… just write Purple Guy and Eyeball, we’ll know it’s us.”
“Bro, you are NOT William Afton, hello???” Eyeball commented.
Spoke rushes to the machines to prepare their order, well if they wanted to challenge him then challenge fricking accepted, and begin to prepare their drinks in quick easy fashion. While they weren’t looking, he sprinkled in his own secret ingredients, just some edible end crystals and the essence of a supernova, really making your mouth explode with all those flavors y’know?
He served them the drinks, and asked,
“Is that all?” Of course, Spoke wasn’t actually expecting anything other than a “No, thank you” but the universe decided to send another professional nuisance at him.
“No, can you get us some chocolate donuts?” Purple Guy grinned. Spoke grumbled and held in his instinct to pull out a rude gesture at him. He pulled out two chocolate donuts and served them alongside their coffee orders.
“Two, whatever the hell you said, and some chocolate donuts for a Mr. Purple Guy and Eyeball.” Spoke monotonously said.
“Pleasure doing business.” He drawled, as he took a sip from the coffee. Now that Spoke thought about it, his voice sounded familiar. He had no time to ponder as he noticed Purple Guy stop in his tracks, look down at the coffee, and took another sip. He turned back to Eyeball who was taking a coffee for himself.
“Holy shit, dude.”
“I know right?” Eyeball took a sip, then another. “How is this better than the last one? Hello????”
“Heh.” He chuckled, the two slowly turned their heads toward him. “Since my coffee is obviously the best thing you ever tasted, can I ask what you know about voidlings?”
“D’alright buddy, you’re pushing your luck here.” Purple Guy commented, to which Eyeball smacked his hand over his friend’s mouth.
“And it’s working. What do you need to know?” Eyeball asked. Purple Guy licked Eyeball’s hand who quickly retracted it.
“Dawg, why would you do that? Eww….” The angel pulled out wipes from his pocket and wiped his hand with it.
“Dude, why would you offer up that information freely?” Purple Guy put a hand on his hips.
“I mean, good coffee is good coffee. Okay but for real, this guy is obviously not just any superpowered hybrid. He’s special. It’s the first time in a long while I’ve been able to taste something. Plus, I really think this guy is a voidling. Just a gut feeling, y’know?”
Purple Guy crossed his arms, then stared deep into Spoke’s soul, then sighed.
“Okay, I admit, he’s obviously something unnatural. I’ll give him that.” He said to his angel friend, who was now spraying alcohol onto his hand.
“Okay come on guys, you are the first people I know that do not immediately outright dismiss the existence of voidlings and might have valuable information regarding my origins.” Spoke pleaded, both the angel and the purple haired human looked at him now, silently communicating for him to continue.
“How about this? You’re scholars right? You want something to study, well I can show you the extent of what I am capable of, in return please just tell me anything you know about voidlings.”
“I am curious about this guy’s powers.” The angel said to his friend. Purple Guy sighed.
“Alright, since you are the newfound subject of my friend’s curiosity for the month, fine. But we’re not doing it here, we’ll find some place and time since we have a lot to go over and discuss in private. And I too, am curious as to what you can offer.” Purple Guy grinned.
Spoke jumped and screamed in joy, ‘OH MY GODS, THANK YOU SO MUCH! YOU WON’T REGRET THIS!’ His scream reverberated throughout the coffee shop, rattling the glass screen windows and having both the angel and purple-haired human wince in pain at the sheer volume of it.
“Okay, firstly, please don’t do that. You don’t know what voidlings are capable of with just their voice. Secondly,” Purple Guy pulled out his phone and opened the contacts app, “give me your number.”
“Oh, how forward of you!” Spoke took the phone and began to type one of his cellular phone numbers. A guy can never have too many, just in case!
“... I will actually drop you. You are not my type.” The purple-haired human looked up and down at him. Okay, rude. Spoke handed him back the phone. They took their chocolate donuts which were placed in a paper bag and began to make their leave until Spoke called out,
“Wait!” They stopped but didn’t turn their heads back. “Uh, can I get your actual names by any chance? I really don’t wanna call you Eyeball and Purple Guy next time we meet.”
A moment of silence passed between them, before they both looked back at him in unison.
“You may call me Eggchan,” The angel had said. Eggchan.
“And you may call me Wemmbu,” The purple-haired human had said. Wemmbu.
“But you may not call us that in public. Refer to us as Eyeball and Purple Guy around others. Got that?” Wemmbu glared at him.
He was a simple human, Spoke could probably take him in a fight. But he just had this gut feeling that no you cannot absolutely take him. So he agreed.
“Yeah, I got that.” And he really did mean it. The two nodded at him and left, the door chiming as they did so.
Wemmbu. Wemmbu. Why did that guy seem so familiar?
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